QUEEN MARGARET

I called thee then ‘vain flourish of my fortune’;

I called 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 hurled down below,

A mother only mocked with two fair babes,

A dream of what thou wast, a garish flag

To be the aim of every dangerous shot,

A sign of dignity, a breath, a bubble,

A queen in jest, only to fill the scene.

Where is thy husband now? Where be thy brothers?

Where are thy two sons? Wherein dost thou joy?

Who sues, and kneels, and says ‘God save the Queen’?

Where be the bending peers that flattered thee?

Where be the thronging troops that followed 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, crowned with care;

For one being sued to, one that humbly sues;

For she that scorned at me, now scorned of me;

For she being feared of all, now fearing one;

For she commanding all, obeyed of none.

Thus hath the course of justice whirled 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 burdened yoke—

From which, even here, I slip my weary head,

And leave the burden of it all on thee.

Farewell, York’s wife, and queen of sad mischance.

These English woes shall make me smile in France.

QUEEN ELIZABETH (rising)

O thou, well skilled in curses, stay a while,

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 sweeter than they were,

And he that slew them fouler than he is.

Bett’ring 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 recorders of intestate joys,

Poor breathing orators of miseries.

Let them have scope. Though what they will impart

Help nothing else, yet do they ease the heart.

DUCHESS OF YORK

If so, then be not tongue-tied; go with me,

And in the breath of bitter words let’s smother

My damned son, that thy two sweet sons smothered.

A march within

The trumpet sounds. Be copious in exclaims.

Enter King Richard and his train marching with drummers and trumpeters⌉

KING RICHARD

Who intercepts me in my expedition?

DUCHESS OF YORK

O, she that might have intercepted thee,

By strangling thee in her accursed womb,

From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast done.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

Hid’st thou that forehead with a golden crown,

Where should be branded—if that right were right—

The slaughter of the prince that owed that crown,

And the dire death of my poor sons and brothers?

Tell me, thou villain-slave, where are my children?

DUCHESS OF YORK

Thou toad, thou toad, where is thy brother Clarence?

And little Ned Plantagenet his son?

QUEEN ELIZABETH

Where is the gentle Rivers, Vaughan, Gray?

DUCHESS OF YORK Where is kind Hastings?

KING RICHARD (to his train)

A flourish, trumpets! Strike alarum, drums!

Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women

Rail on the Lord’s anointed. Strike, I say!

Flourish. Alarums

(To the women) Either be patient and entreat me fair,

Or with the clamorous report of war

Thus will I drown your exclamations.

DUCHESS OF YORK Art thou my son?

KING RICHARD

Ay, I thank God, my father, and yourself.

DUCHESS OF YORK

Then patiently hear my impatience.

KING RICHARD

Madam, I have a touch of your condition,

That cannot brook the accent of reproof.

DUCHESS OF YORK

O let me speak!

KING RICHARD

Do, then; but I’ll not hear.

DUCHESS OF YORK

I will be mild and gentle in my words.

KING RICHARD

And brief, good mother, for I am in haste.

DUCHESS OF YORK

Art thou so hasty? I have stayed for thee,

God knows, in torment and in agony—

KING RICHARD

And came I not at last to comfort you?

DUCHESS OF YORK

No, by the Holy Rood, thou know‘st it well.

Thou cam’st on earth to make the earth my hell.

A grievous burden was thy birth to me;

Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy;

Thy schooldays frightful, desp’rate, wild, and furious;

Thy prime of manhood daring, bold, and venturous;

Thy age confirmed, proud, subtle, sly, and bloody;

More mild, but yet more harmful; kind in hatred.

What comfortable hour canst thou name

That ever graced me in thy company?

KING RICHARD

Faith, none but Humphrey Hewer, that called your grace

To breakfast once, forth of my company.

If I be so disgracious in your eye,

Let me march on, and not offend you, madam.—