SCENE I. London. A street. Enter RICHARD, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, solus. Glou. Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York; And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks, I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up, Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be. Dive, thoughts, down to my soul: here Clarence comes. Enter CLARENCE, guarded, and BRAKENBURY. Brother, good day: what means this armed guard Clar. His majesty, Tendering my person's safety, hath appointed Glou. Upon what cause? Clar. Because my name is George. Glou. 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 protest As yet I do not: but, as I can learn, He hearkens after prophecies and dreams; And, for my name of George begins with G, 50 These, as I learn, and such like toys as these 60 Have moved his highness to commit me now. Glou. Why, this it is, when men are ruled by 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, That made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower, Clar. By heaven, I think there's no man is secure Glou. Humbly complaining to her deity 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. Glou. Even so; an't please your worship, Brakenbury, You may partake of any thing we say: We speak no treason, man: we say the king 20 70 80 90 We say that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot, Brak. With this, my lord, myself have nought to do. Glou. Nought to do with Mistress Shore! I tell thee, fellow, He that doth naught with her, excepting one, Brak. What one, my lord? Glou. Her husband, knave: wouldst thou betray me? Brak. I beseech your grace to pardon me, and withal Forbear your conference with the noble duke. 100 Clar. We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will obey. Glou. We are the queen's abjects, and must obey. Brother, farewell: I will unto the king; And whatsoever you will employ me in, Clar. I know it pleaseth neither of us well. Meantime, have patience. Clar. 110 I must perforce. Farewell. [Exeunt Clarence, Brakenbury, and Guard. Glou. 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 Hastings? Enter LORD HASTINGS. Hast. Good time of day unto my gracious lord! That were the cause of my imprisonment. Glou. 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, 120 130 Hast. No news so bad abroad as this at home; The king is sickly, weak and melancholy, And his physicians fear him mightily. Glou. Now, by Saint Paul, this news is bad indeed. O, he hath kept an evil diet long, And overmuch consumed his royal person: 'Tis very grievous to be thought upon. What, is he in his bed? Hast. He is. Glou. Go you before, and I will follow you. He cannot live, I hope; and must not die 140 [Exit Hastings. Till George be pack'd with post-horse up to heaven. Which done, God take King Edward to his mercy, By marrying her which I must reach unto. 150 160 Clarence still breathes; Edward still lives and reigns: When they are gone, then must I count my gains. [Erit. SCENE II. The same. Another street. Enter the corpse of KING HENRY the Sixth, Gentlemen with halberds to guard it; LADY ANNE being the mourner. Anne. Set down, set down your honourable load, Whilst I awhile obsequiously lament Thou bloodless remuant of that royal blood! To hear the lamentations of poor Anne, Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughter'd son, Stabb'd by the selfsame hand that made these wounds! 10 |