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Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths,
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings;
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-vifag'd War hath smooth'd his wrinkled front;
And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds
To fright the fouls of fearful adversaries,
He capers nimbly in a Lady's chamber,
To the lafcivious pleafing of a lute.

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But I, that am not shap'd for sportive tricks,
Nor made to court an am'rous looking-glafs,
I, that am rudely ftampt, and want love's majesty,
To ftrut before a wanton, ambling nymph;
I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by diffembling nature,
Deform'd, unfinish'd, fent before my time
Into this breathing world, fcarce half made up;
And that fo lamely and unfashionably,
That dogs bark at me, as I halt by them:
Why I (in this weak piping time of peace)
Have no delight to pafs away the time:
Unless to spy my shadow in the sun,
And defcant on mine own deformity.
And therefore, fince I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain these 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;

hiftorians and poets, in loading his character, have at the fame time been paying their compliments to that line, which gave them an ELIZABETH. The miseries and iniquities of Civil War were richly compenfated in fuch a bleffing.

Jam nibil, O Superi, querimur: Scelera ipfa, Nefafque,
Hac Mercede placent.--

Lucan.

About

About a prophecy, which fays, that G (2)
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 Majefty,

Tend'ring my perfon's fafety, 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 He should for that commit your godfathers. Belike, his Majefty hath fome intent,

yours:

That you should be new christened in the Tower.
But what's the matter, Clarence, may I know?

Clar. Yea, Richard, when I know; for, I proteft, As yet I do not; but as I can learn,

He hearkens after prophefies and dreams,
And from the crofs-row plucks the letter G;
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 the,
That tempts him to this harsh extremity.

(2) About a prophecy, which fays, that G

f Edward's heirs the murderer fhall be.] Thefe two lines are in all Se old books whatfoever, as well as in all the modern ones that I ave feen, except the two impreffions by Mr. Pope. By what uthority he has thought fit to leave them out I don't know: If e did it, becaufe Clarence in the next scene fays fomething much to he fame effect, I think, that is no reafon for expunging them. Ar. Pope has, in other cafes, where he thought any thing fuperuous, thrown it out of the text, but then he has degraded it to the ottom of the page.

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Was it not fhe, and that good man of worship,
Anthony Woodvil her brother there,

That made him send 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 secure
But the Queen's kindred, and night-walking heralds,
That trudge between the King and miftrefs Shore.
Heard you not, what an humble suppliant
Lord Haflings 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 her 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 hath ftraitly 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 fay :
We speak no treafon, man-we say, 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 cherry lip, a paffing pleafing tongue:
That the Queen's kindred are made gentle-folk:
How fay you, Sir? can you deny all this?

Brak. With this, my Lord, myself have nought to do. Glo. What, fellow? nought to do with miftrefs 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'st 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.

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 elfe lie for you:

Mean time have patience.

Clar. I must perforce; farewell.

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[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-deliver'd 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 I fhall live, my Lord, to give them thanks,
That were the caufe of my imprisonment.

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

And have prevail'd as much on him as you.

Haft. More pity, that the eagle fhould be mew'd, (3) While kites and buzzards prey at liberty.

Glo. What news abroad?

Haft. No news fo bad abroad, as this at home:

(3) More pity, that the eagle should be merv'd,

While kites and buzzards play at liberty.].

I have, upon the authority of the old quarto's, restored prey, as the most expreffive and proper word. And our author again in this very play makes Glocefter repeat the fame thought, and ufe the fame expreffion.

-the world is grown fo bad,
That wrens make Prey, where eagles dare not perch.
1 3

The

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 lyes well teel'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 so much for love,
As for another secret close intent,

By marrying her, which I must reach unto.
But yet I run before my horfe to market :

Clarence ftill breathes, Edward still lives and reigns;
When they are gone, then must I count my gains. [Exit.

SCENE changes to a Street.

Enter the Coarfe of Henry the Sixth, with halberds to guard it, Lady Anne being the Mourner.

Anne.

SET

ET down, fet down your honourable load,
If honour may be throuded in a herse;
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

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