Dorset

Queen Margaret
Peace, Master Marquess, you are malapert.
Your fire-new stamp of honor is scarce current.
O, that your young nobility could judge
What ’twere to lose it and be miserable!
They that stand high have many blasts to shake them,
And if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces.

They that stand high have many blasts to shake them,
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Boy, to Queen Elizabeth
Ah, aunt, you wept not for our father’s death.
How can we aid you with our kindred tears?
Daughter, to Queen Elizabeth
Our fatherless distress was left unmoaned.
Your widow-dolor likewise be unwept!

Alas, I am the mother of these griefs.

Queen Elizabeth
Give me no help in lamentation.
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Stanley, to Anne
Come, madam, come. I in all haste was sent.
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,
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