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 :-
We say, that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot,
A cherry lip, a bonny eye, a passing pleasing

tongue;
And the queen's kindred are made gentlefolks.
How say you, sir ? can you deny all this?
Bra. With this, my lord, myself have naught to

do. Glos. Naught to do with mistress Shore ? I tell

thee, fellow,
He that doth naught with her, excepting one,
Were best to do it secretly, alone.

Bra. What one, my lord ?
Glos. Her husband, knave. Wouldst thou betray

me ?

Bra. I beseech your grace to pardon me; and,

withal, Forbear your conference with the noble duke. Cla. We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will

obey.
Glos. We are the queen's abjects, and must chey.
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.
Meantime, this deep disgrace in brotherhood
Touches me deeper than you can imagine.

Cla. I know it pleaseth neither of us well.
Glos. Well, your imprisonment shall not be Inng:
I will deliver you, or else lie for you :
Meantime, have patience.
Cla.

I must perforce : farewell. [Exeunt Clarence, Brakenbury, and Guard. Glos. 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.

Has. Good time of day unto my gracious lord !

Glos. As much unto my good lord chamberlain ! Well are you welcome to this open air. How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment? Has. With patience, noble lord, as prisoners

must: But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks, That were the cause of my imprisonment.

Glos. 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.

Has. More pity, that the eagle should be mew'd, While kites and buzzards prey at liberty.

Glos. What news abroad?

Has. No news so bad abroad as this at home ;The king is sickly, weak, and melancholy, And his physicians fear him mightily,

Glos. Now, by saint Paul, this news is bad

indeed.
O, he hath kept an evil diet long,
And over-much consumed his royal person :
'Tis very grievous to be thought upon.
What, is he in his bed ?

Has. He is.
Glos. 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 post-horse up to heaven.
I'll in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence,
With lies well steel'd with weighty arguments;
And, if I fail not in my deep intent,
Clarence hath not another day to live :
Which done, God take king Edward to his mercy,
And leave the world for me to bustle in !
For then I'll marry Warwick's youngest daughter.
What, though I kill'd her husband and her father?
The readiest way to make the wench amends,
Is—to become her husband and her father :
The which will I; not all so much for love,
As for another secret close intent,
By marrying her, which I must reach unto.
But yet I run before my horse to market:
Clarence still breathes ; Edward still lives and

reigns; When they are gone, then must I count my gains.

[Exit.

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 honorable load, If honor may be shrouded in a hearse, Whilst I awhile obsequiously 1 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. O, 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,
Prodigious, and untimely brought to light,
Whose ugly and unnatural aspect
May fright the hopeful mother at the view;
And that be heir to his unhappiness !
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 ! -
Come, now, toward Chertsey with your holy load,
Taken from Paul's to be interred there;
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.

1

Enter GLOSTER.

Glos. Stay you, that bear the corse, and set it

down. Anne. What black magician conjures up this

fiend, To stop devoted charitable deeds ? Glos. Villains, set down the corse, or, by saint

Paul, I'll make a corse of him that disobeys. 1 Gen. My lord, stand back, and let the coffin