Sink. Forbear a while, we'll hear a little more.
K. Henry. My Queen and fon are gone to France for aid:
And, as I hear, the great commanding Warwick
Is thither gone to crave the French King's fifter
To wife for Edward. If this news be true,
Poor Queen and fon! your labour is but loft:
For Warwick is a fubtle orator,

And Lewis a Prince foon won with moving words:
By this account then Margaret may win him,
For fhe's a woman to be pitied much:
Her fighs will make a batt'ry in his breast;
Her tears will pierce into a marble heart;
The Tyger will be mild while fhe doth mourn,
And Nero would be tainted with remorse,
To hear and see her plaints, her brinish tears.
Ay, but she's come to beg, Warwick to give:
She on his left fide craving aid for Henry;
He on his right, asking a wife for Edward.
She weeps, and fays her Henry is depos'd;
He fmiles, and fays his Edward is inftall'd;
That the poor wretch! for grief can speak no more:
While Warwick tells his title, fmooths the wrong,
Inferreth arguments of mighty strength,
And in conclufion wins the King from her,
With promise of his fifter, and what else,
To ftrengthen and fupport King Edward's place.
O Margret, thus 'twill be, and thou (poor foul)
Art then forfaken, as thou went'st forlorn.

Hum. Say, what art thou that talk'ft of Kings and Queens? K. Henry. More than I feem, and lefs than I was born to; A man at least, for lefs I fhould not be;

And men may talk of Kings, and why not I?

Hum. Ay, but thou talk'ft as if thou wert a King. K. Henry. Why fo I am in mind, and that's enough. Hum. But if thou be a King, where is thy crown? K. Henry. My crown is in my heart, not on my head: Not deck'd with diamonds, and Indian ftones; Not to be feen: my crown is call'd Content,

A

A crown it is that feldom Kings enjoy.

Hum. Well, if you be a King crown'd 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 depos'd:
And we his fubjects, fworn in all allegiance,
Will apprehend you as his enemy.

K. Henry. But did you never fwear, and break an oath?
Hum. No, never fuch an oath, and will not now.'
K. Henry. Where did you dwell when I was King of
England?

Hum. Here in this country where we now remain.

K. Henry. I was anointed King at nine months old,

My father and my grandfather were Kings;

And you were fworn true fubjects unto me:

And tell me then, have you not broke your oaths?
Sink. No, we were fubjects but while you were King.
K. Henry. Why, am I dead? do I not breathe a man?
Ah, fimple men, you know not what you fwear:
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 guft;
Such is the lightness of you common men.
But do not break your oath, for of that fin
My mild intreaty fhall not make you guilty.
Go where you will, the King fhall be commanded,
And be you Kings, command, and I'll obey.
Sink. We are true fubjects to the King, King Edward.
K. Henry, So would you be again to Henry,

If he was feated as King Edward is.

Sink. We charge you in God's name and in the King's To go with us unto the officers.

[obey'd; K, Henry. In God's name lead, your King's name be And what God will, that let your King perform, And what he will I humbly yield unto.

[Exeunt.

SCENE

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

K. Edw. B This Lady's husband, a Sir John Gray, was

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

Glo. Your Highness fhall 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! it is fo?

I fee the Lady hath a thing to grant,

Before the King will grant her humble fuit..

Cla, 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 Highnefs to refolve me now;
And what your pleasure is fhall fatisfie me.

your lands,

Glo, Ay, widow! then I'll warrant you all An if what pleases him fhall pleasure you : Fight clofer, or good faith you'll catch a blow. Cla. I fear her not, unless fhe chance to fall. Glo, God forbid that! for he'll take vantages. K. Edw. How many children haft thou, widow? tell me. Cla. 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.

(a) Vid. Hall. 3 year of Edw. 4. fol. 5.

Gla.

6

Glo. You fhall have four, if you'll be rul'd by him. K. Edw. 'Twere pity they fhould lofe their father's lands. Gray. Be pitiful, dread Lord, and grant ""'em` 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 chilGray. Ay, full as dearly as I love my self. [dren? K. Edw. And would you not do much to do them good? Gray. To do them good, I would fuftain some 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 got. Gray. So fhall you bind me to your Highness' fervice. K. Edw. What service 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 canft 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. Cla. As red as fire! nay then her wax muft melt. Gray. Why ftops my Lord? fhall I not hear my task? K. Edw. An eafie 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, fhe feals it with a curtfie. 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 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.

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 lye with thee. Gray. To tell you plain, I'd rather lye in prifon. [lands. K. Edw. Why then thou fhalt not have thy husband's 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 fadnefs of my fuit;
Please 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, fhe knits her brows. Cla. He is the blunteft wooer in chriftendom.

K. Edw. Her looks do argue her replete with modefty, Her words do fhew her wit incomparable,

All her perfections challenge Sovereignty;

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.

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

father.

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

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