That cannot see this palpable device?
Yet who so bold, but says--he sees it not?
Bad is the world; and all will come to nought,
When such bad dealing must be seen in thought.

[Exit. SCENE VII.—The same. Court of Baynard's castle. Enter Gloster and Buckingham, meeting. Glo. How now, how now? what say the citizens? Buck. Now by the holy mother of our Lord, The citizens are mum, say not a word.

Glo. Touch'd you the bastardy of Edward's children?

Buck. I did; with his contract with lady Lucy, And his contract by deputy in France; The insatiate greediness of his desires, And his enforcement of the city wives; His tyranny for trifles; his own bastardy,As being got, your father then in France; And his resemblance, being not like the duke. Withal, I did infer your lineaments,— Being the right idea of your father, Both in your form and nobleness of mind: open all your victories in Scotland, Your discipline in war, wisdom in peace, Your bounty, virtue, fair humility; Indeed, left nothing, fitting for your purpose, Untouch'd, or slightly handled, in discourse. And, when my oratory grew to an end, I bade them, that did love their country's good, Cry-God save Richard, England's royal king! Glo. And did they so?

Laid

Buck. No, so God help me, they spake not a word;|| But, like dumb statues, or breathless stones, Star'd on each other, and look'd deadly pale. Which when I saw, I reprehended them; And ask'd the mayor, what meant this wilful silence: His answer was,-the people were not us'd To be spoke to but by the recorder. Then he was urg'd to tell my tale again: Thus saith the duke, thus hath the duke inferr'd; But nothing spoke in warrant from himself. When he had done, some followers of mine own, At lower end o' the hall, hurl'd up their caps, And some ten voices cried, God save king Richard!|| And thus I took the vantage of those few,Thanks, gentle citizens, and friends, quoth I; This general applause, and cheerful shout, Argues your wisdom, and your love to Richard: And even here brake off and came away.

Glo. What tongueless blocks were they; would they not speak?

Will not the mayor then, and his brethren, come? Buck. The mayor is here at hand; intend1 some fear;

Be not you spoke with, but by mighty suit:
And look you get a prayer-book in your hand,
And stand between two churchmen, good my lord;
For on that ground I'll make a holy descant:
And be not easily won to our requests;
Play the maid's part, still answer nay, and take it.
Glo. I go; and if you plead as well for them,
As I can say nay to thee for myself,
No doubt we'll bring it to a happy issue.

Buck. Go, go, up to the leads; the lord mayor knocks. [Exit Gloster. Enter the Lord Mayor, Aldermen, and Citizens. Welcome, my lord; I dance attendance here; I think, the duke will not be spoke withal.— Enter, from the castle, Catesby. Now, Catesby! what says your lord to my request? (1) Pretend. (2) A couch. (3) Fatten.

Cate. He doth entreat your grace, my noble lord, To visit him to-morrow, or next day :

He is within, with two right reverend fathers,
Divinely bent to meditation;

And in no worldly suit would he be mov'd,
To draw him from his holy exercise.
Tell him, myself, the mayor and aldermen,
Buck. Return, good Catesby, to the gracious duke;
In deep designs, in matter of great moment,
No less importing than our general good,
Are come to have some conference with his grace.
Cate. I'll signify so much unto him straight.

[Exit. Buck. Ah, ha, my lord, this prince is not an Edward!

He is not lolling on a lewd day-bed,2
But on his knees at meditation;
Not dallying with a brace of courtezans,
But meditating with two deep divines;
Not sleeping, to engross his idle body,
But praying, to enrich his watchful soul:
Happy were England, would this virtuous prince
Take on himself the sovereignty thereof:
But, sure, I fear, we shall ne'er win him to it.
May. Marry, God defend, his grace should say
us nay!

Buck. I fear, he will: Here Catesby comes again;
Re-enter Catesby.

Now, Catesby, what says his grace?

Cate. He wonders to what end you have assembled

Such troops of citizens to come to him,
His grace not being warn'd thereof before,
He fears, my lord, you mean no good to him.

Buck. Sorry I am, my noble cousin should
Suspect me, that I mean no good to him:
By heaven, we come to him in perfect love;
And so once more return and tell his grace.
[Exit Catesby.

When holy and devout religious men
Are at their beads, 'tis hard to draw them thence;
So sweet is zealous contemplation.

Enter Gloster, in a gallery above, between two
Bishops. Catesby returns.

May. See, where his grace stands 'tween two clergymen !

Buck. Two props of virtue for a Christian prince, To stay him from the fall of vanity : And, see, a book of prayer in his hand; True ornaments to know a holy man.Famous Plantagenet, most gracious prince, Lend favourable ear to our requests; And pardon us the interruption Of thy devotion, and right Christian zeal.

Glo. My lord, there needs no such apology; I rather do beseech you pardon me, Who, earnest in the service of my God, Neglect the visitation of my friends. But, leaving this, what is your grace's pleasure? Buck. Even that, I hope, which pleaseth God above,

And all good men of this ungovern'd isle.

Glo. I do suspect, I have done some offence, That seems disgracious in the city's eye; And that you come to reprehend my ignorance. Buck. You have, my lord; Would it might please

The supreme seat, the throne majestical,
The scepter'd office of your ancestors,
Your state of fortune, and your due of birth,
The lineal glory of your royal house,
To the corruption of a blemish'd stock:
Whilst, in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts
(Which here we waken to our country's good,)
The noble isle doth want her proper limbs ;
Her face defac'd with scars of infamy,
Her royal stock graft with ignoble plants,
And almost shoulder'd' in the swallowing gulf
Of dark forgetfulness and deep oblivion.
Which to recure,2 we heartily solicit
Your gracious self to take on you the charge
And kingly government of this your land:
Not as protector, steward, substitute,
Or lowly factor for another's gain:
But as successively, from blood to blood,
Your right of birth, your empery,3 your own.
For this, consorted with the citizens,
Your very worshipful and loving friends,
And by their vehement instigation,
In this just suit come I to move your grace.
Glo. I cannot tell, if to depart in silence,
Or bitterly to speak in your reproof,
Best fitteth my degree, or your condition:
If, not to answer,-you might haply think,
Tongue-tied ambition, not replying, yielded
To bear the golden yoke of sovereignty,
Which fondly you would here impose on me;
If to reprove you for this suit of yours,
So season'd with your faithful love to me,
Then, on the other side, I check'd my friends.
Therefore, to speak, and to avoid the first;
And, then in speaking, not to incur the last,—
Definitively thus I answer you.

Your love deserves my thanks; but my desert
Unmeritable, shuns your high request.
First, if all obstacles were cut away,
And that my path were even to the crown,
As the ripe revenue and due of birth;
Yet so much is my poverty of spirit,
So mighty, and so many, my defects,
That I would rather hide me from my greatness,
Being a bark to brook no mighty sea,-
Than in my greatness covet to be hid,
And in the vapour of my glory smother'd.
But, God be thank'd, there is no need of me;
(And much I need4 to help you, if need were ;)
The royal tree hath left us royal fruit,
Which, mellow'd by the stealing hours of time,
Will well become the seat of majesty,
And make, no doubt, us happy by his reign.
On him I lay what you would lay on me,
The right and fortune of his happy stars,-
Which, God defend, that I should wring from him!
Buck. My lord, this argues conscience in your
grace;

But the respects thereof are nices and trivial,
All circumstances well considered.

You say, that Edward is your brother's son;
So say we too, but not by Edward's wife:
For first he was contract to lady Lucy,
Your mother lives a witness to his vow;
And afterwards by substitute betroth'd
To Bona, sister to the king of France.
These both put by, a poor petitioner,
A care-craz'd mother to a many sons,
A beauty-waning and distressed widow,
Even in the afternoon of her best days,
Made prize and purchase of his wanton eye,
Seduc'd the pitch and height of all his thoughts
(1) Thrust into. (2) Recover. (3) Empire.

suit.

Glo. Alas, why would you heap those cares on me?

I am unfit for state and majesty :

I do beseech you, take it not amiss;
I cannot, nor I will not, yield to you.

Buck. If you refuse it,-as in love and zeal,
Loath to depose the child, your brother's son;
As well we know your tenderness of heart,
And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse,6
Which we have noted in you to your kindred,
And equally, indeed, to all estates,-
Yet know, whe'r you accept our suit or no,
Your brother's son shall never reign our king;
But we will plant some other in your throne,
To the disgrace and downfall of your house.
And, in this resolution, here we leave you;
Come, citizens, we will entreat no more.

[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, [Ex. Cate. Albeit against my conscience and my soul.—

Re-enter Buckingham, and the rest. Cousin of Buckingham, and sage, grave men,— Since you will buckle fortune on my back, To bear her burden, whe'r I will, or no, I must have patience to endure the load: But if black scandal, or foul-fac'd reproach, Attend the sequel of your imposition, Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me From all the impure blots and stains thereof; For God he knows, and you may partly see, How far I am from the desire of this.

May. God bless your grace! we see it, and will say it.

Glo. In saying so, you shall but say the truth. Buck. Then I salute you with this royal title,Long live king Richard, England's worthy king! All. Amen.

Buck. To-morrow may it please you to be

crown'd?

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!
QEliz. As much to you, good sister? Whither
away?

Anne. No further than the Tower; and, as I guess, Upon the like devotion as yourselves,

To gratulate the gentle princes there.

Anne. And I with all unwillingness will go.O, would to God, that the inclusive verge Of golden metal,2 that must round my brow, Were red-hot steel, to sear3 me to the brain! Anointed let me be with deadly venom; And die, ere men can say-God save the queen! Q. Eliz. Go, go, poor soul, I envy not thy glory; To feed my humour, wish thyself no harm. Anne. No! why?-When he, that is

my husband Came to me, as I follow'd Henry's corse;

now,

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.
Q. Eliz. Ah, cut my lace asunder!
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! Dor. Be of good cheer:-Mother, how fares your grace?

Q. Eliz. O Dorset, speak not to me, get thee gone, Death and destruction dog thee at the heels; Thy mother's name is ominous to children: If thou wilt outstrip death, go cross the seas, And live with Richmond, from the reach of hell. Go, hie thee, hie thee, from this slaughter-house, Lest thou increase the number of the dead; And make me die the thrall of Margaret's curse, Nor mother, wife, nor England's counted queen. Stan. Full of wise care is this your counsel, madam :

Take all the swift advantage of the hours;

(1) A serpent supposed to originate from a cock's

egg.

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,
For making me, so young, so old a widow!
This was my wish,-Be thou, quoth I, accurs'd,
And, when thou wedd'st, let sorrow haunt thy bed;
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
Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again,
Grossly grew captive to his honey words,,
And prov'd the subject of mine own soul's curse :
Which ever since hath held mine eyes from rest;
Did I enjoy the golden dew of sleep,
For never yet one hour in his bcd
But with his timorous dreams was still awak'd.
And will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me.
Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick;

Q. Eliz. Poor heart, adieu: I pity thy complaining.

Anne. No more than with my soul I mourn for

yours.

Dor. Farewell, thou woful welcomer of glory! Anne. Adieu, poor soul, that tak'st thy leave of it!

Duch. Go thou to Richmond, and good fortune guide 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! Eighty odd years of sorrow have I seen, And each hour's joy wreck'd with a week of teen.4

Q. Eliz. Stay yet; look back, with me, unto the

Tower.

(3) Burn.

(4) Sorrow.

Buck. My gracious sovereign.

K. Rich. Give me thy hand. Thus high, by thy advice,

And thy assistance, is king Richard seated :-
But shall we wear these glories for a day?
Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them?
Buck. Still live they, and for ever let them last!
K. Rich. Ah, Buckingham, now do I play the
touch,1

To try if thou be current gold, indeed :-
Young Edward lives;-Think now what I would
speak.

Buck. Say on, my loving lord.

K. Rich. Why, Buckingham, I say, I would be king.

Buck. Why, so you are, my thrice-renowned

liege.

K. Rich. Ha! am I king? 'Tis so: but Edward lives.

Buck. True, noble prince.

K. Rich.

O bitter consequence, That Edward still should live,-true, noble prince!Cousin, thou wast not wont to be so dull :Shall I be plain? I wish the bastards dead; And I would have it suddenly perform'd. What say'st thou now? speak suddenly, be brief. Buck. Your grace may do your pleasure. K. Rich. Tut, tut, thou art all ice, thy kindness freezes :

Say, have I thy consent, that they shall die? Buck. Give me some breath, some little pause, dear lord,

Before I positively speak in this:

I will resolve your grace immediately. [Ex. Buck.
Cate. The king is angry; see, he gnaws his lip.
[Aside.
K. Rich. I will converse with iron-witted fools,
[Descends from his throne.
And unrespective2 boys: none are for me,
That look into me with considerate eyes;-
High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect.—
Boy,

Page. My lord.

K. Rich. Know'st thou not any, whom corrupting gold

Would tempt unto a close exploit3 of death?

Page. I know a discontented gentleman,
Whose humble means match not his haughty mind:
Gold were as good as twenty orators,
And will, no doubt, tempt him to any thing.
K. Rich. What is his name?
Page.
His name, my lord, is-Tyrrel.
K. Rich. I partly know the man; Go, call him
hither, boy.-
[Exit Page.

The deep-revolving, witty4 Buckingham
No more shall be the neighbour to my counsels :
Hath he so long held out with me untir'd,
And stops he now for breath?-well, be it so.-

Look, how thou dream'st!-I say again, give out,
That Anne my queen is sick, and like to die :
About it; for it stands me much upon,5
To stop all hopes, whose growth may damage me.-
[Exit Catesby.

I must be married to my brother's daughter,
Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass :-
Murder her brothers, and then marry her!
Uncertain way of gain! But I am in
So far in blood, that sin will pluck on sin.
Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye.-
Re-enter Page, with Tyrrel.

K. Rich. Why, then thou hast it; two deep enemies,

Foes to my rest, and my sweet sleep's disturbers, Are they that I would have thee deals upon : Tyrrel, I mean those bastards in the Tower.

Tyr. Let me have open means to come to them, And soon I'll rid you from the fear of them. K. Rich. Thou sing'st sweet music. Hark, come hither, Tyrrel;

Go, by this token :-Rise, and lend thine ear: [Whispers. There is no more but so::-Say, it is done, And I will love thee, and prefer thee for it. Tyr. I will despatch it straight.

Re-enter Buckingham.

[Exit.

Buck. My lord,

K. Rich. How chance, the prophet could not at that time,

Have told me, I being by, that I should kill him?
Buck. My lord, your promise for the earldom,-
K. Rich. Richmond!-When last I was at Exeter,
The mayor in courtesy show'd me the castle,
And call'd it-Rouge-mont: at which name, I
started;

Because a bard of Ireland told me once,
should not live long after I saw Richmond.
Buck. My lord,-

K. Rich.

Ay, what's o'clock?

(5) It is of the utmost consequence to my designs. (6) Act. (7) Foolish.

K. Rich. Thou troublest me; I am not in the vein. [Exeunt King Richard, and train. Buck. And is it thus? repays he my deep service With such contempt? made I him king for this? O, let me think on Hastings; and be gone To Brecknock,2 while my fearful head is on. [Exit.

SCENE III-The same. Enter Tyrrel.
Tyr. The tyrannous and bloody act is done;
The most arch deed of piteous massacre,
That ever yet this land was guilty of.
Dighton and Forrest, whom I did suborn
To do this piece of ruthless butchery,
Albeit they were flesh'd villains, bloody dogs,
Melting with tenderness and mild compassion,
Wept like two children, in their death's sad story.
O thus, quoth Dighton, lay the gentle babes,—
Thus, thus, quoth Forrest, girdling one another
Within their alabaster innocent arms:
Their lips were four red roses on a stalk,
Which, in their summer beauty, kiss'd each other.
A book of prayers on their pillow lay;
Which once, quoth Forrest, almost chang'd my
mind;

But, O, the devil-there the villain stopp'd;
When Dighton thus told on,-we smothered
The most replenished sweet work of nature,
That, from the prime creation, e'er she fram'd.
Hence both are gone with conscience and remorse,
They could not speak; and so I left them both,
To bear this tidings to the bloody king.

Enter King Richard.

And here he comes:-All health, my sovereign lord!
K. Rich. Kind Tyrrel! am I happy in thy news?
Tyr. If to have done the thing you gave in charge
Beget your happiness, be happy then,
For it is done.

K. Rich. But didst thou see them dead?
Tyr. I did, my lord.
K. Rich.
And buried, gentle Tyrrel?
Tyr. The chaplain of the Tower hath buried
them;

But where, to say the truth, I do not know.

K. Rich. Come to me, Tyrrel, soon, at after

supper,

When thou shalt tell the process of their death.
Mean time, but think how I may do thee good,
And be inheritor of thy desire.
Farewell, till then.
Tyr.

I humbly take my leave. [Exit. K. Rich. The son of Clarence have I penn'd up close;

His daughter meanly match'd in marriage;
The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom,
And Anne my wife hath bid the world good night
Now, for I know the Bretagne4 Richmond aims

(1) An image like those at St. Dunstan's church in Fleet-street. (3) Merciless.

(2) His castle in Wales.

VOL. II.

At young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter, And, by that knot, looks proudly on the crown, To her I go, a jolly thriving wooer.

Enter Catesby.

Cate. My lord,

K. Rich. Good news or bad, that thou com'st in
so bluntly?

Cate. Bad news, my lord: Morton is fled to
Richmond;

| And Buckingham, back'd with the hardy Welsh

men,

Is in the field, and still his power increaseth.

K. Rich. Ely with Richmond troubles me more

near,

Than Buckingham, and his rash-levied strength.
Come,-I have learn'd, that fearful commenting
Is leaden servitor to dull delay;
Delay leads impotent and snail-pac'd beggary:
Then fiery expedition be my wing,
Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king!
Go, muster men: My counsel is my shield;
We must be brief, when traitors brave the field.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV-The same. Before the Palace.
Enter Queen Margaret.

Q. Mar. So, now prosperity begins to mellow,
And drop into the rotten mouth of death.
Here in these confines slily have I lurk'd,
To watch the waning of mine enemies.
A dire induction6 am I witness to,
And will to France; hoping, the consequence
Will prove as bitter, black, and tragical.
Withdraw thee, wretched Margaret! who comes

here?

Enter Queen Elizabeth and the Duchess of York. Q. Eliz. Ah, my poor princes! ah, my tender babes!

My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets!
If yet your gentle souls fly in the air,
And be not fix'd in doom perpetual,
Hover about me with your airy wings,
And hear your mother's lamentation!

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

Duch. So many miseries have craz'd my voice, That my wo-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.

Q. Eliz. Wilt thou, Ŏ God, fly from such gentle lambs,

And throw them in the entrails of the wolf? When didst thou sleep, when such a deed was done? Q. Mar. When holy Harry died, and my sweet