K. Rich. Then, in plain terms tell her my loving tale. Queen. Plain, and not honeft, is too harsh a stile. K. Rich. Your reafons are too fhallow, and too quick. Queen. O no, my reasons are too deep and dead; Two deep and dead poor infants in their grave; Harp on it ftill fhall I, till heart-ftrings break. K. Rich. Harp not on that string, Madam; that is Now by my George, my Garter, and my Crown Queen. By nothing, for this is no oath. The George, profan'd, hath loft his holy honour; Queen. 'Tis full of thy foul wrongs. If thou didst fear to break an oath with heav'n, K. Rich. By time to come. Queen. Queen. That thou haft wronged in the time o'erpaft, For I myself have many tears to wash Hereafter time, for time paft wrong'd by thee. The parents live, whofe children thou haft butcher'd, Of hoftile arms! myfelf, myfelf confound, To my proceeding, if with pure heart's love, you fo fo,) I tender not thy beauteous Princely daughter. K. Rich. Ay, if your felf's remembrance wrong Queen. But thou didst kill my children. K. Rich. But in your daughter's womb I bury them; Where Where in that neft of spicery they shall breed K. Rich. Bear her my true love's kifs, and fo fare[Kiffing her. Exit Queen. wel. -Relenting fool, and fhallow, changing, woman! 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, thyfelf; or Catesby; where is he? K. Rich. Catefly, fly to the Duke. Catef. I will, my Lord, with all convenient hafte K. Rich. Ratcliff, come hither, poft to Salisbury; When thou com'ft thither-dull unmindful villain, [To Catef. Why stay'st thou here, and go'ft not to the Duke? Catef. Firft, mighty Liege, tell me your Highness' pleasure, What from your Grace I fhall deliver to him. K. Rich. O true, good Catefly. Bid him levy ftrait • Some light-foot friend post to the Duke. Richard's precipitation and confufion is in this VOL. V. scene very happily reprefented The The greatest strength and power he can make, Cates. I go. [Exit. Rat. What, may it please you, fhall I do at Salifbury? K. Rich. Why, what wouldft thou do there, before I go? Rat. Your Highness told me, I should poft before. K. Rich. My mind is chang'd Enter Lord Stanley. Stanley, what news with you? Stanl. 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 so many miles about, When thou may'ft tell thy tale the nearest way; Stanl. Richmond is on the feas. K. Rich. There let him fink, and be the feas on him! White-liver'd Runnagate, what doth he there? Stanl. I know not, mighty Sovereign, but by guess. K. Rich. Well, as you guess. Stanl. Stirr'd up by Dorfet, Buckingham, and Morton, Is the King dead? the Empire unpoffefs'd? Stanl. 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. Stanl. No, mighty Liege, therefore miftruft me not. K. Rich. Where is thy Power then to beat him back?. Where are thy Tenants, and thy Followers? Stanl. No, my good Lord, my friends are in the K. Rich. Cold friends to me. What do they in the North When they should serve their Sov'reign in the West? Stanl. 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, But I'll not trust thee. Stanl. Mighty Sovereign, You have no caufe to hold my friendship doubtful. I never was, nor never will be, falfe. K. Rich. Go then, and mufter men; but leave behind Your fon George Stanley; look, your heart be firm, Stanl. So deal with him, as I prove true to you! Enter a Meffenger. Mef. My gracious Sov'reign, now in Devonshire, As I by friends am well advertised, Sir Edmund Courtney, and the haughty Prelate, With many more confed'rates, are in arms. |