Buck.
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,
Even for revenge mock my Destruction.
This is All-Souls Day, Fellow, is it not?

Sher.
It is.

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, and 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 given in earnest, what I begg'd in jest.
Thus doth he force the Swords of wicked Men
To turn their own points in their Masters Bosoms.
Thus Margaret's Curse falls heavy on my Neck:
When he, quoth she, will split thy Heart with Sorrow,
Remember Margaret was a Prophetess:
Come lead me, Officers, to the Block of Shame,
Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame. [Exeunt Buckingham with Officers.

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