Clar. By heaven, I think, there is no man secure, The jealous o'er-worn widow, and herself, Brak. I beseech your graces both to pardon me ; Glo. Even so an please your worship, Brakenbury, You may partake of any thing we say : We speak no treason, man ;-We say, the king A bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue; And the queen's kindred are made gentlefolks: 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, Brak. What one, my lord? Glo. Her husband, knave:-Would'st thou betray 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,- Mean time, this deep disgrace in brotherhood, Mean time, 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, 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. Hast. Good time of day unto my gracious lord! How hath your lordship brook'd 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. O, he hath kept an evil diet long, And over-much consum'd his royal person; 'Tis very grievous to be thought upon. What, is he in his bed? Glo. Go you before, and I will follow you. Exit Hastings. He cannot live, I hope; and must not die, Till George be pack'd with posthorse up to heaven. I'll in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence, With lies well steel'd with weighty arguments; Clarence hath not another day to live: Which done, God take king Edward to his mercy, For then I'll marry Warwick's youngest daughter: By marrying her, which I must reach unto. [Exit. SCENE II. The Same. Another Street. 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,— The untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster.— Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood! To hear the lamentations of poor Anne, Lo, in these windows, that let forth thy life, I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes :— May fright the hopeful mother at the view; If ever he have wife, let her be made More miserable by the death of him, Than I am made by my young lord, and thee !- And, still as you are weary of the weight, Rest you, whiles I lament king Henry's corse. [The Bearers take up the corpse, and advance. |