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this likeness we see the same Margaret as queen, and as wife of the sixth Henry. The bud has blossomed ; she is now a full-blown rose, but a repulsive worm lies hid therein. She hag become a hard-hearted, evil-minded woman. Horrible beyond all comparison, be it in the world of reality or poetry, is the scene where she gives to the weeping York the ghastly handkerchief dipped in the blood of his son, and jeering bids him dry his tears on it. The words are dreadful : " Look, York ; I stain'd this napkin with the blood

That valiant Clifford with his rapier's point

Made issue from the bosom of the boy :

And, if thine eyes can water for his death,

I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal.

Alas, poor York ! but that I hate thee deadly, 1 should lament thy miserable state.

I pr'ythee, grieve to make me merry, York ;

Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and dance." Had the artist who designed the beautiful Margaret for this gallery represented her with more