We followed then our lord, our lawful king; Glo. If I should be?-I had rather be a pedler. Q. Eliz. As little joy, my lord, as you suppose You should enjoy, were you this country's king; As little joy you may suppose in me, That I enjoy, being the queen thereof. Q. Mar. A little joy enjoys the queen thereof; For I am she, and altogether joyless. I can no longer hold me patient. [Advancing. Hear me, you wrangling pirates, that fall out In sharing that which you have pilled from me: Which of you trembles not, that looks on me? If not, that, I being queen, you bow like subjects; Yet that, by you deposed, you quake like rebels ?Ah, gentle villain, do not turn away! Glo. Foul, wrinkled witch, what mak'st thou in my sight? Q. Mar. But repetition of what thou hast marred; That will I make, before I let thee go. Glo. Wert thou not banished on pain of death? A husband, and a son, thou ows't to me,- Glo. The curse my noble father laid on thee,— Riv. Tyrants themselves wept when it was reported. Dors. No man but prophesied revenge for it. Buck. Northumberland, then present, wept to see it. Q. Mar. What! were you snarling all, before I came, Ready to catch each other by the throat, And turn you all your hatred now on me! Did York's dread curse prevail so much with Heaven, That Henry's death, my lovely Edward's death, VOL. III.-12 Their kingdom's loss, my woful banishment, Could all but answer for that peevish brat? Why, then give way, dull clouds, to my quick curses!- Decked in thy rights, as thou art stalled in mine! But by some unlooked accident be cut off! Glo. Have done thy charm, thou hateful, withered hag. Q. Mar. And leave out thee? Stay, dog, for thou shalt hear me. If Heaven have any grievous plague in store, On thee, the troubler of the poor world's peace! Glo. Margaret! Q. Mar. Q. Mar. Richard! Ha! I call thee not. Glo. I cry thee mercy then; for I did think Glo. 'Tis done by me; and ends in-Margaret. Q. Eliz. Thus have you breathed your curse against yourself. Q. Mar. Poor painted queen, vain flourish of my fortune! Why strew'st thou sugar on that bottled spider, Whose deadly web ensnareth thee about? Fool, fool! thou whet'st a knife to kill thyself. To help thee curse this poisonous, bunch-backed toad. Q. Mar. Foul shame upon you! you have all moved mine. Riv. Were you well served, you would be taught your duty. Q. Mar. To serve me well, you all should do me duty, Teach me to be your queen, and you my subjects. O, serve me well, and teach yourselves that duty. Dors. Dispute not with her, she is lunatic. Q. Mar. Peace, master marquis, you are malapert. Your fire-new stamp of honor is scarce current; O that your young nobility could judge, What 'twere to lose it, and be miserable! They that stand high, have many blasts to shake them; And, if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces. Glo. Good counsel, marry ;-learn it, learn it, marquis. Dors. It touches you, my lord, as much as me. Glo. Ay, and much more. But I was born so high, Our aiery buildeth in the cedar's top, And dallies with the wind, and scorns the sun. Q. Mar. And turns the sun to shade! -alas! alas!— Witness my son, now in the shade of death; Whose bright, outshining beams thy cloudy wrath Your aiery buildeth in our aiery's nest. O, God, that seest it, do not suffer it; As it was won with blood, lost be it so! Buck. Peace, peace, for shame, if not for charity. And shamefully by you my hopes are butchered. Q. Mar. O, princely Buckingham, I kiss thy hand, In sign of league and amity with thee. Now fair befall thee, and thy noble house! Thy garments are not spotted with our blood, Nor thou within the compass of my curse. Buck. Nor no one here; for curses never pass Look, when he fawns, he bites; and, when he bites, Sin, death, and hell have set their marks on him; Glo. What doth she say, my lord of Buckingham? O, but remember this another day, When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow; [Exit. Hast. My hair doth stand on end to hear her curses. Q. Eliz. I never did her any, to my knowledge. Riv. A virtuous and a Christianlike conclusion, Enter CATESBY. Cates. Madam, his majesty doth call for you, And for your grace,- and you, my noble lords. [Aside. Q. Eliz. Catesby, I come.-Lords, will you go with me? Riv. Madam, we will attend upon your grace. I lay unto the grievous charge of others. Namely, to Stanley, Hastings, Buckingham; With old odd ends, stolen forth of holy writ; But soft, here come my executioners. How now, my hardy, stout, resolved mates? 1 Murd. We are, my lord; and come to have the warrant, That we may be admitted where he is. Glo. Well thought upon; I have it here about me; [Gives the warrant. When you have done, repair to Crosby-place. But, sirs, be sudden in the execution, May move your hearts to pity, if you mark him. 1 Murd. Tut, tut, my lord, we will not stand to prate; Talkers are no good doers; be assured, We go to use our hands, and not our tongues. Glo. Your eyes drop mill-stones, when fools' eyes drop tears. I like you, lads;-about your business straight. 1 Murd. We will, my noble lord. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. London. A Room in the Tower. Enter CLARENCE and BRAKENBURY. Brak. Why looks your grace so heavily to-day? So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights, |