For Somerset, off with his guilty head. Go, bear them hence: I will not hear them speak.

Oxford.

For my part, I'll not trouble thee with words.

Somerset.

Nor I; but stoop with patience to my fortune. [Exeunt Orford and Somerset, guarded. Queen Margaret.

So part we sadly in this troublous world, To meet with joy in sweet Jerusalem. King Edward.

Is proclamation made, that who finds Edward Shall have a high reward, and he his life?

Gloster.

It is: and, lo! where youthful Edward comes. Enter Soldiers, with Prince Edward.

King Edward.

Bring forth the gallant: let us hear him speak. What! can so young a thorn begin to prick? Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make, For bearing arms, for stirring up my subjects, And all the trouble thou hast turn'd me to? Prince.

Speak like a subject, proud ambitious York. Suppose, that I am now my father's mouth: Resign thy chair, and where I stand kneel thou, Whilst I propose the selfsame words to thee, Which, traitor, thou wouldst have me answer to. Queen Margaret.

Ah, that thy father had been so resolv'd!
Gloster.

That you might still have worn the petticoat, And ne'er have stol'n the breech from Lancaster. Prince.

Let Esop fable in a winter's night;

His currish riddles sort not with this place.
Gloster.

By heaven, brat, I'll plague you for that word.
Queen Margaret.

Ay, thou wast born to be a plague to men.
Gloster.
For God's sake, take away this captive scold.
Prince.

Nay, take away this scolding crook-back,

O, Ned! sweet Ned! speak to thy mother, boy : [derers!Canst thou not speak? O traitors! murThey, that stabb'd Cæsar shed no blood at all, Did not offend, nor were not worthy blame, If this foul deed were by to equal it: He was a man: this, in respect, a child; And men ne'er spend their fury on a child. What's worse than murderer, that I may name it ?

No, no; my heart will burst, an if I speak;
And I will speak, that so my heart may burst.-
Butchers and villains! bloody cannibals !
How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp'd!
You have no children, butchers! if you had,
The thought of them would have stirr'd up
remorse:

But, if you ever chance to have a child,
Look in his youth to have him so cut off,
As, deathsmen, you have rid this sweet young
prince.

King Edward.

Away with her! go, bear her hence perforce.

Queen Margaret.

Nay, never bear me hence, despatch me here; Here sheath thy sword, I'll pardon thee my death.

What! wilt thou not?—then, Clarence, do it thou.

Clarence.

By heaven I will not do thee so much ease.

Queen Margaret. Good Clarence, do; sweet Clarence, do thou do it.

Clarence.

Didst thou not hear me swear I would not do it ?

Queen Margaret.

Ay, but thou usest to forswear thyself: 'Twas sin before, but now 'tis charity. What! wilt thou not? where is that devil's butcher, Richard, [thou? Hard-favour'd Richard? Richard, where art Thou art not here: murder is thy alms-deed; Petitioners for blood thou ne'er put'st back. King Edward.

Away, I say! I charge ye, bear her hence.
Queen Margaret.

So come to you, and yours, as to this prince.
[Exit.

Where's Richard gone?

King Edward.

Clarence.

O, kill me too! Marry, and shall.

Gloster

To London, all in post; and, as I guess,

Acr v. Sc. vII.

Ne'er spurr'd their coursers at the trumpet's sound:

With them, the two brave bears, Warwick and Montague,

That in their chains fetter'd the kingly lion, And made the forest tremble when they roar'd. Thus have we swept suspicion from our seat, And made our footstool of security.Come hither, Bess, and let me kiss my boy.Young Ned, for thee, thine uncles, and myself. Have in our armours watch'd the winter's night; Went all a-foot in summer's scalding heat, That thou might'st repossess the crown in peace; And of our labours thou shalt reap the gain.

Gloster.

I'll blast his harvest, if your head were laid; For yet I am not look'd on in the world. This shoulder was ordain'd so thick, to heave; And heave it shall some weight, or break my

back.

Work thou the way, and that shall execute.

[Aside.

King Edward. Clarence, and Gloster, love my lovely queen; And kiss your princely nephew, brothers both.

Clarence.

The duty, that I owe unto your majesty, I seal upon the lips of this sweet babe.

King Edward.

Thanks, noble Clarence; worthy brother,

thanks.

Gloster.

master,

And cried all hail! when as he meant-all harm. King Edward.

Now am I seated as my soul delights, Having my country's peace, and brothers' loves.

Clarence.

What will your grace have done with Margaret?

Reignier, her father, to the king of France
Hath pawn'd the Sicils and Jerusalem,
King Edward.
And hither have they sent it for her ransom.

Away with her, and waft her hence to
France.-

And now what rests, but that we spend the time
With stately triumphs, mirthful comic shows,
Such as befit the pleasure of the court?
Sound, drums and trumpets!-- farewell, sour

annoy,

For here, l'hope, begins our lasting joy.

Excunt.

Sir Thomas Vaughan. Sir Richard Ratcliff.
Sir William Catesby. Sir James Tyrrel.
Sir James Blount. Sir Walter Herbert.
Sir Robert Brakenbury, Lieutenant of the Tower.
Christopher Urswick, a Priest. Another Priest.
Lord Mayor of London. Sheriff of Wiltshire.
Elizabeth, Queen of King Edward IV.
Margaret, Widow of King Henry VI.
Duchess of York, Mother to King Edward IV.,
Clarence, and Gloster.

Lady Anne, Widow of Edward Prince of Wales.
A young Daughter of Clarence.

Lords, and other Attendants; two Gentlemen, a Pursuivant, Scrivener, Citizens, Murderers, Messengers, Ghosts, Soldiers, &c.

SCENE, England.

ACT I.

SCENE I. London. A Street.

Enter Gloster.

Gloster.

NOW is the winter of our discontent

Made glorious summer by this sun of York; And all the clouds, that lower'd upon our house, In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.

Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;

Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled
front;

And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds,
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,
He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber,
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
But I, that am not shap'd for sportive tricks,
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;
I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's ma.
jesty,

To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
I that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable,
That dogs bark at me, as I halt by them;
Why 1, in this weak piping time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time,
Unless to see my shadow in the sun,
And descant on mine own deformity:
And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain these fair well-spoken days,
I am determined to prove a villain,
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,
By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams,
To set my brother Clarence, and the king,
In deadly hate the one against the other:
And, if king Edward be as true and just,
As I am subtle, false, and treacherous,
This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up,
About a prophecy, which says-that G
Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be.
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul: here Clarence
Enter

comes.