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 Saint 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.
What, is he in his bed ?
Hast.

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

[Exit HASTINGS.
He cannot live, I hope; and must not die,
Till George be pack'd with posthorse up to heaven.
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,
And leave the world for me to bustle in !

3 — should be mew'd,] A mew was the place of confinement where a hawk was kept till he had moulted.

"— an evil diet – ] i. e. a bad regimen.

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.

[Exit.

SCENE II.

The same. Another Street.

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 obsequiously laments 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 vicw;
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, towards 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 St. 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 St. 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. —

7 —

to his unhappiness !] i. e. disposition to mischief.

Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell !
Thou had'st 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 pattern of thy butcheries ':
O, gentlemen, see, see ! dead Henry's wounds
Open their congeal'd mouths, and bleed afresh'!
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!
O earth, which this blood drink'st, revenge his death !
Either, heaven, with lightning strike the murderer dead,
Or earth, gape open wide, and eat him quick;
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,

pattern

of thy butcheries :)

Pattern is instance, or

Of these supposed evils, 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.

Why then, they are not dead : 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 soul's throat f thou liest ; queen Mar

garet saw
Thy murderous 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 sland'rous tongue,
That laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders.

Anne. Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind,
That never dreamt on aught but butcheries :
Didst thou not kill this king ?

? Vouchsafe, diffus'd infection of a man,] Diffus'd infection of a man may mean, thou that art as dangerous as a pestilence, that infects the air by its diffusion. Diffus'd may, however, mean irregular.

† “ In thy foul throat," &c.—Malone.

? That laid their guilt – ] The crime of my brothers. He has just charged the murder of lady Anne's husband upon Edward.