When didst thou sleep, when such a deed was done?

Q. Mar. [Apart.] When holy Harry died, and my sweet son.

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

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

Brief abstract and record of tedious days,
Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth.

[Sitting down. Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood! Q. Eliz. Ah, that thou wouldst as soon afford a As thou canst yield a melancholy seat! [grave, Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here. Ah, who hath any cause to mourn but we? [Sitting down by her. Q. Mar. [Coming forward.] If ancient sorrow be most reverent,

Give mine the benefit of seniory,
And let my griefs frown on the upper hand.
If sorrow can admit society.

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

I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him.
Q. Mar. Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Rich-
ard kill'd him.

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

plachan, Grey,

Q. Mar. Bear with me; I am hungry for revenge, And now I cloy me with beholding it. Thy Edward he is dead, that kill'd my Edward; Thy other Edward dead, to quit my Edward; Young York he is but boot, because both they Match not the high perfection of my loss: Thy Clarence he is dead, that stabb'd my Edward; And the beholders of this frantic play, Th' adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Untimely smother'd in their dusky graves. Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer; Only reserv'd their factor, to buy souls, And send them thither:-but at hand, at hand, Ensues his piteous and unpitied end: Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray, To have him suddenly convey'd from hence.Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I pray, That I may live to say, the dog is dead!

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

come,

That I should wish for thee to help me curse That bottled spider, that foul bunch-back'd toad!

Q. Mar. I call'd thee then, vain flourish of my fortune;

I call'd thee then, poor shadow, painted queen;
The presentation of but what I was;
The flattering index of a direful pageant;
One heav'd a-high, to be hurl'd down below;
A mother only mock'd with two fair babes;
A dream of what thou wast; a garish flag,
To be the aim of every dangerous shot;
A sign of dignity, a breath, a bubble;
A queen in jest, only to fill the scene.
Where is thy husband now? where be thy brothers?
Where be thy two sons? wherein dost thou joy?
Who sues, and kneels, and says-God save the queen?
Where be the bending peers that flatter'd thee?
Where be the thronging troops that follow'd thee?
Decline all this, and see what now thou art:
For happy wife, a most distressed widow;
For joyful mother, one that wails the name;
For one being su'd to, one that humbly sues;
For queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care;
For one that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me;
For one being fear'd of all, now fearing one;
For one commanding all, obey'd of none.
Thus hath the course of justice wheel'd about,
And left thee but a very prey to time;
Having no more but thought of what thou wast,
To torture thee the more, being what thou art.
Thou didst usurp my place, and dost thou not
Usurp the just proportion of my sorrow?
Now thy proud neck bears half my burden'd yoke;
From which, even here, I slip my wearied head,
And leave the burden of it all on thee.

Farewell, York's wife, and queen of sad mischance:

These English woes shall make me smile in France. Q. Eliz. O thou, well skill'd in curses, stay a while,

And teach me how to curse mine enemies!

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

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

Q. Mar. Thy woes will make them sharp, and
pierce like mine.
[Exit.

Duch. 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.

Duch. If so, then be not tongue-tied: go with

me,

And in the breath of bitter words let's smother My damned son, that thy two sweet sons smother'd. [Drum heard.

I hear his drum:-be copious in exclaims.

Enter KING RICHARD, and his train, marching. K. Rich. Who intercepts me in my expedition? Duch. O, she that might have intercepted thee, By strangling thee in her accursed womb, From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast done! Q. Elis. 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? Duch. Thou toad, thou toad, where is thy brother Clarence?

And little Ned Plantagenet, his son?

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

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

Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women
Rail on the Lord's anointed: strike, I say!—
[Flourish. Alarums.
Either be patient, and entreat me fair,
Or with the clamorous report of war
Thus will I drown your exclamations.
Duch. Art thou my son?

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

self.

Duch. Then patiently hear my impatience. K. Rich. Madam, I have a touch of your condiThat cannot brook the accent of reproof. [tion, Duch. O, let me speak! K. Rich. Do, then; but I'll not hear. Duch. I will be mild and gentle in my words. K. Rich. And brief, good mother; for I am in haste.

Duch. Art thou so hasty? I have stay'd for thee, God knows, in torment and in agony.

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

well,

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

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

Thy prime of manhood daring, bold, and venturous:
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?

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 talk a word with

you.

Q. Eliz. I have no more sons of the royal blood, For thee to slaughter: 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 brothers.
K. Rich. Lo, at their births good stars were op-
posite.

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

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

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. Elis. 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 murd'rous 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,

call'd your grace

To breakfast once forth of my company.

If I be so disgracious in your eye,

Let me march on, and not offend you, Madam.Strike up the drum!

Duch.

I pr'ythee, hear me speak. K. Rich. You speak too bitterly. Duch.

Hear me a word;

For I shall never speak to thee again.

K. Rich. So.

Duch. Either thou wilt die, by God's just 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 complete armour that thou wear'st!
My prayers on the adverse party fight;
And there the little souls of Edward's children
Whisper the spirits of thine enemies,
And promise them success and victory.
Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end;
Shame serves thy life, and doth thy death attend.

[Exit.

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 enterprise,
And dangerous success of bloody wars,
As I intend more good to you and yours,
Than ever you or yours by me were harmed!

Q. Elis. What good is cover'd with the face of heaven,

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

K. Rich. Th' advancement of your children,

gentle lady.

Q. Eliz. Up to some scaffold, there to lose their heads?

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

Q. Eliz. Flatter my sorrow with report of it; Tell me what state, what dignity, what honour, Canst thou demise to any child of mine?

K. Rich. Even all I have; ay, and myself and all, Will I withal endow a child of thine;

So in the Lethe of thy angry soul

Thou drown the sad remembrance of those wrongs, Which thou supposest I have done to thee.