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

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

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

Q. Mar. Thy woes will make them sharp, and pierce like mine. [Exit Q. Margaret. Dutch. Why should calamity be full of words? Q. Eliz. 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.

Dutch. 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? Dutch. O, she, that might have intercepted thee, By strangling thee in her accursed womb, From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast done. Q. Eliz. Hid'st thou that forehead with a golden

crown,

Where should be branded, if that right were right, The slaughter of the prince that ow'd that crown, And the dire death of my poor sons, and brothers? Tell me, thou villain-slave, where are my children? Dutch. Thou toad, thou toad, where is thy bro

ther Clarence?

And little Ned Plantagenet, his son?

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

Grey?

Dutch. Where is kind Hastings?

K. Rich. A flourish, trumpets!-strike alarum,

drums!

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

[Flourish.. Alarums.

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

K. Rich. Ay; I thank God, my father, and your

self.

Dutch. Then patiently hear my impatience.

K. Rich. Madam, I have a touch of your con

dition,

That cannot brook the accent of reproof.

Dutch. O, let me speak.

K. Rich.

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

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

K. Rich. And came I not at last to comfort you? Dutch. No, by the holy rood, thou know'st it well,

Thou cam'st on earth to make the earth my hell.
A grievous burden was thy birth to me;
Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy;

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

furious;

Thy prime of manhood, daring, bold, and ven

turous;

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

K. Rich. 'Faith, none, but Humphrey Hour, that call'd your grace

To breakfast once, forth of my company.

If I be so disgracious in your sight,

Let me march on, and not offend you, madam.

Strike up the drum.

Dutch.

I pr'ythee, hear me speak.

K. Rich. You speak too bitterly.
Dutch.

Hear me a word;

For I shall never speak to thee again.

K. Rich. So.

Dutch. Either thou wilt die, by God's just ordi

nance,

Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror;
Or I with grief and extreme age shall perish,
And never look upon thy face again.
Therefore, take with thee my most heavy curse;
Which, in the day of battle, tire thee more,
Than all the cómplete armour that thou wear'st!

My prayers on the adverse party fight;
And there the little souls of Edward's children

Whisper the spirits of thine enemies,
And promise them success and victory.
Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end;
Shame serves thy life, and doth thy death attend.

[Erit.

Q. Eliz. Though far more cause, yet much less spirit to curse

[Going.

Abides in me; I say amen to her.
K. Rich. Stay, madam, I must speak a word

with you.

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

K. Rich. You have a daughter call'd-Elizabeth,

Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious.

Q. Eliz. And must she die for this? O, let her

live,

And I'll corrupt her manners, stain her beauty;
Slander myself, as false to Edward's bed;
Throw over her the veil of infamy:

So she may live unscarr'd of bleeding slaughter,
I will confess she was not Edward's daughter.

K. Rich. Wrong not her birth, she is of royal blood.

Q. Eliz. To save her life, I'll say-she is not so.
K. Rich. Her life is safest only in her birth.
Q. Eliz. And only in that safety died her bro-

thers.

K. Rich. Lo, at their births good stars were opposite.

Q. Eliz. No, to their lives bad friends were contrary.

K. Rich. All unavoided is the doom of destiny. Q. Eliz. True, when avoided grace makes des

tiny:

My babes were destin'd to a fairer death,
If grace had bless'd thee with a fairer life.

K. Rich. You speak, as if that I had slain my cousins.

Q. Eliz. Cousins, indeed; and by their uncle

cozen'd

Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life.
Whose hands soever lanc'd their tender hearts,
Thy head, all indirectly, gave direction:

No doubt the murderous knife was dull and blunt,
Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart,
To revel in the entrails of my lambs.

But that still use of grief makes wild grief tame,
My tongue should to thy ears not name my boys,
Till that my nails were anchor'd in thine eyes;
And I, in such a desperate bay of death,
Like a poor bark, of sails and tackling reft,
Rush all to pieces on thy rocky bosom.

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

Than ever you or yours by me were harm'd!

Q. Eliz. What good is cover'd with the face of

heaven,

To be discover'd, that can do me good?

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