Richard the Third (Folio 1, 1623)
Peer Reviewed
The Life and Death of Richard the Third.
193
¶Buck. To morrow then we will attend your Grace,
¶Rich. Come, let vs to our holy Worke againe.
Exeunt.
2470
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
¶
Enter the Queene, Anne Duchesse of Gloucester, the
¶Duch.Yorke. Who meetes vs heere?
¶My Neece Plantagenet,
2475Led in the hand of her kind Aunt of Gloster?
¶Now, for my Life, shee's wandring to the Tower,
¶On pure hearts loue, to greet the tender Prince.
¶Daughter, well met.
¶Anne. God giue your Graces both, a happie
2480And a ioyfull time of day.
¶Vpon the like deuotion as your selues,
¶To gratulate the gentle Princes there.
¶
Enter the Lieutenant.
¶And in good time, here the Lieutenant comes.
¶How doth the Prince, and my young Sonne of Yorke?
2490Lieu. Right well, deare Madame: by your patience,
¶The King hath strictly charg'd the contrary.
¶Qu. The King? who's that?
¶Lieu. I meane, the Lord Protector.
2495Qu. The Lord protect him from that Kingly Title.
¶Hath he set bounds betweene their loue, and me?
¶I am their Mother, who shall barre me from them?
¶them.
2500Anne. Their Aunt I am in law, in loue their Mother:
¶Then bring me to their sights, Ile beare thy blame,
¶And take thy Office from thee, on my perill.
¶I am bound by Oath, and therefore pardon me.
2505
Exit Lieutenant.
¶
Enter Stanley.
¶Stanley. Let me but meet you Ladies one howre hence,
¶And Ile salute your Grace of Yorke as Mother,
¶And reuerend looker on of two faire Queenes.
¶There to be crowned Richards Royall Queene.
¶Dors. Be of good cheare: Mother, how fares your
¶Grace?
¶Death and Destruction dogges thee at thy heeles,
2520Thy Mothers Name is ominous to Children.
¶And liue with Richmond, from the reach of Hell.
2525And make me dye the thrall of Margarets Curse,
¶Nor Mother, Wife, nor Englands counted Queene.
¶Take all the swift aduantage of the howres:
¶You shall haue Letters from me to my Sonne,
2530In your behalfe, to meet you on the way:
¶Be not ta'ne tardie by vnwise delay.
¶O my accursed Wombe, the Bed of Death:
¶A Cockatrice hast thou hatcht to the World,
¶O would to God, that the inclusiue Verge
¶Of Golden Mettall, that must round my Brow,
2540Were red hot Steele, to seare me to the Braines,
¶Anoynted let me be with deadly Venome,
2545Anne. No: why? When he that is my Husband now,
¶Came to me, as I follow'd Henries Corse,
¶And that deare Saint, which then I weeping follow'd:
2550O, when I say I look'd on Richards Face,
¶And be thy Wife, if any be so mad,
2555More miserable, by the Life of thee,
¶Then thou hast made me, by my deare Lords death.
¶Loe, ere I can repeat this Curse againe,
¶Which hitherto hath held mine eyes from rest:
¶For neuer yet one howre in his Bed
¶Did I enioy the golden deaw of sleepe,
2565Besides, he hates me for my Father Warwicke,
¶And will (no doubt) shortly be rid of me.
¶Qu. Poore heart adieu, I pittie thy complaining.
¶yours.
2570Dors. Farewell, thou wofull welcommer of glory.
¶of it.
¶Du.Y. Go thou to Richmond, & good fortune guide thee,
¶Go thou to Richard, and good Angels tend thee,
¶And each howres ioy wrackt with a weeke of teene.
¶Qu. Stay, yet looke backe with me vnto the Tower.
2580Pitty, you ancient Stones, those tender Babes,
¶Whom Enuie hath immur'd within your Walls,
¶Rough Cradle for such little prettie ones,
¶For tender Princes: vse my Babies well;
¶
Exeunt.
s 3
Sound
