Now, for my life, she's wand'ring to the Tower, On pure heart's love, to greet the tender prince.Daughter, well met. Anne. God give your graces both A happy and a joyful time of day! Q. Eliz. As much to you, good sister! Whither away? Anne. No further than the Tower; and, as I guess, Upon the like devotion as yourselves, To gratulate the gentle princes there. Q. Eliz. Kind sister, thanks; we'll enter all together: Enter BRAKENBURY. And, in good time, here the lieutenant comes.- The king hath strictly charg'd the contrary. Brak. title! Hath he set bounds between their love, and me? I am their mother, who shall bar me from them? Duch. 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 sights; I'll bear thy blame, And take thy office from thee, on thy peril. Brak. No, madam, no, I may not leave it so; I am bound by oath, and therefore pardon me. [Exit BRAKENBURY. Enter STANLEY. Stan. Let me but meet you, ladies, one hour And I'll salute your grace of York as mother, Q. Eliz. Ah, cut my lace asunder! That my pent heart may have some scope to beat, Or else I swoon with this dead-killing news. Anne. Despiteful tidings! O unpleasing news! Dor. Be of good cheer:-Mother, how fares your grace? Q. Eliz. O Dorset, speak not to me, get thee gone, Death and destruction dog thee at the heels; Thy mother's name is ominous to children: If thou wilt outstrip death, go cross the seas, And live with Richmond, from the reach of hell. Go, hie thee, hie thee, from this slaughter-house, Lest thou increase the number of the dead; And make me die the thrall of Margaret's curse,- Take all the swift advantage of the hours; Duch. O ill-dispersing wind of misery!— 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, And die, ere men can say-God save the queen! 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; Than thou hast made me by my dear lord's death! Even in so short a space, my woman's heart And prov'd the subject of mine own soul's curse: Did I enjoy the golden dew of sleep, But with his timorous dreams was still awak'd. Q. Eliz. Poor heart, adieu; I pity thy complaining. › 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 redhot, upon his head. ✦ But with his timorous dreams-] 'Tis recorded by Polydore Virgil, that Richard was frequently disturbed by terrible dreams: this is therefore no fiction. JOHNSON. 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. thee! Go thou to sanctuary, and good thoughts possess [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." Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes, [Exeunt. 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. 5 And each hour's joy wreck'd with a week of teen.] Teen is sorrow. K. Rich. Give me thy hand. Thus high, by thy advice, And thy assistance, is king Richard seated:- 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!- What say'st thou now? speak suddenly, be brief. 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, dear lord, Before I positively speak in this: I will resolve your grace immediately. [Exit BUCKINGHAM. 6 now do I play the touch,] To play the touch is to represent the touchstone. |