Q. Eliz. And only in that safety died her brothers. K. Rich. Lo, at their births, good stars were oppo

site.

Q. Eliz. No, to their lives bad friends were contrary. K. Rich. All unavoided is the doom of destiny. Q. Eliz. True, when avoided grace makes destiny. My babes were destined to a fairer death,

If grace had blest thee with a fairer life.

cousins.

K. Rich. You speak as if that I had slain my
Q. Eliz. Cousins, indeed; and by their uncle
cozened

Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life.
Whose hands soever lanced their tender hearts,
Thy head, all indirectly, gave direction.

No doubt the murderous knife was dull and blunt,
Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart,
To revel in the entrails of my lambs.

But that still use of grief makes wild grief tame,
My tongue should to thy ears not name my boys,
Till that my nails were anchored in thine eyes;
And I, in such a desperate bay of death,
Like a poor bark, of sails and tackling reft,
Rush all to pieces on thy rocky bosom.

K. Rich. Madam, so thrive I in my enterprise,
And dangerous success of bloody wars,

As I intend more good to you and yours,

Than ever you or yours by me were harmed!

Q. Eliz. What good is covered with the face of heaven,

To be discovered, that can do me good?

K. Rich. The advancement of your children, gentle

lady.

Q. Eliz. Up to some scaffold, there to lose their heads?

K. Rich. No, to the dignity and height of fortune, The high, imperial type of this earth's glory.

Q. Eliz. Flatter my sorrows with report of it.

Tell me, what state, what dignity, what honor,
Canst thou demise1 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

Thou drown the sad remembrance of those wrongs,
Which thou supposest I have done to thee.

Q. Eliz. Be brief, lest that the process of thy kind

ness

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?

Madam, with all my heart.

As one being best acquainted with her humor.
Q. Eliz. And wilt thou learn of me?

K. Rich.

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

brothers,

A pair of bleeding hearts; thereon engrave,

Edward, and York; then, haply, will she weep.

1 The second folio reads devise.

Therefore present to her-as sometime Margaret
Did to thy father, steeped in Rutland's blood-
A handkerchief; which, say to her, did drain
The purple sap from her sweet brothers' 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 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,1

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 killed 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
Endured of her, for whom you bid like sorrow.

1 Tyrwhitt suggested that the sense seemed to require we should read "but love thee," ironically. Mason proposed "but have thee," which Steevens admitted into the text. "It is by no means evident that this is spoken ironically (says Mr. Boswell), and if not, the old reading affords a perfectly clear meaning. A virtuous woman would hate the man who thought to purchase her love by the commission of crimes."

2 Of is used for by; bid is the past tense from bide.

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
Repaired 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, transformed 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 sovereignty; acquaint the princess
With the sweet silent hours of marriage joys;
And when this arm of mine hath chastised
The petty rebel, dull-brained Buckingham,
Bound with triumphant garlands will I come,
And lead thy daughter to a conqueror's bed;
To whom I will retail1 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 honor, and her love,
Can make seem pleasing to her tender years?

1 i. e. recount.

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 sovereign, am her subject low. Q. Eliz. But she, your subject, loathes such sovereignty.

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

Q. Eliz. Harp on it still shall I, till heartstrings break.

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

crown,

Q. Eliz. Profaned, dishonored, and the third usurped. K. Rich. I swear

Q. Eliz. By nothing; for this is no oath. Thy George, profaned, hath lost his holy honor; Thy garter, blemished, pawned his knightly virtue; Thy crown, usurped, disgraced his kingly glory:

VOL. V.

14