CLARENCE

Since when, his Oath is broke: for as I hear, You that are King, though he do wear the Crown, Have caused him by new Act of Parliament, To blot out me, and put his own Son in. But when we saw, our Sunshine made thy Spring, And that thy Summer bred us no increase, We set the Axe to thy usurping Root: And though the edge hath something hit our selves, Yet know thou, since we have begun to strike, We'll never leave, till we have hewed thee down, Or bathed thy growing, with our heated bloods. Out hap is lose, our hope but sad despair, Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us. What counsel give you? whither shall we fly? Yet let us altogether to our Troops, And give them leave to fly, that will not stay: And call them Pillars that will stand to us: And if we thrive, promise them such rewards As Victor's wear at the Olympian Games. This may plant courage in their quailing breasts, For yet is hope of Life and Victory: Foreslow no longer, make we hence amain. While we devise fell Tortures for thy faults. Where's Captain Margaret, to fence you now? Alas, you know, 'tis far from hence to France, How could he stay till Warwick made return? What? what? By heaven, I will not do thee so much ease. Didst thou not hear me swear I would not do it? To London all in post, and as I guess, To make a bloody Supper in the Tower. The duty that I owe unto your Majesty, I Seal upon the lips of this sweet Babe. Thank Noble Clarence, worthy brother thanks. What will your Grace have done with Margaret, Reynard her Father, to the King of France Hath pawned the Sicils and Jerusalem, And hither have they sent it for her ransom. If so thou thinkest, Vex him with eager Words. He knows the Game, how true he keeps the wind? I fear her not, unless she chance to fallen. I think he means to beg a Child of her. He is the bluntest Wooer in Christian dome. When he was made a Shriver, 'twas for shift. To who, my Lord? That's a day longer then a Wonder lasts. I mind to tell him plainly what I think. As well as Lewis of France, Or the Earl of Warwick, Which are so weak of courage, and in judgement, That they'le take no offence at our abuse. Then this is mine opinion: That King Lewis becomes your Enemy, For mocking him about the Marriage Of the Lady Bona. In choosing for your self, You showed your judgement: Which being shallow, you shall give me leave To play the Broker in mine own behalf; And to that end, I shortly mind to leave you. Belike, the elder; Clarence will have the younger. Now Brother King farewell, and fit you fast, For I will hence to Warwick's other Daughter, That though I want a Kingdom, yet in Marriage I may not prove inferior to your self. You that love me, and Warwick, follow me. As read as fire? nay then, her Wax must melt. For this one speech, Lord Hastings well deserves To have the Heir of the Lord Hungerford. Or else you would not have bestowed the Heir Of the Lord Bonuill on your new Wives Son, And leave your Brother's to go speed elsewhere. Fear not that, my Lord. No Warwick, thou art worthy of the sway, To whom the Heavens in thy Nativity, Adjudged and Olive Branch, and Laurel Crown, As likely to be blessed in Peace and War: And therefore I yield thee my free consent. That he consents, if Warwick yield consent, For on thy fortune I repose my self. What else? and that Succession be determined. It shall be done, my Sovereign, with all speed. A little fire is quickly trodden out, Which being suffered, Rivers cannot quench. In sign of truth, I kiss your Highness Hand. Father of Warwick, know you what this means? Look here, I throw my infamy at thee: I will not ruinate my Father's House, Who gave his blood to lime the stones together, And set up Lancaster. Why, trowest thou, Warwick, That Clarence is so harsh, so blunt unnatural, To bend the fatal Instruments of War Against his Brother, and his lawful King. Perhaps thou wilt object my holy Oath: To keep that Oath, were more impiety, Then Iephah, when he sacrificed his Daughter. I am so sorry for my Trespass made, That to deserve well at my Brother's hands, I here proclaim my self thy mortal foe: With resolution, wheresoever I meet thee, (As I will meet thee, if thou stir abroad) To plague thee, for thy foul misleading me. And so, prowd-hearted Warwick, I defy thee, And to my Brother turn my blushing Cheeks. Pardon me Edward, I will make amends: And Richard, do not frown upon my faults, For I will henceforth be no more unconstant. A little gale will soon disperse that Cloud, And blow it to the Source from whence it came, Thy very Beams will dry those Vapours up, For every Cloud engenders not a Storm. Untutored Lad, thou art too malapert. And ther's for twitting me with perjury.