Mar. And lesned be that small, God I beseech him, Thy honor, state, and seate, is due to me

Rich. What? threat you me with telling of the King? I will auouch't in presence of the King: I dare aduenture to be sent to th' Towre. 'Tis time to speake, My paines are quite forgot

Margaret. Out Diuell, I do remember them too well: Thou killd'st my Husband Henrie in the Tower, And Edward my poore Son, at Tewkesburie

Rich. Ere you were Queene, I, or your Husband King: I was a packe-horse in his great affaires: A weeder out of his proud Aduersaries, A liberall rewarder of his Friends, To royalize his blood, I spent mine owne

Margaret. I and much better blood Then his, or thine

Rich. In all which time, you and your Husband Grey Were factious, for the House of Lancaster; And Riuers, so were you: Was not your Husband, In Margarets Battaile, at Saint Albons, slaine? Let me put in your mindes, if you forget What you haue beene ere this, and what you are: Withall, what I haue beene, and what I am

Q.M. A murth'rous Villaine, and so still thou art

Rich. Poore Clarence did forsake his Father Warwicke, I, and forswore himselfe (which Iesu pardon.) Q.M. Which God reuenge

Rich. To fight on Edwards partie, for the Crowne, And for his meede, poore Lord, he is mewed vp: I would to God my heart were Flint, like Edwards, Or Edwards soft and pittifull, like mine; I am too childish foolish for this World

Q.M. High thee to Hell for shame, & leaue this World Thou Cacodemon, there thy Kingdome is

Riu. My Lord of Gloster: in those busie dayes, Which here you vrge, to proue vs Enemies, We follow'd then our Lord, our Soueraigne King, So should we you, if you should be our King

Rich. If I should be? I had rather be a Pedler: Farre be it from my heart, the thought thereof

Qu. As little ioy (my Lord) as you suppose You should enioy, were you this Countries King, As little ioy you may suppose in me, That I enioy, being the Queene thereof

Q.M. A little ioy enioyes the Queene thereof, For I am shee, and altogether ioylesse: I can no longer hold me patient. Heare me, you wrangling Pyrates, that fall out, In sharing that which you haue pill'd from me: Which off you trembles not, that lookes on me? If not, that I am Queene, you bow like Subiects; Yet that by you depos'd, you quake like Rebells. Ah gentle Villaine, doe not turne away

Rich. Foule wrinckled Witch, what mak'st thou in my sight? Q.M. But repetition of what thou hast marr'd, That will I make, before I let thee goe

Rich. Wert thou not banished, on paine of death? Q.M. I was: but I doe find more paine in banishment, Then death can yeeld me here, by my abode. A Husband and a Sonne thou ow'st to me, And thou a Kingdome; all of you, allegeance: This Sorrow that I haue, by right is yours, And all the Pleasures you vsurpe, are mine

Rich. The Curse my Noble Father layd on thee, When thou didst Crown his Warlike Brows with Paper, And with thy scornes drew'st Riuers from his eyes, And then to dry them, gau'st the Duke a Clowt, Steep'd in the faultlesse blood of prettie Rutland: His Curses then, from bitternesse of Soule, Denounc'd against thee, are all falne vpon thee: And God, not we, hath plagu'd thy bloody deed

Qu. So iust is God, to right the innocent

Hast. O, 'twas the foulest deed to slay that Babe, And the most mercilesse, that ere was heard of

Riu. Tyrants themselues wept when it was reported

William Shakespeare
Classic Literature Library

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