Put in her tender heart the aspiring flame
Of golden sovereignty; acquaint the princess
With the sweet silent hours of marriage joys:
And 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 victress, 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 lier 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. 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.
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 sov'reign, am her subject low.
Q. Eliz. But she, your subject, loathes such so-
vereignty.

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.

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.

In the Levitical Law, chap. xviii. 14.

t

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. Profaned, dishonour'd, and the third usurp❜d.

K. Rich. I swear.

Q. Eliz. By nothing; for this is no oath. Thy George, profaned, hath lost his holy honour; Thy garter, blemish'd, pawn'd his knightly virtue; Thy crown, usurp'd, disgraced his kingly glory: If something thou wouldst swear to be believed, Swear then by something that thou hast not wrong'd. K. Rich. Now by the world,

Q. Eliz. 'Tis full of thy foul wrongs.

K. Rich. My father's death,

Q. Eliz. Thy life hath that dishonour'd.

K. Rich. Then, by myself,

Q. Eliz. Thyself is self-mis-used.

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 graced 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 wronged 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 slaugh-

ter'd,

Ungovern'd youth, to wail it in their age:
The parents live, whose children thou hast butch-

er'd,
Old barren plants, to wail it with their age,
Swear not by time to come; for that thou hast
Mis-used ere used, by times ill used o'er-past.
K. Rich. As I intend to prosper, and repent!

The ensigns of the order of the Garter.

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:
Urge the necessity and state of times,
And be not peevish found in great designs.
Eliz. Shall I be tempted of the devil thus?

thee to do

K.

Q. Eliz. Shall I forget myself, to be myself?
K. Rich. Ay, if your self's remembrance wrong
yourself.

Q. Eliz. But thou didst kill my children.

K. Rich. But in your daughter's womb I bury

them:

Where, in that nest of spicery †, they shall breed Selves of themselves, to your recomforture.

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 unresolved 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.

• Foolish. 1

+The Phenix's nest.

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 comest 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. Ŏ, true, good Catesby;-Bid him levy

straight

The greatest strength and power he can make,
And meet me suddenly at Salisbury.

Cate. I go.

[Exit. Rat. What, may it please you, shall I do at Salisbury?

K. Rich. Why, what wouldst thou do there, be fore I go?

Rat. Your highness told me I should post before. Enter STANLEY.

K. Rich. My mind is changed.-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! What need'st thou run so many miles about When thou may'st tell thy tale the nearest way? Once more, what news?

Stan. Richmond is on the seas.

K. Rich. There let him sink, and be the seas on him!

White-liver'd runagate, what doth he there?

Stan. I know not, mighty sovereign, but by guess. K. Rich. Well, as you guess?

Stan. Stirr'd up by Dorset, Buckingham, and Morton,

He makes for England, here to claim the crown. K. Rich. Is the chair empty? Is the sword unsway'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 gone 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.

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 Guildfords are in

arms;

And every hour more competitors.

Flock to the rebels, and their power grows strong. Enter another MESSENGER.

3 Mess. My lord, the army of great Buckingham

• Associates.