London. Before the Tower.
 Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH, DUCHESS OF YORK, MARQUIS DORSET at one door;
 LADY ANNE with CLARENCE'S DAUGHTER at another door.

Duchess	Who meets us here? My niece Plantagenet,
	Led in the hand of her kind aunt of Gloucester?
	Now, for my life, she's wand'ring to the Tower,
	On pure heart's love, to greet the tender prince.
	Daughter, well met.

Lady Anne							God give your graces both
	A happy and a joyful time of day.

Elizabeth	As much to you, good sister. Whither away?

Lady Anne	No farther than the Tower, and - as I guess,
	Upon the like devotion as yourselves-
	To gratulate the gentle princes there.

Elizabeth	Kind sister, thanks; we'll enter all together.

                     Enter the Lieutenant BRAKENBURY.

	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?

Brakenbury	Right well, dear madam. By your patience,
	I may not suffer you to visit them;
	The king hath strictly charged the contrary.

Elizabeth	The king? Who's that?

Brakenbury								I mean the Lord Protector.

Elizabeth	The Lord protect him from that kingly title.
	Hath he set bounds between their love and me?
	I am their mother - who shall bar me from them?

Duchess	I am their father's mother; I will see them.

Lady 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.

Brakenbury	No, madam, no; I may not leave it so:
	I am bound by oath, and therefore pardon me.
														[Exit.
                           Enter LORD STANLEY.

Stanley	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.
	[To ANNE.] Come, madam, you must straight to Westminster,
	There to be crownd Richard's royal queen.

Elizabeth	Ah, cut my lace asunder,
	That my pent heart may have some scope to beat,
	Or else I swoon with this dead-killing news.

Lady Anne	Despiteful tidings! O unpleasing news!

Dorset	Be of good cheer. Mother, how fares your grace?

Elizabeth	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 outstrip death, go cross the seas,
	And live with Richmond, from the reach of hell.
	Go, hie thee, hie thee from this slaughterhouse,
	Lest thou increase the number of the dead,
	And make me die the thrall of Margaret's curse:
	Nor mother, wife, nor England's counted queen.

Stanley	Full of wise care is this your counsel, madam.
	[To DORSET.] 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.

Duchess	O ill-dispersing wind of misery!
	O my accursd womb! - the bed of death-
	A cockatrice hast thou hatched to the world,
	Whose unavoided eye is murderous.

Stanley	Come, madam, come; I in all haste was sent.

Lady 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 sear me to the brains!
	Anointed let me be with deadly venom,
	And die ere men can say "God save the queen".

Elizabeth	Go, go. Poor soul, I envy not thy glory;
	To feed my humour, wish thyself no harm.

Lady Anne	No: why? When he that is my husband now
	Came to me as I followed Henry's corse,
	When scarce the blood was well washed from his hands
	Which issued from my other angel husband
	And that dear saint which then I weeping followed-
	O when, I say, I looked on Richard's face
	This was my wish: "Be thou" quoth I "accursed
	For making me, so young, so old a widow;
	And when thou wedd'st, let sorrow haunt thy bed;
	And be thy wife, if any be so mad,
	More miserable by the life of thee
	Than thou hast made me by my dear lord's death".
	Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again,
	- Within so small a time - my woman's heart
	Grossly grew captive to his honey words
	And proved the subject of mine own soul's curse,
	Which hitherto hath held my eyes from rest:
	For never yet one hour in his bed
	Did I enjoy the golden dew of sleep,
	But with his timorous dreams was still awaked.
	Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick,
	And will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me.

Elizabeth	Poor heart, adieu; I pity thy complaining.

Lady Anne	No more than with my soul I mourn for yours.

Dorset	Farewell, thou woeful welcomer of glory.

Lady Anne	Adieu, poor soul, that tak'st thy leave of it.

Duchess	[To DORSET.]
	Go thou to Richmond - and good fortune guide thee!
	[To ANNE.]
	Go thou to Richard - and good angels tend thee!
	[To ELIZABETH.]
	Go thou to sanctuary - and good thoughts possess thee!
	I to my grave - where peace and rest lie with me!
	Eighty odd years of sorrow have I seen,
	And each hour's joy wracked with a week of teen.

Elizabeth	Stay, yet look back with me unto the Tower.
	Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes
	Whom envy hath immured within your walls.
	Rough cradle for such little pretty ones,
	Rude ragged nurse, old sullen playfellow
	For tender princes - use my babies well;
	So foolish sorrow bids your stones farewell.
														[Exeunt.
