Glo. Let him thank me, that holp to send him thither;

For he was fitter for that place, than earth. Anne. And thou unfit for any place but hell. Glo. Yes, one place else, if you will hear me name it.

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:
As all the world is cheered by the sun,
So I by that; it is my day, my life.

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 at 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 eves.

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 a 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,
To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made,
When black-fac'd Clifford shook his sword at
him:

Nor when thy warlike father, like a child,
Told the sad story of my father's death;
And twenty times made pause, to sob, and

weep,

That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks,
Like trees bedash'd with rain: in that sad time,
My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear;
And what these sorrows could not thence ex-
hale,
[weeping.
Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with
I never su'd to friend, nor enemy; [word;
My tongue could never learn sweet soothing
But now thy beauty is propos'd my fee,
My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue
to speak. [She looks scornfully at him.
Teach not thy lip such scorn; for it was made
For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.
If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive,
Lo! here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword
Which if thou please to hide in this true breast,
And let the soul forth that adoreth thee,
I lay it naked to the deadly stroke,
And humbly beg the death upon my knee.

[He lays his breast open; she offers at it with

his sword.

Nay, do not pause; for I did kill king Henry ;-
But 'twas thy beauty that provoked me.
Nay, now despatch; 'twas I that stabb'd young
Edward;-

[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

Shall, for thy love, kill a far truer love;
To both their deaths shalt thou be accessary.
Anne. I would, I knew thy heart.
Glo. "Tis figur'd in my tongue.
Anne. fear me,
both are false.

Glo. Then man was never true.
Anne. Well, well, put up your sword.
Glo. Say then, my peace is made.
Anne. That shall you know hereafter.
Glo. But shall I live in hope?
Anne. All men, I hope, live so.
Glo. Vouchsafe to wear this ring.
Anne. To take, is not to give.

[She puts on the ring. Glo. Look, how this ring encompasseth thy finger, Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart;

*Pitiful.

Wear both of them, for both of them are thine.

And if thy poor devoted servant may
But beg one favour at thy gracious hand,
Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever.
Anne. What is it?

Glo. That it may please you leave these sad

designs

To him that hath more cause to be a mourner,
And presently repair to Crosby-place ;*
Where-after I have solemnly interr'd,
At Chertsey monast'ry, this noble king,
And wet his grave with my repentant tears,-
I will with all expedient duty see you:
For divers unknown reasons, I beseech you,
Grant me this boon.

Anne. With all my heart; and much it joys me too,

To see you are become so penitent.—
Tressel, and Berkeley, go along with me.
Glo. Bid me farewell.

Anne. 'Tis more than you deserve:
But, since you teach me how to flatter you,
Imagine I have said farewell already.

[Exeunt Lady ANNE, TRESSEL, and
BERKLEY.

Glo. Take up the corse, Sirs.
Gent. Towards Chertsey, nobie lord?
Glo. No, to White-Friars; there attend my
coming.

[Exeunt the rest, with the corse.
Was ever woman in this humour woo'd?
Was ever woman in this humour won?
I'll have her, but I will not keep her long.
What! I, that kill'd her husband, and his

father,

To take her in her heart's extremest hate;
With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes,
The bleeding witness of her hatred by;
With God, her conscience, and these bars
against me,

And I no friends to back my suit withal,
But the plain devil, and dissembling looks,
And yet to win her, all the world to nothing!
Ha!

Hath she forgot already that brave prince, Edward, her lord, whom I some three months since,

Stabb'd in my angry mood at Tewksbury?
A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman,-
Fram'd in the prodigality of nature,
Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right

royal,

The spacious world cannot again afford:
And will she yet abase her eyes on me,
That cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet

prince,

And made her widow to a woeful bed?

On me, whose all not equals Edwards moiety?
On me, that halt, and am misshapen thus?
My dukedom to a beggarly denier,t
I do mistake my person all this while:
Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot,
Myself to be a marvellous proper man.
I'll be at charges for a looking-glass;
And entertain a score or two of tailors,
To study fashions to adorn my body:
Since I am crept in favour with myself,
I will maintain it with some little cost.
But, first, I'll turn yon fellow in his grave;
And then return lamenting to my love.-
Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a
glass,

That I may see my shadow as I pass. [Exit.

In Bishopsgate.street. A small. French coin.

Grey. The heavens have bless'd you with a goodly son,

To be your comforter, when he is gone.

Q. Eliz. Ah, he is young; and his minority Is put into the trust of Richard Gloster, A man that loves not me, nor none of you.

Riv. Is it concluded, he shall be protector? Q. Eliz. It is determin'd, not concluded yet: But so it must be, if the king miscarry.

Enter BUCKINGHAM and STANLEY. Grey. Here come the lords of Buckingham and Stanley.

Buck. Good time of day unto your royal grace!

Stan. God make your majesty joyful as you have been!

Q. Eliz. The countess Richmond, good my lord of Stanley,

To your good prayer will scarcely say-amen. Yet, Stanley, notwithstanding she's your wife, And loves not me, be you, good lord, assur'd, I hate not you for her proud arrogance.

Stan. I do beseech you, either not believe The envious slanders of her false accusers; Or, if she be accus'd on true report, Bear with her weakness, which, I think, pro. ceeds [lice From wayward sickness, and no grounded ma Q. Eliz. Saw you the king to-day, my lord of

Stanley?

Stan. But now, the duke of Buckingham, Are come from visiting his majesty. [and I,

Q. Eliz. What likelihood of his amendment,

Between the duke of Gloster and your brothers, And between them and my lord chamberlain; And sent to warn them to his presence.

Q. Eliz. Would all were well!-But that will never be ;

I fear, our happiness is at the height.

Enter GLOSTER, HASTINGS, and DORSET. Glo. They do me wrong, and I will not endure it :

Who are they, that complain unto the king,
That I, forsooth, am stern, and love them not?
By holy Paul, they love his grace but lightly,
That fill his ear with such dissentious rumours.
Because I cannot flatter, and speak fair,
Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive, and cog.

* Summon.

Duck with French nods and apish courtesy,
I must be held a rancorous enemy.
Cannot a plain man live, and think no harm,
But thus his simple truth must be abus'd
By silken, sly, insinuating Jacks?

Grey. To whom in all this presence speaks your grace!

Glo. To thee, that hast nor honesty, nor grace. [wrong?When have I injur'd thee? when done thee Or thee?-or thee?-or any of your faction? A plague upon you all! His royal grace,Whom God preserve better than you would

wish!

The king, of his own royal disposition,
And not provok'd by any suitor else;
Aiming, belike, at your interior hatred,
That in your outward action shows itself,
Against my children, brothers, and myself,
Makes him to send; that thereby he may
gather

The ground of your ill-will, and so remove it. Glo. I cannot tell;-The world is grown so bad,

That wrens may prey where eagles dare not perch:

Since every Jack+ became a gentleman,
There's many a gentle person made a Jack.

Q. Eliz. Come, come, we know your meaning, brother Gloster;

;

You envy my advancement, and my friends
God grant, we never may have need of you!
Glo. Meantime, God grants that we have
need of you:

Our brother is imprison'd by your means,
Myself disgrac'd, and the nobility
Held in contempt; while great promotions
Are daily given, to ennoble those

That scarce, some two days since, were worth a noble.+

Q. Eliz. By Him, that rais'd me to this careful height

From that contented hap which I enjoy'd,
I never did incense his majesty
Against the duke of Clarence, but have been
An earnest advocate to plead for him.
My lord, you do me shameful injury,
Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects.
Glo. You may deny that you were not the

She may do more, Sir, than denying that:
She may help you to many fair preferments;
And then deny her aiding hand therein,
And lay those honours on your high desert.
What may she not? She may,-ay, marry may
she,-

Riv. What, marry, may she?

Glo. What, marry, may she? marry with a A bachelor, a handsome stripling too: [king, I wis, your grandam had a worser match. Q. Eliz. My lord of Gloster, I have too long borne [scoffs: Your blunt upbraidings, and your bitter By heaven, I will acquaint his majesty, Of those gross taunts I often have endur'd.

I had rather be a country servant-maid,
Than a great queen, with this condition-
To be so baited, scorn'd, and stormed at:
Small joy have I in being England's queen.

Enter Queen MARGARET, behind.

Q. Mar. And lessen'd be that small, God, I beseech thee!

Thy honour, state, and seat, is due to me. Glo. What? Threat you me with telling of the king? [said Tell him, and spare not: look, what I have I will avouch, in presence of the king: I dare adventure to be sent to the Tower. 'Tis time to speak, my pains* are quite forgot. Q. Mar. Out, devil! I remember them too well: Thou kill'dst my husband Henry in the Tower, And Edward, my poor son, at Tewksbury.

Glo. Ere you were queen, ay, or your hus-
band king,

I was a pack-horse in his great affairs;
A weeder-out of his proud adversaries,
To royalizet his blood, I spilt my own.
A liberal rewarder of his friends;

Q. Mur. Ay, and much better blood than his, or thine.

Glo. In all which time, you, and your husband Grey, Were factious for the house of Lancaster;And, Rivers, so were you:-Was not your

husband

In Margaret's battle at Saint Albans slain?
Let me put in your minds, if you forget, [are;
What you have been ere now, and what you
Withal, what I have been, and what I am.
Q. Mar. A murd'rous villain, and so still
thou art.

Glo. Poor Clarence did forsake his father
Warwick,

Ay, and forswore himself,-Which Jesu pardon!

Q. Mar. Which God revenge!

Glo. To fight on Edward's party, for the

crown;

[up: And, for his meed,‡ poor lord, he is mew'aş I would to God, my heart were flint like Edward's,

Or Edward's soft and pitiful like mine;
I am too childish-foolish for this world.
Q. Mar. Hie thee to hell for shame, and

leave this world,

Thou cacodæmon? there thy kingdom is.

Riv. My lord of Gloster, in those busy days, Which here you urge, to prove us enemies, We follow'd then our lord, our lawful king; So should we you, if you should be our king. Glo. If I should be?-1 had rather be a pedlar;

pose,

Far be it from my heart, the thought thereof!
Q. Eliz. As little joy, my lord, as you sup
[king;
You should enjoy, were you this country's
As little joy you may suppose in me,
That I enjoy, being the queen thereof.

Q. Mar. A little joy enjoys the queen there For I am she, and altogether joyless. of;

can no longer hold me patient.- [Advancing. Hear me, you wrangling pirates, that fall out In sharing that which you have pill'd¶ from

me:

Which of you trembles not, that looks on me?

If not, that, I being queen, you bow like subjects;

Yet that, by you depos'd, you quake like rebels?

Ah, gentle villain, do not turn away!

Glo. Foul wrinkled witch, what mak'st thou in my sight?

Q. Mar. But repetition of what thou hast marr'd;

That will I make, before I let thee go.

Glo. Wert thou not banished on pain of death?

Q. Mar. I was; but I do find more pain in banishment,

Than death can yield me here by my abode. A husband, and a son, thou ow'st to me,And thou, a kingdom;-all of you, allegiance: This sorrow that I have, by right is yours; And all the pleasures you usurp, are mine. Glo. The curse my noble father laid on thee,[paper, When thou didst crown his warlike brows with And with thy scorns drew'st rivers from his eyes;

Q. Mar. And leave out thee? stay, dog, for thou shalt hear me.

If heaven have any grievous plague in store,
Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee,
5, let them keep it, till thy sins be ripe,
And then hurl down their indignation
On thee, the troubler of the poor world's peace
The worm of conscience still begnaw thy
soul!
[liv'st,
Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou
And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends!
No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine,
Unless it be while some tormenting dream
Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils!
Thou elvish-mark'd, abortive, rooting hog!
Thou that wast seal'd in thy nativity
The slave of nature, and the son of hell!
Thou slander of thy mother's heavy womb!
Thou loathed issue of thy fathers' loins!
Thou rag of honour! thou detested-
Glo. Margaret.

Q. Mar. Richard!
Glo. Ha?

Q. Mar. I call thee not.

land;

Though not by war, by surfeit die your king, As ours by murder, to make him a king! Edward, thy son, that now is prince of Wales, For Edward, my son, that was prince of Wales,

Die in his youth, by like untimely violence! Thyself a queen, for me that was a queen, Outlive thy glory, like my wretched self! Long may'st thou live, to wail thy children's And see another, as I see thee now, [loss; Deck'd in thy rights, as thou art stall'd in mine!

Long die thy happy days before thy death; And, after many lengthen'd hours of grief, Die neither mother, wife, nor England's

queen!--

Rivers, and Dorset,-you were standers by,And so wast thou, lord Hastings,-when my [him,

son

Was stabb'd with bloody daggers; God, I pray That none of you may live your natural age, But by some unlook'd accident cut off!

Glo. Have done thy charm thou hateful wi ther'd bag.

Q. Eliz. Thus have you breath'd your curse against yourself.

Q. Mar. Poor painted queen, vain flourish of my fortune! [der, Why strew'st thou sugar on that bottled spiWhose deadly web ensnareth thee about? Fool, fool! thou whet'st a knife to kill thyself. The day will come, that thou shalt wish for me To help thee curse this pois'nous bunch-back'd toad.

Hast. False-boding woman, end thy frantic curse;

Lest, to thy harm, thou move our patience. Q. Mar. Foul shame upon you! you have all mov'd mine.

Rir. Were you well serv'd, you would be taught your duty.

Q. Mar. To serve me well, you all should do me duty, [jects: Teach me to be your queen, and you my subO, serve me well, and teach yourselves that duty.

Dor. Dispute not with her, she is lunatic. Q. Mar. Peace, master marquis, you are malapert: [rent :+ Your fire-new stamp of honour is scarce cur O, that your young nobility could judge, What 'twere to lose it, and be miserable! They that stand high, have many blast to shake them;

And, if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces. Glo. Good counsel, marry ;-learn it, learn it marquis.

Dor. It touches you, my lord, as much as

me.

Glo. Ay, and much more: But I was horn so high,

Our aiery buildeth in the cedar's top.
And dallies with the wind, and scorns the sun
Q. Mar. And turns the sun to shade ;-ale£
alas!-

Witness my son, now in the shade of death

Alluding to Gloster's form and venom.

at He was just created marquis of Dorset. 1 New.

[wrath

Whose bright out-shining beams thy cloudy
Hath in eternal darkness folded up.
Your aiery buildeth in our aiery's nest:-
O God, that see'st it, do not suffer it;
As it was won with blood, lost be it so!
Buck. Peace, peace, for shame, if not for
charity.

Q Mar. Urge neither charity nor shame to
Uncharitably with me have you dealt, [me;
And shamefully by you my hopes are butcher'd.
My charity is outrage, life my shame,-
And in my shame still live my sorrow's rage!
Buck. Have done, have done.

Q. Mar. O princely Buckingham, I kiss thy hand,

In sign of league and amity with thee:
Now fair befall thee, and thy noble house!
Thy garments are not spotted with our blood,
Nor thou within the compass of my curse.
Buck. Nor no one here; for curses never pass
The lips of those that breathe them in the air.
Q. Mar. I'll not believe but they ascend the
sky,

And there awake God's gentle-sleeping peace.
O Buckingham, beware of yonder dog;
Look, when he fawns, he bites; and, when he
bites,

His venom tooth will rankle to the death:
Have not to do with him, beware of him;
Sin, death, and hell have set their marks on
And all their ministers attend on him. [him;
Glo. What doth she say, my lord of Buck-
ingham?

Buck. Nothing that I respect, my gracious

lord.

Riv. And so doth mine; I muse," why she's at liberty.

Glo. I cannot blame her, by God's holy mother;

She hath had too much wrong, and I repent My part thereof, that I have done to her.

Q. Eliz. I never did her any, to my knowledge.

Glo. Yet you have all the vantage of her I was too hot to do somebody good, [wrong. That is too cold in thinking of it now. Marry, as for Clarence, he is well repaid; He is frank'd; up to fatting for his pains;God pardon them that are the cause thereof! Riv. A virtuous and a Christian-like conclusion,

To pray for them that hath done scaths to us. Glo. So do ever, being well advis'd;For had I curs'd now, I had curs'd myself.

[Aside.

Glo. I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl. The secret mischiefs that I set abroach, I lay unto the grievous charge of others. Clarence,-whom I, indeed, have laid in darkI do beweep to many simple gulls; [ness,Namely, to Stanley, Hastings, Buckingham; And tell them-'tis the queen and her allies, That stir the king against the duke my brother. Now they believe it; and withal whet me To be reveng'd on Rivers, Vaughan, Grey: But then I sigh, and, with a piece of scripture. Tell them-that God bids us do good for evil: And thus I clothe my naked villany

With old odd ends, stol'n forth of holy writ: And seem a saint, when most I play the devil. Enter two Murderers.

But soft, here come my executioners.How now, my hardy, stout resolved mates? Are you now going to despatch this thing? 1 Murd. We are, my lord; and come to have the warrant,

me:

That we may be admitted where he is.
Glo. Well thought upon, I have it here about
When you have done, repair to Crosby-place.
[Gives the Warrant.
But, Sirs, be sudden in the execution,
Withal obdurate, do not hear him plead;
For Clarence is well spoken, and, perhaps,
May move your hearts to pity, if you mark him.
1 Murd. Tut, tut, my lord, we will not stand

to prate,

Talkers are no good doers; be assur'd,
We go to use our hands, and not our tongues
Glo. Your eyes drop mill-stones, when fools'
eyes drop tears:

I like you, lads;-about your business straight;
Go, go, despatch.

[Exeunt.

1 Murd. We will, my noble lord.
SCENE IV.-The same.-A Room in the
Tower.

Enter CLARENCE and BRAKENBURY. Brak. Why looks your grace so heavily to day?

Clar. O, I have pass'd a miserable night, So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights, That, as I am a Christian faithful man, I would not spend another such a night, Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days; So full of dismal terror was the time.

Brak. What was your dream, my lord? I pray you, tell me.

Clar. Methought, that I had broken from the
Tower,

And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy;
And, in my company, my brother Gloster:
Who from my cabin tempted me to walk
Upon the hatches; thence we look'd toward
England,

And cited up a thousand heavy times,
During the wars of York and Lancaster
That had befall'n us. As we pac'd along
Upon the giddy footing of the hatches,
Methought, that Gloster stumbled; and, in
falling,

Struck me, that thought to stay him, over-board,
Into the tumbling billows of the main.
O Lord! methought, what pain it was to
drown!

What dreadful noise of water in mine ears!
What sights of ugly death within mine eyes!
Methought, I saw a thousand fearful wrecks;
A thousand men that fishes gnaw'd upon;
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
Inestimable stones, unvalued iewels,