&mast;K. Edw.
&mast;Now tell me, madam, do you love your children?

&mast;L. Grey.
&mast;Ay, full as dearly as I love myself.

&mast;K. Edw.
&mast;And would you not do much, to do them good?

&mast;L. Grey.
&mast;To do them good, I would sustain some harm.

&mast;K. Edw.
&mast;Then get your husband's lands, to do them good.

&mast;L. Grey.
&mast;Therefore I came unto your majesty.

K. Edw.
I'll tell you how these lands are to be got.

&mast;L. Grey.
&mast;So shall you bind me to your highness' service.

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

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

&mast;K. Edw.
&mast;But you will take exceptions to my boon.

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

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

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

&mast;Glo.
&mast;He plies her hard; and much rain wears the marble^{8 note}

&mast;Clar.
&mast;As red as fire! nay, then her wax must melt. [Aside.

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

K. Edw.
An easy task; 'tis but to love a king.

L. Grey.
That's soon perform'd, 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.

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

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

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

&mlquo;L. Grey.
&mlquo;My love till death^{9 note}

, my humble thanks, my prayers;
&mlquo;That love, which virtue begs, and virtue grants.

K. Edw.
No, by my troth, I did not mean such love.

&mast;L. Grey.
&mast;Why, then you mean not as I thought you did.

&mast;K. Edw.
&mast;But now you partly may perceive my mind.

&mast;L. Grey.
&mast;My mind will never grant what I perceive
&mast;Your highness aims at, if I aim aright.

K. Edw.
To tell thee plain, I aim to lie with thee.

&mast;L. Grey.
&mast;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.

&mlquo;K. Edw.
&mlquo;Therein thou wrong'st thy children mightily.

L. Grey.
Herein your highness wrongs both them and me.
But, mighty lord, this merry inclination
&mlquo;Accords not with the sadness^{1 note}
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.

&mlquo;Glo.
&mlquo;The widow likes him not, she knits her brows. [Aside.

Clar.
He is the bluntest wooer in Christendom. [Aside.

&mlquo;K. Edw. [Aside.]
&mlquo;Her looks do argue her replete with modesty^{2 note}
;
&mast;Her words do show her wit incomparable;
&mast;All her perfections challenge sovereignty:
One way, or other, she is for a king;
And she shall be my love, or else my queen.—
Say, that king Edward take thee for his queen?

L. Grey.
'Tis better said than done, my gracious lord:
I am a subject fit to jest withal,
But far unfit to be a sovereign.

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:
&mlquo;I know, I am too mean to be your queen;
And yet too good to be your concubine^{3 note}

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 thy daughters call thee mother.
Thou art a widow^{4 note}

Glo.
The ghostly father now hath done his shrift. [Aside.

Clar.
When he was made a shriver, 'twas for shift. [Aside.

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

&mast;Glo.
&mast;The widow likes it not, for she looks very sad^{5 note}.

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^{6 note}.

&mlquo;Glo.
&mlquo;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,
&mlquo;And brought your prisoner to your palace gate.

K. Edw.
See, that he be convey'd unto the Tower:—
&mlquo;And go we, brothers, to the man that took him,
&mlquo;To question of his apprehension.—
&mlquo;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,
&mlquo;That from his loins no hopeful branch may spring,
&mlquo;To cross me from the golden time I look for!
&mlquo;And yet, between my soul's desire, and me,
&mast;(The lustful Edward's title buried,)
&mlquo;Is Clarence, Henry, and his son young Edward,
&mlquo;And all the unlook'd-for issue of their bodies,
&mlquo;To take their rooms, ere I can place myself:
A cold premeditation for my purpose!
&mast;Why, then I do but dream on sovereignty;
&mast;Like one that stands upon a promontory,
&mast;And spies a far-off shore where he would tread,
&mast;Wishing his foot were equal with his eye;
&mast;And chides the sea that sunders him from thence,
&mast;Saying—he'll lade it dry to have his way:
&mast;So do I wish the crown, being so far off;
&mast;And so I chide the means that keep me from it;

&mast;And so I say—I'll cut the causes off,
&mast;Flattering me with impossibilities.—
&mast;My eye's too quick, my heart o'erweens too much,
&mast;Unless my hand and strength could equal them.
&mast;Well, say there is no kingdom then for Richard:
&mast;What other pleasure can the world afford?
&mlquo;I'll make my heaven^{7 note}

in a lady's lap,
&mlquo;And deck my body in gay ornaments,
And witch sweet ladies with my words and looks.
&mlquo;O miserable thought! and more unlikely,
&mlquo;That to accomplish twenty golden crowns!
Why, love foreswore me in my mother's womb^{8 note}:
&mlquo;And, for I should not deal in her soft laws,
&mlquo;She did corrupt frail nature with some bribe
&mlquo;To shrink mine arm up like a wither'd shrub^{9 note};
&mlquo;To make an envious mountain on my back,
Where sits deformity to mock my body;
&mlquo;To shape my legs of an unequal size;
&mast;To disproportion me in every part,
&mast;Like to a chaos, or an unlick'd bear-whelp^{1 note},
&mast;That carries no impression like the dam.
And am I then a man to be belov'd?
&mlquo;O, monstrous fault, to harbour such a thought!
&mast;Then, since this earth affords no joy to me,

&mast;But to command, to check, to o'erbear such
&mast;As are of better person than myself^{2 note}
,
&mast;I'll make my heaven—to dream upon the crown;
&mast;And, whiles I live, to account this world but hell,
&mast;Until my mis-shap'd trunk that bears this head,
&mast;Be round impaled with a glorious crown^{3 note}

&mlquo;And cry, content, to that which grieves my heart;
&mast;And wet my cheeks with artificial tears,
&mast;And frame my face to all occasions.
&mast;I'll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall;
&mast;I'll slay more gazers than the basilisk;
&mast;I'll play the orator as well as Nestor,
&mast;Deceive more slily than Ulysses could,
&mast;And, like a Sinon, take another Troy:
I can add colours to the cameleon;
&mlquo;Change shapes, with Proteus, for advantages,
&mlquo;And set the murd'rous Machiavel to school^{4 note}

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