University of Virginia Library

SCENE the Second.

Enter Queen in Mourning attended.
Qu.
This way the King will come, this is the way
To Julius Cæsar's ill erected Tow'r,
To whose flint Bosom my dear injur'd Lord
Is deem'd a Pris'ner by proud Bullingbrook!
Here let us rest, if this rebellious Earth
Have any resting for her true King's Queen.
[Sits down.
This Garb no less befits our present state,
Than richest Tissue did our Bridal day;
Thus dead in Honour, my Lord and I
Officiate at our own sad Funeral.

Enter King Richard guarded, seeing the Queen, starts, she at the sight of him, after a pause he speaks.
King.
Give grief of a Tongue, art thou not Isabel,
The faithful Wife of the unfortunate Richard?

Qu.
O! can I speak and live? Yet silence gives
More tort'ring Death! O thou King Richard's Tomb,
And not King Richard!—On thy sacred Face
I see the shameful Marks of fowlest usage;
Thy Royal Cheeks soil'd and besmear'd with Dust,
Foul Rubbish lodg'd in thy anointed Locks;
O thou dishonour'd Flower of Majesty!
Lean on my Brest whilst I dissolve to Dew,
And wash thee fair agen with Tears of Love.

King.
Join not with Grief fair Innocence
To make my end more wretched, learn dear Saint
To think our former State a happy Dream,
From which we wake into this true distress!
Thou most distrest, most Virtuous of thy sex,
Go Cloyster thee in some Religious house,
This vicious World and I can nere deserve thee!
For Shrines and Altars keep keep those precious Tears,
Nor shed that heav'nly Dew on Land accurst.

Lad.
Never did sorrow triumph thus before.

King.
Convey thee hence to France,
Think I am Dead, and that ev'n now thou tak'st
As from my Death-bed the last living leave.
In Winters tedious Nights sit by the fire,
With good Old Matrons, let them tell thee Tales
Of woful Ages long ago betide,
And ere thou bid good Night, to quit their Griefs,
Tell thou the lamentable fall of Me!
And send the Hearers weeping to their Beds.

Qu.
Rob not my Virtue of its dearest Triumph!
Love like the Dolphin shews it self in storms:
This is the Season for my Truth to prove,
That I was worthy to be Richard's Wife!
And wou'd you now command me from your Presence,
Who then shall lull your raging Griefs asleep,
And wing the hours of dull Imprisonment?

King.
O my afflicted Heart!

Qu.
No, with my Lord i'll be a Pris'ner too,
Where my officious Love shall serve him with
Such ready care, that he shall think he has
His num'rous Train of waiters round him still;
With wond'rous Story's wee'll beguile the day,
Despise the World and Triumph over fortune,
Laugh at fantastic life and die together.

King.
Now Heaven I thank thee, all my Griefs are paid!
I've lost a single frail uncertain Crown,
And found a Virtue Richer than the World:
Yes, Bird of Paradise, wee'll pearch together,
Sing in our Cage, and make our Cell a Grove.

Enter Northumberland, Guards.
North.
My Lord, King Bullingbrook has chang'd his Orders,
You must to Pomfrett Castle, not to th' Tower;
And for you, Madam, he has given Command
That you be instantly convey'd to France.

King.
Must I to Pomfrett, and my Queen to France?
Patience is stale, and I am weary ont't,
Blood, Fire, rank Leprosies and blewest Plagues—

Qu.
But This was wanting to compleat our Woe.

King.
Northumberland Thou Ladder by whose Aid
The mounting Bullingbrook ascends my Throne,
The Time shall come when foul Sin gath'ring Head
Shall break in to Corruption, Thou shalt think,
Tho he divide the Realm and give thee half,
It is too little, helping him to All:
He too shall think that thou which knewst the Way
To plant unrightful Kings, wilt know agen
To cast him from the Throne he has Usurpt:
The Love of wicked Friends converts to Fear,
That Fear to Hate, that still concludes in Death.

North.
My guilt be on my head, so to our business.
Take leave and part.

King.
Doubly Divorc't! foul Fiends ye violate
A two-fold Marriage, 'twixt my Crown and me,
And then betwixt me and my tender Wife;
Oh Isabel, oh my unfortunate Fair,
Let me unkiss the Oath that bound our Loves,
And yet not so, for with a Kiss 'twas made.
Part us Northumberland, me towards the North
Where shiv'ring Cold and Sickness pines the Clime;
My Queen to France, from whence set forth in Pomp
She hither came, deckt like the blooming May,
Sent back like weeping Winter stript and Bare.

Qu.
For ever will I clasp these sacred Knees,
Tear up my Brest and bind them to my Heart!
Northumberland allow me one short minute
To yield my Life and Woes in one Embrace.
One Minute will suffice.

North.
Force her away.

King.
Permit yet once our Death-cold Lips to joyn,
Permit a Kiss that must Divorce for ever,
I'll ravish yet one more, farewell my Love!
My Royal Constant Dear farewel for ever!
Give Sorrow Speech, and let thy Farewell come,
Mine speaks the Voice of Death, but Thine is Dumb.

Ex. Guarded several Ways.