No doubt the murderous knife was dull and blunt, K. Rich. Madam, so thrive I in my enterprize, Q. Eliz. What good is cover'd with the face of heaven, To be discover'd, that can do me good? K. Rich. Th' advancement of your children, gentle lady. Q. Eliz. Up to some scaffold, there to lose their heads? K. Rich. Unto the dignity and height of fortune, The high imperial type of this earth's glory. Q. Eliz. Flatter my sorrow with report of it: Tell me, what state, what dignity, what honour, Canst thou demise 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 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. Even so: how think you of it? Q. Eliz. How canst thou woo her? K. Rich. That I would learn of 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 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 hate thee, Having bought love with such a bloody spoil. K. Rich. Look, what is done, cannot be now amended? Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes, Of ten-times-double gain of happiness. Would be her lord? Or shall I say, her uncle? alliance. Q. Eliz. Which she shall purchase with still lasting war. K. Rich. Tell her, the king, that may command, entreats. Q. Eliz. That at her hands, which the king's King forbids. K. Rich. Say, she shall be a high and mighty queen. Q. Eliz. To wail the title, as her mother doth. Q. Eliz. But how long fairly shall her sweet life last? K. Rich. As long as heaven, and nature, length ens it. Q. Eliz. As long as hell, and Richard, like of it. K. Rich. Say, I, her sovereign, am her subject low. Q. Eliz. But she, your subject, loaths such sovereignty. K. Rich. Be eloquent in my behalf to her. Q. Eliz. An honest tale speeds best, being plainly told. K. Rich. Then, plainly to her tell my loving tale. 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 1, till heart-strings break. K. Rich. Now, by my George, my garter, and my crown, Q. Eliz. Profan'd, dishonour'd, and the third usurp'd. K. Rich. My father's death,Q. Eliz. Thy life hath it dishonour'd. K. Rich. Why then, by God,- God's wrong is most of all. For I myself have many tears to wash K. Rich. As I intend to prosper, and repent, So thrive I in my dangerous affairs I tender not thy beauteous princely daughter! Q. Eliz. Shall I be tempted of the devil thus? Q. Eliz. Yet thou didst kill my children. K. Rich. But in your daughter's womb I bury them: Where, in that nest of spicery, they will breed Q. Eliz. Shall I go win my daughter to thy will? [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 our shores Throng many doubtful hollow-hearted friends, K. Rich. Some light-foot friend post to the duke of Norfolk : Ratcliff, thyself,- -or Catesby; where is he? 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 The greatest strength and power he can make, Cate. I go. [Exit. Rat. What, may it please you, shall I do at Salisbury? K. Rich. Why, what wouldst thou do there, before I go? Rat. Your highness told me, I should post before. Enter STANLEY. K. Rich. My mind is chang'd.—Stanley, what news with you? Stan. None good, my liege, to please you with the hearing; Nor none so bad, but well may be reported. K. Rich. Heyday, a riddle! neither good nor bad? Stan. What need'st thou run so many miles about, Stan. Stirr'd up by Dorset, Buckingham, and He makes for England, here, to claim the crown. K. Rich. Is the chair empty? is the sword unsway'd? Is the king dead? the empire unpossess'd? Stan. Unless for that, my liege, I cannot guess. When they should serve their sovereign in the west? Stan. They have not been commanded, mighty king. Pleaseth your majesty to give me leave, Stan. K. Rich. Go, then, and muster men: but 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. Mess. My gracious sovereign, now in Devonshire, As I by friends am well advertised, Sir Edward Courtney, 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 Guilfords are in arms; And every hour more competitors Flock to the rebels, and their power grows strong. Enter a third Messenger. 3 Mess. My lord, the army of great Buckingham K. Rich. Out on ye, owls! nothing but songs of death? [He strikes him. There, take thou that, till thou bring better news. 3 Mess. The news I have to tell your majesty Is, that by sudden floods and fall of waters, Buckingham's army is dispers'd and scatter'd; And he himself wander'd away alone, No man knows whither. K. Rich. There is my purse, to cure that blow of thine, Hath any well-advised friend proclaim'd Reward to him that brings the traitor in? That, in the sty of the most deadly boar, 3 Mess. Such proclamation hath been made, my The fear of that holds off my present aid. lord. Enter a fourth Messenger. 4 Mess. Sir Thomas Lovel, and lord marquess Dorset, 'Tis said, my liege, in Yorkshire are in arms: Hois'd sail, and made his course again for Bretagne. K. Rich. March on, march on, since we are up in arms; If not to fight with foreign enemies, Yet to beat down these rebels here at home. So, get thee gone: commend me to thy lord. Stan. What men of name resort to him? Stan. Well, hie thee to thy lord; I kiss his hand My letter will resolve him of my mind. Farewell. [Giving papers to Sir CHRISTOPHER 53 [Exeunt SCENE I.-Salisbury. An open Place. Inter the Sheriff, and Guard, with BUCKINGHAM, led to execution. Buck. Will not king Richard let me speak with him? Sher. No, my good lord; therefore, be patient. Buck. Hastings, and Edward's children, Grey, and Rivers, Holy king Henry, and thy fair son Edward, Do through the clouds behold this present hour, Buck. Why, then All-Souls' day is my body's doomsday. This is the day, which, in king Edward's time, 66 sorrow, Remember Margaret was a prophetess." : Come, lead me, officers, to the block of shame; Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame. [Exeunt BUCKINGHAM and Officers. SCENE II.-A Plain near Tamworth. Enter, with drum and colours, RICHMOND, OXFORD, Sir JAMES BLUNT, Sir WALTER HERBERT, and others, with Forces, marching. Richm. Fellows in arms, and my most loving friends, Bruis'd underneath the yoke of tyranny, In your embowell'd bosoms, this foul swine Near to the town of Leicester, as we learn: Oxf. Every man's conscience is a thousand men, To fight against this guilty homicide. Herb. I doubt not, but his friends will turn to us. Blunt. He hath no friends, but what are friends for fear, Which in his dearest need will fly from him. Richm. All for our vantage: then, in God's name, march. |