Whom God preserve better than you would wish!
Cannot be quiet scarce a breathing-while,
But you must trouble him with lewd complaints.
Q. Eliz. Brother of Gloster, you mistake the
matter:

The king, of his own royal disposition,
And not provok'd by any suitor else;
Aiming, belike, at your interior hatred,
That in your outward action shows itself,
Against my children, brothers, and myself,
Makes him to send; that thereby he may gather
The ground of your ill-will, and so remove it.

Glo. I cannot tell;- The world is grown so bad,
That wrens may prey where eagles dare not perch:
Since every Jack became a gentleman,
There's many a gentle person made a Jack.

Q. Eliz. Come, come, we know your meaning,
brother Gloster;

You envy my advancement, and my friends;
God grant, we never may have need of you!
Glo. Meantime, God grants that we have need of
you:

Our brother is imprison'd by your means,
Myself disgrac'd, and the nobility

Held in contempt; while great promotions
Are daily given, to ennoble those

That scarce, some two days since, were worth a noble.
Q. Eliz. By Him, that rais'd me to this careful
height

From that contented hap which I enjoy'd,
I never did incense his majesty

Against the duke of Clarence, but have been
An earnest advocate to plead for him.

My lord, you do me shameful injury,
Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects.

Glo. You may deny that you were not the cause
Of my lord Hastings' late imprisonment.
Rie. She may, my lord; for

Grey,

Were factious for the house of Lancaster ;-
And, Rivers, so were you :- Was not your husband
In Margaret's battle at Saint Alban's slain?
Let me put in your minds, if you forget,
What you have been ere now, and what you are;
Withal, what I have been, and what I am.

Q. Mar. A murd'rous villain, and so still thou art.
Glo. Poor Clarence did forsake his father Warwick,
Ay, and forswore himself,-Which Jesu pardon! -
Q. Mar. Which God revenge!

Glo. To fight on Edward's party, for the crown;
And, for his meed, poor lord, he is mew'd up:
I would to God, my heart were flint like Edward's,
Or Edward's soft and pitiful, like mine;

I am too childish-foolish for this world.

Q. Mar. Hie thee to hell for shame, and leave this world,

Thou cacodæmon! there thy kingdom is.

Riv. My lord of Gloster, in those busy days,
Which here you urge, to prove us enemies,
We follow'd then our lord, our lawful king;
So should we you, if you should be our king.
Glo. If I should be? I had rather be a pedlar:
Far be it from my heart, the thought thereof!
Q. Eliz. As little joy, my lord, as you suppose

Glo. She may, lord Rivers?-why, who knows You should enjoy, were you this country's king;

not so?

She may do more, sir, than denying that:

She may help you to many fair preferments;

And then deny her aiding hand therein,
And lay those honours on your high desert.

As little joy you may suppose in me,
That I enjoy, being the queen thereof.
Q. Mar. A little joy enjoys the queen thereof!
For I am she, and altogether joyless.

I can no longer hold me patient.

[Advancing

What may she not? She may,-ay, marry, may Hear me, you wrangling pirates, that fall out she,

Rie. What, marry, may she?

In sharing that which you have pill'd from me :
Which of you trembles not, that looks on me?

Glo. What, marry, may she? marry with a king, | If not, that, I being queen, you bow like subjects; A bachelor, a handsome stripling too:

I wis, your grandam had a worser match.

Q. Eliz. My lord of Gloster, I have too long
borne

Your blunt upbraidings, and your bitter scoffs:
By heaven, I will acquaint his majesty,
Of those gross taunts I often have endur'd.
I had rather be a country servant-maid,
Than a great queen, with this condition.
To be so baited, scorn'd, and storm'd at:
Small joy have I in being England's queen.

Enter QUEEN MARGARET, behind.

Yet that, by you depos'd, you quake like rebels?
Ah, gentle villain, do not turn away!

Glo. Foul wrinkled witch, what mak'st thou in
my sight?

Q. Mar. But repetition of what thou hast marr'd;
That will I make, before I let thee go.

Glo. Wert thou not banished on pain of death?
Q. Mar. I was; but I do find more pain in banish-

ment,

Than death can yield me here by my abode.
A husband, and a son, thou ow'st to me,
And thou, a kingdom; - all of you, allegiance:
This sorrow that I have, by right is yours;

Q. Mar. And lessen'd be that small, God, I be- And all the pleasures you usurp, are mine.

seech thee!

Thy honour, state, and seat, is due to me.

Glo. What? threat you me with telling of the
king?

Tell him, and spare not: look, what I have said
1 will avouch, in presence of the king:
I dare adventure to be sent to the Tower.
*Tis time to speak, my pains are quite forgot.

Glo. The curse my noble father laid on thee,
When thou didst crown his warlike brows with paper,
And with thy scorns drew'st rivers from his eyes;
And then, to dry them, gav'st the duke a clout,
Steep'd in the faultless blood of pretty Rutland;
His curses, then from bitterness of soul

Denounc'd against thee, are all fallen upon thee;
And God, not we, hath plagu'd thy bloody deed.

curses!

Though not by war, by surfeit die your king!
As ours by murder, to make him a king!
Edward, thy son, that now is prince of Wales,
For Edward, my son, that was prince of Wales,
Die in his youth, by like untimely violence!
Thyself a queen, for me that was a queen,
Outlive thy glory, like my wretched self!
Long may'st thou live, to wail thy children's loss;
And see another, as I see thee now, w
Deck'd in thy rights, as thou art stall'd in mine!
Long die thy happy days before thy death;
And, after many lengthen'd hours of grief,
Die neither mother, wife, nor England's queen!-
Rivers, and Dorset, you were standers by,
And so wast thou, lord Hastings, when my son
Was stabb'd with bloody daggers: God, I pray him,
That none of you may live your natural age,
But by some unlook'd accident cut off!

Glo. Have done thy charm, thou hateful wither'd hag.

Q. Mar. And leave out thee? stay, dog, for thou
shalt hear me.

If heaven have any grievous plague in store,
Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee,
O, let them keep it, till thy sins be ripe,
And then hurl down their indignation
On thee, the troubler of the poor world's peace!
The worm of conscience still be-gnaw thy soul!
Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou liv'st.
And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends!
No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine,
Unless it be while some tormenting dream
Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils!
Thou elvish-mark'd, abortive, rooting hog!
Thou that wast seal'd in thy nativity
The slave of nature, and the son of hell!
Thou slander of thy mother's heavy womb!
Thou loathed issue of thy father's loins!
Thou rag of honour! thou detested
Glo. Margaret.

Q. Mar.

Glo.

Q. Mar.

Richard!

Q. Mar. Poor painted queen, vain flourish of
my fortune!

Why strew'st thou sugar on that bottled spider,
Whose deadly web ensnareth thee about?
Fool, fool! thou whet'st a knife to kill thyself.
The day will come, that thou shalt wish for me
To help thee curse this pois'nous bunch-back'd toad.
Hast. False-boding woman, end thy frantick

curse;

Lest, to thy harm, thou move our patience.
Q. Mar. Foul shame upon you! you have all
mov'd mine.

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

Q. Mar. To serve me well, you all should do me
duty,

Teach me to be your queen, and you my subjects:
O, serve me well, and teach yourselves that duty.

Dor. Dispute not with her, she is lunatick.

Q. Mar. Peace, master marquis, you are malapert:
Your fire-new stamp of honour is scarce current:
O, that your young nobility could judge,
What 'twere to lose it, and be miserable!
They that stand high, have many blasts to shake
them;

And, if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces.
Glo. Good counsel, marry; learn it, learn it,
marquis.

Dor. It touches you, my lord, as much as me.
Glo. Ay, and much more: But I was born so
high,

Our aiery buildeth in the cedar's top,
And dallies with the wind, and scorns the sun.

Q. Mar. And turns the sun to shade; -alas!
alas!

Witness my son, now in the shade of death:
Whose bright out-shining beams thy cloudy wrath
Hath in eternal darkness folded up.
Your aiery buildeth in our aiery's nest:
O God, that see'st it, do not suffer it;
As it was won with blood, lost be it so!

Buck. Peace, peace, for shame, if not for charity.
Q. Mar. Urge neither charity nor shame to me;
Uncharitably with me have you dealt,
And shamefully by you my hopes are butcher'd.
My charity is outrage, life my shame,--
And in my shame still live my sorrow's rage!
Buck. Have done, have done.

Q. Mar. O princely Buckingham, I kiss thy hand,
In sign of league and amity with thee:
Now fair befal thee, and thy noble house!
Thy garments are not spotted with our blood,
Nor thou within the compass of my curse.

Buck. Nor no one here; for curses never pass
The lips of those that breathe them in the air.

Q. Mar. I'll not believe but they ascend the sky
And there awake God's gentle-sleeping 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 set their marks on him;
And all their ministers attend on him.

Glo. What doth she say, my lord of Buckinglam
Buck. Nothing that I respect, my gracious lord.
Q. Mar. What, dost thou scorn me for my gentic
counsel ?

Ha? I call thee not. Glo. I cry thee mercy then; for I did think, That thou had'st call'd me all these bitter names. Q. Mar. Why, so I did; but look'd for no reply. O, let me make the period to my curse. Glo. 'Tis done by me; and ends in Margaret. Q. Elix. Thus have you breath'd your curse O, but remember this another day, When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow;

against yourself.

--

And sooth the devil that I warn thee from?

And say, poor Margaret was a prophetess.→→→
Live each of you the subjects to his hate,
And be to yours, and all of you to God's!
Hast. My hair doth stand on end to hear her

curses.

[Exit.

Riv. And so doth mine; I muse, why she'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.

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

Riz. A virtuous and a christian-like conclusion,
To pray for them that have done scath to us.
Glo. So do I ever, being well advis'd; ----
For had I curs'd now, I had curs'd myself. [Aside.
Enter CATESBY.

-

Cates. Madam, his majesty doth call for you,
And for your grace, and you, my noble lords.
Q. Eliz. Catesby, I come: Lords, will you go

with me?

Rio, Madam, we will attend upon your grace.
[Exeunt all but GLOSTER.

Glo. I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl.
The secret mischiefs that I set abroach,

I lay unto the grievous charge of others.

SCENE IV.- The same. A Room in the Tower.
Enter CLARENCE and BRAKENBURY.

Brak. Why looks your grace so heavily to-day?
Clar. O, I have pass'd a miserable night,
So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights,
That, as I am a christian faithful man,
I would not spend another such a night,
Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days;
So full of dismal 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 embark'd to cross to Burgundy;
And, in my company, my brother Gloster:
Who from my cabin tempted me to walk
Upon the hatches; thence we look'd toward England,
And cited up a thousand heavy times,
During the wars of York and Lancaster
That had befall'n us. As we pac'd along
Upon the giddy footing of the hatches,
Methought, that Gloster stumbled; and, in falling,
Struck me, that thought to stay him, over-board,
Into the tumbling billows of the main.

O Lord! methought, what pain it was to drown!

What dreadful noise of water in mine ears!
What sights of ugly death within mine eyes!
Methought, I saw a thousand fearful wrecks;
A thousand men, that fishes gnaw'd upon;
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels,

Clarence, whom I, indeed, have laid in dark- All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea.

ness, m

I do beweep to many simple gulls;
Namely, to Stanley, Hastings, Buckingham;
And tell them 'tis the queen and her allies,
That stir the king against the duke my brother.
Now they believe it; and withal whet me
To be reveng'd on Rivers, Vaughan, Grey:
But then I sigh, and, with a piece of scripture,
Tell them that God bids us do good for evil :
And thus I clothe my naked villainy
With old odd ends, stol'n forth of holy writ;
And seem a saint, when most I play the devil.
Enter two Murderers.

But soft, here come my executioners. ➡
How now, my hardy, stout resolved mates?

Are you now going to despatch this thing?

Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those holes
Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept
(As 'twere in scorn of eyes,) reflecting gems,
That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep,
And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by.
Brak. Had you such leisure in the time of death,
To gaze upon these secrets of the deep?

Clar. Methought, I had; and often did I strive
To yield the ghost: but still the envious flood
Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth
To seek the empty, vast, and wand'ring air;
But smother'd it within my panting bulk,
Which almost burst to belch it in the sea.

Brak. Awak'd you not with this sore agony?
Clar. O, no, my dream was lengthen'd after life;
O, then began the tempest to my soul !

I pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood,

1 Murd. We are, my lord; and come to have the With that grim ferryman which poets write of,

warrant,

That we may be admitted where he is,

Gla. Well thought upon, I have it here about me:
[Gives the warrant.
When you have done, repair to Crosby-place.
But, sirs, be sudden in the execution,
Withal obdurate, do not hear him plead;
For Clarence is well spoken, and, perhaps,
May move your hearts to pity, if you mark him.
1 Murd. Tut, tut, my lord, we will not stand to
prate,

Talkers are no good doers; be assur'd,
We go to use our hands, and not our tongues.
Glo. Your eyes drop mill-stones, when fools' eyes
drop tears:

I like you, lads; Go, go, despatch. 1 Murd

about your business straight;

We will, my noble lord.
[Exeunt.

Unto the kingdom of perpetual night.

-

The first that there did greet my stranger soul,
Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick;
Who cry'd aloud, What scourge for perjury
Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence?
And so he vanish'd: Then 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 stabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury ; —
Seize on him, furies, take him to your torments!
With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends
Environ'd me, and howled in mine ears
Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise,
I trembling wak'd, and, for a season after,
Could not believe but that I was in hell;
Such terrible impression made my dream.

Brak. No marvel, lord, though it affrighted you; I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it.

Brak. What would'st thou, fellow? and how with me. cam'st thou hither?

1 Murd. I would speak with Clarence, and I came his reputation. Come, shall we fall to work? hither on my legs.

Clar. Tell him, when that our princely father For I repent me that the duke is slain.

ACT II.

K. Edw. Why, so:-now have I done a good Rivers and Hastings, take each other's hand;