And in no worldly suit would he be mov'd,
To draw him from his holy exercise.

Buck. Return, good Catesby, to the gracious duke;
Tell him, myself, the mayor and aldermen,
la deep designs, in matter of great moment,
Na less importing than our general good,

Are come to have some conference with his grace. Cate. I'll signify so much unto him straight.

[Exit.
Buck. Ah, ha, my lord, this prince is not an Ed-
He is not lolling on a lewd day-bed,
Bat on his knees at meditation

Not dallying with a brace of courtesans,
But meditating with two deep divines;
Not sleeping, to engross his idle body,
But praying, to enrich his watchful soul:

[ward!

Happy were England, would this virtuous prince
Take on himself the sovereignty thereof:
But, sure, I fear, we shall ne'er win him to it.
May. Marry, God defend, his grace should say
us nay!
(again ;-
Buck. I fear, he will: Here Catesby comes
Re-enter CATESBY.

Now, Catesby, what says his grace?

Cate. He wonders to what end you have assembled S troops of citizens to come to him, His grace not being warn'd thereof before, He fears, my lord, you mean no good to him. Buck. Sorry I am, my noble cousin should Spect me, that I mean no good to him: By heaven, we come to him in perfect love; And so once more return and tell his grace.

[Exit Catesby.

When holy and devont religions men
Are at their beads, 'tis hard to draw them thence;
S sweet is zealous contemplation.
Enter GLOSTER, in a gallery above, between two
Bishops. CATESBY returns.

May. See where his grace stands 'tween two clergymen!

Buck. Two props of virtue for a christian prince,
To stay him from the fall of vanity:
Ard, see, a book of prayer in his hand;
Trae ornaments to know a holy man.-
Famous Plantagenet, most gracious prince,
Leod favourable ear to our requests;
And pardon us the interruption

Of thy devotion, and right-christian zeal.
Glo. My lord, there needs no such apology;
I rather do beseech you pardon me,
Who, earnest in the service of my God,
Neglect the visitation of my friends.

Bet, leaving this, what is your grace's pleasure? Buck. Even that, I hope, whigh pleaseth God above,

And all good men of this ungovern'd isle.

Gio. I do suspect, I have done some offence, That seems disgracious in the city's eye; And that you come to reprehend my ignorance. Buck. You have, my lord; Would it might please your grace,

Os our entreaties to amend your fault!

Gia. Else wherefore breathe I in a Christian land?

[sign

Back. Know, then, it is your fault, that you reThe sapreme seat, the throne majestical, The acepter'd office of your ancestors, Your state of fortune, and your due of birth, The feal glory of your royal house, To the corruption of a blemish'd stock: Waist, in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts, Wach here we waken to our country's good,) The noble isle doth want her proper limbs ; Her face defac'd with scars of infamy, Her royal stock graft with ignoble plants, Asi almost shoulder'd in the swallowing gulf Of dark forgetfulness and deep oblivion. Which to recure, we heartily solicit

Your gracious self to take on you the charge
And kingly government of this your land:
Not as protector, steward, substitute,
Or lowly factor for another's gain:
But as successively, from blood to blood,
Your right of birth, your empery, your own
For this, consorted with the citizens,
Your very worshipful and loving friends,
And by their vehement instigation,
In this just suit come I to move your grace.
Glo. I cannot tell, if to depart in silence,
Or bitterly to speak in your reproof,
Best fitteth my degree, or your condition:
If, not to answer, you might haply think,
Tongue-tied ambition, not replying, yielded
To bear the golden yoke of sovereignty,
Which fondly you would here impose on me
If to reprove you for this suit of
yours,
So season'd with your faithful love to me,
Then, on the other side, I check'd my friends.
Therefore, to speak, and to avoid the first;
And then, in speaking, not to incur the last,-
Definitively thus I answer you.

Your love deserves my thanks; but my desert
Unmeritable, shuns your high request.
First, if all obstacles were cut away,
And that my path were even to the crown,
As the ripe revenue and due of birth;
Yet so much to my poverty of spirit,
So mighty, and so many, my defects,

That I would rather hide me from my greatness,—
Being a bark to brook no mighty sea,-
Than in my greatness covet to be hid,
And in the vapour of my glory smother'd.
But, God be thank'd, there is no need of me;
(And much I need to help you, if need were ;)
The royal tree hath left us royal fruit,
Which, mellow'd by the stealing hours of time,
Will well become the seat of majesty,
And make, no doubt, us happy by his reign.
On him I lay what you would lay on me,
The right and fortune of his happy stars,-
Which, God defend, that I should wring from him.
Buck. My lord, this argues conscience in your

grace;

But the respects thereof are nice and trivial,
All circumstances well considered.
You say, that Edward is your brother's son;
So say we too, but not by Edward's wife:
For first he was contract to lady Lucy,
Your mother lives a witness to his vow;
And afterwards by substitute betroth'd
To Bona, sister to the king of France.
These both put by, a poor petitioner,
A care-craz'd mother to a many sons,
A beauty waning and distressed widow,
Even in the afternoon of her best days,
Made prize and purchase of his wanton eye,
Seduc'd the pitch and height of all his thoughts
To base declension and loath'd bigamy:
By her, in his unlawful bed, he got
This Edward, whom our manners call-the prince.
More bitterly could I expostulate,
Save that, for reverence to some alive,

I give a sparing limit to my tongue.
Then, good my lord, take to your royal self
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 abusing time,
Unto a lineal true-derived course.

[yon.

May. Do, good my lord; your citizens entreat Buck. Refuse not, mighty lord, this proffer'd love. Cate. O, make them joyful, grant their lawful

suit.

Loath to depose 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 estates,-
Yet know, whe'r you accept our suit or no,
Your brother's son shall never reign our king;
But we will plant some other in your throne,
To the disgrace and downfall of your house.
And, in this resolution, here we leave you;-
Come, citizens, we will entreat no more.

[Exeunt Buckingham and Citizens. Cate. Call them again, sweet prince, accept their suit:

f you deny them, all the land will rue it.

Glo. Will you enforce me to a world of cares? Well, call them again; I am not made of stone, But penetrable to your kind entreaties,

[Exit Catesby. Albeit against my conscience and my soul.

Re-enter BUCKINGHAM, and the rest.
Cousin of Buckingham.-and sage, grave men,--
Since you will buckle fortune on my back,
To bear her burden, wh'er I will, or no,
I must have patience to endure the load:
But if black scandal, or foul fac'd reproach,
Attend the sequel of your imposition,
Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me
From all the impure blots and stains thereof;
For God he knows, and you may partly see,
How far am from the desire of this.

[say it. May. God bless your grace! we see it, and will Glo. In saying so, you shall but say the truth. Buck. Then I salute 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, since you will have [grace;

it so.

Buck. To-morrow then we will attend your And so, most joyfully, we take our leave.

Glo. Come, let us to our holy work again :(To the Bishops.) Farewell, good cousin ;-farewell, gentle friends. [Exeunt.

ACT IV.

SCENE I-Before the Tower.

Enter, on one side, Queen ELIZABETH, Duchess of YORK, and Marquis of DORSEr; on the other, ANNE, Duchess of GLOSTER, leading Lady MARGARET PLANTAGENET, Clarence's young daughter.

Duch. Who meets us here?-my niece Plantagenet

Led in the hand by her kind aunt of Gloster? Now, for my life, she's wand'ring 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

Q. Eliz. As much to you, good sister! Whither away? (guess.

Anne. No further than the Tower; and, as I Upon the like devotion as yourselves, To gratulate the gentle princes there.

[gether: Q. Eliz. Kind sister, thanks; we'll enter all toEnter BRAKENBURY.

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 pa-
[tience,

་ may not suffer you to visit them;
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 ine?
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 the.
mother:

Then bring me to their sights; I'll bear thy blame,
And take thy office from thee, on thy peril.

Brak. No, madam, no, I may not leave it so; I am bound by oath, and therefore pardon me. [Exit Brakenbury

Enter STANLEY.

Stan. Let me but meet you, ladies, one hour hence And I'll salute your grace of York as mother, And reverend looker-on of two fair queens.— Come, madam, you must straight to Westminster. (To the Duchess of Gloster. 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, 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? gone,

Q. Eliz. O Dorset, speak not to me, get thee
Death and destruction dog thee at the heels;
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 bell.
Go, hie thee, hie thee, from this slaughter-house,
Lest thou increase the number of the dead;
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:--
Take all the swift 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 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,
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,
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.
Anne. No! why?-When he, that is my hus
band now,

Came to me, as I follow'd Henry's corse;
hands,
When scarce the blood was well wash'd from his
Which issu'd from my other angel husband,
And that dead saint which then I weeping follow'd;
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 wed st. let sorrow haunt thy bed
And be thy wife if any be so mad)
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,
Even in so short a space, my woman's heart
Grossly grew captive to his honey words,
And prov'd the subject of mine own soul's curse:
Which ever since 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.
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 thau with my soul I mourn for

yours.

Dor. Farewell, thou wofol welcomer of glory: Anne. Adien, poor soul, that tak'st thy leaveolit