Thou flander of thy heavy mother's womb!
Thou loathed iffue of thy father's loins!
Thou rag of honour, thou detefted-
Glo. Margaret.
Q. Mar. Richard.-
Glo. Ha?
Q. Mar. I call thee not.
Glo. I cry thee mercy then; for, I did think, That thou had'ft call'd me all these bitter names. Q. Mar. Why, fo I did; but look'd for no reply. Oh, let me make the period to my curse.
Glo. 'Tis done by me, and ends in Margaret.
Queen. Thus have you breath'd your curfe againf yourself.
Q. Mar. Poor painted Queen, vain flourish of my fortune!
Why ftrew'st thou fugar on that bottled spider,
Whofe deadly web enfnareth thee about?
Fool, fool, thou whet'st a knife to kill thyself:
The day will come, that thou shalt with for me
To help thee curfe this pois'nous bunch-back'd toad.
Haft. Falfe-boading woman, end thy frantick curfe;
Left to thy harm thou move our patience.
Q. Mar. Foul fhame upon you? you have all mov'd mine.
Riv. Were you well ferv'd, you would be taught your duty.
Q. Mar. To ferve me well, you all should do me duty, Teach me to be your Queen, and you my Subjects: O, serve me well, and teach your felves that duty. Dorf. Difpute not with her, he is lunatick.
Q. Mar. Peace, mafter Marquifs, you are malapert Your fire new stamp of honour is fcarce current. O, that your young nobility could judge
What 'twere to lofe it, and be miserable!
They, that ftand high, have many blasts to shake them;
And, if they fall, they dafh themfelves to pieces.
Glo. Good counfel, marry, learn it, learn it, Marquifs.
Dorf. It touches you, my Lord, as much as me.
Gla. Ay, and much more; but I was born so high,
Our Airy buildeth in the cedar's top,
And dallies with the wind, and fcorns the fun.
Q. Mar. And turns the fun to fhade
fon, now in the fhade of death;
Whose bright out-fhining beams thy cloudy wrath
Hath in eternal darkness folded up.
Your Airy buildeth in our Airie's neft;
O God, that feeft it, do not suffer it:
As it was won with blood, fo be it loft!
Buck. Peace, peace for fhame, if not for charity.
Q. Mar. Urge neither charity nor fhame to me;
Uncharitably with me have you dealt,
And fhamefully my hopes, by you, are butcher'd.
My charity is outrage, life my fhame,
And in my fhame ftill live my forrow's rage!
Buck. Have done, have done.
Q. Mar. O Princely Buckingham, I'll kiss thy hand,
In fign 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 compafs of my curfe.
Buck. Nor no one here; for curfes never pass
The lips of thofe, that breathe them in the air.
Q Mar. I'll not believe, but they afcend the sky,
And there awake God's gentle-fleeping peace.
O Buckingham, beware of yonder dog;
Look, when he fawns, he bites; and, when he bites,
His venom tooth will rankle to the death ;
Have not to do with him, beware of him,
Sin, death, and hell, have fet their marks upon him▶
And all their minifters attend on him.
Glo. What doth she say, my Lord of Buckingham?
Buck. Nothing that I refpect, my gracious Lord.
Q. Mar. What, doft thou fcorn me for my gentle
counsel?
And footh the devil, that I warn thee from?
O, but remember this another day;
When he shall split thy very heart with forrow;
And fay, poor Margret was a Prophetefs.
Live each of you the fubject to his hate,
And he to yours, and all of you to God's?
[Exit.
Buck. My hair doth stand on end to hear her Curses.
Riv. And fo doth mine: I wonder, she's at liberty.
Glo. I cannot blame her, by God's holy Mother;
She hath had too much wrong, and I repent
My part thereof, that I have done to her.
Dorf. I never did her any, to my knowledge.
Glo. Yet you have all the vantage of her wrong:
I was too hot to do fome body good,
That is too cold in thinking of it now.
Marry, for Clarence, he is well repay'd;
He is frank'd up to fatting for his pains,
God pardon them, that are the cause thereof!
Riv. A virtuous and a christian-like conclufion,
To pray for them that have done fcathe to us.
Glo. So do I ever, being well advis'd;
For had I curft now, I had curft
Catef. Madam, his Majesty doth call for you,
And for your Grace, and you, my noble lord.
Queen. Catesby, we come; lords, will you go with
Riv. Madam, we will attend your Grace.
[Exeunt all but Gloucefter.
Glo. I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl.
The secret mischiefs, that I fet a-broach,
I lay unto the grievous charge of others.
Clarence, whom I indeed have laid in darkness,
I do beweep to many fimple gulis,
Namely to Stanley, Haftings, Buckingham;
And tell them, 'tis the Queen and her allies
That ftir the King against the Duke my brother.
Now they believe it, and withal whet me
To be reveng'd on Rivers, Dorfet, Gray.
But then I figh, and with a piece of Scripture,
Tell them, that God bids us do good for evil:
And thus I cloathe my naked villany
With old odd ends, ftol'n forth of holy Writ,
And feem a Saint, when moft I play the Devil.
Enter two Murtherers.
But foft, here come my executioners.
How now, my handy, ftout, refolved mates,
Are you now going to dispatch this deed?
1. Vil. We are, my lord, and come to have the War
That we may be admitted where he is.
Glo. Well thought upon, I have it here about me: When you have done, repair to Crosby-place.
But, Sirs, be fudden in the execution,
Withal obdurate, do not hear him plead ;
For Clarence is well-fpoken, and, perhaps,
May move your hearts to pity, if you mark him.
Vil. Fear not, my lord, we will not stand to prate ;
Talkers are no good doers; be affur'd,
We go to use our hands, and not our tongues.
Glo. Your eyes drop mill-ftones, when fools' eyes drop
I like you, lads; about your bufinefs; go. [Exeunt.
SCENE changes to the Tower.
Enter Clarence and Brakenbury.
Grace fo heavily to day?
Clar. O, I have past a miserable night,
So full of ugly fights, of ghaftly dreams,
That, as I am a christian faithful man,
I would not spend another fuch a night
Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days:
So full of difmal terror was the time.
Brak. What was your dream, my lord? I pray you, tell me.
Clar. Methought, that I had broken from the Tower; And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy,
And in my company my brother Glo'fter;
Who from my Cabin tempted me to walk
Upon the Hatches. Thence we look'd tow'rd England,
And cited up a thousand heavy times,
During the Wars of York and Lancaster,
That had befal'n us. As we pac'd along
Upon the giddy footing of the Hatches,
Methought, that Glo fler ftumbled; and in falling
Struck me (that fought to ftay him) over-board,
Into the tumbling billows of the main.
Lord, Lord, methought, what pain it was to drown!
What dreadful noife of waters in my ears!
What fights of ugly death within mine eyes!
I thought, I faw a thousand fearful wrecks ;
A thousand men, that fifhes gnaw'd upon;
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels.
Some lay in dead mens' skulls; and in those holes,
Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept,
As 'twere in fcorn of Eyes, reflecting Gems;
That woo'd the flimy bottom of the deep,
And mock'd the dead bones that lay fcatter'd by.
Brak. Had you fuch leifure in the time of death,
To gaze upon the Secrets of the Deep?
Clar. Methought, I had; and often did I ftrive
To yield the ghoft; but ftill the envious flood
Kept in my foul, and would not let it forth
To find the empty, vast, and wand'ring air;
But fmother'd it within my panting bulk,
Which almost burft to belch it in the fea.
Brak. Awak'd you not with this fore agony ?
Clar. No, no, my dream was lengthned after life.
O then began the tempeft to my foul:
I paft, methought, the melancholy flood,
With that grim ferry-man, which Poets write of,
Unto the Kingdom of perpetual Night.
The firft that there did greet my ftranger foul,
Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick,
Who cry'd aloud-What fcourge for perjury
Can this dark Monarchy afford false Clarence?
And fo he vanish'd. Then came wand'ring by
A fhadow like an angel, with bright hair
Dabbled in blood, and he fhriek'd out aloud-
Clarence is come, falfe, fleeting, perjur'd Clarence,
That ftabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury;
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