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And yet, between my soul's desire, and me, (The lustful Edward's title buried,) Is Clarence, Henry, and his son young Edward, And all the unlook'd-for issue of their bodies, To take their rooms, ere I can place myself: A cold premeditation for my purpose! Why, then I do but dream on sovereignty; Like one that stands upon a promontory, And spies a far-off shore where he would tread, Wishing his foot were equal with his eye; And chides the sea that sunders him from thence, Saying-he'll lade it dry to have his way: So do I wish the crown, being so far off; And so I chide the means that keep' me from it; And so I say—I'll cut the causes off, Flattering me with impossibilities. My eye's too quick, my heart o'erweens too much, Unless my hand and strength could equal them. Well, say there is no kingdom then for Richard; What other pleasure can the world afford? I'll make my heaven in a lady's lap, And deck my body in gay ornaments, And witch sweet ladies with my words and looks. O miserable thought! and more unlikely, Than to accomplish twenty golden crowns! Why, love forswore me in my mother's womb: And, for I should not deal in her soft laws, She did corrupt frail nature with some bribe To shrink mine arm op like a wither'd shrub; To make an envious mountain on my back, Where sits deformity to mock my body; To shape my legs of an unequal size; To disproportion me in every part, Like to a chaos, or an unlick'd bear-whelp, That carries no impression like the dam. And am I then a man to be belov'd? 0, monstrous fault, to harbonr such a thought! Then, since this earth affords no joy to me, But to command, to check, to o'erbear such As are of better person than myself, I'll make my heaven-to dream upon the crown;

And, whiles I live, to account this world but hell,
Until my mis-shap'd trunk that bears this head,
Be round impaled with a glorious crown.
And yet I know not how to get the crown,
For many lives stand between me and home:
And I,-like one lost in a thorny wood,
That rents the thorns, and is rent with the thorns;
Seeking a way, and straying from the way;
Not knowing how to find the open air,
But toiling desperately to find it out,-
Torment myself to catch the English crown:
And from that torment I will free myself,
Or hew my way out with a bloody axe.
Why, I can smile, and murder while I smile;
And cry, content, to that which grieves my heart;
And wet my cheeks with artificial tears;
And frame my face to all occasions.
I'll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall;
I'll slay more gazers than the basilisk;
I'll play the orator as well as Nestor,
Deceive more slily than Ulysses could,
And, like a Sinon, take another Troy:
I can add colours to the cameleon;
Change shapes, with Proteus, for advantages,
And set the murd'rous Machiavel to school.
Can I do this, aud cannot get a crown?
Tut! were it further off, I'll pluck it down. [Exit.

SCENE 111. FRANCE. A Room in the Palace. Flourish. Enter Lewis the French King, and LADY

BONA, attended; the King takes his State. Then
Son, and the EARL of OXFORD.
K. Lew. Fair queen of England, worthy Margaret,

[Rising Sit down with us; it ill befits thy state, And birth, that thou shouldst stand, while Lewis doth

sit. Q. Mar. No, mighty king of France; now Margaret Must strike her sail, and learn awhile to serve,

Where kings command. I was, I must confess,
Great Albion's queen in former golden days :
But now mischance bath trod my title down,
And with dishonour laid me on the ground;
Where I must take like seat unto my fortune,
And to my humble seat conform myself.
K. Lew. Why, say, fair queen, whence springs this
deep despair?

[tears, Q. Mar. From such a cause as fills mine eyes with And stops my tongue, while heart is drown'd in cares

K. Lew. Whate'er it be, be thou still like thyself, And sit thee by our side: yield not thy neck

(Seats her by him. To fortune's yoke, but let thy dauntless mind Still ride in triumph over all mischance. Be plain, queen Margaret, and tell thy grief; It shall be eas’d, if Francé can yield relief. (thoughts,

Q. Mar. Those gracious words revive my drooping And give my tongue-tied sorrows leave to speak. Now, therefore, be it known to noble Lewis,That Henry, sole possessor of my love, Is, of a king, become a banish'd man, And forc'd to live in Scotland a forlorn; While proud ambitious Edward, duke of York, Usurps the regal title, and the seat Of England's true-anointed lawful king. This is the cause, that I, poor Margaret,With this my son, prince Edward, Henry's heir, Am come to crave thy just and lawful aid; And, if thou fail us, all our hope is done: Scotland bath will to help, but cannot help; Our people and our peers are both misled, Our treasure seiz'd, our soldiers put to flight, And, as thou see'st, ourselves in heavy plight. [storm,

K. Lew. Renowned queen, with patience calm the While we bethink a means to break it off.

Q. Mar. The more we stay, the stronger grows our K. Lew. The more I stay, the more I'll succour thee..

Q. Mar. 0, but impatience waiteth on true sorrow: And see, where comes the breeder of my sorrow.

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Enter WARWICK, attended. K. Lew. What's he, approacheth boldly to our presence?

[friend. Q. Mar. Our earl of Warwick, Edward's greatest K. Lew. Welcome, brave Warwick! What brings

thee to France?

[Descending from his State. Q. Margaret rises. Q. Mar. Ay, now begins a second storm to rise ; For this is he, that moves both wind and tide..

War. From worthy Edward, king of Albion,
My lord and sovereign, and thy vowed friend,
I come,-in kindness, and unfeigned love,
First, to do greetings to thy royal person;
And, then, to crave a league of amity;
And, lastly, to confirm that amity .
With nuptial knot, if thou vouchsafe to grant
That virtuous lady Bona, thy fair sister,,
To England's king in lawful marriage.

Q. Mar. If that go forward, Henry's hope is done.

War. And, gracious madam, [To Bona] in our king's I am commanded, with your leave and favour, [behalf, Humbly to kiss your hand, and with my tongue To tell the passion of my sovereign's heart: Where fame, late entering at his heedful ears, Hath plac'd thy beauty's image, and thy virtue.

Q. Mar. King Lewis,-and lady Bona,-hear me Before you answer Warwick. His demand speak, Springs not from Edward's well-meant honest love, But from deceit, bred by necessity; For how can tyrants safely govern home, Unless abroad they purchase great alliance? To prove him tyrant, this reason may suffice, That Henry liveth still: but were he dead, Yet here prince Edward stands, king Henry's son. Look, therefore, Lewis, that by this league and marriage, Thou draw not on thy danger and dishonour : For though usurpers sway the rule awhile, Yet heavens are just, and time suppresseth wrongs. War. Injurious Margaret!

And why not queen?


War. Because thy father Henry did usurp; And thou no more art prince, than she is queen.

Orf. Then Warwick disannuls great John of Gaunt, Which did subdue the greatest part of Spain; And, after Jobn of Gaunt, Henry the fourth, Whose wisdom was a mirror to the wisest; And, after that wise prince, Henry the fifth, Who by his prowess conquered all France: From these our Henry lineally descends.

War. Oxford, how haps it, in this smooth discourse, You told not, how Henry the sixth hath lost All that which Henry the fifth had gotten? Methinks, these peers of France should sinile at that. Bat for the rest, ---You tell a pedigree Of threescore and two years; a silly time To make prescription for a kingdom's worth.

Oxf. Why, Warwick, canst thou speak against thy Whom thou obey'dst thirty and six years, [liege, And pot bewray thy treason with a blush?

War. Can Oxford, that did ever fence the right,
Now buckler falsehood with a pedigree?
For shame, leave Henry, and call Edward king.

Oxf. Call him my king, by whose injurious doom
My elder brother, the lord Aubrey Vere,
Was done to death? and more than so, my father,
Even in the downfall of his mellow'd years,
When natúre brought him to the door of death?
No, Warwick, no; while life upholds this arm,
This arm upholds the house of Lancaster.
War. And I the house of York...

K. Lew. Queen Margaret, prince Edward, and
Vouchsafe, at our request, to stand aside, (Oxford,
While I use further conference with Warwick
Q. Mar. Heaven grant, that Warwick's words be-
witch him not!

[Retiring with the Prince and Oxford. K. Lew. Now, Warwick, tell me, even upon thy

conscience, Is Edward your trae king? for I were loath, To link with him that were not lawful chosen.

War. Thereon I pawn my credit and mine honour.

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