The Mayor should lose his title with his office! Buck. See, he comes forth-my friends, be resolute; I know he's cautious to a fault: but do not Enter GLOSTER, with a Book. Glost. Cousin of Buckingham, I do beseech your grace to pardon me, Buck. You have, my lord: we wish your grace, On our entreaties, would amend your fault. Glost. Else wherefore breathe I in a christian land? Buck. Know then, it is your fault that you resign The scepter'd office of your ancestors, Fair England's throne, your own due right of birth, In this just cause, I come, to move your highness, Your love deserves my thanks; but my desert, For, Heav'n be thank'd, there is no need of me; The royal stock has left us royal fruit, Which, mellow'd by the stealing hours of time, grace To wear this precious robe of dignity, Which on a child must sit too loose and heavy; 'Tis yours, befitting both your wisdom and your birth. Catesby. My lord, this coldness is unkind, Nor suits it with such ardent loyalty. Buck. Oh, make them happy! grant their lawful suit. Glost. Alas! why would you heap this care on me? I am unfit for state and majesty. I thank you for your loves, but must declare (I do beseech you take it not amiss) I will not, dare not, must not, yield to you. Buck. If you refuse us, through a soft remorse, Buck. Away, you but deceive yourselves. [Exit. Lord M. If you deny us, all the land will rue it. Glost. Call him again-[Exit CATESBY.] you will enforce me to A world of cares - -I am not made of stone, But penetrable to your kind entreaties; Tho', Heav'n knows, against my own inclining. Enter BUCKINGHAM and CATESBY. Cousin of Buckingham, and sage, grave, men, Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me; Lord M. Heaven guard your grace! we see it, and will say it. Glost. You will but say the truth, my lord. Buck. My heart's so full, it scarce has vent for words; My knee will better speak my duty, now! Long live our sovereign, Richard, king of England. Glost. Indeed, your words have touch'd me nearly, cousin! Pray rise-I wish you could recall them. Buck. It would be treason, now, my lord; to morrow, If it so please your majesty, from council will have it so. Buck, To-morrow then we will attend your majesty. And now we take our leaves with joy. Glost. Cousin, adieu-my loving friends, farewell. I must unto my holy work again. [Exeunt all but RICHARD. Why, now my golden dream is out— Ambition, like an early friend, throws back My curtains with an eager hand, o'erjoy'd And fame not more survives from good than evil deeds. Th' aspiring youth, that fir'd the Ephesian dome, Outlives, in fame, the pious fool that rais'd it. Conscience, lie still; more lives will yet be drain'd; Crowns got with blood, must be with blood maintain'd. [Exit, ACT THE FOURTH. SCENE I. The TowER. QUEEN, PRINCE EDWARD, DUKE OF YORK, DuCHESS OF YORK, and LADY ANNE, discovered. P. Ed. Pray, madam, do not leave me yet, For I have many more complaints to tell you. Queen. And I unable to redress the least; What wouldst thou say, my child? P. Ed. Oh, mother, since I have lain i' the Tower, My rest has still been broke with frightful dreams, Or shocking news has wak'd me into tears: 2 I'm scarce allow'd a friend to visit me; Lady A. Oh, unhappy prince! D. of York. Dear brother, why do you weep so? You make me cry too! Queen. Alas, poor innocence! P. Ed. 'Would I but knew at what my uncle aims; If 'twere my crown, I'd freely give it him, So he'd but let me 'joy my life in quiet. D. of York. Why, will my uncle kill us, brother? P. Ed. I hope he won't; we never injur'd him. Queen. I cannot bear to see them thus. [Weeping. Enter LORD STANLEY. Stanley. Madam, I hope your majesty will pardon What I am griev'd to tell, unwelcome news! Queen. Ah me! more sorrow yet! my lord, we've long Despair'd of happy tidings; pray, what is't? Stanley. On Tuesday last, your noble kinsmen Grey, and Sir Thomas Vaughan, at Pomfret, Duch. of York. Oh dismal tidings! P. Ed. Oh poor uncles! I doubt my turn is next, Lady A. Nor mine, I fear far off. Queen. Why then let's welcome blood and massacre, Yield all our throats to the fell tiger's rage, And die lamenting one another's wrong; Enter CATESBY. Catesby. Madam, the king Has sent me to inform your majesty, [Weeps |