Rich. Haue done thy Charme, y hateful wither'd Hagge

         Q.M. And leaue out thee? stay Dog, for y shalt heare me.

      If Heauen haue any grieuous plague in store,

      Exceeding those that I can wish vpon thee,

      O let them keepe it, till thy sinnes be ripe,

      And then hurle downe their indignation

      On thee, the troubler of the poore Worlds peace.

      The Worme of Conscience still begnaw thy Soule,

      Thy Friends suspect for Traytors while thou liu'st,

      And take deepe Traytors for thy dearest Friends:

      No sleepe close vp that deadly Eye of thine,

      Vnlesse it be while some tormenting Dreame

      Affrights thee with a Hell of ougly Deuills.

      Thou eluish mark'd, abortiue rooting Hogge,

      Thou that wast seal'd in thy Natiuitie

      The slaue of Nature, and the Sonne of Hell:

      Thou slander of thy heauie Mothers Wombe,

      Thou loathed Issue of thy Fathers Loynes,

      Thou Ragge of Honor, thou detested-

        Rich. Margaret

      Q.M. Richard

      Rich. Ha

      Q.M. I call thee not

         Rich. I cry thee mercie then: for I did thinke,

      That thou hadst call'd me all these bitter names

         Q.M. Why so I did, but look'd for no reply.

      Oh let me make the Period to my Curse

      Rich. 'Tis done by me and ends in Margaret

      Qu. Thus haue you breath'd your Curse against your self

         Q.M. Poore painted Queen, vain flourish of my fortune,

      Why strew'st thou Sugar on that Bottel'd Spider,

      Whose deadly Web ensnareth thee about?

      Foole, foole, thou whet'st a Knife to kill thy selfe:

      The day will come, that thou shalt wish for me,

      To helpe thee curse this poysonous Bunch-backt Toade

         Hast. False boding Woman, end thy frantick Curse,

      Least to thy harme, thou moue our patience

      Q.M. Foule shame vpon you, you haue all mou'd mine

      Ri. Were you wel seru'd, you would be taught your duty

         Q.M. To serue me well, you all should do me duty,

      Teach me to be your Queene, and you my Subiects:

      O serue me well, and teach your selues that duty

      Dors. Dispute not with her, shee is lunaticke

         Q.M. Peace Master Marquesse, you are malapert,

      Your fire-new stampe of Honor is scarce currant.

      O that your yong Nobility could iudge

      What 'twere to lose it, and be miserable.

      They that stand high, haue many blasts to shake them,

      And if they fall, they dash themselues to peeces

      Rich. Good counsaile marry, learne it, learne it Marquesse

      Dor. It touches you my Lord, as much as me

         Rich. I, and much more: but I was borne so high:

      Our ayerie buildeth in the Cedars top,

      And dallies with the winde, and scornes the Sunne

         Mar. And turnes the Sun to shade: alas, alas,

      Witnesse my Sonne, now in the shade of death,

      Whose bright out-shining beames, thy cloudy wrath

      Hath in eternall darknesse folded vp.

      Your ayery buildeth in our ayeries Nest:

      O God that seest it, do not suffer it,

      As it is wonne with blood, lost be it so

      Buc. Peace, peace for shame: If not, for Charity

         Mar. Vrge neither charity, nor shame to me:

      Vncharitably with me haue you dealt,

      And shamefully my hopes (by you) are butcher'd.

      My Charity is outrage, Life my shame,

      And in that shame, still liue my sorrowes rage

      Buc. Haue done, haue done

         Mar. O Princely Buckingham, Ile kisse thy hand,

      In signe of League and amity with thee:

      Now faire befall thee, and thy Noble house:

      Thy Garments are not spotted with our blood:

      Nor thou within the compasse of my curse

         Buc. Nor no one heere: for Curses neuer passe

      The lips of those that breath them in the ayre

         Mar. I will not thinke but they ascend the sky,

      And there awake Gods gentle sleeping peace.

      O Buckingham, take heede of yonder dogge:

      Looke when he fawnes, he bites; and when he bites,

      His venom tooth will rankle to the death.

      Haue not to do with him, beware of him,

      Sinne, death, and hell haue set their markes on him,

      And all their Ministers attend on him

      Rich. What doth she say, my Lord of Buckingham

      Buc. Nothing that I respect my gracious Lord

         Mar. What dost thou scorne me

      For my gentle counsell?

      And sooth the diuell that I warne thee from.

      O but remember this another day:

      When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow:

      And say (poore Margaret) was a Prophetesse:

      Liue each of you the subiects to his hate,

      And he to yours, and all of you to Gods.