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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 the prey for Worms.
What canst thou swear by now?

K. Rich. The Time to come.

Queen That thou hast wronged in the time o'ır.past :
For I my self have many Tears to wath
Hereafter Time, for time-past, wrong'd by thee.
The Children live, whose Fathers thou hast laughter'd,
Ungovern'd Youth, to wail it with 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 e'er us’d, by times ill-us'd o'erpast.

K. Rich. As I intend to prosper, and repent ;
So thrive I in my dangerous Affairs
Of hostile Arms; My self, my self confound,
Heaven and Fortune bar me happy Hours,
Day yield me not thy Light, nor Night thy Rest,
Be oppofite all Planets of good Luck
To my proceeding, if with dear Hearts Love,
Immaculate Devotion, holy Thoughts,
I tender not thy beauteous Princely Daughter.
In her consists my Happiness and thine;
Without her, follows to my self and thee,
Her self, 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 Defires, but what I will deserve :
Urge the necessity and state of Times;
And be not peevish found in great Designs.

Queen, Shall I be ti m'ted of the Devil thus?
K. Rich. Ay, if the Devil tempt you to do good.
Queen. Shall I forget my felf to be my self?
K. Rich. Ay, if your fell’s remembrance wrong your self.
Qucen. Yet thou didst kill my Children.

K. Rich.

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K. Rich. But in your Daughter's Womb I bury them;
Where in that Nest of Spicery they will breed
Selves of themselves, to your recomforture.

Queen. Shall I go win my Daughter to thy Will?
K. Rich. And be a happy Mother by the Dead.

Queen. I go, write to me very shortly,
And

you shall understand from me her mind. [Exit Queen.
K. Rich. Bear her my true Love's kiss, and so farewel-
Relenting Fool, and shallow-changing Woman.
How now, what News

Enter Ratcliff.
Rat. Most mighty Sovereign, on the Western Coast
Rides a puissant Navy : To our Shores
Throng many doubtful hollow-hearted Friends,
Unarm’d, and unresolv'd to beat them back.
'Tis thought, that Richmoud is their Admiral :
And there they hull, expe&ting but the aid
Of Buckingham, to welcome them ashore.

K. Rich. Some light-foot Friend post to the Duke of NorRatcliff, thy self, or Catesby, where is he? (folk?

Cates. Here, my good Lord.
K. Rich. Catesby, fly to the Duke.
Cates. I will, my Lord, with all convenient haste.

K. Rich. Ratcliff, come hither, post to Salisbury.
When thou comest thitherDull unmindful Villain,

[To Catesby. Why stay'st thou here, and go'st not to the Duke?

Cates. First, mighty Liege, tell me your Highness pleasure, What from your Grace I Mall deliver to him.

K. Rich. O true, good Catesby-bid him levy straight The greatest Strength and Power that he can make, And meet me suddenly at Salisbury. Cates. I go.

[Exit. Rat. What, may it please you, Mall I do at Salisbury ? K. Rich. Why, what would'At thou do there before I go? Rar. Your Highness cold me I should post before. K. Rich. My mind is chang'di

Enter Lord Stanley Stanley, what News with you?

Stan. None good, my Liege, to please you with the hear. Nor none so bad, but well may be reported. (ing.

K. Rich.

M 2

K. Rich. Hoyday, a Riddle, neither good nor bad:
What needst thơu run so many Miles about,
When thou may'st tell thy Tale the nearest way?
Once more, what News?

Stan. Richmond is on the Seas.

K. Rich. There let him sink, and be the Seas on him,
White-liver'd Run-a-gate, what doth he there?

Stan. I know not, mighty Sovereign, but by guess.
K. Rich. Well, as you guess.

Stan. Stir'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 unposlels'd ?
What Heir of York is there alive, but we?
And who is England's King, but great York's Heir ?
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, You cannot guess, wherefore the Welch-man comes. Thou wilt revolt, and fly to him, I fear.

Sian. No, my good Lord, therefore mistrust me not.

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,
Sife-conducting the Rebels from their Ships 3

Stan. No, my good Lord, my Friends are in the North.

K. Rich. Cold Friends to me: what do they in the North, When they should serve their Sovereign in the West:

Stan. They have not been commanded, mighty King; 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.

K. Rich. Ay, thou would't be gone, to join with RichBut I'll not trust thee.

(mond: Stan. Most mighty Sovereign, You have no cause to hold my Friendship doubtful, I never was, nor never will be false.

K. Rich. Go then, and muster Men; but leave behind Your Son George Stanley : Look your Heart be firm, Or else his Head's afsurance is but frail.

Stan.

Stan. So deal with him, as I prove true to you.'

[Exit Stanley
Enter a Messenger.
Mes. My gracious Sovereign, now in Devonshire,
As I by Friends am well advertised,
Sir Edward Courtney, and the haughty Prelate,
Bishop of Exeter, his elder Brother,
With many more Confederates are in Arms.

Enter another Messenger.
Mes. In Kent, my Liege, the Guilfords are in Arms,
And every bour Competitors
Flock to the Rebels, and their Power grows strong.

Enter another Messenger.
Mef. My Lord, the Army of great Buckingham
K. Rich. Qut on ye, Owls, nothing but Songs of Death.

[Heftrikes him. There, take thou that, 'till thou bring better News,

Mes. The News I have to tell your Majesty,
Is, that by sudden Flood, and fall of Waters,
Buckingham's Army is dispers’d and scatter'd,
And he himself wandred away alone,
No Man knows whither.

K. Rich. I cry thee Mercy;
There is my Purse, to cure that Blow of thine.
Hath any well advised Friend proclaim'd
Reward to him that brings the Traitor in?
Mes, Such Proclamation hath been made, my Lord.

Enter another Meffenger.
Mes. Sir Thomas Lovel, and Lord Marquess Dorset,
'Tis said, my Liege, in Yorkshire are in Arms:
But this gond comfort bring I to your Highness,
The Britain Navy is dispers’d by Tempeft.
Richmond in Dorset fire fent out a Boat
Unto the Shore, to ask those on the Banks,
If they were his Adistants, yea, or 00?
Who anfwer'd him, they came from Buckingham
Upon his Party; he mistrusting them,
Hois’d Sail, and made his Course again for Britain,

K. Rich. March on, march on, since we are up io Arms, If not to fight with Foreign Enemies,

Yot

M 3

Yet to beat down these Rebels here at Home.

Enter Catesby.
Catef. My Liege, the Duke of Buckingham is taken,
That is the best News; that the Earl of Richmond
Is with a mighty Power landed at Milford,
Is colder News, but yet it must be told.

K. Rich. Away towards Salisbury; while we reason here,
A Royal Battel might be won and lost:
Some one take order that Buckingham be brought
To Salisbury, the rest march on with me. [Exeunt.

SCEN E IV.

Enter Derby, and Sir Christopher.

Derby. Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from me,
That in the Sty of the most deadly Boar,
My Son George Stanley is franke up in hold:
If I revolt, off goes young George's Head,
The fear of that holds off my present Aid.
So
get

thee gone; commend me to thy Lord,
Withal say, that the Queen hath heartily consented
He Mould espouse Elizabeth her Daughter.
But tell me, where is Princely Richmond now?

Chrif. At Pembrook, or at Hertford West in Wales,
Derby. What Men of Name resort to him?

Chris: Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned Soldier,
Sir Gilbert Talbot, Sir William Stanley,
Oxford, redoubted Pembrook, Sir James Bluni,
And Rice ap Thomas, with a valiant Crew,
And many other of great Name and Wort :
And towards London do they bend their Power,
If by the way they be not fought withal.

Derby. Will, hye thee to thy Lord: I kiss his Hand,
My Letter will resolve him of
Farewel.

[Exeunt,

my Mind

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