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To fright the Souls of fearful Adverfaries,
He capers nimbly in a Lady's Chamber,
To the lafcivious pleafing of a Lute.

But I, that am not fhap'd for fportive Tricks,
Nor made to court an amorous Looking-glafs,
I, that am rudely ftampt, and want Love's Majefty,
To ftrut before a wanton ambling Nymph;
I, that am curtail'd of this fair Proportion,
Cheated of Feature by diffembling Nature,
Deform'd, unfinish'd, fent before my time
Into this breathing World, fcarce half made up,
And that fo lamely and unfashionable,
That Dogs bark at ine, as I halt by them:
Why I (in this weak piping time of Peace)
Have no delight to pafs away the time,
Unless to fee my Shadow in the Sun,
And defcant on mine own Deformity.
And therefore, fince I cannot prove a Lover,
To entertain these fair well-fpoken Days,
I am determined to prove a Villain,
And hate the idle Pleasures of these Days.
Plots have I laid, Inductions dangerous,
By drunken Prophefies, Libels, and Dreams,
To fet 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, Falfe and Treacherous,
This Day fhould Clarence clofely be mew'd up,
About a Prophefie, which fays, that G

Of Edward's Heirs the Murtherer fhall be.

Dive Thoughts down to my Soul, here Clarence comes.
Enter Clarence, and Brakenbury, guarded.

Brother, good Day; what means this armed Guard
That waits upon your Grace?

Clar. His Majefty, tendring my Perfon's fafety,
Hath appoined this Conduct to convey me to th'Tower.
Glo. Upon what Caufe?

Clar. Because my Name is George.

Glo. Alack, my Lord, that Fault is none of yours: He fhould for that commit your Godfathers.

O belike, his Majefty hath fome intent,

That

That
you should be new Chriftned in the Tower.
But what's the Matter, Clarence, may I know?
Clar. Yea Richard, when I know; but I proteft
As yet I do not; but as I can learn,

He harkens after Prophefies and Dreams,
And from the Crofs-row plucks the Letter G;
And fays a Wizard told him, that by G,
His Iffue difinherited should be.

And for my Name of George begins with G,
It follows in his Thought that I am he.
Thefe, as I learn, and fuch like toys as these,
Have mov'd his Highnefs to commit me now.

Glo. Why this it is, when Men are rul'd by Women.
'Tis not the King that fends you to the Tower;
My Lady Gray his Wife, Clarence, 'tis she,
That tempts him to this harth Extremity.
Was it not the, and that good Man of Worship,
Anthony Woodvil her Brother there,

That made him fend Lord Haftings to the Tower;
From whence this Day he is delivered.

We are not fafe, Clarence we are not fafe.

Clar. By Heaven, I think there is no Man fecure
But the Queen's Kindred, and Night-walking Heralds.
That trudge betwixt the King and Miftrefs Shore.
Heard you not what an humble Suppliant
Lord Haftings was 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 her felf,
Since that our Brother dub'd them Gentlewomen,
Are mighty Goffips in our Monarchy.

Brak. I befeech your Graces both to pardon me,
His Majefty hath ftraightly given in charge,
That no Man fhall have private Conference
Of what degree foever, with your Brother.
Glo. Even fo, and please your worship, Brakenbury!
You may partake of any thing we say:
We speak no Treafon, Man-we say the King

Is wife and virtuous, and his noble Queen.
Well ftrook in Years, fair, and not jealous.
We fay, that Shore's Wife hath a pretty Foot,

A cherry Lip, a bonny Eye, a paffing pleafing Tongue:
That the Queen's Kindred are made Gentle-folks.
How fay you, Sir? can you deny all this?

Brak. With this, my Lord, my felf have nought to do.
Glo. Naught to do with Miftrefs Shore?

Itell thee, Fellow, he that doth naught with her,
Excepting one, were beft to do it fecretly alone.
Brak. What one, my Lord?

Glo. Her Husband, Knave-would't thou betray me?
Brak. I do befeech your Grace

To pardon me, and withal forbear

Your Conferences with the noble Duke.

Clar. We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will obey. Glo. We are the Queen's Abje&s, 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, Sifter,
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 pleafeth neither of us well.
Glo. Well, your Imprisonment fhall not be long,
I will deliver you, or elfe lye for you:

Mean time have patience.

Clar. I muft perforce; farewel.

[Ex. Brak. Clar.

Glo. Go tread the path that thou shalt ne'er return:

Simple plain Clarence I do love thee fo,
That I will fhortly fend thy Soul to Heav'n,

If Heav'n will take the Present at our Hands.
But who comes here? the new deliver'd Haftings?
Enter Lord Haltings.

Haft. 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?
Haft. With patience, noble Lord, as Prifoners must :
But I fhall live, my Lord, to give them thanks
That were the caufe of my Imprisonment.

Glo.

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 Eagles fhould be mew'd, Whiles Kites and Buzzards play at Liberty.

Glo. What News abroad?

Haft. No News fo bad abroad as this at home:
The King is fickly, weak, and melancholy,
And his Phyficians fear him mighdliy.

Glo. Now by St. John, 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.

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

[Exit Haftings.

He cannot live, I hope; and muft not die,
'Till George be pack'd with poft-horfe up to Heav'n.
I'll in to urge his hatred more to Clarence,
Which lyes well fteel'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 buftle in.

For then, I'll marry Warwick's youngeft Daughter:
What though I kill'd her Husband, and her Father,
The readieft 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 close intent,

By marrying her, which I 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 must I count my Gains. [Exit

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SCENE II.

Enter the Coarfe of Henry the Sixth, with Halberds to guard it, Lady Anne being the Mourner.

Anne. Set down, fet down your honourable load,
If Honour may be fhrowded in a Herfe,
Whilft I a-while obfequiously lament
The untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster.
Poor key-cold Figure of a holy King,
Pale Ashes of the Houfe 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 flaughtred Son,
Stab'd by the felf fame hand that made these wounds.
Lo, in these Windows that let forth thy Life,
I pour the helplefs Balm of my poor Eyes.
O curfed be the Hand that made these holes!
Curfed the Heart, that had the Heart to do it!
Curfed 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 wifh to Wolves, to Spiders, Toads,
Or any creeping venom'd thing that lives.
If ever he have Child, abortive be it,
Prodigious, and untimely brought to light,
Whofe ugly and unatural 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 miferable by the Death of him,

Than I am made by my young Lord, and thee.
Come now towards Chertsey with your holy Load,
Taken from Paul's to be interred there.
And still as you are weary of this weight,
Reft you, whiles I lament King Henry's Coarse.
Enter Richard Duke of Glocefter.

Glo. Stay you that bear the Coarfe, and fet it down.

Anue.

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