Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
Enter the Queene, Anne Duchesse of Gloucester, the Duchesse of Yorke, and Marquesse Dorset.
Duch.Yorke. Who meetes vs heere? My Neece Plantagenet, Led 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 And a ioyfull time of day
Qu. As much to you, good Sister: whither away? Anne. No farther then the Tower, and as I guesse, Vpon the like deuotion as your selues, To gratulate the gentle Princes there
Qu. Kind Sister thankes, wee'le enter all together: Enter the Lieutenant.
And in good time, here the Lieutenant comes. Master Lieutenant, pray you, by your leaue, How doth the Prince, and my young Sonne of Yorke? Lieu. Right well, deare Madame: by your patience, I may not suffer you to visit them, The King hath strictly charg'd the contrary
Qu. The King? who's that? Lieu. I meane, the Lord Protector
Qu. 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? Duch.Yorke. I am their Fathers Mother, I will see them
Anne. 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
Lieu. No, Madame, no; I may not leaue it so: I am bound by Oath, and therefore pardon me.
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. Come Madame, you must straight to Westminster, There to be crowned Richards Royall Queene
Qu. Ah, cut my Lace asunder, That my pent heart may haue some scope to beat, Or else I swoone with this dead-killing newes
Anne. Despightfull tidings, O vnpleasing newes
Dors. Be of good cheare: Mother, how fares your Grace? Qu. O Dorset, speake not to me, get thee gone, Death and Destruction dogges thee at thy heeles, Thy Mothers Name is ominous to Children. If thou wilt out-strip Death, goe crosse the Seas, And liue with Richmond, from the reach of Hell. Goe hye thee, hye thee from this slaughter-house, Lest thou encrease the number of the dead, And make me dye the thrall of Margarets Curse, Nor Mother, Wife, nor Englands counted Queene
Stanley. Full of wise care, is this your counsaile, Madame: Take all the swift aduantage of the howres: You shall haue Letters from me to my Sonne, In your behalfe, to meet you on the way: Be not ta'ne tardie by vnwise delay
Duch.Yorke. O ill dispersing Winde of Miserie. O my accursed Wombe, the Bed of Death: A Cockatrice hast thou hatcht to the World, Whose vnauoided Eye is murtherous
Stanley. Come, Madame, come, I in all haste was sent
Anne. And I with all vnwillingnesse will goe. O would to God, that the inclusiue Verge Of Golden Mettall, that must round my Brow, Were red hot Steele, to seare me to the Braines, Anoynted let me be with deadly Venome, And dye ere men can say, God saue the Queene
Qu. Goe, goe, poore soule, I enuie not thy glory, To feed my humor, wish thy selfe no harme