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Title: The Tragedy of King Richard III

Author: William Shakespeare [Collins edition]

Release Date: October, 1998  [EBook #1503]
[This HTML file was first posted on July 2, 2003]
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Edition: 10

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, KING RICHARD III ***





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THE  TRAGEDY  OF

KING  RICHARD  III

by William Shakespeare




Contents

ACT I
Scene  I. London.  A street
Scene  II. London.  Another street
Scene  III.London.  A Room in the Palace
Scene  IV. London.  A Room in the Tower
ACT II
Scene  I. London.  A Room in the Palace
Scene  II. Another Room in the Palace
Scene  III.London.  A street
Scene  IV. London.  A Room in the Palace
ACT III
Scene  I. London.  A street
Scene  II. Before Lord Hasting's house
Scene  III.Pomfret.  Before the Castle
Scene  IV. London.  A Room in the Tower
Scene  V. London.  The Tower Walls
Scene  VI. London.  A street
Scene  VII.London.  Court of Baynard's Castle
ACT IV
Scene  I. London.  Before the Tower
Scene  II. London.  A Room of State in the Palace
Scene  III.London.  Another Room in the Palace
Scene  IV. London.  Before the Palace
Scene  V. A Room in Lord Stanley's house
ACT V
Scene  I. Salisbury.  An open place
Scene  II. Plain near Tamworth
Scene  III.Bosworth Field
Scene  IV. Another part of the Field
Scene  V. Another part of the Field




Persons Represented

KING EDWARD THE FOURTH

Sons to the king
EDWARD, PRINCE OF WALES,
                        afterwards KING EDWARD V
RICHARD, DUKE OF YORK

Brothers to the king
GEORGE, DUKE OF CLARENCE
RICHARD, DUKE OF GLOSTER,
                        afterwards KING RICHARD III

A YOUNG SON OF CLARENCE
HENRY, EARL OF RICHMOND,
                        afterwards KING HENRY VII
CARDINAL BOURCHIER, ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY
THOMAS ROTHERHAM, ARCHBISHOP OF YORK
JOHN MORTON, BISHOP OF ELY
DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM
DUKE OF NORFOLK
EARL OF SURREY, his son
EARL RIVERS, brother to King Edward's Queen
MARQUIS OF DORSET and LORD GREY, her sons
EARL OF OXFORD
LORD HASTINGS
LORD STANLEY
LORD LOVEL
SIR THOMAS VAUGHAN
SIR RICHARD RATCLIFF
SIR WILLIAM CATESBY
SIR JAMES TYRREL
SIR JAMES BLOUNT
SIR WALTER HERBERT
SIR ROBERT BRAKENBURY, Lieutenant of the Tower
CHRISTOPHER URSWICK, a priest
Another Priest
LORD MAYOR OF LONDON
SHERIFF OF WILTSHIRE

ELIZABETH, Queen to King Edward IV
MARGARET, widow to King Henry VI
DUCHESS OF YORK, mother to King Edward IV, Clarence, and Gloster
LADY ANNE, widow to Edward, Prince of Wales, son to King Henry VI; afterwards married to the Duke of Gloster
A YOUNG DAUGHTER OF CLARENCE

Lords, and other Attendants; two Gentlemen, a Pursuivant, Scrivener, Citizens, Murderers, Messengers, Ghosts, Soldiers, &c.



SCENE:  England







ACT  I


SCENE  I.  London.  A street


[Enter GLOSTER.]
GLOSTER
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 bruisèd arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front;
And now,—instead of mounting barbèd steeds
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,—
He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
But I,—that am not shap'd for sportive tricks,
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;
I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time
Into this breathing world scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at me as I halt by them;—
Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time,
Unless to spy my shadow in the sun,
And descant on mine own deformity:
And therefore,—since I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain these fair well-spoken days,—
I am determinèd 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 armèd guard
That waits upon your grace?

CLARENCE
                                             His majesty,
Tendering my person's safety, hath appointed
This conduct to convey me to the Tower.

GLOSTER
Upon what cause?

CLARENCE
                              Because my name is George.

GLOSTER
Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours;
He should, for that, commit your godfathers:—
O, belike his majesty hath some intent
That you should be new-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,
Hath mov'd his highness to commit me now.

GLOSTER
Why, this it is when men are rul'd by women:—
'Tis not the king that sends you to the Tower;
My Lady Grey his wife, Clarence, 'tis she
That tempers him to this extremity.
Was it not she and that good man of worship,
Antony Woodville, her brother there,
That made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower,
From whence this present day he is deliver'd?
We are not safe, Clarence; we are not safe.

CLARENCE
By heaven, I think there is no man is secure
But the queen's kindred, and night-walking heralds
That trudge betwixt the king and Mistress Shore.
Heard you not what an humble suppliant
Lord Hastings was to her for his delivery?

GLOSTER
Humbly complaining to her deity
Got my Lord Chamberlain his liberty.
I'll tell you what,—I think it is our way,
If we will keep in favour with the king,
To be her men and wear her livery:
The jealous o'er-worn widow, and herself,
Since that our brother dubb'd them gentlewomen,
Are mighty gossips in our monarchy.

BRAKENBURY
I beseech your graces both to pardon me;
His majesty hath straitly given in charge
That no man shall have private conference,
Of what degree soever, with your brother.

GLOSTER
Even so; an't please your worship, Brakenbury,
You may partake of any thing we say:
We speak no treason, man;—we say the king
Is wise and virtuous; and his noble queen
Well struck in years, fair, and not jealous;—
We say that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot,
A cherry lip, a bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue;
And that the queen's kindred are made gentlefolks:
How say you, sir? can you deny all this?

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

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

BRAKENBURY
What one, my lord?

GLOSTER
Her husband, knave:—wouldst thou betray me?

BRAKENBURY
I do beseech your grace to pardon me; and, withal,
Forbear your conference with the noble duke.

CLARENCE
We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will obey.

GLOSTER
We are the queen's abjects and must obey.—
Brother, farewell: I will unto the king;
And whatsoe'er you will employ me in,—
Were it to call King Edward's widow sister,—
I will perform it to enfranchise you.
Meantime, this deep disgrace in brotherhood
Touches me deeper than you can imagine.

CLARENCE
I know it pleaseth neither of us well.

GLOSTER
Well, your imprisonment shall not be long;
I will deliver or else lie for you:
Meantime, have patience.

CLARENCE
                                         I must perforce: farewell.
[Exeunt CLARENCE, BRAKENBURY, and guard.]
GLOSTER
Go tread the path that thou shalt ne'er return.
Simple, plain Clarence!—I do love thee so
That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven,
If heaven will take the present at our hands.—
But who comes here? The new-delivered Hastings?
[Enter HASTINGS.]
HASTINGS
Good time of day unto my gracious lord!

GLOSTER
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.

GLOSTER
No doubt, no doubt; and so shall Clarence too;
For they that were your enemies are his,
And have prevail'd as much on him as you.

HASTINGS
More pity that the eagles should be mew'd
Whiles kites and buzzards prey at liberty.

GLOSTER
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.

GLOSTER
Now, by Saint Paul, that news is bad indeed.
O, he hath kept an evil diet long,
And overmuch consum'd his royal person:
'Tis very grievous to be thought upon.
What, is he in his bed?

HASTINGS
                                    He is.

GLOSTER
Go you before, and I will follow you.
[Exit HASTINGS.]
He cannot live, I hope; and must not die
Till George be pack'd with posthorse up to heaven.
I'll in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence
With lies well steel'd with weighty arguments;
And, if I fail not in my deep intent,
Clarence hath not another day to live;
Which done, God take King Edward to his mercy,
And leave the world for me to bustle in!
For then I'll marry Warwick's youngest daughter:
What though I kill'd her husband and her father?
The readiest way to make the wench amends
Is to become her husband and her father:
The which will I; not all so much for love
As for another secret close intent,
By marrying her, which I must reach unto.
But yet I run before my horse to market:
Clarence still breathes; Edward still lives and reigns:
When they are gone, then must I count my gains.
[Exit.]




SCENE  II.  London.  Another street


[Enter the corpse of King Henry the Sixth, borne in an open coffin, Gentlemen bearing halberds to guard it; and Lady Anne as mourner.]
ANNE
Set down, set down your honourable load,—
If honour may be shrouded in a hearse,—
Whilst I awhile obsequiously lament
Th' untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster.—
Poor key-cold figure of a holy king!
Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster!
Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood!
Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost,
To hear the lamentations of poor Anne,
Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughter'd son,
Stabb'd by the self-same hand that made these wounds!
Lo, in these windows that let forth thy life,
I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes:—
O, cursèd be the hand that made these holes!
Cursèd the heart that had the heart to do it!
Cursèd the blood that let this blood from hence!
More direful hap betide that hated wretch
That makes us wretched by the death of thee,
Than I can wish to adders, spiders, toads,
Or any creeping venom'd thing that lives!
If ever he have child, abortive be it,
Prodigious, and untimely brought to light,
Whose ugly and unnatural aspect
May fright the hopeful mother at the view;
And that be heir to his unhappiness!
If ever he have wife, let her be made
More miserable by the death of him
Than I am made by my young lord and thee!—
Come, now towards Chertsey with your holy load,
Taken from Paul's to be interrèd there;
And still, as you are weary of this weight,
Rest you, whiles I lament King Henry's corse.
[The Bearers take up the Corpse and advance.]
[Enter GLOSTER.]
GLOSTER
Stay, you that bear the corse, and set it down.

ANNE
What black magician conjures up this fiend,
To stop devoted charitable deeds?

GLOSTER
Villains, set down the corse; or, by Saint Paul,
I'll make a corse of him that disobeys!

FIRST GENTLEMAN
My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass.

GLOSTER
Unmanner'd dog! stand thou, when I command:
Advance thy halberd higher than my breast,
Or, by Saint Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot
And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness.
[The Bearers set down the coffin.]
ANNE
What, do you tremble? are you all afraid?
Alas, I blame you not; for you are mortal,
And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil.—
Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell!
Thou hadst but power over his mortal body,
His soul thou canst not have; therefore, be gone.

GLOSTER
Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst.

ANNE
Foul devil, for God's sake, hence and trouble us not;
For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell,
Fill'd it with cursing cries and deep exclaims.
If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds,
Behold this pattern of thy butcheries.—
O, gentlemen, see, see! dead Henry's wounds
Open their congeal'd mouths and bleed afresh!
Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity;
For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood
From cold and empty veins, where no blood dwells;
Thy deeds, inhuman and unnatural,
Provokes this deluge most unnatural.—
O God, which this blood mad'st, revenge his death!
O earth, which this blood drink'st, revenge his death!
Either, 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!

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

ANNE
Villain, thou knowest nor law of God nor man:
No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity.

GLOSTER
But I know none, and therefore am no beast.

ANNE
O wonderful, when devils tell the truth!

GLOSTER
More wonderful when angels are so angry.—
Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman,
Of these supposèd crimes to give me leave,
By circumstance, but to acquit myself.

ANNE
Vouchsafe, diffus'd infection of a man,
Of these known evils but to give me leave,
By circumstance, to accuse thy cursèd self.

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

ANNE
Fouler than heart can think thee, thou canst make
No excuse current but to hang thyself.

GLOSTER
By such despair I should accuse myself.

ANNE
And by despairing shalt thou stand excus'd;
For doing worthy vengeance on thyself,
That didst unworthy slaughter upon others.

GLOSTER
Say that I slew them not?

ANNE
                                       Then say they were not slain:
But dead they are, and, devilish slave, by thee.

GLOSTER
I did not kill your husband.

ANNE
                                          Why, then he is alive.

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

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.

GLOSTER
I was provokèd by her slanderous tongue
That laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders.

ANNE
Thou wast provokèd by thy bloody mind,
That never dreamt on aught but butcheries:
Didst thou not kill this king?

GLOSTER
                                            I grant ye.

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

GLOSTER
The better for the king of Heaven, that hath him.

ANNE
He is in heaven, where thou shalt never come.

GLOSTER
Let him thank me that holp to send him thither,
For he was fitter for that place than earth.

ANNE
And thou unfit for any place but hell.

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

ANNE
Some dungeon.

GLOSTER
                        Your bed-chamber.

ANNE
Ill rest betide the chamber where thou liest!

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

ANNE
I hope so.

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

ANNE
Thou wast the cause and most accurs'd effect.

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

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

GLOSTER
These eyes could not endure that beauty's wreck;
You should not blemish it if I stood by:
As all the world is cheerèd by the sun,
So I by that; it is my day, my life.

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

GLOSTER
Curse not thyself, fair creature; thou art both.

ANNE
I would I were, to be reveng'd on thee.

GLOSTER
It is a quarrel most unnatural,
To be reveng'd on him that loveth thee.

ANNE
It is a quarrel just and reasonable,
To be reveng'd on him that kill'd my husband.

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

ANNE
His better doth not breathe upon the earth.

GLOSTER
He lives that loves thee better than he could.

ANNE
Name him.

GLOSTER
                  Plantagenet.

ANNE
                                      Why, that was he.

GLOSTER
The self-same name, but one of better nature.

ANNE
Where is he?

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

ANNE
Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake!

GLOSTER
Never came poison from so sweet a place.

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

GLOSTER
Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine.

ANNE
Would they were basilisks to strike thee dead!

GLOSTER
I would they were, that I might die at once;
For now they kill me with a living death.
Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears,
Sham'd their aspects with store of childish drops:
These eyes, which never shed remorseful tear,
No, when my father York and Edward wept,
To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made
When black-fac'd Clifford shook his sword at him;
Nor when thy warlike father, like a child,
Told the sad story of my father's death,
And twenty times made pause, to sob and weep,
That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks,
Like trees bedash'd with rain; in that sad time
My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear;
And what these sorrows could not thence exhale,
Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping.
I never su'd to friend nor enemy;
My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing word;
But, now thy beauty is propos'd my fee,
My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak.
[She looks scornfully at him.]
Teach not thy lip such scorn; for it was made
For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.
If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive,
Lo, here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword;
Which if thou please to hide in this true breast
And let the soul forth that adoreth thee,
I lay it naked to the deadly stroke,
And humbly beg the death upon my knee,
Nay, do not pause; for I did kill King Henry,—
[He lays his breast open; she offers at it with his sword.]
But 'twas thy beauty that provokèd me.
Nay, now dispatch; 'twas I that stabb'd young Edward,—
[She again offers at his breast.]
But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on.
[She lets fall the sword.]
Take up the sword again, or take up me.

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

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

ANNE
I have already.

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

ANNE
I would I knew thy heart.

GLOSTER
'Tis figured in my tongue.

ANNE
I fear me both are false.

GLOSTER
Then never was man true.

ANNE
Well, well, put up your sword.

GLOSTER
Say, then, my peace is made.

ANNE
That shalt thou know hereafter.

GLOSTER
But shall I live in hope?

ANNE
All men, I hope, live so.

GLOSTER
Vouchsafe to wear this ring.

ANNE
To take is not to give.
[She puts on the ring.]
GLOSTER
Look, how this ring encompasseth thy finger,
Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart;
Wear both of them, for both of them are thine.
And if thy poor devoted servant may
But beg one favour at thy gracious hand,
Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever.

ANNE
What is it?

GLOSTER
That it may please you leave these sad designs
To him that hath most 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.

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.

GLOSTER
Bid me farewell.

ANNE
                         'Tis more than you deserve;
But since you teach me how to flatter you,
Imagine I have said farewell already.
[Exeunt Lady Anne, Tress, and Berk.]
GLOSTER
Sirs, take up the corse.

GENTLEMEN
                                    Towards Chertsey, noble lord?

GLOSTER
No, to White Friars; there attend my coming.
[Exeunt the rest, with the Corpse.]
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 no friends to back my suit withal,
But the plain devil and dissembling looks,
And yet to win her,—all the world to nothing!
Ha!
Hath she forgot already that brave prince,
Edward, her lord, whom I, some three months since,
Stabb'd in my angry mood at Tewksbury?
A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman,—
Fram'd in the prodigality of nature,
Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal,—
The spacious world cannot again afford:
And will she yet abase her eyes on me,
That cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet prince,
And made her widow to a woeful bed?
On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety?
On me, that halt and am misshapen thus?
My dukedom to a beggarly denier,
I do mistake my person all this while:
Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot,
Myself to be a marvellous proper man.
I'll be at charges for a looking-glass;
And entertain a score or two of tailors,
To study fashions to adorn my body:
Since I am crept in favour with myself,
I will maintain it with some little cost.
But first I'll turn yon fellow in his grave;
And then return lamenting to my love.—
Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass,
That I may see my shadow as I pass.
[Exit.]




SCENE  III.  London.  A Room in the Palace


[Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH, LORD RIVERS, and LORD GREY.]
RIVERS
Have patience, madam: there's no doubt his majesty
Will soon recover his accustom'd health.

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

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

GREY
No other harm but loss of such a lord.

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

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

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

RIVERS
Is it concluded he shall be protector?

QUEEN ELIZABETH
It is determin'd, not concluded yet:
But so it must be, if the king miscarry.
[Enter BUCKINGHAM and STANLEY.]
GREY
Here come the Lords of Buckingham and Stanley.

BUCKINGHAM
Good time of day unto your royal grace!

STANLEY
God make your majesty joyful as you have been!

QUEEN ELIZABETH
The Countess Richmond, good my Lord of Stanley,
To your good prayer will scarcely say amen.
Yet, Stanley, notwithstanding she's your wife,
And loves not me, be you, good lord, assur'd
I hate not you for her proud arrogance.

STANLEY
I do beseech you, either not believe
The envious slanders of her false accusers;
Or, if she be accus'd on true report,
Bear with her weakness, which I think proceeds
From wayward sickness, and no grounded malice.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Saw you the king to-day, my Lord of Stanley?

STANLEY
But now the Duke of Buckingham and I
Are come from visiting his majesty.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
What likelihood of his amendment, lords?

BUCKINGHAM
Madam, good hope; his grace speaks cheerfully.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
God grant him health! Did you confer with him?

BUCKINGHAM
Ay, madam; he desires to make atonement
Between the Duke of Gloster and your brothers,
And between them and my lord chamberlain;
And sent to warn them to his royal presence.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Would all were well!—but that will never be:
I fear our happiness is at the height.
[Enter GLOSTER, HASTINGS, and DORSET.]
GLOSTER
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 look fair,
Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive, and cog,
Duck with French nods and apish courtesy,
I must be held a rancorous enemy.
Cannot a plain man live, and think no harm,
But thus his simple truth must be abus'd
With silken, sly, insinuating Jacks?

GREY
To who in all this presence speaks your grace?

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

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Brother of Gloster, you mistake the matter.
The king, on his own royal disposition,
And not provok'd by any suitor else—
Aiming, belike, at your interior hatred
That in your outward action shows itself
Against my children, brothers, and myself—
Makes him to send; that thereby he may gather
The ground of your ill-will, and so remove it.

GLOSTER
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 Gloster;
You envy my advancement, and my friends';
God grant we never may have need of you!

GLOSTER
Meantime, God grants that we have need of you:
Our brother is imprison'd by your means,
Myself disgrac'd, and the nobility
Held in contempt; while great promotions
Are daily given to ennoble those
That scarce, some two days since, were worth a noble.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
By Him that rais'd me to this careful height
From that contented hap which I enjoy'd,
I never did incense his majesty
Against the Duke of Clarence, but have been
An earnest advocate to plead for him.
My lord, you do me shameful injury
Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects.

GLOSTER
You may deny that you were not the mean
Of my Lord Hastings' late imprisonment.

RIVERS
She may, my lord; for,—

GLOSTER
She may, Lord Rivers?—why, who knows not so?
She may do more, sir, than denying that:
She may help you to many fair preferments;
And then deny her aiding hand therein,
And lay those honours on your high desert.
What may she not? She may,—ay, marry, may she,—

RIVERS
What, marry, may she?

GLOSTER.
What, marry, may she! marry with a king,
A bachelor, and a handsome stripling too:
I wis your grandam had a worser match.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
My Lord of Gloster, I have too long borne
Your blunt upbraidings and your bitter scoffs:
By heaven, I will acquaint his majesty
Of those gross taunts that oft I have endur'd.
I had rather be a country servant-maid
Than a great queen with this condition,—
To be so baited, scorn'd, and stormed at.
[Enter old QUEEN MARGARET, behind.]
Small joy have I in being England's queen.

QUEEN MARGARET
And lessen'd be that small, God, I beseech Him!
Thy honour, state, and seat, is due to me.

GLOSTER
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 do remember them too well:
Thou kill'dst my husband Henry in the Tower,
And Edward, my poor son, at Tewksbury.

GLOSTER
Ere you were queen, ay, or your husband king,
I was a pack-horse in his great affairs;
A weeder-out of his proud adversaries,
A liberal rewarder of his friends;
To royalize his blood I spilt mine own.

QUEEN MARGARET
Ay, and much better blood than his or thine.

GLOSTER
In all which time you and your husband Grey
Were factious for the house of Lancaster;—
And, Rivers, so were you: was not your husband
In Margaret's battle at Saint Albans slain?
Let me put in your minds, if you forget,
What you have been ere this, and what you are;
Withal, what I have been, and what I am.

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

GLOSTER
Poor Clarence did forsake his father, Warwick;
Ay, and forswore himself,—which Jesu pardon!—

QUEEN MARGARET
Which God revenge!

GLOSTER
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 this world,
Thou cacodemon! there thy kingdom is.

RIVERS
My Lord of Gloster, in those busy days
Which here you urge to prove us enemies,
We follow'd then our lord, our sovereign king:
So should we you, if you should be our king.

GLOSTER
If I should be!—I had rather be a pedler:
Far be it from my heart, the thought thereof!

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

QUEEN MARGARET
As little joy enjoys the queen thereof;
For I am she, and altogether joyless.
I can no longer hold me patient.—
[Advancing.]
Hear me, you wrangling pirates, that fall out
In sharing that which you have pill'd from me!
Which of you trembles not that looks on me?
If not that, I am queen, you bow like subjects,
Yet that, by you depos'd, you quake like rebels?
Ah, gentle villain, do not turn away!

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

QUEEN MARGARET
But repetition of what thou hast marr'd,
That will I make before I let thee go.

GLOSTER
Wert thou not banishèd on pain of death?

QUEEN MARGARET
I was; but I do find more pain in banishment
Than death can yield me here by my abode.
A husband and a son thou ow'st to me,—
And thou a kingdom,—all of you allegiance:
This sorrow that I have, by right is yours;
And all the pleasures you usurp are mine.

GLOSTER
The curse my noble father laid on thee,
When thou didst crown his warlike brows with paper,
And with thy scorns drew'st rivers from his eyes;
And then to dry them gav'st the Duke a clout
Steep'd in the faultless blood of pretty Rutland;—
His curses, then from bitterness of soul
Denounc'd against thee, are all fallen upon thee;
And God, not we, hath plagu'd thy bloody deed.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
So just is God, to right the innocent.

HASTINGS
O, 'twas the foulest deed to slay that babe,
And the most merciless that e'er was heard of.

RIVERS
Tyrants themselves wept when it was reported.

DORSET
No man but prophesied revenge for it.

BUCKINGHAM
Northumberland, then present, wept to see it.

QUEEN MARGARET
What, were you snarling all before I came,
Ready to catch each other by the throat,
And turn you all your hatred now on me?
Did York's dread curse prevail so much with heaven
That Henry's death, my lovely Edward's death,
Their kingdom's loss, my woeful banishment,
Should all but answer for that peevish brat?
Can curses pierce the clouds and enter heaven?—
Why, then, give way, dull clouds, to my quick curses!—
Though not by war, by surfeit die your king,
As ours by murder, to make him a king!
Edward thy son, that now is Prince of Wales,
For Edward our son, that was Prince of Wales,
Die in his youth by like untimely violence!
Thyself a queen, for me that was a queen,
Outlive thy glory, like my wretched self!
Long mayest thou live to wail thy children's death;
And see another, as I see thee now,
Deck'd in thy rights, as thou art stall'd in mine!
Long die thy happy days before thy death;
And, after many 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 his natural age,
But by some unlook'd accident cut off!

GLOSTER
Have done thy charm, thou hateful wither'd hag.

QUEEN MARGARET
And leave out thee? stay, dog, for thou shalt hear me.
If heaven have any grievous plague in store
Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee,
O, let them keep it till thy sins be ripe,
And then hurl down their indignation
On thee, the troubler of the poor world's peace!
The worm of conscience still be-gnaw thy soul!
Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou liv'st,
And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends!
No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine,
Unless it be while some tormenting dream
Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils!
Thou elvish-mark'd, abortive, rooting hog!
Thou that wast seal'd in thy nativity
The slave of nature and the son of hell!
Thou slander of thy heavy mother's womb!
Thou loathèd issue of thy father's loins!
Thou rag of honour! thou detested—

GLOSTER
Margaret.

QUEEN MARGARET
                Richard!

GLOSTER
                              Ha!

QUEEN MARGARET
                                     I call thee not.

GLOSTER
I cry thee mercy then; for I did think
That thou hadst call'd me all these bitter names.

QUEEN MARGARET
Why, so I did; but look'd for no reply.
O, let me make the period to my curse!

GLOSTER
'Tis done by me, and ends in—Margaret.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Thus have you breath'd your curse against yourself.

QUEEN MARGARET
Poor painted queen, vain flourish of my fortune!
Why strew'st thou sugar on that bottled spider,
Whose deadly web ensnareth thee about?
Fool, fool! thou whett'st a knife to kill thyself.
The day will come that thou shalt wish for me
To help thee curse this poisonous bunch-back'd toad.

HASTINGS
False-boding woman, end thy frantic curse,
Lest to thy harm thou move our patience.

QUEEN MARGARET
Foul shame upon you! you have all mov'd mine.

RIVERS
Were you well serv'd, you would be taught your duty.

QUEEN MARGARET
To serve me well, you all should do me duty,
Teach me to be your queen, and you my subjects:
O, serve me well, and teach yourselves that duty!

DORSET
Dispute not with her,—she is lunatic.

QUEEN MARGARET
Peace, master marquis, you are malapert:
Your fire-new stamp of honour is scarce current:
O, that your young nobility could judge
What 'twere to lose it, and be miserable!
They that stand high have many blasts to shake them;
And if they fall they dash themselves to pieces.

GLOSTER
Good counsel, marry:—learn it, learn it, marquis.

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

GLOSTER
Ay, and much more: but I was born so high,
Our aery buildeth in the cedar's top,
And dallies with the wind, and scorns the sun.

QUEEN MARGARET
And turns the sun to shade;—alas! alas!—
Witness my son, now in the shade of death;
Whose bright out-shining beams thy cloudy wrath,
Hath in eternal darkness folded up.
Your aery buildeth in our aery's nest:—
O God that seest it, do not suffer it;
As it is won with blood, lost be it so!

BUCKINGHAM
Peace, peace, for shame, if not for charity.

QUEEN MARGARET
Urge neither charity nor shame to me:
Uncharitably with me have you dealt,
And shamefully my hopes by you are butcher'd.
My charity is outrage, life my shame,—
And in that shame still live my sorrow's rage!

BUCKINGHAM
Have done, have done.

QUEEN MARGARET
O princely Buckingham, I'll kiss thy hand,
In sign of league and amity with thee:
Now fair befall thee and thy noble house!
Thy garments are not spotted with our blood,
Nor thou within the compass of my curse.

BUCKINGHAM
Nor no one here; for curses never pass
The lips of those that breathe them in the air.

QUEEN MARGARET
I will not think but they ascend the sky,
And there awake God's gentle-sleeping peace.
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.

GLOSTER
What doth she say, my Lord of Buckingham?

BUCKINGHAM
Nothing that I respect, my gracious lord.

QUEEN MARGARET
What, dost thou scorn me for my gentle counsel?
And soothe the devil that I warn thee from?
O, but remember this another day,
When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow,
And say, poor Margaret was a prophetess!—
Live each of you the subjects to his hate,
And he to yours, and all of you to God's!
[Exit.]
BUCKINGHAM
My hair doth stand an end to hear her curses.

RIVERS
And so doth mine: I muse why she's at liberty.

GLOSTER
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.

GLOSTER
Yet you have all the vantage of her wrong.
I was too hot to do somebody good,
That is too cold in thinking of it now.
Marry, as for Clarence, he is well repaid;
He is frank'd up to fatting for his pains;
God pardon them that are the cause thereof!

RIVERS
A virtuous and a Christian-like conclusion,
To pray for them that have done scathe to us!

GLOSTER
So do I ever being well advis'd;
[Aside]
For had I curs'd now, I had curs'd myself.
[Enter CATESBY.]
CATESBY
Madam, his majesty doth can for you,—
And for your grace,—and you, my noble lords.

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

RIVERS
We wait upon your grace.
[Exeunt all but GLOSTER.]
GLOSTER
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 cast in darkness,—
I do beweep to many simple gulls;
Namely, to Stanley, Hastings, Buckingham;
And tell them 'tis the queen and her allies
That stir the king against the duke my brother.
Now they believe it; and withal whet me
To be reveng'd on Rivers, Vaughn, 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 odd old ends stol'n forth of holy writ;
And seem a saint when most I play the devil.—
But, soft, here come my executioners.
[Enter two MURDERERS.]
How now, my hardy stout resolvèd mates!
Are you now going to dispatch this thing?

FIRST MURDERER
We are, my lord, and come to have the warrant,
That we may be admitted where he is.

GLOSTER
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 obdúrate, do not hear him plead;
For Clarence is well-spoken, and perhaps
May move your hearts to pity, if you mark him.

FIRST MURDERER
Tut, tut, my lord, we will not stand to prate;
Talkers are no good doers: be assur'd
We go to use our hands, and not our tongues.

GLOSTER
Your eyes drop millstones when fools' eyes fall tears:
I like you, lads;—about your business straight;
Go, go, despatch.

FIRST MURDERER
We will, my noble lord.
[Exeunt.]




SCENE  IV.  London.  A Room in the Tower


[Enter CLARENCE and BRAKENBURY.]
BRAKENBURY
Why looks your grace so heavily to-day?

CLARENCE
O, I have pass'd a miserable night,
So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights,
That, as I am a Christian faithful man,
I would not spend another such a night
Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days,—
So full of dismal terror was the time!

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

CLARENCE
Methoughts that I had broken from the Tower,
And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy;
And, in my company, my brother Gloster;
Who from my cabin tempted me to walk
Upon the hatches: thence we look'd toward England,
And cited up a thousand heavy times,
During the wars of York and Lancaster,
That had befall'n us. As we pac'd along
Upon the giddy footing of the hatches,
Methought that Gloster stumbled; and, in falling,
Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard
Into the tumbling billows of the main.
O Lord, methought what pain it was to drown!
What dreadful noise of waters in my ears!
What sights of ugly death within my eyes!
Methoughts I saw a thousand fearful wrecks;
A thousand men that fishes gnaw'd upon;
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels,
All scatt'red in the bottom of the sea:
Some lay in dead men's skulls; and in the holes
Where eyes did once inhabit there were crept,—
As 'twere in scorn of eyes,—reflecting gems,
That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep,
And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by.

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

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

BRAKENBURY
Awak'd you not in this sore agony?

CLARENCE
No, no, my dream was lengthen'd after life;
O, then began the tempest to my soul!
I pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood
With that 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, renownèd Warwick;
Who spake 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 shriek'd out aloud
"Clarence is come,—false, fleeting, perjur'd Clarence,—
That stabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury;—
Seize on him, Furies, take him to your torments!"
With that, methoughts, a legion of foul fiends
Environ'd me, and howlèd in mine ears
Such hideous cries that, with the very noise,
I trembling wak'd, and for a season after
Could not believe but that I was in hell,—
Such terrible impression made my dream.

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

CLARENCE
Ah, Brakenbury, I have done these things
That now give evidence against my soul,
For Edward's sake; and see how he requites me!—
O God! If my deep prayers cannot appease Thee,
But Thou wilt be aveng'd on my misdeeds,
Yet execute Thy wrath in me alone,—
O, spare my guiltless wife and my poor children!—
Keeper, I prithee sit by me awhile;
My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep.

BRAKENBURY
I will, my lord; God give your grace good rest!—
[CLARENCE reposes himself on a chair.]
Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours,
Makes the night morning and the noontide night.
Princes have but their titles for their glories,
An outward honour for an inward toil;
And, for unfelt imaginations,
They often feel a world of restless cares:
So that, between their tides and low name,
There's nothing differs but the outward fame.
[Enter the two MURDERERS.]
FIRST MURDERER
Ho! who's here?

BRAKENBURY
What wouldst thou, fellow, and how cam'st thou hither?

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

BRAKENBURY
What, so brief?

SECOND MURDERER
'Tis better, sir, than to be tedious.—Let him see our commission and talk no more.
[A paper is delivered to BRAKENBURY, who 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.
There lies the Duke asleep,—and there the keys;
I'll to the king and signify to him
That thus I have resign'd to you my charge.

FIRST MURDERER
You may, sir; 'tis a point of wisdom: fare you well.
[Exit BRAKENBURY.]
SECOND MURDERER
What, shall we stab him as he sleeps?

FIRST MURDERER
No; he'll say 'twas done cowardly, when he wakes.

SECOND MURDERER
When he wakes! why, fool, he shall never wake until the great judgment-day.

FIRST MURDERER
Why, then he'll say we stabb'd him sleeping.

SECOND MURDERER
The urging of that word "judgment" hath bred a kind of remorse in me.

FIRST MURDERER
What, art thou afraid?

SECOND MURDERER
Not to kill him, having a warrant for it; but to be damned for killing him, from the which no warrant can defend me.

FIRST MURDERER
I thought thou hadst been resolute.

SECOND MURDERER
So I am, to let him live.

FIRST MURDERER
I'll back to the Duke of Gloster and tell him so.

SECOND MURDERER
Nay, I pr'ythee, stay a little: I hope my holy humour will change; it was wont to hold me but while one tells twenty.

FIRST MURDERER
How dost thou feel thyself now?

SECOND MURDERER
Faith, some certain dregs of conscience are yet within me.

FIRST MURDERER
Remember our reward, when the deed's done.

SECOND MURDERER
Zounds, he dies: I had forgot the reward.

FIRST MURDERER
Where's thy conscience now?

SECOND MURDERER
O, in the Duke of Gloster's purse.

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

SECOND MURDERER
'Tis no matter; let it go; there's few or none will entertain it.

FIRST MURDERER
What if it come to thee again?

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

FIRST MURDERER
Zounds,'tis even now at my elbow, persuading me not to kill the duke.

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

FIRST MURDERER
I am strong-framed; he cannot prevail with me.

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

FIRST MURDERER
Take him on the costard with the hilts of thy sword, and then throw him in the malmsey-butt in the next room.

SECOND MURDERER
O excellent device! and make a sop of him.

FIRST MURDERER
Soft! he wakes.

SECOND MURDERER
Strike!

FIRST MURDERER
No, we'll reason with him.

CLARENCE
Where art thou, keeper? give me a cup of wine.

SECOND MURDERER
You shall have wine enough, my lord, anon.

CLARENCE
In God's name, what art thou?

FIRST MURDERER
A man, as you are.

CLARENCE
But not as I am, royal.

SECOND MURDERER
Nor you as we are, loyal.

CLARENCE
Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks are humble.

FIRST MURDERER
My voice is now the king's, my looks mine own.

CLARENCE
How darkly and how deadly dost thou speak!
Your eyes do menace me; why look you pale?
Who sent you hither? Wherefore do you come?

SECOND MURDERER
To, to, to—

CLARENCE
To murder me?

BOTH MURDERERS
Ay, ay.

CLARENCE
You scarcely have the hearts to tell me so,
And therefore cannot have the hearts to do it.
Wherein, my friends, have I offended you?

FIRST MURDERER
Offended us you have not, but the king.

CLARENCE
I shall be reconcil'd to him again.

SECOND MURDERER
Never, my lord; therefore prepare to die.

CLARENCE
Are you drawn forth among a world of men
To slay the innocent? What is my offence?
Where is the evidence that doth accuse me?
What lawful quest have given their verdict up
Unto the frowning judge? or who pronounc'd
The bitter sentence of poor Clarence' death?
Before I be convíct by course of law,
To threaten me with death is most unlawful.
I charge you, as you hope to have redemption
By Christ's dear blood shed for our grievous sins,
That you depart, and lay no hands on me:
The deed you undertake is damnable.

FIRST MURDERER
What we will do, we do upon command.

SECOND MURDERER
And he that hath commanded is our king.

CLARENCE
Erroneous vassals! the great King of kings
Hath in the table of his law commanded
That thou shalt do no murder: will you then
Spurn at His edict and fulfil a man's?
Take heed; for He holds vengeance in His hand
To hurl upon their heads that break His law.

SECOND MURDERER
And that same vengeance doth He hurl on thee
For false forswearing, and for murder too:
Thou didst receive the sacrament to fight
In quarrel of the house of Lancaster.

FIRST MURDERER
And like a traitor to the name of God
Didst break that vow; and with thy treacherous blade
Unripp'dst the bowels of thy sovereign's son.

SECOND MURDERER
Whom thou wast sworn to cherish and defend.

FIRST MURDERER
How canst thou urge God's dreadful law to us,
When thou hast broke it in such dear degree?

CLARENCE
Alas! for whose sake did I that ill deed?
For Edward, for my brother, for his sake:
He sends you not to murder me for this;
For in that sin he is as deep as I.
If God will be avengèd for the deed,
O, know you yet He doth it publicly.
Take not the quarrel from His powerful arm;
He needs no indirect or lawless course
To cut off those that have offended Him.

FIRST MURDERER
Who made thee, then, a bloody minister
When gallant-springing brave Plantagenet,
That princely novice, was struck dead by thee?

CLARENCE
My brother's love, the devil, and my rage.

FIRST MURDERER
Thy brother's love, our duty, and thy faults,
Provoke us hither now to slaughter thee.

CLARENCE
If you do love my brother, hate not me;
I am his brother, and I love him well.
If you are hir'd for meed, go back again,
And I will send you to my brother Gloster,
Who shall reward you better for my life
Than Edward will for tidings of my death.

SECOND MURDERER
You are deceiv'd, your brother Gloster hates you.

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

FIRST MURDERER
                                      Ay, so we will.

CLARENCE
Tell him when that our princely father York
Bless'd his three sons with his victorious arm
And charg'd us from his soul to love each other,
He little thought of this divided friendship:
Bid Gloster think of this, and he will weep.

FIRST MURDERER
Ay, millstones; as he lesson'd us to weep.

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

FIRST MURDERER
Right, as snow in harvest.—Come, you deceive yourself:
'Tis he that sends us to destroy you here.

CLARENCE
It cannot be; for he bewept my fortune,
And hugg'd me in his arms, and swore, with sobs,
That he would labour my delivery.

FIRST MURDERER
Why, so he doth, when he delivers you
From this earth's thraldom to the joys of heaven.

SECOND MURDERER
Make peace with God, for you must die, my lord.

CLARENCE
Have you that holy feeling in your souls,
To counsel me to make my peace with God,
And are you yet to your own souls so blind
That you will war with God by murdering me?—
O, sirs, consider, they that set you on
To do this deed will hate you for the deed.

SECOND MURDERER
What shall we do?

CLARENCE
                              Relent, and save your souls.

FIRST MURDERER
Relent! '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.
[Stabs him.]
Take that, and that: if all this will not do,
I'll drown you in the malmsey-butt within.
[Exit with the body.]
SECOND MURDERER
A bloody deed, and desperately dispatch'd!
How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands
Of this most grievous murder!
[Re-enter FIRST MURDERER.]
FIRST MURDERER
How now, what mean'st thou that thou help'st me not?
By heavens, the duke shall know how slack you have been!

SECOND MURDERER
I would he knew that I had sav'd his brother!
Take thou the fee, and tell him what I say;
For I repent me that the duke is slain.
[Exit.]
FIRST MURDERER
So do not I: go, coward as thou art.—
Well, I'll go hide the body in some hole,
Till that the duke give order for his burial:
And when I have my meed, I will away;
For this will out, and then I must not stay.
[Exit.]






ACT  II


SCENE  I.  London.  A Room in the palace


[Enter KING EDWARD, led in sick, QUEEN ELIZABETH, DORSET, RIVERS, HASTINGS, BUCKINGHAM, GREY, and others.]
KING EDWARD
Why, so. Now have I done a good day's work:—
You peers, continue this united league:
I every day expect an embassage
From my Redeemer, to redeem me hence;
And more at peace my soul shall part to heaven,
Since I have made my friends at peace on earth.
Rivers and Hastings, take each other's hand;
Dissemble not your hatred, swear your love.

RIVERS
By heaven, my soul is purg'd from grudging hate;
And with my hand I seal my true heart's love.

HASTINGS
So thrive I, as I truly swear the like!

KING EDWARD
Take heed you dally not before your king;
Lest He that is the supreme King of kings
Confound your hidden falsehood, and award
Either of you to be the other's end.

HASTINGS
So prosper I, as I swear perfect love!

RIVERS
And I, as I love Hastings with my heart!

KING EDWARD
Madam, yourself is not exempt from this;—
Nor you, son Dorset;—Buckingham, nor you;—
You have been factious one against the other.
Wife, love Lord Hastings, let him kiss your hand;
And what you do, do it unfeignedly.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
There, Hastings; I will never more remember
Our former hatred, so thrive I and mine!

KING EDWARD
Dorset, embrace him;—Hastings, love lord marquis.

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

HASTINGS
And so swear I.
[Embraces Dorset.]
KING EDWARD
Now, princely Buckingham, seal thou this league
With thy embracements to my wife's allies,
And make me happy in your unity.

BUCKINGHAM
Whenever Buckingham doth turn his hate
Upon your grace [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 assurèd that he is a friend,
Deep, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile,
Be he unto me!—this do I beg of heaven
When I am cold in love to you or yours.
[Embracing Rivers &c.]
KING EDWARD
A pleasing cordial, princely Buckingham,
Is this thy vow unto my sickly heart.
There wanteth now our brother Gloster here,
To make the blessèd period of this peace.

BUCKINGHAM
And, in good time, here comes the noble duke.
[Enter GLOSTER.]
GLOSTER
Good morrow to my sovereign king and queen;
And, princely peers, a happy time of day!

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

GLOSTER
A blessed labour, my most sovereign lord,—
Among this princely heap, if any here,
By false intelligence or wrong surmise,
Hold me a foe;
If I unwittingly, or in my rage,
Have aught committed that is hardly borne
To any in this presence, I desire
To reconcile me to his friendly peace:
'Tis death to me to be at enmity;
I hate it, and desire all good men's love.—
First, madam, I entreat true peace of you,
Which I will purchase with my duteous service;—
Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham,
If ever any grudge were lodg'd between us;—
Of you, and you, Lord Rivers, and of Dorset,
That all without desert have frown'd on me;
Of you, Lord Woodville, and, Lord Scales, of you;—
Dukes, earls, lords, gentlemen;—indeed, of all.
I do not know that Englishman alive
With whom my soul is any jot at odds
More than the infant that is born to-night:
I thank my God for my humility.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
A holy day shall this be kept hereafter:—
I would to God all strifes were well compounded.—
My sovereign lord, I do beseech your highness
To take our brother Clarence to your grace.

GLOSTER
Why, madam, have I off'red love for this,
To be so flouted in this royal presence?
Who knows not that the gentle duke is dead?
[They all start.]
You do him injury to scorn his corse.

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

QUEEN ELIZABETH
All-seeing heaven, what a world is this!

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

DORSET
Ay, my good lord; and no man in the presence
But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks.

KING EDWARD
Is Clarence dead? the order was revers'd.

GLOSTER
But he, poor man, by your first order died,
And that a wingèd Mercury did bear;
Some tardy cripple bore the countermand
That came too lag to see him burièd.
God grant that some, less noble and less loyal,
Nearer in bloody thoughts, an not in blood,
Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did,
And yet go current from suspicion!
[Enter Stanley.]
STANLEY
A boon, my sovereign, for my service done!

KING EDWARD
I pr'ythee, peace: my soul is full of sorrow.

STANLEY
I Will not rise unless your highness hear me.

KING EDWARD
Then say at once what is it thou request'st.

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

KING EDWARD
Have I a tongue to doom my brother's death,
And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave?
My brother kill'd no man,—his fault was thought,
And yet his punishment was bitter death.
Who su'd to me for him? who, in my wrath,
Kneel'd at my feet, and bid me be advis'd?
Who spoke of brotherhood? who spoke of love?
Who told me how the poor soul did forsake
The mighty Warwick, and did fight for me?
Who told me, in the field at Tewksbury,
When Oxford had me down, he rescu'd me,
And said "Dear brother, live, and be a king"?
Who told me, when we both lay in the field
Frozen almost to death, how he did lap me
Even in his garments, and did give himself,
All thin and naked, to the numb-cold night?
All this from my remembrance brutish wrath
Sinfully pluck'd, and not a man of you
Had so much grace to put it in my mind.
But when your carters or your waiting-vassals
Have done a drunken slaughter, and defac'd
The precious image of our dear Redeemer,
You straight are on your knees for pardon, pardon;
And I, unjustly too, must grant it you:—
But for my brother not a man would speak,—
Nor I, ungracious, speak unto myself
For him, poor soul. The proudest of you all
Have been beholding to him in his life;
Yet none of you would once beg for his life.—
O God, I fear Thy justice will take hold
On me, and you, and mine, and yours, for this!
Come, Hastings, help me to my closet.
Ah, poor Clarence!
[Exeunt KING, QUEEN, HASTINGS, RIVERS, DORSET, and GREY.]
GLOSTER
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.—Come, lords, will you go
To comfort Edward with our company?

BUCKINGHAM
We wait upon your grace.
[Exeunt.]




SCENE  II.  Another Room in the palace


[Enter the DUCHESS OF YORK, with A SON and DAUGHTER of CLARENCE.]
SON
Good grandam, tell us, is our father dead?

DUCHESS
No, boy.

DAUGHTER
Why do you weep so oft, and beat your breast,
And cry "O Clarence, my unhappy son!"

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

DUCHESS
My pretty cousins, you mistake me both;
I do lament the sickness of the king,
As loath to lose him, not your father's death;
It were lost sorrow to wail one that's lost.

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

DAUGHTER
And so will I.

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

SON
Grandam, we can; for my good uncle Gloster
Told me, the king, provok'd to it by the queen,
Devis'd impeachments to imprison him:
And when my uncle told me so, he wept,
And pitied me, and kindly kiss'd my cheek;
Bade me rely on him as on my father,
And he would love me dearly as his child.

DUCHESS
Ah, that deceit should steal such gentle shape,
And with a virtuous visard hide deep vice!
He is my son; ay, and therein my shame;
Yet from my dugs he drew not this deceit.

SON
Think you my uncle did dissemble, grandam?

DUCHESS
Ay, boy.

SON
I cannot think it.—Hark! what noise is this?
[Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH, distractedly; RIVERS and DORSET following her.]
QUEEN ELIZABETH
Ah, who shall hinder me to wail and weep,
To chide my fortune, and torment myself?
I'll join with black despair against my soul,
And to myself become an enemy.

DUCHESS
What means this scene of rude impatience?

QUEEN ELIZABETH
To make an act of tragic violence:—
Edward, my lord, thy son, our king, is dead.—
Why grow the branches when the root is gone?
Why wither not the leaves that want their sap?—
If you will live, lament; if die, be brief,
That our swift-wingèd souls may catch the king's;
Or, like obedient subjects, follow him
To his new kingdom of perpetual rest.

DUCHESS
Ah, so much interest have I in thy sorrow
As I had title in thy noble husband!
I have bewept a worthy husband's death,
And liv'd 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,
That grieves me when I see my shame in him.
Thou art a widow, yet thou art a mother,
And hast the comfort of thy children left;
But death hath snatch'd my husband from mine arms,
And pluck'd two crutches from my feeble hands,—
Clarence and Edward. O, what cause have I,—
Thine being but a moiety of my moan,—
To overgo thy woes and drown thy cries?

SON
Ah, aunt, you wept not for our father's death!
How can we aid you with our kindred tears?

DAUGHTER
Our fatherless distress was left unmoan'd,
Your widow-dolour likewise be unwept!

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Give me no help in lamentation;
I am not barren to bring forth complaints:
All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes,
That I, being govern'd by the watery moon,
May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world!
Ah for my husband, for my dear Lord Edward!

CHILDREN
Ah for our father, for our dear Lord Clarence!

DUCHESS
Alas for both, both mine, Edward and Clarence!

QUEEN ELIZABETH
What stay had I but Edward? and he's gone.

CHILDREN
What stay had we but Clarence? and he's gone.

DUCHESS
What stays had I but they? and they are gone.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Was never widow had so dear a loss!

CHILDREN
Were never orphans had so dear a loss!

DUCHESS
Was never mother had so dear a loss!
Alas, I am the mother of these griefs!
Their woes are parcell'd, mine is general.
She for an Edward weeps, and so do I:
I for a Clarence weep, so doth not she:
These babes for Clarence weep, and so do I;
I for an Edward weep, so do not they:—
Alas, you three, on me, threefold distress'd,
Pour all your tears! I am your sorrow's nurse,
And I will pamper it with lamentation.

DORSET
Comfort, dear mother: God is much displeas'd
That you take with unthankfulness His doing:
In common worldly things 'tis called ungrateful,
With dull unwillingness to repay a debt
Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent;
Much more to be thus opposite with heaven,
For it requires the royal debt it lent you.

RIVERS
Madam, bethink you, like a careful mother,
Of the young prince your son: send straight for him;
Let him be crown'd; in him your comfort lives.
Drown desperate sorrow in dead Edward's grave,
And plant your joys in living Edward's throne.
[Enter GLOSTER, BUCKINGHAM, STANLEY, HASTINGS, RATCLIFF and others.]
GLOSTER
Sister, have comfort: all of us have cause
To wail the dimming of our shining star;
But none can help our harms by wailing them.—
Madam, my mother, I do cry you mercy;
I did not see your grace:—humbly on my knee
I crave your blessing.

DUCHESS
God bless thee; and put meekness in thy breast,
Love, charity, obedience, and true duty!

GLOSTER
Amen!
[Aside]
            And make me die a good old man!—
That is the butt end of a mother's blessing;
I marvel that her grace did leave it out.

BUCKINGHAM
You cloudy princes and heart-sorrowing peers,
That bear this heavy mutual load of moan,
Now cheer each other in each other's love:
Though we have spent our harvest of this king,
We are to reap the harvest of his son.
The broken rancour of your high-swoln hearts,
But lately splinter'd, knit, and join'd together,
Must gently be preserv'd, cherish'd, and kept;
Me seemeth good that, with some little train,
Forthwith from Ludlow the young prince be fetched
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.

GLOSTER
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 urg'd:
Therefore I say with noble Buckingham,
That it is meet so few should fetch the prince.

HASTINGS
And so say I.

GLOSTER
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 business?
[Exeunt all but BUCKINGHAM and GLOSTER.]
BUCKINGHAM
My lord, whoever journeys to the prince,
For God'd sake, let not us two stay at home;
For by the way I'll sort occasion,
As index to the story we late talk'd of,
To part the queen's proud kindred from the Prince.

GLOSTER
My other self, my counsel's consistory,
My oracle, my prophet!—my dear cousin,
I, as a child, will go by thy direction.
Toward Ludlow then, for we'll not stay behind.
[Exeunt.]




SCENE  III.  London.  A street


[Enter two CITIZENS, meeting.]
FIRST CITIZEN
Good morrow, neighbour: whither away so fast?

SECOND CITIZEN
I promise you, I scarcely know myself:
Hear you the news abroad?

FIRST CITIZEN
                                           Yes,—that the king is dead.

SECOND CITIZEN
Ill news, by'r lady; seldom comes the better:
I fear, I fear 'twill prove a giddy world.
[Enter third CITIZEN.]
THIRD CITIZEN
Neighbours, God speed!

FIRST CITIZEN
                                      Give you good morrow, sir.

THIRD CITIZEN
Doth the news hold of good King Edward's death?

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

THIRD CITIZEN
Then, masters, look to see a troublous world.

FIRST CITIZEN
No, no; by God's good grace, his son shall reign.

THIRD CITIZEN
Woe to that land that's govern'd by a child!

SECOND CITIZEN
In him there is a hope of government,
Which, in his nonage, council under him,
And, in his full and 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 his father and mother.

THIRD CITIZEN
Better it were they all came by his father,
Or by his father there were none at all;
For emulation who shall now be nearest
Will touch us all too near, if God prevent not.
O, full of danger is the Duke of Gloster!
And the queen's sons and brothers haught and proud:
And were they to be rul'd, and not to rule,
This sickly land might solace as before.

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

THIRD CITIZEN
When clouds are seen, wise men put on their cloaks;
When great leaves fall, then winter is at hand;
When the sun sets, who doth not look for night?
Untimely storms make men expect a dearth.
All may be well; but, if God sort it so,
'Tis more than we deserve or I expect.

SECOND CITIZEN
Truly, the hearts of men are fun of fear:
You cannot reason almost with a man
That looks not heavily and fun of dread.

THIRD CITIZEN
Before the days of change, still is it so:
By a divine instinct men's minds mistrust
Ensuing danger; as, by proof, we see
The water swell before a 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.]




SCENE  IV.  London.  A Room in the Palace


[Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF YORK, the young DUKE OF YORK, QUEEN ELIZABETH, and the DUCHESS OF YORK.]
ARCHBISHOP
Last night, I hear, they at Northampton lay;
And at Stony-Stratford they do rest to-night:
To-morrow or next day they will be here.

DUCHESS
I long with all my heart to see the prince:
I hope he is much grown since last I saw him.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
But I hear no; they say my son of York
Has almost overta'en him in his growth.

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

DUCHESS
Why, my good cousin? it is good to grow.

YORK
Grandam, one night as we did sit at supper,
My uncle Rivers talk'd how I did grow
More than my brother. "Ay," quoth my uncle Gloster,
"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
Good faith, good faith, the saying did not hold
In him that did object the same to thee:
He was the wretched'st thing when he was young,
So long a growing and so leisurely,
That, if his rule were true, he should be gracious.

ARCHBISHOP
And so no doubt he is, my gracious madam.

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

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

DUCHESS
How, my young York? I pr'ythee let me hear it.

YORK
Marry, they say my uncle grew so fast
That he could gnaw a crust at two hours old:
'Twas full two years ere I could get a tooth.
Grandam, this would have been a biting jest.

DUCHESS
I pr'ythee, pretty York, who told thee this?

YORK
Grandam, his nurse.

DUCHESS
His nurse! why she was dead ere thou wast born.

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

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

ARCHBISHOP
Good madam, be not angry with the child.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Pitchers have ears.

ARCHBISHOP
Here comes a messenger.
[Enter a MESSENGER.]
                                       What news?

MESSENGER
Such news, my lord, as grieves me to report.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
How doth the prince?

MESSENGER
                                   Well, madam, and in health.

DUCHESS
What is thy news?

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

DUCHESS
Who hath committed them?

MESSENGER
                                          The mighty dukes,
Gloster and Buckingham.

ARCHBISHOP
                                       For what offence?

MESSENGER
The sum of all I can, I have disclos'd;
Why or for what the nobles were committed
Is all unknown to me, my gracious lady.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Ah me, I see the ruin of my house!
The tiger now hath seiz'd the gentle hind;
Insulting tyranny begins to jet
Upon the innocent and aweless throne:—
Welcome, destruction, blood, and massacre!
I see, as in a map, the end of all.

DUCHESS
Accursèd and unquiet wrangling days
How many of you have mine eyes beheld?
My husband lost his life to get the crown;
And often up and down my sons were toss'd
For me to joy and weep their gain and loss:
And being seated, and domestic broils
Clean over-blown, themselves, the conquerors
Make war upon themselves; brother to brother,
Blood to blood, self against self: O, preposterous
And frantic outrage, end thy damnèd spleen;
Or let me die, to look on death no more!

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Come, come, my boy; we will to sanctuary.—
Madam, farewell.

DUCHESS
                           Stay, I will go with you.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
You have no cause.

ARCHBISHOP
[To the queen.]
                               My gracious lady, go.
And thither bear your treasure and your goods.
For my part, I'll resign unto your grace
The seal I keep; and so betide to me
As well I tender you and all of yours!
Go, I'll conduct you to the sanctuary.
[Exeunt.]






ACT  III


SCENE  I.  London.  A street


[The trumpets sound. Enter the PRINCE OF WALES, GLOSTER, BUCKINGHAM, CATESBY, CARDINAL BOURCHIER, and others.]
BUCKINGHAM
Welcome, sweet prince, to London, to your chamber.

GLOSTER
Welcome, dear cousin, my thoughts' sovereign:
The weary way hath made you melancholy.

PRINCE
No, uncle; but our crosses on the way
Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy:
I want more uncles here to welcome me.

GLOSTER
Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of your years
Hath not yet div'd into the world's deceit:
Nor more can you distinguish of a man
Than of his outward show; which, God He knows,
Seldom or never jumpeth with the heart.
Those uncles which you want were dangerous;
Your grace attended to their sugar'd words
But look'd not on the poison of their hearts:
God keep you from them and from such false friends!

PRINCE
God keep me from false friends! but they were none.

GLOSTER
My lord, the mayor of London comes to greet you.
[Enter the LORD MAYOR and his train.]
MAYOR
God bless your grace with health and happy days!

PRINCE
I thank you, good my lord;—and thank you all.
[Exeunt MAYOR, &c.]
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!

BUCKINGHAM
And, in good time, here comes the sweating lord.
[Enter HASTINGS.]
PRINCE
Welcome, my lord: what, will our mother come?

HASTINGS
On what occasion, God He knows, not I,
The queen your mother and your brother York
Have taken sanctuary: the tender prince
Would fain have come with me to meet your grace,
But by his mother was perforce withheld.

BUCKINGHAM
Fie, what an indirect and peevish course
Is this of hers?—Lord cardinal, will your grace
Persuade the queen to send the Duke of York
Unto his princely brother presently?
If she deny, Lord Hastings, go with him,
And from her jealous arms pluck him perforce.

CARDINAL
My Lord of Buckingham, if my weak oratory
Can from his mother win the Duke of York,
Anon expect him here; but if she be obdurate
To mild entreaties, God in heaven forbid
We should infringe the holy privilege
Of blessèd sanctuary! not for all this land
Would I be guilty of so deep a sin.

BUCKINGHAM
You are too senseless-obstinate, my lord,
Too ceremonious and traditional:
Weigh it but with the grossness of this age,
You break not sanctuary in seizing him.
The benefit thereof is always granted
To those whose dealings have deserv'd the place
And those who have the wit to claim the place:
This prince hath neither claim'd it nor deserv'd it;
And therefore, in mine opinion, cannot have it:
Then, taking him from thence that is not there,
You break no privilege nor charter there.
Oft have I heard of sanctuary-men;
But sanctuary-children ne'er till now.

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

HASTINGS
I go, my lord.

PRINCE
Good lords, make all the speedy haste you may.
[Exeunt CARDINAL and HASTINGS.]
Say, uncle Gloster, if our brother come,
Where shall we sojourn till our coronation?

GLOSTER
Where it seems best unto your royal self.
If I may counsel you, some day or two
Your highness shall repose you at the Tower:
Then where you please and shall be thought most fit
For your best health and recreation.

PRINCE
I do not like the Tower, of any place.—
Did Julius Caesar build that place, my lord?

BUCKINGHAM
He did, my gracious lord, begin that place;
Which, since, succeeding ages have re-edified.

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

BUCKINGHAM
Upon recórd, my gracious lord.

PRINCE
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.

GLOSTER
[Aside]
So wise so young, they say, do never live long.

PRINCE
What say you, uncle?

GLOSTER
I say, without characters, fame lives long.—
[Aside]
Thus, like the formal vice, Iniquity,
I moralize two meanings in one word.

PRINCE
That Julius Caesar was a famous man;
With what his valour did enrich his wit,
His wit set down to make his valour live;
Death makes no conquest of this conqueror;
For now he lives in fame, though not in life.—
I'll tell you what, my cousin Buckingham,—

BUCKINGHAM
What, my gracious lord?

PRINCE
An if I live until I be a man,
I'll win our ancient right in France again,
Or die a soldier as I liv'd a king.

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

BUCKINGHAM
Now, in good time, here comes the Duke of York.
[Enter YORK, HASTINGS, and the CARDINAL.]
PRINCE
Richard of York! how fares our loving brother?

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

PRINCE
Ay brother,—to our grief, as it is yours:
Too late he died that might have kept that title,
Which by his death hath lost much majesty.

GLOSTER
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.

GLOSTER
He hath, my lord.

YORK
                            And therefore is he idle?

GLOSTER
O, my fair cousin, I must not say so.

YORK
Then he is more beholding to you than I.

GLOSTER
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.

GLOSTER
My dagger, little cousin? with all my heart!

PRINCE
A beggar, brother?

YORK
Of my kind uncle, that I know will give,
And being but a toy, which is no grief to give.

GLOSTER
A greater gift than that I'll give my cousin.

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

GLOSTER
Ay, gentle cousin, were it light enough.

YORK
O, then, I see you will part but with light gifts;
In weightier things you'll say a beggar nay.

GLOSTER
It is too heavy for your grace to wear.

YORK
I weigh it lightly, were it heavier.

GLOSTER
What, would you have my weapon, little lord?

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

GLOSTER
How?

YORK
Little.

PRINCE
My Lord of York will still be cross in talk:—
Uncle, your grace knows how to bear with him.

YORK
You mean, to bear me, not to bear with me:—
Uncle, my brother mocks both you and me;
Because that I am little, like an ape,
He thinks that you should bear me on your shoulders.

BUCKINGHAM
With what a sharp-provided wit he reasons!
To mitigate the scorn he gives his uncle,
He prettily and aptly taunts himself:
So cunning and so young is wonderful.

GLOSTER
My lord, wil't please you pass along?
Myself and my good cousin Buckingham
Will to your mother, to entreat of her
To meet you at the Tower and welcome you.

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

PRINCE
My lord protector needs will have it so.

YORK
I shall not sleep in quiet at the Tower.

GLOSTER
Why, what should you fear?

YORK
Marry, my uncle Clarence' angry ghost:
My grandam told me he was murder'd there.

PRINCE
I fear no uncles dead.

GLOSTER
Nor none that live, I hope.

PRINCE
An if they live, I hope I need not fear.
But come, my lord; and with a heavy heart,
Thinking on them, go I unto the Tower.
[Sennet. Exeunt PRINCE, YORK, HASTINGS, CARDINAL, and Attendants.]
BUCKINGHAM
Think you, my lord, this little prating York
Was not incensèd by his subtle mother
To taunt and scorn you thus opprobriously?

GLOSTER
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 urg'd upon the way;—
What think'st thou? is it not an easy matter
To make William Lord Hastings of our mind,
For the instalment of this noble duke
In the seat royal of this famous isle?

CATESBY
He for his father's sake so loves the prince
That he will not be won to aught against him.

BUCKINGHAM
What think'st thou then of Stanley? will not he?

CATESBY
He will do all in all as Hastings doth.

BUCKINGHAM
Well then, no more but this: go, gentle Catesby,
And, as it were far off, sound thou Lord Hastings
How he doth stand affected to our purpose;
And summon him to-morrow to the Tower,
To sit about the coronation.
If thou dost find him tractable to us,
Encourage him, and tell him all our reasons:
If he be leaden, icy, cold, unwilling,
Be thou so too; and so break off the talk,
And give us notice of his inclination:
For we to-morrow hold divided councils,
Wherein thyself shalt highly be employ'd.

GLOSTER
Commend me to Lord William: tell him, Catesby,
His ancient knot of dangerous adversaries
To-morrow are let blood at Pomfret Castle;
And bid my lord, for joy of this good news,
Give Mistress Shore one gentle kiss the more.

BUCKINGHAM
Good Catesby, go, effect this business soundly.

CATESBY
My good lords both, with all the heed I can.

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

CATESBY
You shall, my lord.

GLOSTER
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?

GLOSTER
Chop off his head. man;—somewhat we will do:—
And, look when I am king, claim thou of me
The earldom of Hereford, and all the movables
Whereof the king my brother was possess'd.

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

GLOSTER
And look to have it yielded with all kindness.
Come, let us sup betimes, that afterwards
We may digest our complots in some form.
[Exeunt.]




SCENE  II.  Before Lord Hasting's house


[Enter a MESSENGER.]
MESSENGER
My lord, my lord!—
[Knocking]
HASTINGS
[Within] Who knocks?

MESSENGER
One from the Lord Stanley.

HASTINGS
[Within] What is't o'clock?

MESSENGER
Upon the stroke of four.
[Enter HASTINGS.]
HASTINGS
Cannot my Lord Stanley sleep these tedious nights?

MESSENGER
So it appears by that I have to say.
First, he commends him to your noble self.

HASTINGS
What then?

MESSENGER
Then certifies your lordship that this night
He dreamt the boar had razed off his helm:
Besides, he says there are two councils held;
And that may be determin'd at the one
Which may make you and him to rue at the other.
Therefore he sends to know your lordship's pleasure,—
If you will presently take horse with him,
And with all speed post with him toward the north,
To shun the danger that his soul divines.

HASTINGS
Go, fellow, go, return unto thy lord;
Bid him not fear the separated councils:
His honour and myself are at the one,
And at the other is my good friend Catesby;
Where nothing can proceed that toucheth us
Whereof I shall not have intelligence.
Tell him his fears are shallow, without instance:
And for his dreams, I wonder he's so simple
To trust the 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
I'll go, my lord, and tell him what you say.
[Exit.]
[Enter CATESBY.]
CATESBY
Many good morrows to my noble lord!

HASTINGS
Good morrow, Catesby; you are early stirring:
What news, what news, in this our tottering state?

CATESBY
It is a reeling world indeed, my lord;
And I believe will never stand upright
Till Richard wear the garland of the realm.

HASTINGS
How! wear the garland! dost thou mean the crown?

CATESBY
Ay, my good lord.

HASTINGS
I'll have this crown of mine cut from my shoulders
Before I'll see the crown so foul misplac'd.
But canst thou guess that he doth aim at it?

CATESBY
Ay, on my life; and hopes to find you forward
Upon his party for the gain thereof:
And thereupon he sends you this good news,—
That this same very day your enemies,
The kindred of the queen, must die at Pomfret.

HASTINGS
Indeed, I am no mourner for that news,
Because they have been still my adversaries:
But that I'll give my voice on Richard's side
To bar my master's heirs in true descent,
God knows I will not do it to the death.

CATESBY
God keep your lordship in that gracious mind!

HASTINGS
But I shall laugh at this a twelve month hence,—
That they which brought me in my master's hate,
I live to look upon their tragedy.
Well, Catesby, ere a fortnight make me older,
I'll send some packing that yet think not on't.

CATESBY
'Tis a vile thing to die, my gracious lord,
When men are unprepar'd and look not for it.

HASTINGS
O monstrous, monstrous! and so falls it out
With Rivers, Vaughan, Grey: and so 'twill do
With some men else that think themselves as safe
As thou and I; who, as thou knowest, are dear
To princely Richard and to Buckingham.

CATESBY
The princes both make high account of you,—
[Aside]
For they account his head upon the bridge.

HASTINGS
I know they do, and I have well deserv'd it.
[Enter STANLEY.]
Come on, come on; where is your boar-spear, man?
Fear you the boar, and go so unprovided?

STANLEY
My lord, good morrow; and 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 days, I do protest,
Was it so precious to me as 'tis now;
Think you, but that I know our state secure,
I would be so triumphant as I am?

STANLEY
The lords at Pomfret, when they rode from London,
Were jocund and suppos'd their states were sure,—
And they, indeed, had no cause to mistrust;
But yet, you see, how soon the day o'ercast!
This sudden stab of rancour I misdoubt;
Pray God, I say, I prove a needless coward.
What, shall we toward the Tower? the day is spent.

HASTINGS
Come, come, have with you.—Wot you what, my lord?
To-day the lords you talk'd of are beheaded.

STANLEY
They, for their truth, might better wear their heads
Than some that have accus'd them wear their hats.—
But come, my lord, let's away.
[Enter 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 thou mett'st me last where now we meet:
Then was I going prisoner to the Tower,
By the suggestion of the queen's allies;
But now, I tell thee,—keep it to thyself,—
This day those 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.
[Throwing him his purse.]
PURSUIVANT
I thank your honour.
[Exit.]
[Enter a PRIEST.]
PRIEST
Well met, my lord; I am glad to see your honour.

HASTINGS
I thank thee, good Sir John, with all my heart.
I am in your debt for your last exercise;
Come the next Sabbath, and I will content you.
[Enter BUCKINGHAM.]
BUCKINGHAM
What, talking with a priest, lord chamberlain!
Your friends at Pomfret, they do need the priest;
Your honour hath no shriving work in hand.

HASTINGS
Good faith, and when I met this holy man,
The men you talk of came into my mind.—
What, go you toward the Tower?

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

HASTINGS
Nay, like enough, for I stay dinner there.

BUCKINGHAM
[Aside]
And supper too, although thou knowest it not.—
Come, will you go?

HASTINGS
I'll wait upon your lordship.
[Exeunt.]




SCENE  III.  Pomfret.  Before the Castle


[Enter RATCLIFF, with Guard, conducting RIVERS, GREY, and VAUGHAN to execution.]
RIVERS
Sir Richard Ratcliff, let me tell thee this,—
To-day shalt thou behold a subject die
For truth, for duty, and for loyalty.

GREY
God bless the prince from all the pack of you!
A knot you are of damnèd blood-suckers.

VAUGHAN
You live that shall cry woe for this hereafter
.
RATCLIFF
Despatch; the limit of your lives is out.

RIVERS
O Pomfret, Pomfret! O thou bloody prison,
Fatal and ominous to noble peers!
Within the guilty closure of thy walls
Richard the Second here was hack'd to death:
And, for more slander to thy dismal seat,
We give to thee our guiltless blood to drink.

GREY
Now Margaret's curse is fallen upon our heads,
When she exclaim'd on Hastings, you, and I,
For standing by when Richard stabb'd her son.

RIVERS
Then curs'd she Richard, then curs'd she Buckingham,
Then curs'd she Hastings:—O, remember, God,
To hear her prayer for them, as now for us!
And for my sister, and her princely sons,
Be satisfied, dear God, with our true blood,
Which, as Thou know'st, unjustly must be spilt.

RATCLIFF
Make haste; the hour of death is expiate.

RIVERS
Come, Grey;—come, Vaughan;—let us here embrace.
Farewell, until we meet again in heaven.
[Exeunt.]




SCENE  IV.  London.  A Room in the Tower


[BUCKINGHAM, STANLEY, HASTINGS, the BISHOP of ELY, RATCLIFF, LOVEL, and others sitting at a table: Officers of the Council attending.]
HASTINGS
Now, noble peers, the cause why we are met
Is to determine of the coronation.
In God's name speak,—when is the royal day?

BUCKINGHAM
Are all things ready for that royal time?

STANLEY
Thery are, and wants but nomination.

ELY
To-morrow, then, I judge a happy day.

BUCKINGHAM
Who knows the lord protector's mind herein?
Who is most inward with the noble duke?

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

BUCKINGHAM
We know each other's faces: for our hearts,
He knows no more of mine than I of yours;
Or I of his, my lord, than you of mine.—
Lord Hastings, you and he are near in love.

HASTINGS
I thank his grace, I know he loves me well;
But for his purpose in the coronation
I have not sounded him, nor he deliver'd
His gracious pleasure any way therein:
But you, my honourable lords, may name the time;
And in the duke's behalf I'll give my voice,
Which, I presume, he'll take in gentle part.

ELY
In happy time, here comes the duke himself.
[Enter GLOSTER.]
GLOSTER
My noble lords and cousins all, good morrow.
I have been long a sleeper; but I trust
My absence doth neglect no great design
Which by my presence might have been concluded.

BUCKINGHAM
Had you not come upon your cue, my lord,
William Lord Hastings had pronounc'd your part,—
I mean, your voice,—for crowning of the king.

GLOSTER
Than my Lord Hastings no man might be bolder;
His lordship knows me well and loves me well.—
My lord of Ely, when I was last in Holborn
I saw good strawberries in your garden there:
I do beseech you send for some of them.

ELY
Marry, and will, my lord, with all my heart.
[Exit.]
GLOSTER
Cousin of Buckingham, a word with you.
[Takes him aside.]
Catesby hath sounded Hastings in our business,
And finds the testy gentleman so hot
That he will lose his head ere give consent
His master's child, as worshipfully he terms it,
Shall lose the royalty of England's throne.

BUCKINGHAM
Withdraw yourself awhile; I'll go with you.
[Exeunt GLOSTER and BUCKINGHAM.]
STANLEY
We have not yet set down this day of triumph.
To-morrow, in my judgment, is too sudden;
For I myself am not so well provided
As else I would be, were the day prolong'd.
[Re-enter BISHOP OF ELY.]
ELY
Where is my lord the Duke of Gloster?
I have sent for these strawberries.

HASTINGS
His grace looks cheerfully and smooth this morning;
There's some conceit or other likes him well
When that he bids good morrow with such spirit.
I think there's ne'er a man in Christendom
Can lesser hide his love or hate than he;
For by his face straight shall you know his heart.

STANLEY
What of his heart perceive you in his face
By any livelihood he showed to-day?

HASTINGS
Marry, that with no man here he is offended;
For, were he, he had shown it in his looks.
[Re-enter GLOSTER and BUCKINGHAM.]
GLOSTER
I pray you all, tell me what they deserve
That do conspire my death with devilish plots
Of damnèd witchcraft, and that have prevail'd
Upon my body with their hellish charms?

HASTINGS
The tender love I bear your grace, my lord,
Makes me most forward in this princely presence
To doom the offenders: whosoe'er they be.
I say, my lord, they have deservèd death.

GLOSTER
Then be your eyes the witness of their evil:
Look how I am bewitch'd; behold, mine arm
Is, like a blasted sapling, wither'd up:
And this is Edward's wife, that monstrous witch,
Consorted with that harlot-strumpet Shore,
That by their witchcraft thus have markèd me.

HASTINGS
If they have done this deed, my noble lord,—

GLOSTER
If!—thou protector of this damnèd strumpet,
Talk'st thou to me of "ifs"?—Thou art a traitor:—
Off with his head!—now, by Saint Paul I swear,
I will not dine until I see the same.—
Lovel and Ratcliff:—look that it be done:—
The rest, that love me, rise and follow me.
[Exeunt all except HASTINGS, LOVEL, and RATCLIFF.]
HASTINGS
Woe, woe, for England! not a whit for me;
For I, too fond, might have prevented this.
Stanley did dream the boar did raze his helm;
And I did scorn it, and disdain to fly.
Three times to-day my foot-cloth horse did stumble,
And started, when he look'd upon the Tower,
As loth to bear me to the slaughter-house.
O, now I need the priest that spake to me:
I now repent I told the pursuivant,
As too triumphing, how mine enemies
To-day at Pomfret bloodily were butcher'd,
And I myself secure in grace and favour.
O Margaret, Margaret, now thy heavy curse
Is lighted on poor Hastings' wretched head!

RATCLIFF
Come, come, despatch; the duke would be at dinner:
Make a short shrift; he longs to see your head.

HASTINGS
O momentary grace of mortal men,
Which we more hunt for than the grace of God!
Who builds his hope in air of your good looks
Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast,
Ready, with every nod, to tumble down
Into the fatal bowels of the deep.

LOVEL
Come, come, despatch; 'tis bootless to exclaim.

HASTINGS
O bloody Richard!—miserable England!
I prophesy the fearfull'st time to thee
That ever wretched age hath look'd upon.—
Come, lead me to the block; bear him my head:
They smile at me who shortly shall be dead.
[Exeunt.]




SCENE  V.  London.  The Tower Walls


[Enter GLOSTER and BUCKINGHAM in rusty armour, marvellous ill-favoured.]
GLOSTER
Come, cousin, canst thou quake and change thy colour,
Murder thy breath in middle of a word,
And then again begin, and stop again,
As if thou were distraught and mad with terror?

BUCKINGHAM
Tut, I can counterfeit the deep tragedian;
Speak and look back, and pry on every side,
Tremble and start at wagging of a straw,
Intending deep suspicion: ghastly looks
Are at my service, like enforcèd smiles;
And both are ready in their offices,
At any time to grace my stratagems.
But what, is Catesby gone?

GLOSTER
He is; and, see, he brings the mayor along.
[Enter the LORD MAYOR and CATESBY.]
BUCKINGHAM
Lord mayor,—

GLOSTER
Look to the drawbridge there!

BUCKINGHAM
Hark! a drum.

GLOSTER
Catesby, o'erlook the walls.

BUCKINGHAM
Lord Mayor, the reason we have sent,—

GLOSTER
Look back, defend thee,—here are enemies.

BUCKINGHAM
God and our innocency defend and guard us!

GLOSTER
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.

GLOSTER
So dear I lov'd the man that I must weep.
I took him for the plainest harmless creature
That breath'd upon the earth a Christian;
Made him my book, wherein my soul recorded
The history of all her secret thoughts:
So smooth he daub'd his vice with show of virtue
That, his apparent open guilt omitted,—
I mean, his conversation with Shore's wife,—
He liv'd from all attainder of suspécts.

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

MAYOR