KING EDWARD.
What, doth she swoon? Use means for her recovery.
RICHARD.
Clarence, excuse me to the King my brother.
I’ll hence to London on a serious matter.
Ere ye come there, be sure to hear some news.
GEORGE.
What? What?
RICHARD.
The Tower, the Tower!
[Exit.]
QUEEN MARGARET.
O Ned, sweet Ned, speak to thy mother, boy.
Canst thou not speak? O traitors, murderers!
They that stabbed Caesar shed no blood at all,
Did not offend, nor were not worthy blame,
If this foul deed were by to equal it.
He was a man; this, in respect, a child,
And men ne’er spend their fury on a child.
What’s worse than murderer, that I may name it?
No, no, my heart will burst an if I speak;
And I will speak, that so my heart may burst.
Butchers and villains, bloody cannibals!
How sweet a plant have you untimely cropped!
You have no children, butchers; if you had,
The thought of them would have stirred up remorse.
But if you ever chance to have a child,
Look in his youth to have him so cut off
As, deathsmen, you have rid this sweet young prince!
KING EDWARD.
Away with her; go bear her hence perforce.
QUEEN MARGARET.
Nay, never bear me hence, dispatch me here.
Here sheathe thy sword; I’ll pardon thee my death.
What, wilt thou not? Then, Clarence, do it thou.
GEORGE.
By heaven, I will not do thee so much ease.
QUEEN MARGARET.
Good Clarence, do; sweet Clarence, do thou do it.