Earl Rivers

Queen Elizabeth, to Queen Margaret
Thus have you breathed your curse against yourself.
Queen Margaret
Poor painted queen, vain flourish of my fortune,
Why strew’st thou sugar on that bottled spider,
Whose deadly web ensnareth thee about?
Fool, fool, thou whet’st a knife to kill thyself.
The day will come that thou shalt wish for me
To help thee curse this poisonous bunch-backed toad.
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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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