Star'd each on other, and look'd deadly pale.
Which when I saw, I reprehended them,
And ask'd the mayor, what meant this wilful
silence?

His answer was, the people were not us'd
To be spoke to, but by the recorder.

Then, he was urg'd to tell my tale again :-
"Thus saith the duke, thus hath the duke inferr'd;"
But nothing spoke in warrant from himself.
When he had done, some followers of mine own,
At lower end of the hall, hurl'd up their caps,
And some ten voices cried, "God save king
Richard!"

And thus I took the vantage of those few,-
"Thanks, gentle citizens, and friends," quoth I;
This general applause, and cheerful shout,
Argues your wisdom, and your love to Richard:"
And even here brake off, and came away.

Glo. What tongueless blocks were they! would they not speak?

Will not the mayor, then, and his brethren, come? Buck. The mayor is here at hand. Intend some fear;

Be not you spoke with, but by mighty suit:
And look you get a prayer-book in your hand,
And stand between two churchmen, good my
lord;

For on that ground I'll make a holy descant :
And be not easily won to our requests;
Play the maid's part, still answer nay, and take it.
Glo. I go; and if you plead as well for them,
As I can say nay to thee for myself,

No doubt we bring it to a happy issue.
Buck. Go, go, up to the leads! the lord mayor
[Exit GLOSTER.

knocks.

40

Enter the Lord Mayor, Aldermen, and Citizens. Welcome, my lord: I dance attendance here; I think the duke will not be spoke withal.

Enter from the Castle, CATESBY.

Now, Catesby! what says your lord to my request!
Cate. He doth entreat your grace, my noble lord.
To visit him to-morrow, or next day.

He is within, with two right reverend fathers,
Divinely bent to meditation;

And in no worldly suits would he be mov'd,
To draw him from his holy exercise.

Buck. Return, good Catesby, to the gracious duke:
Tell him, myself, the mayor and aldermen,
In deep designs, in matter of great moment,
No less importing than our general good,
Are come to have some conference with his grace.
Cate. I'll signify so much unto him straight.

[Exit. Buck. Ah, ha! my lord, this prince is not au Edward:

He is not lulling on a lewd love-bed,
But on his knees at meditation;
Not dallying with a brace of courtezans,
But meditating with two deep divines;
Not sleeping to engross his idle body,
But praying to enrich his watchful soul.
Happy were England, would this virtuous prince
Take on his grace the sovereignty thereof;
But, sure, I fear, we shall not win him to it.
May. Marry, God defend his grace should say

Re-enter CATESBY.

Now, Catesby, what says his grace?

Cate. He wonders to what end you have assembled

Such troops of citizens to come to him:
His grace not being warn'd thereof before,
He fears, my lord, you mean no good to him.
Buck. Sorry I am, my noble cousin should
Suspect me, that I mean no good to him:
By heaven, we come to him in perfect love;
And so once more return, and tell his grace.
[Exit CATESBY.
When holy, and devout religious men
Are at their beads, 'tis much to draw them thence;
So sweet is zealous contemplation.

Enter GLOSTER, in a Gallery above, between two
Bishops. CATESBY returns.

May. See, where his grace stands 'tween two

clergymen !

Buck. Two props of virtue for a Christian prince, To stay him from the fall of vanity; And, see, a book of prayer in his hand; True ornaments to know a holy man.Famous Plantagenet, most gracious prince, Lend favourable ear to our requests, And pardon us the interruption Of thy devotion, and right-christian zeal.

Glo. My lord, there needs no such apology; I do beseech your grace to pardon me, Who, earnest in the service of my God, Deferr'd the visitation of my friends. But, leaving this, what is your grace's pleasure? Buck. Even that, I hope, which pleaseth God above,

And all good men of this ungovern'd isle.

Glo. I do suspect, I have done some offence, That seems disgracious in the city's eye; And that you come to reprehend my ignorance. Buck. You have, my lord: would it might please your grace,

On our entreaties to amend your fault.

Glo. Else wherefore breathe I in a Christian land?
Buck. Know then, it is your fault that you resign
The supreme seat, the throne majestical,
The scepter'd office of your ancestors,
Your state of fortune, and your due of birth,
The lineal glory of your royal house,
To the corruption of a blemish'd stock;
Whiles, in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts,
Which here we waken to our country's good,
This noble isle doth want her proper limbs;
Her face defac'd with scars of infamy,
Her royal stock graft with ignoble plants,
And almost shoulder'd in the swallowing gulf
Of dark forgetfulness, and deep oblivion.
Which to recure, we heartily solicit
Your gracious self to take on you the charge
And kingly government of this your land:
Not as protector, steward, substitute,
Or lowly factor for another's gain;
But as successively from blood to blood,
Your right of birth, your empery, your own.
For this, consorted with the citizens,
Your very worshipful and loving friends,
And by their vehement instigation,

In this just cause come I to move your grace.
Glo. I cannot tell, if to depart in silence,
Or bitterly to speak in your reproof,
Best fitteth my degree, or your condition:

If, not to answer,-you might haply think,
Tongue-tied ambition, not replying, yielded
To bear the golden yoke of sovereignty,
Which fondly you would here impose on me :
If to reprove you for this suit of yours,
So season'd with your faithful love to me,
Then, on the other side, I check'd my friends.
Therefore, to speak, and to avoid the first,
And then, in speaking, not to incur the last,
Definitively thus I answer you.

Your love deserves my thanks; but my desert,
Unmeritable, shuns your high request.

First, if all obstacles were cut away,

And that my path were even to the crown,
As the ripe revenue and due of birth;
Yet so much is my poverty of spirit,
So mighty, and so many, my defects,

That I would rather hide me from my greatness,
Being a bark to brook no mighty sea,
Than in my greatness covet to be hid,
And in the vapour of my glory smother'd.
But, God be thank'd, there is no need of me;
And much I need to help you, were there need;
The royal tree hath left us royal fruit,
Which, mellow'd by the stealing hours of time,
Will well become the seat of majesty,
And make, no doubt, us happy by his reign.
On him I lay that you would lay on me,
The right and fortune of his happy stars;
Which God defend that I should wring from him!
Buck. My lord, this argues conscience in your
grace;

But the respects thereof are nice and trivial,
All circumstances well considered.
You say, that Edward is your brother's son:
So say we too, but not by Edward's wife;
For first was he contract to lady Lucy;
Your mother lives a witness to his vow:
And afterward by substitute betroth'd
To Bona, sister to the king of France.
These both put off, a poor petitioner,
A care-craz'd mother to a many sons,
A beauty-waning and distressed widow,
Even in the afternoon of her best days,
Made prize and purchase of his wanton eye,
Seduc'd the pitch and height of his degree
To base declension and loath'd bigamy.
By her, in his unlawful bed, he got

This Edward, whom our manners call the prince.
More bitterly could I expostulate,

Save that, for reverence to some alive,

I give a sparing limit to my tongue.

Then, good my lord, take to your royal self
This proffer'd benefit of dignity;

If not to bless us and the land withal,
Yet to draw forth your noble ancestry
From the corruption of abusing times,
Unto a lineal true-derived course.

May. Do, good my lord; your citizens entreat you.

Buck. Refuse not, mighty lord, this proffer'd love. Cate. O make them joyful: grant their lawful

suit.

Glo. Alas! why would you heap this care on me? I am unfit for state and majesty:

I do beseech you, take it not amiss;

I cannot, nor I will not, yield to you.
Buck. If you refuse it,-as in love and zeal,
Loath to depose the child, your brother's son;
As well we know your tenderness of heart,
And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse,

If you deny them, all the land will rue it.

Glo. Will you enforce me to a world of cares? Call them again: I am not made of stone, But penetrable to your kind entreaties,

[Exit CATESBY. Albeit against my conscience, and my soul.

Re-enter BUCKINGHAM, and the rest.
Cousin of Buckingham, and sage, grave men,
Since you will buckle fortune on my back,
To bear her burden, whe'r I will, or no,
I must have patience to endure the load:

42

But if black scandal, or foul-fac'd reproach,
Attend the sequel of your imposition,
Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me
From all the impure blots and stains thereof;
For God doth know, and you may partly see,
How far I am from the desire of this.

May. God bless your grace! we see it, and will say it.

Glo. In saying so, you shall but say the truth. Buck. Then I salute you with this royal title,Long live King Richard, England's worthy king! All. Amen.

Buck. To-morrow may it please you to be crown'd?

Glo. Even when you please, for you will have

it so.

SCENE I.-Before the Tower.

Enter, on one side, Queen ELIZABETH, Duchess of YORK, and Marquess of DORSET; on the other, ANNE, Duchess of GLOSTER, leading Lady MARGARET PLANTAGENET, CLARENCE's young daughter.

Duch. Who meets us here ?-my niece Plantagenet

Led in the hand of her kind aunt of Gloster'
Now, for my life, she's wand'ring to the Tower,
On pure heart's love, to greet the tender prince.-
Daughter, well met.

God give your graces both

A happy and a joyful time of day.

Q. Eliz. As much to you, good sister: whither

Anne. No further than the Tower; and, as I

Upon the like devotion as yourselves,

To gratulate the gentle princes there.

Q. Eliz. Kind sister, thanks: we'll enter all together:

And in good time here the lieutenant comes.-
Master lieutenant, pray you, by your leave,
How doth the prince, and my young son of York?
Brak. Right well, dear madam. By your
patience,

I may not suffer you to visit them:

The king hath strictly charg'd the contrary.

Q. Eliz. The king! who's that?

I mean the lord protector.

Q. Eliz. The Lord protect him from that kingly

Hath he set bounds between their love, and me?
I am their mother; who shall bar me from them?
Duch. I am their father's mother; I will see
them.

Anne. Their aunt I am in law, in love their mother:

Then, bring me to their sights; I'll bear thy blame, And take thy office from thee, on my peril.

Brak. No, madam, no; I may not leave it so:

I am bound by oath, and therefore pardon me. [Exit BRAKENBury.

Enter STANLEY.

Stan. Let me but meet you, ladies, one hour hence,

And I'll salute your grace of York as mother,
And reverend looker-on of two fair queens.-
Come, madam, you must straight to Westminster,
[To the Duchess of GLOSTER.
There to be crowned Richard's royal queen.

Q. Eliz. Ah! cut my lace asunder,
That my pent heart may have some scope to beat,
Or else I swoon with this dead-killing news.

Anne. Despiteful tidings! O, unpleasing news! Dor. Be of good cheer:-mother, how fares your grace?

Q. Eliz. O Dorset! speak not to me, get thee

gone;

Death and destruction dog thee at thy heels:
Thy mother's name is ominous to children.
If thou wilt outstrip death, go cross the seas,
And live with Richmond from the reach of hell.
Go, hie thee, hie thee, from this slaughter-house,
Lest thou increase the number of the dead,
And make me die the thrall of Margaret's curse,-
Nor mother, wife, nor England's 'counted queen.
Stan. Full of wise care is this your counsel,
madam.-

Take all the swift advantage of the hours;
You shall have letters from me to my son
In your behalf, to meet you on the way:
Be not ta'en tardy by unwise delay.

Duch. O ill-dispersing wind of misery!-
O, my accursed womb! the bed of death,
A cockatrice hast thou hatch'd to the world,
Whose unavoided eye is murderous!

Stan. Come, madam, come: I in all haste was

sent.

Anne. And I with all unwillingness will go.O! would to God, that the inclusive verge Of golden metal, that must round my brow, Were red-hot steel to sear me to the brain! Anointed let me be with deadly venom; And die, ere men can say-God save the queen!

Q. Eliz. Go, go, poor soul, I envy not thy glory; To feed my humour, wish thyself no harm. Anne. No! why?-When he, that is my husband

now,

44

Came to me, as I follow'd Henry's corse;
When scarce the blood was well wash'd from his
hands,

Which issu'd from my other angel husband,
And that dear saint which, then, I weeping follow'd;
O! when, I say, I look'd on Richard's face,
This was my wish,-"Be thou," quoth I, "accurs'd,
For making me, so young, so old a widow!
And, when thou wedd'st, let sorrow haunt thy bed;
And be thy wife (if any be so mad)
More miserable by the life of thee,

Than thou hast made me by my dear lord's death!"
Lo! ere I can repeat this curse again,
Within so small a time, my woman's heart
Grossly grew captive to his honey words,
And prov'd the subject of mine own soul's curse:
Which hitherto hath held mine eyes from rest;
For never yet one hour in his bed

Did I enjoy the golden dew of sleep,

But with his timorous dreams was still awak'd.
Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick;
And will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me.

Q. Eliz. Poor heart, adieu; I pity thy complaining.

Anne. No more than with my soul I mourn for