Were factious for the house of Lancaster

And, Rivers, so were you. Was not your husband In Margaret's battle at Saint Albans slain?

Let me put in your minds, if you forget,

What you have been ere now, and what you are; Withal, what I have been, and what I am.

Q. Mar. A murderous villain, and so still thou

art.

Glos. Poor Clarence did forsake his father
Warwick,

Ay, and forswore himself, which Jesu pardon !--
Q. Mar. Which God revenge!

Glos. To fight on Edward's party, for the crown;
And, for his meed,1 poor lord, he is mew'd up.
I would to God, my heart were flint, like Edward's;
Or Edward's soft and pitiful, like mine.

I am too childish-foolish for this world.

Q. Mar. Hie thee to hell for shame, and leave this world,

Thou cacodæmon! 2 there thy kingdom is.

Ri. My lord of Gloster, in those busy days, Which here you urge, to prove us enemies, We follow'd then our lord, our lawful king; So should we you, if you should be our king. Glos. If I should be?—I had rather be a pedler. Far be it from my heart, the thought thereof!

Q. Eli. As little joy, my lord, as you suppose You should enjoy, were you this country's king;

As little joy you may suppose in me,

That I enjoy, being the queen thereof.

Q. Mar. A little joy enjoys the queen thereof; For I am she, and altogether joyless.

I can no longer hold me patient.

[advancing. Hear me, you wrangling pirates, that fall out In sharing that which you have pill'd1 from me. Which of you trembles not, that looks on me? If not, that, I being queen, you bow like subjects; Yet that, by you deposed, you quake like rebels ?— Ah, gentle villain, do not turn away!

Glos. Foul, wrinkled witch, what makest thou in my sight?

Q. Mar. But repetition of what thou hast marr'd: That will I make, before I let thee go.

Glos. Wert thou not banished, on pain of death? Q. Mar. I was; but I do find more pain in banishment,

Than death can yield me here by my abode.
A husband and a son thou owest to me,-
And thou a kingdom,—all of you allegiance.
This sorrow that I have, by right is yours;
And all the pleasures you usurp are mine.

Glos. The curse my noble father laid on thee,— When thou didst crown his warlike brows with

paper,

And with thy scorns drew'st rivers from his eyes; And then, to dry them, gavest the duke a clout,

1 Pillaged.

Steep'd in the faultless blood of pretty Rutland ;— His curses, then, from bitterness of soul

Denounced against thee, are all fallen upon thee;
And God, not we, hath plagued thy bloody deed.
Q. Eli. So just is God, to right the innocent.
Has. O, 'twas the foulest deed, to slay that babe,
And the most merciless, that e'er was heard of.
Ri. Tyrants themselves wept when it was re-
ported.

Dor. No man but prophesied revenge for it.
Buck. Northumberland, then present, wept to
see it.

Q. Mar. What! were you snarling all before I

came,

Ready to catch each other by the throat,

And turn you all your hatred now on me?

Did York's dread curse prevail so much with Hea

ven,

That Henry's death, my lovely Edward's death,
Their kingdom's loss, my woful banishment,
Could all but answer for that peevish brat?

Can curses pierce the clouds, and enter heaven ?— Why, then give way, dull clouds, to my quick curses!

Though not by war, by surfeit die your king,
As ours by murder, to make him a king!
Edward, thy son, that now is prince of Wales
For Edward, my son, that was prince of Wak,
Die in his youth, by like untimely violence!
Thyself a queen, for me that was a queen,
Cutiive thy glory, like my wretched self!

Long mayst thou live to wail thy children's loss;
And see another, as I see thee now,

Deck'd in thy rights, as thou art stall'd in mine!
Long die thy happy days before thy death;
And, after many lengthen'd hours of grief,
Die neither mother, wife, nor England's queen!
Rivers, and Dorset, you were standers-by ;-
And so wast thou, lord Hastings,-when my son
Was stabb'd with bloody daggers: God, I pray him,
That none of you may live your natural age,
But by some unlook'd accident cut off!

Glos. Have done thy charm, thou hateful, wi-
ther'd hag.

Q. Mar. And leave out thee? Stay, dog, for
thou shalt hear me.

If Heaven have any grievous plague in store,
Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee,
O, let them keep it, till thy sins be ripe,
And then hurl down their indignation

On thee, the troubler of the poor world's peace!
The worm of conscience still begnaw thy soul!
Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou livest,
And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends!
No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine,
Unless it be while some tormenting dream
Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils!
Thou elvish-mark'd, abortive, rooting hog!
Thou that wast seal'd, in thy nativity,
The slave of nature and the son of hell!
Thou slander of thy mother's heavy womb!
Thou loathed issue of thy father's loins!

of honor! thou detested

Thou rag
Glos. Margaret.

Q. Mar.

Glos.

Q. Mar.

Richard!

Ha?

I call thee not.

Glos. I cry thee mercy then; for I did think,

That thou hadst call'd me all these bitter names.
Q. Mar. Why, so I did; but look'd for no reply.
O, let me make the period to my curse.

Glos. 'Tis done by me, and ends in-Margaret.
Q. Eli. Thus have you breathed

against yourself.

your curse

Q. Mar. Poor painted queen, vain florish of my

fortune!

Why strew'st thou sugar on that bottled spider,1
Whose deadly web ensnareth thee about?

Fool, fool! thou whet'st a knife to kill thyself.
The day will come, that thou shalt wish for me
To help thee curse this poisonous bunch-back'd

toad.

Has. False-boding woman, end thy frantic curse; Lest, to thy harm, thou move our patience.

Q. Mar. Foul shame upon you! you have all moved mine.

Ri. Were you well served, you would be taught your duty.

Q. Mar. To serve me well, you all should do me duty,

1 In allusion to Gloster's form and venom.