Wear both of them, for both of them are thine. And if thy poor devoted servant may Glo. That it may please you leave these sad designs To him that hath more cause to be a mourner, Anne. With all my heart; and much it joys me too, To see you are become so penitent.- Anne. 'Tis more than you deserve: [Exeunt Lady ANNE, TRESSEL, and Glo. Take up the corse, Sirs. [Exeunt the rest, with the corse. father, To take her in her heart's extremest hate; And I no friends to back my suit withal, Hath she forgot already that brave prince, Edward, her lord, whom I some three months since, Stabb'd in my angry mood at Tewksbury? royal, The spacious world cannot again afford: prince, And made her widow to a woeful bed? On me, whose all not equals Edwards moiety? a That I may see my shadow as I pass. [Exit. * In Bishopsgate-street. † A small French coin. SCENE III-The same.--A Room in the Palace. Enter Queen ELIZABETH, Lord RIVERS, and Lord GREY. Riv. Have patience, madam; there's no doubt his majesty Will soon recover his accustom'd health. worse: [fort, Therefore, for God's sake, entertain good comAnd cheer his grace with quick and merry words. Q. Eliz. If he were dead, what would betide of me? Grey. No other harm, but loss of such a lord. Q. Eliz. The loss of such a lord includes all harms. Grey. The heavens have bless'd you with a goodly son, To be your comforter, when he is gone. Q. Eliz. Ah, he is young; and his minority Is put into the trust of Richard Gloster, A man that loves not me, nor none of you. Riv. Is it concluded, he shall be protector? Q. Eliz. It is determin'd, not concluded yet: But so it must be, if the king miscarry. Enter BUCKINGHAM and STANLEY. Grey. Here come the lords of Buckingham and Stanley. Buck, Good time of day unto your royal grace! Stan. God make your majesty joyful as you have been! Q. Eliz. The countess Richmond, good my lord of Stanley, To your good prayer will scarcely say-amen. Yet, Stanley, notwithstanding she's your wife, And loves not me, be you, good lord, assur'd, I hate not you for her proud arrogance. Stan. I do beseech you, either not believe The envious slanders of her false accusers; Or, if she be accus'd on true report, Bear with her weakness, which, I think, proceeds [lice. From wayward sickness, and no grounded maQ. Eliz. Saw you the king to-day, my lord of Stanley? Stan. But now, the duke of Buckingham, Are come from visiting his majesty. [and I, Q. Eliz. What likelihood of his amendment, lords? Buck. Madam, good hope: his grace speaks cheerfully. Q. Eliz. God grant him health! Did you confer with him? Buck. Ay, madam: he desires to make atone ment Between the duke of Gloster and your brothers, And between them and my lord chamberlain; And sent to warn them to his presence. Q. Eliz. Would all were well!-But that will never be ; I fear, our happiness is at the height. Enter GLOSTER, HASTINGS, and DORSET. Glo. They do me wrong, and I will not endure it : Who are they, that complain unto the king, * Summon. Duck with French nods and apish courtesy, Grey. To whom in all this presence speaks your grace! Glo. To thee, that hast nor honesty, nor grace. [wrong?When have I injur'd thee? when done thee Or thee?-or thee?-or any of your faction? A plague upon you all! His royal grace,Whom God preserve better than you would wish! Cannot be quiet scarce a breathing-while, But you most trouble him with lewd complaints. Q. Eliz. Brother of Gloster, you mistake the matter: The king, of his own royal disposition, The ground of your ill-will, and so remove it. Glo. I cannot tell;-The world is grown so bad, That wrens may prey where eagles dare not perch: Since every Jackt became a gentleman, Q. Eliz. Come, come, we know your mean- You envy my advancement, and my friends; Our brother is imprison'd by your means, That scarce, some two days since, were worth a noble.‡ Q. Eliz. By Him, that rais'd me to this care- From that contented hap which I enjoy'd, cause She may do more, Sir, than denying that: Riv. What, marry, may she? Glo. What, marry, may she? marry with a A bachelor, a handsome stripling too: [king, I wis, your grandam had a worser match. Q. Eliz. My lord of Gloster, I have too long borne [scoffs: Your blunt upbraidings, and your bitter By heaven, I will acquaint his majesty, Of those gross taunts I often have endur'd. I had rather be a country servant-maid, Enter Queen MARGARET, behind. Q. Mar. And lessen'd be that small, God, I beseech thee! Thy honour, state, and seat, is due to me. Glo. What? Threat you me with telling of the king? [said Tell him, and spare not: look, what I have I will avouch, in presence of the king: I dare adventure to be sent to the Tower. 'Tis time to speak, my pains are quite forgot. Q. Mar. Out, devil! I remember them too Thou kill'dst my husband Henry in the Tower, well: And Edward, my poor son, at Tewksbury. Glo. Ere you were queen, ay, or your husband king, I was a pack-horse in his great affairs; Q. Mar. Ay, and much better blood than his, or thine. Glo. In all which time, you, and your husband Grey, Were factious for the house of Lancaster;And, Rivers, so were you: Was not your husband Q. Mar. Which God revenge! Glo. To fight on Edward's party, for the crown; [up: And, for his meed,‡ poor lord, he is mew'de I would to God, my heart were flint like Edward's, Or Edward's soft and pitiful like mine; Q. Mar. Hie thee to hell for shame, and leave this world, Thou cacodamon there thy kingdom is. Riv. My lord of Gloster, in those busy days, Which here you urge, to prove us enemies, We follow'd then our lord, our lawful king; So should we you, if you should be our king. Glo. If I should be?-1 had rather be a pedlar; Far be it from my heart, the thought thereof! Q. Eliz. As little joy, my lord, as you suppose, [king; You should enjoy, were you this country's As little joy you may suppose in me, That I enjoy, being the queen thereof. Q. Mar. A little joy enjoys the queen thereFor I am she, and altogether joyless. of; I can no longer hold me patient. [Advancing. Hear me, you wrangling pirates, that fall out In sharing that which you have pill'd¶ from me: Which of you trembles not, that looks on me? If not, that, I being queen, you bow like subjects; Yet that, by you depos'd, you quake like rebels? Ah, gentle villain, do not turn away! Glo. Foul wrinkled witch, what mak'st thou in my sight? Q. Mar. But repetition of what thou hast marr'd; That will I make, before I let thee go. Glo. Wert thou not banished on pain of death? Q. Mar. I was; but I do find more pain in banishment, Than death can yield me here by my abode. A husband, and a son, thou ow'st to me,And thou, a kingdom;-all of you, allegiance: This sorrow that I have, by right is yours; And all the pleasures you usurp, are mine. Glo. The curse my noble father laid on thee,[paper, When thou didst crown his warlike brows with And with thy scorns drew'st rivers from his eyes; Q. Mar. And leave out thee? stay, dog, for thou shalt hear me. If heaven have any grievous plague in store, Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou Q. Mar. Richard! Q. Mar. I call thee not. And then, to dry them, gav'st the duke a clout, Glo. cry thee mercy then; for I did think, Steep'd in the faultless blood of pretty Rut-That thou hadst call'd me all these bitter land; Though not by war, by surfeit die your king, As ours by murder, to make him a king! Edward, thy son, that now is prince of Wales, For Edward, my son, that was prince of Wales, Die in his youth, by like untimely violence! Thyself a queen, for me that was a queen, Outlive thy glory, like my wretched self! Long may'st thou live, to wail thy children's And see another, as I see thee now, [loss; Deck'd in thy rights, as thou art stall'd in mine! Long die thy happy days before thy death; And, after many lengthen'd hours of grief, Die neither mother, wife, nor England's names. Q. Mar. Why, so I did; but look'd for no reply. O, let me make the period to my curse. ret. Q. Eliz. Thus have you breath'd your curse against yourself. Q. Mar. Poor painted queen, vain flourish of my fortune! [der,* Why strew'st thou sugar on that bottled spiWhose deadly web ensnareth thee about? Fool, fool! thou whet'st a knife to kill thyself. The day will come, that thou shalt wish for me To help thee curse this pois'nous bunch-back'd toad. Hast. False-boding woman, end thy frantic curse; Lest, to thy harm, thou move our patience. Q. Mar. Foul shame upon you! you have all mov'd mine. Riv. Were you well serv'd, you would be taught your duty. Q. Mar. To serve me well, you all should do me duty, [jects: Teach me to be your queen, and you my subO, serve me well, and teach yourselves that duty. Dor. Dispute not with her, she is lunatic. Q. Mar. Peace, master marquis, you are malapert: [rent :+ Your fire-new stamp of honour is scarce curO, that your young nobility could judge, What 'twere to lose it, and be miserable! They that stand high, have many blast to shake them; And, if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces. Glo. Good counsel, marry ;-learn it, learn Whose bright out-shining beams thy cloudy Q Mar. Urge neither charity nor shame to Q. Mar. O princely Buckingham, I kiss thy hand, In sign of league and amity with thee: Buck. Nor no one here; for curses never pass The lips of those that breathe them in the air. Q. Mar. I'll not believe but they ascend the sky, And there awake God's gentle-sleeping peace. His venom tooth will rankle to the death: Sin, death, and hell have set their marks on Buck. Nothing that I respect, my gracious lord. Q. Mur. What, dost thou scorn me for my gentle counsel? And sooth the devil that I warn thee from? [Exit. Hast. My hair doth stand on end to hear her curses. * Riv. And so doth mine; I muse, why she's at liberty. Glo. I cannot blame her, by God's holy mother; She hath had too much wrong, and I repent My part thereof, that I have done to her. Q. Eliz. I never did her any, to my know ledge. Glo. Yet you have all the vantage of her I was too hot to do somebody good, [wrong. That is too cold in thinking of it now. Marry, as for Clarence, he is well repaid; He is frank'd up to fatting for his pains;God pardon them that are the cause thereof! Riv. A virtuous and a Christian-like conclusion, To pray for them that hath done scath to us. Glo. So do I ever, being well advis'd;For had I curs'd now, I had curs'd myself. Enter CATESBY. [Aside. Glo. I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl. The secret mischiefs that I set abroach, I lay unto the grievous charge of others. Clarence,-whom I, indeed, have laid in darkI do beweep to many simple gulls; [ness,Namely, to Stanley, Hastings, Buckingham; And tell them-'tis the queen and her allies, That stir the king against the duke my brother. Now they believe it; and withal whet me To be reveng'd on Rivers, Vaughan, Grey: But then I sigh, and, with a piece of scripture, Tell them--that God bids us do good for evil: And thus I clothe my naked villany With old odd ends, stol'n forth of holy writ: And seem a saint, when most I play the devil. Enter two MURDERERS. But soft, here come my executioners.How now, my hardy, stout resolved mates? Are you now going to despatch this thing? 1 Murd. We are, my lord; and come to have the warrant, me: That we may be admitted where he is. to prate, Talkers are no good doers; be assur'd, I like you, lads;-about your business straight; 1 Murd. We will, my noble lord. [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-The same.-A Room in the Tower. Enter CLARENCE and BRAKENBURY. Brak. Why looks your grace so heavily today? Clar. O, I have pass'd a miserable night, So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights, That, as I am a Christian faithful man, I would not spend another such a night, Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days; So full of dismal terror was the time. Brak. What was your dream, my lord? I pray you, tell me. Clar. Methought, that I had broken from the And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy; And cited up a thousand heavy times, Struck me, that thought to stay him, over-board, What dreadful noise of water in mine ears! All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea. [holes To gaze upon these secrets of the deep? To yield the ghost: but still the envious flood Brak. Awak'd you not with this sore agony? O, then began the tempest to my soul! Who cried aloud,-What scourge for perjury That stabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury ;- I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it. That now give evidence against my soul,- Let him see our commission; talk no more. Brak. I am, in this, commanded to deliver Fare you well. [Exit BRAKENBURY. 2 Murd. What, shall we stab him as he sleeps? 1 Murd. No; he'll say, 'twas done cowardly, when he wakes. 2 Murd. When he wakes! why, fool, he shall never wake until the great judgement day. 1 Murd. Why, then he'll say, we stabb'd him sleeping. 2 Murd. The urging of that word, judgement, hath bred a kind of remorse in me. 1 Murd. What? art thou afraid? 2 Murd. Not to kill him, having a warrant for it; but to be damn'd for killing him, from the which no warrant can defend me. 1 Murd. I thought, thou had'st been resolute. 2 Murd. So I am, to let him live. 1 Murd. I'll back to the duke of Gloster, and tell him so. 2 Murd. Nay, I pr'y thee, stay a little: I hope, this holy humour of mine will change; it was wont to hold me but while one would tell twenty. 1 Murd. How dost thou feel thyself now? 2 Murd. 'Faith some certain dregs of conscience are yet within me. 1 Murd. Remember our reward, when the deed's done. 2 Murd. Come, he dies; I had forgot the eward. 1 Murd. Where's thy conscience now? 2 Murd. In the duke of Gloster's purse. 1 Murd. So when he opens his purse to give us our reward, thy conscience flies out. 2 Murd. "Tis no matter; let it go; there's few, or none, will entertain it. 1 Murd. What, if it come to thee again? 2 Murd. I'll not meddle with it, it is a danchil-gerous thing, it makes a man a coward; a man cannot steal, but it accuseth him; a man cannot swear, but it checks him; a man cannot lie with his neighbours wife, but it detects him: 'Tis a blushing shame-fac'd spirit, that mutinies in a man's bosom; it fills one full of obstacles: it made me once restore a purse of gold, that by chance I found; it beggars any man that keeps it: it is turned out of all towns and cities for a dangerous thing; and every man, that means to live well, endeavours to trust to himself, and live without it. [CLARENCE reposes himself on a Chair. Sorrow breaks seasons, and reposing hours Makes the night morning, and the noon-tide night. Princes have but their titles for their glories, They often feel a world of restless cares: Enter the two MURDERERS. 1 Murd. Ho! who's here? 1 Murd. I would speak with Clarence, and I came hither on my legs. Brak. What, so brief? * Body. |