Act First.

SIR ROBERT BRAKENBURY, Lieutenant of the
Tower.

CHRISTOPHER URSWICK, a Priest.
Another Priest.

Lord Mayor of London.

Sheriff of Wiltshire.

ELIZABETH, Queen of King Edward IV. MARGARET, Widow of King Henry VI. DUCHESS OF YORK, Mother to King Edward IV., Clarence, and Gloster.

LADY ANNE, Widow of Edward, Prince of Wales, Son to King Henry VI.; afterwards married to the Duke of Gloster.

A young Daughter of Clarence.

Lords, and other Attendants; two Gentlemen, a Pursuivant, Scrivener, Citizens, Murderers, Messengers, Ghosts, Soldiers, &c.

SCENE I.-LONDON. A STREET.
Enter Gloster.

Glo. Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York; And all the clouds, that low'r'd upon our house, In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. [wreaths; Now are our brows bound with victorious Our bruised arms hung up for monuments; Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings, Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.1 Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front;

And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds,
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,-
He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber,
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
But I,-that am not shap'd for sportive tricks,
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;
I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's ma-
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;[jesty,
I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable,

1 Dancer.

That dogs bark at me, as I halt by them;-
Why I, in this weak piping time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time;
Unless to spy my shadow in the sun,
And descant on mine own deformity;
And therefore,-since I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain these fair well-spoken days,-
I am determined to prove a villain,
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.—
Plots have I laid, inductions1 dangerous,
By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams,
To set 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 subtle, false, and treacherous,
This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up;
About a prophecy, which says-that G
Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be.
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul! here Clarence

comes.

Enter Clarence, guarded, and Brakenbury. Brother, good day: What means this armed That waits upon your grace? [guard

Clar. His majesty, Tendering my person's safety, hath appointed This conduct to convey me to the Tower.

Glo. Upon what cause?

1 Preparations for mischief.

Clar.
Because my name is-George.
Glo. Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours;
Heshould, for that, commit your godfathers:-
Belike his majesty hath some intent,

That you shall be new christen'd in the Tower.
But what's the matter, Clarence? may I know?
Clar. Yea, Richard, when I know; for I protest,
As yet I do not: But, as I can learn,
He hearkens after prophecies and dreams;
And from the cross-row plucks the letter G,
And says-a wizard told him, that by G
His issue disinherited should be;
And, for my name of George begins with G,
It follows in his thought that I am he:
These as I learn, and such like toys as these,
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 sends you to the Tower;
My lady Grey, his wife, Clarence, 'tis she,
That tempers him to this extremity.
Was it not she, and that good man of worship,
Antony Woodeville, her brother there,
That made him send lord Hastings to the Tower;
From whence this present day he is deliver'd?
We are not safe, Clarence, we are not safe.
Clar. By heaven, I think, there is no man
[heralds
But the queen's kindred, and night-walking
That trudge betwixt the king and mistress Shore.
Heard you not what an humble suppliant
Lord Hastings was to her for his delivery?
Glo. Humbly complaining to her deity
Got my lord chamberlain his liberty.

secure,

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'er-worn widow, and herself,1
Since that ourbrotherdubb'd them gentlewomen,
Are mighty gossips in this monarchy.
Brak. I beseech your graces both to pardon me;
His majesty hath straitly given in charge,
That no man shall have private conference,
Of what degree soever with his brother.
Glo. Even so? an please your worship, Bra-
You may partake of any thing we say: [kenbury,
We speak no treason, man;-We say, the king
Is wise, and virtuous; and his noble queen
Well struck in years; fair, and not jealous:
We say, that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot,
A cherry lip,

A bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue;
And the queen's kindred are made gentlefolks:
How say you, sir? can you deny all this?

B. With this, my lord, myself have nought to do, And I beseech your grace to pardon me; and, withal,

Forbear your conference with the noble duke. Clar. We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will obey.

Glo. We are the queen's abjects, and must obey. Brother, farewell: I will unto the king; And whatsoever you will employ me in,Were it, to call king Edward's widow-sister,I will perform it to enfranchise you. Mean time, this deep disgrace in brotherhood, Touches me deeper than you can imagine. 1 The queen and Shore.

Clar. I know it pleaseth 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. [Exeunt Clar., Brak., and Guard. G.Go,tread thepath that thou shalt ne'er return, Simple, plain Clarence!-I do love thee so, That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven, If heaven will take the present at our hands. But who comes here? the new-deliver'd Hastings! Enter Hastings.

Hast. Good time of day unto my gracious lord! Glo. As much unto my good lord chamberlain! Well are you welcome to this open air. How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment? Hast. With patience, noble lord, as prisoners

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 shall Clar-

ence too;

For they, that were your enemies, are his,
And have prevail'd as much on him, as you.
Hast. More pity that the eagle should be mew'd,
While kites and buzzards prey at liberty.
Glo. What news abroad?

Hast. No news so bad abroad, as this at home;-
The king is sickly, weak, and melancholy,
And his physicians fear him mightily.
G. Now, by saint Paul, this news is bad indeed.
O, he hath kept an evil diet long,
And over-much consum'd his royal person;
'Tis very grievous to be thought upon.
What, is he in his bed?

And leave the world for me to bustle in!
For then I'll marry Warwick'syoungest daughter:
What though I killed her husband, andher 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 horse to market:
Clarence still breathes: Edward still lives, and
reigns;

When they are gone, then must I count my gains. [Exit.

Anne. If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide, These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks. [wreck; Glo. These eyes could not endure that beauty's You should not blemish it, if I stood by: As all the world is cheered by the sun, So I by that; it is my day, my life. [thy life! 4. Black night o'ershade thy day, and death G.Curse not thyself, fair creature; thou art both. Anne. I would I were, to be reveng'd on thee. Glo. It is a quarrel most unnatural, To be reveng'd on him that loveth thee. Anne. It is a quarrel just and reasonable, To be reveng'd on him that kill'd my husband. Glo. He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband, Did it to help thee to a better husband.

A. His better doth not breathe upon the earth. G. He lives, that loves you better than he could. Anne. Name him.

Glo.

Plantagenet.

Anne.
Why, that was he,
Glo. The self-same name, but one of better
Anne. Where is he?
[nature.

Glo. Here: [She spits at him.] Why dost thou spit at me?

A. 'Would it were mortal poison for thy sake! Glo. Never came poison from so sweet a place, Anne. Never hung poison on a fouler toad. Out of my sight! thou dost infect mine eyes. Glo. Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine. Anne. 'Would they were basilisks, to strike thee dead!

Glo. I would they were, that I might die at once;
For now they kill me with a living death. [tears,
Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt
Sham'd their aspects with store of childish drops:
These eyes, which never shed remorsefull tear,
Nor when my father York and Edward wept
To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made,
When black-fac'd Clifford shook his sword at
Nor when thy warlike father, like a child, [him:
Told the sad story of my father's death;
And twenty times made pause, to sob and weep,
That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks,
Like trees bedash'd with rain: in that sad time,
My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear;
And what these sorrows could not hence exhale,
Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with
I never su'd to friend, nor enemy; [weeping.
My tongue could never learn sweet soothing
But now thy beauty is propos'd my fee, [word;
My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue

to speak. [She looks scornfully at him. Teach not thy lip such scorn; for it was made For kissing, lady, not for such contempt. If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive, Lo! here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword; Which if thou please to hide in this true breast, And let the soul forth that adoreth thee, I lay it naked to the deadly stroke, And humbly beg the death upon my knee. [He lays his Breast open; she offers at it with his Sword.

Nay, do not pause; for I did kill king Henry;
But 'twas thy beauty that provok'd me.
Nay, now despatch; 'twas I that stabb'd young
Edward;-[She again offers at his Breast.
1 Pitying.

Glo.

But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on.
[She lets fall the Sword.
Take up the sword again, or take up me.
A. Arise, dissembler: though I wish thy death,
I will not be thy executioner.
Glo. Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it.
Anne. I have already.
That was in thy rage:
Speak it again, and, even with the word,
This hand, which for thy love, did kill thy love,
Shall, for thy love, kill a far truer love;
To both their deaths shalt thou be accessary.
Anne. I would, I knew thy heart.
Glo. 'Tis figur'd in my tongue.
Anne. I fear me, both are false.
Glo. Then man was never true.
Anne. Well, well, put up your sword.
Glo. Say then, my peace is made.
Anne. That shall you know hereafter.
Glo. But shall I live in hope?
Anne. All men, I hope, live so.
Glo. Vouchsafe to wear this ring.
Anne. To take, is not to give.

[She puts on the Ring.
G. Look, how this ring encompasseth thy finger,
Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart;
Wear both of them, for both of them are thine;
And if thy poor devoted servant may
But beg one favour at thy gracious hand,
Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever.
Anne. What is it?

[designs

Glo. That it may please you leave these sad To him that hath more cause to be a mourner, And presently repair to Crosby-place: Where-after I have solemnly interr'd, At Chertsey monast'ry this noble king, And wet his grave with my repentant tears,I will with all expedient duty see you. For divers unknown reasons, I beseech you, Grant me this boon.

A. With all my heart; and much it joys me To see you are become so penitent. [too. Tressel, and Berkley go along with me. Glo. Bid me farewell. Anne.

"Tis more than you deserve; But, since you teach me how to flatter you, Imagine I have said farewell already.

[Exeunt Lady Anne, Tressel, and Berkley. Glo. Take up the corse, sirs.

Gent.
Towards Chertsey, noble lord?
Glo. No, to White Friars; there attend my
coming. [Exeunt the rest, with the Corpse.
Was ever woman in this humour woo'd?
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 extremest hate;
With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes,
The bleeding witness of her hatred by;
With Heaven, her conscience, and these bars
against me,

And I no friends to back my suit withal,
But the plain devil and dissembling looks,
And yet to win her, all the world to nothing!
Ha!

Hath she forgot already that brave prince
Edward, her lord, whom I some three months
Stabb'd in my angry mood at Tewksbury? [since