Histories

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.

Clarence, beware; thou keep'st me from the light:
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.

[Exit with the body.

SCENE VII. London. The palace.

Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD, QUEEN ELIZABETH, CLARENCE, GLOUCESTER, HASTINGS, a Nurse with the young Prince, and Attendants.

K. Edw. Once more we sit in England's royal throne, Re-purchased with the blood of enemies.

What valiant foemen, 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, 10

That in their chains fetter'd the kingly lion

And made the forest tremble when they roar'd.

Taus have we swept suspicion from our seat
And made our footstool of security.

Come hither, Bess, and let me kiss my boy.
Young Ned, for thee, thine uncles and myself
Have in our armours watch'd the winter's night,

Went all afoot in summer's scalding heat,

That thou mightst repossess the crown in peace;

And of our labours thou shalt reap the gain.

Glou. [Aside] I'll blast his harvest, if your head were

laid;

For yet I am not look'd on in the world.

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.

K. Edw. Clarence and Gloucester, 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.

Q. Eliz.

thanks.

Thanks, noble Clarence; worthy brother,

Glou. And, that I love the tree from whence thou sprang'st,

Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit.

[Aside] To say the truth, so Judas kiss'd his master,
And cried "all hail!" when as he meant all harm.
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 Margaret? Reignier, her father, to the king of France

Hath pawn'd the Sicils and Jerusalem,

And hither have they sent it for her ransom.

K. Edu. Away with her, and waft her hence to France.
And now what rests but that we spend the time
With stately triumphs, mirthful comic shows,
Such as befits the pleasure of the court?

Sound drums and trumpets! farewell sour annoy!
For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy.

[Exeunt.

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
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visaged war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front;
And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,
He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.

But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks,
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;

I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty
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.

Dive, thoughts, down to my soul: here Clarence comes.
Enter CLARENCE, guarded, and BRAKENBURY,

Brother, good day: what means this armed guard
That waits upon your grace?

Clar.

His majesty,

Tendering my person's safety, hath appointed
This conduct to convey me to the Tower.

Glou. Upon what cause?

330

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 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 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,
Anthony Woodville, 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's no man is secure
But the queen's kindred and night-walking heralds
That trudge betwixt the king and Mistress Shore.
Heard ye not what an humble suppliant
Lord Hastings was to her for his delivery?
Glou. 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'erworn 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.

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
Is wise and virtuous, and his noble queen
Well struck in years, fair, and not jealous;

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