SCENE changes to the Palace.

Enter King Edward, Gloucefter, Clarence, and Lady Gray. Rother of Glo'fter, at St. Alban's field

K. Edw.BThis Lady'shufband, Sir John Gray, wasflain,

His land then feiz'd on by the conqueror :
Her fuit is now to repoffefs those lands,
Which we in juftice cannot well deny;
Because, in quarrel of the houfe of York, (15)
The worthy gentleman did lofe his life.

Glo. Your Highness shall do well to grant her fuit : It were dishonour to deny it her.

K. Edw. It were no lefs; but yet I'll make a pause." Glo. Yea! is it fo?

I fee, the Lady hath a thing to grant,

Before the King will grant her humble fuit.

Clar. He knows the game; how true he keeps the wind? Glo. Silence.

K. Edw. Widow, we will confider of your fuit, And come fome other time to know our mind.

Gray. Right gracious Lord, I cannot brook delay. May't please your Highness to refolve me now? And what your pleasure is, fhall fatisfy me.

Glo. Ay, widow? then I'll warrant you all your lands, An if what pleases him, fhall pleasure you: Fight clofer, or, good faith, you'll catch a blow. Clar. I fear her not, unless the chance to fall. Glo. God forbid that! for he'll take vantages.r

(15) Becaufe, in quarrel of the boufe of York, The worthy gentleman did lofe his life. I am afraid, our poet puts falfe colours on the death of Sir John Gray, to palliate King Edward's marriage with the widow. Sir Jibn Gray was flain at the laft battle' of St. Albans, by the power of King Edward; as Hall exprefsly fays: fo that he was in Queen Margaret's army, and really flain on the quarrel of Lancafter. And King Edward's Queen, in Richard I. is reproach'd with this by Gloucester.

In all which time you and your husband Gray
Were factious for the houfe of Lancaster.

Was not your husband

In Margret's battle at St. Alban's slain ?

K. Edry.

K. Edw. How many children haft thou, widow? tell me.
Clar. I think, he means to beg a child of her.
Glo. Nay, whip me then: he'll rather give her two.
Gray. Three, my moft gracious Lord.

Glo. You fhall have four, if you'll be rul'd by him. K. Ed. 'Twere pity they should lofe their father's lands.

Gray. Be pitiful, dread Lord, and grant it then. K. Edw. Lords, give us leave; I'll try this widow's wit. Glo. Ay, good leave have you, for you will have leave; Till youth take leave, and leave you to the crutch. K. Edw. Now tell me, Madam, do you love your children?

Gray, Ay, full as dearly as I love myself.

K. Edw. And would you not do much to do them good?

Gray. To do them good, I would fuftain fome harm. K. Edw. Then get your husband's lands, to do them good.

Gray. Therefore I came unto your Majesty. K. Edw. I'll tell you how thefe lands are to be Gray. So fhall you bind me to your Highness' fervice. got. K. Edw. What fervice wilt thou do me, if I give them? Gray. What you command, that refts in me to do. .K. Edw. But you will take exceptions to my boon? Gray. No, gracious Lord, except I cannot do it. K. Edw. Ay, but thou canst do what I mean to ask. Gray. Why, then I will do what your Grace commands. Glo. He plies her hard, and much rain wears the marble. Clar. As red as fire! nay, then her wax muft melt. Gray. Why ftops my Lord? fhall I not hear my task? K. Edw. An eafy task, 'tis but to love a King. Gray. That's foon perform'd, because I am a fubject. K. Edw. Why, then thy husband's lands I freely give

thee.

Gray. I take my leave with many thoufand thanks.

Glo. The match is made, she feals it with a curtfy. K. Edw. But ftay thee, 'tis the fruits of love I mean. Gray. The fruits of love I mean, my loving Liege. K. Edw. Ay, but I fear me,. in another fenfe.

What

What love, think'ft thou, I fue fo much to get?
Gray. My love till death, my humble thanks, my

prayers;

That love, which virtue begs, and virtue grants.

K. Edw. No, by my troth, I did not mean fuch love. Gray. Why, then you mean not as I thought you did. K. Edw. But now you partly may perceive my mind. Gray. My mind will never grant what I perceive Your Highness aims at, if I aim aright.

K. Edw. To tell thee plain, I aim to lie with thee.
Gray. To tell you plain, I'd rather lie in prifon.
K. Edw. Why, then thou shalt not have thy husband's
lands.

Gray. Why, then mine honefty fhall be my dower; For by that lofs I will not purchase them.

K. Edw. Therein thou wrong'ft thy children mightily. Gray. Herein your Highness wrongs both them and me: But, mighty Lord, this merry inclination

Accords not with the fadness of my fuit;
Pleafe you difmifs me, or with ay, or no.

K. Edw. Ay; if thou wilt fay, ay, to my request: No; if thou doft fay, no, to my demand.

Gray. Then, no, my Lord; my fuit is at an end. Glo. The widow likes him not, she knits her brows. Clar. He is the blunteft wooer in christendom. K. Edw. Her looks do argue her replete with modefty, Her words do fhew her wit incomparable,

All her perfections challenge fovereignty;

One way, or other, fhe is for a King;

And the fhall be my love, or else my Queen.

Say, that King Edward take thee for his Queen?
Gray. 'Tis better faid than done, my gracious Lord;

I am a fubject fit to jeft withal,

But far unfit to be a Sovereign.

K. Edw. Sweet widow, by my ftate I fwear to thee,

I fpeak no more than what my foul intends;

And that is, to enjoy thee for my love.

Gray. And that is more than I will yield unto : I know, I am too mean to be your Queen;

And yet too good to be your concubine.

VOL. V.

G

K. Edw.

K. Edw. You cavil, widow; I did mean my Queen. Gray. 'Twill grieve your Grace, my fons fhould call you father.

K. Edw. No more than when my danghters call thee mother.

Thou art a widow, and thou haft fome children;
And, by God's mother, I, being but a batchelor,
Have other fome: why, 'tis a happy thing,
To be the father unto many fons.

Anfwer no more, for thou fhalt be my Queen.

Glo. The ghoftly father now hath done his fhrift.
Clar. When he was made a fhriver, 'twas for fhift.
K. Edw. Brothers, you muse what chat we two have had.
Gln. The widow likes it not, for the looks fad.
K. Edw. You'd think it ftrange, if I should marry her.
Clar. To whom, my Lord?

K. Edw. Why, Clarence, to myself.

Glo. That would be ten days wonder at the leaft.
Clar. That's a day longer than a wonder lasts.
Glo. By fo much is the wonder in extremes.

K. Ed. Well, jeft on, brothers; I can tell you both, Her fuit is granted for her husband's lands.

Enter a Nobleman,

Nob. My gracious Lord, Henry your foe is taken. And brought your prifoner to your palace-gate.

K. Elv. See, that he be convey'd unto the Tower: And go we, brothers, to the man that took him, To, quetion of his apprehenfion.

Widow, go you along: Lords, ufe her honourably.

Manet Gloucester.

[Exeunt.

Glo. Ay, Edward will ufe women honourably.
Would he were wafted, marrow, bones, and all,
That from his loins no hopeful branch may fpring.
To crofs me from the golden time I look for.
And yet between my foul's defire and me,
The luttful Edward's title buried)

Is Clarence, Henry, and his fon young Edward;

And

And all the unlook'd-for iffue of their bodies,
To take their rooms ere I can place myself.
A cold premeditation for my purpose!
Why, then I do but dream on Sov'reignty,
Like one that ftands upon a promontory,
And fpies a far-off fhore where he would tread,
Withing his foot were equal with his eye,
And chides the fea that funders him from thence,
Saying, he'll lade it dry to have his way;
So do I wish, the crown being so far off,
And fo I chide the means that keep me from it;
And fo (I fay) I'll cut the causes off,

Flatt'ring my mind with things impoffible.

My eye's too quick, my heart o'er-weens too much,
Unless my hand and ftrength could equal them.
Well, fay, there is no kingdom then for Richard:
What other pleasure can the world afford?
I'll make my heaven in a Lady's lap,
And deck my body in gay ornaments,

And 'witch fweet Ladies with my words and looks.
O miferable thought! and more unlikely,
Than to accomplish twenty golden crowns.
Why, love forfwore me in my mother's womb;
And, for I fhould not deal in her foft laws,
She did corrupt frail nature with fome bribe
To fhrink mine arm up like a wither'd fhrub:
To make an envious mountain on my back,
Where fits deformity to mock my body;
To shape my legs of an unequal fize;
To disproportion me in every part:
Like to a chaos, or unlick'd bear-whelp,
That carries no impreffion like the dam.
And am I then a man to be belov'd?

Oh, monstrous fault, to harbour fuch a thought !
Then fince this earth affords no joy to me,
But to command, to check, to o'er-bear fuch
As are of better perfon than myself;

I'll make my heav'n to dream upon the crown;
And, while I live, t' account this world but hell,
Until the mif-fhap'd trunk, that bears this head,