Now, for I know the Bretagne1 Richmond aims At young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter, And, by that knot, looks proudly on the crown, To her I go, a jolly thriving wooer. Enter Catesby. Cate. My lord, K. Rich. Good news or bad, that thou com'st in so bluntly? Cate. Bad news, my lord: Morton2 is fled to Richmond; And Buckingham, back'd with the hardy Welsh men, Is in the field, and still his power increaseth. K. Rich. Ely with Richmond troubles me more near, Than Buckingham, and his rash-levied strength. Delay leads impotent and snail-pac'd beggary: [Exeunt. SCENE IV-The same. Before the Palace. Enter Queen Margaret. Q. Mar. So, now prosperity begins to mellow, And drop into the rotten mouth of death. Here in these confines slily have I lurk'd, To watch the waning of mine enemies. And will to France; hoping, the consequence Withdraw thee, wretched Margaret! who comes here? (1) The country in which Richmond had taken refuge. (2) Bishop of Ely. (3) Introduction, t Enter Queen Elizabeth and the Duchess of York. Q. Eliz. Ah, my poor princes! ah, my tender My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets! And be not fix'd in doom perpetual, Hover about me with your airy wings, Q. Mar. Hover about her; say, that right for right Duch. So many miseries have craz'd my voice, Q. Mar. Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet, Q. Eliz. Wilt thou, O God, fly from such gentle And throw them in the entrails of the wolf? son. Duch. Dead life, blind sight, poor mortal-living ghost, Wo's scene, world's shame, grave's due by life usurp'd, Brief abstract and record of tedious days, Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood! grave, As thou canst yield a melancholy seat; Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here! [Sitting down by her. Q. Mar. If ancient sorrow be most reverent, Give mine the benefit of seniory,1 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; 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 From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept 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; The adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey, And send them thither: But at hand, at hand, (1) Companion. VOL. V. (2) Thrown in to boot. Ensues his piteous and unpitied end: Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray, That I may live to say, The dog is dead! Q. Eliz. O, thou didst prophesy, the time would come, That I should wish for thee to help me curse I call'd thee then, poor shadow, painted queen; The flattering index of a direful pageant, Where is thy husband now? where be thy brothers? Where be the bending peers that flatter'd thee? (1) Indexes were anciently placed at the beginning of books. 2) Flaring. Having no more but thought of what thou wert, Now thy proud neck bears half my burden'd yoke; 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 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 wo; Q. Eliz. My words are dull, O, quicken theni with thine! Q. Mar. Thy woes will make them sharp, and pierce like mine. [Exit Q. Mar. Duch. Why should calamity be full of words? QEliz. Windy attorneys 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 damned 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 hast done |