Clar. As red as fire! nay, then her wax must melt. [Aside. thee. L. Grey. I take my leave with many thousand thanks. Glo. The match is made; she seals it with a curt'sy. K. Edw. But stay thee, 'tis the fruits of love I mean. L. Grey. The fruits of love I mean, my loving liege. K. Edw. Ay, but I fear me, in another sense. What love, think'st thou, I sue so much to get? L. Grey. My love till death, my humble thanks, my prayers; That love, which virtue begs, and virtue grants. K. Edw. No, by my troth, I did not mean such love. L. Grey. Why, then you mean not as I thought you did. K. Edw. But now you partly may perceive my mind. L. Grey. My mind will never grant what I perceive Your highness aims at, if I aim aright. K. Edw. To tell thee plain, I aim to lie with thee. lands. L. Grey. Why, then mine honesty shall be my dower; For by that loss I will not purchase them. K. Edw. Therein thou wrong'st thy children mightily. L. Grey. Herein your highness wrongs both them and me. But, mighty lord, this merry inclination Accords not with the sadness 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. Glo. The widow likes him not, she knits her brows. [Aside. Clar. He is the bluntest wooer in Christendom. [Aside. K. Edw. [Aside.] Her looks do argue her replete with modesty; Her words do show her wit incomparable; All her perfections challenge sovereignty: And she shall be my love, or else my 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: I know, I am too mean to be your queen; And yet too good to be your concubine. 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, and thou hast some children; And, by God's mother, I, being but a bachelor, Have other some: why, 'tis a happy thing Answer no more, for thou shalt be my queen. 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. Glo. The widow likes it not, for she looks sad. 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. 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, And brought your prisoner to your palace gate. K. Edw. See, that he be convey'd unto the Tower :And go we, brothers, to the man that took him, To question of his apprehension.— Widow, go you along ;-Lords, use her honourable. Glo. Ay, Edward will use women honourably. And yet, between my soul's desire and me, Is Clarence, Henry, and his son young Edward, So do I wish the crown, being so far off; Flattering me with impossibilities. My eye's too quick, my heart o'erweens too much, To disproportion me in every part, Like to a chaos, or an unlick'd bear-whelp, O, monstrous fault, to harbour such a thought! I'll make my heaven-to dream upon the crown; That rents the thorns, and is rent with the thorns; 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; |