K. Edru. You cavil, widow; I did mean my Queen. Gray. "Twill grieve your Grace, my fons 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 batchelor,
Have other some: why, 'tis a happy thing,
To be the father unto many fons.

Answer no more, for thou shalt be my Queen.

Glo. The ghoftly father now hath done his shrift.
Clar. When he was made a shriver, 'twas for shift.
K. Edw. Brothers, ye 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 fo much is the wonder in extremes.

K. Edw. Well, jest 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. Edw. See, that he be convey'd unto the Tower.
And go we, brothers, to the man that took him,
To question of his apprehenfion.
Widow, go you along: Lords, use her honourably.

Manet Gloucefter.

[Exeunt.

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 foul's defire and me,
(The lustfui Edward's title buried)

Is Clarence, Henry, and his fon young Edward;

And

And all the unlook'd-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 on Sov'reignty,
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 fo far off,
And so I chide the means that keep me from it;
And fo (I say) I'll cut the causes off,
Flatt'ring my mind with things impossible.
My eye's too quick, my heart o'er-weens 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 miferable 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 fome bribe
To shrink mine arm up like a wither'd shrub:
To make an envious mountain on my back,
Where sits 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 impression like the dam.
And am I then a man to be belov'd?
Oh, monstrous fault, to harbour such 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 person 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-shap'd 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 loft in a thorny wood,

That rends 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 desp'rately 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 ax.
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 occafions :
I'll drown more failors, than the mermaid shall!
I'll flay more gazers, than the bafilisk;
I'll play the orator, as well as Neftor;
Deceive more flily, than Ulysses could;
And, like a Sinon, take another Troy:
I can add colours ev'n to the camelion;
Change shapes with Proteus, for advantages;
And set the murd'rous Machiavel to school.
Can I do this, and cannot get a crown ?
Tut, were it farther off, I'll pluck it down.

SCENE changes to France.

[Exit.

Flourish. Enter King Lewis, Lady Bona, Bourbon, Edward Prince of Wales, Queen Margaret, and the Earl of Oxford. Lewis fits, and riseth up again.

K. Lew.

FAir Queen

of England, worthy Margaret,

Sit down with us; it ill befits thy state, And birth, that thou should'st stand, while Lewis fits. Queen. No, mighty King of France; now Margaret Must strike her fail, and learn awhile to serve, Where Kings command. I was, I must confefs, Great Albion's Queen in former golden days : But now mischance hath trod my title down, And with dishonour laid me on the ground;

Where ere I must take like feat unto my fortune, to my humble feat conform myself.

. Lew. Why, say, fair Queen, whence springs this

deep despair ?

Fueen. From such a cause as fills mine eyes with tears; stops my tongue while my heart's drown'd in cares. . Lew. Whate'er it be, be thou still like thyself, fit thee by our fide. Yield not thy neck

• [Seats her by him.

fortune's yoke, but let thy dauntless mind 1 ride in triumph over all mischance. Plain, Queen Margaret, and tell thy grief; hall be eas'd, if France can yield relief. Queen. Those gracious words revive my drooping

thoughts,

d give my tongue-ty'd forrows leave to speak.
w therefore be it known to noble Lequis,
at Henry, fole possessor of my love,

of a King, become a banish'd man,
d forc'd to live in Scotland a forlorn;
nile proud ambitious Edward Duke of York
urps the regal title, and the feat

England's true anointed lawful King. is is the cause, that I, poor Margaret, ith this my fon Prince Edward, Henry's heir, In come to crave thy just and lawful aid: nd if thou fail us, all our hope is done. tland hath will to help, but cannot help : ar people and our Peers are both mif-led, ar treasure feiz'd, our soldiers put to flight, nd, as thou seest, ourselves in heavy plight. K. Lew. Renowned Queen, with patience calm the storm; hile we bethink a means to break it off.

Queen. The more we stay, the stronger grows our foe. K. Lew. The more I stay, the more I'll fuccour thee. Queen. O, butimpatience waiteth on true forrow: (16) nd fee, where comes the breeder of my forrow.

Enter

(16) O, but impatience waiteth on true forrow; Ind fee, where comes the breeder of my forrow.] Though I have not

G3

Enter Warwick.

K. Lew. What's he approacheth boldly to our prefence? Queen. Our Earl of Warwick, Edward's greatest friend. K. Lew. Welcome, brave Warwick, what brings thee [He defcends. She arifeth.

to France?

Queen. Ay, now begins a second storm to rife;
For this is he, that moves both wind and tide.
War. From worthy Edward, King of Albion,
My Lord and Sov'reign, and thy vowed friend,
I come (in kindness and unfeigned 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 fifter,
To England's King in lawful marriage.

Queen. If that go forward, Henry's hope is done!
War. And, gracious Madam, in our King's behalf,

[Speaking to Bona.

I am commanded, with your leave and favour,
Humbly to kiss your hand; and with my tongue
To tell the passion of my Sov'reign's heart;
Where fame, late ent'ring at his heedful ears,
Hath plac'd thy beauty's image and thy vistue.
Queen. King Lewis, and Lady Bona, hear me speak,

Before you anfiwer Warwick. His demand

:

disturb'd the text here, I cannot smother an ingenious conjecture of my friend's on this paflage." How does impatience wait more particu

larly on true forrow? On the contrary, those forrows, fuch as this "Queen's, which came gradually, by a long course of misfortunes, " are generally less impatient than that of those, who, having been "unacquainted with misfortunes, fall into sudden miseries. Perhaps, "the true reading might be;

O, but impatience, waiting, rues to-morrow:

And fee, where comes the breeder of my forrow.

" i. e. When impatience waits and follicits for redress, there is no"thin; she so much dreads as being put off till to-morrow; (a pro"verb al expreffion for procrastination) and a very proper reply to the "King. Befides, a rhyme is hereby added, in which custom the poet fo much delighted; and a fentiment is convey'd truly worthy

"of him."

Mr. Warburton.

Springs