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
Be not ta'en tardy by unwise delay.

behalf, to meet you on the way:

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! 3
Anointed let me be with deadly venom;

3

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 hast 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

3 Were red-hot steel, to sear me to the brain!] She seems to allude to the ancient mode of punishing a regicide, or any other egregious criminal, viz. by placing a crown of iron, heated red-hot, upon his head.

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;
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 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

thee;

[TO DORSET.

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

[To ANNE. Go thou to sanctuary, and good thoughts possess thee! [To Q. ELIZABETH.

I to my grave, where peace and rest lie with me!
Eighty odd years of sorrow have I seen,

And each hour's joy wreck'd with a week of teen.s

Q. Eliz. Stay yet; look back, with me, unto the

Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes,
Whom envy hath immur'd within your walls!
Rough cradle for such little pretty ones!
Rude ragged nurse! old sullen play-fellow
For tender princes, use my babies well!
So foolish sorrow bids your stones farewell.

[Exeunt.

+ But with his timorous dreams —] 'Tis recorded by Polydore Virgil, that Richard was frequently disturbed by terrible dreams: this is therefore no fiction.

5 And each hour's joy wreck'd with a week of teen.] Teen is

sorrow.

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. 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 liege.
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.

6

now do I play the touch,] To play the touch is to represent the touchstone.

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

freezes :

Say, have I thy consent, that they shall die?

Buck. Give me some breath, some little pause,

lord,

Before I positively speak in this :

I will resolve your grace immediately.

dear

[Exit BUCKINGHAM. Cate. The king is angry; see, he gnaws his lip.7

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

[Aside.

[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 gold Would tempt into a close exploit9 of death?

Page. I know a discontented gentleman,

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.

1

The deep revolving witty Buckingham

[Exit Page.

No more shall be the neighbour to my counsels :

7—

see, he gnaws his lip.] Several of our ancient historians observe, that this was an accustomed action of Richard, whether he was pensive or angry.

8 And unrespective boys;] Unrespective is inattentive to consequences, inconsiderate.

9

1

close exploit-] is secret act.

witty In this place signifies judicious or cunning. A wit was not at this time employed to signify a man of fancy, but was used for wisdom or judgment.

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,2
Inquire me out some mean-born gentleman,
Whom I will marry straight to Clarence' daughter:
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,'

3

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.

Is thy name

- Tyrrel?

Tyr. James Tyrrel, and your most obedient subject. K. Rich. Art thou, indeed?

Tyr.

Prove me, my gracious lord. K. Rich. Dar'st thou resolve to kill a friend of mine?

2 I will take order for her keeping close.] i. e. I will take measures that shall oblige her to keep close.

3

it stands me much upon,] i. e. it is of the utmost consequence to my designs.