3022 Rich. Why should shee liue, to fill the World with

3023words.

3024 Edw. What? doth shee swowne? vse meanes for her

3025recouerie.

3026Rich. Clarence excuse me to the King my Brother:

3027Ile hence to London on a serious matter,

3028Ere ye come there, be sure to heare some newes.

3029Cla. What? what?

3030Rich. Tower, the Tower. Exit.

3031Qu. Oh Ned, sweet Ned, speake to thy Mother Boy.

3032Can'st thou not speake? O Traitors, Murtherers!

3033They that stabb'd Caesar, shed no blood at all:

3034Did not offend, nor were not worthy Blame,

3035If this foule deed were by, to equall it.

3036He was a Man; this (in respect) a Childe,

3037And Men, ne're spend their fury on a Childe.

3038What's worse then Murtherer, that I may name it?

3039No, no, my heart will burst, and if I speake,

3040And I will speake, that so my heart may burst.

3041Butchers and Villaines, bloudy Caniballes,

3042How sweet a Plant haue you vntimely cropt:

3043You haue no children (Butchers) if you had,

3044The thought of them would haue stirr'd vp remorse,

3045But if you euer chance to haue a Childe,

3046Looke in his youth to haue him so cut off.

3047As deathsmen you haue rid this sweet yong Prince.

3048King. Away with her, go beare her hence perforce.

3049Qu. Nay, neuer beare me hence, dispatch me heere:

3050Here sheath thy Sword, Ile pardon thee my death:

3051What? wilt thou not? Then Clarence do it thou.

3052Cla. By heauen, I will not do thee so much ease.

3053 Qu. Good Clarence do: sweet Clarence do thou do it.

3054 Cla. Did'st thou not heare me sweare I would not do it?

3055Qu. I, but thou vsest to forsweare thy selfe.

3056'Twas Sin before, but now 'tis Charity.

3057What wilt y^u not? Where is that diuels butcher Richard?

3058Hard fauor'd Richard? Richard, where art thou?

3059Thou art not heere; Murther is thy Almes-deed:

3060Petitioners for Blood, thou ne're put'st backe.

3061Ed. Away I say, I charge ye beare her hence,

3062Qu. So come to you, and yours, as to this Prince.

3064Ed. Where's Richard gone.

3065Cla. To London all in post, and as I guesse,

3066To make a bloody Supper in the Tower.

3067Ed. He's sodaine if a thing comes in his head.

3068Now march we hence, discharge the common sort

3069With Pay and Thankes, and let's away to London,

3070And see our gentle Queene how well she fares,

3071By this (I hope) she hath a Sonne for me. Exit.

3074Rich. Good day, my Lord, what at your Booke so

3075hard?

3076Hen. I my good Lord: my Lord I should say rather,

3077Tis sinne to flatter, Good was little better:

3078'Good Gloster, and good Deuill, were alike,

3079And both preposterous: therefore, not Good Lord.

3080Rich. Sirra, leaue vs to our selues, we must conferre.

3081 Hen. So flies the wreaklesse shepherd from y^e Wolfe:

3082So first the harmlesse Sheepe doth yeeld his Fleece,

3083And next his Throate, vnto the Butchers Knife.

3084What Scene of death hath Rossius now to Acte?

3085Rich. Suspition alwayes haunts the guilty minde,

3086The Theefe doth feare each bush an Officer,

3087Hen. The Bird that hath bin limed in a bush,

3088With trembling wings misdoubteth euery bush;

3089And I the haplesse Male to one sweet Bird,

3090Haue now the fatall Obiect in my eye,

3091Where my poore yong was lim'd, was caught, and kill'd.

3092 Rich. Why what a peeuish Foole was that of Creet,

3093That taught his Sonne the office of a Fowle,

3094And yet for all his wings, the Foole was drown'd.

3095Hen. I Dedalus, my poore Boy Icarus,

3096Thy Father Minos, that deni'de our course,

3097The Sunne that sear'd the wings of my sweet Boy.

3098Thy Brother Edward, and thy Selfe, the Sea

3099Whose enuious Gulfe did swallow vp his life:

3100Ah, kill me with thy Weapon, not with words,

3101My brest can better brooke thy Daggers point,

3102Then can my eares that Tragicke History.

3103But wherefore dost thou come? Is't for my Life?

3104Rich. Think'st thou I am an Executioner?

3105Hen. A Persecutor I am sure thou art,

3106If murthering Innocents be Executing,

3107Why then thou art an Executioner.

3108Rich. Thy Son I kill'd for his presumption.

3109 Hen. Hadst thou bin kill'd, when first y^u didst presume,

3110Thou had'st not liu'd to kill a Sonne of mine:

3111And thus I prophesie, that many a thousand,

3112Which now mistrust no parcell of my feare,

3113And many an old mans sighe, and many a Widdowes,

3114And many an Orphans water-standing-eye,

3115Men for their Sonnes, Wiues for their Husbands,

3116Orphans, for their Parents timeles death,

3117Shall rue the houre that euer thou was't borne.

3118The Owle shriek'd at thy birth, an euill signe,

3119The Night-Crow cry'de, aboding lucklesse time,

3120Dogs howl'd, and hiddeous Tempest shook down Trees:

3121The Rauen rook'd her on the Chimnies top,

3122And chatt'ring Pies in dismall Discords sung:

3123Thy Mother felt more then a Mothers paine,

3124And yet brought forth lesse then a Mothers hope,

3125To wit, an indigested and deformed lumpe,

3126Not like the fruit of such a goodly Tree.

3127Teeth had'st thou in thy head, when thou was't borne,

3128To signifie, thou cam'st to bite the world:

3129And if the rest be true, which I haue heard,

3130Thou cam'st----

3131Rich. Ile heare no more:

3132Dye Prophet in thy speech, Stabbes him.

3133For this (among'st the rest) was I ordain'd.

3134Hen. I, and for much more slaughter after this,

3135O God forgiue my sinnes, and pardon thee. Dyes.

3136Rich. What? will the aspiring blood of Lancaster

3137Sinke in the ground? I thought it would haue mounted.

3138See how my sword weepes for the poore Kings death.

3139O may such purple teares be alway shed

3140From those that wish the downfall of our house.

3141If any sparke of Life be yet remaining,

3142Downe, downe to hell, and say I sent thee thither.

3144I that haue neyther pitty, loue, nor feare,

3145Indeed 'tis true that Henrie told me of:

3146For I haue often heard my Mother say,

3147I came into the world with my Legges forward.

3148Had I not reason (thinke ye) to make hast,

3149And seeke their Ruine, that vsurp'd our Right?

3150The Midwife wonder'd, and the Women cri'de

3151O Iesus blesse vs, he is borne with teeth,