Lady Anne
His better doth not breathe upon the earth.
Gloucester
He lives that loves thee better than he could.
Lady Anne
Name him.
Gloucester
Plantagenet.
Lady Anne
Why, that was he.
Gloucester
The selfsame name, but one of better nature.
Lady Anne
Where is he?
Gloucester
Here.
She spitteth at him
Why dost thou spit at me?
Lady Anne
Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake!
Gloucester
Never came poison from so sweet a place.
Lady Anne
Never hung poison on a fouler toad.
Out of my sight! thou dost infect my eyes.
Gloucester
Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine.
Lady Anne
Would they were basilisks, to strike thee dead!
Gloucester
I would they were, that I might die at once;
For now they kill me with a living death.
Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears,
Shamed their aspect with store of childish drops:
These eyes that never shed remorseful tear,
No, when my father York and Edward wept,
To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made
When black-faced Clifford shook his sword at him;
Nor when thy warlike father, like a child,
Told the sad story of my father’s death,
And twenty times made pause to sob and weep,
That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks
Like trees bedash’d with rain: in that sad time
My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear;
And what these sorrows could not thence exhale,
Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping.
I never sued to friend nor enemy;
My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing word;
But now thy beauty is proposed my fee,
My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak.
She looks scornfully at him
Teach not thy lips such scorn, for they were made
For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.
If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive,
Lo, here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword;
Which if thou please to hide in this true bosom.
And let the soul forth that adoreth thee,
I lay it naked to the deadly stroke,
And humbly beg the death upon my knee.
He lays his breast open: she offers at it with his sword
Nay, do not pause; for I did kill King Henry,
But ’twas thy beauty that provoked me.
Nay, now dispatch; ’twas I that stabb’d young Edward,
But ’twas thy heavenly face that set me on.
Here she lets fall the sword
Take up the sword again, or take up me.
Lady Anne
Arise, dissembler: though I wish thy death,
I will not be the executioner.
Gloucester
Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it.
Lady Anne
I have already.
Gloucester
Tush, that was in thy rage:
Speak it again, and, even with the word,
That hand, which, for thy love, did kill thy love,
Shall, for thy love, kill a far truer love;
To both their deaths thou shalt be accessary.
Lady Anne
I would I knew thy heart.
Gloucester
’Tis figured in my tongue.
Lady Anne
I fear me both are false.
Gloucester
Then never man was true.
Lady Anne
Well, well, put up your sword.
Gloucester
Say, then, my peace is made.
Lady Anne
That shall you know hereafter.
Gloucester
But shall I live in hope?
Lady Anne
All men, I hope, live so.
Gloucester
Vouchsafe to wear this ring.
Lady Anne
To take is not to give.
Gloucester
Look, how this ring encompasseth finger.
Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart;
Wear both of them, for both of them are thine.
And if thy poor devoted suppliant may
But beg one favour at thy gracious hand,
Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever.
Lady Anne
What is it?
Gloucester
That it would please thee leave these sad designs
To him that hath more cause to be a mourner,
And presently repair to Crosby Place;
Where, after I have solemnly interr’d
At Chertsey monastery this noble king,
And wet his grave with my repentant tears,
I will with all expedient duty see you:
For divers unknown reasons. I beseech you,
Grant me this boon.
Lady Anne
With all my heart; and much it joys me too,
To see you are become so penitent.
Tressel and Berkeley, go along with me.
Gloucester
Bid me farewell.
Lady Anne
’Tis more than you deserve;
But since you teach me how to flatter you,
Imagine I have said farewell already.
Exeunt Lady Anne, Tressel, and Berkeley
Gloucester
Sirs, take up the corse.
Gentlemen
Towards Chertsey, noble lord?
Gloucester
No, to White-Friars; there attend my coining.
Exeunt all but Gloucester
Was ever woman in this humour woo’d?
Was ever woman in this humour won?
I’ll have her; but I will not keep her long.
What! I, that kill’d her husband and his father,
To take her in her heart’s extremest hate,
With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes,
The bleeding witness of her hatred by;
Having God, her conscience, and these bars against me,
And I nothing to back my suit at all,
But the plain devil and dissembling looks,
And yet to win her, all the world to nothing! Ha!
Hath she forgot already that brave prince,
Edward, her lord, whom I, some three months since,
Stabb’d in my angry mood at Tewksbury?
A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman,
Framed in the prodigality of nature,
Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal,
The spacious world cannot again afford
And will she yet debase her eyes on me,
That cropp’d the golden prime of this sweet prince,
And made her widow to a woful bed?
On me, whose all not equals Edward’s moiety?
On me, that halt and am unshapen thus?
My dukedom to a beggarly denier,
I do mistake my person all this while:
Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot,
Myself to be a marvellous proper man.
I’ll be at charges for a looking-glass,
And entertain some score or two of tailors,
To study fashions to adorn my body:
Since I am crept in favour with myself,
Will maintain it with some little cost.
But first I’ll turn yon fellow in his grave;
And then return lamenting to my love.
Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass,
That I may see my shadow as I pass.
SCENE III. THE PALACE.
Enter Queen Elizabeth, Rivers, and Grey
Rivers
Have patience, madam: there’s no doubt his majesty
Will soon recover his accustom’d health.
Grey
In that you brook it in, it makes him worse:
Therefore, for God’s sake, entertain good comfort,
And cheer his grace with quick and merry words.
Queen Elizabeth
If he were dead, what would betide of me?
Rivers
No other harm but loss of such a lord.
Queen Elizabeth
The loss of such a lord includes all harm.
Grey
The heavens have bless’d you with a goodly son,
To be your comforter when he is gone.
Queen Elizabeth
Oh, he is young and his minority
Is put unto the trust of Richard Gloucester,
A man that loves not me, nor none of you.
Rivers
Is it concluded that he shall be protector?
Queen Elizabeth
It is determined, not concluded yet:
But so it must be, if the king miscarry.
Enter Buckingham and Derby
Grey
Here come the lords of Buckingham and Derby.
Buckingham
Good time of day unto your royal grace!
Derby
God make your majesty joyful as you have been!
Queen Elizabeth
The Countess Richmond, good my Lord of Derby.
To your good prayers will scarcely say amen.
Yet, Derby, notwithstanding she’s your wife,
And loves not me, be you, good lord, assured
I hate not you for her proud arrogance.
Derby
I do beseech you, either not believe
The envious slanders of her false accusers;
Or, if she be accused in true report,
Bear with her weakness, which, I think proceeds
From wayward sickness, and no grounded malice.
Rivers
Saw you the king to-day, my Lord of Derby?
Derby
But now the Duke of Buckingham and I
Are come from visiting his majesty.
Queen Elizabeth
What likelihood of his amendment, lords?
Buckingham
Madam, good hope; his grace speaks cheerfully.
Queen Elizabeth
God grant him health! Did you confer with him?
Buckingham
Madam, we did: he desires to make atonement
Betwixt the Duke of Gloucester and your brothers,
And betwixt them and my lord chamberlain;
And sent to warn them to his royal presence.
Queen Elizabeth
Would all were well! but that will never be
I fear our happiness is at the highest.
Enter Gloucester, Hastings, and Dorset
Gloucester
They do me wrong, and I will not endure it:
Who are they that complain unto the king,
That I, forsooth, am stern, and love them not?
By holy Paul, they love his grace but lightly
That fill his ears with such dissentious rumours.
Because I cannot flatter and speak fair,
Smile in men’s faces, smooth, deceive and cog,
Duck with French nods and apish courtesy,
I must be held a rancorous enemy.
Cannot a plain man live and think no harm,
But thus his simple truth must be abused
By silken, sly, insinuating Jacks?
Rivers
To whom in all this presence speaks your grace?
Gloucester
To thee, that hast nor honesty nor grace.
When have I injured thee? when done thee wrong?
Or thee? or thee? or any of your faction?
A plague upon you all! His royal person,—
Whom God preserve better than you would wish!—
Cannot be quiet scarce a breathing-while,
But you must trouble him with lewd complaints.
Queen Elizabeth
Brother of Gloucester, you mistake the matter.
The king, of his own royal disposition,
And not provoked by any suitor else;
Aiming, belike, at your interior hatred,
Which in your outward actions shows itself
Against my kindred, brothers, and myself,
Makes him to send; that thereby he may gather
The ground of your ill-will, and so remove it.
Gloucester
I cannot tell: the world is grown so bad,
That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch:
Since every Jack became a gentleman
There’s many a gentle person made a Jack.
Queen Elizabeth
Come, come, we know your meaning, brother
Gloucester;
You envy my advancement and my friends’:
God grant we never may have need of you!
Gloucester
Meantime, God grants that we have need of you:
Your brother is imprison’d by your means,
Myself disgraced, and the nobility
Held in contempt; whilst many fair promotions
Are daily given to ennoble those
That scarce, some two days since, were worth a noble.
Queen Elizabeth
By Him that raised me to this careful height
From that contented hap which I enjoy’d,
I never did incense his majesty
Against the Duke of Clarence, but have been
An earnest advocate to plead for him.
My lord, you do me shameful injury,
Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects.
Gloucester
You may deny that you were not the cause
Of my Lord Hastings’ late imprisonment.
Rivers
She may, my lord, for —
Gloucester
She may, Lord Rivers! why, who knows not so?
She may do more, sir, than denying that:
She may help you to many fair preferments,
And then deny her aiding hand therein,
And lay those honours on your high deserts.
What may she not? She may, yea, marry, may she —
Rivers
What, marry, may she?
Gloucester
What, marry, may she! marry with a king,
A bachelor, a handsome stripling too:
I wis your grandam had a worser match.
Queen Elizabeth
My Lord of Gloucester, I have too long borne
Your blunt upbraidings and your bitter scoffs:
By heaven, I will acquaint his majesty
With those gross taunts I often have endured.
I had rather be a country servant-maid
Than a great queen, with this condition,
To be thus taunted, scorn’d, and baited at:
Enter Queen Margaret, behind
Small joy have I in being England’s queen.
Queen Margaret
And lessen’d be that small, God, I beseech thee!
Thy honour, state and seat is due to me.
Gloucester
What! threat you me with telling of the king?
Tell him, and spare not: look, what I have said
I will avouch in presence of the king:
I dare adventure to be sent to the Tower.
’Tis time to speak; my pains are quite forgot.
Queen Margaret
Out, devil! I remember them too well:
Thou slewest my husband Henry in the Tower,
And Edward, my poor son, at Tewksbury.
Gloucester
Ere you were queen, yea, or your husband king,
I was a pack-horse in h
is great affairs;
A weeder-out of his proud adversaries,
A liberal rewarder of his friends:
To royalize his blood I spilt mine own.
Queen Margaret
Yea, and much better blood than his or thine.
Gloucester
In all which time you and your husband Grey
Were factious for the house of Lancaster;
And, Rivers, so were you. Was not your husband
In Margaret’s battle at Saint Alban’s slain?
Let me put in your minds, if you forget,
What you have been ere now, and what you are;
Withal, what I have been, and what I am.
Queen Margaret
A murderous villain, and so still thou art.
Gloucester
Poor Clarence did forsake his father, Warwick;
Yea, and forswore himself,— which Jesu pardon!—
Queen Margaret
Which God revenge!
Gloucester
To fight on Edward’s party for the crown;
And for his meed, poor lord, he is mew’d up.
I would to God my heart were flint, like Edward’s;
Or Edward’s soft and pitiful, like mine
I am too childish-foolish for this world.
Queen Margaret
Hie thee to hell for shame, and leave the world,
Thou cacodemon! there thy kingdom is.
Rivers
My Lord of Gloucester, in those busy days
Which here you urge to prove us enemies,
We follow’d then our lord, our lawful king:
So should we you, if you should be our king.
Gloucester
If I should be! I had rather be a pedlar:
Far be it from my heart, the thought of it!
Queen Elizabeth
As little joy, my lord, as you suppose
You should enjoy, were you this country’s king,
As little joy may you suppose in me.
That I enjoy, being the queen thereof.
Queen Margaret
A little joy enjoys the queen thereof;
For I am she, and altogether joyless.
I can no longer hold me patient.
Advancing
Hear me, you wrangling pirates, that fall out
In sharing that which you have pill’d from me!
Which of you trembles not that looks on me?
If not, that, I being queen, you bow like subjects,
Yet that, by you deposed, you quake like rebels?
O gentle villain, do not turn away!
Gloucester
Foul wrinkled witch, what makest thou in my sight?
Queen Margaret
But repetition of what thou hast marr’d;
That will I make before I let thee go.
Gloucester
Wert thou not banished on pain of death?
Queen Margaret
I was; but I do find more pain in banishment
Than death can yield me here by my abode.
A husband and a son thou owest to me;
And thou a kingdom; all of you allegiance:
The sorrow that I have, by right is yours,
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