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 waining of mine enemies.
A ^{1 note}dire induction am I witness to,
And will to France; hoping, the consequence
Will prove as bitter, black and tragical.
Withdraw thee, wretched Marg'ret! who comes here? Enter the Dutchess of York, and Queen.

Queen.
Ah, my poor Princes! ah, my tender babes!
My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets!

If yet your gentle souls fly in the air,
And be not fixt in doom perpetual,
Hover about me with your airy wings,
And hear your mother's lamentation.

Q. Mar.
Hover about her; ^{2 note}

Dutch.
So many miseries have craz'd my voice,
That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute.
Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?

Q. Mar.
Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet,
Edward for Edward pays a dying debt.

Queen.
Wilt thou, O God, fly from such gentle lambs,
And throw them in the intrails of the wolf?
Why didst thou sleep, when such a deed was done?

Q. Mar.
When holy Henry dy'd, and my sweet son.

Dutch.
Dead life, blind sight, poor mortal living ghost,
Woe's scene, world's shame, grave's due, by life usurp'd,
Brief abstract and record of tedious days,
Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth,
Unlawfully made drunk with innocent-blood.

Queen.
Ah, that thou wouldst as soon afford a grave,
As thou canst yield a melancholy seat;
Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here.
Ah, who hath any cause to mourn but we?

Q. Mar.
If ancient sorrow be most reverent,

Give mine the benefit of ^{3 note}Signiory;
And let my griefs frown on the upper hand.
If sorrow can admit society,
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 had'st an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him:
Thou had'st a Richard, till a Richard kill'd him.

Dutch.
I had a Richard too, and thou did'st 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 hell-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
Thy womb let loose, to chace 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 ^{4 note}Pue-fellow with others' moan!

Dutch.
Oh, Harry's wife, triumph not in my woes,
God witness with me, I have wept for thine.

Q. Mar.
Bear with me, I am hungry for revenge,
And now I cloy me with beholding it.
Thy Edward he is dead, that kill'd my Edward,
Thy other Edward dead, to quit my Edward,
^{5 note}Young York he is but boot, because both they
Match not the high perfection of my loss.
Thy Clarence he is dead, that stabb'd my Edward;

And the beholders of this tragic play,
^{6 note}
Th' adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Gray,
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 hand, at hand,
Insues his piteous and unpitied end;
Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray, for vengeance
Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I pray,
That I may live to say, the dog is dead!

Queen.
Oh! thou didst prophesy, the time would come,
That I should wish for thee to help me curse
That bottl'd spider, that foul bunch-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;
^{7 note}
The flatt'ring index of a direful Page;
One heav'd on high, to be hurl'd down below:
A mother only mock'd with two fair babes;
A dream of what thou wast; a garish flag,
To be the aim of ev'ry dang'rous shot;
A sign of dignity, a breath, a bubble;
A Queen in jest, only to fill the scene.
Where is thy husband now? where be thy brothers?
Where be thy children? wherein dost thou joy?
Who sues and kneels, and says, God save the Queen?
Where be the bending Peers, that flatter'd thee?
Where be the thronging troops that follow'd thee?
Decline all this, and see what now thou art;

For happy wife, a most distressed widow;
For joyful mother, one that wails the name;
For one being su'd to, one that humbly sues;
For Queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care;
For one that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me;
For one being fear'd of all, now fearing one;
For one commanding all, obey'd of none.
Thus hath the course of justice wheel'd about,
And left thee but a very prey to time;
Having no more but thought of what thou wert,
To torture thee the more, being what thou art.
Thou didst usurp my place, and dost thou not
Usurp the just proportion of my sorrow?
Now thy proud neck bears half my burden'd yoke;
From which, even here I slip my wearied head,
And leave the burden of it all on thee.
Farewel, York's wife, and Queen of sad mischance,
These English woes shall make me smile in France.

Queen.
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 sweeter than they were,
And he, that slew them, fouler than he is;
Bett'ring thy loss makes the bad causer worse,
Revolving this, will teach thee how to curse.

Queen.
My words are dull, O! quicken them with thine.

Q. Mar.
Thy woes will make them sharp, and pierce like mine. [Exit Margaret.

Dutch.
Why should calamity be full of words?

Queen.
* ^note

Poor breathing orators of miseries!
Let them have scope, tho' what they do impart
Help nothing else, yet they do ease the heart.

Dutch.
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 sons smother'd. [Drum, within.
I hear his drum, be copious in exclaims.

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