ACT III
SCENE II. The Palace
It were no less; but yet I’ll make a pause.
[Aside to Richard.] He knows the game; how true he keeps the wind!
[Aside to George.] Silence!
[Aside to Richard.] I fear her not, unless she chance to fall.
[Aside to George.] God forbid that, for he’ll take vantages.
How many children hast thou, widow? Tell me.
[Aside to Richard.] I think he means to beg a child of her.
[Aside to George.] Nay, whip me then; he’ll rather give her two.
Three, my most gracious lord.
[Aside to George.] You shall have four if you’ll be ruled by him.
’Twere pity they should lose their father’s lands.
Be pitiful, dread lord, and grant it then.
Lords, give us leave; I’ll try this widow’s wit.
Now tell me, madam, do you love your children?
Ay, full as dearly as I love myself.
And would you not do much to do them good?
To do them good I would sustain some harm.
Then get your husband’s lands to do them good.
Therefore I came unto your majesty.
I’ll tell you how these lands are to be got.
So shall you bind me to your Highness’ service.
What service wilt thou do me if I give them?
What you command that rests in me to do.
But you will take exceptions to my boon.
No, gracious lord, except I cannot do it.
Ay, but thou canst do what I mean to ask.
Why, then, I will do what your Grace commands.
[Aside to George.] He plies her hard; and much rain wears the marble.
[Aside to Richard.] As red as fire! Nay, then her wax must melt.
Why stops my lord? Shall I not hear my task?
An easy task; ’tis but to love a king.
That’s soon performed, because I am a subject.
Why, then, thy husband’s lands I freely give thee.
I take my leave with many thousand thanks.
[Aside to George.] The match is made; she seals it with a curtsy.
But stay thee; ’tis the fruits of love I mean.
The fruits of love I mean, my loving liege.
No, by my troth, I did not mean such love.
Why, then, you mean not as I thought you did.
But now you partly may perceive my mind.
To tell thee plain, I aim to lie with thee.
To tell you plain, I had rather lie in prison.
Why, then thou shalt not have thy husband’s lands.
Therein thou wrong’st thy children mightily.
Then no, my lord. My suit is at an end.
[Aside to George.] The widow likes him not, she knits her brows.
[Aside to Richard.] He is the bluntest wooer in Christendom.
You cavil, widow; I did mean my queen.
’Twill grieve your Grace my sons should call you father.
[Aside to George.] The ghostly father now hath done his shrift.
[Aside to Richard.] When he was made a shriver, ’twas for shift.
Brothers, you muse what chat we two have had.
The widow likes it not, for she looks very sad.
You’d think it strange if I should marry her.
To whom, my lord?
Why, Clarence, to myself.
That would be ten days’ wonder at the least.
That’s a day longer than a wonder lasts.
By so much is the wonder in extremes.