SCENE 4.

London. Before the palace

Enter old QUEEN MARGARET

  QUEEN MARGARET. 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?
                                                       [Retires]

Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH and the DUCHESS OF YORK

  QUEEN ELIZABETH. 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.
  QUEEN MARGARET. Hover about her; say that right for right
    Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night.
  DUCHESS. So many miseries have craz'd my voice
    That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute.
    Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?
  QUEEN MARGARET. Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet,
    Edward for Edward pays a dying debt.
  QUEEN ELIZABETH. Wilt thou, O God, fly from such gentle
    lambs
    And throw them in the entrails of the wolf?
    When didst thou sleep when such a deed was done?
  QUEEN MARGARET. When holy Harry died, and my sweet
    son.
  DUCHESS. Dead life, blind sight, poor mortal living ghost,
    Woe's scene, world's shame, grave's due by life usurp'd,
    Brief abstract and record of tedious days,
    Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth, [Sitting down]
    Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood.
  QUEEN ELIZABETH. Ah, that thou wouldst as soon afford a
    grave
    As thou canst yield a melancholy seat!
    Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here.
    Ah, who hath any cause to mourn but we?
                                           [Sitting down by her]
  QUEEN MARGARET. [Coming forward] If ancient sorrow be
    most reverend,
    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.
  DUCHESS. I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill him;
    I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him.
  QUEEN MARGARET. 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 handiwork,
    That excellent grand tyrant of the earth
    That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls,
    Thy womb let loose to chase us to our graves.
    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!
  DUCHESS. O Harry's wife, triumph not in my woes!
    God witness with me, I have wept for thine.
  QUEEN MARGARET. Bear with me; I am hungry for revenge,
    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;
    Young York he is but boot, because both they
    Match'd not the high perfection of my loss.
    Thy Clarence he is dead that stabb'd my Edward;
    And the beholders of this frantic play,
    Th' adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey,
    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 thither. 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 and say 'The dog is dead.'
  QUEEN ELIZABETH. 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!
  QUEEN MARGARET. 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,
    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.
    Where is thy husband now? Where be thy brothers?
    Where be thy two sons? Wherein dost thou joy?
    Who sues, and kneels, and says 'God save the Queen'?
    Where be the bending peers that flattered thee?
    Where be the thronging troops that followed thee?
    Decline an 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 su'd to, one that humbly sues;
    For Queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care;
    For she that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me;
    For she being fear'd of all, now fearing one;
    For she commanding all, obey'd of none.
    Thus hath the course of justice whirl'd about
    And left thee but a very prey to time,
    Having no more but thought of what thou wast
    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'd yoke,
    From which even here I slip my weary head
    And leave the burden of it all on thee.
    Farewell, York's wife, and queen of sad mischance;
    These English woes shall make me smile in France.
  QUEEN ELIZABETH. O thou well skill'd in curses, stay awhile
    And teach me how to curse mine enemies!
  QUEEN MARGARET. Forbear to sleep the nights, and fast the
      days;
    Compare dead happiness with living woe;
    Think that thy babes were sweeter than they were,
    And he that slew them fouler than he is.
    Bett'ring thy loss makes the bad-causer worse;
    Revolving this will teach thee how to curse.
  QUEEN ELIZABETH. My words are dull; O, quicken them
    with thine!
  QUEEN MARGARET. Thy woes will make them sharp and
    pierce like mine. Exit
  DUCHESS. Why should calamity be fun of words?
  QUEEN ELIZABETH. Windy attorneys to their client woes,
    Airy succeeders of intestate joys,
    Poor breathing orators of miseries,
    Let them have scope; though what they will impart
    Help nothing else, yet do they case the heart.
  DUCHESS. If so, then be not tongue-tied. Go with me,
    And in the breath of bitter words let's smother
    My damned son that thy two sweet sons smother'd.
    The trumpet sounds; be copious in exclaims.

         Enter KING RICHARD and his train, marching with
                     drums and trumpets

  KING RICHARD. Who intercepts me in my expedition?
  DUCHESS. O, she that might have intercepted thee,
    By strangling thee in her accursed womb,
    From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast done!
  QUEEN ELIZABETH. Hidest thou that forehead with a golden
    crown
    Where't should be branded, if that right were right,
    The slaughter of the Prince that ow'd that crown,
    And the dire death of my poor sons and brothers?
    Tell me, thou villain slave, where are my children?
  DUCHESS. Thou toad, thou toad, where is thy brother
    Clarence?
    And little Ned Plantagenet, his son?
  QUEEN ELIZABETH. Where is the gentle Rivers, Vaughan,
    Grey?
  DUCHESS. Where is kind Hastings?
  KING RICHARD. A flourish, trumpets! Strike alarum, drums!
    Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women
    Rail on the Lord's anointed. Strike, I say!
                                             [Flourish. Alarums]
    Either be patient and entreat me fair,
    Or with the clamorous report of war
    Thus will I drown your exclamations.
  DUCHESS. Art thou my son?
  KING RICHARD. Ay, I thank God, my father, and yourself.
  DUCHESS. Then patiently hear my impatience.
  KING RICHARD. Madam, I have a touch of your condition
    That cannot brook the accent of reproof.
  DUCHESS. O, let me speak!
  KING RICHARD. Do, then; but I'll not hear.
  DUCHESS. I will be mild and gentle in my words.
  KING RICHARD. And brief, good mother; for I am in haste.
  DUCHESS. Art thou so hasty? I have stay'd for thee,
    God knows, in torment and in agony.
  KING RICHARD. And came I not at last to comfort you?
  DUCHESS. 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, desp'rate, wild, and furious;
    Thy prime of manhood daring, bold, and venturous;
    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 with thy company?
  KING RICHARD. Faith, none but Humphrey Hour, that call'd
    your Grace
    To breakfast once forth of my company.
    If I be so disgracious in your eye,
    Let me march on and not offend you, madam.
    Strike up the drum.
  DUCHESS. I prithee hear me speak.
  KING RICHARD. You speak too bitterly.
  DUCHESS. Hear me a word;
    For I shall never speak to thee again.
  KING RICHARD. So.
  DUCHESS. Either thou wilt die by God's just ordinance
    Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror;
    Or I with grief and extreme age shall perish
    And never more behold thy face again.
    Therefore take with thee my most grievous 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
  QUEEN ELIZABETH. Though far more cause, yet much less
      spirit to curse
    Abides in me; I say amen to her.
  KING RICHARD. Stay, madam, I must talk a word with you.
  QUEEN ELIZABETH. I have no moe sons of the royal blood
    For thee to slaughter. For my daughters, Richard,
    They shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens;
    And therefore level not to hit their lives.
  KING RICHARD. You have a daughter call'd Elizabeth.
    Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious.
  QUEEN ELIZABETH. And must she die for this? O, let her
      live,
    And I'll corrupt her manners, stain her beauty,
    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.
  KING RICHARD. Wrong not her birth; she is a royal
    Princess.
  QUEEN ELIZABETH. To save her life I'll say she is not so.
  KING RICHARD. Her life is safest only in her birth.
  QUEEN ELIZABETH. And only in that safety died her
      brothers.
  KING RICHARD. Lo, at their birth good stars were opposite.
  QUEEN ELIZABETH. No, to their lives ill friends were
      contrary.
  KING RICHARD. All unavoided is the doom of destiny.
  QUEEN ELIZABETH. True, when avoided grace makes destiny.
    My babes were destin'd to a fairer death,
    If grace had bless'd thee with a fairer life.
  KING RICHARD. You speak as if that I had slain my cousins.
  QUEEN ELIZABETH. Cousins, indeed; and by their uncle
      cozen'd
    Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life.
    Whose hand soever lanc'd their tender hearts,
    Thy head, an indirectly, gave direction.
    No doubt the murd'rous knife was dull and blunt
    Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart
    To revel in the entrails of my lambs.
    But that stiff 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 desp'rate bay of death,
    Like a poor bark, of sails and tackling reft,
    Rush all to pieces on thy rocky bosom.
  KING RICHARD. 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!
  QUEEN ELIZABETH. What good is cover'd with the face of
      heaven,
    To be discover'd, that can do me good?
  KING RICHARD. advancement of your children, gentle
    lady.
  QUEEN ELIZABETH. Up to some scaffold, there to lose their
    heads?
  KING RICHARD. Unto the dignity and height of Fortune,
    The high imperial type of this earth's glory.
  QUEEN ELIZABETH. Flatter my sorrow with report of it;
    Tell me what state, what dignity, what honour,
    Canst thou demise to any child of mine?
  KING RICHARD. 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.
  QUEEN ELIZABETH. Be brief, lest that the process of thy
      kindness
    Last longer telling than thy kindness' date.
  KING RICHARD. Then know, that from my soul I love thy
    daughter.
  QUEEN ELIZABETH. My daughter's mother thinks it with her
    soul.
  KING RICHARD. What do you think?
  QUEEN ELIZABETH. 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.
  KING RICHARD. Be not so hasty to confound my meaning.
    I mean that with my soul I love thy daughter
    And do intend to make her Queen of England.
  QUEEN ELIZABETH. Well, then, who dost thou mean shall be
    her king?
  KING RICHARD. Even he that makes her Queen. Who else
    should be?
  QUEEN ELIZABETH. What, thou?
  KING RICHARD. Even so. How think you of it?
  QUEEN ELIZABETH. How canst thou woo her?
  KING RICHARD. That would I learn of you,
    As one being best acquainted with her humour.
  QUEEN ELIZABETH. And wilt thou learn of me?
  KING RICHARD. Madam, with all my heart.
  QUEEN ELIZABETH. 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 sometimes 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.
  KING RICHARD. You mock me, madam; this is not the way
    To win your daughter.
  QUEEN ELIZABETH. There is no other way;
    Unless thou couldst put on some other shape
    And not be Richard that hath done all this.
  KING RICHARD. Say that I did all this for love of her.
  QUEEN ELIZABETH. Nay, then indeed she cannot choose but
      hate thee,
    Having bought love with such a bloody spoil.
  KING RICHARD. Look what is done cannot be now amended.
    Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes,
    Which after-hours gives 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 your womb,
    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 doating title of a mother;
    They are as children but one step below,
    Even of your metal, 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 can 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 th' aspiring flame
    Of golden sovereignty; acquaint the Princes
    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 victoress, Caesar's Caesar.
  QUEEN ELIZABETH. What were I best to say? Her father's
      brother
    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?
  KING RICHARD. Infer fair England's peace by this alliance.
  QUEEN ELIZABETH. Which she shall purchase with
    still-lasting war.
  KING RICHARD. Tell her the King, that may command,
    entreats.
  QUEEN ELIZABETH. That at her hands which the King's
    King forbids.
  KING RICHARD. Say she shall be a high and mighty queen.
  QUEEN ELIZABETH. To wail the title, as her mother doth.
  KING RICHARD. Say I will love her everlastingly.
  QUEEN ELIZABETH. But how long shall that title 'ever' last?
  KING RICHARD. Sweetly in force unto her fair life's end.
  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 low.
  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 heartstrings
    break.
  KING RICHARD. Now, by my George, my garter, and my
    crown-
  QUEEN ELIZABETH. Profan'd, dishonour'd, and the third
    usurp'd.
  KING RICHARD. I swear-
  QUEEN ELIZABETH. By nothing; for this is no oath:
    Thy George, profan'd, hath lost his lordly honour;
    Thy garter, blemish'd, pawn'd his knightly virtue;
    Thy crown, usurp'd, disgrac'd his kingly glory.
    If something thou wouldst swear to be believ'd,
    Swear then by something that thou hast not wrong'd.
  KING RICHARD. Then, by my self-
  QUEEN ELIZABETH. Thyself is self-misus'd.
  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 it dishonour'd.
  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 fear'd to break an oath by Him,
    Th' 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 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 wrong'd by thee.
    The children live whose fathers thou hast slaughter'd,
    Ungovern'd youth, to wail it in their age;
    The parents live whose children thou hast butcheed,
    Old barren plants, to wail it with their age.
    Swear not by time to come; for that thou hast
    Misus'd ere us'd, by times ill-us'd 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, 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-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 your self'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 recomforture.
  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; and so, farewell.
                               Kissing her. Exit QUEEN ELIZABETH
    Relenting fool, and shallow, changing woman!

Enter RATCLIFF; CATESBY following

    How now! what news?
  RATCLIFF. Most mighty sovereign, on the western coast
    Rideth a puissant navy; to our shores
    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.
  KING RICHARD. Some light-foot friend post to the Duke of
    Norfolk.
    Ratcliff, 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. Ratcliff, come hither. Post to Salisbury;
    When thou com'st thither- [To CATESBY] Dull,
    unmindfull villain,
    Why stay'st thou here, and go'st 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
  RATCLIFF. What, may it please you, shall I do at Salisbury?
  KING RICHARD. Why, what wouldst thou do there before I
    go?
  RATCLIFF. Your Highness told me I should post before.
  KING RICHARD. My mind is chang'd.

Enter LORD STANLEY

  STANLEY, what news with you?
  STANLEY. None good, my liege, to please you with
    the hearing;
    Nor none so bad but well may be reported.
  KING RICHARD. Hoyday, a riddle! neither good nor bad!
    What need'st thou run so many miles about,
    When thou mayest tell thy tale the nearest way?
    Once more, what news?
  STANLEY. Richmond is on the seas.
  KING RICHARD. There let him sink, and be the seas on him!
    White-liver'd runagate, what doth he there?
  STANLEY. I know not, mighty sovereign, but by guess.
  KING RICHARD. Well, as you guess?
  STANLEY. Stirr'd up by Dorset, Buckingham, and Morton,
    He makes for England here to claim the crown.
  KING RICHARD. 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?
    And who is England's King but great York's heir?
    Then tell me what makes he upon the seas.
  STANLEY. Unless for that, my liege, I cannot guess.
  KING RICHARD. Unless for that he comes to be your liege,
    You cannot guess wherefore the Welshman comes.
    Thou wilt revolt and fly to him, I fear.
  STANLEY. No, my good lord; therefore mistrust me not.
  KING RICHARD. 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?
  STANLEY. No, my good lord, my friends are in the north.
  KING RICHARD. Cold friends to me. What do they in the
    north,
    When they should serve their sovereign in the west?
  STANLEY. 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.
  KING RICHARD. Ay, ay, thou wouldst be gone to join with
    Richmond;
    But I'll not trust thee.
  STANLEY. Most mighty sovereign,
    You have no cause to hold my friendship doubtful.
    I never was nor never will be false.
  KING RICHARD. Go, then, and muster men. But leave behind
    Your son, George Stanley. Look your heart be firm,
    Or else his head's assurance is but frail.
  STANLEY. So deal with him as I prove true to you. Exit

Enter a MESSENGER

  MESSENGER. 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 moe confederates, are in arms.

Enter another MESSENGER

  SECOND MESSENGER. In Kent, my liege, the Guilfords are in
    arms;
    And every hour more competitors
    Flock to the rebels, and their power grows strong.

Enter another MESSENGER

  THIRD MESSENGER. My lord, the army of great Buckingham-
  KING RICHARD. Out on you, owls! Nothing but songs of
    death? [He strikes him]
    There, take thou that till thou bring better news.
  THIRD MESSENGER. The news I have to tell your Majesty
    Is that by sudden floods and fall of waters
    Buckingham's army is dispers'd and scatter'd;
    And he himself wand'red away alone,
    No man knows whither.
  KING RICHARD. 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?
  THIRD MESSENGER. Such proclamation hath been made,
    my Lord.

Enter another MESSENGER

  FOURTH MESSENGER. Sir Thomas Lovel and Lord Marquis
    Dorset,
    'Tis said, my liege, in Yorkshire are in arms.
    But this good comfort bring I to your Highness-
    The Britaine navy is dispers'd by tempest.
    Richmond in Dorsetshire sent out a boat
    Unto the shore, to ask those on the banks
    If they were his assistants, yea or no;
    Who answer'd him they came from Buckingham
    Upon his party. He, mistrusting them,
    Hois'd sail, and made his course again for Britaine.
  KING RICHARD. March on, march on, since we are up in
    arms;
    If not to fight with foreign enemies,
    Yet to beat down these rebels here at home.

Re-enter CATESBY

  CATESBY. 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 tidings, yet they must be told.
  KING RICHARD. Away towards Salisbury! While we reason
    here
    A royal battle might be won and lost.
    Some one take order Buckingham be brought
    To Salisbury; the rest march on with me.
    Flourish. Exeunt