PERSONS REPRESENTED.

King Edward the Fourth. Edward, Prince of Wales, afterwards King Edward

V.

Richard, Duke of York,
George, Duke of Clarence,

Sons to the King.

Richard, Duke of Gloster, Brothers to the King. afterwards King Rich

ard III.

A young son of Clarence.

Henry, Earl of Richmond, afterwards King Henry VII.

Cardinal Bourchier, Archbishop of Canterbury. Thomas Rotheram, Archbishop of York. John Morton, Bishop of Ely.

Duke of Buckingham.

Duke of Norfolk: Earl of Surrey, his son.
Earl Rivers, brother to King Edward's Queen :
Marquiss of Dorset, and Lord Grey, her sons.
Earl of Oxford. Lord Hastings. Lord Stanley.
Lord Lovel.

Sir Thomas Vaughan. Sir Richard Ratcliff.
Sir William Catesby. Sir James Tyrrel.

Sir James Blount. Sir Walter Herbert.

Sir Robert Brakenbury, Lieutenant of the Tower.
Christopher Urswick, a Priest. Another Priest.
Lord Mayor of London. Sheriff of Wiltshire.

Elizabeth, Queen of King Edward IV.
Margaret, widow of King Henry VI.

Duchess of York, mother to King Edward IV. Clarence, and Gloster.

Lady Anne, widow of Edward Prince of Wales, son to King Henry VI.; afterwards married to the Duke of Gloster.

A young daughter of Clarence.

Lords, and other Attendants; two Gentlemen, a Pursuivant, Scrivener, Citizens, Murderers, Messengers, Ghosts, Soldiers, &c.

SCENE, England.

Glo. Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York; And all the clouds, that lowr'd upon our house, In the deep bosom of the ocean bury'd. Now are our brows bound

wreaths;

with victorious

Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled

And now,

front;

instead of mounting barbed steeds, 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, 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,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time
luto this breathing world, scarce half made up;
And that so lamely and unfashionable,
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 spy my shadow in the sun,
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,
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,
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;
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.'

Brother, good day; What means this armed guard, That waits upon your Grace?

Clar. His Majesty,

Tendering my person's safety, hath appointed
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;

He should, for that, commit your godfathers:
O, belike, his Majesty hath some intent,
That you shall be new christen'd in the Tower.
But what's the matter, Clarence? may I know?
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,
And says
a wizard told him, that by G
His issue disinherited should he;

And, for my name of George begins with G,
It follows in his thought, that I am he

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

'Tis not the King that sends you to the Tower; 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 Woodeville, her brother there,

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,

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.