But shall we wear these glories for a day?
Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them?
Buck. Still live they, and for ever let them
last!

K. Rich. Ah! Buckingham, now do I play the touch,

To try if thou be current gold indeed :

To stop all hopes, whose growth may damage [Exit CATESBY.

me.

I must be married to my brother's daughter,
Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass :-
Murder her brothers, and then marry her!
Uncertain way of gain! But I am in
So far in blood, that sin will pluck on sin.

Buck. Your grace may do your pleasure. K. Rich. Tut, tut, thou art all ice, thy kindness freezes :

Say, have I thy consent that they shall die? Buck, Give me some breath, some little pause, dear lord,

Before I positively speak in this; I will resolve your grace immediately. [Exit BUCKINGHAM. Cate. The king is angry; see, be guaws his lip. [Aside. K. Rich. I will converse with iron-witted fools, [Descends from his Throne. And unrespective + boys: none are for me, That look into me with considerate eyes;— High-reaching Buckingham

Boy,

spect.

Page. My lord.

grows

circum

Gold were as good as twenty orators,
And will, no doubt, tempt him to any thing.
K. Rich. What is his name?

Page. His name, my lord, is Tyrrel.
K. Rich. I partly know the man; Go, call
him hither, boy.-
[Exit PAGE.

The deep-revolving witty § Buckingham No more shall be the neighbour to my counsels:

Hath he so long held out with me untir'd,

Buck. My lord, I have consider'd in my mind

The late demand that you did sound me in. K. Rich. Well, let that rest. Dorset is filed to Richmond.

Buck. I hear the news, my lord.

K. Rich. Stanley, he is your wife's sou:-Well, look to it.

Buck. My lord, I claim the gift, my due by promise,

For which your honour and your faith is pawn'd;

The earldom of Hereford, and the moveables,
Which you have promised I shall possess.

K. Rich. Stanley, look to your wife; if she

convey

Letters to Richmoud, you shall answer it. Buck. What says your highness to my just request ?

K. Rich. I do remember me,-Henry the sixth

Did prophesy that Richmoud should be king,

A king-perhaps

Buck. My lord,

K. Rich. How chance, the prophet could not at that time,

Have told me, I being by, that I should kill him!

Buck. My lord, your promise for the earldom,

K. Rich. Richmond-When last I was at

SCENE III.-The same.

Enter TYRREL.

[Exit.

Tyr. The tyrannous and bloody act is done; The most arch deed of piteous massacre, That ever yet this land was guilty of. Dighton and Forrest, whom I did suborn To do this piece of ruthless butchery, Albeit they were flesh'd villains, bloody dogs, Melting with tenderness and mild compassion, Wept like two children, in their death's sad story.

O thus, quoth Dighton, lay the gentle babes,Thus, thus, quoth Forrest, girdling one another

Within their alabaster innocent arms :
Their lips were four red roses on a stalk,
Which in their summer beauty, kiss'd each

other.

morse,

They could not speak; and so I left them both, To bear this tidings to the bloody king.

Enter King RICHARD.

charge

them;

Enter CATESBY.

Cate. My lord,

Welshmen,

Is in the field, and still his power increaseth. H. Rich. Ely with Richmond troubles me more near,

Than Buckingham and his rash-levied strength. Come,-I have learn'd, that fearful menting

com.

Is leaden servitor to dull delay;
Delay leads impotent and snail pac'd beggary :
Then fiery expedition be my wing,
Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king!
Go, muster men: My counsel is my shield:
We must be brief, when traitors brave the field.
[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-The same.-Before the Palace.
Enter Queen MARGARET.

Q. Mar. So, now prosperity begins to mellow, And drop into the rotten mouth of death. Here in these confines slily have I lurk'd, To watch the waning of mine enemies. A dire induction am I witness to, And will to France; hoping the consequence Will prove as bitter, black, and tragical. Withdraw thee, wretched Margaret who comes here!

Enter Queen ELIZABETH, and the Duchess of YORK.

Q. Eliz. Ah! my poor princes, ah! my ten-
der babes,

My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets!
If yet your gentle souls fly in the air,
And be not fix'd in doom perpetual,
Hover about me with your airy wings,
And hear your mother's lamentation!

Q. Mar. Hover about her; say, that right for
right

Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night. Duch. So many miseries have craz'd my voice,

That my woe-wearied tongue is still and

fuge.

Ah, who has any cause to mourn, but we?

[Sitting down by her. C. Mar. If ancient sorrow be most reverent, Give mine the benefit of seniory,⚫ And let my griefs frown on the upper hand.] If sorrow can admit society,

[Sitting down with them. Tell o'er your woes again by viewing mine :I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him, I had a husband, till a Richard kill'd him: Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him;

Thon hadst a Richard, till a Richard kill'd him. Duch. I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill him;

I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him.
Q. Mar. Thou had'st a Clarence too, and
Richard kill'd him.

From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept
A hell-hound, that doth hunt us all to death:
That dog, that had his teeth before his eyes,
To worry lambs, and lap their gentle blood;
That foul defacer of God's handy-work;
That excellent grand tyrant of the earth,
That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls,
Thy womb let loose, to chase us to our

graves.

O upright, just, and true-disposing God,
How do I thank thee, that this carnal cur
Preys on the issue of his mother's body,
And makes her pew-fellow with others' moan!
Duch. O Harry's wife, triumph not in my

woes;

God witness with me, I have wept for thine,
Q. Mar Bear with me, I am hungry for re-

venge,

And now I cloy me with beholding it.

Thy Edward he is dead, that kill'd my Edward;

Thy other Edward dead, to quit my Edward; Young York he is but bool, because both they

Match not the high perfection of my loss.
Thy Clarence he is dead, that stabb'd my Ed-
ward;

And the beholders of this tragic play,
The adulterate Hastings, Rivers,

Grey,

Vaughan,

Untimely, smother'd in their dusky graves.
Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer;
Only reserv'd their factor, to buy souls,
And send them thither: But at band, at hand,
Ensues his piteous and unpitied end:
Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints
pray,

To have him suddenly convey'd from hence :-
Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I pray,
That I may live to say, The dog is dead!
Q. Eliz. Oh! thou didst prophesy, the time
would come,
That I should wish for thee to help me curse
That bottled spider, that foul bunch-back'd
toad.

Q. Mar. I call'd thee then, vain flourish of my fortune;

I call'd thee then, poor shadow, painted queen ;
The presentation of but what I was,
The flattering index of a direful pageant,
Que heav'd a high, to be hurl'd down below:
A mother only mock'd with two fair babes ;
A dream of what thou wast; a garish || flag,
To be the aim of every dangerous shot:
A sign of dignity, a breath, a bubble;
A queen in jest, only to fill the scene.
Where is thy husband now? Where be thy

brothers ?

queen? Where be the bending peers that flatter'd thee? Where be the thronging troops that follow'd thee?

Decline all this, and see what now thou art.
For happy wife, a most distressed widow;
For joyful mother, one that wails the name;
For one being sued to, one that humbly sues;
For queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care:
For one that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me;
For one being fear'd of all, now fearing one;
For one commanding all, obey'd of none.
Thus hath the course of justice wheel'd about,
And left thee but a very prey to time;
Having no more but thought of what thou
wert,

To torture thee the more, being what thou art.
Thou didst usurp my place, and dost thou not
Usurp the just proportion of my sorrow?
Now thy proud neck bears half my burden'd
yoke;

From which even here I slip my wearied head,
And leave the burden of it all on thee.
Farewell, York's wife, and queen of sad mis-
chance,-

These English woes shall make me smile in
France.

Q. Eliz. O thou well skill'd in curses, stay a while,

And teach me how to curse mine enemies. Q. Mar. Forbear to sleep the night, and fist the day;

Compare dead happiness with living woe; Think that thy babes were fairer than they were,

And he, that slew them, fouler than he is: Bettering thy loss makes the bad-causer worse; Revolving this will teach thee how to curse.

Q. Eliz. My words are dull, O quicken them with thine!

Q. Mar. Thy woes will make them sharp, and pierce like mine.

[Exit Q. MARGARET. Duch. Why should calamity be full of

words?

The slaughter of the prince that ow'd that crown,

And the dire death of my poor sons and bro thers?

Tell me thou villain-slave, where are my children?

Duch. Thou toad, thou toad, where

brother Clarence?

hy

And little Ned Plantagenet, his son ? Q. Eliz. Where is the gentle Rivers, Vaug han, Grey?

• Owned

Duch. Where is kind Hastings?

K. Rich. A flourish, trumpets!--strike alarum, drums!

Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women
Rail on the Lord's anointed Strike, I say.--
[Flourish. Alarums.
Either be patient, and entreat me fair,
Or with the clamorous report of war
Thus will I drown your exclamations.
Duch. Art thou my son?

K. Rich. Ay; I thank God, my father, and yourself.

Duch. Then patiently hear my impatience.
K. Rich. Madamn, I have a touch of your con-
dition,

That cannot brook the accent of reproof.
Duch. O let me speak.

K. Rich. Do, then; but I'll not hear.
Duch. I will be mild and gentle in my words.
K. Rich. And brief, good mother; for I am
in haste.

Duch. Art thou so hasty? I have staid for thee,

God knows, in torment and in agony.

K. Rich. And came I not at last to comfort you ?

Duch. No, by the holy rood, thou know'st it well,

Thou cam'st on earth to make the earth my

hell.

Thy age confirm'd, proud, subtle, sly, and bloody,

More mild, but yet more harmful, kind in batred :

What comfortable hour canst thou name,
That ever grac'd me in thy company?

K. Rich. 'Faith, none, but Humphrey Hour, that call'd your grace

To breakfast once, forth of my company.
If I be so disgracious in your sight,

Let me march on, and not offend you, madam.—
Strike up the drum.

Duch. I pr'ythee, hear me speak.
K. Rich. You speak too bitterly.
Duch. Hear me a word;

For I shall never speak to thee again.

K. Rich. So.

Duch. Either thou wilt die, by God's just ordinance,

Ere from this war thon turn a conqueror ;
Or I with grief and extreme age shall perish,
And never look upon thy face again.
Therefore, take with thee my most heavy curse;
Which, in the day of battle, tire thee more,
Then all the complete armour that thou wear'st!
My prayers on the adverse party fight;
And there the little souls of Edward's children
Whisper the spirits of thine enemies,
And promise them success and victory.
Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end;

Q. Eliz. And must she die for this? O let her live,

And I'll corrupt her manners, stain her beauty; Slander nyself, as false to Edward's bed; Throw over her the veil of infamy:

So she may live uuscarr'd of bleeding slaughter & I will confess she was not Edward's daughter. K. Rich. Wrong not her birth, she is of royal blood.

Q. Eliz. To save her life, I'll say she is not

50.

K. Rich. Her life is safest only in her birth. Q. Eliz. And only in that safety died her brothers.

K. Rich. Lo, at their birth good stars were opposite.

Q. Eliz. No, to their lives bad friends were contrary.

K. Rich. All anavoided is the doom of destiny.

Q. Eliz. True, when avoided grace makes destiny:

My babes were destin'd to a fairer death,
If grace had bless'd thee with a fairer life.
K. Rich. You speak, as if that I had slain
iny cousins.

Q. Eliz. Cousins, indeed; and by their uncle cozen'd

Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life.
Whose hands soever lanc'd their tender hearts,
Thy head, all indirectly, gave direction :
No doubt the murderous knife was dull and
blunt,

Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart,
To revel in the entrails of my lambs.
But that still use of grief makes wild grief
tame,

My tongue should to thy ears not name my boys,

Till that my nails were anchor'd in thine eyes;
And I, in such a desperate bay of death,
Like a poor bark, of sails and tackling reft,
Rush all to pieces on thy rocky bosom.

K. Rich. Madam, so thrive I in my enterprize,

And dangerous success of bloody wars,
As I intend more good to you and your's,
Then ever you or your's by me were harm'd!
Q. Eliz. What good is cover'd with the face
of heaven,

To be discover'd that can do me good?

K. Rich. The advancement of your children, gentle lady.

Q. Eliz. Up to some scaffold, there to lose their heads?

K. Rich. No, to the dignity and height of fortune,

The high imperial type of this earth's glory.t
Q. Eliz. Flatter my sorrows with report of

it;

Tell me, what state, what dignity, what honour, Canst thon demise ý to any child of mine?

K. Rich. Even all I have; ay, and myself and all,

Will I withal endow a child of thine;
So in the Lethe of thy angry soul

[Exit.

Q. Eliz. Though far more cause, yet much less spirit to curse

Abides in me; I say Amen to her. [Going. K. Rich. Stay, madam, I must speak a word with you.

Q. Eliz. I have no more sons of the royal blood,

For thee to murder: for my daughters, Richard,They shall be praying nuns, not weeping

queens;

And therefore level not to hit their lives.

K. Rich. You have a daughter call'd-Elizabeth,

Virtuous aud fair, royal and gracious.

wrongs,

Which, thou supposest, I have done to thee. Q. Eliz. Be brief, lest that the process of thy kindness

Last longer telling than thy kindness' date. K. Rich. Then know, that, from my soul, I love thy daughter.

Q. Eliz. My daughter's mother thinks it with her soul.

K. Rich. What do you think?

Q. Eliz. That thou dost love my daughter, from thy soul:

So, from thy soul's love, didst thou love her brothers;

* Unavoidable.