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The Tower, the Tower.
QUEEN MARGARET:
O Ned, sweet Ned! speak to thy mother, boy!
Canst thou not speak? O traitors! murderers!
They that stabb'd Caesar shed no blood at all,
Did not offend, nor were not worthy blame,
If this foul deed were by to equal it:
He was a man; this, in respect, a child:
And men ne'er spend their fury on a child.
What's worse than murderer, that I may name it?
No, no, my heart will burst, and if I speak:
And I will speak, that so my heart may burst.
Butchers and villains! bloody cannibals!
How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp'd!
You have no children, butchers! if you had,
The thought of them would have stirr'd up remorse:
But if you ever chance to have a child,
Look in his youth to have him so cut off
As, deathmen, you have rid this sweet young prince!
KING EDWARD IV:
Away with her; go, bear her hence perforce.
QUEEN MARGARET:
Nay, never bear me hence, dispatch me here,
Here sheathe thy sword, I'll pardon thee my death:
What, wilt thou not? then, Clarence, do it thou.
CLARENCE:
By heaven, I will not do thee so much ease.
QUEEN MARGARET:
Good Clarence, do; sweet Clarence, do thou do it.
CLARENCE:
Didst thou not hear me swear I would not do it?
QUEEN MARGARET:
Ay, but thou usest to forswear thyself:
'Twas sin before, but now 'tis charity.
What, wilt thou not? Where is that devil's butcher,
Hard-favour'd Richard? Richard, where art thou?
Thou art not here: murder is thy alms-deed;
Petitioners for blood thou ne'er put'st back.
KING EDWARD IV:
Away, I say; I charge ye, bear her hence.
QUEEN MARGARET:
So come to you and yours, as to this Prince!
KING EDWARD IV:
Where's Richard gone?
CLARENCE:
To London, all in post; and, as I guess,
To make a bloody supper in the Tower.
KING EDWARD IV:
He's sudden, if a thing comes in his head.
Now march we hence: discharge the common sort
With pay and thanks, and let's away to London
And see our gentle queen how well she fares:
By this, I hope, she hath a son for me.
3 KING HENRY VI
GLOUCESTER:
Good day, my lord. What, at your book so hard?
KING HENRY VI:
Ay, my good lord:--my lord, I should say rather;
'Tis sin to flatter; 'good' was little better:
'Good Gloucester' and 'good devil' were alike,
And both preposterous; therefore, not 'good lord.'
GLOUCESTER:
Sirrah, leave us to ourselves: we must confer.
KING HENRY VI:
So flies the reckless shepherd from the wolf;
So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece
And next his throat unto the butcher's knife.
What scene of death hath Roscius now to act?
GLOUCESTER:
Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind;
The thief doth fear each bush an officer.
KING HENRY VI:
The bird that hath been limed in a bush,
With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush;
And I, the hapless male to one sweet bird,
Have now the fatal object in my eye
Where my poor young was limed, was caught and kill'd.
GLOUCESTER:
Why, what a peevish fool was that of Crete,
That taught his son the office of a fowl!
An yet, for all his wings, the fool was drown'd.