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, [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, [Sitting down with them. I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him. From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept 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; 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 Q. Mar. Thy woes will make them sharp, and Duch. Why should calamity be full of words? 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 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. Thy school-days frightful, desperate, wild, and furious; Thy prime of manhood daring, bold, and venturous: 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; So she may live unscarr'd of bleeding slaughter, K. Rich. Wrong not her birth, she is of royal blood. Q. Eliz. To save her life, I'll say she is not so.. 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, 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. No doubt the murd'rous knife was dull and blunt, But that still use of grief makes wild grief tame, K. Rich. 'Faith, none, but Humphrey Hour, that My tongue should to thy ears not name my boys, 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; [Exit. Till that my nails were anchor'd in thine eyes; K. Rich. Madam, so thrive I in my enterprise, 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. |