Thou elvish mark'd, abortive, rooting hog!
Thou that waft feal'd in thy nativity
The flave of nature, and the fon of hell!
Thou flander of thy heavy mother's womb!
Thou lothed iffue of thy father's loins!
Thou wrack of honour, thou detefted-
Glo. Margaret.-

2. Mar. Richard..

Glo. Ha?

2. Mar. I call thee not.

Glo. I cry thee mercy then; for I did think That thou hadft call'd me all thefe bitter names, 2 Mar. Why, fo I did; but look'd for no reply. Oh, let me make the period to my curfe.

Glo. 'Tis done by me, and ends in Margaret.

Queen. Thus have you breath'd your curie against yourself.

2. Mar. Poor painted Queen, vain flourish of my fortune!

Why ftrew'st thou sugar on that bottled spider.
Whofe deadly web infnareth thee about?

Fool, fool, thou whett'ft a knife to kill thyfelf:
The day will come that thou shalt with for me,
To help thee curfe this pois nous bunch-back'd toad.
Haft. Falfe-boding woman, end thy frantic curse,
Left to thy harm thou move our patience.

2. Mar. Foul thame upon you! you have all mov'd

mine.

Riv. Were you well ferv'd, you would be taught your duty.

2. Mar. To ferve me well, you all fhould do me

duty,

Teach me to be your Queen, and you my subjects:
O ferve me well, and teach yourselves that duty.
Dor. Difpute not with her, she is lunatic.

2. Mar. Peace Mafter Marquis, you are malapert; Your fire-new ftamp of honour is fcarce current.

O that your young Nobility could judge

What 'twere to lofe it, and be miferable!

They that stand high, have many blasts to shake them; And if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces.

Glo. Good counfel, marry, learn it, learn it, Marquis

Dorf. It touches you, my Lord, as much as me. Glo. Ay, and much more; but I was born so high, "Our ai'ry buildeth in the cedar's top,

"And dallies with the wind, and fcorns the fun."

2. Mar. And turns the fun to fhade; -alas! alas !!
Winefs my fon, now in the thade of death; -
Whofe bright out-fhining beams thy cloudy wrath
Hath in eternal darkness folded up.

Your ai'ry buildeth in our ai'ry's neft:
O God, that feest it, do not suffer it ;
As it was won with blood, fo be it loft!

Buck. Peace, peace for fhame, if not for charity. 2. Mar. Urge neither charity nor fhame to me;. Uncharitably with me have you, dealt,

And fhamefully my hopes by you are butcher'd.
My charity is outrage, life my fhame,
And in my fhame still live my forrow's
Buck. Have done, have done.

rage!

2. Mar. O princely Buckingham, I'll kifs thy hand,.

In fign of league and amity with thee:
Now fair befal thee and thy noble house!

Thy garments are not fpotted with our blood;
Nor thou within the compass of my curie.

Buck. Nor no one here; for curfes never pass
The lips of thofe that breathe them in the air.
2. Mar. I'll not believe but they afcend the sky,
And there awake God's gentle fleeping peace.
O Buckingham, beware of yonder dog;

Look, when he fawns, he bites; and when he bites,
His venom-tooth will rankle to the death;

Have not to do with him, beware of him;

Sin, death, and hell, have fet their marks upon him, And all their minifters attend on him.

Glo. What doth fhe fay, my Lord of Buckingham ?
Buck. Nothing that I refpect, my gracious Lord.
2. Mar. What, doft thou fcorn me for my gentle
And footh the devil that I warn thee from? [counfel?
O, but remember this another day;

When he fhall iplit thy very heart with forrow,
And fay, poor Margret was a prophetess.

Live each of you the fubject to his hate,

And he to your's, and all of you to God's ! [Exit.

Buck. My hair doth ftand on end to hear her curfes Riv. And fo doth mine: I wonder fhe's at liberty. Glo. I cannot blame her, by God's holy mother; She hath had too much wrong, and I repent My part thereof that I have done to her.

Dorf. I never did her any to my knowledge.
Glo. Yet you have all the 'vantage of her wrong:
I was too hot to do fome body good."
That is too cold in thinking of it now.
Marry, for Clarence, he is well repay'd;
He is frank'd up to fatting for his pains;
God pardon them that are the caufe thereof!

Rev. A virtuous and a Chriftian-like conclufion,
To pray for them that have done feathe to us.
Glo. So do I ever, being well advis'd;
For had I curs'd now, I had curs'd myself.
Enter Catesby.

[Afide.

Catef. Madam, his Majesty doth call for you, And for your Grace, and you, my Noble Lord. Queen. Catesby, we come ; Lords, will you go with us? Riv. Madam, we will attend your Grace.

[Exeunt all but Gloucester;
Glo. I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl.
The fecret mischiefs that I fet a-broach,
I lay unto the grievous charge of others.
Clarence, whom I indeed have laid in darknes,
I do beweep to many fimple gulls,

Namely, to Stanley, Haftings, Buckingham;
And tell them, 'tis the Queen and her allies
That stir the King againit the Duke my brother
Now, they believe it, and withal whet me
To be reveng'd on Rivers, Doriet, Gray.
But then I figh, and with a piece of fcripture
Tell them, that God bids us do good for evil :
And thus I clothe my naked villany

With old odd ends, stol'n forth of holy writ,
And feem a faint when moft I play the devil.

Enter two Villains.

But foft, here come my executioners.

How now, my handy, ftout, resolved mates,

Are you now going to dispatch this deed?

i Vil. We are, my Lord, and come to have the warThat we may be admitted where he is.

[rant,

Glo. Well thought upon, I have it here about ine: When you have done, repair to Crosby-place. But, Sirs, be fudden in the execution, Withal obdurate, do not hear him plead; For Clarence is well-fpoken, and perhaps.

May move your hearts to pity, if you mark him.

2 Vil. Fear not, my Lord, we will not and to prate ; Talkers are no good doers; be affur'd,

We go to use our hands, and not our tongues. Glo. Your eyes drop milftones, when fools' eyes drop, tears.

I like you, lads; about your bufinefs; go. [Exeunt.

SCENE

V. Changes to the Tower.

Enter Clarence and Brakenbury.

Brak. Why looks your Grace fo heavily to-day?
Gla. O, I have pass'd a miserable night,
So full of ugly fights, of ghaltly dreams,
That, as I am a Chriftian faithful man,
I would not spend another fuch a night,
Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days;
So full of difmal terror was the time.

Brak. What was your dream, my Lord? I pray you tell me.

Clar. Methought that I had broken from the Tower And was imbark'd to crofs to Burgundy,

And in my company my brother Glofter;
Who from my cabbin tempted me to walk

Upon the hatches. Thence we look'd tow'rd England,
And cited up a thousand heavy times,

During the Wars of York and Lancaster,

That had befall'n us. As we pafs'd along

Upon the giddy footing of the hatches,

Methought that Glo'fter ftumbled, and in falling
Struck me (that fought to tay him) over-board,

Into the tumbling billows of the main.

Lord, Lord, methought, what pain it was to drown! What dreadful noife of waters in my ears!

What fights of ugly death within mine eyes!
I thought I faw a thousand fearful wrecks;
A thousand men, that fishes gnaw'd upon;
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels.

Some lay in dead mens' fculls; and in thofe holes
Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept,
As 'twere in fcorn of eyes, reflecting gems;
That woo'd the flimy bottom of the deep,
And mock'd the dead bones that lay fcatter d by.
Brak. Had you fuch leifure in the time of death,
To gaze upon the fecrets of the deep?

Cla. Methought I had; and often did I strive
To yield the gholt; but ftill the envious flood
Kept in my foul, and would not let it forth
To find the empty, vaft, and wand'ring air;
But fmother'd it within my panting bulk,
Which almost burst to belch it in the fea.

Brak. Awak'd you not with this fore agony?
Clar. No, no; my dream was lengthen'd after life.
O then began the tempeft to my foul:

I pafs'd, methought, the melancholy flood,
With that grim ferryman which poets write of,
Unto the kingdom of perpetual night.

The first that there did greet my stranger-foul,
Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick,
Who cry'd aloud-What fcourge for perjury
Can this dark monarchy afford falfe Clarence?
And fo he vanilh'd. 1 hen came wand'ring by
A shadow like an angel, with bright hair
Dabbled in blood, and he shriek`d out aloud-
Clarence is come, false, fleeting, perjur'd Clarence
That ftabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury;
Seize on him, fúries, take him to your torments !-
With that, methought, a légion of foul fiends
Inviron'd me, and howled in mine ears
Such hideous cries, that with the very noife
I, trembling, 'wak'd; and for a feafon after
Could not believe but that I was in hell:
Such terrible impreffion made my dream.

Woo'd, for ogled.