Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
[Act 4, Scene 1] §
Enter the Queene, Anne Duchesse of Gloucester, the
Duchesse of Yorke, and Marquesse Dorset.
Who meetes vs heere?
My Neece Plantagenet,
Led in the hand of her kind Aunt of Gloster?
Now, for my Life, shee's wandring to the Tower,
2350 On pure hearts loue, to greet the tender Prince.
Daughter, well met.
God giue your Graces both, a happie
And a ioyfull time of day.
As much to you, good Sister: whither away?
2355 No farther then the Tower, and as I guesse,
Vpon the like deuotion as your selues,
To gratulate the gentle Princes there.
Kind Sister thankes, wee'le enter all together:
Enter the Lieutenant.
And in good time, here the Lieutenant comes.
2360 Master Lieutenant, pray you, by your leaue,
How doth the Prince, and my young Sonne of Yorke?
Right well, deare Madame: by your patience,
I may not suffer you to visit them,
The King hath strictly charg'd the contrary.
2365 The King? who's that?
I meane, the Lord Protector.
The Lord protect him from that Kingly Title.
Hath he set bounds betweene their loue, and me?
I am their Mother, who shall barre me from them?
2370 I am their Fathers Mother, I will see
Their Aunt I am in law, in loue their Mother:
Then bring me to their sights, Ile beare thy blame,
And take thy Office from thee, on my perill.
No, Madame, no; I may not leaue it so:
2375 I am bound by Oath, and therefore pardon me.
Let me but meet you Ladies one howre hence,
And Ile salute your Grace of Yorke as Mother,
And reuerend looker on of two faire Queenes,
Come Madame, you must straight to Westminster,
2380 There to be crowned Richards Royall Queene.
Ah, cut my Lace asunder,
That my pent heart may haue some scope to beat,
Or else I swoone with this dead‑killing newes.
Despightfull tidings, O vnpleasing newes.
2385 Be of good cheare: Mother, how fares your
O Dorset, speake not to me, get thee gone,
Death and Destruction dogges thee at thy heeles,
Thy Mothers Name is ominous to Children.
If thou wilt out‑strip Death, goe crosse the Seas,
2390 And liue with Richmond, from the reach of Hell.
Goe hye thee, hye thee from this slaughter‑house,
Lest thou encrease the number of the dead,
And make me dye the thrall of Margarets Curse,
Nor Mother, Wife, nor Englands counted Queene.
2395 Full of wise care, is this your counsaile, Madame:
Take all the swift aduantage of the howres:
You shall haue Letters from me to my Sonne,
In your behalfe, to meet you on the way:
Be not ta'ne tardie by vnwise delay.
2400 O ill dispersing Winde of Miserie,
O my accursed Wombe, the Bed of Death:
A Cockatrice hast thou hatcht to the World,
Whose vnauoided Eye is murtherous.
Come, Madame, come, I in all haste was sent.
2405 And I with all vnwillingnesse will goe.
O would to God, that the inclusiue Verge
Of Golden Mettall, that must round my Brow,
Were red hot Steele, to seare me to the Braines,
Anoynted let me be with deadly Venome,
2410 And dye ere men can say, God saue the Queene.
Goe, goe, poore soule, I enuie not thy glory,
To feed my humor, with thy selfe no harme.
No: why? When he that is my Husband now,
Came to me, as I follow'd Henries Corse,
2415 When scarce the blood was well washt from his hands,
Which issued from my other Angell Husband,
And that deare Saint, which then I weeping follow'd:
O, when I say I look'd on Richards Face,
This was my Wish: Be thou (quoth I) accurst,
2420 For making me, so young, so old a Widow:
And when thou wed'st, let sorrow haunt thy Bed;
And be thy Wife, if any be so mad,
More miserable, by the Life of thee,
Then thou hast made me, by my deare Lords death.
2425 Loe, ere I can repeat this Curse againe,
Within so small a time, my Womans heart
Grossely grew captiue to his honey words,
And prou'd the subiect of mine owne Soules Curse,
Which hitherto hath held mine eyes from rest:
2430 For neuer yet one howre in his Bed
Did I enioy the golden deaw of sleepe,
But with his timorous Dreames was still awak'd.
Besides, he hates me for my Father Warwicke,
And will (no doubt) shortly be rid of me.
2435 Poore heart adieu, I pittie thy complaining.
No more, then with my soule I mourne for
Farewell, thou wofull welcommer of glory.
Adieu, poore soule, that tak'st thy leaue
Go thou to Richmond, & good fortune guide thee,
2440 Go thou to Richard, and good Angels tend thee,
Go thou to Sanctuarie, and good thoughts possesse thee,
I to my Graue, where peace and rest lye with mee.
Eightie odde yeeres of sorrow haue I seene,
And each howres ioy wrackt with a weeke of teene.
2445 Stay, yet looke backe with me vnto the Tower.
Pitty, you ancient Stones, those tender Babes,
Whom Enuie hath immur'd within your Walls,
Rough Cradle for such little prettie ones,
Rude ragged Nurse, old sullen Play‑fellow,
2450 For tender Princes: vse my Babies well;
So foolish Sorrowes bids your Stones farewell.
The Life and Death of Richard the Third.
[Act 4, Scene 4] §
Enter old Queene Margaret.
So now prosperity begins to mellow,
And drop into the rotten mouth of death:
Heere in these Confines slily haue I lurkt,
To watch the waining of mine enemies.
2625 A dire induction, am I witnesse to,
And will to France, hoping the consequence
Will proue as bitter, blacke, and Tragicall.
Withdraw thee wretched Margaret, who comes heere?
Enter Dutchesse and Queene.
Ah my poore Princes! ah my tender Babes:
2630 My vnblowed Flowres, new appearing sweets:
If yet your gentle soules flye in the Ayre,
And be not fixt in doome perpetuall,
Houer about me with your ayery wings,
And heare your mothers Lamentation.
2635 Houer about her, say that right for right
Hath dim'd your Infant morne, to Aged night.
So many miseries haue craz'd my voyce,
That my woe‑wearied tongue is still and mute.
Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?
2640 Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet,
Edward for Edward, payes a dying debt.
Wilt thou, O God, flye from such gentle Lambs,
And throw them in the intrailes of the Wolfe?
When didst thou sleepe, when such a deed was done?
2645 When holy Harry dyed, and my sweet Sonne.
Dead life, blind sight, poore mortall liuing ghost,
Woes Scene, Worlds shame, Graues due, by life vsurpt,
Breefe abstract and record of tedious dayes,
Rest thy vnrest on Englands lawfull earth,
2650 Vnlawfully made drunke with innocent blood.
Ah that thou would'st assoone affoord a Graue,
As thou canst yeeld a melancholly seate:
Then would I hide my bones, not rest them heere,
Ah who hath any cause to mourne but wee?
2655 If ancient sorrow be most reuerent,
Giue mine the benefit of signeurie,
And let my greefes frowne on the vpper hand
If sorrow can admit Society.
I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him:
2660 I had a Husband, till a Richard kill'd him:
Thou had'st an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him:
Thou had'st a Richard, till a Richard kill'd him.
I had a Richard too, and thou did'st kill him;
I had a Rutland too, thou hop'st to kill him.
2665 Thou had'st a Clarence too,
And Richard kill'd him.
From forth the kennell of thy wombe hath crept
A Hell‑hound that doth hunt vs all to death:
That Dogge, that had his teeth before his eyes,
2670 To worry Lambes, and lap their gentle blood:
That foule defacer of Gods handy worke:
That reignes in gauled eyes of weeping soules:
That excellent grand Tyrant of the earth,
Thy wombe let loose to chase vs to our graues.
2675 O vpright, iust, and true‑disposing God,
How do I thanke thee, that this carnall Curre
The Life and Death of Richard the Third.
Prayes on the issue of his Mothers body,
And makes her Pue‑fellow with others mone.
Oh Harries wife, triumph not in my woes:
2680 God witnesse with me, I haue wept for thine.
Beare with me: I am hungry for reuenge,
And now I cloy me with beholding it.
Thy Edward he is dead, that kill'd my Edward,
The other Edward dead, to quit my Edward:
2685 Yong Yorke, he is but boote, because both they
Matcht not the high perfection of my losse.
Thy Clarence he is dead, that stab'd my Edward,
And the beholders of this franticke play,
Ih'adulterate Hastings, Riuers, Vaughan, Gray,
2690 Vntimely smother'd in their dusky Graues.
Richard yet liues, Hels blacke Intelligencer,
Onely reseru'd their Factor, to buy soules,
And send them thither: But at hand, at hand
Insues his pittious and vnpittied end.
2695 Earth gapes, Hell burnes, Fiends roare, Saints pray,
To haue him sodainly conuey'd from hence:
Cancell his bond of life, deere God I pray,
That I may liue and say, The Dogge is dead.
O thou did'st prophesie, the time would come,
2700 That I should wish for thee to helpe me curse
That bottel'd Spider, that foule bunch‑back'd Toad.
I call'd thee then, vaine flourish of my fortune:
I call'd thee then, poore Shadow, painted Queen,
The presentation of but what I was;
2705 The flattering Index of a direfull Pageant;
One heau'd a high, to be hurl'd downe below:
A Mother onely mockt with two faire Babes;
A dreame of what thou wast, a garish Flagge
To be the ayme of euery dangerous Shot;
2710 A signe of Dignity, a Breath, a Bubble;
A Queene in ieast, onely to fill the Scene.
Where is thy Husband now? Where be thy Brothers?
Where be thy two Sonnes? Wherein dost thou Ioy?
Who sues, and kneeles, and sayes, God saue the Queene?
2715 Where be the bending Peeres that flattered thee?
Where be the thronging Troopes that followed thee?
Decline all this, and see what now thou art.
For happy Wife, a most distressed Widdow:
For ioyfull Mother, one that wailes the name:
2720 For one being sued too, one that humbly sues:
For Queene, a very Caytiffe, crown'd with care:
For she that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me:
For she being feared of all, now fearing one:
For she commanding all, obey'd of none.
2725 Thus hath the course of Iustice whirl'd about,
And left thee but a very prey to time,
Hauing no more but Thought of what thou wast.
To torture thee the more, being what thou art,
Thou didst vsurpe my place, and dost thou not
2730 Vsurpe the iust proportion of my Sorrow?
Now thy proud Necke, beares halfe my burthen'd yoke,
From which, euen heere I slip my wearied head,
And leaue the burthen of it all, on thee.
Farwell Yorkes wife, and Queene of sad mischance,
2735 These English woes, shall make me smile in France.
O thou well skill'd in Curses, stay a‑while,
And teach me how to curse mine enemies.
Forbeare to sleepe the night, and fast the day:
Compare dead happinesse, with liuing woe:
2740 Thinke that thy Babes were sweeter then they were,
And he that slew them fowler then he is:
Bett'ring thy losse, makes the bad causer worse,
Reuoluing this, will teach thee how to Curse.
My words are dull, O quicken them with thine.
2745 Thy woes will make them sharpe,
And pierce like mine.
Why should calamity be full of words?
Windy Atturnies to their Clients Woes,
Ayery succeeders of intestine ioyes,
2750 Poore breathing Orators of miseries,
Let them haue scope, though what they will impart,
Helpe nothing els, yet do they ease the hart.
If so then, be not Tongue‑ty'd: go with me,
And in the breath of bitter words, let's smother
2755 My damned Son, that thy two sweet Sonnes smother'd.
The Trumpet sounds, be copious in exclaimes.
Enter King Richard, and his Traine.
Who intercepts me in my Expedition?
O she, that might haue intercepted thee
By strangling thee in her
2760 From all the slaughters (Wretch) that thou hast done.
Hid'st thou that Forhead with a Golden Crowne
Where't should be branded, if that right were right?
The slaughter of the Prince that ow'd that Crowne,
And the dyre death of my poore Sonnes, and Brothers.
2765 Tell me thou Villaine‑slaue, where are my Children?
Thou Toad, thou Toade,
Where is thy Brother Clarence?
And little Ned Plantagenet his Sonne?
Where is the gentle Riuers, Vaughan, Gray?
2770 Where is kinde Hastings?
A flourish Trumpets, strike Alarum Drummes:
Let not the Heauens heare these Tell‑tale women
Raile on the Lords Annointed. Strike I say.
Either be patient, and intreat me fayre,
2775 Or with the clamorous report of Warre,
Thus will I drowne your exclamations.
I, I thanke God, my Father, and your selfe.
Then patiently heare my impatience.
2780 Madam, I haue a touch of your condition,
That cannot brooke the accent of reproofe.
Do then, but Ile not heare.
I will be milde, and gentle in my words.
2785 And breefe (good Mother) for I am in hast.
Art thou so hasty? I haue staid for thee
(God knowes) in torment and in agony.
And came I not at last to comfort you?
No by the holy Rood, thou know'st it well,
2790 Thou cam'st on earth, to make the earth my Hell.
A greeuous burthen was thy Birth to me,
Tetchy and wayward was thy Infancie.
Thy School‑daies frightfull, desp'rate, wilde, and furious,
Thy prime of Manhood, daring, bold, and venturous:
2795 Thy Age confirm'd, proud, subtle, slye, and bloody,
More milde, but yet more harmfull; Kinde in hatred:
What comfortable houre canst thou name,
That euer grac'd me with thy company?
Faith none, but Humfrey Hower,
2800 That call'd your Grace
To Breakefast once, forth of my company.
If I be so disgracious in your eye,
Let me march on, and not offend you Madam.
Strike vp the Drumme.
The Life and Death of Richard the Third.
2805 I prythee heare me speake.
You speake too bitterly.
Heare me a word:
For I shall neuer speake to thee againe.
2810 Either thou wilt dye, by Gods iust ordinance
Ere from this warre thou turne a Conqueror:
Or I with greefe and extreame Age shall perish,
And neuer more behold thy face againe.
Therefore take with thee my most greeuous Curse,
2815 Which in the day of Battell tyre thee more
Then all the compleat Armour that thou wear'st.
My Prayers on the aduerse party fight,
And there the little soules of Edwards Children,
Whisper the Spirits of thine Enemies,
2820 And promise them Successe and Victory:
Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end:
Shame serues thy life, and doth thy death attend.
Though far more cause, yet much lesse spirit to curse
Abides in me, I say Amen to her.
2825 Stay Madam, I must talke a word with you.
I haue no more sonnes of the Royall Blood
For thee to slaughter. For my Daughters (Richard)
They shall be praying Nunnes, not weeping Queenes:
And therefore leuell not to hit their liues.
2830 You haue a daughter call'd Elizabeth,
Vertuous and Faire, Royall and Gracious?
And must she dye for this? O let her liue,
And Ile corrupt her Manners, staine her Beauty,
Slander my Selfe, as false to Edwards bed:
2835 Throw ouer her the vaile of Infamy,
So she may liue vnscarr'd of bleeding slaughter,
I will confesse she was not Edwards daughter.
Wrong not her Byrth, she is a Royall Princesse.
To saue her life, Ile say she is not so.
2840 Her life is safest onely in her byrth.
And onely in that safety, dyed her Brothers.
Loe at their Birth, good starres were opposite.
No, to their liues, ill friends were contrary.
All vnauoyded is the doome of Destiny.
2845 True: when auoyded grace makes Destiny.
My Babes were destin'd to a fairer death,
If grace had blest thee with a fairer life.
You speake as if that I had slaine my Cosins?
Cosins indeed, and by their Vnckle couzend,
2850 Of Comfort, Kingdome, Kindred, Freedome, Life,
Whose hand soeuer lanch'd their tender hearts,
Thy head (all indirectly) gaue direction.
No doubt the murd'rous Knife was dull and blunt,
Till it was whetted on thy stone‑hard heart,
2855 To reuell in the Intrailes of my Lambes.
But that still vse of greefe, makes wilde greefe tame,
My tongue should to thy eares not name my Boyes,
Till that my Nayles were anchor'd in thine eyes:
And I in such a desp'rate Bay of death,
2860 Like a poore Barke, of sailes and tackling reft,
Rush all to peeces on thy Rocky bosome.
Madam, so thriue I in my enterprize
And dangerous successe of bloody warres,
As I intend more good to you and yours,
2865 Then euer you and yours by me were harm'd.
What good is couer'd with the face of heauen,
To be discouered, that can do me good.
Th'aduancement of your children, gentle Lady
Vp to some Scaffold, there to lose their heads.
2870 Vnto the dignity and height of Fortune,
The high Imperiall Type of this earths glory.
Flatter my sorrow with report of it:
Tell me, what State, what Dignity, what Honor,
Canst thou demise to any childe of mine.
2875 Euen all I haue; I, and my selfe and all,
Will I withall indow a childe of thine:
So in the Lethe of thy angry soule,
Thou drowne the sad remembrance of those wrongs,
Which thou supposest I haue done to thee.
2880 Be breefe, least that the processe of thy kindnesse
Last longer telling then thy kindness date.
That from my Soule, I loue thy Daughter.
My daughters Mother thinkes it with her soule.
2885 What do you thinke?
That thou dost loue my daughter from thy soule
So from thy Soules loue didst thou loue her Brothers,
And from my hearts loue, I do thanke thee for it.
Be not so hasty to confound my meaning:
2890 I meane that with my Soule I loue thy daughter,
And do intend to make her Queene of England.
Well then, who dost yu meane shallbe her King.
Euen he that makes her Queene:
Who else should bee?
Euen so: How thinke you of it?
How canst thou woo her?
That I would learne of you,
As one being best acquainted with her humour.
2900 And wilt thou learne of me?
Madam, with all my heart.
Send to her by the man that slew her Brothers,
A paire of bleeding hearts: thereon ingraue
Edward and Yorke, then haply will she weepe:
2905 Therefore present to her, as sometime Margaret
Did to thy Father, steept in Rutlands blood,
A hand‑kercheefe, which say to her did dreyne
The purple sappe from her sweet Brothers body,
And bid her wipe her weeping eyes withall.
2910 If this inducement moue her not to loue,
Send her a Letter of thy Noble deeds:
Tell her, thou mad'st away her Vnckle Clarence,
Her Vnckle Riuers, I (and for her sake)
Mad'st quicke conueyance with her good Aunt Anne.
2915 You mocke me Madam, this not the way
To win your daughter.
There is no other way,
Vnlesse thou could'st put on some other shape,
And not be Richard, that hath done all this.
2920 Say that 1 did all this for loue of her.
Nay then indeed she cannot choose but hate thee
Hauing bought loue, with such a bloody spoyle.
Looke what is done, cannot be now amended:
Men shall deale vnaduisedly sometimes,
2925 Which after‑houres giues leysure to repent.
If I did take the Kingdome from your Sonnes,
To make amends, Ile giue it to your daughter:
If I haue kill'd the issue of your wombe,
To quicken your encrease, I will beget
2930 Mine yssue of your blood, vpon your Daughter:
A Grandams name is little lesse in loue,
Then is the doting Title of a Mother;
They are as Children but one steppe below,
Euen of your mettall, of your very blood:
2935 Of all one paine, saue for a night of groanes
Endur'd of her, for whom you bid like sorrow.
Your Children were vexation to your youth,
The Life and Death of Richard the Third.
But mine shall be a comfort to your Age,
The losse you haue, is but a Sonne being King,
2940 And by that losse, your Daughter is made Queene.
I cannot make you what amends I would,
Therefore accept such kindnesse as I can.
Dorset your Sonne, that with a fearfull soule
Leads discontented steppes in Forraine soyle,
2945 This faire Alliance, quickly shall call home
To high Promotions, and great Dignity.
The King that calles your beauteous Daughter Wife,
Familiarly shall call thy Dorset, Brother:
Againe shall you be Mother to a King:
2950 And all the Ruines of distressefull Times,
Repayr'd with double Riches of Content.
What? we haue many goodly dayes to see:
The liquid drops of Teares that you haue shed,
Shall come againe, transform'd to Orient Pearle,
2955 Aduantaging their Loue, with interest
Of ten‑times double gaine of happinesse.
Go then (my Mother) to thy Daughter go,
Make bold her bashfull yeares, with your experience,
Prepare her eares to heare a Woers Tale.
2960 Put in her tender heart, th'aspiring Flame
Of Golden Soueraignty: Acquaint the Princesse
With the sweet silent houres of Marriage ioyes:
And when this Arme of mine hath chastised
The petty Rebell, dull‑brain'd Buckingham,
2965 Bound with Triumphant Garlands will I come,
And leade thy daughter to a Conquerors bed:
To whom I will retaile my Conquest wonne,
And she shalbe sole Victoresse, Cæsars Cæsar.
What were I best to say, her Fathers Brother
2970 Would be her Lord? Or shall I say her Vnkle?
Or he that slew her Brothers, and her Vnkles?
Vnder what Title shall I woo for thee,
That God, the Law, my Honor, and her Loue,
Can make seeme pleasing to her tender yeares?
2975 Inferre faire Englands peace by this Alliance.
Which she shall purchase with stil lasting warre.
Tell her, the King that may command, intreats.
That at her hands, which the kings King forbids.
Say she shall be a High and Mighty Queene.
2980 To vaile the Title, as her Mother doth.
Say I will loue her euerlastingly.
But how long shall that title euer last?
Sweetly in force, vnto her faire liues end.
But how long fairely shall her sweet life last?
2985 As long as Heauen and Nature lengthens it.
As long as Hell and Richard likes of it.
Say, I her Soueraigne, am her Subiect low.
But she your Subiect, lothes such Soueraignty.
Be eloquent in my behalfe to her.
2990 An honest tale speeds best, being plainly told.
Then plainly, to her, tell my louing tale.
Plaine and not honest, is too harsh a style.
Your Reasons are too shallow, and to quicke.
O no, my Reasons are too deepe and dead,
2995 Too deepe and dead (poore Infants) in their graues,
Harpe on it still shall I, till heart‑strings breake.
Harpe not on that string Madam, that is past.
Now by my George, my Garter, and my Crowne.
Prophan'd, dishonor'd, and the third vsurpt.
By nothing, for this is no Oath:
Thy George prophan'd, hath lost his Lordly Honor;
Thy Garter blemish'd, pawn'd his Knightly Vertue;
Thy Crowne vsurp'd, disgrac'd his Kingly Glory:
3005 If something thou would'st sweare to be beleeu'd,
Sweare then by something, that thou hast not wrong'd.
Thy Selfe, is selfe‑misvs'd.
3010 'Tis full of thy foule wrongs.
Thy life hath it dishonor'd.
Why then, by Heauen.
Heauens wrong is most of all:
3015 If thou didd'st feare to breake an Oath with him,
The vnity the King my husband made,
Thou had'st not broken, nor my Brothers died.
If thou had'st fear'd to breake an oath by him,
Th'Imperiall mettall, circling now thy head,
3020 Had grac'd the tender temples of my Child,
And both the Princes had bene breathing heere,
Which now two tender Bed‑fellowes for dust,
Thy broken Faith hath made the prey for Wormes.
What can'st thou sweare by now.
3025 The time to come.
That thou hast wronged in the time ore‑past:
For I my selfe haue many teares to wash
Heereafter time, for time past, wrong'd by thee.
The Children liue, whose Fathers thou hast slaughter'd,
3030 Vngouern'd youth, to waile it with their age:
The Parents liue, whose Children thou hast butcher'd,
Old barren Plants, to waile it with their Age.
Sweare not by time to come, for that thou hast
Misvs'd ere vs'd, by times ill‑vs'd repast.
3035 As I entend to prosper, and repent:
So thriue I in my dangerous Affayres
Of hostile Armes: My selfe, my selfe confound:
Heauen, and Fortune barre me happy houres:
Day, yeeld me not thy light; nor Night, thy rest.
3040 Be opposite all Planets of good lucke
To my proceeding, if with deere hearts loue,
Immaculate deuotion, holy thoughts,
I tender not thy beautious Princely daughter.
In her, consists my Happinesse, and thine:
3045 Without her, followes to my selfe, and thee;
Her selfe, the Land, and many a Christian soule,
Death, Desolation, Ruine, and Decay:
It cannot be auoyded, but by this:
It will not be auoyded, but by this.
3050 Therefore deare Mother (I must call you so)
Be the Atturney of my loue to her:
Pleade what I will be, not what I haue beene;
Not my deserts, but what I will deserue:
Vrge the Necessity and state of times,
3055 And be not peeuish found, in great Designes.
Shall I be tempted of the Diuel thus?
I, if the Diuell tempt you to do good.
Shall I forget my selfe, to be my selfe.
I, if your selfes remembrance wrong your selfe.
3060 Yet thou didst kil my Children.
But in your daughters wombe I bury them.
Where in that Nest of Spicery they will breed
Selues of themselues, to your recomforture.
Shall I go win my daughter to thy will?
3065 And be a happy Mother by the deed.
I go, write to me very shortly,
And you shal vnderstand from me her mind.
Beare her my true loues kisse, and so farewell.
Relenting Foole, and shallow‑changing Woman.
The Life and Death of Richard the Third.
3070 How now, what newes?
Most mightie Soueraigne, on the Westerne Coast
Rideth a puissant Nauie: to our Shores
Throng many doubtfull hollow‑hearted friends,
Vnarm'd, and vnresolu'd to beat them backe.
3075 'Tis thought, that Richmond is their Admirall:
And there they hull, expecting but the aide
Of Buckingham, to welcome them ashore.
Some light‑foot friend post to yͤ Duke of Norfolk:
Ratcliffe thy selfe, or Catesby, where is hee?
3080 Here, my good Lord.
Catesby, flye to the Duke.
I will, my Lord, with all conuenient haste.
Catesby come hither, poste to Salisbury:
When thou com'st thither: Dull vnmindfull Villaine,
3085 Why stay'st thou here, and go'st not to the Duke?
First, mighty Liege, tell me your Highnesse pleasure,
What from your Grace I shall deliuer to him.
O true, good Catesby, bid him leuie straight
The greatest strength and power that he can make,
3090 And meet me suddenly at Salisbury.
What, may it please you, shall I doe at Salis
Why, what would'st thou doe there, before I
Your Highnesse told me I should poste before.
3095 My minde is chang'd:
Enter Lord Stanley.
Stanley, what newes with you?
None, good my Liege, to please you with yͤ hearing,
Nor none so bad, but well may be reported.
Hoyday, a Riddle, neither good nor bad:
3100 What need'st thou runne so many miles about,
When thou mayest tell thy Tale the neerest way?
Once more, what newes?
Richmond is on the Seas.
There let him sinke, and be the Seas on him,
3105 White‑liuer'd Runnagate, what doth he there?
I know not, mightie Soueraigne, but by guesse.
Well, as you guesse.
Stirr'd vp by Dorset, Buckingham, and Morton,
He makes for England, here to clayme the Crowne.
3110 Is the Chayre emptie? is the Sword vnsway'd?
Is the King dead? the Empire vnpossest?
What Heire of Yorke is there aliue, but wee?
And who is Englands King, but great Yorkes Heire?
Then tell me, what makes he vpon the Seas?
3115 Vnlesse for that, my Liege, I cannot guesse.
Vnlesse for that he comes to be your Liege,
You cannot guesse wherefore the Welchman comes.
Thou wilt reuolt, and flye to him, I feare.
No, my good Lord, therefore mistrust me not.
3120 Where is thy Power then, to beat him back?
Where be thy Tenants, and thy followers?
Are they not now vpon the Westerne Shore,
Safe‑conducting the Rebels from their Shippes?
No, my good Lord, my friends are in the
3125 Cold friends to me: what do they in the North,
When they should serue their Soueraigne in the West?
They haue not been commanded, mighty King:
Pleaseth your Maiestie to giue me leaue,
Ile muster vp my friends, and meet your Grace,
3130 Where, and what time your Maiestie shall please.
I, thou would'st be gone, to ioyne with Richmond:
But Ile not trust thee.
Most mightie Soueraigne,
You haue no cause to hold my friendship doubtfull,
3135 I neuer was, nor neuer will be false.
Goe then, and muster men: but leaue behind
Your Sonne George Stanley: looke your heart be firme,
Or else his Heads assurance is but fraile.
So deale with him, as I proue true to you.
Enter a Messenger.
3140 My gracious Soueraigne, now in Deuonshire,
As I by friends am well aduertised,
Sir Edward Courtney, and the haughtie Prelate,
Bishop of Exeter, his elder Brother,
With many moe Confederates, are in Armes.
Enter another Messenger.
3145 In Kent, my Liege, the Guilfords are in Armes,
And euery houre more Competitors
Flocke to the Rebels, and their power growes strong.
Enter another Messenger.
My Lord, the Armie of great Buckingham.
Out on ye, Owles, nothing but Songs of Death,
He striketh him.
3150 There, take thou that, till thou bring better newes.
The newes I haue to tell your Maiestie,
Is, that by sudden Floods, and fall of Waters,
Buckinghams Armie is dispers'd and scatter'd,
And he himselfe wandred away alone,
3155 No man knowes whither.
I cry thee mercie:
There is my Purse, to cure that Blow of thine.
Hath any well‑aduised friend proclaym'd
Reward to him that brings the Traytor in?
3160 Such Proclamation hath been made, my Lord.
Enter another Messenger.
Sir Thomas Louell, and Lord Marquesse Dorset,
'Tis said, my Liege, in Yorkeshire are in Armes:
But this good comfort bring I to your Highnesse,
The Brittaine Nauie is dispers'd by Tempest.
3165 Richmond in Dorsetshire sent out a Boat
Vnto the shore, to aske those on the Banks,
If they were his Assistants, yea, or no?
Who answer'd him, they came from Buckingham,
Vpon his partie: he mistrusting them,
3170 Hoys'd sayle, and made his course againe for Brittaine.
March on, march on, since we are vp in Armes,
If not to fight with forraine Enemies,
Yet to beat downe these Rebels here at home.
My Liege, the Duke of Buckingham is taken,
3175 That is the best newes: that the Earle of Richmond
The Life and Death of Richard the Third.
Is with a mighty power Landed at Milford,
Is colder Newes, but yet they must be told.
Away towards Salsbury, while we reason here,
A Royall batteil might be wonne and lost:
3180 Some one take order Buckingham be brought
To Salsbury, the rest march on with me.