Then would I hide my bones, not rest them there!b

Ah, who hath any cause to mourn, but we? ir Jeed [Sitting down by her,

Q. Mar. If ancient sorrow be most reverent, Give mine the benefit of seniory,

And let my griefs frown on the upper hand. A If sorrow can admit society,

[Sitting down with them. 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 had'st an Edward, till a Richard kill'd' him; Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard kill'd hin, Duch. I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill

him;

T

I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him. I Q. Mar. Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Rich

mond kill'd him ;

T

From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept,
A hell-hound, that doth hunt us all to death. T
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:
That excellent grand tyrant of the earth,
That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls,
Thy womb let loose, to chase us to our graves.
O upright, just, and true-disposing God,
How do I thank thee, that this carnal cur
Preys on the issue of his mother's body,
And makes her pow-fellow with others' moan!
Duch. O, Harry's wife; triumphˇnot_inˇmy
case sd: liwoes;no

A

God witness with me, I have wept for thine.
Q. Mar. Bear with me; I am hungry for re-

̈·venge,*

And now I cloy me with beholding ithe nod I:
Thy Edward he is dead, that kill'd my Edward;
Thy other Edward dead, to quit my Edward';, dé
Young York he is but boot, because both they
Match not the high perfection of my loss.
Thy Clarence he is dead, that stabb'd my Edward;
And the beholders of this tragick play, Mot b!
The adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey)
Untimely smother'd in their dusky graves.
Richard et lives, hell's black intelligencer; obI
Only reserv'd their factor to buy! souls,
De beg (
And send them thither: But at hand, at hand,
Ensues his piteous and unpitied end t
Earth gapes, hell burns fiends roar, saints prayTM
To have him suddenly convey'd froin hence:
Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I pray,
That I may live to say, The dog is dead bod

didst prophecy
would come,

the time

That I should wish for thee to help me curse
That bottled spider, that foul bunch-back'd' to

2% 100

toad

Q. Mar. I call'd thee then, vain flourish of my fortuner Sp mot duk I call'd thee then, poor shadow, painted Queen';" The prentation of but what I was,

The flattering index of a direfub pageant,dow 7.B
One heav'd a high, to be hurl'd down below:
A mother only mock'd with two fair babes;

A dream of what thou wast; al garish flag, 48.75
To be the aim of every dangerous shot
A sign of dignity, a breath, a bubble;
A Queen in jest, only to fill the scene.
Where is thy husband now? where be thy bro→
thers 2

Where be thy two sons? wherein dost thou joy?

Who sues, and kneels, and says

Queen?

God save the

that foll thee??

Where be the bending Peers that
Where be the thronging troops
Decline all this, and see what now thou art.
For happy wife, a most distressed, widowe
For joyful mother, on that wails the e name zoo
For one being sued to, one that humbly sues, 1
For Queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care
For one that scorn'd at the; how scorn'd of me;
For one being fear'd of all, now fearing oneLA
all
For one commanding obey'd of none.

Thus hath the course of justice wheel'd about,
And left thee but a very prey to time;
Having no more but thought of what thou

q

d`wert,* To torture thee the more, being what thou art. Thou didst usurp my place, And dost thou not A Usurp

Now th Just proportion of my sorrow?

proud neck bears half my burden'd yoke; From which even here I slip my wearied head, And leave the burden of it all on thee.

Farewell, York's wife," and Queen of sad mischance,

These English woes shall make me smile in
Q. Eliz. O thou well skill'd in curses, stance.

C while,

And teach me how to curse mine enemies.

stay a

.: Mar. Forbear to sleep the night, and fast *1* 1 of the day le di Compare dead happiness with living woe; as bah Think that thy babes were fairer than they were, And he, that slew them, fouler than he is Bettering thy loss makes the bad-causer Revolving this will teach thee how to etirs

Q. Eliz. My words are dull, O, quicken them

with thine

Q Mar. Thy woes will make them sharp, and

pierce like mine.

[Exit calamity

MARGARET of words

Duch. Why should cala

Q. Eliz. Windy attorneys to their client woes, Airy succeeders of intestate joys,

Poor breathing orators of miseries!

Let them have scope: though what they do impart Help nothing else, yet do they ease the heart.

Duch. If so, then be not tongue-ty'd: go with

me,

And in the breath of bitter words let's smother My damned son, that thy two sweet sons smother'd, [Drum within. I hear his drum, be copious in exclaims,,

Enter King RICHARD, and his Train, marching.

K. Rich. Who intercepts me in my expedition Duch. O, she, that might have intercepted thee, avond bvA By strangling thee in her accursed womb, From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast

done,

די

Q. Eliz. Hid'st thou that forehead with a golden

crown,

Where should be branded, if that right were right, g

The slaughter of the Prince that ow'd that crown, And the dire death of my poor sons and bro

thers?

Tell me, thou villain-slave, where are my child

ren?

Duch. Tou toad, thou toad, where is thy brother Clarence? A And little Ned Plantagenet, his son?

Q. Eliz. Where is the gentle Rivers, Vaughan,
Grey?

Duch. Where is kind Hastings?

K. Rich. A flourish, trumpets!-strike alarum, drums!

Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women
Rail on the Lord's anointed: Strike, I say.

[Flourish. Alarums.

Either be patient, and entreat me fair,
Or with the clamorous report of war
Thus will I drown your exclamations.
Duch. Art thou my son?

K. Rich. Ay; I thank God, my father, and yourself.

Duch. Then patiently hear my impatience.
K. Rich. Madam, I have a touch of your coni
dition,

That cannot brook the accent of reproof.
Duch. O, let me speak.

K. Rich. Do then; but I'll not hear.

Duch. I will be mild and gentle in my words. K. Rich. And brief, good mother; for I am in haste.

Duch. Art thou so hasty? I have staid for thee, God knows, in torment and in agony."

K. Rich. And came I not at last to comfort

you?

Duch. No, by the holy rood, thou know'st it

well,

Thou cam'st on earth to make the earth my hell.
A grievous burden was thy birth to me;
Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy;

Thy school-days, frightful, desperate, wild, and furious;

Thy prime of manhood, daring, bold, and ven

turous;

Thy