A Care-craz'd Mother to a many Sons,
A Beauty-waining, and diftreffed Widow,
Even in the Afternoon of her beft Day,
Made prize and purchase of his wanton Eye,
Seduc'd the pitch, and height of his Degree,
To bafe Declenfion, and loath'd Bigamy.
By her, in his unlawful Bed, he got

This Edward, whom our Manners call the Prince.
More bitterly could I expoftulate,

Save that for reverence of fome alive,
I give a fparing limit to my Tongue.
Then, good my Lord, take to your Royal Seif
This proffer'd benefit of Dignity:

If not to bless us, and the Land withal,
Yet to draw forth your noble Ancestry
From the corruption of abufing times,
Unto a Lineal true derived courfe.

Mayor. Do, good my Lord, your Citizens intrcat you.
Buck. Refufe not, mighty Lord, this proffer'd Love.
Catef. O make them joyful, grant their lawful Suit.
Glo. Alas, why would you heap this Care on me?
I am unfit for State, and Majefty:

I do befeech you take it not amifs,

I cannot, nor I will not yield to you.

Buck. If you refufe it, as in love and zeal,
Loath to depofe the Child your Brother's Son,
As well we know your tenderness of Heart,
And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse,
Which we have noted in you to your Kindred,
And equally indeed to all Eftates:

Yet know, where you accept our Suit, or no,
Your Brother's Son fhall never reign our King,
But we will plant fome other in the Throne,
To the difgrace and down-fall of your House:
And in this refolution here we leave you.
Come Citizens, we will intreat no more.

[Exeunt. Catef. Call him again, fweet Prince, accept their Suit: If you deny them, all the Land will rue it.

Glo. Will you enforce me to a World of Cares? Call them again, I am not made of Stones,

But

But penetrable to your kind Entreaties,
Albeit against my Confcience and my Soul.
Enter Buckingham and the reft.
Coufin of Buckingham, and fage, grave Men,
Since you will buckle Fortune on my Back,
To bear her Burthen, whether, I will or no,
I must have patience to endure the Load:
But if black Scandal, or foul-fac'd Reproach,
Attend the fequel of your Impofition,
Your meer enforcement fhall acquittance me
From all the impure blots and fains thereof,
For God doth know, and you may partly fee,
How far I am from the defire of this.

Mayor. God bless your Grace, we fee it, and will fay it.
Glo. In faying fo, you fhall but fay the truth.
Buck. Then I falute you, with this Royal Title,
Long live King Richard, England's worthy King.

All. Amen.

Buck. To morrow may it please you to be Crown'd. Glo. Even when you please, for you will have it fo. Buck. To morrow then we will attend your Grace, And fo moft joyfully we take our leave.

Glo. Come, let us to our holy Work again. Farewel my Coufins, farewel gentle Friends.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

Exeunt.

Enter the Queen, Anne Dutchess of Gloucefter, the Dutchefs of York, and Marquess of Dorfet.

Dutch. W My Neice Plantagenet,

HO meets us here?

Led in the Hand of her kind Aunt of Glo'fter?
Now, for my Life, fhe's wandring to the Tower,
On pure Heart's Love, to greet the tender Prince.
Daughter, well met.

Anne. God give your Graces both a happy
And a joyful time of Day.

Queen.

Queen. As much to you, good Sifter; whither away? Anne. No farther than the Tower, and as I guess, Upon the like devotion as your felves,

To gratulate the gentle Princes there.

Queen. Kind Sifter thanks, we'll enter all together.

Enter the Lieutenant..

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?
Lieu. Right well, dear Madam; by your patience,
I may not fuffer you to vifit them;

The King bath. ftrictly charg'd the contrary.
Queen. The King? who's that?

Lien. I mean the Lord Protector.

Queen. The Lord prote him from that Kingly Title. Hath he fet bounds between their love, and me?

I am their Mother, who fhall bar me from them?
Dutch. I am their Father's Mother, I will fee them.
Anne. Their Aunt I am in Law, in love their Mother:
Then bring me to their fights, I'll bear thy blame,
And take thy Office from thee, on my peril.

Lien. No, Madam, no, I may not leave it fo: am bound by Oath, and therefore pardon me.

Enter Stanley.

[Exit Lieutenant.

Stan. Let me but meet you Ladies one hour hence,
And I'll falute your Grace of York as Mother,
And reverend looker on of two fair Queens.
Come Madam, you must straight to Westminster,
There to be Crowned Richard's Royal Queen.
Queen. Ah, cut my Lace afunder,

That my pent Heart may have fome fcope to beat,
Or else I fwoon with this dead-killing News.

Anne. Delpightful tidings, O unpleafing News.
Dorf. Be of good Chear: Mother, how fares your Grace,
Queen. O Dorfet, fpeak not to me, get thee gone,
Death and Destruction dogs thee at thy heels,
Thy Mother's Name is ominous to Children.
If thou wilt out-trip Death, go cross the Seas,
And live with Richmond, from the reach of Hell.
Go hye thee, hye thee from this Slaughter-houfe,

VOL. IV.

L

Left

Left thou increase the number of the dead,

And make me die the thrall of Margaret's Curfe,
Nor Mother, Wife, nor England's counted Queen.

Stan. Full of wife Care is this your Counsel, Madami;
Take all the fwift 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 unwife delay.

Dutch. O ill difperfing Wind of Mifery,
O my accurfed Womb, the Bed of Death:
A Cockatrice haft thou hatch'd to the World,
Whose unavoided Eye is Murtherous.

Stan. Come, Madam, come, I in all hafte was fent.
Anne. And I with all unwillingness will go.

O would to God, that the inclufive Verge
Of Golden Metal, that muft round my Brow,
Were red hot Steel, to fear me to the Brains.
Anointed let me be with deadly Venom,
And die e'er Men can fay, God fave the Queen.
Queen. Go, go, poor Soul, I envy not thy Glory,
To teed my humour with thy felf no harm.

Anne. No! why? When he that is my Husband now, Came to me, as I follow'd Henry's Coarfe,

When scarce the Blood was well wash'd from his Hands,
Which iffued from my other Angel Husband,

And that dear Saint, which then I weeping follow'd:
O when, I fay, I look'd on Richard's Face,

This was my With; Be thou, quoth I, accurft,
For making me, fo young, fo old a Widow:

And when thou wed'ft, let Sorrow haunt thy Bed;
And be thy Wife, if any be fo mad,

More miferable, by the Life of thee,

Than thou haft made me, by my dear Lord's Death.
Loe, e'er I can repeat this Curfe again,
Within fo fmall a time, my Woman's Heart
Grofsly grew captive to his Honey words,

And prov'd the subject of mine own Soul's Curfe;
Which hitherto hath held mine Eyes from reft:
For never yet one hour in his Bed

Did I enjoy the golden dew of Sleep,

But with his timorous Dreams was ftill awak'd.

Befides, he hates me for my Father Warwick,
And will, no doubt, fhortly be rid of me.

Queen. Poor Heart, adieu, I pity thy complaining. Anne. No more than with my Soul I mourn for yours. Dorf. Farewel, thou woful welcomer of Glory. Anne. Adieu, poor Soul, that tak'ft thy leave of it. Dutch. Go thou to Richmond, and good Fortune guide thee, [To Dorfet. Go thou to Richard, and good Angels tend thee, [To Anne. Go thou to Sanctuary, and good Thoughts poffefs thee,

[To the Queen I to my Grave, where Peace and Reft lye with me. Eighty odd Years of forrow have I feen,

And each Hours joy wrack'd with a Week of teen.
Queen. Stay, yet look back, with me, unto the Tower.
Pity, you ancient Stones, thofe tender Babes,
Whom Envy bath immur'd within
your Walls,
Rough Cradle for fuch little pretty ones,
Rude ragged Nurfe, old fullen Play fellow,
For tender Princes; ufe my Babies well;
So foolish Sorrow bids your Stones farewel.

SCENE

[Exeunt.

II.

Flourish of Trumpets. Enter Gloucefter as King, Bucking-ham, Catesby, Ratcliff, and Lovel.

K. Rich. Stand all apart-Coufin of Buckingham-
Buck. My gracious Soveraign.

K. Rich. Give me thy Hand. Thus high by thy advice,
And thy affiftance, is King Richard feated:
But fhall we wear thefe Glories for a Day?
Or fhall they laft, 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,
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, Ifay I would be King."
Buck. Why fo you are, my thrice renowned Lord.