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Your brother's fon fhall never reign our king;
But we will plant some other in the throne,
To the difgrace and downfal of your house;
And in this resolution here we leave you.
-Come. citizens, we will intreat no more.

[Exeunt.

CAT. Call them again, fweet prince, accept their fuits;

If you deny them, all the land will rue it.

GLO. Will you inforce me to a world of cares?
-Call them again; I am not made of stone,
But penetrable to your kind intreaties;
Albeit against my confcience and my foul.

Exit. Re-enter Buckingham and the reft.
-Coufin of Buckingham, and fage, grave men,
Since you will buckle fortune on my back
To bear her burthen, whether I will or no,
I must have patience to endure the load.
But if black scandal, or foul-fac'd reproach,
Attend the sequel of your impofition,
Your meer enforcement fhall acquittance me
From all the impure blots and ftains thereof.
For God doth know, and you may partly fee,
How far I am from the defire of this.

MAY. God bless your grace; we fee it, and will fay it.
GLO. In faying fo, you fhall but say the truth.
Buck. Then I falute you with this royal title,
Long live king Richard, England's worthy king!
ALL. Amen.

BUCK. To-morrow may it please you to be crown'd? GLO. Ev'n when you pleafe, for you will have it fo. Buck. To morrow then we will attend your grace, And fo moft joyfully we take our leave.

GLO. [To the clergymen,] Come, let us to our holy

work again.

—Farewel, my coufin; farewel, gentle friends. [Exeunt.

ACT IV.

SCENE I

Before the Tower.

Enter queen, dutchess of York, and marquis of Dorset, at one door; Anne, dutchefs of Gloucester, leading lady Margaret Plantagenet, Clarence's young daughter, at the other.

W

DUTCHESS.

HO meets us here?my niece Plantagenet,
Led in the hand of her kind aunt of Glo'fter?
Now, for my life she's wandering to the Tower,
On pure heart's love, to greet the tender princes.
Daughter, well met.

ANNE. God give your graces both

A happy and a joyful time of day.

QUEEN. Sifter, well met; whither away so fast? ANNE. No farther than the Tower; and as I guess, Upon the like devotion as yourselves,

To gratulate the gentle princes there.

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QUEEN. Kind fifter, thanks; we'll enter all together.

Enter the lieutenant.

And in good time here the lieutenant comes.

-Mafter lieutenant, pray you, by your leave How doth the prince, and my young son of York?

LIEUT. Right well.-Dear madam; by your patience I may not fuffer you to vifit them;

The king hath strictly charg'd the contrary.

QUEEN. The king? who's that?

LIEUT. I mean, the lord protector.

QUEEN. The Lord protect him from that kingly title! Hath he fet bounds between their love and me?

I am their mother, who fhall bar me from them?

DUTCH. 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 fights, I'll bear the blame, And take thy office from thee on my peril.

LIEUT. No, madam, no, I may not leave it so. I'm bound by oath, and therefore pardon me,

Enter Stanley.

[Exit Lieut.

STAN. Let me but meet you, ladies, one hour hence, And I'll falute your grace of York as mother

And rev'rend looker on of two fair queens.

-Come, madam, you must strait to Westminster,

[To the dutchess of Gloucester,

There to be crowned Richard's royal queen.
QUEEN. Ah, cut my lace a under,

That my pent heart may have some scope to beat,
Or else I swoon with this dead killing news!

ANNE. Despightful tidings, O unpleafing news!
DOR. Be of good chear. Mother, how fares your grace?
QUEEN. O Dorset, speak not to me, get thee hence,
Death and deftruction dog thee at thy heels,

Thy mother's name is ominous to children.
If thou wilt outstrip death, go cross the feas;
And live with Richmond, from the reach of hell.
Go, hye thee, hye thee from this slaughter-house,
Left thou increase the number of the dead;

And make me die the thrall of Margaret's curfe;
Nor mother, wife, nor England's counted queen.
STAN. Full of wife care is this your counfel, madam.
-Take all the fwift advantage of the time;

You shall have letters from me to my fon

In your behalf, to meet you on the way:
Be not ta'en tardy by unwife delay.

DUTCH. O ill-dispersing wind of misery !—
O my accurfed womb, the bed of death,
A cockatrice haft thou hatch'd to the world,
Whofe unavoided eye is murderous.

STAN. Come, madam, come, I in al' hafte was fent.

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 fteel, to fear me to the brain!
Anointed let me be with deadly venom,

And die, ere men can fay, "God fave the queen!"
QUEEN. Go, go, poor foul, I envy not thy glory;
To feed thy humour, with thyself no harm.

ANNE. No! why ?-When he, that is my husband now, Came to me, as I follow'd Henry's coarse,

When scarce the blood was well wash'd from his hands,
Which iffu'd from my other angel husband,

And that dear faint, which then I weeping follow'd,
O when, I fay, I look'd on Richard's face,
This was my wifh; "Be thou, quoth I, accurs'd,

"For making me fo' young, fo old a widow !

"And when thou wed'ft, let forrow haunt thy bed; "And be thy wife, if any be fo mad,

"More miferable by the life of thee,

"Than thou haft made me by my dear lord's death!"

Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again,

Within fo fmall a time, my woman's heart
Grofly grew captive to his honey words,

And prov'd the fubject of mine own foul's curse,
Which ever fince hath held mine eyes from reft.
For never yet one hour in his bed

Did I enjoy the golden dew of sleep,

But with his tim'rous dreams was ftill awak'd.
Befide, he hates me for my father Warwick;
And will, no doubt, fhortly be rid of me.

QUEEN. Poor heart, adieu, I pity thy complaining.
ANNE. No more than with my foul I mourn for yours.
DOR. Farewel, thou woful welcomer of glory!
ANNE. Adieu, poor foul, that tak'st thy leave of it!
DUTCH. Go thou to Richmond, and good fortune guide

thee!

[To Dorfet. Go thou to Richard, and good angels tend thee. [To Anne. Go thou to Sanctuary, good thoughts possess thee!

[To the queen.

I to my grave, where peace and reft lie with me!
Eighty odd years of forrow have I féen,

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

QUEEN. Stay; yet look back, with me, unto the Tower. Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes, Whom envy hath immur'd within your walls! Rough cradle for fuch little pretty ones! Rude ragged nurse! old fullen play-fellow, For tender princes! use my babies well! So foolish forrow bids your ftones farewel.

[Exeunt,

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