Actus Primus.
Scoena Prima.
Vpon what cause?
Because my name is George.
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Vpon what cause?
Because my name is George.
With this (my Lord) my selfe haue nought to doo.
What one, my Lord?
Her Husband Knaue, would'st thou betray me?
We know thy charge Brakenbury, and wil obey.
I know it pleaseth neither of vs well.
I must perforce: Farewell.
Good time of day vnto my gracious Lord.
What newes abroad?
He is.
Go you before, and I will follow you.
Stay you that beare the Coarse, & set it down.
My Lord stand backe, and let the Coffin passe.
Sweet Saint, for Charity, be not so curst.
But I know none, and therefore am no Beast.
O wonderfull, when diuels tell the truth!
By such dispaire, I should accuse my selfe.
Say that I slew them not.
I did not kill your Husband.
Why then he is aliue.
Nay, he is dead, and slaine by Edwards hands.
I graunt ye.
The better for the King of heauen that hath him.
He is in heauen, where thou shalt neuer come.
And thou vnfit for any place, but hell.
Yes one place else, if you will heare me name it.
Some dungeon.
Your Bed-chamber.
Ill rest betide the chamber where thou lyest.
So will it Madam, till I lye with you.
I hope so.
Thou was't the cause, and most accurst effect.
Blacke night ore-shade thy day, & death thy life.
I would I were, to be reueng'd on thee.
His better doth not breath vpon the earth.
He liues, that loues thee better then he could.
Name him.
Plantagenet.
Why that was he.
The selfesame name, but one of better Nature.
Where is he?
Would it were mortall poyson, for thy sake.
Neuer came poyson from so sweet a place.
Thine eyes (sweet Lady) haue infected mine.
Would they were Basiliskes, to strike thee dead.
Then bid me kill my selfe, and I will do it.
I haue already.
I would I knew thy heart.
'Tis figur'd in my tongue.
I feare me, both are false.
Then neuer Man was true.
Well, well, put vp your Sword.
Say then my Peace is made.
That shalt thou know heereafter.
But shall I liue in hope.
What is it?
Bid me farwell.
Towards Chertsey, Noble Lord?
If he were dead, what would betide on me?
No other harme, but losse of such a Lord.
The losse of such a Lord, includes all harmes.
Is it concluded he shall be Protector?
Here comes the Lord of Buckingham & Derby.
Good time of day vnto your Royall Grace.
God make your Maiesty ioyful, as you haue bin
Saw you the King to day my Lord of Derby.
What likelyhood of his amendment Lords.
Madam good hope, his Grace speaks chearfully.
God grant him health, did you confer with him?
To who in all this presence speaks your Grace?
She may my Lord, for—
What marry may she?
A murth'rous Villaine, and so still thou art.
Which God reuenge.
Wert thou not banished, on paine of death?
So iust is God, to right the innocent.
Tyrants themselues wept when it was reported.
No man but prophecied reuenge for it.
Northumberland, then present, wept to see it.
Haue done thy Charme, yu hateful wither'd Hagge.
Margaret.
Richard.
Ha.
I call thee not.
'Tis done by me, and ends in Margaret.
Thus haue you breath'd your Curse against your self.
Foule shame vpon you, you haue all mou'd mine.
Were you wel seru'd, you would be taught your duty.
Dispute not with her, shee is lunaticke.
Good counsaile marry, learne it, learne it Mar∣quesse.
It touches you my Lord, as much as me.
Peace, peace for shame: If not, for Charity.
Haue done, haue done.
What doth she say, my Lord of Buckingham.
Nothing that I respect my gracious Lord.
My haire doth stand an end to heare her curses.
And so doth mine, I muse why she's at libertie.
I neuer did her any to my knowledge.
Catesby I come, Lords will you go with mee.
We wait vpon your Grace.
We will my Noble Lord.
Why lookes your Grace so heauily to day.
What was your dream my Lord, I pray you tel me
Awak'd you not in this sore Agony?
I will my Lord, God giue your Grace good rest.
Ho, who's heere?
What would'st thou Fellow? And how camm'st thou hither.
I would speak with Clarence, and I came hi∣ther on my Legges.
What so breefe?
What, shall we stab him as he sleepes.
No: hee'l say 'twas done cowardly, when he wakes
Why he shall neuer wake, vntill the great Iudge∣ment day.
Why then hee'l say, we stab'd him sleeping.
The vrging of that word Iudgement, hath bred a kinde of remorse in me.
What? art thou affraid?
I thought thou had'st bin resolute.
So I am, to let him liue.
Ile backe to the Duke of Glouster, and tell him so.
How do'st thou feele thy selfe now?
Some certaine dregges of conscience are yet with∣in mee.
Remember our Reward, when the deed's done.
Come, he dies: I had forgot the Reward.
Where's thy conscience now.
O, in the Duke of Glousters purse.
When hee opens his purse to giue vs our Reward, thy Conscience flyes out.
'Tis no matter, let it goe: There's few or none will entertaine it.
What if it come to thee againe?
Ile not meddle with it, it makes a man a Coward: A man cannot steale, but it accuseth him: A man cannot Sweare, but it Checkes him: A man cannot lye with his Neighbours Wife, but it detects him. 'Tis a blushing shamefac'd spirit, that mutinies in a mans bosome: It filles a man full of Obstacles. It made me once restore a Pursse of Gold that (by chance) I found: It beggars any man that keepes it: It is turn'd out of Townes and Cit∣ties for a dangerous thing, and euery man that means to liue well, endeuours to trust to himselfe, and liue vvith∣out it.
'Tis euen now at my elbow, perswading me not to kill the Dkue.
I am strong fram'd, he cannot preuaile with me.
Take him on the Costard, with the hiltes of thy Sword, and then throw him into the Malmesey-Butte in the next roome.
O excellent deuice; and make a sop of him.
Soft, he wakes.
Strike.
No, wee'l reason with him.
Where art thou Keeper? Giue me a cup of wine.
You shall haue Wine enough my Lord anon.
In Gods name, what art thou?
A man, as you are.
But not as I am Royall.
Nor you as we are, Loyall.
Thy voice is Thunder, but thy looks are humble.
My voice is now the Kings, my lookes mine owne.
To, to, to—
To murther me?
I, I.
Offended vs you haue not, but the King.
I shall be reconcil'd to him againe.
Neuer my Lord, therefore prepare to dye.
What we will do, we do vpon command.
And he that hath commanded, is our King.
Whom thou was't sworne to cherish and defend.
My Brothers loue, the Diuell, and my Rage.
I so we will.
I Milstones, as he lessoned vs to weepe.
O do not slander him, for he is kinde.
Make peace with God, for you must die my Lord.
What shall we do?
Relent? no: 'Tis cowardly and womanish.
Looke behinde you, my Lord.
How now? what mean'st thou that thou help'st me not? By Heauen the Duke shall know how slacke you haue beene.