Enter BRAKENBURY.

And, in good time, here the lieutenant comes.
Master lieutenant, pray you, by your leave,
How doth the prince, and my young son of York?
Bra. Right well, dear madam. By your patience,
I may not suffer you to visit them :

The king hath strictly charged the contrary.

Q. Eli. The king? who's that?

Bra.

I mean, the lord protector.

Q. Eli. The lord protect him from that kingly

title!

Hath he set bounds between their love and me?
I am their mother; who shall bar me from them?
Duch. I am their father's mother; I will see

them.

Anne. Their aunt I am in law, in love their mo

ther:

Then bring me to their sights. I'll bear thy blame, And take thy office from thee, on my peril.

Bra. No, madam, no; I may not leave it so : I am bound by oath, and therefore pardon me. [Exit Brakenbury.

Enter STANLEY.

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. Eli. 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. Eli. 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:
You shall have letters from me to my son
In your behalf, to meet you on the way.
Be not ta'en tardy by unwise delay.

Duch. O ill-dispersing wind of misery!—
O my accursed womb, the bed of death!

A cockatrice 1 hast thou hatch'd to the world,
Whose unavoided eye is murderous!

1 The cockatrice is a serpent supposed to originate from a cock's egg.

Stan. Come, madam, come: I in all haste was

sent.

Anne. And I with all unwillingness will go.
O, would to God, that the inclusive verge
Of golden metal, that must round my brow,
Were red-hot steel, to sear me to the brain!
Anointed let me be with deadly venom;
And die, ere men can say-God save the queen!

Q. Eli. Go, go, poor soul! I envy not thy glory: To feed my humor, wish thyself no harm.

Anne. No! why?—When he, that is

now,

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

my

husband

When scarce the blood was well wash'd from his

hands,

Which issued 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,

This was my wish; -Be thou,' quoth I, accursed,

For making me, so young, so old a widow !

And, when thou wed'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!'
Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again,

Even in so short a space, my woman's heart
Grossly grew captive to his honey words,

And proved the subject of mine own soul's curse,
Which ever since hath held mine eyes from rest:
For never yet one hour in his bed

Did I enjoy the golden dew of sleep,

But with his timorous dreams was still awaked.
Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick;
And will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me.

Q. Eli. Poor heart, adieu! I pity thy com-
plaining.

Anne. No more than with my soul I mourn for

yours.

Dor. Farewell, thou woful welcomer of glory! Anne. Adieu, poor soul, that takest 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!—

thee!

[to Anne. Go thou to sanctuary, and good thoughts possess [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.1 Q. Eli. Stay yet; look back, with me, unto the

Tower.

Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes,

Whom envy hath immured within your walls!
Rough cradle for such little pretty ones!
Rude, ragged nurse, old sullen playfellow
For tender princes, use my babies well!
So foolish sorrow bids your stones farewell.

[Exeunt.

1 Sorrow.

SCENE 11.

A room of state in the palace.

Florish of trumpets.

RICHARD, as king, upon his throne; BUCKINGHAM, CATESBY, A PAGE, and others.

K. Rich. Stand all apart.-Cousin of Buckingham!

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.

1 Touchstone.