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That the Queen's kindred are made gentle-folk.
How fay you, Sir ? Can you deny all this?
Brak. With this, my lord, myself have nought to

do. Gle. What, fellow. nought to do with mistress

I tell you, Sir, he that doth naught with her,
Excepting one, were best to do it fecretly.
Brak. What one, my

Gle. Her husband, knave--wouldlt thou betray me?

Brak. I do beseech your Grace to pardon me, And to forbear your conf'rence with the Duke. Clar. We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will

obey. Glo. We are the Queen's abjects, and must obey. (7) Brother, farewel; I will unto the King, And whatsoe'er you will employ me in, Were it to call King Edward's widow fifter, (8) I will perform it to infranchise you. Mean time, this deep disgrace of brotherhood Touches me deeper than you can imagine.

Clar. I know it pleaseth neither of us well.

Glo. Well, your imprisonment shall not be long,
I will deliver you, or else lye for you:
Mean time, have patience.

Clar. I must perforce; farewel. [Exx. Brak. Clar.
Glo. Go, tread the patla that thou shalt ne'er re-

turn :
Simple, plain Clarence ! I do love thee fo;
That I will shortly send thy foul to heav'n,
If heav'n will take the present at our hands.

But who comes here? the new-deliver'd Hafrings?

(7) the Queen's abjects,] That is, not the Queen's fube jects, whom she might protect, but her abjects, whom the drives away.

(8) Were it to call King Edward's widow lifter,] This is a very covert and subtle manner of infinuating treason tural expression would have been, were it to call King Edward's wife fifter. I will solicit for you, though it should be at the expence of so much degradation and constraint, as to cwn the lowborn wife of King Edward for a sister. But by flipping, as it were, casually widow into the place of wife, he tempts Clarence with an oblique proposal to kill the king.


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Enter Lord Hastings.

Haft. Good time of day unto my gracious lord.
Glo. As much unto my good lord Chamberlain:
Well are you welcome to the open air.
How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment?

Haft. With patience, noble lord, as pris'ners must :
But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks,
That were the cause of my imprisonment.
Glo. No doubt, no doubt, and so lhall Clarence

too; For they, that were your enemies, are his, And have prevail'd as much on him as you.

Hafl. More pity, that the Eagle should be mew'd, While kites and buzzards prey at liberty.

Glo. What news abroad?

Haft. No news so bad abroad, as this at home ;
The king is fickly, weak and melancholy,
And his Physicians fear him mightily:

Glo. Now, by Sť. Paul, that news is bad, indeed.
O, he hath kept an evil diet long,
And over-much consum'd his royal person:
'Tis very grievous to be thought upon.
Where is he, in his bed ?

Haft. He is.
Glo. Go you before, and I will follow you.

[Exit Hastings.
He cannot live, I hope ; and must not die,
'Till George be be pack'd with post-horse up to heav'n.
I'll in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence,
With Lies well steeld with weighty arguments :
And if I fail not in my deep intent,
Clarence hath not another day to live :
Which done, God take King Edward to his mercy's,
And leave the world for me to bustle in !
For then, I'll marry Warwick's youngest daughter
What though I kill'd her husband, and her father?
The readielt way to make the wench amends,
Is to become her husband and her father:
The which will I, not all so much for love,
As for another secret close intent,

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By marrying her, which I must reach unto.

-But yet I run before my horse to market: Clarence Itill breathes, Edward still lives and reigns ;. When they are gone, then must I count my Gains.



Changes to a Street:

Enter the Coarse of Henry the Sixth, with Halberts to :

guard it, Lady Anne being the mourner. Anne. Set down, fet down your honourable load, If honour may be shrouded in a herse ; Whilit I awhile obsequiously lament Th’untimely Fall of virtuous Lancaster. -Poor key-cold figure of a holy King! Pale ashes of the House of Lancaster! Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood ! Be't lawful, that I invocate thy ghost, To hear the lamentations of poor Anne, Wife to thy Edward, to thy Daughter'd lon; Stabb’d by the self-fame hand that made these wounds. Lo, in these windows, that let forth thy life, I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes. Curs'd be the hand that made these fatal holes! Curs'd be the heart, that had the heart to do it! More direful hap betide that hated wretch, That makes us wretched by the death of thee, Than I can with to adders, spiders, toads, Or any creeping venom'd thing that lives ! If ever he have child, abortive be it, Prodigious, and untimely brought to light, Whole ugly and unnatural aspect May fright the hopeful mother at the view, And That be heir to his unhappiness! If ever he have wife, let her be made More miserable by the death of him, Than I am made by my young lord and thee! -Come, now tow'rds Chertsey with your holy load,




Taken from Paul's to be interred there.
And still, as you are weary of this weight,
Reft you, while I lament King Henry's Coarse.

Enter Richard Duke of Gloucester.


Glo. Stay you, that bear the Coarse, and set it down.

Anne. What black magician conjures up this fiend, To stop devoted charitable deeds?

Glo. Villains, set down the Coarfe; or, by St. Paul, I'll make a Coarse of him that disobeys. (9)

Gen. My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pafs.

Glo. Unmanner'd dog! stand thou when I com-
Advance thy halbert higher than my breaft,
Or, by St. Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot,
And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness.

Anne. What, do you tremble ? are you all afraid ?
Alas, I blame you not, for you are mortal;
And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil.

-Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell!
Thou had'st but power over his mortal body,
His foul thou canst not have; therefore be gone.

Glo. Sweet Saint, for chariry, be not fo curtt.
Anne. Foul Dev'l! for God's fake hence, trouble

us not,
For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell;
Fill'd it with curfing cries, and deep exclaims.
If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds,
Behold this pattern of thy butcheries. (1)
Oh, gentlemen, fee! fee dead Henry's wounds
Open their congeald mouths and bleed afresh. (2)
Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity;
For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood,
(9) I'll make a coarse of him that disobeys.] So in Hamlet,
I'll make a ghost of him that holds me.

(1) -pattern of tły butcheries.] Patteræ is instance, or exumple.

(2) --fee, dead Henry's wounds

Open their congeald mouths, and bleed afreß.] It is a tradition very generally received, that the murdered body, bleeds on the touch of the murderer. This was so much believed by Sir Kenelm Digby that he has endeavoured to explain the reason.


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From.cold and empty veins, where no blood dwells.
Thy deeds, inhuman and unnatural
Provoke this deluge moft unnatural:
O God! which this blood mad’st, revenge

his death,
Q Earth! which this blood drink'it, revenge his death,
Or Heav'n with lightning strike the murth’rer dead,
Or Earth gape open wide, and eat him quick ;
As thou doft swallow up this good King's blood,
Which his hell-govern'd arm hath butchered!

Glo. Lady, you know no rules of charity, Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses. Anne. Villain, thou knowlt nor law of God nos

man ; No beast so fierce, but knows some touch of pity.

Glo. But I know none, and therefore ain no beaft..
Anne. O wonderful, when devils tell the truth !

Glo. More wonderful, when angels are so angry.
Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman,
Of thefe supposed criines, to give me leave,
By circumstance, but to acquit myself.

Anne. Vouchsafe, diffusd infection of a man, (3)
For these known evils, but to give me leave,
By circumstance, to curfe thy cursed felf.

Glo. Fairer than tongue can name, thee, let me have
Some patient leisure to excuse myself.
Anne. Fouler than heart can think thee, thou can'ft:

make No excuse current, but to hang thyself.

Glo. By fuch despair I should accuse myself.

Anne. And by despairing Thalt thou, ftand excus'do For doing worthy vengeance on thyself; That didit unworthy daughter upon others.

Glo. Say, that I few then not.

Anne. Then fay, they were got lain :
But dead they are ; and, deyilish Nave, by thee..
Glo. I did

your husband. Anne. Why then he is alive. Glo. Nay, he is dead, and fain by Edward's hands.

not kill


(3) Douchsafe, diffus'd infection of a man,] I believe difused in this place lignifies irregulor, unfouth; such is its meaning in other passages of Shakespeare.


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