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 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,
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.
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 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 hone
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, ny mother, to thy daughter go;
Make bold her bashful years with your expe-

Q. Eliz. To wail the title, ns 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 7

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.

Thyself is self misus'd

K. Rich. Why then, by God,-
Q. Eliz.

God's wrong is most of a.l 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 grac'd the tender temples of my child;
And both the princes had been breathing here,
Which now, two tender bedfellows 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.
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
Misus'd ere used, by times ill us'd o'erpast.
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 lack
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 yourself'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.

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. Eliz. 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 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.
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 Salis
bury;

When thou com'st 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. O, 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 would'st 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!

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 hun sink, and be the seas
on him!

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 would'st 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 Courteney, 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

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. O, I cry you mercy: There is my purse to cure that blow of thine. Hath any well advised friend proclaim'a Reward to him that brings the traitor in?

3 Mess. Such proclamation hath been made, my liege.

Enter another Messenger.

4 Mess. Sir Thomas Lovel, and lord marquis Dorset,

"Tis said, my liege, in Yorkshire are in arms.

Sher. It is, my lord.

Buck. Why, then All-Souls' day is my body's doomsday.

ham

Is with a mighty power landed at Milford,

Is colder news, but yet they must be told.

sorrow,

Remember Margaret was a prophetess.Come, sirs, convey me to the block of shame; Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame. [Exeunt Buckingham, &c.

SCENE II. Plain near Tamworth. Enter with drum and colours, Richmond, Ox ford, Sir James Blunt, Sir Walter Herbert, and others, with Forces, marching.

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.

SCENE V.

[Exeunt.

That in the sty of this most bloody 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 present aid.
But, tell me, where is princely Richmond now?
Chris. At Pembroke, or at Ha'rford-west, in
Wales.

Stan. What men of name resort to him?
Chris. Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned soldier;
Sir Gilbert Talbot, Sir William Stanley;
Oxford, redoubted Pembroke, Sir James Blunt,
And Rice ap Thomas, with a valiant crew;
And many other of great fame and worth:
And towards London do they bend their course,
If by the way they be not fought withal.
Stan. Well, hie thee to thy lord; commend
me to him;

Tell him, the queen hath heartily consented
He shall espouse Elizabeth her daughter.
These letters will resolve him of my mind.
Farewell. [Gives papers to Sir Christopher.
[Exeunt.

ACT V.

SCENE I. Salisbury. An open Place. Enter 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, Ri. vers, Grey,

Holy King Henry, and thy fair son Edward,
Vaughan, and all that have miscarried
By underhand corrupted foul injustice;
If that your moody discontented souls

Do through the clouds behold this present hour,
Even for revenge mock my destruction!
This is All-Souls' day, fellows, is it not 7

friends,

Thus far into the bowels of the land
Bruis'd underneath the yoke of tyranny,

Have we march'd on without impediment;
And here receive we from our father Stanley
Lines of fair comfort and encouragement.
The wretched, bloody, and usurping boar,
That spoil'd your summer fields, and fruitful
vines,

Swills your warm blood like wash, and makes his trough

In your embowell'd bosoms, this foul swine
Lies now even in the centre of this isle,
Near to the town of Leicester, as we learn:
From Tamworth thither, is but one day's march.
In God's name, cheerly on, courageous friends,
To reap the harvest of perpetual peace
By this one bloody trial of sharp war.
Oxf. Every man's conscience is a thousand
swords,

To fight against that bloody homicide.
Herb. I doubt not, but his friends will turn to us.
Blunt. He hath no friends, but who are friends

for fear;

Which, in his dearest need, will fly from him. Richm. All for our vantage. Then, in God's

name, march:

True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings,

Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings. [Exeunt.

SCENE III. Bosworth Field. Enter King Richard, and Forces; the Duke of Norfolk, Earl of Surrey, and others.

K. Rich. Here pitch our tents, even here in
Bosworth field.-
My lord of Surrey, why look you so sad?
Sur. My heart is ten times lighter than my
looks.

K. Rich. My lord of Norfolk,-
Nor.
Here, most gracious liege.
K. Rich. Norfolk, we must have knocks: Ha!
must we not?

Nor. We must both give and take, my loving

lord.