P. Ed.
Pray, madam, do not leave me yet,
For I have many more complaints to tell you.

Queen.
And I unable to redress the least.
What would'st thou say, my child?

P. Ed.
Oh, mother, since I have lain i'th' Tower,
My rest has still been broke with frightful dreams,
Or shocking news has wak'd me into tears:
I'm scarce allow'd a friend to visit me;
All my old honest servants are turn'd off,
And in their rooms are strange ill-natur'd fellows,
Who look so bold as they were all my masters;
And I'm afraid they'll shortly take you from me.

D. of York.
Oh, mournful hearing!

La. Anne.
Oh, unhappy prince!

D. of York.
Dear brother, why do you weep so?
You make me cry too!

Queen.
Alas, poor innocence!

P. Ed.
Would I but knew at what my uncle aims;
If 'twere my crown, I'd freely give it him,
So he'd but let me 'joy my life in quiet.

D. of York.
Why, will my uncle kill us, brother?

P. Ed.
I hope he won't; we never injur'd him.

Queen.
I cannot bear to see 'em thus. [Weeping. Enter Lord Stanley.

Stanley.
Madam, I hope your majesty will pardon
What I am griev'd to tell, unwelcome news!

Queen.
Ah me! more sorrow, yet! my lord, we've long
Despair'd of happy tidings; pray what is't?

Stanley.
On Tuesday last, your noble kinsmen, Rivers,
Grey, and sir Thomas Vaughan, at Pomfret,
Were executed on a public scaffold.

Dut. of York.
Oh dismal tidings!

P. Ed.
Oh poor uncles! I doubt my turn is next.

La. Anne.
Nor mine, I fear, far off.

Queen.
Why then let's welcome blood and massacre,
Yield all our throats to the fell tiger's rage,
And die lamenting one another's wrongs;
Oh! I foresaw this ruin of our house. [Weeps. Enter Catesby.

Catesby.
Madam, the king
Has sent me to inform your majesty,
That you prepare (as is advised from council)
To-morrow for your royal coronation.

Queen.
What do I hear! support me, heav'n!

La. Anne.
Despightful tidings! Oh, unpleasing news!
Alas, I heard of this before, but could not,
For my soul, find heart to tell you of it.

Catesby.
The king does farther wish your majesty
Would less employ your visits at the Tower;
He gives me leave t'attend you to the court,
And is impatient, madam, till he sees you.

La. Anne.
Farewel to all; and thou, poor injur'd queen,
Forgive the unfriendly duty I must pay.

Queen.
Alas, kind soul, I envy not thy glory;
Nor think I'm pleas'd thou'rt partner in our sorrow.

Catesby.
Madam.

La. Anne.
I come.

Queen.
Farewel, thou woeful welcomer of glory.

Catesby.
Shall I attend your majesty?

La. Anne.
Attend me! whither? to be crown'd?
Let me with deadly venom be anointed,
And die ere man can say, Long live the Queen!

Queen.
Poor grieving heart! I pity thy complaining.

La. Anne.
No more than with my soul I mourn for yours.
A long farewel to all. [Exit with Catesby.

Stanley.
Take comfort, madam.

Queen.
Alas! where is it to be found?
Death and destruction follow us so close,
They shortly must o'ertake us.

Stanley.
In Britany,
My son-in-law, the earl of Richmond, still
Resides, who with a jealous eye observes
The lawless actions of aspiring Glo'ster;
To him would I advise you, madam, fly
Forthwith, for aid, protection, and redress:
He will, I'm sure, with open arms receive you.

Dut. of York.
Delay not, madam,
For 'tis the only hope that heav'n has left us.

Queen.
Do with me what you please—for any change
Must surely better our condition.

Stanley.
I farther would advise you, madam, this instant
To remove the princes to some
Remote abode, where you yourself are mistress.

P. Ed.
Dear madam, take me hence; for I shall ne'er
Enjoy a moment's quiet here.

D. of York.
Nor I; pray, mother, let me go too.

Queen.
Come then, my pretty young ones, let's away,
For here you lie within the falcon's reach,
Who watches but th' unguarded hour to seize you. Enter Lieutenant.

Lieut.
I beg your majesty will pardon me;
But the young princes must, on no account,
Have egress from the Tower.
Nor must (without the king's especial licence)
Of what degree soever, any person
Have admittance to 'em—all must retire.

Queen.
I am their mother, sir; who else commands 'em?
If I pass freely, they shall follow me.
For you—I'll take the peril of your fault upon myself.

Lieut.
My inclination, madam, would oblige you;
But I am bound by oath, and must obey;
Nor, madam, can I now with safety answer
For this continued visit.
Please you, my lord, to read these orders.

Queen.
Oh heav'nly pow'rs! shall I not stay with 'em?

Lieut.
Such are the king's commands, madam.

Queen.
My lord!

Stanley.
'Tis too true—and it were vain t'oppose 'em.

Queen.
Support me, heav'n!
For life can never bear the pangs of such a parting.
Oh, my poor children! oh, distracting thought!
I dare not bid 'em (as I should) farewel;
And then to part in silence, stabs my soul!

P. Ed.
What, must you leave us, mother?

Queen
What shall I say? [Aside.
But for a time, my loves—we shall meet again,
At least in heaven.

D. of York.
Won't you take me with you, mother?
I shall be so 'fraid to stay, when you are gone.

Queen.
I cannot speak to 'em, and yet we must
Be parted—then let these kisses say farewel.
Why! oh why! just heav'n, must these be our last!

D. of York.
Give not your grief such way—be sudden when you part.

Queen.
I will—since it must be—to heav'n I leave 'em:
Hear me, ye guardian powers of innocence!
Awake or sleeping—Oh, protect 'em still!
Still may their helpless youth attract men's pity,
That when the arm of cruelty is rais'd,
Their looks may drop the lifted dagger down
From the stern murderer's relenting hand,
And throw him on his knees in penitence!

Both Princes.
Oh, mother! mother!

Queen.
Oh, my poor children! [Exeunt severally.

Scene SCENE the Presence. Discovering Glo'ster seated, Buckingham, Catesby, Ratcliff, Lovel, &c.

Glo'st.
Stand all apart—Cousin of Buckingham.

Buck.
My gracious sovereign.

Glo'st.
Give me thy hand;
At length by thy advice and thy assistance,
Is Glo'ster seated on the English throne.
But say, my cousin—
What! shall we wear these glories for a day?
Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them?

Buck.
I hope for ages, sir—long may they grace you!

Glo'st.
Oh, Buckingham! now do I play the touch-stone* ^note,
To try if thou be current friend indeed.
Young Edward lives, so does his brother York.
Now think what I would speak.

Buck.
Say on, my gracious lord.

Glo'st.
I tell thee, coz, I've lately had two spiders
Crawling upon my startled hopes—
Now tho' thy friendly hand has brush'd 'em from me,
Yet still they crawl offensive to my eyes;
I would have some kind friend to tread upon 'em.
I would be king, my cousin.

Buck.
Why, so I think you are, my royal lord.

Glo'st.
Ha! am I king? 'tis so—but—Edward lives.

Buck.
Most true, my lord.

Glo'st.
Cousin, thou wert not wont to be so dull.
Shall I be plain—I wish the bastards dead;
And I would have it suddenly perform'd:
Now, cousin, canst thou answer me?

Buck.
None dare dispute your highness' pleasure.

Gho'st.
Indeed! methinks thy kindness freezes, cousin.
Thou dost refuse, me then!—they shall not die.

Buck.
My lord, since 'tis an action cannot be

Recall'd, allow me but some pause to think,
I'll instantly resolve your highness. [Exit.

Catesby.
The king seems angry; see, he gnaws his lip.

Glo'st.
I'll henceforth deal with shorter-sighted fools.
None are for me, that look into my deeds,
With thinking eyes—
High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect;
The best on't is, it may be done without him,
Tho' not so well, perhaps—had he consented,
Why then the murder had been his, not mine.
We'll make a shift as 'tis—Come hither, Catesby;
Where's that same Tirrel whom thou told'st me of?
Hast thou given him those sums of gold I order'd?

Catesby
I have, my liege.

Glo'st.
Where is he?

Catesby.
He waits your highness' pleasure.

Glo'st.
Give him this ring, and say myself
Will bring him farther orders instantly. [Exit Catesby.
The deep-revolving duke of Buckingham
No more shall be the neighbour to my councils:
Has he so long held out with me untir'd,
And stops he now for breath? Well, be it so. Enter Lord Stanley.
How now, lord Stanley, what's the news?

Stanley.
I hear, my liege, the lord marquis of Dorset
Is fled to Richmond now in Britany.

Glo'st.
Why let him go, my lord: he may be spar'd.
Hark thee, Ratcliff, when saw'st thou Anne, my queen?
Is she still weak? has my physician seen her?

Ratcliff.
He has, my lord, and fears her mightily.

Glo'st.
But he's exceeding skilful, she'll mend shortly.

Ratcliff.
I hope she will, my lord.

Glo'st.
And if she does, I have mistook my man.
I must be marry'd to my brother's daughter,
At whom I know the Briton, Richmond, aims;
And by that knot looks proudly on the crown.
But then to stain me with her brother's blood;
Is that the way to wooe the sister's love?
No matter what's the way—for while they live,

My goodly kingdom's on a weak foundation.
'Tis done, my daring heart's resolv'd—they're dead! Enter Buckingham.

Buck.
My lord, I have consider'd in my mind,
The late request that you did sound me in.

Glo'st.
Well, let that rest—Dorset is fled to Richmond.

Buck.
I have heard the news, my lord.

Glo'st.
Stanley, he's your near kinsman—well, look to him.

Buck.
My lord, I claim that gift, my due by promise,
For which your honour and your faith's engag'd;
The earldom of Hereford, and those moveables,
Which you have promised I shall possess.

Glo'st.
Stanley, look to your wife; if she convey
Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it.

Buck.
What says your highness to my just request?

Glo'st.
I do remember me, Harry the sixth
Did prophesy, that Richmond should be king,
When Richmond was a little peevish boy.
'Tis odd—a king, perhaps— Enter Catesby.

Catesby.
My lord, I have obey'd your highness' orders.

Buck.
May it please you to resolve me in my suit.

Glo'st.
Lead Tirrel to my closet, I'll meet him.

Buck.
I beg your highness' ear, my lord.

Glo'st.
I'm busy—thou troublest me—I'm not i'th vein. [Exit.

Buck.
Oh patience, heav'n! is't thus he pays my service?
Was it for this I rais'd him to the throne?
Oh! if the peaceful dead have any sense
Of those vile injuries they bore, while living;
Then sure the joyful souls of blood-suck'd Edward,
Henry, Clarence, Hastings, and all that through
His foul corrupted dealings have miscarry'd,

Will from the walls of heav'n in smiles look down,
To see this tyrant tumbling from his throne,
His fall unmourn'd, and bloody as their own. [Exit. Scene SCENE an Apartment in the Tower. Enter Tirrel, Dighton, and Forest.

Tirrel.
Come, gentlemen,
Have you concluded on the means?

Forest.
Smothering will make no noise, sir.

Tirrel.
Let it be done i'th' dark—for should you see
Their young faces, who knows how far their looks
Of innocence may tempt you into pity?
Stand back—Lieutenant, have you brought the keys? Enter Lieutenant.

Lieut.
I have 'em, sir.

Tirrel.
Then here's your warrant to deliver 'em. [Giving a Ring.

Lieut.
Your servant, sir.
What can this mean! why at this dead of night
To give 'em too! 'Tis not for me t'inquire. [Exit.

Tirrel.
There, gentlemen;
That way—you have no farther need of me. [Exeunt severally. Enter Glo'ster.

Glo'st.
Would it were done:
There is a busy something here,
That foolish custom has made terrible,
To the intent of evil deeds; and nature too,
As if she knew me womanish, and weak,
Tugs at my heart-strings with complaining cries,
To talk me from my purpose—
And then the thought of what men's tongues will say,
Of what their hearts must think;
To have no creature love me living, nor
My memory when dead.
Shall future ages, when these children's tale
Is told, drop tears in pity of their hapless fate,

And read with detestation the misdeeds of Glo'ster,
* ^noteThe crook-back'd tyrant, cruel, barbarous,
And bloody?—will they not say too,
That to possess the crown, nor laws divine
Nor human stopt my way?—Why let 'em say it;
They can't but say I had the crown;
I was not fool as well as villain.
Hark! the murder's doing: princes, farewel;
To me there's musick in your passing-bell. [Exit. Enter Tirrel.

Tirrel.
'Tis done; the barbarous bloody act is done.
Ha! the king—his coming hither, at this
Late hour, speaks him impatient for the news. Enter Glo'ster.

Glo'st.
Now, my Tirrel, how are the brats dispos'd?
Say, am I happy? hast thou dealt upon 'em?

Tirrel.
If to have done the thing you gave in charge,
Beget your happiness—then, sir, be happy, for it is done.

Glo'st.
But did'st thou see 'em dead?

Tirrel.
I did, my lord.

Glo'st.
And bury'd, my good Tirrel?

Tirrel.
In that I thought to ask your grace's pleasure.

Glo'st.
I have it—I'll have 'em sure—get me a coffin
Full of holes, let 'em be both cram'd into it,
And hark thee, in the night-tide throw 'em down
The Thames—once in, they'll find the way to the bottom;
Mean time, but think how I may do thee good,
And be inheritor of thy desire.

Tirrel.
I humbly thank your highness.

Glo'st.
About it strait, good Tirrel.

Tirrel.
Conclude it done, my lord. [Exit.

Glo'st.
Why then my loudest fears are hush'd,
The sons of Edward have eternal rest,
And Anne my wife has bid this world good-night;

While fair Elizabeth, my beauteous niece,
Like a new morn, lights onward to my wishes. Enter Catesby.

Catesby.
My lord—

Glo'st.
Good news, or bad, that thou com'st in so bluntly?

Catisby.
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 increases.

Glo'st.
Morton with Richmond touches me more near,
Than Buckingham, and his rash levy'd numbers.
But come, dangers retreat, when boldly they're confronted,
And dull delays lead impotence and fear;
Then fiery expedition raise my arm,
And fatal may it fall on crush'd rebellion!
Let's muster men, my council is my shield,
We must be brief when traitors brave the field. [Exit. Scene SCENE, the Tower. Enter Queen, and Dutchess of York.

Queen.
Oh, my poor children!—Oh, my tender babes!
My unblown flowers, pluck'd by untimely hands;
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.
Why slept their guardian angels, when this deed was done?

Dut of York.
So many miseries have drain'd my eyes,
That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute;
Why should calamity be full of words?

Queen.
Let's give 'em scope; for tho' they can't remove,
Yet do they ease affliction.

Dut. of York.
Why then, let us be loud in exclamations,
To Richard haste, and pierce him with our cries; [Trumpet sounds a March.
Hark! his trumpet sounds—this way he must pass.

Queen.
Alas! I've not the daring to confront him.

Dut. of York.
I have a mother's right, I'll force him hear me. Enter Glo'ster and Catesby, with Forces. Trumpet sounds a March.

Glo'st.
Who interrupts me in my expedition?

Dut. of York.
Dost thou not know me? Art thou not my son?

Glo'st.
I cry you mercy, madam, is it you?

Dut. of York.
Art thou my son?

Glo'st.
Ay, I thank heav'n, my father, and yourself.

Dut. of York.
Then I command thee, hear me.

Glo'st.
Madam, I have a touch of your condition,
That cannot brook the accent of reproof.

Dut. of York.
Stay, I'll be mild and gentle in my words.

Glo'st.
And brief, good mother, for I am in haste.

Dut. of York.
Why, I have staid for thee (just heaven knows)
In torment and in agony.

Glo'st.
And came I not at last to comfort you?

Dut. of York.
No, on my soul; too well thou know'st it,
A grievous burden was thy birth to me,
Techy and wayward was thy infancy,
Thy prime of manhood, daring, bold, and stubborn,
Thy age confirm'd, most subtle, proud, and bloody.

Glo'st.
If I am so disgracious in your eye,
Let me march on, and not offend you, madam;
Strike up the drum.

Dut. of York.
Yet stay, I charge thee hear me.

Queen.
If not, hear me—for I have wrongs will speak,
Without a tongue—Methinks the very sight
Of me should turn thee into stone;
Where are my children, Glo'ster?

Dut. of York.
Where is thy brother Clarence?

Queen.
Where Hastings?

Dut. of York.
Rivers?

Queen.
Vaughan?

Dut. of York.
Grey?

* ^noteGlo'st.
A flourish, trumpets; strike alarum, drums.
Let not the heav'ns hear these tell-tale women
Rail on the heav'n's anointed—Strike, I say. [Alarm of Drums and Trumpets.
Either be patient, and intreat me fair,
Or with the clamorous report of war
Thus will I drown your exclamations.

Dut. of York.
Then hear me, heav'n, and heav'n at his latest hour
Be deaf to him, as he is now to me!
Ere from his war he 'turn a conqueror,
Ye powers, cut off his dangerous thread of life,
Lest his black sins rise higher in account,
Than hell has pains to punish!
Mischance and sorrow wait thee to the field!
Heart's discontent, languid, and lean despair,
With all the hells of guilt, pursue thy steps, for ever! [Exit.

Queen.
Tho' far more cause, yet much less power to curse,
Abides in me—I say Amen to her.

Glo'st.
Stay, madam, I would beg some words with you.

Queen.
What canst thou ask, that I have now to grant?
Is't another son? Glo'ster, I have none.

Glo'st.
You have a beauteous daughter, call'd Elizabeth.

Queen.
Must she die, too?

Glo'st.
For whose fair sake I'll bring more good to you,
Than ever you or yours from me had harm:
So in the Lethe of thy angry soul
Thou'lt drown the sad remembrance of those wrongs
Which thou supposest me the cruel cause of.

Queen.
Be brief, lest that the process of thy kindness
Last longer telling than thy kindness' date.

Glo'st.
Know then, that from my soul I love the fair
Elizabeth, and will, with your permission,
Seat her on the throne of England.

Queen.
Alas! vain man, how canst thou woo her?

Glo'st.
That I would learn of you,
As one being best acquainted with her humour.

Queen.
If thou wilt learn of me, then woo her thus:
Send to her, by the man that kill'd her brothers,
A pair of bleeding hearts—thereon engrav'd,
Edward and York—then haply will she weep.
On this present her with an handkerchief,
Stain'd with their blood, to wipe her woeful eyes:
If this inducement move her not to love,
Read o'er the history of thy noble deeds;
Tell her, thy policy took off her uncles,
Clarence, Rivers, Grey, nay, and, for her sake,
Made quick conveyance with her dear aunt Anne.

Glo'st.
You mock me, madam; this is not the way
To win your daughter.

Queen.
What shall I say? still to affront his love,
I fear will but incense him to revenge;
And to consent, I should abhor myself:
Yet I may seemingly comply, and thus,
By sending Richmond word of his intent,
Shall gain some time to let my child escape him.
It shall be so. [Aside.
I have consider'd, sir, of your important wishes,
And could I but believe you real—

Glo'st.
Now by the sacred hosts of saints above—

Queen.
Oh do not swear, my lord; I ask no oath,
Unless my daughter doubt you more than I.

Glo'st.
Oh, my kind mother! (I must call you so)
Be thou to her my love's soft orator;
Plead what I will be, not what I have been,
Not my deserts, but what I will deserve.
And when this warlike arm shall have chastis'd
The audacious rebel, hot-brain'd Buckingham;
Bound with triumphant garlands will I come,
And lead your daughter to a conqueror's bed.

Queen.
My lord, farewel—in some few days expect
To hear how fair a progress I have made:
Till when, be happy as you're penitent.

Glo'st.
My heart goes with you to my love. Farewel, [Exit Queen.
Relenting, shallow-thoughted woman! Enter Ratcliff.
How now! the news!

Ratcliff.
Most gracious sovereign, on the western coasts,
Rides a most powerful navy, and our fears
Inform us Richmond is their admiral.
There do they hull, expecting but the aid
Of Buckingham, to welcome them ashore. [Exit.

Glo'st.
We must prevent him then—Come hither, Catesby.

Catesby.
My lord, your pleasure!

Glo'st.
Post to the duke of Norfolk, instantly,
Bid him straight levy all the strength and power
That he can make, and meet me suddenly,
At Salisbury—Commend me to his grace—away. [Exit Catesby. Enter Lord Stanley.
Well, my lord, what news have you gather'd?

Stanley.
Richmond is on the seas, my lord?

Glo'st
There let him sink—and be the seas on him,
White-liver'd renegade—what does he there!

Stanley.
I know not, mighty sovereign, but by guess.

Glo'st.
Well, as you guess,

Stanley.
Stirr'd up by Dorset, Buckingham, and Morton,
He makes for England, here to claim the crown.

Glo'st.
Traitor! the crown!—
Where is thy power then to beat him back?
Where be thy tenants, and thy followers?
The foe upon our coast, and thou no friends to meet 'em?

Or hast thou march'd them to the western shore,
To give the rebels conduct from their ships?

Stanley.
My lord, my friends are ready all i'th' North.

Glo'st.
The North! why what do they do i'th North,
When they should serve their sovereign in the West?

Stanley.
They yet have had no orders, sir, to move:
If 'tis your royal pleasure they should march,
I'll lead them on with utmost haste to join you,
Where, and what time, your majesty shall please.

Glo'st.
What, thou would'st be gone to join with Richmond?

Stanley.
Sir, you have no cause to doubt my loyalty,
I ne'er yet was, nor ever will be, false.

Glo'st.
Away then to thy friends, and lead 'em on
To meet me—hold, come back—I will not trust thee.
I've thought a way to make thee sure—your son,
George Stanley, sir, I'll have him left behind;
And look your heart be firm,
Or else his head's assurance is but frail.

Stanley.
As I prove true, my lord, so deal with him. [Exit. Enter Ratcliff.

Ratcliff.
My lord, the army of great Buckingham,
By sudden floods, and fall of waters,
Is half lost, and scatter'd:
And he himself wander'd away alone,
No man knows whither.

Glo'st.
Has any careful officer proclaim'd
Reward to him that brings the traitor in?

Ratcliff.
Such proclamation has been made, my lord. Enter Catesby* ^note.

Catesby.
My liege, the duke of Buckingham is taken.

Glo'st.
Off with his head—so much for Buckingham.

Catesby.
My lord, I am sorry I must tell more news.

Glo'st.
Out with it.

Catesby.
The earl of Richmond, with a mighty power,
Is landed, sir, at Milford;
And, to confirm the news, lord marquis Dorset,
And sir Thomas Lovewel, are up in Yorkshire.

Glo'st.
Why ay, this looks rebellion—Ho! my horse!
By heav'n the news alarms my stirring soul;
Come forth, my honest sword, which here I vow,
By my soul's hope, shall ne'er again be sheath'd;
Ne'er shall these watching eyes have needful rest,
Till death has clos'd 'em in a glorious grave,
Or fortune given me measure of revenge. [Exit.* ^note

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