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ACT IV. SCENE I.
Before the Tower.
York, und Marquis of DORSET ; on the other,
God give your graces both
away? Anne. No further than the Tower; and, as I guess, Upon the like devotion as yourselves, To gratulate the gentle princes there. Q. Eliz. Kind sister, thanks; we'll enter all to
Enter BRAKENBURY. And, in good time, here the lieutenant comes.Master lieutenant, pray you, by your leave, How doth the prince, and my young son of York?
Brak. Right well, dear madam : By your patience,
Q. Eliz. The king! who's that?
I mean, the lord protector. Q. Eliz. The lord protect him from that kingly
title! Hath he set bounds between their love, and me? I am their mother, who shall bar me from them?
Duch. I am their father's mother, I will see them. Anne. Their aunt I am in law, in love their mo
ther: . Then bring me to their sights; I'll bear thy blame, And take thy office from thee, on my peril.
Brak. No, madam, no, I may not leave it so; I am bound by oath, and therefore pardon me.”
And I'll salute your grace of York as mother,
[To the Duchess of Gloster. There to be crowned Richard's royal queen.
Q. Eliz. Ah, cut my lace asunder!
Anne. Despiteful tidings! O unpleasing news!
Dor. Be of good cheer :-Mother, how fares your
Duch. O ill-dispersing wind of misery!--
Stan. Come, madam, come; I in all haste was
Anne. And I with all unwillingness will go.
Q. Eliz. Go, go, poor soul, I envy not thy glory; To feed my humour, 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 wash'd from his
Q. Eliz. Poor heart, adieu ; I pity thy complaining.
Anne. Adieu, poor soul, that tak’st thy leave of it! Duch. Go thou to Richmond, and good fortune guide thee!-
[To Dorset. Go thou to Richard, and good angels tend thee!
[To Anne. Go thou to sanctuary, and good thoughts possess thee!
[TO Q. Elizabeth, 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. Q. Eliz. Stay yet; look back, with me, unto the
Tower.Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes, Whom envy hath immur'd within your walls ! Rough cradle for such little pretty ones ! Rude ragged nurse! old sullen play-fellow For tender princes, use my babies well! So foolish sorrow bids your stones farewell. [Exeunt.
A Room of State in the Palace. Flourish of trumpets. RICHARD, as king upon his
throne ; BUCKINGHAM, CATESBY, a Page, and Others. K. Rich. Stand all apart.-Cousin of Bucking
ham,Buck. My gracious sovereign. K. Rich. Give me thy band. Thus high, by thy