Der. I do beseech you, either not beleeue The enuious slanders of her false Accusers: Or if she be accus'd on true report, Beare with her weaknesse, which I thinke proceeds From wayward sicknesse, and no grounded malice

Qu. Saw you the King to day my Lord of Derby

Der. But now the Duke of Buckingham and I, Are come from visiting his Maiesty

Que. What likelyhood of his amendment Lords

Buc. Madam good hope, his Grace speaks chearfully

Qu. God grant him health, did you confer with him? Buc. I Madam, he desires to make attonement Betweene the Duke of Glouster, and your Brothers, And betweene them, and my Lord Chamberlaine, And sent to warne them to his Royall presence

Qu. Would all were well, but that will neuer be, I feare our happinesse is at the height. Enter Richard.

Rich. They do me wrong, and I will not indure it, Who is it that complaines vnto the King, That I (forsooth) am sterne, and loue them not? By holy Paul, they loue his Grace but lightly, That fill his eares with such dissentious Rumors. Because I cannot flatter, and looke faire, Smile in mens faces, smooth, deceiue, and cogge, Ducke with French nods, and Apish curtesie, I must be held a rancorous Enemy. Cannot a plaine man liue, and thinke no harme, But thus his simple truth must be abus'd, With silken, slye, insinuating Iackes? Grey. To who in all this presence speaks your Grace? Rich. To thee, that hast nor Honesty, nor Grace: When haue I iniur'd thee? When done thee wrong? Or thee? or thee? or any of your Faction? A plague vpon you all. His Royall Grace (Whom God preserue better then you would wish) Cannot be quiet scarse a breathing while, But you must trouble him with lewd complaints

Qu. Brother of Glouster, you mistake the matter: The King on his owne Royall disposition, (And not prouok'd by any Sutor else) Ayming (belike) at your interiour hatred, That in your outward action shewes it selfe Against my Children, Brothers, and my Selfe, Makes him to send, that he may learne the ground

Rich. I cannot tell, the world is growne so bad, That Wrens make prey, where Eagles dare not pearch. Since euerie Iacke became a Gentleman, There's many a gentle person made a Iacke

Qu. Come, come, we know your meaning Brother Gloster You enuy my aduancement, and my friends: God grant we neuer may haue neede of you

Rich. Meane time, God grants that I haue need of you. Our Brother is imprison'd by your meanes, My selfe disgrac'd, and the Nobilitie Held in contempt, while great Promotions Are daily giuen to ennoble those That scarse some two dayes since were worth a Noble

Qu. By him that rais'd me to this carefull height, From that contented hap which I inioy'd, I neuer did incense his Maiestie Against the Duke of Clarence, but haue bin An earnest aduocate to plead for him. My Lord you do me shamefull iniurie, Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects

Rich. You may deny that you were not the meane Of my Lord Hastings late imprisonment

Riu. She may my Lord, for- Rich. She may Lord Riuers, why who knowes not so? She may do more sir then denying that: She may helpe you to many faire preferments, And then deny her ayding hand therein, And lay those Honors on your high desert. What may she not, she may, I marry may she

Riu. What marry may she? Ric. What marrie may she? Marrie with a King, A Batcheller, and a handsome stripling too, Iwis your Grandam had a worser match

Qu. My Lord of Glouster, I haue too long borne Your blunt vpbraidings, and your bitter scoffes: By heauen, I will acquaint his Maiestie Of those grosse taunts that oft I haue endur'd. I had rather be a Countrie seruant maide Then a great Queene, with this condition, To be so baited, scorn'd, and stormed at, Small ioy haue I in being Englands Queene. Enter old Queene Margaret.

Mar. And lesned be that small, God I beseech him, Thy honor, state, and seate, is due to me

Rich. What? threat you me with telling of the King? I will auouch't in presence of the King: I dare aduenture to be sent to th' Towre. 'Tis time to speake, My paines are quite forgot

Margaret. Out Diuell, I do remember them too well: Thou killd'st my Husband Henrie in the Tower, And Edward my poore Son, at Tewkesburie

Rich. Ere you were Queene, I, or your Husband King: I was a packe-horse in his great affaires: A weeder out of his proud Aduersaries, A liberall rewarder of his Friends, To royalize his blood, I spent mine owne

Margaret. I and much better blood Then his, or thine

Rich. In all which time, you and your Husband Grey Were factious, for the House of Lancaster; And Riuers, so were you: Was not your Husband, In Margarets Battaile, at Saint Albons, slaine? Let me put in your mindes, if you forget What you haue beene ere this, and what you are: Withall, what I haue beene, and what I am

Q.M. A murth'rous Villaine, and so still thou art

Rich. Poore Clarence did forsake his Father Warwicke, I, and forswore himselfe (which Iesu pardon.) Q.M. Which God reuenge

Rich. To fight on Edwards partie, for the Crowne, And for his meede, poore Lord, he is mewed vp: I would to God my heart were Flint, like Edwards, Or Edwards soft and pittifull, like mine; I am too childish foolish for this World

Q.M. High thee to Hell for shame, & leaue this World Thou Cacodemon, there thy Kingdome is

Riu. My Lord of Gloster: in those busie dayes, Which here you vrge, to proue vs Enemies, We follow'd then our Lord, our Soueraigne King, So should we you, if you should be our King

Rich. If I should be? I had rather be a Pedler: Farre be it from my heart, the thought thereof

Qu. As little ioy (my Lord) as you suppose You should enioy, were you this Countries King, As little ioy you may suppose in me, That I enioy, being the Queene thereof

Q.M. A little ioy enioyes the Queene thereof, For I am shee, and altogether ioylesse: I can no longer hold me patient. Heare me, you wrangling Pyrates, that fall out, In sharing that which you haue pill'd from me: Which off you trembles not, that lookes on me? If not, that I am Queene, you bow like Subiects; Yet that by you depos'd, you quake like Rebells. Ah gentle Villaine, doe not turne away

Rich. Foule wrinckled Witch, what mak'st thou in my sight? Q.M. But repetition of what thou hast marr'd, That will I make, before I let thee goe

Rich. Wert thou not banished, on paine of death? Q.M. I was: but I doe find more paine in banishment, Then death can yeeld me here, by my abode. A Husband and a Sonne thou ow'st to me, And thou a Kingdome; all of you, allegeance: This Sorrow that I haue, by right is yours, And all the Pleasures you vsurpe, are mine

Rich. The Curse my Noble Father layd on thee, When thou didst Crown his Warlike Brows with Paper, And with thy scornes drew'st Riuers from his eyes, And then to dry them, gau'st the Duke a Clowt, Steep'd in the faultlesse blood of prettie Rutland: His Curses then, from bitternesse of Soule, Denounc'd against thee, are all falne vpon thee: And God, not we, hath plagu'd thy bloody deed

Qu. So iust is God, to right the innocent

Hast. O, 'twas the foulest deed to slay that Babe, And the most mercilesse, that ere was heard of

Riu. Tyrants themselues wept when it was reported

Dors. No man but prophecied reuenge for it

Buck. Northumberland, then present, wept to see it

Q.M. What? were you snarling all before I came, Ready to catch each other by the throat, And turne you all your hatred now on me? Did Yorkes dread Curse preuaile so much with Heauen, That Henries death, my louely Edwards death, Their Kingdomes losse, my wofull Banishment, Should all but answer for that peeuish Brat? Can Curses pierce the Clouds, and enter Heauen? Why then giue way dull Clouds to my quick Curses. Though not by Warre, by Surfet dye your King, As ours by Murther, to make him a King. Edward thy Sonne, that now is Prince of Wales, For Edward our Sonne, that was Prince of Wales, Dye in his youth, by like vntimely violence. Thy selfe a Queene, for me that was a Queene, Out-liue thy glory, like my wretched selfe: Long may'st thou liue, to wayle thy Childrens death, And see another, as I see thee now, Deck'd in thy Rights, as thou art stall'd in mine. Long dye thy happie dayes, before thy death, And after many length'ned howres of griefe, Dye neyther Mother, Wife, nor Englands Queene. Riuers and Dorset, you were standers by, And so wast thou, Lord Hastings, when my Sonne Was stab'd with bloody Daggers: God, I pray him, That none of you may liue his naturall age, But by some vnlook'd accident cut off

Rich. Haue done thy Charme, y hateful wither'd Hagge

Q.M. And leaue out thee? stay Dog, for y shalt heare me. If Heauen haue any grieuous plague in store, Exceeding those that I can wish vpon thee, O let them keepe it, till thy sinnes be ripe, And then hurle downe their indignation On thee, the troubler of the poore Worlds peace. The Worme of Conscience still begnaw thy Soule, Thy Friends suspect for Traytors while thou liu'st, And take deepe Traytors for thy dearest Friends: No sleepe close vp that deadly Eye of thine, Vnlesse it be while some tormenting Dreame Affrights thee with a Hell of ougly Deuills. Thou eluish mark'd, abortiue rooting Hogge, Thou that wast seal'd in thy Natiuitie The slaue of Nature, and the Sonne of Hell: Thou slander of thy heauie Mothers Wombe, Thou loathed Issue of thy Fathers Loynes, Thou Ragge of Honor, thou detested- Rich. Margaret

Q.M. Richard

Rich. Ha

Q.M. I call thee not

Rich. I cry thee mercie then: for I did thinke, That thou hadst call'd me all these bitter names

Q.M. Why so I did, but look'd for no reply. Oh let me make the Period to my Curse

Rich. 'Tis done by me and ends in Margaret

Qu. Thus haue you breath'd your Curse against your self

Q.M. Poore painted Queen, vain flourish of my fortune, Why strew'st thou Sugar on that Bottel'd Spider, Whose deadly Web ensnareth thee about? Foole, foole, thou whet'st a Knife to kill thy selfe: The day will come, that thou shalt wish for me, To helpe thee curse this poysonous Bunch-backt Toade

Hast. False boding Woman, end thy frantick Curse, Least to thy harme, thou moue our patience

Q.M. Foule shame vpon you, you haue all mou'd mine

Ri. Were you wel seru'd, you would be taught your duty

Q.M. To serue me well, you all should do me duty, Teach me to be your Queene, and you my Subiects: O serue me well, and teach your selues that duty

Dors. Dispute not with her, shee is lunaticke

Q.M. Peace Master Marquesse, you are malapert, Your fire-new stampe of Honor is scarce currant. O that your yong Nobility could iudge What 'twere to lose it, and be miserable. They that stand high, haue many blasts to shake them, And if they fall, they dash themselues to peeces

Rich. Good counsaile marry, learne it, learne it Marquesse

Dor. It touches you my Lord, as much as me

Rich. I, and much more: but I was borne so high: Our ayerie buildeth in the Cedars top, And dallies with the winde, and scornes the Sunne

Mar. And turnes the Sun to shade: alas, alas, Witnesse my Sonne, now in the shade of death, Whose bright out-shining beames, thy cloudy wrath Hath in eternall darknesse folded vp. Your ayery buildeth in our ayeries Nest: O God that seest it, do not suffer it, As it is wonne with blood, lost be it so

Buc. Peace, peace for shame: If not, for Charity

Mar. Vrge neither charity, nor shame to me: Vncharitably with me haue you dealt, And shamefully my hopes (by you) are butcher'd. My Charity is outrage, Life my shame, And in that shame, still liue my sorrowes rage

Buc. Haue done, haue done

Mar. O Princely Buckingham, Ile kisse thy hand, In signe of League and amity with thee: Now faire befall thee, and thy Noble house: Thy Garments are not spotted with our blood: Nor thou within the compasse of my curse

Buc. Nor no one heere: for Curses neuer passe The lips of those that breath them in the ayre

Mar. I will not thinke but they ascend the sky, And there awake Gods gentle sleeping peace. O Buckingham, take heede of yonder dogge: Looke when he fawnes, he bites; and when he bites, His venom tooth will rankle to the death. Haue not to do with him, beware of him, Sinne, death, and hell haue set their markes on him, And all their Ministers attend on him

Rich. What doth she say, my Lord of Buckingham

Buc. Nothing that I respect my gracious Lord

Mar. What dost thou scorne me For my gentle counsell? And sooth the diuell that I warne thee from. O but remember this another day: When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow: And say (poore Margaret) was a Prophetesse: Liue each of you the subiects to his hate, And he to yours, and all of you to Gods. Enter.

Buc. My haire doth stand an end to heare her curses

Riu. And so doth mine, I muse why she's at libertie

Rich. I cannot blame her, by Gods holy mother, She hath had too much wrong, and I repent My part thereof, that I haue done to her

Mar. I neuer did her any to my knowledge

Rich. Yet you haue all the vantage of her wrong: I was too hot, to do somebody good, That is too cold in thinking of it now: Marry as for Clarence, he is well repayed: He is frank'd vp to fatting for his paines, God pardon them, that are the cause thereof

Riu. A vertuous, and a Christian-like conclusion To pray for them that haue done scath to vs

Rich. So do I euer, being well aduis'd.

Speakes to himselfe.

For had I curst now, I had curst my selfe. Enter Catesby.

Cates. Madam, his Maiesty doth call for you, And for your Grace, and yours my gracious Lord

Qu. Catesby I come, Lords will you go with mee

Riu. We wait vpon your Grace.

Exeunt. all but Gloster.

Rich. I do the wrong, and first begin to brawle. The secret Mischeefes that I set abroach, I lay vnto the greeuous charge of others. Clarence, who I indeede haue cast in darknesse, I do beweepe to many simple Gulles, Namely to Derby, Hastings, Buckingham, And tell them 'tis the Queene, and her Allies, That stirre the King against the Duke my Brother. Now they beleeue it, and withall whet me To be reueng'd on Riuers, Dorset, Grey. But then I sigh, and with a peece of Scripture, Tell them that God bids vs do good for euill: And thus I cloath my naked Villanie With odde old ends, stolne forth of holy Writ, And seeme a Saint, when most I play the deuill. Enter two murtherers.

But soft, heere come my Executioners, How now my hardy stout resolued Mates, Are you now going to dispatch this thing? Vil. We are my Lord, and come to haue the Warrant, That we may be admitted where he is

Ric. Well thought vpon, I haue it heare about me: When you haue done, repayre to Crosby place; But sirs be sodaine in the execution, Withall obdurate, do not heare him pleade; For Clarence is well spoken, and perhappes May moue your hearts to pitty, if you marke him

Vil. Tut, tut, my Lord, we will not stand to prate, Talkers are no good dooers, be assur'd: We go to vse our hands, and not our tongues

Rich. Your eyes drop Mill-stones, when Fooles eyes fall Teares: I like you Lads, about your businesse straight. Go, go, dispatch

Vil. We will my Noble Lord.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Clarence and Keeper.

Keep. Why lookes your Grace so heauily to day

Cla. O, I haue past a miserable night, So full of fearefull Dreames, of vgly sights, That as I am a Christian faithfull man, I would not spend another such a night Though 'twere to buy a world of happy daies: So full of dismall terror was the time

Keep. What was your dream my Lord, I pray you tel me Cla. Me thoughts that I had broken from the Tower, And was embark'd to crosse to Burgundy, And in my company my Brother Glouster, Who from my Cabin tempted me to walke, Vpon the Hatches: There we look'd toward England, And cited vp a thousand heauy times, During the warres of Yorke and Lancaster That had befalne vs. As we pac'd along Vpon the giddy footing of the Hatches, Me thought that Glouster stumbled, and in falling Strooke me (that thought to stay him) ouer-boord, Into the tumbling billowes of the maine. O Lord, me thought what paine it was to drowne, What dreadfull noise of water in mine eares, What sights of vgly death within mine eyes. Me thoughts, I saw a thousand fearfull wrackes: A thousand men that Fishes gnaw'd vpon: Wedges of Gold, great Anchors, heapes of Pearle, Inestimable Stones, vnvalewed Iewels, All scattred in the bottome of the Sea, Some lay in dead-mens Sculles, and in the holes Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept (As 'twere in scorne of eyes) reflecting Gemmes, That woo'd the slimy bottome of the deepe, And mock'd the dead bones that lay scattred by

Keep. Had you such leysure in the time of death To gaze vpon these secrets of the deepe? Cla. Me thought I had, and often did I striue To yeeld the Ghost: but still the enuious Flood Stop'd in my soule, and would not let it forth To find the empty, vast, and wand'ring ayre: But smother'd it within my panting bulke, Who almost burst, to belch it in the Sea

Keep. Awak'd you not in this sore Agony? Clar. No, no, my Dreame was lengthen'd after life. O then, began the Tempest to my Soule. I past (me thought) the Melancholly Flood, With that sowre Ferry-man which Poets write of, Vnto the Kingdome of perpetuall Night. The first that there did greet my Stranger-soule, Was my great Father-in-Law, renowned Warwicke, Who spake alowd: What scourge for Periurie, Can this darke Monarchy affoord false Clarence? And so he vanish'd. Then came wand'ring by, A Shadow like an Angell, with bright hayre Dabbel'd in blood, and he shriek'd out alowd Clarence is come, false, fleeting, periur'd Clarence, That stabb'd me in the field by Tewkesbury: Seize on him Furies, take him vnto Torment. With that (me thought) a Legion of foule Fiends Inuiron'd me, and howled in mine eares Such hiddeous cries, that with the very Noise, I (trembling) wak'd, and for a season after, Could not beleeue, but that I was in Hell, Such terrible Impression made my Dreame

Keep. No maruell Lord, though it affrighted you, I am affraid (me thinkes) to heare you tell it

Cla. Ah Keeper, Keeper, I haue done these things (That now giue euidence against my Soule) For Edwards sake, and see how he requits mee. O God! if my deepe prayres cannot appease thee, But thou wilt be aueng'd on my misdeeds, Yet execute thy wrath in me alone: O spare my guiltlesse Wife, and my poore children. Keeper, I prythee sit by me a-while, My Soule is heauy, and I faine would sleepe

Keep. I will my Lord, God giue your Grace good rest. Enter Brakenbury the Lieutenant.

Bra. Sorrow breakes Seasons, and reposing houres, Makes the Night Morning, and the Noon-tide night: Princes haue but their Titles for their Glories, An outward Honor, for an inward Toyle, And for vnfelt Imaginations They often feele a world of restlesse Cares: So that betweene their Titles, and low Name, There's nothing differs, but the outward fame. Enter two Murtherers.

1.Mur. Ho, who's heere? Bra. What would'st thou Fellow? And how camm'st thou hither

2.Mur. I would speak with Clarence, and I came hither on my Legges

Bra. What so breefe? 1. 'Tis better (Sir) then to be tedious: Let him see our Commission, and talke no more.

Reads

Bra. I am in this, commanded to deliuer The Noble Duke of Clarence to your hands. I will not reason what is meant heereby, Because I will be guiltlesse from the meaning. There lies the Duke asleepe, and there the Keyes. Ile to the King, and signifie to him, That thus I haue resign'd to you my charge. Enter.

1 You may sir, 'tis a point of wisedome: Far you well

2 What, shall we stab him as he sleepes

1 No: hee'l say 'twas done cowardly, when he wakes 2 Why he shall neuer wake, vntill the great Iudgement day

1 Why then hee'l say, we stab'd him sleeping

2 The vrging of that word Iudgement, hath bred a kinde of remorse in me

1 What? art thou affraid? 2 Not to kill him, hauing a Warrant, But to be damn'd for killing him, from the which No Warrant can defend me

1 I thought thou had'st bin resolute

2 So I am, to let him liue

1 Ile backe to the Duke of Glouster, and tell him so

2 Nay, I prythee stay a little: I hope this passionate humor of mine, will change, It was wont to hold me but while one tels twenty

1 How do'st thou feele thy selfe now? 2 Some certaine dregges of conscience are yet within mee

1 Remember our Reward, when the deed's done

2 Come, he dies: I had forgot the Reward

1 Where's thy conscience now

2 O, in the Duke of Glousters purse

1 When hee opens his purse to giue vs our Reward, thy Conscience flyes out

2 'Tis no matter, let it goe: There's few or none will entertaine it

1 What if it come to thee againe? 2 Ile not meddle with it, it makes a man a Coward: A man cannot steale, but it accuseth him: A man cannot Sweare, but it Checkes him: A man cannot lye with his Neighbours Wife, but it detects him. 'Tis a blushing shamefac'd spirit, that mutinies in a mans bosome: It filles a man full of Obstacles. It made me once restore a Pursse of Gold that (by chance) I found: It beggars any man that keepes it: It is turn'd out of Townes and Citties for a dangerous thing, and euery man that means to liue well, endeuours to trust to himselfe, and liue without it

1 'Tis euen now at my elbow, perswading me not to kill the Duke

2 Take the diuell in thy minde, and beleeue him not: He would insinuate with thee but to make thee sigh

1 I am strong fram'd, he cannot preuaile with me

2 Spoke like a tall man, that respects thy reputation. Come, shall we fall to worke? 1 Take him on the Costard, with the hiltes of thy Sword, and then throw him into the Malmesey-Butte in the next roome

2 O excellent deuice; and make a sop of him

1 Soft, he wakes

2 Strike

1 No, wee'l reason with him

Cla. Where art thou Keeper? Giue me a cup of wine

2 You shall haue Wine enough my Lord anon

Cla. In Gods name, what art thou? 1 A man, as you are

Cla. But not as I am Royall

1 Nor you as we are, Loyall

Cla. Thy voice is Thunder, but thy looks are humble

1 My voice is now the Kings, my lookes mine owne

Cla. How darkly, and how deadly dost thou speake? Your eyes do menace me: why looke you pale? Who sent you hither? Wherefore do you come? 2 To, to, to- Cla. To murther me? Both. I, I

Cla. You scarsely haue the hearts to tell me so, And therefore cannot haue the hearts to do it. Wherein my Friends haue I offended you? 1 Offended vs you haue not, but the King

Cla. I shall be reconcil'd to him againe

2 Neuer my Lord, therefore prepare to dye

Cla. Are you drawne forth among a world of men To slay the innocent? What is my offence? Where is the Euidence that doth accuse me? What lawfull Quest haue giuen their Verdict vp Vnto the frowning Iudge? Or who pronounc'd The bitter sentence of poore Clarence death, Before I be conuict by course of Law? To threaten me with death, is most vnlawfull. I charge you, as you hope for any goodnesse, That you depart, and lay no hands on me: The deed you vndertake is damnable

1 What we will do, we do vpon command

2 And he that hath commanded, is our King

Cla. Erroneous Vassals, the great King of Kings Hath in the Table of his Law commanded That thou shalt do no murther. Will you then Spurne at his Edict, and fulfill a Mans? Take heed: for he holds Vengeance in his hand, To hurle vpon their heads that breake his Law

2 And that same Vengeance doth he hurle on thee, For false Forswearing, and for murther too: Thou did'st receiue the Sacrament, to fight In quarrell of the House of Lancaster

1 And like a Traitor to the name of God, Did'st breake that Vow, and with thy treacherous blade, Vnrip'st the Bowels of thy Sou'raignes Sonne

2 Whom thou was't sworne to cherish and defend

1 How canst thou vrge Gods dreadfull Law to vs, When thou hast broke it in such deere degree? Cla. Alas! for whose sake did I that ill deede? For Edward, for my Brother, for his sake. He sends you not to murther me for this: For in that sinne, he is as deepe as I. If God will be auenged for the deed, O know you yet, he doth it publiquely, Take not the quarrell from his powrefull arme: He needs no indirect, or lawlesse course, To cut off those that haue offended him

1 Who made thee then a bloudy minister, When gallant springing braue Plantagenet, That Princely Nouice was strucke dead by thee? Cla. My Brothers loue, the Diuell, and my Rage

1 Thy Brothers Loue, our Duty, and thy Faults, Prouoke vs hither now, to slaughter thee

Cla. If you do loue my Brother, hate not me: I am his Brother, and I loue him well. If you are hyr'd for meed, go backe againe, And I will send you to my Brother Glouster: Who shall reward you better for my life, Then Edward will for tydings of my death

2 You are deceiu'd, Your Brother Glouster hates you

Cla. Oh no, he loues me, and he holds me deere: Go you to him from me

1 I so we will

Cla. Tell him, when that our Princely Father Yorke, Blest his three Sonnes with his victorious Arme, He little thought of this diuided Friendship: Bid Glouster thinke on this, and he will weepe

1 I Milstones, as he lessoned vs to weepe

Cla. O do not slander him, for he is kinde

1 Right, as Snow in Haruest: Come, you deceiue your selfe, 'Tis he that sends vs to destroy you heere

Cla. It cannot be, for he bewept my Fortune, And hugg'd me in his armes, and swore with sobs, That he would labour my deliuery

1 Why so he doth, when he deliuers you From this earths thraldome, to the ioyes of heauen

2 Make peace with God, for you must die my Lord

Cla. Haue you that holy feeling in your soules, To counsaile me to make my peace with God, And are you yet to your owne soules so blinde, That you will warre with God, by murd'ring me. O sirs consider, they that set you on To do this deede will hate you for the deede

2 What shall we do? Clar. Relent, and saue your soules: Which of you, if you were a Princes Sonne, Being pent from Liberty, as I am now, If two such murtherers as your selues came to you, Would not intreat for life, as you would begge Were you in my distresse

1 Relent? no: 'Tis cowardly and womanish

Cla. Not to relent, is beastly, sauage, diuellish: My Friend, I spy some pitty in thy lookes: O, if thine eye be not a Flatterer, Come thou on my side, and intreate for mee, A begging Prince, what begger pitties not

2 Looke behinde you, my Lord

1 Take that, and that, if all this will not do,

Stabs him.

Ile drowne you in the MalmeseyBut within. Enter.

2 A bloody deed, and desperately dispatcht: How faine (like Pilate) would I wash my hands Of this most greeuous murther.

Enter 1.Murtherer]

1 How now? what mean'st thou that thou help'st me not? By Heauen the Duke shall know how slacke you haue beene

2.Mur. I would he knew that I had sau'd his brother, Take thou the Fee, and tell him what I say, For I repent me that the Duke is slaine. Enter.

1.Mur. So do not I: go Coward as thou art. Well, Ile go hide the body in some hole, Till that the Duke giue order for his buriall: And when I haue my meede, I will away, For this will out, and then I must not stay.

Exit

Actus Secundus. Scoena Prima.

Flourish.

Enter the King sicke, the Queene, Lord Marquesse Dorset, Riuers, Hastings, Catesby, Buckingham, Wooduill.

King. Why so: now haue I done a good daies work. You Peeres, continue this vnited League: I, euery day expect an Embassage From my Redeemer, to redeeme me hence. And more to peace my soule shall part to heauen, Since I haue made my Friends at peace on earth. Dorset and Riuers, take each others hand, Dissemble not your hatred, Sweare your loue

Riu. By heauen, my soule is purg'd from grudging hate And with my hand I seale my true hearts Loue

Hast. So thriue I, as I truly sweare the like

King. Take heed you dally not before your King, Lest he that is the supreme King of Kings Confound your hidden falshood, and award Either of you to be the others end

Hast. So prosper I, as I sweare perfect loue

Ri. And I, as I loue Hastings with my heart, King. Madam, your selfe is not exempt from this: Nor you Sonne Dorset, Buckingham nor you; You haue bene factious one against the other. Wife, loue Lord Hastings, let him kisse your hand, And what you do, do it vnfeignedly

Qu. There Hastings, I will neuer more remember Our former hatred, so thriue I, and mine

King. Dorset, imbrace him: Hastings, loue Lord Marquesse

Dor. This interchange of loue, I heere protest Vpon my part, shall be inuiolable

Hast. And so sweare I

King. Now Princely Buckingham, seale y this league With thy embracements to my wiues Allies, And make me happy in your vnity

Buc. When euer Buckingham doth turne his hate Vpon your Grace, but with all dutious loue, Doth cherish you, and yours, God punish me With hate in those where I expect most loue, When I haue most need to imploy a Friend, And most assured that he is a Friend, Deepe, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile, Be he vnto me: This do I begge of heauen, When I am cold in loue, to you, or yours.

Embrace

King. A pleasing Cordiall, Princely Buckingham Is this thy Vow, vnto my sickely heart: There wanteth now our Brother Gloster heere, To make the blessed period of this peace

Buc. And in good time, Heere comes Sir Richard Ratcliffe, and the Duke. Enter Ratcliffe, and Gloster.

Rich. Good morrow to my Soueraigne King & Queen And Princely Peeres, a happy time of day

King. Happy indeed, as we haue spent the day: Gloster, we haue done deeds of Charity, Made peace of enmity, faire loue of hate, Betweene these swelling wrong incensed Peeres

Rich. A blessed labour my most Soueraigne Lord: Among this Princely heape, if any heere By false intelligence, or wrong surmize Hold me a Foe: If I vnwillingly, or in my rage, Haue ought committed that is hardly borne, To any in this presence, I desire To reconcile me to his Friendly peace: 'Tis death to me to be at enmitie: I hate it, and desire all good mens loue, First Madam, I intreate true peace of you, Which I will purchase with my dutious seruice. Of you my Noble Cosin Buckingham, If euer any grudge were lodg'd betweene vs. Of you and you, Lord Riuers and of Dorset, That all without desert haue frown'd on me: Of you Lord Wooduill, and Lord Scales of you, Dukes, Earles, Lords, Gentlemen, indeed of all. I do not know that Englishman aliue, With whom my soule is any iot at oddes, More then the Infant that is borne to night: I thanke my God for my Humility

Qu. A holy day shall this be kept heereafter: I would to God all strifes were well compounded. My Soueraigne Lord, I do beseech your Highnesse To take our Brother Clarence to your Grace

Rich. Why Madam, haue I offred loue for this, To be so flowted in this Royall presence? Who knowes not that the gentle Duke is dead?

They all start.

You do him iniurie to scorne his Coarse

King. Who knowes not he is dead? Who knowes he is? Qu. All-seeing heauen, what a world is this? Buc. Looke I so pale Lord Dorset, as the rest? Dor. I my good Lord, and no man in the presence, But his red colour hath forsooke his cheekes

King. Is Clarence dead? The Order was reuerst

Rich. But he (poore man) by your first order dyed, And that a winged Mercurie did beare: Some tardie Cripple bare the Countermand, That came too lagge to see him buried. God grant, that some lesse Noble, and lesse Loyall, Neerer in bloody thoughts, and not in blood, Deserue not worse then wretched Clarence did, And yet go currant from Suspition. Enter Earle of Derby.

Der. A boone my Soueraigne for my seruice done

King. I prethee peace, my soule is full of sorrow

Der. I will not rise, vnlesse your Highnes heare me

King. Then say at once, what is it thou requests

Der. The forfeit (Soueraigne) of my seruants life, Who slew to day a Riotous Gentleman, Lately attendant on the Duke of Norfolke

King. Haue I a tongue to doome my Brothers death? And shall that tongue giue pardon to a slaue? My Brother kill'd no man, his fault was Thought, And yet his punishment was bitter death. Who sued to me for him? Who (in my wrath) Kneel'd and my feet, and bid me be aduis'd? Who spoke of Brother-hood? who spoke of loue? Who told me how the poore soule did forsake The mighty Warwicke, and did fight for me? Who told me in the field at Tewkesbury, When Oxford had me downe, he rescued me: And said deare Brother liue, and be a King? Who told me, when we both lay in the Field, Frozen (almost) to death, how he did lap me Euen in his Garments, and did giue himselfe (All thin and naked) to the numbe cold night? All this from my Remembrance, brutish wrath Sinfully pluckt, and not a man of you Had so much grace to put it in my minde. But when your Carters, or your wayting Vassalls Haue done a drunken Slaughter, and defac'd The precious Image of our deere Redeemer, You straight are on your knees for Pardon, pardon, And I (vniustly too) must grant it you. But for my Brother, not a man would speake, Nor I (vngracious) speake vnto my selfe For him poore Soule. The proudest of you all, Haue bin beholding to him in his life: Yet none of you, would once begge for his life. O God! I feare thy iustice will take hold On me, and you; and mine, and yours for this. Come Hastings helpe me to my Closset. Ah poore Clarence.

Exeunt. some with K[ing]. & Queen.

Rich. This is the fruits of rashnes: Markt you not, How that the guilty Kindred of the Queene Look'd pale, when they did heare of Clarence death. O! they did vrge it still vnto the King, God will reuenge it. Come Lords will you go, To comfort Edward with our company

Buc. We wait vpon your Grace.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter the old Dutchesse of Yorke, with the two children of Clarence.

Edw. Good Grandam tell vs, is our Father dead? Dutch. No Boy

Daugh. Why do weepe so oft? And beate your Brest? And cry, O Clarence, my vnhappy Sonne

Boy. Why do you looke on vs, and shake your head, And call vs Orphans, Wretches, Castawayes, If that our Noble Father were aliue? Dut. My pretty Cosins, you mistake me both, I do lament the sicknesse of the King, As loath to lose him, not your Fathers death: It were lost sorrow to waile one that's lost

Boy. Then you conclude, (my Grandam) he is dead: The King mine Vnckle is too blame for it. God will reuenge it, whom I will importune With earnest prayers, all to that effect

Daugh. And so will I

Dut. Peace children peace, the King doth loue you wel. Incapeable, and shallow Innocents, You cannot guesse who caus'd your Fathers death

Boy. Grandam we can: for my good Vnkle Gloster Told me, the King prouok'd to it by the Queene, Deuis'd impeachments to imprison him; And when my Vnckle told me so, he wept, And pittied me, and kindly kist my cheeke: Bad me rely on him, as on my Father, And he would loue me deerely as a childe

Dut. Ah! that Deceit should steale such gentle shape, And with a vertuous Vizor hide deepe vice. He is my sonne, I, and therein my shame, Yet from my dugges, he drew not this deceit

Boy. Thinke you my Vnkle did dissemble Grandam? Dut. I Boy

Boy. I cannot thinke it. Hearke, what noise is this? Enter the Queene with her haire about her ears, Riuers & Dorset after her.

Qu. Ah! who shall hinder me to waile and weepe? To chide my Fortune, and torment my Selfe. Ile ioyne with blacke dispaire against my Soule, And to my selfe, become an enemie

Dut. What meanes this Scene of rude impatience? Qu. To make an act of Tragicke violence. Edward my Lord, thy Sonne, our King is dead. Why grow the Branches, when the Roote is gone? Why wither not the leaues that want their sap? If you will liue, Lament: if dye, be breefe, That our swift-winged Soules may catch the Kings, Or like obedient Subiects follow him, To his new Kingdome of nere-changing night

Dut. Ah so much interest haue in thy sorrow, As I had Title in thy Noble Husband: I haue bewept a worthy Husbands death, And liu'd with looking on his Images: But now two Mirrors of his Princely semblance, Are crack'd in pieces, by malignant death, And I for comfort, haue but one false Glasse, That greeues me, when I see my shame in him. Thou art a Widdow: yet thou art a Mother, And hast the comfort of thy Children left, But death hath snatch'd my Husband from mine Armes, And pluckt two Crutches from my feeble hands, Clarence, and Edward. O, what cause haue I, (Thine being but a moity of my moane) To ouer-go thy woes, and drowne thy cries

Boy. Ah Aunt! you wept not for our Fathers death: How can we ayde you with our Kindred teares? Daugh. Our fatherlesse distresse was left vnmoan'd, Your widdow-dolour, likewise be vnwept

Qu. Giue me no helpe in Lamentation, I am not barren to bring forth complaints: All Springs reduce their currents to mine eyes, That I being gouern'd by the waterie Moone, May send forth plenteous teares to drowne the World. Ah, for my Husband, for my deere Lord Edward

Chil. Ah for our Father, for our deere Lord Clarence

Dut. Alas for both, both mine Edward and Clarence

Qu. What stay had I but Edward, and hee's gone? Chil. What stay had we but Clarence? and he's gone

Dut. What stayes had I, but they? and they are gone

Qu. Was neuer widdow had so deere a losse

Chil. Were neuer Orphans had so deere a losse

Dut. Was neuer Mother had so deere a losse. Alas! I am the Mother of these Greefes, Their woes are parcell'd, mine is generall. She for an Edward weepes, and so do I: I for a Clarence weepes, so doth not shee: These Babes for Clarence weepe, so do not they. Alas! you three, on me threefold distrest: Power all your teares, I am your sorrowes Nurse, And I will pamper it with Lamentation

Dor. Comfort deere Mother, God is much displeas'd, That you take with vnthankfulnesse his doing. In common worldly things, 'tis call'd vngratefull, With dull vnwillingnesse to repay a debt, Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent: Much more to be thus opposite with heauen, For it requires the Royall debt it lent you

Riuers. Madam, bethinke you like a carefull Mother Of the young Prince your sonne: send straight for him, Let him be Crown'd, in him your comfort liues. Drowne desperate sorrow in dead Edwards graue, And plant your ioyes in liuing Edwards Throne. Enter Richard, Buckingham, Derbie, Hastings, and Ratcliffe.

Rich. Sister haue comfort, all of vs haue cause To waile the dimming of our shining Starre: But none can helpe our harmes by wayling them. Madam, my Mother, I do cry you mercie, I did not see your Grace. Humbly on my knee, I craue your Blessing

Dut. God blesse thee, and put meeknes in thy breast, Loue Charity, Obedience, and true Dutie

Rich. Amen, and make me die a good old man, That is the butt-end of a Mothers blessing; I maruell that her Grace did leaue it out

Buc. You clowdy-Princes, & hart-sorowing-Peeres, That beare this heauie mutuall loade of Moane, Now cheere each other, in each others Loue: Though we haue spent our Haruest of this King, We are to reape the Haruest of his Sonne. The broken rancour of your high-swolne hates, But lately splinter'd, knit, and ioyn'd together, Must gently be preseru'd, cherisht, and kept: Me seemeth good, that with some little Traine, Forthwith from Ludlow, the young Prince be set Hither to London, to be crown'd our King

Riuers. Why with some little Traine, My Lord of Buckingham? Buc. Marrie my Lord, least by a multitude, The new-heal'd wound of Malice should breake out, Which would be so much the more dangerous, By how much the estate is greene, and yet vngouern'd. Where euery Horse beares his commanding Reine, And may direct his course as please himselfe, As well the feare of harme, as harme apparant, In my opinion, ought to be preuented

Rich. I hope the King made peace with all of vs, And the compact is firme, and true in me

Riu. And so in me, and so (I thinke) in all. Yet since it is but greene, it should be put To no apparant likely-hood of breach, Which haply by much company might be vrg'd: Therefore I say with Noble Buckingham, That it is meete so few should fetch the Prince

Hast. And so say I

Rich. Then be it so, and go we to determine Who they shall be that strait shall poste to London. Madam, and you my Sister, will you go To giue your censures in this businesse.

Exeunt.

Manet Buckingham, and Richard.

Buc. My Lord, who euer iournies to the Prince, For God sake let not vs two stay at home: For by the way, Ile sort occasion, As Index to the story we late talk'd of, To part the Queenes proud Kindred from the Prince

Rich. My other selfe, my Counsailes Consistory, My Oracle, My Prophet, my deere Cosin, I, as a childe, will go by thy direction, Toward London then, for wee'l not stay behinde.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter one Citizen at one doore, and another at the other.

1.Cit. Good morrow Neighbour, whether away so fast? 2.Cit. I promise you, I scarsely know my selfe: Heare you the newes abroad? 1. Yes, that the King is dead

2. Ill newes byrlady, seldome comes the better: I feare, I feare, 'twill proue a giddy world. Enter another Citizen.

3. Neighbours, God speed

1. Giue you good morrow sir

3. Doth the newes hold of good king Edwards death? 2. I sir, it is too true, God helpe the while

3. Then Masters looke to see a troublous world

1. No, no, by Gods good grace, his Son shall reigne

3. Woe to that Land that's gouern'd by a Childe

2. In him there is a hope of Gouernment, Which in his nonage, counsell vnder him, And in his full and ripened yeares, himselfe No doubt shall then, and till then gouerne well

1. So stood the State, when Henry the sixt Was crown'd in Paris, but at nine months old

3. Stood the State so? No, no, good friends, God wot For then this Land was famously enrich'd With politike graue Counsell; then the King Had vertuous Vnkles to protect his Grace

1. Why so hath this, both by his Father and Mother

3. Better it were they all came by his Father: Or by his Father there were none at all: For emulation, who shall now be neerest, Will touch vs all too neere, if God preuent not. O full of danger is the Duke of Glouster, And the Queenes Sons, and Brothers, haught and proud: And were they to be rul'd, and not to rule, This sickly Land, might solace as before

1. Come, come, we feare the worst: all will be well

3. When Clouds are seen, wisemen put on their clokes; When great leaues fall, then Winter is at hand; When the Sun sets, who doth not looke for night? Vntimely stormes, makes men expect a Dearth: All may be well; but if God sort it so, 'Tis more then we deserue, or I expect

2. Truly, the hearts of men are full of feare: You cannot reason (almost) with a man, That lookes not heauily, and full of dread

3. Before the dayes of Change, still is it so, By a diuine instinct, mens mindes mistrust Pursuing danger: as by proofe we see The Water swell before a boyst'rous storme: But leaue it all to God. Whither away? 2 Marry we were sent for to the Iustices

3 And so was I: Ile beare you company.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Arch-bishop, yong Yorke, the Queene, and the Dutchesse.

Arch. Last night I heard they lay at Stony Stratford, And at Northampton they do rest to night: To morrow, or next day, they will be heere

Dut. I long with all my heart to see the Prince: I hope he is much growne since last I saw him

Qu. But I heare no, they say my sonne of Yorke Ha's almost ouertane him in his growth

Yorke. I Mother, but I would not haue it so

Dut. Why my good Cosin, it is good to grow

Yor. Grandam, one night as we did sit at Supper, My Vnkle Riuers talk'd how I did grow More then my Brother. I, quoth my Vnkle Glouster, Small Herbes haue grace, great Weeds do grow apace. And since, me thinkes I would not grow so fast, Because sweet Flowres are slow, and Weeds make hast

Dut. Good faith, good faith, the saying did not hold In him that did obiect the same to thee. He was the wretched'st thing when he was yong, So long a growing, and so leysurely, That if his rule were true, he should be gracious

Yor. And so no doubt he is, my gracious Madam

Dut. I hope he is, but yet let Mothers doubt

Yor. Now by my troth, if I had beene remembred, I could haue giuen my Vnkles Grace, a flout, To touch his growth, neerer then he toucht mine

Dut. How my yong Yorke, I prythee let me heare it

Yor. Marry (they say) my Vnkle grew so fast, That he could gnaw a crust at two houres old, 'Twas full two yeares ere I could get a tooth. Grandam, this would haue beene a byting Iest

Dut. I prythee pretty Yorke, who told thee this? Yor. Grandam, his Nursse

Dut. His Nurse? why she was dead, ere y wast borne

Yor. If 'twere not she, I cannot tell who told me

Qu. A parlous Boy: go too, you are too shrew'd

Dut. Good Madam, be not angry with the Childe

Qu. Pitchers haue eares. Enter a Messenger.

Arch. Heere comes a Messenger: What Newes? Mes. Such newes my Lord, as greeues me to report

Qu. How doth the Prince? Mes. Well Madam, and in health

Dut. What is thy Newes? Mess. Lord Riuers, and Lord Grey, Are sent to Pomfret, and with them, Sir Thomas Vaughan, Prisoners

Dut. Who hath committed them? Mes. The mighty Dukes, Glouster and Buckingham

Arch. For what offence? Mes. The summe of all I can, I haue disclos'd: Why, or for what, the Nobles were committed, Is all vnknowne to me, my gracious Lord

Qu. Aye me! I see the ruine of my House: The Tyger now hath seiz'd the gentle Hinde, Insulting Tiranny beginnes to Iutt Vpon the innocent and awelesse Throne: Welcome Destruction, Blood, and Massacre, I see (as in a Map) the end of all

Dut. Accursed, and vnquiet wrangling dayes, How many of you haue mine eyes beheld? My Husband lost his life, to get the Crowne, And often vp and downe my sonnes were tost For me to ioy, and weepe, their gaine and losse. And being seated, and Domesticke broyles Cleane ouer-blowne, themselues the Conquerors, Make warre vpon themselues, Brother to Brother; Blood to blood, selfe against selfe: O prepostorous And franticke outrage, end thy damned spleene, Or let me dye, to looke on earth no more

Qu. Come, come my Boy, we will to Sanctuary. Madam, farwell

Dut. Stay, I will go with you

Qu. You haue no cause

Arch. My gracious Lady go, And thether beare your Treasure and your Goodes, For my part, Ile resigne vnto your Grace The Seale I keepe, and so betide to me, As well I tender you, and all of yours. Go, Ile conduct you to the Sanctuary.

Exeunt.

Actus Tertius. Scoena Prima.

The Trumpets sound.

Enter yong Prince, the Dukes of Glocester, and Buckingham, Lord Cardinall, with others.

Buc. Welcome sweete Prince to London, To your Chamber

Rich. Welcome deere Cosin, my thoughts Soueraign The wearie way hath made you Melancholly

Prin. No Vnkle, but our crosses on the way, Haue made it tedious, wearisome, and heauie. I want more Vnkles heere to welcome me

Rich. Sweet Prince, the vntainted vertue of your yeers Hath not yet diu'd into the Worlds deceit: No more can you distinguish of a man, Then of his outward shew, which God he knowes, Seldome or neuer iumpeth with the heart. Those Vnkles which you want, were dangerous: Your Grace attended to their Sugred words, But look'd not on the poyson of their hearts: God keepe you from them, and from such false Friends

Prin. God keepe me from false Friends, But they were none

Rich. My Lord, the Maior of London comes to greet you. Enter Lord Maior.

Lo.Maior. God blesse your Grace, with health and happie dayes

Prin. I thanke you, good my Lord, and thank you all: I thought my Mother, and my Brother Yorke, Would long, ere this, haue met vs on the way. Fie, what a Slug is Hastings, that he comes not To tell vs, whether they will come, or no. Enter Lord Hastings.

Buck. And in good time, heere comes the sweating Lord

Prince. Welcome, my Lord: what, will our Mother come? Hast. On what occasion God he knowes, not I; The Queene your Mother, and your Brother Yorke, Haue taken Sanctuarie: The tender Prince Would faine haue come with me, to meet your Grace, But by his Mother was perforce with-held

Buck. Fie, what an indirect and peeuish course Is this of hers? Lord Cardinall, will your Grace Perswade the Queene, to send the Duke of Yorke Vnto his Princely Brother presently? If she denie, Lord Hastings goe with him, And from her iealous Armes pluck him perforce

Card. My Lord of Buckingham, if my weake Oratorie Can from his Mother winne the Duke of Yorke, Anon expect him here: but if she be obdurate To milde entreaties, God forbid We should infringe the holy Priuiledge Of blessed Sanctuarie: not for all this Land, Would I be guiltie of so great a sinne

Buck. You are too sencelesse obstinate, my Lord, Too ceremonious, and traditionall. Weigh it but with the grossenesse of this Age, You breake not Sanctuarie, in seizing him: The benefit thereof is alwayes granted To those, whose dealings haue deseru'd the place, And those who haue the wit to clayme the place: This Prince hath neyther claym'd it, nor deseru'd it, And therefore, in mine opinion, cannot haue it. Then taking him from thence, that is not there, You breake no Priuiledge, nor Charter there: Oft haue I heard of Sanctuarie men, But Sanctuarie children, ne're till now

Card. My Lord, you shall o're-rule my mind for once. Come on, Lord Hastings, will you goe with me? Hast. I goe, my Lord.

Exit Cardinall and Hastings.

Prince. Good Lords, make all the speedie hast you may. Say, Vnckle Glocester, if our Brother come, Where shall we soiourne, till our Coronation? Glo. Where it think'st best vnto your Royall selfe. If I may counsaile you, some day or two Your Highnesse shall repose you at the Tower: Then where you please, and shall be thought most fit For your best health, and recreation

Prince. I doe not like the Tower, of any place: Did Iulius Csar build that place, my Lord? Buck. He did, my gracious Lord, begin that place, Which since, succeeding Ages haue re-edify'd

Prince. Is it vpon record? or else reported Successiuely from age to age, he built it? Buck. Vpon record, my gracious Lord

Prince. But say, my Lord, it were not registred, Me thinkes the truth should liue from age to age, As 'twere retayl'd to all posteritie, Euen to the generall ending day

Glo. So wise, so young, they say doe neuer liue long

Prince. What say you, Vnckle? Glo. I say, without Characters, Fame liues long. Thus, like the formall Vice, Iniquitie, I morallize two meanings in one word

Prince. That Iulius Csar was a famous man, With what his Valour did enrich his Wit, His Wit set downe, to make his Valour liue: Death makes no Conquest of his Conqueror, For now he liues in Fame, though not in Life. Ile tell you what, my Cousin Buckingham

Buck. What, my gracious Lord? Prince. And if I liue vntill I be a man, Ile win our ancient Right in France againe, Or dye a Souldier, as I liu'd a King

Glo. Short Summers lightly haue a forward Spring. Enter young Yorke, Hastings, and Cardinall.

Buck. Now in good time, heere comes the Duke of Yorke

Prince. Richard of Yorke, how fares our Noble Brother? Yorke. Well, my deare Lord, so must I call you now

Prince. I, Brother, to our griefe, as it is yours: Too late he dy'd, that might haue kept that Title, Which by his death hath lost much Maiestie

Glo. How fares our Cousin, Noble Lord of Yorke? Yorke. I thanke you, gentle Vnckle. O my Lord, You said, that idle Weeds are fast in growth: The Prince, my Brother, hath out-growne me farre

Glo. He hath, my Lord

Yorke. And therefore is he idle? Glo. Oh my faire Cousin, I must not say so

Yorke. Then he is more beholding to you, then I

Glo. He may command me as my Soueraigne, But you haue power in me, as in a Kinsman

Yorke. I pray you, Vnckle, giue me this Dagger

Glo. My Dagger, little Cousin? with all my heart

Prince. A Begger, Brother? Yorke. Of my kind Vnckle, that I know will giue, And being but a Toy, which is no griefe to giue

Glo. A greater gift then that, Ile giue my Cousin

Yorke. A greater gift? O, that's the Sword to it

Glo. I, gentle Cousin, were it light enough

Yorke. O then I see, you will part but with light gifts, In weightier things you'le say a Begger nay

Glo. It is too weightie for your Grace to weare

Yorke. I weigh it lightly, were it heauier

Glo. What, would you haue my Weapon, little Lord? Yorke. I would that I might thanke you, as, as, you call me

Glo. How? Yorke. Little

Prince. My Lord of Yorke will still be crosse in talke: Vnckle, your Grace knowes how to beare with him

Yorke. You meane to beare me, not to beare with me: Vnckle, my Brother mockes both you and me, Because that I am little, like an Ape, He thinkes that you should beare me on your shoulders

Buck. With what a sharpe prouided wit he reasons: To mittigate the scorne he giues his Vnckle, He prettily and aptly taunts himselfe: So cunning, and so young, is wonderfull

Glo. My Lord, wilt please you passe along? My selfe, and my good Cousin Buckingham, Will to your Mother, to entreat of her To meet you at the Tower, and welcome you

Yorke. what, will you goe vnto the Tower, my Lord? Prince. My Lord Protector will haue it so

Yorke. I shall not sleepe in quiet at the Tower

Glo. Why, what should you feare? Yorke. Marry, my Vnckle Clarence angry Ghost: My Grandam told me he was murther'd there

Prince. I feare no Vnckles dead

Glo. Nor none that liue, I hope

Prince. And if they liue, I hope I need not feare. But come my Lord: and with a heauie heart, Thinking on them, goe I vnto the Tower.

A Senet. Exeunt Prince, Yorke, Hastings, and Dorset.

Manet Richard, Buckingham, and Catesby.

Buck. Thinke you, my Lord, this little prating Yorke Was not incensed by his subtile Mother, To taunt and scorne you thus opprobriously? Glo. No doubt, no doubt: Oh 'tis a perillous Boy, Bold, quicke, ingenious, forward, capable: Hee is all the Mothers, from the top to toe

Buck. Well, let them rest: Come hither Catesby, Thou art sworne as deepely to effect what we intend, As closely to conceale what we impart: Thou know'st our reasons vrg'd vpon the way. What think'st thou? is it not an easie matter, To make William Lord Hastings of our minde, For the installment of this Noble Duke In the Seat Royall of this famous Ile? Cates. He for his fathers sake so loues the Prince, That he will not be wonne to ought against him

Buck. What think'st thou then of Stanley? Will not hee? Cates. Hee will doe all in all as Hastings doth

Buck. Well then, no more but this: Goe gentle Catesby, and as it were farre off, Sound thou Lord Hastings, How he doth stand affected to our purpose, And summon him to morrow to the Tower, To sit about the Coronation. If thou do'st finde him tractable to vs, Encourage him, and tell him all our reasons: If he be leaden, ycie, cold, vnwilling, Be thou so too, and so breake off the talke, And giue vs notice of his inclination: For we to morrow hold diuided Councels, Wherein thy selfe shalt highly be employ'd

Rich. Commend me to Lord William: tell him Catesby, His ancient Knot of dangerous Aduersaries To morrow are let blood at Pomfret Castle, And bid my Lord, for ioy of this good newes, Giue Mistresse Shore one gentle Kisse the more

Buck. Good Catesby, goe effect this businesse soundly

Cates. My good Lords both, with all the heed I can

Rich. Shall we heare from you, Catesby, ere we sleepe? Cates. You shall, my Lord

Rich. At Crosby House, there shall you find vs both.

Exit Catesby.

Buck. Now, my Lord, What shall wee doe, if wee perceiue Lord Hastings will not yeeld to our Complots? Rich. Chop off his Head: Something wee will determine: And looke when I am King, clayme thou of me The Earledome of Hereford, and all the moueables Whereof the King, my Brother, was possest

Buck. Ile clayme that promise at your Graces hand

Rich. And looke to haue it yeelded with all kindnesse. Come, let vs suppe betimes, that afterwards Wee may digest our complots in some forme.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter a Messenger to the Doore of Hastings.

Mess. My Lord, my Lord

Hast. Who knockes? Mess. One from the Lord Stanley

Hast. What is't a Clocke? Mess. Vpon the stroke of foure. Enter Lord Hastings.

Hast. Cannot my Lord Stanley sleepe these tedious Nights? Mess. So it appeares, by that I haue to say: First, he commends him to your Noble selfe

Hast. What then? Mess. Then certifies your Lordship, that this Night He dreamt, the Bore had rased off his Helme: Besides, he sayes there are two Councels kept; And that may be determin'd at the one, Which may make you and him to rue at th' other. Therefore he sends to know your Lordships pleasure, If you will presently take Horse with him, And with all speed post with him toward the North, To shun the danger that his Soule diuines

Hast. Goe fellow, goe, returne vnto thy Lord, Bid him not feare the seperated Councell: His Honor and my selfe are at the one, And at the other, is my good friend Catesby; Where nothing can proceede, that toucheth vs, Whereof I shall not haue intelligence: Tell him his Feares are shallow, without instance. And for his Dreames, I wonder hee's so simple, To trust the mock'ry of vnquiet slumbers. To flye the Bore, before the Bore pursues, Were to incense the Bore to follow vs, And make pursuit, where he did meane no chase. Goe, bid thy Master rise, and come to me, And we will both together to the Tower, Where he shall see the Bore will vse vs kindly

Mess. Ile goe, my Lord, and tell him what you say. Enter.

Enter Catesby.

Cates. Many good morrowes to my Noble Lord

Hast. Good morrow Catesby, you are early stirring: What newes, what newes, in this our tott'ring State? Cates. It is a reeling World indeed, my Lord: And I beleeue will neuer stand vpright, Till Richard weare the Garland of the Realme

Hast. How weare the Garland? Doest thou meane the Crowne? Cates. I, my good Lord

Hast. Ile haue this Crown of mine cut fro[m] my shoulders, Before Ile see the Crowne so foule mis-plac'd: But canst thou guesse, that he doth ayme at it? Cates. I, on my life, and hopes to find you forward, Vpon his partie, for the gaine thereof: And thereupon he sends you this good newes, That this same very day your enemies, The Kindred of the Queene, must dye at Pomfret

Hast. Indeed I am no mourner for that newes, Because they haue beene still my aduersaries: But, that Ile giue my voice on Richards side, To barre my Masters Heires in true Descent, God knowes I will not doe it, to the death

Cates. God keepe your Lordship in that gracious minde

Hast. But I shall laugh at this a twelue-month hence, That they which brought me in my Masters hate, I liue to looke vpon their Tragedie. Well Catesby, ere a fort-night make me older, Ile send some packing, that yet thinke not on't

Cates. 'Tis a vile thing to dye, my gracious Lord, When men are vnprepar'd, and looke not for it

Hast. O monstrous, monstrous! and so falls it out With Riuers, Vaughan, Grey: and so 'twill doe With some men else, that thinke themselues as safe As thou and I, who (as thou know'st) are deare To Princely Richard, and to Buckingham

Cates. The Princes both make high account of you, For they account his Head vpon the Bridge

Hast. I know they doe, and I haue well deseru'd it. Enter Lord Stanley.

Come on, come on, where is your Bore-speare man? Feare you the Bore, and goe so vnprouided? Stan. My Lord good morrow, good morrow Catesby: You may ieast on, but by the holy Rood, I doe not like these seuerall Councels, I

Hast. My Lord, I hold my Life as deare as yours, And neuer in my dayes, I doe protest, Was it so precious to me, as 'tis now: Thinke you, but that I know our state secure, I would be so triumphant as I am? Sta. The Lords at Pomfret, whe[n] they rode from London, Were iocund, and suppos'd their states were sure, And they indeed had no cause to mistrust: But yet you see, how soone the Day o're-cast. This sudden stab of Rancour I misdoubt: Pray God (I say) I proue a needlesse Coward. What, shall we toward the Tower? the day is spent

Hast. Come, come, haue with you: Wot you what, my Lord, To day the Lords you talke of, are beheaded

Sta. They, for their truth, might better wear their Heads, Then some that haue accus'd them, weare their Hats. But come, my Lord, let's away. Enter a Pursuiuant.

Hast. Goe on before, Ile talke with this good fellow.

Exit Lord Stanley, and Catesby.

How now, Sirrha? how goes the World with thee? Purs. The better, that your Lordship please to aske

Hast. I tell thee man, 'tis better with me now, Then when thou met'st me last, where now we meet: Then was I going Prisoner to the Tower, By the suggestion of the Queenes Allyes. But now I tell thee (keepe it to thy selfe) This day those Enemies are put to death, And I in better state then ere I was

Purs. God hold it, to your Honors good content

Hast. Gramercie fellow: there, drinke that for me.

Throwes him his Purse.

Purs. I thanke your Honor.

Exit Pursuiuant.

Enter a Priest.

Priest. Well met, my Lord, I am glad to see your Honor

Hast. I thanke thee, good Sir Iohn, with all my heart. I am in your debt, for your last Exercise: Come the next Sabboth, and I will content you

Priest. Ile wait vpon your Lordship. Enter Buckingham.

Buc. What, talking with a Priest, Lord Chamberlaine? Your friends at Pomfret, they doe need the Priest, Your Honor hath no shriuing worke in hand

Hast. Good faith, and when I met this holy man, The men you talke of, came into my minde. What, goe you toward the Tower? Buc. I doe, my Lord, but long I cannot stay there: I shall returne before your Lordship, thence

Hast. Nay like enough, for I stay Dinner there

Buc. And Supper too, although thou know'st it not. Come, will you goe? Hast. Ile wait vpon your Lordship.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter Sir Richard Ratcliffe, with Halberds, carrying the Nobles to death at Pomfret.

Riuers. Sir Richard Ratcliffe, let me tell thee this, To day shalt thou behold a Subiect die, For Truth, for Dutie, and for Loyaltie

Grey. God blesse the Prince from all the Pack of you, A Knot you are, of damned Blood-suckers

Vaugh. You liue, that shall cry woe for this heereafter

Rat. Dispatch, the limit of your Liues is out

Riuers. O Pomfret, Pomfret! O thou bloody Prison! Fatall and ominous to Noble Peeres: Within the guiltie Closure of thy Walls, Richard the Second here was hackt to death: And for more slander to thy dismall Seat, Wee giue to thee our guiltlesse blood to drinke

Grey. Now Margarets Curse is falne vpon our Heads, When shee exclaim'd on Hastings, you, and I, For standing by, when Richard stab'd her Sonne

Riuers. Then curs'd shee Richard, Then curs'd shee Buckingham, Then curs'd shee Hastings. Oh remember God, To heare her prayer for them, as now for vs: And for my Sister, and her Princely Sonnes, Be satisfy'd, deare God, with our true blood, Which, as thou know'st, vniustly must be spilt

Rat. Make haste, the houre of death is expiate

Riuers. Come Grey, come Vaughan, let vs here embrace. Farewell, vntill we meet againe in Heauen.

Exeunt.

Scaena Quarta.

Enter Buckingham, Darby, Hastings, Bishop of Ely, Norfolke, Ratcliffe, Louell, with others, at a Table.

Hast. Now Noble Peeres, the cause why we are met, Is to determine of the Coronation: In Gods Name speake, when is the Royall day? Buck. Is all things ready for the Royall time? Darb. It is, and wants but nomination

Ely. To morrow then I iudge a happie day

Buck. Who knowes the Lord Protectors mind herein? Who is most inward with the Noble Duke? Ely. Your Grace, we thinke, should soonest know his minde

Buck. We know each others Faces: for our Hearts, He knowes no more of mine, then I of yours, Or I of his, my Lord, then you of mine: Lord Hastings, you and he are neere in loue

Hast. I thanke his Grace, I know he loues me well: But for his purpose in the Coronation, I haue not sounded him, nor he deliuer'd His gracious pleasure any way therein: But you, my Honorable Lords, may name the time, And in the Dukes behalfe Ile giue my Voice, Which I presume hee'le take in gentle part. Enter Gloucester.

Ely. In happie time, here comes the Duke himselfe

Rich. My Noble Lords, and Cousins all, good morrow: I haue beene long a sleeper: but I trust, My absence doth neglect no great designe, Which by my presence might haue beene concluded

Buck. Had you not come vpon your Q my Lord, William, Lord Hastings, had pronounc'd your part; I meane your Voice, for Crowning of the King

Rich. Then my Lord Hastings, no man might be bolder, His Lordship knowes me well, and loues me well. My Lord of Ely, when I was last in Holborne, I saw good Strawberries in your Garden there, I doe beseech you, send for some of them

Ely. Mary and will, my Lord, with all my heart.

Exit Bishop.

Rich. Cousin of Buckingham, a word with you. Catesby hath sounded Hastings in our businesse, And findes the testie Gentleman so hot, That he will lose his Head, ere giue consent His Masters Child, as worshipfully he tearmes it, Shall lose the Royaltie of Englands Throne

Buck. Withdraw your selfe a while, Ile goe with you.

Exeunt.

Darb. We haue not yet set downe this day of Triumph: To morrow, in my iudgement, is too sudden, For I my selfe am not so well prouided, As else I would be, were the day prolong'd. Enter the Bishop of Ely.

Ely. Where is my Lord, the Duke of Gloster? I haue sent for these Strawberries

Ha. His Grace looks chearfully & smooth this morning, There's some conceit or other likes him well, When that he bids good morrow with such spirit. I thinke there's neuer a man in Christendome Can lesser hide his loue, or hate, then hee, For by his Face straight shall you know his Heart

Darb. What of his Heart perceiue you in his Face, By any liuelyhood he shew'd to day? Hast. Mary, that with no man here he is offended: For were he, he had shewne it in his Lookes. Enter Richard, and Buckingham.

Rich. I pray you all, tell me what they deserue, That doe conspire my death with diuellish Plots Of damned Witchcraft, and that haue preuail'd Vpon my Body with their Hellish Charmes

Hast. The tender loue I beare your Grace, my Lord, Makes me most forward, in this Princely presence, To doome th' Offendors, whosoe're they be: I say, my Lord, they haue deserued death

Rich. Then be your eyes the witnesse of their euill. Looke how I am bewitch'd: behold, mine Arme Is like a blasted Sapling, wither'd vp: And this is Edwards Wife, that monstrous Witch, Consorted with that Harlot, Strumpet Shore, That by their Witchcraft thus haue marked me

Hast. If they haue done this deed, my Noble Lord

Rich. If? thou Protector of this damned Strumpet, Talk'st thou to me of Ifs: thou art a Traytor, Off with his Head; now by Saint Paul I sweare, I will not dine, vntill I see the same. Louell and Ratcliffe, looke that it be done:

Exeunt.

The rest that loue me, rise, and follow me.

Manet Louell and Ratcliffe, with the Lord Hastings.

Hast. Woe, woe for England, not a whit for me, For I, too fond, might haue preuented this: Stanley did dreame, the Bore did rowse our Helmes, And I did scorne it, and disdaine to flye: Three times to day my Foot-Cloth-Horse did stumble, And started, when he look'd vpon the Tower, As loth to beare me to the slaughter-house. O now I need the Priest, that spake to me: I now repent I told the Pursuiuant, As too triumphing, how mine Enemies To day at Pomfret bloodily were butcher'd, And I my selfe secure, in grace and fauour. Oh Margaret, Margaret, now thy heauie Curse Is lighted on poore Hastings wretched Head

Ra. Come, come, dispatch, the Duke would be at dinner: Make a short Shrift, he longs to see your Head

Hast. O momentarie grace of mortall men, Which we more hunt for, then the grace of God! Who builds his hope in ayre of your good Lookes, Liues like a drunken Sayler on a Mast, Readie with euery Nod to tumble downe, Into the fatall Bowels of the Deepe

Lou. Come, come, dispatch, 'tis bootlesse to exclaime

Hast. O bloody Richard: miserable England, I prophecie the fearefull'st time to thee, That euer wretched Age hath look'd vpon. Come, lead me to the Block, beare him my Head, They smile at me, who shortly shall be dead.

Exeunt.

Enter Richard, and Buckingham, in rotten Armour, maruellous ill-fauoured.

Richard. Come Cousin, Canst thou quake, and change thy colour, Murther thy breath in middle of a word, And then againe begin, and stop againe, As if thou were distraught, and mad with terror? Buck. Tut, I can counterfeit the deepe Tragedian, Speake, and looke backe, and prie on euery side, Tremble and start at wagging of a Straw: Intending deepe suspition, gastly Lookes Are at my seruice, like enforced Smiles; And both are readie in their Offices, At any time to grace my Stratagemes. But what, is Catesby gone? Rich. He is, and see he brings the Maior along. Enter the Maior, and Catesby.

Buck. Lord Maior

Rich. Looke to the Draw-Bridge there

Buck. Hearke, a Drumme

Rich. Catesby, o're-looke the Walls

Buck. Lord Maior, the reason we haue sent

Rich. Looke back, defend thee, here are Enemies

Buck. God and our Innocencie defend, and guard vs. Enter Louell and Ratcliffe, with Hastings Head.

Rich. Be patient, they are friends: Ratcliffe, and Louell

Louell. Here is the Head of that ignoble Traytor, The dangerous and vnsuspected Hastings

Rich. So deare I lou'd the man, that I must weepe: I tooke him for the plainest harmelesse Creature, That breath'd vpon the Earth, a Christian. Made him my Booke, wherein my Soule recorded The Historie of all her secret thoughts. So smooth he dawb'd his Vice with shew of Vertue, That his apparant open Guilt omitted, I meane, his Conuersation with Shores Wife, He liu'd from all attainder of suspects

Buck. Well, well, he was the couertst sheltred Traytor That euer liu'd. Would you imagine, or almost beleeue, Wert not, that by great preseruation We liue to tell it, that the subtill Traytor This day had plotted, in the Councell-House, To murther me, and my good Lord of Gloster

Maior. Had he done so? Rich. What? thinke you we are Turkes, or Infidels? Or that we would, against the forme of Law, Proceed thus rashly in the Villaines death, But that the extreme perill of the case, The Peace of England, and our Persons safetie, Enforc'd vs to this Execution

Maior. Now faire befall you, he deseru'd his death, And your good Graces both haue well proceeded, To warne false Traytors from the like Attempts

Buck. I neuer look'd for better at his hands, After he once fell in with Mistresse Shore: Yet had we not determin'd he should dye, Vntill your Lordship came to see his end, Which now the louing haste of these our friends, Something against our meanings, haue preuented; Because, my Lord, I would haue had you heard The Traytor speake, and timorously confesse The manner and the purpose of his Treasons: That you might well haue signify'd the same Vnto the Citizens, who haply may Misconster vs in him, and wayle his death

Ma. But, my good Lord, your Graces words shal serue, As well as I had seene, and heard him speake: And doe not doubt, right Noble Princes both, But Ile acquaint our dutious Citizens With all your iust proceedings in this case

Rich. And to that end we wish'd your Lordship here, T' auoid the Censures of the carping World

Buck. Which since you come too late of our intent, Yet witnesse what you heare we did intend: And so, my good Lord Maior, we bid farwell.

Exit Maior.

Rich. Goe after, after, Cousin Buckingham. The Maior towards Guild-Hall hyes him in all poste: There, at your meetest vantage of the time, Inferre the Bastardie of Edwards Children: Tell them, how Edward put to death a Citizen, Onely for saying, he would make his Sonne Heire to the Crowne, meaning indeed his House, Which, by the Signe thereof, was tearmed so. Moreouer, vrge his hatefull Luxurie, And beastiall appetite in change of Lust, Which stretcht vnto their Seruants, Daughters, Wiues, Euen where his raging eye, or sauage heart, Without controll, lusted to make a prey. Nay, for a need, thus farre come neere my Person: Tell them, when that my Mother went with Child Of that insatiate Edward; Noble Yorke, My Princely Father, then had Warres in France, And by true computation of the time, Found, that the Issue was not his begot: Which well appeared in his Lineaments, Being nothing like the Noble Duke, my Father: Yet touch this sparingly, as 'twere farre off, Because, my Lord, you know my Mother liues

Buck. Doubt not, my Lord, Ile play the Orator, As if the Golden Fee, for which I plead, Were for my selfe: and so, my Lord, adue

Rich. If you thriue wel, bring them to Baynards Castle, Where you shall finde me well accompanied With reuerend Fathers, and well-learned Bishops

Buck. I goe, and towards three or foure a Clocke Looke for the Newes that the Guild-Hall affoords.

Exit Buckingham.

Rich. Goe Louell with all speed to Doctor Shaw, Goe thou to Fryer Penker, bid them both Meet me within this houre at Baynards Castle. Enter.

Now will I goe to take some priuie order, To draw the Brats of Clarence out of sight, And to giue order, that no manner person Haue any time recourse vnto the Princes.

Exeunt.

Enter a Scriuener

Scr. Here is the Indictment of the good Lord Hastings, Which in a set Hand fairely is engross'd, That it may be to day read o're in Paules. And marke how well the sequell hangs together: Eleuen houres I haue spent to write it ouer, For yester-night by Catesby was it sent me, The Precedent was full as long a doing, And yet within these fiue houres Hastings liu'd, Vntainted, vnexamin'd, free, at libertie. Here's a good World the while. Who is so grosse, that cannot see this palpable deuice? Yet who so bold, but sayes he sees it not? Bad is the World, and all will come to nought, When such ill dealing must be seene in thought. Enter.

Enter Richard and Buckingham at seuerall Doores.

Rich. How now, how now, what say the Citizens? Buck. Now by the holy Mother of our Lord, The Citizens are mum, say not a word

Rich. Toucht you the Bastardie of Edwards Children? Buck. I did, with his Contract with Lady Lucy, And his Contract by Deputie in France, Th' vnsatiate greedinesse of his desire, And his enforcement of the Citie Wiues, His Tyrannie for Trifles, his owne Bastardie, As being got, your Father then in France, And his resemblance, being not like the Duke. Withall, I did inferre your Lineaments, Being the right Idea of your Father, Both in your forme, and Noblenesse of Minde: Layd open all your Victories in Scotland, Your Discipline in Warre, Wisdome in Peace, Your Bountie, Vertue, faire Humilitie: Indeed, left nothing fitting for your purpose, Vntoucht, or sleightly handled in discourse. And when my Oratorie drew toward end, I bid them that did loue their Countries good, Cry, God saue Richard, Englands Royall King

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