SCENE II.-A Room of State in the Palace. Sound a Sennet. Enter RICHARD, in pomp, BUCKINGHAM, CATESBY, a Page, and others.

K. Rich. Stand all apart.-Cousin of Buckingham!

Buck. My gracious sovereign.

K. Rich. Give me thy hand.-[ Trumpets sound.] Thus high, by thy advice, And thy assistance, is king Richard seated :But shall we wear these glories for a day, Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them?

:

Buck. Still live they, and for ever let them last! K. Rich. Ah! Buckingham, now do I play the touch,

To try if thou be current gold, indeed.— Young Edward lives.-Think now what I would speak.

Buck. Say on, my loving lord.

K. Rich. Why, Buckingham, I say, I would be king.

Buck. Why, so you are, my thrice-renowned lord. K. Rich. Ha! am I king? 'Tis so; but Edward lives.

Buck. True, noble prince.

K. Rich.

O bitter consequence, That Edward still should live,-true, noble prince.Cousin, thou wast not wont to be so dull Shall I be plain?-I wish the bastards dead; And I would have it suddenly perform'd. What say'st thou now? speak suddenly, be brief. Buck. Your grace may do your pleasure.

K. Rich. Tut, tut! thou art all ice, thy kindness freezes.

Say, have I thy consent that they shall die?
Buck. Give me some little breath, some pause,
dear lord,

Before I positively speak in this:
I will resolve you herein presently.

[Erit BUCKINGHAM.

Cate. The king is angry: see, he gnaws his lip. [Aside.

K. Rich. I will converse with iron-witted fools, And unrespective boys: none are for me, That look into me with considerate eyes. High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect. Boy!

Page. My lord.

K. Rich. Know'st thou not any, whom corrupting gold

Will tempt unto a close exploit of death?

Page. I know a discontented gentleman, Whose humble means match not his haughty spirit: Gold were as good as twenty orâtors, And will, no doubt, tempt him to any thing. K. Rich. What is his name? Page. His name, my lord, is Tyrrel. K. Rich. I partly know the man: go, call him hither, boy.— [Exit Page.

The deep-revolving witty Buckingham
No more shall be the neighbour to my counsels.
Hath he so long held out with me untir'd,
And stops he now for breath?-well, be it so.-
Enter STANLEY.

How now, lord Stanley? what's the news?
Stan. Know, my loving lord,

The marquis Dorset, as I hear, is fled

To Richmond, in the parts where he abides.
K. Rich. Come hither, Catesby: rumour it
abroad,

That Anne, my wife, is very grievous sick;
I will take order for her keeping close.
Inquire me out some mean poor gentleman,
Whom I will marry straight to Clarence' daugh-

ter:

The boy is foolish, and I fear not him.-
Look, how thou dream'st!-I say again, give out,
That Anne my queen is sick, and like to die:
About it; for it stands me much upon,
To stop all hopes whose growth may damage me.—
[Exit CATESBY.

I must be married to my brother's daughter,
Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass.-
Murder her brothers, and then marry her?
Uncertain way of gain! But I am in
So far in blood, that sin will pluck on sin.
Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye.-
Re-enter Page, with TYRREL.

For which your honour and your faith is pawn'd; Th' earldom of Hereford, and the moveables, Which you have promised I shall possess.

K. Rich. Stanley, look to your wife: if she convey Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it.

“Thus, thus,” quoth Forrest, "girdling one another
Within their alabaster innocent arms:
Their lips were four red roses on a stalk,

And in their summer beauty kiss'd each other.
A book of prayers on their pillow lay;
Which once," quoth Forrest, "almost chang'd my
mind;

But, O! the devil"-there the villain stopp'd;
When Dighton thus told on,-"we smothered
The most replenished sweet work of nature,
That, from the prime creation, e'er she fram'd."
Hence both are gone with conscience and remorse:
They could not speak; and so I left them both,
To bear this tidings to the bloody king.

Enter King RICHARD.

And here he comes.- -All health, my sovereign lord!
K. Rich. Kind Tyrrel, am I happy in thy news?
Tyr. If to have done the thing you gave in
charge

Beget your happiness, be happy then,
For it is done.

K. Rich. But did'st thou see them dead?
Tyr. I did, my lord.
K. Rich.

And buried, gentle Tyrrel? Tyr. The chaplain of the Tower hath buried them;

But where, to say the truth, I do not know.

K. Rich. Come to me, Tyrrel, soon, and after

Here in these confines slily have I lurk'd,
To watch the waning of mine enemies.
A dire induction am I witness to,

And will to France; hoping, the consequence
Will prove as bitter, black, and tragical.
Withdraw thee, wretched Margaret: who comes
here?
[Retiring.

Enter Queen ELIZABETH, and the Duchess of YORK.

Q. Eliz. 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 fix'd in doom perpetual,
Hover about me with your airy wings,
And hear your mother's lamentation.

Q. Mar. Hover about her; say, that right for right

Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night.

Duch. 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.

Q. Eliz. Wilt thou, O God! fly from such gentle

lambs,

And throw them in the entrails of the wolf? When didst thou sleep, when such a deed was done?

Q. Mar. When holy Harry died, and my sweet

son.

Duch. 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,

[Sitting down. Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood! Q. Eliz. Ah! that thou would'st 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?

[Sitting down by her. Q. Mar. If ancient sorrow be most reverent, [Coming forward.

Give mine the benefit of seniory,
And let my griefs frown on the upper hand.
If sorrow can admit society,

[Sitting down with them.
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 hadst an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him;
Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard kill'd him.
Duch. I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill
him:

I had a Rutland too; thou holp'st to kill him.
Q. Mar. Thou hadst 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,
That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls,
That excellent grand tyrant of the earth,
Thy womb let loose, to chase 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 pew-fellow with other's moan!
Duch. O, 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;
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 frantic play,

Th' adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey,
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,
Ensues his piteous and unpitied end:
Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray,
To have him suddenly convey'd from hence.-
Cancel his bond of life, dear God! I pray,
That I may live and say, the dog is dead.

Q. Eliz. O! thou didst prophesy, the time would come,

That I should wish for thee to help me curse That bottled 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,
The flattering index of a direful pageant,
One heav'd o' 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 every dangerous 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 two sons? 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 sued 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 whirl'd about,
And left thee but a very prey to time;
Having no more but thought of what thou wast
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.

Farewell, York's wife, and queen of sad mis

chance:

These English woes shall make me smile in France.

Q. Eliz. O thou! well skill'd in curses, stay a while,

And teach me how to curse mine enemies.

Compare dead happiness with living woe;

Think that thy babes were fairer than they were, And he that slew them fouler than he is: Bettering thy loss makes the bad-causer worse: Revolving this will teach thee how to curse.

Q. Eliz. My words are dull; O! quicken them with thine.

Q. Mar. Thy woes will make them sharp, and pierce like mine. [Exit Queen MARGARET. Duch. Why should calamity be full of words? Q. Eliz. Windy attorneys to their client woes, Airy succeeders of intestate joys, Poor breathing orators of miseries!

Let them have scope: though what they do impart Help nothing else, yet do they ease the heart.

Duch. 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. [A trumpet heard. The trumpet sounds; be copious in exclaims.

Enter King RICHARD, and his Train.

K. Rich. Who intercepts me in my expedition? Duch. O! she, that might have intercepted thee, By strangling thee in her accursed womb, From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast done.

Q. Eliz. Hid'st thou that forehead with a golden

crown,

Where should be branded, if that right were right, The slaughter of the prince that ow'd that crown, And the dire death of my poor sons, and brothers? Tell me, thou villain-slave, where are my children? Duch. Thou toad, thou toad, where is thy brother Clarence,

And little Ned Plantagenet, his son?

More mild, but yet more harmful, kind in hatred:
What comfortable hour canst thou name,
That ever grac'd me with thy company?

K. Rich. 'Faith, none, but Humphrey Hour, that call'd your grace

To breakfast once forth of my company.
If I be so disgracious in your eye,

Let me march on, and not offend you, madam.-
Strike up the drum!

Duch.

I pr'ythee, hear me speak. K. Rich. You speak too bitterly. Duch.

Hear me a word;

For I shall never speak to thee again.
K. Rich. So.

Duch. Either thou wilt die by God's just ordi

nance,

Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror;
Or I with grief and extreme age shall perish,
And never more behold thy face again.
Therefore, take with thee my most grievous curse;
Which in the day of battle tire thee more,
Than all the complete armour that thou wear'st!
My prayers on the adverse party fight;

And there the little souls of Edward's children
Whisper the spirits of thine enemies,
And promise them success and victory.
Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end;
Shame serves thy life, and doth thy death attend.

[Exit.

Q. Eliz. Though far more cause, yet much less spirit to curse Abides in me: I say amen to her.

[Going.

K. Rich. Stay, madam, I must talk a word with

you.

Duch. Where is kind Hastings?

K. Rich. A flourish, trumpets!-strike alarum, drums!

Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women Rail on the Lord's anointed. Strike, I say!

[Flourish. Alarums.

Either be patient, and entreat me fair,
Or with the clamorous report of war
Thus will I drown your exclamations.
Duch. Art thou my son?

K. Rich. Ay; I thank God, my father, and yourself.

Duch. Then patiently hear my impatience.

K. Rich. Madam, I have a touch of your condition,

That cannot brook the accent of reproof.
Duch. O! let me speak.

K. Rich.
Do, then; but I'll not hear.
Duch. I will be mild and gentle in my words.
K. Rich. And brief, good mother; for I am in
haste.

Duch. Art thou so hasty? I have stay'd for thee, God knows, in torment and in agony.

K. Rich. And came I not at last to comfort you? Duch. No, by the holy rood, thou know'st it well, Thou cam'st on earth to make the earth my hell. A grievous burden was thy birth to me; Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy!

K. Rich. You have a daughter call'd Elizabeth, Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious.

Q. Eliz. And must she die for this? O! let her live,

And I'll corrupt her manners, stain her beauty;
Slander myself as false to Edward's bed;
Throw over her the veil of infamy:
So she may live unscarr'd of bleeding slaughter,
I will confess she was not Edward's daughter.
K. Rich. Wrong not her birth; she is a royal
princess.

Q. Eliz. To save her life, I'll say she is not so.
K. Rich. Her life is safest only in her birth.
Q. Eliz. And only in that safety died her brothers.
K. Rich. Lo! at their birth good stars were
opposite.

Q. Eliz. No, to their lives ill friends were contrary.
K. Rich. All unavoided is the doom of destiny.
Q. Eliz. True, when avoided grace makes des-
tiny.

My babes were destin'd to a fairer death,
If grace had bless'd thee with a fairer life.

K. Rich. You speak, as if that I had slain my

cousins.

Q. Eliz. Cousins, indeed; and by their uncle cozen'd

Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life.
Whose hands soever lanc'd their tender hearts,
Thy head, all indirectly, gave direction;