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Thus will I drown your exclamations.
Q. Eliz. True, when avoided grace makes destiny.
My babes were destin'd to a fairer death,
K. Rich. You speak, as if that I had slain my
cousins. K. Rich. Madam, I have a touch of your condition, Q. Eliz. Cousins, indeed; and by their uncle cozen'd That cannot brook the accent of reproof.
Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life.
Whose hands soever lanc'd their tender hearts,
Do, then; but I'll not hear. Thy head, all indirectly, gave direction :
Duch. Art thou so hasty? I once stay'd for thee, To revel in the entrails of my lambs.
But that still use of grief makes wild grief tame,
Duch. No, by the holy rood, thou know'st it well; Till that my nails were anchor'd in thine eyes;
Like a poor bark, of sails and tackling reft,
Rush all to pieces on thy rocky bosom.
Q. Eliz. What good is cover'd with the face of heaven,
To be discover'd, that can do me good ? K. Rich. 'Faith, none, but Humphrey Hour, that K. Rich. Th’ advancement of your children, gentle callid your grace
lady. To break fast once forth of my company.
Q. Eliz. Up to some scaffold, there to lose their heads?
K. Rich. Unto the dignity and height of honour.
Q. Eliz. Flatter my sorrow with report of it:
I pr'ythee, hear me speak. Tell me, what state, what dignity, what honour,
Canst thou demise to any child of mine?
Hear me a word; 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
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. What do
think? And there the little souls of Edward's children
Q. Eliz. That thou dost love my daughter from thy Whisper the spirits of thine enemies,
soul. And promise them success and victory.
So, from thy soul's love didst thou love her brothers; Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end;
And from my heart's love I do thank thee for it. Shame serves thy life, and doth thy death attend. [Exit. K. Rich. Be not so hasty to confound my meaning. Q. Eliz. Though far more cause, yet much less spirit I mean, that with my soul 'I love thy daughter,
And do intend to make her queen of England. Abides in me: I say amen to her.
(Going. Q. Eliz. Well then, who dost thou mean shall be K. Rich. Stay, madam; I must talk a word with you.
her king ?
K. Rich. Even so: how think you of it?
That I would learn of you,
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
K. Rich. Wrong not her birth; she is a royal princess. Edward and York; then, haply, will she weep:
If this inducement move her not to love,
Send her a letter of thy noble deeds;
Q. Eliz. That at her hands, which the king's King Tell her thou mad'st away her uncle Clarence,
forbids. Her uncle Rivers; ay, and, for her sake,
K. Rich. Say, she shall be a high and mighty queen. Mad'st quick conveyance with her good aunt Anne. Q. Eliz. To wail the title, as her mother doth.
K. Rich. You mock me, madam : this is not the way 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, lengthen it.
Q. Eliz. But she, your subject, loaths such sovereignty.
K. Rich. Be eloquent in my behalf to her.
K. Rich. Then, plainly to her tell my loving tale.
Q. Eliz. Plain, and not honest, is too harsh a
style. If I did take the kingdom from your sons,
K. Rich. Your reasons are too shallow and too quick. To make amends I'll give it to your daughter.
Q. Eliz. O! no, my reasons are too deep and dead;If I have kill'd the issue of your womb,
Too deep and dead, poor infants, in their graves. To quicken your increase, I will beget
K. Rich. Harp not on that string, madam; that is past. Mine issue of your blood upon your daughter.
Q. Eliz. Harp on it still shall I, till heart-strings break. A grandam's name is little less in love,
K. Rich. Now, by my George, my garter, and my Than is the doting title of a mother:
crown, They are as children, but one step below,
Q. Eliz. Profan'd, dishonour'd, and the third usurp'd. Even of your mettle, of your very blood;
K. Rich. I swearOf all one pain, save for a night of groans
By nothing; for this is no oath. Endur'd of her, for whom you bid like sorrow. Thy George, profan'd, hath lost its lordly honour; Your children were vexation to your youth;
Thy garter, blemish’d, pawn'd his knightly virtue; But mine shall be a comfort to your age.
Thy crown, usurp'd, disgrac'd his kingly glory.
If something thou would’st swear to be believ'd,
K. Rich. Now by the world,
'Tis full of thy foul wrongs. Dorset, your son, that with a fearful soul
K. Rich. My father's death,Treads discontented steps in foreign soil,
Thy life hath it dishonour'd. This fair alliance quickly shall call home
K. Rich. Then, by myself, To high promotions and great dignity:
Thyself is self-mis-us'd.
God's wrong is most of all. Again shall you be mother to a king,
If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath with him, And all the ruins of distressful times
The unity, the king my husband made, Repair'd with double riches of content.
Thou hadst not broken, nor my brothers died. What! we have many goodly days to see :
If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by him, The liquid drops of tears that you have shed, The imperial metal, circling now thy head, Shall come again transform'd to orient pearl,
Had grac'd the tender temples of my child; Advantaging their loan with interest
And both the princes had been breathing here, Of ten-times-double gain of happiness.
Which now, two tender bed-fellows for dust,
Thy broken faith hath made the prey for worms.
The time to come. | Put in her tender heart th' aspiring flame
Q. Eliz. That thou hast wronged in the time o'erOf golden sov'reignty ; acquaint the princess
past; With the sweet silent hours of marriage joys:
For I myself have many tears to wash And when this arm of mine hath chastised
Hereafter time, for time past wrong'd by thee.
The children live whose fathers thou hast slaughter'd,
Old barren plants, to wail it with their age.
Swear not by time to come; for that thou hast Q. Eliz. What were I best to say? her father's brother Misus'd ere us'd, by times ill-us'd o'er-past. Would be her lord? Or shall I say, her uncle? K. Rich. As I intend to prosper, and repent, Or he that slew her brothers, and her uncles?
So thrive I in my dangerous attempt Under what title shall I woo for thee,
Of hostile arms! myself myself confound !
Heaven and fortune bar me happy hours !
K. Rich. Infer fair England's peace by this alliance. Be opposite all planets of good luck
Immaculate devotion, holy thoughts,
In her consists my happiness and thine;
Without her, follows to myself, and thee,
Richmond is on the seas. Herself, the land, and many a Christian soul,
K. Rich. There let him sink, and be the seas on him, Death, desolation, ruin, and decay :
White-liver'd runagate! what doth he there? It cannot be avoided, but by this ;
Stan. I know not, mighty sovereign, but by guess. It will not be avoided, but by this.
K. Rich. Well, as you guess ? Therefore, dear mother, (I must call you so)
Stan. Stirr'd up by Dorset, Buckingham, and Morton, Be the attorney of my love to her.
He makes for England, here, to claim the crown. Plead what I will be, not what I have been ;
K. Rich. Is the chair empty? is the sword unsway'd ? Not my deserts, but what I will deserve :
Is the king dead ? the empire unpossess'd ? Urge the necessity of state and times,
What heir of York is there alive, but we,
And who is England's king, but great York's heir?
K. Rich. Unless for that he comes to be your liege, K. Rich. Ay, if your self's remembrance wrong your- You cannot guess wherefore the Welshman comes. self.
Thou wilt revolt, and fly to him, I fear. Q. Eliz. Yet thou didst kill my children.
Stan. No, my good lord ; therefore, mistrust me not. K. Rich. But in your daughter's womb I'll bury K. Rich. Where is thy power, then, to beat him them :
Are they not now upon the western shore,
Q. Eliz. I go.-Write to me, Richard, very shortly, K. Rich. Cold friends to me: What do they in the
north, K. Rich. Bear her my true love's kiss, and so fare- When they should serve their sovereign in the west ?
well. [Kissing her. Exit Q. ELIZABETH. Stan. They have not been commanded, mighty king. Relenting fool, and
shallow, changing woman !- Pleaseth your majesty to give me leave, How now! what news?
I'll muster up my friends, and meet your grace,
Most mighty sovereign, 'Tis thought that Richmond is their admiral ; You have no cause to hold my friendship doubtful. And there they hull, expecting but the aid
I never was, nor never will be false. Of Buckingham to welcome them ashore.
K. Rich. Go, then, and muster men : but leave behind K. Rich. Some light-foot friend post to the duke of Your son, George Stanley. Look your heart be firm, Norfolk :
Or else his head's assurance is but frail. Ratcliff, thyself,—or Catesby; where is he?
Stan. So deal with him, as I prove true to you. Cate. Here, my good lord.
Enter a Messenger.
[To Catesby. | Bishop of Exeter, his elder brother,
Enter another Messenger. pleasure,
2 Mess. In Kent, my liege, the Guildfords are in What from your grace I shall deliver to him.
arms; K. Rich. O! true, good Catesby.--Bid him levy And every hour more competitors straight
Flock to the rebels, and their power grows strong. The greatest strength and power he can make,
Enter a third Messenger. And meet me suddenly at Salisbury.
3 Mess. My lord, the army of great Buckingham-.
[Exit. K. Rich. Out on ye, owls! nothing but songs of Rat. What, may it please you, shall I do at Salis- death?
[He strikes him.
There, take thou that, till thou bring better news.
Buckingham's army is dispers’d and scatter'd ; K. Rich. My mind is chang'd.--Stanley, what news And he himself wander'd away alone, with you?
No man knows whither. Stan. None good, my liege, to please you with the K. Rich.
I cry thee mercy : hearing;
There is my purse, to cure that blow of thine. (Rising. Nor none so bad, but well may be reported.
Hath any well-advised friend proclaim'd K. Rich. Heyday, a riddle! neither good nor bad ? Reward to him that brings the traitor in ? What need'st thou run so many miles about,
3 Mess. Such proclamation hath been made, my lord. When thou may'st tell thy tale the nearest way?
Enter a fourth Messenger. Once more, what news?
4 Mess. Sir Thomas Lovel, and lord
Cate. I go.
'Tis said, my liege, in Yorkshire are in arms;
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 the most bloody boar, If they were his assistants, yea, or no;
My son George Stanley is frank'd up in hold: Who answer'd him, they came from Buckingham If I revolt, off goes young George's head : Upon his party : he, mistrusting them,
The fear of that holds off my present aid. Hois'd sail, and made his course again for Bretagne. So, get thee gone: commend me to thy lord. K. Rich. March on, march on, since we are up in Withal
, say that the queen hath heartily consented,
He should espouse Elizabeth her daughter. If not to fight with foreign enemies,
But, tell me, where is princely Richmond now?
Chris. At Pembroke, or at Ha’rford-west, in Wales.
Stan. What men of name and mark resort to him?
Sir Gilbert Talbot, sir William Stanley;
And Rice ap Thomas, with a valiant crew,
And many other of great name and worth;
If by the way they be not fought withal.
Stan. Well, hie thee to thy lord; I kiss his hand :
Thus far into the bowels of the land
Have we march'd on without impediment;
(Showing a Paper.
The reckless, bloody, and usurping boar,
That spoil'd your summer fields, and fruitful vines, Vaughan, and all that have miscarried
Swills your warm blood like wash, and makes his trough By underhand corrupted foul injustice,
In your embowellid bosoms, this foul swine If that your moody discontented souls
Is now even in the centre of this isle,
Near to the town of Leicester, as we learn :
From Tamworth thither, is but one day's march.
In God's name, cheerly on, courageous friends,
To reap the harvest of perpetual peace
Oxf. Every man's conscience is a thousand men, This is the day, which, in king Edward's time,
To fight against this guilty homicide. I wish'd might fall on me, when I was found
Herb. I doubt not, but his friends will turn to us. False to his children, or his wife's allies :
Blunt. He hath no friends, but what are friends for This is the day, wherein I wish'd to fall
fear, By the false faith of him whom most I trusted :
Which in his dearest need will fly from him. This, this All-Souls' day to my fearful soul
Richm. All for our vantage: then, in God's name, Is the determin'd respite of my wrongs.
march. That high All-Seer, which I dallied with,
True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings, Hath turn'd my feigned prayer on my head,
Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings. And given in earnest what I begg'd in jest.
[Ereunt. Thus doth he force the swords of wicked men
SCENE III.-Bosworth Field. To turn their own points in their masters' bosoms.
Enter King RICHARD, and Forces; the Duke of NorThus Margaret's curse falls heavy on my neck :
FOLK, Earl of SURREY, and others. “When he," quoth she, “shall split thy heart with
K. Rich. Here pitch our tent, even here in Bosworth sorrow,
field. Remember Margaret was a prophetess.”Come, lead me, officers, to the block of shame;
My lord of Surrey, why look you so sad ? Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame.
Sur. My heart is ten times lighter than my looks.
K. Rich. My lord of Norfolk,-
Here, most gracious liege.
K. Rich. Norfolk, we must have knocks; ha! must
K. Rich. Up with my tent! here will I lie to-night;
(Soldiers begin to set up the King's Tent.
But where to-morrow ?-Well, all's one for that.- Rat. My lord ?
K. Rich. Saw'st thou the melancholy lord Northum-
Went through the army, cheering up the soldiers.
K. Rich. So: I am satisfied. Give me a bowl of
I have not that alacrity of spirit,
Nor cheer of mind, that I was wont to have.-
William BRANDON, OXFORD, and other Officers. Rat. It is, my lord.
K. Rich. Bid my guard watch. Leave me.
And help to arm me.—Leave me, I say,
(King Richard retires into his Tent. Exeunt
RATCLIFF and CatesbY.
Richmond's Tent opens, and discovers him and his
Stan. Fortune and victory sit on thy helm!
Be to thy person, noble father-in-law !
how fares our loving mother?
Who prays continually for Richmond's good :
So much for that.—The silent hours steal on,
Blunt. Unless I have mista'en his colours much, Prepare thy battle early in the morning;
And put thy fortune to the arbitrement
Of bloody strokes, and mortal-staring war.
I, as I may, (that which I would I cannot)
With best advantage will deceive the time,
But on thy side I may not be too forward,
Blunt. Upon my life, my lord, I'll undertake it : Be executed in his father's sight.
Farewell. The leisure and the fearful time
And ample interchange of sweet discourse,
Which so long sunder'd friends should dwell upon.
God give us leisure for these rites of love !
I'll strive, with troubled thoughts, to take a nap;
Lest leaden slumber peise ine down to-morrow,
Once more, good night, kind lords, and gentlemen.
(Exeunt Lords, Sc., with Stanley.
O! Thou, whose captain I account myself
Look on my forces with a gracious eye;
K. Rich. Good Norfolk, hie thee to thy charge. That they may crush down with a heavy fall
Th' usurping helmets of our adversaries !
Make us thy ministers of chastisement,
To thee I do commend my watchful soul,
(Exit. Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes:
Sleeping, and waking, 0, defend me still!
[Lies down and sleeps.
rises between the two Tents.
Ghost. Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow!
Think, how thou stab'dst me, in my prime of youth,
At Tewksbury: despair, therefore, and die.
Be cheerful, Richmond; for the wronged souls
[To King Richard.