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Buck. Nothing that I respect, my gracious lord.

Q. Mar. What! dost thou scorn me for my gentle counsel,

And soothe the devil that I warn thee from?

O! but remember this another day,

When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow,

And say poor Margaret was a prophetess.

Live each of you the subject to his hate,

And he to yours, and all of you to God's!

Buck. My hair doth stand an end to hear her curses.

Riv. And so doth mine. I muse why she's at liberty.

Rich. I cannot blame her: by God's holy mother,

She hath had too much wrong, and I repent

My part thereof that I have done to her.

Q. Eliz. I never did her any, to my knowledge.

Rich. Yet you have all the vantage of her wrong.

I was too hot to do somebody good,

That is too cold in thinking of it now.

Marry, as for Clarence, he is well repaid;

He is frank'd up to fatting for his pains:

God pardon them that are the cause thereof!

Riv. A virtuous and a Christian-like conclusion,

To pray for them that have done scath to us.

Rich. So do I ever, being well-advis'd;

For had I curs'd now, I had curs'd myself.

Cates. Madam, his majesty doth call for you;

And for your Grace; and yours, my gracious lord.

Q. Eliz. Catesby, I come. Lords, will you go with me?

 298 soothe: flatter

304 an: on

305 muse: wonder

314 frank'd up: i.e. shut up in a sty

317 scath: harm

321 Cf. n.

