Ay, but she's come to beg; Warwick to give:
She on his left side, craving aid for Henry ;
He on his right, asking a wife for Edward.
She weeps and says her Henry is deposed;
He smiles and says his Edward is installed;
That she, poor wretch, for grief can speak no more:
Whiles Warwick tells his title, smooths the wrong,
Inferreth arguments of mighty strength,
And in conclusion wins the King from her,
With promise of his sister, and what else,

To strengthen and support King Edward's place.
O Margaret, thus 't will be; and thou, poor soul,
Art then forsaken, as thou went'st forlorn.

2nd Keep. Say what art thou that talk'st of kings and queens?

K. Hen. More than I seem, and less than I was born to.

A man at least; for less I should not be : And men may talk of kings, and why not I? 2nd Keep. Ay, but thou talk'st as if thou wert a king.

K. Hen. Why, so I am in mind; and that's enough.

2nd Keep. But if thou be a king, where is thy crown?

K. Hen. My crown is in my heart, not on my head;

Not decked with diamonds and Indian stones,
Nor to be seen. My crown is called content:
A crown it is that seldom kings enjoy.

2nd Keep. Well, if you be a king crowned

with content,

Your crown content and you must be contented
To go along with us: for, as we think,
You are the king King Edward hath deposed:
And we his subjects, sworn in all allegiance,
Will apprehend you as his enemy.

K. Hen. But did you never swear and break an oath?

2nd Keep. No, never such an oath; nor will

not now.

K. Hen. Where did you dwell when I was King of England?

2nd Keep. Here in this country where we

now remain.

K. Hen. I was anointed king at nine months old; My father and my grandfather were kings; And you were sworn true subjects unto me: And tell me, then, have you not broke your oaths? 1st Keep. No:

For we were subjects but while you were king. K. Hen. Why, am I dead? do I not breathe

a man?

Ah simple men, you know not what you swear.
Look, as I blow this feather from my face,
And as the air blows it to me again,
Obeying with my wind when I do blow,

And yielding to another when it blows,
Commanded always by the greater gust,
Such is the lightness of you common men.
But do not break your oaths: for of that sin
My mild entreaty shall not make you guilty.
Go where you will: the King shall be commanded,
And be you kings: command, and I'll obey.

1st Keep. We are true subjects to the King, King Edward.

K. Hen. So would you be again to Henry,

If he were seated as King Edward is.

1st Keep. We charge you, in God's name and in the King's,

To go with us unto the officers.

K. Hen. In God's name, lead; your King's

name be obeyed:

And what God will, that let your King perform; And what He will I humbly yield unto. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-London. A Room in the Palace. Enter KING EDWARD, GLOSTER, CLARENCE, and LADY GREY.

K. Edw. Brother of Gloster, at Saint Alban's field

This lady's husband, Sir John Grey, was slain;
His lands then seized on by the conqueror.
Her suit is now to repossess those lands:
Which we in justice cannot well deny,
Because in quarrel of the house of York
The worthy gentleman did lose his life.

Glo. Your highness shall do well to grant her suit:

It were dishonour to deny it her.

K. Edw. It were no less: but yet I'll make a

Glo. God forbid that, for he 'll take vantages. [Aside.

K. Edw. How many children hast thou, widow? tell me.

Clar. I think he means to beg a child of her. [Aride.

Glo. Nay, whip me then: he'll rather give her two.

[Aside. L. Grey. Three, my most gracious lord. Glo. You shall have four, if you'll be ruled by him. [Aside.

K. Edw. 'T were pity they should lose their father's land.

L.Grey. 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. [GLOSTER and CLARENCE retire to the other side. K. Edw. Now tell me madam, do you love your children?

L. Grey. Ay, full as dearly as I love myself. K. Edw. And would you not do much to do them good?

L. Grey. To do them good I would sustain

K. Edw. What service wilt thou do me, if I give them?

L. Grey. What you command, that rests in me to do.

K. Edw. But you will take exceptions to my boon.

L. Grey. No gracious lord, except I cannot do it.

K. Edw. Ay, but thou canst do what I mean to ask.

L. Grey. Why, then I will do what your grace commands.

Glo. He plies her hard; and much rain wears the marble. [Aside.

Clar. As red as fire! nay, then her wax must [Aside.

melt.

I. Grey. Why stops my lord? shall I not hear my task?

K. Edw. An easy task: 't is but to love a king. L. Grey. That's soon performed, because I am

a subject.

K. Edw. Why then, thy husband's lands I freely give thee.

L. Grey. I take my leave with many thousand thanks.

Glo. The match is made; she seals it with a curt'sy.

K. Edw. But stay thee; 'tis the fruits of love I mean.

L. Grey. The fruits of love I mean, my loving liege.

K. Edw. Ay, but I fear me in another sense. What love think'st thou I sue so much to get? L. Grey. 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

such love.

L. Grey. Why then you mean not as I thought you did.

K. Edw. But now you partly may perceive my mind.

L. Grey. 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.

L. Grey. To tell you plain, I had rather lie in

prison.

K. Edw. Why, then thou shalt not have thy husband's lands.

L. Grey. Why, then mine honesty shall be my dower :

For by that loss I will not purchase them. K. Edw. Therein thou wrong'st thy children mightily.

L. Grey. Herein your highness wrongs both them and me.

But, mighty lord, this merry inclination
Accords not with the sadness of my suit:
Please you dismiss me, either with ay or no.

K. Edw. Ay, if thou wilt say ay to my request: No, if thou dost say no to my demand. L. Grey. Then no, my lord. My suit is at an end. Glo. The widow likes him not; she knits her brows. [Aside. Clar. He is the bluntest wooer in Christendom. [Aside.

K. Edw. Her looks do argue her replete with

K. Edw. Sweet widow, by my state I swear to thee

I speak no more than what my soul intends:
And that is, to enjoy thee for my love.

L.Grey. 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.

K. Edw. You cavil, widow: I did mean my

queen.

L. Grey. Twill grieve your grace my sons should call you father.

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

Thou art a widow, and thou hast some children;
And, by God's mother, I, being but a bachelor,
Have other some: why, 't is a happy thing
To be the father unto many sons.
Answer no more, for thou shalt be my queen.
Glo. The ghostly father now hath done his shrift.
[Aside.

Clar. When he was made a shriver 't was for
shift.
[Aside.

K. Edw. Brothers, you muse what chat we two have had.

Glo. The widow likes it not, for she looks sad. K. Edw. You'd think it strange 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 least. Clar That's a day longer than a wonder lasts. Glo. By so much is the wonder in extremes. K. Edw. Well, jest on, brothers: I can tell you both,

Her suit is granted for her husband's lands.

Enter a Nobleman.

Nob. My gracious lord, Henry your foe is taken, And brought your prisoner to your palace gate. K. Edw. See that he be conveyed unto the Tower:

And go we, brothers, to the man that took him.
To question of his apprehension.—
Widow, go you along.-Lords, use her honourable.
[Exeunt KING EDWARD, LADY GREY,
CLARENCE, and LORD.

Glo. Ay, Edward will use women honourably. 'Would he were wasted marrow, bones, and all, That from his loins no hopeful branch may spring, To cross me from the golden time I look for! And yet between my soul's desire and me (The lustful Edward's title buried)

Is Clarence, Henry, and his son young Edward,
And all the unlooked-for issue of their bodies,
To take their rooms ere I can place myself:
A cold premeditation for my purpose!
Why, then, I do but dream of sovereignty.

Like one that stands upon a promontory,
And spies a far-off shore where he would tread,
Wishing his foot were equal with his eye,
And chides the sea that sunders him from thence,
Saying he'll lade it dry to have his way:
So do I wish the crown, being so far off;
And so I chide the means that keep me from it,
And so I say I'll cut the causes off;
Flattering me with impossibilities.-
My eye's too quick, my heart o'erweens too much;
Unless my hand and strength could equal them.
Well, say 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 sweet ladies with my words and looks.
O miserable thought! and more unlikely
Than to accomplish twenty golden crowns.
Why, love forswore me in my mother's womb:
And, for I should not deal in her soft laws,
She did corrupt frail nature with some bribe
To shrink mine arm up like a withered shrub;
To make an envious mountain on my back,
Where sits deformity to mock my body;
To shape my legs of an unequal size;
To disproportion me in every part,

Like to a chaos, or an unlicked bear-whelp,
That carries no impression like the dam.
And am I, then, a man to be beloved?

O monstrous fault to harbour such a thought!
Then, since this earth affords no joy to me
But to command, to check, to o'erbear such
As are of better person than myself,

I'll make my heaven to dream upon the crown;
And whiles I live to account this world but hell,
Until my mis-shaped trunk that bears this head
Be round impaled with a glorious crown.
And yet I know not how to get the crown,
For many lives stand between me and home:
And I,-like one lost in a thorny wood,
That rents the thorns, and is rent with the thorns,
Seeking a way, and straying from the way;
Not knowing how to find the open air,
But toiling desperately to find it out,—
Torment myself to catch the English crown:
And from that torment I will free myself,
Or hew my way out with a bloody axe.
Why, I can smile, and murder while I smile;
And cry
"content" to that which grieves my
heart;

And wet my cheeks with artificial tears,
And frame my face to all occasions.
I'll drown more sailors than the mermaid shal
I'll slay more gazers than the basilisk;
I'll play the orator as well as Nestor,
Deceive more slyly than Ulysses could.
And, like a Sinon, take another Troy:

Be plain, Queen Margaret, and tell thy grief:
It shall be eased, if France can yield relief.

Q. Mar. Those gracious words revive my
drooping thoughts,

And give my tongue-tied sorrows leave to speak.
Now therefore be it known to noble Lewis,
That Henry, sole possessor of my love,
Is of a King, become a banished man,
And forced to live in Scotland a forlorn :
While proud ambitious Edward, Duke of York,
Usurps the regal title, and the seat

Of England's true-anointed lawful King.
This is the cause that I, poor Margaret,
With this my son Prince Edward, Henry's heir,
Am come to crave thy just and lawful aid:
And if thou fail us, all our hope is done.
Scotland hath will to help, but cannot help;
Our people and our peers are both misled;
Our treasures seized, our soldiers put to flight,
And, as thou see'st, ourselves in heavy plight.
K. Lew. Renowned Queen, with patience calm
the storm,

While we bethink a means to break it off.

Q. Mar. The more we stay, the stronger grows our foe.

K. Lew. The more I stay, the more I'll succour thee.

Q. Mar. O but impatience waiteth on true

Q. Mar. Ay, now begins a second storm to rise: For this is he that moves both wind and tide. War. From worthy Edward, King of Albion, My lord and sovereign, and thy vowed friend, I come, in kindness and unfeignéd love, First to do greetings to thy royal person, And then to crave a league of amity; And lastly, to confirm that amity With nuptial knot, if thou vouchsafe to grant That virtuous lady, Bona, thy fair sister, To England's King in lawful marriage.

Q.Mar. If that go forward, Henry's hope is done. War. And, gracious madam [to BONA], in our King's behalf,

I am commanded, with your leave and favour, Humbly to kiss your hand, and with my tongue To tell the passion of my sovereign's heart;

Where fame, late entering at his heedful ears, Hath placed thy beauty's image and thy virtue. Q. Mar. King Lewis and Lady Bona, hear me speak

Before
you answer Warwick. His demand
Springs not from Edward's well-meant honest
love,

But from deceit, bred by necessity :
For how can tyrants safely govern home,
Unless abroad they purchase great alliance?
Το prove him tyrant this reason may suffice
That Henry liveth still but were he dead,
Yet here Prince Edward stands, King Henry's son.
Look therefore, Lewis, that by this league and
marriage

Thou draw not on thy danger and dishonour:
For though usurpers sway the rule awhile,
Yet Heavens are just, and time suppresseth
wrongs.

War. Injurious Margaret!

Prince. And why not Queen?

War. Because thy father Henry did usurp; And thou no more art Prince than she is Queen. Oxf. Then Warwick disannuls great John of

Gaunt,

Which did subdue the greatest part of Spain: And after John of Gaunt, Henry the fourth, Whose wisdom was a mirror to the wisest: And after that wise prince, Henry the fifth, Who by his prowess conqueréd all France. From these our Henry lineally descends.

War. Oxford, how haps it in this smooth dis

course

You told not how Henry the sixth hath lost
All that which Henry the fifth had gotten?
Methinks these peers of France should smile at
that.

But for the rest, you tell a pedigree
Of threescore-and-two years: a silly time
To make prescription for a kingdom's worth.
Oxf. Why, Warwick, canst thou speak against
thy liege,

Whom thou obey'dst thirty-and-six years,
And not bewray thy treason with a blush?

War. Can Oxford, that did ever fence the right,
Now buckler falsehood with a pedigree?
For shame, leave Henry and call Edward, King.
Oxf. Call him my King by whose injurious doom
My elder brother, the Lord Aubrey Vere,
Was done to death! and more than so, my father,
Even in the downfal of his mellowed years,
When nature brought him to the door of death!
No, Warwick, no; while life upholds this arm,
This arm upholds the house of Lancaster.
War. And I the house of York.

K. Lew. Queen Margaret, Prince Edward, and Oxford,