University of Virginia Library

SCENE The Second.

A Garden.
Queen Dutches of York, and other Ladies.
Queen.
Our Uncle York's delay brings fresh suspition,
That we are Pris'ners in a larger Chain;
Besides I fear that our Intelligence
Is Smooth'd and Tamper'd ere it reach our Ear.

Dutch.
Our Servants wear a doubtful Countenance,
Struck with a gen'ral fear whilst they observe
Fresh Prodigies start forth with ev'ry Hour.
The frighted Springs retreat to Earth agen,
The Seasons change their Courses, as the Year
Had found some Months asleep and leapt them over.

Qu.
Here come the Gardiners; let us step aside,
They'l talk of State, for every one do's so
Before a Change, and dullest Animals
Have oft the earliest sense of Alterations.

Enter Gardiner and Servant.
Gard.
Support those Vines, and Bind those Peaches up,
Then like an Executioner
Cut off the Heads of Sprigs that grow too fast,
And look too lofty in our Commonwealth,
All must be even in our Government.
But now we speak of Execution,

2.
Are Bushie Green and th' Earl of Wiltshire Dead?

Serv.
By Bullingbrook's Command they have lost their Heads;
The King is Landed, but it seems too late
To Head the Forces rais'd by Salisbury
Who had disperst themselves ere he arriv'd.

Qu.
Then all our fears are true, we are betray'd.

Dutch.
Patience dear Madam, we may get hear further.

Serv.
Think you the King will be depos'd?

Gard.
Deprest he is already, and 'tis fear'd
His fortune will decline from bad to worse,
Do what we can, you see our Lawrels wither,
Our Sun-flowers all are blasted, streams run backward,
These Prodigies forbode some dreadful change,
'Tis thought at last the King will be depos'd.

Queen.
I'm prest to death with silence—boding Peazant,
More senseless then the Plants or Earth thou tend'st,
Darst thou divine the downfall of a King?
Old Adams likeness set to dress this Garden,
What Eve, what Serpent has seduc'd thy soul,
To prophesie this second fall of Man?

Gard.
Pardon me Madam, little joy have I
To breath this News, but fear you'll find 'em true.

Queen.
Come Ladies, let us post to meet the King,
This Scretch-Owl yet amongst his boding cries,
Has sung the glad news of the Kings Arrival!
Which otherwise we were forbid to know;
Thou fear'st lest York shou'd meet with Bushies Fate,
Suspend thy Tears, the heavy time may come,
That thou wilt blush to see thy York alive;
If Richard fall, 'tis Treason to survive.

Exeunt