KING RICHARD III

By William Shakespeare

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

KING EDWARD IV	(King Edward IV)

EDWARD	(Prince Edward) Prince of Wales, Afterwards King Edward V. Son to King Edward IV

RICHARD	(York). Duke of York. Son to Edward IV.

GEORGE	(Clarence) Duke of Clarence. Brother to Edward IV.

RICHARD	(Gloucester) Duke of Gloucester. Brother to Edward IV. Afterwards King Richard III. (King Richard III).

BOY	(Boy) A young son of Clarence.

HENRY	(Richmond) Earl of Richmond, Afterwards King Henry VII.

CARDINAL BOURCHIER	(Cardinal) Archbishop of Canterbury.

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	(Surrey) His son.

EARL RIVERS	(Rivers) Brother to Elizabeth.

MARQUIS OF DORSET	(Dorset). Son to Elizabeth.

LORD GREY	(Grey) Son to Elzabeth.

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 BLUNT	(Blunt)

SIR WALTER HERBERT	(Herbert)

SIR ROBERT BRAKENBURY	(Brakenbury) Lieutenant of the Tower.

CHRISTOPHER URSWICK	(Christopher) A priest.

PRIEST	(Priest)	Another Priest.

TRESSEL	(Gentleman) Gentlemen attending on the Lady Anne.

BERKELEY	(Gentleman) Gentlemen attending on the Lady Anne.

LORD MAYOR OF LONDON	(Lord Mayor)

SHERIFF OF WILTSHIRE	(Sheriff)

ELIZABETH	(Queen Elizabeth) Queen to King Edward IV

MARGARET	(Queen Margaret) Widow of King Henry VI

DUCHESS of YORK	(Duchess of York) Mother to King Edward IV.

LADY ANNE	(Lady Anne) Widow of Edward Prince of Wales, son to King Henry VI. afterwards married to Richard.

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

Ghosts of those murdered by Richard III.,

Lords and other Attendants; a Pursuivant

Scrivener, Citizens, Murderers, Messengers

Soldiers, &c.

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.

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]

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 Stanl	ey, 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	Amen.

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 StanleyRD 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 Stanl	ey 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 Stanl	ey, 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 Page]

Page	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 Page]

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, Grey, 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 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]