Buckingham.
Will not King Richard let me speak with him?

Sher.
No, good my lord, therefore be patient.

Buck.
Hastings, and Edward's children, Gray and Rivers,
Holy King Henry, and thy fair son Edward,
Vaughan, and all that have miscarried
By under-hand, corrupted, foul injustice!
If that your moody, discontented souls,
Do through the clouds behold this present hour,
Ev'n for Revenge mock my Destruction.
This is All-Souls day, fellows, is it not?

Sher.
It is, my lord.

Buck.
Why then All-Souls day is my body's Doomsday.
This is the day, which in King Edward's time
I wisht might fall on me, when I was found
False to his children, or his wife's allies.
This is the day, wherein I wisht to fall
By the false faith of him whom most I trusted:
This, this All-Souls day to my fearful Soul
Is the determin'd respite of my wrongs.
That high All-seer, which I dallied with,
Hath turn'd my feigned prayer on my head,
And giv'n in earnest, what I begg'd in jest.

Thus doth he force the swords of wicked men
To turn their own points on their masters' bosoms.
Thus Marg'ret's Curse falls heavy on my head:
When he, quoth she, shall split thy heart with sorrow,
Remember, Marg'ret was a Prophetess.
Come, Sirs, convey me to the block of shame;
Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame. [Exeunt Buckingham, Sheriff and Officers.

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