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Best fittech my Degree, or your Condition.
For not to answer, you might haply think
Tongue-ty'd Ambition, not replying, yielded
To bear the Golden Yoak of Soveraignty,
Which fondly you would here impose on me.
If to reprove you for this suit of yours,
So season'd with your faithful Love to me,
Then on the other side I check'd my Friends.
Therefore to speak, and to avoid the first,
And then in speaking, not to incur the last,
Definitively thus I answer you.
Your Love deserves my thanks, but my desert
Unmeritable, shuns your high request.
First, if all Oftacles were cut away,
And that my Path were even to the Crown,
As the ripe Revenue, and due of Birth;
Yet so much is my poverty of Spirit,
So mighty, and to many my Defects,
Triat I would rather hide me from my Greatness,
Being a Bark to brook no mighty Sea;
Than in my Greatness covet to be hid,
And in the vapour of my Glory smother'd.
But God be thank'd, there is no need of me,
And much I need to help you, were there need:
The Royal Tree hath left us Royal Fruit,
Which mellow'd by the stealing hours of time,
Will well become the Seat of Majesty,
And make us, no doubt, happy by his Reign.
On him I lay that, you would lay on me,
The Right and Fortune of his happy Stars,
Which God defend that I should wring from him.

Buck. My Lord, this argues Conscience in your Grace,
But the respe&s thereof are nice, and trivial,
All Circumstances well considered.
You say, that Edward is your Brother's Son,
So say we too, but not by Edward's Wife:
For first was he contract to Lady Lucy,
Your Mother lives a Witness to his Vow,
And afterward by Substitute betroth'd
To Bona, Sister to the King of France.
Thiefe both put off, a poor Petitioner,

A Care-crazd Mother to a many Sons,
A Beauty-waining, and distressed Widow,
Even in the Afternoon of her best Day,
Made prize and purchase of his wanton Eye,
Seduc'd the pitch, and height of his Degree,
To base Declension, and loath'd Bigamy.
By her, in his unlawful Bed, he got
This Edward, whom our Manners call the Prince.
More bitterly could I expoftulate,
Save that for reverence of some alive,
I give a sparing limit to my Tongue.
Then, good my Lord, take to your Royal Self
This proffer'd benefit of Dignity:
If not to bless us, and the Land withal,
Yet to draw forth


noble Ancestry From the corruption of abusing times, Unto a Lineal true derived course.

Mayor. Do, good my Lord, your Citizens intrcat you.
Buck. Refuse not, mighty Lord, this proffer'd Love.
Cates. O make them joyful, grant their lawful Suit..

Glo. Alas, why would you heap this Care on me?
I am unfit for State, and Majesty:
I do beseech


take ic not amiss,
I cannot, nor I will not yield to you.

you refuse it, as in love and zeal,
Loath to depose the Child your Brother's Son,
As well we know your tenderness of Heart,
And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse,
Which we have noted in you to your Kindred,
And equally indeed to all Estates:
Yer know, where you accept our Suit, or no,
Your Brother's Son shall never reign our King,
But we will plant some other in the Throne,
To che disgrace and down-fall of your House :
And in this resolution here we leave you.
Come Citizens, we will intreat no more.

[ Exeunt. Cates, Call him again, sweet Prince, accept their Suit: If you deny them, all the Land will rue it.

Glo. Will you enforce me to a World of Cares? Call them again, I am not made of Stones,


Buck. If

But penetrable to your kind Entreaties,
Albeit against my Conscience and my Soul.

Enter Buekingham and the rest.
Cousin of Buckingham, and sage, grave Men,
Since you will buckle Fortune on my Back,
To bear her Burthen, whether, I will or no,
I must have patience to endure the Load:
But if black Scandal, or foul-fac'd Reproach,
Attend the sequel of your Impofition,
Your meer enforcement shall acquittance me
From all the impure blots and stains thereof,
For God doth know, and you may partly see,
How far I am from the desire of this.

Mayor. God bless your Grace, we see it, and will say it.
Glo. In saying so, you shall but say the truth.

Buck. Then I salute you with this Royal Title,
Long live King Richard, England's worthy King.

All. Amen.
Buck. To morrow may it please you to be Crown'd.
Glo. Even when you please, for you will have it fo.
Buck. To morrow then we will attend

your Grace, And so most joyfully we take our leave.

Glo. Come, let us to our holy Work again. Farewel my Cousins, farewel gentle Friends. [Exeunt.



Enter the Queen, Anne Dutchess of Gloucester, the Dutchefs

of York, and Marquess of Dorset. Dutch. HO meets us here?

Led in the Hand of her kind Aunt of Glofter?
Now, for my Life, she's wandring to the Tower, ,
On pure Heart's Love, to greet the tender Prince.
Daughter, well met.

Anne. God give your Graces both a happy
And a joyful time of Day.


Queen. As much to you, good Sister; whither away?

Anne. No farther than the Tower, and as I guess,
Upon the like devo:ion as your selves,
To gratulate the gentle Princes there.
Queen. Kind Sister thanks, we'll enter all together.

Enter the Lieutenant.
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?

Lieu. Right wel!, dear Madam; by your patience,
I may not suffer you to visit them;
The King hath strictly charg’d the contrary.

Queen. The King? who's that?
Lieu. I mean the Lord Protector.

Queen. The Lord protet him from that Kingly Title:
Hath he set bounds between their love, and me?
I am their Mother, who shall bar me from them?

Durch. I am their Father's Mother, I will see them.

Anne. Their Aunt I am in Law, in love their Mother Then bring me to their sights, I'll bear thy blame, And take thy Office from thee, on my peril.

Lieu. No, Madam, no, I may not leave it so: Í am bound by Oath, and therefore pardon me.

[Exit Lieutenant.

Enter Stanley.
· Stan. Let me but meet you Ladies one hour hence,
And I'll salute your Grace of York as Mother,
And reverend looker on of two fair Queens.
Come Madam, you must straight to Westminster,
There to be Crowned Richard's Royal Queen.

Queen. Ah, cut my.Lace alunder,
That my pent Heart may have some scope to beat,
Or elle I swoon with this dead-killing News.

Anne. Despightful ridings, O. ui pleasing News.
Dors. Be of good Chear: Mother, how fares your Grace,

Queen. O Dorset, speak not to me, get thee gone,
Death and Destruction dogs thee at thy heels,
Thy Mother's Name is ominous to Children.
If thou wilt out-frip Dea:h, go cross the Seas,
And live with Richmond, from the reach of Hell.
Go hye thee, hye thee from this Slaughter. house;
Vol. IV.


Left thou increase the number of the dead,
And make nie die the thrall of Margaret's Curse,
Nor Mother, Wife, nor England's counted Queen.

Stan, Full of wise Care is this your Counsel, Madari;
Take all the swift advantage of the Hours;
You shall have Letters from me to my Son,
In your behalf, to meet you on the way:
Be not ta’en tardy by unwise delay.

Durch. O ill dispersing Wind of Misery,
O my accursed Womb, the Bed of Death:
A Cockatrice haft thou hatch'd to the World,
Whose unavoided Eye is Murtherous.

Stan. Come, Madam, come, I in all haste was sent.

Anne. And I with all unwillingness will go.
O would to God, that the inclusive Verge
of Golden Metal, that must round my Brow,
Were red hot Steel, to fear me to the Brains.
Anointed let me be with deadly Venom,
And die e'er Men can say, God save the Queen.

Queer. Go, go, poor Soul, I envy not thy Glory,
To feed my humour wish thy self no harm.

Anne. No! why? When he that is my Husband now, Came to me, as I follow'd Henry's Coarse, When scarce the Blood was well wach'd from his Hands, Which issued from my other Angel Husband, And that dear Saint, which then I weeping follow'd: O when, I say, I look'd on Richard's Face, This was my Wilh; Be chou, quoth I, accurst, For making me, so young, so old a Widow: And when thou wed'ft, let Sorrow haunt thy Bed; And be thy Wife, if any be so mad, Mre miserable, by the Life of thee, Than thou hast made me, by my dear Lord's Death. Loe, e'er I can repeat this Curse again, Within so small a time, my Woman's Heart Grossly grew captive to his Honey words, And prov'd the subject of mine own Soul's Curse; Which hitherto hath held mine Eyes from reft: For never yer one hour in his Bed Did I enjoy the golden dew of Sleep. But with his cimorous Dreams was still awak'd.


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