Q. Mar. Hover about her; say, that right for right

Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night.

Duch. So many miseries have craz'd my voice, That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute, Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?

Q. Mar. Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet. Edward for Edward pays a dying debt.

Q. Eliz. Wilt thou, O God, fly from such gentle
lambs,

And throw them in the entrails of the wolf?
When didst thou sleep, when such a deed was done?
Q. Mar. When holy Harry died, and my sweet

son.

Duch. Dead life, blind sight, poor mortal-living

ghost,

Woe's scene, world's shame, grave's due, by life

usurp'd,

Brief abstract and record of tedious days,

Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth,

[Sitting down. Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood!

Q. Eliz. Ah, that thou would'st as soon afford a

grave,

As thou canst yield a melancholy seat;

Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here! Ah, who hath any cause to mourn, but we?

[Sitting down by her. Q. Mar. If ancient sorrow be most reverent, Give mine the benefit of seniory', And let my griefs frown on the upper hand. If sorrow can admit society,

[Sitting down with them. Tell o'er your woes again by viewing mine: I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him; I had a husband, till a Richard kill'd him : Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him ;

5 Seniority.

Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard kill'd him, Duch. I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill him;

I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him.

Q. Mar. Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Richard
kill'd him.

From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept
A hell-hound, that doth hunt us all to death:
That dog, that had his teeth before his eyes,
To worry lambs, and lap their gentle blood;
That excellent grand tyrant of the earth,
That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls,
Thy womb let loose, to chase us to our graves. -
O`upright, just, and true-disposing God,
How do I thank thee, that this carnal cur
Preys on the issue of his mother's body,
And makes her pew-fellow with others' moan!
Duch. O, Harry's wife, triumph not in my woes;
God witness with me, I have wept for thine.

6

Q. Mar. Bear with me, I am hungry for revenge, And now I cloy me with beholding it.

Thy Edward he is dead, that kill'd my Edward;
Thy other Edward dead, to quit my Edward;
Young York he is but boot, because both they
Match not the high perfection of my loss.

Thy Clarence he is dead, that stabb'd my Edward;
And the beholders of this tragick play,

The adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey,
Untimely smother'd in their dusky graves.
Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer;
Only reserv'd their factor to buy souls,
And send them thither: But at hand, at hand,
Ensues his piteous and unpitied end:
Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray,
To have him suddenly convey'd from hence:
Cancel his bond of life, great God, I pray,
That I may live to say, The dog is dead!

6 Companion.

:

7 Thrown into the bargain.

Q. Eliz. O, thou didst prophesy the time would

come,

That I should wish for thee to help me curse
That bottled spider, that foul bunch-back'd toad.
Q. Mar. I call'd thee then, vain flourish of my
fortune;

I call'd thee then, poor shadow, painted queen;
The presentation of but what I was,

The flattering index of a direful pageant,
One heav'd a high, to be hurl'd down below:
A mother only mock'd with two fair babes;
A dream of what thou wast; a garish flag,
To be the aim of every dangerous shot;
A sign of dignity, a breath, a bubble;
A queen in jest, only to fill the scene.

Where is thy husband now? where be thy brothers?
Where be thy two sons? wherein dost thou joy?
Who sues, and kneels, and says -

queen?

God save the

Where be the bending peers that flatter'd thee?
Where be the thronging troops that follow'd thee?
Decline all this, and see what now thou art.
For happy wife, a most distressed widow;
For joyful mother, one that wails the name;
For one being sued to, one that humbly sues;
For queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care;
For one that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me;
For one being fear'd of all, now fearing one;
For one commanding all, obey'd of none.
Thus hath the course of justice wheel'd about,
And left thee but a very prey to time;
Having no more but thought of what thou wert,
To torture thee the more, being what thou art.
Thou didst usurp my place; and dost thou not
Usurp the just proportion of my sorrow?
Now thy proud neck bears half my burden'd yoke;
From which even here I slip my wearied head,
And leave the burden of it all on thee.

8 Flaring.

Farewell, York's wife, and queen of sad mis

chance,

These English woes shall make me smile in France. Q. Eliz. O thou well skill'd in curses, stay a while, And teach me how to curse mine enemies.

Q. Mar. Forbear to sleep the night, and fast the day;

Compare dead happiness with living woe;
Think that thy babes were fairer than they were,
And he, that slew them, fouler than he is:
Bettering thy loss makes the bad-causer worse;
Revolving this will teach thee how to curse.

Q. Eliz. My words are dull, O, quicken them with thine!

Q. Mar. Thy woes will make them sharp, and pierce like mine. [Exit Q. MARGARET. Duch. Why should calamity be full of words? Q. Eliz. Windy attornies to their client woes, Airy succeeders of intestate joys,

Poor breathing orators of miseries!

Let them have scope: though what they do impart Help nothing else, yet do they ease the heart.

Duch. If so, then be not tongue-ty'd: go with me, And in the breath of bitter words let's smother My cruel son, that thy two sweet sons smother'd. [Drum, within.

I hear his drum,-be copious in exclaims.

Enter King RICHARD, and his Train, marching. K. Rich. Who intercepts me in my expedition? Duch. O, she, that might have intercepted thee, By strangling thee in her unhappy womb, From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast done. Q. Eliz. Hid'st thou that forehead with a golden

crown,

Where should be branded, if that right were right, The slaughter of the prince that ow'd' that crown,

9 Owned.

And the dire death of my poor sons, and brothers? Tell me, thou villain-slave, where are my children? Duch. Thou toad, thou toad, where is thy brother Clarence?

And little Ned Plantagenet, his son?

Q. Eliz. Where is the gentle Rivers, Vaughan, Grey?

Duch. Where is kind Hastings?

K. Rich. A flourish, trumpets!— strike alarum, drums!

Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women
Rail on the Lord's anointed: Strike, I say.-
[Flourish. Alarums.

Either be patient, and entreat me fair,
Or with the clamorous report of war
Thus will I drown your exclamations.
Duch. Art thou
my son?

K. Rich. Ay; I thank heaven, my father, and yourself.

Duch. Then patiently hear my impatience. K. Rich. Madam, I have a touch of your condition',

That cannot brook the accent of reproof.

Duch. O, let me speak.

K. Rich.

Do, then; but I'll not hear. Duch. I will be mild and gentle in my words. K. Rich. And brief, good mother; for I am in

haste.

Duch. Art thou so hasty? I have staid for thee, Heaven knows, in torment and in agony.

K. Rich. And came I not at last to comfort you? Duch. No, by the holy rood', thou know'st it well, Thou cam'st on earth to make the earth my hell. A grievous burden was thy birth to me;

Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy;

Thy school-days, frightful, desperate, wild, and furious;

1 Disposition.

2 Cross. 3 Touchy, fretful.