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No bending knee will call thee Cæsar now,
No humble suitors press to speak for right,
No, not a man comes for redress of thee;
For how can I help them, and not myself?

1 Keep. Ay, here's a deer whose skin's a
keeper's fee:

This is the quondam king; let's seize upon him. K. Hen. Let me embrace these our adversities;

For wise men say, it is the wisest course. 2 Keep. Why linger we? Let us lay hands upon him.

1 Keep. Forbear awhile; we'll hear a little

more.

K. Hen. My queen, and son, are gone to
France for aid;

And, as I hear, the great commanding War-
wick
[sister
Is thither gone, to crave the French king's
To wife for Edward: if this news be true,
Poor queen, and son, your labour is but lost;
For Warwick is a subtle orator, [words.
And Lewis a prince soon won with moving
By this account, then Margaret may win him;
For she's a woman to be pitied much:
Her sighs will make a battery in his breast;
Her tears will pierce into a marble heart;
The tiger will be mild, while she doth mourn;
And Nero will be tainted with remorse,
To hear, and see, her plaints, her brinish tears.
Ay, but she's come to beg; Warwick, to give:
She, on his left side, craving aid for Henry;
He, on his right, asking a wife for Edward.
She weeps and says-her Henry is deposed;
He smiles, and says-his Edward is install'd;
That she, poor wretch, for grief can speak no
[wrong,
Whiles Warwick tells his title, smooths the
Inferreth arguments of mighty strength;
And, in conclusion, wins the king from her,
With promise of his sister, and what else,
To strengthen and support king Edward's
place.
[soul,
O Margaret, thus 'twill be; and thou, poor
Art then forsaken, as thou went'st forlorn.
2 Keep. Say, what art thou, that talk'st of
kings and queens?

more:

K. Hen. More than I seem, and less than I

was born to:

A man at least, for less I should not be; And men may talk of kings, and why not I? 2 Keep. Ay, but thou talk'st as if thou wert a king.

K. Hen. Why, so I am, in mind; and that's enough.

2 Keep. But, if thou be a king, where is thy

crown?

K. Hen. My crown is in my heart, not on my head;

Not deck'd with diamonds and Indian stones, Nor to be seen: my crown is call'd content; A crown it is, that seldom kings enjoy.

2 Keep. Well, if you be a king crown'd with content, [tented Your crown content, and you, must be conTo go along with us: for, as we think, You are the king, king Edward hath depos'd; And we his subjects, sworn in all allegiance, Will apprehend you as his enemy.

K. Hen. But did you never swear, and break

an oath?

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a man?

Ah, simple men, you know not what you swear
Look, as I blow this feather from my face,
And as the air blows it to me again,
Obeying with my wind when I do blow,
And yielding to another when it blows,
Commanded always by the greater gust;
Such is the lightness of you common men.
But do not break your oaths; for, of that sin
My mild entreaty shall not make you guilty.
Go where you will, the king shall be com-
manded;

And be you kings; command, and I'll obey.
1 Keep. We are true subjects to the king,
king Edward.

K. Hen. So would you be again to Henry, If he were seated as king Edward is.

1 Keep. We charge you, in God's name, and in the king's,

To go with us unto the officers. K. Hen. In God's name, lead; your king's name be obey'd: [form; And what God will, then let your king perAnd what he will, I humbly yield unto.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-London.-A Room in the Palace. Enter King EDWARD, GLOSTER, CLARENCE, und Lady GREY.

K. Edw. Brother of Gloster, at Saint Albans' field

The lady's husband, Sir John Grey, was slain;
His lands then seized on by the conqueror:
Her suit is now to repossess those lands;
Which we in justice cannot well deny,
Because in quarrel of the house of York
The worthy gentleman did lose his life.
Glo. Your highness shall do well; to grant
her suit;

It were dishonour, to deny it her.

K. Edw. It were no less; but yet I'll make a pause.

Glo. Yea! is it so?

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An if what pleases him, shall pleasure you. Fight, closer, or, good faith, you'll catch a blow.

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Clar. I fear her not, unless she chance to fall.

JAside. Glo. God forbid that! for he'll take 'vanta[Aside.

ges.

K. Edw. How many children hast thou, widow? Tell me.

Clar. I think he means to beg a child of her. [Aside. Glo. Nay, whip me then; he'll rather give [Aside.

her two.

L. Grey. Three, my most gracious lord. Glo. You shall have four, if you'll be rul'd by him. [Aside.

K. Edw. "Twere pity, they should lose their father's land.

L. Grey. 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, [crutch. Till youth take leave, and leave you to the [GLOSTER and CLARENCE retire to the other side.

K. Edw. Now tell me, madam, do you love your children?

L. Grey. Ay, full as dearly as I love myself. K. Edw. And would you not do much to do them good?

L. Grey. To do them good, I would sustain some harm.

K. Edw. Then get your husband's land, to do them good.

L. Grey. Therefore I came unto your majesty. K. Edw. I'll tell you how these lands are to be got.

L. Grey. So shall you bind me to your high

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K. Edw. Ay, but thou canst do what I mean to ask.

L. Grey. Why, then I will do what your grace commands.

Glo. He plies her hard; and much rain wears the marble. [Aside. Clar. As red as fire! Nay, then her wax must [Aside. L. Grey. Why stops my lord? Shall I not hear my task?

melt.

K. Edw. An easy task; 'tis but to love a king. L. Grey. That's soon perform'd, because I am a subject.

K. Edw. Why then, thy husband's lands I freely give thee.

L. Grey. I take my leave, with many thousand thanks.

Glo. The match is made; she seals it with a curt'sy. [Aside. K. Edw. But stay thee, 'tis the fruits of love I mean.

L. Grey. 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? L. Grey. 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.

L. Grey. Why, then you mean not as I thought you did.

K. Edw. But now you partly may perceive my mind.

This phrase implies readiness of assent.

L. Grey. My mind will never grant what 1 perceive

Your highness aims at, if I aim aright. K. Edw. To tell thee plain, I am to lie with thee.

L. Grey. To tell you plain, I had rather lie in prison.

K. Edw. Why, then thou shalt not have thy husband's lands.

L. Grey. 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.

L. Grey. 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.
L. Grey. Then, no, my lord. My suit is at
an end.

Glo. The widow likes him not, she knits her
brows.
[Aside.

Clar. He is the bluntest wooer in Christen-
dom.
[Aside.
K. Edw. [Aside.] Her looks do argue her re-
plete with modesty ;

Her words do show her wit incomparable;
All her perfections challenge sovereignty;
One way, or other, she is for a king;
And she shall be my love, or else my queen.—
Say, that king Edward take thee for his queen?
L. Grey. "Tis better said than done, my gra-

cious 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 thee,

I speak no more than what my soul intends; And that is to enjoy thee for my love.

L. Grey. 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.

L. Grey. "Twill grieve your grace, my sons should call you-father.

K. Edw. No more, than when thy daughters call thee mother.

Thou art a widow, and thou hast some chil-
dren;
[lor,

And, by God's mother, I, being but a bache-
Have other some: why, '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.

[Aside Clar. When he was made a shriver, 'twas for shift. [Aside.

K. Edw. Brothers, you muse what chat we two have had.

Glo. The widow likes it not, for she looks sad. K. Edw. You'd think it strange, if I should marry her.

Clar. To whom, my lord?

K. Edw. Why, Clarence, to myself.
Glo. That would be ten days' wonder, at

the least.

Clar. That's a day longer than a wonder

lasts.

Glo. By so much is the wonder in extremes.

The seriousness.

K. Edw. Well, jest on, brothers: I can tell | Seeking a way, and straying from the way; you both,

der suit is granted for her husband's lands.

Enter a NOBLEMAN.

Nob. My gracious lord, Henry your foe is taken,

And brought your prisoner 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 apprehension.-
Widow, go you along;-Lords, use her
ourable.

Not knowing how to find the open air,
But toiling desperately to find it out,-
Torment myself to catch the English crown:
And from that torment I will free myself,
Or hew my way out with a bloody axe.
Why, I can smile, and murder while I smile;
And, cry, content, to that which grieves my
heart;

And wet my cheeks with artificial tears,
And frame my face to all occasions.
I'll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall;
hon-I'll slay more gazers than the basilisk;
I'll play the orator as well as Nestor,
Deceive more slily than Ulysses could,
And, like a Sinon, take another Troy:
I can add colours to the cameleon;
Change shapes, with Proteus, for advantages,
And set the murd'rous Machiavel to school.
Can I do this, and cannot get a crown?
Tut! were it further off, I'll pluck it down.

[Exeunt King EDWARD, Lady GREY, CLARENCE, and Lord.

Glo. Ay, Edward will use women honourably. [all, Would he were wasted, marrow, bones, and 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 desire, and me,
(The lustful Edward's title buried,) [ward,
Is Clarence, Henry, and his son young Ed-
And all the unlook'd-for issue of their bodies,
To take their rooms, ere I can place myself:
A cold premeditation for my purpose!
Why, then I do but dream on sovereignty;
Like one that stands upon a promontory,
And spies a far-off shore where he would
tread,

Wishing his foot were equal with his eye; And chides the sea that sunders him from thence,

Saying he'll lade it dry to have his way:
So do I wish the crown, being so far off;
And so I chide the means that keep me from
And so I say-I'll cut the causes off, [it;
Flattering me with impossibilities.-
My eye's too quick, my heart o'erweens too
much,
[them.
Unless my hand and strength could equal
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, [looks.
And witch sweet ladies with my words and
O miserable thought! and more unlikely,
Than to accomplish twenty golden crowns!
Why, love forswore me in my mother's womb:
And, for I should not deal in her soft laws
She did corrupt frail nature with a bribe
To shrink mine arm up like a wither'd shrub;
To make an envious mountain on my back,
Where sits deformity to mock my body;
To shape my legs of an unequal size;
To disproportion me in every part,
Like to a chaos, or an unlick'd bear-whelp,
That carries no impression like the dam.
And am I then a man to be belov'd?
O, monstrous fault, to harbour such a thought!
Then, since this earth affords no joy to me,
But to command, to check, to o'erbear such
As are of better person than myself, [crown;
I'll make my heaven-to dream upon the
And, whiles I live, to account this world but
hell,
[head,
Until my misshap'd trunk that bears this
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 lost in a thorny wood,
That rents the thorns, and is rent with the
thorns;

* Encircled.

[Exit,

SCENE III.-France.-A Room in the Palace.
Flourish. Enter LEWIS the French King, and
Lady BONA, attended; the King takes his
State. Then enter Queen MARGARET, Prince
EDWARD her son, and the Earl of OXFORD.
K. Lew. Fair queen of England, worthy
Margaret,
[Rising.

Sit down with us; it ill befits thy state,
And birth, that thou should'st stand, while
Lewis doth sit.

Q. Mar. No, mighty king of France; now
Margaret
[serve,
Must strike her sail, and learn a while to
Where kings command. I was, I must con-
fess,
Great Albion's queen in former golden days:
But now mischance hath trod my title down,
And with dishonour laid me on the ground;
Where I must take like seat unto my fortune,
And to my humble seat conform myself.

K. Lew. Why, say, fair queen, whence springs this deep despair?

Q. Mar. From such a cause as fills mine eyes with tears,

And stops my tongue, while heart is drown'd

in cares.

K. Lew. Whate'er it be, be thou still like thyself,

And sit thee by our side: yield not thy neck
[Seats her by him.
To fortune's yoke, but let thy dauntless mind
Still ride in triumph over all mischance.
Be plain, queen Margaret, and tell thy grief;
It shall be eas'd, if France can yield relief.
Q. Mar. Those gracious words revive my

drooping thoughts,
[speak.
And give my tongue-tied sorrows leave to
Now, therefore, be it known to noble Lewis,--
That Henry, sole possessor of my love,
Is, of a king, become a banish'd man,
And forc'd to live in Scotland a forlorn;
While proud ambitious Edward,
Usurps the regal title, and the seat
Of England's true-anointed lawful king.
This is the cause, that I, poor Margaret,-
With this my son, prince Edward, Henry's
heir,-

duke of

[York,

Am come to crave thy just and lawful aid; And, if thou fail us, all our hope is done: Scotland hath will to help, but cannot help; Our people and our peers are both misled, Our treasure seiz'd, our soldiers put to flight, And, as thou see'st, ourselves in heavy plight.

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Enter WARWICK, attended.

K. Lew. What's he, approacheth boldly to

Q. Mar. Our earl of Warwick, Edward's greatest friend.

K. Lew. Welcome, brave Warwick! What brings thee to France?

[Descending from his State, Queen MARGARET rises.

Q. Mar. Ay, now begins a second storm to rise;

For this is he, that moves both wind and tide.
War. From worthy Edward, king of Albion,
My lord and sovereign, and thy vowed friend,
come,-in kindness, and unfeigned love,-
First, to do greetings to thy royal person;
And, then, to crave a league of amity;
And, lastly, to confirm that amity
With nuptial knot, if thou vouchsafe to grant
That virtuous lady Bona, thy fair sister,
To England's king in lawful marriage.

Q. Mur. If that go forward, Henry's hope is done.

War. And, gracious madam, [To BONA.] in

our king's behalf,

I am commanded, with your leave and favour, Humbly to kiss your hand, and with my tongue To tell the passion of my sovereign's heart; Where fame, late entering at his heedful ears, Hath plac'd thy beauty's image, and thy virtue. Q. Mar. King Lewis, and lady Bona,hear me speak,

Before you answer Warwick. His demand Springs not from Edward's well-meant honest But from deceit, bred by necessity; [love, For how ean tyrants safely govern home, Unless abroad they purchase great alliance? To prove him tyrant, this reason may suffice, That Henry liveth still: but were he dead, Yet here prince Edward stands, king Henry's [marriage Look therefore, Lewis, that by this league and Thou draw not on thy danger and dishonour: For though usurpers sway the rule a while, Yet heavens are just, and time suppresseth wrongs.

son.

War. Injurious Margaret!
Prince. And why not queen?

War. Because thy father Henry did usurp; And thou no more art prince, than she is

queen.

Oxf. Then Warwick disannuls great John of
Gaunt,

Which did subdue the greatest part of Spain;
And, after John of Gaunt, Henry the fourth,
Whose wisdom was a mirror to the wisest ;
And, after that wise prince, Henry the fifth,
Who by his prowess conquered all France;'
From these our Henry lineally descends.

War. Oxford, how haps it, in this smooth discourse,

You told not, how Henry the sixth hath lost All that which Henry the fifth had gotten? Methinks, these peers of France should smile

at that.

But for the rest,-You tell a pedigree
Of threescore and two years; a silly time
To make prescription for a kingdom's worth.
Oxf. Why, Warwick, canst thou speak against
thy liege,

Whom thou obey'd'st thirty and six years,
And not bewray thy treason with a blush?
War. Can Oxford, that did ever fence the
right,

Now buckler falsehood with a pedigree? For shame, leave Henry, and call Edward king.

Orf. Call him my king, by whose injurious

doom

Was done to death? and more than so, my My elder brother, the lord Aubrey Vere, father,

Even in the downfall of his mellow'd years,
When nature brought him to the door of death?
No, Warwick, no; while life upholds this arm,
This arm upholds the house of Lancaster.
War. And I the house of York.

K. Lew. Queen Margaret, prince Edward, Vouchsafe, at our request, to stand aside. and Oxford, While I use further conference with Warwick. Q. Mar. Heaven grant, that Warwick's words bewitch him not!

[Retiring with the PRINCE and Oxford. K. Lew. Now, Warwick, tell me, even upor thy conscience,

Is Edward your true king? for I were loath, To link with him that were not lawful chosen. War. Thereon I pawn my credit and mine

honour.

K. Lew. But is he gracious in the people's

eye?

War. The more, that Henry was unfortunate. K. Lew. Then further,-all dissembling set aside,

Tell me for truth the measure of his love
Unto our sister Bona.

War. Such it seems,

As may beseem a monarch like himself.
That this his love was an eternal plant;
Myself have often heard him say, and swear,—
Whereof the root was fix'd in virtue's ground,
The leaves and fruit maintain'd with beauty'

sun;

Exempt from envy, but not from disdain,
Unless the lady Bona quit his pain.

K. Lew. Now, sister, let us hear your firm
resolve.

Bona. Your grant, or your denial, shall be mine:

[day, When I have heard your king's desert reYet I confess, [To WAR,] that often ere this

counted,

Mine ear hath tempted judgement to desire. K. Lew. Then, Warwick, thus,—Our sister

And now forthwith shall articles be drawn shall be Edward's; Touching the jointure that your king must make,

Draw near, queen Margaret; and be a wit Which with her dowry shall be counterpois'd:

ness,

That Bona shall be wife to the English king. Prince. To Edward, but not to the English king.

By this alliance to make void my suit; [vice Q. Mar. Deceitful Warwick! it was thy deBefore thy coming, Lewis was Henry's friend. K. Lew. And still is friend to him and Margaret:

* Malice, or hatred.

But if your title to the crown be weak,-
As may appear by Edward's good success,-
Then 'tis but reason, that I be releas'd
From giving aid, which late I promised.
Yet shall you have all kindness at my hand,
That your estate requires, and mine can yield.
War. Henry now lives in Scotland, at his
ease;

Where having nothing, nothing he can lose.
And as for you yourself, our quondam queen,—
You have a father able to maintain you;
And better 'twere, you troubled him than
France.

Q. Mar. Peace, impudent and shameless
Warwick, peace;

Proud setter-up and puller-down of kings!
I will not hence, till with my talk and tears,
Both full of truth, I make king Lewis behold
Thy sly conveyance, and thy lord's false love;
For both of you are birds of self-same feather.
[A Horn sounded within.
K. Lew. Warwick, this is some post to us,
or thee.

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And by the hope I have of heavenly bliss,-
That I am clear from this misdeed of Edward's;
No more my king, for he dishonours me;
But most himself, if he could see his shame.
Did I forget, that by the house of York
My father came untimely to his death?
Did I let pass the abuse done to my niece?
Did I impale him with the regal crown?
Did I put Henry from his native right;
And am I guerdon'dt at the last with shame?
Shame on himself! for my desert is honour.
And, to repair my honour lost for him,
I here renounce him, and return to Henry:
My noble queen, let former grudges pass,
And henceforth I am thy true servitor;
I will revenge his wrong to lady Bona,
And replant Henry in his former state.

Q. Mar. Warwick, these words have turn'd my hate to love;

And I forgive and quite forget old faults,

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at once.

K. Lew. Then England's messenger, return in post;

And tell false Edward, thy supposed king,-
That Lewis of France is sending over maskers,
To revel it with him and his new bride:
Thou seest what's past, go fear thy king
withal.

Bona. Tell him, In hope he'll prove a widower shortly,

I'll wear the willow garland for his sake. Q. Mar. Tell him, My mourning weeds are laid aside,

And I am ready to put armour on.

War. Tell him from me, That he hath done

me wrong;

And therefore I'll uncrown him, ere't be long. There's thy reward; be gone. [Exit MESS. K. Lew. But, Warwick, thou, And Oxford, with five thousand men, Shall cross the seas, and bid false Edward battle:

And, as occasion serves, this noble queen And prince shall follow with a fresh supply. Yet, ere thou go, but answer me one doubt;What pledge have we of thy firm loyalty?

War. This shall assure my constant loyal

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