« PreviousContinue »
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 husband
Came to me, as I follow'd Henry's corse;
Which issu'd from my other angel husband,
Q. Eliz. Poor heart, adieu; I pity thy complaining.
Anne. No more than with my soul I mourn for yours,
Dor. Farewell, thou woful welcomer of glory!
Anne. Adieu, poor soul, that tak'st thy leave of it! Duch. Go thou to Richmond, and good fortune guide thce!— [To Dorset.
Go thou to Richard, and good angels tend thee !—
Go thou to sanctuary, and good thoughts possess thee! [To Q. Elizabeth.
1 to my grave, where peace and rest lie with me!
Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes,
A Room of State in the Palace.
Flourish of trumpets. Richard, as king upon his throne; Buckingham, Catesby, a Page, and Others.
K. Rich. Stand all apart.—Cousin of Buckingham,—
Buck. My gracious sovereign.
K. Rich. Give me thy hand. Thus high, by thy advice,
And thy assistance, is king Richard seated :—
Buck. Still live they, and for ever let them last!
K. Rich. Ah, Buckingham, now do I play the
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, I say, I would be king.
Buck. Why, so you are, my thrice-renowned liege.
K. Rick. Ha! am I king? 'Tis so: but Edward lives.
Uiii-L True, noble prince.
K. Rich. O bitter consequence,
That Edward still should live,—true, noble prince !—
Buck. Your grace may do your pleasure.
K. Rich. Tut, tut, thou art all ice, thy kindness
freezes: Say, have I thy consent, that they shall die?
Buck. Give me some breath, some little pause,
Before I positively speak in this:
Cate. The king is angry; see, he gnaws his lip.
K. Rich. I will converse with iron-witted fools,
[Descends from his throne. And unrespective boys; none are for me, That look into me with considerate eyes :— High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect.— Boy,—
Page. My lord.
K. Rich. Know'st thou not any, whom corrupting
gold Would tempt unto a close exploit of death?
Page. I know a discontented gentleman, Whose humble means match not his haughty mind: Gold were as good as twenty orators, And will, no doubt, tempt him to any thing.
K. Rich. What is his name?
Page. His name, my lord, is—TyrreL
K. Rich. I partly know the man; Go, call him hither, boy.— [Exit Page.
The deep-revolving witty Buckingham
Eater Stan Let.
How now, lord Stanley? what's the news?
Stan. Know, my loving lord,
The marquis Dorset, as I hear, is fled
K. Rich. Come hither, Catesby: rumour it abroad, That Anne my wife is very grievous sick; I will take order for her keeping close. Enquire me out some mean-born gentleman, Whom I will marry straight to Clarence' daughter:— The boy is foolish, and I fear not him.— Look, how thou dream'st!—I say again, give out, That Anne my queen is sick, and like to die: About it; for it stands me much upon, To stop all hopes, whose growth may damage me.—
I must be marry'd to my brother's daughter,
Re-enter Page, with Tyrrel.
Is thy name—Tyrrel?
Tyr. James Tyrrel, and your most obedient subject. K. Rich. Art thou, indeed?
Tyr. Prove me, my gracious lord.
K. Rich. Dar'st thou resolve to kill a friend of
Tyr. Please you; but I had rather kill two enemies. K. Rich. Why, then thou .hast it; two deep
enemies, Foes to my rest, and my sweet sleep's disturbers