1. SCENE I. London. A street
Even so; an't please your worship, Brakenbury,
You may partake of any thing we say:
We speak no treason, man;--we say the king
Is wise and virtuous; and his noble queen
Well struck in years, fair, and not jealous;--
We say that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot,
A cherry lip, a bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue;
And that the queen's kindred are made gentlefolks:
How say you, sir? can you deny all this?
With this, my lord, myself have naught to do.
Naught to do with Mistress Shore! I tell thee, fellow,
He that doth naught with her, excepting one,
Were best to do it secretly alone.
What one, my lord?
Her husband, knave:--wouldst thou betray me?
I do beseech your grace to pardon me; and, withal,
Forbear your conference with the noble duke.
We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will obey.
We are the queen's abjects and must obey.--
Brother, farewell: I will unto the king;
And whatsoe'er you will employ me in,--
Were it to call King Edward's widow sister,--
I will perform it to enfranchise you.
Meantime, this deep disgrace in brotherhood
Touches me deeper than you can imagine.
I know it pleaseth neither of us well.
Well, your imprisonment shall not be long;
I will deliver or else lie for you:
Meantime, have patience.
I must perforce: farewell.
[Exeunt CLARENCE, BRAKENBURY, and guard.]
Go tread the path that thou shalt ne'er return.
Simple, plain Clarence!--I do love thee so
That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven,
If heaven will take the present at our hands.--
But who comes here? The new-delivered Hastings?