Clar. He knows the Game, how true he keeps the Wind ?
Glo. Silence.
K. Edw. Widow, we will confider of your fuit,
And come, fome other time, to know our Mind.
Gray. Right gracious Lord, I cannot brook delay,
May it please your Highness to refolve me now.
And what your pleasure is, shall fatisfie me.
Glo. Ay, Widow! then I'll warrant you all your Lands,
And if what pleases him, shall please you :
Fight clofer, or good faith you'll catch a blow.
Clar. I fear her not, unless the chance to fall.
Glo. God forbid that, for he'll take vantages.
K. Edw. How many Children haft thou, Widow ? tell me.
Clar. I think he means to beg a Child of her.
Glo. Nay then whip me; he'll rather give her two.
Gray. Three, my most gracious Lord.
Glo. You shall have four, if you'll be rul'd by him.
K. Edw. Twere pity they should lose their Father's Lands.
Gray. Be pitiful, dread Lord, and grant it then.
K. Edw. Lords, give us leave, I'll try this Widow's wit.
Glo. Ay, good leave have you, for you will have leave,
'Till Youth take leave, and leave you to the Crutch.
K. Edw. Now tell me, Madam, do you love your Children.
Gray. Ay, full as dearly as I love my felf.
K. Edw. And would you not do much to do them good.
Gray. To do them good, I would fuftain fome harm.
K. Edw. Then get your Husband's Lands, to do them good.
Gray. Therefore I came unto your Majefty.
K. Edw. I'il tell you how these Lands are to be got.
Gray. So fhall you bind me to your Highness Service.
K. Edw. What Service wilt thou do me, if I give them?
Gray. What you command that rests in me to do.
K. Edw. Bit you will take exceptions to my Boon.
Gray. No, gracious Lord, except I cannot do it.
K. Edw. Ay, but thou canst do what I mean to ask.
Gray. Why then I will do what your Grace commands.
Glo. He plies her hard, and much Rain wears the Marble.
Clar. As red as fire! nay, then her Wax will melt.
Gray. Why ftops my Lord? shall I not hear my Task?
K. Edw. Aneafsie Task, 'tis but to love a King.
Gray. That's foon perform'd, because I am a Subject.
K. Edw. Why then, thy Husband's Lands I freely give thee.
Gray. I take my leave with many thousand Thanks.
Glo. The match is made, she seals it with a Curtsie.
K. Edw. But stay thee, 'tis the fruits of Love I mean.
Gray. The fruits of Love, I mean, my loving Liege.
K. Edw. Ay, but I fear me in another sense.
What Love, think'st thou, I sue so much to get?
Gray. My Love'till Death, my humble Thanks, my Prayers.
That Love which Virtue begs, and Virtue grants.
K. Edw. No, by my troth, I did not mean such Love.
Gray. Why then you mean not as I thought you did.
K. Edw. But now you partly may perceive my Mind.
Gray. My Mind will never grant what I perceive
Your Highness aims at, if I aim aright.
K. Edw. To tell thee plain, I aim to lye with thee.
Gray. To tell you plain, I had rather lye in Prison.
K. Edw. Why then thou shalt not have thy Husband's
Lands.
Gray. Why then mine Honesty shall be my Dower,
For by that Loss I will not purchase them.
K. Edw. Therein thou wrong'st thy Children mightily.
Gray. Herein your Highness wrongs both them and me:
But, mighty Lord, this merry inclination
Accords not with the sadness of my Suit;
Please you dismiss me, either with Ay, or No.
K. Edw. Ay; if thou wilt say Ay to my request;
No; if thou dost say No to my demand.
Gray. Then No, my Lord; my Suit is at an end.
Glo. The Widow likes him not, she knits her Brows.
Clar. He is the bluntest Wooer in Christendom.
K. Edw. Her Looks do argue her repleat with Modesty,
Her Words do shew her Wit incomparable,
All her Perfections challenge Sovereignty,
One way or other she is for a King,
And the shall be my Love, or else my Queen.
Say, that King Edward take thee for his Queen?
Gray. 'Tis better faid than done, my gracious Lord;
I am a Subject fit to jest withal,
But far unfit to be a Sovereign,
K. Edw. Sweet Widow, by my State I swear to thec,
I speak no more than what my Soul intends,
And that is, to enjoy thee for my Love.
Gray. And that is more than I will yield unto :
I know I am too mean to be your Queen,
And yet too good to be your Concubine.
K. Edw. You cavil, Widow, I did mean my Queen.
Gray. 'Twill grieve your Grace, my Sons shall call you
K. Edw. No more than when my Daughters [Father,
Call thee Mother.
Thou art a Widow, and thou hast some Children,
And by God's Mother, I being but a Batchelor,
Have other fome. Wby, 'tis a happy thing,
To be the Father unto many Sons:
Answer no more, for thou shalt be my Queen.
Glo. The Ghostly Father now hath done his Shrift.
Clar. When he was made a Shriver, it was for a shift.
K. Edw. Brother, you muse what Chat we two have had.
Glo. The Widow likes it not, for the looks fad.
K. Edw. You'ld think it strange, if I should marry her.
Clar. To whom, my Lord?
K. Edw. Why Clarence, to my self.
Glo. That would be ten days wonder at the leaft.
Clar. That's a day longer than a Wonder lasts.
Glo. By fo much is the Wonder in extreams.
K. Edw. Well, jest on, Brothers, I can tell you both,
Her fuit is granted for her Husband's Lands.
Nob. My gracious Lord, Henry your Foe is taken,
And brought your Prifoner to your Palace Gate.
K. Edw. See that he be convey'd unto the Tower :
And go we, Brothers, to the Man that took him,
To question of his Apprehenfion.
Widow, go you along: Lords, use her honourably.
Glo. Ay, Edward will use Women honourably.
Would he were wafted, Marrow, Bones, and all,
That from his Loins no hopeful Branch may spring,
To cross me from the golden time I look for:
And yet, between my Soul's defire and me,
The lustful Edward's Title buried,
Is Clarence, Henry, and his Son young Edward,
And all the unlook'd for Issue of their Bodies,
To take their Rooms e'er I can place my felf:
A cold premeditation for my purpose.
Why then I do but dream on Sovereignty,
Like one that stands upon a Promontory,
And spys a far-off shore, where he would tread,
Wishing his Foot were equal with his Eye,
And chides the Sea that funders him from thence,
Saying, he'll lave it dry to have his way:
So do I wish the Crown, being fo far off,
And so I chide the means that keeps me from it,
Artd so (I fay) I'll cut the Causes off,
Flattering me with Impossibilities:
My Eye's too quick, my Heart o'er-weens too much,
Unless my Hand and Strength could equal them.
Well, say there is no Kingdom then for Richard;
What other pleasure can the World afford?
I'll make my Heaven in a Lady's lap,
And deck my Body in gay Ornaments,
And 'witch sweet Ladies with my Words and Looks.
Oh miferable thought! and more unlikely,
Than to accomplish twenty Golden Crowns.
Why, Love forfswore me in my Mother's Womb:
And, for I should not deal in her soft Laws,
She did corrupt frail Nature with some Bribe,
To shrink mine Arm like to a wither'd shrub,
To make an envious Mountain on my Back,
Where fits Deformity to mock my Body;
To shape my Legs of an unequal fize,
To disproportion me in every part:
Like to a Chaos, or unlick'd Bear whelp
That carries no impreffion like the Dam.
And am I then a Man to be belov'd?
Oh monstrous Fault, to harbour such a Thought.
Then fince this Earth affords no Joy to me,
But to command, to check, to o'er-bear fuch
As are of better Person than my felf;
I'll make my Heaven to dream upon the Crowr,
And whiles I live t'account this World but Hell,
Until this miss-thap'd Trunk that bears this Head,
Be round impaled with a glorious Crown.
And yet I know not how to get the Crown,
For many Lives stand between me and home:
And I, like one loft in a thorny Wood,
That rents the Thorns, and is rent with the Thorns,
Seeking a way, and straying from the way,
Not knowing how to find the open Air,
But toiling defperately to find it out,
Torment my felf to catch the English Crown;
And from that torment I will free my self,
Or hew my way out with a bloody Ax.
Why I can smile, and murther whiles I smile,
And cry, Content, to that which grieves my Heart,
And wet my Cheeks with artificial Tears,
And frame my Face to all Occafions.
I'll drown more Sailors than the Mermaid shall,
I'll flay more Gazers than the Bafilisk,
I'll play the Orator as well as Nestor,
Deceive more flily than Ulyffes could,
And like a Sinon, take another Troy.
I can add Colours to the Camelion,
Change shapes with Proteus for Advantages,
And set the murtherous Matchevil to School.
Can I do this, and cannot get a Crown?
Tut, were it farther off, I'll pluck it down.
Flourish. Enter King Lewis, Bona, Bourbon, Prince of Wales, Queen Margaret, and the Earl of Oxford. Lewis fits, and riseth up again.
K. Lew. Fair Queen of England, worthy Margaret,
Sit down with us; it ill befits thy State,
And Birth, that thou should'st stand, whiles Lewis its.
Queen. No, mighty King of France; now Margaret
Must strike her Sail, and learn a while to serve,
Where Kings command. I was, I must confess,
Great Albion's Queen, in former golden Days:
But now mischance hath trod my Title down,
And with dishonour laid me on the Ground,
|