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121

SCENE VI.

To Gloster enter Ghosts.
Ghost of Prince Edward.
Let me not sit upon thy soul to-morrow.
I do misdoubt me 'twas another's hand
That stabbed me in the field by Tewkesbury!

Ghost of Henry VI.
When I was mortal, my anointed body
By some one was punched full of deadly holes;
But who that puncher is who punched with care
Is, bless us all! a very different thing.

Ghosts of Rivers, Vaughan, Grey, and a Number of Other Ghosts.
We come to offer our apologies,
And to regret that we were much misled
By rumour, painted full of fiery tongues.
'Tis true there was a lot of killing done,
And massacre made merry round the throne;
But liars were the Tudor chroniclers,
Especially the lewd Archbishop Morton.

Gloster.
It was not I who did the thing ye wot of?

Ghosts.
Apparently it was not! Fare ye well!

[Exeunt Ghosts.

122

Gloster.
Richard's himself again! Now to the field!
A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse!
For there's no way of getting over it,
That, after doing prodigies of valour,
Myself was foully slain on Bosworth Field,
Unless, indeed, 'tis I was Perkin Warbeck!
A view not broached by Mr. Clements Markham,
Yet tenable, at least, in magazines,
And among modern speculations.
A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse!

[Exit fighting.
Curtain.