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;
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,

* 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.

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,

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. Buthow long fairly shall her sweet life last?
K. Rich. As long as heaven, and nature, length-
ens 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. K. Rich. Harp not on that string, madam; that is past.

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

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

break.

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

my crown,

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,

"Tis full of thy foul wrongs.

Q. Eliz.
K. Rich. My father's death,-
Q. Eliz.

Thy life hath that dishonour'd.

Thyself is self-mis-us'd.

K. Rich. Then, by myself,-
Q. Eliz.
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'er

past;

For I myself have many tears to wash

Hereafter time, for time past, wrong'd by thee. Thechildren 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
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, you shall understand from me her mind. K. Rich. Bear her my true love's kiss, and so farewell.

And

[Kissing her. Erit 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 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 Salisbury;
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.

changing-woman!] Such was the real character of this Queen dowager, who would have married her daughter to King Richard, and did all in her power to alienate the Marquis of Dorset, her son, from the earl of Richmond.

Some light-foot friend, &c.] Richard's precipitation and confusion is in this scene very happily represented by inconsistent orders, and sudden variations of opinion. JOHNSON,

VOL. VI.

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