Plead what I will be, not what I have been ; 415 Q. Eliz. Shall I be tempted of the devil thus ? self. Q. Eliz. Yet thou didst kill my children. 420 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. well. 425 K. Rich. Bear her my true love's kiss; and so, fareExit Queen Elizabeth. Relenting fool, and shallow changing woman! 431 Enter Ratcliff [Catesby following]. How now! what news? Rat. Most mighty sovereign, on the western coast Throng many doubtful hollow-hearted friends, 435 "Tis thought that Richmond is their admiral; 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. 440 442 Cate. I will, my lord, with all convenient haste. 442 K. Rich. [Ratcliff], come hither. Post to Salisbury. When thou com'st thither, [To Catesby.] Dull unmindful villain, Why stay'st thou here, and go'st not to the Duke ? 445 Cate. First, mighty liege, tell me your Highness' pleasure, What from your Grace I shall deliver to him. K. Rich. O, true, good Catesby. Bid him levy straight The greatest strength and power that he can make, And meet me suddenly at Salisbury. Cate. I go. 450 Exit. Rat. What, may it please you, shall I do at Salisbury? K. Rich. Why, what wouldst thou do there before I go? Rat. Your Highness told me I should post before. 455 K. Rich. My mind is chang'd. Enter Lord Stanley. Stanley, what news with you? Stan. None good, my liege, to please you with the hearing; Nor none so bad, but may well be reported. K. Rich. Hoyday, a riddle! neither good nor bad! 460 What need'st thou run so many miles about Stan. When thou mayst tell thy tale the nearest way? 465 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? 470 475 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, 480 Stan. No, my good lord, my friends are in the north. K. Rich. Cold friends to me! What do they in the north, 485 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; Stan. But I'll not trust thee. 491 495 Most mighty sovereign, 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. Stan. So deal with him as I prove true to you. Exit. Enter a Messenger. 1. Mess. My gracious sovereign, now in Devon shire, 500 As I by friends am well advertised, Sir Edward Courtney, and the haughty prelate With many moe confederates, are in arms. Enter another Messenger. 2. Mess. In Kent, my liege, the Guildfords are in arms; And every hour more competitors 505 Flock to the rebels, and their power grows strong. Enter another Messenger. 3. Mess. My lord, the army of great Buckingham K. Rich. Out on ye, owls! nothing but songs of death? He striketh him. There, take thou that, till thou bring better news. 510 3. Mess. The news I have to tell your Majesty Is that by sudden floods and fall of waters, No man knows whither. K. Rich. I cry thee mercy; There is my purse to cure that blow of thine. 515 3. Mess. Such proclamation hath been made, my lord. |