Imagens das páginas

Riv. What, marry, may she ?

Glo. What, marry, may se? marry with a King, A batchelor, a handsom stripling 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 scoffs : By heav'n, I will acquaint his Majesty, Of those gross taunts I often have endur'd. I had rather be a country servant-maid, Than a great Queen with this condition ; To be thus taunted, scorn'd and baited at. Small joy have I in being England's Queen.

Enter Queen Margaret. Q. Mar. And leffen'd be that small, God, I befcech Thy honour; state, and feat is due to me.

(thec! Glo. What! threat you me with telling of the King? Tell him, and spare not: Look, what I have said, (6) I will avouch in presence of the King : 'Tis time to speak, my pains are quite forgot.

Q. Mar. Out, devil ! I remember them too well :
Thou kill’aft my husband Herry in the Tower,
And Edward, my poor son, at Tewksbury.
Glo. Ere you were Queen, ay, or your

husband King,
I was a pack-horle in his great affairs;
A weeder out of his proud adversaries,
A liberal rewarder of his friends ;
To royalize his blood, I spilt mine own.

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 house of Lancaster ;
And, Rivers, so were you ;-was not your husband,
In Marg'ret'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 bim, and spare not : Look, what I have said,] This verse, which was at first left out by the players in their impression (in which the modern editors have follow'd them) I have restored from the old quarto's; and, indeed, without it, the verse, which immediately Follows, is hardly sense.


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

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

Glo. Poor Clarence did forsake his father Warwick, Ay, and forswore himself, (which, Jesu, pardon !--) 0. 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 soft and pitiful, like mine ; I am too childish-foolish for this world.

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

· Riv. My Lord of Glofter, in those busy days,
Which here you urge to prove us enemies,
We follow'd then our Lord, our lawful King ;
So should we you, if you should be our King.

Glo. If I hould be! I had rather be a pedlar ;
Par be it from my heart, the thought thereof.

Queen. As little joy, my Lord, as you suppose You

should enjoy, were you this country's King ;
As little joy you may suppose in me,
That I enjoy, being the Queen thereof.

Q. Mar. A little joy enjoys the Queen thereof;
For I am the, and altogether joyless.
I can no longer hold me patient.
Hear me, you wrangling pirates, that fall out
In sharing that which you have pillid from me ;
Which of you trembles not, that looks on me?
If not that I being Queen, you bow like subjects ;
Yet that by you depos'd, you quake like rebels.
Ah, gentle villain, do not turn away!

Glo. Foul wrinkled witch, what mak't thou in my fight?
Q. Mar. But repetition of what thou hast marr'd,
That will I make, before I let thee go.
A husband and a son thou ow'ft to me;
And thou, a kingdom; all of you, allegiance ;

[To the Queen. The forrow, that I have, by right is yours; And all the pleasures, you usurp, are mine. Gla. The curse my noble father laid on thee,


[T. Glo.

And turn you

When thou didit crown his warlike brows with paper,
And with thy scorns drew'tt rivers from his eyes,
And then, to dry them, gav'st the Duke a clout,
Steep'd in the faultless blood of pretty Rutland;
His curses, then from bitterness of soul
Denounc'd against thee, are now fall’n upon thee;
And God, not we, has plagu'd thy bloody deed.

R. Mar. So just is God to right the innocent.

Haft. O, 'twas the fouleft deed to flay that babe,
And the moft merciless, that e'er was heard of.

Riv. Tyrants themselves wept, when it was reported.
Dorf. No man but prophesy'd revenge for it.
Bučk. Northumberland, then present, wept to see it.

Q. Mar. What! where you snarling all before I came, Ready to catch each other by the throat,

all your hatred now on me ?
Did York's dread curse prevail so much with heav'n,
That Henry's death, my lovely Edward's death,
Their kingdoms loss, my woeful banishment,
Could all but answer for that peevish brat?
Can curses pierce the clouds, and enter heav'n?
Why, then give way, dull clouds, to my quick curfes !
If not by war, by surfeit die your King,
As ours by murder to make him a King!
Edward thy fon, that now is Prince of Wales,
For Edrward our son, that was Prince of Wales,
Die in his youth, by like untimely violence !
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,
And fee another, as I see thee now,
Deck’ in thy rights, as thou art stall'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 so wait thou, Lord Hastings, when my son
Was ftabb’d with bloody daggers; God, I pray him,
'That none of you may

your natural

age, But by some unlook'd accident cut off !


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

shalt hear me.
If heav'ns have any grievous plague in store,
Exceeding those that I can wilh upon thee,
0, let them keep it, till thy fins be ripe ;
And then hurl down their indignation
On thee, 'thou troubler of the


peace !
The worm of conscience ftill be-gnaw thy soul
Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou liv'fta
And take deep traitors for thy deareit friends :
No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine,
Unless it be while some tormenting dream
Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils !
Thou elvith-markt abortive, rooting hog!
Thou that wast seal'd in thy nativity
The slave of nature, and the son of hell! (7)
Thou slander of thy heavy mother's womb !
Thou loathed issue of thy father's loins !
Thou rag of honour, thou detested-

Glo. Margaret.
Q. Mar. Richard.-
Glo. Ha?
Q. Mar. I call thee not.
Glo. I thee

mercy then ; for, I did think, That thou had'It call’d me all these bitter names.

Q. Mar. Why, so I did ; but look'd for no reply,
Oh, let me make the period to my curse. ,
Glo. "Tis done by me, and ends in Margaret



(7) The Nave of nature,–] It was suggested to me, that, probably, the author might have wrote

The shame of nature, But, as Mr. Warburton ingeniously observ’d to me, the first is a most beautiful and satirical expression. For, as it was customary formerly for masters to brand their Naves, especially their fugitive Naves, both as a punishment, and as a mark to ascertain the ownership; so, when any person is born ill-thap'd, 'tis usually said, nature bas ftigmatiz'd him, or set a mark upon him that men may beware of his ill-conditions. It is the old rule in physiognomy, and we do not want living proofs of its being well-grounded, that Distortum Vultum fequitur Distortio Morum.


Queen. Thus have you breath'd your curse against

yourself. Mar. 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 shalt wish for me To help thee curse this pois’nous bunch-back'd toad.

Haf. False-boading woman, end thy frantick curse ; Left to thy harm thou move our patience.

Q.Mar. Foul shame upon you! you have all mov'd mine. Riv. Were you well serv’d, you would be taught your

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

Dorf. Dispute not with her, she is lunatick.

Q. Mar. Peace, master Marquiss, you are malapert : Your fire-new stamp of honour is scarce current. 0, that your young nobility could judge What 'were to lose it, and be miserable ! They, that stand high, have many blasts to shake them ; And, if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces.

Glo. Good counsel, marry, learn it, learn it, Marquiss. Dorf. It touches you, my Lord, as much as me.

Glo. Ay, and much more ; but I was born so high, Our airy buildeth in the cedar's top, And dallies with the wind, and scorns the sun.

Q. Mar. And turns the sun to shade ;-alas ! alas ! Witness my fon, now in the shade of death; Whose bright out-shining beams thy cloudy wrath Hath in eternal darkness folded up. Your airy buildeth in our airy's nett ; O God, that seest it, do not suffer it: As it was won with blood, so be it loft !

Buck. Peace, peace for shame, if not for charity.

Q. Mar. Urge neither charity nor shame to me ;
Uncharitably with me have you dealt,
And shamefully my hopes, by you, are butcher'd.
My charity is outrage, life my shame,


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