From all the flaughters, wretch, that thou haft done.
Queen. Hid't thou that forehead with a golden crown,
Where should be branded, if that right were right,
The flaughter of the Prince that ow'd that crown,
And the dire death of my poor fons and brothers ?-
Tell me, thou villain flave, where are my children?
Dutch. Thou toad, thou toad, where is thy brother
Clarence?

And little Ned Plantagenet, his fon?

Queen. Where is kind Haftings, Rivers, Vaughan,Gray? K. Rich. A flourish, trumpets! ftrike alarum, drums! Let not the heavens hear thefe tell tale women Bail on the Lord's anointed. Strike, I say.

[Flourish. Alarums.

Either be patient, and intreat me fair,
Or with the clamorous report of war
Thus will I drown your exclamations.
Dutch. Art thou my fon?

K Rich. Ay, I thank God, my father, and yourself.
Dutch. Then patiently hear my impatience.

K. Rich. Madam, I have a touch of your condition, That cannot brook the accent of reproof.

Dutch. I will be mild, and gentle in my words. K. Rich. And brief, good mother, for I am in hafte. Dutch. Art thou fo hafty? I have staid for thee, God knows, in anguifh, pain and agony.

K. Rich. And came I not at laft to comfort you? Dutch. No, by the holy rood, thou know'ft it well, Thou cam'ft on earth to make the earth my hell. A grievous burthen was thy birth to me, Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy;

Thy fchool-days frightful, defp'rate, wild and furious; Thy prime of manhood, daring, bold and venturous: Thy age confirm'd, proud, fubtle, fly and bloody. What comfortable hour canft thou name,

That ever grac'd me in thy company?

K. Rich. Faith, none but Humphry Houre, that call'd your Grace

To breakfast once, forth of my company.

If I be fo difgracious in your fight,

Let

Let me march on, and not offend your Grace.

Strike up the Drum.

Dutch. I pr'ythee, hear me speak.
K. Rich. You speak too bitterly.
Dutch. Hear me a word:

For I fhall never speak to thee again.

K. Rich. So,

Dutch. Either thou'lt die by God's just ordinance,
Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror ;
Or I with grief and extream age fhall perish,
And, never look upon thy face again.

Therefore take with thee my moft heavy Curfe;:
Which, in the day of battle, tire thee more,
Than all the compleat armour that thou wear'ft!
My prayers on the adverfe party fight,
And there the little fouls of Edward's children
Whisper the Spirits of thine enemies,-
And promise them fuccefs and victory!
Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end!'

Shame ferves thy life, and doth thy death attend. [Exit. Queen. Tho' far more cause, yet much less spirit to curse Abides in me, I fay Amen to her.

[Going. K. Rich. Stay, Madam, I must speak a word with you. Queen. I have no more Sons of the royal blood For thee to flaughter; for my daughters, Richard, They fhall be praying Nuns, not weeping Queens; And therefore level not to hit their lives.

K. Rich. You have a daughter call'd Elizabeth,
Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious.

Queen. And muft the die for this? O let her live,
And I'll corrupt her manners, ftain her beauty,
Slander myself as falfe to Edward's bed,,
Throw over her the veil of infamy:

So he may live unfcarr'd from bleeding flaughter.
I will confefs fhe was not Edward's daughter.

K. Rich. Wrong not her birth, fhe is of royal blood..
Queen. To fave her life, I'll fay, fhe is not fo.
K. Rich. Her life is fafeft only in her birth.
Queen. And only in that fafety dy'd her brothers.
K. Rich, No, at their births good stars were oppofite.

Queen

Queen. No, to their lives bad friends were contrary. K. Rich. All unavoided is the doom of destiny. Queen. True; when avoided grace makes destiny. My babes were deftin'd to a fairer death,

If

grace

had bleft thee with a fairer life.

K. Rich. You fpeak, as if that I had flain my cousins ?
Queen. Coufins, indeed; and by their Uncle couzen'd
Of Comfort, Kingdom, Kindred, Freedom, Life:
Whofe hands foever lanc'd their tender hearts,
Thy head, all indirectly, gave direction.

No doubt, the murd'rous knife was dull and blunt,
'Till it was whetted on thy ftone-hard heart,
To revel in the intrails of my lambs.

But that fill ufe 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 fuch a defp'rate bay of death,
Like a poor bark, of fails and tackling reft,
Rufh all to pieces on thy rocky bofom.

K. Rich. Madam, fo thrive I in my enterprize,
And dangerous fuccefs of bloody wars;
As I intend more good to you and yours,
Than ever you or yours by me were harm'd !

Queen. What good is cover'd with the face of heav'n,

To be discover'd, that can do me good?

K. Rich. Th' advancement of your children, gentle lady.

Queen. Up to fome feaffold, there to lose their heads. K. Rich. No, to the dignity and height of fortune,. The high imperial type of this earth's glory.

Queen. Flatter my forrows with report of it; Tell me, what ftate, what dignity, what honour, Canft thou demife to any child of mine?

K. Rich. Ev'n all I have; ay, and myself and all, Will I withal endow a child of thine:

So in the Lethe of thy angry foul

Thou drown the fad remembrance of thofe wrongs;
Which, thou fuppofeft, I have done to thee.

Queen. Be brief, left that the process of thy kindness Last longer telling than thy kindness do.

K. Rich

K. Rich. Then know, that from my foul I love thy

daughter.

Queen. My daughter's mother thinks it with her foul. K. Rich. What do you think?

Queen. That thou dost love my daughter, from thy
foul.

So from thy foul's love, didft thou love her brothers;
And from my heart's love I do thank thee for it.

K. Rich. Be not fo hafty to confound my meaning;
I mean, that with my foul I love thy daughter,
And do intend to make her Queen of England.

Queen. Say then, who dost thou mean fhall be her
King?

K. Rich. Ev'n he, that makes her Queen; who elfe
fhould be?

Queen. What, thou!

K. Rich. Ev'n fo; how think you of it?
Queen. How canft thou woo her?

K. Rich. I would learn of you,

As one being best acquainted with her humour.

Queen. And wilt thou learn of me?

K. Rich. With all my heart.

weep:

Queen. Send to her, by the man that flew her brothers,
A pair of bleeding hearts; thereon engrave
Edward and York; then, haply, will the
Therefore present to her, as fometime Margret
Did to thy father, fteept in Rutland's blood,
A handkerchief; which, fay to her, did drain
The purple tide from her fweet brothers' bodies,
And bid her wipe her weeping eyes therewith.
If this inducement move her not to love,
Send her a letter of thy noble deeds;

Tell her, thou mad'ft away her uncle Clarence,
Her uncle Rivers; ay, and for her fake,

Mad'ft quick conveyance with her good aunt Anne.

K. Rich. You mock me, Madam; this is not the way To win your daughter.

Queen. There's no other

way,

Unless thou could't put on fome other shape,
And not be Richard that hath done all this.

K. Rich

K. Rich. Say, that I did all this for love of her. Queen. Nay then, indeed, she cannot chufe but hate thee;

Having bought love with fuch a bloody spoil..

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

Which after hours give leifure to repent of.
If I did take the Kingdom from your fons,
To make amends, I'll give it to your daughter:
If I have kill'd the Iffue of your womb,
To quicken your encrease I will beget
Mine iffue of your blood, upon your daughter ::
A grandam's name is little lefs in love,
Than is the doting title of a mother ;
They are as children but one ftep below,
Even of your metal, of y your very blood:
Of all one pain, fave for a night of groans
Endur'd of her, for whom you bid like forrow.
Your children were vexation to your youth,
But mine fhall be a comfort to your age.
The lofs you have, is but a fon being King;
And by that lofs your daughter is made Queen..
I cannot make you what amends I would,,
Therefore accept fuch kindness as I can..
Dorfet, your fon, that with a fearful foul:
Leads difcontented fteps in foreign foil,.
This fair alliance quickly fhall call home
To high promotions, and great dignity.
The King, that calls your beauteous daughter wife,
Familiarly fhall call thy Dorfet brother :
Again fhall 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 fee.

The liquid drops of tears, that you have shed, (12)

(12) The liquid Drops of Tears, that you have shed, Shall come again, transform'd to orient Pearl,

Advantaging their Love with Intereft,

Shall

Oftentimes double gain of Happiness,] The great Improvement

to: