To watch the waning of mine enemies.
A dire induction am I witness to,
And will to France; hoping the consequence
Will prove as bitter, black, and tragical.
Withdraw thee, wretched Margaret! who comes
here?

Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH and the DUCHESS OF
YORK.

Q. Eliz. Ah, my poor princes! ah, my tender
babes!

My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets!
If yet your gentle souls fly in the air,
And be not fix'd in doom perpetual,
Hover about me with your airy wings,
And hear your mother's lamentation!

Q. Mar. Hover about her; say, that right for right Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night.

Duch. So many miseries have craz'd my voice, That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute, Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?

Q. Mar. Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet. Edward for Edward pays a dying debt.

Duch. Dead life, blind sight, poor mortal-living ghost,

Woe's scene, world's shame, grave's due, by life usurp'd,

Brief abstract and record of tedious days,
Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth,

[Sitting down. Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood! Q. Eliz. Ah, that thou wouldst as soon afford a grave,

As thou canst yield a melancholy seat;

Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here! Ah, who hath any cause to mourn, but we?

[Sitting down by her.

Q. Mar. If ancient sorrow be most reverent, Give mine the benefit of seniory 5, And let my griefs frown on the upper hand. If sorrow can admit society,

[Sitting down with them. Tell o'er your woes again by viewing mine: I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him; I had a husband, till a Richard kill'd him : Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him; Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard kill'd him. Duch. I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill him;

I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him.

Q. Mar. Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Richard

kill'd him.

From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept
A hell-hound, that doth hunt us all to death:
That dog, that had his teeth before his eyes,
To worry lambs, and lap their gentle blood;
That excellent grand tyrant of the earth,
That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls,
Thy womb let loose, to chase us to our graves.
O upright, just, and true-disposing God,
How do I thank thee, that this carnal cur
Preys on the issue of his mother's body,
And makes her pew-fellow 6 with others' moan!
Duch. O, Harry's wife, triumph not in my woes;
Heaven witness with me, I have wept for thine.

Q. Mar. Bear with me, I am hungry for revenge,
And now I cloy me with beholding it.
Thy Edward he is dead, that kill'd my Edward;
Thy other Edward dead to quit my Edward;
⚫ Companion.

⚫ Seniority.

Young York he is but boot 8, because both they
Match not the high perfection of my loss.
Thy Clarence he is dead, that stabb'd my Edward;
And the beholders of this tragick play,

The adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey,
Untimely smother'd in their dusky graves.
Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer;
Only reserv'd their factor to buy souls,
And send them thither: But at hand, at hand,
Ensues his piteous and unpitied end:

Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray,
To have him suddenly convey'd from hence: -
Cancel his bond of life, great God, I pray,
That I may live to say, The dog is dead!

Q. Eliz. O, thou didst prophesy the time would come,

That I should wish for thee to help me curse
That bottled spider, that foul bunch-back'd toad.
Q. Mar. I call'd thee then, vain flourish of my
fortune;

I call'd thee then, poor shadow, painted queen;
The presentation of but what I was,
The flattering index of a direful pageant,
One heav'd a high, to be hurl'd down below:
A mother only mock'd with two fair babes;
A dream of what thou wast; a garish flag,
To be the aim of every dangerous shot;
A sign of dignity, a breath, a bubble;
A queen in jest, only to fill the scene.
Where is thy husband now? where be thy brothers?
Where be thy two sons? wherein dost thou joy?
Who sues, and kneels, and says - God save the

queen ?

Where be the bending peers that flatter'd thee?
Where be the thronging troops that follow'd thee?
Decline all this, and see what now thou art.
For happy wife, a most distressed widow ;
For joyful mother, one that wails the name;
For one being sued to, one that humbly sues;
For queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care;
For one that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me;
For one being fear'd of all, now fearing one;
For one commanding all, obey'd of none.
Thus hath the course of justice wheel'd about,
And left thee but a very prey to time;
Having no more but thought of what thou wert,
To torture thee the more, being what thou art.
Thou didst usurp my place; and dost thou not
Usurp the just proportion of my sorrow?
Now thy proud neck bears half my burden'd yoke;
From which even here I slip my wearied head,
And leave the burden of it all on thee.
Farewell, York's wife, and queen of sad mis-
chance,-

These English woes shall make me smile in France.
Q. Eliz. O thou well skill'd in curses, stay a while,
And teach me how to curse mine enemies!

Q. Mar. Forbear to sleep the night, and fast the

day;

Compare dead happiness with living woe;
Think that thy babes were fairer than they were,
And he that slew them, fouler than he is:
Bettering thy loss makes the bad-causer worse;
Revolving this will teach thee how to curse.

Q. Eliz. My words are dull, O, quicken them with thine!

Q. Mar. Thy woes will make them sharp, and pierce like mine. [Exit Q. MARGARET.

Duch. Why should calamity be full of words? Thrown into the bargain. 9 Flaring.

Q. Eliz. Windy attornies to their client woes, Airy succeeders of intestate joys,

Poor breathing orators of miseries!

Let them have scope: though what they do impart
Help nothing else, yet do they ease the heart.
Duch. If so, then be not tongue-ty'd : go with me,
And in the breath of bitter words let's smother
My cruel son, that thy two sweet sons smother'd.
[Drum within.

I hear his drum,— be copious in exclaims.
Enter KING RICHARD, and his Train, marching.
K. Rich. Who intercepts me in my expedition?
Duch. O, she, that might have intercepted thee,
By strangling thee in her unhappy womb,
From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast done.
Q. Eliz. Hid'st thou that forehead with a golden

crown,

Where should be branded, if that right were right, The slaughter of the prince that ow'd' that crown, And the dire death of my poor sons and brothers? Tell me, thou villain-slave, where are my children? Duch. Thou toad, thou toad, where is thy brother Clarence?

And little Ned Plantagenet, his son?

Q. Eliz. Where is the gentle Rivers, Vaughan, Grey?

Duch. Where is kind Hastings?

K. Rich. A flourish, trumpets! - strike alarum, drums!

Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women
Rail on the Lord's anointed: Strike, I say. —
[Flourish Aarums.

Either be patient, and entreat me fair,
Or with the clamorous report of war
Thus will I drown your exclamations.
Duch. Art thou my son?

K. Rich. Ay; I thank heaven, my father, and yourself.

Duch. Then patiently hear my impatience.
K. Rich. Madam, I have a touch of your con-
dition,

That cannot brook the accent of reproof.
Duch. O, let me speak.
K. Rich.

Do, then; but I'll not hear. Duch. I will be mild and gentle in my words. K. Rich. And brief, good mother; for I am in haste.

Duch. Art thou so hasty? I have staid for thee, Heaven knows, in torment and in agony.

K. Rich. And came I not at last to comfort you?
Duch. No, by the holy rood 3, thou know'st it well,
Thou cam'st on earth to make the earth my hell.
A grievous burden was thy birth to me;
Tetchy 4 and wayward was thy infancy;
Thy school-days, frightful, desperate, wild, and
furious;

Thy prime of manhood, daring, bold, and venturous;
Thy age confirm'd, proud, subtle, sly, and bloody,
More mild, but yet more harmful, kind in hatred.
What comfortable hour canst thou name,
That ever grac'd me in thy company?

K. Rich. 'Faith none, but Humphrey Hour, that call'd your grace

To breakfast once, forth of my company.
If I be so disgracious in your sight,
Let me march on, and not offend you, madam.
Strike
up the drum.

Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror ;
Or I 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 inurder: 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 call'd - 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 unscarr'd 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

not so.

she is

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 5 is the doom of destiny. Q. Eliz. True, when avoided grace makes destiny: My babes were destin'd to a fairer death, If grace had bless'd 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 cozen'd
Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life.
Whose hands soever lanc'd 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.

But that still 6 use of grief makes wild grief tame,
My tongue should to thy ears not name my boys,
Till that my nails were anchor'd in thine eyes;
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 enterprize,
And dangerous success of bloody wars,
As I intend more good to you and yours,
Than ever you or 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. 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 7 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.

of it, madam ?

Even so What think 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 8, will she weep:
Therefore present to her,-
-as sometime Margaret
Did to thy father, steep'd 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

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.
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.
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
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.
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 sovereignty; acquaint the princess
That, when this arm of mine hath chástised
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 conquest won,
And she shall be sole vict'ress, 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 alliance.
Q. Eliz. Which she shall purchase with still lasting

war.

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

entreats.

Q. Elix. That at her hands, which the king's King forbids. 9

K. Rich. Say, she shall be a high and mighty queen.
Q. Eliz. To wail the title, as her mother doth.
K. Rich. Say, I will love her everlastingly.
Q. Eliz. But how long shall that title, ever, last?
K. Rich. Sweetly in force unto her fair life's end.
Q. Eliz. But how long fairly shall her sweet life
last?

K. Rich. As long as heaven, and nature, lengthens it.
Q. Eliz. As long as hell, and Richard, likes of it.
K. Rich. Say, I, her sovereign, am her subject low.
Q. Eliz. But she, your subject, loathes such sove-
reignty.

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

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

In the Levitical Law, chap. xviii. 14.

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 heart-strings break.

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

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 wrong'd 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 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 in their age:
Swear not by time to come; for that thou hast
Misus'd, ere us'd, by times ill-us'd o'er-past.

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 :

1 The ensigns of the Order of the Garter..

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. 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.

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 Rideth a puissant navy; to the shore 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.
Cate. I will, my lord, with all convenient haste.
K. Rich. Ratcliff, come hither: Post to Salisbury;
When thou com'st thither,- Dull unmindful villain,
[To CATESBY.
Why stay'st thou here, and go'st not to the duke?
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

I go?

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, 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 one 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.

As I by friends am well advertised,
Mess. My gracious sovereign, now in Devonshire,

Sir Edward Courteney, 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 3