IN this very popular tragedy, there is another specimen of historical jumble, and poetical license. The nerand seene commences with the funeral of Henry VI, who is said to have been murdered in May, 1471, whilst the imprisonment of Clarence, which did not take place till 1478, is represented in the first. Thus the real length of time comprised in this drama, (dating from the former event) is fourteen years; as it concludes with the death of Richard, at Bosworth Field, in August, 1485. With respect to Richard's character, though greatly blackened by Lancasterian historians, he was certainly one of the most odious tyrants that ever obtained possession of a throne. Yet it appears from some accounts still preserved in the Exchequer, that King Henry lived twenty-two days after the time assigned for his pretended assassination; that his body lay in state at St. Paul's, and that it was afterwards interred at Chertsey, with much solemnity. Shakspeare has made the usurper deformed in figure, as well as in mind; though popular detestation had probably aggravated the truditionary story of his bodily defects. In this drama, the events appear admirably connected with, and consequential to, each other: the characters and incidents are natural; the sentiment and language free from bombast. But Malone and Dr. Johnson consider it as popular beyond its merits; with "some parts trifling, others shocking, and some improbable:" whilst Stevens maintains, that above all others the tragedy of Richard must command approbation, as it is indefinitely variegated, and comprehends every species of character---" the hero, the lover, the statesman, the buffoon, the hypocrite, and the hardened or repentant sinner." Its present success in representation, is, however, chiefly attributable to the admirable alterations of Colly Cibber, which evince a very extensive and settled knowledge of stage effect, and by which reformations the more valuable parts of the piece, could alone have attained their present effect and consequence. Shakepeare probably formed the play in 1591; though he is not supposed to have been indebted to any of the nume rous existing compositions on the same subject. Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.⚫ Grim visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front: And now,-instead of mounting barbed + steeds, To strut before a wanton ambling nymph; Of Edward's heirs the murderers shall be. comes. Enter CLARENCE, guarded, and BRAKEN BURY. That trudge betwixt the king and mistress Heard you not, what an humble suppliant Are mighty gossips in this monarchy. Brak. I beseech your graces both to pardon me; His majesty hath straitly given in charge, Glo. Even so? an please your worship, Brakenbury, You may partake of any thing we say : A bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue; Glo. Naught to do with mistress Shore? I tell thee, fellow, He that doth naught with her, excepting one, Glo. Her husband, kuave :-Would'st thou betray me? Brak. I beseech your grace to pardon me, and, withal, Brother, good day: What means this armed Forbear your conference with the noble duke. Tendering my person's safety, hath appointed Clar. Because my name is-George. Clar. We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will obey. Glo. We are the queen's abjects, obey. and must Brother, farewell; I will unto the king; Glo. Alack, my lord, that fault is none of He should, for that, commit your godfathers As yet I do not: but, as I can learn, Glo. Why, this it is, when men are rul'd by women ; '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, Anthony Woodeville, her brother there, From whence this present day he is deliver'd? But the queen's kindred, and night walking heralds Clar. I know it pleaseth neither of us well. Glo. Well, your imprisonment shall not be long; I will deliver you, or else lie for you; 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, Enter HASTINGS. Hast. Good time of day unto my gracious lord! Glo. As much unto my good lord chamber. lain! Well are you welcome to this open air. must: But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks, That were the cause of my imprisonment. Glo. No doubt, no doubt; and so shall Cla. rence too; For they, that were your enemies, are his, And have prevail'd as much on him as you. The Queen and Shore, Lowest of subjects. Hast. More pity that the eagle should be | Taken from Paul's to be interred there; I'll in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence, And leave the world for me to bustle in! What! though I kill'd her husband and her father, The readiest way to make the wench amends, and When they are gone, then must I count my gains. [Exit. SCENE II.-The same.- Another Street. Enter the corpse of King HENRY the Sixth, borne in an open coffin, Gentlemen bearing halberts to guard it; and Lady ANNE as Lo, in these windows that let forth thy life, More direful hap betide that hated wretch, thee! And, still as yon are weary of the weight, corse. [The bearers take up the corpse, and ad vance. Enter GLOSTER. Glo. Stay you that bear the corse, and set it down. Anne. What black magician conjures up this fiend, To stop devoted charitable deeds? Glo. Villains, set down the corse; or, by Saint Paul, I'll make a corse of him that disobeys. and holy 1 Gent. My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass. Glo. Unmanner'd dog! stand thou when I command: Advance thy halbert higher than my breast, ness. [The bearers set down the coffin. Anne. What, do you tremble ? are you all afraid? Alas, I blame you not for you are mortal, Glo. Sweet saint, for charity be not so curst. Anne. Foul devil, for God's sake, hence, and trouble us not; For thou hast made the happy earth thy bell, Fill'd it with cursing cries, and deep exclaims. If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds, bleed Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity; Thy deed, inhuman and unnatural, O God, which this blood madest, revenge his death ! O earth, which this blood drink'st, revenge his death! Either, heaven, with lightning strike the mur derer dead, Or, earth, gape open wide, and eat him quick; As thou dost swallow up this good king's blood, Which his hell-govern'd arm bath butchered! Glo. Lady, you know no rules of charity, Which renders good for bad, blessings for Scene II. Anne. Fouler than heart can think thee, thou | To be reveng'd on him that kill'd my hus canst make No excuse current, but to hang thyself. Glo. By such despair, I should accuse myself. Anne. And, by despairing, shalt thou stand excus'd; For doing worthy vengeance on thyself, But dead they are, and, devilish slave, by thee. Glo. I did not kill your husband. Glo. Nay, he is dead; and slain by Ed- Anne. In thy soul's throat thou liest; queen Thy murderous faulchion smoking in his blood; The which thou once didst bend against her breast, But that thy brothers beat aside the point. tongue, sland'rous That laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoul ders. Anne. Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind, That never dreamt on aught but butcheries : Glo. I grant ye. Glo. The fitter for the King of heaven that bath him. Anne. He is in heaven, where thou shalt never come. Glo. Let him thank me, that holp to send him thither; For he was fitter for that place, than earth. Anne. And thou unfit for any place but bell. Glo. Yes, one place else, if you will hear me name it. Anne. Some dungeon. Glo. Your bedchamber. band. Glo. He that bereft thee, lady, of thy hus- Did it to help thee to a better husband. earth. Glo. He lives that loves you better than he could. Anne. Name him. Glo. Plantagenet. Anne. Why, that was he. Glo. The self-same name, but one of better nature. Anne. Where is he? Glo. Here: [She spits at him.] Why dost thou spit at me? Anne. 'Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake! Glo. Never came poison from so sweet a place. Anne. Never hung poison on a fouler toad. dost infect mine Out of my sight! thou eyes. Glo. Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine. Anne. 'Would they were basilisks, to strike thee dead! Glo. I would they were, that I might die at once; For now they kill me with a living death. Sham'd their aspécts with store of childish These eyes, which never tear, shed remorseful. Not, when my father York and Edward wept, Nor when thy warlike father, like a child, That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks, My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear; Anne. Il rest betide the chamber where thou And what these sorrows could not thence ex liest ! Gle. So will it, madam, till I lie with you. Glo. I know so.-But, gentle lady Anne, Anne. Thou wast the cause, and most ac- Glo. Your beauty was the cause of that Your beauty, which did haunt me in my sleep, But now thy beauty is propos'd my fee, My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak. [She looks scornfully at him. Teach not thy lip such scorn; for it was made For kissing, lady, not for such contempt. If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive, Lo! here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword; hide in this true Which if thou please to breast, [He lays his breast open; she offers at it Nay, do not pause; for I did kill king Henry; [She again offers at his breast. But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on. [She lets fall the sword. Take up the sword again, or take up me. Anne. Arise, dissembler: though I wish thy death, I will not be thy executioner. • Pitiful. Glo. Then bid me kill myself, and I will do On me that halt and am missbapen thus ? it. Anne. I have already. Glo. That was in thy rage: Speak it again, and, even with the word, My dukedom to a beggarly denier,⚫ This hand, which, for thy love, did kill thy I'll be at charges for a looking-glass; Shall for thy love, kill a far truer love : To both their deaths shalt thou be accessary. Anne. Well, well, put up your sword. [She puts on the ring. Glo. Look, how this ring encompasseth thy finger, Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart; And if thy poor devoted servant may Glo. That it may please you leave these sad To him that hath more cause to be a mourner, Anne. With all my heart; and much it joys To see you are become so penitent.— Glo. Bid me farewell. Anne. 'Tis more than you deserve: [Exeunt Lady ANNE, TRESSEL, and Glo. Take up the corse, Sirs. [Exeunt the rest, with the corse. And entertain a score or two of tailors, glass, That I may see my shadow as I pass. bought a [Erit. To be your comforter when be is gone. Q. Eliz. Ah! he is young; and his minority But so it must be, if the king miscarry. Enter BUCKINGHAM and STANLEY. Grey. Here come the lords of Buckingham and Stanley. Buck. Good time of day unto your royal grace! Stan. God make your majesty joyful as you have been! Q. Eliz. The countess Richmond, good my lord of Stanley, To your good prayer will scarcely say-amen. Yet, Stanley, notwithstanding she's your wife, And loves not me, be you, good lord, assar'd, his hate not you for her proud arrogance. The spacious world cannot again afford : And will she yet abase her eyes on me, Stan. I do beseech you either not believe From wayward sickness, and no grounded ma- Q. Eliz. Saw you the king to-day, my lord of Stanley? Stan. But now, the duke of Buckingham, and I, Are come from visiting his majesty. Q. Eliz. What likelihood of his amendment, lords? Buck. Madam, good hope: his grace speaks cheerfully. Q. Eliz. God grant him health! Did you confer with him? Buck. Ay, madam : he desires to make atone ment That cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet Between the duke of Gloster and your bro |