Som. Nor I, but stoop with patience to my fortune. [Exeunt Somerset and Oxford, guarded. Q. Mar. So part we sadly in this troublous world, To meet with joy in sweet Jerusalem.

K. Edw. Is proclamation made,—that who finds
Edward,

Shall have a high reward, and he his life!
Glo. It is; and lo, where youthful Edward

comes.

Enter Soldiers with Prince EDWARD.

K. Edw. Bring forth the gallant, let us hear him speak.

What! Can so young a thorn begin to prick ?—
Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make,
For bearing armis, for stirring up my subjects,
And all the trouble thou hast turn'd me to?
Prince. Speak like a subject, proud ambitious
York!

Suppose, that I am now my father's mouth;
Resign thy chair, and, where I stand, kneel thou,
Whilst I propose the self-same words to thee,
Which, traitor, thou wouldst have me answer to.
Q. Mar. Ah, that thy father had been so re-
solved !

Glo. That you might still have worn the petticoat,

And ne'er have stolen the breech from Lancaster. Prince. Let Esop⚫ fable in a winter's night; His currish riddles sort not with this place.

Glo. By heaven, brat, I'll plague you for that word.

Q. Mar. Ay, thou wast born to be a plague to

men.

Glo. For God's sake, take away this captive scold. Prince. Nay, take away this scolding crook-back rather.

K. Edw. Peace, wilful boy, or I will charm your tongue.

Clar. Untutor'd lad, thou art too malapert. Prince. I know my duty, you are all undutiful: Lascivious Edward,-and thou perjured George,And thou misshapen Dick,-I tell you all, I am your better, traitors as ye are ;And thou usurp'st my father's right and mine. K. Edw. Take that, the likeness of this railer here. [Stabs him. Glo. Sprawl'st thou? Take that, to end thy agony. [Glo. stabs him. Clar. And there's for twitting me with perjury. [Clar. stabs him. Q. Mar. O, kill me too! Glo. Marry, and shall. [Offers to kill her. K. Edw. Hold, Richard, hold, for we have done too much.

Glo. Why should she live, to fill the world with

words 1?

K. Edw. What? doth she swoon ? Use means for her recovery.

Glo. Clarence, excuse me to the king my brother;

l'il hence to London on a serious matter:
Ere ye come there, be sure to hear some news.
Clur. What? what?

Glo. The Tower, the Tower!

[Exit. Q. Mar. O, Ned, sweet Ned! Speak to thy mother, boy!

Canst thou not speak ?-O traitors! murderers !—
They, that stabb'd Cæsar shed no blood at all,
Did not offend, nor were not worthy blame,
If this foul deed were by, to equal it.
He was a man; this, in respect, a child;
And men ne'er spend their fury on a child.
What's worse than murderer, that I may name it?
No, no; my heart will burst, an if I speak :-
And I will speak that so my heart may burst.—
Butchers and villains, bloody cannibals!
How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp'd!
You have no children, butchers! If you had,
The thought of them would have stirr'd up re-

Q. Mar. Nay, never bear me hence, despatch me here;

Here sheath thy sword; I'll pardon thee my death: What! Wilt thou not?-Then, Clarence, do it thou. Clar. By heaven, I will not do thee so much

ease.

Q. Mar. Good Clarence, do; sweet Clarence, do thou do it.

Clar. Didst thou not hear me swear, I would not do it.

Q. Mar. Ay, but thou usest to forswear thyfelf; 'Twas sin before, but now 'tis charity. What? Wilt thou not? Where is that devil's butcher, Hard-favour'd Richard? Richard, where art thon! Thou art not here: Murder is thy alms-deed; Petitioners for blood thou ne'er put'st back.

K. Edw. Away, I say. 1 charge ye, bear her hence.

Q. Mar. So come to you, and yours, as to this prince! [Exit, led out forcibly. K. Edw. Where's Richard gone? Clar. To London, all in post; and, as I guess, To make a bloody supper in the Tower.

K. Edw. He is sudden, if a thing comes in his

head.

Now march we hence: discharge the common sort
With pay and thanks, and let's away to London,
And see our gentle queen how well she fares;
By this, I hope, she hath a son for me. [Exeunt.

SCENE VI.-London.-A Room in the Tower.

King HENRY is discovered sitting with a Book is his Hand, the LIEUTENANT attending. - Enter GLOSTER.

Glo. Good day, my lord! What, at your book 50 hard?

K. Hen. Ay, my good lord My lord, I should say rather;

'Tis sin to flatter, good was little better: Good Gloster, and good devil, were alike, And both preposterous; therefore, not good lord. Glo. Sirrah, leave us to ourselves: we must con fer. [Exit Lieutenant.

K. Hen. So flies the reckless shepherd from the

wolf:

So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece, And next his throat unto the butcher's knife.

What scene of death hath Roscius now to act?

Glo. Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind; The thief doth fear each bush an officer.

K. Hen. The bird that hath been limed in a bush, With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush: And I, the hapless male to one sweet bird, Have now the fatal object in my eye, Where my poor young was limed, was caught and kill'd.

Glo. Why, what a peevish fool was that of
Crete,

That taught his son the office of a fowl?
And yet, for all his wings, the fool was drown'd.

K. Hen. 1, Dædalus; my poor boy, Icarus;
Thy father, Minos, that denied our course;
The sun, that sear'd the wings of my sweet boy,
Thy brother Edward; and thyself, the sea,
Whose envious gulf did swallow up his life.
Ah, kill me with thy weapon, not with words!
My breast can better brook thy dagger's point,
Than can my ears that tragic history.-
But wherefore dost thou come? Is't for my life?
Glo. Think'st thou, I am an executioner?
K. Hen. A persecutor, I am sure, thou art;
If murdering innocents be executing,
Why, then thou art an executioner.

Glo. Thy son I kill'd for his presumption. K. Hen. Hadst thou been kill'd, when first thou didst presume,

Thou hadst not lived to kill a son of mine.

And thus I prophecy,-that many a thousand,
Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear į ̧
And many an old man's sigh, and many a widow's,
And many an orphan's water-standing eye,-
Men for their sons, wives for their husbands' fate,
And orphans for their parents' timeless death,-
Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born.
The owl shrick'd at thy birth, an evil sign;

She alludes to the desertion of Clarence, + Careless.

To misdoubt is to suspect danger, to fear.
Childish.

No part of what my fears presage.

The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time;
Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempests shook down

trees;

The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top,
And chattering pies in dismal discords sung.
Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain,

And yet brought forth less than a mother's hope;
To wit, an indigest deformed lump,
Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree.

SCENE VII-The same.-A Room in the Palace. King EDWARD is discovered sitting on his Throne; Queen ELIZABETH with the infant Prince, CLARENCE, GLOSTER, HASTINGS, and others, near him. K. Edw. Once more we sit in England's royal throne,

Re-purchased with the blood of enemies.

born,

To signify, thou camest to bite the world:
And, if the rest be true which I have heard,
Thou camest-

Glo. I'll hear no more;-Die, prophet, in thy speech; [Stabs him. For this, amongst the rest, was I ordain'd. K. Hen. Ay, and for much more slaughter after, this. O God! forgive my sins, and pardon thee!

[Dies. Glo. What, will the aspiring blood of Lancaster Sink in the ground? I thought, it would have mounted.

See, how my sword weeps for the poor king's death!

O, may such purple tears be always shed
From those that wish the downfall of our house!
If any spark of life be yet remaining,
Down, down to hell; and say—I sent thee thither,
[Stabs him again.
I, that have neither pity, love, nor fear.-
Indeed, 'tis true, that Henry told me of;
For I have often heard my mother say,
I came into the world with my legs forward:
Had I not reason, think ye, to make haste,
And seek their ruin that usurp'd our right?
The midwife wonder'd; and the women cried,
O, Jesus bless us, he is born with teeth!
And so I was; which plainly signified-
That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog.
Then, since the heavens have shaped my body so,
Let hell make crook'd my mind, to answer it.
I have no brother, I am like no brother:
And this word-love, which greybeards call divine,
Be resident in men like one another,
And not in me; I am myself alone.-

Have we mow'd down, in tops of all their pride?
Three dukes of Somerset, threefold renown'd
For hardy and undoubted champions:
Two Cliffords, as the father and the son,
And two Northumberlands; two braver men
Ne'er spurr'd their coursers at the trumpet's sound:
With them, the two brave bears, Warwick and
Montague,

That in their chains fetter'd the kingly lion,
And made the forest tremble when they roar'd.
Thus have we swept suspicion from our seat,
And made our footstool of security.-
Come hither, Bess, and let me kiss my boy :-
Young Ned, for thee, thine uncles, and myself,
Have in our armours watch'd the winter's night;
Went all a foot in summer's scalding heat,
That thou might'st repossess the crown in peace;
And of our labours thou shalt reap the gain.

Glo. I'll blast his harvest, if your head were laid;
For yet I am not look'd on in the world.
This shoulder was ordain'd so thick, to heave;
And heave it shall some weight, or break my back:-
Work thou the way,-and thou shalt execute.
[Aside.

K. Edw. Clarence, and Gloster, love my lovely

queen;

And kiss your princely nephew, brothers both. Clar. The duty, that I owe unto your majesty, I seal upon the lips of this sweet babe. K. Edw. Thanks, noble Clarence; worthy brother, thanks. [sprang'st, Glo. And, that I love the tree from whence thou Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit:To say the truth, so Judas kiss'd his master; And cried-All hail! when as he meant Aside. all harm.

K. Edw. Now am I seated as my soul delights,

light;

But I will sort a pitchy day for thee:

For I will buz abroad such prophecies,

14 That Edward shall be fearful of his life;

And then, to purge his fear, I'll be thy death.
King Henry, and the prince his son, are gone :
Clarence, thy turn is next; and then the rest;
Counting myself but bad, till I be best.-

I'll throw thy body in another room,
And triumph, Henry, in thy day of doom.

[Exit.

To rook, signified to squat down or lodge on any thing. + Select.

Clar. What will your grace have done with Mar

KING EDWARD THE FOURTH.
EDWARD, Prince of Wales, af-

terwards King Edward V.

RICHARD, Duke of York.
GEORGE, Duke of Clarence,
RICHARD, Duke of Gloster, after-
wards King Richard III.

A young Son of Clarence.

Brothers to the King.

HENRY, Earl of Richmond, afterwards King Henry
VII.

CARDINAL BOURCHIER, Archbishop of Canterbury.
THOMAS ROTHERAM, Archbishop of York.
JOHN MORTON, Bishop of Ely.

DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM.

DUKE OF NORFOLK EARL OF SURRRY, his Son. EARL RIVERS, Brother to King Edward's Queen: MARQUIS OF DORSET, and LORD GREY, her Sons. EARL OF OXFORD.-LORD HASTINGS.-LORD STANLEY, LORD LOVEL.

SIR THOMAS VAUGHAN-SIR RICHARD RATCLIFF. SIR WILLIAM CATESBY.-SIR JAMES TYRREL.

ACT I.

SCENE I.-London.-A Street.

Enter GLOSTer.

Glo. Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York; And all the clouds that lower'd upon our house, In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths; Our bruised arms hung up for monuments; Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings, Our dreadful marches to delightful n.easures. Grim-visaged war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front; And now, instead of mounting barbed + steeds, To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,— He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber, To the lascivious pleasing of a lute. But I,-that am not shaped for sportive tricks, Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass; I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty, To strut before a wanton ambling nymph; I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling nature; Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable, That dogs bark at me as I halt by them ;Why I, in this weak piping time of peace, Have no delight to pass away the time; Unless to spy my shadow in the sun, And descant on mine own deformity; And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover, To entertain these fair well-spoken days, I am determined to prove a villain, And hate the idle pleasures of these days. Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous, By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams, 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, which says-that G Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be. + Armed. ↑ Preparations for mischief,

• Dances.

Dive, thoughts, down to my soul! Here Clarence

comes.

Enter CLARENCE, guarded, and BRAKENBURY. Brother, good day: 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.
Glo. Upon what cause?

Clar. Because my name is-George.

Glo. Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours;
He should, for that, commit your godfathers:-
O, belike, his majesty, hath some intent,
That you should be new christen'd in the Tower.
But what's the matter, Clarence? May I know?
Clar. Yea, Richard, when I know; for 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,
His issue disinherited should be;
And says-a wizard told him, that by G

And, for my name of George begins with G,
It follows in his thought, that I am he:
These, as I learn, and such like toys as these,
Have moved his highness to commit me now.
Glo. 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 extremity.
Was it not she, and that good man of worship,
Anthony Woodeville, her brother there,
That made him send lord Hastings to the Tower;
From whence this present day he is deliver'd?
We are not safe, Clarence, we are not safe.

Clar. By heaven, I think, there is no man secure,
But the queen's kindred, and night-walking heralds
That trudge betwixt the king and mistress Shore.
Heard you not, what an humble suppliant
Lord Hastings was to her for his delivery?
Glo. Humbly complaining to her deity
Got my lord chamberlain his liberty.
I'll tell you what,-I think, it is our way,
If we will keep in favour with the king,
To be her men, and wear her livery:

• Fancies.

The jealous o'er-worn widow, and herself,
Since that our brother dubb'd them gentlewomen,
Are mighty gossips in this monarchy.

Brak. I beseech 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 brother.

Gio. Even so? An please your worship, Brakenbury,

You may partake of any thing we say:
We speak no treason, man;-We say, the king
Is wise and virtuous; and his noble queen
Well struck in years; fair, and not jealous :-
We say, that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot,
A cherry lip,

A bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue;
And the queen's kindred are made gentlefolks:
How say you, Sir? Can you deny all this?

Brak. With this, my lord, myself have naught

to do.

Glo. Naught to do with mistress Shore? I tell thee, fellow,

He that doth naught with her, excepting one,
Were best to do it secretly, alone.

Brak. What one, my lord?

Glo. Her husband, knave?-Wouldst thou betray me?

Brak. I beseech your grace to pardon me; and withal,

Forbear your conference with the noble duke. Clar. We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will obey.

Glo. We are the queen's abjects, and must obey. Brother, farewell: I will unto the king; And whatsoever you will employ me in,Were it to call king Edward's widow-sister,I will perform it, to enfranchise you. Mean time, this deep disgrace in brotherhood, Touches me deeper than you can imagine.

Clar. I know, it pleaseth neither of us well. Glo. Well, your imprisonment shall not be long; I will deliver you, or else lie for you: Mean time, have patience.

Clar, I must perforce; farewell.

[Exeunt Clarence, Brakenbury, and Guard. Glo. Go, tread the path that thou shalt ne'er re

turn,

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 hands.
But who comes here? The new-deliver'd Hastings?
Enter HASTINGS.

Hast. Good time of day unto my gracious lord! Glo. As much unto my good lord chamberlain ! Well are you welcome to this 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.

Glo. No doubt, no doubt; and so shall Clarence

Loo,

For they, that were your enemies, are his,
And have prevail'd as much on him, as you.
Hast. More pity, that the eagle should be mew'd,
While kites and buzzards prey at liberty.
Glo. What 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.

Glo. Now, by Saint Paul, this news is bad indeed. O, he hath kept an evil diet long, And over-much consumed his royal person; 'Tis very grievous to be thought upon. What, is he in his bed?

Hast. He is.

Glo. Go you before, and I will follow you. [Exit Hastings. He cannot live, I hope; and must not die, Till George he pack'd with post-horse 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 iny 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?

Lo, in these windows, that let forth thy life,
I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes:-
O, cursed be the hand that made these holes!
Cursed the heart, that had the heart to do it!
Cursed 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 a 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, toward Chertsey with your holy load,
Taken from Paul's to be interred there;
And, still as you are weary of the weight,
Rest you, whiles I lament king Henry's corse.

[The Bearers take up the Corpse, and advance
Enter GLOSTER.

Glo. Stay, you that bear the corse, and set i down.

Anne. What black magician conjures up this fiend,

To stop devoted charitable deeds?

Glo. Villains, set down the corse; or, by Saint Paul,

I'll make a forse of him that disobeys.

1 Gent. My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass.

Glo. Unmanner'd dog! Stand thou when I com

mand:

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.

trouble us not;

[The Bearers set down the Coffin. Anne. What, do you tremble? Are you all afraid? Alas, I blame you not; for you are mortal, And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil.Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell! Thou hadst but power over his mortal body, His soul thou canst not have; therefore, be gone. Glo. Sweet Saint, for charity be not so curst. Anne. Foul devil, for God's sake, hence, and For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell, Fill'd it with cursing cries, and deep exclaims. If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds, Behold this pattern of thy butcheries+:O, gentlemen, see, see! Dead Henry's wounds Open their congeal'd mouths, and bleed afresh!Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity; For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood From cold and empty veins, where no blood dwells; Thy deed, inhuman, and unnatural, Provokes this deluge most unnatural.

O God, which this blood madest, revenge his death! + Example.

• Funeral.

No beast so fierce, but knows some touch of pity.
Glo. But I know none, and therefore am no beast.
Anne. O wonderful, when devils tell the truth!
Glo. More wonderful,when angels are so angry.—
Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman,
Of these supposed evils, to give me leave,
By circumstance, but to acquit myself.

Anne. Vouchsafe, diffused infection of a man,
For these known evils, but to give me leave,
By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self.

Glo. Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have

Some patient leisure to excuse myself,

Anne. Fouler than heart can think thee, thou canst make

No excuse current, but to hang thyself.

Glo. By such despair, I should accuse myself.. Anne. And, by despairing, shalt thou stand excused;

For doing worthy vengeance on thyself,
That didst unworthy slaughter upon others.
Glo. Say, that I slew them not?
Anne. Why then, they are not dead:

But dead they are, and, devilish slave, by thee.
Glo. I did not kill your husband.
Anne. Why, then he is alive.

Glo. Nay, he is dead; and slain by Edward's

hand.

Anne. Il rest betide the chamber where thou liest !

Glo. So will it, madam, 'till I lie with you.
Anne. I hope so.

Glo. I know so.-But, gentle lady Anne,-
To leave this keen encounter of our wits,
And fall somewhat into a slower method;-
Is not the canser of the timeless deaths
Of these Plantagenets, Henry, and Edward,
As blameful as the executioner ?

Anne. Thou wast the cause, and most accursed effect.

Glo. Your beauty was the cause of that effect; Your beauty, which did haunt me in my sleep, To undertake the death of all the world, So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom. Anne. If I thought that, I tell thee homicide, These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks.

Glo. These eyes could not endure that beauty's

wreck,

You should not blemish it, if I stood by:

As all the world is cheered by the sun,

So I by that; it is my day, my life.

Anne. Black night o'ershade thy day, and death

thy life!

Glo. Curse not thyself, fair creature; thou art both.

Anne. I would I were, to be revenged on thee.
Glo. It is a quarrel most unnatural,

To be revenged on him that loveth thee.
Anne. It is a quarrel just and reasonable,
To be revenged on him that kill'd my husband.
Glo. He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband,
Did it to help thee to a better husband:

Anne. His better doth not breathe upon the earth. Glo. He lives, that loves you better than he could.

Anne. Name him.

Glo. Plantagenet.

Anne. Why, that was he.

Glo. The self-same name, but one of better na

ture.

Anne. Where is he?

Glo. Here: [She spits at him.] Why dost thou spit at me?

Anne. Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake! Glo. Never came poison from so sweet a place. Anne. Never hung poison on a fouler toad. Out of my sight! Thou dost infect mine eyes. Glo. Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine. Anne. 'Would they were basilisks, to strike thee dead!

Glo. I would they were, that I might die at once!
For now they kill me with a living death.
Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt
tears,

Shamed their aspects with store of childish drops:
These eyes, which never shed remorseful tear,-
Not, when my father York and Edward wept,
To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made,
When black-faced Clifford shook his sword at him:
Nor when thy warlike father, like a child,
Told the sad story of my father's death;
And twenty times made pause, to sob, and weep;
That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks;
Like trees bedash'd with rain in that sad time,
My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear;
And what these sorrows could not thence exhale,
Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with

weeping.

I never sued to friend, nor enemy;

My tongue could never learn sweet soothing word;
But now thy beauty is proposed my fee,
My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to
speak.
[She looks scornfully at him.
Teach not thy lip such scorn; for it was made
For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.
If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive,
Lo! here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword;
Which if thou please to hide in this true breast,
And let the soul forth that adoreth thee,
I lay it naked to the deadly stroke,
And humbly beg the death upon my knee.

[He lays his Breast open; she offers at it with his Sword. Nay, do not pause; for I did kill king Henry,But 'twas thy beauty that provoked me. Nay, now despatch; 'twas I that stabb'd young Edward; [She again offers at his Breast. But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on. [She lets fall the Sword. Take up the sword again, or take up me. Anne. Arise, dissembler; though I wish thy death, I will not be thy executioner.

Glo. Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it. Anne. I have already.

Glo. That was in thy rage:

Speak it again, and, even with the word,

This hand, which, for thy love, did kill thy love,
Shall, for thy love, kill a far truer love;

To both their deaths shalt thou be accessary.
Anne. I would, I knew thy heart.

Glo. 'Tis figured in

My tongue.

Anne. I fear me, both are false. Glo. Then man

Was never true.

Anne. Well, well, put up your sword. Glo. Say then, my peace is made. Anne. That shall you know

Hereafter.

Glo. But shall I live in hope?
Anne. All men,

I hope, live so.

Glo. Vouchsafe to wear this ring.

• Pitiful.