King Richard III

  GLOUCESTER. How now, how now! What say the citizens?  BUCKINGHAM. Now, by the holy Mother of our Lord,    The citizens are mum, say not a word.  GLOUCESTER. Touch'd you the bastardy of Edward's    children?  BUCKINGHAM. I did; with his contract with Lady Lucy,    And his contract by deputy in France;    Th' insatiate greediness of his desire,    And his enforcement of the city wives;    His tyranny for trifles; his own bastardy,    As being got, your father then in France,    And his resemblance, being not like the Duke.    Withal I did infer your lineaments,    Being the right idea of your father,    Both in your form and nobleness of mind;    Laid open all your victories in Scotland,    Your discipline in war, wisdom in peace,    Your bounty, virtue, fair humility;    Indeed, left nothing fitting for your purpose    Untouch'd or slightly handled in discourse.    And when mine oratory drew toward end    I bid them that did love their country's good    Cry 'God save Richard, England's royal King!'  GLOUCESTER. And did they so?  BUCKINGHAM. No, so God help me, they spake not a word;    But, like dumb statues or breathing stones,    Star'd each on other, and look'd deadly pale.    Which when I saw, I reprehended them,    And ask'd the Mayor what meant this wilfull silence.    His answer was, the people were not used    To be spoke to but by the Recorder.    Then he was urg'd to tell my tale again.    'Thus saith the Duke, thus hath the Duke inferr'd'-    But nothing spoke in warrant from himself.    When he had done, some followers of mine own    At lower end of the hall hurl'd up their caps,    And some ten voices cried 'God save King Richard!'    And thus I took the vantage of those few-    'Thanks, gentle citizens and friends,' quoth I    'This general applause and cheerful shout    Argues your wisdoms and your love to Richard.'    And even here brake off and came away.  GLOUCESTER. What, tongueless blocks were they? Would    they not speak?    Will not the Mayor then and his brethren come?  BUCKINGHAM. The Mayor is here at hand. Intend some fear;    Be not you spoke with but by mighty suit;    And look you get a prayer-book in your hand,    And stand between two churchmen, good my lord;    For on that ground I'll make a holy descant;    And be not easily won to our requests.    Play the maid's part: still answer nay, and take it.  GLOUCESTER. I go; and if you plead as well for them    As I can say nay to thee for myself,    No doubt we bring it to a happy issue.  BUCKINGHAM. Go, go, up to the leads; the Lord Mayor    knocks. Exit GLOUCESTER

Enter the LORD MAYOR, ALDERMEN, and citizens

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

Enter CATESBY

    Now, Catesby, what says your lord to my request?  CATESBY. He doth entreat your Grace, my noble lord,    To visit him to-morrow or next day.    He is within, with two right reverend fathers,    Divinely bent to meditation;    And in no worldly suits would he be mov'd,    To draw him from his holy exercise.  BUCKINGHAM. Return, good Catesby, to the gracious Duke;    Tell him, myself, the Mayor and Aldermen,    In deep designs, in matter of great moment,    No less importing than our general good,    Are come to have some conference with his Grace.  CATESBY. I'll signify so much unto him straight. Exit  BUCKINGHAM. Ah ha, my lord, this prince is not an Edward!    He is not lolling on a lewd love-bed,    But on his knees at meditation;    Not dallying with a brace of courtezans,    But meditating with two deep divines;    Not sleeping, to engross his idle body,    But praying, to enrich his watchful soul.    Happy were England would this virtuous prince    Take on his Grace the sovereignty thereof;    But, sure, I fear we shall not win him to it.  MAYOR. Marry, God defend his Grace should say us nay!  BUCKINGHAM. I fear he will. Here Catesby comes again.

Re-enter CATESBY

    Now, Catesby, what says his Grace?  CATESBY. My lord,    He wonders to what end you have assembled    Such troops of citizens to come to him.    His Grace not being warn'd thereof before,    He fears, my lord, you mean no good to him.  BUCKINGHAM. Sorry I am my noble cousin should    Suspect me that I mean no good to him.    By heaven, we come to him in perfect love;    And so once more return and tell his Grace.                                                    Exit CATESBY    When holy and devout religious men    Are at their beads, 'tis much to draw them thence,    So sweet is zealous contemplation.Enter GLOUCESTER aloft, between two BISHOPS. CATESBY returns  MAYOR. See where his Grace stands 'tween two clergymen!  BUCKINGHAM. Two props of virtue for a Christian prince,    To stay him from the fall of vanity;    And, see, a book of prayer in his hand,    True ornaments to know a holy man.    Famous Plantagenet, most gracious Prince,    Lend favourable ear to our requests,    And pardon us the interruption    Of thy devotion and right Christian zeal.  GLOUCESTER. My lord, there needs no such apology:    I do beseech your Grace to pardon me,    Who, earnest in the service of my God,    Deferr'd the visitation of my friends.    But, leaving this, what is your Grace's pleasure?  BUCKINGHAM. Even that, I hope, which pleaseth God above,    And all good men of this ungovern'd isle.  GLOUCESTER. I do suspect I have done some offence    That seems disgracious in the city's eye,    And that you come to reprehend my ignorance.  BUCKINGHAM. You have, my lord. Would it might please    your Grace,    On our entreaties, to amend your fault!  GLOUCESTER. Else wherefore breathe I in a Christian land?  BUCKINGHAM. Know then, it is your fault that you resign    The supreme seat, the throne majestical,    The scept'red office of your ancestors,    Your state of fortune and your due of birth,    The lineal glory of your royal house,    To the corruption of a blemish'd stock;    Whiles in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts,    Which here we waken to our country's good,    The noble isle doth want her proper limbs;    Her face defac'd with scars of infamy,    Her royal stock graft with ignoble plants,    And almost should'red in the swallowing gulf    Of dark forgetfulness and deep oblivion.    Which to recure, we heartily solicit    Your gracious self to take on you the charge    And kingly government of this your land-    Not as protector, steward, substitute,    Or lowly factor for another's gain;    But as successively, from blood to blood,    Your right of birth, your empery, your own.    For this, consorted with the citizens,    Your very worshipful and loving friends,    And by their vehement instigation,    In this just cause come I to move your Grace.  GLOUCESTER. I cannot tell if to depart in silence    Or bitterly to speak in your reproof    Best fitteth my degree or your condition.    If not to answer, you might haply think    Tongue-tied ambition, not replying, yielded    To bear the golden yoke of sovereignty,    Which fondly you would here impose on me;    If to reprove you for this suit of yours,    So season'd with your faithful love to me,    Then, on the other side, I check'd my friends.    Therefore-to speak, and to avoid the first,    And then, in speaking, not to incur the last-    Definitively thus I answer you:    Your love deserves my thanks, but my desert    Unmeritable shuns your high request.    First, if all obstacles were cut away,    And that my path were even to the crown,    As the ripe revenue and due of birth,    Yet so much is my poverty of spirit,    So mighty and so many my defects,    That I would rather hide me from my greatness-    Being a bark to brook no mighty sea-    Than in my greatness covet to be hid,    And in the vapour of my glory smother'd.    But, God be thank'd, there is no need of me-    And much I need to help you, were there need.    The royal tree hath left us royal fruit    Which, mellow'd by the stealing hours of time,    Will well become the seat of majesty    And make, no doubt, us happy by his reign.    On him I lay that you would lay on me-    The right and fortune of his happy stars,    Which God defend that I should wring from him.  BUCKINGHAM. My lord, this argues conscience in your    Grace;    But the respects thereof are nice and trivial,    All circumstances well considered.    You say that Edward is your brother's son.    So say we too, but not by Edward's wife;    For first was he contract to Lady Lucy-    Your mother lives a witness to his vow-    And afterward by substitute betroth'd    To Bona, sister to the King of France.    These both put off, a poor petitioner,    A care-craz'd mother to a many sons,    A beauty-waning and distressed widow,    Even in the afternoon of her best days,    Made prize and purchase of his wanton eye,    Seduc'd the pitch and height of his degree    To base declension and loath'd bigamy.    By her, in his unlawful bed, he got    This Edward, whom our manners call the Prince.    More bitterly could I expostulate,    Save that, for reverence to some alive,    I give a sparing limit to my tongue.    Then, good my lord, take to your royal self    This proffer'd benefit of dignity;    If not to bless us and the land withal,    Yet to draw forth your noble ancestry    From the corruption of abusing times    Unto a lineal true-derived course.  MAYOR. Do, good my lord; your citizens entreat you.  BUCKINGHAM. Refuse not, mighty lord, this proffer'd love.  CATESBY. O, make them joyful, grant their lawful suit!  GLOUCESTER. Alas, why would you heap this care on me?    I am unfit for state and majesty.    I do beseech you, take it not amiss:    I cannot nor I will not yield to you.  BUCKINGHAM. If you refuse it-as, in love and zeal,    Loath to depose the child, your brother's son;    As well we know your tenderness of heart    And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse,    Which we have noted in you to your kindred    And egally indeed to all estates-    Yet know, whe'er you accept our suit or no,    Your brother's son shall never reign our king;    But we will plant some other in the throne    To the disgrace and downfall of your house;    And in this resolution here we leave you.    Come, citizens. Zounds, I'll entreat no more.  GLOUCESTER. O, do not swear, my lord of Buckingham.                          Exeunt BUCKINGHAM, MAYOR, and citizens  CATESBY. Call him again, sweet Prince, accept their suit.    If you deny them, all the land will rue it.  GLOUCESTER. Will you enforce me to a world of cares?    Call them again. I am not made of stones,    But penetrable to your kind entreaties,    Albeit against my conscience and my soul.

Re-enter BUCKINGHAM and the rest

    Cousin of Buckingham, and sage grave men,    Since you will buckle fortune on my back,    To bear her burden, whe'er I will or no,    I must have patience to endure the load;    But if black scandal or foul-fac'd reproach    Attend the sequel of your imposition,    Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me    From all the impure blots and stains thereof;    For God doth know, and you may partly see,    How far I am from the desire of this.  MAYOR. God bless your Grace! We see it, and will say it.  GLOUCESTER. In saying so, you shall but say the truth.  BUCKINGHAM. Then I salute you with this royal title-    Long live King Richard, England's worthy King!  ALL. Amen.  BUCKINGHAM. To-morrow may it please you to be crown'd?  GLOUCESTER. Even when you please, for you will have it so.  BUCKINGHAM. To-morrow, then, we will attend your Grace;    And so, most joyfully, we take our leave.  GLOUCESTER. [To the BISHOPS] Come, let us to our holy    work again.    Farewell, my cousin; farewell, gentle friends. Exeunt

ACT IV. SCENE 1

London. Before the Tower

Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH, DUCHESS of YORK, and MARQUIS of DORSET, at one door;

ANNE, DUCHESS of GLOUCESTER, leading LADY MARGARET PLANTAGENET, CLARENCE's young daughter, at another door

  DUCHESS. Who meets us here? My niece Plantagenet,    Led in the hand of her kind aunt of Gloucester?    Now, for my life, she's wand'ring to the Tower,    On pure heart's love, to greet the tender Princes.    Daughter, well met.  ANNE. God give your Graces both    A happy and a joyful time of day!  QUEEN ELIZABETH. As much to you, good sister! Whither    away?  ANNE. No farther than the Tower; and, as I guess,    Upon the like devotion as yourselves,    To gratulate the gentle Princes there.  QUEEN ELIZABETH. Kind sister, thanks; we'll enter    all together.

Enter BRAKENBURY

    And in good time, here the lieutenant comes.    Master Lieutenant, pray you, by your leave,    How doth the Prince, and my young son of York?  BRAKENBURY. Right well, dear madam. By your patience,    I may not suffer you to visit them.    The King hath strictly charg'd the contrary.  QUEEN ELIZABETH. The King! Who's that?  BRAKENBURY. I mean the Lord Protector.  QUEEN ELIZABETH. The Lord protect him from that kingly    title!    Hath he set bounds between their love and me?    I am their mother; who shall bar me from them?  DUCHESS. I am their father's mother; I will see them.  ANNE. Their aunt I am in law, in love their mother.    Then bring me to their sights; I'll bear thy blame,    And take thy office from thee on my peril.  BRAKENBURY. No, madam, no. I may not leave it so;    I am bound by oath, and therefore pardon me. Exit

Enter STANLEY

  STANLEY. Let me but meet you, ladies, one hour hence,    And I'll salute your Grace of York as mother    And reverend looker-on of two fair queens.    [To ANNE] Come, madam, you must straight to    Westminster,    There to be crowned Richard's royal queen.  QUEEN ELIZABETH. Ah, cut my lace asunder    That my pent heart may have some scope to beat,    Or else I swoon with this dead-killing news!  ANNE. Despiteful tidings! O unpleasing news!  DORSET. Be of good cheer; mother, how fares your Grace?  QUEEN ELIZABETH. O Dorset, speak not to me, get thee    gone!    Death and destruction dogs thee at thy heels;    Thy mother's name is ominous to children.    If thou wilt outstrip death, go cross the seas,    And live with Richmond, from the reach of hell.    Go, hie thee, hie thee from this slaughter-house,    Lest thou increase the number of the dead,    And make me die the thrall of Margaret's curse,    Nor mother, wife, nor England's counted queen.  STANLEY. Full of wise care is this your counsel, madam.    Take all the swift advantage of the hours;    You shall have letters from me to my son    In your behalf, to meet you on the way.    Be not ta'en tardy by unwise delay.  DUCHESS. O ill-dispersing wind of misery!    O my accursed womb, the bed of death!    A cockatrice hast thou hatch'd to the world,    Whose unavoided eye is murderous.  STANLEY. Come, madam, come; I in all haste was sent.  ANNE. And I with all unwillingness will go.    O, would to God that the inclusive verge    Of golden metal that must round my brow    Were red-hot steel, to sear me to the brains!    Anointed let me be with deadly venom,    And die ere men can say 'God save the Queen!'  QUEEN ELIZABETH. Go, go, poor soul; I envy not thy glory.    To feed my humour, wish thyself no harm.  ANNE. No, why? When he that is my husband now    Came to me, as I follow'd Henry's corse;    When scarce the blood was well wash'd from his hands    Which issued from my other angel husband,    And that dear saint which then I weeping follow'd-    O, when, I say, I look'd on Richard's face,    This was my wish: 'Be thou' quoth I 'accurs'd    For making me, so young, so old a widow;    And when thou wed'st, let sorrow haunt thy bed;    And be thy wife, if any be so mad,    More miserable by the life of thee    Than thou hast made me by my dear lord's death.'    Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again,    Within so small a time, my woman's heart    Grossly grew captive to his honey words    And prov'd the subject of mine own soul's curse,    Which hitherto hath held my eyes from rest;    For never yet one hour in his bed    Did I enjoy the golden dew of sleep,    But with his timorous dreams was still awak'd.    Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick;    And will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me.  QUEEN ELIZABETH. Poor heart, adieu! I pity thy complaining.  ANNE. No more than with my soul I mourn for yours.  DORSET. Farewell, thou woeful welcomer of glory!  ANNE. Adieu, poor soul, that tak'st thy leave of it!  DUCHESS. [To DORSET] Go thou to Richmond, and good    fortune guide thee!    [To ANNE] Go thou to Richard, and good angels tend    thee! [To QUEEN ELIZABETH] Go thou to sanctuary, and good    thoughts possess thee!    I to my grave, where peace and rest lie with me!    Eighty odd years of sorrow have I seen,    And each hour's joy wreck'd with a week of teen.  QUEEN ELIZABETH. Stay, yet look back with me unto the    Tower.    Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes    Whom envy hath immur'd within your walls,    Rough cradle for such little pretty ones.    Rude ragged nurse, old sullen playfellow    For tender princes, use my babies well.    So foolish sorrows bids your stones farewell. Exeunt

SCENE 2

London. The palace

Sound a sennet. Enter RICHARD, in pomp, as KING; BUCKINGHAM, CATESBY, RATCLIFF, LOVEL, a PAGE, and others

  KING RICHARD. Stand all apart. Cousin of Buckingham!  BUCKINGHAM. My gracious sovereign?  KING RICHARD. Give me thy hand.                           [Here he ascendeth the throne. Sound]    Thus high, by thy advice    And thy assistance, is King Richard seated.    But shall we wear these glories for a day;    Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them?  BUCKINGHAM. Still live they, and for ever let them last!  KING RICHARD. Ah, Buckingham, now do I play the touch,    To try if thou be current gold indeed.    Young Edward lives-think now what I would speak.  BUCKINGHAM. Say on, my loving lord.  KING RICHARD. Why, Buckingham, I say I would be King.  BUCKINGHAM. Why, so you are, my thrice-renowned lord.  KING RICHARD. Ha! am I King? 'Tis so; but Edward lives.  BUCKINGHAM. True, noble Prince.  KING RICHARD. O bitter consequence:    That Edward still should live-true noble Prince!    Cousin, thou wast not wont to be so dull.    Shall I be plain? I wish the bastards dead.    And I would have it suddenly perform'd.    What say'st thou now? Speak suddenly, be brief.  BUCKINGHAM. Your Grace may do your pleasure.  KING RICHARD. Tut, tut, thou art all ice; thy kindness freezes.    Say, have I thy consent that they shall die?  BUCKINGHAM. Give me some little breath, some pause,    dear Lord,    Before I positively speak in this.    I will resolve you herein presently. Exit  CATESBY. [Aside to another] The King is angry; see, he    gnaws his lip.  KING RICHARD. I will converse with iron-witted fools                                      [Descends from the throne]    And unrespective boys; none are for me    That look into me with considerate eyes.    High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect.    Boy!  PAGE. My lord?  KING RICHARD. Know'st thou not any whom corrupting    gold    Will tempt unto a close exploit of death?  PAGE. I know a discontented gentleman    Whose humble means match not his haughty spirit.    Gold were as good as twenty orators,    And will, no doubt, tempt him to anything.  KING RICHARD. What is his name?  PAGE. His name, my lord, is Tyrrel.  KING RICHARD. I partly know the man. Go, call him hither,    boy. Exit PAGE    The deep-revolving witty Buckingham    No more shall be the neighbour to my counsels.    Hath he so long held out with me, untir'd,    And stops he now for breath? Well, be it so.

Enter STANLEY

    How now, Lord Stanley! What's the news?  STANLEY. Know, my loving lord,    The Marquis Dorset, as I hear, is fled    To Richmond, in the parts where he abides. [Stands apart]  KING RICHARD. Come hither, Catesby. Rumour it abroad    That Anne, my wife, is very grievous sick;    I will take order for her keeping close.    Inquire me out some mean poor gentleman,    Whom I will marry straight to Clarence' daughter-    The boy is foolish, and I fear not him.    Look how thou dream'st! I say again, give out    That Anne, my queen, is sick and like to die.    About it; for it stands me much upon    To stop all hopes whose growth may damage me.                                                    Exit CATESBY    I must be married to my brother's daughter,    Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass.    Murder her brothers, and then marry her!    Uncertain way of gain! But I am in    So far in blood that sin will pluck on sin.    Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye.

Re-enter PAGE, with TYRREL

    Is thy name Tyrrel?  TYRREL. James Tyrrel, and your most obedient subject.  KING RICHARD. Art thou, indeed?  TYRREL. Prove me, my gracious lord.  KING RICHARD. Dar'st'thou resolve to kill a friend of mine?  TYRREL. Please you;    But I had rather kill two enemies.  KING RICHARD. Why, then thou hast it. Two deep enemies,    Foes to my rest, and my sweet sleep's disturbers,    Are they that I would have thee deal upon.  TYRREL, I mean those bastards in the Tower.  TYRREL. Let me have open means to come to them,    And soon I'll rid you from the fear of them.  KING RICHARD. Thou sing'st sweet music. Hark, come    hither, Tyrrel.    Go, by this token. Rise, and lend thine ear. [Whispers]    There is no more but so: say it is done,    And I will love thee and prefer thee for it.  TYRREL. I will dispatch it straight. Exit

Re-enter BUCKINGHAM

    BUCKINGHAM. My lord, I have consider'd in my mind    The late request that you did sound me in.  KING RICHARD. Well, let that rest. Dorset is fled to    Richmond.  BUCKINGHAM. I hear the news, my lord.  KING RICHARD. Stanley, he is your wife's son: well, look    unto it.  BUCKINGHAM. My lord, I claim the gift, my due by promise,    For which your honour and your faith is pawn'd:    Th' earldom of Hereford and the movables    Which you have promised I shall possess.  KING RICHARD. Stanley, look to your wife; if she convey    Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it.  BUCKINGHAM. What says your Highness to my just request?  KING RICHARD. I do remember me: Henry the Sixth    Did prophesy that Richmond should be King,    When Richmond was a little peevish boy.    A king! – perhaps-  BUCKINGHAM. My lord-  KING RICHARD. How chance the prophet could not at that    time    Have told me, I being by, that I should kill him?  BUCKINGHAM. My lord, your promise for the earldom-  KING RICHARD. Richmond! When last I was at Exeter,    The mayor in courtesy show'd me the castle    And call'd it Rugemount, at which name I started,    Because a bard of Ireland told me once    I should not live long after I saw Richmond.  BUCKINGHAM. My lord-  KING RICHARD. Ay, what's o'clock?  BUCKINGHAM. I am thus bold to put your Grace in mind    Of what you promis'd me.  KING RICHARD. Well, but o'clock?  BUCKINGHAM. Upon the stroke of ten.  KING RICHARD. Well, let it strike.  BUCKINGHAM. Why let it strike?  KING RICHARD. Because that like a Jack thou keep'st the    stroke    Betwixt thy begging and my meditation.    I am not in the giving vein to-day.  BUCKINGHAM. May it please you to resolve me in my suit.  KING RICHARD. Thou troublest me; I am not in the vein.                                       Exeunt all but Buckingham  BUCKINGHAM. And is it thus? Repays he my deep service    With such contempt? Made I him King for this?    O, let me think on Hastings, and be gone    To Brecknock while my fearful head is on! Exit

SCENE 3

London. The palace

Enter TYRREL

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

Enter KING RICHARD

    And here he comes. All health, my sovereign lord!  KING RICHARD. Kind Tyrrel, am I happy in thy news?  TYRREL. If to have done the thing you gave in charge    Beget your happiness, be happy then,    For it is done.  KING RICHARD. But didst thou see them dead?  TYRREL. I did, my lord.  KING RICHARD. And buried, gentle Tyrrel?  TYRREL. The chaplain of the Tower hath buried them;    But where, to say the truth, I do not know.  KING RICHARD. Come to me, Tyrrel, soon at after supper,    When thou shalt tell the process of their death.    Meantime, but think how I may do thee good    And be inheritor of thy desire.    Farewell till then.  TYRREL. I humbly take my leave. Exit  KING RICHARD. The son of Clarence have I pent up close;    His daughter meanly have I match'd in marriage;    The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom,    And Anne my wife hath bid this world good night.    Now, for I know the Britaine Richmond aims    At young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter,    And by that knot looks proudly on the crown,    To her go I, a jolly thriving wooer.

Enter RATCLIFF