Widow. Why, then I will do what your Grace commands.
Rich. [Aside to Clarence.] He plies her hard; and much rain wears the marble.
Clar. [Aside to Richard.] As red as fire! nay, then her wax must melt.
Widow. Why stops my lord? shall I not hear my task? 52
K. Edw. An easy task: 'tis but to love a king.
Widow. That's soon perform'd, because I am a subject.
K. Edw. Why then, thy husband's lands I freely give thee.
Widow. I take my leave with many thousand thanks. 56
Rich. [Aside to Clarence.] The match is made; she seals it with a curtsy.
K. Edw. But stay thee; 'tis the fruits of love I mean.
Widow. The fruits of love I mean, my loving liege.
K. Edw. Ay, but, I fear me, in another sense. 60
What love think'st thou I sue so much to get?
Widow. My love till death, my humble thanks, my prayers:
That love which virtue begs and virtue grants.
K. Edw. No, by my troth, I did not mean such love. 64
Widow. Why, then you mean not as I thought you did.
K. Edw. But now you partly may perceive my mind.
Widow. My mind will never grant what I perceive
Your highness aims at, if I aim aright. 68
K. Edw. To tell thee plain, I aim to lie with thee.
68 aims at: intends
aim: guess
