SCENE I. Salisbury. An open place.
[Enter the Sheriff and Guard, with BUCKINGHAM, led to execution.]
Will not King Richard let me speak with him?
No, my good lord; therefore be patient.
Hastings, and Edward's children, Grey, and Rivers,
Holy King Henry, and thy fair son Edward,
Vaughan, and all that have miscarried
By underhand corrupted foul injustice, —
If that your moody discontented souls
Do through the clouds behold this present hour,
Even for revenge mock my destruction! —
This is All-Souls' day, fellow, is it not?
It is, my lord.
Why, then All-Souls' day is my body's doomsday.
This is the day which in King Edward's time
I wish'd might fall on me, when I was found
False to his children and his wife's allies;
This is the day wherein I wish'd to fall
By the false faith of him whom most I trusted;
This, this All-Souls' day to my fearful soul
Is the determin'd respite of my wrongs:
That high All-Seer which I dallied with
Hath turn'd my feigned prayer on my head
And given in earnest what I begg'd in jest.
Thus doth He force the swords of wicked men
To turn their own points in their masters' bosoms:
Thus Margaret's curse falls heavy on my neck, —
"When he," quoth she, "shall split thy heart with sorrow,
Remember Margaret was a prophetess." —
Come lead me, officers, to the block of shame;
Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame.