Take all the swift advantage of the hours;
You shall have letters from me to my son
In your behalf, to meet you on the way;
Be not ta'en tardy by unwise delay.

Duch. O, ill-dispersing wind of misery!—
O, my accursed womb, the bed of death;
A cockatrice hast thou hatched to the world,
Whose unavoided eye is murderous!

Stan. Come, madam, come; I in all haste was sent. Anne. And I with all unwillingness will go.

O, would to God, that the inclusive verge

Of golden metal, that must round my brow,
Were red-hot steel, to sear me to the brain!
Anointed let me be with deadly venom;
And die, ere men can say-God save the queen!
Q. Eliz. Go, go, poor soul; I envy not thy glory;
To feed my humor, wish thyself no harm.
Anne. No! why?-When he, that is

now,

Came to me, as I followed Henry's corse;

my husband

When scarce the blood was well washed from his hands, Which issued from my other angel husband,

And that dead saint which then I weeping followed;
O, when, I say, I looked on Richard's face,

This was my wish,-Be thou, quoth I, accursed,
For making me, so young, so old a widow!
And, when thou wed'st, let sorrow haunt thy bed;
And be thy wife (if any be so mad)
More miserable by the life of thee,

Than thou hast made me by my dear lord's death!
Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again,

Even in so short a space, my woman's heart
Grossly grew captive to his honey words,

And proved the subject of mine own soul's curse:
Which ever since hath held mine eyes from rest;
For never yet one hour in his bed

Did I enjoy the golden dew of sleep,

But with his timorous dreams' was still awaked.

1 It is recorded by Polydore Virgil that Richard was frequently disturbed by terrible dreams.

Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick;
And will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me.

Q. Eliz. Poor heart, adieu; I pity thy complaining. Anne. No more than with my soul I mourn for yours. Dor. Farewell, thou woful welcomer of glory! Anne. Adieu, poor soul, that tak'st thy leave of it! Duch. Go thou to Richmond, and good fortune guide thee! [TO DORSET.

Go thou to Richard, and good angels tend thee!—

[To ANNE.
Go thou to sanctuary, and good thoughts possess thee!
[To Q. ELIZABETH.
I to my grave, where peace and rest lie with me!
Eighty odd years' of sorrow have I seen,
And each hour's joy wrecked with a week of teen.2
Q. Eliz. Stay yet; look back, with me, unto the
Tower.-

Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes,
Whom envy hath immured within your walls!
Rough cradle for such little pretty ones!
Rude, ragged nurse! old sullen playfellow
For tender princes, use my babies well!

So foolish sorrow bids your stones farewell. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. A Room of State in the Palace.

Flourish of trumpets. RICHARD, as king, upon his throne; BUCKINGHAM, CATESBY, a Page, and others.

K. Rich. Stand all apart.-Cousin of Buckingham,

Buck. My gracious sovereign.

K. Rich. Give me thy hand. Thus high, by thy advice,

1 The present scene is in 1483. Richard duke of York, the husband of this lady, had he been then living, would have been but seventy-three years old, and we may reasonably suppose she was not older; nor did she go speedily to her grave; she lived till 1495.

2 Sorrow.

And thy assistance, is king Richard seated.-
But shall we wear these glories for a day?
Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them?

Buck. Still live they, and forever let them last! K. Rich. Ah, Buckingham, now do I play the touch,1 To try if thou be current gold, indeed.

Young Edward lives;-think now what I would speak. Buck. Say on, my loving lord.

K. Rich. Why, Buckingham, I say, I would be king.
Buck. Why, so you are, my thrice-renowned liege.
K. Rich. Ha! am I king? 'Tis so; but Edward
lives.

Buck. True, noble prince.
K. Rich.

O bitter consequence,

That Edward still should live,true, noble prince!
Cousin, thou wast not wont to be so dull:
Shall I be plain? I wish the bastards dead;
And I would have it suddenly performed.

What say'st thou now? Speak suddenly; be brief.
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,

lord,

Before I positively speak in this:

I will resolve your grace immediately.

Cate. The king is angry; see, he gnaws his lip.

dear

[Exit BUCKINGHAM.

[Aside.

K. Rich. I will converse with iron-witted fools,

[Descends from his throne. And unrespective boys; 2 none are for me, That look into me with considerate eyes;— High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect.Boy,

Page. My lord,

1 "To play the touch" is to resemble the touchstone.
2 Unrespective, i. e. inconsiderate, unregardful.

K. Rich. Know'st thou not any, whom corrupting

gold

Would tempt unto a close exploit1 of death?

Page. I know a discontented gentleman,

Whose humble means match not his haughty mind.
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.

The deep-revolving, witty Buckingham

[Exit Page.

No more shall be the neighbor to my counsels.
Hath he so long held out with me untired,

And stops he now for breath ?-Well, be it so.

Enter STANLEY.

How now, lord Stanley? what's the news!

Stan.

Know, my loving lord,

The marquis Dorset, as I hear, is fled

To Richmond, in the parts where he abides.

K. Rich. Come hither, Catesby; rumor it abroad, That Anne, my wife, is very grievous sick;

I will take order for her keeping close.
Inquire me out some mean-born gentleman,
Whom I will marry straight to Clarence' daughter.
The boy is foolish, and I fear not him.-

2

Look, how thou dream'st!—I say again, give out,
That Anne my queen is sick, and like to die:
About it; for it stands me much upon,3

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

1 Secret act.

2 This youth was, at this time, about ten years old, and we are not told that he had then exhibited any symptoms of folly. Being confined by king Henry VII. immediately after the battle of Bosworth, and his education being entirely neglected, he is described by Polydore Virgil, at the time of his death, in 1499, as an idiot; his account is copied by Holinshed.

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.
Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye.-

Re-enter Page, with TYRREL.

Is thy name-Tyrrel?

Tyr. James Tyrrel, and your most obedient subject. K. Rich. Art thou, indeed?

Tyr. Prove me, my gracious lord. K. Rich. Dar'st thou resolve to kill a friend of mine? Tyr. Please you; but I had rather kill two enemies. K. Rich. Why, then thou hast it; two deep enemies, Foes to my rest, and my sweet sleep's disturbers, Are they that I would have thee deal upon. Tyrrel, I mean those bastards in the Tower. Tyr. Let me have open means to come to them, And soon I'll rid you from the fear of them. K. Rich. Thou sing'st sweet music. hither, Tyrrel;

Hark, come

Go, by this token.-Rise, and lend thine ear;

There is no more but so;-say, it is done,
And I will love thee, and prefer thee for it.1
Tyr. I will despatch it straight.

Re-enter BUCKINGHAM.

[Whispers.

Buck. My lord, I have considered in my mind

The late demand that you did sound me in.

[Exit.

K. Rich. Well, let that rest. Dorset is fled to Richmond.

Buck. I hear the news, my lord.

K. Rich. Stanley, he's your wife's son.-Well, look

to it.

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

1 The quarto has the following very characteristic line:

"King. Shall we hear from thee, Tirril, ere we sleep?"