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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 honour,

       The high imperial type of this earth’s glory.

       QUEEN ELIZABETH

       Flatter my sorrows 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

       I, even I: what think you of it, madam?

       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 brothers’ bodies,

       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 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:

       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

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