Shall come again, transform'd 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 th'afpiring flame
Of golden Sov'reignty; acquaint the Princefs
With the sweet filent hours of marriage-joys.
And when this arm of mine hath chaftifed
The petty rebel, 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 Conqueft won,
And the fhall be fole victrefs, Cæfar's Cafar.
Queen. What were I beft to fay, her father's brother
Would be her lord? or fhall I fay, her uncle?
Or he that flew her brothers, and her uncles ?
Under what title fhall I woo for thee,

That God, the law, my honour, and her love,
Can make feem pleafing to her tender years?

K. Rich. Infer fair England's peace by this alliance.
Queen. Which the fhall purchafe with ftill lafting war.
K. Rich. Tell her, the King, that may command,
intreats-

Queen. That at her hands, which the King's King
forbids.

K. Rich. Say, fhe fhall be a high and mighty Queen-
Queen. To wail the title, as her mother doth.

K. Rich. Say, I will love her everlastingly.

to the Senfe, which my eafy Emendation 'makes here, will, I flatter my felf, convince every judicious Reader, of its being the genuine Reading. Love and Lone (which was the obfolete Manner of spelling Loan;) are made out of one another, only by a Letter turn'd upfide down. Oftentimes is a ftupid Concretion of three Words, from the Indolence of the Editors, which ftrangely flattens the Sentence. My Emendation gives this apt and eafy Senfe. The Tears, that you have lent to your Afflictions, fhall be turn'd into Gems; and requite you by way of intereft, with Happiness twenty times as great as your Sorrows have been.

Queen,

Queen. But how long fhall that title, ever, laft?
K. Rich. Sweetly in force, unto her fair life's end.
Queen. But how long, fairly, fhall her sweet life laft?
K. Rich. As long as heav'n and nature lengthen it.
Queen. As long as hell and Richard like of it.
K. Rich. Say, I, her Sov'reign, am her Subject now.'
Queen. But the, your Subject, loaths fuch Sov'reignty.
K. Rich. Be eloquent in my behalf to her.

Queen. An honeft tale speeds beft, being plainly told.
K. Rich. Then, in plain terms tell her my loving tale.
Queen. Plain, and not honeft, is too harsh a ftile.
K. Rich. Your reafons are too fhallow, and too quick.
Queen. O no, my reafons are too deep and dead;
Two deep and dead poor infants in their grave;
Harp on it still fhall I, till heart-strings break.

K. Rich. Harp not on that string, Madam; that is past. Now by my George, my Garter, and my CrownQueen. Profan'd, difhonour'd, and the third ufurp'd. K. Rich. I fwear.

Queen. By nothing, for this is no oath :

The George, profan'd, hath loft his holy honour;
The Garter, blemish'd, pawn'd his knightly virtue;
The Crown, ufurp'd, difgrac'd his kingly glory.
If fomething thou would't fwear to be believ'd,
Swear then by fomething, that thou haft not wrong'd.
K. Rich. Now by the world

Queen. 'Tis full of thy foul wrongs.
K. Rich. My father's death-

Queen. Thy life hath that dishonour'd.
K. Rich. Then by myself.

Queen. Thyfelf thyfelf mifufeft.

K. Rich. Why then, by heav'n

Queen. Heav'n's wrong is moft of all :
If thou didst fear to break an oath with heav'n,
The unity the King my husband made

Thou hadst not broken, nor my brothers dy'd.
If thou hadft fear'd to break an oath with heav'n,
Th' 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 duft,
Thy broken faith hath made a prey to worms.
What canft thou fwear by now?

K. Rich. By time to come.

Queen. That thou haft wronged in the time o'erpaft: For I my felf have many tears to wash

Hereafter time, for time past, wrong'd by thee.
The children live, whofe fathers thou haft flaughter'd,
Ungovern'd youth, to wail it in their age.

The parents live, whofe children thou hast butcher'd,
Old wither'd plants, to wail it in their age.
Swear not by time to come, for that thou haft
Mifus'd ere us'd, by times ill-us'd o'er past.

K. Rich. As I intend to profper and repent,
So thrive I in my dangerous attempt

Of hoftile arms! my felf, my felf confound;
Heaven and fortune bar me happy hours;
Day yield me not thy light, nor night thy reft;
Be oppofite 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 confifts my happiness, and thine;
Without her, follows to my felf and thee,
Her felf, the Land, and many a christian soul,
Death, defolation, ruin, and decay.

It cannot be avoided, but by this;
It will not be avoided, but by this.
Therefore, dear mother, (I muft call you fo,)
Be the attorney of my love to her;

Plead what I will be, not what I have been;
Not my deferts, but what I will deferve:
Urge the neceffity and state of times;
And be not peevish found in great designs.

Queen. Shall I be tempted of the Devil thus ?
K. Rich. Ay, if the Devil tempt you to do good.
Queen. Shall I forget my felf to be my self?

K. Rich. Ay, if your felf's remembrance wrong your felf.

Queen. But thou didst kill my children.

K. Rich.

K. Rich. But in your daughter's womb I bury them;
Where, in that neft of fpicery, they fhall breed
Selves of themselves, to your recomforture.

Queen. Shall I go win my daughter to thy will
K. Rich. And be a happy mother by the deed.
Queen. I go, write to me fhortly.

K. Rich. Bear her my true love's kifs, and fo fare

wel

[Exit Queen. Relenting fool, and fhallow, changing, woman!

Enter Ratcliff.

Rat. Moft mighty Sovereign, on the western coaft
Rideth a puiffant Navy: to our fhores
Throng many doubtful hollow-hearted friends,
Unarm'd, and unrefolv'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 afhore.

K. Rich. Some light-foot friend poft to the Duke of
Norfolk,

Ratcliff, thy felf, or Catesby; where is he?
Catef. Here, my good lord.

K. Rich. Catesby, fly to the Duke.

Catef. I will, my lord, with all convenient hafte. K. Rich. Ratcliff, come hither, poft to Salisbury; When thou com'it thither- -dull unmindful villain,

[To Catef. Why ftay'ft thou here, and go'ft not to the Duke? Cates. First, mighty Liege, tell me your Highness pleasure,

What from

your Grace I fhall deliver to him.

K. Rich. O true, good Catesby,-bid him levy strait The greatest strength and power he can make,

And meet me fuddenly at Salisbury.

Cates. I go.

[Exit.

Rat. What, may it please you, fhall I do at Salisbury? K. Rich. Why, what would't thou do there, before

I go?

Rat. Your Highness told me, I fhould poft before. K. Rich. My mind is chang'd

Enter

Enter Lord Stanley.

Stanley, what news with you?

Stan. None good, my Liege, to please you with the hearing;

Nor none fo bad, but well may be reported.

K. Rich. Heyday, a riddle! neither good nor bad: Why doft thou run fo many miles about,

When thou may'st tell thy tale the nearest way ?
Once more, what news?

Stan. Richmond is on the feas.

K. Rich. There let him fink, and be the feas on him! White-liver'd Runagate, what doth he there?

Stan. I know not, mighty Sov'reign, but by guess. K. Rich. Well, as you guefs.

Stan. Stirr'd up by Dorfet, Buckingham, and Morton, He makes for England, here to claim the Crown.

K. Rich. Is the Chair empty? is the Sword unfway'd} Is the King dead? the Empire unpoffefs'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 fea?

Stan. Unless for that, my Liege, I cannot guefs.
K. Rich. Unless for that he comes to be your Liege,
You cannot guess wherefore the Welsh-man 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 are 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 Sov'reign in the West?
Stan. They have not been commanded, mighty King;
Please it your Majefty to give me leave,

I'll mufter up my friends, and meet your Grace,
Where, and what time your Majesty shall please.
K. Rich. Ay, thou would'ft fain be gone, to join with
Richmond:

But