When hee was made a Shriuer, 'twas for shift
King. Brothers, you muse what Chat wee two haue
had
Rich. The Widow likes it not, for shee lookes very
sad
King. You'ld thinke it strange, if I should marrie
her
Clarence. To who, my Lord?
King. Why Clarence, to my selfe
Rich. That would be tenne dayes wonder at the least
Clarence. That's a day longer then a Wonder lasts
Rich. By so much is the Wonder in extremes
King. Well, ieast on Brothers: I can tell you both,
Her suit is graunted for her Husbands Lands.
Enter a Noble man
Nob. My gracious Lord, Henry your Foe is taken,
And brought your Prisoner to your Pallace Gate
King. See that he be conuey'd vnto the Tower:
And goe wee Brothers to the man that tooke him,
To question of his apprehension.
Widow goe you along: Lords vse her honourable.
Exeunt.
Manet Richard.
Rich. I, Edward will vse Women honourably:
Would he were wasted, Marrow, Bones, and all,
That from his Loynes no hopefull Branch may spring,
To crosse me from the Golden time I looke for:
And yet, betweene my Soules desire, and me,
The lustfull Edwards Title buryed,
Is Clarence, Henry, and his Sonne young Edward,
And all the vnlook'd-for Issue of their Bodies,
To take their Roomes, ere I can place my selfe:
A cold premeditation for my purpose.
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