KING RICHARD III


	DRAMATIS PERSONAE


KING EDWARD
The Fourth	(KING EDWARD IV:)


EDWARD	Prince of Wales, (PRINCE EDWARD:)	|
	afterwards King Edward V.,	|  sons to
			|  the King.
RICHARD	Duke of York, (YORK:)	|


GEORGE	Duke of Clarence, (CLARENCE:)	|
			|
RICHARD	Duke of Gloucester, (GLOUCESTER:)  	|  Brothers to
	afterwards King Richard III.,	|  the King.
	(KING RICHARD III:)		|


	A young son of Clarence. (Boy:)

HENRY	Earl of Richmond, (RICHMOND:)
	afterwards King Henry VII.

CARDINAL BOURCHIER	Archbishop of Canterbury. (CARDINAL:)

THOMAS ROTHERHAM	Archbishop of York. (ARCHBISHOP OF YORK:)

JOHN MORTON	Bishop of Ely. (BISHOP OF ELY:)

DUKE of BUCKINGHAM	(BUCKINGHAM:)

DUKE of NORFOLK	(NORFOLK:)

EARL of SURREY	His son. (SURREY:)

EARL RIVERS	Brother to Elizabeth. (RIVERS:)


MARQUIS OF DORSET	(DORSET:)	|
		|  Sons to Elizabeth.
LORD GREY	(GREY:)	|


EARL of OXFORD	(OXFORD:)

LORD HASTINGS	(HASTINGS:)

LORD STANLEY	(STANLEY:)  Called also EARL of DERBY. (DERBY:)

LORD LOVEL	(LOVEL:)

SIR THOMAS VAUGHAN	(VAUGHAN:)

SIR RICHARD
RATCLIFF	(RATCLIFF:)

SIR WILLIAM
CATESBY	(CATESBY:)

SIR JAMES TYRREL	(TYRREL:)

SIR JAMES BLOUNT	(BLOUNT:)

SIR WALTER HERBERT	(HERBERT:)

SIR ROBERT
BRAKENBURY	Lieutenant of the Tower. (BRAKENBURY:)

CHRISTOPHER
URSWICK	A priest. (CHRISTOPHER:)

	Another Priest. (Priest:)


TRESSEL	|
	|  Gentlemen attending on the Lady Anne.
BERKELEY	|  (Gentleman:)


	Lord Mayor of London. (Lord Mayor:)

	Sheriff of Wiltshire. (Sheriff:)

ELIZABETH	Queen to King Edward IV. (QUEEN ELIZABETH:)

MARGARET	Widow of King Henry VI. (QUEEN MARGARET:)

DUCHESS of YORK	Mother to King Edward IV.

LADY ANNE	Widow of Edward Prince of Wales, son to King Henry VI.;
	afterwards married to Richard.

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

	Ghosts of those murdered by Richard III.,
	Lords and other Attendants; a Pursuivant
	Scrivener, Citizens, Murderers, Messengers
	Soldiers, &c.
	(Ghost of Prince Edward:)
	(Ghost of King Henry VI:)
	(Ghost of CLARENCE:)
	(Ghost of RIVERS:)
	(Ghost of GREY:)
	(Ghost of VAUGHAN:)
	(Ghost of HASTING:)
	(Ghosts of young Princes:)
	(Ghost of LADY ANNE:)
	(Ghost of BUCKINGHAM:)
	(Pursuivant:)
	(Scrivener:)
	(First Citizen:)
	(Second Citizen:)
	(Third Citizen:)
	(First Murderer:)
	(Second Murderer:)
	(Messenger:)
	(Second Messenger:)
	(Third Messenger:)
	(Fourth Messenger:)


SCENE	England.




	KING RICHARD III


ACT I



SCENE I	London. A street.

	[Enter GLOUCESTER, solus]

GLOUCESTER	Now is the winter of our discontent
	Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
	And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house
	In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
	Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
	Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
	Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,
	Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
	Grim-visaged war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front;
	And now, instead of mounting barded steeds
	To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,
	He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber
	To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
	But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks,
	Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;
	I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty
	To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
	I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,
	Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
	Deformed, unfinish'd, sent before my time
	Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,
	And that so lamely and unfashionable
	That dogs bark at me as I halt by them;
	Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace,
	Have no delight to pass away the time,
	Unless to spy my shadow in the sun
	And descant on mine own deformity:
	And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover,
	To entertain these fair well-spoken days,
	I am determined to prove a villain
	And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
	Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,
	By drunken prophecies, libels and dreams,
	To set my brother Clarence and the king
	In deadly hate the one against the other:
	And if King Edward be as true and just
	As I am subtle, false and treacherous,
	This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up,
	About a prophecy, which says that 'G'
	Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be.
	Dive, thoughts, down to my soul: here
	Clarence comes.

	[Enter CLARENCE, guarded, and BRAKENBURY]

	Brother, good day; what means this armed guard
	That waits upon your grace?

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

GLOUCESTER	Upon what cause?

CLARENCE	                  Because my name is George.

GLOUCESTER	Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours;
	He should, for that, commit your godfathers:
	O, belike his majesty hath some intent
	That you shall be new-christen'd in the Tower.
	But what's the matter, Clarence?  may I know?

CLARENCE	Yea, Richard, when I know; for I protest
	As yet I do not: but, as I can learn,
	He hearkens after prophecies and dreams;
	And from the cross-row plucks the letter G.
	And says a wizard told him that by G
	His issue disinherited should be;
	And, for my name of George begins with G,
	It follows in his thought that I am he.
	These, as I learn, and such like toys as these
	Have moved his highness to commit me now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BRAKENBURY	What one, my lord?

GLOUCESTER	Her husband, knave: wouldst thou betray me?

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

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

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

CLARENCE	I know it pleaseth neither of us well.

GLOUCESTER	Well, your imprisonment shall not be long;
	Meantime, have patience.

CLARENCE	I must perforce. Farewell.

	[Exeunt CLARENCE, BRAKENBURY, and Guard]

GLOUCESTER	Go, tread the path that thou shalt ne'er return.
	Simple, plain Clarence! I do love thee so,
	That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven,
	If heaven will take the present at our hands.
	But who comes here? the new-deliver'd Hastings?

	[Enter HASTINGS]

HASTINGS	Good time of day unto my gracious lord!

GLOUCESTER	As much unto my good lord chamberlain!
	Well are you welcome to the open air.
	How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment?

HASTINGS	With patience, noble lord, as prisoners must:
	But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks
	That were the cause of my imprisonment.

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

HASTINGS	More pity that the eagle should be mew'd,
	While kites and buzzards prey at liberty.

GLOUCESTER	What news abroad?

HASTINGS	No news so bad abroad as this at home;
	The King is sickly, weak and melancholy,
	And his physicians fear him mightily.

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

HASTINGS	He is.

GLOUCESTER	Go you before, and I will follow you.

	[Exit HASTINGS]

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

	[Exit]




	KING RICHARD III


ACT I



SCENE II	The same. Another street.

	[Enter the corpse of KING HENRY the Sixth, Gentlemen
	with halberds to guard it; LADY ANNE being the mourner]

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

	[Enter GLOUCESTER]

GLOUCESTER	Stay, you that bear the corse, and set it down.

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

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

Gentleman	My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass.

GLOUCESTER	Unmanner'd dog! stand thou, when I command:
	Advance thy halbert higher than my breast,
	Or, by Saint Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot,
	And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness.

LADY ANNE	What, do you tremble? are you all afraid?
	Alas, I blame you not; for you are mortal,
	And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil.
	Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell!
	Thou hadst but power over his mortal body,
	His soul thou canst not have; therefore be gone.

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

LADY ANNE	Foul devil, for God's sake, hence, and trouble us not;
	For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell,
	Fill'd it with cursing cries and deep exclaims.
	If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds,
	Behold this pattern of thy butcheries.
	O, gentlemen, see, see! dead Henry's wounds
	Open their congeal'd mouths and bleed afresh!
	Blush, Blush, thou lump of foul deformity;
	For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood
	From cold and empty veins, where no blood dwells;
	Thy deed, inhuman and unnatural,
	Provokes this deluge most unnatural.
	O God, which this blood madest, revenge his death!
	O earth, which this blood drink'st revenge his death!
	Either heaven with lightning strike the
	murderer dead,
	Or earth, gape open wide and eat him quick,
	As thou dost swallow up this good king's blood
	Which his hell-govern'd arm hath butchered!

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

LADY ANNE	Villain, thou know'st no law of God nor man:
	No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity.

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

LADY ANNE	O wonderful, when devils tell the truth!

GLOUCESTER	More wonderful, when angels are so angry.
	Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman,
	Of these supposed-evils, to give me leave,
	By circumstance, but to acquit myself.

LADY ANNE	Vouchsafe, defused infection of a man,
	For these known evils, but to give me leave,
	By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self.

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

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

GLOUCESTER	By such despair, I should accuse myself.

LADY ANNE	And, by despairing, shouldst thou stand excused;
	For doing worthy vengeance on thyself,
	Which didst unworthy slaughter upon others.

GLOUCESTER	Say that I slew them not?

LADY ANNE	Why, then they are not dead:
	But dead they are, and devilish slave, by thee.

GLOUCESTER	I did not kill your husband.

LADY ANNE	Why, then he is alive.

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

LADY ANNE	In thy foul throat thou liest: Queen Margaret saw
	Thy murderous falchion smoking in his blood;
	The which thou once didst bend against her breast,
	But that thy brothers beat aside the point.

GLOUCESTER	I was provoked by her slanderous tongue,
	which laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders.

LADY ANNE	Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind.
	Which never dreamt on aught but butcheries:
	Didst thou not kill this king?

GLOUCESTER	I grant ye.

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

GLOUCESTER	The fitter for the King of heaven, that hath him.

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

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

LADY ANNE	And thou unfit for any place but hell.

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

LADY ANNE	Some dungeon.

GLOUCESTER	                             Your bed-chamber.

LADY ANNE	I'll rest betide the chamber where thou liest!

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

LADY ANNE	I hope so.

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

LADY ANNE	Thou art the cause, and most accursed effect.

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

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

GLOUCESTER	These eyes could never endure sweet beauty's wreck;
	You should not blemish it, if I stood by:
	As all the world is cheered by the sun,
	So I by that; it is my day, my life.

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

GLOUCESTER	Curse not thyself, fair creature thou art both.

LADY ANNE	I would I were, to be revenged on thee.

GLOUCESTER	It is a quarrel most unnatural,
	To be revenged on him that loveth you.

LADY ANNE	It is a quarrel just and reasonable,
	To be revenged on him that slew my husband.

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

LADY ANNE	His better doth not breathe upon the earth.

GLOUCESTER	He lives that loves thee better than he could.

LADY ANNE	Name him.

GLOUCESTER	        Plantagenet.

LADY ANNE	Why, that was he.

GLOUCESTER	The selfsame name, but one of better nature.

LADY ANNE	Where is he?

GLOUCESTER	                 Here.

	[She spitteth at him]

	Why dost thou spit at me?

LADY ANNE	Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake!

GLOUCESTER	Never came poison from so sweet a place.

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

GLOUCESTER	Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine.

LADY ANNE	Would they were basilisks, to strike thee dead!

GLOUCESTER	I would they were, that I might die at once;
	For now they kill me with a living death.
	Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears,
	Shamed their aspect with store of childish drops:
	These eyes that never shed remorseful tear,
	No, when my father York and Edward wept,
	To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made
	When black-faced Clifford shook his sword at him;
	Nor when thy warlike father, like a child,
	Told the sad story of my father's death,
	And twenty times made pause to sob and weep,
	That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks
	Like trees bedash'd with rain: in that sad time
	My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear;
	And what these sorrows could not thence exhale,
	Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping.
	I never sued to friend nor enemy;
	My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing word;
	But now thy beauty is proposed my fee,
	My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak.

	[She looks scornfully at him]

	Teach not thy lips such scorn, for they were made
	For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.
	If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive,
	Lo, here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword;
	Which if thou please to hide in this true bosom.
	And let the soul forth that adoreth thee,
	I lay it naked to the deadly stroke,
	And humbly beg the death upon my knee.

	[He lays his breast open: she offers at it with his sword]

	Nay, do not pause; for I did kill King Henry,
	But 'twas thy beauty that provoked me.
	Nay, now dispatch; 'twas I that stabb'd young Edward,
	But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on.

	[Here she lets fall the sword]

	Take up the sword again, or take up me.

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

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

LADY ANNE	I have already.

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

LADY ANNE	I would I knew thy heart.

GLOUCESTER	'Tis figured in my tongue.

LADY ANNE	I fear me both are false.

GLOUCESTER	Then never man was true.

LADY ANNE	Well, well, put up your sword.

GLOUCESTER	Say, then, my peace is made.

LADY ANNE	That shall you know hereafter.

GLOUCESTER	But shall I live in hope?

LADY ANNE	All men, I hope, live so.

GLOUCESTER	Vouchsafe to wear this ring.

LADY ANNE	To take is not to give.

GLOUCESTER	Look, how this ring encompasseth finger.
	Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart;
	Wear both of them, for both of them are thine.
	And if thy poor devoted suppliant may
	But beg one favour at thy gracious hand,
	Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever.

LADY ANNE	What is it?

GLOUCESTER	That it would please thee leave these sad designs
	To him that hath more cause to be a mourner,
	And presently repair to Crosby Place;
	Where, after I have solemnly interr'd
	At Chertsey monastery this noble king,
	And wet his grave with my repentant tears,
	I will with all expedient duty see you:
	For divers unknown reasons. I beseech you,
	Grant me this boon.

LADY ANNE	With all my heart; and much it joys me too,
	To see you are become so penitent.
	Tressel and Berkeley, go along with me.

GLOUCESTER	Bid me farewell.

LADY ANNE	'Tis more than you deserve;
	But since you teach me how to flatter you,
	Imagine I have said farewell already.

	[Exeunt LADY ANNE, TRESSEL, and BERKELEY]

GLOUCESTER	Sirs, take up the corse.

GENTLEMEN	Towards Chertsey, noble lord?

GLOUCESTER	No, to White-Friars; there attend my coining.

	[Exeunt all but GLOUCESTER]

	Was ever woman in this humour woo'd?
	Was ever woman in this humour won?
	I'll have her; but I will not keep her long.
	What! I, that kill'd her husband and his father,
	To take her in her heart's extremest hate,
	With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes,
	The bleeding witness of her hatred by;
	Having God, her conscience, and these bars
	against me,
	And I nothing to back my suit at all,
	But the plain devil and dissembling looks,
	And yet to win her, all the world to nothing!
	Ha!
	Hath she forgot already that brave prince,
	Edward, her lord, whom I, some three months since,
	Stabb'd in my angry mood at Tewksbury?
	A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman,
	Framed in the prodigality of nature,
	Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal,
	The spacious world cannot again afford
	And will she yet debase her eyes on me,
	That cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet prince,
	And made her widow to a woful bed?
	On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety?
	On me, that halt and am unshapen thus?
	My dukedom to a beggarly denier,
	I do mistake my person all this while:
	Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot,
	Myself to be a marvellous proper man.
	I'll be at charges for a looking-glass,
	And entertain some score or two of tailors,
	To study fashions to adorn my body:
	Since I am crept in favour with myself,
	Will maintain it with some little cost.
	But first I'll turn yon fellow in his grave;
	And then return lamenting to my love.
	Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass,
	That I may see my shadow as I pass.

	[Exit]




	KING RICHARD III


ACT I



SCENE III	The palace.


	[Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH, RIVERS, and GREY]

RIVERS	Have patience, madam: there's no doubt his majesty
	Will soon recover his accustom'd health.

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

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

RIVERS	No other harm but loss of such a lord.

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

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

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

RIVERS	Is it concluded that he shall be protector?

QUEEN ELIZABETH	It is determined, not concluded yet:
	But so it must be, if the king miscarry.

	[Enter BUCKINGHAM and DERBY]

GREY	Here come the lords of Buckingham and Derby.

BUCKINGHAM	Good time of day unto your royal grace!

DERBY	God make your majesty joyful as you have been!

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

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

RIVERS	Saw you the king to-day, my Lord of Derby?

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

QUEEN ELIZABETH	What likelihood of his amendment, lords?

BUCKINGHAM	Madam, good hope; his grace speaks cheerfully.

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

BUCKINGHAM	Madam, we did: he desires to make atonement
	Betwixt the Duke of Gloucester and your brothers,
	And betwixt them and my lord chamberlain;
	And sent to warn them to his royal presence.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Would all were well! but that will never be
	I fear our happiness is at the highest.

	[Enter GLOUCESTER, HASTINGS, and DORSET]

GLOUCESTER	They do me wrong, and I will not endure it:
	Who are they that complain unto the king,
	That I, forsooth, am stern, and love them not?
	By holy Paul, they love his grace but lightly
	That fill his ears with such dissentious rumours.
	Because I cannot flatter and speak fair,
	Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive and cog,
	Duck with French nods and apish courtesy,
	I must be held a rancorous enemy.
	Cannot a plain man live and think no harm,
	But thus his simple truth must be abused
	By silken, sly, insinuating Jacks?

RIVERS	To whom in all this presence speaks your grace?

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

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Brother of Gloucester, you mistake the matter.
	The king, of his own royal disposition,
	And not provoked by any suitor else;
	Aiming, belike, at your interior hatred,
	Which in your outward actions shows itself
	Against my kindred, brothers, and myself,
	Makes him to send; that thereby he may gather
	The ground of your ill-will, and so remove it.

GLOUCESTER	I cannot tell: the world is grown so bad,
	That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch:
	Since every Jack became a gentleman
	There's many a gentle person made a Jack.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Come, come, we know your meaning, brother
	Gloucester;
	You envy my advancement and my friends':
	God grant we never may have need of you!

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

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

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

RIVERS	She may, my lord, for--

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

RIVERS	What, marry, may she?

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

QUEEN ELIZABETH	My Lord of Gloucester, I have too long borne
	Your blunt upbraidings and your bitter scoffs:
	By heaven, I will acquaint his majesty
	With those gross taunts I often have endured.
	I had rather be a country servant-maid
	Than a great queen, with this condition,
	To be thus taunted, scorn'd, and baited at:

	[Enter QUEEN MARGARET, behind]

	Small joy have I in being England's queen.

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

GLOUCESTER	What! threat you me with telling of the king?
	Tell him, and spare not: look, what I have said
	I will avouch in presence of the king:
	I dare adventure to be sent to the Tower.
	'Tis time to speak; my pains are quite forgot.

QUEEN MARGARET	Out, devil! I remember them too well:
	Thou slewest my husband Henry in the Tower,
	And Edward, my poor son, at Tewksbury.

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

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

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

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

GLOUCESTER	Poor Clarence did forsake his father, Warwick;
	Yea, and forswore himself,--which Jesu pardon!--

QUEEN MARGARET	Which God revenge!

GLOUCESTER	To fight on Edward's party for the crown;
	And for his meed, poor lord, he is mew'd up.
	I would to God my heart were flint, like Edward's;
	Or Edward's soft and pitiful, like mine
	I am too childish-foolish for this world.

QUEEN MARGARET	Hie thee to hell for shame, and leave the world,
	Thou cacodemon! there thy kingdom is.

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

GLOUCESTER	If I should be! I had rather be a pedlar:
	Far be it from my heart, the thought of it!

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

QUEEN MARGARET	A little joy enjoys the queen thereof;
	For I am she, and altogether joyless.
	I can no longer hold me patient.

	[Advancing]

	Hear me, you wrangling pirates, that fall out
	In sharing that which you have pill'd from me!
	Which of you trembles not that looks on me?
	If not, that, I being queen, you bow like subjects,
	Yet that, by you deposed, you quake like rebels?
	O gentle villain, do not turn away!

GLOUCESTER	Foul wrinkled witch, what makest thou in my sight?

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

GLOUCESTER	Wert thou not banished on pain of death?

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

GLOUCESTER	The curse my noble father laid on thee,
	When thou didst crown his warlike brows with paper
	And with thy scorns drew'st rivers from his eyes,
	And then, to dry them, gavest the duke a clout
	Steep'd in the faultless blood of pretty Rutland--
	His curses, then from bitterness of soul
	Denounced against thee, are all fall'n upon thee;
	And God, not we, hath plagued thy bloody deed.

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

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

RIVERS	Tyrants themselves wept when it was reported.

DORSET	No man but prophesied revenge for it.

BUCKINGHAM	Northumberland, then present, wept to see it.

QUEEN MARGARET	What were you snarling all before I came,
	Ready to catch each other by the throat,
	And turn you all your hatred now on me?
	Did York's dread curse prevail so much with heaven?
	That Henry's death, my lovely Edward's death,
	Their kingdom's loss, my woful banishment,
	Could all but answer for that peevish brat?
	Can curses pierce the clouds and enter heaven?
	Why, then, give way, dull clouds, to my quick curses!
	If not by war, by surfeit die your king,
	As ours by murder, to make him a king!
	Edward thy son, which now is Prince of Wales,
	For Edward my son, which was Prince of Wales,
	Die in his youth by like untimely violence!
	Thyself a queen, for me that was a queen,
	Outlive thy glory, like my wretched self!
	Long mayst thou live to wail thy children's loss;
	And see another, as I see thee now,
	Deck'd in thy rights, as thou art stall'd in mine!
	Long die thy happy days before thy death;
	And, after many lengthen'd hours of grief,
	Die neither mother, wife, nor England's queen!
	Rivers and Dorset, you were standers by,
	And so wast thou, Lord Hastings, when my son
	Was stabb'd with bloody daggers: God, I pray him,
	That none of you may live your natural age,
	But by some unlook'd accident cut off!

GLOUCESTER	Have done thy charm, thou hateful wither'd hag!

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

GLOUCESTER	Margaret.

QUEEN MARGARET	        Richard!

GLOUCESTER	                  Ha!

QUEEN MARGARET	                  I call thee not.

GLOUCESTER	I cry thee mercy then, for I had thought
	That thou hadst call'd me all these bitter names.

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

GLOUCESTER	'Tis done by me, and ends in 'Margaret.'

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Thus have you breathed your curse against yourself.

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

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

QUEEN MARGARET	Foul shame upon you! you have all moved mine.

RIVERS	Were you well served, you would be taught your duty.

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

DORSET	Dispute not with her; she is lunatic.

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

GLOUCESTER	Good counsel, marry: learn it, learn it, marquess.

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

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

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

BUCKINGHAM	Have done! for shame, if not for charity.

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

BUCKINGHAM	Have done, have done.

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

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

QUEEN MARGARET	I'll not believe but they ascend the sky,
	And there awake God's gentle-sleeping peace.
	O Buckingham, take heed of yonder dog!
	Look, when he fawns, he bites; and when he bites,
	His venom tooth will rankle to the death:
	Have not to do with him, beware of him;
	Sin, death, and hell have set their marks on him,
	And all their ministers attend on him.

GLOUCESTER	What doth she say, my Lord of Buckingham?

BUCKINGHAM	Nothing that I respect, my gracious lord.

QUEEN MARGARET	What, dost thou scorn me for my gentle counsel?
	And soothe the devil that I warn thee from?
	O, but remember this another day,
	When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow,
	And say poor Margaret was a prophetess!
	Live each of you the subjects to his hate,
	And he to yours, and all of you to God's!

	[Exit]

HASTINGS	My hair doth stand on end to hear her curses.

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

GLOUCESTER	I cannot blame her: by God's holy mother,
	She hath had too much wrong; and I repent
	My part thereof that I have done to her.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	I never did her any, to my knowledge.

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

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

GLOUCESTER	So do I ever:

	[Aside]

	being well-advised.
	For had I cursed now, I had cursed myself.

	[Enter CATESBY]

CATESBY	Madam, his majesty doth call for you,
	And for your grace; and you, my noble lords.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Catesby, we come. Lords, will you go with us?

RIVERS	Madam, we will attend your grace.

	[Exeunt all but GLOUCESTER]

GLOUCESTER	I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl.
	The secret mischiefs that I set abroach
	I lay unto the grievous charge of others.
	Clarence, whom I, indeed, have laid in darkness,
	I do beweep to many simple gulls
	Namely, to Hastings, Derby, Buckingham;
	And say it is the queen and her allies
	That stir the king against the duke my brother.
	Now, they believe it; and withal whet me
	To be revenged on Rivers, Vaughan, Grey:
	But then I sigh; and, with a piece of scripture,
	Tell them that God bids us do good for evil:
	And thus I clothe my naked villany
	With old odd ends stolen out of holy writ;
	And seem a saint, when most I play the devil.

	[Enter two Murderers]

	But, soft! here come my executioners.
	How now, my hardy, stout resolved mates!
	Are you now going to dispatch this deed?

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

GLOUCESTER	Well thought upon; I have it here about me.

	[Gives the warrant]

	When you have done, repair to Crosby Place.
	But, sirs, be sudden in the execution,
	Withal obdurate, do not hear him plead;
	For Clarence is well-spoken, and perhaps
	May move your hearts to pity if you mark him.

First Murderer	Tush!
	Fear not, my lord, we will not stand to prate;
	Talkers are no good doers: be assured
	We come to use our hands and not our tongues.

GLOUCESTER	Your eyes drop millstones, when fools' eyes drop tears:
	I like you, lads; about your business straight;
	Go, go, dispatch.

First Murderer	                  We will, my noble lord.

	[Exeunt]




	KING RICHARD III


ACT I



SCENE IV	London. The Tower.


	[Enter CLARENCE and BRAKENBURY]

BRAKENBURY	Why looks your grace so heavily today?

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

BRAKENBURY	What was your dream? I long to hear you tell it.

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

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

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

BRAKENBURY	Awaked you not with this sore agony?

CLARENCE	O, no, my dream was lengthen'd after life;
	O, then began the tempest to my soul,
	Who pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood,
	With that grim ferryman which poets write of,
	Unto the kingdom of perpetual night.
	The first that there did greet my stranger soul,
	Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick;
	Who cried aloud, 'What scourge for perjury
	Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence?'
	And so he vanish'd: then came wandering by
	A shadow like an angel, with bright hair
	Dabbled in blood; and he squeak'd out aloud,
	'Clarence is come; false, fleeting, perjured Clarence,
	That stabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury;
	Seize on him, Furies, take him to your torments!'
	With that, methoughts, a legion of foul fiends
	Environ'd me about, and howled in mine ears
	Such hideous cries, that with the very noise
	I trembling waked, and for a season after
	Could not believe but that I was in hell,
	Such terrible impression made the dream.

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

CLARENCE	O Brakenbury, I have done those things,
	Which now bear evidence against my soul,
	For Edward's sake; and see how he requites me!
	O God! if my deep prayers cannot appease thee,
	But thou wilt be avenged on my misdeeds,
	Yet execute thy wrath in me alone,
	O, spare my guiltless wife and my poor children!
	I pray thee, gentle keeper, stay by me;
	My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep.

BRAKENBURY	I will, my lord: God give your grace good rest!

	[CLARENCE sleeps]

	Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours,
	Makes the night morning, and the noon-tide night.
	Princes have but their tides for their glories,
	An outward honour for an inward toil;
	And, for unfelt imagination,
	They often feel a world of restless cares:
	So that, betwixt their tides and low names,
	There's nothing differs but the outward fame.

	[Enter the two Murderers]

First Murderer	Ho! who's here?

BRAKENBURY	In God's name what are you, and how came you hither?

First Murderer	I would speak with Clarence, and I came hither on my legs.

BRAKENBURY	Yea, are you so brief?

Second Murderer	O sir, it is better to be brief than tedious. Show
	him our commission; talk no more.

	[BRAKENBURY reads it]

BRAKENBURY	I am, in this, commanded to deliver
	The noble Duke of Clarence to your hands:
	I will not reason what is meant hereby,
	Because I will be guiltless of the meaning.
	Here are the keys, there sits the duke asleep:
	I'll to the king; and signify to him
	That thus I have resign'd my charge to you.

First Murderer	Do so, it is a point of wisdom: fare you well.

	[Exit BRAKENBURY]

Second Murderer	What, shall we stab him as he sleeps?

First Murderer	No; then he will say 'twas done cowardly, when he wakes.

Second Murderer	When he wakes! why, fool, he shall never wake till
	the judgment-day.

First Murderer	Why, then he will say we stabbed him sleeping.

Second Murderer	The urging of that word 'judgment' hath bred a kind
	of remorse in me.

First Murderer	What, art thou afraid?

Second Murderer	Not to kill him, having a warrant for it; but to be
	damned for killing him, from which no warrant can defend us.

First Murderer	I thought thou hadst been resolute.

Second Murderer	So I am, to let him live.

First Murderer	Back to the Duke of Gloucester, tell him so.

Second Murderer	I pray thee, stay a while: I hope my holy humour
	will change; 'twas wont to hold me but while one
	would tell twenty.

First Murderer	How dost thou feel thyself now?

Second Murderer	'Faith, some certain dregs of conscience are yet
	within me.

First Murderer	Remember our reward, when the deed is done.

Second Murderer	'Zounds, he dies: I had forgot the reward.

First Murderer	Where is thy conscience now?

Second Murderer	In the Duke of Gloucester's purse.

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

Second Murderer	Let it go; there's few or none will entertain it.

First Murderer	How if it come to thee again?

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

First Murderer	'Zounds, it is even now at my elbow, persuading me
	not to kill the duke.

Second Murderer	Take the devil in thy mind, and relieve him not: he
	would insinuate with thee but to make thee sigh.

First Murderer	Tut, I am strong-framed, he cannot prevail with me,
	I warrant thee.

Second Murderer	Spoke like a tail fellow that respects his
	reputation. Come, shall we to this gear?

First Murderer	Take him over the costard with the hilts of thy
	sword, and then we will chop him in the malmsey-butt
	in the next room.

Second Murderer	O excellent devise! make a sop of him.

First Murderer	Hark! he stirs: shall I strike?

Second Murderer	No, first let's reason with him.

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

Second murderer	You shall have wine enough, my lord, anon.

CLARENCE	In God's name, what art thou?

Second Murderer	A man, as you are.

CLARENCE	But not, as I am, royal.

Second Murderer	Nor you, as we are, loyal.

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

Second Murderer	My voice is now the king's, my looks mine own.

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

Both	To, to, to--

CLARENCE	To murder me?

Both	Ay, ay.

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

First Murderer	Offended us you have not, but the king.

CLARENCE	I shall be reconciled to him again.

Second Murderer	Never, my lord; therefore prepare to die.

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

First Murderer	What we will do, we do upon command.

Second Murderer	And he that hath commanded is the king.

CLARENCE	Erroneous vassal! the great King of kings
	Hath in the tables of his law commanded
	That thou shalt do no murder: and wilt thou, then,
	Spurn at his edict and fulfil a man's?
	Take heed; for he holds vengeance in his hands,
	To hurl upon their heads that break his law.

Second Murderer	And that same vengeance doth he hurl on thee,
	For false forswearing and for murder too:
	Thou didst receive the holy sacrament,
	To fight in quarrel of the house of Lancaster.

First Murderer	And, like a traitor to the name of God,
	Didst break that vow; and with thy treacherous blade
	Unrip'dst the bowels of thy sovereign's son.

Second Murderer	Whom thou wert sworn to cherish and defend.

First Murderer	How canst thou urge God's dreadful law to us,
	When thou hast broke it in so dear degree?

CLARENCE	Alas! for whose sake did I that ill deed?
	For Edward, for my brother, for his sake: Why, sirs,
	He sends ye not to murder me for this
	For in this sin he is as deep as I.
	If God will be revenged for this deed.
	O, know you yet, he doth it publicly,
	Take not the quarrel from his powerful arm;
	He needs no indirect nor lawless course
	To cut off those that have offended him.

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

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

First Murderer	Thy brother's love, our duty, and thy fault,
	Provoke us hither now to slaughter thee.

CLARENCE	Oh, if you love my brother, hate not me;
	I am his brother, and I love him well.
	If you be hired for meed, go back again,
	And I will send you to my brother Gloucester,
	Who shall reward you better for my life
	Than Edward will for tidings of my death.

Second Murderer	You are deceived, your brother Gloucester hates you.

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

Both	Ay, so we will.

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

First Murderer	Ay, millstones; as be lesson'd us to weep.

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

First Murderer	Right,
	As snow in harvest. Thou deceivest thyself:
	'Tis he that sent us hither now to slaughter thee.

CLARENCE	It cannot be; for when I parted with him,
	He hugg'd me in his arms, and swore, with sobs,
	That he would labour my delivery.

Second Murderer	Why, so he doth, now he delivers thee
	From this world's thraldom to the joys of heaven.

First Murderer	Make peace with God, for you must die, my lord.

CLARENCE	Hast thou that holy feeling in thy soul,
	To counsel me to make my peace with God,
	And art thou yet to thy own soul so blind,
	That thou wilt war with God by murdering me?
	Ah, sirs, consider, he that set you on
	To do this deed will hate you for the deed.

Second Murderer	What shall we do?

CLARENCE	                  Relent, and save your souls.

First Murderer	Relent! 'tis cowardly and womanish.

CLARENCE	Not to relent is beastly, savage, devilish.
	Which of you, if you were a prince's son,
	Being pent from liberty, as I am now,
	if two such murderers as yourselves came to you,
	Would not entreat for life?
	My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks:
	O, if thine eye be not a flatterer,
	Come thou on my side, and entreat for me,
	As you would beg, were you in my distress
	A begging prince what beggar pities not?

Second Murderer	Look behind you, my lord.

First Murderer	Take that, and that: if all this will not do,

	[Stabs him]

	I'll drown you in the malmsey-butt within.

	[Exit, with the body]

Second Murderer	A bloody deed, and desperately dispatch'd!
	How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands
	Of this most grievous guilty murder done!

	[Re-enter First Murderer]

First Murderer	How now! what mean'st thou, that thou help'st me not?
	By heavens, the duke shall know how slack thou art!

Second Murderer	I would he knew that I had saved his brother!
	Take thou the fee, and tell him what I say;
	For I repent me that the duke is slain.

	[Exit]

First Murderer	So do not I: go, coward as thou art.
	Now must I hide his body in some hole,
	Until the duke take order for his burial:
	And when I have my meed, I must away;
	For this will out, and here I must not stay.




	KING RICHARD III


ACT II



SCENE I	London. The palace.


	[Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD IV sick, QUEEN
	ELIZABETH, DORSET, RIVERS, HASTINGS, BUCKINGHAM,
	GREY, and others]

KING EDWARD IV	Why, so: now have I done a good day's work:
	You peers, continue this united league:
	I every day expect an embassage
	From my Redeemer to redeem me hence;
	And now in peace my soul shall part to heaven,
	Since I have set my friends at peace on earth.
	Rivers and Hastings, take each other's hand;
	Dissemble not your hatred, swear your love.

RIVERS	By heaven, my heart is purged from grudging hate:
	And with my hand I seal my true heart's love.

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

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

HASTINGS	So prosper I, as I swear perfect love!

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

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

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

KING EDWARD IV	Dorset, embrace him; Hastings, love lord marquess.

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

HASTINGS	And so swear I, my lord

	[They embrace]

KING EDWARD IV	Now, princely Buckingham, seal thou this league
	With thy embracements to my wife's allies,
	And make me happy in your unity.

BUCKINGHAM	Whenever Buckingham doth turn his hate
	On you or yours,

	[To the Queen]

	but with all duteous love
	Doth cherish you and yours, God punish me
	With hate in those where I expect most love!
	When I have most need to employ a friend,
	And most assured that he is a friend
	Deep, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile,
	Be he unto me! this do I beg of God,
	When I am cold in zeal to yours.

KING EDWARD IV	A pleasing cordial, princely Buckingham,
	is this thy vow unto my sickly heart.
	There wanteth now our brother Gloucester here,
	To make the perfect period of this peace.

BUCKINGHAM	And, in good time, here comes the noble duke.

	[Enter GLOUCESTER]

GLOUCESTER	Good morrow to my sovereign king and queen:
	And, princely peers, a happy time of day!

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

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

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

GLOUCESTER	Why, madam, have I offer'd love for this
	To be so bouted in this royal presence?
	Who knows not that the noble duke is dead?

	[They all start]

	You do him injury to scorn his corse.

RIVERS	Who knows not he is dead! who knows he is?

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

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

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

KING EDWARD IV	Is Clarence dead? the order was reversed.

GLOUCESTER	But he, poor soul, by your first order died,
	And that a winged Mercury did bear:
	Some tardy cripple bore the countermand,
	That came too lag to see him buried.
	God grant that some, less noble and less loyal,
	Nearer in bloody thoughts, but not in blood,
	Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did,
	And yet go current from suspicion!

	[Enter DERBY]

DORSET	A boon, my sovereign, for my service done!

KING EDWARD IV	I pray thee, peace: my soul is full of sorrow.

DORSET	I will not rise, unless your highness grant.

KING EDWARD IV	Then speak at once what is it thou demand'st.

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

KING EDWARD IV	Have a tongue to doom my brother's death,
	And shall the same give pardon to a slave?
	My brother slew no man; his fault was thought,
	And yet his punishment was cruel death.
	Who sued to me for him? who, in my rage,
	Kneel'd at my feet, and bade me be advised
	Who spake of brotherhood? who spake of love?
	Who told me how the poor soul did forsake
	The mighty Warwick, and did fight for me?
	Who told me, in the field by Tewksbury
	When Oxford had me down, he rescued me,
	And said, 'Dear brother, live, and be a king'?
	Who told me, when we both lay in the field
	Frozen almost to death, how he did lap me
	Even in his own garments, and gave himself,
	All thin and naked, to the numb cold night?
	All this from my remembrance brutish wrath
	Sinfully pluck'd, and not a man of you
	Had so much grace to put it in my mind.
	But when your carters or your waiting-vassals
	Have done a drunken slaughter, and defaced
	The precious image of our dear Redeemer,
	You straight are on your knees for pardon, pardon;
	And I unjustly too, must grant it you
	But for my brother not a man would speak,
	Nor I, ungracious, speak unto myself
	For him, poor soul. The proudest of you all
	Have been beholding to him in his life;
	Yet none of you would once plead for his life.
	O God, I fear thy justice will take hold
	On me, and you, and mine, and yours for this!
	Come, Hastings, help me to my closet.
	Oh, poor Clarence!

	[Exeunt some with KING EDWARD IV and QUEEN MARGARET]

GLOUCESTER	This is the fruit of rashness! Mark'd you not
	How that the guilty kindred of the queen
	Look'd pale when they did hear of Clarence' death?
	O, they did urge it still unto the king!
	God will revenge it. But come, let us in,
	To comfort Edward with our company.

BUCKINGHAM	We wait upon your grace.

	[Exeunt]




	KING RICHARD III


ACT II



SCENE II	The palace.


	[Enter the DUCHESS OF YORK, with the two children of CLARENCE]

Boy	Tell me, good grandam, is our father dead?

DUCHESS OF YORK	No, boy.

Boy	Why do you wring your hands, and beat your breast,
	And cry 'O Clarence, my unhappy son!'

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

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

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

Girl	And so will I.

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

Boy	Grandam, we can; for my good uncle Gloucester
	Told me, the king, provoked by the queen,
	Devised impeachments to imprison him :
	And when my uncle told me so, he wept,
	And hugg'd me in his arm, and kindly kiss'd my cheek;
	Bade me rely on him as on my father,
	And he would love me dearly as his child.

DUCHESS OF YORK	Oh, that deceit should steal such gentle shapes,
	And with a virtuous vizard hide foul guile!
	He is my son; yea, and therein my shame;
	Yet from my dugs he drew not this deceit.

Boy	Think you my uncle did dissemble, grandam?

DUCHESS OF YORK	Ay, boy.

Boy	I cannot think it. Hark! what noise is this?

	[Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH, with her hair about her
	ears; RIVERS, and DORSET after her]

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Oh, who shall hinder me to wail and weep,
	To chide my fortune, and torment myself?
	I'll join with black despair against my soul,
	And to myself become an enemy.

DUCHESS OF YORK	What means this scene of rude impatience?

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

DUCHESS OF YORK	Ah, so much interest have I in thy sorrow
	As I had title in thy noble husband!
	I have bewept a worthy husband's death,
	And lived by looking on his images:
	But now two mirrors of his princely semblance
	Are crack'd in pieces by malignant death,
	And I for comfort have but one false glass,
	Which grieves me when I see my shame in him.
	Thou art a widow; yet thou art a mother,
	And hast the comfort of thy children left thee:
	But death hath snatch'd my husband from mine arms,
	And pluck'd two crutches from my feeble limbs,
	Edward and Clarence. O, what cause have I,
	Thine being but a moiety of my grief,
	To overgo thy plaints and drown thy cries!

Boy	Good aunt, you wept not for our father's death;
	How can we aid you with our kindred tears?

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

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

Children	Oh for our father, for our dear lord Clarence!

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

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

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

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

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Was never widow had so dear a loss!

Children	Were never orphans had so dear a loss!

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

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

RIVERS	Madam, bethink you, like a careful mother,
	Of the young prince your son: send straight for him
	Let him be crown'd; in him your comfort lives:
	Drown desperate sorrow in dead Edward's grave,
	And plant your joys in living Edward's throne.

	[Enter GLOUCESTER, BUCKINGHAM, DERBY, HASTINGS, and RATCLIFF]

GLOUCESTER	Madam, have comfort: all of us have cause
	To wail the dimming of our shining star;
	But none can cure their harms by wailing them.
	Madam, my mother, I do cry you mercy;
	I did not see your grace: humbly on my knee
	I crave your blessing.

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

GLOUCESTER	[Aside]  Amen; and make me die a good old man!
	That is the butt-end of a mother's blessing:
	I marvel why her grace did leave it out.

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

RIVERS	Why with some little train, my Lord of Buckingham?

BUCKINGHAM	Marry, my lord, lest, by a multitude,
	The new-heal'd wound of malice should break out,
	Which would be so much the more dangerous
	By how much the estate is green and yet ungovern'd:
	Where every horse bears his commanding rein,
	And may direct his course as please himself,
	As well the fear of harm, as harm apparent,
	In my opinion, ought to be prevented.

GLOUCESTER	I hope the king made peace with all of us
	And the compact is firm and true in me.

RIVERS	And so in me; and so, I think, in all:
	Yet, since it is but green, it should be put
	To no apparent likelihood of breach,
	Which haply by much company might be urged:
	Therefore I say with noble Buckingham,
	That it is meet so few should fetch the prince.

HASTINGS	And so say I.

GLOUCESTER	Then be it so; and go we to determine
	Who they shall be that straight shall post to Ludlow.
	Madam, and you, my mother, will you go
	To give your censures in this weighty business?


QUEEN ELIZABETH	|
	|  With all our harts.
DUCHESS OF YORK	|


	[Exeunt all but BUCKINGHAM and GLOUCESTER]

BUCKINGHAM	My lord, whoever journeys to the Prince,
	For God's sake, let not us two be behind;
	For, by the way, I'll sort occasion,
	As index to the story we late talk'd of,
	To part the queen's proud kindred from the king.

GLOUCESTER	My other self, my counsel's consistory,
	My oracle, my prophet! My dear cousin,
	I, like a child, will go by thy direction.
	Towards Ludlow then, for we'll not stay behind.

	[Exeunt]




	KING RICHARD III


ACT II



SCENE III	London. A street.


	[Enter two Citizens meeting]

First Citizen	Neighbour, well met: whither away so fast?

Second Citizen	I promise you, I scarcely know myself:
	Hear you the news abroad?

First Citizen	Ay, that the king is dead.

Second Citizen	Bad news, by'r lady; seldom comes the better:
	I fear, I fear 'twill prove a troublous world.

	[Enter another Citizen]

Third Citizen	Neighbours, God speed!

First Citizen	Give you good morrow, sir.

Third Citizen	Doth this news hold of good King Edward's death?

Second Citizen	Ay, sir, it is too true; God help the while!

Third Citizen	Then, masters, look to see a troublous world.

First Citizen	No, no; by God's good grace his son shall reign.

Third Citizen	Woe to the land that's govern'd by a child!

Second Citizen	In him there is a hope of government,
	That in his nonage council under him,
	And in his full and ripen'd years himself,
	No doubt, shall then and till then govern well.

First Citizen	So stood the state when Henry the Sixth
	Was crown'd in Paris but at nine months old.

Third Citizen	Stood the state so? No, no, good friends, God wot;
	For then this land was famously enrich'd
	With politic grave counsel; then the king
	Had virtuous uncles to protect his grace.

First Citizen	Why, so hath this, both by the father and mother.

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

First Citizen	Come, come, we fear the worst; all shall be well.

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

Second Citizen	Truly, the souls of men are full of dread:
	Ye cannot reason almost with a man
	That looks not heavily and full of fear.

Third Citizen	Before the times of change, still is it so:
	By a divine instinct men's minds mistrust
	Ensuing dangers; as by proof, we see
	The waters swell before a boisterous storm.
	But leave it all to God. whither away?

Second Citizen	Marry, we were sent for to the justices.

Third Citizen	And so was I: I'll bear you company.

	[Exeunt]




	KING RICHARD III


ACT II



SCENE IV	London. The palace.


	[Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF YORK, young YORK, QUEEN
	ELIZABETH, and the DUCHESS OF YORK]

ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	Last night, I hear, they lay at Northampton;
	At Stony-Stratford will they be to-night:
	To-morrow, or next day, they will be here.

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

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

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

DUCHESS OF YORK	Why, my young cousin, it is good to grow.

YORK	Grandam, one night, as we did sit at supper,
	My uncle Rivers talk'd how I did grow
	More than my brother: 'Ay,' quoth my uncle
	Gloucester,
	'Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow apace:'
	And since, methinks, I would not grow so fast,
	Because sweet flowers are slow and weeds make haste.

DUCHESS OF YORK	Good faith, good faith, the saying did not hold
	In him that did object the same to thee;
	He was the wretched'st thing when he was young,
	So long a-growing and so leisurely,
	That, if this rule were true, he should be gracious.

ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	Why, madam, so, no doubt, he is.

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

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

DUCHESS OF YORK	How, my pretty York? I pray thee, let me hear it.

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

DUCHESS OF YORK	I pray thee, pretty York, who told thee this?

YORK	Grandam, his nurse.

DUCHESS OF YORK	His nurse! why, she was dead ere thou wert born.

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

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

ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	Good madam, be not angry with the child.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Pitchers have ears.

	[Enter a Messenger]

ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	Here comes a messenger. What news?

Messenger	Such news, my lord, as grieves me to unfold.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	How fares the prince?

Messenger	Well, madam, and in health.

DUCHESS OF YORK	What is thy news then?

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

DUCHESS OF YORK	Who hath committed them?

Messenger	The mighty dukes
	Gloucester and Buckingham.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	For what offence?

Messenger	The sum of all I can, I have disclosed;
	Why or for what these nobles were committed
	Is all unknown to me, my gracious lady.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Ay me, I see the downfall of our house!
	The tiger now hath seized the gentle hind;
	Insulting tyranny begins to jet
	Upon the innocent and aweless throne:
	Welcome, destruction, death, and massacre!
	I see, as in a map, the end of all.

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

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

DUCHESS OF YORK	                  I'll go along with you.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	You have no cause.

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

	[Exeunt]




	KING RICHARD III


ACT III



SCENE I	London. A street.


	[The trumpets sound. Enter the young PRINCE EDWARD,
	GLOUCESTER, BUCKINGHAM, CARDINAL, CATESBY, and others]

BUCKINGHAM	Welcome, sweet prince, to London, to your chamber.

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

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

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

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

GLOUCESTER	My lord, the mayor of London comes to greet you.

	[Enter the Lord Mayor and his train]

Lord Mayor	God bless your grace with health and happy days!

PRINCE EDWARD	I thank you, good my lord; and thank you all.
	I thought my mother, and my brother York,
	Would long ere this have met us on the way
	Fie, what a slug is Hastings, that he comes not
	To tell us whether they will come or no!

	[Enter HASTINGS]

BUCKINGHAM	And, in good time, here comes the sweating lord.

PRINCE EDWARD	Welcome, my lord: what, will our mother come?

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

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

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

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

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

HASTINGS	I go, my lord.

PRINCE EDWARD	Good lords, make all the speedy haste you may.

	[Exeunt CARDINAL and HASTINGS]

	Say, uncle Gloucester, if our brother come,
	Where shall we sojourn till our coronation?

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

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

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

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

BUCKINGHAM	Upon record, my gracious lord.

PRINCE EDWARD	But say, my lord, it were not register'd,
	Methinks the truth should live from age to age,
	As 'twere retail'd to all posterity,
	Even to the general all-ending day.

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

PRINCE EDWARD	What say you, uncle?

GLOUCESTER	I say, without characters, fame lives long.

	[Aside]

	Thus, like the formal vice, Iniquity,
	I moralize two meanings in one word.

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

BUCKINGHAM	What, my gracious lord?

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

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

	[Enter young YORK, HASTINGS, and the CARDINAL]

BUCKINGHAM	Now, in good time, here comes the Duke of York.

PRINCE EDWARD	Richard of York! how fares our loving brother?

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

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

GLOUCESTER	How fares our cousin, noble Lord of York?

YORK	I thank you, gentle uncle. O, my lord,
	You said that idle weeds are fast in growth
	The prince my brother hath outgrown me far.

GLOUCESTER	He hath, my lord.

YORK	                  And therefore is he idle?

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

YORK	Then is he more beholding to you than I.

GLOUCESTER	He may command me as my sovereign;
	But you have power in me as in a kinsman.

YORK	I pray you, uncle, give me this dagger.

GLOUCESTER	My dagger, little cousin? with all my heart.

PRINCE EDWARD	A beggar, brother?

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

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

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

GLOUCESTER	A gentle cousin, were it light enough.

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

GLOUCESTER	It is too heavy for your grace to wear.

YORK	I weigh it lightly, were it heavier.

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

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

GLOUCESTER	How?

YORK	Little.

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

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

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

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

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

PRINCE EDWARD	My lord protector needs will have it so.

YORK	I shall not sleep in quiet at the Tower.

GLOUCESTER	Why, what should you fear?

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

PRINCE EDWARD	I fear no uncles dead.

GLOUCESTER	Nor none that live, I hope.

PRINCE EDWARD	An if they live, I hope I need not fear.
	But come, my lord; and with a heavy heart,
	Thinking on them, go I unto the Tower.

	[A Sennet. Exeunt all but GLOUCESTER, BUCKINGHAM
	and CATESBY]

BUCKINGHAM	Think you, my lord, this little prating York
	Was not incensed by his subtle mother
	To taunt and scorn you thus opprobriously?

GLOUCESTER	No doubt, no doubt; O, 'tis a parlous boy;
	Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable
	He is all the mother's, from the top to toe.

BUCKINGHAM	Well, let them rest. Come hither, Catesby.
	Thou art sworn as deeply to effect what we intend
	As closely to conceal what we impart:
	Thou know'st our reasons urged upon the way;
	What think'st thou? is it not an easy matter
	To make William Lord Hastings of our mind,
	For the instalment of this no