Hear me, ye wrangling pirates, that fall out
In fharing that which you have pill'd from me;
Which of you trembles not that looks on me?
If not that being Queen, you bow like subjects;
Yet that by you depos'd, you quake like rebels?
Ah, gentle villain, do not turn away!

2

Glo. Foul wrinkled witch, what mak'st thou in my fight?

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

A husband and a fon thou ow'ft to me;

[To Glo. And thou, a kingdom; [To the Queen.] all of you allegiance;

The forrow that I have, by Right is yours;

And all the pleasures, you ufurp, are mine.

Glo. The curfe my noble father laid on thee,
When thou didst crown his warlike brows with paper,
And with thy fcorns drew'ft rivers from his eyes,
And then, to dry them, gav'ft the Duke a clout,
Steep'd in the faultlefs blood of pretty Rutland;
His curfes, then from bitterness of soul

Denounc'd against thee, are now fall'n upon thee,
And God, not we, has plagu'd thy bloody deed.

3 Queen. So juft is God, to right the innocent. Haft. O, 'twas the fouleft deed to slay that babe, And the most merciless, that e'er was heard of..

1 Hear me, ye wrangling pirates, &c. This fcene of Margaret's imprecations is fine and artful. She prepares the audience, like another Caffandra, for the following tragic revolutions. WARBURTON.

Ab, gentle villain,-] We
should read, UNGENTLE villain.
WARBURTON.

The meaning of gentle is not,
as the commentator imagines,

tender or courteous, but high-born. An oppofition is meant between that and villain, which means at once a wicked and a low-born wretch. So before,

Since ev'ry Jack is made a gentleman, There's many a gentle perfon made a Jack. 32. Mar. So juft is God, &c.] This line fhould be given to Edward IVth's Queen.

WARB.

Riv.

Riv. Tyrants themselves wept when it was reported.

Dorf. No man but prophefy'd revenge for it.

Buck. Northumberland, then prefent, wept to fee it.
Q. Mar. What! were you fnarling 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 curfe prevail fo much with heav'n,
That Henry's death, my lovely Edward's death,
Their Kingdom's lofs, my woful banishment,
Could all but answer for that peevish brat?
Can curfes pierce the clouds, and enter heav'n?
Why, then give way, dull clouds, to my quick curfes!
If not by war, by furfeit die your King,
As ours by murder, to make him a King!
Edward thy fon, that now is Prince of Wales,
For Edward our fon, that was Prince of Wales,
Die in his youth by like untimely violence!
Thyfelf a Queen, for me that was a Queen,
Out-live thy glory, like my wretched felf;
Long may'st thou live to wail thy children's lofs,
And fee another, as I fee thee now,

Deck'd in thy rights, as thou art ftall'd in mine:
Long die thy happy days before thy death,

And after many length'ned hours of grief,

Die, neither mother, wife, nor England's Queen!
Rivers and Dorfet, you were ftanders-by,
And fo waft thou, Lord Haftings, when my fon
Was ftabb'd with bloody daggers: God, I pray him,
That none of you may live your natural age,

But by fome unlook'd accident cut off!

[hag.

Glo. Have done thy charm, thou hateful wither'd
Q. Mar. And leave out thee? ftay, dog, for thou

fhalt hear me,

If heav'ns have any grievous plague in store,

4 By furfeit die your King.] Alluding to his luxurious life.

Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee,
O, let them keep it till thy fins be ripe,
And then hurl down their indignation

On thee, thou troubler of the poor world's peace!
The worm of confcience ftill be-gnaw thy foul!
Thy friends fufpect for traitors while thou liv'ft,
And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends:
No fleep clofe up that deadly eye of thine,
Unless it be while fome tormenting dream
Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils!
Thou elvish-markt abortive, rooting hog
Thou that waft feal'd in thy nativity
"The flave of nature, and the fon of hell!
Thou flander of thy mother's womb!
Thou loathed iffue of thy father's loins!
? Thou rag of honour, thou detefted-

rooting bog!] The expreffion is fine, alluding (in memory of her young fon) to the ravage which hogs make, with the fineft flowers, in gardens; and intimating that Elizabeth was to expect no other treatment for her fons. WARB.

She calls him bog as an appellation more contemptuous than bear, as he is elfewhere termed from his enfigns armorial. There is no fuch heap of allufion as the commentator imagines.

The flave of nature,-] The expreffion is strong and noble, and alludes to the antient cuftom of mafters' branding their profligate flaves: by which it is Infinuated that his mif-fhapen perfon was the mark that nature had fet upon him to ftigmatize his ill conditions. Shakespeare expreffes the fame thought in The Comedy of Errors.

He is deformed, crooked, &c.
Stigmatical in making-

But as the fpeaker rifes in her refentment, the expreffes this contemptuous thought much more openly, and condemns him to a still worfe ftate of flavery.

Sin, Death, and Hell, have fet

their marks upon him. Only, in the first line, her mention of his moral coudition infinuates her reflections on his deformity: and, in the last, her mention of his deformity infinuates her reflections on his moral condition: And thus he has taught her to fcold in all the elegance of figure. WARB.

7 Thou RAG of honour, &c.] We should certainly read,

Thou WRACK of honour . e. the ruin and deftruction of honour; which I fuppofe was firft writ rack, and then further corrupted to rag. WARB. Rag is, in my opinion, right, and intimates that much of his honour is torn away.

Glo

Glo. Margaret.

Q. Mar. Richard.
Glo. Ha?

Q. Mar. I call thee not.

Glo. I cry thee mercy then! for, I did think,
That thou had'ft call'd me all these bitter names.
Q. Mar. Why fo I did; but look'd for no reply.
Oh, let me make the period to my curse.

Glo. 'Tis done by me, and ends in Margaret.
Queen. Thus have you breath'd your curfe against
yourself.

2. Mar. Poor painted Queen, vain flourish of my

fortune!

8

Why ftrew'st thou fugar on that bottled spider,
Whose deadly web enfnareth thee about?

Fool, fool, thou whet'ft a knife to kill thyself:
The day will come, that thou shalt wifh for me
To help thee curfe this pois'nous bunch-back'd toad.
Haft. Falfe-boding woman, end thy frantic curfe;
Left to thy harm thou move our patience.

Q. Mar. Foul fhame upon you! you have all mov'd
mine.

Riv. Were you well ferv'd, you would be taught your duty.

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

Teach me to be your Queen, and you my Subjects; O, serve me well, and teach yourselves that duty. Dorf. Difpute not with her, fhe is lunatick.

Q. Mar. Peace, mafter Marquis, you are malapert; Your fire new ftamp of honour is fcarce current. O, that your young nobility could judge What 'twere to lose it, and be miserable!

Bottled Spider.] A Spider is 1 called bottled, becaufe, like other infects, he has a middle

flender and a belly protuberant. Richard's form and venom make her liken him to a spider.

They

They that ftand high, have many blafts to fhake them;

And, if they fall, they dafh themselves to pieces. Glo. Good counfel, marry, learn it, learn it, Mar. quis.

Dorf. It touches you, my Lord, as much as me. Glo. Ay, and much more; but I was born fo high, Our Airy buildeth in the cedar's top,

And dallies with the wind, and fcorns the fun.

Q. Mar. And turns the fun to fhade ;-alas! alas!
Witness my fon, now in the fhade of death;
Whofe bright out-fhining beams thy cloudy wrath
Hath in eternal darknefs folded up.

Your Airy buildeth in our Airy's neft;
O God, that feeft it, do not fuffer it:
As it was won with blood, fo be it loft!

Buck. Peace, peace for fhame, if not for charity. Q. Mar. Urge neither charity nor fhame to me; Uncharitably with me have you dealt,

And fhamefully my hopes, by you, are butcher'd.
My charity is outrage, life my fhame,

And in my fhame ftill live my forrows rage!
Buck. Have done, have done.

Q. Mar. O Princely Buckingham, I'll kiss thy hand,
In fign of league and amity with thee:
Now fair befall thee, and thy noble House!
Thy garments are not spotted with our blood;
Nor thou within the compafs of my curse.
Buck. Nor no one here; for curfes never pafs
The lips of thofe that breathe them in the air.
Q. Mar. I'll not believe but they afcend the sky,
And there awake God's gentle-fleeping peace.
O Buckingham, beware of yonder dog;

Look, when he fawns, he bites; and when he bites, His venom-tooth will rankle to the death;

Have not to do with him, beware of him,

Sin, death, and hell, have fet their marks upon him; And all their minifters attend on him.

Gi