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of thy

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

kindness 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


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: that with


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?
Q. Eliz. What, thou?
K. Rich.
Even so: What think

you of it, madam? Q. Eliz. How canst thou woo her? K. Rich.

That I would learn of you, As one being best acquainted with her humour.

Q. Eliz. And wilt thou learn of me?
K. Rich.

Madam, with all


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

I mean,

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.
K. Rich. You mock me, madam; this is not the

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 26, Having bought love with such a bloody spoil. K. Rich. Look, what is done cannot be now

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 issue of
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;

26 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.'

your womb,

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


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 : 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 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;

27 • Endur'd of her, for whom you bid like sorrow. Of is used for by; bid is the past tense from bide.

To whom I will retail 28 my conquest won,
And she shall be sole victress, Cæsar's Cæsar.
Q. Eliz. What were I best to say ? her father's

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 al-

liance. Q. Eliz. Which she shall purchase with still last

ing war. K. Rich. Tell her, the king, that may command,

entreats. Q. Eliz. That at her hands, which the king's King

forbids 29. 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 30 ? 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, 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.

28 i. e. recount. See note on p. 71.

29 She means that his crimes would render such a marriage offensive to heaven. 30 Young has borrowed this thought:

• But say, my all, my mistress, and my friend,
What day next week the' eternity shall end.'

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. 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,-
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.

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