Sweet widow, by my state I swear to thee,
I speak no more than what my soul intends;
And that is to enjoy thee for my love.

LADY GREY.
And that is more than I will yield unto.
I know I am too mean to be your queen,
And yet too good to be your concubine.

KING EDWARD.
You cavil, widow; I did mean my queen.

LADY GREY.
'T will grieve your grace my sons should call you
father.

KING EDWARD.
No more than when my daughters call thee mother.
Thou art a widow, and thou hast some children;
And, by God's mother, I, being but a bachelor,
Have other some; why, 't is a happy thing
To be the father unto many sons.
Answer no more, for thou shalt be my queen.

GLOSTER.
The ghostly father now hath done his shrift.

CLARENCE.
When he was made a shriver, 't was for shift.