Q. Eliz. How canst thou woo her?

K. Rich.

That I would learn of you,

Madam, with all my heart.

As one being best acquainted with her humour.

Q. Eliz. And wilt thou learn of me?

K. Rich.

Q. Eliz. Send to her, by the man that slew her bro

thers,

A pair of bleeding hearts; thereon engrave,
Edward, and York; then, haply, will she weep:
Therefore present to her, as sometime Margaret
Did to thy father, steep'd in Rutland's blood,
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.
If this inducement move her not to love,
Send her a letter of thy noble deeds;

Tell her, thou mad'st away her uncle Clarence,
Her uncle Rivers; ay, and, for her sake,

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 could'st 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 have thee, t

Having bought love with such a bloody spoil.

K. Rich. Look, what is done cannot be now amended; Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes,

Which after-hours give 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 increase, I will beget
Mine issue of your blood upon your daughter.

+ "but hate thee,"-MALONE.

A grandam's name is little less in love,
Than is the doating title of a mother;
They are as children, but one step below,
Even of your mettle, 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 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, 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 garlands will I come, And lead thy daughter to a conqueror's bed;

3

bid like sorrow.] Bid is in the past tense from bide.

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 her 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, en

treats.

Q. Eliz. That at her hands, which the king's King forbids. 5

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 sovereign, am her subject low.
Q. Eliz. But she, your subject, loaths such sov'reignty.
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.

4 To whom I will retail my conquest won,] To retail is to hand down from one to another. Richard, in the present instance, means to say he will transmit the benefit of his victories to Elizabeth.

which the king's King forbids.] Alluding to the prohibition in the Levitical law.

K. Rich. Harp not on that string, madam; that is

past.

Q. Eliz. Harp on it still shall I, till heart-strings

break.

K. Rich. Now, by my George, my garter, and my

Q. Eliz. Profan'd, dishonour'd, and the third usurp❜d. K. Rich. I swear.

Q. Eliz. By nothing for this is no oath. Thy George, profan'd, hath lost his holy honour; Thy garter, blemish'd, pawn'd his knightly virtue; Thy crown, usurp'd, disgrac'd his kingly glory: If something thou would'st swear to be believ'd, 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. Why then, by God, † Q. Eliz. God's wrong is most of all. If thou had'st 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 had'st fear'd to break an oath by him, The imperial metal, circling now thy head, Had grac'd 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'erpast;

For I myself have many tears to wash

Hereafter time, for time past, wrong'd by thee.

+"by heaven," - MALONE.

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

The parents live, whose children thou hast butcher'd,
Old barren plants, to wail it with their age.
Swear not by time to come; for that thou hast
Mis-us'd ere used, by times ill-us'd o'er past.

K. Rich. As I intend to prosper, and repent!
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.

Q. Eliz. Shall I be tempted of the devil thus?
K. Rich. Ay, if the devil tempt thee to do good.
Q. Eliz. Shall I forget myself, to be myself?
K. Rich. Ay, if your self's remembrance wrong your-

self.

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.