Rich. And did they so?
  Buck. No, so God helpe me, they spake not a word,
But like dumbe Statues, or breathing Stones,
Star'd each on other, and look'd deadly pale:
Which when I saw, I reprehended them,
And ask'd the Maior, what meant this wilfull silence?
His answer was, the people were not vsed
To be spoke to, but by the Recorder.
Then he was vrg'd to tell my Tale againe:
Thus sayth the Duke, thus hath the Duke inferr'd,
But nothing spoke, in warrant from himselfe.
When he had done, some followers of mine owne,
At lower end of the Hall, hurld vp their Caps,
And some tenne voyces cry'd, God saue King Richard:
And thus I tooke the vantage of those few.
Thankes gentle Citizens, and friends, quoth I,
This generall applause, and chearefull showt,
Argues your wisdome, and your loue to Richard:
And euen here brake off, and came away

   Rich. What tongue-lesse Blockes were they,
Would they not speake?
Will not the Maior then, and his Brethren, come?
  Buck. The Maior is here at hand: intend some feare,
Be not you spoke with, but by mightie suit:
And looke you get a Prayer-Booke in your hand,
And stand betweene two Church-men, good my Lord,
For on that ground Ile make a holy Descant:
And be not easily wonne to our requests,
Play the Maids part, still answer nay, and take it

   Rich. I goe: and if you plead as well for them,
As I can say nay to thee for my selfe,
No doubt we bring it to a happie issue

   Buck. Go, go vp to the Leads, the Lord Maior knocks.
Enter the Maior, and Citizens.

Welcome, my Lord, I dance attendance here,
I thinke the Duke will not be spoke withall.
Enter Catesby.

  Buck. Now Catesby, what sayes your Lord to my
request?
  Catesby. He doth entreat your Grace, my Noble Lord,
To visit him to morrow, or next day:
He is within, with two right reuerend Fathers,
Diuinely bent to Meditation,
And in no Worldly suites would he be mou'd,
To draw him from his holy Exercise

   Buck. Returne, good Catesby, to the gracious Duke,
Tell him, my selfe, the Maior and Aldermen,
In deepe designes, in matter of great moment,
No lesse importing then our generall good,
Are come to haue some conference with his Grace

   Catesby. Ile signifie so much vnto him straight.
Enter.

  Buck. Ah ha, my Lord, this Prince is not an Edward,
He is not lulling on a lewd Loue-Bed,
But on his Knees, at Meditation:
Not dallying with a Brace of Curtizans,
But meditating with two deepe Diuines:
Not sleeping, to engrosse his idle Body,
But praying, to enrich his watchfull Soule.
Happie were England, would this vertuous Prince
Take on his Grace the Soueraigntie thereof.
But sure I feare we shall not winne him to it

   Maior. Marry God defend his Grace should say vs
nay

   Buck. I feare he will: here Catesby comes againe.
Enter Catesby.

Now Catesby, what sayes his Grace?
  Catesby. He wonders to what end you haue assembled
Such troopes of Citizens, to come to him,
His Grace not being warn'd thereof before:
He feares, my Lord, you meane no good to him

   Buck. Sorry I am, my Noble Cousin should
Suspect me, that I meane no good to him:
By Heauen, we come to him in perfit loue,
And so once more returne, and tell his Grace.
Enter.

When holy and deuout Religious men
Are at their Beades, 'tis much to draw them thence,
So sweet is zealous Contemplation.
Enter Richard aloft, betweene two Bishops

   Maior. See where his Grace stands, tweene two Clergie
men

   Buck. Two Props of Vertue, for a Christian Prince,
To stay him from the fall of Vanitie:
And see a Booke of Prayer in his hand,
True Ornaments to know a holy man.
Famous Plantagenet, most gracious Prince,
Lend fauourable eare to our requests,
And pardon vs the interruption
Of thy Deuotion, and right Christian Zeale

   Rich. My Lord, there needes no such Apologie:
I doe beseech your Grace to pardon me,
Who earnest in the seruice of my God,
Deferr'd the visitation of my friends.
But leauing this, what is your Graces pleasure?
  Buck. Euen that (I hope) which pleaseth God aboue,
And all good men, of this vngouern'd Ile

   Rich. I doe suspect I haue done some offence,
That seemes disgracious in the Cities eye,
And that you come to reprehend my ignorance

   Buck. You haue, my Lord:
Would it might please your Grace,
On our entreaties, to amend your fault

   Rich. Else wherefore breathe I in a Christian Land

   Buck. Know then, it is your fault, that you resigne
The Supreme Seat, the Throne Maiesticall,
The Sceptred Office of your Ancestors,
Your State of Fortune, and your Deaw of Birth,
The Lineall Glory of your Royall House,
To the corruption of a blemisht Stock;
Whiles in the mildnesse of your sleepie thoughts,
Which here we waken to our Countries good,
The Noble Ile doth want his proper Limmes:
His Face defac'd with skarres of Infamie,
His Royall Stock grafft with ignoble Plants,
And almost shouldred in the swallowing Gulfe
Of darke Forgetfulnesse, and deepe Obliuion.
Which to recure, we heartily solicite
Your gracious selfe to take on you the charge
And Kingly Gouernment of this your Land:
Not as Protector, Steward, Substitute,
Or lowly Factor, for anothers gaine;
But as successiuely, from Blood to Blood,
Your Right of Birth, your Empyrie, your owne.
For this, consorted with the Citizens,
Your very Worshipfull and louing friends,
And by their vehement instigation,
In this iust Cause come I to moue your Grace

   Rich. I cannot tell, if to depart in silence,
Or bitterly to speake in your reproofe,
Best fitteth my Degree, or your Condition.
If not to answer, you might haply thinke,
Tongue-ty'd Ambition, not replying, yeelded
To beare the Golden Yoake of Soueraigntie,
Which fondly you would here impose on me.
If to reproue you for this suit of yours,
So season'd with your faithfull loue to me,
Then on the other side I check'd my friends.
Therefore to speake, and to auoid the first,
And then in speaking, not to incurre the last,
Definitiuely thus I answer you.
Your loue deserues my thankes, but my desert
Vnmeritable, shunnes your high request.
First, if all Obstacles were cut away,
And that my Path were euen to the Crowne,
As the ripe Reuenue, and due of Birth:
Yet so much is my pouertie of spirit,
So mightie, and so manie my defects,
That I would rather hide me from my Greatnesse,
Being a Barke to brooke no mightie Sea;
Then in my Greatnesse couet to be hid,
And in the vapour of my Glory smother'd.
But God be thank'd, there is no need of me,
And much I need to helpe you, were there need:
The Royall Tree hath left vs Royall Fruit,
Which mellow'd by the stealing howres of time,
Will well become the Seat of Maiestie,
And make (no doubt) vs happy by his Reigne.
On him I lay that, you would lay on me,
The Right and Fortune of his happie Starres,
Which God defend that I should wring from him

   Buck. My Lord, this argues Conscience in your Grace,
But the respects thereof are nice, and triuiall,
All circumstances well considered.
You say, that Edward is your Brothers Sonne,
So say we too, but not by Edwards Wife:
For first was he contract to Lady Lucie,
Your Mother liues a Witnesse to his Vow;
And afterward by substitute betroth'd
To Bona, Sister to the King of France.
These both put off, a poore Petitioner,
A Care-cras'd Mother to a many Sonnes,
A Beautie-waining, and distressed Widow,
Euen in the after-noone of her best dayes,
Made prize and purchase of his wanton Eye,
Seduc'd the pitch, and height of his degree,
To base declension, and loath'd Bigamie.
By her, in his vnlawfull Bed, he got
This Edward, whom our Manners call the Prince.
More bitterly could I expostulate,
Saue that for reuerence to some aliue,
I giue a sparing limit to my Tongue.
Then good, my Lord, take to your Royall selfe
This proffer'd benefit of Dignitie:
If not to blesse vs and the Land withall,
Yet to draw forth your Noble Ancestrie
From the corruption of abusing times,
Vnto a Lineall true deriued course

   Maior. Do good my Lord, your Citizens entreat you

   Buck. Refuse not, mightie Lord, this proffer'd loue

   Catesb. O make them ioyfull, grant their lawfull suit

   Rich. Alas, why would you heape this Care on me?
I am vnfit for State, and Maiestie:
I doe beseech you take it not amisse,
I cannot, nor I will not yeeld to you

   Buck. If you refuse it, as in loue and zeale,
Loth to depose the Child, your Brothers Sonne,
As well we know your tendernesse of heart,
And gentle, kinde, effeminate remorse,
Which we haue noted in you to your Kindred,
And egally indeede to all Estates:
Yet know, where you accept our suit, or no,
Your Brothers Sonne shall neuer reigne our King,
But we will plant some other in the Throne,
To the disgrace and downe-fall of your House:
And in this resolution here we leaue you.
Come Citizens, we will entreat no more.

Exeunt.

  Catesb. Call him againe, sweet Prince, accept their suit:
If you denie them, all the Land will rue it

   Rich. Will you enforce me to a world of Cares.
Call them againe, I am not made of Stones,
But penetrable to your kinde entreaties,
Albeit against my Conscience and my Soule.
Enter Buckingham, and the rest.

Cousin of Buckingham, and sage graue men,
Since you will buckle fortune on my back,
To beare her burthen, where I will or no.
I must haue patience to endure the Load:
But if black Scandall, or foule-fac'd Reproach,
Attend the sequell of your Imposition,
Your meere enforcement shall acquittance me
From all the impure blots and staynes thereof;
For God doth know, and you may partly see,
How farre I am from the desire of this

   Maior. God blesse your Grace, wee see it, and will
say it

   Rich. In saying so, you shall but say the truth

   Buck. Then I salute you with this Royall Title,
Long liue King Richard, Englands worthie King

   All. Amen

   Buck. To morrow may it please you to be Crown'd

   Rich. Euen when you please, for you will haue it so

   Buck. To morrow then we will attend your Grace,
And so most ioyfully we take our leaue

   Rich. Come, let vs to our holy Worke againe.
Farewell my Cousins, farewell gentle friends.

Exeunt.


Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.


Enter the Queene, Anne Duchesse of Gloucester, the Duchesse of
Yorke, and
Marquesse Dorset.

  Duch.Yorke. Who meetes vs heere?
My Neece Plantagenet,
Led in the hand of her kind Aunt of Gloster?
Now, for my Life, shee's wandring to the Tower,
On pure hearts loue, to greet the tender Prince.
Daughter, well met

   Anne. God giue your Graces both, a happie
And a ioyfull time of day

   Qu. As much to you, good Sister: whither away?
  Anne. No farther then the Tower, and as I guesse,
Vpon the like deuotion as your selues,
To gratulate the gentle Princes there

   Qu. Kind Sister thankes, wee'le enter all together:
Enter the Lieutenant.

And in good time, here the Lieutenant comes.
Master Lieutenant, pray you, by your leaue,
How doth the Prince, and my young Sonne of Yorke?
  Lieu. Right well, deare Madame: by your patience,
I may not suffer you to visit them,
The King hath strictly charg'd the contrary

   Qu. The King? who's that?
  Lieu. I meane, the Lord Protector

   Qu. The Lord protect him from that Kingly Title.
Hath he set bounds betweene their loue, and me?
I am their Mother, who shall barre me from them?
  Duch.Yorke. I am their Fathers Mother, I will see
them

   Anne. Their Aunt I am in law, in loue their Mother:
Then bring me to their sights, Ile beare thy blame,
And take thy Office from thee, on my perill

   Lieu. No, Madame, no; I may not leaue it so:
I am bound by Oath, and therefore pardon me.

Exit Lieutenant.

Enter Stanley.

  Stanley. Let me but meet you Ladies one howre hence,
And Ile salute your Grace of Yorke as Mother,
And reuerend looker on of two faire Queenes.
Come Madame, you must straight to Westminster,
There to be crowned Richards Royall Queene

   Qu. Ah, cut my Lace asunder,
That my pent heart may haue some scope to beat,
Or else I swoone with this dead-killing newes

   Anne. Despightfull tidings, O vnpleasing newes

   Dors. Be of good cheare: Mother, how fares your
Grace?
  Qu. O Dorset, speake not to me, get thee gone,
Death and Destruction dogges thee at thy heeles,
Thy Mothers Name is ominous to Children.
If thou wilt out-strip Death, goe crosse the Seas,
And liue with Richmond, from the reach of Hell.
Goe hye thee, hye thee from this slaughter-house,
Lest thou encrease the number of the dead,
And make me dye the thrall of Margarets Curse,
Nor Mother, Wife, nor Englands counted Queene

   Stanley. Full of wise care, is this your counsaile, Madame:
Take all the swift aduantage of the howres:
You shall haue Letters from me to my Sonne,
In your behalfe, to meet you on the way:
Be not ta'ne tardie by vnwise delay

   Duch.Yorke. O ill dispersing Winde of Miserie.
O my accursed Wombe, the Bed of Death:
A Cockatrice hast thou hatcht to the World,
Whose vnauoided Eye is murtherous

   Stanley. Come, Madame, come, I in all haste was sent

   Anne. And I with all vnwillingnesse will goe.
O would to God, that the inclusiue Verge
Of Golden Mettall, that must round my Brow,
Were red hot Steele, to seare me to the Braines,
Anoynted let me be with deadly Venome,
And dye ere men can say, God saue the Queene

   Qu. Goe, goe, poore soule, I enuie not thy glory,
To feed my humor, wish thy selfe no harme

   Anne. No: why? When he that is my Husband now,
Came to me, as I follow'd Henries Corse,
When scarce the blood was well washt from his hands,
Which issued from my other Angell Husband,
And that deare Saint, which then I weeping follow'd:
O, when I say I look'd on Richards Face,
This was my Wish: Be thou (quoth I) accurst,
For making me, so young, so old a Widow:
And when thou wed'st, let sorrow haunt thy Bed;
And be thy Wife, if any be so mad,
More miserable, by the Life of thee,
Then thou hast made me, by my deare Lords death.
Loe, ere I can repeat this Curse againe,
Within so small a time, my Womans heart
Grossely grew captiue to his honey words,
And prou'd the subiect of mine owne Soules Curse,
Which hitherto hath held mine eyes from rest:
For neuer yet one howre in his Bed
Did I enioy the golden deaw of sleepe,
But with his timorous Dreames was still awak'd.
Besides, he hates me for my Father Warwicke,
And will (no doubt) shortly be rid of me

   Qu. Poore heart adieu, I pittie thy complaining

   Anne. No more, then with my soule I mourne for
yours

   Dors. Farewell, thou wofull welcommer of glory

   Anne. Adieu, poore soule, that tak'st thy leaue
of it

   Du.Y. Go thou to Richmond, & good fortune guide thee,
Go thou to Richard, and good Angels tend thee,
Go thou to Sanctuarie, and good thoughts possesse thee,
I to my Graue, where peace and rest lye with mee.
Eightie odde yeeres of sorrow haue I seene,
And each howres ioy wrackt with a weeke of teene

   Qu. Stay, yet looke backe with me vnto the Tower.
Pitty, you ancient Stones, those tender Babes,
Whom Enuie hath immur'd within your Walls,
Rough Cradle for such little prettie ones,
Rude ragged Nurse, old sullen Play-fellow,
For tender Princes: vse my Babies well;
So foolish Sorrowes bids your Stones farewell.

Exeunt.


Scena Secunda.

Sound a Sennet. Enter Richard in pompe, Buckingham, Catesby,
Ratcliffe,
Louel.

  Rich. Stand all apart. Cousin of Buckingham

   Buck. My gracious Soueraigne

   Rich. Giue me thy hand.

Sound.

Thus high, by thy aduice, and thy assistance,
Is King Richard seated:
But shall we weare these Glories for a day?
Or shall they last, and we reioyce in them?
  Buck. Still liue they, and for euer let them last

   Rich. Ah Buckingham, now doe I play the Touch,
To trie if thou be currant Gold indeed:
Young Edward liues, thinke now what I would speake

   Buck. Say on my louing Lord

   Rich. Why Buckingham, I say I would be King

   Buck. Why so you are, my thrice-renowned Lord

   Rich. Ha? am I King? 'tis so: but Edward liues

   Buck True, Noble Prince

   Rich. O bitter consequence!
That Edward still should liue true Noble Prince.
Cousin, thou wast not wont to be so dull.
Shall I be plaine? I wish the Bastards dead,
And I would haue it suddenly perform'd.
What say'st thou now? speake suddenly, be briefe

   Buck. Your Grace may doe your pleasure

   Rich. Tut, tut, thou art all Ice, thy kindnesse freezes:
Say, haue I thy consent, that they shall dye?
  Buc. Giue me some litle breath, some pawse, deare Lord,
Before I positiuely speake in this:
I will resolue you herein presently.

Exit Buck[ingham].

  Catesby. The King is angry, see he gnawes his Lippe

   Rich. I will conuerse with Iron-witted Fooles,
And vnrespectiue Boyes: none are for me,
That looke into me with considerate eyes,
High-reaching Buckingham growes circumspect.
Boy

   Page. My Lord

   Rich. Know'st thou not any, whom corrupting Gold
Will tempt vnto a close exploit of Death?
  Page. I know a discontented Gentleman,
Whose humble meanes match not his haughtie spirit:
Gold were as good as twentie Orators,
And will (no doubt) tempt him to any thing

   Rich. What is his Name?
  Page. His Name, my Lord, is Tirrell

   Rich. I partly know the man: goe call him hither,
Boy.
Enter.

The deepe reuoluing wittie Buckingham,
No more shall be the neighbor to my counsailes.
Hath he so long held out with me, vntyr'd,
And stops he now for breath? Well, be it so.
Enter Stanley.

How now, Lord Stanley, what's the newes?
  Stanley. Know my louing Lord, the Marquesse Dorset
As I heare, is fled to Richmond,
In the parts where he abides

   Rich. Come hither Catesby, rumor it abroad,
That Anne my Wife is very grieuous sicke,
I will take order for her keeping close.
Inquire me out some meane poore Gentleman,
Whom I will marry straight to Clarence Daughter:
The Boy is foolish, and I feare not him.
Looke how thou dream'st: I say againe, giue out,
That Anne, my Queene, is sicke, and like to dye.
About it, for it stands me much vpon
To stop all hopes, whose growth may dammage me.
I must be marryed to my Brothers Daughter,
Or else my Kingdome stands on brittle Glasse:
Murther her Brothers, and then marry her,
Vncertaine way of gaine. But I am in
So farre in blood, that sinne will pluck on sinne,
Teare-falling Pittie dwells not in this Eye.
Enter Tyrrel.

Is thy Name Tyrrel?
  Tyr. Iames Tyrrel, and your most obedient subiect

   Rich. Art thou indeed?
  Tyr. Proue me, my gracious Lord

   Rich. Dar'st thou resolue to kill a friend of mine?
  Tyr. Please you:
But I had rather kill two enemies

   Rich. Why then thou hast it: two deepe enemies,
Foes to my Rest, and my sweet sleepes disturbers,
Are they that I would haue thee deale vpon:
Tyrrel, I meane those Bastards in the Tower

   Tyr. Let me haue open meanes to come to them,
And soone Ile rid you from the feare of them

   Rich. Thou sing'st sweet Musique:
Hearke, come hither Tyrrel,
Goe by this token: rise, and lend thine Eare,

Whispers.

There is no more but so: say it is done,
And I will loue thee, and preferre thee for it

   Tyr. I will dispatch it straight.
Enter.

Enter Buckingham.

  Buck. My Lord, I haue consider'd in my minde,
The late request that you did sound me in

   Rich. Well, let that rest: Dorset is fled to Richmond

   Buck. I heare the newes, my Lord

   Rich. Stanley, hee is your Wiues Sonne: well, looke
vnto it

   Buck. My Lord, I clayme the gift, my due by promise,
For which your Honor and your Faith is pawn'd,
Th' Earledome of Hertford, and the moueables,
Which you haue promised I shall possesse

   Rich. Stanley looke to your Wife: if she conuey
Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it

   Buck. What sayes your Highnesse to my iust request?
  Rich. I doe remember me, Henry the Sixt
Did prophecie, that Richmond should be King,
When Richmond was a little peeuish Boy.
A King perhaps

   Buck. May it please you to resolue me in my suit

   Rich. Thou troublest me, I am not in the vaine.
Enter

   Buck. And is it thus? repayes he my deepe seruice
With such contempt? made I him King for this?
O let me thinke on Hastings, and be gone
To Brecnock, while my fearefull Head is on.
Enter.

Enter Tyrrel.

  Tyr. The tyrannous and bloodie Act is done,
The most arch deed of pittious massacre
That euer yet this Land was guilty of:
Dighton and Forrest, who I did suborne
To do this peece of ruthfull Butchery,
Albeit they were flesht Villaines, bloody Dogges,
Melted with tendernesse, and milde compassion,
Wept like to Children, in their deaths sad Story.
O thus (quoth Dighton) lay the gentle Babes:
Thus, thus (quoth Forrest) girdling one another
Within their Alablaster innocent Armes:
Their lips were foure red Roses on a stalke,
And in their Summer Beauty kist each other.
A Booke of Prayers on their pillow lay,
Which one (quoth Forrest) almost chang'd my minde:
But oh the Diuell, there the Villaine stopt:
When Dighton thus told on, we smothered
The most replenished sweet worke of Nature,
That from the prime Creation ere she framed.
Hence both are gone with Conscience and Remorse,
They could not speake, and so I left them both,
To beare this tydings to the bloody King.
Enter Richard.

And heere he comes. All health my Soueraigne Lord

   Ric. Kinde Tirrell, am I happy in thy Newes

   Tir. If to haue done the thing you gaue in charge,
Beget your happinesse, be happy then,
For it is done

   Rich. But did'st thou see them dead

   Tir. I did my Lord

   Rich. And buried gentle Tirrell

   Tir. The Chaplaine of the Tower hath buried them,
But where (to say the truth) I do not know

   Rich. Come to me Tirrel soone, and after Supper,
When thou shalt tell the processe of their death.
Meane time, but thinke how I may do the good,
And be inheritor of thy desire.
Farewell till then

   Tir. I humbly take my leaue

   Rich. The Sonne of Clarence haue I pent vp close,
His daughter meanly haue I matcht in marriage,
The Sonnes of Edward sleepe in Abrahams bosome,
And Anne my wife hath bid this world good night.
Now for I know the Britaine Richmond aymes
At yong Elizabeth my brothers daughter,
And by that knot lookes proudly on the Crowne,
To her go I, a iolly thriuing wooer.
Enter Ratcliffe.

  Rat. My Lord

   Rich. Good or bad newes, that thou com'st in so
bluntly?
  Rat. Bad news my Lord, Mourton is fled to Richmond,
And Buckingham backt with the hardy Welshmen
Is in the field, and still his power encreaseth

   Rich. Ely with Richmond troubles me more neere,
Then Buckingham and his rash leuied Strength.
Come, I haue learn'd, that fearfull commenting
Is leaden seruitor to dull delay.
Delay leds impotent and Snaile-pac'd Beggery:
Then fierie expedition be my wing,
Ioues Mercury, and Herald for a King:
Go muster men: My counsaile is my Sheeld,
We must be breefe, when Traitors braue the Field.

Exeunt.


Scena Tertia.

Enter old Queene Margaret

   Mar. So now prosperity begins to mellow,
And drop into the rotten mouth of death:
Heere in these Confines slily haue I lurkt,
To watch the waining of mine enemies.
A dire induction, am I witnesse to,
And will to France, hoping the consequence
Will proue as bitter, blacke, and Tragicall.
Withdraw thee wretched Margaret, who comes heere?
Enter Dutchesse and Queene.

  Qu. Ah my poore Princes! ah my tender Babes:
My vnblowed Flowres, new appearing sweets:
If yet your gentle soules flye in the Ayre,
And be not fixt in doome perpetuall,
Houer about me with your ayery wings,
And heare your mothers Lamentation

   Mar. Houer about her, say that right for right
Hath dim'd your Infant morne, to Aged night

   Dut. So many miseries haue craz'd my voyce,
That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute.
Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?
  Mar. Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet,
Edward for Edward, payes a dying debt

   Qu. Wilt thou, O God, flye from such gentle Lambs,
And throw them in the intrailes of the Wolfe?
When didst thou sleepe, when such a deed was done?
  Mar. When holy Harry dyed, and my sweet Sonne

   Dut. Dead life, blind sight, poore mortall liuing ghost,
Woes Scene, Worlds shame, Graues due, by life vsurpt,
Breefe abstract and record of tedious dayes,
Rest thy vnrest on Englands lawfull earth,
Vnlawfully made drunke with innocent blood

   Qu. Ah that thou would'st assoone affoord a Graue,
As thou canst yeeld a melancholly seate:
Then would I hide my bones, not rest them heere,
Ah who hath any cause to mourne but wee?
  Mar. If ancient sorrow be most reuerent,
Giue mine the benefit of signeurie,
And let my greefes frowne on the vpper hand
If sorrow can admit Society.
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

   Dut. I had a Richard too, and thou did'st kill him;
I had a Rutland too, thou hop'st to kill him

   Mar. Thou had'st a Clarence too,
And Richard kill'd him.
From forth the kennell of thy wombe hath crept
A Hell-hound that doth hunt vs all to death:
That Dogge, that had his teeth before his eyes,
To worry Lambes, and lap their gentle blood:
That foule defacer of Gods handy worke:
That reignes in gauled eyes of weeping soules:
That excellent grand Tyrant of the earth,
Thy wombe let loose to chase vs to our graues.
O vpright, iust, and true-disposing God,
How do I thanke thee, that this carnall Curre
Prayes on the issue of his Mothers body,
And makes her Pue-fellow with others mone

   Dut. Oh Harries wife, triumph not in my woes:
God witnesse with me, I haue wept for thine

   Mar. Beare with me: I am hungry for reuenge,
And now I cloy me with beholding it.
Thy Edward he is dead, that kill'd my Edward,
The other Edward dead, to quit my Edward:
Yong Yorke, he is but boote, because both they
Matcht not the high perfection of my losse.
Thy Clarence he is dead, that stab'd my Edward,
And the beholders of this franticke play,
Th' adulterate Hastings, Riuers, Vaughan, Gray,
Vntimely smother'd in their dusky Graues.
Richard yet liues, Hels blacke Intelligencer,
Onely reseru'd their Factor, to buy soules,
And send them thither: But at hand, at hand
Insues his pittious and vnpittied end.
Earth gapes, Hell burnes, Fiends roare, Saints pray,
To haue him sodainly conuey'd from hence:
Cancell his bond of life, deere God I pray,
That I may liue and say, The Dogge is dead

   Qu. O thou did'st prophesie, the time would come,
That I should wish for thee to helpe me curse
That bottel'd Spider, that foule bunch-back'd Toad

   Mar. I call'd thee then, vaine flourish of my fortune:
I call'd thee then, poore Shadow, painted Queen,
The presentation of but what I was;
The flattering Index of a direfull Pageant;
One heau'd a high, to be hurl'd downe below:
A Mother onely mockt with two faire Babes;
A dreame of what thou wast, a garish Flagge
To be the ayme of euery dangerous Shot;
A signe of Dignity, a Breath, a Bubble;
A Queene in ieast, onely to fill the Scene.
Where is thy Husband now? Where be thy Brothers?
Where be thy two Sonnes? Wherein dost thou Ioy?
Who sues, and kneeles, and sayes, God saue the Queene?
Where be the bending Peeres that flattered thee?
Where be the thronging Troopes that followed thee?
Decline all this, and see what now thou art.
For happy Wife, a most distressed Widdow:
For ioyfull Mother, one that wailes the name:
For one being sued too, one that humbly sues:
For Queene, a very Caytiffe, crown'd with care:
For she that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me:
For she being feared of all, now fearing one:
For she commanding all, obey'd of none.
Thus hath the course of Iustice whirl'd about,
And left thee but a very prey to time,
Hauing no more but Thought of what thou wast.
To torture thee the more, being what thou art,
Thou didst vsurpe my place, and dost thou not
Vsurpe the iust proportion of my Sorrow?
Now thy proud Necke, beares halfe my burthen'd yoke,
From which, euen heere I slip my wearied head,
And leaue the burthen of it all, on thee.
Farwell Yorkes wife, and Queene of sad mischance,
These English woes, shall make me smile in France

   Qu. O thou well skill'd in Curses, stay a-while,
And teach me how to curse mine enemies

   Mar. Forbeare to sleepe the night, and fast the day:
Compare dead happinesse, with liuing woe:
Thinke that thy Babes were sweeter then they were,
And he that slew them fowler then he is:
Bett'ring thy losse, makes the bad causer worse,
Reuoluing this, will teach thee how to Curse

   Qu. My words are dull, O quicken them with thine

   Mar. Thy woes will make them sharpe,
And pierce like mine.

Exit Margaret.

  Dut. Why should calamity be full of words?
  Qu. Windy Atturnies to their Clients Woes,
Ayery succeeders of intestine ioyes,
Poore breathing Orators of miseries,
Let them haue scope, though what they will impart,
Helpe nothing els, yet do they ease the hart

   Dut. If so then, be not Tongue-ty'd: go with me,
And in the breath of bitter words, let's smother
My damned Son, that thy two sweet Sonnes smother'd.
The Trumpet sounds, be copious in exclaimes.
Enter King Richard, and his Traine.

  Rich. Who intercepts me in my Expedition?
  Dut. O she, that might haue intercepted thee
By strangling thee in her accursed wombe,
From all the slaughters (Wretch) that thou hast done

   Qu. Hid'st thou that Forhead with a Golden Crowne
Where't should be branded, if that right were right?
The slaughter of the Prince that ow'd that Crowne,
And the dyre death of my poore Sonnes, and Brothers.
Tell me thou Villaine-slaue, where are my Children?
  Dut. Thou Toad, thou Toade,
Where is thy Brother Clarence?
And little Ned Plantagenet his Sonne?
  Qu. Where is the gentle Riuers, Vaughan, Gray?
  Dut. Where is kinde Hastings?
  Rich. A flourish Trumpets, strike Alarum Drummes:
Let not the Heauens heare these Tell-tale women
Raile on the Lords Annointed. Strike I say.

Flourish. Alarums.

Either be patient, and intreat me fayre,
Or with the clamorous report of Warre,
Thus will I drowne your exclamations

   Dut. Art thou my Sonne?
  Rich. I, I thanke God, my Father, and your selfe

   Dut. Then patiently heare my impatience

   Rich. Madam, I haue a touch of your condition,
That cannot brooke the accent of reproofe

   Dut. O let me speake

   Rich. Do then, but Ile not heare

   Dut. I will be milde, and gentle in my words

   Rich. And breefe (good Mother) for I am in hast

   Dut. Art thou so hasty? I haue staid for thee
(God knowes) in torment and in agony

   Rich. And came I not at last to comfort you?
  Dut. No by the holy Rood, thou know'st it well,
Thou cam'st on earth, to make the earth my Hell.
A greeuous burthen was thy Birth to me,
Tetchy and wayward was thy Infancie.
Thy School-daies frightfull, desp'rate, wilde, and furious,
Thy prime of Manhood, daring, bold, and venturous:
Thy Age confirm'd, proud, subtle, slye, and bloody,
More milde, but yet more harmfull; Kinde in hatred:
What comfortable houre canst thou name,
That euer grac'd me with thy company?
  Rich. Faith none, but Humfrey Hower,
That call'd your Grace
To Breakefast once, forth of my company.
If I be so disgracious in your eye,
Let me march on, and not offend you Madam.
Strike vp the Drumme

   Dut. I prythee heare me speake

   Rich. You speake too bitterly

   Dut. Heare me a word:
For I shall neuer speake to thee againe

   Rich. So

   Dut. Either thou wilt dye, by Gods iust ordinance
Ere from this warre thou turne a Conqueror:
Or I with greefe and extreame Age shall perish,
And neuer more behold thy face againe.
Therefore take with thee my most greeuous Curse,
Which in the day of Battell tyre thee more
Then all the compleat Armour that thou wear'st.
My Prayers on the aduerse party fight,
And there the little soules of Edwards Children,
Whisper the Spirits of thine Enemies,
And promise them Successe and Victory:
Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end:
Shame serues thy life, and doth thy death attend.
Enter.

  Qu. Though far more cause, yet much lesse spirit to curse
Abides in me, I say Amen to her

   Rich. Stay Madam, I must talke a word with you

   Qu. I haue no more sonnes of the Royall Blood
For thee to slaughter. For my Daughters (Richard)
They shall be praying Nunnes, not weeping Queenes:
And therefore leuell not to hit their liues

   Rich. You haue a daughter call'd Elizabeth,
Vertuous and Faire, Royall and Gracious?
  Qu. And must she dye for this? O let her liue,
And Ile corrupt her Manners, staine her Beauty,
Slander my Selfe, as false to Edwards bed:
Throw ouer her the vaile of Infamy,
So she may liue vnscarr'd of bleeding slaughter,
I will confesse she was not Edwards daughter

   Rich. Wrong not her Byrth, she is a Royall Princesse

   Qu. To saue her life, Ile say she is not so

   Rich. Her life is safest onely in her byrth

   Qu. And onely in that safety, dyed her Brothers

   Rich. Loe at their Birth, good starres were opposite

   Qu. No, to their liues, ill friends were contrary

   Rich. All vnauoyded is the doome of Destiny

   Qu. True: when auoyded grace makes Destiny.
My Babes were destin'd to a fairer death,
If grace had blest thee with a fairer life

   Rich. You speake as if that I had slaine my Cosins?
  Qu. Cosins indeed, and by their Vnckle couzend,
Of Comfort, Kingdome, Kindred, Freedome, Life,
Whose hand soeuer lanch'd their tender hearts,
Thy head (all indirectly) gaue direction.
No doubt the murd'rous Knife was dull and blunt,
Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart,
To reuell in the Intrailes of my Lambes.
But that still vse of greefe, makes wilde greefe tame,
My tongue should to thy eares not name my Boyes,
Till that my Nayles were anchor'd in thine eyes:
And I in such a desp'rate Bay of death,
Like a poore Barke, of sailes and tackling reft,
Rush all to peeces on thy Rocky bosome

   Rich. Madam, so thriue I in my enterprize
And dangerous successe of bloody warres,
As I intend more good to you and yours,
Then euer you and yours by me were harm'd

   Qu. What good is couer'd with the face of heauen,
To be discouered, that can do me good

   Rich. Th' aduancement of your children, gentle Lady
  Qu. Vp to some Scaffold, there to lose their heads

   Rich. Vnto the dignity and height of Fortune,
The high Imperiall Type of this earths glory

   Qu. Flatter my sorrow with report of it:
Tell me, what State, what Dignity, what Honor,
Canst thou demise to any childe of mine

   Rich. Euen all I haue; I, and my selfe and all,
Will I withall indow a childe of thine:
So in the Lethe of thy angry soule,
Thou drowne the sad remembrance of those wrongs,
Which thou supposest I haue done to thee

   Qu. Be breefe, least that the processe of thy kindnesse
Last longer telling then thy kindnesse date

   Rich. Then know,
That from my Soule, I loue thy Daughter

   Qu. My daughters Mother thinkes it with her soule

   Rich. What do you thinke?
  Qu. That thou dost loue my daughter from thy soule
So from thy Soules loue didst thou loue her Brothers,
And from my hearts loue, I do thanke thee for it

   Rich. Be not so hasty to confound my meaning:
I meane that with my Soule I loue thy daughter,
And do intend to make her Queene of England

   Qu. Well then, who dost y meane shallbe her King

   Rich. Euen he that makes her Queene:
Who else should bee?
  Qu. What, thou?
  Rich. Euen so: How thinke you of it?
  Qu. How canst thou woo her?
  Rich. That I would learne of you,
As one being best acquainted with her humour

   Qu. And wilt thou learne of me?
  Rich. Madam, with all my heart

   Qu. Send to her by the man that slew her Brothers.
A paire of bleeding hearts: thereon ingraue
Edward and Yorke, then haply will she weepe:
Therefore present to her, as sometime Margaret
Did to thy Father, steept in Rutlands blood,
A hand-kercheefe, which say to her did dreyne
The purple sappe from her sweet Brothers body,
And bid her wipe her weeping eyes withall.
If this inducement moue her not to loue,
Send her a Letter of thy Noble deeds:
Tell her, thou mad'st away her Vnckle Clarence,
Her Vnckle Riuers, I (and for her sake)
Mad'st quicke conueyance with her good Aunt Anne

   Rich. You mocke me Madam, this not the way
To win your daughter

   Qu. There is no other way,
Vnlesse thou could'st put on some other shape,
And not be Richard, that hath done all this

   Ric. Say that I did all this for loue of her

   Qu. Nay then indeed she cannot choose but hate thee
Hauing bought loue, with such a bloody spoyle

   Rich. Looke what is done, cannot be now amended:
Men shall deale vnaduisedly sometimes,
Which after-houres giues leysure to repent.
If I did take the Kingdome from your Sonnes,
To make amends, Ile giue it to your daughter:
If I haue kill'd the issue of your wombe,
To quicken your encrease, I will beget
Mine yssue of your blood, vpon your Daughter:
A Grandams name is little lesse in loue,
Then is the doting Title of a Mother;
They are as Children but one steppe below,
Euen of your mettall, of your very blood:
Of all one paine, saue for a night of groanes
Endur'd of her, for whom you bid like sorrow.
Your Children were vexation to your youth,
But mine shall be a comfort to your Age,
The losse you haue, is but a Sonne being King,
And by that losse, your Daughter is made Queene.
I cannot make you what amends I would,
Therefore accept such kindnesse as I can.
Dorset your Sonne, that with a fearfull soule
Leads discontented steppes in Forraine soyle,
This faire Alliance, quickly shall call home
To high Promotions, and great Dignity.
The King that calles your beauteous Daughter Wife,
Familiarly shall call thy Dorset, Brother:
Againe shall you be Mother to a King:
And all the Ruines of distressefull Times,
Repayr'd with double Riches of Content.
What? we haue many goodly dayes to see:
The liquid drops of Teares that you haue shed,
Shall come againe, transform'd to Orient Pearle,
Aduantaging their Loue, with interest
Often-times double gaine of happinesse.
Go then (my Mother) to thy Daughter go,
Make bold her bashfull yeares, with your experience,
Prepare her eares to heare a Woers Tale.
Put in her tender heart, th' aspiring Flame
Of Golden Soueraignty: Acquaint the Princesse
With the sweet silent houres of Marriage ioyes:
And when this Arme of mine hath chastised
The petty Rebell, dull-brain'd Buckingham,
Bound with Triumphant Garlands will I come,
And leade thy daughter to a Conquerors bed:
To whom I will retaile my Conquest wonne,
And she shalbe sole Victoresse, Cæsars Cæsar

   Qu. What were I best to say, her Fathers Brother
Would be her Lord? Or shall I say her Vnkle?
Or he that slew her Brothers, and her Vnkles?
Vnder what Title shall I woo for thee,
That God, the Law, my Honor, and her Loue,
Can make seeme pleasing to her tender yeares?
  Rich. Inferre faire Englands peace by this Alliance

   Qu. Which she shall purchase with stil lasting warre

   Rich. Tell her, the King that may command, intreats

   Qu. That at her hands, which the kings King forbids

   Rich. Say she shall be a High and Mighty Queene

   Qu. To vaile the Title, as her Mother doth

   Rich. Say I will loue her euerlastingly

   Qu. But how long shall that title euer last?
  Rich. Sweetly in force, vnto her faire liues end

   Qu. But how long fairely shall her sweet life last?
  Rich. As long as Heauen and Nature lengthens it

   Qu. As long as Hell and Richard likes of it

   Rich. Say, I her Soueraigne, am her Subiect low

   Qu. But she your Subiect, lothes such Soueraignty

   Rich. Be eloquent in my behalfe to her

   Qu. An honest tale speeds best, being plainly told

   Rich. Then plainly to her, tell my louing tale

   Qu. Plaine and not honest, is too harsh a style

   Rich. Your Reasons are too shallow, and to quicke

   Qu. O no, my Reasons are too deepe and dead,
Too deepe and dead (poore Infants) in their graues,
Harpe on it still shall I, till heart-strings breake

   Rich. Harpe not on that string Madam, that is past.
Now by my George, my Garter, and my Crowne

   Qu. Prophan'd, dishonor'd, and the third vsurpt

   Rich. I sweare

   Qu. By nothing, for this is no Oath:
Thy George prophan'd, hath lost his Lordly Honor;
Thy Garter blemish'd, pawn'd his Knightly Vertue;
Thy Crowne vsurp'd, disgrac'd his Kingly Glory:
If something thou would'st sweare to be beleeu'd,
Sweare then by something, that thou hast not wrong'd

   Rich. Then by my Selfe

   Qu. Thy Selfe, is selfe-misvs'd

   Rich. Now by the World

   Qu. 'Tis full of thy foule wrongs

   Rich. My Fathers death

   Qu. Thy life hath it dishonor'd

   Rich. Why then, by Heauen

   Qu. Heauens wrong is most of all:
If thou didd'st feare to breake an Oath with him,
The vnity the King my husband made,
Thou had'st not broken, nor my Brothers died.
If thou had'st fear'd to breake an oath by him,
Th' Imperiall mettall, circling now thy head,
Had grac'd the tender temples of my Child,
And both the Princes had bene breathing heere,
Which now two tender Bed-fellowes for dust,
Thy broken Faith hath made the prey for Wormes.
What can'st thou sweare by now

   Rich. The time to come

   Qu. That thou hast wronged in the time ore-past:
For I my selfe haue many teares to wash
Heereafter time, for time past, wrong'd by thee.
The Children liue, whose Fathers thou hast slaughter'd,
Vngouern'd youth, to waile it with their age:
The Parents liue, whose Children thou hast butcher'd,
Old barren Plants, to waile it with their Age.
Sweare not by time to come, for that thou hast
Misvs'd ere vs'd, by times ill-vs'd repast

   Rich. As I entend to prosper, and repent:
So thriue I in my dangerous Affayres
Of hostile Armes: My selfe, my selfe confound:
Heauen, and Fortune barre me happy houres:
Day, yeeld me not thy light; nor Night, thy rest.
Be opposite all Planets of good lucke
To my proceeding, if with deere hearts loue,
Immaculate deuotion, holy thoughts,
I tender not thy beautious Princely daughter.
In her, consists my Happinesse, and thine:
Without her, followes to my selfe, and thee;
Her selfe, the Land, and many a Christian soule,
Death, Desolation, Ruine, and Decay:
It cannot be auoyded, but by this:
It will not be auoyded, but by this.
Therefore deare Mother (I must call you so)
Be the Atturney of my loue to her:
Pleade what I will be, not what I haue beene;
Not my deserts, but what I will deserue:
Vrge the Necessity and state of times,
And be not peeuish found, in great Designes

   Qu. Shall I be tempted of the Diuel thus?
  Rich. I, if the Diuell tempt you to do good

   Qu. Shall I forget my selfe, to be my selfe

   Rich. I, if your selfes remembrance wrong your selfe

   Qu. Yet thou didst kil my Children

   Rich. But in your daughters wombe I bury them.
Where in that Nest of Spicery they will breed
Selues of themselues, to your recomforture

   Qu. Shall I go win my daughter to thy will?
  Rich. And be a happy Mother by the deed

   Qu. I go, write to me very shortly,
And you shal vnderstand from me her mind.

Exit Q[ueene].

  Rich. Beare her my true loues kisse, and so farewell.
Relenting Foole, and shallow-changing Woman.
How now, what newes?
Enter Ratcliffe.

  Rat. Most mightie Soueraigne, on the Westerne Coast
Rideth a puissant Nauie: to our Shores
Throng many doubtfull hollow-hearted friends,
Vnarm'd, and vnresolu'd to beat them backe.
'Tis thought, that Richmond is their Admirall:
And there they hull, expecting but the aide
Of Buckingham, to welcome them ashore

   Rich. Some light-foot friend post to y Duke of Norfolk:
Ratcliffe thy selfe, or Catesby, where is hee?
  Cat. Here, my good Lord

   Rich. Catesby, flye to the Duke

   Cat. I will, my Lord, with all conuenient haste

   Rich. Catesby come hither, poste to Salisbury:
When thou com'st thither: Dull vnmindfull Villaine,
Why stay'st thou here, and go'st not to the Duke?
  Cat. First, mighty Liege, tell me your Highnesse pleasure,
What from your Grace I shall deliuer to him

   Rich. O true, good Catesby, bid him leuie straight
The greatest strength and power that he can make,
And meet me suddenly at Salisbury

   Cat. I goe.
Enter.

  Rat. What, may it please you, shall I doe at Salisbury?
  Rich. Why, what would'st thou doe there, before I
goe?
  Rat. Your Highnesse told me I should poste before

   Rich. My minde is chang'd:
Enter Lord Stanley.

Stanley, what newes with you?
  Sta. None, good my Liege, to please you with y hearing,
Nor none so bad, but well may be reported

   Rich. Hoyday, a Riddle, neither good nor bad:
What need'st thou runne so many miles about,
When thou mayest tell thy Tale the neerest way?
Once more, what newes?
  Stan. Richmond is on the Seas

   Rich. There let him sinke, and be the Seas on him,
White-liuer'd Runnagate, what doth he there?
  Stan. I know not, mightie Soueraigne, but by guesse

   Rich. Well, as you guesse

   Stan. Stirr'd vp by Dorset, Buckingham, and Morton,
He makes for England, here to clayme the Crowne

   Rich. Is the Chayre emptie? is the Sword vnsway'd?
Is the King dead? the Empire vnpossest?
What Heire of Yorke is there aliue, but wee?
And who is Englands King, but great Yorkes Heire?
Then tell me, what makes he vpon the Seas?
  Stan. Vnlesse for that, my Liege, I cannot guesse

   Rich. Vnlesse for that he comes to be your Liege,
You cannot guesse wherefore the Welchman comes.
Thou wilt reuolt, and flye to him, I feare

   Stan. No, my good Lord, therefore mistrust me not

   Rich. Where is thy Power then, to beat him back?
Where be thy Tenants, and thy followers?
Are they not now vpon the Westerne Shore,
Safe-conducting the Rebels from their Shippes?
  Stan. No, my good Lord, my friends are in the
North

   Rich. Cold friends to me: what do they in the North,
When they should serue their Soueraigne in the West?
  Stan. They haue not been commanded, mighty King:
Pleaseth your Maiestie to giue me leaue,
Ile muster vp my friends, and meet your Grace,
Where, and what time your Maiestie shall please

   Rich. I, thou would'st be gone, to ioyne with Richmond:
But Ile not trust thee

   Stan. Most mightie Soueraigne,
You haue no cause to hold my friendship doubtfull,
I neuer was, nor neuer will be false

   Rich. Goe then, and muster men: but leaue behind
Your Sonne George Stanley: looke your heart be firme,
Or else his Heads assurance is but fraile

   Stan. So deale with him, as I proue true to you.

Exit Stanley.

Enter a Messenger.

  Mess. My gracious Soueraigne, now in Deuonshire,
As I by friends am well aduertised,
Sir Edward Courtney, and the haughtie Prelate,
Bishop of Exeter, his elder Brother,
With many moe Confederates, are in Armes.
Enter another Messenger

   Mess. In Kent, my Liege, the Guilfords are in Armes,
And euery houre more Competitors
Flocke to the Rebels, and their power growes strong.
Enter another Messenger.

  Mess. My Lord, the Armie of great Buckingham

   Rich. Out on ye, Owles, nothing but Songs of Death,

He striketh him.

There, take thou that, till thou bring better newes

   Mess. The newes I haue to tell your Maiestie,
Is, that by sudden Floods, and fall of Waters,
Buckinghams Armie is dispers'd and scatter'd,
And he himselfe wandred away alone,
No man knowes whither

   Rich. I cry thee mercie:
There is my Purse, to cure that Blow of thine.
Hath any well-aduised friend proclaym'd
Reward to him that brings the Traytor in?
  Mess. Such Proclamation hath been made, my Lord.
Enter another Messenger.

  Mess. Sir Thomas Louell, and Lord Marquesse Dorset,
'Tis said, my Liege, in Yorkeshire are in Armes:
But this good comfort bring I to your Highnesse,
The Brittaine Nauie is dispers'd by Tempest.
Richmond in Dorsetshire sent out a Boat
Vnto the shore, to aske those on the Banks,
If they were his Assistants, yea, or no?
Who answer'd him, they came from Buckingham,
Vpon his partie: he mistrusting them,
Hoys'd sayle, and made his course againe for Brittaine

   Rich. March on, march on, since we are vp in Armes,
If not to fight with forraine Enemies,
Yet to beat downe these Rebels here at home.
Enter Catesby.

  Cat. My Liege, the Duke of Buckingham is taken,
That is the best newes: that the Earle of Richmond
Is with a mighty power Landed at Milford,
Is colder Newes, but yet they must be told

   Rich. Away towards Salsbury, while we reason here,
A Royall battell might be wonne and lost:
Some one take order Buckingham be brought
To Salsbury, the rest march on with me.

Florish. Exeunt

Scena Quarta.

Enter Derby, and Sir Christopher.

  Der. Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from me,
That in the stye of the most deadly Bore,
My Sonne George Stanley is frankt vp in hold:
If I reuolt, off goes yong Georges head,
The feare of that, holds off my present ayde.
So get thee gone: commend me to thy Lord.
Withall say, that the Queene hath heartily consented
He should espouse Elizabeth hir daughter.
But tell me, where is Princely Richmond now?
  Chri. At Penbroke, or at Hertford West in Wales

   Der. What men of Name resort to him

   Chri. Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned Souldier,
Sir Gilbert Talbot, Sir William Stanley,
Oxford, redoubted Pembroke, Sir Iames Blunt,
And Rice ap Thomas, with a valiant Crew,
And many other of great name and worth:
And towards London do they bend their power,
If by the way they be not fought withall

   Der. Well hye thee to thy Lord: I kisse his hand,
My Letter will resolue him of my minde.
Farewell.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter Buckingham with Halberds, led to Execution.

  Buc. Will not King Richard let me speake with him?
  Sher. No my good Lord, therefore be patient

   Buc. Hastings, and Edwards children, Gray & Riuers,
Holy King Henry, and thy faire Sonne Edward,
Vaughan, and all that haue miscarried
By vnder-hand corrupted foule iniustice,
If that your moody discontented soules,
Do through the clowds behold this present houre,
Euen for reuenge mocke my destruction.
This is All-soules day (Fellow) is it not?
  Sher. It is

   Buc. Why then Al-soules day, is my bodies doomsday
This is the day, which in King Edwards time
I wish'd might fall on me, when I was found
False to his Children, and his Wiues Allies.
This is the day, wherein I wisht to fall
By the false Faith of him whom most I trusted.
This, this All-soules day to my fearfull Soule,
Is the determin'd respit of my wrongs:
That high All-seer, which I dallied with,
Hath turn'd my fained Prayer on my head,
And giuen in earnest, what I begg'd in iest.
Thus doth he force the swords of wicked men
To turne their owne points in their Masters bosomes.
Thus Margarets curse falles heauy on my necke:
When he (quoth she) shall split thy heart with sorrow,
Remember Margaret was a Prophetesse:
Come leade me Officers to the blocke of shame,
Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame.