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Whilst I propose the self-same words to thee,
Q. Mar. Ah, that thy father bad been so resolvd !
Glo. That you might still have worn the petticoat, And ne'er have stol'n the breech from Lancaster.
Prince. Let Æsop fable in a winter's night; His currish riddles sort not with this place. Glo. By heaven, brat, I'll plague you for that
word. Q. Mar. Ay, thou wast born to be a plague to
Glo. For God's sake, take away this captive scold. Prince. Nay, take away this scolding crook-back
rather. K. Edw. Peace, wilful boy, or I will charm your
tongue. Clar. Untutor’d lad, thou art too malapert.
Prince. I know my duty, you are all undutiful: Lascivious Edward,--and thou perjur'd George,And thou mis-sbapen Dick,- I tell ye all, I am your better, traitors as ye are;And thou usurp'st my father's right and mine. K. Edw. Take that, the likeness of this railer here.
[Stabs him. Glo. Sprawl'st thou? take that, to end thy agony.
[Glo. stabs hin, Clar. And there's for twitting me with perjury.
[Clar. stabs him. Q. Mar. O, kill me too! Glo. Marry, and shall. [Offers to kill her. K. Edw. Hold, Richard, hold, for we have done
too much. Glo. Why should she live, to fill the world with
words? K. Edw. What! doth she swoon? use means for
Glo. Clarence, excuse me to the king my brother ;
Clar. What? what?
[Exit. Q. Mar. O, Ned, sweet Ned! speak to thy mother,
boy! Canst thou not speak !-O traitors! murderers! They, that stabb’d Cæsar, shed no blood at all, Did not offend, nor were not worthy blame, If this foul deed were by, to equal it. He was a man; this, in respect, a child; And men ne'er spend their fury on a child. What's worse than murderer, that I may name it? No, no; my heart will burst, an if I speak: And I will speak, that so my heart may burst.Butchers and villains, bloody cannibals! How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp'd ! You have no children, butchers! if you had, The thought of them would have stirr'd up remorse : But, if you ever chance to have a child, Look in his youth to have him so cut off, As, deathsmen! you have rid this sweet young prince! K. Edw. Away with her; go, bear her bence per
force. Q. Mar. Nay, never bear me bence, despatch me
here; Here sheath thy sword, I'll pardon thee my death: What! wilt thou not ?- then, Clarence, do it thou.
Clar. By heaven, I will not do thee so much ease. Q. Mar. Good Clarence, do; sweet Clarence, do
thou do it. Clar. Didst thou not hear me swear, I would not
do it. Q. Mar. Ay, but thou usest to forswear thyself; 'Twas sin before, but now 'tis charity. What! wilt thou not? where is that devil's butcher,
Hard-favour'd Richard Richard, where art thou? Thou art not here: Murder is thy alms-deed; Petitioners for blood thou ne'er put'st back.
K. Edw. Away, I say; I charge ye, bear her hence. Q. Mar. So come to you, and yours, as to this prince!
[Exit, led out forcibly. K. Edw. Where's Richard gone? Clar. To London, all in post; and, as I guess,
, To make a bloody supper in the Tower.
K. Edw. He's sudden, if a thing comes in his head. Now march we hence: discharge the common sort With pay and thanks, and let's away to London, And see our gentle queen how well she fares; By this, I hope, she bath a son for me. [Exeunt.
SCENE VI.-Lezdon. A room in the Tower. King HENRY is discovered sitting with a book in his hand, the Lieutenant attending. Enter Gloster. Glo. Good day, my lord! What, at your book so
hard ? K. Hen. Ay, my good lord: My lord, I should
'Tis sin to flatter, good was little better:
[Exit Lieutenant. K. Hen. So flies the reckless shepherd from the K. Hen. The bird, that hath been limed in a bush, With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush: And I, the hapless male to one sweet bird, Have now the fatal object in my eye, Where my poor young was lim'd, was caught, and
wolf: So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece, And next bis throat unto the butcher's knife.What scene of death hath Roscius now to act?
Glo. Suspicion ever haunts the guilty mind; The thief doth fear each bush an officer.
K. Hen. I, Dædalus; my poor boy, Icarus;
Glo. Think'st thou, I am an executioner?
K. Hen. A persecutor, I am sure, thou art;
Glo. Thy son I killd for his presumption.
old man's sigh, and many a widow's,
The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top,
[Stabs him. For this, amongst the rest, was I ordain’d. K. Hen. Ay, and for much more slaughter after
this. O God! forgive my sins, and pardon thee! [Dies.
Glo. What, will the aspiring blood of Lancaster Sink in the ground? I thought it would have mounted. See, how my sword weeps for the poor king's death! 0, may such purple tears be always shed From those who wish the downfal of our house!If any spark of life be yet remaining, Down, down to hell; and say-I sent thee thither,
[Stabs him again.