that the eagles should be mew’dWhiles kites and buzzards prey at liberty.
GLOSTER
What news abroad?
HASTINGS
No news so bad abroad as this at home,—
The king is sickly, weak, and melancholy,
And his physicians fear him mightily.
GLOSTER
Now, by Saint Paul, that news is bad indeed.
O, he hath kept an evil diet long,
And overmuch consum’d his royal person:
‘Tis very grievous to be thought upon.
What, is he in his bed?
HASTINGS
He is.
GLOSTER
Go you before, and I will follow you.
[Exit HASTINGS.]
He cannot live, I hope; and must not die
Till George be pack’d with posthorse up to heaven.
I’ll in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence
With lies well steel’d with weighty arguments;
And, if I fail not in my deep intent,
Clarence hath not another day to live;
Which done, God take King Edward to his mercy,
And leave the world for me to bustle in!
For then I’ll marry Warwick’s youngest daughter:
What though I kill’d her husband and her father?
The readiest way to make the wench amends
Is to become her husband and her father:
The which will I; not all so much for love
As for another secret close intent,
By marrying her, which I must reach unto.
But yet I run before my horse to market:
Clarence still breathes; Edward still lives and reigns:
When they are gone, then must I count my gains.
[Exit.]
SCENE II. London. Another street
[Enter the corpse of King Henry the Sixth, borne in an open coffin, Gentlemen bearing halberds to guard it; and Lady Anne as mourner.]
ANNE
Set down, set down your honourable load,—
If honour may be shrouded in a hearse,—
Whilst I awhile obsequiously lament
Th’ untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster.—
Poor key-cold figure of a holy king!
Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster!
Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood!
Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost,
To hear the lamentations of poor Anne,
Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughter’d son,
Stabb’d by the selfsame hand that made these wounds!
Lo, in these windows that let forth thy life,
I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes:—
O, cursèd be the hand that made these holes!
Cursèd the heart that had the heart to do it!
Cursèd the blood that let this blood from hence!
More direful hap betide that hated wretch
That makes us wretched by the death of thee,
Than I can wish to adders, spiders, toads,
Or any creeping venom’d thing that lives!
If ever he have child, abortive be it,
Prodigious, and untimely brought to light,
Whose ugly and unnatural aspect
May fright the hopeful mother at the view;
And that be heir to his unhappiness!
If ever he have wife, let her be made
More miserable by the death of him
Than I am made by my young lord and thee!—
Come, now towards Chertsey with your holy load,
Taken from Paul’s to be interrèd there;
And still, as you are weary of this weight,
Rest you, whiles I lament King Henry’s corse.
[The Bearers take up the Corpse and advance.]
[Enter GLOSTER.]
GLOSTER
Stay, you that bear the corse, and set it down.
ANNE
What black magician conjures up this fiend,
To stop devoted charitable deeds?
GLOSTER
Villains, set down the corse; or, by Saint Paul,
I’ll make a corse of him that disobeys!
FIRST GENTLEMAN
My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass.
GLOSTER
Unmanner’d dog! stand thou, when I command:
Advance thy halberd higher than my breast,
Or, by Saint Paul, I’ll strike thee to my foot
And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness.
[The Bearers set down the coffin.]
ANNE
What, do you tremble? are you all afraid?
Alas, I blame you not; for you are mortal,
