Come, madam, you must straight to Westminster. [To the Duchess of Gloster. There to be crowned Richard's royal queen. 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,Nor mother, wife, nor England's counted queen. Stan. Full of wise care is this your counsel, madam : Take all the swift advantage of the hours; Duch. O ill-dispersing wind of misery! Stan. Come, madam, come; I in all haste was sent. Anne. And I with all unwillingness will go. O, would to heaven that the inclusive verge Of golden metal, that must round my brow, Were red-hot steel, to sear me to the brain! Anointed let me be with deadly venom; And die, ere men can say God save the queen! Q. Eliz. Go, go, poor soul, I envy not thy glory; To feed my humour, wish thyself no harm. Anne. No! why?—When he, that is my husband 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. 2 Q. Eliz. Poor heart, adieu; I pity thy complaining. 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!— thee! [To ANNE. 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.' 2 Sorrow. Q. Eliz. Stay yet: look back, with me, unto the Tower. Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes, 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 Bucking ham, Buck. My gracious sovereign. K. Rich. Give me thy hand. Thus high, by thy advice, And thy assistance, is king Richard seated :— To try if thou be current gold, indeed: 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. 3 Touchstone. K. Rich. Ha! am I king? 'Tis so: but Edward Cousin, thou wast not wont to be so dull: 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. Cate. The king is angry; see, he gnaws his lip. 4 [Aside. K. Rich. I will converse with iron-witted fools, [Descends from his Throne. And unrespective boys: none are for me, That look into me with considerate eyes; — High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect.Boy, Page. My lord. K. Rich. Know'st thou not any, whom corrupting gold Would tempt unto a close exploit of death? Whose humble means match not his haughty mind: And will, no doubt, tempt him to any thing. K. Rich. What is his name ? Page. His name, my lord, is― Tyrrel. K. Rich. I partly know the man; Go, call him hither, boy. The deep-revolving witty Buckingham [Exit Page. No more shall be the neighbour to my counsels : Hath he so long held out with me untir'd, And stops he now for breath? - well, be it so. — Enter STANLEY. How now, lord Stanley? what's the news? Stan. Know, my loving lord, The marquis Dorset, as I hear, is fled To Richmond, in the parts where he abides. Look, how thou dream'st!-I say again, give out, Re-enter Page, with TYRREL. Is thy name Tyrrel? Tyr. James Tyrrel, and your most obedient subject. 6 Cunning. 7 It is of great consequence to my designs. |