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And prov'd the subject of mine own soul's curse:
Which ever since hath held mine eyes from rest;
For never yet one hour in his bed

Did I enjoy the golden dew of sleep,

But with his timorous dreams was still awak'd.
Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick;
And will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me.
Queen. Poor heart, adieu; I pity thy complaining.
Anne. No more than with my soul I mourn for your's.
Dors. Farewel, thou woful welcomer of glory! 91
Anne. Adieu, poor soul, that tak'st thy leave of it!
Dutch. Go thou to Richmond, and good fortune
guide thee!-
[To DORSET.
Go thou to Richard, and good angels tend thee!—

[To ANNE.

Go thou to sanctuary, and good thoughts possess

thee !

[To the Queen. I to my grave, where peace and rest lie with me! Eighty odd years of sorrow have I seen,

And each hour's joy wreck'd with a week of teen.
Queen. Stay yet; look back, with me, unto the
Tower.-

Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes,
Whom envy hath immur'd within your walls!
Rough cradle for such little pretty ones!
Rude ragged nurse! old sullen play-fellow
For tender princes, use my babies well!
So foolish sorrow bids your stones farewel.

100

[Exeunt.

SCENE

SCENE II.

The Court. Flourish of Trumpets. Enter RICHARD, as King, BUCKINGHAM, CATESBY, a Page, and others.

K. Rich. Stand all apart.-Cousin of Buckingham

Buck. My gracious sovereign.

K. Rich. Give me thy hand. Thus high, by thy

advice,

And thy assistance, is king Richard seated :-
But shall we wear these glories for a day?

Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them?

110

Buck. Still live they, and for ever let them last! K. Rich. Ah, Buckingham, now do I play the touch,

To try if thou be current gold, indeed :

Young Edward lives ;—Think now what I would speak.

Buck. Say on, my loving lord.

K. Rich. Why, Buckingham, I say, I would be

king.

Buck. Why, so you are, my thrice-renowned liege. K. Rich. Ha! am I king? 'Tis so: but Edward lives.

Buck. True, noble prince.

K. Rich. O bitter consequence,

120

That Edward still should live-true! noble prince !— Cousin, thou wast not wont to be so dull :

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Shall I be plain? I wish the bastards dead;
And I would have it suddenly perform'd.
What say'st thou now? Speak suddenly, be brief.
Buck. Your grace may do your pleasure.

K. Rich. Tut, tut, thou art all ice, thy kindness freezes :

Say, have I thy consent, that they shall die?

Buck. Give me some breath, some little pause, dear

lord,

Before I positively speak in this :

I will resolve your grace immediately.

130

[Exit BUCKINGHAM. Cates. The king is angry; see, hé gnaws his lip. K. Rich. I will converse with iron-witted fools, And unrespective boys; none are for me, That look into me with considerate eyes:High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect.-Boy

Page. My lord.

K. Rich. Know'st thou not any, whom corrupting

gold

Would tempt unto a close exploit of death?

Page. I know a discontented gentleman,

140

Whose humble means match not his haughty mind: Gold were as good as twenty orators,

And will, no doubt, tempt him to any thing.

K. Rich. What is his name?

Page. His name, my lord, is-Tyrrel.

K. Rich, I partly know the man; Go, call him hi

ther, boy..

[Exit Boy.

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But I am in,

in blood, that Sie will pluck on Sin

London Printed for John Bell Brinfh Labrary Strand May 10 1786.

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