Act IV
fda SCENE I. Before the Tower
Enter, on one side,
QUEEN ELIZABETH, DUCHESS OF YORK,
and MARQUESS
OF DORSET; on the
other, ANNE,
DUCHESS
OF GLOUCESTER, leading
LADY MARGARET PLANTAGENET, CLARENCE’S young daughter.
♦
Duch.
Who meets us here? my niece Plantagenet
♦
Led in the hand of her kind aunt of Gloucester?
Now, for my life, she’s wandering to the Tower,
♦
On pure heart’s love to greet the tender princes.
Daughter, well met.
A happy and a joyful time of day!
♦
Q. Eliz.
As much to you, good sister! Whither away?
♦
Anne.
No farther than the Tower, and, as I guess,
Upon the like devotion as yourselves,
10
To gratulate the gentle princes there.
Q. Eliz.
Kind sister, thanks: we’ll enter all together.
Enter 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?
15
Brak.
Right well, dear madam. By your patience,
♦
I may not suffer you to visit them;
♦
The king hath straitly charged the contrary.
♦
Q. Eliz.
The king! why, who’s that?
♦
Brak.
I cry you mercy: I mean the lord protector.
20
Q. Eliz. The Lord protect him from that kingly title!
♦
Hath he set bounds betwixt their love and me?
♦
I am their mother; who should keep me from them?
♦
Duch.
I am their father’s mother; I will see them.
Anne.
Their aunt I am in law, in love their mother:
25
Then bring me to their sights; I’ll bear thy blame,
And take thy office from thee, on my peril.
♦
Brak.
No, madam, no; I may not leave it so:
♦
I am bound by oath, and therefore pardon me. [Exit.
Enter LORD
STANLEY.
♦
Stan.
Let me but meet you, ladies, one hour hence,
30
And I’ll salute your grace of York as mother,
♦
And reverend looker on, of two fair queens.
♦ [To Anne] Come, madam, you must straight to Westminster,
There to be crowned Richard’s royal queen.
♦
Q. Eliz.
O, cut my lace in sunder, that my pent heart
35
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?
♦
Q. Eliz.
O Dorset, speak not to me, get thee hence!
40
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 hell:
Go, hie thee, hie thee from this slaughter-house,
45 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;
50
You shall have letters from me to my son
♦
To meet you on the way, and welcome you.
♦
Be not ta’en tardy by unwise delay.
♦
Duch.
O ill-dispersing wind of misery!
O my accursed womb, the bed of death!
55
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 in all unwillingness will go.
♦
I would to God that the inclusive verge
60 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;
65 To feed my humour, wish thyself no harm.
♦
Anne.
No! why? When he that is my husband now
♦
Came to me, as I follow’d Henry’s corse,
♦
When scarce the blood was well wash’d from his hands
Which issued from my other angel husband
70
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, ‘accursed,
For making me, so young, so old a widow!
And, when thou wed’st, let sorrow haunt thy bed;
75
And be thy wife—if any be so mad—
♦
As miserable by the life of thee
As 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
80
Grossly grew captive to his honey words
♦
And proved the subject of my own soul’s curse,
♦
Which ever since hath kept my eyes from rest;
For never yet one hour in his bed
♦
Have I enjoy’d the golden dew of sleep,
85
But have been waked by his timorous dreams.
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 than from my soul I mourn for yours.
90
Q. Eliz.
Farewell, thou woful welcomer of glory!
♦
Anne.
Adieu, poor soul, that takest thy leave of it!
♦ [To Anne] Go thou to Richard, and good angels guard thee!
♦ [To Queen Eliz.] Go thou to sanctuary, and good thoughts possess thee!
95 I to my grave, where peace and rest lie with me!
♦
Eighty odd years of sorrow have I seen,
♦
And each hour’s joy wreck’d with a week of teen.
♦
Q. Eliz.
Stay, yet look back with me unto the Tower.
Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes
100 Whom envy hath immured within your walls!
Rough cradle for such little pretty ones!
♦
Rude ragged nurse, old sullen playfellow
For tender princes, use my babies well!
♦
So foolish sorrow bids your stones farewell. [Exeunt.
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