Glo. Then never man was true.
Anne. Well, well, put up your fword.
Glo. Say then, my peace is made.
Anne. That fhalt thou know hereafter.
Glo. But fhall I live in hope?
Anne. All men, I hope, live fo.
Glo. Vouchfafe to wear this ring.
Lock, how my ring encompaffeth thy finger,
Ev'n fo thy breaft incloseth my poor heart:
Wear both of them, for both of them are thine.
And if thy poor devoted fuppliant may
But beg one favour at thy gracious hand,
Thou doft confirm his happiness for ever.
Anne. What is it?

Glo. That it may please you leave these fad defigns
To him, that hath more cause to be a mourner;
And prefently repair to Crosby-place: (4)
Where, after I have folemnly interr'd
At Chertsey monaft'ry this noble King,
And wet his grave with my repentant tears,
I will with all expedient duty fee you.
For divers unknown reafons, I beseech you,
Grant me this boon.

Anne. With all my heart, and much it joys me too, To fee you are become fo penitent.

Traffel and Barkley, go along with me.

Glo. Bid me farewel.

Anne. 'Tis more than you deserve :
But fince you teach me how to flatter you,

Imagine, I have faid farewel already. [Exe. two with Anne.

Glo. Sirs, take up the coarse.

Gent. Towards Chertsey, noble Lord ?

Glo. No, to White-Friars, there attend my coming.

[Exeunt with the coarse.

Was ever woman in this humour woo'd?

(4) repair to Crofby-place.] This was a house of Richard Duke of Glocefter near Bishop's-gate ftreet. It was formerly, I prefume, a part of the eftate of Sir John Crosbie, (a Lord Mayor of London) who, in the year 1477, was buried at St. Helen's in Bishop'sgate freet, and left the bulk of his effects to public benefactions.

Was

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 extreameft hate,
With curfes in her mouth, tears in her eyes,

The bleeding witness of her hatred by:

With God, her confcience, and thefe bars against me,
And I no friends to back my fuit withal,

But the plain devil and diffembling looks :
And yet to win her-All the world to nothing!
Ha!

Hath fhe forgot already that brave Prince,

Edward, her Lord, whom I, fome three months fince,
Stab'd in my angry mood at Tewksbury?

A fweeter, and a lovelier Gentleman,
Fram'd in the prodigality of nature,

Young, wife, and valiant, and, no doubt, right royal,
The fpacious world cannot again afford :

And will the yet debafe her eyes on me,

That cropt the golden prime of this sweet Prince,
And made her widow to a woeful bed?

On me, whofe all not equals Edward's moiety ?
On me, that halt, and am mif-shapen thus ?
My dukedom to a beggarly denier,

I do mistake my perfon all this while :
Upon my life, the finds, although I cannot,
Myfelf to be a marv'lous proper man.
I'll be at charges for a looking-glafs,
And entertain a fcore or two of tailors,
To study fashions to adorn my body:
Since I am crept in favour with myself,
I will maintain it with fome little coft.
But first I'll turn yon fellow in his grave,
And then return lamenting to my love.
Shine out, fair fun, till I have bought a glass,
That I may fee my fhadow as I pafs.

[Exit.

SCENE changes to the Palace.

Enter the Queen, Lord Rivers, and Lord Gray. Riv.TAVE patience, Madam, there's no doubt,

Will foon recover his accuftom'd health.

Gray. In that you brook it ill, it makes him worfe ; Therefore, for God's fake, entertain good comfort, And cheer his Grace with quick and merry eyes. Queen. If he were dead, what would betide of me? Gray. No other harm, but lofs of fuch a Lord. Queen. The lofs of fuch a Lord includes all harms. Gray. The heav'ns have bleft you with a goodly fon, To be your comforter when he is gone.

Is

Queen. Ah! he is young, and his minority
put into the truft of Richard Glo'fter,

A man that loves not me, nor none of you.
Riv. Is it concluded, he fhall be Protector?
Queen. It is determin'd, not concluded yet:
But so it must be, if the King miscarry.

Enter Buckingham and Stanley.

Gray. Here come the Lords of Buckingham and Stanley.(5) Buck. Good time of day unto your royal Grace! Stan. God make your Majefty joyful as you have been! Queen. The Countefs Richmond,good my Lord of Stanley, To your good pray'r will fcarcely fay, Amen ;

(5) Here come the Lords of Buckingham and Derby.] This is a blunder of inadvertence, which has run thro' the whole chain of impreffions. It could not well be original in Shakespeare, who was moft minutely intimate with his hiftory and the intermarriages of the nobility. The perfon, here called Derby, was Thomas Lord Stanley, Lord Steward of King Edward the IVth's houfhold. He had married Margaret daughter of John Duke of Somerfet, and widow of Edmund Earl of Richmond, by whom fhe had Henry Earl of Richmond, afterwards King Henry VIIth. But this Thomas Lord Stanley was not created Earl of Derby till after the acceffion of that Prince; and accordingly, afterwards in the fourth or fifth As of this Play, before the battle of Bofworth-field, he is every where call'd Lord Stanley. This fufficiently juftifies the change I have made in his title.

Yet,

Yet, Stanley, notwithstanding the's your wife,
And loves not me, be you, good Lord, affur'd,
I hate not you for her proud arrogance.

Stanley. I do befeech you, either not believe
The envious flanders of her falfe accufers:
Or, if she be accus'd on true report,

Bear with her weaknefs; which, I think, proceeds
From wayward fickness, and no grounded malice.
Queen. Saw you the King to-day, my Lord of Stanley?
Stanley. But now the Duke of Buckingham and I
Are come from visiting his Majesty.

Queen. What likelihood of his amendment, Lords?
Buck. Madam, good hope; his Grace fpeaks chearfully.
Queen. God grant him health! did you confer with him?
Buck. Madam, we did; he feeks to make atonement
Between the Duke of Glofter and your brothers,
And between them and my Lord Chamberlain ;
And fent to warn them to his royal prefence.

Queen. Would all were well-but that will never be➡ I fear, our happiness is at the height.

Enter Glocefter.

Glo. They do me wrong, and I will not endure it.
Who are they, that complain unto the King,
That I, forfooth, am ftern, and love them not ?
By holy Paul, they love his Grace but lightly,
That fill his ears with fuch diffentious rumours.
Because I cannot flatter, and look fair,
Smile in men's faces, fmooth, deceive and cog,
Duck with French nods, and apifh courtesy,
I must be held a rancorous enemy.
Cannot a plain man live and think no harm,
But thus his fimple truth must be abus'd
By filken, fly, infinuating Jacks?

Gray. To whom in all this prefence speaks your Grace?
Glo. To thee, that haft nor honefty, nor grace:
When have I injur'd thee? when done thee wrong ?
Or thee? or thee? or any of your faction?
A plague upon you all! His royal perfon,
Whom God preferve better than you would wish,

Cannot

Cannot be quiet fcarce a breathing while,
But you must trouble him with lewd complaints.
Queen. Brother of Glofter, you mistake the matter :
The King of his own royal difpofition,

And not provok'd by any fuitor elfe,
(Aiming, belike, at your interior hatred,
That in your outward action shews itself
Against my children, brothers, and myself ;)
Makes him to fend, that he may learn the ground
Of your ill will, and thereby to remove it.

Glo. I cannot tell; the world is grown fo bad,
That wrens make prey, where eagles dare not perch.
Since every Jack became a gentleman,

There's many a gentle perfon made a Jack.

Queen. Come, come, we know your meaning, brother Glo'fter.

You envy my advancement and my friends:

God grant, we never may have need of you?

Glo. Mean time, God grants that we have need of you. Our brother is imprisoned by your means;

Myfelf difgrac'd; and the nobility

Held in contempt; while many fair promotions

Are daily given to ennoble those,

That scarce, fome two days fince, were worth a noble. Queen. By him, that rais'd me to this careful height, From that contented hap which I enjoy'd,

I never did incenfe his Majefty

Against the Duke of Clarence; but have been
An earnest advocate to plead for him.

My Lord, you do me shameful injury,

Falfely to draw me in these wild fufpects.

Glo. You may deny, that you were not the caufe

Of my Lord Haftings' late imprisonment.

Riv. She may, my Lord, for

Glo. She may, Lord Rivers-why, who knows not fo 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 thofe honours on your high deferts.

What may the not? she may-ay, marry, may fhe