| 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. |
| 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 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. |