Prince E. Would I but knew at what my uncle

aims;

If 'twere my crown, I'd freely give it him,
So that he'd let me joy my life in quiet.

Duke Y. Why, will my uncle kill us, brother? Prince E. I hope he won't; we never injured him.

Queen. I cannot bear to see 'em thus.

Enter LORD STANLEY.

Lord Stan. Come, madam, you must straight to Westminster,

There to be crowned Richard's royal queen.

Anne. Despiteful tidings! O unpleasing news! Stan. Come, madam, come; I in all haste was sent.

Anne. And I in all unwillingness will go. I would to God that the inclusive verge 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! Queen. Go, go, poor soul, I envy not thy glory; To feed my humor, wish thyself no harm.

Anne. No! why? When he that is my husband now

Came to me, as I follow'd Henry's corse,

When scarce the blood was well washed from his hands

Which issued from my other angel husband,
And that dead saint which then I weeping fol-

low'd;

O, when, I say, I look'd on Richard's face, This was my wish: "Be thou," quoth I, "accurs'd,

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—

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
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,

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.

Queen. Poor heart, adieu! I pity thy complaining.

Anne. No more than from my soul I mourn for

yours.

Queen. Farewell, thou woful welcomer of

glory!

Anne. Adieu, poor soul, that takest thy leave

of it!

Duc. of Y. Go thou to Richard, and good angels guard thee.

[To Queen.] Go thou to sanctuary, and good thoughts possess thee!

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. Prince E. Dear madam, take me hence: for I shall ne'er

Enjoy a moment's quiet here.

Duke Y. Nor I; pray, mother, let me go too. Queen. Come, then, my pretty young ones, let's

away;

For here you lie within the falcon's reach,
Who watches but th' unguarded hour to seize

you.

Enter LIEUTENANT, L.

Lieut. I beg your majesty will pardon me: But the young princes must on no account Have egress from the Tower:

Nor must (without the king's especial license), Of what degree soever, any person

Have admittance to 'em :-all must retire.

Queen. I am their mother, sir; who else commands 'em?

If I pass freely they shall follow me.

For you, I'll take the peril of your fault upon myself.

Lieut. My inclination, madam, would oblige

you;

But I am bound by oath, and must obey:
Nor, madam, can I now with safety answer
For this continued visit.

Queen. Oh, heavenly powers! shall not I stay with them?

Lieut. Such are the king's commands, madam.

Queen. Support me, heaven!

For life can never bear the pangs of such a parting.

Oh, my poor children! Oh, distracting thought!
I dare not bid 'em as I should, farewell;
And then to part in silence stabs my soul!

Prince E. What, must you leave us, mother?
Queen. What shall I say?

But for a time, my loves:—we shall meet again : At least in heaven.

Duke Y. Won't you take me with you, mother? I shall be so 'fraid to stay, when you are gone. Queen. I cannot speak to 'em, and yet we must Be parted.

Then let these kisses say farewell.

Why, oh why, just heaven, must these be our

last!

Duc. Y. Give not your grief such way :-be sudden when you part.

Queen. I will: since it must be so-to heaven
I leave 'em.

Hear me, ye guardian powers of innocence!
Awake or sleeping, oh protect 'em still!

Still may their helpless youth attract men's pity,
That when the arm of cruelty is raised,

Their looks may drop the lifted dagger down
From the stern murderer's relenting hand,
And throw him on his knees in penitence!

Prince E.
Duke Y

Queen.

} Oh, mother! mother!

Oh, my poor children !
Shakespeare (Adapted).

MOTHER AND POET.

TURIN, AFTER NEWS FROM GAETA, 1861.

DEAD! One of them shot by the sea in the east, And one of them shot in the west by the sea. Dead! both my boys! When you sit at the feast

And are wanting a great song for Italy free,

Let none look at me!

Yet I was a poetess only last year,

And good at my art, for a woman, men said; But this woman, this, who is agonized here,

-The east sea and west sea rhyme on in her head

Forever instead.

What art's for a woman? To hold on her knees Both darlings! to feel all their arms round her

throat,

Cling, strangle a little! to sew by degrees

And 'broider the long-clothes and neat little coat;

To dream and to dote.

To teach them. . . . It stings there! I made them indeed

Speak plain the word country. I taught them, no doubt,

That a country's a thing men should die for at need.

I prated of liberty, rights, and about

The tyrant cast out.