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第30章 Exeunt SCENE IV. Before the palace.(1)

Enter QUEEN MARGARET QUEEN MARGARET So, now prosperity begins to mellow And drop into the rotten mouth of death.

Here in these confines slily have I lurk'd, To watch the waning of mine adversaries.

A dire induction am I witness to, And will to France, hoping the consequence Will prove as bitter, black, and tragical.

Withdraw thee, wretched Margaret: who comes here?

Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH and the DUCHESS OF YORK QUEEN ELIZABETH Ah, my young princes! ah, my tender babes!

My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets!

If yet your gentle souls fly in the air And be not fix'd in doom perpetual, Hover about me with your airy wings And hear your mother's lamentation! QUEEN MARGARET Hover about her; say, that right for right Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night. DUCHESS OF YORK So many miseries have crazed my voice, That my woe-wearied tongue is mute and dumb, Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead? QUEEN MARGARET Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet.

Edward for Edward pays a dying debt. QUEEN ELIZABETH Wilt thou, O God, fly from such gentle lambs, And throw them in the entrails of the wolf?

When didst thou sleep when such a deed was done? QUEEN MARGARET When holy Harry died, and my sweet son. DUCHESS OF YORK Blind sight, dead life, poor mortal living ghost, Woe's scene, world's shame, grave's due by life usurp'd, Brief abstract and record of tedious days, Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth, Sitting down Unlawfully made drunk with innocents' blood! QUEEN ELIZABETH O, that thou wouldst as well afford a grave As thou canst yield a melancholy seat!

Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here.

O, who hath any cause to mourn but I?

Sitting down by her QUEEN MARGARET If ancient sorrow be most reverend, Give mine the benefit of seniory, And let my woes frown on the upper hand.

If sorrow can admit society, Sitting down with them Tell o'er your woes again by viewing mine:

I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him;

I had a Harry, till a Richard kill'd him:

Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him;

Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard killed him; DUCHESS OF YORK I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill him;

I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him. QUEEN MARGARET Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Richard kill'd him.

From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept A hell-hound that doth hunt us all to death:

That dog, that had his teeth before his eyes, To worry lambs and lap their gentle blood, That foul defacer of God's handiwork, That excellent grand tyrant of the earth, That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls, Thy womb let loose, to chase us to our graves.

O upright, just, and true-disposing God, How do I thank thee, that this carnal cur Preys on the issue of his mother's body, And makes her pew-fellow with others' moan! DUCHESS OF YORK O Harry's wife, triumph not in my woes!

God witness with me, I have wept for thine. QUEEN MARGARET Bear with me; I am hungry for revenge, And now I cloy me with beholding it.

Thy Edward he is dead, that stabb'd my Edward:

Thy other Edward dead, to quit my Edward;

Young York he is but boot, because both they Match not the high perfection of my loss:

Thy Clarence he is dead that kill'd my Edward;

And the beholders of this tragic play, The adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey, Untimely smother'd in their dusky graves.

Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer, Only reserved their factor, to buy souls And send them thither: but at hand, at hand, Ensues his piteous and unpitied end:

Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray.

To have him suddenly convey'd away.

Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I prey, That I may live to say, The dog is dead! QUEEN ELIZABETH O, thou didst prophesy the time would come That I should wish for thee to help me curse That bottled spider, that foul bunch-back'd toad! QUEEN MARGARET I call'd thee then vain flourish of my fortune;

I call'd thee then poor shadow, painted queen;

The presentation of but what I was;

The flattering index of a direful pageant;

One heaved a-high, to be hurl'd down below;

A mother only mock'd with two sweet babes;

A dream of what thou wert, a breath, a bubble, A sign of dignity, a garish flag, To be the aim of every dangerous shot, A queen in jest, only to fill the scene.

Where is thy husband now? where be thy brothers?

Where are thy children? wherein dost thou, joy?

Who sues to thee and cries 'God save the queen'?

Where be the bending peers that flatter'd thee?

Where be the thronging troops that follow'd thee?

Decline all this, and see what now thou art:

For happy wife, a most distressed widow;

For joyful mother, one that wails the name;

For queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care;

For one being sued to, one that humbly sues;

For one that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me;

For one being fear'd of all, now fearing one;

For one commanding all, obey'd of none.

Thus hath the course of justice wheel'd about, And left thee but a very prey to time;

Having no more but thought of what thou wert, To torture thee the more, being what thou art.

Thou didst usurp my place, and dost thou not Usurp the just proportion of my sorrow?

Now thy proud neck bears half my burthen'd yoke;

From which even here I slip my weary neck, And leave the burthen of it all on thee.

Farewell, York's wife, and queen of sad mischance:

These English woes will make me smile in France. QUEEN ELIZABETH O thou well skill'd in curses, stay awhile, And teach me how to curse mine enemies! QUEEN MARGARET Forbear to sleep the nights, and fast the days;

Compare dead happiness with living woe;

Think that thy babes were fairer than they were, And he that slew them fouler than he is:

Bettering thy loss makes the bad causer worse:

Revolving this will teach thee how to curse. QUEEN ELIZABETH My words are dull; O, quicken them with thine! QUEEN MARGARET Thy woes will make them sharp, and pierce like mine.

Exit DUCHESS OF YORK Why should calamity be full of words? QUEEN ELIZABETH Windy attorneys to their client woes, Airy succeeders of intestate joys, Poor breathing orators of miseries!

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