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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 mistress
Share?

I tell you, Sir, he that doth naught with her,
Excepting one, were beft to do it fecretly.
Brak. What one, my Lord?

Gla. 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. (7)
Brother, farewel; I will unto the King,
And whatfoe'er you will employ me in,

Were it to call King Edward's widow fifter, (8)
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 imprifonment fhall not be long,
I will deliver you, or elfe lye for you!
Mean time, have patience.

Clar. I must perforce; farewel. [Exe. Brak. Clar.
Glo. Go, tread the path that thou fhalt ne'er re-

turn:

Simple, plain Clarence!-I do love thee fo,.
That I will fhortly fend thy foul to heav'n,
If heav'n will take the prefent at our hands.
-But who comes here? the new-deliver'd Haftings?

(7)the Queen's abjects,] That is, not the Queen's fub jects, whom he might protect, but her abjects, whom the drives

[graphic]

away.

(8) Were it to call King Edward's widow fifter,] This is a very covert and fubtle manner of infinuating treafon tural expreffion would have been, were it to call King Edward's wife fifter. I will folicit for you, though it fhould be at the expence of fo much degradation and conftraint, as to own the lowborn wife of King Edward for a fifter. But by flipping, as it were, cafually widow into the place of wife, he tempts Clarence with an oblique propofal to kill the king..

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 must :
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?

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.

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

[Exit Haftings.

He cannot live, I hope; and muft not die,

'Till George be be pack'd with poft-horse up to heav'n.
I'll in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence,
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's
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 secret close intent,

By

By marrying her, which I muft reach unto.
-But yet I run before my horfe to market:
Clarence ftill breathes, Edward ftill lives and reigns ;.
When they are gone, then muft I count my Gains.

SCENE IL

Changes to a Street:

[Exit.

Enter the Coarfe of Henry the Sixth, with Halberts to: guard it, Lady Anne being the mourner.

Anne. Set down, fet down your honourable load, If honour may be throuded in a herfe;. Whilst I awhile obfequioufly lament Th' untimely Fall of virtuous Lancaster. -Poor key-cold figure of a holy King! Pale afhes of the. Houfe of Lancaster! Thou bloodlefs temnant of that royal blood! Be't lawful, that I invocate thy ghoft, 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 thefe wounds. Lo, in these windows, that let forth thy life,

I

pour 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 with 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,
Whofe 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 miferable by the death of him,
Than I am made by my young lord and thee!
Come, now tow'rds Chertsey with your holy load,

[graphic]

A S

Taken

Taken from Paul's to be interred there.

And ftill, as you are weary of this weight,
Reft you, while I lament King Henry's Coarfe.

Enter Richard Duke of Gloucester.

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

Glo. Villains, fet down the Coarfe; or, by St. Paul, I'll make a Coarfe of him that disobeys. (9)

Gen. My lord, ftand back, and let the coffin pafs. Glo. Unmanner'd dog! ftand thou when I command;

Advance thy halbert higher than my breaft,
Or, by St. Paul, I'll ftrike thee to my foot,
And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness.
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 minifter of hell!
Thou had'ft but power over his mortal body,
His foul thou canst not have; therefore be gone.
Glo. Sweet Saint, for chariry, be not fo curft.
Anne. Foul Dev'l! for God's fake hence, trouble

us hot,

For thou haft made the happy earth thy hell;
Fill'd it with curfing cries, and deep exclaims.
If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds,
Behold this pattern of thy butcheries. (1)
Oh, gentlemen, fee! fee dead Henry's wounds
Open their congeal'd mouths and bleed afresh. (2)
Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity;
For 'tis thy prefence that exhales this blood,

(9) I'll make a coarfe of him that difobeys.] So in Hamlet,
I'll make a ghost of him that holds me.

(1)-pattern of thy butcheries.] Pattern is inftance, or example.

(2) -fee, dead Henry's wounds

Open their congeal'd mouths, and bleed afrefb.] It is a tradition very generally received, that the murdered body bleeds on the touch of the murderer. This was fo much believed by Sir Kenelm Digby that he has endeavoured to explain the reafon.

From

From cold and empty veins, where no blood dwells. Thy deeds, inhuman 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't nor law of God nor

man;

No beaft fo fierce, but knows fome touch of pity.
Glo. But I know none, and therefore am no beaft..
Anne. O wonderful, when devils tell the truth!
Glo. More wonderful, when angels are fo angry..
Vouchfafe, divine perfection of a woman,
Of thefe fuppofed crimes, to give me leave,
By circumftance, but to acquit myself.

Anne. Vouchfafe, diffus'd infection of a man, (3)
For thefe known evils, but to give me leave,
By circumftance, 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 can't. make

No excufe current, but to hang thyself.

Glo. By fuch defpair I should accufe myself.

Anne. And by defpairing fhalt thou. ftand excus'd

For doing worthy vengeance on thyself;

That didit unworthy laughter upon others.

Glo. Say, that I flew them not.

Anne. Then fay, they were not flain:

But dead they are; and, devilifa flave, by thee..
Glo. I did not kill your hufband.

Anne. Why then he is alive.

Glo. Nay, he is dead, and flain by Edward's hands.

[graphic]

(3) Vouchsafe, diffus'd infection of a man,] I believe diffufed in this place fignifies irregular, uncouth; fuch is its meaning in other paffages of Shakespeare.

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