Enter Somerset, with drum and colours. Som. Somerset, Somerset, for Lancaster ! [He and his Forces enter the City. Glo. Two of thy name, both dukes of Somerset, Have sold their lives unto the house of York; And thou shalt be the third, if this sword hold.
Enter Clarence, with drum and colours.
War. And lo, where George of Clarence sweeps along,
Of force enough to bid his brother battle;
With whom an upright zeal to right prevails,
More than the nature of a brother's love :-
Come, Clarence, come; thou wilt, if Warwick calls.
Clar. Father of Warwick, know you what this
means?
[Taking the red rose out of his cap.
Look here, I throw my infamy at thee:
I will not ruinate my father's house,
Who gave his blood to lime the stones together,
And set up Lancaster. Why, trow'st thou, War-
That Clarence is so harsh, so blunt, unnatural,
To bend the fatal instruments of war
Against his brother and his lawful king?
Perhaps, thou wilt object my holy oath :
To keep that oath, were more impiety
Than Jephtha's, when he sacrific'd his daughter.
I am so sorry for my trespass made,
That to deserve well at my brother's hands,
I here proclaim myself thy mortal foe;
With resolution, wheresoe'er I meet thee,
(As I will meet thee, if thou stir abroad,)
To plague thee for thy foul misleading me.
And so, proud-hearted Warwick, I defy thee,
And to my brother turn my blushing cheeks.
Pardon me, Edward, I will make amends;
And, Richard, do not frown upon my faults,
For I will henceforth be no more unconstant.
K. Edw. Now welcome more, and ten times
more belov'd,
Than if thou never hadst deserv'd our hate.)
Glo. Welcome, good Clarence; this is brother-
War. O passing traitor, perjur'd, and unjust!
K. Edw. What, Warwick, wilt thou leave the
town, and fight?
Or shall we beat the stones about thine ears?
War. Alas, I am not coop'd here for defence:
I will away towards Barnet presently,
And bid thee battle, Edward, if thou dar'st.
K. Edw. Yes, Warwick, Edward dares, and leads
Lords, to the field; Saint George, and victory. [March. Exeunt.
SCENE II-A Field of Battle near Barnet. Alarums, and Excursions. Enter King Edward, bringing in Warwick wounded.
K. Edw. So, lie thou there: die thou, and die
For Warwick was a bug, that fear'd us all.
Now, Montague, sit fast; I seek for thee,
That Warwick's bones may keep thine company.
[Exit.
War. Ah, who is nigh! come to me, friend or foe,
And tell me, who is victor, York, or Warwick ?
Why ask I that ? my mangled body shows,
My blood, my want of strength, ny sick heart
shows,
That I must yield my body to the earth,
And, by my fall, the conquest to my foe.
Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge,
Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle,
Under whose shade the ramping lion slept :
Whose top-branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading tree,
And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful wind.
These eyes, that now are dimm'd with death's
black veil,
Have been as piercing as the mid-day sun,
To search the secret treasons of the world:
The wrinkles in my brows, now fill'd with blood,
Were liken'd oft to kingly sepulchres;
For who liv'd king, but I could dig his grave? And who durst smile, when Warwick bent his brow?
Lo, now my glory smear'd in dust and blood!
My parks, my walks, my manors that I had,
Even now forsake me; and of all my lands,
Is nothing left me, but my body's length!
Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and
And, live we how we can, yet die we must. "Enter Oxford and Somerset.
Som. Ah, Warwick, Warwick! wert thou as
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And we are grac'd with wreaths of victory.
But, in the midst of this bright-shining day,
I spy a black, suspicious, threat'ning cloud,
That will encounter with our glorious sun,
Ere he attain his easeful western bed:
I mean, my lords, those powers, that the queen
Hath rais'd in Gallia, have arriv'd our coast,
And, as we hear, march on to fight with us.
Clar. A little gale will soon disperse that cloud,
And blow it to the source from whence it came :
Thy very beams will dry those vapours up;
For every cloud engenders not a storm.
Glo. The queen is valu'd thirty thousand strong,
And Somerset, with Oxford, fled to her;
If she have time to breathe, be well assur'd,
Her faction will be full as strong as ours.
K. Edw. We are advertis'd by our loving friends, That they do hold their course toward Tewksbury; We having now the best at Barnet field,
Will thither straight, For willingness rids way:
And, as we march, our strength will be augmented
In every county as we go along.-
Strike up the drum; cry-Courage and away.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.Plains near Tewksbury.
Enter Queen Margaret, Prince Edward,
Somerset, Oxford, and Soldiers.
Q. Mar. Great lords, wise men ne'er sit and wall their loss,
But cheerly seek how to redress their harms.
What though the mast be now blown over-board,
The cable broke, the holding anchor lost,
And half our sailors swallow'd in the flood;
Yet lives our pilot still: Is't meet, that he
Should leave the helm, and like a fearful lad,
With tearful eyes add water to the sea,
And give more strength to that which hath too
much;
Whiles, in his moan, the ship splits on the rock,
Which industry and courage might have sav'd?
Ah, what a shame! ah, what a fault were this!
Say, Warwick was our anchor; What of that ?
And Montague our top-mast; What of him?
Our slaughter'd friends the tackles; What
these?
Why, is not Oxford here another anchor ?
And Somerset another goodly mast?
The friends of France our shrouds and tacklings?
And, though unskilful, why not Ned and I
For once allow'd the skilful pilot's charge ?
We will not from the helm, to sit and weep;
But keep our course, though the rough wind say-
From shelves and rocks that threaten us with
wreck.
As good to chide the waves, as speak them fair.
And what is Edward, but a ruthless sea?
What Clarence, but a quicksand of deceit ?
And Richard, but a ragged fatal rock?
All these the enemies to our poor bark.
Say, you can swim; alas, 'tis but a while:
Tread on the sand; why there you quickly sink:
Bestride the rock; the tide will wash you off,"
Or else you famish, that's a threefold death.
This speak I, lords, to let you understand,
In case some one of you would fly from us,
That there's no hop'd-for mercy with the brothers,
More than with ruthless waves, with sands and
rocks.
Why, courage, then! what cannot be avoided,
'Twere childish weakness to lament, or fear.
Prince. Methinks, a woman of this valiant spirit
Should, if a coward heard her speak these words,
Infuse his breast with magnanimity,
And make him, naked, foil a man at arms.
I speak not this, as doubting any here:
For, did I but suspect a fearful man,
He should have leave to go away betimes;
Lest, in our need, he might infect another,
And make him of like spirit to himself.
If any such be here, as God forbid !"
Let him depart, before we need his help.
Oxf. Women and children of so high a courage!
And warriors faint! why, 'twere perpetual shame.-
O, brave young prince! thy famous grandfather
Doth live again in thee; Long may'st thou live,
To bear his image, and renew his glories!
Som. And he that will not fight for such a hope,|
Go home to bed, and, like the owl by day,
If he arise, be mock'd and wonder'd at.
Q. Mar. Thanks, gentle Somerset ;-sweet Ox-
ford, thanks.
Prince. And take his thanks, that yet hath nothing else,
Mess. Prepare you, lords, for Edward is at hand, Ready to fight; therefore be resolute.
Oxf. I thought no less it is his policy, To haste thus fast, to find us unprovided.
Som. But he's deceiv'd, we are in readiness.
Q. Mar. This cheers my heart, to see your forwardness.
Orf. Here pitch our battle; hence we will not budge.i
Must by the roots be hewn up yet ere night..
I need not add more fuel to your fire,
For, well I wot, ye blaze to burn them out
Give signal to the fight, and to it, lords.
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Q. Mar. Lords, knights, and gentlemen, what I
should say,
My tears gainsay; for every word I speak,
Ye see, I drink the water of mine eyes.
Therefore, no more but this :-Henry, your sove.
reign,
Is prisoner to the foe; his state usurp'd,
His realm a slaughterhouse, his subjects slain,
His statutes cancell'd, and his treasure spent ;
And yonder is the wolf, that makes this spoil.
You fight in justice; then, in God's name, lords,
Be valiant, and give signal to the fight.
[Exeunt both armies. SCENE V.-Another Part of the same. Alarums: Excursions and afterwards a retreat, Then, enter King Edward, Clarence, Gloster, and Forces: with Queen Margaret, Oxford, and Somerset, prisoners.
K. Edr. Now, here a period of tumultuous
broils.
Away with Oxford to Hammes castle straight:
For Somerset, off with his guilty head.
Go, bear them hence: I will not hear them speak.
Oxf. For my part, I'll not trouble thee with
words.
Som. Nor I, but stoop with patience to my for
[Exeunt Oxford and Somerset, guarded. Q. Mar. So part we sadly in this troublous world,
To meet with joy in sweet Jerusalem.
K. Edw. Is proclamation made, that, whe
finds Edward,
Shall have a high reward, and he his life?
Glo. It is: and lo, where youthful Edward
Enter Soldiers, with Prince Edward.
K. Edw. Bring forth the gallant, let us hear him
speak.
What! can so young a thorn begin to prick?
Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make,
For bearing arms, for stirring up my subjects,
And all the trouble thou hast turn'd me to?
Prince. Speak like a subject, proud ambitious
Suppose, that I am now my father's mouth;
Resign thy chair, and, where I stand, kneel thouy
Whilst I propose the self-same words to thee,
Which, traitor, thou would'st have me answer to.
Q. Mar. Ah, that thy father had been so re-
solv'd!
Glo. That you might still have worn the petti-
coat,
And ne'er have stol'n the breech from Lancaster.
Prince. Let Æsop fable in a winter's night;
His currish riddles sort not with this place."
Glo. By heaven, brat, I'll plague you for that
word.
Q. Mar. Ay, thou wast born to be a plague to
Glo. For God's sake, take away this captive scold.
Prince. Nay, take away this scolding crook-back rather.
K. Edw. Peace, wilful boy, or I will charm your tongue.
Clar. Untutor'd lad, thou art too malapert. Prince. I know my duty, you are all undutiful: Lascivious Edward, and thou perjur'd George,am your better, traitors as ye are ;And thou misshapen Dick,-I tell ye all, And thou usurp'st my father's right and mine. K. Edw. Take that, the likeness of this railer here. [Stabs him.
March. Enter, at a distance, King Edward, Cla-1 rence, Gloster, and Forces.
K. Edw. Brave followers, yonder stands thorny wood,
Glo. Sprawl'st thou ? take that to end thy agony.
[Glo. stabs him.
Clar. And there's for twitting me with perjury.
[Clar, stabs him.
Q. Mar. O, kill me too!
Glo. Marry, and shall.
[Offers to kill her.
K. Edw. Hold, Richard, hold, for we have done
too much.
Glo. Why should she live to fill the world with words?
K. Edw. What! doth she swoon? use means for
her recovery.
Glo. Clarence, excuse me to the king my brother;
I'll hence to London on a serious matter:
Ere ye come there, be sure to hear some news.
Clar. What? what?
Glo. The Tower! the Tower!
[Exit. Q. Mar. O, Ned, sweet Ned! speak to thy mother, boy!
Canst thou not speak?-O traitors! murderers!-
They, that stabb'd Cæsar, shed no blood at all,
Did not offend, nor were not worthy blame,
If this foul deed were by, to equal it.
He was a man this, in respect, a child;
And men ne'er spend their fury on a child.
What's worse than murderer, that I may name it?
No, no; my heart will burst, an if I speak :---
And I will speak, that so my heart may burst.-
Butchers and villains, bloody cannibals!
How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp'd!
You have no children, butchers! if you had,
The thought of them would have stirr'd up re-
But, if you ever chance to have a child,
Look in his youth to have him so cut off,
As, deathsmen! you have rid this sweet young
prince!
K. Edr. Away with her; go, bear her hence
perforce.
Q. Mar. Nay, never bear me hence, despatch me here;
Here sheath thy sword, I'll pardon thee my death: What! wilt thou not ?-then, Clarence, do it thou. Clar. By heaven, I will not do thee so much ease. Q. Mar. Good Clarence, do; sweet Clarence, do thou do it.
Clar. Didst thou not hear me swear, I would not do it?
Q. Mar. Ay, but thou usest to forswear thyself: 'Twas sin before, but now 'tis charity. What! wilt thou not? where is that devil's butcher, Hard-favour'd Richard? Richard, where art thou? Thou art not here: Murder is thy alms-deed; Petitioners for blood thou ne'er put'st back,
K. Edw. Away, I says I charge ye, bear her hence.
Q. Mar. So come to you and yours, as to this prince! [Exit, led out forcibly. K. Edw. Where's Richard gone? Clar. To London, all in post; and, as I guess, To make a bloody supper in the Tower.
K. Edw. He's sudden, if a thing comes in his head.
Now march we hence: discharge the common sort
With pay and thanks, and let's away to London.
And see our gentle queen how well she fares;
By this, I hope, she hath a son for me. [Exeunt.
SCENE VI.-London. A Room in the Tower.
King Henry is discovered sitting with a book in his
hand, the Lieutenant attending. Enter Gloster.
Glo. Good day, my lord! What, at your book so
hard?
K. Hen. So flies the reckless shepherd from the wolf:
So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece, And next his throat unto the butcher's knife. What scene of death hath Roscius now to act?
Glo. Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind; The thief doth fear each bush an officer."
K. Hen. The bird, that hath been limed in a
bush,
With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush:
And I, the hapless male to one sweet bird,
Have now the fatal object in my eye,
Where my poor young was lim'd, was caught, and kill'd.
Glo. Why, what a peevish fool was that of Crete, That taught his son the office of a fowl? And yet, for all his wings, the fool was drown'd. K. Hen. I, Daedalus; my poor boy, Icarus ; Thy father, Minos, that denied our course; The sun, that sear'd the wings of my sweet boy, Thy brother Edward; and thyself, the sea, Whose envious gulf did swallow up his life. Ah, kill me with thy weapon, not with words!» My breast can better brook thy dagger's point, Than can my ears that tragick history. But wherefore dost thou come ? is't for my life? Glo. Think'st thou, I am an executioner? K. Hen. A persecutor, I am sure, thou art; If murdering innocents be executing, Why, then thou art an executioner.
Glo. Thy son I kill'd for his presumption.
K. Hen. Hadst thou been kill'd, when first thoù
didst presume,
Thou hadst not liv'd to kill a son of mine.
And thus I prophecy,-that many a thousand,
Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear;
And many an old man's sigh, and many a widow's,
And many an orphan's water-standing eye,-
Men for their sons, wives for their husbands' fate,,
And orphans for their parents' timeless death,-
Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born.
The owl shriek'd at thy birth, an evil sign;
The night crow cried, aboding luckless time;
Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempests shook down
trees;
The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top,
And chattering pies in dismal discords sung.
Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain,
And yet brought forth less than a mother's hope;
To wit, an indigest deformed lump,
Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree.
Teeth hadst thou in thy head, when thou wast
born,
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.
O God! forgive my sins, and pardon thee! [Dies. Glo. What, will the aspiring blood of Lancaster Sink in the ground? I thought it would have
See, how my sword weeps for the poor king's
death!
O, may such purple tears be always shed
From those that wish the downfall of our house!→
If any spark of life be yet remaining,
Down, down to hell; and say-I sent thee thither,
[Stabs him again,
I, that have neither pity, love, nor fear.-
Indeed, 'tis true, that Henry told me of;
For I have often heard my mother say,
I came into the world with my legs forward:
Had I not reason, think ye, to make haste,
And seek their ruin that usurp'd our right?
The midwife wonder'd: and the women cried,
O, Jesus bless us, he is born with teeth!
con-And so I was; which plainly signified-
That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog
K, Hen. Ay, my good lord: My lord, I should say rather:
'Tis sin to flatter, good was little better: Good Gloster, and good devil, were alike, And both preposterous; therefore, not good lord. Glo. Sirrah, leave us to ourselves: we must fer. [Exit Lieutenant.
Then, since the heavens have shap'd my body so,
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,
Be resident in men like one another,
And not in me; I am myself alone.
Young Ned, for thee, thine uncles, and myself,
Have in our armours watch'd the winter's night:
Went all a foot in summer's scalding heat,
That thou might'st repossess the crown in peace;
And of our labours thou shalt reap the gain.
Clarence, beware; thou keep'st me from the light; For yet I am not look'd on in the world.
But I will sort a pitchy day for thee:
For I will buz abroad such prophecies,
That Edward shall be fearful of his life;
And, then, to purge his fear, I'll be thy death.
King Henry, and the prince his son, are gone:
Clarence, thy turn is next, and then the rest;
Counting myself but bad, till I be best.-
I'll throw thy body in another room,
And triumph, Henry, in thy day of doom.
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.
Glo. I'll blast his harvest, if your head were laid; This shoulder was ordain'd so thick, to heave; And heave it shall some weight, or break my back:
Work thou the way,-and thou shalt execute.
[Aride, K. Edw. Clarence, and Gloster, love my lovely queen,
And kiss your princely nephew, brothers both.
Clar. The duty that I owe unto your majesty,
I seal upon the lips of this sweet babe.
K. Edw. Thanks, noble Clarence; worthy bro-
ther, thanks.
Glo. And, that I love the tree from whence thou sprang'st,
Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit
K. Edw. Once more we sit in England's royal To say the truth, so Judas kiss'd his master;
throne,
And cried-all hail! when as he meant
Re-purchas'd with the blood of enemies.
What valiant foe-men, like to autumn's corn,
Have we mow'd down, in tops of all their pride?
Three dukes of Somerset, threefold renown'd
For hardy and undoubted champions:
Two Cliffords, as the father and the son,
And two Northumberlands: two braver men
Ne'er spurr'd their coursers at the trumpet's sound:
With them, the two brave bears, Warwick and
Montague,
That in their chains fetter'd the kingly lion,
And made the forest tremble when they roar'd.
Thus have we swept suspicion from our seat,
And made our footstool of security.-
Come hither, Bess, and let me kiss my boy:--
K. Edw. Now am I seated as my soul delights,
Having my country's peace, and brothers' loves.
Clar. What will your grace have done with Mar-
garet ?
Reignier, her father, to the king of France
Hath pawn'd the Sicils and Jerusalem,
And hither have they sent it for her ransome.
K. Edw. Away with her, and waft her hence to
France.
And now what rests, but that we spend the time
With stately triumphs, mirthful comick shows,
Such as befit the pleasures of the court ?—
Sound, drums and trumpets! farewell, sour annoy!
For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy. [Exeunt.
And now instead of mounting barbed steeds,
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,-
He capers nimbly in a lady's chainber,
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
But I, that am not shap'd for sportive tricks,
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;
1, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's ma-
jjesty ;
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable,
That dogs bark at me, as I halt by them;
Why I, in this weak piping time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time;
Unless to spy my shadow in the sun,
And descant on mine own deformity;
And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain these fair well-spoken days,
I am determined to prove a villain,
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,
By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams,
To set my brother Clarence, and the king,
In deadly hate the one against the other:
And, if king Edward be as true and just,
As I am subtle, false, and treacherous,
This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up;
About a prophecy, which says that G
Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be.
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Dive, thoughts, down to my soul! here Clarence
Enter Clarence, guarded, and Brakenbury. Brother, good day: What means this armed guard, That waits upon your grace?
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 :-
O, belike, his majesty hath some intent,
That you shall be new christen'd in the Tower.
But what's the matter, Clarence? may I know?
Clar. Yea, Richard, when I know; for, I pro-
test,
As yet I do not: But, as I can learn,
He hearkens after prophecies, and dreams;
And from the cross-row plucks the letter G,
And says a wizard told him, that by G
His issue disinherited should be;
And, for my name of George begins with G,
It follows in his thought, that I am he:
These, as I learn, and such like toys as these,
Have mov'd his highness to commit me now.
Glo. Why, this it is, when men are rul'd by
"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, Antony Woodeville, her brother there,
That made him send lord Hastings to the Tower; From whence this present day he is deliver'd ? We are not safe, Clarence, we are not safe.
Clar. By heaven, I think, there is no man secure, But the queen's kindred, and night-walking heralds
That trudge betwixt the king and mistress Shore.
Heard you not, what an humble suppliant
Lord Hastings was to her for his delivery?
Glo. Humbly complaining to her deity
Got my lord chamberlain his liberty.
I'll tell you what, I think, it is our way,
If we will keep in favour with the king,
To be her men, and wear her livery:
The jealous o'er-worn widow, and herself,
Since that our brother dubb'd them gentlewomen, Are mighty gossips in this monarchy.
Brak. I beseech your graces both to pardon me; His majesty hath straitly given in charge, That no man shall have private conference, Of what degree soever, with his brother.
Glo. Even so? an please your worship, Brakenbury,
You may partake of any thing we say :-
We speak no treason, man ;-We say, the king
Is wise and virtuous; and his noble queen
Well struck in years; fair, and not jealous :--
We say, that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot,
A cherry lip,
A bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue:
And the queen's kindred are made gentlefolks:
How say you, sir? can you deny all this?
Brak. With this, my lord, myself have nought to do.
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
Glo. We are the queen's abjects, and must obey. Brother, farewell: I will unto the king; And whatsoe'er you will employ me in,Were it to call king Edward's widow-sister,I will perform it, to enfranchise you. Mean time, this deep disgrace in 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 lie for you: Mean time, have patience. Clar.
I must perforce; farewell. [Exeunt Clarence, Brakenbury, and Guard. Glo. Go, tread the path that thou shalt ne'er return,
Simple, plain Clarence!-I do love thee so,
That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven,
If heaven will take the present at our hands.
But who comes here? the new-deliver'd Has-
tings ?
Hast. Good time of day unto my gracious lord! Glo. As much unto my good lord chamberlain Well are you welcome to this open air. How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment ? Hast. With patience, noble lord, as prisoners
But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks,
That were the cause of my imprisonment.
Glo. No doubt, no doubt; and so shall Clarence too;
For they, that were your enemies, are his,
And have prevail'd as much on him, as you.
Hast. More pity, that the eagle should be mew'd,
While kites and buzzards prey at liberty.
Glo. What news abroad?
Hast. No news so bad abroad, as this at home ;The king is sickly, weak, and melancholy, And his physicians fear him mightily.
Glo. Now, by Saint Paul, this 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.
What, is he in his bed ?
Glo. Go you before, and I will follow you.
[Exit Hastings.
He cannot live, I hope; and must not die,
Till George be pack'd with posthorse up to heaven.
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