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Q. Eliz. Cousins, indeed; and by their uncle cozen'd. Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, lite. Whose hands soever launch'd their tender hearts, Thy head, all indirectly, guve direction: No doubt the murderous knife was dull and blunt, Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart, To revel in the entrails of my lambs. But that still 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 desperate bay of death, Like a poor bark, of sails and tackling reft, Rush all to pieces on thy rocky bosomn.
K. Rich. Madam, so thrive I in my enterprize, 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 ! Q. Eliz. What good is cover'd with the face of hea
ven, To be discover'd, that can do me good ? K. Rich. The advancement of your children, gentle
lady. Q. Eliz. Up to some scaffold, there to lose their heads?
K. Rich. No, to the dignity and height of fortune, The high imperial type of this earth's glory.
Q. Eliz. Flatter my sorrows with report of it; Tell me, what state, what dignity, whai honour, Canst thou demise to any child of mine?
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 of thy 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 you 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 : I mean, that with my 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
K. Rich. That I would learn of you, ,
Q. Eliz. And wilt thou learn of me?
The purple sap from her sweet brother's body,
K. Rich. You mock me, madam ; this is not the way To win your daughter.
Q. Eliz. There is no other way ;
K. Rich. Say, that I did all this for love of her?
K. Rich. Look, what is done cannot be now amend
Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes,
But mine shall be a comfort to your age.
Q. Eliz. What were I best to say? her father's bro
K. Rich. Infer fair England's peace by this alliance.
K. Rich. Tell her, the king, that may command, en
treats. Q. Eliz. That at her hands, which the king's king
forbids. 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? 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, lengthens it. Q. Eliz. As long as hell, and Richard, likes of it. K. Rich. Say, I, her sov’reign, am her subject low. Q. Eliz. But she, your subject, loaths such sov'
reignty. K. Rich. Be eloquent in my behalf to her. 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.