Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain, And yet brought forth less than a mother's To wit, an indigest deformed lump, [hope; Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree. [born, Teeth hadst thou in thy head, when thou wast To signify, thou cam'st to bite the world: And, if the rest be true which I have heard, Thou cam'st. Glo. I'll hear no more;-Die, prophet, in thy speech; [Stabs him. For this, amongst the rest, was I ordain'd. K. Hen. Ay, and for much more slaughter after this. Sink in the ground? I thought it would have If any spark of life be yet remaining, [so, Then since the heavens have shap'd my body Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it. I have no brother, I am like no brother: And this word-love, which greybeards call divine, [light; Be resident in men like one another, [Erit. SCENE VII.-The same.-A Room in the Palace. King EDWARD is_discovered sitting on his Throne; Queen ELIZABETH with the infant Prince, CLARENCE, GLOSTER, HASTINGS, and others, near him. K. Edw. Once more we sit in England's royal throne, * Select. Re-purchas'd with the blood of enemies. Three dukes of Somerset, threefold renown'd With them, the two brave bears, Warwick and Montague, That in their chains fetter'd the kingly lion, And of our labours thou shalt reap the gain. Glo. I'll blast his harvest, if your head were laid; For yet I am not look'd on in the world. Work thou the way,—and thou shalt execute. [ Aside K. Edw. Clarence, and Gloster, love my lovely queen ; And kiss your princely nephew, brothers both. Glo. And, that I love the tree from whence thou sprang'st, Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit:- K. Edw. Now am I seated as my soul de lights, Having my country's peace, and brothers loves. Clar. What will your grace have done with Reignier, her father, to the king of France to France. [time And now what rests, but that we spend the With stately triumphs, mirthful comic shows, Such as befit the pleasures of the court?— Sound, drums and trumpets!-farewell, sour annoy! For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy. * Public shows. [Exeunt. ACT I. SCENE 1.-London.-A Street. Glo. Now is the winter of our discontent Our bruised arms hung up for monuments; And now, instead of mounting barbedt steeds, To strut before a wanton ambling nymph; Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, rence comes. Enter CLARENCE, guarded, and BRAKENBURY, * Preparations for mischief. Clar. His majesty, Tendering my person's safety, hath appointed This conduct to convey me to the Tower. Glo. Upon what cause? Clar. Because my name is-George. Glo. Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours; He should, for that, commit your godfathers:- As yet I do not: but, as I can learn, women: 'Tis not the king, that sends you to the Tower; My lady Grey, his wife, Clarence, 'tis she, That tempers him to this extremity. Was it not she, and that good man of worship, Shore. Heard you not, what an humble suppliant Glo. Humbly complaining to her deity me; His majesty hath straitly given in charge, Glo. Even so? an please your worship, Brakenbury, You may partake of any thing we say: A bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue; Glo. Naught to do with mistress Shore? I tell thee, fellow, He that doth naught with her, excepting one, Were best to do it secretly, alone. Brak. What one, my lord? Glo. Her husband, knave:-Would'st thou betray me? Brak. I beseech your grace to pardon me; and, withal, Forbear your conference with the noble duke. Clar. We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will obey. Glo. We are the queen's abjects, and must obey. Brother, farewell: I will unto the king; Clar. I must perforce; farewell. [Exeunt CLARENCE, BRAKENBURY, and Guard. Glo. Go, tread the path that thou shalt ne'er For they, that were your enemies, are his, While kites and buzzards prey at liberty. Hast. No news so bad abroad, as this at home; The king is sickly, weak, and melancholy, Glo. Now, by Saint Paul, this news is bad O, he hath kept an evil diet long, [indeed. And over-much consum'd his royal person; "Tis very grievous to be thought upon. What, is he in his bed? Hust. He is. Anne. Set down, set down your honourable load, If honour may be shrouded in a hearse,— Lo, in these windows, that let forth thy life, More direful hap betide that hated wretch, Taken from Paul's to be interred there; corse. [The Bearers take up the corpse, and advance. Enter GLOSTER. Glo. Stay you, that bear the corse, and set it down. Anne. What black magician conjures up this fiend, To stop devoted charitable deeds? Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity; Thy deed, inhuman and unnatural, O earth, which this blood drink'st, revenge his death! Either, heaven, with lightning strike the murderer dead, Or, earth, gape open wide, and eat him quick; As thou dost 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 Anne. O wonderful, when devils tell the truth! Glo. More wonderful, when angels are so angry. Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman, Anne. Vouchsafe, diffus'd'infection of a man, For these known evils, but to give me leave, By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self. Glo. Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have Some patient leisure to excuse myself. No excuse current, but to hang thyself. self. Anne. And, by despairing, shalt thou stand excus'd; Glo. Villains, set down the corse; or, by For doing worthy vengeance on thyself, Saint Paul, I'll make a corse of him that disobeys. 1 Gent. My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass. Glo. Unmanner'd dog! stand thou when I command: Advance thy halbert higher than my breast, Or, by Saint Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot, And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy bold ness. [The bearers set down the coffin. Anne. What, do you tremble? are you all afraid? Alas, I blame you not: for you are mortal, * Funereal. That didst unworthy slaughter upon others. thee. Glo. I did not kill your husband. Glo. Nay, he is dead; and slain by Edward's hand. Anne. In thy soul's throat thou liest ; queen Margaret saw Thy murderous faulchion smoking in his blood; The which thou once didst bend against her breast, But that thy brothers beat aside the point. Glo. I was provoked by her sland'rous tongue, [ders. That laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoul * Example. Anne. Some dungeon. Glo. Your bed-chamber. Anne. Ill rest betide the chamber where thou liest! Glo. So will it, madam, till I lie with you. Anne. I hope so. Glo. I know so.-But, gentle lady Anne,To leave this keen encounter of our wits, And fall somewhat into a slower method;Is not the causer of the timeless deaths Of these Plantagenets, Henry, and Edward, As blameful as the executioner? Anne. Thou wast the cause, and most accurs'd effect. Glo. Your beauty was the cause of that effect; Your beauty, which did haunt me in my sleep, To undertake the death of all the world, So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom. Anne. If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide, These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks. Glo. These eyes would not endure that beauty's wreck, You should not blemish it, if I stood by: Anne. Black night o'ershade thy day, and death thy life! Glo. Curse not thyself, fair creature; thou art both. Anne. I would I were, to be reveng'd on thee. Glo. It is a quarrel most unnatural, To be reveng'd on him that loveth thee. Anne. It is a quarrel just and reasonable, To be reveng'd on him that kill'd my husband. Glo. He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband, Did it to help thee to a better husband. Anne. His better doth not breathe upon the earth. Glo. He lives, that loves you better than he could. Anne. Name him. Glo. Plantagenet. Anne. Why, that was he. Glo. The self-same name, but one of better nature. Anne. Where is he? Glo. Here: [She spits ut him.] Why dost thou spit at me? Anne. 'Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake! Glo. Never came poison from so sweet a place. Anne. Never hung poison on a fouler toad. Out of my sight! thou dost infect mine eyes. Glo. Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine. Anne. 'Would they were basilisks, to strike thee dead! Glo. I would they were, that I might die at once; For now they kill me with a living death. Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears, [drops: Sham'd their aspects with store of childish These eyes, which never shed remorseful* tear, Not, when my father York and Edward wept, Nor when thy warlike father, like a child, weep, That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks, [He lays his breast open; she offers at it with Nay, do not pause; for I did kill king Henry;- [She again offers at his breast. But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on. [She lets fall the sword. Take up the sword again, or take up me. Anne. Arise, dissembler: though I wish thy I will not be thy executioner. [death, Glo. Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it. Anne. I have already. Glo. That was in thy rage: Speak it again, and, even with the word, love, Shall, for thy love, kill a far truer love; Anne. Well, well, put up your sword. [She puts on the ring. Glo. Look, how this ring encompasseth thy finger, Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart; * Pitiful. |