Sham'd their aspects with store of
childish drops-
These eyes, which never shed remorseful tear,
No, when my father York and Edward wept
To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made
When black-fac'd Clifford shook his sword at him;
Nor when thy
warlike father, like a child,
Told the sad story of my father's death,
And twenty times made pause to sob and weep
That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks
Like trees bedash'd with rain-in that sad time
My manly eyes did scorn an
humble tear;
And what these sorrows could not
thence exhale
Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping.
I never sued to friend nor enemy;
My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing word;
But, now thy beauty is propos'd my fee,
My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak.
[She looks scornfully at him]
Teach not thy lip such scorn; for it was made
For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.
If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive,
Lo here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword;
Which if thou please to hide in this true breast
And let the soul forth that adoreth thee,
I lay it naked to the
deadly stroke,
And
humbly beg the death upon my knee.
[He lays his breast open; she offers at it with his sword]
Nay, do not pause; for I did kill King Henry-
But 'twas thy beauty that provoked me.
Nay, now
dispatch; 'twas I that stabb'd young Edward-
But 'twas thy
heavenly face that set me on.
[She falls the sword]
Take up the sword again, or take up me.
ANNE. Arise, dissembler; though I wish thy death,
I will not be thy executioner.
GLOUCESTER. Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it;
ANNE. I have already.
GLOUCESTER. 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.
GLOUCESTER. 'Tis figur'd in my tongue.
ANNE. I fear me both are false.
GLOUCESTER. Then never was man true.
ANNE. well put up your sword.
GLOUCESTER. Say, then, my peace is made.
ANNE. That shalt thou know hereafter.
GLOUCESTER. But shall I live in hope?
ANNE. All men, I hope, live so.
GLOUCESTER. Vouchsafe to wear this ring.
ANNE. To take is not to give. [Puts on the ring]
GLOUCESTER. Look how my 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 favour at thy
gracious hand,
Thou dost
confirm his happiness for ever.
ANNE. What is it?
GLOUCESTER. That it may please you leave these sad designs
To him that hath most cause to be a mourner,
And
presentlyrepair to Crosby House;
Where-after I have
solemnly interr'd
At Chertsey monast'ry this noble king,
And wet his grave with my repentant tears-
I will with all
expedient 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 Berkeley, go along with me.
GLOUCESTER. Bid me
farewell.
ANNE. 'Tis more than you deserve;
But since you teach me how to
flatter you,
Imagine I have said
farewell already.
Exeunt two GENTLEMEN With LADY ANNE
GLOUCESTER. Sirs, take up the corse.
GENTLEMEN. Towards Chertsey, noble lord?
GLOUCESTER. No, to White Friars; there attend my coming.
Exeunt all but GLOUCESTER
Was ever woman in this
humour woo'd?
Was ever woman in this
humour won?
I'll have her; but I will not keep her long.
What! I that kill'd 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 my
hatred by;
Having God, her
conscience, and these bars against me,
And I no friends to back my suit at all
But the plain devil and dissembling looks,
And yet to win her, all the world to nothing!
Ha!
Hath she forgot already that brave prince,
Edward, her lord, whom I, some three months since,
Stabb'd in my angry mood at Tewksbury?
A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman-
Fram'd 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 cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet prince
And made her widow to a woeful bed?
On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety?
On me, that halts and am misshapen thus?
My dukedom to a beggarly denier,
I do mistake my person all this while.
Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot,
Myself to be a marv'llous 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 favour 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. Exit
ACT1|SC3
SCENE 3.
London. The palace
Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH, LORD RIVERS,
and LORD GREY
RIVERS. Have
patience, madam; there's no doubt his Majesty
Will soon recover his accustom'd 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 eyes.
QUEEN ELIZABETH. If he were dead, what would betide on
me?
GREY. No other harm but loss of such a lord.
QUEEN ELIZABETH. The loss of such a lord includes all
harms.
GREY. The heavens have bless'd you with a
goodly son
To be your
comforter when he is gone.
QUEEN ELIZABETH. Ah, he is young; and his minority
Is put unto the trust of Richard Gloucester,
A man that loves not me, nor none of you.
RIVER. Is it concluded he shall be Protector?
QUEEN ELIZABETH. It is determin'd, not concluded yet;
But so it must be, if the King miscarry.
Enter BUCKINGHAM and DERBY
GREY. Here come the Lords of Buckingham and Derby.
BUCKINGHAM. Good time of day unto your royal Grace!
DERBY. God make your Majesty
joyful as you have been.
QUEEN ELIZABETH. The Countess Richmond, good my Lord
of Derby,
To your good prayer will scarcely say amen.
Yet, Derby,
notwithstanding she's your wife
And loves not me, be you, good lord, assur'd
I hate not you for her proud arrogance.
DERBY. I do
beseech you, either not believe
The
envious slanders of her false accusers;
Or, if she be accus'd on true report,
Bear with her
weakness, which I think proceeds
From
waywardsickness and no grounded malice.
QUEEN ELIZABETH. Saw you the King to-day, my Lord of
Derby?
DERBY. But now the Duke of Buckingham and I
Are come from visiting his Majesty.
QUEEN ELIZABETH. What
likelihood of his amendment,
Lords?
BUCKINGHAM. Madam, good hope; his Grace speaks
cheerfully.
QUEEN ELIZABETH. God grant him health! Did you confer
with him?
BUCKINGHAM. Ay, madam; he desires to make atonement
Between the Duke of Gloucester and your brothers,
And between them and my Lord Chamberlain;
And sent to warn them to his royal presence.
QUEEN ELIZABETH. Would all were well! But that will
never be.
I fear our happiness is at the height.
Enter GLOUCESTER, HASTINGS, and DORSET
GLOUCESTER. They do me wrong, and I will not
endure it.
Who is it that complains 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 dissentious rumours.
Because I cannot
flatter and look 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 abus'd
With
silken, sly, insinuating Jacks?
GREY. To who in all this presence speaks your Grace?
GLOUCESTER. To thee, that hast nor
honesty nor grace.
When have I injur'd 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 searce a breathing while
But you must trouble him with lewd complaints.
QUEEN ELIZABETH. Brother of Gloucester, you mistake the
matter.
The King, on his own royal disposition
And not provok'd by any
suitor else-
Aiming, belike, at your
interiorhatredThat in your
outward action shows itself
Against my children, brothers, and myself-