As well we know your tenderness of heart, [Exeunt BUCKINGHAM, and Citizens. Cate. Call them again, sweet prince, accept their suit; If you deny them, all the land will rue it. Glo. Will you enforce me to a world of cares? Well, call them again; I am not made of stone, But penetrable to your kind entreaties, [Exit CATESBY. Albeit against my conscience and my soul.— Re-enter BUCKINGHAM, and the rest. Cousin of Buckingham,-and sage +, grave men,- May. God bless your grace! we see it, and will say it. Buck. To-morrow may it please you to be crown'd? Glo. Even when you please, since you will have it so. Buck. To-morrow then we will attend your grace; And so, most joyfully, we take our leave. Glo. Come, let us to our holy work again : [To the Bishops. Farewell, good cousin ;-farewell, gentle friends. [Exeunt. ACT IV. SCENE I.-Before the Tower. Enter, on one side, Queen ELIZABETH, Duchess of YORK, and Marquis of DORSET; on the other, ANNE, Duchess of GLOSTER, leading Lady MARGARET PLANTAGENet, Clarence's young daughter. Duch. Who meets us here ?-my niece Plantagenet Led in the hand of her kind aunt of Gloster? Now, for my life, she's wand'ring to the Tower, On pure heart's love, to greet the tender prince.— Daughter, well met. Anne. God give your graces both A happy and a joyful time of day! Q. Eliz. As much to you, good sister! Whither away? Anne. No further than the Tower; and, as I Upon the like devotion as yourselves, To gratulate the gentle princes there. guess, Q. Eliz. Kind sister, thanks; we'll enter all together: Enter BRAKENBURY. And, in good time, here the lieutenant comes.-—— Brak. Right well, dear madam: By your patience, I may not suffer you to visit them; The king hath strictly charg'd the contrary. Q. Eliz. The king! who's that? I mean, the lord protector. Duch. I am their father's mother, I will see them. Anne. Their aunt I am in law, in love their mother: Then bring me to their sights; I'll bear thy blame, And take thy office from thee, on my peril. Brak. No, madam, no, I may not leave it so; I am bound by oath, and therefore pardon me. Enter STANLEY. [Exit BRAKENBURY. Stan. Let me but meet you, ladies, one hour hence, And I'll salute your grace of York as mother, And reverend looker-on of two fair queens. Come, madam, you must straight to Westminster, [To the Duchess of GLOSTER. There to be crowned Richard's royal queen. That my pent heart may have some scope to beat, Or else I swoon with this dead-killing news. Anne. Despiteful tidings! O unpleasing news! Q. Eliz. O Dorset, speak not to me, get thee gone, Stan. Full of wise care is this your counsel, madam:Take all the swift advantage of the hours; You shall have letters from me to my son Duch. O ill-dispersing wind of misery!— Stan. Come, madam, come; I in all haste was sent. O, would to God, that the inclusive verge And die, ere men can say-God save the queen! Anne. No! why?-When he, that is my husband now, Came to me, as I follow'd Henry's corse; When scarce the blood was well wash'd from his hands, Which issu'd from my other angel husband, And that dead saint which then I weeping follow'd; O, when, I say, I look'd on Richard's face, This was my wish,-Be thou, quoth I, accurs'd, For making me, so young, so old a widow! And be thy wife (if any be so mad) More miserable by the life of thee, Than thou hast made me by my dear lord's death! Even in so short a space, my woman's heart 3 Were red-hot steel, to sear me to the brain!] She seems to allude to the ancient mode of punishing a regicide, or any other egregious criminal, viz. by placing a crown of iron, heated redhot, upon his head. Grossly grew captive to his honey words, And prov'd the subject of mine own soul's curse: Did I enjoy the golden dew of sleep, 4 But with his timorous dreams was still awak'd. yours. Q. Eliz. Poor heart, adieu; I pity thy complaining. thee! [TO DORSET. Go thou to Richard, and good angels tend thee!— [TO ANNE. Go thou to sanctuary, and good thoughts possess thee! [To Q. ELIZABETH. I to my grave, where peace and rest lie with me! And each hour's joy wreck'd with a week of teen'. Q. Eliz. Stay yet; look back, with me, unto the Tower. Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes, Whom envy hath immur'd within your walls! [Exeunt. 4 But with his timorous dreams —] 'Tis recorded by Polydore Vergil, that Richard was frequently disturbed by terrible dreams: this is therefore no fiction. JOHNSON. 5 And each hour's joy wreck'd with a week of teen.] Teen is |