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But the Queen's kindred, and night-walking heralds,
That trudge between the King and Mistress Shore.
Heard you not what an humble suppliant
Lord Haftings was to her for his delivery?
Glo. Humbly complaining to her diety,
Got my Lord Chamberlain his liberty.
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'erworn widow, and herself,

Since that our brother dubb'd them gentlewomen,
Are mighty goffips in this monarchy

Brak. I beg your Graces both to pardon me :

His Majefty has ftraitly giv'n in charge,

That no man fhall have private conference,

Of what degree foever, with your brother.

Glo. Ev'n fo, an't please your worship, Brakenbury! You may partake of any thing we say:

We speak no treafon, man- -we fay the King
Is wife and virtuous; and his noble Queen
Well ftrook in years; fair, and not over-jealous-
We fay that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot,
A cherry lip, a paffing pleafing tongue :
That the Queen's kindred are made gentle-folk.
How fay you. Sir? can you deny all this?

Brak. With this, my Lord, myfelf have nought to do.
Glo What, fellow? nought to do with Mrs Shore?
I tell you, Sir, he that doth naught with her,
excepting one, were beft to do it fecretly.
Brak. What one, my Lord?

Glo. Her husband, knave-wouldst thou betray me? Brak. I do befeech your Grace to pardon me, And to forbear your conf'rence with the Duke. Clar. We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will obey.

Glo. We are the Queen's abjects, and must obey
Brother, farewel; I will unto the King,

And whatfoe'er you will employ me in,
(Were it to call King Edward's widow filter),
I will perform it to infranchise you.

Mean time, this deep difgrace of brotherhood
Touches me deeper than you can imagine,

Clar. I know it pleaseth neither of us well.

Glo. Well your imprisonment fhall not be long; I will deliver you, or elfe lie for you.

Mean time, have patience.

Clar. I must perforce; farewel.

[Exe. Brak. Clar.

I do love thee fo,

Glo. Go, tread the path that thou fhalt ne'er return Simple, plain Clarence !

That I will fhortly fend thy foul to heav'n,

If heav'n will take the prefent at my hands..
But who comes here? the new-deliver'd Hastings ?
Enter Lord Haftings.

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 Lordship brook'd imprisonment?
Haft With patience, Noble Lord, as pris'ners muft:
But I fhall live, my Lord, to give them thanks,
That were the cause of my imprisonment.

Glo. No doubt, no doubt; and fo fhall 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 fhould be mew'd, While kites and buzzards prey at liberty.

Glo What news abroad?.

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Haft No news fo bad abroad as this at home :. The King is fickly, weak, and melancholy;

And his phyficians fear him mightily.

Glo. Now, by St Paul, that news is bad indeed..

O, he hath kept an evil diet long,

And over much confum'd his royal perfon: 'Tis very grievous to be thought upon. Where is he? in his bed !

Haft. He is, my Lord.

Glo. Go you before, and I will follow you.

Exit Haflings.

heav n.

He cannot live, I hope; and muf not die,
Till George be pack'a with poft-hoffe up
I'll in to urge his hatred more to Clarence,
With lies well ilee'd with weighty arguments;.
And if I fail not in my deep intent,
Clarence hath not another day to live:

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Which done, God take King Edward to his mercy,
And leave the world for me to buftle in!

For then I'll marry Warwick's youngest daughter.
What though I kill'd her husband and her father?
The readiest way to make the wench amends,
Is to become her husband and her father:
The which will I, not all fo much for love,
As for another fecret clofe intent,

Which I, by marrying her, must reach unto.
But yet I run before my horfe to market:
Clarence ftill breaths, Edward ftill lives and reigns;
When they are gone, then muft I count my gains.

SCENE II. Changes to a fireet.

[Exit.

Enter the corfe of Henry the Sixth, with halberts to guard it, Lady Anne being the mourner.

Anne. Set down, fet down your honourable lead
If honour may be throuded in a herfe;
Whilft I a while obfequioufly lament
Th' untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster.
Poor clay-cold figure of a holy King!
Pale afhes of the houfe of Lancaster!
Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood!
Be't lawful that I invocate thy ghost,
To hear the lamentations of poor Anne,
Wife to thy Edward, to thy flaughter'd fon;

Stabb'd by the self fame hand that made these wounds.
Lo, in thefe windows that let forth thy life,
I power the helpless balm of my poor eyes.
Curs'd be the hand that made thefe 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 wifh to adders, fpiders, 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 afpect

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 Chertley with your holy load,
Taken from Paul's to be interred there,

And still, as you are weary of this weight,
Reft you, while I lament King Heary's corfe.

Enter Richard Duke of Gloucester.

Glo. Stay, you that bear the corse, and fet it down. Anne. What black magician conjures up this fiend, To stop devoted charitable deeds ?

Glo. Villains, fet down the corfe, or, by St Paul, I'll make a corse of him that disobeys.

Gen. My Lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass. Glo. Unmanner'd dog! ftand thou when I command; Advance thy halbert higher than my breast,

Or, by St Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot,

And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldnefs.
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.
Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell!
Thou hadst but power over his mortal body;

His foul thou canst not hurt; therefore be gone,
Glo. Sweet faint, for charity, be not fo curs'd.
Anne. Foul dev'l! for God's fake hence, trouble us
For thou haft made the happy earth thy hell; [not;
Fill'd it with curfing 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 atrefh.
Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity;
For 'tis thy prefence that exhales this blood
From cold and empty veins, where no blood dwells.
Thy deeds, inhumane and unnatural,

Provoke this deluge most unnatural.

O God! which this blood mad'ft, revenge his death :
O Earth! which this blood drink'ft, revenge his death.
Or, Heav'n, with lightning ftrike the murth'rer dead,
Or, Earth, gape open wide, and eat him quick;

As thou doft fwallow 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, bleffings for curfes.
Anne. Villain, thou know'ft nor law of God nor man;
No beast fo fierce, but knows fome 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.. Vouchfafe, divine perfection of a woman,

Of these fuppofed crimes, to give me leave,
By circumftance, but to acquit myself.

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Anne. Vouchfafe, diffus'd infection of a man,

For these known evils, but to give me leave,

By circumstance, to curfe thy curfed felf.

Glo. Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have Some patient leifure to excufe myself.

Anne. Fouler than heart can think thee, thou canft.

No excufe current, but to hang thy felf.

Glo. By fuch defpair I fhould accuse myself.

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Anne. And by defpairing fhalt thou stand excus'd,.

For doing worthy vengeance on thyself,

That didft unworthy daughter upon others..

Glo Say that i flew them not..

Anne. Then fay they were not flain :

But dead they are, and, devilish flave, by thee:
Glo I did not kill your husband..

Anne. Why, then he is alive.

Glo. Nay, he is dead, and flain by Edwards' hands.
Anne, In thy foul throat thou lyft. Queen Marg❜ret
Thy murd'rous faulchion fmoking in his lood: [faw
The which thou once didft bend against her breast,
But that thy brothers beat afide the point.

Glo. I was provoked by her fland'rous tongue,
That laid their guilt upon my guiltlefs fhoulders..
Anne. Thou waft provoked by thy bloody mind,
That never dream'd on aught but butcheries..
Didft thou not kill this King?

Glo. I grant ye

Anne Dolt grant me, hedge-hog? then God grant me Thou may'ft Le camned for that wicked deed! [too O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous.

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