Dorset: Attendants with them.

Dut.
Who meets us here? my niece Plantagenet,
Led in the hand of her kind aunt of Gloster? ^note
Now, for my life, she's wand'ring to the tower,
On pure heart's love, to greet the tender prince.—
Daughter, well met.

Ann.
God give your graces both
A happy and a joyful time of day!

Que.
As much to you, good sister! Whither away? ^note

Ann.
No farther than the tower; and, as I guess,
Upon the like devotions as yourselves,
To gratulate the gentle princes ^note there.

Que.
Kind sister, thanks; we'll enter all together: Enter Brakenbury.
And, in good time, here the lieutenant comes.—
Master lieutenant, pray you, by your leave,
How doth the ^note prince, and my young son of York ^note?

Bra.
Right well, dear madam: By your patience, ^note
I may not suffer you to visit them ^note;
The king hath strictly ^note charg'd the ^note contrary.

Que.
The king! who's ^note that?

Bra.
I ^note mean, the lord protector.

Que.
The Lord protect him from that kingly title!
Hath he set bounds ^note between their love, and me?
I am their mother, Who shall bar me ^note from them?

Dut. ^note
I am their father's mother ^note, I will see them.

Ann.
Their aunt I am in law, in love their mother:
Then bring me to their sights; I'll ^note bear thy blame,
And take thy office from thee, on my peril.

Bra.
No, madam, no, I may not leave it so;
I am bound by oath, and therefore pardon me. ^note [Exit.

Enter Stanley.

Sta.
Let me but meet you, ladies, one hour ^note hence,
And I'll salute your grace of York as mother,
And reverend ^note looker-on, of two fair queens.—
Come, madam, [to Ann.] you must straight to ^note Westminster,
There to be crowned Richard's royal queen.

Que.
Ah, cut my lace asunder ^note! that my pent heart
May have some scope to beat, or else I ^note swoon
With this dead-killing ^note news.

Ann.
Despiteful tidings! o unpleasing news! ^note

Dor.
Be of good chear:—14Q0884 Mother, how ^note fares your grace?

Que.
O Dorset, speak not to me, get thee gone ^note,
Death and destruction dog ^note thee at the heels ^note;
Thy mother's name is ominous to children:
If thou wilt out-strip death, go cross the seas,
And live with Richmond, from the reach of ^note hell.
Go, hie thee, hie thee from this slaughter-house,
Lest thou encrease the number of the dead;
And make me die the thrall of Margaret's curse,—
Nor mother, wife, nor England's counted queen.

Sta.
Full of wise care is this your counsel, madam:—
Take all the swift advantage of the hours ^note;
You shall have letters from me to my son
In your behalf, to meet you on the way: ^note
Be not ta'en tardy by unwise delay ^note.

Dut.
O ill-dispersing wind of misery!—
O my accursed womb, the bed of death;
A cockatrice hast thou hatch'd to the world,
Whose unavoided eye is murtherous!

Sta.
Come, madam, come; I ^note in all haste was sent ^note.

Ann.
And I with all ^note unwillingness will go.—
O, would ^note to God, that the inclusive ^note verge

Of golden metal, that must round my brow,
Were red-hot steel, to sear me to the brain ^note!
Anointed let me be with deadly venom; ^note
And die, ere men can say—God save the queen!

Que.
Go, go, poor ^note soul, I envy not thy glory;
To feed my humour, wish thyself no harm.

Ann.
No! why ^note?—When he, that is my husband now,
Came to me, as ^note I follow'd Henry's corse;
When scarce the blood was well wash'd ^note from his hands,
Which issu'd from my other angel husband,
And that dead saint ^note which then ^note I weeping follow'd;
O, when, I say, I look'd on Richard's face,
This was my wish,—Be thou, quoth I, accurs'd,
For making me, so young, so old a widow!
And, when thou wed'st, let sorrow haunt thy bed;
And be thy wife (if any be so mad ^note)
More miserable ^note by the life of ^note thee,
Than thou ^note hast made me by my dear lord's death!
Lo, ere I ^note can repeat this curse again,
Even in so short a space, ^note my woman's heart
Grossly grew captive to his honey words,
And prov'd the subject ^note of my own ^note soul's curse:
Whith ^note hitherto hath held mine ^note eyes from rest;
For never yet one hour in his bed
Did I enjoy ^note the golden dew of sleep,
But with his timorous dreams was still awak'd ^note.
Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick;
And will, no doubt ^note, shortly be rid of me.

Que.
Poor heart, adieu; I pity thy complaining. ^note

Ann.
No more than with my ^note soul I mourn for yours.

Dor.
Farewel, thou woful welcomer of glory. ^note

Ann.
Adieu, poor soul, that tak'st ^note thy leave of it.

Dut.
Go thou to Richmond, And good fortune guide thee!—
Go thou to Richard, And good angels tend thee ^note!—
Go thou to sanctuary, And good thoughts possess thee!—
I to my grave, Where peace and rest lye with me!
Eighty odd ^note years of sorrow have I seen,
And each hour's joy wreck'd with a week of teen.

Que.
Stay yet; look back, with me, unto the tower.— ^note
Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes,
Whom envy hath immur'd within your walls!
Rough cradle for such little pretty ones,
Rude ragged nurse, old sullen play-fellow
For tender princes, use my babies well!
So foolish sorrow ^note bids your stones farewel. [Exeunt. SCENE II. The same. A Room of State in the Palace. Flourish. Richard, upon his Throne; Buckingham, and Lords, by him: Catesby, Page, and Others.

Ric.
Stand all apart.—Cousin of Buckingham,—

Buc.
My gracious sovereign: ^note

Ric.
Give me thy hand. Thus high, by thy advice,
And ^note thy assistance, is king Richard seated:—
But shall we wear these glories ^note for a day?
Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them?

Buc.
Still live they, and for ever let them last ^note!

Ric.
Ah, Buckingham ^note, now do I 'ply ^note the touch,14Q0885
To try if thou be current gold indeed:—
Young Edward lives;—Think now what I would speak. ^note

Buc.
Say on, my loving lord. ^note

Ric.
Why, Buckingham, I say, I would be king.

Buc.
Why, so you are, my thrice renowned ^note liege ^note.

Ric.
Ha! am I king? 'Tis so: but Edward lives.

Buc.
True, noble prince.

Ric.
O bitter consequence,
That Edward still should live—true noble prince!
Cousin, thou wast not ^note wont to be so dull:—
Shall I be plain? I wish the bastards dead;
And I would have it suddenly perform'd.
What say'st thou now ^note? speak suddenly, be brief.

Buc.
Your grace may do your pleasure.

Ric.
Tut, tut, thou art all ice, thy kindness freezes ^note:
Say, have I thy consent, that they shall die?

Buc.
Give me some breath, some little pause, dear lord ^note,
Before I positively speak in this: ^note
I will resolve your grace immediately ^note. [Exit Buc.

&clquo;Cat.
&clquo;The king is angry; see, he gnaws his ^note lip ^note.&crquo; [to a Stander-by.

Ric.
I will converse with iron-witted ^note fools,
And unrespective boys; none are for me,
That look into me with considerate eyes:—
High ^note-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect.—
Boy, ^note—

Pag.
My ^note lord:

Ric.
Know'st thou not any, whom corrupting gold
Would tempt ^note unto a close exploit of death?

Pag.
I ^note know a discontented gentleman,
Whose humble means match not his haughty mind: ^note
Gold were as good as twenty orators,
And will, no doubt, tempt him to any thing.

Ric.
What is his name?

Pag.
His name, my lord, is—Tyrrel.

Ric.
I partly know the man; Go, call him hither, ^note boy.— [Exit Page.
The deep-revolving witty Buckingham

No more shall be the neighbour to my counsels:
Hath he so long held out with me untir'd,
And stops he now for breath? well, be it so. ^note— Enter Stanley.
How now, lord Stanley? what's the news? ^note

Sta.
My lord ^note, ^note
The marquiss Dorset, as I hear, is fled
To Richmond, in the parts where he abides.

Ric.
Come hither, Catesby: rumour ^note it abroad,
That Anne my wife is very grievous sick; ^note
I will take order for her keeping close.
Enquire me out some mean-born gentleman ^note,
Whom I will marry straight to Clarence' daughter:
The boy is foolish, and I fear not him.
Look, how thou dream'st! I say again, give out,
That Anne my queen is ^note sick, and like to die:
About it; for it stands me much upon,
To stop all hopes, whose growth may damage me.— [Exit Catesby.
I must be marry'd to my brother's daughter,
Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass:—
Murther her brothers ^note, and then marry her!
Uncertain way of gain! But I am in
So far in blood, that sin will ^note pluck ^note on sin.
Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye.— Re-enter Page, with Tyrrel.
Is thy name—Tyrrel?

Tyr.
James Tyrrel, and your most obedient subject.

Ric.
Art thou, indeed?

Tyr.
Prove me, my gracious lord. ^note

Ric.
Dar'st thou resolve to kill a friend of mine?

Tyr.
Please you; but I ^note had rather kill two enemies ^note.

Ric.
Why, then thou ^note hast it; two ^note deep enemies,
Foes to my rest, and my ^note sweet sleep's ^note disturbers ^note,
Are they that I would have thee deal upon:
Tyrrel, I mean those bastards in the tower.

Tyr.
Let me have open ^note means to come to them,
And soon I'll rid you from the fear of them.

Ric.
Thou sing'st sweet musick. Hark, ^note come hither, Tyrrel;
Go, by this &dagger2; token ^note:—Rise, and lend thine ear:14Q0886 [whispers him.
There is no ^note more but so; Say, it is ^note done,
And I will love thee, and prefer thee for ^note it.

Tyr.
I will dispatch it straight. ^note [Exit. Re-enter Buckingham.

Buc.
My lord, I have consider'd in my mind
The late demand that ^note you did sound me in:

Ric.
Well, let that rest. ^note Dorset is fled to Richmond.

Buc.
I hear the news ^note, my lord.

Ric.
Stanley, he is your wife's son; Well, look to it. ^note

Buc.
My lord, I claim the gift ^note, my due by promise,
For which your honour and your faith is pawn'd;
The earldom of Hereford ^note, and the moveables
Which you have promised I shall possess ^note.

Ric.
Stanley, look to your wife; if she convey ^note
Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it.

Buc.
What says your highness to my just request? ^note

Ric.
I do remember ^note me, Henry the sixth
Did prophesy, that Richmond should be king,
When Richmond was a little peevish boy.
A king!—perhaps.

Buc.
My lord,— ^note

Ric.
How chance, the prophet could not at that time

Have told me, I being by, that I should kill him?

Buc.
My lord, your promise for the earldom,—

Ric.
Richmond!—When last I was at Exeter,
The mayor in courtesy shew'd me the castle,
And call'd it—Rouge-mont: at which name, I started;
Because a bard of Ireland told me once,
I should not live long after I saw Richmond.

Buc.
My lord,—

Ric.
Ay, what's o'clock?

Buc.
I am thus bold to put your grace in mind
Of what you promis'd me:

Ric.
Well, but what's o'clock?

Buc.
Upon the stroke of ten.

Ric.
Well, let it strike.

Buc.
Why let it strike?

Ric.
Because that, like a jack, thou keep'st the stroke
Betwixt thy begging and my meditation.
I am not in the giving vein to-day.

Buc.
Why, then resolve me ^note whe'r you will, or no.

Ric.
Thou ^note troubl'st me; I am not in the vein. [Exeunt Richard, and Train.

Buc.
Is it ^note even so? repays he my ^note deep service
With such contempt ^note? made I him king for this?
O, let me think on Hastings; and be gone
To Brecknock, while my fearful head is on. [Exit. SCENE III. The same. Enter Tyrrel.

Tyr.
The tyrannous and bloody act is ^note done;
The most arch deed of ^note piteous massacre,
That ever yet this land was guilty of.
Dighton, and Forrest, whom I did suborn

To do this piece of ruthless ^note butchery,
Albeit ^note they were flesht villains, bloody dogs,
Melting ^note with tenderness and kind compassion ^note,
Wept like to ^note children, in their deaths' sad story ^note.
O, thus ^note, quoth Dighton, lay the gentle babes ^note,—
Thus, thus, quoth Forrest; girdling ^note one another
Within their alablaster ^note innocent ^note arms:
Their lips were ^note four ^note red roses on a stalk,
Which, in ^note their summer beauty, kiss'd each other.
A book of prayers on their pillow lay;
Which once ^note, quoth Forrest, almost chang'd my mind:
But, o, the devil—there the villain stop'd;
When Dighton ^note thus told on,—we smothered
The most replenished sweet work of nature,
That, from the prime creation, e'er she ^note framed.
Hence both ^note are gone with conscience and remorse,
They could not speak; and so I left them both,
To bear ^note these tidings ^note to the bloody king. Enter Richard.
And here he comes:—All health, my sovereign lord! ^note

Ric.
Kind Tyrrel! am I ^note happy in thy news?

Tyr.
If to have done the thing you gave ^note in charge
Beget your happiness, be happy then,
For it is done. ^note

Ric.
But didst thou see them dead?

Tyr.
I did, my lord.

Ric.
And bury'd, gentle Tyrrel?

Tyr.
The chaplain of the tower hath bury'd them;
But where, to say the truth, I ^note do not know.

Ric.
Come to me, Tyrrel, soon, at after ^note supper,
When thou ^note shalt ^note tell the process of their death.
Mean time, but think how I may do thee good,

And be inheritor of thy desire.
Farewel, 'till then. ^note

Tyr.
I humbly take my leave. [Exit.

Ric.
The son of Clarence have I pen'd ^note up close,
His daughter meanly have I match'd in marriage;
The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom,
And Anne my wife hath bid the world ^note good night.
Now, for I know the Breton Richmond aims
At young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter,
And, by that knot, looks proudly on the ^note crown,
To her go I ^note, a jolly thriving wooer. Enter Ratcliff. ^note

Rat.
My lord,—

Ric.
Good or bad news ^note, that thou com'st in ^note so bluntly?

Rat.
Bad news, my lord: Morton is ^note fled to Richmond;
And Buckingham, back'd with the hardy Welshmen,
Is in the field, and still his power encreaseth.

Ric.
Ely with Richmond troubles me more near,
Than Buckingham and his rash-levy'd ^note strength.
Come,—I have learn'd, that fearful commenting
Is leaden servitor to dull delay;
Delay leads ^note impotent and snail-pac'd beggary:
Then fiery expedition be my wing ^note,
Jove's ^note Mercury, and herald for a king!
Go, muster ^note men: My counsel is my shield;
We must be brief, when traitors brave the field. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. The same. Before the Palace. Enter Queen Margaret.

Q. M.
So, now prosperity begins to mellow,
And drop into the rotten mouth of death.
Here in these confines slily have I lurk'd,

To watch the waining of mine enemies ^note:
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 the Queen, hastily; Dutchess of York following her.

Que.
Ah, my poor princes ^note! ah, my tender babes!
My unblown ^note flowers ^note, new-appearing sweets!
If yet your gentle souls fly in the air,
And be not fix'd in doom perpetual,
Hover about ^note me with your airy wings,
And hear your mother's lamentation.

Q. M.
Hover about her; say, that right for right14Q0887
Hath dim'd your infant morn to aged night.

Dut.
So many miseries have ^note craz'd my voice,
That my woe-weary'd tongue is still and mute. ^note—
Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead? ^note

Q. M.
Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet, ^note
Edward for Edward pays a dying debt.

Que.
Wilt thou, o God, fly from such gentle lambs,
And throw them in the entrails of the wolf?
Why didst ^note thou sleep, when such a deed was done?

Q. M.
When holy Henry ^note dy'd, and my sweet son?

Dut.
Dead life, blind sight, ^note poor mortal living ghost,
Woe's scene, world's shame, grave's due by life usurp'd,
Brief abstract and record of tedious days, ^note
Rest thy ^note unrest on England's lawful earth, [sitting down on it.
Unlawfully ^note made drunk with innocent ^note blood.

Que.
Ah, that thou would'st as soon afford ^note a grave,
As thou canst yield a melancholy seat;

Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here! [throwing herself by her.
Ah, who hath any cause to mourn, but we? ^note

Q. M.
If ancient sorrow be most reverent,
Give mine the benefit of seniory ^note,
And let my griefs ^note frown on the upper hand. [joining, and taking Seat between them.
If sorrow can admit society,
Tell o'er your woes again by viewing mine:— ^note
I had an Edward, 'till a Richard kill'd him;
I had a husband, 'till a Richard ^note kill'd him:
Thou hadst an Edward, 'till a Richard kill'd him;
Thou hadst a Richard, 'till a Richard kill'd him.

Dut.
I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill him;
I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st ^note to kill him.

Q. M.
Thou hadst a Clarence too,14Q0888 and Richard ^note 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 ^note;
That foul defacer of God's handy-work;
14Q0889That excellent grand tyrant of the earth, ^note
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 ^note carnal cur
Preys on the issue of his mother's body,
And makes ^note her pue-fellow with others' moan!

Dut.
O Harry's wife, triúmph not in my woes;
God witness with me, I have wept for thine. ^note

Q. M.
Bear with me; I am hungry for revenge,
And now I cloy me with beholding it.

Thy Edward he is dead, that kill'd ^note my Edward;
Thy other ^note Edward dead, to quit ^note my Edward;
Young York he is but boot, because both they
Match ^note not the high perfection of my loss:
Thy Clarence he is dead, that stab'd ^note my Edward;
And the beholders of this tragick ^note play, ^note
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 ^note thither: But at hand, at hand,
Ensues his piteous and unpity'd end:
Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar for him; saints pray,
To have him suddenly convey'd ^note from hence:—
Cancel his bond ^note of life, dear God, I pray,
That I may live to say ^note, The dog is dead!

Que.
O, thou didst prophesy, the time would come,
That I should wish for thee to help me curse
That bottl'd spider, that foul bunch-back'd ^note toad.

Q. M.
I call'd ^note thee then, vain flourish of my fortune;
I call'd ^note 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 ^note to be hurl'd down below:
A mother only mock'd with two fair babes ^note;
A dream of what thou wast; a garish flag, ^note
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 ^note dost thou joy?
Who sues, and kneels, and says ^note—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,14Q0890 a most distressed widow;
For joyful mother, one that wails the name;
For queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care:
For one being su'd to, one that humbly sues; ^note
For one commanding all, obey'd of none;
For one that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me.
Thus hath the course of justice whirl'd ^note about,
And left thee ^note but a very prey to time;
Having no more but thought of what thou wert, ^note
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 burthen'd yoke;
From which even here I slip my weary'd head, ^note
And leave the burthen of it all on thee.—
Farewel, York's wife,—and queen of sad mischance,—
These English woes shall make ^note me smile in France.

Que.
O thou well skill'd in curses, stay a while,
And teach me how to curse mine enemies.

Q. M.
Forbear to sleep the night, and fast the day; ^note
Compare dead happiness ^note with living woe;
Think that thy babes were fairer ^note than they were,
And he, that slew them, fouler than he is:
Bettering thy loss makes ^note the bad causer worse;
Revolving this will teach thee how to curse.

Que.
My words ^note are dull, O, quicken them with thine!

Q. M.
Thy woes will make them sharp, and pierce like mine. [Exit Margaret.

Dut.
Why should calamity be full of words?

Que.
Windy attorneys to their ^note client ^note woes,
Airy succeeders of intestate ^note joys,
Poor breathing orators of miseries,
Let them have scope: though what they do impart ^note
Help nothing else, yet ^note do they ease the heart.

Dut.
If so, then be not tongue-ty'd: go with me,
And in the breath of bitter words let's smother
My damned son, that thy two sweet ^note sons smother'd. [Drum within.
I hear his drum,—be ^note copious in exclaims. Enter Richard, and Train, marching.

Ric.
Who intercepts me in ^note my expedition?

Dut.
O, she ^note, that might have intercepted thee,
By strangling thee in her accursed womb,
From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast done.

Que.
Hid'st ^note thou that forehead with a golden crown,
Where ^note should be branded, ^note if that right were right,
The slaughter of the prince that ow'd that crown,
And the dire death of my poor sons ^note, and brothers?
Tell me, thou villain-slave, where are my children?

Dut.
Thou toad, thou toad, where is thy brother Clarence?
And little Ned Plantagenet, his son?

Que.
Where is the gentle Rivers, Vaughan, Grey? ^note

Dut.
Where is kind Hastings?

Ric.
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. Alarums.
Either be patient, and entreat me fair,
Or with the clamorous report ^note of war
Thus will I drown your exclamations.

Dut.
Art thou my son?

Ric.
Ay; I thank God, my father, and yourself.

Dut.
Then patiently hear my impatience.

Ric.
Madam, I have a touch of your condition,
That cannot ^note brook the accent of reproof.

Dut.
O, let me speak. ^note

Ric.
Do, then; but I'll not hear.

Dut.
I will be mild and gentle in my words. ^note

Ric.
And brief, good mother; for I am in haste.

Dut.
Art thou so hasty? I have stay'd for thee,
God knows, in torment and in agony ^note.

Ric.
And came I not at last to comfort you?

Dut.
No, by the holy rood, thou know'st it well,
Thou cam'st on earth to make the earth my hell.
A grievous burthen was thy birth to me;
Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy;
Thy school-days, frightful, desperate, wild, and furious;
Thy prime of manhood, daring, bold, and venturous; ^note
Thy age confirm'd, proud, subtle, sly, and bloody, ^note
More mild, but yet more harmful, kind in hatred: ^note
What comfortable hour canst thou name,
That ever grac'd me in thy ^note company?

Ric.
'Faith, none, but Humphrey Houre, that call'd your grace
To breakfast once, forth of my company.
If I be ^note so disgracious ^note in your sight ^note,
Let me march on, and not offend you, madam.— ^note
Strike up the drum.

Dut.
I pr'ythee, hear me speak.

Ric.
You speak too bitterly.

Dut.
Hear me a word;
For I shall never speak to thee again.

Ric.
So.

Dut.
Either thou wilt die, by God's just ordinance,

Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror;
Or I with grief and extream age shall perish,
And never look upon thy ^note face again.
Therefore, take with thee my most heavy curse ^note;
Which, in the day of battle, tire thee more,
Than all the compleat 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 ^note.
Bloody thou art, bloody ^note will be thy end;
Shame serves thy life, and doth thy death attend. [Exit Dutchess.

Que.
Though far more cause, yet much less spirit to curse
Abides in me; I say amen to her. ^note [going.

Ric.
Stay, madam, I must speak a ^note word with you.

Que.
I have no more sons of the royal blood,
For thee to murther ^note: for my daughters, Richard,—
They shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens;
And therefore level not to hit their lives.

Ric.
You have a daughter call'd—Elizabeth,
Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious.

Que.
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 ^note infamy:
So she may live unscar'd of bleeding ^note slaughter,
I will confess she was not Edward's daughter.

Ric.
Wrong not her birth, she is a royal princess. ^note

Que.
To save her life, I'll say—she is not so.

Ric.
Her life is safest only ^note in her birth.

Que.
And only in that safety dy'd her brothers.

Ric.
Lo, at their births ^note good stars were ^note opposite.

Que.
No, to their lives bad friends ^note were contrary.

Ric.
All unavoided is the doom of destiny.

Que.
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.

Ric.
You speak, as if that I had slain my cousins. ^note

Que.
Cousins, indeed;14Q0891 and by their uncle cozen'd
Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life.
Whose hand soever lanc'd ^note their tender hearts,
Thy head, all indirectly, gave direction:
No doubt, the murth'rous 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 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.

Ric.
Madam, so thrive I in my enterprize ^note
And dangerous success of bloody wars,
As I ^note intend more good to you and yours,
Than ever you and yours by me were harm'd! ^note

Que.
What good is cover'd with the face of heaven,
To be discover'd, that can do me good?

Ric.
The advancement of your children, gentle lady. ^note

Que.
Up to some scaffold, there to lose their heads.

Ric.
No, to ^note the dignity and height of fortune,
The high ^note imperial type of this earth's glory.

Que.
Flatter my sorrows ^note with report of it;

Tell me, what state, what dignity, what honour,
Canst thou devise ^note to any child of mine?

Ric.
Even all I have; ay, and ^note myself and all,
Will I withal ^note 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.

Que.
Be brief, left that the process of thy kindness
Last longer telling than thy kindness' date. ^note

Ric.
Then know, that, from my soul, I love thy daughter.

Que.
My daughter's mother thinks it with her soul.

Ric.
What do you think?

Que.
That thou dost love my daughter, from thy soul:
So, from thy soul's love, didst ^note thou love her ^note brothers;
And, from my heart's love, I do thank ^note thee for it.

Ric.
Be not so hasty to confound my meaning:
I mean, that with my soul I love thy daughter,
And do intend to ^note make her queen of England.

Que.
Well then ^note, who dost thou mean shall be her king?

Ric.
Even he, that makes her queen; Who else should be? ^note

Que.
What, thou?

Ric.
Even I: What think you of it, ^note madam?

Que.
How canst thou woo her?

Ric.
That would I ^note learn of you,
As one being best ^note acquainted with her humour.

Que.
And wilt thou learn of me?

Ric.
Madam, with all my heart.

Que.
Send to her, by the man that slew her brothers,
A pair of bleeding hearts; thereon engrave,
Edward, and York; then, haply, will she ^note weep:
Therefore present to her,—as sometime ^note Margaret
Did to thy father, steep'd in Rutland's blood ^note,—

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. ^note
If this inducement move her ^note not to love,
Send her a letter of thy noble deeds ^note;
Tell her, thou mad'st away her uncle Clarence,
Her uncle Rivers; ay, and ^note, for her sake,
Mad'st quick conveyance with her good aunt Anne.

Ric.
You ^note mock me, madam; this is not the way
To win your daughter.

Que.
There is no other way;
Unless thou couldst put on some other shape,
And not be Richard that hath done all this.

Ric.
Say, that14Q0892I did all this for love of her? ^note

Que.
Nay, then (indeed) she cannot choose but hate thee,
Having bought love with such a bloody spoil.

Ric.
Look, what is done cannot be now amended:
Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes,
Which after-hours give ^note leisure to repent.
If I did take the kingdom from your sons,
To make amends, I'll give it to your daughter:
If I have kill'd the issue of your womb,
To quicken your encrease, I will beget
Mine issue of your blood upon 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,
Even of your metal, of your very blood;
Of all one pain,—save for a night of groans
Endur'd of her, for whom you 'bid like sorrow.
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 ^note 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, ^note 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 sov'reignty; acquaint the princess
With the sweet silent hours of marriage joys:
And when this arm of mine hath chastised
The petty rebel, dull-brain'd Buckingham,
Bound with triumphant laurels 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.

Que.
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?

Ric.
Infer fair England's peace by this alliance.

Que.
Which she shall purchase with still lasting war.

Ric.
Tell her, the king, that may ^note command, entreats.

Que.
That at her hands, which the king's King forbids ^note.

Ric.
Say, she shall be a high and mighty queen.

Que.
To wail ^note the title, as her mother doth.

Ric.
Say, I will love her everlastingly.

Que.
But how long shall that title, ever, last?

Ric.
Sweetly in force unto her fair life's end.

Que.
But how long fairly shall her sweet life last ^note?

Ric.
As long ^note as heaven, and nature, lengthens it.

Que.
As long ^note as hell, and Richard, likes of it.

Ric.
Say, I, her sovereign, am her subject love. ^note

Que.
But she, your subject, loaths such sov'reignty.

Ric.
Be eloquent in my behalf to her.

Que.
An honest tale speeds best, being plainly told.

Ric.
Then plainly to her tell my ^note loving tale.

Que.
Plain, and not honest, is too harsh a style.

Ric.
Your ^note reasons are too shallow and too quick.

Que.
O, no, my reasons are too deep and dead;—
Too deep14Q0893 and dead, poor infants, in your ^note graves ^note.

Ric.
Harp not on that string, madam; that is past. ^note

Que.
Harp on it ^note still shall I, till heart-strings break.

Ric.
Now, by my george, my garter, and my crown,—

Que.
Prophan'd, dishonour'd, and the third usurp'd.

Ric.
I swear ^note:

Que.
By nothing; for this is no oath:
Thy george, prophan'd, hath lost his lordly ^note honour;

Thy garter ^note, blemish'd, pawn'd his knightly ^note virtue;
Thy crown ^note, usurp'd, disgrac'd his kingly glory ^note:
If something ^note thou would'st swear ^note to be believ'd,
Swear then by something that thou hast not wrong'd.

Ric.
Now by the world;

Que.
'Tis full of thy foul wrongs.

Ric.
My father's death;

Que.
Thy ^note life hath that ^note dishonour'd.

Ric.
Then, by myself;

Que.
Thyself is self-mis-us'd. ^note

Ric.
Why then, by heaven: ^note

Que.
Heaven's wrong ^note is most of all.
If thou hadst fear'd ^note to break an oath by him ^note,
The unity, the king thy ^note brother ^note made,
Had not been broken, nor my brother slain: ^note
If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by him ^note,
The imperial metal, circling now thy head, ^note
Had grac'd the tender temples of my child;
And both the princes had been breathing here,
Which now, too ^note tender bed-fellows ^note for dust,
Thy broken faith hath made a prey ^note for worms.
What canst thou swear by now? ^note

Ric.
The ^note time to come.

Que.
That thou hast wronged in the time ^note o'er-past;
For I myself have many tears to wash
Hereafter time, for time past, wrong'd by thee ^note.
The children live, whose parents ^note thou hast slaughter'd,
Ungovern'd youth, to wail it in their ^note age;
The parents live, whose children thou hast butcher'd,
Old barren plants ^note, to wail it with their age:
Swear not by time to come; for that thou hast
Mis-us'd ere us'd, by times ill-us'd ^note o'er-past ^note.

Ric.
As I intend to prosper, and repent!
So thrive I in my dangerous attempt ^note
Of hostile arms! myself myself confound!
Heaven, and fortune, bar me happy hours! ^note
Day, yield me not thy light; nor, night, thy rest!
Be opposite all planets of good luck
To my proceeding ^note, if, with pure ^note heart's love,
Immaculate ^note devotion, holy thoughts,
I tender ^note not thy beauteous princely daughter!
In her consists my happiness, and thine;
Without her, follows to myself, and thee, ^note
Herself, the land, and many a christian soul,
Death, desolation ^note, ruin, and decay:
It cannot be avoided, but by this;
It will not be avoided, but by this.
Therefore, dear mother ^note, (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 ^note, but what I will deserve:
Urge the necessity and state of times,
And be not peevish found ^note in great designs.

Que.
Shall I be tempted of the devil thus?

Ric.
Ay, if the devil tempt you to ^note do good.

Que.
Shall I forget myself, to be myself?

Ric.
Ay, if yourself's ^note remembrance wrong yourself.

Que.
But ^note thou didst kill my children.

Ric.
But in your daughter's womb I bury ^note them:
Where, in that nest of spicery,14Q0894 they shall ^note breed
Selves of themselves, to your recomforture.

Que.
Shall I go win my daughter to thy will?

Ric.
And be a happy mother by the ^note deed.

Que.
I go.—Write to me very shortly,

And you shall understand from me her mind. ^note

Ric.
Bear her my true love's kiss, [saluting the Queen.] and so ^note farewel; [Exit Queen.
Relenting fool, and shallow, changing—woman. Enter Ratcliff; Catesby following.
How now? what news? ^note

Rat.
Most mighty sovereign ^note, on the western coast
Rideth a ^note puissant navy; to the shore ^note
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.

Ric.
Some light-foot friend post to the duke of Norfolk;—
Ratcliff, thyself,—or Catesby, Where is he?

Cat.
Here, my good ^note lord.

Ric.
Catesby, fly to the duke. ^note

Cat.
I will, my lord, with all convenient haste.

Ric.
Ratcliff, come ^note hither: Post to Salisbury;
When thou com'st thither, ^note—Dull unmindful villain,
Why stay'st thou here, and ^note go'st not to the duke?

Cat.
First, mighty liege, tell me your highness' pleasure, ^note
What from your grace I shall deliver ^note to him.

Ric.
O, true, good Catesby; Bid him levy straight
The greatest strength and power he ^note can make,
And meet me suddenly ^note at Salisbury.

Cat.
I go. [Exit Cat.

Rat.
What, may it please you, shall I do ^note at Salisbury?

Ric.
Why, what wouldst thou do there, before I go?

Rat.
Your highness told me, I should post before. Enter Stanley.

Ric.
My mind is chang'd.—Stanley, what ^note news with you?

Sta.
None good, my liege ^note, to please you with the hearing ^note;
Nor none so bad, but well may be reported. ^note

Ric.
Heyday, a riddle; neither good, nor bad!
What need'st ^note thou run so many miles ^note about,
When thou may'st tell thy tale the nearest ^note way?
Once more, what news?

Sta.
Richmond is on the seas.

Ric.
There let him sink, and be the seas on him!
White-liver'd runagate, what doth he there?

Sta.
I know not, mighty sovereign, but by guess.

Ric.
Well, as you guess? ^note

Sta.
Stir'd up by Dorset, Buckingham, and Morton, ^note
He makes for England, here ^note to claim the crown.

Ric.
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?
And who is England's king, but great York's heir?
Then, tell me, what makes he upon the seas?

Sta.
Unless for that, my liege, I cannot guess.

Ric.
Unless for that he comes to be your liege,
You cannot ^note guess wherefore the Welshman ^note comes.
Thou wilt revolt, and fly to him, I fear.

Sta.
No, mighty liege; ^note therefore mistrust me not.

Ric.
Where is thy power then, to ^note beat him back?
Where be ^note thy tenants, and thy followers?
Are they not now upon the western shore,
Safe-conducting the rebels from their ships?

Sta.
No, my good lord, my friends are in the north.

Ric.
Cold friends to me: What ^note do they in the north,
When they should serve their sovereign in the west?

Sta.
They have not been commanded, mighty king: ^note
Pleaseth ^note your majesty to give me leave,

I'll muster up my friends; and meet your grace,
Where, and what time, your majesty shall please.

Ric.
Ay, ay, thou ^note wouldst be gone, to join with Richmond:
I will not trust you, ^note sir.

Sta.
Most mighty sovereign,
You have no cause to hold my friendship doubtful;
I never was, nor never will be, false.

Ric.
Well, go, muster thy men. But, hear you, leave ^note behind
Your son, George Stanley: look your heart be ^note firm,
Or else his head's assurance is but frail.

Sta.
So deal with him, as I prove true to you. [Exit. Enter a Messenger.

Mes.
My gracious sovereign, now in Devonshire,
As I by friends am well advertised,
Sir Edward Courtney ^note, and the haughty prelate,
Bishop of Exeter, his elder brother, ^note
With many more confederates, are in arms. Enter another Messenger.

2. M.
In Kent, my liege, ^note the Guilfords are in arms;
And every hour more competitors
Flock to the rebels, and their power grows strong. ^note Enter another Messenger.

3. M.
My lord, the army of great Buckingham ^note—

Ric.
Out on ye ^note, owls! nothing but songs of death!
There, take thou † that, till thou bring ^note better news. [striking him.

3. M.
The news ^note I have to tell your majesty,
Is,—that, by sudden floods ^note and fall of waters ^note,
Buckingham's ^note army is dispers'd and scatter'd;
And he himself wander'd away alone ^note,
No man knows whither.

Ric.
O, I cry you ^note mercy: ^note
There is &dagger2; my purse, to cure that blow of thine.
Hath any well-advised friend proclaim'd ^note
Reward to him ^note that brings ^note the traitor in?

3. M.
Such proclamation hath been made, my lord. ^note Enter another Messenger.

4. M.
Sir Thomas Lovel, and lord marquiss Dorset,
'Tis said, my liege, in ^note Yorkshire are in arms.
But this good comfort bring I to your highness, ^note—
The Breton navy is dispers'd by tempest ^note:
Richmond, in Dorsetshire, sent out a boat
Unto the shore, to ask those on the banks ^note,
If they were his assistants, yea, or no;
Who answer'd him, they came from Buckingham
Upon his party: he, mistrusting them,
Hois'd sail, and made his course again for ^note Bretagne.

Ric.
March on, march on, since we are up in arms;
If not to fight with foreign enemies,
Yet to beat down ^note these rebels here at home. Enter Catesby.

Cat.
My liege, the duke of Buckingham is taken,
That is the best news; That the earl of Richmond
Is with a mighty power landed at Milford,
Is colder news, but yet ^note it must ^note be told.

Ric.
Away towards Salisbury; while we reason here,
A royal battle might be won and lost:—
Some one take order, Buckingham be brought
To Salisbury;—the rest march on with me. [Exeunt. SCENE V. The same. A Room in Lord Stanley's House. Enter Stanley, and Urswick.

Sta.
Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from me:—

That, in the sty of this most bloody ^note boar,
My son George Stanley is frank'd up in hold;
If I revolt, off goes young George's head;
The fear of that withholds my ^note present aid.
But, tell me, where is princely Richmond now?

Urs.
At Pembroke, or at Ha'rford ^note-west, in Wales.

Sta.
What men of name resort to him?

Urs.
Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned ^note soldier;
Sir Gilbert Talbot, and sir William Stanley,
Oxford, redoubted Pembroke, sir James Blunt,
And ^note 'rice ap Thomas, with a valiant crew;
And many other of great fame ^note and worth:
And towards London do they ^note bend their course, ^note
If by the way they be not fought withal.

Sta.
Well, hie thee to thy lord ^note; commend me to him;
Tell him, the queen hath heartily consented
He shall espouse Elizabeth her daughter.
Those ^note † letters will resolve him of my mind.
Farewel. [Exeunt, severally.

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