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London. Before the Tower. | |
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Enter on one side, QUEEN ELIZABETH, DUCHESS OF YORK, and MARQUESS OF DORSET; on the other, ANNE, DUCHESS OF GLOUCESTER, 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 Gloucester? | |
| Now, for my life, she’s wand’ring to the Tower, | 5 |
| On pure heart’s love, to greet the tender princes. | |
| Daughter, well met. | |
| Anne. God give your Graces both | |
| A happy and a joyful time of day! | |
| Q. Eliz. As much to you, good sister! whither away! | 10 |
| Anne. No further than the Tower; and, as I guess, | |
| Upon the like devotion as yourselves, | |
| To gratulate the gentle princes there. | |
| Q. Eliz. Kind sister, thanks: we’ll enter all together:— | |
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Enter BRAKENBURY. | 15 |
| 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? | |
| Brak. Right well, dear madam. By your patience, | |
| I may not suffer you to visit them: | 20 |
| The king hath strictly charg’d the contrary. | |
| Q. Eliz. The king! who’s that? | |
| Brak. I mean the Lord Protector. | |
| Q. Eliz. The Lord protect him from that kingly title! | |
| Hath he set bounds between their love and me? | 25 |
| 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 mother: | |
| Then bring me to their sights; I’ll bear thy blame, | |
| And take thy office from thee, on my peril. | 30 |
| Brak. No, madam, no, I may not leave it so: | |
| I am bound by oath, and therefore pardon me. [Exit. | |
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Enter STANLEY. | |
| Stan. Let me but meet you, ladies, one hour hence, | |
| And I’ll salute your Grace of York as mother, | 35 |
| And reverend looker-on of two fair queens. | |
| [To the DUCHESS OF GLOUCESTER.] Come, madam, you must straight to Westminster, | |
| 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, | 40 |
| 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: | 45 |
| 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, | 50 |
| 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. | |
| [To DORSET.] Take all the swift advantage of the hours; | |
| You shall have letters from me to my son | 55 |
| 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 hast thou hatch’d to the world, | 60 |
| Whose unavoided eye is murderous! | |
| 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 | 65 |
| 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. Eliz. Go, go, poor soul, I envy not thy glory; | |
| To feed my humour, wish thyself no harm. | 70 |
| Anne. No! why? When he, that is my husband now | |
| Came to me, as I follow’d Henry’s corse; | |
| When scarce the blood was well wash’d from his hands, | |
| Which issu’d from my other angel husband, | |
| And that dead saint which then I weeping follow’d; | 75 |
| O! when I say, I look’d on Richard’s face, | |
| This was my wish, ‘Be thou,’ quoth I, ‘accurs’d, | |
| For making me so young, so old a widow! | |
| And, when thou wedd’st, let sorrow haunt thy bed; | |
| And be thy wife—if any be so mad— | 80 |
| 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, | |
| Within so small a time, my woman’s heart | |
| Grossly grew captive to his honey words, | 85 |
| And prov’d the subject of mine own soul’s curse: | |
| Which hitherto 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 awak’d. | 90 |
| Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick, | |
| And will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me. | |
| Q. Eliz. Poor heart, adieu! I pity thy complaining. | |
| Anne. No more than with my soul I mourn for yours. | |
| Q. Eliz. Farewell! thou woeful welcomer of glory! | 95 |
| Anne. Adieu, poor soul, that tak’st thy leave of it! | |
| Duch. [To DORSET.] Go thou to Richmond, and good fortune guide thee! | |
| [To ANNE.] Go thou to Richard, and good angels tend thee! | |
| [To Q. ELIZABETH.] Go thou to sanctuary, and good thoughts possess thee! | |
| I to my grave, where peace and rest lie with me! | 100 |
| Eighty odd years of sorrow have I seen, | |
| And each hour’s joy wrack’d with a week of teen. | |
| Q. Eliz. Stay yet, look back with me unto the Tower. | |
| Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes | |
| Whom envy hath immur’d within your walls, | 105 |
| 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. | |
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