Go then, my mother, to thy daughter, go; Q. Eliz. What were I best to say? her father's brother That God, the law, my honour, and her love, K. Rich. Infer fair England's peace by this alliance. 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 queen. Q. Eliz. But how long shall that title, ever, last? Q. Eliz. An honest tale speeds best, being plainly told. 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 heart-strings 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 holy honour; Thy garter, blemish'd, pawn'd his knightly virtue; Thy crown, usurp'd, disgrac'd his kingly glory: If something thou wouldst swear to be believ'd, Swear then by something that thou hast not wrong'd. K. Rich. Now by the world,Q. Eliz. "Tis full of thy foul wrongs. K. Rich. My father's death,- Thy life hath that dishonour'd. K. Rich. Then, by myself,- Thyself is self-misus'd. K. Rich. Why then, by God,Q. Eliz. God's wrong is most of all. If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by him, The unity, the king, thy brother, made, Had not been broken, nor my brother slain. 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, Which now, two tender bed-fellows for dust, Thy broken faith hath made a prey for worms. What canst thou swear by now? K. Rich. By the time to come. Q. Eliz. That thou hast wronged in the time o'erpast; For I myself have many tears to wash Hereafter time, for time past, wrong'd by thee. The children live, whose parents 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 To my proceeding, if, with pure heart's love, I tender not thy beauteous princely daughter! Q. Eliz. But thou didst kill my children. K. Rich. But in your daughter's womb I bury them : Q. Eliz. Shall I go win my daughter to thy will? And you shall understand from me her mind. How now? what news? Enter RATCLIFF; CATESBY following. Rat. Most mighty sovereign, on the western coast Rideth a puissant navy; to the shore Throng many doubtful hollow-hearted friends, K. Rich. Some light-foot friend post to the duke of Ratcliff, thyself, or Catesby; where is he? K. Rich. What from your grace I shall deliver to him. K. Rich. O, true, good Catesby;-Bid him levy straight The greatest strength and power he can make, Cate. I go. I go? Rat. Your highness told me, I should post before. Enter STANLEY. K. Rich. My mind is chang'd.Stanley, what news with you? Stan. None good, my liege, to please you with the hearing; Nor none so bad, but well may be reported. K. Rich. Heyday, a riddle! neither good nor bad! What need'st thou run so many miles about, When thou may'st tell thy tale the nearest way? Stan. Richmond is on the seas. 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? Stan. Unless for that, my liege, I cannot guess. 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, 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? I'll muster up my friends; and meet your grace, K. Rich. Well, go, muster men. leave behind But, hear you, Your son, George Stanley; look your heart be firm, Or else his head's assurance is but frail. |