Lovell and Ratcliffe with the Lord Hastings remain
HASTINGS Woe, woe for England! Not a whit for me,
For I, too fond80, might have prevented this.
Stanley did dream the boar did rouse our helms;81
And I did scorn it and disdain to fly.
Three times today my foot-cloth horse83 did stumble,
And started84, when he looked upon the Tower,
As85 loath to bear me to the slaughter-house.
O, now I need the priest that spake to me:
I now repent I told the pursuivant,
As too triumphing88 how mine enemies
Today at Pomfret bloodily were butchered,
And I myself secure in grace and favour.
O Margaret, Margaret, now thy heavy curse
Is lighted on poor Hastings’ wretched head!
RATCLIFFE Come, come, dispatch. The duke would be at dinner.
Make a short shrift94: he longs to see your head.
HASTINGS O, momentary grace95 of mortal men,
Which we more hunt for than the grace of God!
Who builds his hope in air of your good97 looks,
Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast,
Ready with every nod to tumble down
Into the fatal bowels of the deep.
LOVELL Come, come, dispatch: ’tis bootless to exclaim.101
HASTINGS O bloody Richard! Miserable England!
I prophesy the fearful’st time to thee
That ever wretched age hath looked upon.
Come, lead me to the block: bear him my head.
They smile at me who shortly shall be dead.
Exeunt
running scene 11
Enter Richard and Buckingham, in rotten armour, marvellous ill-favoured
RICHARD Come, cousin, canst thou quake and change thy colour1,
Murder2 thy breath in middle of a word,
And then again begin, and stop again,
As if thou were distraught and mad with terror?
BUCKINGHAM Tut, I can counterfeit the deep tragedian5,
Speak and look back, and pry6 on every side,
Tremble and start at wagging7 of a straw:
Intending deep suspicion, ghastly8 looks
Are at my service, like enforcèd9 smiles,
And both are ready in their offices10
At any time to grace my stratagems.
But what, is Catesby gone?
RICHARD He is, and see, he brings the mayor along.
Enter the Mayor and Catesby
BUCKINGHAM Lord Mayor—
RICHARD Look to the drawbridge there!
BUCKINGHAM Hark, a drum!
RICHARD Catesby, o’erlook17 the walls.
BUCKINGHAM Lord Mayor, the reason we have sent—
RICHARD Look back, defend thee, here are enemies.
BUCKINGHAM God and our innocency defend and guard us!
Enter Lovell and Ratcliffe, with Hastings’ head
RICHARD Be patient21, they are friends: Ratcliffe and Lovell.
LOVELL Here is the head of that ignoble traitor,
The dangerous and unsuspected Hastings.
RICHARD So dear I loved the man that I must weep.
I took him for the plainest25 harmless creature
That oreathed upon the earth a Christian,
Made him my book27, wherein my soul recorded
The history28 of all her secret thoughts.
So smooth29 he daubed his vice with show of virtue
That, his apparent open guilt omitted30 —
I mean, his conversation31 with Shore’s wife —
He lived from all attainder of suspects.32
BUCKINGHAM Well, well, he was the covert’st sheltered33 traitor
That ever lived.
Would you imagine, or almost35 believe,
Were’t not that, by great preservation
We live to tell it, that the subtle37 traitor
This day had plotted, in the council house,
To murder me and my good lord of Gloucester?
MAYOR Had he done so?
RICHARD What? Think you we are Turks41 or infidels?
Or that we would, against the form42 of law,
Proceed thus rashly43 in the villain’s death,
But that the extreme peril of the case,
The peace of England and our person’s safety,
Enforced us to this execution?
MAYOR Now fair47 befall you! He deserved his death,
And your good graces, both have well proceeded48
To warn false traitors from the like attempts.
BUCKINGHAM I never looked for50 better at his hands,
After he once fell in51 with Mistress Shore.
Yet had we not determined he should die52
Until your lordship came to see53 his end,
Which now the loving haste of these our friends,
Something against our meanings, have prevented;
Because, my lord, I would have had you heard
The traitor speak, and timorously57 confess
The manner and the purpose of his treasons,
That you might well have signified the same
Unto the citizens, who haply60 may
Misconster us in him61 and wail his death.
MAYOR But, my good lord, your grace’s words shall serve
As63 well as I had seen and heard him speak:
And do not doubt, right noble princes both,
But I’ll acquaint our duteous citizens
With all your just proceedings in this case.
RICHARD And to that end we wished your lordship here,
T’avoid the censures of the carping68 world.
BUCKINGHAM Which since you come too late of69 our intent.
Yet witness70 what you hear we did intend.
And so, my good Lord Mayor, we bid farewell.
Exit Mayor
RICHARD Go, after, after, cousin buckingham.
The mayor towards Guildhall hies him in all post73:
There, at your meetest vantage74 of the time,
Infer75 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 house78,
Which, by the sign79 thereof was termèd so.
Moreover, urge his hateful luxury80
And bestial appetite in change of lust,81
Which stretched unto their servants, daughters, wives,
Even where83 his raging eye or savage heart,
Without control, lusted to make a prey.
Nay, for a need, thus far come near my person85:
Tell them, when that my mother went with child86
Of that insatiate Edward, noble York
My princely father then had wars in France,
And by true89 computation of the time,
Found that the issue was not his begot90 —
Which well appearèd in his lineaments91,
Being nothing like the noble duke my father.
Yet touch this sparingly93, as ’twere far off,
Because, my lord, you know my mother lives.
BUCKINGHAM Doubt not, my lord, I’ll play the orator
As if the golden fee96 for which I plead
Were for myself. And so, my lord, adieu.
RICHARD If you thrive well, bring them to Baynard’s Castle98,
Where you shall find me well accompanied
With reverend fathers and well-learnèd bishops.
BUCKINGHAM I go: and towards three or four o’clock
Look for the news that the Guildhall affords.
Exit Buckingham
RICHARD Go, Lovell, with all speed to Doctor Shaw.—103
To Catesby or Ratcliffe
Go thou to Friar Penker: bid them both
Meet me within this hour at Baynard’s Castle.
Exeunt [all but Richard]
Now will I go to take some privy order106
To draw the brats of Clarence out of sight,
And to give order that no manner108 person
Have any time recourse109 unto the princes.
Exit
running scene 12
Enter a Scrivener
SCRIVENER Here is the indictment1 of the good Lord Hastings,
Shows a paper
Which in a set hand fairly is engrossed2,
That it may be today read o’er in Paul’s.3
And mark how well the sequel4 hangs together:
Eleven hours I have spent to write it over,
For yesternight by Catesby was it sent me,
The precedent7 was full as long a-doing.
And yet within these five hours Hastings lived,
Untainted, unexamined, free, at9 liberty.
Here’s a good world the while! Who is so gross10
That cannot see this palpable device?11
Yet who so bold, but says he sees it not?
Bad is the world, and all will come to nought
Where such ill dealing must be seen in thought.14
Exit
running scene 13
Enter Richard and Buckingham, at several doors
RICHARD How now, how now? What say the citizens?
BUCKINGHAM Now, by the holy mother of our lord,
The citizens are mum3, say not a word.
RICHARD Touched you4 the bastardy of Edward’s children?
BUCKINGHAM I did: with his contract5 with Lady Lucy,
And his contract by deputy6 in France,
Th’unsatiate greediness of his desire,
And his enforcement8 of the city wives,
His tyranny for trifles9, his own bastardy,
As being got10, your father then in France,
And his resemblance, being not like the duke.
Withal I did infer your lineaments,
Being the right idea of your father,
Both in your form and nobleness of mind:
Laid open15 all your victories in Scotland,
Your discipline16 in war, wisdom in peace,
Your bounty17, virtue, fair humility:
Indeed, left nothing fitting for18 your purpose
Untouched, or slightly19 handled, in discourse.
And when my oratory drew toward end,
I bid them that did love their country’s good
Cry ‘God save Richard, England’s royal king!’
RICHARD And did they so?
BUCKINGHAM No, so God help me, they spake not a word,
But, like dumb statues or breathing stones,
Stared each on other and looked deadly pale:
Which when I saw, I reprehended them,
And asked the mayor what meant this wilful silence:
His answer was, the people were not used
To be spoke to but by the recorder.30
Then he was urged to tell my tale again:
‘Thus saith the duke, thus hath the duke inferred32’ —
But nothing spoke in warrant from himself.33
When he had done, some followers of mine own,
At lower end of the hall35, hurled up their caps,
And some ten voices cried, ‘God save King Richard!’
And thus I took the vantage37 of those few:
‘Thanks, gentle citizens and friends,’ quoth I,
‘This general39 applause and cheerful shout
Argues40 your wisdom and your love to Richard.’
And even here brake41 off, and came away.
RICHARD What tongueless blocks42 were they? Would they not speak?
Will not the mayor then and his brethren43 come?
BUCKINGHAM The mayor is here at hand. Intend some fear44:
Be not you spoke with, but by mighty suit.45
And look46 you get a prayer-book in your hand,
And stand between two churchmen, good my lord,
For on that ground I’ll make a holy descant48:
And be not easily won49 to our requests,
Play the maid’s part: still answer nay, and take it.50
RICHARD I go. And if you plead as well for them
As I can say nay to thee for myself52,
No doubt we bring it to a happy issue.53
BUCKINGHAM Go, go, up to the leads.54 The Lord Mayor knocks.
[Exit Richard]
Enter the Mayor and Citizens
Welcome, my lord. I dance attendance55 here:
I think the duke will not be spoke withal.
Enter Catesby
Now, Catesby, what says your lord to my request.
CATESBY He doth entreat your grace, my noble lord,
To visit him tomorrow or next day:
He is within, with two right reverend fathers,
Divinely bent61 to meditation,
And in no worldly suits62 would he be moved,
To draw him from his holy exercise.63
BUCKINGHAM Return, good Catesby, to the gracious duke:
Tell him myself, the Mayor and Alderman,
In deep designs, in matter of great moment66,
No less importing67 than our general good,
Are come to have some conference with his grace.
CATESBY I’ll signify so much unto him straight.
Exit
BUCKINGHAM Ah, ha, my lord, this prince is not an Edward!
He is not lulling71 on a lewd love-bed,
But on his knees at meditation:
Not dallying with a brace73 of courtesans,
But meditating with two deep divines74:
Not sleeping, to engross75 his idle body,
But praying, to enrich his watchful76 soul.
Happy77 were England, would this virtuous prince
Take on his grace78 the sovereignty thereof:
But sure I fear we shall not win him to it.
MAYOR Marry, God defend80 his grace should say us nay!
BUCKINGHAM I fear he will. — Here Catesby comes again.
Enter Catesby
Now, Catesby, what says his grace?
CATESBY He wonders to what end you have assembled
Such troops of citizens to come to him,
His grace not being warned thereof before.
He fears, my lord, you mean no good to him.
BUCKINGHAM Sorry I am my noble cousin should
Suspect me that I mean no good to him.
By heaven, we come to him in perfect89 love,
And so once more return and tell his grace.
Exit [Catesby]
When holy and devout religious men
Are at their beads92, ’tis hard to draw them thence,
So sweet is zealous93 contemplation.
Enter Richard aloft, between two Bishops. [Catesby returns]
MAYOR See, where his grace stands ’tween two clergymen.
BUCKINGHAM Two props95 of virtue for a Christian prince,
To stay96 him from the fall of vanity:
And, see, a book of prayer in his hand,
True ornaments to know a holy man.—
Famous Plantagenet, most gracious prince,
Lend favourable ear to our requests,
And pardon us the interruption
Of thy devotion and right102 Christian zeal.
RICHARD My lord, there needs no such apology:
I do beseech your grace to pardon me,
Who, earnest in the service of my God,
Deferred the visitation106 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 ungoverned isle.
RICHARD I do suspect I have done some offence
That seems disgracious111 in the city’s eye,
And that you come to reprehend my ignorance.112
BUCKINGHAM You have, my lord: would it might please your grace,
On our entreaties, to amend your fault.
RICHARD Else wherefore breathe I in a Christian land?115
BUCKINGHAM Know then, it is your fault that you resign
The supreme seat, the throne majestical,
The sceptred118 office of your ancestors,
Your state of fortune119 and your due of birth,
The lineal120 glory of your royal house,
To the corruption of a blemished stock121;
Whiles, in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts,
Which here we waken to our country’s good,
The noble isle doth want his proper124 limbs:
His face defaced with scars of infamy125,
His royal stock graft with ignoble plants126,
And almost shouldered in the swallowing gulf127
Of dark forgetfulness and deep oblivion.
Which to recure129, 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 factor133 for another’s gain;
But as successively134 from blood to blood,
Your right of birth, your empery135, your own.
For this, consorted136 with the citizens,
Your very worshipful137 and loving friends,
And by their vehement instigation,
In this just cause come I to move139 your grace.
RICHARD I cannot tell if to depart in silence,
Or bitterly to speak in your reproof
Best firteth my degree or your condition.142
If not to answer, you might haply143 think
Tongue-tied ambition, not replying, yielded144
To bear the golden yoke of sovereignty,
Which fondly146 you would here impose on me.
If to reprove you for this suit of yours,
So seasoned with your faithful love to me,
Then on the other side I checked149 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 desert153
Unmeritable shuns your high request.
First, if all obstacles were cut away155,
And that my path were even156 to the crown,
As the ripe revenue157 and due of birth,
Yet so much is my poverty of spirit,
So mighty and so many my defects,
That I would rather hide me from my greatness160 —
Being a bark to brook161 no mighty sea —
Than in my greatness covet to be hid162,
And in the vapour163 of my glory smothered.
But, God be thanked, there is no need of me,
And much I need165 to help you, were there need.
The royal tree166 hath left us royal fruit,
Which, mellowed by the stealing167 hours of time,
Will well become the seat168 of majesty,
And make, no doubt, us happy by his reign.
On him I lay that170 you would lay on me,
The right and fortune of his happy171 stars,
Which God defend that I should wring172 from him!
BUCKINGHAM My lord, this argues173 conscience in your grace,
But the respects thereof are nice174 and trivial,
All circumstances well considerèd.
You say that Edward is your brother’s son:
So say we too, but not by Edward’s wife,
For first was he contract to Lady Lucy —178
Your mother lives a witness to his vow —
And afterward by substitute180 betrothed
To Bona, sister181 to the King of France.
These both put off, a poor petitioner182,
A care-crazed183 mother to a many sons,
A beauty-waning and distressèd widow,
Even in the afternoon of her best days,
Made prize and purchase of his wanton186 eye,
Seduced the pitch187 and height of his degree
To base declension and loathed bigamy.188
By her, in his unlawful bed, he got
This Edward, whom our manners190 call the prince.
More bitterly could I expostulate191,
Save that, for reverence to some alive192,
I give a sparing193 limit to my tongue.
Then, good my lord, take to your royal self
This proffered benefit of dignity195:
If not to bless us and the land withal,
Yet to draw forth your noble ancestry
From the corruption of abusing times,
Unto a lineal true-derivèd199 course.
To Richard
MAYOR Do, good my lord: your citizens entreat you.
BUCKINGHAM Refuse not, mighty lord, this proffered love.
CATESBY O, make them joyful, grant their lawful suit!
RICHARD Alas, why would you heap this care203 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 zeal207,
Loath to depose the child, your brother’s son,
As well we know your tenderness of heart
And gentle, kind, effeminate210 remorse,
Which we have noted in you to your kindred
And equally indeed to all estates212 —
Yet know, whe’er you accept our suit or no,
Your brother’s son shall never reign our king,
But we will plant some other in the throne
To the disgrace and downfall of your house:
And in this resolution here we leave you.—
Come citizens, we will entreat no more.
Exeunt [Buckingham with Citizens]
CATESBY Call him again, sweet prince. Accept their suit.
If you deny them all the land will rue it.
RICHARD Will you enforce me to a world of cares?
Call them again. I am not made of stones,
But penetrable to your kind entreaties,
Albeit against my conscience and my soul.
Enter Buckingham and the rest
Cousin of Buckingham, and sage, grave men,
Since you will buckle fortune on my back226,
To bear her burden, whe’er I will or no,
I must have patience to endure the load:
But if black scandal or foul-faced reproach
Attend the sequel230 of your imposition,
Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me231
From all the impure blots and stains thereof;
For God doth know, and you may partly see,
How far I am from the desire of this.
MAYOR God bless your grace! We see it and will say it.
RICHARD In saying so, you shall but say the truth.
BUCKINGHAM Then I salute you with this royal title:
Long live King Richard, England’s worthy king!
ALL Amen.
BUCKINGHAM Tomorrow may it please you to be crowned?
RICHARD Even241 when you please, for you will have it so.
BUCKINGHAM Tomorrow, then, we will attend your grace.
And so most joyfully we take our leave.
To the Bishops
RICHARD Come, let us to our holy work again.—
Farewell, my cousins: farewell, gentle friends.
Exeunt
running scene 14
Enter the Queen, Anne Duchess of Gloucester [leading a girl], the Duchess of York and Marquis Dorset
DUCHESS OF YORK Who meets us here? My niece1 Plantagenet
Led in the hand of her kind aunt of Gloucester?
Now, for my life, she’s wand’ring to the Tower,
On pure heart’s love to greet the tender4 prince.
Daughter, well met.
ANNE God give your graces both
A happy and a joyful time of day.
QUEEN ELIZABETH As much to you, good sister. Whither away?
ANNE No further than the Tower, and, as I guess,
Upon the like devotion10 as yourselves,
To gratulate11 the gentle princes there.
QUEEN ELIZABETH Kind sister, thanks: we’ll enter all together.
Enter the Lieutenant [Brackenbury]
And, in good time, here the lieutenant comes.
Master Lieutenant, pray you, by your leave,
How cloth the prince, and my young son of York?
BRACKENBURY Right well, dear madam. By your patience,
I may not suffer17 you to visit them:
The king hath strictly charged the contrary.
QUEEN ELIZABETH The king? Who’s that?
BRACKENBURY I mean the Lord Protector.
QUEEN ELIZABETH The lord protect him from that kingly title!
Hath he set bounds22 between their love and me?
I am their mother: who shall bar me from them?
DUCHESS OF YORK I am their father’s mother: I will see them.
ANNE Their aunt I am in law25, in love their mother:
Then bring me to their sights. I’ll bear thy blame
And take thy office27 from thee, on my peril.
BRACKENBURY No, madam, no; I may not leave it so:
I am bound by oath, and therefore pardon me.
Exit
Enter Stanley [Earl of Derby]
DERBY Let me but meet you, ladies, one hour hence,
And I’ll salute your grace of York as mother31,
And reverend looker-on32, of two fair queens.—
To Anne
Come, madam, you must straight33 to Westminster,
There to be crownèd Richard’s royal queen.
QUEEN ELIZABETH Ah, cut my lace35 asunder,
That my pent36 heart may have some scope to beat,
Or else I swoon with this dead-killing news!
ANNE Despiteful38 tidings! O, unpleasing news!
DORSET Be of good cheer. Mother, how fares your grace?
QUEEN ELIZABETH O Dorset, speak not to me, get thee gone!
Death and destruction dogs thee at thy heels:
Thy mother’s name is ominous to children.
If thou wilt outstrip death, go cross the seas,
And live with Richmond, from44 the reach of hell.
Go, hie45 thee, hie thee from this slaughter-house,
Lest thou increase the number of the dead
And make me die the thrall47 of Margaret’s curse,
Nor mother, wife, nor England’s counted48 queen.
DERBY Full of wise care is this your counsel, madam.—
To Dorset
Take all the swift advantage of the hours.
You shall have letters from me to my son51
In your behalf, to meet you on the way.
Be not ta’en tardy53 by unwise delay.
DUCHESS OF YORK O ill-dispersing54 wind of misery!
O my accursèd womb, the bed of death!
A cockatrice56 hast thou hatched to the world,
Whose unavoided57 eye is murderous.
To Anne
DERBY Come, madam, come: I in all haste was sent.
ANNE And I with all unwillingness will go.
O, would to God that the inclusive verge60
Of golden metal that must round my brow
Were red-hot steel, to sear me to the brains!
Anointed63 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.66
ANNE No? Why? When he that is my husband now
Came to me, as I followed Henry’s corpse,
When scarce the blood was well washed from his hands
Which issued from my other angel husband70
And that dear saint which then I weeping followed —
O, when I say I looked on Richard’s face,
This was my wish: ‘Be thou’, quoth I, ‘accursed
For making me, so young, so old74 a widow!
And, when thou wed’st, let sorrow haunt thy bed;
And be thy wife — if any be so mad —
More miserable by the life of thee
Than thou hast made me by my dear lord’s death!’
Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again,
Within so small a time, my woman’s heart
Grossly81 grew captive to his honey words
And proved the subject of mine own soul’s curse,
Which hitherto hath held mine eyes from rest,
For never yet one hour in his bed
Did I enjoy the golden dew of sleep,
But with his timorous86 dreams was still awaked.
Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick87,
And will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me.
QUEEN ELIZABETH Poor heart, adieu! I pity thy complaining.89
ANNE No more than with my soul I mourn for yours.
DORSET Farewell, thou woeful welcomer of glory.
ANNE Adieu, poor soul, that tak’st thy leave of it.
To Dorset
DUCHESS OF YORK Go thou to Richmond, and good fortune guide thee.—
To Anne
Go thou to Richard, and good angels tend thee.—
To Queen Elizabeth
Go thou to sanctuary, and good thoughts possess thee.—
I to my grave, where peace and rest lie with me.
Eighty odd years of sorrow have I seen,
And each hour’s joy wrecked with a week of teen.98
She starts to leave
QUEEN ELIZABETH Stay, yet look back with me unto the Tower.
Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes
Whom envy hath immured101 within your walls,
Rough cradle for such little pretty ones,
Rude ragged nurse, old sullen103 playfellow
For tender princes: use my babies well.
So105 foolish sorrows bids your stones farewell.
Exeunt
running scene 15
Sound a sennet. Enter Richard in pomp, Buckingham, Catesby, Ratcliffe, Lovell, [a Page and others. A throne is brought forth]
RICHARD Stand all apart.1—Cousin of Buckingham.
BUCKINGHAM My gracious sovereign?
RICHARD Give me thy hand.
Sound [trumpets]
He ascends the throne
Richard and Buckingham speak aside
Thus high, by thy advice and thy assistance,
Is King Richard seated.
But shall we wear these glories for a day?
Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them?
BUCKINGHAM Still live they and forever let them last!
RICHARD Ah, Buckingham, now do I play the touch9,
To try if thou be current10 gold indeed:
Young Edward lives. Think now what I would speak.
BUCKINGHAM Say on, my loving lord.
RICHARD Why, Buckingham, I say I would be king,
BUCKINGHAM Why, so you are, my thrice-renownèd lord.
RICHARD Ha? Am I king? ’Tis so: but Edward lives.
BUCKINGHAM True, noble prince.
RICHARD O, bitter consequence17,
That Edward still should live — true noble prince.18
Cousin, thou wast not wont to be so dull.19
Shall I be plain? I wish the bastards dead,
And I would have it suddenly21 performed.
What say’st thou now? Speak suddenly, be brief.
BUCKINGHAM Your grace may do your pleasure.
RICHARD Tut, tut, thou art all ice: thy kindness freezes.
Say, have I thy consent that they shall die?
BUCKINGHAM Give me some little breath26, some pause, dear lord,
Before I positively27 speak in this:
I will resolve28 you herein presently.
Exit
Aside
CATESBY The king is angry: see, he gnaws his lip.
RICHARD I will converse with iron-witted30 fools
And unrespective31 boys: none are for me
That look into me with considerate32 eyes.
High-reaching33 Buckingham grows circumspect.—
Boy!
Comes forward
PAGE My lord?
RICHARD Know’st thou not any whom corrupting gold
Will tempt unto a close37 exploit of death?
PAGE I know a discontented gentleman,
Whose humble means match not his haughty39 spirit:
Gold were as good as twenty orators40,
And will, no doubt, tempt him to anything.
RICHARD What is his name?
PAGE His name, my lord, is Tyrrell.
RICHARD I partly know the man. Go, call him hither, boy.
Exit [Page]
The deep-revolving witty45 Buckingham
No more shall be the neighbour to my counsels.46
Hath he so long held out47 with me untired,
And stops he now for breath? Well, be it so.
Enter Stanley
How now, Lord Stanley, what’s the news?
DERBY Know, my loving lord, the marquis Dorset
As I hear, is fled to Richmond,
In the parts where he abides.
Stands apart
RICHARD Come hither, Catesby. Rumour it abroad
That Anne, my wife, is very grievous sick:
I will take order for her keeping close.55
Inquire me out some mean56 poor gentleman,
Whom I will marry straight to Clarence’ daughter:
The boy58 is foolish, and I fear not him.
Look, how thou dream’st! I say again, give out59
That Anne my queen is sick and like to die:
About it, for it stands me much upon61,
To stop all hopes whose growth may damage me.
[Exit Catesby]
I must be married to my brother’s daughter63,
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 on67 sin:
Tear-falling pity68 dwells not in this eye.
Enter [Page, with] Tyrrell
Is thy name Tyrrell?
TYRRELL James Tyrrell, and your most obedient subject.
RICHARD Art thou, indeed?
King Richard and Tyrrell speak aside
TYRRELL Prove72 me, my gracious lord.
RICHARD Dar’st thou resolve to kill a friend73 of mine?
TYRRELL Please you:
But had rather kill two enemies.
RICHARD Why, then thou hast it: two deep enemies,
Foes to my rest and my sweet sleep’s disturbers
Are they that I would have thee deal upon78 —
Tyrrell, I mean those bastards in the Tower.
TYRRELL Let me have open80 means to come to them,
And soon I’ll rid you from the fear of them.
RICHARD Thou sing’st sweet music. Hark, come hither, Tyrrell
Go, by this token83: rise, and lend thine ear.
Gives a token
There is no more but so84: say it is done,
Whispers
And I will love thee, and prefer85 thee for it.
TYRRELL I will dispatch it straight.
Exit [Tyrrell, with the Page]
Enter Buckingham
BUCKINGHAM My lord, I have considered in my mind
The late request that you did sound me in.88
RICHARD Well, let that rest. Dorset is fled to Richmond.
BUCKINGHAM I hear the news, my lord.
RICHARD Stanley, he91 is your wife’s son. Well, look unto it.
BUCKINGHAM My lord, I claim the gift, my due by promise,
For which your honour and your faith is pawned93:
Th’earldom of Hereford and the movables94
Which you have promisèd I shall possess.
RICHARD Stanley, look to96 your wife: if she convey
Letters to Richmond, you shall answer97 it.
BUCKINGHAM What says your highness to my just request?
RICHARD I do remember me, Henry the Sixth
Did prophesy that Richmond should be king,
When Richmond was a little peevish101 boy.
A king, perhaps—
BUCKINGHAM May it please you to resolve103 me in my suit.
RICHARD Thou troublest me: I am not in the vein.104
Exit
BUCKINGHAM And is it thus? Repays he my deep service
With such contempt? Made I him king for this?
O, let me think on Hastings, and be gone
To Brecknock108, while my fearful head is on!
Exit
[Act 4 Scene 3]
running scene 15 continues
Enter Tyrrell
TYRRELL The tyrannous and bloody act is done,
The most arch2 deed of piteous massacre
That ever yet this land was guilty of.
Dighton and Forrest, who I did suborn4
To do this piece of ruthful5 butchery,
Albeit they were fleshed6 villains, bloody dogs,
Melted with tenderness and mild compassion,
Wept like to children in their deaths’ sad story.8
‘O, thus’, quoth Dighton, ‘lay the gentle babes.’
‘Thus, thus’, quoth Forrest, ‘girdling10 one another
Within their alabaster11 innocent arms.
Their lips were four red roses on a stalk,
And in their summer beauty kissed each other.
A book of prayers on their pillow lay,
Which one15’, quoth Forrest, ‘almost changed my mind.
But O! The devil’—there the villain stopped.
When Dighton thus told on: ‘We smotherèd
The most replenishèd18 sweet work of nature,
That from the prime creation e’er she framed.19’
Hence both are gone20 with conscience and remorse:
They could not speak, and so I left them both,
To bear this tidings to the bloody22 king.
Enter Richard
And here he comes:—
All health, my sovereign lord!
RICHARD Kind Tyrrell, am I happy in thy news?
TYRRELL If to have done the thing you gave in charge26
Beget your happiness, be happy then,
For it is done.
RICHARD But didst thou see them dead?
TYRRELL I did, my lord.
RICHARD And buried, gentle Tyrrell?
TYRRELL The chaplain of the Tower hath buried them,
But where, to say the truth, I do not know.
RICHARD Come to me, Tyrrell, soon and34 after supper,
When thou shalt tell the process35 of their death.
Meantime, but think how I may do thee good,
And be37 inheritor of thy desire.
Farewell till then.
TYRRELL I humbly take my leave.
[Exit]
RICHARD The son of Clarence have I pent up close40,
His daughter meanly have I matched in marriage41,
The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham’s bosom42,
And Anne my wife hath bid the world good night.
Now, for44 I know the Breton Richmond aims
At young Elizabeth, my brother’s daughter,
And by that knot46 looks proudly on the crown,
To her go I, a jolly thriving wooer.
Enter Ratcliffe
RATCLIFFE My lord!
RICHARD Good or bad news, that thou com’st in so bluntly?49
RATCLIFFE Bad news, my lord: Morton50 is fled to Richmond.
And Buckingham, backed with the hardy51 Welshmen,
Is in the field, and still his power52 increaseth.
RICHARD Ely with Richmond troubles me more near53
Than Buckingham and his rash-levied54 strength.
Come, I have learned that fearful commenting55
Is leaden servitor56 to dull delay:
Delay leads impotent and snail-paced beggary.57
Then fiery expedition58 be my wing,
Jove’s Mercury59, and herald for a king!
Go, muster men. My counsel is my shield60:
We must be brief when traitors brave the field.61
Exeunt
running scene 16
Enter old Queen Margaret
QUEEN MARGARET So, now prosperity begins to mellow1
And drop into the rotten mouth of death.
Here in these confines3 slyly have I lurked.
To watch the waning of mine enemies.
A dire induction5 am I witness to,
And will to France, hoping the consequence6
Will prove as bitter, black, and tragical.
Withdraw thee, wretched Margaret. Who comes here?
Enter Duchess [of York] and Queen [Elizabeth]
QUEEN ELIZABETH Ah, my poor princes! Ah, my tender babes!
My unblowed flowers, new-appearing sweets!10
If yet your gentle souls fly in the air
And be not fixed in doom perpetual12,
Hover about me with your airy wings
And hear your mother’s lamentation!
Aside
QUEEN MARGARET Hover about her: say that right for right15
Hath dimmed your infant morn to aged night.
DUCHESS OF YORK So many miseries have crazed17 my voice,
That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute.
Edward Plantagenet19, why art thou dead?
Aside
QUEEN MARGARET Plantagenet doth quit20 Plantagenet:
Edward for Edward21 pays a dying debt.
QUEEN ELIZABETH Wilt thou, O God, fly from such gentle lambs,
And throw them in the entrails23 of the wolf?
When didst thou sleep when such a deed was done?
Aside
QUEEN MARGARET When holy Harry25 died, and my sweet son.
DUCHESS OF YORK Dead life, blind sight, poor mortal living ghost,
Woe’s scene, world’s shame, grave’s due by life usurped27,
Brief abstract28 and record of tedious days,
Rest thy unrest on England’s lawful29 earth,
Sits down
Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood!
QUEEN ELIZABETH Ah, that thou wouldst as soon afford31 a grave
As thou canst yield a melancholy seat!
Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here.
Sits with her
Ah, who hath any cause to mourn but we?
Comes forward
QUEEN MARGARET If ancient sorrow be most reverend,
Give mine the benefit of seniory36,
And let my griefs frown on the upper hand.37
Sits with them
If sorrow can admit society38,
I had an Edward39, till a Richard killed him:
I had a husband40, till a Richard killed him:
Thou hadst an Edward41, till a Richard killed him:
Thou hadst a Richard42, till a Richard killed him.
DUCHESS OF YORK I had a Richard43 too, and thou didst kill him;
I had a Rutland too, thou holp’st44 to kill him.
QUEEN MARGARET Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Richard killed 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 eyes48,
To worry49 lambs and lap their gentle blood,
That foul defacer of God’s handiwork50,
That reigns in galled51 eyes of weeping souls,
That excellent52 grand tyrant of the earth,
Thy womb let loose, to chase us to our graves.
O upright, just, and true-disposing54 God,
How do I thank thee, that this carnal cur55
Preys on the issue56 of his mother’s body.
And makes her pew-fellow with others’ moan!57
DUCHESS OF YORK O Harry’s wife, triumph58 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 me61 with beholding it.
Thy Edward he is dead, that killed my Edward62:
The other Edward63 dead, to quit my Edward:
Young York he is but boot, because both they64
Matched not the high perfection of my loss.65
Thy Clarence he is dead that stabbed my Edward,
And the beholders of this frantic67 play,
Th’adulterate68 Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey,
Untimely smothered in their dusky graves.
Richard yet lives, hell’s black intelligencer70,
Only reserved their factor71 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 conveyed from hence.
Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I pray,
That I may live and say, ‘The dog is dead!’
QUEEN ELIZABETH O, thou didst prophesy the time would come
That I should wish for thee to help me curse
That bottled spider, that foul bunch-backed80 toad!
QUEEN MARGARET I called thee then vain flourish81 of my fortune:
I called thee then poor shadow, painted82 queen,
The presentation83 of but what I was,
The flattering index of a direful pageant84,
One heaved a-high, to be hurled down below,
A mother only mocked86 with two fair babes,
A dream of what thou wast, a garish flag87,
To be the aim of every dangerous shot;
A sign of dignity89, a breath, a bubble;
A queen in jest, only to fill the90 scene.
Where is thy husband now? Where be thy brothers?
Where be thy two sons? Wherein dost thou joy?
Who sues93, and kneels and says, ‘God save the queen!’
Where be the bending94 peers that flattered thee?
Where be the thronging troops95 that followed thee?
Decline96 all this, and see what now thou art:
For97 happy wife, a most distressed widow:
For joyful mother, one that wails the name98:
For one being sued to, one that humbly sues:
For queen, a very caitiff crowned with care100:
For she that scorned at me, now scorned of101 me:
For she being feared of all, now fearing one:
For she commanding all, obeyed of none.
Thus hath the course of justice whirled about104,
And left thee but a very105 prey to time,
Having no more but thought106 of what thou wast,
To torture thee the more, being what thou art.
Thou didst usurp my place, and dost thou not
Usurp the just proportion of my sorrow??
Now thy proud neck bears half my burdened yoke,
From which even here I slip my wearied head,
And leave the burden of it all on thee.
Farewell, York’s wife, and queen of sad mischance113:
These English woes shall make me smile in France.
Starts to leave
QUEEN ELIZABETH O thou well skilled in curses, stay awhile,
And teach me how to curse mine enemies!
QUEEN MARGARET Forbear117 to sleep the night, and fast the day:
Compare dead happiness with living woe:
Think that thy babes were sweeter than they were,
And he that slew them fouler than he is.
Bett’ring thy loss makes the bad causer121 worse:
Revolving122 this will teach thee how to curse.
QUEEN ELIZABETH My words are dull. O, quicken123 them with thine!
QUEEN MARGARET Thy woes will make them sharp, and pierce like mine.
Exit Margaret
DUCHESS OF YORK Why should calamity be full of words?
QUEEN ELIZABETH Windy attorneys to their client’s woes126,
Airy succeeders of intestine127 joys,
Poor breathing orators of miseries!
Let them have scope129: though what they will impart
Help nothing else, 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, that thy two sweet sons smothered.
Trumpet
The trumpet sounds: be copious in exclaims.134
Enter King Richard and his train
RICHARD Who intercepts me in my expedition?135
DUCHESS OF YORK O, she that might136 have intercepted thee,
By strangling thee in her accursed womb,
From138 all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast done!
QUEEN ELIZABETH Hid’st thou that forehead with a golden crown
Where’t should be branded140, if that right were right,
The slaughter of the prince that owed141 that crown,
And the dire death of my poor sons and brothers?
Tell me, thou villain143 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 the gentle Rivers, Vaughan, Grey?
DUCHESS OF YORK Where is kind Hastings?
RICHARD A flourish, trumpets! Strike alarum148, drums!
Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale149 women
Rail on the lord’s anointed.150 Strike, I say!
Flourish. Alarums
Either be patient and entreat me fair151,
Or with the clamorous report152 of war
Thus will I drown your exclamations.
DUCHESS OF YORK Art thou my son?
RICHARD Ay, I thank God, my father, and yourself.
DUCHESS OF YORK Then patiently hear my impatience.156
RICHARD Madam, I have a touch of your condition157,
That cannot brook the accent of reproof.158
DUCHESS OF YORK O, let me speak!
RICHARD Do then, but I’ll not hear.
DUCHESS OF YORK I will be mild and gentle in my words.
RICHARD And brief, good mother, for I am in haste.
DUCHESS OF YORK Art thou so hasty? I have stayed163 for thee,
God knows, in torment and in agony.
RICHARD And came I not at last to comfort you?
DUCHESS OF YORK No, by the holy rood166, thou know’st it well,
Thou cam’st on earth to make the earth my hell.
A grievous burden was thy birth to me:
Tetchy and wayward169 was thy infancy:
Thy schooldays frightful, desp’rate170, wild, and furious:
Thy prime171 of manhood daring, bold, and venturous:
Thy age confirmed172, proud, subtle, sly and bloody.
More mild, but yet more harmful, kind in hatred.173
What comfortable174 hour canst thou name,
That ever graced me with thy company?
RICHARD Faith, none, but Humphrey Hour, that called your grace176
To breakfast once forth177 of my company.
If I be so disgracious in your eye,
Let me march on and not offend you, madam.
Strike up the drum.
Drums
DUCHESS OF YORK I prithee hear me speak.
RICHARD You speak too bitterly.
DUCHESS OF YORK Hear me a word,
For I shall never speak to thee again.
RICHARD So.
DUCHESS OF YORK Either thou wilt die, by God’s just ordinance186
Ere from this war thou turn187 a conqueror,
Or I with grief and extreme age shall perish
And never more behold thy face again.
Therefore take with thee my most grievous curse,
Which in the day of battle tire191 thee more
Than all the complete192 armour that thou wear’st!
My prayers on the adverse party fight,
And there the little souls of Edward’s children
Whisper195 the spirits of thine enemies
And promise them success and victory.
Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end:
Shame serves thy life and doth198 thy death attend.
Exit
QUEEN ELIZABETH Though far more cause, yet much less spirit to curse
Abides in me: I say amen to her.
RICHARD Stay, madam, I must talk a word with you.
QUEEN ELIZABETH I have no more sons of the royal blood
For thee to slaughter: for my daughters, Richard,
They shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens,
And therefore level205 not to hit their lives.
RICHARD You have a daughter called Elizabeth,
Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious.
QUEEN ELIZABETH And must she die for this? O, let her live,
And I’ll corrupt her manners209, stain her beauty,
Slander myself as false210 to Edward’s bed,
Throw over her the veil211 of infamy:
So she may live unscarred of212 bleeding slaughter.
I will confess she was not Edward’s daughter.
RICHARD Wrong not her birth, she is a royal princess.
QUEEN ELIZABETH To save her life, I’ll say she is not so.
RICHARD Her life is safest only in her birth.216
QUEEN ELIZABETH And only in that safety died her brothers.
RICHARD Lo, at their birth good stars were opposite.218
QUEEN ELIZABETH No, to their lives ill friends were contrary.219
RICHARD All unavoided is the doom220 of destiny.
QUEEN ELIZABETH True, when avoided grace221 makes destiny.
My babes were destined to a fairer222 death,
If grace had blessed thee with a fairer life.
RICHARD You speak as if that I had slain my cousins.
QUEEN ELIZABETH Cousins, indeed, and by their uncle cozened225
Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life.
Whose hand soever lanched227 their tender hearts,
Thy head, all indirectly228, gave direction.
No doubt the murd’rous knife was dull and blunt
Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart,
To revel in the entrails of my lambs.
But that still use232 of grief makes wild grief tame,
My tongue should to thy ears not name my boys
Till that my nails were anchored in thine eyes,
And I, in such a desp’rate bay235 of death,
Like a poor bark, of sails and tackling reft236,
Rush237 all to pieces on thy rocky bosom.
RICHARD Madam, so thrive I in my enterprise238
And dangerous success239 of bloody wars,
As240 I intend more good to you and yours,
Than ever you and yours by me were harmed.
QUEEN ELIZABETH What good is covered with the face of heaven242,
To be discovered243, that can do me good?
RICHARD Th’advancement244 of your children, gentle lady.
QUEEN ELIZABETH Up to some scaffold245, there to lose their heads?
RICHARD Unto the dignity246 and height of fortune,
The high imperial type247 of this earth’s glory.
QUEEN ELIZABETH Flatter248 my sorrow with report of it:
Tell me what state249, what dignity, what honour,
Canst thou demise250 to any child of mine?
RICHARD Even251 all I have; ay, and myself and all,
Will I withal endow252 a child of thine,
So in the Lethe253 of thy angry soul
Thou drown the sad remembrance254 of those wrongs
Which thou supposest I have done to thee.
QUEEN ELIZABETH Be brief, lest that the process256 of thy kindness
Last longer telling than thy kindness’ date.257
RICHARD Then know, that from my soul I love thy daughter.
QUEEN ELIZABETH My daughter’s mother thinks259 it with her soul.
RICHARD What do you think?
QUEEN ELIZABETH That thou dost love my daughter from261 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.
RICHARD Be not so hasty to confound264 my meaning:
I mean that with my soul I love thy daughter
And do intend to make her Queen of England.
QUEEN ELIZABETH Well then, who dost thou mean shall be her king?
RICHARD Even he that makes her queen. Who else should be?
QUEEN ELIZABETH What, thou?
RICHARD Even so. How270 think you of it?
QUEEN ELIZABETH How canst thou woo her?
RICHARD That I would learn of you,
As one being best acquainted with her humour.273
QUEEN ELIZABETH And wilt thou learn of me?
RICHARD Madam, with all my heart.
QUEEN ELIZABETH Send to her, by the man that slew her brothers,
A pair of bleeding hearts: thereon engrave277
‘Edward’ and ‘York’, then haply278 will she weep:
Therefore present to her — as sometime279 Margaret
Did to thy father, steeped in Rutland’s blood —
A handkerchief, which, say to her, did drain
The purple282 sap from her sweet brother’s body,
And bid her wipe her weeping eyes withal.283
If this inducement move her not to love,
Send her a letter of thy noble deeds:
Tell her thou mad’st away286 her uncle Clarence,
Her uncle Rivers, ay, and, for her sake,
Mad’st quick conveyance288 with her good aunt Anne.
RICHARD You mock me, madam: this is not the way
To win your daughter.
QUEEN ELIZABETH There is no other way,
Unless thou couldst put on some other shape292,
And not be Richard that hath done all this.
RICHARD Say that I did all this for love of her.
QUEEN ELIZABETH Nay, then indeed she cannot choose but hate thee,
Having bought love with such a bloody spoil.296
RICHARD Look what297 is done cannot be now amended:
Men shall deal298 unadvisedly sometimes,
Which after-hours299 give leisure to repent.
If I did take the kingdom from your sons,
To make amends, I’ll give it to your daughter.
If I have killed the issue302 of your womb,
To quicken your increase, I will beget303
Mine issue of your blood upon304 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 mettle308, of your very blood,
Of all one309 pain, save for a night of groans
Endured of her, for whom you bid like sorrow.310
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 would315:
Therefore accept such kindness as I can.316
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
Familiarly322 shall call thy Dorset brother.
Again shall you be mother to a king,
And all the ruins of distressful times
Repaired 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, transformed to orient328 pearl,
Advantaging their love329 with interest
Of ten times double gain of happiness.
Go then, my mother331, to thy daughter go:
Make bold332 her bashful years with your experience,
Prepare her ears to hear a wooer’s tale,
Put in her tender heart th’aspiring flame
Of golden sovereignty, acquaint the princess
With the sweet silent hours of marriage joys.
And when this arm of mine hath chastisèd
The petty rebel, dull-brained Buckingham,
Bound with triumphant garlands will I come
And lead thy daughter to a conqueror’s bed:
To whom I will retail341 my conquest won,
And she shall be sole victoress, Caesar’s Caesar.342
QUEEN ELIZABETH What were I best to say? Her father’s brother
Would be her lord?344 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?
RICHARD Infer349 fair England’s peace by this alliance.
QUEEN ELIZABETH Which she shall purchase with still lasting war.350
RICHARD Tell her the king, that may command, entreats.
QUEEN ELIZABETH That at her hands which the king’s king352 forbids.
RICHARD Say she shall be a high and mighty queen.
QUEEN ELIZABETH To vail354 the title, as her mother doth.
RICHARD Say I will love her everlastingly.
QUEEN ELIZABETH But how long shall that title356 ‘ever’ last?
RICHARD Sweetly in force357 unto her fair life’s end.
QUEEN ELIZABETH But how long fairly358 shall her sweet life last?
RICHARD As long as heaven and nature lengthens it.
QUEEN ELIZABETH As long as hell and Richard likes of it.
RICHARD Say I, her sovereign, am her subject low.
QUEEN ELIZABETH But she, your subject, loathes362 such sovereignty.
RICHARD Be eloquent in363 my behalf to her.
QUEEN ELIZABETH An honest tale speeds best being plainly364 told.
RICHARD Then plainly to her tell my loving tale.
QUEEN ELIZABETH Plain and not honest is too harsh a style.
RICHARD Your reasons are too shallow and too quick.367
QUEEN ELIZABETH O no, my reasons are too deep368 and dead:
Too deep and dead, poor infants, in their graves.
RICHARD Harp not on that string, madam: that is past.
QUEEN ELIZABETH Harp on it still shall I till heart-strings371 break.
RICHARD Now, by my George, my garter372 and my crown—
QUEEN ELIZABETH Profaned, dishonoured and the third usurped.
RICHARD I swear—
QUEEN ELIZABETH By nothing, for this is no oath:
Thy George, profaned, hath lost his376 lordly honour;
Thy garter, blemished, pawned his knightly virtue;
Thy crown, usurped, disgraced his kingly glory.
If something thou wouldst swear to be believed,
Swear then by something that thou hast not wronged.
RICHARD Then, by myself—
QUEEN ELIZABETH Thyself is self-misused.382
RICHARD Now, by the world—
QUEEN ELIZABETH ’Tis full of thy foul wrongs.
RICHARD My father’s death—
QUEEN ELIZABETH Thy life hath it dishonoured.
RICHARD Why then, by heaven—
QUEEN ELIZABETH Heaven’s wrong is most of all.
If thou didst fear to break an oath with him389,
The unity390 the king my husband made
Thou hadst391 not broken, nor my brothers died.
If thou hadst feared to break an oath by him,
Th’imperial metal, circling now thy head,
Had graced the tender temples of my child,
And both the princes had been breathing here,
Which now, two tender bedfellows for dust,
Thy broken faith hath made the prey for worms.
What canst thou swear by now?
RICHARD The time to come.
QUEEN ELIZABETH That thou hast wrongèd in the time o’erpast400,
For I myself have many tears to wash
Hereafter time402, for time past wronged by thee.
The children live whose fathers thou hast slaughtered,
Ungoverned youth, to wail it with their age404:
The parents live whose children thou hast butchered,
Old barren plants, to wail it with406 their age.
Swear not by time to come, for that thou hast
Misused ere used, by time’s ill-used repast.
RICHARD As I intend to prosper and repent,
So thrive410 I in my dangerous affairs
Of hostile arms. Myself myself confound.411
Heaven and fortune bar me happy hours!
Day, yield me not thy light; nor, night, thy rest.
Be opposite414 all planets of good luck
To my proceeding415 if, with dear heart’s love,
Immaculate devotion, holy thoughts,
I tender not thy beauteous princely417 daughter.
In her consists my happiness and thine:
Without her, follows to myself and thee,
Herself, the land and many a Christian soul,
Death, desolation, ruin and decay.
It cannot be avoided but by this:
It will not be avoided but by this.
Therefore, dear mother — I must call you so —
Be the attorney425 of my love to her:
Plead426 what I will be, not what I have been:
Not my deserts427, but what I will deserve.
Urge the necessity and state of times.428
And be not peevish found in great designs.429
QUEEN ELIZABETH Shall I be tempted of430 the devil thus?
RICHARD Ay, if the devil tempt you to do good.
QUEEN ELIZABETH Shall I forget myself to be myself?432
RICHARD Ay, if yourself’s remembrance wrong yourself.433
QUEEN ELIZABETH Yet thou didst kill my children.
RICHARD But in your daughter’s womb I bury them,
Where in that nest of spicery436 they will breed
Selves of themselves, to your recomforture.437
QUEEN ELIZABETH Shall I go win my daughter to thy will?
RICHARD And be a happy mother by the deed.
QUEEN ELIZABETH I go. Write to me very shortly,
And you shall understand from me her mind.441
RICHARD Bear her my true love’s kiss, and so, farewell.
Kisses her
Exit [Queen Elizabeth]
Relenting fool, and shallow, changing woman!—
How now, what news?
Enter Ratcliffe [with Catesby following]
RATCLIFFE Most mighty sovereign, on the western coast
Rideth a puissant446 navy: to our shores
Throng many doubtful hollow-hearted447 friends,
Unarmed, and unresolved to beat them back.
’Tis thought that Richmond is their449 admiral,
And there they hull450, expecting but the aid
Of Buckingham to welcome them ashore.
RICHARD Some light-foot friend post452 to the Duke of Norfolk:
Ratcliffe, thyself, or Catesby.
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