Puslapio vaizdai


Queen. So part we sadly in this troublous World, To meet with Joy in sweet Jerufalem.

K. Edw. Is Proclamation made, That who finds Edward Shall have a high Reward, and he his Life? Glo. It is, and lo where youthful Edward comes.

Enter the Prince of Wales.
K. Edw. 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 Subje&s,
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,
Whilft I propose the self-fame words to thee,
Which, Traitor, thou would'st have me answer to.

Queen. Ah! that thy Father had been so resolv'd.

Glo. That you might still have worn the Petticoat, And ne'er have stoln the Breech from Lancaster.

Privce. Let Æsop Fable in a Winter's Night,
His Currish Riddles fort not with this place.

Glo. By Heaven, Brat, I'll plague ye for that word.
Queen. Ay, thou wast born to be a Plague to Men.
Glo. For God's sake, take away this captive Scold.
Prince. Nay, take away this scolding Crook-back, rather.
K. Edw. Peace, wilful Boy, or I will charm your Tongue.
Clar. Untutor'd Lad, thou art too malapert.

Prince. I know my Duty, you are all undutiful:
Lascivious Edward, and thou perjurid George,
And thou mis-shapen Dick, I tell ye all,
I am your better, Traitors as ye are.
And thou usurp'st my Father's Right and mine.
K. Edw. Take that, thou likeness of this Railer here.

[Stabs him. Glo. Sprawl'st thou? take that, to end thy Agony.

[Rich. Stabs him. Clar. And there's for twitting me with Perjury.

[Clar. ftabs him. Queen. Oh, kill me too! Glo. Marry, and shall.

[Offers to kill her. K. Edw. Hold, Richard, hold, for we have done too much.


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Glo. Why should she live, to fill the world with words?

K, Edw. What? doth she swoon? use Means for her Recovery.

Glo. Clarence, excuse me to the King my Brother :
I'll hence to London on a serious Matter,
E’er ye come there, be sure to hear some News

Clar. What? what?
Glo. Tower, the Tower.

Queen. Oh, Ned, sweet Ned, speak to thy Mother, Boy,
Can'lt thou not speak? O Traitors, Murderers !
They 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 respe&t) a Child,
And Men ne'er spend their Fury on a Child.
What's worse than Murtherer, that I may name it?
No, no, my Heart will burst, and 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 cropt:

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,

K. Edw. Away with her, go bear her hence by force.

Queen. Nay, never bear me hence, dispatch me here : Here fheath thy Sword, I'll pardon thee my Death: What? wilt thou not? then Clarence do it thou.

Clar. By Heaven, I will not do thee so much Ease. Queen. Good Clarence do, sweet Clarence do thou do it. Clar. Did'It thou not hear me swear I would not do it?

Queen. Ay, but thou usest to forswear thy self : 'Twas Sin before, but now 'tis Charity. What, wilt thou not? where is that Devil's Butcher, Richard, Hard-favour'd Richard? Richard, where art thou? Thou art not here : Murther is thy Almsdeed. Petitioner for Blood thou ne'er pull'st back. K. Edw. Away, I say, I charge ye bear her hence.

1 Queen. So come to you and yours, as to this Prince.

[Exit Queen.

K. Edw.



K. Edw. Where's Richard gone?

Cla. To London all in poft, and as I guess,
To make a bloody Supper in the Tower.

K. Edw. He's sudden, if a thing comes in his head.
Now march we hence, discharge the common fort
With pay and thanks, and let's away to London,
And lee our gentle Queen how well she fares.
By this, I hope, she hath a Son for me. [Exeunt.
Enter King Henry, and Glocester, with the Lieutenant

on the Tower Walls.
Glo. Good day, my Lord; what at your Book so hard?
K. Henry. Ay, my good Lord; my Lord, I should say rather,
'Tis fin to Aatter, Good was little better :
Good Gloster, and Good Devil, were alike,
And both preposterous ; therefore, not Good Lord.
Glo. Sirrah, leave us to our selves, we must confer.

Exit Lieutenant,
K. Henry. So flies the wrcakless Shepherd from the Wolf,
So first the harmless Flock doth yield his Fleece,
And next his Throat unto the Butcher's Knife.
What Scene of Death hath Rossius now to a&?

Glo. Suspicion always haunts the guilly mind,
The Thief doth fear each Bush an officer.

K. Henry. The Bird that hath been limed in a bush,
With trembling Wings misdoubteth every bush ;
And I, the helpless Male to one sweet Bird,
Have now the fatal Object in my Eye,
Where my poor young was lim'd, was caught and killd.

Glo. Why what a peevish Fool was that of Creet,
That taught his Son the Office of a Fowl?
And yet, for all his Wings, the Fool was drown'd.

K. Henry. I, Dedalus; my poor Boy, Icarus;
Thy Father, Minos, that deny'd our course;
The Sun that seard the Wings of my sweet Boy,
Thy Brother Edward; and thy self, the Sea,
Whose envious Gulf did swallow up his Life:
Ah, kill me with thy Weapon, not with Words,
My Breast can better brook thy Dagger's point,
Than can my Ears that tragick History.
But, wherefore dost thou come? Is’t for my Life?

Glo. Think'st thou I am an Executioner?

K, Henry.

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K. Henry. A Persecutor I am sure thou art;
If murthering Innocents be Executing,
Why then thou art an Executioner.

Glo. Thy Son I killid for his Presumption.

K. Henry. Hadst thou been kill'd when first thou didst pre-
Thou hadít not liv'd to kill a Son of mine : (sume,
And thus I prophesie, that many a thousand,
Which now miltrust no parcel of my fear,
And many an old Man's figh, and many a Widow's,
And many an Orphan's water-standing Eye,
Men for their Sons, Wives for their Husbands fate,
And Orphans for their Parents timeless Death,
Shall ruc the Hour that ever thou wast born.
The Owl shriek'd at thy Birth, an evil sign,
The Night-Crow cry'd, aboding luckless time;
Dogs howl'd, and hideous Tempest shook down Trees;
The Raven rook'd her on the Chimney's top,
And chattering Pyes in dismal Discords sung:
Thy Mother felt more than a Mother's pain,
And yet brought forth less than a Mother's hope,
To wit, an indigefted deform'd Lump,
Not like the Fruit of such a goodly Tree.
Teeth hadit thou in thy Head when thou wast born,
To signifie thou cam'st to bite the World :
And, if the rest be true which I have heard,
Thou cam'st-

Glo. I'll hear no more:
Die, Prophet, in thy Speech;
For this, amongst the rest, was I ordain'd.

K. Henry. Ay, and for much more Slaughter after this
O God, forgive my Sins, and pardon thee.

Glo. What? will th'aspiring Blood of Lancaster
Sink in the ground? I thought it would have mounted.
See how my Sword weeps for the poor King's death.
O may such purple Tears be alway shed
From those who wish the downfal of our House.
If any spark of Life be yet remaining,
Down, down to Hell, and say I sent thee thither,

[Stabs him again. 1, that have neither pity, love, nor fear, Indeed 'tis true that Henry told me of :


(Stabs him.


For I have often heard my Mother say,
I I came into the World with my Legs forward.
Had I not reason, think ye, to make haste,
And leek their Ruin, that usurp'd our Right?
The Midwife wonder'd, and the Women cry'd,
O Jesus bless us, he is born with Teeth !
And so I was, which plainly signified,
That I should snarle, and bite, and play the Dog :
Then since the Heav'ns have shap'd my Body so,
Let Hell make crook'd my Mind to answer it.
I have no Brother, I am like no Brother :
And this word [Love) which grey Beards call Divine,
Be resident in Men like one another,
And not in me :- I am my self alone.
Clarence beware, thou keep'ft me from the light,
But I will sort a pitchy Day for thee :
For I will buz abroad such Prophecies,
That Edward shall be fearful of his Life,
And then, to purge his fear, I'll be thy Death.
King Henry, and the Prince his Son, are gone,
Clarence, thy turn is next, and then the rest;
Counting my self but bad, 'till I be beft.
I'll throw thy Body in another room,
And triumph, Henry, in thy day of Doom. [Exit.
Enter King Edward, Queen, Clarence, Glocefter, Ha-

stings, Nurse, and Attendants.
K. Eday. Once more we fit on England's Royal Throne,
Re-purchas'd with the Blood of Enemies :
What valiant Foe-men, like to Autumn's Corn,
Have we mow'd down in top of all their Pride?
Three Dukes of Somerset, threefold Renown'd,
For hardy and undoubted Champions :
Two Cliffords, as the Father and the Son,
And two Northumberlands; two braver Men,
Ne'er Spurr'd their Coursers at the Trumpets 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:


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