Her royal stock graft with ignoble plants,
And almost shoulder'd • in the swallowing gulf
Of dark forgetfulness and deep oblivion.
Which to recure, we heartily solicit
Your gracious self to take on you the charge
And kingly government of this your land:
Not as protector, steward, substitute,
Or lowly factor for another's gain:
But as successively from blood to blood,
Your right of birth, your empery, ‡ your own.
For this, consorted with the citizens,
Your very worshipful and loving friends,
And by their vehement instigation,

In this just suit come I to move your grace.
Glo. I cannot tell, if to depart in silence,
Or bitterly to speak in your reproof,
Best fitteth my degree, or your condition:
If not to answer, you might haply think,
Tongue-tied ambition, not replying, yielded
To bear the golden yoke of sovereignty,
Which fondly you would here impose on me;
If to reprove you for this suit of your's,
So season'd with your faithful love to me,
Then, on the other side, I check'd my friends.
Therefore, to speak, and to avoid

first;

the

And, then in speaking, not to incur the last,-
Definitively thus I answer you.

Your love deserves my thanks; but my desert
Unmeritable, shuns your high request.
First, if all obstacles were cut away,

And that my path were even to the crown,
As the ripe revenue and due of birth;
Yet so much is my poverty of spirit,
So mighty and so many my defects,

I am unfit for state and majesty :-
I do beseech you, take it not amiss;
I cannot, nor I will not, yield to you.

Buck. If you refuse it,-as in love and zeal,

Loath to depose the child, your brother's son;
As well we know your tenderness of heart,
And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse,
Which we have noted in you to your kindred,
And equally, indeed, to all estates,-

Yet know, whe'r you accept our suit or no,
Your brother's son shall never reign our king;
But we will plant some other in your throne,
To the disgrace and downfal of your house.
And, in this resolution, here we leave you;
Come, citizens, we will entreat no more.

[Exeunt BUCKINGHAM and Citizens. Cute. Call them again, sweet prince, accept their suit;

If you deny them, all the land will rue it.

Glo. Will you enforce me to a world of

cares ?

Well, call them again; I am not made of stone, But penetrable to your kind entreaties,

[Erit CATESBY. Albeit against my conscience and my soul.

Re-enter BUCKINGHAM and the rest. Cousin of Buckingham, and sage, grave men,

ness,

Being a bark to brook no mighty sea,-
Than in my greatness covet to be hid,
And in the vapour of my glory smother'd,
But, God be thank'd, there is no need of me;
(And much I need to help you, if need were ;)
The royal tree bath left us royal fruit,
Which, mellow'd by the stealing hours of time,
Will well become the seat of majesty,
And make, no doubt, us happy by his reign.
On hit I lay what you would lay on me,
The right and fortune of his happy stars,-
Which God defend, that I should wring from
bim!

Buck. My lord, this argues conscience in your grace ;

But the respects thereof are nice and trivial,
All circumstances well considered.
You say, that Edward is your brother's son;
So say we too, but not by Edward's wife :
For first he was contract to lady Lucy,
Your mother lives a witness to his vow:
And afterwards by substitute betroth'd
To Bona, sister to the king of France.
These both put by, a poor petitioner,
A care-craz'd mother to a many sons,
A beauty-waning and distressed widow,
Even in the afternoon of her best days,
Made prize and purchase of his wanton eye,
Seduc'd the pitch and height of all his thoughts
To base declension and loath'd bigamy:
By her, in his unlawful bed, he got

This Edward, whom our manners call-the

prince.

More bitterly could I expostulate,
Save that, for reverence to some alive,

I give a sparing limit to my tongue.
Then, good my lord, take to your royal self
This proffer'd benefit of dignity:

If not to bless us and the land withal,

Yet to draw forth your noble ancestry

From the corruption of abusing time,
Unto a lineal true-derived course.

To bear her burden, whe'r I will or no,
I must have patience to endure the load :
But if black scandal, or foul-fac'd reproach,
Attend the sequel of your imposition,
Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me
From all the impure blots and stains thereof;
For God he knows, and you may partly see,
How far I am from the desire of this.

May. God bless your grace! we see it, and

will say it.

Glo. In saying so, you shall but say the truth.

Buck. Then I salute you with this royal title,

Long live king Richard, England's worthy king! All. Amen!

Buck. To-morrow may it please you to be crown'd?

Glo. Even when you please, since you will have it so.

Buck. To-morrow then we will attend your grace;

And so, most joyfully we take our leave. Glo. Come, let us to our holy work again :(To the Bishops. Farewell, good cousin ;-farewell, gentle friends. [Exeunt.

ACT IV.

SCENE 1.-Before the Tower.

Enter on one side, Queen ELIZABETH, Duchess of YORK, and Marquis of DORSET; on the other, ANNE, Duchess of GLOSTER, leading Lady MARCARET PLANTAGENET, CLAREN 'S young Daughter.

Duch. Who meets us here ?-my niece Plantagenet

Led in the hand of her kind aunt of Gloster ?

treat you.

On pure heart's love, to greet the tender prince.

Daughter, well met.

• Pity

Anne. God give your graces both A happy and a joyful time of day !

Anne. And I with all unwillingness will go.

I am bound by oath, and therefore pardon me. [Exit BRAKENBURY. Enter STANLEY.

Stan. Let me but meet you, ladies, one hour bence,

And I'll salute your grace of York as mother, And reverend looker-on of two fair queens.— Come, madamı, you must straight to Westmins

ter. [To the Duchess of GLOSTER. There to be crowned Richard's royal queen. Q. Eliz. Ah! cut my lace asunder, That my pent heart may have some scope to beat,

Or else I swoon with this dead-killing news. Anne. Despiteful tidings! O unpleasing

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 humour, wish thyself no harm. Anne. No! why ?-When be, that is my husband now,

Came to me, as I follow'd Henry's corse; When scarce the blood was well wash'd from his bands,

Which issu'd from my other angel husbaud, And that dead saint which then I weeping follow'd ;

Oh! when, I say, I look'd on Richard's face,
This was my wish,-Be thou, quoth 1, accurs'd,
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 prov'd 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 awak'd.
Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick;
And will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me.

Go

Q. Eliz. Poor heart, adieu; I pity thy complaining.

Anne. No more than with my soul I mourn for your's.

Dor. Farewell, thou woeful welcomer of glory!

Anne. Adieu, poor soul, that tak'st thy leave of it!

Duch. Go thon to Richmond, and good for.
tune guide thee !- [TO DORSET.
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 wreck'd with a week of teen. I

Q. Eliz. Stay yet; look back, with me, unta the Tower.

Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes,
Whom envy hath immur'd within your walls f
Rough cradle for such little pretty ones!
Rude ragged nurse! old sullen play-fellow
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 Buck. ingham,-

Buck. My gracious sovereign.

K. Rich. Give me thy hand. Thas high, by

Buck. Why, then resolve me whe'r you will

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.

A book of prayers on their pillow lay; Which once, quoth Forrest, almost chang'd my mind;

But oh! the devil-there the villain stopp'd;
When Dighton thus told on,-we smothered
The most replenished sweet work of nature,
That, from, the prime creation, e'er she
fram'd.-

Hence both are gone; with conscience and
morse,

re

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

Enter CATESBY.

Cate. My lord,—

K. Rich. Good news or bad, that thou com'st in so bluntly!

Cate. Bad news, my lord; Morton is fled to Richmond;

And Buckingham, back'd with the hardy 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 meu: 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 tender babes,

My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets!
If yet your gentle souls Bly 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

Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here!

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

[Sitting down by her. Q. 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;

Thou 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 bell-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

And the beholders of this tragic play,

The adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan,
Grey,

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:
hell burus, fiends roar, saints

Earth gapes,

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 buuch-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,
One heav'd a high, to be hurl'd down below:
A mother only mock'd with two fair babes i
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 husbaud now? Where be thy

brothers?

thee?

wert,

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 fast 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?

Q. Eliz. Windy attornies to their client woes, Airy succeeders of intestate joys, Poor breathing orators of miseries!

Let them have scope: though what they do

impart

Help nothing else, yet do they ease the heart. Duch. If so, then be not tongue-ty'd: go with me,

And in the breath of bitter words let's smother My damned son, that thy two sweet [Drum within.

smother'd.

I hear his drum,-be copious in exclaims. Enter King RICHARD, and his Train, marching.

K. Rich. Who intercepts me in my expedition?

Duch. Oh she that might have intercepted thee,

By strangling thee in her accursed womb, From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou bast done.

Q. Eliz. Hid'st thou that forehead with a

golden crown,

Where should be branded, if that right were

right,

The slaughter of the prince that ow'd that

Duch. Thou toad, thou toad, where is hy brother Clarence ?

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

• Owned