--------------------------------------------
. . . Richard the Third (Folio 1, 1623)
. . . . Actus Quartus.
.
Der. Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from me,
. That in the stye of the most deadly Bore,
. My Sonne George Stanley is frankt vp in hold:
. If I reuolt, off goes yong Georges head,
. The feare of that, holds off my present ayde.
. So get thee gone: commend me to thy Lord.
. Withall say, that the Queene hath heartily consented
. He should espouse Elizabeth hir daughter.
. But tell me, where is Princely Richmond now?
.
Chri. At Penbroke, or at Hertford West in Wales.
.
Der. What men of Name resort to him.
. Chri, Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned Souldier,
. Sir Gilbert Talbot, Sir William Stanley,
. Oxford, redoubted Pembroke, Sir Iames Blunt,
. And Rice ap Thomas, with a valiant Crew,
. And many other of great name and wort[H]:
. And [T]owa[R]ds L[O]ndo[N] do [TH]ey bend their power,
. If by the way they be not fought withall.
.
Der. Well hye thee to thy Lord: I kisse his hand,
. My Letter will resolue him of my minde.
. Farewell. Exeunt
........................................................
. . . . Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
. Enter Buckingham with Halberds, led to Execution.
.
Buc. Will not King Richard let me speake with him?
.
Sher. No my good Lord, therefore be patient.
.
Buc. Hastings, and Edwards children, Gray & Riuers,
. Holy King Henry, and thy faire Sonne Edward,
. Vaughan, and all that haue miscarried
. By vnder-hand corrupted foule iniustice,
. If that your moody discontented soules,
. Do through the clowds behold this present houre,
. Euen for reuenge mocke my destruction.
. This is All-soules day (Fellow) is it not?
.
Sher. It is.
.
Buc. Why then Al-soules day, is my bodies doomsday
. This is the day, which in King Edwards time
. I wish'd might fall on {M}e, when I was found
. False to his Children, and his Wiues Allies.
. This is the d{A}y, wherein I wisht to fall
. By the false Faith of him whom most I trusted.
. Thi{S}, this All-soules day to my fearfull Soule,
. Is the determin'd respit of my wr{O}ngs:
. That high All-seer, which I dallied with,
. Hath turn'd my fained Prayer o{N} my head,
. And giuen in earnest, what I begg'd in iest.
. Thus doth he force the swords of wicked men
. To turne their owne points in their Masters bosomes.
. Thus Margarets curse falles heauy on my necke:
. When he (quoth she) shall split thy heart with sorrow,
. Remember Margaret was a Prophetesse:
. Come leade me Officers to the blocke of shame,
. Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame. -------------------------------------------------------
Art Neuendorffer

--- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
* Origin: fsxNet Usenet Gateway (21:1/5)