תמונות בעמוד

Clar. As red as fire ! nay, then her wax must melt. Gray. Why stops my Lord ? shall I not hear my

task ? K. Edw. An easy task, 'tis but to love a King. Gray. That's soon perform’d, because I am a subject. K. Edw. Why then, thy husband's lands I freely

give thee.

Gray. I take my leave with many thousand thanks. Glo. The match is made, she feals it with a curt'sy. K. Edw, But stay thee, 'tis the fruits of love I


Gray. The fruits of love I mean, my loving Liege.

K. Edw. Ay, but I fear me, in another fenfe. What love, think'st thou, I sue lo much to get? Gray. My love till death, my humble thanks, my

prayers; That love which virtue begs, and virtue grants. K. Edw. No, by my troth, I did not mean such

love. Gray. Why, then you mean not as I thought you

did. K. Edw. But now you partly may perceive my mind,

Gray, My mind will never grant what I perceive
Your Highness aims at, if I aim aright.

K. Edw. To tell thee plain, I aim to lie with thee,
Gray. To tell you plain, I'd rather lie in prison.
K. Edw. Why, then thou shalt not have thy hus-

band's lands.
Gray. Why, then my honefty shall be my dower?
For by that loss I will not purchase them.
K. Edw. Therein thou wrong'st thy children migh-

tily. 'Gray. Herein your Highness wrongs both them and But, mighry Lord, this merry inclination Accords not with the sadness of my suit Please you dismiss me, or with ay, or no. K. Edw. Ay, if thou wilt say, Ay, to my request:

No ;


No, if thou dost say, No, to my demand. .

Gray. Then, No, my Lord. My suit is at an end,
Glo. The widow likes him not, she knits her brows.
Clar. He is the bluntest wooer in Christendom.
K. Edw. [Afide.) Her looks do argue her repleto

with modesty.
Her words do shew her wit incomparable,
All her perfections challenge Sovereignty ;
One way, or other, she is for a King;
And she shall be my love, or else my Queen.
Say, that King Edward take thee for his Queen?

Gray. 'Tis better said than done, my gracious Lord;
I am a subject fit to jest withal,-
But far unfit to be a Sovereign.

K. Edw. Sweet Widow, by my State, I swear to thee, I speak no more than what my soul intends; And that is, to enjoy thee for my love, .

Gray. And that is more than I will yield unto.
I know I am too mean to be your Queen ;
And yet too good to be yoyr Çoncubine.
K. Edw. You cavil, Widow ; I did mean, my

Gray. 'Twill grieve your Grace, my sons should call

you father.

K. Edw. No more than when my daughters call thee

Thou art a widow, and thou hast some children ;
And, by God's mother, I, being but a batchelor,
Have other fome. Why, 'tis a happy thing,
To be the father unto many fons,
Answer no more, for thou shalt be my Queen.

Glo. The ghostly father now hath done his shrift.
Clar. When he was made a shriver, 'twas for shift.
K. Edw. Brothers, you muse what Chat we two

have had.
Glo. The widow likes it not, for she looks fad.
K. Edw. You'd think it strange, if I should marry


Clar. To whom, my Lord ?
K. Edw. Why, Clarence, to myself.
Glo. That would bę ten days Wonder at the least.
Clar. That's a day longer than the wonder lafts.
Glo. By fo much is the Wonder in extreams.
K. Edw. Well, jest on, Brothers; I can tell you ,

Her suit is granted for her husband's lands.

Enter à Nobleman.

Nob. My gracious Lord, Henry your foe is taken,
And brought your prisoner to your Palace-gates.

K. Edw. See chat he be conveyed unto the Tower :
And go we, Brothers, to the man that took him,
To question of his Apprehension.

Widow, go you along - Lords, 'ufe her ho-



Manet Gloucester.

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Glo. Ay, Edward will use women honourably,
'Would he were waited, marrow, bones, and all,
That from his loins no hopeful branch may spring,
To cross me from the golden time I look for.
And yet between my foul's desire and me,
The luftful Edward's Title buried,
Is Clarence, Henry, and his son young Edward;
And all th' unlook'd for issue of their bodies,
To take their rooms ere I can place myself.
A cold premeditation for my purpose !
Why, then I do but dream on Sov'reignty,
Like one that stands upon a promontory,
And spies a far off shore where he would tread,
Wishing his foot were equal with his eye,
And chides the Sea that sunders him from thence,


Saying, he'll lade it dry to have his way;
So do I wish, the Crown being so far off,
And fo I chide the means that keep me from it;
And fó, I lay, I'll cut the causes off,
Flace’ring my mind with things imposible,
My eye's too quick, my heart o'erweens too much,
Unless my hand and strength could equal them.
-Well, say there is no Kingdom then for Richard,
What other pleasure can the world afford :
I'll make my heaven in a lady's lap,
And deck my body in gay ornaments,
And ’witch sweet ladies with my words and looks
Oh miserable thought! and more unlikely,
Than to accomplish twenty golden Crowns.
Why, Love forswore me in my mother's womb;
And, for I should not deal in her soft laws,
She did corrupt frail nature with some bribe
To shrink mine arm up like a wither'd shrub;
To make an envious mountain on my back,
Where sits deformity to mock my body;
To shape my legs of an unequal size;
To disproportion me in every part,
Like to a Chaos, or unlick'd bear-whelp,
That carries no impression like the dam.
And am I then a man to be belov'd ?
Oh, monftrous fault, to harbour such a thought!
-Then fince this earth affords no joy to me,
But to command, to check, * to o'erbear such
As are of better person than myself ;


3 Unick'd bear-whelp.] It was produced in the fame fate with an opinion which, in spite of its those of other creatures, absurdity, prevailed long, that

-To o'erbear such the bear brings forth only

fhape As are of better person than myless lumps of animated Aeth, felf.) Richard speaks here which the licks into the form of the language of nature. Whobears. It is now well known ever is stigmatized with deformi. that she whelps of the bear are ty has a constant Source of envy


I'll make my heav'n to dream upon the Crown; And, while I live, t'account this world but Helly Until the mis-shap'd trunk that bears this head; Be round impaled with a glorious Crown, And yet I know not how to get the Crown, For many lives stand between me and home, And I, like one loft in a thorny wood, That rends the thorns, and is rent with the thorns, Seeking a way, and straying from the way, Not knowing how to find the open air, But toiling desp'rately to find it out, Torment myself to catch the English Crown, And from that torment I will free myself, Or hew my way out with a bloody ax. Why, I can smile, and murder while I smile ; And cry, Content, to that which grieves my heart ; And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, And frame my face to all occasions. I'll drown more sailors than the Merinaid shall; I'll fiay more gazers, than the Basilisk; I'll play the orator as well as Nestor : Deceive more Nily than Ulyses could ; And, like a Sinon, take another Troy.' I can add colours ev’n to the Camelion; Change Shapes with Proteus, for advantages; s And set the murd'rous Machiavel to school. Can I do this, and cannot get a Crown? Tut, were it farther off, I'll pluck it down. [Exit.


in his mind, and would counter- ground by good or bad means, ballance by some other superio- as they are virtuous or corrupt. rity, these advantages which they s And let the murth'rous Mafeel themselves to want. Bacon chiavel to school.] As this remarks that the deformed are is an Anachronism, and the old commonly daring, anditis almost quarto reads, proverbially obterved that the And fit th'aspiring Catiline to are ill-natured. The truth is, school, that the deformed, like all other. I don't know why it fhould not men, are displeased with infe.' be preferr’d. WARBURTOA. riority, and endeavour to gain


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