"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 Woodville, 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 secure
But the queen's kindred, and night-walking heralds
That trudge betwixt the king and mistress Shore.2
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.
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,3
Since that our brother dubb'd them gentlewomen,
Are mighty gossips in our 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, Brakenbury,
You may partake of anything we say:

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?

Brak. With this, my lord, myself have nought to do.

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:

(1) My lady Grey his wife. Edward IV. married Elizabeth, widow of Sir John Grey of Groby. Her maiden name was Woodville, or Widville, and Antony Woodville, mentioned below, was her brother.

(2) Mistress Shore. Jane Shore, the mistress of Edward IV.

(3) The jealous o'er-worn widow and herself. That is, the Queen and Jane Shore.

(4) Are mighty gossips in our monarchy, i. e. are far too busy in state matters. (5) The queen's abjects, i. e. not the queen's subjects, but her abjects.

And whatsoe'er you will employ me in,-
Were it to call king Edward's widow' sister,-
I will perform it, to enfranchise you.
Meantime, this deep disgrace in brotherhood
Touches me deeper than you can imagine.

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:2

Meantime, have patience.

Clar.

I must perforce; farewell.
[Exeunt CLARENCE, BRAKENBURY, and Guard.
Glo. Go, tread the path 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 Clarence 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.

Glo. Now, by St. 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.

Where is he? in his bed?

Glo. Go you before, and I will follow you, [Exit HASTINGS. He cannot live, I hope; and must not die

Till George be packed with posthorse up to heaven.

I'll in to urge his hatred more to Clarence,

(1) King Edward's widow, f.e. the widow Grey, whom Edward had made

his own.

(2) Lie for you, i. e. lie in prison for you.

With lies well steel'd with weighty arguments:
And, if I fail not in my deep intent,
Clarence hath not another day to live:

Which done, God take king Edward to his mercy,
And leave the world for me to bustle 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 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.

SCENE II.-The same. Another Street.

[Exit.

Enter the corpse of KING HENRY THE SIXTH, borne in an open coffin, Gentlemen bearing halberds, to guard it, and LADY, ANNE as mourner.

Anne. Set down, set down your honourable load,

If honour may be shrouded in a hearse,—
Whilst I a while obsequiously1 lament
The untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster.
Poor key-cold figure of a holy king!
Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster!
Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood!
Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost,

To hear the lamentations of poor Anne,
Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughter'd son,

Stabb'd by the self-same hand that made these wounds!
Lo, in these windows that let forth thy life,
I pour
the helpless balm of my poor eyes:
O, cursed be the hand that made these holes!
Cursed the heart that had the heart to do it!
Cursed the blood that let this blood from hence!
More direful hap betide that hated wretch,
That makes us wretched by the death of thee,
Than I can wish to adders, spiders, toads,
Or any creeping venom'd thing that lives!
If ever he have child, abortive be it,
Prodigious, and untimely brought to light,
Whose ugly and unnatural aspect
May fright the hopeful mother at the view;

(1) Obsequiously is here used for funercally; in obsequies.

Y

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, toward Chertsey with your holy load,
Taken from Paul's to be interred there;

And, still as you are weary of the weight,
Rest you, whiles I lament king Henry's corse.

[The bearers take up the corpse, and advance.

Enter GLOSTER.

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

Glo. Villains, set down the corse; or, by Saint Paul, I'll make a corse of him that disobeys!

1 Gent. My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass. Glo. Unmanner'd dog! stand thou when I command: Advance thy halberd higher than my breast,

Or, by Saint Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot,
And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness.

[The bearers set down the coffin.
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 soul thou canst not have; therefore be gone.
Glo. Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst.

Anne. Foul devil, for God's sake, hence, and trouble us not; For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell,

Fill'd it with cursing cries, and deep exclaims.

If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds,
Behold this pattern1 of thy butcheries.

O, gentlemen, see, see! dead Henry's wounds

Open their congeal'd mouths and bleed afresh !2
Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity;
For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood
From cold and empty veins, where no blood dwells;
Thy deed, inhuman and unnatural,

Provokes this deluge most unnatural.

O God, which this blood mad'st, revenge his death!

(1) Pattern, i. e. instance, example.

(2) Open their congeal'd mouths and bleed afresh. There is a tradition, even in these days very generally received, that the body of a murdered man bleeds at the touch of the murderer.

O earth, which this blood drink'st, revenge his death!
Either, Heaven, with lightning strike the murtherer dead;
Or, earth, gape open wide and eat him quick,1
As thou dost swallow 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, blessings for curses.
Anne. Villain, thou know'st no law of God nor man;
No beast so fierce but knows some 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!
Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman,
Of these supposed crimes to give me leave,
By circumstance, but to acquit myself.

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

For these known evils but to give me leave,

By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self.

Glo. Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have

Some patient leisure to excuse myself.

Anne. Fouler than heart can think thee, thou canst make

No excuse current, but to hang thyself.

Glo. By such despair I should accuse myself.

Anne. And by despairing shalt thou stand excus'd,

For doing worthy vengeance on thyself,

That didst unworthy slaughter upon others.

Glo. Say, that I slew them not.

Anne. Then say, they were not slain.

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

Anne.

Why, then he is alive.

Glo. Nay, he is dead; and slain by Edward's hand.

Anne. In thy foul throat thou liest; queen Margaret saw Thy murtherous faulchion smoking in his blood; The which thou once didst bend against her breast, But that thy brothers beat aside the point.

Glo. I was provoked by her slanderous tongue, That laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders. Anne. Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind, That never dream'st on aught but butcheries: Didst thou not kill this king?

Glo.

I grant ye.

Anne. Dost grant me, hedgehog? then, God grant me too,

(1) Quick, i. e. alive.

(2) Diffus'd infection, i. e. who like a pestilence dost infect everything by thy presence.

(3) Their guilt, i. e. the guilt of my brothers.