Riv. What, marry, may fhe?

Glo. What, marry, may fhe? marry with a King, A batchelor, a handsom ftripling too :

I wis, your grandam had a worfer match.

Queen. My Lord of Glo'fter, I have too long borne Your blant upbraidings, and your bitter fcoffs: By heav'n, I will acquaint his Majefty, Of thofe grofs taunts I often have endur'd. I had rather be a country fervant-maid, Than a great Queen with this condition; To be thus taunted, fcorn'd and baited at. Small joy have I in being England's Queen.

Enter Queen Margaret.

Q. Mar. And leffen'd be that fmall, God, I beseech Thy honour, ftate, and feat is due to me. [thee! Glo. What! threat you me with telling of the King? Tell him, and fpare not: Look, what I have faid, (6) I will avouch in prefence of the King:

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

Q. Mar. Out, devil! I remember them too well:
Thou kill'dft my husband Henry in the Tower,
And Edward, my poor fon, at Tewksbury.

Glo. Ere you were Queen, ay, or your
I was a pack-horfe in his great affairs;
A weeder out of his proud adverfaries,
A liberal rewarder of his friends;
To royalize his blood, I fpilt mine own.

hufband King,

Q. Mar. Ay, and much better blood than his or thine. Glo. In all which time you and your husband Gray Were factious for the houfe of Lancaster;

And, Rivers, fo were you ;-was not your husband,
In Margret's battle, at St. Albans flain?

Let me put in your minds, if you forget,

What you have been ere now, and what you are ;

(6) Tell him, and Spare not: Look, what I have faid,] This verfe, which was at firft left out by the players in their impreffion (in which the modern editors have follow'd them) I have restored from the old quarto's; and, indeed, without it, the verfe, which immediately follows, is hardly fenfe.

Withal,

Withal, what I have been, and what I am.

Q. Mar. A murd'rous villain, and fo ftill thou art. Glo. Poor Clarence did forfake his father Warwick, Ay, and forfwore himfelf, (which, Jefu, pardon !-) Q. Mar. Which God revenge!

Glo. 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 foft and pitiful, like mine;

I am too childish-foolish for this world.

Q.Mar. Hie thee to hell for fhame, and leave this world, Thou cacodæmon! there thy kingdom is.

Riv. My Lord of Glofter, in those bufy days,
Which here you urge to prove us enemies,
We follow'd then our Lord, our lawful King;
So fhould we you, if you should be our King.
Glo. If I fhould be!-I had rather be a pedlar;
Far be it from my heart, the thought thereof.

Queen. As little joy, my Lord, as you fuppofe
You should enjoy, were you this country's King;
As little joy you may fuppofe in me,

That I enjoy, being the Queen thereof.

Q. Mar. A little joy enjoys the Queen thereof; For I am fhe, and altogether joyless.

I can no longer hold me patient.

Hear me, you wrangling pirates, that fall out
In fharing that which you have pill'd from me;
Which of you trembles not, that looks on me?
If not that I being Queen, you bow like fubjects;
Yet that by you depos'd, you quake like rebels.
Ah, gentle villain, do not turn away!

Glo. Foul wrinkled witch, what mak'st thou in my fight?
Q. Mar. But repetition of what thou haft marr'd,
That will I make, before I let thee go.
A husband and a fon thou ow'ft to me;

And thou, a kingdom; all of you, allegiance;

[T. Glo.

[To the Queen.

The forrow, that I have, by right is yours;
And all the pleasures, you ufurp, are mine.
Glo. The curfe my noble father laid on thee,

When

When thou didst crown his warlike brows with paper,
And with thy fcorns drew'ft rivers from his eyes,
And then, to dry them, gav'ft the Duke a clout,
Steep'd in the faultless blood of pretty_ Rutland ;-
His curfes, then from bitterness of foul
Denounc'd against thee, are now fall'n upon thee;
And God, not we, has plagu'd thy bloody deed.
Q. Mar. So juft is God to right the innocent.
Haft. O, 'twas the fouleft deed to flay that babe,
And the moft mercilefs, that e'er was heard of.

Riv. Tyrants themselves wept, when it was reported.
Dorf. No man but prophefy'd revenge for it.

Buck. Northumberland, then prefent, wept to fee it. -Q. Mar. What! where you fnarling all before I came, Ready to catch each other by the throat,

And turn you all your hatred now on me?

Did York's dread curfe prevail fo much with heav'n,
That Henry's death, my lovely Edward's death,
Their kingdoms lofs, my woeful banishment,
Could all but anfwer for that peevish brat?
Can curfes pierce the clouds, and enter heav'n?
Why, then give way, dull clouds, to my quick cutfes !
If not by war, by furfeit die your King,
As ours by murder to make him a King!
Edward thy fon, that now is Prince of Wales,
For Edward our fon, that was Prince of Wales,
Die in his youth, by like untimely violence!
Thyfelf a Queen, for me that was a Queen,
Out-live thy glory, like my wretched felf!
Long may'st thou live to wail thy children's lofs,
And fee another, as I fee thee now,

Deck'd in thy rights, as thou art ftall'd in mine!
Long die thy happy days before thy death,
And after many length'ned hours of grief,
Die, neither mother, wife, nor England's Queen!
Rivers and Dorset, you were ftanders-by,
And fo waft thou, Lord Haftings, when my fon
Was ftabb'd with bloody daggers; God, I pray him,
That none of you may live your natural. age,
But by fome unlook'd accident cut off!

Glo.

Glo. Have done thy charm, thou hateful wither'd hag. Q. Mar. And leave out thee? ftay, dog, for thou fhalt hear me.

If heav'ns have any grievous plague in ftore,
Exceeding thofe that I can with upon thee,
O, let them keep it, till thy fins be ripe;
And then hurl down their indignation

On thee, thou troubler of the poor world's peace !
The worm of confcience ftill be-gnaw thy foul;
Thy friends fufpect for traitors while thou liv'ft,
And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends:
No fleep close up that deadly eye of thine,
Unless it be while fome tormenting dream
Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils!
Thou elvish-markt abortive, rooting hog!
Thou that waft feal'd in thy nativity
The flave of nature, and the fon of hell! (7)
Thou flander of thy heavy mother's womb!
Thou loathed iffue of thy father's loins!
Thou rag of honour, thou detefted-
Glo. Margaret.

Q Mar. Richard.

Glo. Ha?

Q. Mar. I call thee not.

Glo. I cry thee mercy then; for, I did think, That thou had'ft call'd me all these bitter names. Q. Mar. Why, fo I did; but look'd for no reply, Oh, let me make the period to my curfe..

Glo. 'Tis done by me, and ends in Margaret.

(7) The flave of nature,-] It was fuggefted to me, that, probably, the author might have wrote

The fhame of nature,-

But, as Mr. Warburton ingeniously obferv'd to me, the firft is a most beautiful and fatirical expreffion. For, as it was cuftomary formerly for mafters to brand their flaves, especially their fugitive slaves, both as a punishment, and as a mark to afcertain the ownership; fo, when any perfon is born ill-fhap'd, 'tis ufually faid, nature has ftigmatiz'd him, or fet a mark upon him that men may beware of his ill-conditions. It is the old rule in phyfiognomy, and we do not want living proofs of its being well-grounded, that

Diftortum Vultum fequitur Diftortio Morum.

Queen.

Queen. Thus have you breath'd your curfe against yourself.

Q.Mar. Poorpainted Queen, vain flourish of my fortune! Why ftrew'st thou fugar on that bottl'd spider, Whose deadly web enfnareth thee about? Fool, fool, thou whet'ft a knife to kill thyself: The day will come, that thou fhalt with for me To help thee curfe this pois'nous bunch-back'd Haft. Falfe-boading woman, end thy frantick curfe ; Left to thy harm thou move our patience.

toad.

Q.Mar. Foul fhame upon you! you have all mov'd mine. Riv. Were you well ferv'd, you would be taught your duty.

Q. Mar. To ferve me well, you all should do me duty, Teach me to be your Queen, and you my subjects: O, ferve me well, and teach yourselves that duty. Dorf. Difpute not with her, the is lunatick.

Q.Mar. Peace, mafter Marquifs, you are malapert: Your fire-new stamp of honour is fcarce current. O, that your young nobility could judge

What 'twere to lofe it, and be miserable!

They, that stand high, have many blasts to shake them; And, if they fall, they dafh themselves to pieces.

Glo. Good counfel, marry, learn it, learn it, Marquifs. Dorf. It touches you, my Lord, as much as me. Glo. Ay, and much more; but I was born fo high, Our airy buildeth in the cedar's top,

And dallies with the wind, and fcorns the fun.

Q. Mar. And turns the fun to fhade;-alas! alas!
Witness my fon, now in the shade of death;
Whofe bright out-fhining beams thy cloudy wrath
Hath in eternal darkness folded up.

Your airy buildeth in our airy's neft;
O God, that feeft it, do not suffer it:
As it was won with blood, fo be it loft!

Buck. Peace, peace for fhame, if not for charity.
Q. Mar. Urge neither charity nor fhame to me;
Uncharitably with me have you dealt,

And fhamefully my hopes, by you, are butcher'd.
My charity is outrage, life my fhame,

And