Act I

Scene 1

London. A street

Enter Richard, Duke Of Gloucester, solus

Gloucester

Now is the winter of our discontent

Made glorious summer by this sun of York;

And all the clouds that lour’d upon our house

In the deep bosom of the ocean buried

Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;

Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;

Our stern alarums chang’d to merry meetings,

Our dreadful marches to delightful measures

Grim-visag’d war hath smooth’d his wrinkled front,

And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds

To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,

He capers nimbly in a lady’s chamber

To the lascivious pleasing of a lute

But I-that am not shap’d for sportive tricks,

Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass—

I-that am rudely stamp’d, and want love’s majesty

To strut before a wanton ambling nymph—

I-that am curtail’d of this fair proportion,

Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,

Deform’d, unfinish’d, sent before my time

Into this breathing world scarce half made up,

And that so lamely and unfashionable

That dogs bark at me as I halt by them—

Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace,

Have no delight to pass away the time,

Unless to spy my shadow in the sun

And descant on mine own deformity

And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover

To entertain these fair well-spoken days,

I am determined to prove a villain

And hate the idle pleasures of these days

Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,

By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams,

To set my brother Clarence and the King

In deadly hate the one against the other;

And if King Edward be as true and just

As I am subtle, false, and treacherous,

This day should Clarence closely be mew’d up—

About a prophecy which says that G

Of Edward’s heirs the murderer shall be

Dive, thoughts, down to my soul. Here Clarence comes

Enter Clarence, guarded, and Brakenbury

Brother, good day. What means this armed guard

That waits upon your Grace?

Clarence

His Majesty,

Tend’ring my person’s safety, hath appointed

This conduct to convey me to th’ Tower

Gloucester

Upon what cause?

Clarence

Because my name is George

Gloucester

Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours:

He should, for that, commit your godfathers

O, belike his Majesty hath some intent

That you should be new-christ’ned in the Tower

But what’s the matter, Clarence? May I know?

Clarence

Yea, Richard, when I know; for I protest

As yet I do not; but, as I can learn,

He hearkens after prophecies and dreams,

And from the cross-row plucks the letter G,

And says a wizard told him that by G

His issue disinherited should be;

And, for my name of George begins with G,

It follows in his thought that I am he

These, as I learn, and such like toys as these

Hath mov’d his Highness to commit me now

Gloucester

Why, this it is when men are rul’d by women:

‘Tis not the King that sends you to the Tower;

My Lady Grey his wife, Clarence, ‘tis she

That tempers him to this extremity

Was it not she and that good man of worship,

Antony Woodville, her brother there,

That made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower,

From whence this present day he is delivered?

We are not safe, Clarence; we are not safe

Clarence

By heaven, I think there is no man is secure

But the Queen’s kindred, and night-walking heralds

That trudge betwixt the King and Mistress Shore

Heard you not what an humble suppliant

Lord Hastings was, for her delivery?

Gloucester

Humbly complaining to her deity

Got my Lord Chamberlain his liberty

I’ll tell you what-I think it is our way,

If we will keep in favour with the King,

To be her men and wear her livery:

The jealous o’er-worn widow, and herself,

Since that our brother dubb’d them gentlewomen,

Are mighty gossips in our monarchy

Brakenbury

I beseech your Graces both to pardon me:

His Majesty hath straitly given in charge

That no man shall have private conference,

Of what degree soever, with your brother

Gloucester

Even so; an’t please your worship, Brakenbury,

You may partake of any thing we say:

We speak no treason, man; we say the King

Is wise and virtuous, and his noble queen

Well struck in years, fair, and not jealous;

We say that Shore’s wife hath a pretty foot,

A cherry lip, a bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue;

And that the Queen’s kindred are made gentlefolks

How say you, sir? Can you deny all this?

Brakenbury

With this, my lord, myself have naught to do

Gloucester

Naught to do with Mistress Shore! I tell thee, fellow,

He that doth naught with her, excepting one,

Were best to do it secretly alone

Brakenbury

What one, my lord?

Gloucester

Her husband, knave! Wouldst thou betray me?

Brakenbury

I do beseech your Grace to pardon me, and withal

Forbear your conference with the noble Duke

Clarence

We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will obey

Gloucester

We are the Queen’s abjects and must obey

Brother, farewell; I will unto the King;

And whatsoe’er you will employ me in—

Were it to call King Edward’s widow sister—

I will perform it to enfranchise you

Meantime, this deep disgrace in brotherhood

Touches me deeper than you can imagine

Clarence

I know it pleaseth neither of us well

Gloucester

Well, your imprisonment shall not be long;

I will deliver or else lie for you

Meantime, have patience

Clarence

I must perforce. Farewell

Exeunt Clarence, Brakenbury, and guard

Gloucester

Go tread the path that thou shalt ne’er return

Simple, plain Clarence, I do love thee so

That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven,

If heaven will take the present at our hands

But who comes here? The new-delivered Hastings?

Enter Lord Hastings

Hastings

Good time of day unto my gracious lord!

Gloucester

As much unto my good Lord Chamberlain!

Well are you welcome to the open air

How hath your lordship brook’d imprisonment?

Hastings

With patience, noble lord, as prisoners must;

But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks

That were the cause of my imprisonment

Gloucester

No doubt, no doubt; and so shall Clarence too;

For they that were your enemies are his,

And have prevail’d as much on him as you

Hastings

More pity that the eagles should be mew’d

Whiles kites and buzzards prey at liberty

Gloucester

What news abroad?

Hastings

No news so bad abroad as this at home:

The King is sickly, weak, and melancholy,

And his physicians fear him mightily

Gloucester

Now, by Saint John, that news is bad indeed

O, he hath kept an evil diet long

And overmuch consum’d his royal person!

‘Tis very grievous to be thought upon

Where is he? In his bed?

Hastings

He is

Gloucester

Go you before, and I will follow you

Exit Hastings

He cannot live, I hope, and must not die

Till George be pack’d with posthorse up to heaven

I’ll in to urge his hatred more to Clarence

With lies well steel’d with weighty arguments;

And, if I fail not in my deep intent,

Clarence hath not another day to live;

Which done, God take King Edward to his mercy,

And leave the world for me to bustle in!

For then I’ll marry Warwick’s youngest daughter

What though I kill’d her husband and her father?

The readiest way to make the wench amends

Is to become her husband and her father;

The which will I-not all so much for love

As for another secret close intent

By marrying her which I must reach unto

But yet I run before my horse to market

Clarence still breathes; Edward still lives and reigns;

When they are gone, then must I count my gains

Exit

Scene 2

London. Another street

Enter corpse of King Henry The Sixth, with halberds to guard it; Lady Anne being the mourner, attended by Tressel and Berkeley

Anne

Set down, set down your honourable load—

If honour may be shrouded in a hearse;

Whilst I awhile obsequiously lament

Th’ untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster

Poor key-cold figure of a holy king!

Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster!

Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood!

Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost

To hear the lamentations of poor Anne,

Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughtered son,

Stabb’d by the self-same hand that made these wounds

Lo, in these windows that let forth thy life

I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes

O, cursed be the hand that made these holes!

Cursed the heart that had the heart to do it!

Cursed the blood that let this blood from hence!

More direful hap betide that hated wretch

That makes us wretched by the death of thee

Than I can wish to adders, spiders, toads,

Or any creeping venom’d thing that lives!

If ever he have child, abortive be it,

Prodigious, and untimely brought to light,

Whose ugly and unnatural aspect

May fright the hopeful mother at the view,

And that be heir to his unhappiness!

If ever he have wife, let her be made

More miserable by the death of him

Than I am made by my young lord and thee!

Come, now towards Chertsey with your holy load,

Taken from Paul’s to be interred there;

And still as you are weary of this weight

Rest you, whiles I lament King Henry’s corse

[The bearers take up the coffin]

Enter Gloucester

Gloucester

Stay, you that bear the corse, and set it down

Anne

What black magician conjures up this fiend

To stop devoted charitable deeds?

Gloucester

Villains, set down the corse; or, by Saint Paul,

I’ll make a corse of him that disobeys!

First Gentleman

My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass

Gloucester

Unmannerd dog! Stand thou, when I command

Advance thy halberd higher than my breast,

Or, by Saint Paul, I’ll strike thee to my foot

And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness

[The bearers set down the coffin]

Anne

What, do you tremble? Are you all afraid?

Alas, I blame you not, for you are mortal,

And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil

Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell!

Thou hadst but power over his mortal body,

His soul thou canst not have; therefore, be gone

Gloucester

Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst

Anne

Foul devil, for God’s sake, hence and trouble us not;

For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell

Fill’d it with cursing cries and deep exclaims

If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds,

Behold this pattern of thy butcheries

O, gentlemen, see, see! Dead Henry’s wounds

Open their congeal’d mouths and bleed afresh

Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity,

For ‘tis thy presence that exhales this blood

From cold and empty veins where no blood dwells;

Thy deeds inhuman and unnatural

Provokes this deluge most unnatural

O God, which this blood mad’st, revenge his death!

O earth, which this blood drink’st, revenge his death!

Either, heav’n, with lightning strike the murd’rer dead;

Or, earth, gape open wide and eat him quick,

As thou dost swallow up this good king’s blood,

Which his hell-govern’d arm hath butchered

[Lady Anne from Richard III] [graphic].

Gloucester

Lady, you know no rules of charity,

Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses

Anne

Villain, thou knowest nor law of God nor man:

No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity

Gloucester

But I know none, and therefore am no beast

Anne

O wonderful, when devils tell the truth!

Gloucester

More wonderful when angels are so angry

Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman,

Of these supposed crimes to give me leave

By circumstance but to acquit myself

Anne

Vouchsafe, diffus’d infection of a man,

Of these known evils but to give me leave

By circumstance to accuse thy cursed self

Gloucester

Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have

Some patient leisure to excuse myself

Anne

Fouler than heart can think thee, thou canst make

No excuse current but to hang thyself

Gloucester

By such despair I should accuse myself

Anne

And by despairing shalt thou stand excused

For doing worthy vengeance on thyself

That didst unworthy slaughter upon others

Gloucester

Say that I slew them not?

Anne

Then say they were not slain

But dead they are, and, devilish slave, by thee

Gloucester

I did not kill your husband

Anne

Why, then he is alive

Gloucester

Nay, he is dead, and slain by Edward’s hands

Anne

In thy foul throat thou liest: Queen Margaret saw

Thy murd’rous falchion smoking in his blood;

The which thou once didst bend against her breast,

But that thy brothers beat aside the point

Gloucester

I was provoked by her sland’rous tongue

That laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders

Anne

Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind,

That never dream’st on aught but butcheries

Didst thou not kill this king?

Gloucester

I grant ye

Anne

Dost grant me, hedgehog? Then, God grant me to

Thou mayst be damned for that wicked deed!

O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous!

Gloucester

The better for the King of Heaven, that hath him

Anne

He is in heaven, where thou shalt never come

Gloucester

Let him thank me that holp to send him thither,

For he was fitter for that place than earth

Anne

And thou unfit for any place but hell

Gloucester

Yes, one place else, if you will hear me name it

Anne

Some dungeon

Gloucester

Your bed-chamber

Anne

Ill rest betide the chamber where thou liest!

Gloucester

So will it, madam, till I lie with you

Anne

I hope so

Gloucester

I know so. But, gentle Lady Anne,

To leave this keen encounter of our wits,

And fall something into a slower method-

Is not the causer of the timeless deaths

Of these Plantagenets, Henry and Edward,

As blameful as the executioner?

Anne

Thou wast the cause and most accurs’d effect

Gloucester

Your beauty was the cause of that effect-

Your beauty that did haunt me in my sleep

To undertake the death of all the world

So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom

Anne

If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide,

These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks

Gloucester

These eyes could not endure that beauty’s wreck;

You should not blemish it if I stood by

As all the world is cheered by the sun,

So I by that; it is my day, my life

Anne

Black night o’ershade thy day, and death thy life!

Gloucester

Curse not thyself, fair creature; thou art both

Anne

I would I were, to be reveng’d on thee

Gloucester

It is a quarrel most unnatural,

To be reveng’d on him that loveth thee

Anne

It is a quarrel just and reasonable,

To be reveng’d on him that kill’d my husband

Gloucester

He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband

Did it to help thee to a better husband

Anne

His better doth not breathe upon the earth

Gloucester

He lives that loves thee better than he could

Anne

Name him

Gloucester

Plantagenet

Anne

Why, that was he

Gloucester

The self-same name, but one of better nature

Anne

Where is he?

Gloucester

Here. [She spits at him] Why dost thou spit at me?

Anne

Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake!

Gloucester

Never came poison from so sweet a place

Anne

Never hung poison on a fouler toad

Out of my sight! Thou dost infect mine eyes

Gloucester

Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine

Anne

Would they were basilisks to strike thee dead!

Gloucester

I would they were, that I might die at once;

For now they kill me with a living death

Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears,

Sham’d their aspects with store of childish drops—

These eyes, which never shed remorseful tear,

No, when my father York and Edward wept

To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made

When black-fac’d Clifford shook his sword at him;

Nor when thy warlike father, like a child,

Told the sad story of my father’s death,

And twenty times made pause to sob and weep

That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks

Like trees bedash’d with rain-in that sad time

My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear;

And what these sorrows could not thence exhale

Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping

I never sued to friend nor enemy;

My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing word;

But, now thy beauty is propos’d my fee,

My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak

[She looks scornfully at him]

Teach not thy lip such scorn; for it was made

For kissing, lady, not for such contempt

If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive,

Lo here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword;

Which if thou please to hide in this true breast

And let the soul forth that adoreth thee,

I lay it naked to the deadly stroke,

And humbly beg the death upon my knee

[He lays his breast open; she offers at it with his sword]

Nay, do not pause; for I did kill King Henry—

But ‘twas thy beauty that provoked me

Nay, now dispatch; ‘twas I that stabb’d young Edward-

But ‘twas thy heavenly face that set me on

[She falls the sword]

Take up the sword again, or take up me

Anne

Arise, dissembler; though I wish thy death,

I will not be thy executioner

Gloucester

Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it;

Anne

I have already

Gloucester

That was in thy rage

Speak it again, and even with the word

This hand, which for thy love did kill thy love,

Shall for thy love kill a far truer love;

To both their deaths shalt thou be accessary

Anne

I would I knew thy heart

Gloucester

‘Tis figur’d in my tongue

Anne

I fear me both are false

Gloucester

Then never was man true

Anne

Well put up your sword

Gloucester

Say, then, my peace is made

Anne

That shalt thou know hereafter

Gloucester

But shall I live in hope?

Anne

All men, I hope, live so

Gloucester

Vouchsafe to wear this ring

Anne

To take is not to give

[Puts on the ring]

Gloucester

Look how my ring encompasseth thy finger,

Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart;

Wear both of them, for both of them are thine

And if thy poor devoted servant may

But beg one favour at thy gracious hand,

Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever

Anne

What is it?

Gloucester

That it may please you leave these sad designs

To him that hath most cause to be a mourner,

And presently repair to Crosby House;

Where-after I have solemnly interr’d

At Chertsey monast’ry this noble king,

And wet his grave with my repentant tears—

I will with all expedient duty see you

For divers unknown reasons, I beseech you,

Grant me this boon

Anne

With all my heart; and much it joys me too

To see you are become so penitent

Tressel and Berkeley, go along with me

Gloucester

Bid me farewell

Anne

‘Tis more than you deserve;

But since you teach me how to flatter you,

Imagine I have said farewell already

Exeunt two Gentlemen With Lady Anne

Gloucester

Sirs, take up the corse

Gentlemen

Towards Chertsey, noble lord?

Gloucester

No, to White Friars; there attend my coming

Exeunt all but Gloucester

Was ever woman in this humour woo’d?

Was ever woman in this humour won?

I’ll have her; but I will not keep her long

What! I that kill’d her husband and his father—

To take her in her heart’s extremest hate,

With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes,

The bleeding witness of my hatred by;

Having God, her conscience, and these bars against me,

And I no friends to back my suit at all

But the plain devil and dissembling looks,

And yet to win her, all the world to nothing!

Ha!

Hath she forgot already that brave prince,

Edward, her lord, whom I, some three months since,

Stabb’d in my angry mood at Tewksbury?

A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman—

Fram’d in the prodigality of nature,

Young, valiant, wise, and no doubt right royal—

The spacious world cannot again afford;

And will she yet abase her eyes on me,

That cropp’d the golden prime of this sweet prince

And made her widow to a woeful bed?

On me, whose all not equals Edward’s moiety?

On me, that halts and am misshapen thus?

My dukedom to a beggarly denier,

I do mistake my person all this while

Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot,

Myself to be a marv’llous proper man

I’ll be at charges for a looking-glass,

And entertain a score or two of tailors

To study fashions to adorn my body

Since I am crept in favour with myself,

I will maintain it with some little cost

But first I’ll turn yon fellow in his grave,

And then return lamenting to my love

Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass,

That I may see my shadow as I pass

Exit

Scene 3

London. The palace

Enter Queen Elizabeth, Lord Rivers, and Lord Grey

Rivers

Have patience, madam; there’s no doubt his Majesty

Will soon recover his accustom’d health

Grey

In that you brook it ill, it makes him worse;

Therefore, for God’s sake, entertain good comfort,

And cheer his Grace with quick and merry eyes

Queen Elizabeth

If he were dead, what would betide on me?

Grey

No other harm but loss of such a lord

Queen Elizabeth

The loss of such a lord includes all harms

Grey

The heavens have bless’d you with a goodly son

To be your comforter when he is gone

Queen Elizabeth

Ah, he is young; and his minority

Is put unto the trust of Richard Gloucester,

A man that loves not me, nor none of you

River

Is it concluded he shall be Protector?

Queen Elizabeth

It is determin’d, not concluded yet;

But so it must be, if the King miscarry

Enter Buckingham and Derby

Grey

Here come the Lords of Buckingham and Derby

Buckingham

Good time of day unto your royal Grace!

Derby

God make your Majesty joyful as you have been

Queen Elizabeth

The Countess Richmond, good my Lord of Derby,

To your good prayer will scarcely say amen

Yet, Derby, notwithstanding she’s your wife

And loves not me, be you, good lord, assur’d

I hate not you for her proud arrogance

Derby

I do beseech you, either not believe

The envious slanders of her false accusers;

Or, if she be accus’d on true report,

Bear with her weakness, which I think proceeds

From wayward sickness and no grounded malice

Queen Elizabeth

Saw you the King to-day, my Lord of Derby?

Derby

But now the Duke of Buckingham and I

Are come from visiting his Majesty

Queen Elizabeth

What likelihood of his amendment, Lords?

Buckingham

Madam, good hope; his Grace speaks cheerfully

Queen Elizabeth

God grant him health! Did you confer with him?

Buckingham

Ay, madam; he desires to make atonement

Between the Duke of Gloucester and your brothers,

And between them and my Lord Chamberlain;

And sent to warn them to his royal presence

Queen Elizabeth

Would all were well! But that will never be

I fear our happiness is at the height

Enter Gloucester, Hastings, and Dorset

Gloucester

They do me wrong, and I will not endure it

Who is it that complains unto the King

That I, forsooth, am stern and love them not?

By holy Paul, they love his Grace but lightly

That fill his ears with such dissentious rumours

Because I cannot flatter and look fair,

Smile in men’s faces, smooth, deceive, and cog,

Duck with French nods and apish courtesy,

I must be held a rancorous enemy

Cannot a plain man live and think no harm

But thus his simple truth must be abus’d

With silken, sly, insinuating Jacks?

Grey

To who in all this presence speaks your Grace?

Gloucester

To thee, that hast nor honesty nor grace

When have I injur’d thee? when done thee wrong,

Or thee, or thee, or any of your faction?

A plague upon you all! His royal Grace—

Whom God preserve better than you would wish!—

Cannot be quiet searce a breathing while

But you must trouble him with lewd complaints

Queen Elizabeth

Brother of Gloucester, you mistake the matter

The King, on his own royal disposition

And not provok’d by any suitor else-

Aiming, belike, at your interior hatred

That in your outward action shows itself

Against my children, brothers, and myself—

Makes him to send that he may learn the ground

Gloucester

I cannot tell; the world is grown so bad

That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch

Since every Jack became a gentleman,

There’s many a gentle person made a Jack

Queen Elizabeth

Come, come, we know your meaning, brother Gloucester:

You envy my advancement and my friends’;

God grant we never may have need of you!

Gloucester

Meantime, God grants that I have need of you

Our brother is imprison’d by your means,

Myself disgrac’d, and the nobility

Held in contempt; while great promotions

Are daily given to ennoble those

That scarce some two days since were worth a noble

Queen Elizabeth

By Him that rais’d me to this careful height

From that contented hap which I enjoy’d,

I never did incense his Majesty

Against the Duke of Clarence, but have been

An earnest advocate to plead for him

My lord, you do me shameful injury

Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects

Gloucester

You may deny that you were not the mean

Of my Lord Hastings’ late imprisonment

Rivers

She may, my lord; for—

Gloucester

She may, Lord Rivers? Why, who knows not so?

She may do more, sir, than denying that:

She may help you to many fair preferments

And then deny her aiding hand therein,

And lay those honours on your high desert

What may she not? She may-ay, marry, may she—

Rivers

What, marry, may she?

Gloucester

What, marry, may she? Marry with a king,

A bachelor, and a handsome stripling too

Iwis your grandam had a worser match

Queen Elizabeth

My Lord of Gloucester, I have too long borne

Your blunt upbraidings and your bitter scoffs

By heaven, I will acquaint his Majesty

Of those gross taunts that oft I have endur’d

I had rather be a country servant-maid

Than a great queen with this condition-

To be so baited, scorn’d, and stormed at

Enter old Queen Margaret, behind

Small joy have I in being England’s Queen

Queen Margaret

And less’ned be that small, God, I beseech Him!

Thy honour, state, and seat, is due to me

Gloucester

What! Threat you me with telling of the King?

Tell him and spare not. Look what I have said

I will avouch’t in presence of the King

I dare adventure to be sent to th’ Tow’r

‘Tis time to speak-my pains are quite forgot

Queen Margaret

Out, devil! I do remember them to well:

Thou kill’dst my husband Henry in the Tower,

And Edward, my poor son, at Tewksbury

Gloucester

Ere you were queen, ay, or your husband King,

I was a pack-horse in his great affairs,

A weeder-out of his proud adversaries,

A liberal rewarder of his friends;

To royalize his blood I spent mine own

Queen Margaret

Ay, and much better blood than his or thine

Gloucester

In all which time you and your husband Grey

Were factious for the house of Lancaster;

And, Rivers, so were you. Was not your husband

In Margaret’s battle at Saint Albans slain?

Let me put in your minds, if you forget,

What you have been ere this, and what you are;

Withal, what I have been, and what I am

Queen Margaret

A murd’rous villain, and so still thou art

Gloucester

Poor Clarence did forsake his father, Warwick,

Ay, and forswore himself-which Jesu pardon!—

Queen Margaret

Which God revenge!

Gloucester

To fight on Edward’s party for the crown;

And for his meed, poor lord, he is mewed up

I would to God my heart were flint like Edward’s,

Or Edward’s soft and pitiful like mine

I am too childish-foolish for this world

Queen Margaret

Hie thee to hell for shame and leave this world,

Thou cacodemon; there thy kingdom is

Rivers

My Lord of Gloucester, in those busy days

Which here you urge to prove us enemies,

We follow’d then our lord, our sovereign king

So should we you, if you should be our king

Gloucester

If I should be! I had rather be a pedlar

Far be it from my heart, the thought thereof!

Queen Elizabeth

As little joy, my lord, as you suppose

You should enjoy were you this country’s king,

As little joy you may suppose in me

That I enjoy, being the Queen thereof

Queen Margaret

As little joy enjoys the Queen thereof;

For I am she, and altogether joyless

I can no longer hold me patient

[Advancing]

Hear me, you wrangling pirates, that fall out

In sharing that which you have pill’d from me

Which of you trembles not that looks on me?

If not that, I am Queen, you bow like subjects,

Yet that, by you depos’d, you quake like rebels?

Ah, gentle villain, do not turn away!

Gloucester

Foul wrinkled witch, what mak’st thou in my sight?

Queen Margaret

But repetition of what thou hast marr’d,

That will I make before I let thee go

Gloucester

Wert thou not banished on pain of death?

Queen Margaret

I was; but I do find more pain in banishment

Than death can yield me here by my abode

A husband and a son thou ow’st to me;

And thou a kingdom; all of you allegiance

This sorrow that I have by right is yours;

And all the pleasures you usurp are mine

Gloucester

The curse my noble father laid on thee,

When thou didst crown his warlike brows with paper

And with thy scorns drew’st rivers from his eyes,

And then to dry them gav’st the Duke a clout

Steep’d in the faultless blood of pretty Rutland—

His curses then from bitterness of soul

Denounc’d against thee are all fall’n upon thee;

And God, not we, hath plagu’d thy bloody deed

Queen Elizabeth

So just is God to right the innocent

Hastings

O, ‘twas the foulest deed to slay that babe,

And the most merciless that e’er was heard of!

Rivers

Tyrants themselves wept when it was reported

Dorset

No man but prophesied revenge for it

Buckingham

Northumberland, then present, wept to see it

Queen Margaret

What, were you snarling all before I came,

Ready to catch each other by the throat,

And turn you all your hatred now on me?

Did York’s dread curse prevail so much with heaven

That Henry’s death, my lovely Edward’s death,

Their kingdom’s loss, my woeful banishment,

Should all but answer for that peevish brat?

Can curses pierce the clouds and enter heaven?

Why then, give way, dull clouds, to my quick curses!

Though not by war, by surfeit die your king,

As ours by murder, to make him a king!

Edward thy son, that now is Prince of Wales,

For Edward our son, that was Prince of Wales,

Die in his youth by like untimely violence!

Thyself a queen, for me that was a queen,

Outlive thy glory, like my wretched self!

Long mayest thou live to wail thy children’s death,

And see another, as I see thee now,

Deck’d in thy rights, as thou art stall’d in mine!

Long die thy happy days before thy death;

And, after many length’ned hours of grief,

Die neither mother, wife, nor England’s Queen!

Rivers and Dorset, you were standers by,

And so wast thou, Lord Hastings, when my son

Was stabb’d with bloody daggers. God, I pray him,

That none of you may live his natural age,

But by some unlook’d accident cut off!

Gloucester

Have done thy charm, thou hateful wither’d hag

Queen Margaret

And leave out thee? Stay, dog, for thou shalt hear me

If heaven have any grievous plague in store

Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee,

O, let them keep it till thy sins be ripe,

And then hurl down their indignation

On thee, the troubler of the poor world’s peace!

The worm of conscience still be-gnaw thy soul!

Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou liv’st,

And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends!

No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine,

Unless it be while some tormenting dream

Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils!

Thou elvish-mark’d, abortive, rooting hog,

Thou that wast seal’d in thy nativity

The slave of nature and the son of hell,

Thou slander of thy heavy mother’s womb,

Thou loathed issue of thy father’s loins,

Thou rag of honour, thou detested—

Gloucester

Margaret!

Queen Margaret

Richard!

Gloucester

Ha?

Queen Margaret

I call thee not

Gloucester

I cry thee mercy then, for I did think

That thou hadst call’d me all these bitter names

Queen Margaret

Why, so I did, but look’d for no reply

O, let me make the period to my curse!

Gloucester

‘Tis done by me, and ends in-Margaret

Queen Elizabeth

Thus have you breath’d your curse against yourself

Queen Margaret

Poor painted queen, vain flourish of my fortune!

Why strew’st thou sugar on that bottled spider

Whose deadly web ensnareth thee about?

Fool, fool! thou whet’st a knife to kill thyself

The day will come that thou shalt wish for me

To help thee curse this poisonous bunch-back’d toad

Hastings

False-boding woman, end thy frantic curse,

Lest to thy harm thou move our patience

Queen Margaret

Foul shame upon you! you have all mov’d mine

Rivers

Were you well serv’d, you would be taught your duty

Queen Margaret

To serve me well you all should do me duty,

Teach me to be your queen and you my subjects

O, serve me well, and teach yourselves that duty!

Dorset

Dispute not with her; she is lunatic

Queen Margaret

Peace, Master Marquis, you are malapert;

Your fire-new stamp of honour is scarce current

O, that your young nobility could judge

What ‘twere to lose it and be miserable!

They that stand high have many blasts to shake them,

And if they fall they dash themselves to pieces

Gloucester

Good counsel, marry; learn it, learn it, Marquis

Dorset

It touches you, my lord, as much as me

Gloucester

Ay, and much more; but I was born so high,

Our aery buildeth in the cedar’s top,

And dallies with the wind, and scorns the sun

Queen Margaret

And turns the sun to shade-alas! alas!

Witness my son, now in the shade of death,

Whose bright out-shining beams thy cloudy wrath

Hath in eternal darkness folded up

Your aery buildeth in our aery’s nest

O God that seest it, do not suffer it;

As it is won with blood, lost be it so!

Buckingham

Peace, peace, for shame, if not for charity!

Queen Margaret

Urge neither charity nor shame to me

Uncharitably with me have you dealt,

And shamefully my hopes by you are butcher’d

My charity is outrage, life my shame;

And in that shame still live my sorrow’s rage!

Buckingham

Have done, have done

Queen Margaret

O princely Buckingham, I’ll kiss thy hand

In sign of league and amity with thee

Now fair befall thee and thy noble house!

Thy garments are not spotted with our blood,

Nor thou within the compass of my curse

Buckingham

Nor no one here; for curses never pass

The lips of those that breathe them in the air

Queen Margaret

I will not think but they ascend the sky

And there awake God’s gentle-sleeping peace

Obuckingham, take heed of yonder dog!

Look when he fawns, he bites; and when he bites,

His venom tooth will rankle to the death:

Have not to do with him, beware of him;

Sin, death, and hell, have set their marks on him,

And all their ministers attend on him

Gloucester

What doth she say, my Lord of Buckingham?

Buckingham

Nothing that I respect, my gracious lord

Queen Margaret

What, dost thou scorn me for my gentle counsel,

And soothe the devil that I warn thee from?

O, but remember this another day,

When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow,

And say poor Margaret was a prophetess!

Live each of you the subjects to his hate,

And he to yours, and all of you to God’s!

Exit

Buckingham

My hair doth stand an end to hear her curses

Rivers

And so doth mine. I muse why she’s at liberty

Gloucester

I cannot blame her; by God’s holy Mother,

She hath had too much wrong; and I repent

My part thereof that I have done to her

Queen Elizabeth

I never did her any to my knowledge

Gloucester

Yet you have all the vantage of her wrong

I was too hot to do somebody good

That is too cold in thinking of it now

Marry, as for Clarence, he is well repaid;

He is frank’d up to fatting for his pains;

God pardon them that are the cause thereof!

Rivers

A virtuous and a Christian-like conclusion,

To pray for them that have done scathe to us!

Gloucester

So do I ever— [Aside] being well advis’d;

For had I curs’d now, I had curs’d myself

Enter Catesby

Catesby

Madam, his Majesty doth can for you,

And for your Grace, and you, my gracious lords

Queen Elizabeth

Catesby, I come. Lords, will you go with me?

Rivers

We wait upon your Grace

Exeunt all but Gloucester

Gloucester

I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl

The secret mischiefs that I set abroach

I lay unto the grievous charge of others

Clarence, who I indeed have cast in darkness,

I do beweep to many simple gulls;

Namely, to Derby, Hastings, Buckingham;

And tell them ‘tis the Queen and her allies

That stir the King against the Duke my brother

Now they believe it, and withal whet me

To be reveng’d on Rivers, Dorset, Grey;

But then I sigh and, with a piece of Scripture,

Tell them that God bids us do good for evil

And thus I clothe my naked villainy

With odd old ends stol’n forth of holy writ,

And seem a saint when most I play the devil

Enter two Murderers

But, soft, here come my executioners

How now, my hardy stout resolved mates!

Are you now going to dispatch this thing?

First Murderer

We are, my lord, and come to have the warrant,

That we may be admitted where he is

Gloucester

Well thought upon; I have it here about me

[Gives the warrant]

When you have done, repair to Crosby Place

But, sirs, be sudden in the execution,

Withal obdurate, do not hear him plead;

For Clarence is well-spoken, and perhaps

May move your hearts to pity, if you mark him

First Murderer

Tut, tut, my lord, we will not stand to prate;

Talkers are no good doers. Be assur’d

We go to use our hands and not our tongues

Gloucester

Your eyes drop millstones when fools’ eyes fall tears

I like you, lads; about your business straight;

Go, go, dispatch

First Murderer

We will, my noble lord

[King Richard III, one large scene of act I, scene 3, with three smaller scenes, act II, scene 3, tableau of act II, and act III, scene 2] [graphic] / J. Jellicoe.

Exeunt

Scene 4

London. The Tower

Enter Clarence and Keeper

Keeper

Why looks your Grace so heavily to-day?

Clarence

O, I have pass’d a miserable night,

So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights,

That, as I am a Christian faithful man,

I would not spend another such a night

Though ‘twere to buy a world of happy days-

So full of dismal terror was the time!

Keeper

What was your dream, my lord? I pray you tell me

Clarence

Methoughts that I had broken from the Tower

And was embark’d to cross to Burgundy;

And in my company my brother Gloucester,

Who from my cabin tempted me to walk

Upon the hatches. Thence we look’d toward England,

And cited up a thousand heavy times,

During the wars of York and Lancaster,

That had befall’n us. As we pac’d along

Upon the giddy footing of the hatches,

Methought that Gloucester stumbled, and in falling

Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard

Into the tumbling billows of the main

Olord, methought what pain it was to drown,

What dreadful noise of waters in my ears,

What sights of ugly death within my eyes!

Methoughts I saw a thousand fearful wrecks,

A thousand men that fishes gnaw’d upon,

Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,

Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels,

All scatt’red in the bottom of the sea;

Some lay in dead men’s skulls, and in the holes

Where eyes did once inhabit there were crept,

As ‘twere in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems,

That woo’d the slimy bottom of the deep

And mock’d the dead bones that lay scatt’red by

Keeper

Had you such leisure in the time of death

To gaze upon these secrets of the deep?

Clarence

Methought I had; and often did I strive

To yield the ghost, but still the envious flood

Stopp’d in my soul and would not let it forth

To find the empty, vast, and wand’ring air;

But smother’d it within my panting bulk,

Who almost burst to belch it in the sea

Keeper

Awak’d you not in this sore agony?

Clarence

No, no, my dream was lengthen’d after life

O, then began the tempest to my soul!

I pass’d, methought, the melancholy flood

With that sour ferryman which poets write of,

Unto the kingdom of perpetual night

The first that there did greet my stranger soul

Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick,

Who spake aloud ‘What scourge for perjury

Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence?’

And so he vanish’d. Then came wand’ring by

A shadow like an angel, with bright hair

Dabbled in blood, and he shriek’d out aloud

‘Clarence is come-false, fleeting, perjur’d Clarence,

That stabb’d me in the field by Tewksbury

Seize on him, Furies, take him unto torment!’

With that, methoughts, a legion of foul fiends

Environ’d me, and howled in mine ears

Such hideous cries that, with the very noise,

I trembling wak’d, and for a season after

Could not believe but that I was in hell,

Such terrible impression made my dream

Keeper

No marvel, lord, though it affrighted you;

I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it

Clarence

Ah, Keeper, Keeper, I have done these things

That now give evidence against my soul

For Edward’s sake, and see how he requites me!

O God! If my deep prayers cannot appease Thee,

But Thou wilt be aveng’d on my misdeeds,

Yet execute Thy wrath in me alone;

O, spare my guiltless wife and my poor children!

Keeper, I prithee sit by me awhile;

My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep

Keeper

I will, my lord. God give your Grace good rest

[Clarence sleeps]

Enter Brakenbury the Lieutenant

Brakenbury

Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours,

Makes the night morning and the noontide night

Princes have but their titles for their glories,

An outward honour for an inward toil;

And for unfelt imaginations

They often feel a world of restless cares,

So that between their tides and low name

There’s nothing differs but the outward fame

Enter the two Murderers

First Murderer

Ho! who’s here?

Brakenbury

What wouldst thou, fellow, and how cam’st thou hither?

First Murderer

I would speak with Clarence, and I came hither on my legs

Brakenbury

What, so brief?

Second Murderer

‘Tis better, sir, than to be tedious. Let him see our commission and talk no more

[Brakenbury reads it]

Brakenbury

I am, in this, commanded to deliver

The noble Duke of Clarence to your hands

I will not reason what is meant hereby,

Because I will be guiltless from the meaning

There lies the Duke asleep; and there the keys

I’ll to the King and signify to him

That thus I have resign’d to you my charge

First Murderer

You may, sir; ‘tis a point of wisdom. Fare you well

Exeunt Brakenbury and Keeper

Second Murderer

What, shall I stab him as he sleeps?

First Murderer

No; he’ll say ‘twas done cowardly, when he wakes

Second Murderer

Why, he shall never wake until the great judgment-day

First Murderer

Why, then he’ll say we stabb’d him sleeping

Second Murderer

The urging of that word judgment hath bred a kind of remorse in me

First Murderer

What, art thou afraid?

Second Murderer

Not to kill him, having a warrant; but to be damn’d for killing him, from the which no warrant can defend me

First Murderer

I thought thou hadst been resolute

Second Murderer

So I am, to let him live

First Murderer

I’ll back to the Duke of Gloucester and tell him so

Second Murderer

Nay, I prithee, stay a little. I hope this passionate humour of mine will change; it was wont to hold me but while one tells twenty

First Murderer

How dost thou feel thyself now?

Second Murderer

Faith, some certain dregs of conscience are yet within me

First Murderer

Remember our reward, when the deed’s done

Second Murderer

Zounds, he dies; I had forgot the reward

First Murderer

Where’s thy conscience now?

Second Murderer

O, in the Duke of Gloucester’s purse!

First Murderer

When he opens his purse to give us our reward, thy conscience flies out

Second Murderer

‘Tis no matter; let it go; there’s few or none will entertain it

First Murderer

What if it come to thee again?

Second Murderer

I’ll not meddle with it-it makes a man coward: a man cannot steal, but it accuseth him; a man cannot swear, but it checks him; a man cannot lie with his neighbour’s wife, but it detects him. ‘Tis a blushing shame-fac’d spirit that mutinies in a man’s bosom; it fills a man full of obstacles: it made me once restore a purse of gold that-by chance I found. It beggars any man that keeps it

It is turn’d out of towns and cities for a dangerous thing; and every man that means to live well endeavours to trust to himself and live without it

First Murderer

Zounds, ‘tis even now at my elbow, persuading me not to kill the Duke

Second Murderer

Take the devil in thy mind and believe him not; he would insinuate with thee but to make the sigh

First Murderer

I am strong-fram’d; he cannot prevail with me

Second Murderer

Spoke like a tall man that respects thy reputation. Come, shall we fall to work?

First Murderer

Take him on the costard with the hilts of thy sword, and then chop him in the malmsey-butt in the next room

Second Murderer

O excellent device! and make a sop of him

First Murderer

Soft! he wakes

Second Murderer

Strike!

First Murderer

No, we’ll reason with him

Clarence

Where art thou, Keeper? Give me a cup of wine

Second Murderer

You shall have wine enough, my lord, anon

Clarence

In God’s name, what art thou?

First Murderer

A man, as you are

Clarence

But not as I am, royal

Second Murderer

Nor you as we are, loyal

Clarence

Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks are humble

First Murderer

My voice is now the King’s, my looks mine own

Clarence

How darkly and how deadly dost thou speak!

Your eyes do menace me. Why look you pale?

Who sent you hither? Wherefore do you come?

Second Murderer

To, to, to—

Clarence

To murder me?

Both Murderers

Ay, ay

Clarence

You scarcely have the hearts to tell me so,

And therefore cannot have the hearts to do it

Wherein, my friends, have I offended you?

First Murderer

Offended us you have not, but the King

Clarence

I shall be reconcil’d to him again

Second Murderer

Never, my lord; therefore prepare to die

Clarence

Are you drawn forth among a world of men

To slay the innocent? What is my offence?

Where is the evidence that doth accuse me?

What lawful quest have given their verdict up

Unto the frowning judge, or who pronounc’d

The bitter sentence of poor Clarence’ death?

Before I be convict by course of law,

To threaten me with death is most unlawful

I charge you, as you hope to have redemption

By Christ’s dear blood shed for our grievous sins,

That you depart and lay no hands on me

The deed you undertake is damnable

First Murderer

What we will do, we do upon command

Second Murderer

And he that hath commanded is our King

Clarence

Erroneous vassals! the great King of kings

Hath in the tables of his law commanded

That thou shalt do no murder. Will you then

Spurn at his edict and fulfil a man’s?

Take heed; for he holds vengeance in his hand

To hurl upon their heads that break his law

Second Murderer

And that same vengeance doth he hurl on thee

For false forswearing, and for murder too;

Thou didst receive the sacrament to fight

In quarrel of the house of Lancaster

First Murderer

And like a traitor to the name of God

Didst break that vow; and with thy treacherous blade

Unripp’dst the bowels of thy sov’reign’s son

Second Murderer

Whom thou wast sworn to cherish and defend

First Murderer

How canst thou urge God’s dreadful law to us,

When thou hast broke it in such dear degree?

Clarence

Alas! for whose sake did I that ill deed?

For Edward, for my brother, for his sake

He sends you not to murder me for this,

For in that sin he is as deep as I

If God will be avenged for the deed,

O, know you yet He doth it publicly

Take not the quarrel from His pow’rful arm;

He needs no indirect or lawless course

To cut off those that have offended Him

First Murderer

Who made thee then a bloody minister

When gallant-springing brave Plantagenet,

That princely novice, was struck dead by thee?

Clarence

My brother’s love, the devil, and my rage

First Murderer

Thy brother’s love, our duty, and thy faults,

Provoke us hither now to slaughter thee

Clarence

If you do love my brother, hate not me;

I am his brother, and I love him well

If you are hir’d for meed, go back again,

And I will send you to my brother Gloucester,

Who shall reward you better for my life

Than Edward will for tidings of my death

Second Murderer

You are deceiv’d: your brother Gloucester hates you

Clarence

O, no, he loves me, and he holds me dear

Go you to him from me

First Murderer

Ay, so we will

Clarence

Tell him when that our princely father York

Bless’d his three sons with his victorious arm

And charg’d us from his soul to love each other,

He little thought of this divided friendship

Bid Gloucester think of this, and he will weep

First Murderer

Ay, millstones; as he lesson’d us to weep

Clarence

O, do not slander him, for he is kind

First Murderer

Right, as snow in harvest. Come, you deceive yourself:

‘Tis he that sends us to destroy you here

Clarence

It cannot be; for he bewept my fortune

And hugg’d me in his arms, and swore with sobs

That he would labour my delivery

First Murderer

Why, so he doth, when he delivers you

From this earth’s thraldom to the joys of heaven

Second Murderer

Make peace with God, for you must die, my lord

Clarence

Have you that holy feeling in your souls

To counsel me to make my peace with God,

And are you yet to your own souls so blind

That you will war with God by murd’ring me?

O, sirs, consider: they that set you on

To do this deed will hate you for the deed

Second Murderer

What shall we do?

Clarence

Relent, and save your souls

First Murderer

Relent! No, ‘tis cowardly and womanish

Clarence

Not to relent is beastly, savage, devilish

Which of you, if you were a prince’s son,

Being pent from liberty as I am now,

If two such murderers as yourselves came to you,

Would not entreat for life?

My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks;

O, if thine eye be not a flatterer,

Come thou on my side and entreat for me—

As you would beg were you in my distress

A begging prince what beggar pities not?

Second Murderer

Look behind you, my lord

First Murderer

[Stabbing him]

Take that, and that. If all this will not do,

I’ll drown you in the malmsey-butt within

Exit with the body

Second Murderer

A bloody deed, and desperately dispatch’d!

How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands

Of this most grievous murder!

Re-enter First Murderer

First Murderer

How now, what mean’st thou that thou help’st me not?

By heavens, the Duke shall know how slack you have been!

Second Murderer

I would he knew that I had sav’d his brother!

Take thou the fee, and tell him what I say;

For I repent me that the Duke is slain

Exit

First Murderer

So do not I. Go, coward as thou art

Well, I’ll go hide the body in some hole,

Till that the Duke give order for his burial;

And when I have my meed, I will away;

For this will out, and then I must not stay

Exit

Queen Elizabeth and the Duke of York (King Richard III) [II, 4] [graphic] / E.M. Ward R.A., pinxt. ; H. Robinson, sculpt.

Act II

Mr. J.W. Wallack as Gloster [in Shakespeare’s] Richard III, act I, sc.1: Glo. Clarence still breathes [graphic] / from a daguerreotype by P. Haas of New York.

Scene 1

London. The palace

Flourish. Enter King Edward sick, Queen Elizabeth, Dorset, Rivers, Hastings, Buckingham, Grey, and others

King Edward

Why, so. Now have I done a good day’s work

You peers, continue this united league

I every day expect an embassage

From my Redeemer to redeem me hence;

And more at peace my soul shall part to heaven,

Since I have made my friends at peace on earth

Hastings and Rivers, take each other’s hand;

Dissemble not your hatred, swear your love

Rivers

By heaven, my soul is purg’d from grudging hate;

And with my hand I seal my true heart’s love

Hastings

So thrive I, as I truly swear the like!

King Edward

Take heed you dally not before your king;

Lest He that is the supreme King of kings

Confound your hidden falsehood and award

Either of you to be the other’s end

Hastings

So prosper I, as I swear perfect love!

Rivers

And I, as I love Hastings with my heart!

King Edward

Madam, yourself is not exempt from this;

Nor you, son Dorset; Buckingham, nor you:

You have been factious one against the other

Wife, love Lord Hastings, let him kiss your hand;

And what you do, do it unfeignedly

Queen Elizabeth

There, Hastings; I will never more remember

Our former hatred, so thrive I and mine!

King Edward

Dorset, embrace him; Hastings, love Lord Marquis

Dorset

This interchange of love, I here protest,

Upon my part shall be inviolable

Hastings

And so swear I [They embrace]

King Edward

Now, princely Buckingham, seal thou this league

With thy embracements to my wife’s allies,

And make me happy in your unity

Buckingham

[To the Queen]

Whenever Buckingham doth turn his hate

Upon your Grace, but with all duteous love

Doth cherish you and yours, God punish me

With hate in those where I expect most love!

When I have most need to employ a friend

And most assured that he is a friend,

Deep, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile,

Be he unto me! This do I beg of God

When I am cold in love to you or yours

[They embrace]

King Edward

A pleasing cordial, princely Buckingham,

Is this thy vow unto my sickly heart

There wanteth now our brother Gloucester here

To make the blessed period of this peace

Buckingham

And, in good time,

Here comes Sir Richard Ratcliff and the Duke

Enter Gloucester, and Ratcliff

Gloucester

Good morrow to my sovereign King and Queen;

And, princely peers, a happy time of day!

King Edward

Happy, indeed, as we have spent the day

Gloucester, we have done deeds of charity,

Made peace of enmity, fair love of hate,

Between these swelling wrong-incensed peers

Gloucester

A blessed labour, my most sovereign lord

Among this princely heap, if any here,

By false intelligence or wrong surmise,

Hold me a foe—

If I unwittingly, or in my rage,

Have aught committed that is hardly borne

To any in this presence, I desire

To reconcile me to his friendly peace:

‘Tis death to me to be at enmity;

I hate it, and desire all good men’s love

First, madam, I entreat true peace of you,

Which I will purchase with my duteous service;

Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham,

If ever any grudge were lodg’d between us;

Of you, and you, Lord Rivers, and of Dorset,

That all without desert have frown’d on me;

Of you, Lord Woodville, and, Lord Scales, of you;

Dukes, earls, lords, gentlemen-indeed, of all

I do not know that Englishman alive

With whom my soul is any jot at odds

More than the infant that is born to-night

I thank my God for my humility

Queen Elizabeth

A holy day shall this be kept hereafter

I would to God all strifes were well compounded

My sovereign lord, I do beseech your Highness

To take our brother Clarence to your grace

Gloucester

Why, madam, have I off’red love for this,

To be so flouted in this royal presence?

Who knows not that the gentle Duke is dead?

[They all start]

You do him injury to scorn his corse

King Edward

Who knows not he is dead! Who knows he is?

Queen Elizabeth

All-seeing heaven, what a world is this!

Buckingham

Look I so pale, Lord Dorset, as the rest?

Dorset

Ay, my good lord; and no man in the presence

But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks

King Edward

Is Clarence dead? The order was revers’d

Gloucester

But he, poor man, by your first order died,

And that a winged Mercury did bear;

Some tardy cripple bare the countermand

That came too lag to see him buried

God grant that some, less noble and less loyal,

Nearer in bloody thoughts, an not in blood,

Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did,

And yet go current from suspicion!

Enter Derby

Derby

A boon, my sovereign, for my service done!

King Edward

I prithee, peace; my soul is full of sorrow

Derby

I will not rise unless your Highness hear me

King Edward

Then say at once what is it thou requests

Derby

The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant’s life;

Who slew to-day a riotous gentleman

Lately attendant on the Duke of Norfolk

King Edward

Have I a tongue to doom my brother’s death,

And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave?

My brother killed no man-his fault was thought,

And yet his punishment was bitter death

Who sued to me for him? Who, in my wrath,

Kneel’d at my feet, and bid me be advis’d?

Who spoke of brotherhood? Who spoke of love?

Who told me how the poor soul did forsake

The mighty Warwick and did fight for me?

Who told me, in the field at Tewksbury

When Oxford had me down, he rescued me

And said ‘Dear Brother, live, and be a king’?

Who told me, when we both lay in the field

Frozen almost to death, how he did lap me

Even in his garments, and did give himself,

All thin and naked, to the numb cold night?

All this from my remembrance brutish wrath

Sinfully pluck’d, and not a man of you

Had so much race to put it in my mind

But when your carters or your waiting-vassals

Have done a drunken slaughter and defac’d

The precious image of our dear Redeemer,

You straight are on your knees for pardon, pardon;

And I, unjustly too, must grant it you

[Derby rises]

But for my brother not a man would speak;

Nor I, ungracious, speak unto myself

For him, poor soul. The proudest of you all

Have been beholding to him in his life;

Yet none of you would once beg for his life

O God, I fear thy justice will take hold

On me, and you, and mine, and yours, for this!

Come, Hastings, help me to my closet

Ah, poor Clarence!

Exeunt some with King and Queen

Gloucester

This is the fruits of rashness. Mark’d you not

How that the guilty kindred of the Queen

Look’d pale when they did hear of Clarence’ death?

O, they did urge it still unto the King!

God will revenge it. Come, lords, will you go

To comfort Edward with our company?

Buckingham

We wait upon your Grace

Exeunt

Scene 2

London. The palace

Enter the old Duchess Of York, with the Son and Daughter of Clarence

Son

Good grandam, tell us, is our father dead?

Duchess

No, boy

Daughter

Why do you weep so oft, and beat your breast,

And cry ‘O Clarence, my unhappy son!’?

Son

Why do you look on us, and shake your head,

And call us orphans, wretches, castaways,

If that our noble father were alive?

Duchess

My pretty cousins, you mistake me both;

I do lament the sickness of the King,

As loath to lose him, not your father’s death;

It were lost sorrow to wail one that’s lost

Son

Then you conclude, my grandam, he is dead

The King mine uncle is to blame for it

God will revenge it; whom I will importune

With earnest prayers all to that effect

Daughter

And so will I

Duchess

Peace, children, peace! The King doth love you well

Incapable and shallow innocents,

You cannot guess who caus’d your father’s death

Son

Grandam, we can; for my good uncle Gloucester

Told me the King, provok’d to it by the Queen,

Devis’d impeachments to imprison him

And when my uncle told me so, he wept,

And pitied me, and kindly kiss’d my cheek;

Bade me rely on him as on my father,

And he would love me dearly as a child

Duchess

Ah, that deceit should steal such gentle shape,

And with a virtuous vizor hide deep vice!

He is my son; ay, and therein my shame;

Yet from my dugs he drew not this deceit

Son

Think you my uncle did dissemble, grandam?

Duchess

Ay, boy

Son

I cannot think it. Hark! what noise is this?

Enter Queen Elizabeth, with her hair about her ears; Rivers and Dorset after her

Queen Elizabeth

Ah, who shall hinder me to wail and weep,

To chide my fortune, and torment myself?

I’ll join with black despair against my soul

And to myself become an enemy

Duchess

What means this scene of rude impatience?

Queen Elizabeth

To make an act of tragic violence

Edward, my lord, thy son, our king, is dead

Why grow the branches when the root is gone?

Why wither not the leaves that want their sap?

If you will live, lament; if die, be brief,

That our swift-winged souls may catch the King’s,

Or like obedient subjects follow him

To his new kingdom of ne’er-changing night

Duchess

Ah, so much interest have I in thy sorrow

As I had title in thy noble husband!

I have bewept a worthy husband’s death,

And liv’d with looking on his images;

But now two mirrors of his princely semblance

Are crack’d in pieces by malignant death,

And I for comfort have but one false glass,

That grieves me when I see my shame in him

Thou art a widow, yet thou art a mother

And hast the comfort of thy children left;

But death hath snatch’d my husband from mine arms

And pluck’d two crutches from my feeble hands-

Clarence and Edward. O, what cause have I-

Thine being but a moiety of my moan-

To overgo thy woes and drown thy cries?

Son

Ah, aunt, you wept not for our father’s death!

How can we aid you with our kindred tears?

Daughter

Our fatherless distress was left unmoan’d;

Your widow-dolour likewise be unwept!

Queen Elizabeth

Give me no help in lamentation;

I am not barren to bring forth complaints

All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes

That I, being govern’d by the watery moon,

May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world!

Ah for my husband, for my dear Lord Edward!

Children

Ah for our father, for our dear Lord Clarence!

Duchess

Alas for both, both mine, Edward and Clarence!

Queen Elizabeth

What stay had I but Edward? and he’s gone

Children

What stay had we but Clarence? and he’s gone

Duchess

What stays had I but they? and they are gone

Queen Elizabeth

Was never widow had so dear a loss

Children

Were never orphans had so dear a loss

Duchess

Was never mother had so dear a loss

Alas, I am the mother of these griefs!

Their woes are parcell’d, mine is general

She for an Edward weeps, and so do I:

I for a Clarence weep, so doth not she

These babes for Clarence weep, and so do I:

I for an Edward weep, so do not they

Alas, you three on me, threefold distress’d,

Pour all your tears! I am your sorrow’s nurse,

And I will pamper it with lamentation

Dorset

Comfort, dear mother. God is much displeas’d

That you take with unthankfulness his doing

In common worldly things ‘tis called ungrateful

With dull unwillingness to repay a debt

Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent;

Much more to be thus opposite with heaven,

For it requires the royal debt it lent you

Rivers

Madam, bethink you, like a careful mother,

Of the young prince your son. Send straight for him;

Let him be crown’d; in him your comfort lives

Drown desperate sorrow in dead Edward’s grave,

And plant your joys in living Edward’s throne

Enter Gloucester, Buckingham, Derby, Hastings, and Ratcliff

Gloucester

Sister, have comfort. All of us have cause

To wail the dimming of our shining star;

But none can help our harms by wailing them

Madam, my mother, I do cry you mercy;

I did not see your Grace. Humbly on my knee

I crave your blessing

Duchess

God bless thee; and put meekness in thy breast,

Love, charity, obedience, and true duty!

Gloucester

Amen! [Aside] And make me die a good old man!

That is the butt end of a mother’s blessing;

I marvel that her Grace did leave it out

Buckingham

You cloudy princes and heart-sorrowing peers,

That bear this heavy mutual load of moan,

Now cheer each other in each other’s love

Though we have spent our harvest of this king,

We are to reap the harvest of his son

The broken rancour of your high-swol’n hearts,

But lately splinter’d, knit, and join’d together,

Must gently be preserv’d, cherish’d, and kept

Me seemeth good that, with some little train,

Forthwith from Ludlow the young prince be fet

Hither to London, to be crown’d our King

Rivers

Why with some little train, my Lord of Buckingham?

Buckingham

Marry, my lord, lest by a multitude

The new-heal’d wound of malice should break out,

Which would be so much the more dangerous

By how much the estate is green and yet ungovern’d;

Where every horse bears his commanding rein

And may direct his course as please himself,

As well the fear of harm as harm apparent,

In my opinion, ought to be prevented

Gloucester

I hope the King made peace with all of us;

And the compact is firm and true in me

Rivers

And so in me; and so, I think, in an

Yet, since it is but green, it should be put

To no apparent likelihood of breach,

Which haply by much company might be urg’d;

Therefore I say with noble Buckingham

That it is meet so few should fetch the Prince

Hastings

And so say I

Gloucester

Then be it so; and go we to determine

Who they shall be that straight shall post to Ludlow

Madam, and you, my sister, will you go

To give your censures in this business?

Exeunt all but Buckingham and Gloucester

Buckingham

My lord, whoever journeys to the Prince,

For God sake, let not us two stay at home;

For by the way I’ll sort occasion,

As index to the story we late talk’d of,

To part the Queen’s proud kindred from the Prince

Gloucester

My other self, my counsel’s consistory,

My oracle, my prophet, my dear cousin,

I, as a child, will go by thy direction

Toward Ludlow then, for we’ll not stay behind

Exeunt

Scene 3

London. A street

Enter one Citizen at one door, and another at the other

First Citizen

Good morrow, neighbour. Whither away so fast?

Second Citizen

I promise you, I scarcely know myself

Hear you the news abroad?

First Citizen

Yes, that the King is dead

Second Citizen

Ill news, by’r lady; seldom comes the better

I fear, I fear ‘twill prove a giddy world

Enter another Citizen

Third Citizen

Neighbours, God speed!

First Citizen

Give you good morrow, sir

Third Citizen

Doth the news hold of good King Edward’s death?

Second Citizen

Ay, sir, it is too true; God help the while!

Third Citizen

Then, masters, look to see a troublous world

First Citizen

No, no; by God’s good grace, his son shall reign

Third Citizen

Woe to that land that’s govern’d by a child

Second Citizen

In him there is a hope of government,

Which, in his nonage, council under him,

And, in his full and ripened years, himself,

No doubt, shall then, and till then, govern well

First Citizen

So stood the state when Henry the Sixth

Was crown’d in Paris but at nine months old

Third Citizen

Stood the state so? No, no, good friends, God wot;

For then this land was famously enrich’d

With politic grave counsel; then the King

Had virtuous uncles to protect his Grace

First Citizen

Why, so hath this, both by his father and mother

Third Citizen

Better it were they all came by his father,

Or by his father there were none at all;

For emulation who shall now be nearest

Will touch us all too near, if God prevent not

O, full of danger is the Duke of Gloucester!

And the Queen’s sons and brothers haught and proud;

And were they to be rul’d, and not to rule,

This sickly land might solace as before

First Citizen

Come, come, we fear the worst; all will be well

Third Citizen

When clouds are seen, wise men put on their cloaks;

When great leaves fall, then winter is at hand;

When the sun sets, who doth not look for night?

Untimely storms make men expect a dearth

All may be well; but, if God sort it so,

‘Tis more than we deserve or I expect

Second Citizen

Truly, the hearts of men are fun of fear

You cannot reason almost with a man

That looks not heavily and fun of dread

Third Citizen

Before the days of change, still is it so;

By a divine instinct men’s minds mistrust

Ensuing danger; as by proof we see

The water swell before a boist’rous storm

But leave it all to God. Whither away?

Second Citizen

Marry, we were sent for to the justices

Third Citizen

And so was I; I’ll bear you company

Exeunt

Scene 4

London. The palace

Enter the Archbishop Of York, the young Duke Of York, Queen Elizabeth, and the Duchess Of York

Archbishop

Last night, I hear, they lay at Stony Stratford,

And at Northampton they do rest to-night;

To-morrow or next day they will be here

Duchess

I long with all my heart to see the Prince

I hope he is much grown since last I saw him

Queen Elizabeth

But I hear no; they say my son of York

Has almost overta’en him in his growth

York

Ay, mother; but I would not have it so

Duchess

Why, my good cousin, it is good to grow

York

Grandam, one night as we did sit at supper,

My uncle Rivers talk’d how I did grow

More than my brother. ‘Ay,’ quoth my uncle Gloucester

‘Small herbs have grace: great weeds do grow apace.’

And since, methinks, I would not grow so fast,

Because sweet flow’rs are slow and weeds make haste

Duchess

Good faith, good faith, the saying did not hold

In him that did object the same to thee

He was the wretched’st thing when he was young,

So long a-growing and so leisurely

That, if his rule were true, he should be gracious

Archbishop

And so no doubt he is, my gracious madam

Duchess

I hope he is; but yet let mothers doubt

York

Now, by my troth, if I had been rememb’red,

I could have given my uncle’s Grace a flout

To touch his growth nearer than he touch’d mine

Duchess

How, my young York? I prithee let me hear it

York

Marry, they say my uncle grew so fast

That he could gnaw a crust at two hours old

‘Twas full two years ere I could get a tooth

Grandam, this would have been a biting jest

Duchess

I prithee, pretty York, who told thee this?

York

Grandam, his nurse

Duchess

His nurse! Why she was dead ere thou wast born

York

If ‘twere not she, I cannot tell who told me

Queen Elizabeth

A parlous boy! Go to, you are too shrewd

Archbishop

Good madam, be not angry with the child

Queen Elizabeth

Pitchers have ears

Enter a Messenger

Archbishop

Here comes a messenger. What news?

Messenger

Such news, my lord, as grieves me to report

Queen Elizabeth

How doth the Prince?

Messenger

Well, madam, and in health

Duchess

What is thy news?

Messenger

Lord Rivers and Lord Grey

Are sent to Pomfret, and with them

Sir Thomas Vaughan, prisoners

Duchess

Who hath committed them?

Messenger

The mighty Dukes, Gloucester and Buckingham

Archbishop

For what offence?

Messenger

The sum of all I can, I have disclos’d

Why or for what the nobles were committed

Is all unknown to me, my gracious lord

Queen Elizabeth

Ay me, I see the ruin of my house!

The tiger now hath seiz’d the gentle hind;

Insulting tyranny begins to jet

Upon the innocent and aweless throne

Welcome, destruction, blood, and massacre!

I see, as in a map, the end of all

Duchess

Accursed and unquiet wrangling days,

How many of you have mine eyes beheld!

My husband lost his life to get the crown;

And often up and down my sons were toss’d

For me to joy and weep their gain and loss;

And being seated, and domestic broils

Clean over-blown, themselves the conquerors

Make war upon themselves-brother to brother,

Blood to blood, self against self. O, preposterous

And frantic outrage, end thy damned spleen,

Or let me die, to look on death no more!

Queen Elizabeth

Come, come, my boy; we will to sanctuary

Madam, farewell

Duchess

Stay, I will go with you

Queen Elizabeth

You have no cause

Archbishop

[To the Queen]

My gracious lady, go

And thither bear your treasure and your goods

For my part, I’ll resign unto your Grace

The seal I keep; and so betide to me

As well I tender you and all of yours!

Go, I’ll conduct you to the sanctuary

Exeunt

Act III

The bloody Tower, in the Tower of London [graphic] / Ph. De la Motte.

Scene 1

London. A street

The trumpets sound. Enter the Prince Of Wales, Gloucester, Buckingham, Catesby, Cardinal, Bourchier, and others

Buckingham

Welcome, sweet Prince, to London, to your chamber

Gloucester

Welcome, dear cousin, my thoughts’ sovereign

The weary way hath made you melancholy

Prince

No, uncle; but our crosses on the way

Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy

I want more uncles here to welcome me

Gloucester

Sweet Prince, the untainted virtue of your years

Hath not yet div’d into the world’s deceit;

Nor more can you distinguish of a man

Than of his outward show; which, God He knows,

Seldom or never jumpeth with the heart

Those uncles which you want were dangerous;

Your Grace attended to their sug’red words

But look’d not on the poison of their hearts

God keep you from them and from such false friends!

Prince

God keep me from false friends! but they were none

Gloucester

My lord, the Mayor of London comes to greet you

Enter the Lord Mayor and his train

Mayor

God bless your Grace with health and happy days!

Prince

I thank you, good my lord, and thank you all

I thought my mother and my brother York

Would long ere this have met us on the way

Fie, what a slug is Hastings, that he comes not

To tell us whether they will come or no!

Enter Lord Hastings

Buckingham

And, in good time, here comes the sweating Lord

Prince

Welcome, my lord. What, will our mother come?

Hastings

On what occasion, God He knows, not I,

The Queen your mother and your brother York

Have taken sanctuary. The tender Prince

Would fain have come with me to meet your Grace,

But by his mother was perforce withheld

Buckingham

Fie, what an indirect and peevish course

Is this of hers? Lord Cardinal, will your Grace

Persuade the Queen to send the Duke of York

Unto his princely brother presently?

If she deny, Lord Hastings, go with him

And from her jealous arms pluck him perforce

Cardinal

My Lord of Buckingham, if my weak oratory

Can from his mother win the Duke of York,

Anon expect him here; but if she be obdurate

To mild entreaties, God in heaven forbid

We should infringe the holy privilege

Of blessed sanctuary! Not for all this land

Would I be guilty of so deep a sin

Buckingham

You are too senseless-obstinate, my lord,

Too ceremonious and traditional

Weigh it but with the grossness of this age,

You break not sanctuary in seizing him

The benefit thereof is always granted

To those whose dealings have deserv’d the place

And those who have the wit to claim the place

This Prince hath neither claim’d it nor deserv’d it,

And therefore, in mine opinion, cannot have it

Then, taking him from thence that is not there,

You break no privilege nor charter there

Oft have I heard of sanctuary men;

But sanctuary children never till now

Cardinal

My lord, you shall o’errule my mind for once

Come on, Lord Hastings, will you go with me?

Hastings

I go, my lord

Prince

Good lords, make all the speedy haste you may

Exeunt Cardinal and Hastings

Say, uncle Gloucester, if our brother come,

Where shall we sojourn till our coronation?

Gloucester

Where it seems best unto your royal self

If I may counsel you, some day or two

Your Highness shall repose you at the Tower,

Then where you please and shall be thought most fit

For your best health and recreation

Prince

I do not like the Tower, of any place

Did Julius Caesar build that place, my lord?

Buckingham

He did, my gracious lord, begin that place,

Which, since, succeeding ages have re-edified

Prince

Is it upon record, or else reported

Successively from age to age, he built it?

Buckingham

Upon record, my gracious lord

Prince

But say, my lord, it were not regist’red,

Methinks the truth should Eve from age to age,

As ‘twere retail’d to all posterity,

Even to the general all-ending day

Gloucester

[Aside]

So wise so young, they say, do never live long

Prince

What say you, uncle?

Gloucester

I say, without characters, fame lives long

[Aside] Thus, like the formal vice, Iniquity,

I moralize two meanings in one word

Prince

That Julius Caesar was a famous man;

With what his valour did enrich his wit,

His wit set down to make his valour live

Death makes no conquest of this conqueror;

For now he lives in fame, though not in life

I’ll tell you what, my cousin Buckingham-

Buckingham

What, my gracious lord?

Prince

An if I live until I be a man,

I’ll win our ancient right in France again,

Or die a soldier as I liv’d a king

Gloucester

[Aside]

Short summers lightly have a forward spring

Enter Hastings, young York, and the Cardinal

Buckingham

Now, in good time, here comes the Duke of York

Prince

Richard of York, how fares our loving brother?

York

Well, my dread lord; so must I can you now

Prince

Ay brother, to our grief, as it is yours

Too late he died that might have kept that title,

Which by his death hath lost much majesty

Gloucester

How fares our cousin, noble Lord of York?

York

I thank you, gentle uncle. O, my lord,

You said that idle weeds are fast in growth

The Prince my brother hath outgrown me far

Gloucester

He hath, my lord

York

And therefore is he idle?

Gloucester

O, my fair cousin, I must not say so

York

Then he is more beholding to you than I

Gloucester

He may command me as my sovereign;

But you have power in me as in a kinsman

York

I pray you, uncle, give me this dagger

Gloucester

My dagger, little cousin? With all my heart!

Prince

A beggar, brother?

York

Of my kind uncle, that I know will give,

And being but a toy, which is no grief to give

Gloucester

A greater gift than that I’ll give my cousin

York

A greater gift! O, that’s the sword to it!

Gloucester

Ay, gentle cousin, were it light enough

York

O, then, I see you will part but with light gifts:

In weightier things you’ll say a beggar nay

Gloucester

It is too heavy for your Grace to wear

York

I weigh it lightly, were it heavier

Gloucester

What, would you have my weapon, little Lord?

York

I would, that I might thank you as you call me

Gloucester

How?

York

Little

Prince

My Lord of York will still be cross in talk

Uncle, your Grace knows how to bear with him

York

You mean, to bear me, not to bear with me

Uncle, my brother mocks both you and me;

Because that I am little, like an ape,

He thinks that you should bear me on your shoulders

Buckingham

With what a sharp-provided wit he reasons!

To mitigate the scorn he gives his uncle

He prettily and aptly taunts himself

So cunning and so young is wonderful

Gloucester

My lord, will’t please you pass along?

Myself and my good cousin Buckingham

Will to your mother, to entreat of her

To meet you at the Tower and welcome you

York

What, will you go unto the Tower, my lord?

Prince

My Lord Protector needs will have it so

York

I shall not sleep in quiet at the Tower

Gloucester

Why, what should you fear?

York

Marry, my uncle Clarence’ angry ghost

My grandam told me he was murder’d there

Prince

I fear no uncles dead

Gloucester

Nor none that live, I hope

Prince

An if they live, I hope I need not fear

But come, my lord; and with a heavy heart,

Thinking on them, go I unto the Tower

A sennet

Exeunt all but Gloucester, Buckingham, and Catesby

Buckingham

Think you, my lord, this little prating York

Was not incensed by his subtle mother

To taunt and scorn you thus opprobriously?

Gloucester

No doubt, no doubt. O, ‘tis a perilous boy;

Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable

He is all the mother’s, from the top to toe

Buckingham

Well, let them rest. Come hither, Catesby

Thou art sworn as deeply to effect what we intend

As closely to conceal what we impart

Thou know’st our reasons urg’d upon the way

What think’st thou? Is it not an easy matter

To make William Lord Hastings of our mind,

For the instalment of this noble Duke

In the seat royal of this famous isle?

Catesby

He for his father’s sake so loves the Prince

That he will not be won to aught against him

Buckingham

What think’st thou then of Stanley? Will not he?

Catesby

He will do all in all as Hastings doth

Buckingham

Well then, no more but this: go, gentle Catesby,

And, as it were far off, sound thou Lord Hastings

How he doth stand affected to our purpose;

And summon him to-morrow to the Tower,

To sit about the coronation

If thou dost find him tractable to us,

Encourage him, and tell him all our reasons;

If he be leaden, icy, cold, unwilling,

Be thou so too, and so break off the talk,

And give us notice of his inclination;

For we to-morrow hold divided councils,

Wherein thyself shalt highly be employ’d

Gloucester

Commend me to Lord William. Tell him, Catesby,

His ancient knot of dangerous adversaries

To-morrow are let blood at Pomfret Castle;

And bid my lord, for joy of this good news,

Give Mistress Shore one gentle kiss the more

Buckingham

Good Catesby, go effect this business soundly

Catesby

My good lords both, with all the heed I can

Gloucester

Shall we hear from you, Catesby, ere we sleep?

Catesby

You shall, my lord

Gloucester

At Crosby House, there shall you find us both

Exit Catesby

Buckingham

Now, my lord, what shall we do if we perceive

Lord Hastings will not yield to our complots?

Gloucester

Chop off his head-something we will determine

And, look when I am King, claim thou of me

The earldom of Hereford and all the movables

Whereof the King my brother was possess’d

Buckingham

I’ll claim that promise at your Grace’s hand

Gloucester

And look to have it yielded with all kindness

Come, let us sup betimes, that afterwards

We may digest our complots in some form

Exeunt

Scene 2

Before Lord Hasting’S house

Enter a Messenger to the door of Hastings

Messenger

My lord, my lord! [Knocking]

Hastings

[Within] Who knocks?

Messenger

One from the Lord Stanley

Hastings

[Within] What is’t o’clock?

Messenger

Upon the stroke of four

Enter Lord Hastings

Hastings

Cannot my Lord Stanley sleep these tedious nights?

Messenger

So it appears by that I have to say

First, he commends him to your noble self

Hastings

What then?

Messenger

Then certifies your lordship that this night

He dreamt the boar had razed off his helm

Besides, he says there are two councils kept,

And that may be determin’d at the one

Which may make you and him to rue at th’ other

Therefore he sends to know your lordship’s pleasure—

If you will presently take horse with him

And with all speed post with him toward the north

To shun the danger that his soul divines

Hastings

Go, fellow, go, return unto thy lord;

Bid him not fear the separated council:

His honour and myself are at the one,

And at the other is my good friend Catesby;

Where nothing can proceed that toucheth us

Whereof I shall not have intelligence

Tell him his fears are shallow, without instance;

And for his dreams, I wonder he’s so simple

To trust the mock’ry of unquiet slumbers

To fly the boar before the boar pursues

Were to incense the boar to follow us

And make pursuit where he did mean no chase

Go, bid thy master rise and come to me;

And we will both together to the Tower,

Where, he shall see, the boar will use us kindly

Messenger

I’ll go, my lord, and tell him what you say

Exit

Enter Catesby

Catesby

Many good morrows to my noble lord!

Hastings

Good morrow, Catesby; you are early stirring

What news, what news, in this our tott’ring state?

Catesby

It is a reeling world indeed, my lord;

And I believe will never stand upright

Till Richard wear the garland of the realm

Hastings

How, wear the garland! Dost thou mean the crown?

Catesby

Ay, my good lord

Hastings

I’ll have this crown of mine cut from my shoulders

Before I’ll see the crown so foul misplac’d

But canst thou guess that he doth aim at it?

Catesby

Ay, on my life; and hopes to find you forward

Upon his party for the gain thereof;

And thereupon he sends you this good news,

That this same very day your enemies,

The kindred of the Queen, must die at Pomfret

Hastings

Indeed, I am no mourner for that news,

Because they have been still my adversaries;

But that I’ll give my voice on Richard’s side

To bar my master’s heirs in true descent,

God knows I will not do it to the death

Catesby

God keep your lordship in that gracious mind!

Hastings

But I shall laugh at this a twelve month hence,

That they which brought me in my master’s hate,

I live to look upon their tragedy

Well, Catesby, ere a fortnight make me older,

I’ll send some packing that yet think not on’t

Catesby

‘Tis a vile thing to die, my gracious lord,

When men are unprepar’d and look not for it

Hastings

O monstrous, monstrous! And so falls it out

With Rivers, Vaughan, Grey; and so ‘twill do

With some men else that think themselves as safe

As thou and I, who, as thou knowest, are dear

To princely Richard and to Buckingham

Catesby

The Princes both make high account of you—

[Aside] For they account his head upon the bridge

Hastings

I know they do, and I have well deserv’d it

Enter Lord Stanley

Come on, come on; where is your boar-spear, man?

Fear you the boar, and go so unprovided?

Stanley

My lord, good morrow; good morrow, Catesby

You may jest on, but, by the holy rood,

I do not like these several councils, I

Hastings

My lord, I hold my life as dear as yours,

And never in my days, I do protest,

Was it so precious to me as ‘tis now

Think you, but that I know our state secure,

I would be so triumphant as I am?

Stanley

The lords at Pomfret, when they rode from London,

Were jocund and suppos’d their states were sure,

And they indeed had no cause to mistrust;

But yet you see how soon the day o’ercast

This sudden stab of rancour I misdoubt;

Pray God, I say, I prove a needless coward

What, shall we toward the Tower? The day is spent

Hastings

Come, come, have with you. Wot you what, my Lord?

To-day the lords you talk’d of are beheaded

Stanley

They, for their truth, might better wear their heads

Than some that have accus’d them wear their hats

But come, my lord, let’s away

Enter Hastings, a pursuivant

Hastings

Go on before; I’ll talk with this good fellow

Exeunt Stanley and Catesby

How now, Hastings! How goes the world with thee?

Pursuivant

The better that your lordship please to ask

Hastings

I tell thee, man, ‘tis better with me now

Than when thou met’st me last where now we meet:

Then was I going prisoner to the Tower

By the suggestion of the Queen’s allies;

But now, I tell thee-keep it to thyself-

This day those enernies are put to death,

And I in better state than e’er I was

Pursuivant

God hold it, to your honour’s good content!

Hastings

Gramercy, Hastings; there, drink that for me

[Throws him his purse]

Pursuivant

I thank your honour

Exit

Enter a Priest

Priest

Well met, my lord; I am glad to see your honour

Hastings

I thank thee, good Sir John, with all my heart

I am in your debt for your last exercise;

Come the next Sabbath, and I will content you

[He whispers in his ear]

Priest

I’ll wait upon your lordship

Enter Buckingham

Buckingham

What, talking with a priest, Lord Chamberlain!

Your friends at Pomfret, they do need the priest:

Your honour hath no shriving work in hand

Hastings

Good faith, and when I met this holy man,

The men you talk of came into my mind

What, go you toward the Tower?

Buckingham

I do, my lord, but long I cannot stay there;

I shall return before your lordship thence

Hastings

Nay, like enough, for I stay dinner there

Buckingham

[Aside]

And supper too, although thou knowest it not.-

Come, will you go?

Hastings

I’ll wait upon your lordship

Exeunt

Scene 3

Pomfret Castle

Enter Sir Richard Ratcliff, with halberds, carrying the Nobles, Rivers, Grey, and Vaughan, to death

Rivers

Sir Richard Ratcliff, let me tell thee this:

To-day shalt thou behold a subject die

For truth, for duty, and for loyalty

Grey

God bless the Prince from all the pack of you!

A knot you are of damned blood-suckers

Vaughan

You live that shall cry woe for this hereafter

Ratcliff

Dispatch; the limit of your lives is out

Rivers

O Pomfret, Pomfret! O thou bloody prison,

Fatal and ominous to noble peers!

Within the guilty closure of thy walls

Richard the Second here was hack’d to death;

And for more slander to thy dismal seat,

We give to thee our guiltless blood to drink

Grey

Now Margaret’s curse is fall’n upon our heads,

When she exclaim’d on Hastings, you, and I,

For standing by when Richard stabb’d her son

Rivers

Then curs’d she Richard, then curs’d she Buckingham,

Then curs’d she Hastings. O, remember, God,

To hear her prayer for them, as now for us!

And for my sister, and her princely sons,

Be satisfied, dear God, with our true blood,

Which, as thou know’st, unjustly must be spilt

Ratcliff

Make haste; the hour of death is expiate

Rivers

Come, Grey; come, Vaughan; let us here embrace

Farewell, until we meet again in heaven

Exeunt

Scene 4

London. The Tower

Enter Buckingham, Derby, Hastings, the Bishop of Ely, Ratcliff, Lovel, with others and seat themselves at a table

Hastings

Now, noble peers, the cause why we are met

Is to determine of the coronation

In God’s name speak-when is the royal day?

Buckingham

Is all things ready for the royal time?

Derby

It is, and wants but nomination

Bishop Of Ely

To-morrow then I judge a happy day

Buckingham

Who knows the Lord Protector’s mind herein?

Who is most inward with the noble Duke?

Bishop Of Ely

Your Grace, we think, should soonest know his mind

Buckingham

We know each other’s faces; for our hearts,

He knows no more of mine than I of yours;

Or I of his, my lord, than you of mine

Lord Hastings, you and he are near in love

Hastings

I thank his Grace, I know he loves me well;

But for his purpose in the coronation

I have not sounded him, nor he deliver’d

His gracious pleasure any way therein

But you, my honourable lords, may name the time;

And in the Duke’s behalf I’ll give my voice,

Which, I presume, he’ll take in gentle part

Enter Gloucester

Bishop Of Ely

In happy time, here comes the Duke himself

Gloucester

My noble lords and cousins an, good morrow

I have been long a sleeper, but I trust

My absence doth neglect no great design

Which by my presence might have been concluded

Buckingham

Had you not come upon your cue, my lord

William

Lord Hastings had pronounc’d your part—

I mean, your voice for crowning of the King

Gloucester

Than my Lord Hastings no man might be bolder;

His lordship knows me well and loves me well

My lord of Ely, when I was last in Holborn

I saw good strawberries in your garden there

I do beseech you send for some of them

Bishop of Ely

Marry and will, my lord, with all my heart

Exit

Gloucester

Cousin of Buckingham, a word with you

[Takes him aside]

Catesby hath sounded Hastings in our business,

And finds the testy gentleman so hot

That he will lose his head ere give consent

His master’s child, as worshipfully he terms it,

Shall lose the royalty of England’s throne

Buckingham

Withdraw yourself awhile; I’ll go with you

Exeunt Gloucester and Buckingham

Derby

We have not yet set down this day of triumph

To-morrow, in my judgment, is too sudden;

For I myself am not so well provided

As else I would be, were the day prolong’d

Re-enter the Bishop Of Ely

Bishop Of Ely

Where is my lord the Duke of Gloucester?

I have sent for these strawberries

Hastings

His Grace looks cheerfully and smooth this morning;

There’s some conceit or other likes him well

When that he bids good morrow with such spirit

I think there’s never a man in Christendom

Can lesser hide his love or hate than he;

For by his face straight shall you know his heart

Derby

What of his heart perceive you in his face

By any livelihood he show’d to-day?

Hastings

Marry, that with no man here he is offended;

For, were he, he had shown it in his looks

Re-enter Gloucester and Buckingham

Gloucester

I pray you all, tell me what they deserve

That do conspire my death with devilish plots

Of damned witchcraft, and that have prevail’d

Upon my body with their hellish charms?

Hastings

The tender love I bear your Grace, my lord,

Makes me most forward in this princely presence

To doom th’ offenders, whosoe’er they be

I say, my lord, they have deserved death

Gloucester

Then be your eyes the witness of their evil

Look how I am bewitch’d; behold, mine arm

Is like a blasted sapling wither’d up

And this is Edward’s wife, that monstrous witch,

Consorted with that harlot strumpet Shore,

That by their witchcraft thus have marked me

Hastings

If they have done this deed, my noble lord-

Gloucester

If?—thou protector of this damned strumpet,

Talk’st thou to me of ifs? Thou art a traitor

Off with his head! Now by Saint Paul I swear

I will not dine until I see the same

Lovel and Ratcliff, look that it be done

The rest that love me, rise and follow me

Exeunt all but Hastings, Lovel, and Ratcliff

Hastings

Woe, woe, for England! not a whit for me;

For I, too fond, might have prevented this

Stanley did dream the boar did raze our helms,

And I did scorn it and disdain to fly

Three times to-day my foot-cloth horse did stumble,

And started when he look’d upon the Tower,

As loath to bear me to the slaughter-house

O, now I need the priest that spake to me!

I now repent I told the pursuivant,

As too triumphing, how mine enemies

To-day at Pomfret bloodily were butcher’d,

And I myself secure in grace and favour

Omargaret, Margaret, now thy heavy curse

Is lighted on poor Hastings’ wretched head!

Ratcliff

Come, come, dispatch; the Duke would be at dinner

Make a short shrift; he longs to see your head

Hastings

O momentary grace of mortal men,

Which we more hunt for than the grace of God!

Who builds his hope in air of your good looks

Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast,

Ready with every nod to tumble down

Into the fatal bowels of the deep

Lovel

Come, come, dispatch; ‘tis bootless to exclaim

Hastings

O bloody Richard! Miserable England!

I prophesy the fearfull’st time to thee

That ever wretched age hath look’d upon

Come, lead me to the block; bear him my head

They smile at me who shortly shall be dead

Exeunt

Scene 5

London. The Tower-walls

Enter Gloucester and Buckingham in rotten armour, marvellous ill-favoured

Gloucester

Come, cousin, canst thou quake and change thy colour,

Murder thy breath in middle of a word,

And then again begin, and stop again,

As if thou were distraught and mad with terror?

Buckingham

Tut, I can counterfeit the deep tragedian;

Speak and look back, and pry on every side,

Tremble and start at wagging of a straw,

Intending deep suspicion. Ghastly looks

Are at my service, like enforced smiles;

And both are ready in their offices

At any time to grace my stratagems

But what, is Catesby gone?

Gloucester

He is; and, see, he brings the mayor along

Enter the Lord Mayor and Catesby

Buckingham

Lord Mayor—

Gloucester

Look to the drawbridge there!

Buckingham

Hark! a drum

Gloucester

Catesby, o’erlook the walls

Buckingham

Lord Mayor, the reason we have sent—

Gloucester

Look back, defend thee; here are enemies

Buckingham

God and our innocence defend and guard us!

Enter Lovel and Ratcliff, with Hastings’ head

Gloucester

Be patient; they are friends-Ratcliff and Lovel

Lovel

Here is the head of that ignoble traitor,

The dangerous and unsuspected Hastings

Gloucester

So dear I lov’d the man that I must weep

I took him for the plainest harmless creature

That breath’d upon the earth a Christian;

Made him my book, wherein my soul recorded

The history of all her secret thoughts

So smooth he daub’d his vice with show of virtue

That, his apparent open guilt omitted,

I mean his conversation with Shore’s wife—

He liv’d from all attainder of suspects

Buckingham

Well, well, he was the covert’st shelt’red traitor

That ever liv’d

Would you imagine, or almost believe—

Were’t not that by great preservation

We live to tell it-that the subtle traitor

This day had plotted, in the council-house,

To murder me and my good Lord of Gloucester

Mayor

Had he done so?

Gloucester

What! think you we are Turks or Infidels?

Or that we would, against the form of law,

Proceed thus rashly in the villain’s death

But that the extreme peril of the case,

The peace of England and our persons’ safety,

Enforc’d us to this execution?

Mayor

Now, fair befall you! He deserv’d his death;

And your good Graces both have well proceeded

To warn false traitors from the like attempts

I never look’d for better at his hands

After he once fell in with Mistress Shore

Buckingham

Yet had we not determin’d he should die

Until your lordship came to see his end—

Which now the loving haste of these our friends,

Something against our meanings, have prevented—

Because, my lord, I would have had you heard

The traitor speak, and timorously confess

The manner and the purpose of his treasons:

That you might well have signified the same

Unto the citizens, who haply may

Misconster us in him and wail his death

Mayor

But, my good lord, your Grace’s words shall serve

As well as I had seen and heard him speak;

And do not doubt, right noble Princes both,

But I’ll acquaint our duteous citizens

With all your just proceedings in this cause

Gloucester

And to that end we wish’d your lordship here,

T’ avoid the the the censures of the carping world

Buckingham

Which since you come too late of our intent,

Yet witness what you hear we did intend

And so, my good Lord Mayor, we bid farewell

Exit Lord Mayor

Gloucester

Go, after, after, cousin Buckingham

The Mayor towards Guildhall hies him in an post

There, at your meet’st advantage of the time,

Infer the bastardy of Edward’s children

Tell them how Edward put to death a citizen

Only for saying he would make his son

Heir to the crown-meaning indeed his house,

Which by the sign thereof was termed so

Moreover, urge his hateful luxury

And bestial appetite in change of lust,

Which stretch’d unto their servants, daughters, wives,

Even where his raging eye or savage heart

Without control lusted to make a prey

Nay, for a need, thus far come near my person:

Tell them, when that my mother went with child

Of that insatiate Edward, noble York

My princely father then had wars in France

And, by true computation of the time,

Found that the issue was not his begot;

Which well appeared in his lineaments,

Being nothing like the noble Duke my father

Yet touch this sparingly, as ‘twere far off;

Because, my lord, you know my mother lives

Buckingham

Doubt not, my lord, I’ll play the orator

As if the golden fee for which I plead

Were for myself; and so, my lord, adieu

Gloucester

If you thrive well, bring them to Baynard’s Castle;

Where you shall find me well accompanied

With reverend fathers and well learned bishops

Buckingham

I go; and towards three or four o’clock

Look for the news that the Guildhall affords

Exit

Gloucester

Go, Lovel, with all speed to Doctor Shaw

[To Catesby] Go thou to Friar Penker. Bid them both

Meet me within this hour at Baynard’s Castle

Exeunt all but Gloucester

Now will I go to take some privy order

To draw the brats of Clarence out of sight,

And to give order that no manner person

Have any time recourse unto the Princes

Exit

Scene 6

London. A street

Enter a Scrivener

Scrivener

Here is the indictment of the good Lord Hastings;

Which in a set hand fairly is engross’d

That it may be to-day read o’er in Paul’s

And mark how well the sequel hangs together:

Eleven hours I have spent to write it over,

For yesternight by Catesby was it sent me;

The precedent was full as long a-doing;

And yet within these five hours Hastings liv’d,

Untainted, unexamin’d, free, at liberty

Here’s a good world the while! Who is so gros

That cannot see this palpable device?

Yet who’s so bold but says he sees it not?

Bad is the world; and all will come to nought,

When such ill dealing must be seen in thought

Exit

Scene 7

London. Baynard’s Castle

Enter Gloucester and Buckingham, at several doors

Gloucester

How now, how now! What say the citizens?

Buckingham

Now, by the holy Mother of our Lord,

The citizens are mum, say not a word

Gloucester

Touch’d you the bastardy of Edward’s children?

Buckingham

I did; with his contract with Lady Lucy,

And his contract by deputy in France;

Th’ insatiate greediness of his desire,

And his enforcement of the city wives;

His tyranny for trifles; his own bastardy,

As being got, your father then in France,

And his resemblance, being not like the Duke

Withal I did infer your lineaments,

Being the right idea of your father,

Both in your form and nobleness of mind;

Laid open all your victories in Scotland,

Your discipline in war, wisdom in peace,

Your bounty, virtue, fair humility;

Indeed, left nothing fitting for your purpose

Untouch’d or slightly handled in discourse

And when mine oratory drew toward end

I bid them that did love their country’s good

Cry ‘God save Richard, England’s royal King!’

Gloucester

And did they so?

Buckingham

No, so God help me, they spake not a word;

But, like dumb statues or breathing stones,

Star’d each on other, and look’d deadly pale

Which when I saw, I reprehended them,

And ask’d the Mayor what meant this wilfull silence

His answer was, the people were not used

To be spoke to but by the Recorder

Then he was urg’d to tell my tale again

‘Thus saith the Duke, thus hath the Duke inferr’d’—

But nothing spoke in warrant from himself

When he had done, some followers of mine own

At lower end of the hall hurl’d up their caps,

And some ten voices cried ‘God save King Richard!’

And thus I took the vantage of those few-

‘Thanks, gentle citizens and friends,’ quoth I

‘This general applause and cheerful shout

Argues your wisdoms and your love to Richard.’

And even here brake off and came away

Gloucester

What, tongueless blocks were they? Would they not speak?

Will not the Mayor then and his brethren come?

Buckingham

The Mayor is here at hand. Intend some fear;

Be not you spoke with but by mighty suit;

And look you get a prayer-book in your hand,

And stand between two churchmen, good my lord;

For on that ground I’ll make a holy descant;

And be not easily won to our requests

Play the maid’s part: still answer nay, and take it

Gloucester

I go; and if you plead as well for them

As I can say nay to thee for myself,

No doubt we bring it to a happy issue

Buckingham

Go, go, up to the leads; the Lord Mayor knocks

Exit Gloucester

Enter the Lord Mayor, Aldermen, and citizens

Welcome, my lord. I dance attendance here;

I think the Duke will not be spoke withal

Enter Catesby

Now, Catesby, what says your lord to my request?

Catesby

He doth entreat your Grace, my noble lord,

To visit him to-morrow or next day

He is within, with two right reverend fathers,

Divinely bent to meditation;

And in no worldly suits would he be mov’d,

To draw him from his holy exercise

Buckingham

Return, good Catesby, to the gracious Duke;

Tell him, myself, the Mayor and Aldermen,

In deep designs, in matter of great moment,

No less importing than our general good,

Are come to have some conference with his Grace

Catesby

I’ll signify so much unto him straight

Exit

Buckingham

Ah ha, my lord, this prince is not an Edward!

He is not lolling on a lewd love-bed,

But on his knees at meditation;

Not dallying with a brace of courtezans,

But meditating with two deep divines;

Not sleeping, to engross his idle body,

But praying, to enrich his watchful soul

Happy were England would this virtuous prince

Take on his Grace the sovereignty thereof;

But, sure, I fear we shall not win him to it

Mayor

Marry, God defend his Grace should say us nay!

Buckingham

I fear he will. Here Catesby comes again

Re-enter Catesby

Now, Catesby, what says his Grace?

Catesby

My lord,

He wonders to what end you have assembled

Such troops of citizens to come to him

His Grace not being warn’d thereof before,

He fears, my lord, you mean no good to him

Buckingham

Sorry I am my noble cousin should

Suspect me that I mean no good to him

By heaven, we come to him in perfect love;

And so once more return and tell his Grace

Exit Catesby

When holy and devout religious men

Are at their beads, ‘tis much to draw them thence,

So sweet is zealous contemplation

Enter Gloucester aloft, between two Bishops.Catesby returns

Mayor

See where his Grace stands ‘tween two clergymen!

Buckingham

Two props of virtue for a Christian prince,

To stay him from the fall of vanity;

And, see, a book of prayer in his hand,

True ornaments to know a holy man

Famous Plantagenet, most gracious Prince,

Lend favourable ear to our requests,

And pardon us the interruption

Of thy devotion and right Christian zeal

Gloucester

My lord, there needs no such apology:

I do beseech your Grace to pardon me,

Who, earnest in the service of my God,

Deferr’d the visitation of my friends

But, leaving this, what is your Grace’s pleasure?

Buckingham

Even that, I hope, which pleaseth God above,

And all good men of this ungovern’d isle

Gloucester

I do suspect I have done some offence

That seems disgracious in the city’s eye,

And that you come to reprehend my ignorance

Buckingham

You have, my lord. Would it might please your Grace,

On our entreaties, to amend your fault!

Gloucester

Else wherefore breathe I in a Christian land?

Buckingham

Know then, it is your fault that you resign

The supreme seat, the throne majestical,

The scept’red office of your ancestors,

Your state of fortune and your due of birth,

The lineal glory of your royal house,

To the corruption of a blemish’d stock;

Whiles in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts,

Which here we waken to our country’s good,

The noble isle doth want her proper limbs;

Her face defac’d with scars of infamy,

Her royal stock graft with ignoble plants,

And almost should’red in the swallowing gulf

Of dark forgetfulness and deep oblivion

Which to recure, we heartily solicit

Your gracious self to take on you the charge

And kingly government of this your land-

Not as protector, steward, substitute,

Or lowly factor for another’s gain;

But as successively, from blood to blood,

Your right of birth, your empery, your own

For this, consorted with the citizens,

Your very worshipful and loving friends,

And by their vehement instigation,

In this just cause come I to move your Grace

Gloucester

I cannot tell if to depart in silence

Or bitterly to speak in your reproof

Best fitteth my degree or your condition

If not to answer, you might haply think

Tongue-tied ambition, not replying, yielded

To bear the golden yoke of sovereignty,

Which fondly you would here impose on me;

If to reprove you for this suit of yours,

So season’d with your faithful love to me,

Then, on the other side, I check’d my friends

Therefore-to speak, and to avoid the first,

And then, in speaking, not to incur the last—

Definitively thus I answer you:

Your love deserves my thanks, but my desert

Unmeritable shuns your high request

First, if all obstacles were cut away,

And that my path were even to the crown,

As the ripe revenue and due of birth,

Yet so much is my poverty of spirit,

So mighty and so many my defects,

That I would rather hide me from my greatness—

Being a bark to brook no mighty sea—

Than in my greatness covet to be hid,

And in the vapour of my glory smother’d

But, God be thank’d, there is no need of me—

And much I need to help you, were there need

The royal tree hath left us royal fruit

Which, mellow’d by the stealing hours of time,

Will well become the seat of majesty

And make, no doubt, us happy by his reign

On him I lay that you would lay on me—

The right and fortune of his happy stars,

Which God defend that I should wring from him

Buckingham

My lord, this argues conscience in your Grace;

But the respects thereof are nice and trivial,

All circumstances well considered

You say that Edward is your brother’s son

So say we too, but not by Edward’s wife;

For first was he contract to Lady Lucy—

Your mother lives a witness to his vow—

And afterward by substitute betroth’d

To Bona, sister to the King of France

These both put off, a poor petitioner,

A care-craz’d mother to a many sons,

A beauty-waning and distressed widow,

Even in the afternoon of her best days,

Made prize and purchase of his wanton eye,

Seduc’d the pitch and height of his degree

To base declension and loath’d bigamy

By her, in his unlawful bed, he got

This Edward, whom our manners call the Prince

More bitterly could I expostulate,

Save that, for reverence to some alive,

I give a sparing limit to my tongue

Then, good my lord, take to your royal self

This proffer’d benefit of dignity;

If not to bless us and the land withal,

Yet to draw forth your noble ancestry

From the corruption of abusing times

Unto a lineal true-derived course

Mayor

Do, good my lord; your citizens entreat you

Buckingham

Refuse not, mighty lord, this proffer’d love

Catesby

O, make them joyful, grant their lawful suit!

Gloucester

Alas, why would you heap this care on me?

I am unfit for state and majesty

I do beseech you, take it not amiss:

I cannot nor I will not yield to you

Buckingham

If you refuse it-as, in love and zeal,

Loath to depose the child, your brother’s son;

As well we know your tenderness of heart

And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse,

Which we have noted in you to your kindred

And egally indeed to all estates—

Yet know, whe’er you accept our suit or no,

Your brother’s son shall never reign our king;

But we will plant some other in the throne

To the disgrace and downfall of your house;

And in this resolution here we leave you

Come, citizens. Zounds, I’ll entreat no more

Gloucester

O, do not swear, my lord of Buckingham

Exeunt Buckingham, Mayor, and citizens

Catesby

Call him again, sweet Prince, accept their suit

If you deny them, all the land will rue it

Gloucester

Will you enforce me to a world of cares?

Call them again. I am not made of stones,

But penetrable to your kind entreaties,

Albeit against my conscience and my soul

Re-enter Buckingham and the rest

Cousin of Buckingham, and sage grave men,

Since you will buckle fortune on my back,

To bear her burden, whe’er I will or no,

I must have patience to endure the load;

But if black scandal or foul-fac’d reproach

Attend the sequel of your imposition,

Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me

From all the impure blots and stains thereof;

For God doth know, and you may partly see,

How far I am from the desire of this

Mayor

God bless your Grace! We see it, and will say it

Gloucester

In saying so, you shall but say the truth

Buckingham

Then I salute you with this royal title—

Long live King Richard, England’s worthy King!

All

Amen

Buckingham

To-morrow may it please you to be crown’d?

Gloucester

Even when you please, for you will have it so

Buckingham

To-morrow, then, we will attend your Grace;

And so, most joyfully, we take our leave

Gloucester

[To the Bishops]

Come, let us to our holy work again

Farewell, my cousin; farewell, gentle friends

Exeunt

Act IV

[King Richard III, IV, 4] [graphic] / [John Augustus Atkinson].

Scene 1

London. Before the Tower

Enter Queen Elizabeth, Duchess of York, and Marquis of Dorset, at one door; Anne, Duchess of Gloucester, leading Lady Margaret Plantagenet, Clarence’s young daughter, at another door

Duchess

Who meets us here? My niece Plantagenet,

Led in the hand of her kind aunt of Gloucester?

Now, for my life, she’s wand’ring to the Tower,

On pure heart’s love, to greet the tender Princes

Daughter, well met

Anne

God give your Graces both

A happy and a joyful time of day!

Queen Elizabeth

As much to you, good sister! Whither away?

Anne

No farther than the Tower; and, as I guess,

Upon the like devotion as yourselves,

To gratulate the gentle Princes there

Queen Elizabeth

Kind sister, thanks; we’ll enter all together

Enter Brakenbury

And in good time, here the lieutenant comes

Master Lieutenant, pray you, by your leave,

How doth the Prince, and my young son of York?

Brakenbury

Right well, dear madam. By your patience,

I may not suffer you to visit them

The King hath strictly charg’d the contrary

Queen Elizabeth

The King! Who’s that?

Brakenbury

I mean the Lord Protector

Queen Elizabeth

The Lord protect him from that kingly title!

Hath he set bounds between their love and me?

I am their mother; who shall bar me from them?

Duchess

I am their father’s mother; I will see them

Anne

Their aunt I am in law, in love their mother

Then bring me to their sights; I’ll bear thy blame,

And take thy office from thee on my peril

Brakenbury

No, madam, no. I may not leave it so;

I am bound by oath, and therefore pardon me

Exit

Enter Stanley

Stanley

Let me but meet you, ladies, one hour hence,

And I’ll salute your Grace of York as mother

And reverend looker-on of two fair queens

[To Anne] Come, madam, you must straight to Westminster,

There to be crowned Richard’s royal queen

Queen Elizabeth

Ah, cut my lace asunder

That my pent heart may have some scope to beat,

Or else I swoon with this dead-killing news!

Anne

Despiteful tidings! O unpleasing news!

Dorset

Be of good cheer; mother, how fares your Grace?

Queen Elizabeth

Odorset, speak not to me, get thee gone!

Death and destruction dogs thee at thy heels;

Thy mother’s name is ominous to children

If thou wilt outstrip death, go cross the seas,

And live with Richmond, from the reach of hell

Go, hie thee, hie thee from this slaughter-house,

Lest thou increase the number of the dead,

And make me die the thrall of Margaret’s curse,

Nor mother, wife, nor England’s counted queen

Stanley

Full of wise care is this your counsel, madam

Take all the swift advantage of the hours;

You shall have letters from me to my son

In your behalf, to meet you on the way

Be not ta’en tardy by unwise delay

Duchess

O ill-dispersing wind of misery!

O my accursed womb, the bed of death!

A cockatrice hast thou hatch’d to the world,

Whose unavoided eye is murderous

Stanley

Come, madam, come; I in all haste was sent

Anne

And I with all unwillingness will go

O, would to God that the inclusive verge

Of golden metal that must round my brow

Were red-hot steel, to sear me to the brains!

Anointed let me be with deadly venom,

And die ere men can say ‘God save the Queen!’

Queen Elizabeth

Go, go, poor soul; I envy not thy glory

To feed my humour, wish thyself no harm

Anne

No, why? When he that is my husband now

Came to me, as I follow’d Henry’s corse;

When scarce the blood was well wash’d from his hands

Which issued from my other angel husband,

And that dear saint which then I weeping follow’d—

O, when, I say, I look’d on Richard’s face,

This was my wish: ‘Be thou’ quoth I ‘accurs’d

For making me, so young, so old a widow;

And when thou wed’st, let sorrow haunt thy bed;

And be thy wife, if any be so mad,

More miserable by the life of thee

Than thou hast made me by my dear lord’s death.’

Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again,

Within so small a time, my woman’s heart

Grossly grew captive to his honey words

And prov’d the subject of mine own soul’s curse,

Which hitherto hath held my eyes from rest;

For never yet one hour in his bed

Did I enjoy the golden dew of sleep,

But with his timorous dreams was still awak’d

Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick;

And will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me

Queen Elizabeth

Poor heart, adieu! I pity thy complaining

Anne

No more than with my soul I mourn for yours

Dorset

Farewell, thou woeful welcomer of glory!

Anne

Adieu, poor soul, that tak’st thy leave of it!

Duchess

[To Dorset]

Go thou to Richmond, and good fortune guide thee!

[To Anne]

Go thou to Richard, and good angels tend thee!

[To Queen Elizabeth]

Go thou to sanctuary, and good thoughts possess thee!

I to my grave, where peace and rest lie with me!

Eighty odd years of sorrow have I seen,

And each hour’s joy wreck’d with a week of teen

Queen Elizabeth

Stay, yet look back with me unto the Tower

Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes

Whom envy hath immur’d within your walls,

Rough cradle for such little pretty ones

Rude ragged nurse, old sullen playfellow

For tender princes, use my babies well

So foolish sorrows bids your stones farewell

Exeunt

Scene 2

London. The palace

Sound a sennet. Enter Richard, in pomp, as King; Buckingham, Catesby, Ratcliff, Lovel, a Page, and others

King Richard

Stand all apart. Cousin of Buckingham!

Buckingham

My gracious sovereign?

King Richard

Give me thy hand

[Here he ascendeth the throne. Sound]

Thus high, by thy advice

And thy assistance, is King Richard seated

But shall we wear these glories for a day;

Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them?

Buckingham

Still live they, and for ever let them last!

King Richard

Ah, Buckingham, now do I play the touch,

To try if thou be current gold indeed

Young Edward lives-think now what I would speak

Buckingham

Say on, my loving lord

King Richard

Why, Buckingham, I say I would be King

Buckingham

Why, so you are, my thrice-renowned lord

King Richard

Ha! am I King? ‘Tis so; but Edward lives

Buckingham

True, noble Prince

King Richard

O bitter consequence:

That Edward still should live-true noble Prince!

Cousin, thou wast not wont to be so dull

Shall I be plain? I wish the bastards dead

And I would have it suddenly perform’d

What say’st thou now? Speak suddenly, be brief

Buckingham

Your Grace may do your pleasure

King Richard

Tut, tut, thou art all ice; thy kindness freezes

Say, have I thy consent that they shall die?

Buckingham

Give me some little breath, some pause, dear Lord,

Before I positively speak in this

I will resolve you herein presently

Exit

Catesby

[Aside to another]

The King is angry; see, he gnaws his lip

King Richard

I will converse with iron-witted fools

[Descends from the throne]

And unrespective boys; none are for me

That look into me with considerate eyes

High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect

Boy!

Page

My lord?

King Richard

Know’st thou not any whom corrupting gold

Will tempt unto a close exploit of death?

Page

I know a discontented gentleman

Whose humble means match not his haughty spirit

Gold were as good as twenty orators,

And will, no doubt, tempt him to anything

King Richard

What is his name?

Page

His name, my lord, is Tyrrel

King Richard

I partly know the man. Go, call him hither, boy

Exit Page

The deep-revolving witty Buckingham

No more shall be the neighbour to my counsels

Hath he so long held out with me, untir’d,

And stops he now for breath? Well, be it so

Enter Stanley

How now, Lord Stanley! What’s the news?

Stanley

Know, my loving lord,

The Marquis Dorset, as I hear, is fled

To Richmond, in the parts where he abides

[Stands apart]

King Richard

Come hither, Catesby. Rumour it abroad

That Anne, my wife, is very grievous sick;

I will take order for her keeping close

Inquire me out some mean poor gentleman,

Whom I will marry straight to Clarence’ daughter—

The boy is foolish, and I fear not him

Look how thou dream’st! I say again, give out

That Anne, my queen, is sick and like to die

About it; for it stands me much upon

To stop all hopes whose growth may damage me

Exit Catesby

I must be married to my brother’s daughter,

Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass

Murder her brothers, and then marry her!

Uncertain way of gain! But I am in

So far in blood that sin will pluck on sin

Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye

Re-enter Page, with Tyrrel

Is thy name Tyrrel?

Tyrrel

James Tyrrel, and your most obedient subject

King Richard

Art thou, indeed?

Tyrrel

Prove me, my gracious lord

King Richard

Dar’st’thou resolve to kill a friend of mine?

Tyrrel

Please you;

But I had rather kill two enemies

King Richard

Why, then thou hast it. Two deep enemies,

Foes to my rest, and my sweet sleep’s disturbers,

Are they that I would have thee deal upon

Tyrrel, I mean those bastards in the Tower

Tyrrel

Let me have open means to come to them,

And soon I’ll rid you from the fear of them

King Richard

Thou sing’st sweet music. Hark, come hither, Tyrrel

Go, by this token. Rise, and lend thine ear

[Whispers]

There is no more but so: say it is done,

And I will love thee and prefer thee for it

Tyrrel

I will dispatch it straight

Exit

Re-enter Buckingham

Buckingham

My lord, I have consider’d in my mind

The late request that you did sound me in

King Richard

Well, let that rest. Dorset is fled to Richmond

Buckingham

I hear the news, my lord

King Richard

Stanley, he is your wife’s son: well, look unto it

Buckingham

My lord, I claim the gift, my due by promise,

For which your honour and your faith is pawn’d:

Th’ earldom of Hereford and the movables

Which you have promised I shall possess

King Richard

Stanley, look to your wife; if she convey

Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it

Buckingham

What says your Highness to my just request?

King Richard

I do remember me: Henry the Sixth

Did prophesy that Richmond should be King,

When Richmond was a little peevish boy

A king!-perhaps—

Buckingham

My lord—

King Richard

How chance the prophet could not at that time

Have told me, I being by, that I should kill him?

Buckingham

My lord, your promise for the earldom—

King Richard

Richmond! When last I was at Exeter,

The mayor in courtesy show’d me the castle

And call’d it Rugemount, at which name I started,

Because a bard of Ireland told me once

I should not live long after I saw Richmond

Buckingham

My lord—

King Richard

Ay, what’s o’clock?

Buckingham

I am thus bold to put your Grace in mind

Of what you promis’d me

King Richard

Well, but o’clock?

Buckingham

Upon the stroke of ten

King Richard

Well, let it strike

Buckingham

Why let it strike?

King Richard

Because that like a Jack thou keep’st the stroke

Betwixt thy begging and my meditation

I am not in the giving vein to-day

Buckingham

May it please you to resolve me in my suit

King Richard

Thou troublest me; I am not in the vein

Exeunt all but Buckingham

Buckingham

And is it thus? Repays he my deep service

With such contempt? Made I him King for this?

O, let me think on Hastings, and be gone

To Brecknock while my fearful head is on!

Exit

Scene 3

London. The palace

Enter Tyrrel

Tyrrel

The tyrannous and bloody act is done,

The most arch deed of piteous massacre

That ever yet this land was guilty of

Dighton and Forrest, who I did suborn

To do this piece of ruthless butchery,

Albeit they were flesh’d villains, bloody dogs,

Melted with tenderness and mild compassion,

Wept like two children in their deaths’ sad story

‘O, thus’ quoth Dighton ‘lay the gentle babes’-

‘Thus, thus,’ quoth Forrest ‘girdling one another

Within their alabaster innocent arms

Their lips were four red roses on a stalk,

And in their summer beauty kiss’d each other

A book of prayers on their pillow lay;

Which once,’ quoth Forrest ‘almost chang’d my mind;

But, O, the devil’-there the villain stopp’d;

When Dighton thus told on: ‘We smothered

The most replenished sweet work of nature

That from the prime creation e’er she framed.’

Hence both are gone with conscience and remorse

They could not speak; and so I left them both,

To bear this tidings to the bloody King

Enter King Richard

And here he comes. All health, my sovereign lord!

King Richard

Kind Tyrrel, am I happy in thy news?

Tyrrel

If to have done the thing you gave in charge

Beget your happiness, be happy then,

For it is done

King Richard

But didst thou see them dead?

Tyrrel

I did, my lord

King Richard

And buried, gentle Tyrrel?

Tyrrel

The chaplain of the Tower hath buried them;

But where, to say the truth, I do not know

King Richard

Come to me, Tyrrel, soon at after supper,

When thou shalt tell the process of their death

Meantime, but think how I may do thee good

And be inheritor of thy desire

Farewell till then

Tyrrel

I humbly take my leave

Exit

King Richard

The son of Clarence have I pent up close;

His daughter meanly have I match’d in marriage;

The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham’s bosom,

And Anne my wife hath bid this world good night

Now, for I know the Britaine Richmond aims

At young Elizabeth, my brother’s daughter,

And by that knot looks proudly on the crown,

To her go I, a jolly thriving wooer

Enter Ratcliff

Ratcliff

My lord!

King Richard

Good or bad news, that thou com’st in so bluntly?

Ratcliff

Bad news, my lord: Morton is fled to Richmond;

And Buckingham, back’d with the hardy Welshmen,

Is in the field, and still his power increaseth

King Richard

Ely with Richmond troubles me more near

Than Buckingham and his rash-levied strength

Come, I have learn’d that fearful commenting

Is leaden servitor to dull delay;

Delay leads impotent and snail-pac’d beggary

Then fiery expedition be my wing,

Jove’s Mercury, and herald for a king!

Go, muster men. My counsel is my shield

We must be brief when traitors brave the field

Exeunt

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!

King Richard IIID, [Q. Eliz.]: Ah, my poor princes! Ah, my tender babes! My unblown flowers ; act 4, scene 4 [graphic] / Thurston del. ; Rhodes sculp.

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

Thy self 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

Scene 5

Lord Derby’S house

Enter Stanley and Sir Christopher Urswick

Stanley

Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from me:

That in the sty of the most deadly boar

My son George Stanley is frank’d 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 should espouse Elizabeth her daughter

But tell me, where is princely Richmond now?

Christopher

At Pembroke, or at Ha’rford west in Wales

Stanley

What men of name resort to him?

Christopher

Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned soldier;

Sir Gilbert Talbot, Sir William Stanley,

Oxford, redoubted Pembroke, Sir James Blunt,

And Riceap Thomas, with a valiant crew;

And many other of great name and worth;

And towards London do they bend their power,

If by the way they be not fought withal

Stanley

Well, hie thee to thy lord; I kiss his hand;

My letter will resolve him of my mind

Farewell

Exeunt

Act V

Scene 1

Salisbury. An open place

Enter the Sheriff and guard, with Buckingham, led to execution

Buckingham

Will not King Richard let me speak with him?

Sheriff

No, my good lord; therefore be patient

Buckingham

Hastings, and Edward’s children, Grey, and Rivers,

Holy King Henry, and thy fair son Edward,

Vaughan, and all that have miscarried

By underhand corrupted foul injustice,

If that your moody discontented souls

Do through the clouds behold this present hour,

Even for revenge mock my destruction!

This is All-Souls’ day, fellow, is it not?

Sheriff

It is, my lord

Buckingham

Why, then All-Souls’ day is my body’s doomsday

This is the day which in King Edward’s time

I wish’d might fall on me when I was found

False to his children and his wife’s allies;

This is the day wherein I wish’d to fall

By the false faith of him whom most I trusted;

This, this All-Souls’ day to my fearful soul

Is the determin’d respite of my wrongs;

That high All-Seer which I dallied with

Hath turn’d my feigned prayer on my head

And given in earnest what I begg’d in jest

Thus doth He force the swords of wicked men

To turn their own points in their masters’ bosoms

Thus Margaret’s curse falls heavy on my neck

‘When he’ quoth she ‘shall split thy heart with sorrow,

Remember Margaret was a prophetess.’

Come lead me, officers, to the block of shame;

Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame

Exeunt

Scene 2

Camp near Tamworth

Enter Richmond, Oxford, Sir James Blunt, Sir Walter Herbert, and others, with drum and colours

Richmond

Fellows in arms, and my most loving friends,

Bruis’d underneath the yoke of tyranny,

Thus far into the bowels of the land

Have we march’d on without impediment;

And here receive we from our father Stanley

Lines of fair comfort and encouragement

The wretched, bloody, and usurping boar,

That spoil’d your summer fields and fruitful vines,

Swills your warm blood like wash, and makes his trough

In your embowell’d bosoms-this foul swine

Is now even in the centre of this isle,

Near to the town of Leicester, as we learn

From Tamworth thither is but one day’s march

In God’s name cheerly on, courageous friends,

To reap the harvest of perpetual peace

By this one bloody trial of sharp war

Oxford

Every man’s conscience is a thousand men,

To fight against this guilty homicide

Herbert

I doubt not but his friends will turn to us

Blunt

He hath no friends but what are friends for fear,

Which in his dearest need will fly from him

Richmond

All for our vantage. Then in God’s name march

True hope is swift and flies with swallow’s wings;

Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings

Exeunt

Scene 3

Bosworth Field

Enter King Richard in arms, with Norfolk, Ratcliff, the Earl of Surreys and others

King Richard

Here pitch our tent, even here in Bosworth field

My Lord of Surrey, why look you so sad?

Surrey

My heart is ten times lighter than my looks

King Richard

My Lord of Norfolk!

Norfolk

Here, most gracious liege

King Richard

Norfolk, we must have knocks; ha! must we not?

Norfolk

We must both give and take, my loving lord

King Richard

Up With my tent! Here will I lie to-night;

[Soldiers begin to set up the King’S tent]

But where to-morrow? Well, all’s one for that

Who hath descried the number of the traitors?

Norfolk

Six or seven thousand is their utmost power

King Richard

Why, our battalia trebles that account;

Besides, the King’s name is a tower of strength,

Which they upon the adverse faction want

Up with the tent! Come, noble gentlemen,

Let us survey the vantage of the ground

Call for some men of sound direction

Let’s lack no discipline, make no delay;

For, lords, to-morrow is a busy day

Exeunt

Enter, on the other side of the field, Richmond, Sir William Brandon, Oxford, Dorset, and others. Some pitch Richmond’S tent

Richmond

The weary sun hath made a golden set,

And by the bright tract of his fiery car

Gives token of a goodly day to-morrow

Sir William Brandon, you shall bear my standard

Give me some ink and paper in my tent

I’ll draw the form and model of our battle,

Limit each leader to his several charge,

And part in just proportion our small power

My Lord of Oxford-you, Sir William Brandon—

And you, Sir Walter Herbert-stay with me

The Earl of Pembroke keeps his regiment;

Good Captain Blunt, bear my good night to him,

And by the second hour in the morning

Desire the Earl to see me in my tent

Yet one thing more, good Captain, do for me—

Where is Lord Stanley quarter’d, do you know?

Blunt

Unless I have mista’en his colours much—

Which well I am assur’d I have not done—

His regiment lies half a mile at least

South from the mighty power of the King

Richmond

If without peril it be possible,

Sweet Blunt, make some good means to speak with him

And give him from me this most needful note

Blunt

Upon my life, my lord, I’ll undertake it;

And so, God give you quiet rest to-night!

Richmond

Good night, good Captain Blunt. Come, gentlemen,

Let us consult upon to-morrow’s business

In to my tent; the dew is raw and cold

[They withdraw into the tent]

Enter, to his-tent, King Richard, Norfolk, Ratcliff, and Catesby

King Richard

What is’t o’clock?

Catesby

It’s supper-time, my lord;

It’s nine o’clock

King Richard

I will not sup to-night

Give me some ink and paper

What, is my beaver easier than it was?

And all my armour laid into my tent?

Catesby

It is, my liege; and all things are in readiness

King Richard

Good Norfolk, hie thee to thy charge;

Use careful watch, choose trusty sentinels

Norfolk

I go, my lord

King Richard

Stir with the lark to-morrow, gentle Norfolk

Norfolk

I warrant you, my lord

Exit

King Richard

Catesby!

Catesby

My lord?

King Richard

Send out a pursuivant-at-arms

To Stanley’s regiment; bid him bring his power

Before sunrising, lest his son George fall

Into the blind cave of eternal night

Exit

Catesby

Fill me a bowl of wine. Give me a watch

Saddle white Surrey for the field to-morrow

Look that my staves be sound, and not too heavy.Ratcliff!

Ratcliff

My lord?

King Richard

Saw’st thou the melancholy Lord

Northumberland?

Ratcliff

Thomas the Earl of Surrey and himself,

Much about cock-shut time, from troop to troop

Went through the army, cheering up the soldiers

King Richard

So, I am satisfied. Give me a bowl of wine

I have not that alacrity of spirit

Nor cheer of mind that I was wont to have

Set it down. Is ink and paper ready?

Ratcliff

It is, my lord

King Richard

Bid my guard watch; leave me

Ratcliff, about the mid of night come to my tent

And help to arm me. Leave me, I say

Exit Ratcliff. Richard sleeps

Enter Derby to Richmond in his tent; Lords attending

Derby

Fortune and victory sit on thy helm!

Richmond

All comfort that the dark night can afford

Be to thy person, noble father-in-law!

Tell me, how fares our loving mother?

Derby

I, by attorney, bless thee from thy mother,

Who prays continually for Richmond’s good

So much for that. The silent hours steal on,

And flaky darkness breaks within the east

In brief, for so the season bids us be,

Prepare thy battle early in the morning,

And put thy fortune to the arbitrement

Of bloody strokes and mortal-staring war

I, as I may-that which I would I cannot-

With best advantage will deceive the time

And aid thee in this doubtful shock of arms;

But on thy side I may not be too forward,

Lest, being seen, thy brother, tender George,

Be executed in his father’s sight

Farewell; the leisure and the fearful time

Cuts off the ceremonious vows of love

And ample interchange of sweet discourse

Which so-long-sund’red friends should dwell upon

God give us leisure for these rites of love!

Once more, adieu; be valiant, and speed well!

Richmond

Good lords, conduct him to his regiment

I’ll strive with troubled thoughts to take a nap,

Lest leaden slumber peise me down to-morrow

When I should mount with wings of victory

Once more, good night, kind lords and gentlemen

Exeunt all but Richmond

O Thou, whose captain I account myself,

Look on my forces with a gracious eye;

Put in their hands Thy bruising irons of wrath,

That they may crush down with a heavy fall

The usurping helmets of our adversaries!

Make us Thy ministers of chastisement,

That we may praise Thee in the victory!

To Thee I do commend my watchful soul

Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes

Sleeping and waking, O, defend me still! [Sleeps]

Enter the Ghost Of Young Prince Edward, son to Henry The Sixth

Ghost

[To Richard]

Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow!

Think how thou stabb’dst me in my prime of youth

At Tewksbury; despair, therefore, and die!

[To Richmond]

Be cheerful, Richmond; for the wronged souls

Of butcher’d princes fight in thy behalf

King Henry’s issue, Richmond, comforts thee

Enter the Ghost of Henry The Sixth

Ghost

[To Richard]

When I was mortal, my anointed body

By thee was punched full of deadly holes

Think on the Tower and me. Despair, and die

Harry the Sixth bids thee despair and die

[To Richmond]

Virtuous and holy, be thou conqueror!

Harry, that prophesied thou shouldst be King,

Doth comfort thee in thy sleep. Live and flourish!

Enter the Ghost of Clarence

Ghost

[To Richard]

Let me sit heavy in thy soul to-morrow!

I that was wash’d to death with fulsome wine,

Poor Clarence, by thy guile betray’d to death!

To-morrow in the battle think on me,

And fall thy edgeless sword. Despair and die!

[To Richmond]

Thou offspring of the house of Lancaster,

The wronged heirs of York do pray for thee

Good angels guard thy battle! Live and flourish!

Enter the Ghosts of Rivers, Grey, and Vaughan

Ghost Of Rivers.

[To Richard]

Let me sit heavy in thy soul to-morrow,

Rivers that died at Pomfret! Despair and die!

Ghost Of Grey

[To Richard]

Think upon Grey, and let thy soul despair!

Ghost Of Vaughan

[To Richard]

Think upon Vaughan, and with guilty fear

Let fall thy lance. Despair and die!

All

[To Richmond]

Awake, and think our wrongs in Richard’s bosom

Will conquer him. Awake and win the day

Enter the Ghost of Hastings

Ghost

[To Richard]

Bloody and guilty, guiltily awake,

And in a bloody battle end thy days!

Think on Lord Hastings. Despair and die

[To Richmond]

Quiet untroubled soul, awake, awake!

Arm, fight, and conquer, for fair England’s sake!

Enter the Ghosts of the two young Princes

Ghosts

[To Richard]

Dream on thy cousins smothered in the Tower

Let us be lead within thy bosom, Richard,

And weigh thee down to ruin, shame, and death!

Thy nephews’ souls bid thee despair and die

[To Richmond]

Sleep, Richmond, sleep in peace, and wake in joy;

Good angels guard thee from the boar’s annoy!

Live, and beget a happy race of kings!

Edward’s unhappy sons do bid thee flourish

Enter the Ghost of Lady Anne, his wife

Ghost

[To Richard]

Richard, thy wife, that wretched Anne thy wife

That never slept a quiet hour with thee

Now fills thy sleep with perturbations

To-morrow in the battle think on me,

And fall thy edgeless sword. Despair and die

[To Richmond]

Thou quiet soul, sleep thou a quiet sleep;

Dream of success and happy victory

Thy adversary’s wife doth pray for thee

Enter the Ghost of Buckingham

Ghost

[To Richard]

The first was I that help’d thee to the crown;

The last was I that felt thy tyranny

O, in the battle think on Buckingham,

And die in terror of thy guiltiness!

Dream on, dream on of bloody deeds and death;

Fainting, despair; despairing, yield thy breath!

[To Richmond]

I died for hope ere I could lend thee aid;

But cheer thy heart and be thou not dismay’d:

God and good angels fight on Richmond’s side;

And Richard falls in height of all his pride

[The Ghosts vanish. Richard starts out of his dream]

King Richard

Give me another horse. Bind up my wounds

Have mercy, Jesu! Soft! I did but dream

O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me!

The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight

Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh

What do I fear? Myself? There’s none else by

Richard loves Richard; that is, I am I

Is there a murderer here? No-yes, I am

Then fly. What, from myself? Great reason why—

Lest I revenge. What, myself upon myself!

Alack, I love myself. Wherefore? For any good

That I myself have done unto myself?

O, no! Alas, I rather hate myself

For hateful deeds committed by myself!

I am a villain; yet I lie, I am not

Fool, of thyself speak well. Fool, do not flatter

My conscience hath a thousand several tongues,

And every tongue brings in a several tale,

And every tale condemns me for a villain

Perjury, perjury, in the high’st degree;

Murder, stern murder, in the dir’st degree;

All several sins, all us’d in each degree,

Throng to the bar, crying all ‘Guilty! guilty!’

I shall despair. There is no creature loves me;

And if I die no soul will pity me:

And wherefore should they, since that I myself

Find in myself no pity to myself?

Methought the souls of all that I had murder’d

Came to my tent, and every one did threat

To-morrow’s vengeance on the head of Richard

Enter Ratcliff

Ratcliff

My lord!

King Richard

Zounds, who is there?

Ratcliff

Ratcliff, my lord; ‘tis I. The early village-cock

Hath twice done salutation to the morn;

Your friends are up and buckle on their armour

King Richard

O Ratcliff, I have dream’d a fearful dream!

What think’st thou-will our friends prove all true?

Ratcliff

No doubt, my lord

King Richard

O Ratcliff, I fear, I fear

Ratcliff

Nay, good my lord, be not afraid of shadows

King Richard

By the apostle Paul, shadows to-night

Have stuck more terror to the soul of Richard

Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers

Armed in proof and led by shallow Richmond

‘Tis not yet near day. Come, go with me;

Under our tents I’ll play the eaves-dropper,

To see if any mean to shrink from me

Exeunt

Enter the Lords to Richmond sitting in his tent

Lords

Good morrow, Richmond!

Richmond

Cry mercy, lords and watchful gentlemen,

That you have ta’en a tardy sluggard here

Lords

How have you slept, my lord?

Richmond

The sweetest sleep and fairest-boding dreams

That ever ent’red in a drowsy head

Have I since your departure had, my lords

Methought their souls whose bodies Richard murder’d

Came to my tent and cried on victory

I promise you my soul is very jocund

In the remembrance of so fair a dream

How far into the morning is it, lords?

Lords

Upon the stroke of four

Richmond

Why, then ‘tis time to arm and give direction

His Oration to his Soldiers

More than I have said, loving countrymen,

The leisure and enforcement of the time

Forbids to dwell upon; yet remember this:

God and our good cause fight upon our side;

The prayers of holy saints and wronged souls,

Like high-rear’d bulwarks, stand before our faces;

Richard except, those whom we fight against

Had rather have us win than him they follow

For what is he they follow? Truly, gentlemen,

A bloody tyrant and a homicide;

One rais’d in blood, and one in blood establish’d;

One that made means to come by what he hath,

And slaughtered those that were the means to help him;

A base foul stone, made precious by the foil

Of England’s chair, where he is falsely set;

One that hath ever been God’s enemy

Then if you fight against God’s enemy,

God will in justice ward you as his soldiers;

If you do sweat to put a tyrant down,

You sleep in peace, the tyrant being slain;

If you do fight against your country’s foes,

Your country’s foes shall pay your pains the hire;

If you do fight in safeguard of your wives,

Your wives shall welcome home the conquerors;

If you do free your children from the sword,

Your children’s children quits it in your age

Then, in the name of God and all these rights,

Advance your standards, draw your willing swords

For me, the ransom of my bold attempt

Shall be this cold corpse on the earth’s cold face;

But if I thrive, the gain of my attempt

The least of you shall share his part thereof

Sound drums and trumpets boldly and cheerfully;

God and Saint George! Richmond and victory!

Exeunt

Re-enter King Richard, Ratcliff, attendants, and forces

King Richard

What said Northumberland as touching Richmond?

Ratcliff

That he was never trained up in arms

King Richard

He said the truth; and what said Surrey then?

Ratcliff

He smil’d, and said ‘The better for our purpose.’

King

He was in the right; and so indeed it is

[Clock strikes]

Tell the clock there. Give me a calendar

Who saw the sun to-day?

Ratcliff

Not I, my lord

King Richard

Then he disdains to shine; for by the book

He should have brav’d the east an hour ago

A black day will it be to somebody. Ratcliff!

Ratcliff

My lord?

King Richard

The sun will not be seen to-day;

The sky doth frown and lour upon our army

I would these dewy tears were from the ground

Not shine to-day! Why, what is that to me

More than to Richmond? For the selfsame heaven

That frowns on me looks sadly upon him

Enter Norfolk

Norfolk

Arm, arm, my lord; the foe vaunts in the field

King Richard

Come, bustle, bustle; caparison my horse;

Call up Lord Stanley, bid him bring his power

I will lead forth my soldiers to the plain,

And thus my battle shall be ordered:

My foreward shall be drawn out all in length,

Consisting equally of horse and foot;

Our archers shall be placed in the midst

John Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Earl of Surrey,

Shall have the leading of this foot and horse

They thus directed, we will follow

In the main battle, whose puissance on either side

Shall be well winged with our chiefest horse

This, and Saint George to boot! What think’st thou, Norfolk?

Norfolk

A good direction, warlike sovereign

This found I on my tent this morning

[He sheweth him a paper]

King Richard

[Reads]

‘Jockey of Norfolk, be not so bold,

For Dickon thy master is bought and sold.’

A thing devised by the enemy

Go, gentlemen, every man unto his charge

Let not our babbling dreams affright our souls;

Conscience is but a word that cowards use,

Devis’d at first to keep the strong in awe

Our strong arms be our conscience, swords our law

March on, join bravely, let us to it pell-mell;

If not to heaven, then hand in hand to hell

His Oration to his Army

What shall I say more than I have inferr’d?

Remember whom you are to cope withal-

A sort of vagabonds, rascals, and runaways,

A scum of Britaines, and base lackey peasants,

Whom their o’er-cloyed country vomits forth

To desperate adventures and assur’d destruction

You sleeping safe, they bring to you unrest;

You having lands, and bless’d with beauteous wives,

They would restrain the one, distain the other

And who doth lead them but a paltry fellow,

Long kept in Britaine at our mother’s cost?

A milk-sop, one that never in his life

Felt so much cold as over shoes in snow?

Let’s whip these stragglers o’er the seas again;

Lash hence these over-weening rags of France,

These famish’d beggars, weary of their lives;

Who, but for dreaming on this fond exploit,

For want of means, poor rats, had hang’d themselves

If we be conquered, let men conquer us,

And not these bastard Britaines, whom our fathers

Have in their own land beaten, bobb’d, and thump’d,

And, in record, left them the heirs of shame

Shall these enjoy our lands? lie with our wives,

Ravish our daughters?

[Drum afar off]

Hark! I hear their drum

Fight, gentlemen of England! Fight, bold yeomen!

Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head!

Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood;

Amaze the welkin with your broken staves!

Enter a Messenger

What says Lord Stanley? Will he bring his power?

Messenger

My lord, he doth deny to come

King Richard

Off with his son George’s head!

Norfolk

My lord, the enemy is pass’d the marsh

After the battle let George Stanley die

King Richard

A thousand hearts are great within my bosom

Advance our standards, set upon our foes;

Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George,

Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons!

Upon them! Victory sits on our helms

Exeunt

King Richard, IV, 3, murder of the princes in the tower [graphic] / [Johann Heinrich Ramberg].

Scene 4

Another part of the field

Alarum; excursions. Enter Norfolk and forces; to him Catesby

Catesby

Rescue, my Lord of Norfolk, rescue, rescue!

The King enacts more wonders than a man,

Daring an opposite to every danger

His horse is slain, and all on foot he fights,

Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death

Rescue, fair lord, or else the day is lost

Alarums. Enter King Richard

King Richard

A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!

Catesby

Withdraw, my lord! I’ll help you to a horse

King Richard

Slave, I have set my life upon a cast

And I Will stand the hazard of the die

I think there be six Richmonds in the field;

Five have I slain to-day instead of him

A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!

Exeunt

Scene 5

Another part of the field

Alarum. Enter Richard and Richmond; they fight; Richard is slain. Retreat and flourish. Enter Richmond, Derby bearing the crown, with other Lords

Richmond

God and your arms be prais’d, victorious friends;

The day is ours, the bloody dog is dead

Derby

Courageous Richmond, well hast thou acquit thee!

Lo, here, this long-usurped royalty

From the dead temples of this bloody wretch

Have I pluck’d off, to grace thy brows withal

Wear it, enjoy it, and make much of it

Richmond

Great God of heaven, say Amen to all!

But, tell me is young George Stanley living

Derby

He is, my lord, and safe in Leicester town,

Whither, if it please you, we may now withdraw us

Richmond

What men of name are slain on either side?

Derby

John Duke of Norfolk, Walter Lord Ferrers,

Sir Robert Brakenbury, and Sir William Brandon

Richmond

Inter their bodies as becomes their births

Proclaim a pardon to the soldiers fled

That in submission will return to us

And then, as we have ta’en the sacrament,

We will unite the white rose and the red

Smile heaven upon this fair conjunction,

That long have frown’d upon their emnity!

What traitor hears me, and says not Amen?

England hath long been mad, and scarr’d herself;

The brother blindly shed the brother’s blood,

The father rashly slaughter’d his own son,

The son, compell’d, been butcher to the sire;

All this divided York and Lancaster,

Divided in their dire division,

O, now let Richmond and Elizabeth,

The true succeeders of each royal house,

By God’s fair ordinance conjoin together!

And let their heirs, God, if thy will be so,

Enrich the time to come with smooth-fac’d peace,

With smiling plenty, and fair prosperous days!

Abate the edge of traitors, gracious Lord,

That would reduce these bloody days again

And make poor England weep in streams of blood!

Let them not live to taste this land’s increase

That would with treason wound this fair land’s peace!

Now civil wounds are stopp’d, peace lives again—

That she may long live here, God say Amen!

Exeunt

The End