_The Sanctuary at Westminster_.
RICH. O my dear mother! why do we sit here,
Amid these dusky walls and arches dim,
When it is summer in the fields without,
And sunshine? Say, is not my brother king,
Why will he not come here to play with me;
Shall I not see my brother?
ELIZ. My own child,
Oh! let me hide these tears upon thy head!
Thy brother, shalt thou see him? Yes, I hope.
Come, I will tell a tale:--There was a boy
Who had a cruel uncle--
RICH. I have heard
My uncle Glo'ster was a cruel man;
But he was always kind to me, and said
That I should be a king, if Edward died;
I'd rather be a bird to fly away,
Or sing--
ELIZ. The serpent's eye of fire,
With slow and deadly glare, poor bird, I fear,
Is fixed on thee and Edward--God avert it!
RICH. And therefore must not I go out to play?
ELIZ. Go, play among the tombs--I will go too;
Go, play with skulls and bones; or see the train
Of sceptred kings come slowly through the gloom,
And widowed queens move in the shroud of death
Along the glimmering aisles and hollow vaults.
Would I were with them--I shall be so soon!
RICH. Mother, methought I saw him yesterday--
ELIZ. Saw whom?
RICH. My father; and he seemed to look--
I cannot say how sadly. Could it be
His spirit? He was armed, but very pale
And sorrowful his countenance. I heard
No sound of footsteps when he moved away
And disappeared among the distant tombs
In further darkness.
ELIZ. O my son, my son!
Thou hadst a king thy father--he is dead;
Thou hadst been happier as a peasant's child!
RICH. Oh! how I wish I were a shepherd's boy,
For then, dear mother! I would run and play
With Edward; and we two, in primrose-time,
Would wander out among the villages,
Or go a-Maying by some river's side,
And mark the minnow-shoals, when morning shone
Upon the yellow gravel, shoot away
Beneath the old gray arch, or bring home cowslips
For all my sisters, for Elizabeth,
And you, dear mother, if you would not weep so.
ELIZ. Richard, break not my heart; give me your hand,
And kneel with me by this cold monument.
Spirit of my loved husband, now in heaven,
If, at this moment, thou dost see thy son,
And me, thus broken-hearted,--oh! if aught
Yet human touches thee, assist these prayers,
That him, and me, and my poor family,
God, in the hour of peril, may protect!
Let not my heart yet break.
Come, my poor boy!