Glou.
Now is the winter of our ^note discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun ^note of York;
And all the clouds that lour'd ^note upon our house.
In the deep bosom ^note of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums ^note changed to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures ^note.
Grim-visaged war hath smooth'd his wrinkled ^note front;
And now, instead ^note of mounting barbed steeds
To fright the souls ^note of fearful adversaries,
He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber.
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute ^note.
But I, that am not shaped for ^note sportive tricks,

Nor ^note made to court an amorous looking-glass;
I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty ^note
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
I, that am curtail'd of this ^note fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce ^{note note} half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable ^note;
That dogs bark at me as I halt by them ^note;
Why ^note, I, in this weak piping time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time,
Unless to spy ^note my shadow in the sun
And descant on ^note mine own deformity:
And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain these fair well-spoken days ^note,
I am determined to prove a villain
And hate ^note the idle pleasures of these days.
Plots have I laid, inductions ^note dangerous,
By drunken prophecies, libels and dreams, ^note
To set my brother Clarence and the king
In deadly hate the one against the other:
And if King Edward be as true and just
As I am subtle, false and treacherous,
This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up,
About a prophecy ^note, which says that G
Of Edward's heirs the murderer ^note shall be. ^note
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul: here Clarence comes. ^note

Enter ^note Clarence, guarded, and Brakenbury.
Brother, good day ^note: what means this armed guard
That waits upon your grace?

Clar.
His majesty,
Tendering my person's safety, hath appointed
This conduct to convey me to the Tower. ^note

Glou.
Upon what cause?

Clar.
Because my name is George.

Glou.
Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours;
He should, for that, commit your godfathers ^note:
O, belike ^note his majesty hath some intent
That you shall be ^note new-christen'd in the Tower.
But what's ^note the matter, Clarence? may I know?

Clar.
Yea, Richard, when I know ^note; for ^note I protest
As yet I do not: but, as I can learn,
He hearkens after prophecies and dreams;
And from the cross-row plucks the letter G,
And says a wizard told him that by G
His issue disinherited should be;
And, for my name of George begins with G,
It follows ^note in his thought that I am he.
These, as I learn, and such like ^note toys as these
Have ^note moved his highness to commit me now.

Glou.
Why, this it is, when men are ruled by women:
'Tis not the king that sends you to the Tower;
My Lady Grey his wife, Clarence, 'tis she
That tempers him to this ^note extremity.

Was it not she and that good man of worship,
Anthony Woodville ^note, her ^note brother there,
That made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower,
From whence this present ^note day he is deliver'd? ^note
We are not safe, Clarence; we are not safe.

Clar.
By heaven, I think there's no man is secure ^note
But the queen's kindred and night-walking heralds
That trudge betwixt ^note the king and Mistress Shore.
Heard ye ^note not what an humble suppliant
Lord Hastings was to her for his ^note delivery?

Glou.
Humbly ^note complaining to her deity
Got my lord chamberlain his liberty. ^note
I'll tell you what; I think it is ^note our way,
If we will keep in favour with the king,
To be her men and wear her livery:
The jealous o'erworn widow and herself,
Since that our brother dubb'd them gentlewomen,
Are mighty gossips in this ^note monarchy.

Brak.
I beseech ^note your graces both to pardon me;
His majesty hath straitly given in charge
That no man shall have private conference,
Of what degree soever, with his ^note brother.

Glou.
Even so; an't ^note please your worship, Brakenbury ^note,
You may partake of any thing we say:
We speak no treason, man: we say the king
Is wise and virtuous, and his ^note noble queen

Well struck in years, fair, and not jealous ^{note note};
We say that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot, ^note
A cherry ^note lip, ^note a bonny eye, ^note a passing pleasing tongue;
And that the ^note queen's kindred are made gentle-folks ^note:
How say you, sir? can you deny all this?

Brak.
With this, my lord, myself have ^note nought ^note to do.

Glou.
Naught to do with Mistress Shore! I tell thee, fellow,
He that doth naught ^note with her, excepting one,
Were best he do ^note it secretly, alone ^note. ^note

Brak.
What one, my lord?

Glou.
Her husband, knave: wouldst thou betray me? ^{note note}

Brak.
I beseech ^note your grace to pardon me, and withal
Forbear ^note your conference ^note with the noble ^note duke.

Clar.
We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will obey. ^note

Glou.
We are the queen's abjects ^note, and must obey.
Brother, farewell: I will unto the king;
And whatsoever you will ^note employ me in,
Were it to call King Edward's widow sister,

I will perform it to enfranchise you.
Meantime, this deep disgrace in ^note brotherhood
Touches me deeper than you can imagine.

Clar.
I know it pleaseth neither of us well.

Glou.
Well, your imprisonment shall not be long;
I will deliver you, or else ^note lie for you: ^note
Meantime, have patience.

Clar.
I must perforce. Farewell. [Exeunt ^note Clarence, Brakenbury, and Guard.

Glou.
Go, tread the path that thou shalt ne'er ^note return,
Simple, plain Clarence! I do love thee so,
That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven,
If heaven will take the present at our ^note hands.
But who comes here? the new-deliver'd ^note Hastings? ^note Enter Lord Hastings.

Hast.
Good time of day unto my gracious lord!

Glou.
As much unto my good lord chamberlain!
Well are you ^note welcome to the ^note open air.
How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment?

Hast.
With patience, noble lord, as prisoners must:
But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks
That were the cause of my imprisonment.

Glou.
No doubt, no doubt; and so shall Clarence too;
For they that were your enemies are his,
And have prevail'd as much on him as you.

Hast.
More pity that the eagle ^note should be mew'd,
While ^note kites ^note and buzzards ^note prey ^note at liberty.

Glou.
What ^note news abroad?

Hast.
No news so bad abroad as this at home;

The king is sickly, weak and melancholy,
And his physicians fear him mightily.

Glou.
Now, by Saint Paul ^note, this ^note news is bad indeed.
O, he hath kept an evil ^note diet long,
And overmuch consumed his royal person:
'Tis very grievous to be thought upon.
What, is he ^note in his bed?

Hast.
He is ^note.

Glou.
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 post-horse ^note up to heaven.
I'll in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence,
With ^note 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 ^note 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 ^note her which I ^note must reach unto.
But yet I run before my horse to market:
Clarence still breathes; Edward still lives and reigns ^note:
When they are gone, then must I count my gains. [Exit.

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