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And says-a wizard told him, that by G
Clar. By heaven, I think, there is no man secure But the queen's kindred, and night-walking heralds That trudge betwixt the king and mistress Shore. Heard you not, what an humble suppliant Lord Hastings was to her for his delivery?
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, To be her men, and wear her livery : The jealous o'er-worn widow, and herselft, Since that our brother dubb'd them gentlewomen, Are mighty gossips in this monarchy.
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 his brother. Glo. Even so ? an please your worship, Braken
bury, You may partake of any thing we say: We speak no treason, man ;--We say the king Is wise and virtuous; and his noble queen Well struck in years; fair and not jealous; # Fancies.
of The Queen and Shore.
We say, that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot,
do. Glo. Naught to do with mistress' Shore? I tell
Brak. What one, my lord ?
me ? Brak. I beseech your grace to pardon me; and,
withal, 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; And whatsoe'er you will employ me in, Were it, to call king Edward's widow-sister, I will perform it to enfranchise you. Mean time, this deep disgrace in brotherhood, 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 : Mean time, have patience. Clar.
I must perforce; farewell. [Exeunt Clarence, Brakenbury, and Guard. Glo. Go, tread the path that thou shalt ne'er re
turn. Simple, plain Clarence !—I do love thee so, 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?
# Lowest of subjects.
Enter Hastings. 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?
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; For they that were your enemies, are his, And have prevail'd as much on him as you.
Hast. More pity that the eagle should be mew'd*, While kites and buzzards prey at liberty.
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.
Glo. Now, by saint Paul, this news is bad indeed.
The which will I; not all so much for love,
reigns ; When they are gone, then must I count my gains.
Enter the corpse of King Henry the Sixth, borne in
an open coffin, Gentlemen bearing halberds, to guard it; and Lady Anne as mourner. Anne. Set down, set down, your honourable
load, If honour may be shrouded in a hearse, Whilst I a while obsequiously* lament The untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster. Poor key-cold figure of a holy king ! Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster! Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood ! Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost, To hear the lamentations of poor Anne, Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughter'd son, Stabb'd by the self-same hand that made these
wounds! Lo, in these windows, that let forth thy life, I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes : 0, cursed be the hand that made these holes ! Cursed the heart that had the heart to do it! Cursed the blood, that let this blood from hence! More direful hap betide that hated wretch, That makes us wretched by the death of thee, Than I can wish to adders, spiders, toads, Or any creeping, venom'd thing that lives !
If ever he have child, abortive be it,
down. Anne. What black magician conjures up this
fiend, To stop devoted charitable deeds? Glo. Villains, set down the corse; or, by saint
i Gent. My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass. Glo. Unmanner'd dog! stand thou when I com
[The bearers set down the coffin.
Glo. Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst. Anne. Foul devil, for God's sake, hence, and
trouble us not: For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell,