Richard III

Buc. My haire doth stand an end to heare her cursesRiu. And so doth mine, I muse why she's at libertie   Rich. I cannot blame her, by Gods holy mother,She hath had too much wrong, and I repentMy part thereof, that I haue done to herMar. I neuer did her any to my knowledge   Rich. Yet you haue 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 repayed:He is frank'd vp to fatting for his paines,God pardon them, that are the cause thereof   Riu. A vertuous, and a Christian-like conclusionTo pray for them that haue done scath to vsRich. So do I euer, being well aduis'd.Speakes to himselfe.For had I curst now, I had curst my selfe.

Enter Catesby.

  Cates. Madam, his Maiesty doth call for you,And for your Grace, and yours my gracious LordQu. Catesby I come, Lords will you go with meeRiu. We wait vpon your Grace.

Exeunt. all but Gloster.

  Rich. I do the wrong, and first begin to brawle.The secret Mischeefes that I set abroach,I lay vnto the greeuous charge of others.Clarence, who I indeede haue cast in darknesse,I do beweepe to many simple Gulles,Namely to Derby, Hastings, Buckingham,And tell them 'tis the Queene, and her Allies,That stirre the King against the Duke my Brother.Now they beleeue it, and withall whet meTo be reueng'd on Riuers, Dorset, Grey.But then I sigh, and with a peece of Scripture,Tell them that God bids vs do good for euill:And thus I cloath my naked VillanieWith odde old ends, stolne forth of holy Writ,And seeme a Saint, when most I play the deuill.

Enter two murtherers.

But soft, heere come my Executioners,How now my hardy stout resolued Mates,Are you now going to dispatch this thing?  Vil. We are my Lord, and come to haue the Warrant,That we may be admitted where he is   Ric. Well thought vpon, I haue it heare about me:When you haue done, repayre to Crosby place;But sirs be sodaine in the execution,Withall obdurate, do not heare him pleade;For Clarence is well spoken, and perhappesMay moue your hearts to pitty, if you marke him   Vil. Tut, tut, my Lord, we will not stand to prate,Talkers are no good dooers, be assur'd:We go to vse our hands, and not our tongues   Rich. Your eyes drop Mill-stones, when Fooles eyesfall Teares:I like you Lads, about your businesse straight.Go, go, dispatchVil. We will my Noble Lord.

Scena Quarta

Enter Clarence and Keeper.

Keep. Why lookes your Grace so heauily to day   Cla. O, I haue past a miserable night,So full of fearefull Dreames, of vgly sights,That as I am a Christian faithfull man,I would not spend another such a nightThough 'twere to buy a world of happy daies:So full of dismall terror was the time   Keep. What was your dream my Lord, I pray you tel me  Cla. Me thoughts that I had broken from the Tower,And was embark'd to crosse to Burgundy,And in my company my Brother Glouster,Who from my Cabin tempted me to walke,Vpon the Hatches: There we look'd toward England,And cited vp a thousand heauy times,During the warres of Yorke and LancasterThat had befalne vs. As we pac'd alongVpon the giddy footing of the Hatches,Me thought that Glouster stumbled, and in fallingStrooke me (that thought to stay him) ouer-boord,Into the tumbling billowes of the maine.O Lord, me thought what paine it was to drowne,What dreadfull noise of water in mine eares,What sights of vgly death within mine eyes.Me thoughts, I saw a thousand fearfull wrackes:A thousand men that Fishes gnaw'd vpon:Wedges of Gold, great Anchors, heapes of Pearle,Inestimable Stones, vnvalewed Iewels,All scattred in the bottome of the Sea,Some lay in dead-mens Sculles, and in the holesWhere eyes did once inhabit, there were crept(As 'twere in scorne of eyes) reflecting Gemmes,That woo'd the slimy bottome of the deepe,And mock'd the dead bones that lay scattred by   Keep. Had you such leysure in the time of deathTo gaze vpon these secrets of the deepe?  Cla. Me thought I had, and often did I striueTo yeeld the Ghost: but still the enuious FloodStop'd in my soule, and would not let it forthTo find the empty, vast, and wand'ring ayre:But smother'd it within my panting bulke,Who almost burst, to belch it in the Sea   Keep. Awak'd you not in this sore Agony?  Clar. No, no, my Dreame was lengthen'd after life.O then, began the Tempest to my Soule.I past (me thought) the Melancholly Flood,With that sowre Ferry-man which Poets write of,Vnto the Kingdome of perpetuall Night.The first that there did greet my Stranger-soule,Was my great Father-in-Law, renowned Warwicke,Who spake alowd: What scourge for Periurie,Can this darke Monarchy affoord false Clarence?And so he vanish'd. Then came wand'ring by,A Shadow like an Angell, with bright hayreDabbel'd in blood, and he shriek'd out alowdClarence is come, false, fleeting, periur'd Clarence,That stabb'd me in the field by Tewkesbury:Seize on him Furies, take him vnto Torment.With that (me thought) a Legion of foule FiendsInuiron'd me, and howled in mine earesSuch hiddeous cries, that with the very Noise,I (trembling) wak'd, and for a season after,Could not beleeue, but that I was in Hell,Such terrible Impression made my Dreame   Keep. No maruell Lord, though it affrighted you,I am affraid (me thinkes) to heare you tell it   Cla. Ah Keeper, Keeper, I haue done these things(That now giue euidence against my Soule)For Edwards sake, and see how he requits mee.O God! if my deepe prayres cannot appease thee,But thou wilt be aueng'd on my misdeeds,Yet execute thy wrath in me alone:O spare my guiltlesse Wife, and my poore children.Keeper, I prythee sit by me a-while,My Soule is heauy, and I faine would sleepe   Keep. I will my Lord, God giue your Grace good rest.

Enter Brakenbury the Lieutenant.

  Bra. Sorrow breakes Seasons, and reposing houres,Makes the Night Morning, and the Noon-tide night:Princes haue but their Titles for their Glories,An outward Honor, for an inward Toyle,And for vnfelt ImaginationsThey often feele a world of restlesse Cares:So that betweene their Titles, and low Name,There's nothing differs, but the outward fame.

Enter two Murtherers.

  1.Mur. Ho, who's heere?  Bra. What would'st thou Fellow? And how camm'stthou hither   2.Mur. I would speak with Clarence, and I came hitheron my Legges   Bra. What so breefe?  1. 'Tis better (Sir) then to be tedious:Let him see our Commission, and talke no more.Reads  Bra. I am in this, commanded to deliuerThe Noble Duke of Clarence to your hands.I will not reason what is meant heereby,Because I will be guiltlesse from the meaning.There lies the Duke asleepe, and there the Keyes.Ile to the King, and signifie to him,That thus I haue resign'd to you my charge.

Enter.

  1 You may sir, 'tis a point of wisedome:Far you well2 What, shall we stab him as he sleepes   1 No: hee'l say 'twas done cowardly, when he wakes  2 Why he shall neuer wake, vntill the great Iudgementday1 Why then hee'l say, we stab'd him sleeping2 The vrging of that word Iudgement, hath bred a kinde of remorse in me   1 What? art thou affraid?  2 Not to kill him, hauing a Warrant,But to be damn'd for killing him, from the whichNo Warrant can defend me1 I thought thou had'st bin resolute2 So I am, to let him liue1 Ile backe to the Duke of Glouster, and tell him so2 Nay, I prythee stay a little: I hope this passionate humor of mine, will change, It was wont to hold me but while one tels twenty   1 How do'st thou feele thy selfe now?  2 Some certaine dregges of conscience are yet withinmee1 Remember our Reward, when the deed's done2 Come, he dies: I had forgot the Reward1 Where's thy conscience now2 O, in the Duke of Glousters purse   1 When hee opens his purse to giue vs our Reward,thy Conscience flyes out   2 'Tis no matter, let it goe: There's few or none willentertaine it

1 What if it come to thee againe? 2 Ile not meddle with it, it makes a man a Coward: A man cannot steale, but it accuseth him: A man cannot Sweare, but it Checkes him: A man cannot lye with his Neighbours Wife, but it detects him. 'Tis a blushing shamefac'd spirit, that mutinies in a mans bosome: It filles a man full of Obstacles. It made me once restore a Pursse of Gold that (by chance) I found: It beggars any man that keepes it: It is turn'd out of Townes and Citties for a dangerous thing, and euery man that means to liue well, endeuours to trust to himselfe, and liue without it

   1 'Tis euen now at my elbow, perswading me not tokill the Duke   2 Take the diuell in thy minde, and beleeue him not:He would insinuate with thee but to make thee sigh1 I am strong fram'd, he cannot preuaile with me

2 Spoke like a tall man, that respects thy reputation. Come, shall we fall to worke? 1 Take him on the Costard, with the hiltes of thy Sword, and then throw him into the Malmesey-Butte in the next roome

2 O excellent deuice; and make a sop of him1 Soft, he wakes2 Strike1 No, wee'l reason with himCla. Where art thou Keeper? Giue me a cup of wine2 You shall haue Wine enough my Lord anonCla. In Gods name, what art thou? 1 A man, as you areCla. But not as I am Royall1 Nor you as we are, LoyallCla. Thy voice is Thunder, but thy looks are humble1 My voice is now the Kings, my lookes mine owne   Cla. How darkly, and how deadly dost thou speake?Your eyes do menace me: why looke you pale?Who sent you hither? Wherefore do you come?  2 To, to, to-  Cla. To murther me?  Both. I, I   Cla. You scarsely haue the hearts to tell me so,And therefore cannot haue the hearts to do it.Wherein my Friends haue I offended you?  1 Offended vs you haue not, but the KingCla. I shall be reconcil'd to him againe2 Neuer my Lord, therefore prepare to dye   Cla. Are you drawne forth among a world of menTo slay the innocent? What is my offence?Where is the Euidence that doth accuse me?What lawfull Quest haue giuen their Verdict vpVnto the frowning Iudge? Or who pronounc'dThe bitter sentence of poore Clarence death,Before I be conuict by course of Law?To threaten me with death, is most vnlawfull.I charge you, as you hope for any goodnesse,That you depart, and lay no hands on me:The deed you vndertake is damnable1 What we will do, we do vpon command2 And he that hath commanded, is our King   Cla. Erroneous Vassals, the great King of KingsHath in the Table of his Law commandedThat thou shalt do no murther. Will you thenSpurne at his Edict, and fulfill a Mans?Take heed: for he holds Vengeance in his hand,To hurle vpon their heads that breake his Law   2 And that same Vengeance doth he hurle on thee,For false Forswearing, and for murther too:Thou did'st receiue the Sacrament, to fightIn quarrell of the House of Lancaster

1 And like a Traitor to the name of God, Did'st breake that Vow, and with thy treacherous blade, Vnrip'st the Bowels of thy Sou'raignes Sonne

2 Whom thou was't sworne to cherish and defend   1 How canst thou vrge Gods dreadfull Law to vs,When thou hast broke it in such deere degree?  Cla. Alas! for whose sake did I that ill deede?For Edward, for my Brother, for his sake.He sends you not to murther me for this:For in that sinne, he is as deepe as I.If God will be auenged for the deed,O know you yet, he doth it publiquely,Take not the quarrell from his powrefull arme:He needs no indirect, or lawlesse course,To cut off those that haue offended him   1 Who made thee then a bloudy minister,When gallant springing braue Plantagenet,That Princely Nouice was strucke dead by thee?  Cla. My Brothers loue, the Diuell, and my Rage   1 Thy Brothers Loue, our Duty, and thy Faults,Prouoke vs hither now, to slaughter thee   Cla. If you do loue my Brother, hate not me:I am his Brother, and I loue him well.If you are hyr'd for meed, go backe againe,And I will send you to my Brother Glouster:Who shall reward you better for my life,Then Edward will for tydings of my death   2 You are deceiu'd,Your Brother Glouster hates you   Cla. Oh no, he loues me, and he holds me deere:Go you to him from me1 I so we will   Cla. Tell him, when that our Princely Father Yorke,Blest his three Sonnes with his victorious Arme,He little thought of this diuided Friendship:Bid Glouster thinke on this, and he will weepe1 I Milstones, as he lessoned vs to weepeCla. O do not slander him, for he is kinde

1 Right, as Snow in Haruest: Come, you deceiue your selfe, 'Tis he that sends vs to destroy you heere

   Cla. It cannot be, for he bewept my Fortune,And hugg'd me in his armes, and swore with sobs,That he would labour my deliuery   1 Why so he doth, when he deliuers youFrom this earths thraldome, to the ioyes of heauen2 Make peace with God, for you must die my Lord   Cla. Haue you that holy feeling in your soules,To counsaile me to make my peace with God,And are you yet to your owne soules so blinde,That you will warre with God, by murd'ring me.O sirs consider, they that set you onTo do this deede will hate you for the deede   2 What shall we do?  Clar. Relent, and saue your soules:Which of you, if you were a Princes Sonne,Being pent from Liberty, as I am now,If two such murtherers as your selues came to you,Would not intreat for life, as you would beggeWere you in my distresse1 Relent? no: 'Tis cowardly and womanish   Cla. Not to relent, is beastly, sauage, diuellish:My Friend, I spy some pitty in thy lookes:O, if thine eye be not a Flatterer,Come thou on my side, and intreate for mee,A begging Prince, what begger pitties not2 Looke behinde you, my Lord1 Take that, and that, if all this will not do,Stabs him.Ile drowne you in the MalmeseyBut within.

Enter.

2 A bloody deed, and desperately dispatcht: How faine (like Pilate) would I wash my hands Of this most greeuous murther.

Enter 1.Murtherer]

1 How now? what mean'st thou that thou help'st me not? By Heauen the Duke shall know how slacke you haue beene

   2.Mur. I would he knew that I had sau'd his brother,Take thou the Fee, and tell him what I say,For I repent me that the Duke is slaine.

Enter.

  1.Mur. So do not I: go Coward as thou art.Well, Ile go hide the body in some hole,Till that the Duke giue order for his buriall:And when I haue my meede, I will away,For this will out, and then I must not stay.

Exit

Actus Secundus. Scoena Prima

Flourish.

Enter the King sicke, the Queene, Lord Marquesse Dorset, Riuers, Hastings, Catesby, Buckingham, Wooduill.

  King. Why so: now haue I done a good daies work.You Peeres, continue this vnited League:I, euery day expect an EmbassageFrom my Redeemer, to redeeme me hence.And more to peace my soule shall part to heauen,Since I haue made my Friends at peace on earth.Dorset and Riuers, take each others hand,Dissemble not your hatred, Sweare your loue   Riu. By heauen, my soule is purg'd from grudging hateAnd with my hand I seale my true hearts LoueHast. So thriue I, as I truly sweare the like   King. Take heed you dally not before your King,Lest he that is the supreme King of KingsConfound your hidden falshood, and awardEither of you to be the others endHast. So prosper I, as I sweare perfect loue   Ri. And I, as I loue Hastings with my heart,  King. Madam, your selfe is not exempt from this:Nor you Sonne Dorset, Buckingham nor you;You haue bene factious one against the other.Wife, loue Lord Hastings, let him kisse your hand,And what you do, do it vnfeignedly   Qu. There Hastings, I will neuer more rememberOur former hatred, so thriue I, and mine   King. Dorset, imbrace him:Hastings, loue Lord Marquesse   Dor. This interchange of loue, I heere protestVpon my part, shall be inuiolableHast. And so sweare I   King. Now Princely Buckingham, seale y this leagueWith thy embracements to my wiues Allies,And make me happy in your vnity   Buc. When euer Buckingham doth turne his hateVpon your Grace, but with all dutious loue,Doth cherish you, and yours, God punish meWith hate in those where I expect most loue,When I haue most need to imploy a Friend,And most assured that he is a Friend,Deepe, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile,Be he vnto me: This do I begge of heauen,When I am cold in loue, to you, or yours.Embrace  King. A pleasing Cordiall, Princely BuckinghamIs this thy Vow, vnto my sickely heart:There wanteth now our Brother Gloster heere,To make the blessed period of this peace   Buc. And in good time,Heere comes Sir Richard Ratcliffe, and the Duke.

Enter Ratcliffe, and Gloster.

  Rich. Good morrow to my Soueraigne King & QueenAnd Princely Peeres, a happy time of day   King. Happy indeed, as we haue spent the day:Gloster, we haue done deeds of Charity,Made peace of enmity, faire loue of hate,Betweene these swelling wrong incensed Peeres   Rich. A blessed labour my most Soueraigne Lord:Among this Princely heape, if any heereBy false intelligence, or wrong surmizeHold me a Foe: If I vnwillingly, or in my rage,Haue ought committed that is hardly borne,To any in this presence, I desireTo reconcile me to his Friendly peace:'Tis death to me to be at enmitie:I hate it, and desire all good mens loue,First Madam, I intreate true peace of you,Which I will purchase with my dutious seruice.Of you my Noble Cosin Buckingham,If euer any grudge were lodg'd betweene vs.Of you and you, Lord Riuers and of Dorset,That all without desert haue frown'd on me:Of you Lord Wooduill, and Lord Scales of you,Dukes, Earles, Lords, Gentlemen, indeed of all.I do not know that Englishman aliue,With whom my soule is any iot at oddes,More then the Infant that is borne to night:I thanke my God for my Humility   Qu. A holy day shall this be kept heereafter:I would to God all strifes were well compounded.My Soueraigne Lord, I do beseech your HighnesseTo take our Brother Clarence to your Grace   Rich. Why Madam, haue I offred loue for this,To be so flowted in this Royall presence?Who knowes not that the gentle Duke is dead?They all start.You do him iniurie to scorne his Coarse   King. Who knowes not he is dead?Who knowes he is?  Qu. All-seeing heauen, what a world is this?  Buc. Looke I so pale Lord Dorset, as the rest?  Dor. I my good Lord, and no man in the presence,But his red colour hath forsooke his cheekesKing. Is Clarence dead? The Order was reuerst   Rich. But he (poore man) by your first order dyed,And that a winged Mercurie did beare:Some tardie Cripple bare the Countermand,That came too lagge to see him buried.God grant, that some lesse Noble, and lesse Loyall,Neerer in bloody thoughts, and not in blood,Deserue not worse then wretched Clarence did,And yet go currant from Suspition.

Enter Earle of Derby.

Der. A boone my Soueraigne for my seruice doneKing. I prethee peace, my soule is full of sorrowDer. I will not rise, vnlesse your Highnes heare meKing. Then say at once, what is it thou requests   Der. The forfeit (Soueraigne) of my seruants life,Who slew to day a Riotous Gentleman,Lately attendant on the Duke of Norfolke   King. Haue I a tongue to doome my Brothers death?And shall that tongue giue pardon to a slaue?My Brother kill'd no man, his fault was Thought,And yet his punishment was bitter death.Who sued to me for him? Who (in my wrath)Kneel'd and my feet, and bid me be aduis'd?Who spoke of Brother-hood? who spoke of loue?Who told me how the poore soule did forsakeThe mighty Warwicke, and did fight for me?Who told me in the field at Tewkesbury,When Oxford had me downe, he rescued me:And said deare Brother liue, and be a King?Who told me, when we both lay in the Field,Frozen (almost) to death, how he did lap meEuen in his Garments, and did giue himselfe(All thin and naked) to the numbe cold night?All this from my Remembrance, brutish wrathSinfully pluckt, and not a man of youHad so much grace to put it in my minde.But when your Carters, or your wayting VassallsHaue done a drunken Slaughter, and defac'dThe precious Image of our deere Redeemer,You straight are on your knees for Pardon, pardon,And I (vniustly too) must grant it you.But for my Brother, not a man would speake,Nor I (vngracious) speake vnto my selfeFor him poore Soule. The proudest of you all,Haue bin beholding to him in his life:Yet none of you, would once begge for his life.O God! I feare thy iustice will take holdOn me, and you; and mine, and yours for this.Come Hastings helpe me to my Closset.Ah poore Clarence.

Exeunt. some with K[ing]. & Queen.

  Rich. This is the fruits of rashnes: Markt you not,How that the guilty Kindred of the QueeneLook'd pale, when they did heare of Clarence death.O! they did vrge it still vnto the King,God will reuenge it. Come Lords will you go,To comfort Edward with our companyBuc. We wait vpon your Grace.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda

Enter the old Dutchesse of Yorke, with the two children of Clarence.

  Edw. Good Grandam tell vs, is our Father dead?  Dutch. No Boy   Daugh. Why do weepe so oft? And beate your Brest?And cry, O Clarence, my vnhappy Sonne   Boy. Why do you looke on vs, and shake your head,And call vs Orphans, Wretches, Castawayes,If that our Noble Father were aliue?  Dut. My pretty Cosins, you mistake me both,I do lament the sicknesse of the King,As loath to lose him, not your Fathers death:It were lost sorrow to waile one that's lost   Boy. Then you conclude, (my Grandam) he is dead:The King mine Vnckle is too blame for it.God will reuenge it, whom I will importuneWith earnest prayers, all to that effectDaugh. And so will I   Dut. Peace children peace, the King doth loue you wel.Incapeable, and shallow Innocents,You cannot guesse who caus'd your Fathers death   Boy. Grandam we can: for my good Vnkle GlosterTold me, the King prouok'd to it by the Queene,Deuis'd impeachments to imprison him;And when my Vnckle told me so, he wept,And pittied me, and kindly kist my cheeke:Bad me rely on him, as on my Father,And he would loue me deerely as a childe   Dut. Ah! that Deceit should steale such gentle shape,And with a vertuous Vizor hide deepe vice.He is my sonne, I, and therein my shame,Yet from my dugges, he drew not this deceit   Boy. Thinke you my Vnkle did dissemble Grandam?  Dut. I Boy   Boy. I cannot thinke it. Hearke, what noise is this?

Enter the Queene with her haire about her ears, Riuers & Dorset after her.

  Qu. Ah! who shall hinder me to waile and weepe?To chide my Fortune, and torment my Selfe.Ile ioyne with blacke dispaire against my Soule,And to my selfe, become an enemie   Dut. What meanes this Scene of rude impatience?  Qu. To make an act of Tragicke violence.Edward my Lord, thy Sonne, our King is dead.Why grow the Branches, when the Roote is gone?Why wither not the leaues that want their sap?If you will liue, Lament: if dye, be breefe,That our swift-winged Soules may catch the Kings,Or like obedient Subiects follow him,To his new Kingdome of nere-changing night   Dut. Ah so much interest haue in thy sorrow,As I had Title in thy Noble Husband:I haue bewept a worthy Husbands death,And liu'd with looking on his Images:But now two Mirrors of his Princely semblance,Are crack'd in pieces, by malignant death,And I for comfort, haue but one false Glasse,That greeues me, when I see my shame in him.Thou art a Widdow: yet thou art a Mother,And hast the comfort of thy Children left,But death hath snatch'd my Husband from mine Armes,And pluckt two Crutches from my feeble hands,Clarence, and Edward. O, what cause haue I,(Thine being but a moity of my moane)To ouer-go thy woes, and drowne thy cries   Boy. Ah Aunt! you wept not for our Fathers death:How can we ayde you with our Kindred teares?  Daugh. Our fatherlesse distresse was left vnmoan'd,Your widdow-dolour, likewise be vnwept   Qu. Giue me no helpe in Lamentation,I am not barren to bring forth complaints:All Springs reduce their currents to mine eyes,That I being gouern'd by the waterie Moone,May send forth plenteous teares to drowne the World.Ah, for my Husband, for my deere Lord EdwardChil. Ah for our Father, for our deere Lord ClarenceDut. Alas for both, both mine Edward and Clarence   Qu. What stay had I but Edward, and hee's gone?  Chil. What stay had we but Clarence? and he's goneDut. What stayes had I, but they? and they are goneQu. Was neuer widdow had so deere a losseChil. Were neuer Orphans had so deere a losse   Dut. Was neuer Mother had so deere a losse.Alas! I am the Mother of these Greefes,Their woes are parcell'd, mine is generall.She for an Edward weepes, and so do I:I for a Clarence weepes, so doth not shee:These Babes for Clarence weepe, so do not they.Alas! you three, on me threefold distrest:Power all your teares, I am your sorrowes Nurse,And I will pamper it with Lamentation   Dor. Comfort deere Mother, God is much displeas'd,That you take with vnthankfulnesse his doing.In common worldly things, 'tis call'd vngratefull,With dull vnwillingnesse to repay a debt,Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent:Much more to be thus opposite with heauen,For it requires the Royall debt it lent you   Riuers. Madam, bethinke you like a carefull MotherOf the young Prince your sonne: send straight for him,Let him be Crown'd, in him your comfort liues.Drowne desperate sorrow in dead Edwards graue,And plant your ioyes in liuing Edwards Throne.

Enter Richard, Buckingham, Derbie, Hastings, and Ratcliffe.