Riv.
Have patience, Madam, there's no doubt, his Majesty
Will soon recover his accustom'd health.

Gray.
In that you brook it ill, it makes him worse;
Therefore, for God's sake, entertain good comfort,
And cheer his Grace with quick and merry eyes.

Queen.
If he were dead, what would betide of me?

Gray.
No other harm, but loss of such a lord.

Queen.
The loss of such a lord includes all harms.

Gray.
The heav'ns have blest you with a goodly Son,
To be your comforter when he is gone.

Queen.
Ah! he is young, and his minority
Is put into the Trust of Richard Glo'ster,
A man that loves not me, nor none of you.

Riv.
It is concluded, he shall be Protector?

Queen.
It is determin'd, not concluded yet:
But so it must be, if the King miscarry.

Enter Buckingham and Stanley.

Gray.
Here come the lords of Buckingham and Stanley.(5) ^note

Buck.
Good time of day unto your Royal Grace!

Stanley.
God make your Majesty joyful as you have been!

Queen.
The Countess Richmond, good my lord of Stanley,
To your good Pray'r 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.

Stanley.
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
From wayward sickness, and no grounded malice.

Queen.
Saw you the King to day, my lord of Stanley?

Stanley.
But now the Duke of Buckingham and I
Are come from visiting his Majesty.

Queen.
What likelihood of his amendment, lords?

Buck.
Madam, good hope; his Grace speaks chearfully.

Queen.
God grant him health! did you confer with him?

Buck.
Madam, we did; he seeks to make atonement
Between the Duke of Glo'ster and your Brothers,
And between them and my lord Chamberlain;

And sent to warn them to his royal presence.

Queen.
Would all were well—but that will never be—
I fear, our happiness is at the height. Enter Glocester.

Glo.
They do me wrong, and I will not endure it.
Who are they, that complain unto the King,
That I, forsooth, am stern, and love them not?
By holy Paul, they love his Grace but lightly,
That fill his ears with such dissentious rumours.
Because I cannot flatter, and look fair,
Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive and cog,
Duck with French nods, and apish courtesie,
I must be held a rancorous enemy.
Cannot a plain man live and think no harm,
But thus his simple truth must be abus'd
By silken, sly, insinuating Jacks?

Gray.
To whom in all this presence speaks your Grace?

Glo.
To thee, that hast nor honesty, nor grace:
When have I injur'd thee? when done thee wrong?
Or thee? or thee? or any of your faction?
A plague upon you all! His royal person,
Whom God preserve better than you would wish,
Cannot be quiet scarce a breathing while,
But you must trouble him with lewd complaints.

Queen.
Brother of Glo'ster, you mistake the matter:
The King of his own royal disposition,
And not provok'd by any suitor else,
(Aiming, belike, at your interior hatred,
That in your outward action shews it self
Against my children, brothers, and my self;)
Makes him to send, that he may learn the ground
Of your ill will, and thereby to remove it.

Glo.
I cannot tell; the world is grown so bad,
That wrens make prey, where eagles dare not perch.
Since every Jack became a gentleman,
There's many a gentle person made a Jack.

Queen.
Come, come, we know your meaning, brother Glo'ster.
You envy my advancement and my friends:

God grant, we never may have need of you!

Glo.
Mean time, God grants that we have need of you.
Our Brother is imprisoned by your means;
My self disgrac'd; and the Nobility
Held in contempt; while many fair promotions
Are daily given to ennoble those,
That scarce, some two days since, were worth a noble.

Queen.
By him, that rais'd me to this careful height,
From that contented hap which I enjoy'd,
I never did incense his Majesty
Against the Duke of Clarence; but have been
An earnest Advocate to plead for him.
My lord, you do me shameful injury,
Falsely to draw me in these wild suspects.

Glo.
You may deny, that you were not the cause
Of my lord Hastings' late imprisonment.

Riv.
She may, my lord, for—

Glo.
She may, lord Rivers—why, who knows not so?
She may do more, Sir, than denying That:
She may help you to many fair preferments,
And then deny her aiding hand therein,
And lay those Honours on your high deserts.
What may she not? she may—ay, marry, may she—

Riv.
What, marry, may she?

Glo.
What, marry, may she? marry with a King,
A batchelor, a handsom stripling too:
I wis, your grandam had a worser match.—

Queen.
My lord of Glo'ster, I have too long borne
Your blunt upbraidings, and your bitter scoffs:
By heav'n, I will acquaint his Majesty,
Of those gross taunts I often have endur'd.
I had rather be a country servant-maid,
Than a great Queen with this condition;
To be thus taunted, scorn'd and baited at.
Small joy have I in being England's Queen. Enter Queen Margaret.

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?
Tell him, and spare not: Look, what I have said,(6) ^note
I will avouch in presence of the King:
'Tis time to speak, my pains are quite forgot.

Q. Mar.
Out, Devil! I remember them too well:
Thou kill'dst my husband Henry in the Tower,
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;
A weeder out of his proud Adversaries,
A liberal rewarder of his friends;
To royalize his blood, I spilt mine own.

Q. Mar.
Ay, and much better blood than his or thine.

Glo.
In all which time you and your husband Gray
Were factious for the House of Lancaster;
And, Rivers, so were you;—was not your husband,
In Marg'ret's battel, at St. Albans slain?
Let me put in your minds, if you forget,
What you have been ere now, and what you are;
Withal, what I have been, and what I am.

Q. Mar.
A murth'rous Villain, and so still thou art.

Glo.
Poor Clarence did forsake his father Warwick,
Ay, and forswore himself, (which, Jesu, pardon!—)

Q. Mar.
Which God revenge!—

Glo.
To fight on Edward's Party for the Crown;
And for his meed, poor lord, he is mew'd up:
I would to God, my heart were flint, like Edward's;
Or Edward's soft and pitiful, like mine;
I am too childish-foolish for this world.

Q. Mar.
Hie thee to hell for shame, and leave this world,
Thou Cacodæmon! there thy kingdom is.

Riv.
My lord of Glo'ster, in those busie 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!—I had rather be a pedlar;
Far be it from my heart, the thought thereof.

Queen.
As little joy, my lord, as you suppose
You should enjoy, were you this Country's King;
As little joy you may suppose in me,
That I enjoy, being the Queen thereof.

Q. Mar.
A little joy enjoys the Queen thereof;
For I am she, and altogether joyless.
I can no longer hold me patient.
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.
A husband and a son thou ow'st to me; [To Glo.
And thou, a kingdom; all of you, allegiance; [To the Queen.
The 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,
When thou didst crown his warlike brows with paper,
And with thy scorns drew'st rivers from his eyes,
And then, to dry them, gav'st the Duke a clout,
Steep'd in the faultless blood of pretty Rutland;—
His Curses, then from bitterness of soul
Denounc'd against thee, are now fall'n upon thee;
And God, not we, has plagu'd thy bloody deed.

Q. Mar.
So just is God, to right the innocent.

Hast.
O, 'twas the foulest deed to slay that babe,
And the most merciless, that e'er was heard of.

Riv.
Tyrants themselves wept, when it was reported.

Dors.
No man but prophesy'd revenge for it.

Buck.
Northumberland, then present, wept to see it.

Q. Mar.
What! were you snarling all before I came,
Ready to catch each other by the throat,

And turn you all your hatred now on me?
Did York's dread Curse prevail so much with heav'n,
That Henry's death, my lovely Edward's death,
Their Kingdom's loss, my woful Banishment,
Could all but answer for that peevish brat?
Can Curses pierce the clouds, and enter heav'n?
Why, then give way, dull clouds, to my quick Curses!
If not by war, by surfeit die your King,
As ours by murther to make him a King!
Edward thy son, that now is Prince of Wales,
For Edward our son, that was Prince of Wales,
Die in his youth, by like untimely violence!
Thy self a Queen, for me that was a Queen,
Out-live thy glory, like my wretched self!
Long may'st thou live to wail thy children's loss,
And see another, as I see thee now,
Deck'd in thy Rights, as thou art stall'd in mine!
Long die thy happy days before thy death,
And after many length'ned hours of grief,
Die, neither mother, wife, nor England's Queen!
Rivers and Dorset, you were standers-by,
And so wast thou, lord Hastings, when my son
Was stabb'd with bloody daggers; God, I pray him,
That none of you may live your natural age,
But by some unlook'd accident cut off!

Glo.
Have done thy Charm, thou hateful wither'd hag.

Q. Mar.
And leave out thee? stay, dog, for thou shalt hear me.
If heav'ns have any grievous plague in store,
Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee,
O, let them keep it, till thy sins be ripe;
And then hurl down their indignation
On thee, thou troubler of the poor world's peace!
The worm of Conscience still be-gnaw thy soul;
Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou liv'st,
And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends;
No Sleep close up that deadly eye of thine,
Unless it be while some tormenting dream
Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils!
Thou elvish-markt Abortive, rooting hog!

Thou that wast seal'd in thy nativity
The slave of nature, and the son of hell!(7) ^note

Glo.
Margaret.—

Q. Mar.
Richard.—

Glo.
Ha?—

Q. Mar.
I call thee not.

Glo.
I cry thee mercy then; for, I did think,
That thou had'st call'd me all these bitter names.

Q. Mar.
Why, so I did; but look'd for no reply.
Oh, let me make the period to my Curse.

Glo.
'Tis done by me, and ends in Margaret.

Queen.
Thus have you breath'd your Curse against your self.

Q. Mar.
Poor painted Queen, vain flourish of my fortune!
Why strew'st thou sugar on that bottel'd spider,
Whose deadly web ensnareth thee about?
Fool, fool, thou whet'st a knife to kill thy self:
The day will come, that thou shalt wish for me
To help thee curse this pois'nous bunch-back'd toad.

Hast.
False-boading woman, end thy frantick 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,
Teach me to be your Queen, and you my Subjects:
O, serve me well, and teach your selves that duty.

Dors.
Dispute not with her, she is lunatick.

Q. Mar.
Peace, master Marquiss, you are malapert;
Your fire-new stamp of honour is scarce current.
O, that your young Nobility could judge
What 'twere to lose it, and be miserable!
They, that stand high, have many blasts to shake them;
And, if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces.

Glo.
Good Counsel, marry, learn it, learn it, Marquiss.

Dors.
It touches you, my lord, as much as me.

Glo.
Ay, and much more; but I was born so high,
Our Airy buildeth in the cedar's top,
And dallies with the wind, and scorns the Sun.

Q. Mar.
And turns the Sun to shade;—alas! alas!
Witness my son, now in the shade of death;
Whose bright out-shining beams thy cloudy wrath
Hath in eternal darkness folded up.
Your Airy buildeth in our Airie's nest;
O God, that seest it, do not suffer it:
As it was won with blood, so be it lost!

Buck.
Peace, peace for shame, if not for charity.

Q. Mar.
Urge neither charity nor shame to me;
Uncharitably with me have you dealt,
And shamefully my hopes, by you, are butcher'd.
My charity is outrage, life my shame,
And in my shame still live my sorrow's rage!

Buck.
Have done, have done.

Q. Mar.
O Princely Buckingham, I'll kiss thy hand,
In sign of league and amity with thee:
Now fair befall thee, and thy noble House!
Thy garments are not spotted with our blood;
Nor thou within the compass of my Curse.

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.
O Buckingham, beware of yonder dog;
Look, when he fawns, he bites; and, when he bites,

His venom tooth will rankle to the death;
Have not to do with him, beware of him,
Sin, death, and hell, have set their marks upon him;
And all their ministers attend on him.

Glo.
What doth she say, my lord of Buckingham?

Buck.
Nothing that I respect, my gracious lord.

Q. Mar.
What, dost thou scorn me for my gentle counsel?
And sooth the devil, that I warn thee from?
O, but remember this another day;
When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow;
And say, poor Marg'ret was a Prophetess.
Live each of you the subject to his hate,
And he to yours, and all of you to God's! [Exit.

Buck.
My hair doth stand on end to hear her Curses.

Riv.
And so doth mine: I wonder, 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.

Dors.
I never did her any, to my knowledge.

Glo.
Yet you have all the vantage of her wrong:
I was too hot to do some body good,
That is too cold in thinking of it now.
Marry, for Clarence, he is well repay'd;
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 have done scathe to us.

Glo.
So do I ever, being well advis'd;
For had I curst now, I had curst my self. [Aside. Enter Catesby.

Cates.
Madam, his Majesty doth call for you,
And for your Grace, and you, my noble lord.

Queen.
Catesby, we come; lords, will you go with us?

Riv.
Madam, we will attend your Grace. [Exeunt all but Glocester.

Glo.
I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl.
The secret mischiefs, that I set a-broach,
I lay unto the grievous charge of others.

Clarence, whom I indeed have laid in darkness,
I do beweep to many simple gulls,
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, Dorset, Gray.
But then I sigh, and, with a piece of Scripture,
Tell them, that God bids us do good for evil:
And thus I cloathe 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 Murtherers.
But soft, here come my executioners.
How now my handy, stout, resolved mates,
Are you now going to dispatch this deed?

1 Vil.
We are, my lord, and come to have the Warrant,
That we may be admitted where he is.

Glo.
Well thought upon, I have it here about me:
When you have done, repair to Crosby-place.
But, Sirs, be sudden in the execution,
Withal obdurate, do not hear him plead;
For Clarence is well-spoken, and perhaps,
May move your hearts to pity, if you mark him.

Vil.
Fear not, my lord, we will not stand to prate;
Talkers are no good doers; be assur'd,
We go to use our hands, and not our tongues.

Glo.
Your eyes drop mill-stones, when fools eyes drop tears.
I like you, lads; about your business; go. [Exeunt.

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