For one that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me;
For one being feard 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.
Farewell, York's wife, -and queen of sad mischance,-
These English woes shall make me smile in France.

Q. Eliz. O thou well skill'd curses, stay a while, And teach me how to curse mine enemies.

Q. Mar. Forbear to sleep the night, and fast the Compare dead happiness with living woe;

[day; 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, 0, quicken them with

thine! Q. Mar. Thy woes will make them sharp, and

pierce like mine. [Exit Queen MARGARET. Duch. Why should calamity be full of words ? Q. Eliz. 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 [dread) 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 accursed womb,
From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou has done.
Q. Eliz. Hid'st thou that forhead with a golden

crown,
Where should be branded, if that right were right,
The slaughter of the prince that ow'd' that crown,
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 And little Ned Plantagenet, his son ? Clarence ?

Q. Eliz. Where is the gentle Rivers, Vaughan, Duch. Where is kind Hastings ?

[Grey ? 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. 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
K. Rich. And brief, good mother; for I am in haste.

Duch. Art thou so hasty ? I have staid for thee, God 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 3 and wayward was thy infancy; [ous; Thy school-days, frightful, desperate, wild, and furiThy prime of manhood, daring, bold, and venturous;

my words.

Thy age confirm’d, proud, subtle, sly, and bloody,
More mild, but yet more harmful, kind in hatred:
What comfortable hour canst thou name,
That ever grac'd me in thy company?

K. Rich. If I be so disgracious in your sight,
Let me march on, and not offend

you,

madam. Strike

up

the drum. Duch.

I prythee, hear me speak.
K. Rich. You speak too bitterly.
Duch.

Hear me a word; For I shall never speak to thee again.

K. Rich. So.

Duch. Either thou wilt die, by God's just ordinance, Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror; Or I with grief and extreme age shall perish, And never look upon thy face again. Therefore, take with thee my most heavy curse; Which, in the day of battle, tire thee more, Than all the complete armour that thou wear'st! My prayers on the adverse party fight; And there the little souls of Edward's children Whisper the spirits of thine enemies, And promise them success and victory. Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end; Shame serves' thy life, and doth thy death attend.

[Exit. Q. Eliz. Though far more cause, yet much less spirit

to curse Abides in

me;

I
say amen to her.

[Going. K. Rich. Stay, madam, I must speak a word with

you. Q. Eliz. I have no more sons of the royal blood, For thee to murder : for my daughters, Richard, They shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens; And therefore level not to hit their lives.

K. Rich. You have a daughter call'd-Elizabeth, Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious.

• i. e. accompanies.

Q. Eliz. And must she die for this ? 0, let her live,
So she may live unscarr'd of bleeding slaughter,
I will confess she was not Edward's daughter.

K. Rich. Wrong not her birthøshe is of royal blood.
Q. Eliz. To save her life, I'll say—she is not so.
K. Rich. Her life is safest only in her birth.
Q. Eliz. And only in that safety died her brothers.
K. Rich. You speak, as if that I had slain my

cousins.
Q. Eliz. Cousins, indeed; and by their uncle cozen'd
Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life.
Whose hands soever lanc'd their tender hearts,
Thy head, all indirectly, gave direction:
No doubt the murderous knife was dull and blunt
Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart,
To revel in the entrails of

my

lambs.
K. Rich. Madam, so thrive I in my enterprise,
And dangerous success of bloody wars,
As I intend more good to you

and

yours, Than ever you or yours by me were harm’d!

Q. Eliz. What good is cover'd with the face of To be discovered, that can do me good ? [heaven, K. Rich. Th’ advancement of your children, gentle

lady. Q. Eliz. Up to some scaffold, there to lose their

heads? K. Rich. No, to the dignity and height of fortune, The high imperial type of this earth's glory.

Q. Éliz. Flatter my sorrows with report of it; Tell

me, what state, what dignity, what honour, Canst thou demise’ to any child of mine?

K. Rich. Even all I have; ay, and myself and all, Will I withal endow a child of thine: So in the Lethe of thy angry

soul Thou drown the sad remembrance of those

wrongs, Which, thou supposest, I have done to thee.

1

Q. Eliz. Be brief, lest that the process of thy kindLast longer telling than thy kindness' date. (ness K. Rich. Then know, that from my soul, I love

thy daughter. Q. Eliz. So, from thy soul's love, didst thou love

her brothers. K. Rich. Be not so hasty to confound my meaning: I mean, that with my soul I love thy daughter, And do intend to make her queen of England. Q. Eliz. Well then, who dost thou mean shall be

her king? K. Rich. Even he, that makes her queen: Who

else should be? Q. Eliz. What, thou? K. Rich.

Even so: What think you of it, madam? Q. Eliz. How canst thou woo her? K. Rich.

That I would learn of you, As one being best acquainted with her humour.

Q. Eliz. And wilt thou learn of me?
K. Rich.

Madam, with all my heart.
Q. Eliz. Send to her, by the man that slew her bro-.
A pair of bleeding hearts; thereon engrave, (thers,
Edward, and York; then, haply, will she weep:
Therefore present to her,-as sometime Margaret
Did to thy father, steep'd in Rutland's blood, -
A handkerchief; which, say to her, did drain
The purple sap from her sweet brothers' body,
And bid her wipe her weeping eyes withal.
If this inducement move her not to love,
Send her a letter of thy noble deeds ;
Tell her, thou mad’st away her uncle Clarence,
Her uncle Rivers; ay, and, for her sake,
Mad'st quick conveyance with her good aunt Anne.

K. Rich. You mock me, madam; this is not the To win your daughter.

(way Q. Eliz.

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