hou most righteous Judge----
Humbly behold, I bow myself to thee,
And own thy justice in this hard decree:
No longer, then, my ripe offences spare,
But what I merit, let me learn to bear.
Yet, since 'tis all my wretchedness can give,
For my past crimes my forfeit life receive;
No pity for my sufferings here I crave,
And only hope forgiveness in the grave.
[_exit Jane Shore, guarded by Catesby and others._

_Glos._ So much for this. Your project's at an end. [_to Sir Richard._
This idle toy, this hilding, scorns my power,
And sets us all at nought. See that a guard
Be ready at my call----

_Sir R._ The council waits
Upon your highness' leisure.

_Glos._ I'll attend them. [_exeunt._

SCENE II. THE COUNCIL CHAMBER.

_The Duke of Buckingham, Earl of Derby, Bishop of
Ely, Lord Hastings, and others, discovered in council.
The Duke of Gloster enters, and takes his place at
the upper end._

_Der._ In happy times we are assembled here,
To point the day, and fix the solemn pomp,
For placing England's crown, with all due rites,
Upon our sovereign Edward's youthful brow.

_Lord H._ Some busy, meddling, knaves, 'tis said, there are,
As such will still be prating, who presume
To carp and cavil at his royal right;
Therefore, I hold it fitting, with the soonest,
T' appoint the order of the coronation;
So to approve our duty to the king,
And stay the babbling of such vain gainsayers.

_Der._ We all attend to know your highness' pleasure. [_to Gloster._

_Glos._ My lords, a set of worthy men you are,
Prudent and just, and careful for the state;
Therefore, to your most grave determination
I yield myself in all things; and demand
What punishment your wisdom shall think meet
T' inflict upon those damnable contrivers,
Who shall, with potions, charms, and witching drugs,
Practise against our person and our life!

_Lord H._ So much I hold the king your highness' debtor,
So precious are you to the commonweal,
That I presume, not only for myself,
But in behalf of these my noble brothers,
To say, whoe'er they be, they merit death.

_Glos._ Then judge yourselves, convince your eyes of truth:
Behold my arm, thus blasted, dry, and wither'd,
[_pulling up his sleeves._
Shrunk like a foul abortion, and decay'd,
Like some untimely product of the seasons,
Robb'd of its properties of strength and office.
This is the sorcery of Edward's wife,
Who, in conjunction with that