You may partake of anything we say:

We speak no treason, man ;—we say the king
Is wise and virtuous, and his noble queen
Well struck in years, fair, and not jealous ;—
We say that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot,
A cherry lip, a bonny eye, a passing pleasing
tongue;

And the queen's kindred are made gentlefolks:
How say you, sir? can you deny all this?

Brak. With this, my lord, myself have naught to do.

Glo. Naught to do with Mistross Shore! I tell thee, fellow,

He that doth naught with her, excepting one,
Were best he do it secretly, alone.

Brak. What one, my lord?

Glo. Her husband, knave: wouldst thou betray me?

Brak. I beseech your grace to pardon me, and withal

Forbear

your conference with the noble duke. Clar. We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will obey.

Glo. We are the queen's abjects, and must obey. Brother, farewell: I will unto the king; And whatsoe'er you will employ me in, Were it to call King Edward's widow sister, I will perform it to enfranchise you. Meantime, this deep disgrace in brotherhood Touches me deeper than you can imagine.

Clar. I know it pleaseth neither of us well. Glo. Well, your imprisonment shall not be long; I will deliver you, or else lie for you: Meantime, have patience.

Clar.

I must perforce. Farewell. [Exeunt Clarence, Brakenbury, and Guard. Glo. Go, tread the path that thou shalt ne'er

return.

Simple, plain Clarence! I do love thee so,
That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven,
If heaven will take the present at our hands.
But who comes here? the new-delivered Hastings?

Enter Lord HASTINGS.

Hast. 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 brooked 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 prevailed as much on him as you.

Hast. More pity that the eagle should be mewed, 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 overmuch consumed 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 packed with post-horse up to heaven.

I'll in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence, With lies well steeled 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!

For then I'll marry Warwick's youngest daughter.
What though I killed 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 with halberds to guard it, among them TRESSEL and BERKELEY; Lady ANNE being the mourner.

Anne. Set down, set down your honourable load,

If honour may be shrouded in a hearse,—
Whilst I awhile obsequiously lament
The untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster.

[The bearers set down the coffin.

Poor key-cold figure of a holy king!
Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster!
Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood!
Be't lawful that I invocate thy ghost,
To hear the lamentations of poor Anne,
Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughtered son,
Stabbed by the selfsame hand that made these

wounds!

Lo, in these windows that let forth thy life,

I

pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes.

O, curséd be the hand that made these holes!
Cursed the heart that had the heart to do it!
Curséd 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 venomed thing that lives!
If ever he have child, abortive be it,
Prodigious, and untimely brought to light,
Whose ugly and unnatural aspéct

May fright the hopeful mother at the view;
And that be heir to his unhappiness!

If ever he have wife, let her be made
As miserable by the death of him

As I am made by my poor lord and thee!

Come, now towards Chertsey with your holy load,
Taken from Paul's to be interréd there;
And still, as you are weary of the weight,
Rest you, whiles I lament King Henry's corse.

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 Saint

Paul,

I'll make a corse of him that disobeys.

Gent. My lord, stand back, and let the coffin

pass.

Glo. Unmannered dog! stand thou, when I command:

Advance thy halberd higher than my breast,
Or, by Saint 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.
Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell!

Thou hadst but power o'er his mortal body,

His soul thou canst not have; therefore, be gone.