ACT IV.

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 MAR-
GARET 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.

Anne.

God give your graces both

A happy and a joyful time of day!

Q. Eliz. As much to you, good sister! Whither away?

Anne. No further than the Tower; and, as I guess, Upon the like devotion as yourselves,

To gratulate the gentle princes there.

Q. Eliz. Kind sister, thanks; we'll enter all together.
Enter BRAKENBURY.

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,
may not suffer you to visit them;

I

The king hath strictly charg'd the contrary.

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

I mean, the lord protector.

Q. Eliz. The Lord protect him from that kingly

title !

I am their mother, who shall bar me from them?
Hath he set bounds between their love, and me?

Niece, for grand-daughter.

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 thy 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 the 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.

[dam :

Stan. Full of wise care is this your counsel, ma-
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 has 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,

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 dead 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 wed'st, let sorrow haunt thy bed;
And be thy wife (if any be so mad)
More miserable by the life of thee,

Than thou has made me by my dear lord's death!
Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again,
Even in so short a space, my woman's heart
Grossly grew captive to his honey words,

And prov'd the subject of mine own soul's curse,
Which ever since hath held mine eyes from rest.
Q. Eliz. Poor heart, adicu; I pity thy complaining.
Anne. No more than with my soul I mourn for yours.
Dor. Farewell, thou woful welcomer of glory!
Anne. Adieu, poor soul, that tak'st thy leave of it!
Duch. Go thou to Richmond, and good fortune guide
[TO DORSET.

thee!

Go thou to Richard, and good angels tend thee!—

[TO ANNE. Go thou to sanctuary, and good thoughts possess thee! [To Queen ELIZABETH. I to my grave, where peace and rest lie with me!

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-A room of state in the palace. Flourish of trumpets. RICHARD, as King upon his throne, BUCKINGHAM, CATESBY, a Page, and others. K. Rich. Stand all apart.-Cousin of Buckingham.Buck. My gracious sovereign. K. Rich. Give me thy hand.

advice,

Thus high, by thy

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 To try if thou be current gold, indeed :— [touch,' 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 liege. K. Rich. Ha! am I king? 'Tis so: but Edward Buck. True, noble prince.

[lives.

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 Say, have I thy consent, that they shall die? [freezes: Buck. Give me some breath, some little pause, dear Before I positively speak in this: [lord, I will resolve your grace immediately.

[Exit BUCKINGHAM. Cate. The king is angry; see, he gnaws his lip.

[Aside.

K. Rich. I will converse with iron-witted fools,

[Descends from his throne. 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 Would tempt unto a close exploit2 of death?

Page. I know a discontented gentleman,

[gold

Whose humble means match not his haughty mind: Gold were as good as twenty orators,

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.

The deep-revolving witty Buckingham

[Exit Page.

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-born gentleman,

Whom I will marry straight to Clarence' daughter; 3The boy is foolish, and I fear not him.—

1

unrespective, unobserving, inattentive.

2 close exploit, secret act.

3 Margaret.

+ Edward, earl of Warwick. This youth was now about ten years old he was subsequently confined by Henry VII., and his education consequently neglected.