Rich. And did they so?

Buck. No, so God helpe me, they spake not a word,

But like dumbe Statues, or breathing Stones,

Star'd each on other, and look'd deadly pale:

Which when I saw, I reprehended them,

And ask'd the Maior, what meant this wilfull silence?

His answer was, the people were not vsed

To be spoke to, but by the Recorder.

Then he was vrg'd to tell my Tale againe:

Thus sayth the Duke, thus hath the Duke inferr'd,

But nothing spoke, in warrant from himselfe.

When he had done, some followers of mine owne,

At lower end of the Hall, hurld vp their Caps,

And some tenne voyces cry'd, God saue King Richard:

And thus I tooke the vantage of those few.

Thankes gentle Citizens, and friends, quoth I,

This generall applause, and chearefull showt,

Argues your wisdome, and your loue to Richard:

And euen here brake off, and came away

Rich. What tongue-lesse Blockes were they,

Would they not speake?

Will not the Maior then, and his Brethren, come?

Buck. The Maior is here at hand: intend some feare,

Be not you spoke with, but by mightie suit:

And looke you get a Prayer-Booke in your hand,

And stand betweene two Church-men, good my Lord,

For on that ground Ile make a holy Descant:

And be not easily wonne to our requests,

Play the Maids part, still answer nay, and take it

Rich. I goe: and if you plead as well for them,

As I can say nay to thee for my selfe,

No doubt we bring it to a happie issue

Buck. Go, go vp to the Leads, the Lord Maior knocks.

Enter the Maior, and Citizens.

Welcome, my Lord, I dance attendance here,

I thinke the Duke will not be spoke withall.

Enter Catesby.

Buck. Now Catesby, what sayes your Lord to my

request?

Catesby. He doth entreat your Grace, my Noble Lord,

To visit him to morrow, or next day:

He is within, with two right reuerend Fathers,

Diuinely bent to Meditation,

And in no Worldly suites would he be mou'd,

To draw him from his holy Exercise

Buck. Returne, good Catesby, to the gracious Duke,

Tell him, my selfe, the Maior and Aldermen,

In deepe designes, in matter of great moment,

No lesse importing then our generall good,

Are come to haue some conference with his Grace

Catesby. Ile signifie so much vnto him straight.

Enter.

Buck. Ah ha, my Lord, this Prince is not an Edward,

He is not lulling on a lewd Loue-Bed,

But on his Knees, at Meditation:

Not dallying with a Brace of Curtizans,

But meditating with two deepe Diuines:

Not sleeping, to engrosse his idle Body,

But praying, to enrich his watchfull Soule.

Happie were England, would this vertuous Prince

Take on his Grace the Soueraigntie thereof.

But sure I feare we shall not winne him to it

Maior. Marry God defend his Grace should say vs

nay

Buck. I feare he will: here Catesby comes againe.

Enter Catesby.

Now Catesby, what sayes his Grace?

Catesby. He wonders to what end you haue assembled

Such troopes of Citizens, to come to him,

His Grace not being warn'd thereof before:

He feares, my Lord, you meane no good to him

Buck. Sorry I am, my Noble Cousin should

Suspect me, that I meane no good to him:

By Heauen, we come to him in perfit loue,

And so once more returne, and tell his Grace.

Enter.

When holy and deuout Religious men

Are at their Beades, 'tis much to draw them thence,

So sweet is zealous Contemplation.

Enter Richard aloft, betweene two Bishops

Maior. See where his Grace stands, tweene two Clergie

men

Buck. Two Props of Vertue, for a Christian Prince,

To stay him from the fall of Vanitie:

And see a Booke of Prayer in his hand,

True Ornaments to know a holy man.

Famous Plantagenet, most gracious Prince,

Lend fauourable eare to our requests,

And pardon vs the interruption

Of thy Deuotion, and right Christian Zeale

Rich. My Lord, there needes no such Apologie:

I doe beseech your Grace to pardon me,

Who earnest in the seruice of my God,

Deferr'd the visitation of my friends.

But leauing this, what is your Graces pleasure?

Buck. Euen that (I hope) which pleaseth God aboue,

And all good men, of this vngouern'd Ile

Rich. I doe suspect I haue done some offence,

That seemes disgracious in the Cities eye,

And that you come to reprehend my ignorance

Buck. You haue, my Lord:

Would it might please your Grace,

On our entreaties, to amend your fault

Rich. Else wherefore breathe I in a Christian Land

Buck. Know then, it is your fault, that you resigne

The Supreme Seat, the Throne Maiesticall,

The Sceptred Office of your Ancestors,

Your State of Fortune, and your Deaw of Birth,

The Lineall Glory of your Royall House,

To the corruption of a blemisht Stock;

Whiles in the mildnesse of your sleepie thoughts,

Which here we waken to our Countries good,

The Noble Ile doth want his proper Limmes:

His Face defac'd with skarres of Infamie,

His Royall Stock grafft with ignoble Plants,

And almost shouldred in the swallowing Gulfe

Of darke Forgetfulnesse, and deepe Obliuion.

Which to recure, we heartily solicite

Your gracious selfe to take on you the charge

And Kingly Gouernment of this your Land:

Not as Protector, Steward, Substitute,

Or lowly Factor, for anothers gaine;

But as successiuely, from Blood to Blood,

Your Right of Birth, your Empyrie, your owne.

For this, consorted with the Citizens,

Your very Worshipfull and louing friends,

And by their vehement instigation,

In this iust Cause come I to moue your Grace

Rich. I cannot tell, if to depart in silence,

Or bitterly to speake in your reproofe,

Best fitteth my Degree, or your Condition.

If not to answer, you might haply thinke,

Tongue-ty'd Ambition, not replying, yeelded

To beare the Golden Yoake of Soueraigntie,

Which fondly you would here impose on me.

If to reproue you for this suit of yours,

So season'd with your faithfull loue to me,

Then on the other side I check'd my friends.

Therefore to speake, and to auoid the first,

And then in speaking, not to incurre the last,

Definitiuely thus I answer you.

Your loue deserues my thankes, but my desert

Vnmeritable, shunnes your high request.

First, if all Obstacles were cut away,

And that my Path were euen to the Crowne,

As the ripe Reuenue, and due of Birth:

Yet so much is my pouertie of spirit,

So mightie, and so manie my defects,

That I would rather hide me from my Greatnesse,

Being a Barke to brooke no mightie Sea;

Then in my Greatnesse couet to be hid,

And in the vapour of my Glory smother'd.

But God be thank'd, there is no need of me,

And much I need to helpe you, were there need:

The Royall Tree hath left vs Royall Fruit,

Which mellow'd by the stealing howres of time,

Will well become the Seat of Maiestie,

And make (no doubt) vs happy by his Reigne.

On him I lay that, you would lay on me,

The Right and Fortune of his happie Starres,

Which God defend that I should wring from him

Buck. My Lord, this argues Conscience in your Grace,

But the respects thereof are nice, and triuiall,

All circumstances well considered.

You say, that Edward is your Brothers Sonne,

So say we too, but not by Edwards Wife:

For first was he contract to Lady Lucie,

Your Mother liues a Witnesse to his Vow;

And afterward by substitute betroth'd

To Bona, Sister to the King of France.

These both put off, a poore Petitioner,

A Care-cras'd Mother to a many Sonnes,

A Beautie-waining, and distressed Widow,

Euen in the after-noone of her best dayes,

Made prize and purchase of his wanton Eye,

Seduc'd the pitch, and height of his degree,

To base declension, and loath'd Bigamie.

By her, in his vnlawfull Bed, he got

This Edward, whom our Manners call the Prince.

More bitterly could I expostulate,

Saue that for reuerence to some aliue,

I giue a sparing limit to my Tongue.

Then good, my Lord, take to your Royall selfe

This proffer'd benefit of Dignitie:

If not to blesse vs and the Land withall,

Yet to draw forth your Noble Ancestrie

From the corruption of abusing times,

Vnto a Lineall true deriued course

Maior. Do good my Lord, your Citizens entreat you

Buck. Refuse not, mightie Lord, this proffer'd loue

Catesb. O make them ioyfull, grant their lawfull suit

Rich. Alas, why would you heape this Care on me?

I am vnfit for State, and Maiestie:

I doe beseech you take it not amisse,

I cannot, nor I will not yeeld to you

Buck. If you refuse it, as in loue and zeale,

Loth to depose the Child, your Brothers Sonne,

As well we know your tendernesse of heart,

And gentle, kinde, effeminate remorse,

Which we haue noted in you to your Kindred,

And egally indeede to all Estates:

Yet know, where you accept our suit, or no,

Your Brothers Sonne shall neuer reigne our King,

But we will plant some other in the Throne,

To the disgrace and downe-fall of your House:

And in this resolution here we leaue you.

Come Citizens, we will entreat no more.

Exeunt.

Catesb. Call him againe, sweet Prince, accept their suit:

If you denie them, all the Land will rue it

Rich. Will you enforce me to a world of Cares.

Call them againe, I am not made of Stones,

But penetrable to your kinde entreaties,

Albeit against my Conscience and my Soule.

Enter Buckingham, and the rest.

Cousin of Buckingham, and sage graue men,

Since you will buckle fortune on my back,

To beare her burthen, where I will or no.

I must haue patience to endure the Load:

But if black Scandall, or foule-fac'd Reproach,

Attend the sequell of your Imposition,

Your meere enforcement shall acquittance me

From all the impure blots and staynes thereof;

For God doth know, and you may partly see,

How farre I am from the desire of this

Maior. God blesse your Grace, wee see it, and will

say it

Rich. In saying so, you shall but say the truth

Buck. Then I salute you with this Royall Title,

Long liue King Richard, Englands worthie King

All. Amen

Buck. To morrow may it please you to be Crown'd

Rich. Euen when you please, for you will haue it so

Buck. To morrow then we will attend your Grace,

And so most ioyfully we take our leaue

Rich. Come, let vs to our holy Worke againe.

Farewell my Cousins, farewell gentle friends.

Exeunt.

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

Anne. No: why? When he that is my Husband now,

Came to me, as I follow'd Henries Corse,

When scarce the blood was well washt from his hands,

Which issued from my other Angell Husband,

And that deare Saint, which then I weeping follow'd:

O, when I say I look'd on Richards Face,

This was my Wish: Be thou (quoth I) accurst,

For making me, so young, so old a Widow:

And when thou wed'st, let sorrow haunt thy Bed;

And be thy Wife, if any be so mad,

More miserable, by the Life of thee,

Then thou hast made me, by my deare Lords death.

Loe, ere I can repeat this Curse againe,

Within so small a time, my Womans heart

Grossely grew captiue to his honey words,

And prou'd the subiect of mine owne Soules Curse,

Which hitherto hath held mine eyes from rest:

For neuer yet one howre in his Bed

Did I enioy the golden deaw of sleepe,

But with his timorous Dreames was still awak'd.

Besides, he hates me for my Father Warwicke,

And will (no doubt) shortly be rid of me

Qu. Poore heart adieu, I pittie thy complaining

Anne. No more, then with my soule I mourne for

yours

Dors. Farewell, thou wofull welcommer of glory

Anne. Adieu, poore soule, that tak'st thy leaue

of it

Du.Y. Go thou to Richmond, & good fortune guide thee,

Go thou to Richard, and good Angels tend thee,

Go thou to Sanctuarie, and good thoughts possesse thee,

I to my Graue, where peace and rest lye with mee.

Eightie odde yeeres of sorrow haue I seene,

And each howres ioy wrackt with a weeke of teene

Qu. Stay, yet looke backe with me vnto the Tower.

Pitty, you ancient Stones, those tender Babes,

Whom Enuie hath immur'd within your Walls,

Rough Cradle for such little prettie ones,

Rude ragged Nurse, old sullen Play-fellow,

For tender Princes: vse my Babies well;

So foolish Sorrowes bids your Stones farewell.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Sound a Sennet. Enter Richard in pompe, Buckingham, Catesby,

Ratcliffe,

Louel.

Rich. Stand all apart. Cousin of Buckingham

Buck. My gracious Soueraigne

Rich. Giue me thy hand.

Sound.

Thus high, by thy aduice, and thy assistance,

Is King Richard seated:

But shall we weare these Glories for a day?

Or shall they last, and we reioyce in them?

Buck. Still liue they, and for euer let them last

Rich. Ah Buckingham, now doe I play the Touch,

To trie if thou be currant Gold indeed:

Young Edward liues, thinke now what I would speake

Buck. Say on my louing Lord

Rich. Why Buckingham, I say I would be King

Buck. Why so you are, my thrice-renowned Lord

Rich. Ha? am I King? 'tis so: but Edward liues

Buck True, Noble Prince

Rich. O bitter consequence!

That Edward still should liue true Noble Prince.

Cousin, thou wast not wont to be so dull.

Shall I be plaine? I wish the Bastards dead,

And I would haue it suddenly perform'd.

What say'st thou now? speake suddenly, be briefe

Buck. Your Grace may doe your pleasure

Rich. Tut, tut, thou art all Ice, thy kindnesse freezes:

Say, haue I thy consent, that they shall dye?

Buc. Giue me some litle breath, some pawse, deare Lord,

Before I positiuely speake in this:

I will resolue you herein presently.

Exit Buck[ingham].

Catesby. The King is angry, see he gnawes his Lippe

Rich. I will conuerse with Iron-witted Fooles,

And vnrespectiue Boyes: none are for me,

That looke into me with considerate eyes,

High-reaching Buckingham growes circumspect.

Boy

Page. My Lord

Rich. Know'st thou not any, whom corrupting Gold

Will tempt vnto a close exploit of Death?

Page. I know a discontented Gentleman,

Whose humble meanes match not his haughtie spirit:

Gold were as good as twentie Orators,

And will (no doubt) tempt him to any thing

Rich. What is his Name?

Page. His Name, my Lord, is Tirrell

Rich. I partly know the man: goe call him hither,

Boy.

Enter.

The deepe reuoluing wittie Buckingham,

No more shall be the neighbor to my counsailes.

Hath he so long held out with me, vntyr'd,

And stops he now for breath? Well, be it so.

Enter Stanley.

How now, Lord Stanley, what's the newes?

Stanley. Know my louing Lord, the Marquesse Dorset

As I heare, is fled to Richmond,

In the parts where he abides

Rich. Come hither Catesby, rumor it abroad,

That Anne my Wife is very grieuous sicke,

I will take order for her keeping close.

Inquire me out some meane poore Gentleman,

Whom I will marry straight to Clarence Daughter:

The Boy is foolish, and I feare not him.

Looke how thou dream'st: I say againe, giue out,

That Anne, my Queene, is sicke, and like to dye.

About it, for it stands me much vpon

To stop all hopes, whose growth may dammage me.

I must be marryed to my Brothers Daughter,

Or else my Kingdome stands on brittle Glasse:

Murther her Brothers, and then marry her,

Vncertaine way of gaine. But I am in

So farre in blood, that sinne will pluck on sinne,

Teare-falling Pittie dwells not in this Eye.

Enter Tyrrel.

Is thy Name Tyrrel?

Tyr. Iames Tyrrel, and your most obedient subiect

Rich. Art thou indeed?

Tyr. Proue me, my gracious Lord

Rich. Dar'st thou resolue to kill a friend of mine?

Tyr. Please you:

But I had rather kill two enemies

Rich. Why then thou hast it: two deepe enemies,

Foes to my Rest, and my sweet sleepes disturbers,

Are they that I would haue thee deale vpon:

Tyrrel, I meane those Bastards in the Tower

Tyr. Let me haue open meanes to come to them,

And soone Ile rid you from the feare of them

Rich. Thou sing'st sweet Musique:

Hearke, come hither Tyrrel,

Goe by this token: rise, and lend thine Eare,

Whispers.

There is no more but so: say it is done,

And I will loue thee, and preferre thee for it

Tyr. I will dispatch it straight.

Enter.

Enter Buckingham.

Buck. My Lord, I haue consider'd in my minde,

The late request that you did sound me in

Rich. Well, let that rest: Dorset is fled to Richmond

Buck. I heare the newes, my Lord

Rich. Stanley, hee is your Wiues Sonne: well, looke

vnto it

Buck. My Lord, I clayme the gift, my due by promise,

For which your Honor and your Faith is pawn'd,

Th' Earledome of Hertford, and the moueables,

Which you haue promised I shall possesse

Rich. Stanley looke to your Wife: if she conuey

Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it

Buck. What sayes your Highnesse to my iust request?

Rich. I doe remember me, Henry the Sixt

Did prophecie, that Richmond should be King,

When Richmond was a little peeuish Boy.

A King perhaps

Buck. May it please you to resolue me in my suit

Rich. Thou troublest me, I am not in the vaine.

Enter

Buck. And is it thus? repayes he my deepe seruice

With such contempt? made I him King for this?

O let me thinke on Hastings, and be gone

To Brecnock, while my fearefull Head is on.

Enter.

Enter Tyrrel.

Tyr. The tyrannous and bloodie Act is done,

The most arch deed of pittious massacre

That euer yet this Land was guilty of:

Dighton and Forrest, who I did suborne

To do this peece of ruthfull Butchery,

Albeit they were flesht Villaines, bloody Dogges,

Melted with tendernesse, and milde compassion,

Wept like to Children, in their deaths sad Story.

O thus (quoth Dighton) lay the gentle Babes:

Thus, thus (quoth Forrest) girdling one another

Within their Alablaster innocent Armes:

Their lips were foure red Roses on a stalke,

And in their Summer Beauty kist each other.

A Booke of Prayers on their pillow lay,

Which one (quoth Forrest) almost chang'd my minde:

But oh the Diuell, there the Villaine stopt:

When Dighton thus told on, we smothered

The most replenished sweet worke of Nature,

That from the prime Creation ere she framed.

Hence both are gone with Conscience and Remorse,

They could not speake, and so I left them both,

To beare this tydings to the bloody King.

Enter Richard.

And heere he comes. All health my Soueraigne Lord

Ric. Kinde Tirrell, am I happy in thy Newes

Tir. If to haue done the thing you gaue in charge,

Beget your happinesse, be happy then,

For it is done

Rich. But did'st thou see them dead

Tir. I did my Lord

Rich. And buried gentle Tirrell

Tir. The Chaplaine of the Tower hath buried them,

But where (to say the truth) I do not know

Rich. Come to me Tirrel soone, and after Supper,

When thou shalt tell the processe of their death.

Meane time, but thinke how I may do the good,

And be inheritor of thy desire.

Farewell till then

Tir. I humbly take my leaue

Rich. The Sonne of Clarence haue I pent vp close,

His daughter meanly haue I matcht in marriage,

The Sonnes of Edward sleepe in Abrahams bosome,

And Anne my wife hath bid this world good night.

Now for I know the Britaine Richmond aymes

At yong Elizabeth my brothers daughter,

And by that knot lookes proudly on the Crowne,

To her go I, a iolly thriuing wooer.

Enter Ratcliffe.

Rat. My Lord

Rich. Good or bad newes, that thou com'st in so

bluntly?

Rat. Bad news my Lord, Mourton is fled to Richmond,

And Buckingham backt with the hardy Welshmen

Is in the field, and still his power encreaseth

Rich. Ely with Richmond troubles me more neere,

Then Buckingham and his rash leuied Strength.

Come, I haue learn'd, that fearfull commenting

Is leaden seruitor to dull delay.

Delay leds impotent and Snaile-pac'd Beggery:

Then fierie expedition be my wing,

Ioues Mercury, and Herald for a King:

Go muster men: My counsaile is my Sheeld,

We must be breefe, when Traitors braue the Field.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter old Queene Margaret

Mar. So now prosperity begins to mellow,

And drop into the rotten mouth of death:

Heere in these Confines slily haue I lurkt,

To watch the waining of mine enemies.

A dire induction, am I witnesse to,

And will to France, hoping the consequence

Will proue as bitter, blacke, and Tragicall.

Withdraw thee wretched Margaret, who comes heere?

Enter Dutchesse and Queene.

Qu. Ah my poore Princes! ah my tender Babes:

My vnblowed Flowres, new appearing sweets:

If yet your gentle soules flye in the Ayre,

And be not fixt in doome perpetuall,

Houer about me with your ayery wings,

And heare your mothers Lamentation

Mar. Houer about her, say that right for right

Hath dim'd your Infant morne, to Aged night

Dut. So many miseries haue craz'd my voyce,

That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute.

Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?

Mar. Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet,

Edward for Edward, payes a dying debt

Qu. Wilt thou, O God, flye from such gentle Lambs,

And throw them in the intrailes of the Wolfe?

When didst thou sleepe, when such a deed was done?

Mar. When holy Harry dyed, and my sweet Sonne

Dut. Dead life, blind sight, poore mortall liuing ghost,

Woes Scene, Worlds shame, Graues due, by life vsurpt,

Breefe abstract and record of tedious dayes,

Rest thy vnrest on Englands lawfull earth,

Vnlawfully made drunke with innocent blood

Qu. Ah that thou would'st assoone affoord a Graue,

As thou canst yeeld a melancholly seate:

Then would I hide my bones, not rest them heere,

Ah who hath any cause to mourne but wee?

Mar. If ancient sorrow be most reuerent,

Giue mine the benefit of signeurie,

And let my greefes frowne on the vpper hand

If sorrow can admit Society.

I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him:

I had a Husband, till a Richard kill'd him:

Thou had'st an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him:

Thou had'st a Richard, till a Richard kill'd him

Dut. I had a Richard too, and thou did'st kill him;

I had a Rutland too, thou hop'st to kill him

Mar. Thou had'st a Clarence too,

And Richard kill'd him.

From forth the kennell of thy wombe hath crept

A Hell-hound that doth hunt vs all to death:

That Dogge, that had his teeth before his eyes,

To worry Lambes, and lap their gentle blood:

That foule defacer of Gods handy worke:

That reignes in gauled eyes of weeping soules:

That excellent grand Tyrant of the earth,

Thy wombe let loose to chase vs to our graues.

O vpright, iust, and true-disposing God,

How do I thanke thee, that this carnall Curre

Prayes on the issue of his Mothers body,

And makes her Pue-fellow with others mone

Dut. Oh Harries wife, triumph not in my woes:

God witnesse with me, I haue wept for thine