♦ 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!

Upon the like devotion as yourselves,

10 To gratulate the gentle princes there.

♦ 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?

♦ I may not suffer you to visit them;

♦ The king hath straitly charged the contrary.

♦ Hath he set bounds betwixt their love and me?

♦ I am their mother; who should keep me from them?

25 Then bring me to their sights; I’ll bear thy blame,

And take thy office from thee, on my peril.

♦ I am bound by oath, and therefore pardon me. [Exit.

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.

35 May have some scope to beat, or else I swoon

♦ With this dead-killing news!

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.

♦ 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.

O my accursed womb, the bed of death!

55 A cockatrice hast thou hatch’d to the world,

Whose unavoided eye is murderous.

♦ 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!

65 To feed my humour, wish thyself no harm.

♦ 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.

♦ [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.

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.