Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror;

Or 1 with grief and extreme
age shall perish,
And never look upon thy face again.
Therefore take with thee my most heavy curse;
Which in the day of battle tire thee more
Than all the complete armour that thou wear'st!
My prayers on the adverse party fight:

And there the little souls of Edward's children
Whisper the spirits of thine enemies,
And promise them success and victory.
Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end:
Shame serves thy life, and doth thy death attend.

[Exit.

Q. Eliz. Though far more cause, yet much less spirit to curse

Abides in me: I say amen to her. [Going. K. Rich. Stay, madam, I must speak a word

with you.

Q. Eliz. I have no more sons of the royal blood For thee to murder: for my daughters, Richard, They shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens: And therefore level not to hit their lives.

K. Rich. You have a daughter called Elizabeth, Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious.

Q. Eliz. And must she die for this? O let her live,

And I'll corrupt her manners, stain her beauty;
Slander myself as false to Edward's bed;
Throw over her the veil of infamy.

So she may live unscarred of bleeding slaughter,
I will confess she was not Edward's daughter.
K. Rich. Wrong not her birth; she is of royal
blood.

Q. Eliz. To save her life, I'll say she is not so.
K. Rich. Her life is safest only in her birth.
Q. Eliz. And only in that safety died her
brothers.

K. Rich. Lo at their births good stars were opposite.

Q. Eliz. No, to their lives bad friends were

contrary.

K. Rich. All unavoided is the doom of destiny. Q. Eliz. True, when avoided grace makes

destiny.

My babes were destined to a fairer death,
If grace had blessed thee with a fairer life.
K. Rich. You speak as if that I had slain my
cousins.

Q. Eliz. Cousins indeed; and by their uncle cozened

Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life.
Whose hands soever lanced their tender hearts,
Thy head all indirectly gave direction :

No doubt the murderous knife was dull and blunt.
Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart,
To revel in the entrails of my lambs.

eyes;

But that still use of grief makes wild grief tame,
My tongue should to thy ears not name my boys
Till that my nails were anchored in thine
And I, in such a desperate bay of death,
Like a poor bark of sails and tackling reft,
Rush all to pieces on thy rocky bosom.

K. Rich. Madam, so thrive I in my enterprise
And dangerous success of bloody wars,
As I intend more good to you and yours
Than ever you or yours by me were harmed!

Q. Eliz. What good is covered with the face of heaven,

To be discovered, that can do mẹ good?
K. Rich. The advancement of your children,

gentle lady.

Q. Eliz. Up to some scaffold, there to lose their heads?

K.Rich. No, to the dignity and height of fortune; The high imperial type of this earth's glory.

Q. Eliz. Flatter my sorrows with report of it: Tell me what state, what dignity, what honour, Canst thou demise to any child of mine?

K. Rich. Even all I have; ay, and myself and all, Will I withal endow a child of thine; So in the Lethe of thy angry soul Thou drown the sad remembrance of those wrongs Which thou supposest I have done to thee.

Q. Eliz. Be brief, lest that the process of thy

kindness

Last longer telling than thy kindness' date.
K. Rich. Then know that from my soul I love

thy daughter.

Q. Eliz. My daughter's mother thinks it with her soul.

K. Rich. What do you think?

Q. Eliz. That thou dost love my daughter from

thy soul:

So from thy soul's love didst thou love her brothers; And from my heart's love I do thank thee for it.

K. Rich. Be not so hasty to confound my

meaning:

I mean that with my soul I love thy daughter, And do intend to make her queen of England. Q. Eliz. Well then, who dost thou mean shall be her king?

K. Rich. Even he that makes her queen: who else should be?

Q. Eliz. What, thou?

K. Rich.

I; even I: what think you of it, madam?

Q. Eliz. How canst thou woo her? K. Rich. That would I learn of you, As one being best acquainted with her humour. Q. Eliz. And wilt thou learn of me? K. Rich.

Madam, with all my heart.

Q. Eliz. Send to her, by the man that slew
her brothers,

A pair of bleeding hearts; thereon engrave
"Edward and York:" then haply will she weep:
Therefore present to her (as sometime Margaret
Did to thy father, steeped in Rutland's blood)
A handkerchief; which, say to her, did drain
The purple sap from her sweet brother's body;
And bid her wipe her weeping eyes withal.
If this inducement move her not to love,
Send her a letter of thy noble deeds:
Tell her thou mad'st away her uncle Clarence,
Her uncle Rivers; ay, and for her sake
Mad'st quick conveyance with her good aunt
Anne.

K. Rich. You mock me, madam: this is not
the way

To win your daughter.

Q. Eliz. There is no other way; Unless thou couldst put on some other shape, And not be Richard that hath done all this.

: K. Rich. Say that I did all this for love of her? Q. Eliz. Nay, then indeed she cannot choose

but hate thee,

Having bought love with such a bloody spoil.
K. Rich. Look, what is done cannot be now
amended:

Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes,
Which after-hours give leisure to repent.
If I did take the kingdom from your sons,
To make amends I'll give it to your daughter.
If I have killed the issue of your womb,
To quicken your increase I will beget
Mine issue of your blood upon your daughter.
A grandam's name is little less in love
Than is the doting title of a mother:
They are as children but one step below;
Even of your mettle, of your very blood:
Of all one pain, save for a night of groans
Endured of her for whom you bid like sorrow.
Your children were vexation to your youth,
But mine shall be a comfort to your age.
The loss you have is but a son being king,
And by that loss your daughter is made queen.
I cannot make you what amends I would,
Therefore accept such kindness as I can.
Dorset your son, that with a fearful soul

Leads discontented steps in foreign soil,
This fair alliance quickly shall call home
To high promotions and great dignity :
The king that calls your beauteous daughter wife,
Familiarly shall call thy Dorset brother :
Again shall you be mother to a king,
And all the ruins of distressful times
Repaired with double riches of content.
What! we have many goodly days to see:
The liquid drops of tears that you have shed
Shall come again, transformed to orient pearl;
Advantaging their loan with interest
Of ten-times-double gain of happiness.
Go then, my mother, to thy daughter go;
Make bold her bashful years with your experience:
Prepare her ears to hear a wooer's tale;
Put in her tender heart the aspiring flame
Of golden sov'reignty; acquaint the princess
With the sweet silent hours of marriage joys:
And when this arm of mine hath chastiséd
The petty rebel, dull-brained Buckingham,
Bound with triumphant garlands will I come,
And lead thy daughter to a conqueror's bed:
To whom I will retail my conquest won,
And she shall be sole victress; Cæsar's Cæsar.

Q. Eliz. What were I best to say? her father's
brother

Would be her lord: or shall I say her uncle:
Or he that slew her brothers and her uncles?
Under what title shall I woo for thee,
That God, the law, my honour, and her love,
Can make seem pleasing to her tender years?
K. Rich. Infer fair England's peace by this

Q. Eliz. An honest tale speeds best being plainly told.

K. Rich. Then in plain terms tell her my loving tale.

Q. Eliz. Plain and not honest is too harsh a style.

K. Rich. Your reasons are too shallow and too quick.

Q. Eliz. O no, my reasons are too deep and dead:

Too deep and dead, poor infants, in their graves. K. Rich. Harp not on that string, madam: that is past.

Q. Eliz. Harp on it still shall I till heartstrings break.

K. Rich. Now by my George, my garter, and

my crown,

Q. Eliz. Profaned, dishonoured, and the third usurped.

K. Rich. I swear,

Q. Eliz. By nothing: for this is no oath. Thy George, profaned, hath lost his holy honour; Thy garter, blemished, pawned his knightly virtue;

Thy crown, usurped, disgraced his kingly glory.
If something thou wouldst swear to be believed,
Swear then by something that thou hast not
wronged.

K. Rich. Now by the world,-
Q. Eliz.

"Tis full of thy foul wrongs.
K. Rich. My father's death,—
Q. Eliz.

Thy life hath that dishonoured.

K. Rich. Then by myself,-
Q. Eliz.
K. Rich. Why then, by God,-

Thyself is self-misused.

Q. Eliz. God's wrong is most of all.

If thou hadst feared to break an oath by Him,
The unity the king thy brother made
Had not been broken, nor my brother slain.
If thou hadst feared to break an oath by Him,
The imperial metal circling now thy head
Had graced the tender temples of my child;
And both the princes had been breathing here,
Which now, two tender bedfellows for dust,
Thy broken faith hath made a prey for worms.
What canst thou swear by now?

Swear not by time to come; for that thou hast Misused ere used, by times ill-used o'erpast.

K. Rich. As I intend to prosper and repent: So thrive I in my dangerous attempt Of hostile arms: myself myself confound: Heaven and fortune bar me happy hours: Day yield me not thy light, nor night thy rest: Be opposite all planets of good luck To my proceeding,-if with pure heart's love, Immaculate devotion, holy thoughts,

I tender not thy beauteous princely daughter.
In her consists my happiness and thine :
Without her, follows to myself and thee,
Herself, the land, and many a christian soul,
Death, desolation, ruin, and decay.

It cannot be avoided but by this :
It will not be avoided but by this.
Therefore, dear mother (I must call you so),
Be the attorney of my love to her.
Plead what I will be, not what I have been :
Not my deserts, but what I will deserve.
Urge the necessity and state of times,
And be not peevish found in great designs.

Q. Eliz. Shall I be tempted of the devil thus?
K. Rich. Ay, if the devil tempt thee to do good.
Q. Eliz. Shall I forget myself to be myself?
K. Rich. Ay, if your self's remembrance wrong
yourself.

Q. Eliz. But thou didst kill my children.
K. Rich. But in your daughter's womb I bury

What need'st thou run so many miles about, When thou mayst tell thy tale the nearest way? Once more, what news?

Stan.

Richmond is on the seas.

K. Rich. There let him sink, and be the seas on him!

White-livered runagate, what doth he there? Stan. I know not, mighty sovereign, but by guess.

K. Rich. Well, as you guess?

Stan. Stirred up by Dorset, Buckingham, and Morton,

He makes for England, here to claim the crown. K. Rich. Is the chair empty; is the sword unswayed;

Is the king dead; the empire unpossessed?
What heir of York is there alive but we?
And who is England's king but great York's heir?
Then tell me what makes he upon the seas?

Stan. Unless for that, my liege, I cannot guess.
K.Rich. Unless for that he comes to be your

liege,

You cannot guess wherefore the Welshman comes. Thou wilt revolt and fly to him, I fear,

Stan. No, mighty liege; therefore mistrust

me not.

K. Rich. Where is thy power, then, to beat him back?

Where be thy tenants and thy followers?
Are they not now upon the western shore,
Safe-conducting the rebels from their ships?
Stan. No, my good lord, my friends are in the
north.

K. Rich. Cold friends to me! What do they in the north,

When they should serve their sovereign in the west?

Stan. They have not been commanded, mighty king:

Pleaseth your majesty to give me leave,
I'll muster up my friends, and meet your grace
Where and what time your majesty shall please.
K. Rich. Ay, ay, thou wouldst be gone to
join with Richmond:

I will not trust you, sir.

Stan.

Most mighty sovereign, You have no cause to hold my friendship doubtful:

I never was nor never will be false.

K. Rich. Well, go muster men. But hear you, leave behind

Your son, George Stanley: look your heart be firm,

Or else his head's assurance is but frail. Stan. So deal with him as I prove true to you. [Exit STANLEY.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My gracious sovereign, now in Devonshire,

As I by friends am well advertiséd,
Sir Edward Courtney, and the haughty prelate
Bishop of Exeter, his elder brother,
With many more confederates, are in arms.

Enter another Messenger.

2nd Mess. In Kent, my liege, the Guilfords are in arms;

And every hour more competitors
Flock to the rebels, and their power grows strong.

Enter another Messenger.

3rd Mess. My lord, the army of great Buckingham,

K. Rich. Out on ye, owls! nothing but songs of death? [He strikes him. There, take thou that, till thou bring better news. 3rd Mess. The news I have to tell your ma

jesty

Is that, by sudden floods and fall of waters,
Buckingham's army is dispersed and scattered;
And he himself wandered away alone,
No man knows whither.

K. Rich. I cry you mercy :
There is my purse to cure that blow of thine.
Hath any well-adviséd friend proclaimed
Reward to him that brings the traitor in?

3rd Mess. Such proclamation hath been made, my liege.

Enter another Messenger.

4th Mess. Sir Thomas Lovel and Lord Marquis Dorset,

'Tis said, my liege, in Yorkshire are in arms. But this good comfort bring I to your high

ness,

The Bretagne navy is dispersed by tempest.
Richmond, in Dorsetshire, sent out a boat
Unto the shore, to ask those on the banks
If they were his assistants, yea or no:

Who answered him, they came from Bucking

ham

Upon his party: he, mistrusting them,

Hois'd sail and made his course again for Bretagne.

K. Rich. March on, march on, since we are up in arms:

If not to fight with foreign enemies,

Yet to beat down these rebels here at home.

Enter CATESBY.

Cate. My liege, the Duke of Buckingham is taken :

That is the best news. That the Earl of Richmond

Is with a mighty power landed at Milford
Is colder news, but yet they must be told.

K. Rich. Away towards Salisbury: while we reason here

A royal battle might be won and lost.
Some one take order Buckingham be brought
To Salisbury: the rest march on with me.
[Exeunt.

SCENE V.-A Room in LORD STANLEY'S House. Enter STANLEY and SIR CHRISTOPHER URSWICK. Stan. Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from

me:

That in the sty of this most bloody boar
My son George Stanley is franked up in hold.
If I revolt, off goes young George's head:
The fear of that withholds my present aid.
But tell me where is princely Richmond now?
Chris. At Pembroke or at Ha'rford-west, in
Wales.

Stan. What men of name resort to him?
Chris. Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned soldier;
Sir Gilbert Talbot, Sir William Stanley;
Oxford, redoubted Pembroke, Sir James Blunt,
And Rice-ap-Thomas, with a valiant crew;
And many other of great fame and worth:
And towards London do they bend their course,
If by the way they be not fought withal.

Stan. Well, hie thee to thy lord; commend

me to him:

Tell him the queen hath heartily consented
He shall espouse Elizabeth her daughter.
These letters will resolve him of my mind.
Farewell. [Gives papers to SIR CHRISTOPHER.
[Exeunt.