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Two of the dangerous consorted traitors

That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow.

BOLING. Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be forgot; Right noble is thy merit, well I wot.

Enter PERCY, with the BISHOP OF CARLISLE.

PERCY. The grand conspirator, Abbot of Westminster, With clog of conscience and sour melancholy,

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Hath yielded up his body to the grave;

But here is Carlisle living, to abide

Thy kingly doom and sentence of his pride.
BOLING. Carlisle, this is your doom:

Choose out some secret place, some reverend room,
More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life;
So, as thou livest in peace, die free from strife:
For though mine enemy thou hast ever been,
High sparks of honour in thee have I seen.

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Enter EXTON, with Attendants bearing a coffin.

EXTON. Great king, within this coffin I present

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Thy buried fear; herein all breathless lies

The mightiest of thy greatest enemies,

Richard of Bordeaux, by me hither brought.

BOLING. Exton, I thank thee not; for thou hast wrought A deed of slander, with thy fatal hand,

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Upon my head and all this famous land.

EXTON. From your own mouth, my lord, did I this deed.
BOLING. They love not poison that do poison need,

Nor do I thee; though I did wish him dead,

I hate the murderer, love him murdered.

The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour,
But neither my good word nor princely favour :
With Cain go wander through the shades of night,
And never show thy head by day nor light.
Lords, I protest, my soul is full of woe
That blood should sprinkle me to make me grow :
Come, mourn with me for that I do lament,
And put on sullen black incontinent;
I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land,

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To wash this blood off from my guilty hand.—
March sadly after; grace my mournings here,
In weeping after this untimely bier.

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[Exeunt.

Enter RICHARD, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, solus.

GLOU. Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York; And all the clouds that loured upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.

Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visaged war hath smoothed 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.

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But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks,

Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;

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I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty

To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;

I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,

Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time

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Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable
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, inductions 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,

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This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up,

About a prophecy, which says that G

Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be.

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Dive, thoughts, down to my soul: here Clarence comes.

Enter CLARENCE, guarded, and BRAKENBURY.

Brother, good day: what means this armed guard
That waits upon your grace?

CLAR.

His majesty,

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

GLOU. Upon what cause?

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CLAR.

Because my name is George.

GLOU. Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours;
He should, for that, commit your godfathers:
Oh, 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;

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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,

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Have moved his highness to commit me now.

GLOU. Why, this it is, when men are ruled 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.

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Was it not she and that good man of worship,
Anthony 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's no man is secure
But the queen's kindred, and night-walking heralds
That trudge betwixt the king and Mistress Shore.
Heard ye not what an humble suppliant
Lord Hastings was to her for his delivery?
GLOU. 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:

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The jealous o'erworn widow and herself,

Since that our brother dubb'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

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That no man shall have private conference,

Of what degree soever, with his brother.

GLOU. Even so; an't please your worship, Brakenbury,

You may partake of any thing we say:

We speak no treason, man: we say the king

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

I tell thee, fellow,

BRAK. With this, my lord, myself have naught to do.
GLOU. Naught to do with Mistress Shore !
He that doth naught with her, excepting one,
Were best he do it secretly, alone.

BRAK. What one, my lord?

GLOU. Her husband, knave: would'st thou betray me?
BRAK. I beseech your grace to pardon me, and withal

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Forbear your conference with the noble duke.

CLAR. We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will obey.

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GLOU. 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.

Meantime, this deep disgrace in brotherhood
Touches me deeper than you can imagine.

CLAR. I know it pleaseth neither of us well.

GLOU. Well, your imprisonment shall not be long; I will deliver you, or else lie for you:

Meantime, have patience.

CLAR.

I must perforce. Farewell.

[Exeunt CLARENCE, BRAKENBURY, and Guard.

GLOU. 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.

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HAST. Good time of day unto my gracious lord!
GLOU. As much unto my good lord chamberlain !

Well are you welcome to the open air.

How hath your lordship brooked imprisonment ?

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HAST. With patience, noble lord, as prisoners must:

GLOU. No doubt, no doubt; and so shall Clarence too;

For they that were your enemies are his,

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And have prevailed as much on him as you.