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K. Edw. You cavil, widow; I did mean my Queen. Gray. "Twill grieve your Grace, my fons fhould call you father.

K. Edw. No more than when my daughters call thee
mother.

Thou art a widow, and thou haft fome children;
And, by God's mother, I, being but a batchelor,
Have other fome: why, 'tis a happy thing,
To be the father unto many fons.

Answer no more, for thou shalt be my Queen.

Glo. The ghoftly father now hath done his fhrift.
Clar. When he was made a fhriver, 'twas for shift.
K. Edw. Brothers, ye mufe what chat we two have had.
Glo. The widow likes it not, for fhe looks fad.

K. Edw. You'd think it ftrange, if I should marry her.
Clar. To whom, my Lord?

K. Edw. Why, Clarence, to myself.

Glo. That would be ten days wonder at the least.
Clar. That's a day longer than a wonder lasts.
Glo. By fo much is the wonder in extremes.

K. Edw. Well, jeft on, brothers; I can tell you both, Her fuit is granted for her husband's lands,

Enter a Nobleman.

Nob. My gracious Lord, Henry your foe is taken,
And brought your prifoner to your palace-gate.

K. Edw. See, that he be convey'd unto the Tower.
And go we, brothers, to the man that took him,
To queftion of his apprehenfion.

Widow, go you along: Lords, ufe her honourably.

Manet Gloucefter.

[Exeunt.

Glo. Ay, Edward will ufe women honourably.
Would he were wafted, marrow, bones, and all,
That from his loins no hopeful branch may fpring,
To crofs me from the golden time I look for.
And yet between my foul's defire and me,
(The luftfui Edward's title buried)

Is Clarence, Henry, and his fon young Edward;

And

And all the unlook'd-for iffue of their bodie',
To take their rooms ere I can place myself.
A cold premeditation for my purpose !
Why, then I do but dream on Sov'reignty,
Like one that ftands upon a promontory,
And fpies a far-off fhore where he would tread,
Wishing his foot were equal with his eye,
And chides the sea that funders him from thence,
Saying, he'll lade it dry to have his way;
So do I with, the crown being so far off,
And so I chide the means that keep me from it;
And fo (I fay) I'll cut the caufes off,

Flatt'ring my mind with things impoffible.

My eye's too quick, my heart o'er-weens too much,
Unlefs my hand and ftrength could equal them.
Well, fay, there is no kingdom then for Richard:
What other pleasure can the world afford?
I'll make my heaven in a Lady's lap,
And deck my body in gay ornaments,

And 'witch fweet Ladies with my words and looks.
O miferable thought! and more unlikely,
Than to accomplish twenty golden crowns.
Why, love forfwore me in my mother's womb;
And, for I fhould not deal in her soft laws,
She did corrupt frail nature with fome bribe
To fhrink mine arm up like a wither'd shrub:
To make an envious mountain on my back,
Where fits deformity to mock my body;
To shape my legs of an unequal fize;
To difproportion me in every part;
Like to a chaos, or unlick'd bear-whelp,
That carries no impreffion like the dam.
And am I then a man to be belov'd?

Oh, monftrous fault, to harbour fuch a thought!
'Then fince this earth affords no joy to me,
But to command, to check, to o'er-bear fuch
As are of better perfon than myfelf;

I'll make my heav'n to dream upon the crown;
And, while I live, t' account this world but hell,
Until the mif-fhap'd trunk, that bears this head,

Be round impaled with a glorious crown.
And yet I know not how to get the crown,
For many lives ftand between me and home:
And I, (like one loft in a thorny wood,
That rends the thorns, and is rent with the thorns
Seeking a way, and straying from the way,
Not knowing how to find the open air,
But toiling defp'rately to find it out)
Torment myself to catch the English crown.
And from that torment I will free myself,
Or hew my way out with a bloody ax.
Why, I can fmile, and murder while I fmile;
And cry, content, to that which grieves my heart;
And wet my cheeks with artificial tears,
And frame my face to all occafions :

I'll drown more failors, than the mermaid fhall!
I'll flay more gazers, than the basilisk;
I'll play the orator, as well as Neftor;
Deceive more flily, than Ulyffes could
And, like a Sinon, take another Troy:
I can add colours ev'n to the camelion;
Change fhapes with Proteus, for advantages;
And fet the murd'rous Machiavel to fchool.
Can I do this, and cannot get a crown?
Tut, were it farther off, I'll pluck it down.

SCENE changes to France.

[Exit.

Flourish. Enter King Lewis, Lady Bona, Bourbon, Edward Prince of Wales, Queen Margaret, and the Earl of Oxford. Lewis fits, and rifeth up again.

K. Lew.

•FA

Air Queen of England, worthy Margaret, Sit down with us; it ill befits thy state, And birth, that thou should'ft ftand, while Lewis fits. Queen. No, mighty King of France; now Margaret Mult ftrike her fail, and learn awhile to serve, Where Kings command. I was, I must confefs, Great Albion's Queen in former golden days: But now mifchance hath trod my title down, And with dishonour laid me on the ground;

Where

ere I must take like feat unto my fortune, I to my humble feat conform myself.

. Lew. Why, fay, fair Queen, whence fprings this deep despair?

Fueen. From fuch a caufe as fills mine eyes with tears;
Aftops my tongue while my heart's drown'd in cares.
C. Lew. Whate'er it be, be thou ftill like thyself,
fit thee by our fide. Yield not thy neck

[Seats her by him. fortune's yoke, but let thy dauntless mind

1 ride in triumph over all mifchance.
plain, Queen Margaret, and tell thy grief;
hall be eas'd, if France can yield relief.

Queen. Thofe gracious words revive my drooping thoughts,

d give my tongue-ty'd forrows leave to speak.
w therefore be it known to noble Lewis,
at Henry, fole poffeffor of my love,

of a King, become a banifh'd man, d forc'd to live in Scotland a forlorn ; ile proud ambitious Edward Duke of York urps the regal title, and the feat England's true anointed lawful King. is is the caufe, that I, poor Margaret, ith this my fon Prince Edward, Henry's heir, n come to crave thy juft and lawful aid: d if thou fail us, all our hope is done. otland hath will to help, but cannot help : r people and our Peers are both mis-led, ar treasure feiz'd, our foldiers put to flight, nd, as thou feeft, ourselves in heavy plight. K.Lew. Renowned Queen, with patience calm the storm; While we bethink a means to break it off.

Queen. The more we stay, the ftronger grows our foe. K. Lew. The more I ftay, the more I'll fuccour thee. Queen. O, but impatience waiteth on true forrow: (16) and fee, where comes the breeder of my forrow.

(16) O, but impatience waiteth on true forrow;

Enter

Ind fee, where comes the breeder of my forrow.] Though I have not

G.3

difturbed

Enter Warwick.

K. Lew. What's he approacheth boldly to our prefence?
Queen. Our Earl of Warwick, Edward's greatest friend.
K, Lew. Welcome, brave Warwick, what brings thee
to France ?
[He defcends. She arifeth.
Queen. Ay, now, begins a fecond storm to rife;
For this is he, that moves both wind and tide.
War. From worthy Edward, King of Albion,
My Lord and Sov'reign, and thy vowed friend,
I come (in kindness and unfeigned love)
First to do greetings to thy royal perfon,
And then to crave a league of amity;
And lastly, to confirm that amity

With nuptial knot, if thou vouchsafe to grant
That virtuous Lady Bona, thy fair fifter,
To England's King in lawful marriage.

Queen. If that go forward, Henry's hope is done!
War. And, gracious Madam, in our King's behalf,

[Speaking to Bona. I am commanded, with your leave and favour, Humbly to kiss your hand; and with my tongue To tell the paffion of my Sov'reign's heart; Where fame, late ent'ring at his heedful ears, Hath plac'd thy beauty's image and thy virtue.

Queen King Lervis, and Lady Bona, hear me speak, Before you anfwer Waravick. His demand

difturb'd the text here, I cannot fmother an ingenious conjecture of my friend's on this paffage. "How does impatience wait more particu larly on true forrow? On the contrary, thofe forrows, fuch as ti.is "Queen's, which came gradually, by a long courfe of misfortunes, are generally lefs impatient than that of those, who, having been "unacquainted with misfortunes, fall into fudden miferies, Perhaps, "the true reading might be;

O, but impatience, waiting, rues to-morrow:

And fee, where comes the breeder of my forrow.

"i. e. When impatience waits and follicits for redrefs, there is no"thin the fo much dreads as being put off till to-morrow; (a pro"verb al expreffion for procrastination) and a very proper reply to the "King Befides, a rhyme is hereby added, in which custom the poet fo much delighted; and a fentiment is convey'd truly worthy "of him." Mr. Warburton,

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