ACT THE FOURTH.

SCENE I. THE SAME.

Enter Duke of Gloster, Ratcliffe, and Catesby.

Glos. This was the sum of all: that he would brook
No alteration in the present state.
Marry, at last, the testy gentleman
Was almost mov'd to bid us bold defiance:
But there I dropp'd the argument, and, changing
The first design and purport of my speech,
I prais'd his good affection to young Edward,
And left him to believe my thoughts like his.
Proceed we then in this fore-mention'd matter,
As nothing bound or trusting to his friendship.
Sir R. Ill does it thus befall. I could have wish'd
This lord had stood with us.
His name had been of 'vantage to your highness,
And stood our present purpose much in stead.
Glos. This wayward and perverse declining from us,
Has warranted at full the friendly notice,
Which we this morn receiv'd. I hold it certain,
The puling, whining, harlot rules his reason,
And prompts his zeal for Edward's bastard brood.
Cates. If she have such dominion o'er his heart,
And turn it at her will, you rule her fate;
And should, by inference and apt deduction,
Be arbiter of his. Is not her bread,
The very means immediate to her being,
The bounty of your hand? Why does she live,
If not to yield obedience to your pleasure,
To speak, to act, to think, as you command!
Sir R. Let her instruct her tongue to bear your message;
Teach every grace to smile in your behalf,
And her deluded eyes to gloat for you;
His ductile reason will be wound about,
Be led and turn'd again, say and unsay,
Receive the yoke, and yield exact obedience.
Glos. Your counsel likes me well, it shall be follow'd,
She waits without, attending on her suit.
Go, call her in, and leave us here alone.
[exeunt Ratcliffe and Catesby.
How poor a thing is he, how worthy scorn,
Who leaves the guidance of imperial manhood
To such a paltry piece of stuff as this is!
A moppet made of prettiness and pride;
That oftener does her giddy fancies change,
Than glittering dew-drops in the sun do colours—
Now, shame upon it! was our reason given
For such a use; to be thus puff'd about?
Sore there is something more than witchcraft in them,
That masters ev'n the wisest of us all.
Enter Jane Shore.
Oh! you are come most fitly. We have ponder'd
On this your grievance: and though some there are,
Nay, and those great ones too, who would enforce
The rigour of our power to afflict you,
And bear a heavy hand; yet fear not you:
We've ta'en you to our favour: our protection
Shall stand between, and shield you from mishap.
Jane S. The blessings of a heart with anguish broken
And rescu'd from despair, attend your highness.
Alas! my gracious lord, what have I done
To kindle such relentless wrath against me?
Glos. Marry, there are, though I believe them not,
Who say you meddle in affairs of state:
That you presume to prattle like a busy-body,
Give your advice, and teach the lords o' the council
What fits the order of the commonweal.
Jane S. Oh, that the busy world, at least in this,
Would take example from a wretch like me?
None then would waste their hours in foreign thoughts,
Forget themselves, and what concerns their peace,
To search, with prying eyes, for faults abroad,
If all, like me, consider'd their own hearts,
And wept their sorrows which they found at home.
Glos. Go to; I know your pow'r; and though I trust not
To ev'ry breath of fame, I'm not to learn
That Hastings is profess'd your loving vassal.
But fair befall your beauty: use it wisely,
And it may stand your fortunes much in stead,
Give back your forfeit land with large increase,
And place you high in safety and in honour.
Nay, I could point a way, the which pursuing,
You shall not only bring yourself advantage,
But give the realm much worthy cause to thank you.
Jane S. Oh! where or how—can my unworthy hand
Become an instrument of good to any?
Instruct your lowly slave, and let me fly
To yield obedience to your dread command.
Glos. Why, that's well said—Thus then—Observe me well.
The state, for many high and potent reasons,
Deeming my brother Edward's sons unfit
For the imperial weight of England's crown—
Jane S. Alas! for pity.
Glos. Therefore have resolv'd
To set aside their unavailing infancy
And vest the sov'reign rule in abler hands.
This, though of great importance to the public
Hastings, for very peevishness, and spleen,
Does stubbornly oppose.
Jane S. Does he? Does Hastings?
Glos. Ay, Hastings.
Jane S. Reward him for the noble deed, just heav'ns!
For this one action, guard him and distinguish him
With signal mercies, and with great deliverance;
Save him from wrong, adversity, and shame,
Let never-fading honours flourish round him,
And consecrate his name, ev'n to time's end.
Glos. How now!
Jane S. The poor, forsaken, royal little ones!
Shall they be left a prey to savage power?
Can they lift up their harmless hands in vain,
Or cry to heaven for help, and not be heard?
Impossible! O gallant, generous, Hastings,
Go on; pursue, assert, the sacred cause:
Stand forth, thou proxy of all-ruling Providence,
And save the friendless infants from oppression.
Saints shall assist thee with prevailing prayers,
And warring angels combat on thy side.
Glos. You're passing rich in this same heav'nly speech,
And spend it at your pleasure. Nay, but mark me!
My favour is not bought with words like these.
Go to—you'll teach your tongue another tale.
Jane S. No, though the royal Edward has undone me,
He was my king, my gracious master, still;
He lov'd me too, though 'twas a guilty flame;
And can I—O my heart abhors the thought!
Stand by, and see his children robb'd of right?
Glos. Dare not, ev'n for thy soul, to thwart me further!
None of your arts, your feigning, and your foolery;
Your dainty squeamish coying it to me;
Go—to your lord, your paramour, be gone!
Lisp in his ear, hang wanton on his neck,
And play your monkey gambols o'er to him.
You know my purpose, look that you pursue it,
And make him yield obedience to my will.
Do it—or woe upon the harlot's head.
Jane S. Oh that my tongue had every grace of speech,
Great and commanding, as the breath of kings;
That I had art and eloquence divine,
To pay my duty to my master's ashes,
And plead, till death, the cause of injur'd innocence.
Glos. Ha! Dost thou brave me, minion! Dost thou know
How vile, how very a wretch, my pow'r can make thee?
That I can place thee in such abject state,
As help shall never find thee; where, repining,
Thou shall sit down, and gnaw the earth for anguish;
Groan to the pitiless winds without return;
Howl, like the midnight wolf amidst the desert,
And curse thy life, in bitterness and misery!
Jane S. Let me be branded for the public scorn,
Turn'd forth and driv'n to wander like a vagabond,
Be friendless and forsaken, seek my bread
Upon the barren wild and desolate waste,
Feed on my sighs, and drink my falling tears,
E'er I consent to teach my lips injustice,
Or wrong the orphan, who has none to save him.
Glos. 'Tis well—we'll try the temper of your heart.
What, hoa! Who waits without?
Enter Ratcliffe, Catesby, and Attendants.
Glos. Go, some of you, and turn this strumpet forth!
Spurn her into the street; there let her perish,
And rot upon a dunghill. Through the city
See it proclaim'd, that none, on pain of death,
Presume to give her comfort, food, or harbour;
Who ministers the smallest comfort, dies.
Her house, her costly furniture and wealth,
We seize on, for the profit of the state.
Away! Be gone!
Jane S. Oh, thou most righteous Judge——
Humbly behold, I bow myself to thee,
And own thy justice in this hard decree:
No longer, then, my ripe offences spare,
But what I merit, let me learn to bear.
Yet, since 'tis all my wretchedness can give,
For my past crimes my forfeit life receive;
No pity for my sufferings here I crave,
And only hope forgiveness in the grave.
[exit Jane Shore, guarded by Catesby and others.
Glos. So much for this. Your project's at an end.[to Sir Richard.
This idle toy, this hilding, scorns my power,
And sets us all at nought. See that a guard
Be ready at my call——
Sir R. The council waits
Upon your highness' leisure.
Glos. I'll attend them.[exeunt.

SCENE II. THE COUNCIL CHAMBER.

The Duke of Buckingham, Earl of Derby, Bishop of Ely, Lord Hastings, and others, discovered in council. The Duke of Gloster enters, and takes his place at the upper end.

Der. In happy times we are assembled here,
To point the day, and fix the solemn pomp,
For placing England's crown, with all due rites,
Upon our sovereign Edward's youthful brow.
Lord H. Some busy, meddling, knaves, 'tis said, there are,
As such will still be prating, who presume
To carp and cavil at his royal right;
Therefore, I hold it fitting, with the soonest,
T' appoint the order of the coronation;
So to approve our duty to the king,
And stay the babbling of such vain gainsayers.
Der. We all attend to know your highness' pleasure.[to Gloster.
Glos. My lords, a set of worthy men you are,
Prudent and just, and careful for the state;
Therefore, to your most grave determination
I yield myself in all things; and demand
What punishment your wisdom shall think meet
T' inflict upon those damnable contrivers,
Who shall, with potions, charms, and witching drugs,
Practise against our person and our life!
Lord H. So much I hold the king your highness' debtor,
So precious are you to the commonweal,
That I presume, not only for myself,
But in behalf of these my noble brothers,
To say, whoe'er they be, they merit death.
Glos. Then judge yourselves, convince your eyes of truth:
Behold my arm, thus blasted, dry, and wither'd,
[pulling up his sleeves.
Shrunk like a foul abortion, and decay'd,
Like some untimely product of the seasons,
Robb'd of its properties of strength and office.
This is the sorcery of Edward's wife,
Who, in conjunction with that harlot Shore,
And other like confed'rate midnight hags,
By force of potent spells, of bloody characters,
And conjurations horrible to hear,
Call fiends and spectres from the yawning deep,
And set the ministers of hell at work,
To torture and despoil me of my life.
Lord H. If they have done this deed——
Glos. If they have done it!
Talk'st thou to me of ifs, audacious traitor!
Thou art that strumpet witch's chief abettor,
The patron and complotter of her mischiefs,
And join'd in this contrivance for my death.
Nay start not, lords—What ho! a guard there, sirs!
Enter Guards.
Lord Hastings, I arrest thee of high treason.
Seize him, and bear him instantly away.
He sha' not live an hour. By holy Paul,
I will not dine before his head be brought me.
Ratcliffe, stay thou, and see that it be done:
The rest, that love me, rise and follow me.
[exeunt Gloster and Lords.

Lord Hastings, Sir Richard Ratcliffe, and Guards, remain.

Lord H. What! and no more but this—How! to the scaffold!
O, gentle Ratcliffe! tell me, do I hold thee?
Or, if I dream, what shall I do to wake,
To break, to struggle, through this dread confusion?
For surely death itself is not so painful
As is this sudden horror and surprise.
Sir R. You heard the duke's commands to me were absolute.
Therefore, my lord, address you to your shrift,
With all good speed you may. Summon your courage,
And be yourself; for you must die this instant.
Lord H. Yes, Ratcliffe, I will take thy friendly counsel,
And die as a man should; 'tis somewhat hard,
To call my scatter'd spirits home at once:
But since what must be, must be—let necessity
Supply the place of time and preparation,
And arm me for the blow. 'Tis but to die,
'Tis but to venture on the common hazard,
Which many a time in battle I have run;
'Tis but to close my eyes and shut out day-light,
To view no more the wicked ways of men,
No longer to behold the tyrant Gloster,
And be a weeping witness of the woes,
The desolation, slaughter, and calamities,
Which he shall bring on this unhappy land.
Enter Alicia.
Alic. Stand off, and let me pass—I will, I must,
Catch him once more in these despairing arms,
And hold him to my heart.—O, Hastings! Hastings!
Lord H. Alas! why com'st thou at this dreadful moment,
To fill me with new terrors, new distractions;
To turn me wild with thy distemper'd rage,
And shock the peace of my departing soul?
Away; I pr'ythee, leave me!
Alic. Stop a minute——
Till my full griefs find passage. O, the tyrant!
Perdition fall on Gloster's head and mine.
Lord H. What means thy frantic grief?
Alic. I cannot speak——
But I have murder'd thee.—Oh, I could tell thee!
Lord H. Speak, and give ease to thy conflicting passion!
Be quick, nor keep me longer in suspense,
Time presses, and a thousand crowding thoughts
Break in at once! this way and that they snatch,
They tear, my hurry'd soul.—All claim attention,
And yet not one is heard. Oh! speak, and leave me,
For I have business would employ an age,
And but a minute's time to get it done in.
Alic. That, that's my grief—'tis I that urge thee on,
Thus hunt thee to the toil, sweep thee from earth,
And drive thee down this precipice of fate.
Lord H. Thy reason is grown wild. Could thy weak hand
Bring on this mighty ruin? If it could,
What have I done so grievous to thy soul,
So deadly, so beyond the reach of pardon,
That nothing but my life can make atonement?
Alic. Thy cruel scorn hath stung me to the heart,
And set my burning bosom all in flames:
Raving and mad I flew to my revenge,
And writ I know not what—told the protector,
That Shore's detested wife, by wiles, had won thee
To plot against his greatness.—He believ'd it,
(Oh, dire event of my pernicious counsel!)
And, while I meant destruction on her head,
H' has turn'd it all on thine.
Lord H. O, thou inhuman! Turn thy eyes away,
And blast me not with their destructive beams:
Why should I curse thee with my dying breath?
Be gone! and let me die in peace.
Alic. Canst thou—O, cruel Hastings, leave me thus?
Hear me, I beg thee—I conjure thee, hear me!
While, with an agonizing heart, I swear,
By all the pangs I feel, by all the sorrows,
The terrors and despair, thy loss shall give me,
My hate was on my rival bent alone.
Oh! had I once divin'd, false as thou art,
A danger to thy life, I would have died,
I would have met it for thee.
Lord H. Now mark! and tremble at heaven's just award:
While thy insatiate wrath and fell revenge
Pursu'd the innocence which never wrong'd thee,
Behold, the mischief falls on thee and me:
Remorse and heaviness of heart shall wait thee,
And everlasting anguish be thy portion.
For me, the snares of death are wound about me,
And now, in one poor moment, I am gone.
Oh! if thou hast one tender thought remaining,
Fly to thy closet, fall upon thy knees,
And recommend my parting soul to mercy.
Alic. Oh! yet, before I go for ever from thee,
Turn thee in gentleness and pity to me,[kneeling.
And, in compassion of my strong affliction,
Say, is it possible you can forgive
The fatal rashness of ungovern'd love?
For, oh! 'tis certain, if I had not lov'd thee
Beyond my peace, my reason, fame, and life,
This day of horror never would have known us.
Lord H. Oh, rise, and let me hush thy stormy sorrows,
[raising her.
Assuage thy tears, for I will chide no more,
No more upbraid thee, thou unhappy fair one.
I see the hand of heav'n is arm'd against me;
And, in mysterious providence, decrees
To punish me by thy mistaken hand.
Most righteous doom! for, oh, while I behold thee,
Thy wrongs rise up in terrible array,
And charge thy ruin on me; thy fair fame,
Thy spotless beauty, innocence, and youth,
Dishonour'd, blasted, and betray'd, by me.
Alic. And does thy heart relent for my undoing?
Oh, that inhuman Gloster could be mov'd,
But half so easily as I can pardon!
Lord H. Here, then, exchange we mutual forgiveness:
So may the guilt of all my broken vows,
My perjuries to thee, be all forgotten,
As here my soul acquits thee of my death,
As here I part without one angry thought,
As here I leave thee with the softest tenderness,
Mourning the chance of our disastrous loves,
And begging heav'n to bless and to support thee.
Sir R. My lord, despatch; the duke has sent to chide me,
For loitering in my duty——
Lord H. I obey.
Alic. Insatiate, savage, monster! Is a moment
So tedious to thy malice? Oh, repay him,
Thou great avenger! Give him blood for blood:
Guilt, haunt him! fiends, pursue him! lightnings, blast him!
That he may know how terrible it is,
To want that moment he denies thee now.
Lord H. This rage is all in vain, that tears thy bosom:
Retire, I beg thee;
To see thee thus, thou know'st not how it wounds me;
Thy agonies are added to my own,
And make the burden more than I can bear.
Farewell—Good angels visit thy afflictions,
And bring thee peace and comfort from above.[exit.
Alic. Oh! stab me to the heart, some pitying hand,
Now strike me dead——
Re-enter Lord Hastings.
Lord H. One thing I had forgot——
I charge thee, by our present common miseries;
By our past loves, if they have yet a name;
By all thy hopes of peace here and hereafter;
Let not the rancour of thy hate pursue
The innocence of thy unhappy friend;
Thou know'st who 'tis I mean; Oh! shouldst thou wrong her,
Just heav'n shall double all thy woes upon thee,
And make 'em know no end—Remember this,
As the last warning of a dying man.
Farewell, for ever!
[the Guards carry Hastings off.
Alic. For ever! Oh, for ever!
Oh, who can bear to be a wretch for ever!
My rival, too! his last thoughts hung on her,
And, as he parted, left a blessing for her:
Shall she be blest, and I be curst, for ever?
No; since her fatal beauty was the cause
Of all my sufferings, let her share my pains;
Let her, like me, of every joy forlorn,
Devote the hour when such a wretch was born;
Cast ev'ry good, and ev'ry hope, behind;
Detest the works of nature, loathe mankind;
Like me, with cries distracted fill the air,}
Tear her poor bosom, rend her frantic hair,
And prove the torments of the last despair.[exit.