Riv.
Have patience, madam; there's no doubt, his majesty
Will soon recover his accustom'd health.

Gre.
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 words ^note.

Que.
If he were dead, what would betide of me ^note?

Gre.
No other ^note harm, but loss of such a lord.

Que.
The loss of such a lord includes all harms ^note.

Gre.
The heavens have bless'd you with a goodly son,
To be your comforter, when he is gone.

Que.
Ah, he ^note is young; and his minority
Is put unto the ^note trust of Richard Gloster,
A man that loves not me, nor none of you.

Riv.
Is it ^note concluded, he shall be protector?

Que.
It is determin'd, not concluded yet:
But so it must be, if the king miscarry. Enter Buckingham, and Stanley.14Q0868

Gre.
Here come ^note the lords of Buckingham and Stanley.

Buc.
Good time of day unto your royal grace!

Sta.
God make your majesty joyful as you have been!

Que.
The countess Richmond, good my lord of Stanley,
To your good prayer ^note will scarcely ^note 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 ^note.

Sta.
I do ^note beseech you, either not believe
The envious slanders of her false ^note accusers;
Or, if she be accus'd on true ^note report,
Bear with her weakness, which, I think, proceeds
From wayward sickness, and no grounded malice.

Riv.
Saw you the king to-day, my lord of Stanley? ^note

Sta.
But now the duke of Buckingham, and I,
Are ^note come ^note from visiting his majesty.

Que.
What likelihood of his amendment, lords?

Buc.
Madam, good hope; his grace speaks ^note chearfully.

Que.
God grant him health! Did you confer with him?

Buc.
Ay, madam: he ^note desires to make atonement
Between ^note the duke of Gloster and your brothers,
And between ^note them and my lord chamberlain;
And sent to warn them to his royal presence.

Que.
'Would, all were well! But that will never be;
I fear, our happiness is at the height. ^note Enter Richard; Hastings, and Dorset, with him.

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

Gre.
To whom all this presence speaks your grace? ^note

Ric.
To thee, that hast nor ^note 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 grace ^note,—
Whom God preserve better than you would wish!—
Cannot be quiet scarce a breathing while,
But you must trouble him with lewd complaints.

Que.
Brother of Gloster, you mistake the matter:
The king—of his ^note own royal disposition,
And not provok'd ^note by any suitor else;
Aiming, belike, at your interior hatred,
That in your outward action ^note shews itself,
Against my children, brothers, ^note and myself,—
Hath sent for you;14Q0869 that ^note thereby he ^note may gather
The ground of your ill will, and so ^note remove it.

Ric.
I cannot tell;—The world is grown so bad,
That wrens may prey ^note where eagles dare not perch:
Since every Jack became a gentleman,
There's many a gentle person made a Jack.

Que.
Come, come, we know your meaning, brother Gloster;
You envy my advancement ^note, and my friends:
God grant, we never may have need of you!

Ric.
Meantime, God grants ^note that we have need of you:
Our brother is imprison'd by your means,
Myself disgrac'd, and the nobility
Held in contempt; while great promotions ^note
Are daily given, to enoble those
That scarce, some two days since, were worth a noble.

Que.
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 vile ^note suspects.

Ric.
You may deny too, that you were the ^note cause ^note
Of my lord Hastings' late imprisonment.

Riv.
She may, my lord; for ^note—

Ric.
She may, lord Rivers? why, who knows not so?
She may do more, sir, than denying that:
She may help you to many fair ^note preferments;
And then deny her aiding hand therein,
And lay those honours on your high desert ^note.
What may she not? She may,—ay, marry ^note, may she,

Riv.
What, marry, may she?

Ric.
What, marry, may she? marry with a king,
A batchelor, a ^note handsome stripling too:
I wis, your grandam had a ^note worser match.

Que.
My lord of Gloster, I have too long born
Your blunt upbraidings, and your bitter scoffs:
By heaven, I will acquaint his majesty,
With those gross taunts I often have ^note endur'd.
I had rather be a country servant-maid,
Than a great ^note queen, with this condition—
To be so baited, scorn'd, and stormed at: ^note Enter Queen Margaret, at a Distance.
Small joy have I in being England's queen.

Q. M.
And lessen'd be that small, God, I beseech thee! ^note
Thy honour, state, and seat, is due to me.

Ric.
What threat you me with telling of the ^note king?
Tell him, and spare not; look, what I have said ^note
I will avouch ^note in presence of the king:
I dare adventure to be sent to the tower. ^note

'Tis time to speak, my pains are quite forgot.

Q. M.
Out, devil! I remember ^note them too well:
Thou kill'dst ^note my husband Henry in the tower,
And Edward, my poor son, at Tewksbury.

Ric.
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 ^note mine own.

Q. M.
Ay, and ^note much better blood than his, or thine.

Ric.
In all which time, you, and your husband Grey,
Were factious for the house of Lancaster;—
And, Rivers, so were you:—Was not your husband
In Margaret's battle at Saint Alban's slain?
Let me put in your minds, if you forget ^note,
What you have been ere this ^note, and what you are;
Withal, what I have been, and what I am.

Q. M.
A murd'rous villain, and so still thou art.

Ric.
Poor Clarence did forsake his father Warwick,
Ay, and forswore himself,—Which Jesu pardon!—

Q. M.
Which God revenge!

Ric.
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. M.
Hie ^note thee to hell for shame, and leave this world,
Thou cacadæmon; ^note there thy kingdom is.

Riv.
My lord of Gloster, in those busy days,
Which here you urge, to prove us enemies,
We follow'd ^note then our lord, our sovereign king ;
So should we you, if you should be our king.

Ric.
If I should be?—I had rather be a pedlar:
Far be it from my heart, the thought thereof! ^note

Que.
As little joy, my lord, as you suppose ^note
You should enjoy, were you this country's king;
As little joy may you ^note suppose in me,
That I enjoy, being the queen thereof.

Q. M. ^note
A little joy enjoys the queen thereof;
For I am she, and altogether joyless.
I can no longer hold me patient.— [advancing.
Hear me, you wrangling pyrates, that fall out
In sharing that ^note which you have pill'd from me:
Which of you trembles not, that looks on ^note me?
If not, that, I being queen ^note, you bow like subjects;
Yet that, by you depos'd, you quake like rebels?—
Ah, gentle ^note villain, do not turn away.

Ric.
Foul wrinkl'd witch, what mak'st thou in my sight?

Q. M.
But repetition of what thou hast mar'd;
That will I make, before I let thee go.

Ric.
Wert thou not banished, on pain of death; ^note

Q. M.
I was; but I do find more pain in banishment,
Than death can yield me here by my ^note abode.
A husband, and a son, thou ow'st to ^note me,—
And thou, a kingdom;—all of you, allegiance:
This sorrow ^note that I have, by right is yours;
And all the pleasures ^note you usurp, are mine ^note.

Ric.
The curse my noble father lay'd on thee,—
When thou didst crown his warlike brows with paper,
And with thy scorns ^note drew'st ^note rivers from his eyes;
And then, to dry them, gav'st the duke a clout,
Steep'd in the faultless ^note blood of pretty Rutland;—
His curses, then from bitterness of soul
Denounc'd against thee, are all ^note fall'n upon thee;

And God, not we, hath plagu'd thy bloody deed.

Que.
So just is God, to right the innocent.

Has.
O, 'twas the foulest deed, to slay that babe,
And the most merciless, that ere was heard of.

Riv.
Tyrants themselves wept when it was reported.

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

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

Q. M.
What, were you snarling all, before I came,
Ready to catch each other by the throat,
And turn you all your hatred ^note now on me?
Did York's dread curse prevail so much with heaven,
That Henry's death, my lovely Edward's death,
Their kingdom's loss ^note, my woful banishment,
Could ^note all but answer for that peevish brat?
Can curses pierce the clouds, and enter heaven?—
Why, then give way, dull clouds, to my quick curses.—
Though not ^note by war, by surfeit die your king,
As ours ^note by murther, to make him a king!
Edward thy son, that now ^note is prince of Wales,
For Edward my son, that was ^note prince of Wales,
Die ^note in his youth, by like untimely violence! ^note
Thyself 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 ^note;
And see another, as I see thee now,
Deck'd in thy rights, as ^note thou art stall'd in mine!
Long die thy happy days before thy death;
And, after many lengthen'd hours of grief,
Die neither mother, wife, nor England's queen!—
Rivers,—and Dorset—you were standers-by,—
And so wast ^note thou, lord Hastings,—when my son
Was stab'd with bloody daggers; God I pray him,

That none of you may live your natural ^note age,
But by some unlook'd accident cut off!

Ric.
Have done thy charm, thou hateful wither'd hag.

Q. M.
And leave out thee? stay, dog, for thou shalt hear me.
If heaven 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, the troubler ^note of the poor world's peace!
The worm of conscience still begnaw 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 ^note of thine,
Unless it be while ^note some tormenting dream
Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils!
Thou elvish-mark'd, abortive, rooting hog!
Thou that wast seal'd in thy nativity
The slave of nature, and the son of hell!
Thou slander of thy mother's ^note heavy womb!
Thou loathed issue of thy father's loins!
Thou rag of honour! thou detested—

Ric.
Margaret.

Q. M.
Richard!

Ric.
Ha?

Q. M.
I call thee not.

Ric.
I cry thee mercy then; for I did think ^note,
That ^note thou hadst call'd me all these bitter names.

Q. M.
Why, so I did; but look'd ^note for no reply.
O, let me make the period to my curse.

Ric.
'Tis done by me; and ends in—Margaret ^note.

Que. ^note
Thus have you breath'd your curse against yourself.

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

Has.
False-boding ^note woman, end thy frantick curse;
Lest, to thy harm, thou move our patience.

Q. M.
Foul shame upon you! you have all mov'd mine.

Riv.
Were you well serv'd, you would be taught your duty.

Q. M.
To serve me well, you all ^note should do me duty,
Teach me to be your queen, and you my subjects:
O, serve ^note me well, and teach yourselves that duty.

Dor.
Dispute not with her, she is lunatick.

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

Ric.
Good counsel,marry;—learn it, learn it, marquess.

Dor.
It touches ^note you, my lord, as much as me.

Ric.
Ay, and ^note much more: But I was born so high,
Our aiery buildeth in the cedar's top,
And dallies with the wind, and scorns the sun.

Q. M.
And turns the sun to shade;—alas, alas!—
Witness my son ^note, now in the shade of death;
Whose bright out-shining beams thy cloudy wrath
Hath in eternal darkness folded up.
Your aiery buildeth in our aiery's nest:—
O God, that see'st it, do not suffer it;

As it was won ^note with blood, lost be it so!

Buc.
Peace, peace, for ^note shame, if not for charity.

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

Buc.
Have done ^note, have done.

Q. M.
O princely Buckingham, I kiss ^note thy hand,
In sign of league and amity with thee:
Now fair befal thee, and thy noble house ^note!
Thy garments are not spotted with our blood,
Nor thou within the compass of my curse.

Buc.
Nor no one ^note here; for curses never pass
The lips of those that breath them ^note in the air.

Q. M.
I will not think14Q0870 but ^note they ascend the sky,
And there awake God's gentle-sleeping peace.
O Buckingham, take heed of ^note yonder dog;
Look, when he fawns, he bites; and, when he bites,
His venom ^note 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.

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

Buc.
Nothing that I respect, my gracious lord.

Q. M.
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 Margaret was a prophetess.—
Live each of you the subjects ^note to his ^note hate,
And he to yours ^note, and all of you to God's! [Exit.

Has.
My hair doth stand on end to hear her curses. ^note

Riv.
And so doth mine; I muse, why she's ^note at liberty.

Ric.
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 ^note.

Que.
I never did her any, to my knowledge. ^note

Ric.
Yet you have all the vantage of her wrong ^note.
I was too hot to do some body good,
That is too cold in thinking of it now:
Marry, as for ^note Clarence, he is well repay'd;
He is frank'd up to fatting for his pains;—
God pardon them that are the cause thereof! ^note

Riv.
A virtuous and a christian-like conclusion,
To pray for them that have done scathe to us.

Ric.
So do I ever, being well advis'd;—
&clquo;For had I curs'd now, I had curs'd myself.&crquo; Enter Catesby.

Cat.
Madam, his majesty doth call for you,—
And for your grace,—and you, my noble lords. ^note

Que.
Catesby, I come:—Lords, will you go with me? ^note

Riv.
We wait upon your ^note grace. [Exeunt All but Richard.

Ric.
I do the ^note wrong, and first begin to brawl.
The secret mischiefs ^note that I set abroach,
I lay unto the grievous charge of others.
Clarence,—whom ^note I, indeed, have cast in ^note darkness,—
I do beweep to many simple gulls;
Namely, to Hastings ^note, Stanley, Buckingham;
And tell them—'tis the ^note queen, and her allies,
That stir ^note the king against the duke my brother.
Now they believe it; and ^note, withal, whet me ^note
To be reveng'd on Rivers, Vaughan, Grey ^note:

But then I ^note sigh, and, with a piece of scripture,
Tell them—that God bids us do ^note good for evil:
And thus I cloath my naked villany
With odd old ^note ends, stoln forth of ^note holy writ;
And seem a saint, when most I play the devil. Enter two Murtherers.
But soft, here come ^note my executioners.—
How now, my hardy, stout, resolved mates?
Are you now going ^note to dispatch this thing?

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

Ric.
Well ^note thought upon, I have it here about me: [gives the Warrant.
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.

1. M.
Tut, tut, my ^note lord, we will not stand to prate,
Talkers are no good doers; be assur'd,
We go to ^note use our hands, and not our tongues.

Ric.
Your eyes drop mil-stones, when fools' eyes drop tears ^note:
I like you, lads; about your business straight; ^note;
Go, go, dispatch.

1. M.
We will, my noble lord. [Exeunt.

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