Why I, (in this weak piping time of peace)
Have no delight to pafs away' the time;
Unless to spy my fhadow in the Sun,
And defcant on mine own deformity.
And therefore, fince I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain thefe fair well-fpoken days,
I am determined to prove a villain,
And hate the idle pleafures of thefe days.
Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,
By drunken prophefies, libels, and dreams,
To fet 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 fubtle, falfe and treacherous,

This day fhould Clarence clofely be mew'd up;
About a Prophefy, which fays, that G

Of Edward's Heirs the Murderer fhall be.

Dive, thoughts, down to my foul! here Clarence

comes.

Enter Clarence guarded, and Brakenbury.

Brother, good day; what means this armed Guard,
That waits upon your
Grace?

Clar. His Majelly,

Tend'ring my perfon's fafety, hath appointed
This conduct to convey me to the Tower.

Glo. Upon what caufe?

Clar. Because my name is George.

Glo. Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours:
He fhould for That commit your godfathers.
Belike, his Majefty hath fome intent,

That you fhould be new christened in the Tower.
But what's the matter Clarence, may I know?
Clar. Yea, Richard, when I know; for, I proteft,
yet I do not; but as I can learn,

As
He hearkens after Prophefies and Dreams,
And from the cross-row plucks the letter G;

And

And fays, a wizard told him, that by G
His Iffue difinherited fhould be.

And, for my name of George begins with G,
It follows in his thought, that I am he.
Thefe, as I learn, and fuch like toys as thefe,
Have mov'd his Highness to commit me now.

Glo. Why, this it is, when men are rul'd by women.
'Tis not the King, that fends you to the Tower;
My lady Gray his wife, Clarence, 'tis fhe,
That tempts him to this harsh extremity.
Was it not fhe, and that good man of worship,
Anthony Woodvil her brother there,

That made him fend lord Haftings to the Tower?
From whence this day he is delivered.

We are not fafe; Clarence, we are not fafe.

Clar. By heav'n, I think, there is no man fecure
But the Queen's kindred, and night-walking heralds,
That trudge between the King and miftrefs Shore,
Heard you not, what an humble fuppliant
Lord Haftings 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'erworn widow, and herself,
Since that our Brother dubb'd them gentlewomen,
Are mighty goffips in this Monarchy.

Brak. I beg your Graces both to pardon me :
His Majefty has fraitly giv'n in charge,
That no man fhall have private conference,
Of what degree foever, with your brother.

Glo. Ev'n fo, an't please your worship, Brakenbury!
You may partake of any thing we say:
We speak no treason, man--- -we fay, the King
Is wife and virtuous; and his noble Queen
Well ftrook in years; fair, and not jealous-
We fay, that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot, .

A

A cherry lip, a paffing pleafing tongue:
That the Queen's kindred are made gentle-folk:
How fay you, Sit? can you deny all this?

Brak. With this, my lord, myself have nought to do.
Glo. What, fellow? nought to do with mistress
Shore?

I tell you, Sir, he that doth naught with her,
Excepting one, were beft to do it fecretly.
Brak. What one, my lord?

Glo. Her husband, knave-would'ft thou betray me?
Brak. I do befeech your Grace to pardon me,
And to forbear your conf'rence with the Duke.
Clar. We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will
obey.

Glo. We are the Queen's abjects, and must obey.
Brother, farewel; I will unto the King,
And whatfoe'er you will employ me in,
(Were it to call King Edward's widow fifter)
I will perform it to infranchise you.

Mean time, this deep difgrace of brotherhood
Touches me deeper than you can imagine.

Clar. I know it pleafeth neither of us well.
Glo. Well, your imprisonment fhall not be long,
I will deliver you, or else lie for you:

Mean time have patience..

Clar. I muft perforce; farewel.

[Exe. Brak. Clar.

Glo. Go, tread the path, that thou shalt ne'er return: Simple, plain Clarence!I do love thee fo, That I will fhortly fend, thy foul to heav'n, If heav'n will take the Present at our hands. But who comes here? the new-delivered Haftings? Enter Lord Haftings.

Haft. Good time of day unto my gracious lord. Glo. As much unto my good lord Chamberlain : Well are you welcome to the open air. How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment? Haft. With patience, noble lord, as pris'ners muft:

But

But I fhall live, my lord, to give them thanks,
That were the caufe of my imprisonment.

Glo. No doubt, no doubt; and so shall Clarence too; For they, that were your enemies, are his,

And have prevailed as much on him as you.

Haft. More pity, that the Eagle fhould be mew'd, While kites and buzzards prey at liberty.

Glo. What news abroad?

Haft. No news fo bad abroad, as this at home:
The King is fickly, weak and melancholy,
And his Phyficians fear him mightily.

Glo. Now, by St. Paul, that news is bad, indeed. O, he hath kept an evil diet long,

And over-much confum'd his royal perfon: 'Tis very grievous to be thought upon. Where is he, in his bed?

Haft. He is.

Glo. Go you before, and I will follow you.

[Exit Haftings. He cannot live, I hope; and must not die, 'Till George be pack'd with post-horse up to heav'n. I'll in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence, With Lies well fteel'd with weighty arguments; And if I fail not in my deep intent,

Clarence hath not another day to live:

Which done, God take King Edward to his mercy;
And leave the world for me to buftle in!

For then, I'll marry Warwick's youngest daughter:
What though I kill'd her husband, and her father?
The readiest way to make the wench amends,
Is to become her husband and her father:
The which will I, not all fo much for love,
As for another fecret clofe intent,

By marrying her, which I must reach unto.
But yet Ι run before my horse to market:
Clarence ftill breathes, Edward ftill lives and reigns;
When they are gone, then must I count my Gains.

K 6

[Exit

SCENE

Enter the Coarfe of Henry the Sixth, with Halberds to guard it, Lady Anne being the mourner.

Anne. ET down, fet down your honourable load,

SIF honour may be hrouded in a here;

Whilft I awhile obfequioufly lament
Th' untimely Fall of virtuous Lancaster!
Poor key-cold figure of a holy King!
Pale afhes of the Houfe of Lancaster!
Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood!
Be't lawful, that I invocate thy ghoft,
To hear the lamentations of poor Anne,
Wife to thy Edward, to thy flaughter'd fon;
Stabb'd by the felf-fame hand, that made the fe
wounds.

Lo, in these windows, that let forth thy life,

I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes.

Curs'd be the hand, that made thefe fatal holes!
Curs'd be the heart, that had the heart to do it!
More direful hap betide that hated wretch,
That makes us wretched by the death of thee,
Than I can wifh to adders, fpiders, toads,
Or any creeping venom'd thing that lives!
If ever he have child, abortive be it,
Prodigious, and untimely brought to light,
Whofe ugly and unnatural afpect

May fright the hopeful mother at the view:
And That be heir to his unhappiness!
If ever he have wife, let her be made
More miferable by the death of him,

Than I am made by my young lord and thee!
Come, now tow'rds Chertfey with your holy load,
Taken from Paul's to be interred there.
And fill, as you are weary of this weight,
Reft you, while I lament King Henry's Coarfe.

Enter