Long mayst thou live to wail thy children's loss;
And see another, as I see thee now,

Deck'd in thy rights, as thou art stall'd in mine!
Long die thy happy days before thy death;

And, after many lengthen'd hours of grief,
Die neither mother, wife, nor England's queen!
Rivers, and Dorset, you were standers-by ;-
And so wast thou, lord Hastings,—when my son
Was stabb'd with bloody daggers: God, I pray him,
That none of you may live your natural age,
But by some unlook'd accident cut off!

Glos. Have done thy charm, thou hateful, wither'd hag.

Q. Mar. And leave out thee? Stay, dog, for thou shalt hear me.

If Heaven have any grievous plague in store,
Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee,
O, let them keep it, till thy sins be ripe,
And then hurl down their indignation

On thee, the troubler of the poor world's peace!
The worm of conscience still begnaw thy soul!
Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou livest,
And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends!
No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine,
Unless it be while some tormenting dream
Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils!
Thou elvish-mark'd, abortive, rooting hog!
Thou that wast seal'd, in thy nativity,
The slave of nature and the son of hell!
Thou slander of thy mother's heavy womb!
Thou loathed issue of thy father's loins!

for I did think,

Glos. I cry thee mercy then;

That thou hadst call'd me all these bitter names.
Q. Mar. Why, so I did; but look'd for no reply.
O, let me make the period to my curse.

Glos. 'Tis done by me, and ends in-Margaret. Q. Eli. Thus have you breathed your curse against yourself.

Q. Mar. Poor painted queen, vain florish of my fortune!

Why strew'st thou sugar on that bottled spider,1
Whose deadly web ensnareth thee about?

Fool, fool! thou whet'st a knife to kill thyself.
The day will come, that thou shalt wish for me
To help thee curse this poisonous bunch-back'd

toad.

Has. False-boding woman, end thy frantic curse; Lest, to thy harm, thou move our patience.

Q. Mar. Foul shame upon you! you have all moved mine.

Ri. Were you well served, you would be taught your duty.

Q. Mar. To serve me well, you all should do me duty,

1 In allusion to Gloster's form and venom.

Teach me to be your queen, and you my subjects. O, serve me well, and teach yourselves that duty. Dor. Dispute not with her; she is lunatic.

Q. Mar. Peace, master marquis; you are malapert:

Your fire-new stamp of honor is scarce current.1
O, that your young nobility could judge,

What 'twere to lose it, and be miserable!

They that stand high, have many blasts to shake them;

And, if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces. Glos. Good counsel, marry;-learn it, learn it, marquis.

Dor. It touches you, my lord, as much as me. Glos. Ay, and much more: but I was born so high,

Our aiery 2 buildeth in the cedar's top,

And dallies with the wind, and scorns the sun.

Q. Mar. And turns the sun to shade;—alas !

alas!

Witness my son, now in the shade of death;
Whose bright outshining beams thy cloudy wrath
Hath in eternal darkness folded up.

Your aiery buildeth in our aiery's nest.
O God, that seest it, do not suffer it;

As it was won with blood, lost be it so!

Buck. Peace, peace, for shame, if not for charity.

! He had just been created marquis of Dorset,
2 Nest.

Q. Mar. Urge neither cnarity nor shame to me: Uncharitably with me have you dealt,

And shamefully by you my hopes are butcher'd.
My charity is outrage, life my shame,

And in my shame still live my sorrow's rage!
Buck. Have done, have done.

Q. Mar. O princely Buckingham, I kiss thy hand,

In sign of league and amity with thee.
Now fair befal 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 curses never pass
The lips of those that breathe them in the air.

Q. Mar. I'll not believe but they ascend the sky, And there awake God's gentle-sleeping peace. O Buckingham, beware 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 set their marks on him,
And all their ministers attend on him.

Glos. What doth she say, my lord of Buckingham?
Buck. Nothing that I respect, my gracious lord.
Q. Mar. What, dost thou scorn me for my gentle
counsel,

And soothe the devil that I warn thee from?

O, but remember this another day,

When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow;

And say, poor Margaret was a prophetess.

Live each of you the subjects to his hate,
And he to yours, and all of you to God's! [Exit.
Has. My hair doth stand on end to hear her

curses.

1

Ri. And so doth mine: I muse, why she's at

liberty.

Glos. 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.

Q. Eli. I never did her any, to my knowlege. Glos. Yet you have all the vantage of her wrong. I was too hot to do somebody good,

That is too cold in thinking of it now.
Marry, as for Clarence, he is well repaid;
He is frank'd up 2 to fatting for his pains:
God pardon them that are the cause of it!

Ri. A virtuous and a christian-like conclusion,
To pray for them that have done scath 3 to us.
Glos. So do I ever, being well advised;

For had I cursed now, I had cursed myself. [aside,

Enter CATESBY.

Cates. Madam, his majesty doth call for you,And for your grace,—and you, my noble lords. Q. Eli. Catesby, I come. Lords, will you go

with me?

Ri. Madam, we will attend upon your grace.

[Exeunt all but Gloster.

1 Wonder.

2 Put in a sty.

3 Harm