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They could not speak, and fo I left them both,
To bear these tidings to the bloody king.

And here he comes.

Enter king Richard.

All health, my fovereign lord! K. RICH. Kind Tirrel-am I happy in the news? TIR. If to have done the thing you gave in charge Beget your happiness, be happy then ;

For it is done.

K. RICH. But didft thou see them dead?
TIR. I did, my lord.

K. RICH. And, buried, gentle Tirrel?

TIR. The chaplain of the Tower hath buried them, But where, to say the truth, I do not know.

K. RICH. Come, to me, Tirrel, foon, soon after fupper, When thou shalt tell the process of their death.

Mean time-but think, how I may do thee good,
And be inheritor of thy defire.

Farewel till then.

TIR. I humbly take my leave.

[Exit.

K. RICH. The son of Clarence have I pent up close; His daughter meanly have I match'd in marriage; The fons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bofom: And Anne my wife hath bid this world good night. Now, for I know the Briton Richmond aims At young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter, And by that knot looks proudly on the crown; To her go I, a jolly thriving wooer.

CAT. My lord

Enter Catesby.

K RICH. Good or bad news, that thou com'ft in fo

bluntly?

CAT. Bad news, my lord; Morton is fled to Richmond : And Buckingham, back'd with the hardy Welshmen,

Is in the field, and still his power increaseth.

K. RICH. Ely with Richmond troubles me more near,
Than Buckingham and his rash-levied army.
Come, I have learn'd, that fearful commenting
Is leaden fervitor to dull delay;

Delay leads impotent and fnail-pac'd beggary.
Then fiery expedition be my wing,
Joves's Mercury, and herald for a king.
Go, muster men: my council is my shield,
We must be brief, when traitors brave the field.

SCENE IV. Enter Queen Margaret.
Q: MAR. So now profperity begins to mellow,
And drop into the rotten mouth of death.
Here in these confines flily have I lurk'd

To watch the waining of mine enemies.
A dire induction am I witness to,

And will to France; hoping the confequence
Will prove as bitter, black and tragical.

[Exit.

Withdraw thee, wretched Marg'ret! who comes here?

Enter the Dutchefs of York, and the Queen.

QUEEN. Ah, my poor Princes! ah, my tender babes; My unblown flowers, new-appearing fweets!

If yet your gentle fouls fly in the air,
And be not fixt in doom perpetual,
Hover about me with your airy wings,
And hear your mother's lamentation.

Q. MAR. Hover about her; fay, that right for right
Hath dimm'd your infant-morn to aged night.

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DUTCH. So many miseries have craz'd my voice, That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute. Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?

Q. MAR. Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet, Edward for Edward pays a dying debt.

QUEEN. Wilt thou, O God, fly from such gentle lambs, And throw them in the entrails of the wolf? Why didst thou sleep when such a deed was done?

Q. MAR. When holy Henry died, and my sweet fon. DUTCH Dead life, blind fight, poor mortal living ghost, Woe's scene, world's fhame, grave's due, by life ufurp'd, Brief abstract and record of tedious days,

Reft thy unreft on England's lawful earth,
Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood.

QUEEN. Ah, that thou would'st as foon afford a grave, As thou canft yield a melancholy seat;

Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here.
Ah, who hath any caufe to mourn but we ?

Q. MAR. If ancient forrow be moft reverent,
Give mine the benefit of figniory;

And let my griefs frown on the upper hand.
If forrow can admit fociety,

Tell o'er your woes again by viewing mine.
I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him :
I had a husband, till a Richard kill'd him ;

Thou had'st an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him :
Thou had'st a Richard, till a Richard kill'd him.

DUTCH. I had a Richard too, and thou did'st kill him:

I had a Rutland too, thou holp'ft to kill him.

Q. MAR. Thou had'ft a Clarence too, and Richard kill'd him.

From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept

A hell-hound that doth hunt us all to death;
That dog that had his teeth before his eyes,
To worry lambs and lap their gentle blood;
That foul-defacer of God's handy-work
Thy womb let loose, to chafe us to our graves.
O upright, juft, and true difpofing God,
How do I thank thee that this carnal cur,
Preys on the iffue of his mother's body,
And makes her pue-fellow with others' moan!

DUTCH. Oh, Harry's wife, triumph not in my woes,
God witnels with me, I have wept for thine.

Q. MAR. Bear with me, I am hungry for revenge,
And now I cloy me with beholding it.

Thy Edward he is dead, that kill'd my Edward,
Thy other Edward dead, to quit my Edward,
Young York he is but boot, because both they
Match not the high perfection of my loss.

Thy Clarence he is dead, that ftabb'd my Edward;
And the beholders of this tragic play

Th' adulterate Haftings, Rivers, Vaughan, Gray,
Untimely fmother'd in their dufky graves.
Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer,
Only referv'd their factor to buy fouls,

And fend them thither; but at hand, at hand,

Infues his piteous and unpitied end;

Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, faints pray, for ven

Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I pray,

That I may live to say, the dog is dead!

[geance

QUEEN. Oh! thou did't prophefy, the time would come,

That I fhould wifh for thee to help me curfe

That bottl'd fpider, that foul bunch-back'd toad.

QMAR. I call'd thee then vain flourish of my fortune,

I call'd thee then poor fhadow painted queen,
The presentation of but what I was ;

The flatt'ring index of a direful page;

One heav'd on high, to be hurl'd down below;
A mother only mock'd with two fair babes;
A dream of what thou waft; a garish flag,
To be the aim of ev'ry dang'rous shot ;
A fign of dignity, a breath, a bubble;
A queen in jest, only to fill the scene.

Where is thy husband now? where be thy brothers?
Where be thy children? wherein dost thou joy?
Who fues and kneels, and fays, God fave the queen?
Where be the bending peers, that flatter'd thee?
Where be the thronging troops that follow'd thee?
Decline all this, and fee what now thou art;
For happy wife, a most distressed widow ;
For joyful mother, one that wails the name ;
For one being fu'd to, one that humbly fues:
For queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care;
For one that fcorn'd at me, now fcorn'd of me;
For one being fear'd of all, now fearing one;
For one commanding all, obey'd of none,
Thus hath the course of justice wheel'd about,
And left thee but a very prey to time;
Having no more but thought of what thou wert,
To torture thee the more, being what thou art.
Thou didft ufurp my place, and doft thou not
Ufurp the just proportion of my forrow?
Now thy proud neck bears half my burden'd yoke;
From which, even here I flip my wearied head,
And leave the burden of it all on thee.

Farewel, York's wife, and queen of sad mischance,

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