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 and yours by me were harm'd!
Q. Eliz. What good is cover'd with the face
of heaven,

To be discover'd, that can do me good?
K. Rich. The advancement of your children,
gentle lady.

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

K. Rich. Unto the dignity and height of fortune,

The high imperial type of this earth's glory.

Q. Eliz. Flatter my sorrow 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

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?

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 Mar-
garet

Did to thy father steep'd in Rutland's blood,—
A handkerchief; which, say to her, did drain
The purple sap from her sweet brothers' bodies,
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 could'st 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,

a

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 kill'd 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
Endur'd 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:

a Hate thee-so the clear reading of the folio. Upon the suggestion of M. Mason this has been corrupted into the low phrase, "she cannot choose but have thee."

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
Repair'd 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, transform'd to orient pearl;
Advantaging their loan, with interest
Of ten-times double gain of happiness.
Co then, my mother, to thy daughter go;
Make bold her bashful years with your expe-
rience;

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 chástised
The petty rebel, the dull-brain'd 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!a
K. Rich. Infer fair England's peace by this
alliance.

Q. Eliz. Which she shall purchase with still lasting war.

K. Rich. Tell her, the king, that may command, entreats.

Q. Eliz. That at her hands which the king's King forbids.

K. Rich. Say, she shall be a high and mighty

K. Rich. Say, I, her sovereign, am her subject low.

Q. Eliz. But she, your subject, loathes such sov'reignty.

K. Rich. Be eloquent in my behalf to her. Q. Eliz. An honest tale speeds best, being plainly told.

K. Rich. Then, plainly to her tell my loving tale.a

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. Profan'd, dishonour'd, and the third usurp❜d.

K. Rich. I swear. Q. Eliz. By nothing for this is no oath. Thy George, profan'd, hath lost his lordly bo

nour;

:

b

Thy garter, blemish'd, pawn'd his knightly virtue;
Thy crown, usurp'd, disgrac'd his kingly glory:
If something thou would'st swear to be believ'd,
Swear then by something that thou hast not
wrong'd.

K. Rich. Then, by myself,-
Q. Eliz.

Thyself is self-misused."

Tis full of thy foul wrongs.

K. Rich. Now, by the world,-
Q. Eliz.
K. Rich. My father's death,—
Q. Eliz.

Thy life hath it dishonour'd.

K. Rich. Why then, by God,Q. Eliz. God's wrong is most of all. If thou had'st fear'd to break an oath by him, The unity the king my husbanda made Thou hadst not broken, nor my brothers died.* If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by him, The imperial metal, circling now thy head, Had grac'd the tender temples of my child; And both the princes had been breathing here,

a So the folio; the quartos, Then, in plain terms, tell her b Lordly, in the folio; the quartos, holy.

c In the folio Richard first proposes to swear by himself; in the quartos the order is changed.

d My husband, in the folio; in the quartos, my brother-an evident mistake of the pronoun. The modern editors correct the mistake, and keep brother.

e So the folio. The quartos

"Had not been broken, nor my brother slain."

Q. Eliz. That thou hast wronged in the time o'er-past;

For I myself have many tears to wash
Hereafter time, for time past, wrong'd by thee.
The children live whose fathers thou hast
slaughter'd,

Ungovern'd youth, to wail it in their age;
The parents live whose children thou hast
butcher'd,

Old barren plants, to wail it with their age. Swear not by time to come; for that thou hast Misused ere used, by times ill-used o'er-past.

K. Rich. As I intend to prosper, and repent,
So thrive I in my dangerous affairsb
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 dear 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 yourself's remembrance wrong
yourself.

Q. Eliz. Yet, thou didst kill my children.

K. Rich. But in your daughter's womb I bury them :

Where, in that nest of spicery, they will breed Selves of themselves to your recomforture.

Q. Eliz. Shall I go win my daughter to thy will?

K. Rich. And be a happy mother by the deed. Q. Eliz. I go.-Write to me very shortly, And you shall understand from me her mind.

Fathers, in the folio; the quartos, parents. Affairs, in the folio; the quartos, attempts.

e Dear, in the folio; the quartos, pure.

K. Rich. Bear her my true love's kiss, and so farewell.

[Kissing her. Exit Q. ELIZABETH. Relenting fool, and shallow changing woman! How now? what news?

Enter RATCLIFF; CATESBY following.

Rat. Most mighty sovereign, on the western coast

a

Rideth a puissant navy; to our shores
Throng many doubtful hollow-hearted friends,
Unarm'd, and unresolv'd to beat them back :
'Tis thought that Richmond is their admiral;
And there they hull, expecting but the aid
Of Buckingham to welcome them ashore.

K. Rich. Some light-foot friend post to the duke of Norfolk :

Ratcliff, thyself,-or Catesby; where is he?
Cate. Here, my good lord.
K. Rich.

Catesby, fly to the duke. Cute. I will, my lord, with all convenient haste. K. Rich. Ratcliff, come hither: Post to Salis

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

White-liver'd runagate, what doth he there? Stan. I know not, mighty sovereign, but by

guess.

K. Rich. Well, as you guess?

Stan. Stirr'd up by Dorset, Buckingham, and Morton,

He makes for England, here to claim the crown. K. Rich. Is the chair empty? Is the sword | unsway'd?

Is the king dead? the empire unpossess'd?
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, my good lord, 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?
Stun. 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, thou would'st be gone to join
with Richmond:

But I'll not trust thee.b

Stan. Most mighty soveriegn, You have no cause to hold my friendship doubtful; I never was, nor never will be, false.

K. Rich. Go then, and muster men. But leave behind

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

Or else his head's assurance is but frail.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My gracious sovereign, now in Devonshire,

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

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

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

Enter another Messenger.

3 Mess. My lord, the army of great Bucking. ham

K. Rich. Out on ye, owls! nothing but songs of death? [He strikes him. There, take thou that, till thou bring better news.

3 Mess. The news I have to tell your majesty, Is, that, by sudden floods and fall of waters, Buckingham's army is dispers'd and scatter'd; And he himself wander'd away alone, No man knows whither.

K. Rich.

I cry thee mercy:

There is my purse, to cure that blow of thine. Hath any well-advised friend proclaim'd Reward to him that brings the traitor in? 3 Mess. Such proclamation hath been made, my liege.

Enter another Messenger.

4 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 highness,―
The Bretagne navy is dispers'd 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 answer'd him, they came from Buckingham
Upon his party: he, mistrusting them,
Hois'd sail, and made his course again for Bre-
tagne.

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.

a Competitors-associates.

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 frank'd up in hold;
If I revolt, off goes young George's head;
The fear of that holds off my present aid.
So, get thee gone; commend me to thy lord.
Withal, say, that the queen hath heartily con-
sented

This most bloody boar Is the reading of the quartos; the folio, the most deadly.

b Holds off, in the folio; the quartos, withholds.

He shall espouse Elizabeth her daughter.
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 name and worth:
And towards London do they bend their
power, a

If by the way they be not fought withal.
Stan. Well, hie thee to thy lord; I kiss his
hand.

My letter will resolve him of my mind.
Farewell.b

a Power, in the folio; the quartos, course.

[Exeunt.

b This is the literal meaning of the folio, and it appears unexceptionable. The quartos read

"Return unto my 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."