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K. Rich. How chance, the prophet could not at that time

Have told me, I being by,that I should kill him? Buck. My lord, your promise for the earldom,

K. Rich. Richmond !-When last I was at Exeter,

The mayor in courtesy show'd me the castle, And call'd it-Rouge-mont: at which name, I started;

Because a bard of Ireland told me once,

I should not live long after I saw Richmond. Buck. My lord,

K. Rich. Buck.

Ay, what's o'clock?

I am thus bold To put your grace in mind of what you promis'd K. Rich. Well, but what is't o'clock? [me. Buck. Upon the stroke

Of ten.

K. Rich. Well, let it strike.
Buck.

Why, let it strike? K. Rich. Because that, like a Jack, thou keep'st the stroke

Betwixt thy begging and my meditation.
I am not in the giving vein to-day. [or no.
Buck. Why then resolve me whe'r you will,
K. Rich. Thou troublest me; I am not in the
vein. [Exeunt KING RICHARD and Train.
Buck. And is it thus? repays he my deep ser-
[this?
With such contempt? made I him king for
O, let me think on Hastings; and be gone
To Brecknock, while my fearful head is on.

vice

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Tyr. The tyrannous and bloody act is done; The most arch deed of piteous massacre, That ever yet this land was guilty of. Dighton, and Forrest, whom I did suborn To do this piece of ruthless butchery, Albeit they were flesh'd villains, bloody dogs, Melting with tenderness and mild compassion, Wept like two children, in their death's sad story. O thus, quoth Dighton, lay the gentle babes,Thus, thus, quoth Forrest, girding one another Within their alabaster innocent arms: Their lips were four red roses on a stalk, Which, in their summer beauty, kiss'd each other. A book of prayers on their pillow lay;

Which once, quoth Forrest, almost chang'd my mind;

But, 0, the devil-there the villain stopp'd:
When Dighton thus told on-tre smothered
The most replenished sweet work of nature,
That, from the prime creation, e'er she fram'd.-
Hence both are gone with conscience and re-

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When thou shalt tell the process of their death.
Mean time, but think how I may do thee good,
And be inheritor of thy desire.
Farewell, till then.
Tyr. I humbly take my leave. [Exit.
K. Rich. The son of Clarence have I penn'd
up close;
[riage;
His daughter meanly have I match'd in mar-
The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom,
And Anne my wife hath bid the world good
night.

Now, for I know the Bretagne Richmond aims
At young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter,
And, by that knot, looks proudly on the crown,
To her go I, a jolly thriving wooer.
Enter CATESBY.

Cate. My lord,

K. Rich. Good news or bad, that thou com'st in so bluntly?

Cate. Bad news, my lord; Morton is fled to Richmond; [Welshmen, And Buckingham, back'd with the hardy Is in the field, and still his power increaseth. K. Rich. Ely with Richmond troubles me

more near,

Than Buckingham and his rash levied strength.
Come,-I have learn'd, that fearful commenting
Is leaden servitor to dull delay;
Delay leads impotent and snail-pac'd beggary :
Then fiery expedition be my wing,
Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king!
Go, muster men: my connsel is my shield;
We must be brief, when traitors brave the field.
[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. The same. Before the Palace.

Enter QUEEN MARGARET.

Q. Mar. So, now prosperity begins to mellow, And drop into the rotten mouth of death. Here in these confines slily have I lurk'd, To watch the waning of mine enemies. A dire induction am I witness to, And will to France; hoping, the consequence Will prove as bitter, black, and tragical. Withdraw thee,wretched Margaret! who comes here?

Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH and the DUCHESS OF YORK.

Q. Eliz. Ah, my poor princes! ah, my tender babes!

My unblown flowers, new appearing sweets!
If yet your gentle souls fly in the air,
And be not fix'd in doom perpetual,
Hover about me with your airy wings,
And hear your mother's lamentation!

[right.

Q. Mar. Hover about her; say, that right for Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night. Duch. So many miseries have craz'd my voice, That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute,Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?

Q. Mar. Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet, Edward for Edward pays a dying debt. Q. Eliz. Wilt thou, O God, fly from such gentle lambs,

And throw them in the entrails of the wolf?
Why didst thou sleep, when such a deed was
done?
[son.
Q. Mar. When holy Harry died, and my sweet
Duch. Dead life, blind sight, poor mortal-
living ghost,
Lusurp'd,
Woe's scene, world's shame, grave's due by life
Brief abstract and record of tedious days,
Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth,
[Sitting down.
Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood!
Q. Eliz. Ah, that thou would'st as soon afford
As thou canst yield a melancholy seat; [a grave.
Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here!
Ah, who hath any cause to mourn, but we?
[Sitting down by her.
Q. Mar. If ancient sorrow be most reverent,
Give mine the benefit of seniory,
And let my griefs frown on the upper hand.
If sorrow can admit society,

[Sitting down with them.
Tell o'er your woes again by viewing mine :-
I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him;
I had a husband, till a Richard kill'd him :
Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him.
Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard kill'd him.
Duch. I had a Richard too, and thou didst
kill him;

I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him. Q. Mar. Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Richard kill'd him;

From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept
A hell hound, that doth hunt us all to death:
That dog, that had his teeth before his eyes,
To worry lambs, and lap their gentle blood;"
That foul defacer of God's handy work;
That excellent grant tyrant of the earth,
That reigns in galled eyes of weeping sonis,

A dream of what thou wast; a garish flag,
To be the aim of every dangerous shot;
A sign of dignity, a breath, a bubble;
A queen in jest, only to fill the scene. [thers?
Where is thy husband now? where be thy bro-
Where be thy two sons? where indos tthou joy?
Who sues, and kneels, and says-God save the
queen?

Where be the bending peers that flatter'd thee?
Where be the thronging troops that follow'd
thee?
Decline all this, and see what now thou art.
For happy wife, a most distressed widow;
For joyful mother, one that wails the name;
For one being sued to, one that humbly sues;
For queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care;
For one that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me;
For one being fear'd of all, now fearing one;
For one commanding all, obey'd of none.
Thus hath the course of justice wheel'd about,
And left thee but a very prey to time;
Having no more but thought of what thou wert,
To torture thee the more, being what thou art.
Thou didst usurp my place. And dost thou not
Usurp the just proportion of my sorrow?
Now thy proud neck bears half my burden's
yoke;

From which even here I slip my wearied head,
And leave the burden of it all on thee.
Farewell, York's wife,--and queen of sad mis-
chance,-
[France.
These English woes shall make me smile in
Q. Eliz. O thou well skill'd in curses, stay a

while,

And teach me how to curse mine enemies. Q. Mar. Forbear to sleep the night, and fast the day;

Compare dead happiness with living woe:

Thy womb let loose, to chase us to our graves.-Think that thy babes were fairer than they were,

O upright, just, and true disposing God,
How do I thank thee, that this carnal cur
Preys on the issue of his mother's body,
And makes her pew-fellow with others' moan!
Duch. O Harry's wife, triumph not in my

woes;

God witness with me, I have wept for thine.

Q. Mar. Bear with me, I am hungry for reAnd now I cloy me with beholding it. [venge, Thy Edward he is dead, that kill'd my Edward; Thy other Edward dead, to quit my Edward; Young York he is but boot, because both they Match not the high perfection of my loss. ThyClarence he is dead, that stabb'd my Edward; And the beholders of this tragic play, [Grey, The adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Untimely smother'd in their dusky graves. Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer; Only reserv'd their factor, to buy souls, And send them hither: But at hand, at hand, Ensues his piteous and unpitied end: Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray, To have him suddenly convey'd from hence:Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I pray, That I may live to say, The dog is dead!

Q. Eliz. O, thou didst prophesy, the time would come,

That I should wish for thee to help me curse
That bottled spider, that foul bunch-back'd toad.
Q. Mar. I call'd thee then, vain flourish of my!
fortune;

I call'd thee then, poor shadow, painted queen;
The presentation of but what I was,
The flattering index of a direful pageant,
One heav'd a high, to be hurl'd down below:
A mother only mock'd with two fair babes;

And he, that slew them, fouler than he is:
Bettering thy loss makes the bad causer worse;
Revolving this will teach thee how to curse.
Q. Eliz. My words are dull, O, quicken ther
with thine!

Q. Mar. Thy woes will make them sharp, and
pierce like mine. [Exit Q. MARGARET.
Duch. Why should calamity be full of words?
Q. Eliz. Windy attornies to their client woes,
Airy succeeders of intestate joys,
Poor breathing orators of miseries!
Let them have scope: though what they do im-
Help nothing else, yet do they ease the heart.
Duch. If so, then be not tongue-ty'd: go with

me,

[part

And in the breath of bitter words let's smother
My damned son, that thy two sweet sons sine-
ther'd.
[Drum within.

I hear his drum,→be copious in exclaims.
Enter KING RICHARD, and his Train, marching.
K. Rich. Who intercepts me in my expedition?
Duch. O,she,that might have intercepted thee,
By strangling thee in her accursed womb,
From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast
done.
(golden crown,

Q. Eliz. Hid'st thou that forehead with a
Where should be branded, if that right were
right,
[crown,
The slaughter of the prince that ow'd that
And the dire death of my poor sons, and bro-
thers?
[dren?
Tell me, theu villain slave, where are my chil-
Duch. Thou toad, thou toad, where is thy

brother Claarence?

And little Ned Plantagenet, his son? [Grey?
Q. Eliz. Where is the gentle Rivers, Vaughan

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K. Rich. Ay; I thank God, my father, and Duch. Then patiently hear my impatience. K. Rich. Madam, I have a touch of your condition, That cannot brook the accent of reproof. Duch. O, let me speak. K. Rich. Do, then; but I'll not hear. Duch. I will be mild and gentle in my words. K. Rich. And brief, good mother; for I am in haste.

Duch. Art thou so hasty? I have staid for thee, God knows, in torment and in agony.

K. Rich. And came I not at last to comfort you? Duch. No, by the holy rood, thou know'st it well,

Thou cam'st on earth to make the earth my hell.
A grievous burden was thy birth to me;
Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy;
Thy school-days, frightful, desperate, wild, and
furious;
[turous;
Thy prime of manhood, daring, bold, and ven-
Thy age confirm'd, proud, subtle, sly, and bloody,
More mild, but yet more harmful, kind in hatred:
What comfortable hour canst thou name,
That ever grac'd me in thy company?

K. Rich. Faith, none, but Humphrey Hour, that call'd your grace

To breakfast once, forth of my company.
If I be so disgracious in your sight,
Let me march on, and not offend you, madam.-
Strike up the drum.

Duch.
I pry'thee, hear me speak.
K. Rich. You speak too bitterly.
Duch.
Hear me a word;
For I shall never speak to thee again.
K. Rich. So.

[ordinance, Duch. Either thou wilt die, by God's just Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror; Or I with grief and extreme age shall perish, And never look upon thy face again. Therefore take with thee my most heavy curse; Which, in the day of battle, tire thee more, Than all the complete armour that thou wear'st! My prayers on the adverse party fight; And there the little souls of Edward's children Whisper the spirits of thine enemies, And promise them success and victory. Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end; Shame serves thy life, and doth thy death attend. [Exit. Q. Eliz. Though far more cause, yet much less spirit to curse

Abides in me; I say amen to her. [Going K. Rich. Stay, madam, I must speak a word

with you.

Slander myself, as false to Edward's bed;
Throw over her the veil of infamy:
So she may live unscarr'd of bleeding slaughter,
I will confess she was not Edward's daughter.
K. Rich, Wrong not her birth, she is of royal
blood.

Q. Eliz. To save her life, I'll say-she is not so.
K. Rich. Her life is safest only in her birth.
Q. Eliz. And only in that safety died her
brothers.
[opposite.

K. Rich. Lo, at their births, good stars were 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 make desMy babes were destin'd to a fairer death, [tiny: If grace had bless'd thee with a fairer life. K. Rich. You speak, as if that I had slain my cousins. [cozen'd Q. Eliz. Cousins, indeed; and by their uncle Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life. Whose hands soever lanc'd their tender hearts, Thy head, all indirectly, gave direction: [blunt, No doubt the murderous knife was dull and 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 anchor'd 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 harm'd! Q. Eliz. What good is cover'd with the face of heaven,

To be discover'd, that can do me good? K. Rich. The advancement of your children, gentle lady. [their heads? Q. Eliz. Up to some scaffold, there to lose 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 honour, Canst thou demise to any child of mine?

K. Rich. Even all I have; ay, and myself and Will I withal endow a child of thine; [all, So in the Lethe of thy angry soul [wrongs, Thou drown the sad remembrance of those Which, thou supposest, I have done to thee. Q. Eliz. Be brief, lest that the process of thy kindness

QEliz. I have no more sons of the royal blood, For thee to murder: for my daughters, Rich-I ard,

They shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens; And therefore level not to hit their lives.

K. Rich. You have a daughter call'd-ElizaVirtuous and fair, royal and gracious. [beth, Q. Eliz. And must she die for this? O, let ner live,

And I'll corrupt her manners, stain her beauty;

Last longer telling than thy kindness' date. K. Rich. Then know that from my soul, I love thy daughter [her soul. Q. Eliz. My daughter's mother thinks it with K. Rich. What do you think? [thy soul: Q. Eliz. That thou dost love my daughter, from 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;

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? [else should be? K. Rich. Even he. that makes her queen: Who Q. Eliz. What, sou? [of it, madam? K. Rich. Even so: What think you Q. L'iz. How canst thon woo her? K. Rich.

That I would learn of you,

Q. Eliz. What were I best to say? her father's brother

As one being best acquainted with her humour.
Q. Eliz. And wilt thou learn of me?
K. Rich.
Madam, with all my heart.
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:
Therefore present to her, as sometime Margaret
Did to thy father, steep'd in Rutland's blood,-
A handkerchief; which, say to her, did drain
The purple sap from her sweet brother's 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.
[the way
K. Rich. You mock me, madam; this is not
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 increase of your womb,
To quicken your issue, 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 home
To high promotions and great dignity: [wife,
The king, that calls your beauteous daughter,-
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 expe-
rience;

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-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, Caesar's Cæsar.

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 honour, and her love,
Can make seem pleasing to her tender years?
K. Rich. Infer fair England's peace by this
[lasting war.

alliance.

Q. Eliz. Which she shall purchase with still K. Rich. Tell her, the king, that may command, entreats.

Q. Eliz. That at her hands, which the king's King forbids. [queen. K. Rich. Say, she shall be a high and mighty 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. [life last? Q. Eliz. But how long fairly shall her sweet 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. [sov'reignty.

Q. Eliz. But she, your subject, loaths such K. Rich. Be eloquent in my behalf to her. Q. Eliz. An honest tale speeds best, being plainly told. [loving tale. K. Rich. Then in plain terms tell her my Q. Eliz. Plain, and not honest, is too harsh a style.

K. Rich. Your reasons are too shallow and too quick. [dead;

Q. Eliz. O, no, my reasons are too deep and Too deep and dead, poor infants, in their graves. K. Rich. Harp not on that string, madam; [break.

that is past.

Q.Eliz. Harpon it still shall I, till heartstrings K. Rich. Now, by my George, my garter, and my crown,—

[usurp'd.

Q. Eliz. Profan'd, dishonour'd, and the third 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.-
Q. Eliz.

'Tis full of thy foul wrongs.

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

Thy life hath that dishonour'd.

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

Thyself is self misus'd.

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

God's wrong is most of all.
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. Elia. 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,

Ingovern'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. Kich. 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 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 recomfortare.

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, And you shall understand from me her mind.

K. Rich. Bear her my true love's kiss, and so farewell. [Kissing her. Exit Q. ELIZABETH. Relenting fool, and shallow changing-woman! How now? what news?

Enter RATCLIFF; CATESBY following. Bat. Most mighty sovereign, on the western Rideth a puissant navy; to the shore [coast 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 lightfoot 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. K. Rich. O, true, good Catesby;-Bid him levy straight

Rat, What, may it please you, shall I do at Salisbury?

K. Rich. Why, what would'st thou do there, before I go? [before. Rat. Your highness told me, I should post Enter STANLEY.

K. Rich. My mind is chang'd,-Stanley, what news with you? [the hearing; Stan. None good, my liege, to please you with 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?
Richmond is on the seas.

Stan.

K. Rich. There let him sink, and be the seas on him!

White liver'd runagate, what doth he there? Stin. I know not, mighty sovereign, but by K. Rich. Well, as you guess? [guess.

Stan. Stirr'd up by Dorset, Buckingham, and Morton,

He makes for England, here to claim the crown. K. Rich. Is the chair empty? is the sword unsway'd?

Is the king dead, the empire unpossess'd?
What heir of York is there alive, but we? [heir?
And who is England's king, but great York's
Then, tell me, what makes he upon the seas?
Stan. Unless for that, my liege, I cannot guess.
K. Rich. Unless for that he comes to be your
liege,
[comes.
You cannot guess wherefore the Welshman
Thou wilt revolt find fly to him, I fear. [not.

Stan. No, mighty liege; therefore mistrust me K. Rich. Where is thy power then, to beat him back?

Where be thy tenants, and thy followers? Are they not now upon the western shore, Safe-conducting the rebels from their ships? Stan. No, my good lord, my friends are in the [in the north, K. Rich. Cold friends to me: what do they When they should serve their sovereign in the west? [king:

north.

Stan. They have not been commanded,mighty 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.

Stan.

K. Rich. Ay, ay, thou would'st be gone to join
I will not trust you, sir. [with Richmond;
Most mighty sovereign,
You have no cause to hold my friendship doubt-
I never was, nor never will be false. [ful;
K. Rich. Well, go, muster men. But, hear
you, leave behind
[firm,

Your son, George Stanley: look, your heart be
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 Devon-
As I by friends am well advertised, [shire,
Sir Edward Courtenay, 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 And every hour more competitors [in arms: Flock to the rebels, and their power grows strong. Enter another Messenger. [ham[Exit. 3 Mess. My lord, the army of great Bucking

The greatest strength and power he can make, And meet me suddenly at Salisbury.

Cute. I go.

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