King. I, what of that? it was my will, and graunt,
And for this once, my Will shall stand for Law
Rich. And yet me thinks, your Grace hath not done well,
To giue the Heire and Daughter of Lord Scales
Vnto the Brother of your louing Bride;
Shee better would haue fitted me, or Clarence:
But in your Bride you burie Brotherhood
Clar. Or else you would not haue bestow'd the Heire
Of the Lord Bonuill on your new Wiues Sonne,
And leaue your Brothers to goe speede elsewhere
King. Alas, poore Clarence: is it for a Wife
That thou art malecontent? I will prouide thee
Clarence. In chusing for your selfe,
You shew'd your iudgement:
Which being shallow, you shall giue me leaue
To play the Broker in mine owne behalfe;
And to that end, I shortly minde to leaue you
King. Leaue me, or tarry, Edward will be King,
And not be ty'd vnto his Brothers will
Lady Grey. My Lords, before it pleas'd his Maiestie
To rayse my State to Title of a Queene,
Doe me but right, and you must all confesse,
That I was not ignoble of Descent,
And meaner then my selfe haue had like fortune.
But as this Title honors me and mine,
So your dislikes, to whom I would be pleasing,
Doth cloud my ioyes with danger, and with sorrow
King. My Loue, forbeare to fawne vpon their frownes:
What danger, or what sorrow can befall thee,
So long as Edward is thy constant friend,
And their true Soueraigne, whom they must obey?
Nay, whom they shall obey, and loue thee too,
Vnlesse they seeke for hatred at my hands:
Which if they doe, yet will I keepe thee safe,
And they shall feele the vengeance of my wrath
Rich. I heare, yet say not much, but thinke the more.
Enter a Poste
King. Now Messenger, what Letters, or what Newes
from France?
Post. My Soueraigne Liege, no Letters, & few words,
But such, as I (without your speciall pardon)
Dare not relate