London. A Street. | |
| |
Enter GLOUCESTER. | |
| Glo. Now is the winter of our discontent | |
| Made glorious summer by this sun of York; | 4 |
| And all the clouds that lour’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; | 8 |
| Our stern alarums changed 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, | 12 |
| 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, | 16 |
| Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass; | |
| I, that am rudely stamp’d, and want love’s majesty | |
| To strut before a wanton ambling nymph; | |
| I, that am curtail’d of this fair proportion, | 20 |
| 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 | 24 |
| That dogs bark at me, as I halt by them; | |
| Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, | |
| Have no delight to pass away the time, | |
| Unless to see my shadow in the sun | 28 |
| 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, | 32 |
| 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 | 36 |
| 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, | 40 |
| About a prophecy, which says, that G | |
| Of Edward’s heirs the murderer shall be. | |
| Dive, thoughts, down to my soul: here Clarence comes. | |
| |
Enter CLARENCE, guarded, and BRAKENBURY. | 44 |
| Brother, good day: what means this armed guard | |
| That waits upon your Grace? | |
| Clar. His majesty, | |
| Tendering my person’s safety, hath appointed | 48 |
| This conduct to convey me to the Tower. | |
| Glo. Upon what cause? | |
| Clar. Because my name is George. | |
| Glo. Alack! my lord, that fault is none of yours; | 52 |
| He should, for that, commit your godfathers. | |
| O! belike his majesty hath some intent | |
| That you should be new-christen’d in the Tower. | |
| But what’s the matter, Clarence? may I know? | 56 |
| Clar. Yea, Richard, when I know; for I protest | |
| As yet I do not: but, as I can learn, | |
| He hearkens after prophecies and dreams; | |
| And from the cross-row plucks the letter G, | 60 |
| And says a wizard told him that by G | |
| His issue disinherited should be; | |
| And, for my name of George begins with G, | |
| It follows in his thought that I am he. | 64 |
| These, as I learn, and such like toys as these, | |
| Have mov’d his highness to commit me now. | |
| Glo. Why, this it is, when men are rul’d by women: | |
| ’Tis not the king that sends you to the Tower; | 68 |
| My Lady Grey, his wife, Clarence, ’tis she | |
| That tempers him to this extremity. | |
| Was it not she and that good man of worship, | |
| Antony Woodville, her brother there, | 72 |
| That made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower, | |
| From whence this present day he is deliver’d? | |
| We are not safe, Clarence; we are not safe. | |
| Clar. By heaven, I think there is no man secure | 76 |
| But the queen’s kindred and night-walking heralds | |
| That trudge betwixt the king and Mistress Shore. | |
| Heard you not what a humble suppliant | |
| Lord Hastings was to her for his delivery? | 80 |
| Glo. Humbly complaining to her deity | |
| Got my lord chamberlain his liberty. | |
| I’ll tell you what; I think it is our way, | |
| If we will keep in favour with the king, | 84 |
| To be her men and wear her livery: | |
| The jealous o’er-worn widow and herself, | |
| Since that our brother dubb’d them gentlewomen, | |
| Are mighty gossips in our monarchy. | 88 |
| Brak. I beseech your Graces both to pardon me; | |
| His majesty hath straitly given in charge | |
| That no man shall have private conference, | |
| Of what degree soever, with your brother. | 92 |
| Glo. Even so; an please your worship, Brakenbury, | |
| You may partake of anything we say: | |
| We speak no treason, man: we say the king | |
| Is wise and virtuous, and his noble queen | 96 |
| 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 that the queen’s kindred are made gentlefolks. | 100 |
| How say you, sir? can you deny all this? | |
| Brak. With this, my lord, myself have nought to do. | |
| Glo. Naught to do with Mistress Shore! I tell thee, fellow, | |
| He that doth naught with her, excepting one, | 104 |
| Were best to 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 | 108 |
| 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; | 112 |
| 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 | 116 |
| 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: | 120 |
| 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 | 124 |
| That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven, | |
| If heaven will take the present at our hands. | |
| But who comes here? the new-deliver’d Hastings! | |
| |
Enter HASTINGS. | 128 |
| Hast. Good time of day unto my gracious lord! | |
| Glo. As much unto my good lord chamberlain! | |
| Well are you welcome to this open air. | |
| How hath your lordship brook’d imprisonment? | 132 |
| 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; | 136 |
| For they that were your enemies are his, | |
| And have prevail’d as much on him as you. | |
| Hast. More pity that the eagles should be mew’d, | |
| While kites and buzzards prey at liberty. | 140 |
| 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. | 144 |
| Glo. Now by Saint Paul, this news is bad indeed. | |
| O! he hath kept an evil diet long, | |
| And over-much consum’d his royal person: | |
| ’Tis very grievous to be thought upon. | 148 |
| 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 | 152 |
| Till George be pack’d with post-horse up to heaven. | |
| I’ll in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence, | |
| With lies well steel’d with weighty arguments; | |
| And, if I fail not in my deep intent, | 156 |
| 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. | 160 |
| What though I kill’d 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 | 164 |
| 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: | 168 |
| When they are gone, then must I count my gains. [Exit. | |
