Henry VI, Part III, William Shakespeare [detective books to read txt] 📗

because I am a subject. King Edward Why, then, thy husband’s lands I freely give thee. Lady Grey I take my leave with many thousand thanks. Gloucester Aside to Clarence. The match is made; she seals it with a curtsy. King Edward But stay thee, ’tis the fruits of love I mean. Lady Grey The fruits of love I mean, my loving liege. King Edward

Ay, but, I fear me, in another sense.
What love, think’st thou, I sue so much to get?

Lady Grey

My love till death, my humble thanks, my prayers;
That love which virtue begs and virtue grants.

King Edward No, by my troth, I did not mean such love. Lady Grey Why, then you mean not as I thought you did. King Edward But now you partly may perceive my mind. Lady Grey

My mind will never grant what I perceive
Your highness aims at, if I aim aright.

King Edward To tell thee plain, I aim to lie with thee. Lady Grey To tell you plain, I had rather lie in prison. King Edward Why, then thou shalt not have thy husband’s lands. Lady Grey

Why, then mine honesty shall be my dower;
For by that loss I will not purchase them.

King Edward Therein thou wrong’st thy children mightily. Lady 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.”

King Edward

Ay, if thou wilt say “ay” to my request;
No, if thou dost say “no” to my demand.

Lady Grey Then, no, my lord. My suit is at an end. Gloucester Aside to Clarence. The widow likes him not, she knits her brows. Clarence Aside to Gloucester. He is the bluntest wooer in Christendom. King Edward

Aside. Her looks do argue her replete with modesty;
Her words do show her wit incomparable;
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?

Lady Grey

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

King Edward

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.

Lady 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.

King Edward You cavil, widow: I did mean, my queen. Lady Grey ’Twill grieve your grace my sons should call you father. King Edward

No more than when my 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
To be the father unto many sons.
Answer no more, for thou shalt be my queen.

Gloucester Aside to Clarence. The ghostly father now hath done his shrift. Clarence Aside to Gloucester. When he was made a shriver, ’twas for shift. King Edward Brothers, you muse what chat we two have had. Gloucester The widow likes it not, for she looks very sad. King Edward You’ll think it strange if I should marry her. Clarence To whom, my lord? King Edward Why, Clarence, to myself. Gloucester That would be ten days’ wonder at the least. Clarence That’s a day longer than a wonder lasts. Gloucester By so much is the wonder in extremes. King Edward

Well, jest on, brothers: I can tell you both
Her suit is granted for her husband’s lands.

Enter a Nobleman. Nobleman

My gracious lord, Henry your foe is taken,
And brought your prisoner to your palace gate.

King Edward

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 honourably. Exeunt all but Gloucester.

Gloucester

Ay, Edward will use women honourably.
Would he were wasted, marrow, bones and all,
That from his loins no hopeful branch may spring,
To cross me from the golden time I look for!
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 keeps 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 up 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 beloved?
O monstrous fault, to harbour 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-shaped 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