Hence both are gone with confcience and remorfe;
They could not speak, and so I left them both,
To bear these tidings to the bloody King.

Enter King Richard.

And here he comes. All health, my fovereign Lord! K. Rich. Kind Tirrel- am I happy in thy news? Tir. If to have done the thing you gave in charge Beget your happiness, be happy then;

For it is done.

K. Rich. But didft thou fee them dead?
Tir. I did, my Lord.

K. Rich. And buried, gentle Tirrel?

Tir. The Chaplain of the Tower hath buried them, But where, to fay the truth, I do not know.

K. Rich. Come to me, Tirrel, foon, foon after fupper, When thou shalt tell the process of their death. Mean time- but think, how I may do thee good, And be inheritor of thy defire.

Farewel, 'till then.

Tir. Í humbly take my leave. [Exit. K. Rich. The fon of Clarence have I pent up clofe: His daughter meanly have I match'd in marriage: The fons of Edward fleep in Abraham's bofom: And Anne my wife hath bid this world good night. Now, for I know the Briton Richmond aims At young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter; And by that knot looks proudly on the crown; To her go I, a jolly thriving wooer.

Catef. My Lord,

Enter Catesby.

K. Rich. Good or bad news, that thou com'ft in fo bluntly?

Catef. Bad news, my Lord; Morton is fled to Richmond. And Buckingham, back'd with the hardy Welshmen, Is in the field, and still his power encreaseth.

K. Rich. Ely with Richmond troubles me more near, Than Buckingham and his rafh-levied army.. Come, I have learn'd, that fearful commenting

Is leaden fervitor to dull delay;

Delay leads impotent and fnail pac'd beggary..
Then fiery Expedition be my wing,

Jove's Mercury, and herald for a King!
Go, mufter men; my Counsel is my fhield,

We must be brief, when traitors brave the field. [Exit.
Enter Queen Margaret..

Q. Mar. So now Profperity begins to mellow,
And drop into the rotten mouth of death:
Here in these confines flily have I lurk'd
To watch the waining of mine enemies.
A dire induction am I witness to;

And will to France, hoping, the confequence.
Will prove as bitter, black and tragical.

Withdraw thee, wretched Margret! who comes here?
Enter the Dutchess of York, and Queen.

Queen. Ah, my poor Princes! ah, my tender babes! My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets! If yet your gentle fouls fly in the air, And be not fixt in doom perpetual, Hover about me with your airy wings, And hear your mother's lamentation.

Q. Mar. Hover about her; fay, that right for right Hath dimm'd your infant-morn to aged night.

Dutch. So many miseries have craz'd my voice,. That my woe wearied tongue is still and mute. Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?

Q. Mar. Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet,. Edward for Edward pays a dying debt.

Queen. Wilt thou, O God, fly from fuch gentle lambs,, And throw them in the intrails of the wolf?

Why did'ft thou fleep, when fuch a deed was done ?

Q. Mar. When holy Henry dy'd, and my sweet son. Dutch. Dead life, blind fight, poor mortal living ghost, Woe's fcene, world's fhame, grave's due, by life ufurp'd, Brief abstract and record of tedious days, Reft thy unreft on England's lawful earth, Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood.

Queen. Ah, that thou would'st as soon afford a grave,

A

As thou canft yield a melancholy feat;

Then would I hide my bones, not reft them here.
Ah, who hath any cause to mourn but we ?

Q. Mar. If ancient forrow be most reverent,
Give mine the benefit of Signiory;

And let my griefs frown on the upper hand.
If forrow can admit fociety,

Tell o'er your woes again by viewing mine.
I had an Edward, 'till a Richard kill'd him :
I had a husband, 'till a Richard kill'd him.
Thou hadft an Edward, 'till a Richard kill'd him:
Thou hadst a Richard, 'till a Richard kill'd him.

Dutch. I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill him: I had a Rutland too, thou holp'ft to kill him.

Q. Mar. Thou had it a Clarence too, and Richard kill'd him.

From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept
A hell-hound, that doth hunt us all to death:
That dog, that had his teeth before his eyes,
To worry lambs and lap their gentle blood;
That foul defacer of God's handy work
Thy womb let loose, to chafe us to our graves.
O upright, juft, and true difpofing God,
How do I thank thee, that this carnal cur
Preys on the iffue of his mother's body;
And makes her Pue-fellow with others moan!
Dutch. Oh, Harry's wife, triumph not in my woes:
God witness with me, I have wept for thine.

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 lofs..
Thy Clarence he is dead, that ftabb'd my Edward;
And the beholders of this tragic play,

Th' adulterate Haftings, Rivers, Vaughan, Gray,
Untimely fmother'd in their dusky graves.
Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer,
Only referv'd their factor to buy fouls,

M 4

And

And fend them thither: but at hand, at hand,
Infues his piteous and unpitied end.

Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, faints pray, for vengeance.

Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I pray,

That I may live to say, the dog is dead!

Queen. Oh thou did'ft prophefie, the time would

come,

That I fhould wish for thee to help me curfe
That bottell'd fpider, that foul bunch-back'd toad.
Q. Mar. I call'd thee then vain flourish of my fortune,
I call'd thee then poor fhadow, painted Queen,
The prefentation of but what I was;

The flatt'ring index of a direful Pageant ;
One heav'd on high, to be hurl'd down below:
A mother only mock'd with two fair babes;
A dream of what thou waft; a garish flag,
To be the aim of ev'ry dang'rous fhot;
A fign of dignity, a breath, a bubble;
A Queen in jest, only to fill the scene.

Where is thy husband now? where be thy brothers?
Where be thy children? wherein doft thou joy?
Who fues, and kneels, and fays, God fave the Queen?
Where be the bending Peers, that flatter'd thee?
Where be the thronging troops, that follow'd thee ?
Decline all this, and fee what now thou art.
For happy wife, a moft diftreffed widow ;
For joyful mother, one that wails the name:
For one being fu'd to, one that humbly fues;
For Queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care;
For one that fcorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me;
For one being fear'd of all, now fearing one;
For one commanding all, obey'd of none.
Thus hath the courfe of juftice wheel'd about,
And left thee but a very prey to time;
Having no more but thought of what thou wert,
Tó torture thee the more, being what thou art.
Thou did't ufurp my place, and dost thou not
Ufurp the just proportion of my forrow?
Now thy proud neck bears half my burden'd yoak;

From

From which, ev'n here I flip my wearied head,
And leave the burthen of it all on thee.

Farewel, York's wife, and Queen of fad mischance,
Thefe English woes fhall make me fmile in France.
Queen. O thou well-skill'd in curfes! stay a while,
And teach me how to curfe mine enemies.

Q. Mar. Forbear to fleep the night, and fast the day: Compare dead happiness with living woe;

Think, that thy babes were sweeter than they were,
And he, that flew them, fouler than he is :
Bett'ring thy lois makes the bad caufer worse;
Revolving this, will teach thee how to curse.

like mine.

Queen. My words are dull, O! quicken them with thine.
Q. Mar. Thy woes will make them fharp, and pierce
[Exit Margaret.
Dutch. Why fhould calamity be full of words?
Queen. Windy attorneys to your client's woes,
Airy fucceeders of inteftate joys, (11)
Poor breathing orators of miferies!

Let them have scope, tho' what they do impart
Help nothing elfe, yet they do cafe the heart.

Dutch. If fo, then be not tongue ty'd; go with me,
And in the breath of bitter words let's fmother
My damned son, that thy two sweet fons fmother'd.

I hear his drum, be copious in exclaims.

[Drum, within.

Enter King Richard, and his Train.

K. Rich. Who intercepts me in my expedition ? Dutch. O, fhe, that might have intercepted thee By ftrangling thee in her accurfed womb,

(m) Airy Succeeders of inteftine joys,] Thus the Generality of the Editions, from the oldeft Folio Impreffon. But I cannot understand this Reading. I have adopted another from the Quarto in 1597, which, I think, must be the true one:

Airy Succeeders of inteftate joys,

i. e. Words, turn'd to Complaints, fucceed Joys that are dead; and unbequeath'd to them, to whom they should properly defcend,

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