Anne. Arise, dissembler: though I wish thy death,

I will not be thy executioner.

Glo. Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it.
Anne. I have already.


That was in thy rage.

Speak it again, and, even with the word,

This hand, which, for thy love, did kill thy love,
Shall, for thy love, kill a far truer love ;

To both their deaths shalt thou be accessary.
Anne. I would I knew thy heart.
Glo. 'Tis figured in my tongue.
Anne. I fear me, both are false.

Glo. Then never man was true.
Anne. Well, well, put up your sword.
Glo. Say, then, my peace is made.
Anne. That shall you know hereafter.
Glo. But shall I live in hope?
Anne. All men, I hope, live so.
Glo. Vouchsafe to wear this ring.

Anne. To take, is not to give.

[She puts on the ring.

Glo. Look, how this ring encompasseth thy finger;

Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart;

Wear both of them, for both of them are thine.

And if thy poor devoted servant may

But beg one favor at thy gracious hand,

Thou dost confirm his happiness forever.

Anne. What is it?

Glo. That it may please you leave these sad designs To him that hath more cause to be a mourner, And presently repair to Crosby-place;1 Where-after I have solemnly interred, At Chertsey monast'ry, this noble king,

1 Crosby Place is now Crosby Square, in Bishopsgate Street. This magnificent house was built in 1466, by sir John Crosby, grocer and woolman. He died in 1475. The ancient hall of this fabric is still remaining, though divided by an additional floor, and encumbered with modern galleries, having been converted into a place of worship for Antinomians, &c. The upper part of it was lately the warehouse of an eminent packer. Sir J. Crosby's tomb is in the neighboring church of St. Helen the Great.

And wet his grave with my repentant tears-
I will with all expedient1 duty see you.
For divers unknown reasons, I beseech you,
Grant me this boon.

Anne. With all my heart; and much it joys me too, To see you are become so penitent.

Tressel, and Berkley, go along with me.

Glo. Bid me farewell.


'Tis more than you deserve;

But, since you teach me how to flatter you,
Imagine I have said farewell already.


Glo. Sirs, take up the corse.


Towards Chertsey, noble lord?

Glo. No, to White Friars; there attend my coming.

[Exeunt the rest, with the corse.

Was ever woman in this humor wooed?

Was ever woman in this humor won?

I'll have her, but I will not keep her long.

What! I, that killed her husband, and his father,

To take her in her heart's extremest hate;

With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes,

The bleeding witness of her hatred by;

With God, her conscience, and these bars against me, And I no friends to back my suit withal,

But the plain devil, and dissembling looks,

And yet to win her,—all the world to nothing!


Hath she forgot already that brave prince,

Edward, her lord, whom I, some three months since,
Stabbed in my angry mood at Tewksbury? 2
A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman—

1 i. e. expeditious.

2 This fixes the exact time of the scene to August, 1471. King Edward, however, is introduced in the second act dying. That king died in April, 1483; consequently there is an interval between this and the next act of almost twelve years. Clarence, who is represented in the preceding scene as committed to the Tower before the burial of king Henry VI., was in fact not confined nor put to death till March, 1477-8, seven years afterwards.

Framed in the prodigality of nature,

Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal—
The spacious world cannot again afford.

And will she yet abase her eyes on me,

That cropped the golden prime of this sweet prince,
And made her widow to a woful bed?

On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety?
On me, that halt, and am misshapen thus?
My dukedom to a beggarly denier,1
I do mistake my person all this while;
Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot,
Myself to be a marvellous proper man.
I'll be at charges for a looking-glass;
And entertain a score or two of tailors,
To study fashions to adorn my body:
Since I am crept in favor with myself,
I will maintain it with some little cost.
But, first, I'll turn yon fellow in his grave;
And then return lamenting to my love.—
Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass,
That I may see my shadow as I pass.


SCENE III. The same. A Room in the Palace.


Riv. Have patience, madam; there's no doubt his majesty

Will soon recover his accustomed health.

Grey. In that you brook it ill, it makes him worse;
Therefore, for God's sake, entertain good comfort,
And cheer his grace with quick and merry words.

Q. Eliz. If he were dead, what would betide of me?
Grey. No other harm, but loss of such a lord.
Q. Eliz. The loss of such a lord includes all harms.

1 A small coin, the twelfth part of a French sous.

2 In for into.

Grey. The Heavens have blessed



To be your comforter when he is gone.

with a goodly

Q. Eliz. Ah, he is young; and his minority
Is put unto the trust of Richard Gloster,
A man that loves not me, nor none of you.
Riv. Is it concluded he shall be protector?
Q. Eliz. It is determined, not concluded yet;
But so it must be, if the king miscarry.


Grey. Here come the lords of Buckingham and Stanley.

Buck. Good time of day unto your royal grace! Stan. God make your majesty joyful as you have


Q. Eliz. The countess Richmond, good my lord of

Το your good prayer will scarcely say-Amen.
Yet, Stanley, notwithstanding she's your wife,
And loves not me, be you, good lord, assured,
I hate not you for her proud arrogance.

Stan. I do beseech you, either not believe
The envious slanders of her false accusers;
Or, if she be accused on true report,

Bear with her weakness, which, I think, proceeds
From wayward sickness, and no grounded malice.
Q. Eliz. Saw you the king to-day, my lord of

Stan. But now, the duke of Buckingham, and I, Are come from visiting his majesty.

1 By inadvertence, in the old copies Derby is put for Stanley. The person meant was Thomas lord Stanley, lord steward of king Edward the Fourth's household. But he was not created earl of Derby, till after the accession of king Henry VII. In the fourth and fifth acts of this play, he is every where called lord Stanley.

2 Margaret, daughter to John Beaufort, first duke of Somerset. After the death of her first husband, Edmund Tudor, earl of Richmond, halfbrother to king Henry VI., by whom she had only one son, afterwards king Henry VII., she married sir Henry Stafford, uncle to Humphrey, duke of Buckingham.

Q. Eliz. What likelihood of his amendment, lords? Buck. Madam, good hope; his grace speaks cheerfully.

Q. Eliz. God grant him health! Did you confer with him?

Buck. Ay, madam; he desires to make atonement Between the duke of Gloster and your brothers, And between them and my lord chamberlain; And sent to warn them to his royal presence.

Q. Eliz. 'Would all were well!-But that will never be;be ;

I fear our happiness is at the height.


Glo. They do me wrong, and I will not endure it.-
Who are they, that complain unto the king,
That I, forsooth, am stern, and love them not?
By holy Paul, they love his grace but lightly,
That fill his ears with such dissensious rumors.
Because I cannot flatter, and speak fair,
Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive, and cog,
Duck with French nods and apish courtesy,
I must be held a rancorous enemy.

Cannot a plain man live, and think no harm,
But thus his simple truth must be abused
By silken, sly, insinuating Jacks?

Grey. To whom in all this presence speaks your grace?

Glo. To thee, that hast nor honesty, nor grace.
When have I injured thee? when done thee wrong?
Or thee?-or thee?-or any of your faction?
A plague upon you all! His royal grace-
Whom God preserve better than you would wish!-
Cannot be quiet scarce a breathing while,

But you must trouble him with lewd' complaints.
Q. Eliz. Brother of Gloster, you mistake the matter.
The king, of his own royal disposition,

1 Lewd here signifies idle, ungracious.

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