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On thee, thou troubler of the poor World's peace.
The Worm of Confcience ftill be-gnaw thy Soul,
Thy Friends fufpect for Traitors while thou liv'ft,
And take deep Traitors for thy dearest Friends:
No fleep clofe up that deadly Eye of thine,
Unless it be while fome tormenting Dream
Affright thee with a Hell of ugly Devils.
Thou elvish-markt, abortive rooting Hog,
Thou that waft feal'd in thy Nativity
The Slave of Nature, and the Son of Hell:
Thou flander of thy heavy Mother's Womb,
Thou loathed Iffue of thy Father's Loins,
Thou Rag of Honour, thou detefted
Glo. Margaret.

. Mar. Richard.

Glo. Ha!

Q.Mar. I call thee not.

Glo. I cry thee mercy then; for I did think
That thou had'ft call'd me all thefe bitter Names.
Q.Mar. Why fo I did, but look'd for no reply.
Oh let me make the Period to my Curse.

Glo. 'Tis done by me, and ends in Margaret.
Queen. Thus have you breath'd yourCurfe against your felf.
2.Mar. Poor painted Queen, vain flourish of my Fortune,
Why ftrew'st thou Sugar on that Bottel'd Spider,
Whofe deadly web ensnareth thee about?

Fool, Fool, thou wher'ft a Knife to kill thy felf:
The day will come that thou fhalt with for me,
To help thee curfe this poysonous Bunch-back'd Toad.
Haft. Falfe boading Woman, end thy frantick Curie,
Left to thy harm thou move our Patience.

Q. Mar. Foul fhame upon you, you have all mov'd mine.
Riv. Were you well ferv'd, you would be taught your Duty.
9. Mar. To ferve me well, you all fhould do me Duty,
Teach me to be your Queen, and you my Subjects:
O ferve me well, and teach your felves that Duty..
Dorf. Difpute not with her, fhe is Lunatick,

Mar. Peace, Mafter Marquifs, you are malapert,
Your fire-new ftamp of Honour is fcarce currant.
O that your young Nobility can judge
VOL. V.

B

What

What 'twere to lose it, and be miferable.

They that ftand high have many blafts to shake them,
And if they fall, they dafh themselves to pieces.

Glo. Good Counsel marry, learn it, learn it, Marquiss.
Dorf. It touches you, rny Lord, as much as me.
Glo. Ay, and much more; but I was born so high;
Our airy buildeth in the Cedar's top,

And dallies with the Wind, and fcorns the Sun.

9. Mar. And turns the Sun to fhade; alas! alas!
Witness my Son now in the shade of Death,
Whofe bright out-fhining beams, thy cloudy Wrath
Hath in eternal Darkness folded up.

Your airy buildeth in our airies Neft;
O God, that feeft it, do not fuffer it,
As it is won with Blood, loft be it fo.

Buck. Peace, peace for fhame, if not for Charity. 2. Mar. Urge neither Charity nor Shame to me; Uncharitably with me have you dealt,

And fhamefully my hopes, by you, are butcher'd.
My Charity is Outrage. Life my Shame,
And in that Shame, ftill live my

Buck. Have done, have done.

Sorrow's rage.

Q.Mar. O Princely Buckingham, I'll kiss thy Hand,
In fign of League and Amity with thee:

Now fair befall thee and thy Noble House;
Thy Garments are not spotted with our Blood;
Nor thou within the compass of my Curse.

Buck. Nor no one here; for Curfes never pass
The Lips of those that breathe them in the Air.
Q.Mar. I will not think but they afcend the Sky,
And there awake God's gentle fleeping Peace.
O Buckingham, take care of yonder Dog;
Look when he fawns he bites; and when he bites,
His venom Tooth will rankle to the Death;
Have not to do with him, beware of him,
Sin, Death and Hell have fet their marks on him,
And all their Minifters attend on his.

Glo. What doth fhe fay, my Lord of Buckingham?
Buck. Nothing that I refpect, my gracious Lord.

Mar. What, doft thou fcorn me for my gentle
Counfel?

And

And footh the Devil that I warn thee from?

O but remember this another Day;

When he shall split thy very Heart with Sorrow;
And fay poor Margaret was a Prophetess.
Live each of you the Subject to his hate,
And he to yours, and all of you to God's.

[Exit.

Buck. My Hair doth stand an end to hear her Curfes.
Riv. And fo doth mine: I mufe why fhe's at Liberty.
Glo. I cannot blame her, by God's Holy Mother,
She hath had too much wrong, and I repent
My part thereof, that I have done to her.

Dorf. I never did her any, to my knowledge.
Glo. Yet you have all the vantage of her wrong:
I was too hot, to do fome Body good,
That is too cold in thinking of it now:
Marry, as for Clarence, he is well repay'd;
He is frank'd up to fatting for his pains,
God pardon them that are the cause thereof.
Riv. A virtuous and a Christian-like conclufion,
To pray for them that have done fcathe to us.
Gle. So do I ever, being well advis'd.
'For had I curft now, I had curft my self:

Enter Catesby.

[Afide.

Catef. Madam, his Majefty doth call for you, And for your Grace, and yours, my gracious Lord. Queen. Catesby, I come; Lords, will you go with me? Riv. We wait upon your Grace.

[Exeunt all but Gloucester. Glo. I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl. The fecret Mischief that I fet a-broach,

I lay unto the grievous Charge of others.
Clarence, whom I indeed have caft in Darkness,
I do beweep to many fimple Gulls,
Namely to Derby, Haflings, Buckingham.
And tell them, 'tis the Queen and her Allies
-That ftir the King against the Duke my Brother.
Now they believe it, and withal whet me
To be reveng'd on Rivers, Dorfet, Gray.
But then I figh, and with a piece of Scripture,
Tell them that God bids us do good for evil:
B 2

And

And thus I cloath my naked Villany

With odd old Ends, ftoln forth of Holy Writ,
And feem a Saint, when most I play the Devil
Enter two Villains.

But foft, here come my Executioners:
How now my hardy ftout refolved Mates,
Are you now going to dispatch this thing?

I Vil. We are, my Lord, and come to have the warrant That we may be admitted, where he is.

Glo. Well thought upon, I have it here about me;
When you have done, repair to Crosby Place.

But, Sirs, be fudden in the Execution,
Withal obdurate, do not hear him plead;
For Clarence is well-fpoken, and, perhaps,

May move your Hearts to pity, if you mark him.
Vil. Tut, tut, my Lord, we will not ftand to prate,
Talkers are no good doers; be affur'd,

We go to use our Hands, and not our Tongues.

Glo. Your Eyes drop Mill ftones, when Fools Eyes fall

Tears.

I like you Lads, about your business straight.

Go, go, dispatch.

Vil. We will, my noble Lord.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

Enter Clarence and Keeper.

Keep. Why looks your Grace fo heavily to day?
Clar. O I have paft a miferable Night,
So full of fearful Dreams of ugly Sights,
That, as I am a Chriftian faithful Man,
I would not fpend another fuch a Night,
Though 'twere to buy a world of happy Days:
So full of difmal Terror was the time.

Keep. What was your Dream, my Lord, I pray you tell me. Clar. Methoughts that I had broken from the Tower, And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy,

And in my Company my Brother Glofter,
Who from my Cabin tempted me to walk

Upon the Hatches. There we look'd toward England,

And

And cited up a thousand heavy Times,
During the Wars of York and Lancaster,
That had befal'n us. As he pac'd along
Upon the giddy footing of the Hatches,
Methought that Glofter ftumbled, and in falling
Struck me, that thought to ftay him, over-board,
Into the tumbling Billows of the Main.

O Lord, methought, what pain it was to drown!
What dreadful Noife of Waters in my Ears!
What fights of ugly Death within mine Eyes!
Methoughts, I faw a thousand fearful Wracks;
A thousand Men that Fishes gnaw'd upon:
Wedges of Gold, great Anchors, heaps of Pearl,
Ineftimable Stones, unvalued Jewels

All scatter'd in the bottom of the Sea:
Some lay in dead Mens Skulls, and in the holes
Where Eyes did once inhabit, there were crept,
As 'twere in fcorn of Eyes, reflecting Gems,
That woo'd the flimy bottom of the Deep,
And mock'd the dead Bones that lay fcatter'd by.
Keep. Had you fuch leifure in the time of Death,
To gaze upon the Secrets of the Deep?

Clar. Methought I had, and often did I strive
To yield the Ghoft; but fill the envious Flood
Stop'd in my Soul, and would not let it forth
To find the empty, vaft, and wandring Airs
But fmother'd it within my panting Bulk,
Who almoft burft to belch it in the Sea.

Keep. Awak'd you not in this fore Agony?
Clar. No, no, my Dream was lengthen'd after Life.
O then began the Tempeft to my Soul:

I paft, methought, the melancholy Flood,
With that four Ferry-man which Poets write of,
Unto the Kingdom of perpetual Night.

The firft that there did greet my Stranger-fouk
Was my great Father-in-Law, renowned Warwick,
Who fpake aloud- - What Scourge for Perjury
Can this dark Monarchy afford falfe Clarence?
And fo he vanifh'd. Then came wand'ring by,
A Shadow like an Angel, with bright Hair

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Dabbled

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