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Gl. We are the Queen's abjects, and must obey.
Brother, farewel; I will unto the King,
And whatsoe'er you will employ ine in,
(Were it to call King Edward's widow fifter)
I will perform it to infranchise you.
Mean time, this deep disgrace of brotherhood
Touches me deeper than you can imagine.
Clar. I know it plealeth neither of us well.
Glo. Well, your imprisonment shall not be long,
I will deliver you, or else lie for you:
Mean time have patience.
Clar. I must perforce ; farewell. [Exe. Brak. Clar. Glo. Go, tread the path, that thou Malt ne'er return : Simple, plain Clarence!
I do love thee fo,
That I will shortly send thy foul to heav'n,
If heav'n will take the present at our hands.
But who comes here ? the new-deliver'd Hastings?
Enter Lord Hastings.
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 Lordhip brook'd imprisonment?
Haft. With patience, noble Lord, as pris’ners must :
But I shall live, my Lord, to give them thanks,
That were the cause of my imprisonment.
Glo. No doubt, no doubt; and so thall 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 should be mew'd, (3) While kites and buzzards prey at liberty.
Gle. What news abroad ?
Hast. No news so bad abroad, as this at home :
(3) More pity, that the eagle should be mew'd, While kites and buzzards play at liberty. ]
I have, upon the authority of the old quarto's, restored prey, as the most expressive and proper word. And our author again in this very play makes Glocester repeat the same thought, and use the same exprefiion.
--the world is grown so bad,
That wrens make Prey, where eagles dare not perch.
The King is fickly, weak, and melancholy,
And his physicians fear him mightily,
Glo. Now, by St. Paul, that news is bad, indeed.
0, he hath kept an evil diet long,
And over-much consum'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.
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 steel'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 bustle in !
For then, I'll marry Warwick's youngest daughter :
What though I kill'd her husband, and her father, a
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 mult reach unto.
But yet I run before my horfe to market :
Clarence ftill breathes, Edward fill lives and reigns;
When they are gone, then muft I count my gains. [Exit.
SCENE changes to a Street.
Enter the Coarse of Henry the Sixth, with halberds to
guard it, Lady Anne being the Mourner.
Anne. SET down, fet down your honourable load,
Whilft I awhile obfequiously lament
Th' untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster.
Poor key.cold figure of a holy King !
Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster!
Thou bloodlefs 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 slaughter'd son ;
Stabb'd by the self-fame hand, that made these 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 these 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 wish to adders, spiders, toads,
Or any creeping venom'd thing that lives!
If ever he have child, abortive be it,
Prodigious and untimely brought to light,
Whole ugly and unnatural aspect
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 miserable by the death of him,
'Than I am made by my young Lord and thee !
Come, now tow'rds Chertsey with your holy load,
Taken from Paul's to be interred there.
And ftill, as you are weary of this weight,
Rest you, while I lament King Henry's coarse.
Enter Richard Duke of Glocefter.
Glo. Stay you, that bear the coarse, and set it down.
Anne. What black magician conjures up this fiend, To stop devoted charitable deeds ?
Glo. Villains, set down the coarse ; or, by St. Paul, I'll make a coarse of him that disobeys.
Gen. My Lord, ftand back, and let the coffin pass.
Glo. Unmanner'd dog! stand thou, when I command;
Advance thy halbert higher than my breaft,
Or, by St. Paul, l'll strike thee to my foot,
And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness.
Anne. What, do you tremble ? are you all afraid ?
Alas, I blame you not, for you are mortal ;
And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil.
Avant, thou dreadful minister of hell!
Thou hadít but pow'r over his mortal body,
His soul thou canst not have ; therefore be gone.
Glo. Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curft.
Anne. Foul dev'l! for God's fake hence, trouble us not, For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell : Fill'd it with cursing cries, and deep exclaims. If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds, Behold this pattern of thy butcheries. Oh, gentlemen! fee! fee, dead Henry's wounds Open their congeal'd mouths and bleed afresh. Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity; For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood From cold and empty veins, where no blood dwells. Thy deeds, inhuman and unnatural, Provoke this deluge most unnatural. O God! which ihis blood mad't, revenge his death; O earth! which this blood drink'it, revenge his death : Or heav'n with lightning strike the murd'rer dead ; Or earth gape open wide, and eat him quick, As thou dceit fivallow up this good King's blood, Which his hell govern d arm hath butchered !
Glo. Lady, you know no rules of charity, Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses,
Anne. Villain, thou know'st nor law of God nor man; No beast fo fierce, but knows some touch of pity.
Glo. But I know none, and therefore am no beast.
Anne. O wonderful, when devils tell the truth !
Glo. More wonderful, when angels are so angry:
Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman,
Of these fuppofed crimes, to give me leave,
By circumstance, but to acquit myself.
Anne. Vouchsafe, diffus'd infection of a man,
For these known evils, but to give me leave,
By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self.
Glo. Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have Some patient leisure to excuse myfelf.
Anne. Fouler than heart can think thee, thou canst make No excuse current, but to hang thyself.
Glo. By such despair I should accuse myself.
Anne. And by delpairing thalt thou stand excus'd,
For doing worthy vengeance on thyself;
That didit unworthy slaughter upon others.,
Glo. Say, that I flew them not.
Anne. Then fay, they were not slain :
But dead they are; and, devilish slave, by thee.
Glo. I did not kill your husband.
Anne. Why, then he is alive.
Glo. Nay, he is dead, and llain by Edward's hands.
Anne. In thy foul throat thou ly'ft. Queen Marg’ret saw
Thy murd'rous faulchion Imoaking in his blood :
The which thou once didst bend against her breaft,
But that thy brothers beat aside the point.
Glo. I was provoked by her sland'rous tongue,
That laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders.,
Anne. Thou watt provoked by thy bloody mind,
That never dreamt on aught but butcheries;
Didst thou not kill this King ?
Glo. I grant ye.
Anne. Doit grant me, hedge-hog? then God grant me too, Thou may'st be damned for that wicked deed! O, he was gentle, mild and virtuous.
Glo. The fitter for the King of heav'n, that hath him. Anne. He is in heav'n, where thou shalt never come.
Glo. Let him thank me, that help'd 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 becide the chamber, where thou lieft!
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 something into a lower 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 accurft effect.
Glo. our beauty was the cause of that effect.