APDL Eductation Resources/APDL Eductation Resources.iso/text/shakespear/richard_3a/RICHARD_3A

Text File | 1994-08-29 | 200.5 KB | 5,777 lines

        KING RICHARD III


        DRAMATIS PERSONAE


KING EDWARD
The Fourth      (KING EDWARD IV:)


EDWARD  Prince of Wales, (PRINCE EDWARD:)       |
        afterwards King Edward V.,      |  sons to
                        |  the King.
RICHARD Duke of York, (YORK:)   |


GEORGE  Duke of Clarence, (CLARENCE:)   |
                        |
RICHARD Duke of Gloucester, (GLOUCESTER:)       |  Brothers to
        afterwards King Richard III.,   |  the King.
        (KING RICHARD III:)             |


        A young son of Clarence. (Boy:)

HENRY   Earl of Richmond, (RICHMOND:)
        afterwards King Henry VII.

CARDINAL BOURCHIER      Archbishop of Canterbury. (CARDINAL:)

THOMAS ROTHERHAM        Archbishop of York. (ARCHBISHOP OF YORK:)

JOHN MORTON     Bishop of Ely. (BISHOP OF ELY:)

DUKE of BUCKINGHAM      (BUCKINGHAM:)

DUKE of NORFOLK (NORFOLK:)

EARL of SURREY  His son. (SURREY:)

EARL RIVERS     Brother to Elizabeth. (RIVERS:)


MARQUIS OF DORSET       (DORSET:)       |
                |  Sons to Elizabeth.
LORD GREY       (GREY:) |


EARL of OXFORD  (OXFORD:)

LORD HASTINGS   (HASTINGS:)

LORD STANLEY    (STANLEY:)  Called also EARL of DERBY. (DERBY:)

LORD LOVEL      (LOVEL:)

SIR THOMAS VAUGHAN      (VAUGHAN:)

SIR RICHARD
RATCLIFF        (RATCLIFF:)

SIR WILLIAM
CATESBY (CATESBY:)

SIR JAMES TYRREL        (TYRREL:)

SIR JAMES BLOUNT        (BLOUNT:)

SIR WALTER HERBERT      (HERBERT:)

SIR ROBERT
BRAKENBURY      Lieutenant of the Tower. (BRAKENBURY:)

CHRISTOPHER
URSWICK A priest. (CHRISTOPHER:)

        Another Priest. (Priest:)


TRESSEL |
        |  Gentlemen attending on the Lady Anne.
BERKELEY        |  (Gentleman:)


        Lord Mayor of London. (Lord Mayor:)

        Sheriff of Wiltshire. (Sheriff:)

ELIZABETH       Queen to King Edward IV. (QUEEN ELIZABETH:)

MARGARET        Widow of King Henry VI. (QUEEN MARGARET:)

DUCHESS of YORK Mother to King Edward IV.

LADY ANNE       Widow of Edward Prince of Wales, son to King Henry VI.;
        afterwards married to Richard.

        A young Daughter of Clarence [MARGARET PLANTAGENET] (Girl:)

        Ghosts of those murdered by Richard III.,
        Lords and other Attendants; a Pursuivant
        Scrivener, Citizens, Murderers, Messengers
        Soldiers, &c.
        (Ghost of Prince Edward:)
        (Ghost of King Henry VI:)
        (Ghost of CLARENCE:)
        (Ghost of RIVERS:)
        (Ghost of GREY:)
        (Ghost of VAUGHAN:)
        (Ghost of HASTING:)
        (Ghosts of young Princes:)
        (Ghost of LADY ANNE:)
        (Ghost of BUCKINGHAM:)
        (Pursuivant:)
        (Scrivener:)
        (First Citizen:)
        (Second Citizen:)
        (Third Citizen:)
        (First Murderer:)
        (Second Murderer:)
        (Messenger:)
        (Second Messenger:)
        (Third Messenger:)
        (Fourth Messenger:)


SCENE   England.




        KING RICHARD III


ACT I



SCENE I London. A street.

        [Enter 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 changed to merry meetings,
        Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
        Grim-visaged war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front;
        And now, instead of mounting barded 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 shaped 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,
        Deformed, 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
        Tendering my person's safety, hath appointed
        This conduct to convey me to the 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 shall be new-christen'd 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
        Have moved his highness to commit me now.

GLOUCESTER      Why, this it is, when men are ruled 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,
        Anthony Woodville, her brother there,
        That made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower,
        From whence this present day he is deliver'd?
        We are not safe, Clarence; we are not safe.

CLARENCE        By heaven, I think there's no man is secure
        But the queen's kindred and night-walking heralds
        That trudge betwixt the king and Mistress Shore.
        Heard ye not what an humble suppliant
        Lord hastings was to her for his 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'erworn widow and herself,
        Since that our brother dubb'd them gentlewomen.
        Are mighty gossips in this 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 his 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 gentle-folks:
        How say you sir? Can you deny all this?

BRAKENBURY      With this, my lord, myself have nought to do.

GLOUCESTER      Naught to do with mistress Shore! I tell thee, fellow,
        He that doth naught with her, excepting one,
        Were best he do it secretly, alone.

BRAKENBURY      What one, my lord?

GLOUCESTER      Her husband, knave: wouldst thou betray me?

BRAKENBURY      I 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 whatsoever 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;
        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-deliver'd Hastings?

        [Enter 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 eagle should be mew'd,
        While 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 Paul, this news is bad indeed.
        O, he hath kept an evil diet long,
        And overmuch consumed his royal person:
        'Tis very grievous to be thought upon.
        What, 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 post-horse up to heaven.
        I'll in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence,
        With lies well steel'd with weighty arguments;
        And, if I fall 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]




        KING RICHARD III


ACT I



SCENE II        The same. Another street.

        [Enter the corpse of KING HENRY the Sixth, Gentlemen
        with halberds to guard it; LADY ANNE being the mourner]

LADY ANNE       Set down, set down your honourable load,
        If honour may be shrouded in a hearse,
        Whilst I awhile obsequiously lament
        The 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 slaughter'd son,
        Stabb'd by the selfsame hand that made these wounds!
        Lo, in these windows that let forth thy life,
        I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes.
        Cursed be the hand that made these fatal holes!
        Cursed be 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 he made
        A miserable by the death of him
        As I am made by my poor 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 the weight,
        Rest you, whiles I lament King Henry's corse.

        [Enter GLOUCESTER]

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

LADY 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.

Gentleman       My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass.

GLOUCESTER      Unmanner'd dog! stand thou, when I command:
        Advance thy halbert higher than my breast,
        Or, by Saint Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot,
        And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness.

LADY 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.

LADY 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 deed, inhuman and unnatural,
        Provokes this deluge most unnatural.
        O God, which this blood madest, revenge his death!
        O earth, which this blood drink'st revenge his death!
        Either heaven with lightning strike the
        murderer 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!

GLOUCESTER      Lady, you know no rules of charity,
        Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses.

LADY ANNE       Villain, thou know'st no 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.

LADY 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-evils, to give me leave,
        By circumstance, but to acquit myself.

LADY ANNE       Vouchsafe, defused infection of a man,
        For these known evils, but to give me leave,
        By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self.

GLOUCESTER      Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have
        Some patient leisure to excuse myself.

LADY 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.

LADY ANNE       And, by despairing, shouldst thou stand excused;
        For doing worthy vengeance on thyself,
        Which didst unworthy slaughter upon others.

GLOUCESTER      Say that I slew them not?

LADY ANNE       Why, then they are not dead:
        But dead they are, and devilish slave, by thee.

GLOUCESTER      I did not kill your husband.

LADY ANNE       Why, then he is alive.

GLOUCESTER      Nay, he is dead; and slain by Edward's hand.

LADY ANNE       In thy foul throat thou liest: Queen Margaret saw
        Thy murderous 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 slanderous tongue,
        which laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders.

LADY ANNE       Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind.
        Which never dreamt on aught but butcheries:
        Didst thou not kill this king?

GLOUCESTER      I grant ye.

LADY ANNE       Dost grant me, hedgehog? then, God grant me too
        Thou mayst be damned for that wicked deed!
        O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous!

GLOUCESTER      The fitter for the King of heaven, that hath him.

LADY 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.

LADY ANNE       And thou unfit for any place but hell.

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

LADY ANNE       Some dungeon.

GLOUCESTER                                   Your bed-chamber.

LADY ANNE       I'll rest betide the chamber where thou liest!

GLOUCESTER      So will it, madam till I lie with you.

LADY ANNE       I hope so.

GLOUCESTER      I know so. But, gentle Lady Anne,
        To leave this keen encounter of our wits,
        And fall somewhat into a slower method,
        Is not the causer of the timeless deaths
        Of these Plantagenets, Henry and Edward,
        As blameful as the executioner?

LADY ANNE       Thou art the cause, and most accursed effect.

GLOUCESTER      Your beauty was the cause of that effect;
        Your beauty: which did haunt me in my sleep
        To undertake the death of all the world,
        So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom.

LADY ANNE       If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide,
        These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks.

GLOUCESTER      These eyes could never endure sweet 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.

LADY ANNE       Black night o'ershade thy day, and death thy life!

GLOUCESTER      Curse not thyself, fair creature thou art both.

LADY ANNE       I would I were, to be revenged on thee.

GLOUCESTER      It is a quarrel most unnatural,
        To be revenged on him that loveth you.

LADY ANNE       It is a quarrel just and reasonable,
        To be revenged on him that slew my husband.

GLOUCESTER      He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband,
        Did it to help thee to a better husband.

LADY ANNE       His better doth not breathe upon the earth.

GLOUCESTER      He lives that loves thee better than he could.

LADY ANNE       Name him.

GLOUCESTER              Plantagenet.

LADY ANNE       Why, that was he.

GLOUCESTER      The selfsame name, but one of better nature.

LADY ANNE       Where is he?

GLOUCESTER                       Here.

        [She spitteth at him]

        Why dost thou spit at me?

LADY ANNE       Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake!

GLOUCESTER      Never came poison from so sweet a place.

LADY ANNE       Never hung poison on a fouler toad.
        Out of my sight! thou dost infect my eyes.

GLOUCESTER      Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine.

LADY 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,
        Shamed their aspect with store of childish drops:
        These eyes that never shed remorseful tear,
        No, when my father York and Edward wept,
        To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made
        When black-faced 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 proposed my fee,
        My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak.

        [She looks scornfully at him]

        Teach not thy lips such scorn, for they were 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 bosom.
        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.

        [Here she lets fall the sword]

        Take up the sword again, or take up me.

LADY ANNE       Arise, dissembler: though I wish thy death,
        I will not be the executioner.

GLOUCESTER      Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it.

LADY ANNE       I have already.

GLOUCESTER                        Tush, that was in thy rage:
        Speak it again, and, even with the word,
        That hand, which, for thy love, did kill thy love,
        Shall, for thy love, kill a far truer love;
        To both their deaths thou shalt be accessary.

LADY ANNE       I would I knew thy heart.

GLOUCESTER      'Tis figured in my tongue.

LADY ANNE       I fear me both are false.

GLOUCESTER      Then never man was true.

LADY ANNE       Well, well, put up your sword.

GLOUCESTER      Say, then, my peace is made.

LADY ANNE       That shall you know hereafter.

GLOUCESTER      But shall I live in hope?

LADY ANNE       All men, I hope, live so.

GLOUCESTER      Vouchsafe to wear this ring.

LADY ANNE       To take is not to give.

GLOUCESTER      Look, how this ring encompasseth finger.
        Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart;
        Wear both of them, for both of them are thine.
        And if thy poor devoted suppliant may
        But beg one favour at thy gracious hand,
        Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever.

LADY ANNE       What is it?

GLOUCESTER      That it would please thee leave these sad designs
        To him that hath more cause to be a mourner,
        And presently repair to Crosby Place;
        Where, after I have solemnly interr'd
        At Chertsey monastery 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.

LADY 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.

LADY ANNE       'Tis more than you deserve;
        But since you teach me how to flatter you,
        Imagine I have said farewell already.

        [Exeunt LADY ANNE, TRESSEL, and BERKELEY]

GLOUCESTER      Sirs, take up the corse.

GENTLEMEN       Towards Chertsey, noble lord?

GLOUCESTER      No, to White-Friars; there attend my coining.

        [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 her hatred by;
        Having God, her conscience, and these bars
        against me,
        And I nothing 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,
        Framed in the prodigality of nature,
        Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal,
        The spacious world cannot again afford
        And will she yet debase her eyes on me,
        That cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet prince,
        And made her widow to a woful bed?
        On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety?
        On me, that halt and am unshapen 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 marvellous proper man.
        I'll be at charges for a looking-glass,
        And entertain some score or two of tailors,
        To study fashions to adorn my body:
        Since I am crept in favour with myself,
        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]




        KING RICHARD III


ACT I



SCENE III       The palace.


        [Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH, RIVERS, and GREY]

RIVERS  Have patience, madam: there's no doubt his majesty
        Will soon recover his accustom'd health.

GREY    In that you brook it in, it makes him worse:
        Therefore, for God's sake, entertain good comfort,
        And cheer his grace with quick and merry words.

QUEEN ELIZABETH If he were dead, what would betide of me?

RIVERS  No other harm but loss of such a lord.

QUEEN ELIZABETH The loss of such a lord includes all harm.

GREY    The heavens have bless'd you with a goodly son,
        To be your comforter when he is gone.

QUEEN ELIZABETH Oh, he is young and his minority
        Is put unto the trust of Richard Gloucester,
        A man that loves not me, nor none of you.

RIVERS  Is it concluded that he shall be protector?

QUEEN ELIZABETH It is determined, 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 prayers will scarcely say amen.
        Yet, Derby, notwithstanding she's your wife,
        And loves not me, be you, good lord, assured
        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 accused in true report,
        Bear with her weakness, which, I think proceeds
        From wayward sickness, and no grounded malice.

RIVERS  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      Madam, we did: he desires to make atonement
        Betwixt the Duke of Gloucester and your brothers,
        And betwixt 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 highest.

        [Enter GLOUCESTER, HASTINGS, and DORSET]

GLOUCESTER      They do me wrong, and I will not endure it:
        Who are they that complain 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 speak 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 abused
        By silken, sly, insinuating Jacks?

RIVERS  To whom in all this presence speaks your grace?

GLOUCESTER      To thee, that hast nor honesty nor grace.
        When have I injured thee? when done thee wrong?
        Or thee? or thee? or any of your faction?
        A plague upon you all! His royal person,--
        Whom God preserve better than you would wish!--
        Cannot be quiet scarce a breathing-while,
        But you must trouble him with lewd complaints.

QUEEN ELIZABETH Brother of Gloucester, you mistake the matter.
        The king, of his own royal disposition,
        And not provoked by any suitor else;
        Aiming, belike, at your interior hatred,
        Which in your outward actions shows itself
        Against my kindred, brothers, and myself,
        Makes him to send; that thereby he may gather
        The ground of your ill-will, and so remove it.

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 we have need of you:
        Your brother is imprison'd by your means,
        Myself disgraced, and the nobility
        Held in contempt; whilst many fair promotions
        Are daily given to ennoble those
        That scarce, some two days since, were worth a noble.

QUEEN ELIZABETH By Him that raised 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 cause
        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 deserts.
        What may she not? She may, yea, marry, may she--

RIVERS  What, marry, may she?

GLOUCESTER      What, marry, may she! marry with a king,
        A bachelor, a handsome stripling too:
        I wis 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
        With those gross taunts I often have endured.
        I had rather be a country servant-maid
        Than a great queen, with this condition,
        To be thus taunted, scorn'd, and baited at:

        [Enter QUEEN MARGARET, behind]

        Small joy have I in being England's queen.

QUEEN MARGARET  And lessen'd be that small, God, I beseech thee!
        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 in presence of the king:
        I dare adventure to be sent to the Tower.
        'Tis time to speak; my pains are quite forgot.

QUEEN MARGARET  Out, devil! I remember them too well:
        Thou slewest my husband Henry in the Tower,
        And Edward, my poor son, at Tewksbury.

GLOUCESTER      Ere you were queen, yea, 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 spilt mine own.

QUEEN MARGARET  Yea, 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 Alban's slain?
        Let me put in your minds, if you forget,
        What you have been ere now, and what you are;
        Withal, what I have been, and what I am.

QUEEN MARGARET  A murderous villain, and so still thou art.

GLOUCESTER      Poor Clarence did forsake his father, Warwick;
        Yea, 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 mew'd 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 the 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 lawful 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 of it!

QUEEN ELIZABETH As little joy, my lord, as you suppose
        You should enjoy, were you this country's king,
        As little joy may you suppose in me.
        That I enjoy, being the queen thereof.

QUEEN MARGARET  A 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 being queen, you bow like subjects,
        Yet that, by you deposed, you quake like rebels?
        O gentle villain, do not turn away!

GLOUCESTER      Foul wrinkled witch, what makest 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 owest to me;
        And thou a kingdom; all of you allegiance:
        The 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, gavest the duke a clout
        Steep'd in the faultless blood of pretty Rutland--
        His curses, then from bitterness of soul
        Denounced against thee, are all fall'n upon thee;
        And God, not we, hath plagued 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 woful banishment,
        Could 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!
        If not by war, by surfeit die your king,
        As ours by murder, to make him a king!
        Edward thy son, which now is Prince of Wales,
        For Edward my son, which 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 mayst thou live to wail thy children's loss;
        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 lengthen'd 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 your 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 begnaw thy soul!
        Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou livest,
        And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends!
        No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine,
        Unless it be whilst 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 mother's heavy 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 had thought
        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 breathed 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 time will come when thou shalt wish for me
        To help thee curse that poisonous bunchback'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 moved mine.

RIVERS  Were you well served, 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 marquess, 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, marquess.

DORSET  It toucheth you, my lord, as much as me.

GLOUCESTER      Yea, 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 was won with blood, lost be it so!

BUCKINGHAM      Have done! for shame, if not for charity.

QUEEN MARGARET  Urge neither charity nor shame to me:
        Uncharitably with me have you dealt,
        And shamefully by you my hopes 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 befal 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'll not believe but they ascend the sky,
        And there awake God's gentle-sleeping peace.
        O Buckingham, 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]

HASTINGS        My hair doth stand on 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      But 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 of it!

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-advised.
        For had I cursed now, I had cursed myself.

        [Enter CATESBY]

CATESBY Madam, his majesty doth call for you,
        And for your grace; and you, my noble lords.

QUEEN ELIZABETH Catesby, we come. Lords, will you go with us?

RIVERS  Madam, we will attend 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, whom I, indeed, have laid in darkness,
        I do beweep to many simple gulls
        Namely, to Hastings, Derby, Buckingham;
        And say it is the queen and her allies
        That stir the king against the duke my brother.
        Now, they believe it; and withal whet me
        To be revenged on Rivers, Vaughan, 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 villany
        With old odd ends stolen out 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 deed?

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  Tush!
        Fear not, my lord, we will not stand to prate;
        Talkers are no good doers: be assured
        We come to use our hands and not our tongues.

GLOUCESTER      Your eyes drop millstones, when fools' eyes drop tears:
        I like you, lads; about your business straight;
        Go, go, dispatch.

First Murderer                    We will, my noble lord.

        [Exeunt]




        KING RICHARD III


ACT I



SCENE IV        London. The Tower.


        [Enter CLARENCE and BRAKENBURY]

BRAKENBURY      Why looks your grace so heavily today?

CLARENCE        O, I have pass'd a miserable night,
        So full of ugly sights, of ghastly dreams,
        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!

BRAKENBURY      What was your dream? I long to hear you tell it.

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 looked toward England,
        And cited up a thousand fearful times,
        During the wars of York and Lancaster
        That had befall'n us. As we paced 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.
        Lord, Lord! methought, what pain it was to drown!
        What dreadful noise of waters in mine ears!
        What ugly sights of death within mine eyes!
        Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks;
        Ten thousand men that fishes gnaw'd upon;
        Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
        Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels,
        All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea:
        Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those holes
        Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept,
        As 'twere in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems,
        Which woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep,
        And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by.

BRAKENBURY      Had you such leisure in the time of death
        To gaze upon the secrets of the deep?

CLARENCE        Methought I had; and often did I strive
        To yield the ghost: but still the envious flood
        Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth
        To seek the empty, vast and wandering air;
        But smother'd it within my panting bulk,
        Which almost burst to belch it in the sea.

BRAKENBURY      Awaked you not with this sore agony?

CLARENCE        O, no, my dream was lengthen'd after life;
        O, then began the tempest to my soul,
        Who pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood,
        With that grim 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 cried aloud, 'What scourge for perjury
        Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence?'
        And so he vanish'd: then came wandering by
        A shadow like an angel, with bright hair
        Dabbled in blood; and he squeak'd out aloud,
        'Clarence is come; false, fleeting, perjured Clarence,
        That stabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury;
        Seize on him, Furies, take him to your torments!'
        With that, methoughts, a legion of foul fiends
        Environ'd me about, and howled in mine ears
        Such hideous cries, that with the very noise
        I trembling waked, and for a season after
        Could not believe but that I was in hell,
        Such terrible impression made the dream.

BRAKENBURY      No marvel, my lord, though it affrighted you;
        I promise, I am afraid to hear you tell it.

CLARENCE        O Brakenbury, I have done those things,
        Which now bear 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 avenged on my misdeeds,
        Yet execute thy wrath in me alone,
        O, spare my guiltless wife and my poor children!
        I pray thee, gentle keeper, stay by me;
        My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep.

BRAKENBURY      I will, my lord: God give your grace good rest!

        [CLARENCE sleeps]

        Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours,
        Makes the night morning, and the noon-tide night.
        Princes have but their tides for their glories,
        An outward honour for an inward toil;
        And, for unfelt imagination,
        They often feel a world of restless cares:
        So that, betwixt their tides and low names,
        There's nothing differs but the outward fame.

        [Enter the two Murderers]

First Murderer  Ho! who's here?

BRAKENBURY      In God's name what are you, and how came you hither?

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

BRAKENBURY      Yea, are you so brief?

Second Murderer O sir, it is better to be brief than tedious. Show
        him our commission; 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 of the meaning.
        Here are the keys, there sits the duke asleep:
        I'll to the king; and signify to him
        That thus I have resign'd my charge to you.

First Murderer  Do so, it is a point of wisdom: fare you well.

        [Exit BRAKENBURY]

Second Murderer What, shall we stab him as he sleeps?

First Murderer  No; then he will say 'twas done cowardly, when he wakes.

Second Murderer When he wakes! why, fool, he shall never wake till
        the judgment-day.

First Murderer  Why, then he will say we stabbed 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 for it; but to be
        damned for killing him, from which no warrant can defend us.

First Murderer  I thought thou hadst been resolute.

Second Murderer So I am, to let him live.

First Murderer  Back to the Duke of Gloucester, tell him so.

Second Murderer I pray thee, stay a while: I hope my holy humour
        will change; 'twas wont to hold me but while one
        would tell 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 is done.

Second Murderer 'Zounds, he dies: I had forgot the reward.

First Murderer  Where is thy conscience now?

Second Murderer In the Duke of Gloucester's purse.

First Murderer  So when he opens his purse to give us our reward,
        thy conscience flies out.

Second Murderer Let it go; there's few or none will entertain it.

First Murderer  How if it come to thee again?

Second Murderer I'll not meddle with it: it is a dangerous thing: it
        makes a man a coward: a man cannot steal, but it
        accuseth him; he cannot swear, but it cheques him;
        he cannot lie with his neighbour's wife, but it
        detects him: 'tis a blushing shamefast spirit that
        mutinies in a man's bosom; it fills one full of
        obstacles: it made me once restore a purse of gold
        that I found; it beggars any man that keeps it: it
        is turned out of all towns and cities for a
        dangerous thing; and every man that means to live
        well endeavours to trust to himself and to live
        without it.

First Murderer  'Zounds, it is even now at my elbow, persuading me
        not to kill the duke.

Second Murderer Take the devil in thy mind, and relieve him not: he
        would insinuate with thee but to make thee sigh.

First Murderer  Tut, I am strong-framed, he cannot prevail with me,
        I warrant thee.

Second Murderer Spoke like a tail fellow that respects his
        reputation. Come, shall we to this gear?

First Murderer  Take him over the costard with the hilts of thy
        sword, and then we will chop him in the malmsey-butt
        in the next room.

Second Murderer O excellent devise! make a sop of him.

First Murderer  Hark! he stirs: shall I strike?

Second Murderer No, first let's 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?

Second 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.

Second 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?

Both    To, to, to--

CLARENCE        To murder me?

Both    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 reconciled to him again.

Second Murderer Never, my lord; therefore prepare to die.

CLARENCE        Are you call'd forth from out a world of men
        To slay the innocent? What is my offence?
        Where are the evidence that do accuse me?
        What lawful quest have given their verdict up
        Unto the frowning judge? or who pronounced
        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 the king.

CLARENCE        Erroneous vassal! the great King of kings
        Hath in the tables of his law commanded
        That thou shalt do no murder: and wilt thou, then,
        Spurn at his edict and fulfil a man's?
        Take heed; for he holds vengeance in his hands,
        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 holy 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
        Unrip'dst the bowels of thy sovereign's son.

Second Murderer Whom thou wert sworn to cherish and defend.

First Murderer  How canst thou urge God's dreadful law to us,
        When thou hast broke it in so dear degree?

CLARENCE        Alas! for whose sake did I that ill deed?
        For Edward, for my brother, for his sake: Why, sirs,
        He sends ye not to murder me for this
        For in this sin he is as deep as I.
        If God will be revenged for this deed.
        O, know you yet, he doth it publicly,
        Take not the quarrel from his powerful arm;
        He needs no indirect nor 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 fault,
        Provoke us hither now to slaughter thee.

CLARENCE        Oh, if you love my brother, hate not me;
        I am his brother, and I love him well.
        If you be hired 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 deceived, your brother Gloucester hates you.

CLARENCE        O, no, he loves me, and he holds me dear:
        Go you to him from me.

Both    Ay, so we will.

CLARENCE        Tell him, when that our princely father York
        Bless'd his three sons with his victorious arm,
        And charged 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 be lesson'd us to weep.

CLARENCE        O, do not slander him, for he is kind.

First Murderer  Right,
        As snow in harvest. Thou deceivest thyself:
        'Tis he that sent us hither now to slaughter thee.

CLARENCE        It cannot be; for when I parted with him,
        He hugg'd me in his arms, and swore, with sobs,
        That he would labour my delivery.

Second Murderer Why, so he doth, now he delivers thee
        From this world's thraldom to the joys of heaven.

First Murderer  Make peace with God, for you must die, my lord.

CLARENCE        Hast thou that holy feeling in thy soul,
        To counsel me to make my peace with God,
        And art thou yet to thy own soul so blind,
        That thou wilt war with God by murdering me?
        Ah, sirs, consider, he 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! '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  Take that, and that: if all this will not do,

        [Stabs him]

        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 guilty murder done!

        [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 thou art!

Second Murderer I would he knew that I had saved 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.
        Now must I hide his body in some hole,
        Until the duke take order for his burial:
        And when I have my meed, I must away;
        For this will out, and here I must not stay.




        KING RICHARD III


ACT II



SCENE I London. The palace.


        [Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD IV sick, QUEEN
        ELIZABETH, DORSET, RIVERS, HASTINGS, BUCKINGHAM,
        GREY, and others]

KING EDWARD IV  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 now in peace my soul shall part to heaven,
        Since I have set my friends at peace on earth.
        Rivers and Hastings, take each other's hand;
        Dissemble not your hatred, swear your love.

RIVERS  By heaven, my heart is purged 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 IV  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 IV  Madam, yourself are not exempt in this,
        Nor your 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 Here, Hastings; I will never more remember
        Our former hatred, so thrive I and mine!

KING EDWARD IV  Dorset, embrace him; Hastings, love lord marquess.

DORSET  This interchange of love, I here protest,
        Upon my part shall be unviolable.

HASTINGS        And so swear I, my lord

        [They embrace]

KING EDWARD IV  Now, princely Buckingham, seal thou this league
        With thy embracements to my wife's allies,
        And make me happy in your unity.

BUCKINGHAM      Whenever Buckingham doth turn his hate
        On you or yours,

        [To the Queen]

        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 zeal to yours.

KING EDWARD IV  A pleasing cordial, princely Buckingham,
        is this thy vow unto my sickly heart.
        There wanteth now our brother Gloucester here,
        To make the perfect period of this peace.

BUCKINGHAM      And, in good time, here comes the noble duke.

        [Enter GLOUCESTER]

GLOUCESTER      Good morrow to my sovereign king and queen:
        And, princely peers, a happy time of day!

KING EDWARD IV  Happy, indeed, as we have spent the day.
        Brother, we done deeds of charity;
        Made peace enmity, fair love of hate,
        Between these swelling wrong-incensed peers.

GLOUCESTER      A blessed labour, my most sovereign liege:
        Amongst 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
        By 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 lodged between us;
        Of you, Lord Rivers, and, Lord Grey, of you;
        That without desert have frown'd on me;
        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 liege, I do beseech your majesty
        To take our brother Clarence to your grace.

GLOUCESTER      Why, madam, have I offer'd love for this
        To be so bouted in this royal presence?
        Who knows not that the noble duke is dead?

        [They all start]

        You do him injury to scorn his corse.

RIVERS  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 one in this presence
        But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks.

KING EDWARD IV  Is Clarence dead? the order was reversed.

GLOUCESTER      But he, poor soul, by your first order died,
        And that a winged Mercury did bear:
        Some tardy cripple bore the countermand,
        That came too lag to see him buried.
        God grant that some, less noble and less loyal,
        Nearer in bloody thoughts, but not in blood,
        Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did,
        And yet go current from suspicion!

        [Enter DERBY]

DORSET  A boon, my sovereign, for my service done!

KING EDWARD IV  I pray thee, peace: my soul is full of sorrow.

DORSET  I will not rise, unless your highness grant.

KING EDWARD IV  Then speak at once what is it thou demand'st.

DORSET  The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant's life;
        Who slew to-day a righteous gentleman
        Lately attendant on the Duke of Norfolk.

KING EDWARD IV  Have a tongue to doom my brother's death,
        And shall the same give pardon to a slave?
        My brother slew no man; his fault was thought,
        And yet his punishment was cruel death.
        Who sued to me for him? who, in my rage,
        Kneel'd at my feet, and bade me be advised
        Who spake of brotherhood? who spake 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 by 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 own garments, and gave 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 grace to put it in my mind.
        But when your carters or your waiting-vassals
        Have done a drunken slaughter, and defaced
        The precious image of our dear Redeemer,
        You straight are on your knees for pardon, pardon;
        And I unjustly too, must grant it you
        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 plead 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.
        Oh, poor Clarence!

        [Exeunt some with KING EDWARD IV and QUEEN MARGARET]

GLOUCESTER      This is the fruit 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. But come, let us in,
        To comfort Edward with our company.

BUCKINGHAM      We wait upon your grace.

        [Exeunt]




        KING RICHARD III


ACT II



SCENE II        The palace.


        [Enter the DUCHESS OF YORK, with the two children of CLARENCE]

Boy     Tell me, good grandam, is our father dead?

DUCHESS OF YORK No, boy.

Boy     Why do you wring your hands, and beat your breast,
        And cry 'O Clarence, my unhappy son!'

Girl    Why do you look on us, and shake your head,
        And call us wretches, orphans, castaways
        If that our noble father be alive?

DUCHESS OF YORK My pretty cousins, you mistake me much;
        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.

Boy     Then, grandam, you conclude that he is dead.
        The king my uncle is to blame for this:
        God will revenge it; whom I will importune
        With daily prayers all to that effect.

Girl    And so will I.

DUCHESS OF YORK Peace, children, peace! the king doth love you well:
        Incapable and shallow innocents,
        You cannot guess who caused your father's death.

Boy     Grandam, we can; for my good uncle Gloucester
        Told me, the king, provoked by the queen,
        Devised impeachments to imprison him :
        And when my uncle told me so, he wept,
        And hugg'd me in his arm, and kindly kiss'd my cheek;
        Bade me rely on him as on my father,
        And he would love me dearly as his child.

DUCHESS OF YORK Oh, that deceit should steal such gentle shapes,
        And with a virtuous vizard hide foul guile!
        He is my son; yea, and therein my shame;
        Yet from my dugs he drew not this deceit.

Boy     Think you my uncle did dissemble, grandam?

DUCHESS OF YORK Ay, boy.

Boy     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 Oh, 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 OF YORK What means this scene of rude impatience?

QUEEN ELIZABETH To make an act of tragic violence:
        Edward, my lord, your son, our king, is dead.
        Why grow the branches now the root is wither'd?
        Why wither not the leaves the sap being gone?
        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 perpetual rest.

DUCHESS OF YORK 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 lived by 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,
        Which 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 thee:
        But death hath snatch'd my husband from mine arms,
        And pluck'd two crutches from my feeble limbs,
        Edward and Clarence. O, what cause have I,
        Thine being but a moiety of my grief,
        To overgo thy plaints and drown thy cries!

Boy     Good aunt, you wept not for our father's death;
        How can we aid you with our kindred tears?

Girl    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!
        Oh for my husband, for my dear lord Edward!

Children        Oh for our father, for our dear lord Clarence!

DUCHESS OF YORK 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 OF YORK 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 OF YORK Was never mother had so dear a loss!
        Alas, I am the mother of these moans!
        Their woes are parcell'd, mine are 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 lamentations.

DORSET  Comfort, dear mother: God is much displeased
        That you take with unthankfulness, his doing:
        In common worldly things, 'tis call'd ungrateful,
        With dull unwilligness 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      Madam, have comfort: all of us have cause
        To wail the dimming of our shining star;
        But none can cure their 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 OF YORK God bless thee; and put meekness in thy mind,
        Love, charity, obedience, and true duty!

GLOUCESTER      [Aside]  Amen; and make me die a good old man!
        That is the butt-end of a mother's blessing:
        I marvel why her grace did leave it out.

BUCKINGHAM      You cloudy princes and heart-sorrowing peers,
        That bear this mutual heavy 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-swoln hearts,
        But lately splinter'd, knit, and join'd together,
        Must gently be preserved, cherish'd, and kept:
        Me seemeth good, that, with some little train,
        Forthwith from Ludlow the young prince be fetch'd
        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 all:
        Yet, since it is but green, it should be put
        To no apparent likelihood of breach,
        Which haply by much company might be urged:
        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 mother, will you go
        To give your censures in this weighty business?


QUEEN ELIZABETH |
        |  With all our harts.
DUCHESS OF YORK |


        [Exeunt all but BUCKINGHAM and GLOUCESTER]

BUCKINGHAM      My lord, whoever journeys to the Prince,
        For God's sake, let not us two be behind;
        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 king.

GLOUCESTER      My other self, my counsel's consistory,
        My oracle, my prophet! My dear cousin,
        I, like a child, will go by thy direction.
        Towards Ludlow then, for we'll not stay behind.

        [Exeunt]




        KING RICHARD III


ACT II



SCENE III       London. A street.


        [Enter two Citizens meeting]

First Citizen   Neighbour, well met: whither away so fast?

Second Citizen  I promise you, I scarcely know myself:
        Hear you the news abroad?

First Citizen   Ay, that the king is dead.

Second Citizen  Bad news, by'r lady; seldom comes the better:
        I fear, I fear 'twill prove a troublous world.

        [Enter another Citizen]

Third Citizen   Neighbours, God speed!

First Citizen   Give you good morrow, sir.

Third Citizen   Doth this 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 the land that's govern'd by a child!

Second Citizen  In him there is a hope of government,
        That in his nonage council under him,
        And in his full and ripen'd 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 the father and mother.

Third Citizen   Better it were they all came by the father,
        Or by the father there were none at all;
        For emulation now, who shall 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 ruled, and not to rule,
        This sickly land might solace as before.

First Citizen   Come, come, we fear the worst; all shall be well.

Third Citizen   When clouds appear, wise men put on their cloaks;
        When great leaves fall, the 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 souls of men are full of dread:
        Ye cannot reason almost with a man
        That looks not heavily and full of fear.

Third Citizen   Before the times of change, still is it so:
        By a divine instinct men's minds mistrust
        Ensuing dangers; as by proof, we see
        The waters swell before a boisterous 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]




        KING RICHARD III


ACT II



SCENE IV        London. The palace.


        [Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF YORK, young YORK, QUEEN
        ELIZABETH, and the DUCHESS OF YORK]

ARCHBISHOP OF YORK      Last night, I hear, they lay at Northampton;
        At Stony-Stratford will they be to-night:
        To-morrow, or next day, they will be here.

DUCHESS OF YORK 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
        Hath almost overta'en him in his growth.

YORK    Ay, mother; but I would not have it so.

DUCHESS OF YORK Why, my young 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 flowers are slow and weeds make haste.

DUCHESS OF YORK 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 this rule were true, he should be gracious.

ARCHBISHOP OF YORK      Why, madam, so, no doubt, he is.

DUCHESS OF YORK I hope he is; but yet let mothers doubt.

YORK    Now, by my troth, if I had been remember'd,
        I could have given my uncle's grace a flout,
        To touch his growth nearer than he touch'd mine.

DUCHESS OF YORK How, my pretty York? I pray thee, 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 OF YORK I pray thee, pretty York, who told thee this?

YORK    Grandam, his nurse.

DUCHESS OF YORK His nurse! why, she was dead ere thou wert born.

YORK    If 'twere not she, I cannot tell who told me.

QUEEN ELIZABETH A parlous boy: go to, you are too shrewd.

ARCHBISHOP OF YORK      Good madam, be not angry with the child.

QUEEN ELIZABETH Pitchers have ears.

        [Enter a Messenger]

ARCHBISHOP OF YORK      Here comes a messenger. What news?

Messenger       Such news, my lord, as grieves me to unfold.

QUEEN ELIZABETH How fares the prince?

Messenger       Well, madam, and in health.

DUCHESS OF YORK What is thy news then?

Messenger       Lord Rivers and Lord Grey are sent to Pomfret,
        With them Sir Thomas Vaughan, prisoners.

DUCHESS OF YORK Who hath committed them?

Messenger       The mighty dukes
        Gloucester and Buckingham.

QUEEN ELIZABETH For what offence?

Messenger       The sum of all I can, I have disclosed;
        Why or for what these nobles were committed
        Is all unknown to me, my gracious lady.

QUEEN ELIZABETH Ay me, I see the downfall of our house!
        The tiger now hath seized the gentle hind;
        Insulting tyranny begins to jet
        Upon the innocent and aweless throne:
        Welcome, destruction, death, and massacre!
        I see, as in a map, the end of all.

DUCHESS OF YORK 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; blood against 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 OF YORK                   I'll go along with you.

QUEEN ELIZABETH You have no cause.

ARCHBISHOP OF YORK                        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!
        Come, I'll conduct you to the sanctuary.

        [Exeunt]




        KING RICHARD III


ACT III



SCENE I London. A street.


        [The trumpets sound. Enter the young PRINCE EDWARD,
        GLOUCESTER, BUCKINGHAM, CARDINAL, CATESBY, 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 EDWARD   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 dived 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 sugar'd words,
        But look'd not on the poison of their hearts :
        God keep you from them, and from such false friends!

PRINCE EDWARD   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]

Lord Mayor      God bless your grace with health and happy days!

PRINCE EDWARD   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 HASTINGS]

BUCKINGHAM      And, in good time, here comes the sweating lord.

PRINCE EDWARD   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 deserved the place,
        And those who have the wit to claim the place:
        This prince hath neither claim'd it nor deserved 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 ne'er till now.

CARDINAL        My lord, you shall o'er-rule my mind for once.
        Come on, Lord Hastings, will you go with me?

HASTINGS        I go, my lord.

PRINCE EDWARD   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 EDWARD   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 EDWARD   Is it upon record, or else reported
        Successively from age to age, he built it?

BUCKINGHAM      Upon record, my gracious lord.

PRINCE EDWARD   But say, my lord, it were not register'd,
        Methinks the truth should live 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 EDWARD   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 EDWARD   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 EDWARD   An if I live until I be a man,
        I'll win our ancient right in France again,
        Or die a soldier, as I lived a king.

GLOUCESTER      [Aside]  Short summers lightly have a forward spring.

        [Enter young YORK, HASTINGS, and the CARDINAL]

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

PRINCE EDWARD   Richard of York! how fares our loving brother?

YORK    Well, my dread lord; so must I call you now.

PRINCE EDWARD   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 is he 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 EDWARD   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      A 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 EDWARD   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 EDWARD   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 murdered there.

PRINCE EDWARD   I fear no uncles dead.

GLOUCESTER      Nor none that live, I hope.

PRINCE EDWARD   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 parlous 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 urged 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? what will 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 doth he 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 show him all our reasons:
        If he be leaden, icy-cold, unwilling,
        Be thou so too; and so break off your 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 friend, 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 may.

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

CATESBY You shall, my lord.

GLOUCESTER      At Crosby Place, 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, man; somewhat we will do:
        And, look, when I am king, claim thou of me
        The earldom of Hereford, and the moveables
        Whereof the king my brother stood possess'd.

BUCKINGHAM      I'll claim that promise at your grace's hands.

GLOUCESTER      And look to have it yielded with all willingness.
        Come, let us sup betimes, that afterwards
        We may digest our complots in some form.

        [Exeunt]




        KING RICHARD III


ACT III



SCENE II        Before Lord Hastings' house.


        [Enter a Messenger]

Messenger       What, ho! my lord!

HASTINGS        [Within]  Who knocks at the door?

Messenger       A messenger from the Lord Stanley.

        [Enter HASTINGS]

HASTINGS        What is't o'clock?

Messenger       Upon the stroke of four.

HASTINGS        Cannot thy master sleep these tedious nights?

Messenger       So it should seem by that I have to say.
        First, he commends him to your noble lordship.

HASTINGS        And then?

Messenger       And then he sends you word
        He dreamt to-night the boar had razed his helm:
        Besides, he says there are two councils held;
        And that may be determined at the one
        which may make you and him to rue at the other.
        Therefore he sends to know your lordship's pleasure,
        If presently you will 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 councils
        His honour and myself are at the one,
        And at the other is my servant Catesby
        Where nothing can proceed that toucheth us
        Whereof I shall not have intelligence.
        Tell him his fears are shallow, wanting instance:
        And for his dreams, I wonder he is so fond
        To trust the mockery 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       My gracious lord, I'll 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 tottering state?

CATESBY It is a reeling world, indeed, my lord;
        And I believe twill never stand upright
        Tim 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
        Ere I will see the crown so foul misplaced.
        But canst thou guess that he doth aim at it?

CATESBY Ay, on my life; and hopes to find 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 mine enemies:
        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 who brought me in my master's hate
        I live to look upon their tragedy.
        I tell thee, Catesby--

CATESBY What, my lord?

HASTINGS        Ere a fortnight make me elder,
        I'll send some packing that yet think not on it.

CATESBY 'Tis a vile thing to die, my gracious lord,
        When men are unprepared 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, who think themselves as safe
        As thou and I; who, as thou know'st, 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 deserved it.

        [Enter 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 you do yours;
        And never in my life, I do protest,
        Was it more precious to me than '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 supposed their state was sure,
        And they indeed had no cause to mistrust;
        But yet, you see how soon the day o'ercast.
        This sudden stag 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 of are beheaded.

LORD STANLEY    They, for their truth, might better wear their heads
        Than some that have accused them wear their hats.
        But come, my lord, let us away.

        [Enter a Pursuivant]

HASTINGS        Go on before; I'll talk with this good fellow.

        [Exeunt STANLEY and CATESBY]

        How now, sirrah! 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 I met thee 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 enemies 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, fellow: there, drink that for me.

        [Throws him his purse]

Pursuivant      God save your lordship!

        [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]

        [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,
        Those men you talk of came into my mind.
        What, go you toward the Tower?

BUCKINGHAM      I do, my lord; but long I shall not stay
        I shall return before your lordship thence.

HASTINGS        'Tis like enough, for I stay dinner there.

BUCKINGHAM      [Aside]  And supper too, although thou know'st it not.
        Come, will you go?

HASTINGS        I'll wait upon your lordship.

        [Exeunt]




        KING RICHARD III


ACT III



SCENE III       Pomfret Castle.


        [Enter RATCLIFF, with halberds, carrying RIVERS,
        GREY, and VAUGHAN to death]

RATCLIFF        Come, bring forth the prisoners.

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 keep 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 after.

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 thee up our guiltless blood to drink.

GREY    Now Margaret's curse is fall'n upon our heads,
        For standing by when Richard stabb'd her son.

RIVERS  Then cursed she Hastings, then cursed she Buckingham,
        Then cursed she Richard. O, remember, God
        To hear her prayers 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 all embrace:
        And take our leave, until we meet in heaven.

        [Exeunt]




        KING RICHARD III


ACT III



SCENE IV        The Tower of London.


        [Enter BUCKINGHAM, DERBY, HASTINGS, the BISHOP OF
        ELY, RATCLIFF, LOVEL, with others, and take their
        seats at a table]

HASTINGS        My lords, at once: the cause why we are met
        Is, to determine of the coronation.
        In God's name, speak: when is the royal day?

BUCKINGHAM      Are all things fitting for that 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 royal duke?

BISHOP OF ELY   Your grace, we think, should soonest know his mind.

BUCKINGHAM      Who, I, my lord I we know each other's faces,
        But for our hearts, he knows no more of mine,
        Than I of yours;
        Nor I no more of his, 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 noble 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   Now in good time, here comes the duke himself.

GLOUCESTER      My noble lords and cousins all, good morrow.
        I have been long a sleeper; but, I hope,
        My absence doth neglect no great designs,
        Which by my presence might have been concluded.

BUCKINGHAM      Had not you come upon your cue, my lord
        William Lord Hastings had pronounced 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.

HASTINGS        I thank your grace.

GLOUCESTER      My lord of Ely!

BISHOP OF ELY   My lord?

GLOUCESTER      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.

        [Drawing him aside]

        Catesby hath sounded Hastings in our business,
        And finds the testy gentleman so hot,
        As he will lose his head ere give consent
        His master's son, as worshipful as he terms it,
        Shall lose the royalty of England's throne.

BUCKINGHAM      Withdraw you hence, my lord, I'll follow you.

        [Exit GLOUCESTER, BUCKINGHAM following]

DERBY   We have not yet set down this day of triumph.
        To-morrow, in mine opinion, is too sudden;
        For I myself am not so well provided
        As else I would be, were the day prolong'd.

        [Re-enter BISHOP OF ELY]

BISHOP OF ELY   Where is my lord protector? I have sent for these
        strawberries.

HASTINGS        His grace looks cheerfully and smooth to-day;
        There's some conceit or other likes him well,
        When he doth bid good morrow with such a spirit.
        I think there's never a man in Christendom
        That can less 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 likelihood 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.

DERBY   I pray God he be not, I say.

        [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 noble presence
        To doom the offenders, whatsoever they be
        I say, my lord, they have deserved death.

GLOUCESTER      Then be your eyes the witness of this ill:
        See 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 thing, my gracious lord--

GLOUCESTER      If I thou protector of this damned strumpet--
        Tellest thou 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, RATCLIFF, and LOVEL]

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 his helm;
        But I disdain'd it, and did scorn to fly:
        Three times to-day my foot-cloth horse did stumble,
        And startled, when he look'd upon the Tower,
        As loath to bear me to the slaughter-house.
        O, now I want the priest that spake to me:
        I now repent I told the pursuivant
        As 'twere triumphing at mine enemies,
        How they at Pomfret bloodily were butcher'd,
        And I myself secure in grace and favour.
        O Margaret, Margaret, now thy heavy curse
        Is lighted on poor Hastings' wretched head!

RATCLIFF        Dispatch, my lord; 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 hopes 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 fearful'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 that shortly shall be dead.

        [Exeunt]




        KING RICHARD III


ACT III



SCENE V 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 the middle of a word,
        And then begin again, and stop again,
        As if thou wert 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 innocency defend and guard us!

GLOUCESTER      Be patient, they are friends, Ratcliff and Lovel.

        [Enter LOVEL and RATCLIFF, with HASTINGS' head]

LOVEL   Here is the head of that ignoble traitor,
        The dangerous and unsuspected Hastings.

GLOUCESTER      So dear I loved the man, that I must weep.
        I took him for the plainest harmless creature
        That breathed upon this 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 lived from all attainder of suspect.

BUCKINGHAM      Well, well, he was the covert'st shelter'd traitor
        That ever lived.
        Would you imagine, or almost believe,
        Were't not that, by great preservation,
        We live to tell it you, the subtle traitor
        This day had plotted, in the council-house
        To murder me and my good Lord of Gloucester?

Lord Mayor      What, had he so?

GLOUCESTER      What, think You we are Turks or infidels?
        Or that we would, against the form of law,
        Proceed thus rashly to the villain's death,
        But that the extreme peril of the case,
        The peace of England and our persons' safety,
        Enforced us to this execution?

Lord Mayor      Now, fair befall you! he deserved his death;
        And you my good lords, 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.

GLOUCESTER      Yet had not we determined he should die,
        Until your lordship came to see his death;
        Which now the loving haste of these our friends,
        Somewhat against our meaning, have prevented:
        Because, my lord, we would have had you heard
        The traitor speak, and timorously confess
        The manner and the purpose of his treason;
        That you might well have signified the same
        Unto the citizens, who haply may
        Misconstrue us in him and wail his death.

Lord Mayor      But, my good lord, your grace's word shall serve,
        As well as I had seen and heard him speak
        And doubt you not, 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 lord-ship here,
        To avoid the carping censures of the world.

BUCKINGHAM      But since you come too late of our intents,
        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 all 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 stretched to their servants, daughters, wives,
        Even where his lustful eye or savage heart,
        Without control, listed to make his prey.
        Nay, for a need, thus far come near my person:
        Tell them, when that my mother went with child
        Of that unsatiate Edward, noble York
        My princely father then had wars in France
        And, by just 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:
        But touch this sparingly, as 'twere far off,
        Because you know, my lord, my mother lives.

BUCKINGHAM      Fear 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 BUCKINGHAM]

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 in, to take some privy order,
        To draw the brats of Clarence out of sight;
        And to give notice, that no manner of person
        At any time have recourse unto the princes.

        [Exit]




        KING RICHARD III


ACT III



SCENE VI        The same.


        [Enter a Scrivener, with a paper in his hand]

Scrivener       This is the indictment of the good Lord Hastings;
        Which in a set hand fairly is engross'd,
        That it may be this day read over in Paul's.
        And mark how well the sequel hangs together:
        Eleven hours I spent to write it over,
        For yesternight by Catesby was it brought me;
        The precedent was full as long a-doing:
        And yet within these five hours lived Lord Hastings,
        Untainted, unexamined, free, at liberty
        Here's a good world the while! Why who's so gross,
        That seeth not this palpable device?
        Yet who's so blind, but says he sees it not?
        Bad is the world; and all will come to nought,
        When such bad dealings must be seen in thought.

        [Exit]




        KING RICHARD III


ACT III



SCENE VII       Baynard's Castle.


        [Enter GLOUCESTER and BUCKINGHAM, at several doors]

GLOUCESTER      How now, my lord, what say the citizens?

BUCKINGHAM      Now, by the holy mother of our Lord,
        The citizens are mum and speak 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;
        The insatiate greediness of his desires,
        And his enforcement of the city wives;
        His tyranny for trifles; his own bastardy,
        As being got, your father then in France,
        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 dicipline in war, wisdom in peace,
        Your bounty, virtue, fair humility:
        Indeed, left nothing fitting for the purpose
        Untouch'd, or slightly handled, in discourse
        And when mine oratory grew to an end
        I bid them that did love their country's good
        Cry 'God save Richard, England's royal king!'

GLOUCESTER      Ah! and did they so?

BUCKINGHAM      No, so God help me, they spake not a word;
        But, like dumb statues or breathing stones,
        Gazed each on other, and look'd deadly pale.
        Which when I saw, I reprehended them;
        And ask'd the mayor what meant this wilful silence:
        His answer was, the people were not wont
        To be spoke to but by the recorder.
        Then he was urged to tell my tale again,
        'Thus saith the duke, thus hath the duke inferr'd;'
        But nothing spake in warrant from himself.
        When he had done, some followers of mine own,
        At the 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 loving shout
        Argues your wisdoms and your love to Richard:'
        And even here brake off, and came away.

GLOUCESTER      What tongueless blocks were they! would not they speak?

BUCKINGHAM      No, by my troth, my lord.

GLOUCESTER      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 betwixt two churchmen, good my lord;
        For on that ground I'll build a holy descant:
        And be not easily won to our request:
        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 well bring it to a happy issue.

BUCKINGHAM      Go, go, up to the leads; the lord mayor knocks.

        [Exit GLOUCESTER]

        [Enter the Lord Mayor and Citizens]

        Welcome my lord; I dance attendance here;
        I think the duke will not be spoke withal.

        [Enter CATESBY]

        Here comes his servant: how now, Catesby,
        What says he?

CATESBY              My lord: he doth entreat your grace;
        To visit him to-morrow or next day:
        He is within, with two right reverend fathers,
        Divinely bent to meditation;
        And no worldly suit would he be moved,
        To draw him from his holy exercise.

BUCKINGHAM      Return, good Catesby, to thy lord again;
        Tell him, myself, the mayor and citizens,
        In deep designs and matters of great moment,
        No less importing than our general good,
        Are come to have some conference with his grace.

CATESBY I'll tell him what you say, my lord.

        [Exit]

BUCKINGHAM      Ah, ha, my lord, this prince is not an Edward!
        He is not lolling on a lewd day-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 gracious prince
        Take on himself the sovereignty thereof:
        But, sure, I fear, we shall ne'er win him to it.

Lord Mayor      Marry, God forbid his grace should say us nay!

BUCKINGHAM      I fear he will.

        [Re-enter CATESBY]

        How now, Catesby, what says your lord?

CATESBY My lord,
        He wonders to what end you have assembled
        Such troops of citizens to speak with him,
        His grace not being warn'd thereof before:
        My lord, he fears 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, I come in perfect love to him;
        And so once more return and tell his grace.

        [Exit CATESBY]

        When holy and devout religious men
        Are at their beads, 'tis hard to draw them thence,
        So sweet is zealous contemplation.

        [Enter GLOUCESTER aloft, between two Bishops.
        CATESBY returns]

Lord Mayor      See, where he stands between 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 ears to our request;
        And pardon us the interruption
        Of thy devotion and right Christian zeal.

GLOUCESTER      My lord, there needs no such apology:
        I rather do beseech you pardon me,
        Who, earnest in the service of my God,
        Neglect 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 eyes,
        And that you come to reprehend my ignorance.

BUCKINGHAM      You have, my lord: would it might please your grace,
        At our entreaties, to amend that fault!

GLOUCESTER      Else wherefore breathe I in a Christian land?

BUCKINGHAM      Then know, it is your fault that you resign
        The supreme seat, the throne majestical,
        The scepter'd 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 blemished stock:
        Whilst, in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts,
        Which here we waken to our country's good,
        This noble isle doth want her proper limbs;
        Her face defaced with scars of infamy,
        Her royal stock graft with ignoble plants,
        And almost shoulder'd in the swallowing gulf
        Of blind forgetfulness and dark 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 suit come I to move your grace.

GLOUCESTER      I know not whether 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 cheque'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 my ripe revenue and due by birth
        Yet so much is my poverty of spirit,
        So mighty and so many my defects,
        As I had 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's no need of me,
        And much I need to help you, if need were;
        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 what 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 he was contract to Lady Lucy--
        Your mother lives a witness to that vow--
        And afterward by substitute betroth'd
        To Bona, sister to the King of France.
        These both put by a poor petitioner,
        A care-crazed mother of a many children,
        A beauty-waning and distressed widow,
        Even in the afternoon of her best days,
        Made prize and purchase of his lustful eye,
        Seduced the pitch and height of all his thoughts
        To base declension and loathed bigamy
        By her, in his unlawful bed, he got
        This Edward, whom our manners term 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 non 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.

Lord 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 these cares 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 kin,
        And egally indeed to all estates,--
        Yet whether 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.

        [Exit BUCKINGHAM with the Citizens]

CATESBY Call them again, my lord, and accept their suit.

ANOTHER Do, good my lord, lest all the land do rue it.

GLOUCESTER      Would you enforce me to a world of care?
        Well, call them again. I am not made of stone,
        But penetrable to your. kind entreats,
        Albeit against my conscience and my soul.

        [Re-enter BUCKINGHAM and the rest]

        Cousin of Buckingham, and you sage, grave men,
        Since you will buckle fortune on my back,
        To bear her burthen, whether I will or no,
        I must have patience to endure the load:
        But if black scandal or foul-faced reproach
        Attend the sequel of your imposition,
        Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me
        From all the impure blots and stains thereof;
        For God he knows, and you may partly see,
        How far I am from the desire thereof.

Lord 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 kingly title:
        Long live Richard, England's royal king!


Lord Mayor      |
        |  Amen.
Citizens        |


BUCKINGHAM      To-morrow will it please you to be crown'd?

GLOUCESTER      Even when you please, since you will have it so.

BUCKINGHAM      To-morrow, then, we will attend your grace:
        And so most joyfully we take our leave.

GLOUCESTER      Come, let us to our holy task again.
        Farewell, good cousin; farewell, gentle friends.

        [Exeunt]




        KING RICHARD III


ACT IV



SCENE I Before the Tower.


        [Enter, on one side, QUEEN ELIZABETH, DUCHESS OF
        YORK, and DORSET; on the other, ANNE, Duchess of
        Gloucester, leading Lady Margaret Plantagenet,
        CLARENCE's young Daughter]

DUCHESS OF YORK Who meets us here?  my niece Plantagenet
        Led in the hand of her kind aunt of Gloucester?
        Now, for my life, she's wandering to the Tower,
        On pure heart's love to greet the tender princes.
        Daughter, well met.

LADY ANNE       God give your graces both
        A happy and a joyful time of day!

QUEEN ELIZABETH As much to you, good sister! Whither away?

LADY 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 straitly charged the contrary.

QUEEN ELIZABETH The king! why, who's that?

BRAKENBURY      I cry you mercy: I mean the lord protector.

QUEEN ELIZABETH The Lord protect him from that kingly title!
        Hath he set bounds betwixt their love and me?
        I am their mother; who should keep me from them?

DUCHESS OF YORK I am their fathers mother; I will see them.

LADY 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 LORD STANLEY]

LORD 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 LADY ANNE]

        Come, madam, you must straight to Westminster,
        There to be crowned Richard's royal queen.

QUEEN ELIZABETH O, cut my lace in sunder, that my pent heart
        May have some scope to beat, or else I swoon
        With this dead-killing news!

LADY ANNE       Despiteful tidings! O unpleasing news!

DORSET  Be of good cheer: mother, how fares your grace?

QUEEN ELIZABETH O Dorset, speak not to me, get thee hence!
        Death and destruction dog thee at the 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.

LORD 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
        To meet you on the way, and welcome you.
        Be not ta'en tardy by unwise delay.

DUCHESS OF YORK 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.

LORD STANLEY    Come, madam, come; I in all haste was sent.

LADY ANNE       And I in all unwillingness will go.
        I would to God that the inclusive verge
        Of golden metal that must round my brow
        Were red-hot steel, to sear me to the brain!
        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.

LADY 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 dead 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, ' accursed,
        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--
        As miserable by the life of thee
        As thou hast made me by my dear lord's death!
        Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again,
        Even in so short a space, my woman's heart
        Grossly grew captive to his honey words
        And proved the subject of my own soul's curse,
        Which ever since hath kept my eyes from rest;
        For never yet one hour in his bed
        Have I enjoy'd the golden dew of sleep,
        But have been waked by his timorous dreams.
        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.

LADY ANNE       No more than from my soul I mourn for yours.

QUEEN ELIZABETH Farewell, thou woful welcomer of glory!

LADY ANNE       Adieu, poor soul, that takest thy leave of it!

DUCHESS OF YORK [To DORSET]

        Go thou to Richmond, and good fortune guide thee!

        [To LADY ANNE]

        Go thou to Richard, and good angels guard 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 wrecked 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 immured 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 sorrow bids your stones farewell.

        [Exeunt]




        KING RICHARD III


ACT IV



SCENE II        London. The palace.


        [Sennet. Enter KING RICHARD III, in pomp, crowned;
        BUCKINGHAM, CATESBY, a page, and others]

KING RICHARD III        Stand all apart Cousin of Buckingham!

BUCKINGHAM      My gracious sovereign?

KING RICHARD III        Give me thy hand.

        [Here he ascendeth his throne]

        Thus high, by thy advice
        And thy assistance, is King Richard seated;
        But shall we wear these honours for a day?
        Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them?

BUCKINGHAM      Still live they and for ever may they last!

KING RICHARD III        O Buckingham, now do I play the touch,
        To try if thou be current gold indeed
        Young Edward lives: think now what I would say.

BUCKINGHAM      Say on, my loving lord.

KING RICHARD III        Why, Buckingham, I say, I would be king,

BUCKINGHAM      Why, so you are, my thrice renowned liege.

KING RICHARD III        Ha! am I king? 'tis so: but Edward lives.

BUCKINGHAM      True, noble prince.

KING RICHARD III        O bitter consequence,
        That Edward still should live! 'True, noble prince!'
        Cousin, thou wert not wont to be so dull:
        Shall I be plain? I wish the bastards dead;
        And I would have it suddenly perform'd.
        What sayest thou? speak suddenly; be brief.

BUCKINGHAM      Your grace may do your pleasure.

KING RICHARD III        Tut, tut, thou art all ice, thy kindness freezeth:
        Say, have I thy consent that they shall die?

BUCKINGHAM      Give me some breath, some little pause, my lord
        Before I positively herein:
        I will resolve your grace immediately.

        [Exit]

CATESBY [Aside to a stander by]

        The king is angry: see, he bites the lip.

KING RICHARD III        I will converse with iron-witted fools
        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 III        Know'st thou not any whom corrupting gold
        Would tempt unto a close exploit of death?

Page    My lord, I know a discontented gentleman,
        Whose humble means match not his haughty mind:
        Gold were as good as twenty orators,
        And will, no doubt, tempt him to any thing.

KING RICHARD III        What is his name?

Page                    His name, my lord, is Tyrrel.

KING RICHARD III        I partly know the man: go, call him hither.

        [Exit Page]

        The deep-revolving witty Buckingham
        No more shall be the neighbour to my counsel:
        Hath he so long held out with me untired,
        And stops he now for breath?

        [Enter STANLEY]

        How now! what news with you?

STANLEY My lord, I hear the Marquis Dorset's fled
        To Richmond, in those parts beyond the sea
        Where he abides.

        [Stands apart]

KING RICHARD III        Catesby!

CATESBY        My lord?

KING RICHARD III                                 Rumour it abroad
        That Anne, my wife, is sick and like to die:
        I will take order for her keeping close.
        Inquire me out some mean-born 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 wife 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 III        Art thou, indeed?

TYRREL             Prove me, my gracious sovereign.

KING RICHARD III        Darest thou resolve to kill a friend of mine?

TYRREL  Ay, my lord;
        But I had rather kill two enemies.

KING RICHARD III        Why, there 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 III        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 too.

TYRREL  'Tis done, my gracious lord.

KING RICHARD III        Shall we hear from thee, Tyrrel, ere we sleep?

TYRREL  Ye shall, my Lord.

        [Exit]

        [Re-enter BUCKINGHAM]

BUCKINGHAM      My Lord, I have consider'd in my mind
        The late demand that you did sound me in.

KING RICHARD III        Well, let that pass. Dorset is fled to Richmond.

BUCKINGHAM      I hear that news, my lord.

KING RICHARD III        Stanley, he is your wife's son well, look to it.

BUCKINGHAM      My lord, I claim your gift, my due by promise,
        For which your honour and your faith is pawn'd;
        The earldom of Hereford and the moveables
        The which you promised I should possess.

KING RICHARD III        Stanley, look to your wife; if she convey
        Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it.

BUCKINGHAM      What says your highness to my just demand?

KING RICHARD III        As I remember, Henry the Sixth
        Did prophesy that Richmond should be king,
        When Richmond was a little peevish boy.
        A king, perhaps, perhaps,--

BUCKINGHAM      My lord!

KING RICHARD III        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 III        Richmond! When last I was at Exeter,
        The mayor in courtesy show'd me the castle,
        And call'd it Rougemont: 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 III               Ay, what's o'clock?

BUCKINGHAM      I am thus bold to put your grace in mind
        Of what you promised me.

KING RICHARD III        Well, but what's o'clock?

BUCKINGHAM      Upon the stroke of ten.

KING RICHARD III        Well, let it strike.

BUCKINGHAM      Why let it strike?

KING RICHARD III        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      Why, then resolve me whether you will or no.

KING RICHARD III        Tut, tut,
        Thou troublest me; am not in the vein.

        [Exeunt all but BUCKINGHAM]

BUCKINGHAM      Is it even so? rewards he my true service
        With such deep 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]




        KING RICHARD III


ACT IV



SCENE III       The same.


        [Enter TYRREL]

TYRREL  The tyrannous and bloody deed is done.
        The most arch of piteous massacre
        That ever yet this land was guilty of.
        Dighton and Forrest, whom I did suborn
        To do this ruthless piece of butchery,
        Although they were flesh'd villains, bloody dogs,
        Melting with tenderness and kind compassion
        Wept like two children in their deaths' sad stories.
        'Lo, thus' quoth Dighton, 'lay those tender babes:'
        'Thus, thus,' quoth Forrest, 'girdling one another
        Within their innocent alabaster arms:
        Their lips were four red roses on a stalk,
        Which in their summer beauty kiss'd each other.
        A book of prayers on their pillow lay;
        Which once,' quoth Forrest, 'almost changed my mind;
        But O! the devil'--there the villain stopp'd
        Whilst Dighton thus told on: 'We smothered
        The most replenished sweet work of nature,
        That from the prime creation e'er she framed.'
        Thus both are gone with conscience and remorse;
        They could not speak; and so I left them both,
        To bring this tidings to the bloody king.
        And here he comes.

        [Enter KING RICHARD III]

        All hail, my sovereign liege!

KING RICHARD III        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, my lord.

KING RICHARD III        But didst thou see them dead?

TYRREL  I did, my lord.

KING RICHARD III                         And buried, gentle Tyrrel?

TYRREL  The chaplain of the Tower hath buried them;
        But how or in what place I do not know.

KING RICHARD III        Come to me, Tyrrel, soon at after supper,
        And 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 soon.

        [Exit TYRREL]

        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 the world good night.
        Now, for I know the Breton Richmond aims
        At young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter,
        And, by that knot, looks proudly o'er the crown,
        To her I go, a jolly thriving wooer.

        [Enter CATESBY]

CATESBY My lord!

KING RICHARD III        Good news or bad, that thou comest in so bluntly?

CATESBY Bad news, my lord: Ely is fled to Richmond;
        And Buckingham, back'd with the hardy Welshmen,
        Is in the field, and still his power increaseth.

KING RICHARD III        Ely with Richmond troubles me more near
        Than Buckingham and his rash-levied army.
        Come, I have heard that fearful commenting
        Is leaden servitor to dull delay;
        Delay leads impotent and snail-paced beggary
        Then fiery expedition be my wing,
        Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king!
        Come, muster men: my counsel is my shield;
        We must be brief when traitors brave the field.

        [Exeunt]




        KING RICHARD III


ACT IV



SCENE IV        Before the palace.


        [Enter 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 adversaries.
        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?

        [Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH and the DUCHESS OF YORK]

QUEEN ELIZABETH Ah, my young 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 OF YORK So many miseries have crazed my voice,
        That my woe-wearied tongue is mute and dumb,
        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 OF YORK Blind sight, dead life, 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 innocents' blood!

QUEEN ELIZABETH O, that thou wouldst as well afford a grave
        As thou canst yield a melancholy seat!
        Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here.
        O, who hath any cause to mourn but I?

        [Sitting down by her]

QUEEN MARGARET  If ancient sorrow be most reverend,
        Give mine the benefit of seniory,
        And let my woes 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 Harry, till a Richard kill'd him:
        Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him;
        Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard killed him;

DUCHESS OF YORK I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill him;
        I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him.

QUEEN MARGARET  Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Richard kill'd him.
        From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept
        A hell-hound that doth hunt us all to death:
        That dog, that had his teeth before his eyes,
        To worry lambs and lap their gentle blood,
        That foul defacer of God's handiwork,
        That excellent grand tyrant of the earth,
        That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls,
        Thy womb let loose, to chase us to our graves.
        O upright, just, and true-disposing God,
        How do I thank thee, that this carnal cur
        Preys on the issue of his mother's body,
        And makes her pew-fellow with others' moan!

DUCHESS OF YORK 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 stabb'd my Edward:
        Thy other Edward dead, to quit my Edward;
        Young York he is but boot, because both they
        Match not the high perfection of my loss:
        Thy Clarence he is dead that kill'd my Edward;
        And the beholders of this tragic play,
        The adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey,
        Untimely smother'd in their dusky graves.
        Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer,
        Only reserved 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 away.
        Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I prey,
        That I may live to 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 heaved a-high, to be hurl'd down below;
        A mother only mock'd with two sweet babes;
        A dream of what thou wert, a breath, a bubble,
        A sign of dignity, a garish flag,
        To be the aim of every dangerous shot,
        A queen in jest, only to fill the scene.
        Where is thy husband now? where be thy brothers?
        Where are thy children? wherein dost thou, joy?
        Who sues to thee and cries 'God save the queen'?
        Where be the bending peers that flatter'd thee?
        Where be the thronging troops that follow'd thee?
        Decline all this, and see what now thou art:
        For happy wife, a most distressed widow;
        For joyful mother, one that wails the name;
        For queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care;
        For one being sued to, one that humbly sues;
        For one that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me;
        For one being fear'd of all, now fearing one;
        For one commanding all, obey'd of none.
        Thus hath the course of justice wheel'd about,
        And left thee but a very prey to time;
        Having no more but thought of what thou wert,
        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 burthen'd yoke;
        From which even here I slip my weary neck,
        And leave the burthen of it all on thee.
        Farewell, York's wife, and queen of sad mischance:
        These English woes will 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 fairer than they were,
        And he that slew them fouler than he is:
        Bettering 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 OF YORK Why should calamity be full 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 do impart
        Help not all, yet do they ease the heart.

DUCHESS OF YORK If so, then be not tongue-tied: go with me.
        And in the breath of bitter words let's smother
        My damned son, which thy two sweet sons smother'd.
        I hear his drum: be copious in exclaims.

        [Enter KING RICHARD III, marching, with drums and trumpets]

KING RICHARD III        Who intercepts my expedition?

DUCHESS OF YORK 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 should be graven, if that right were right,
        The slaughter of the prince that owed that crown,
        And the dire death of my two sons and brothers?
        Tell me, thou villain slave, where are my children?

DUCHESS OF YORK Thou toad, thou toad, where is thy brother Clarence?
        And little Ned Plantagenet, his son?

QUEEN ELIZABETH Where is kind Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey?

KING RICHARD III        A flourish, trumpets! strike alarum, drums!
        Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women
        Rail on the Lord's enointed: 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 OF YORK Art thou my son?

KING RICHARD III        Ay, I thank God, my father, and yourself.

DUCHESS OF YORK Then patiently hear my impatience.

KING RICHARD III        Madam, I have a touch of your condition,
        Which cannot brook the accent of reproof.

DUCHESS OF YORK O, let me speak!

KING RICHARD III                          Do then: but I'll not hear.

DUCHESS OF YORK I will be mild and gentle in my speech.

KING RICHARD III        And brief, good mother; for I am in haste.

DUCHESS OF YORK Art thou so hasty? I have stay'd for thee,
        God knows, in anguish, pain and agony.

KING RICHARD III        And came I not at last to comfort you?

DUCHESS OF YORK No, by the holy rood, thou know'st it well,
        Thou camest on earth to make the earth my hell.
        A grievous burthen was thy birth to me;
        Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy;
        Thy school-days frightful, desperate, wild, and furious,
        Thy prime of manhood daring, bold, and venturous,
        Thy age confirm'd, proud, subdued, bloody,
        treacherous,
        More mild, but yet more harmful, kind in hatred:
        What comfortable hour canst thou name,
        That ever graced me in thy company?

KING RICHARD III        Faith, none, but Humphrey Hour, that call'd
        your grace
        To breakfast once forth of my company.
        If I be so disgracious in your sight,
        Let me march on, and not offend your grace.
        Strike the drum.

DUCHESS OF YORK                   I prithee, hear me speak.

KING RICHARD III        You speak too bitterly.

DUCHESS OF YORK Hear me a word;
        For I shall never speak to thee again.

KING RICHARD III        So.

DUCHESS OF YORK 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 look upon thy face again.
        Therefore take with thee my most heavy 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 all.

KING RICHARD III        Stay, madam; I must speak a word with you.

QUEEN ELIZABETH I have no more sons of the royal blood
        For thee to murder: for my daughters, Richard,
        They shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens;
        And therefore level not to hit their lives.

KING RICHARD III        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 III        Wrong not her birth, she is of royal blood.

QUEEN ELIZABETH To save her life, I'll say she is not so.

KING RICHARD III        Her life is only safest in her birth.

QUEEN ELIZABETH And only in that safety died her brothers.

KING RICHARD III        Lo, at their births good stars were opposite.

QUEEN ELIZABETH No, to their lives bad friends were contrary.

KING RICHARD III        All unavoided is the doom of destiny.

QUEEN ELIZABETH True, when avoided grace makes destiny:
        My babes were destined to a fairer death,
        If grace had bless'd thee with a fairer life.

KING RICHARD III        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 lanced their tender hearts,
        Thy head, all indirectly, gave direction:
        No doubt the murderous knife was dull and blunt
        Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart,
        To revel in the entrails of my lambs.
        But that still use of grief makes wild grief tame,
        My tongue should to thy ears not name my boys
        Till that my nails were anchor'd in thine eyes;
        And I, in such a desperate bay of death,
        Like a poor bark, of sails and tackling reft,
        Rush all to pieces on thy rocky bosom.

KING RICHARD III        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 were by me wrong'd!

QUEEN ELIZABETH What good is cover'd with the face of heaven,
        To be discover'd, that can do me good?

KING RICHARD III        The advancement of your children, gentle lady.

QUEEN ELIZABETH Up to some scaffold, there to lose their heads?

KING RICHARD III        No, to the dignity and height of honour
        The high imperial type of this earth's glory.

QUEEN ELIZABETH Flatter my sorrows with report of it;
        Tell me what state, what dignity, what honour,
        Canst thou demise to any child of mine?

KING RICHARD III        Even all I have; yea, 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 be process of thy kindness
        Last longer telling than thy kindness' date.

KING RICHARD III        Then know, that from my soul I love thy daughter.

QUEEN ELIZABETH My daughter's mother thinks it with her soul.

KING RICHARD III        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 III        Be not so hasty to confound my meaning:
        I mean, that with my soul I love thy daughter,
        And mean to make her queen of England.

QUEEN ELIZABETH Say then, who dost thou mean shall be her king?

KING RICHARD III        Even he that makes her queen who should be else?

QUEEN ELIZABETH What, thou?

KING RICHARD III        I, even I: what think you of it, madam?

QUEEN ELIZABETH How canst thou woo her?

KING RICHARD III        That would I learn of you,
        As one that are best acquainted with her humour.

QUEEN ELIZABETH And wilt thou learn of me?

KING RICHARD III        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 she will weep:
        Therefore present to her--as sometime 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 dry her weeping eyes therewith.
        If this inducement force her not to love,
        Send her a story of thy noble acts;
        Tell her thou madest away her uncle Clarence,
        Her uncle Rivers; yea, and, for her sake,
        Madest quick conveyance with her good aunt Anne.

KING RICHARD III        Come, come, you mock me; this is not the way
        To win our 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 III        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 III        Look, what is done cannot be now amended:
        Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes,
        Which after hours give leisure to repent.
        If I did take the kingdom from your sons,
        To make amends, Ill 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 doting title of a mother;
        They are as children but one step below,
        Even of your mettle, of your very blood;
        Of an one pain, save for a night of groans
        Endured of her, for whom you bid like sorrow.
        Your children were vexation to your youth,
        But mine shall be a comfort to your age.
        The loss you have is but a son being king,
        And by that loss your daughter is made queen.
        I cannot make you what amends I would,
        Therefore accept such kindness as I can.
        Dorset your son, that with a fearful soul
        Leads discontented steps in foreign soil,
        This fair alliance quickly shall call home
        To high promotions and great dignity:
        The king, that calls your beauteous daughter wife.
        Familiarly shall call thy Dorset brother;
        Again shall you be mother to a king,
        And all the ruins of distressful times
        Repair'd with double riches of content.
        What! we have many goodly days to see:
        The liquid drops of tears that you have shed
        Shall come again, transform'd to orient pearl,
        Advantaging their loan with interest
        Of ten times double gain of happiness.
        Go, then my mother, to thy daughter go
        Make bold her bashful years with your experience;
        Prepare her ears to hear a wooer's tale
        Put in her tender heart the aspiring flame
        Of golden sovereignty; acquaint the princess
        With the sweet silent hours of marriage joys
        And when this arm of mine hath chastised
        The petty rebel, dull-brain'd Buckingham,
        Bound with 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 victress, 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 III        Infer fair England's peace by this alliance.

QUEEN ELIZABETH Which she shall purchase with still lasting war.

KING RICHARD III        Say that the king, which may command, entreats.

QUEEN ELIZABETH That at her hands which the king's King forbids.

KING RICHARD III        Say, she shall be a high and mighty queen.

QUEEN ELIZABETH To wail the tide, as her mother doth.

KING RICHARD III        Say, I will love her everlastingly.

QUEEN ELIZABETH But how long shall that title 'ever' last?

KING RICHARD III        Sweetly in force unto her fair life's end.

QUEEN ELIZABETH But how long fairly shall her sweet lie last?

KING RICHARD III        So long as heaven and nature lengthens it.

QUEEN ELIZABETH So long as hell and Richard likes of it.

KING RICHARD III        Say, I, her sovereign, am her subject love.

QUEEN ELIZABETH But she, your subject, loathes such sovereignty.

KING RICHARD III        Be eloquent in my behalf to her.

QUEEN ELIZABETH An honest tale speeds best being plainly told.

KING RICHARD III        Then in plain terms tell her my loving tale.

QUEEN ELIZABETH Plain and not honest is too harsh a style.

KING RICHARD III        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 grave.

KING RICHARD III        Harp not on that string, madam; that is past.

QUEEN ELIZABETH Harp on it still shall I till heart-strings break.

KING RICHARD III        Now, by my George, my garter, and my crown,--

QUEEN ELIZABETH Profaned, dishonour'd, and the third usurp'd.

KING RICHARD III        I swear--

QUEEN ELIZABETH         By nothing; for this is no oath:
        The George, profaned, hath lost his holy honour;
        The garter, blemish'd, pawn'd his knightly virtue;
        The crown, usurp'd, disgraced his kingly glory.
        if something thou wilt swear to be believed,
        Swear then by something that thou hast not wrong'd.

KING RICHARD III        Now, by the world--

QUEEN ELIZABETH 'Tis full of thy foul wrongs.

KING RICHARD III        My father's death--

QUEEN ELIZABETH Thy life hath that dishonour'd.

KING RICHARD III        Then, by myself--

QUEEN ELIZABETH                   Thyself thyself misusest.

KING RICHARD III        Why then, by God--

QUEEN ELIZABETH                   God's wrong is most of all.
        If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by Him,
        The unity the king thy brother made
        Had not been broken, nor my brother slain:
        If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by Him,
        The imperial metal, circling now thy brow,
        Had graced the tender temples of my child,
        And both the princes had been breathing here,
        Which now, two tender playfellows to dust,
        Thy broken faith hath made a prey for worms.
        What canst thou swear by now?

KING RICHARD III        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 parents thou hast
        slaughter'd,
        Ungovern'd youth, to wail it in their age;
        The parents live, whose children thou hast butcher'd,
        Old wither'd plants, to wail it with their age.
        Swear not by time to come; for that thou hast
        Misused ere used, by time misused o'erpast.

KING RICHARD III        As I intend to prosper and repent,
        So thrive I in my dangerous attempt
        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 proceedings, if, with pure 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 this land and me,
        To thee, herself, and many a Christian soul,
        Death, desolation, ruin and decay:
        It cannot be avoided but by this;
        It will not be avoided but by this.
        Therefore, good mother,--I must can 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 III        Ay, if the devil tempt thee to do good.

QUEEN ELIZABETH Shall I forget myself to be myself?

KING RICHARD III        Ay, if yourself's remembrance wrong yourself.

QUEEN ELIZABETH But thou didst kill my children.

KING RICHARD III        But in your daughter's womb I bury them:
        Where in that nest of spicery they shall breed
        Selves of themselves, to your recomforture.

QUEEN ELIZABETH Shall I go win my daughter to thy will?

KING RICHARD III        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 III        Bear her my true love's kiss; and so, farewell.

        [Exit QUEEN ELIZABETH]

        Relenting fool, and shallow, changing woman!

        [Enter RATCLIFF; CATESBY following]

        How now! what news?

RATCLIFF        My gracious sovereign, on the western coast
        Rideth a puissant navy; to the shore
        Throng many doubtful hollow-hearted friends,
        Unarm'd, and unresolved to beat them back:
        'Tis thought that Richmond is their admiral;
        And there they hull, expecting but the aid
        Of Buckingham to welcome them ashore.

KING RICHARD III        Some light-foot friend post to the Duke of Norfolk:
        Ratcliff, thyself, or Catesby; where is he?

CATESBY Here, my lord.

KING RICHARD III        Fly to the duke:

        [To RATCLIFF]

        Post thou to Salisbury
        When thou comest thither--

        [To CATESBY]

                     Dull, unmindful villain,
        Why stand'st thou still, and go'st not to the duke?

CATESBY First, mighty sovereign, let me know your mind,
        What from your grace I shall deliver to him.

KING RICHARD III        O, true, good Catesby: bid him levy straight
        The greatest strength and power he can make,
        And meet me presently at Salisbury.

CATESBY I go.

        [Exit]

RATCLIFF        What is't your highness' pleasure I shall do at
        Salisbury?

KING RICHARD III        Why, what wouldst thou do there before I go?

RATCLIFF        Your highness told me I should post before.

KING RICHARD III        My mind is changed, sir, my mind is changed.

        [Enter STANLEY]

        How now, what news with you?

STANLEY None good, my lord, to please you with the hearing;
        Nor none so bad, but it may well be told.

KING RICHARD III        Hoyday, a riddle! neither good nor bad!
        Why dost thou run so many mile about,
        When thou mayst tell thy tale a nearer way?
        Once more, what news?

STANLEY Richmond is on the seas.

KING RICHARD III        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 III        Well, sir, as you guess, as you guess?

STANLEY Stirr'd up by Dorset, Buckingham, and Ely,
        He makes for England, there to claim the crown.

KING RICHARD III        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 doth he upon the sea?

STANLEY Unless for that, my liege, I cannot guess.

KING RICHARD III        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, mighty liege; therefore mistrust me not.

KING RICHARD III        Where is thy power, then, to beat him back?
        Where are 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 III        Cold friends to Richard: what do they in the north,
        When they should serve their sovereign in the west?

STANLEY They have not been commanded, mighty sovereign:
        Please it 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 III        Ay, ay. thou wouldst be gone to join with Richmond:
        I will not trust you, sir.

STANLEY Most mighty sovereign,
        You have no cause to hold my friendship doubtful:
        I never was nor never will be false.

KING RICHARD III        Well,
        Go muster men; but, hear you, leave behind
        Your son, George Stanley: look your faith 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 brother there,
        With many more confederates, are in arms.

        [Enter another Messenger]

Second Messenger        My liege, in Kent the Guildfords are in arms;
        And every hour more competitors
        Flock to their aid, and still their power increaseth.

        [Enter another Messenger]

Third Messenger My lord, the army of the Duke of Buckingham--

KING RICHARD III        Out on you, owls! nothing but songs of death?

        [He striketh him]

        Take that, until thou bring me 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 dispersed and scatter'd;
        And he himself wander'd away alone,
        No man knows whither.

KING RICHARD III        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 liege.

        [Enter another Messenger]

Fourth Messenger        Sir Thomas Lovel and Lord Marquis Dorset,
        'Tis said, my liege, in Yorkshire are in arms.
        Yet this good comfort bring I to your grace,
        The Breton navy is dispersed by tempest:
        Richmond, in Yorkshire, 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,
        Hoisted sail and made away for Brittany.

KING RICHARD III        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 III        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]




        KING RICHARD III


ACT IV



SCENE V Lord Derby's house.


        [Enter DERBY and SIR CHRISTOPHER URSWICK]

DERBY   Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from me:
        That in the sty of this most bloody boar
        My son George Stanley is frank'd up in hold:
        If I revolt, off goes young George's head;
        The fear of that withholds my present aid.
        But, tell me, where is princely Richmond now?

CHRISTOPHER     At Pembroke, or at Harford-west, in Wales.

DERBY   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 Rice ap Thomas with a valiant crew;
        And many more of noble fame and worth:
        And towards London they do bend their course,
        If by the way they be not fought withal.

DERBY   Return unto thy lord; commend me to him:
        Tell him the queen hath heartily consented
        He shall espouse Elizabeth her daughter.
        These letters will resolve him of my mind. Farewell.

        [Exeunt]




        KING RICHARD III


ACT V



SCENE I Salisbury. An open place.


        [Enter the Sheriff, and BUCKINGHAM, with halberds,
        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, Rivers, Grey,
        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, fellows, is it not?

Sheriff It is, my lord.

BUCKINGHAM      Why, then All-Souls' day is my body's doomsday.
        This is the day that, in King Edward's time,
        I wish't might fall on me, when I was found
        False to his children or his wife's allies
        This is the day wherein I wish'd to fall
        By the false faith of him I trusted most;
        This, this All-Souls' day to my fearful soul
        Is the determined respite of my wrongs:
        That high All-Seer that 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 on their masters' bosoms:
        Now Margaret's curse is fallen upon my head;
        'When he,' quoth she, 'shall split thy heart with sorrow,
        Remember Margaret was a prophetess.'
        Come, sirs, convey me to the block of shame;
        Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame.

        [Exeunt]




        KING RICHARD III


ACT V



SCENE II        The camp near Tamworth.


        [Enter RICHMOND, OXFORD, BLUNT, HERBERT, and others,
        with drum and colours]

RICHMOND        Fellows in arms, and my most loving friends,
        Bruised 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
        Lies 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 swords,
        To fight against that bloody homicide.

HERBERT I doubt not but his friends will fly to us.

BLUNT   He hath no friends but who are friends for fear.
        Which in his greatest need will shrink 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]




        KING RICHARD III


ACT V



SCENE III       Bosworth Field.


        [Enter KING RICHARD III in arms, with NORFOLK,
        SURREY, and others]

KING RICHARD III        Here pitch our tents, 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 III        My Lord of Norfolk,--

NORFOLK Here, most gracious liege.


KING RICHARD III        Norfolk, we must have knocks; ha! must we not?

NORFOLK We must both give and take, my gracious lord.

KING RICHARD III        Up with my tent there! here will I lie tonight;
        But where to-morrow?  Well, all's one for that.
        Who hath descried the number of the foe?

NORFOLK Six or seven thousand is their utmost power.

KING RICHARD III        Why, our battalion trebles that account:
        Besides, the king's name is a tower of strength,
        Which they upon the adverse party want.
        Up with my tent there! Valiant gentlemen,
        Let us survey the vantage of the field
        Call for some men of sound direction
        Let's want 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, and others. Some of
        the Soldiers pitch RICHMOND's tent]

RICHMOND        The weary sun hath made a golden set,
        And by the bright track of his fiery car,
        Gives signal, 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 strength.
        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 Blunt, before thou go'st,
        Where is Lord Stanley quarter'd, dost thou know?

BLUNT   Unless I have mista'en his colours much,
        Which well I am assured 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,
        Good Captain Blunt, bear my good-night to him,
        And give him from me this most needful scroll.

BLUNT   Upon my life, my lord, I'll under-take 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 our tent; the air is raw and cold.

        [They withdraw into the tent]

        [Enter, to his tent, KING RICHARD III, NORFOLK,
        RATCLIFF, CATESBY, and others]

KING RICHARD III        What is't o'clock?

CATESBY                   It's supper-time, my lord;
        It's nine o'clock.

KING RICHARD III                          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 If is, my liege; and all things are in readiness.

KING RICHARD III        Good Norfolk, hie thee to thy charge;
        Use careful watch, choose trusty sentinels.

NORFOLK I go, my lord.

KING RICHARD III        Stir with the lark to-morrow, gentle Norfolk.

NORFOLK I warrant you, my lord.

        [Exit]

KING RICHARD III        Catesby!

CATESBY My lord?

KING RICHARD III        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 III        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 III        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 III                          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.

        [Exeunt RATCLIFF and the other Attendants]

        [Enter DERBY to RICHMOND in his tent, Lords and
        others 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 sunder'd 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 Prince Edward, son to King Henry VI]

Ghost
of Prince Edward        [To KING RICHARD III]

        Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow!
        Think, how thou stab'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 King Henry VI]

Ghost
of King Henry VI        [To KING RICHARD III]

        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 of CLARENCE       [To KING RICHARD III]

        Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow!
        I, that was wash'd to death with fulsome wine,
        Poor Clarence, by thy guile betrayed 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, GRAY, and VAUGHAN]

Ghost of RIVERS [To KING RICHARD III]

        Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow,
        Rivers. that died at Pomfret! despair, and die!

Ghost of GREY   [To KING RICHARD III]

        Think upon Grey, and let thy soul despair!

Ghost of VAUGHAN        [To KING RICHARD III]

        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 of HASTINGS       [To KING RICHARD III]

        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
of young Princes        [To KING RICHARD III]

        Dream on thy cousins smother'd in the Tower:
        Let us be led 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]

Ghost of LADY ANNE      [To KING RICHARD III]

        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
of BUCKINGHAM   [To KING RICHARD III]

        The last was I that helped 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 angel fight on Richmond's side;
        And Richard falls in height of all his pride.

        [The Ghosts vanish]

        [KING RICHARD III starts out of his dream]

KING RICHARD III        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, stem murder, in the direst degree;
        All several sins, all used 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 shall pity me:
        Nay, 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 III        '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 III        O Ratcliff, I have dream'd a fearful dream!
        What thinkest thou, will our friends prove all true?

RATCLIFF        No doubt, my lord.

KING RICHARD III                          O Ratcliff, I fear, I fear,--

RATCLIFF        Nay, good my lord, be not afraid of shadows.

KING RICHARD III        By the apostle Paul, shadows to-night
        Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard
        Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers
        Armed in proof, and led by shallow Richmond.
        It is 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 enter'd 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 raised in blood, and one in blood establish'd;
        One that made means to come by what he hath,
        And slaughter'd those that were the means to help him;
        Abase 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 fat 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 quit 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 III        What said Northumberland as touching Richmond?

RATCLIFF        That he was never trained up in arms.

KING RICHARD III        He said the truth: and what said Surrey then?

RATCLIFF        He smiled and said 'The better for our purpose.'

KING RICHARD III        He was in the right; and so indeed it is.

        [Clock striketh]

        Ten the clock there. Give me a calendar.
        Who saw the sun to-day?

RATCLIFF        Not I, my lord.

KING RICHARD III        Then he disdains to shine; for by the book
        He should have braved the east an hour ago
        A black day will it be to somebody. Ratcliff!

RATCLIFF                My lord?

KING RICHARD III        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 III        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 III        [Reads]

        'Jockey of Norfolk, be not too bold,
        For Dickon thy master is bought and sold.'
        A thing devised by the enemy.
        Go, gentleman, every man unto his charge
        Let not our babbling dreams affright our souls:
        Conscience is but a word that cowards use,
        Devised at first to keep the strong in awe:
        Our strong arms be our conscience, swords our law.
        March on, join bravely, let us to't 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 Bretons, and base lackey peasants,
        Whom their o'er-cloyed country vomits forth
        To desperate ventures and assured destruction.
        You sleeping safe, they bring to you unrest;
        You having lands, and blest with beauteous wives,
        They would restrain the one, distain the other.
        And who doth lead them but a paltry fellow,
        Long kept in Bretagne 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 overweening 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 conquer'd, let men conquer us,
        And not these bastard Bretons; 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 yoemen!
        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 III        Off with his son George's head!

NORFOLK My lord, the enemy is past the marsh
        After the battle let George Stanley die.

KING RICHARD III        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 III


ACT V



SCENE IV        Another part of the field.


        [Alarum: excursions. Enter NORFOLK and forces
        fighting; 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 III]

KING RICHARD III        A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!

CATESBY Withdraw, my lord; I'll help you to a horse.

KING RICHARD III        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]




        KING RICHARD III


ACT V



SCENE V Another part of the field.


        [Alarum. Enter KING RICHARD III and RICHMOND; they
        fight. KING RICHARD III is slain. Retreat and
        flourish. Re-enter RICHMOND, DERBY bearing the
        crown, with divers other Lords]

RICHMOND        God and your arms be praised, 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 enmity!
        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-faced 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]