QUEEN ELIZABETH
But how long fairly shall her sweet life last?
KING RICHARD
As long as heaven and nature lengthens it.
QUEEN ELIZABETH
As long as hell and Richard likes of it.
KING RICHARD
Say I, her sovereign, am her subject love.
QUEEN ELIZABETH
But she, your subject, loathes such sovereignty.
KING RICHARD
Be eloquent in my behalf to her.
QUEEN ELIZABETH
An honest tale speeds best being plainly told.
KING RICHARD
Then plainly to her tell my loving tale.
QUEEN ELIZABETH
Plain and not honest is too harsh a style.
KING RICHARD
Your reasons are too shallow and too quick.
QUEEN ELIZABETH
O no, my reasons are too deep and dead—
Too deep and dead, poor infants, in their graves.
KING RICHARD
Harp not on that string, madam. That is past.
QUEEN ELIZABETH
Harp on it still shall I, till heart-strings break.
KING RICHARD
Now by my George, my garter, and my crown—
QUEEN ELIZABETH
Profaned, dishonoured, and the third usurped.
KING RICHARD
I swear—
QUEEN ELIZABETH By nothing, for this is no oath.
Thy George, profaned, hath lost his holy honour;
Thy garter, blemished, pawned his lordly virtue;
Thy crown, usurped, disgraced his kingly glory.
If something thou wouldst swear to be believed,
Swear then by something that thou hast not wronged.
KING RICHARD
Then by mysetf—
QUEEN ELIZABETH
Thy self is self-misused.
KING RICHARD
Now by the world—
QUEEN ELIZABETH
‘Tis full of thy foul wrongs.
KING RICHARD
My father’s death—
QUEEN ELIZABETH
Thy life hath that dishonoured.
KING RICHARD
Why then, by God—
QUEEN ELIZABETH
God’s wrong is most of all.
If thou didst fear to break an oath with him,
The unity the King my husband made
Thou hadst not broken, nor my brothers died.
If thou hadst feared to break an oath by him,
Th’imperial metal circling now thy head
Had graced 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 the prey for worms.
What canst thou swear by now?
KING RICHARD
The time to come.
QUEEN ELIZABETH
That thou hast wronged in the time o‘erpast,
For I myself have many tears to wash
Hereafter time, for time past wronged by thee.
The children live, whose fathers thou hast slaughtered—
Ungoverned youth, to wail it in their age.
The parents live, whose children thou hast butchered—
Old barren plants, to wail it with their age.
Swear not by time to come, for that thou hast
Misused ere used, by times ill-used o’erpast.
KING RICHARD
As I intend to prosper and repent,
So thrive I in my dangerous affairs
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 dear 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, good-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-fond in great designs.
QUEEN ELIZABETH
Shall I be tempted of the devil thus?
KING RICHARD
Ay, if the devil tempt you to do good.
QUEEN ELIZABETH
Shall I forget myself to be myself?
KING RICHARD
Ay, if yourself’s remembrance wrong yourself.
QUEEN ELIZABETH Yet thou didst kill my children.
KING RICHARD
But in your daughter’s womb I bury them,
Where, in that nest of spicery, they will breed
Selves of themselves, to your recomfiture.
QUEEN ELIZABETH
Shall I go win my daughter to thy will?
KING RICHARD
And be a happy mother by the deed.
QUEEN ELIZABETH
I go. Write to me very shortly,
And you shall understand from me her mind.
KING RICHARD
Bear her my true love’s kiss,
He kisses her
and so farewell—
Exit Elizabeth
Relenting fool, and shallow, changing woman.
Enter Sir Richard Ratcliffe
How now, what news?
RATCLIFFE
Most mighty sovereign, on the western coast
Rideth a puissant navy. To our shores
Throng many doubtful, hollow-hearted friends,
Unarmed and unresolved, 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.
KING RICHARD
Some light-foot friend post to the Duke of Norfolk.
Ratcliffe thyself, or Catesby—where is he?
CATESBY
Here, my good lord.
KING RICHARD
Catesby, fly to the Duke.
CATESBY
I will, my lord, with all convenient haste.
KING RICHARD
Ratcliffe, come hither. Post to Salisbury;
When thou com‘st thither—(to Catesby) dull, unmindful villain,
Why stay’st thou here, and goest not to the Duke?
CATESBY
First, mighty liege, tell me your highness’ pleasure:
What from your grace I shall deliver to him?
KING RICHARD
O true, good Catesby. Bid him levy straight
The greatest strength and power that he can make,
And meet me suddenly at Salisbury.
CATESBY I go.
Exit
RATCLIFFE
What, may it please you, shall I do at Salisbury?