Richard III

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Original text
Act IV, Scene I
Enter the Queene, Anne Duchesse of Gloucester, the
Duchesse of Yorke, and Marquesse Dorset.

Duch.Yorke.
Who meetes vs heere? / My Neece Plantagenet,
Led in the hand of her kind Aunt of Gloster?
Now, for my Life, shee's wandring to the Tower,
On pure hearts loue, to greet the tender Prince.
Daughter, well met.

Anne.
God giue your Graces both,
a happie / And a ioyfull time of day.

Qu.
As much to you, good Sister: whither away?

Anne.
No farther then the Tower, and as I guesse,
Vpon the like deuotion as your selues,
To gratulate the gentle Princes there.

Qu.
Kind Sister thankes, wee'le enter all together:
Enter the Lieutenant.
And in good time, here the Lieutenant comes.
Master Lieutenant, pray you, by your leaue,
How doth the Prince, and my young Sonne of Yorke?

Lieu.
Right well, deare Madame: by your patience,
I may not suffer you to visit them,
The King hath strictly charg'd the contrary.

Qu.
The King? who's that?

Lieu.
I meane, the Lord Protector.

Qu.
The Lord protect him from that Kingly Title.
Hath he set bounds betweene their loue, and me?
I am their Mother, who shall barre me from them?

Duch.Yorke.
I am their Fathers Mother, I will see them.

Anne.
Their Aunt I am in law, in loue their Mother:
Then bring me to their sights, Ile beare thy blame,
And take thy Office from thee, on my perill.

Lieu.
No, Madame, no; I may not leaue it so:
I am bound by Oath, and therefore pardon me.
Exit Lieutenant.
Enter Stanley.

Stanley.
Let me but meet you Ladies one howre hence,
And Ile salute your Grace of Yorke as Mother,
And reuerend looker on of two faire Queenes.

Come Madame, you must straight to Westminster,
There to be crowned Richards Royall Queene.

Qu.
Ah, cut my Lace asunder,
That my pent heart may haue some scope to beat,
Or else I swoone with this dead-killing newes.

Anne.
Despightfull tidings, O vnpleasing newes.

Dors.
Be of good cheare: Mother, how fares your Grace?

Qu.
O Dorset, speake not to me, get thee gone,
Death and Destruction dogges thee at thy heeles,
Thy Mothers Name is ominous to Children.
If thou wilt out-strip Death, goe crosse the Seas,
And liue with Richmond, from the reach of Hell.
Goe hye thee, hye thee from this slaughter-house,
Lest thou encrease the number of the dead,
And make me dye the thrall of Margarets Curse,
Nor Mother, Wife, nor Englands counted Queene.

Stanley.
Full of wise care, is this your counsaile, Madame:
Take all the swift aduantage of the howres:
You shall haue Letters from me to my Sonne,
In your behalfe, to meet you on the way:
Be not ta'ne tardie by vnwise delay.

Duch.Yorke.
O ill dispersing Winde of Miserie.
O my accursed Wombe, the Bed of Death:
A Cockatrice hast thou hatcht to the World,
Whose vnauoided Eye is murtherous.

Stanley.
Come, Madame, come, I in all haste was sent.

Anne.
And I with all vnwillingnesse will goe.
O would to God, that the inclusiue Verge
Of Golden Mettall, that must round my Brow,
Were red hot Steele, to seare me to the Braines,
Anoynted let me be with deadly Venome,
And dye ere men can say, God saue the Queene.

Qu.
Goe, goe, poore soule, I enuie not thy glory,
To feed my humor, wish thy selfe no harme.

Anne.
No: why? When he that is my Husband now,
Came to me, as I follow'd Henries Corse,
When scarce the blood was well washt from his hands,
Which issued from my other Angell Husband,
And that deare Saint, which then I weeping follow'd:
O, when I say I look'd on Richards Face,
This was my Wish: Be thou (quoth I) accurst,
For making me, so young, so old a Widow:
And when thou wed'st, let sorrow haunt thy Bed;
And be thy Wife, if any be so mad,
More miserable, by the Life of thee,
Then thou hast made me, by my deare Lords death.
Loe, ere I can repeat this Curse againe,
Within so small a time, my Womans heart
Grossely grew captiue to his honey words,
And prou'd the subiect of mine owne Soules Curse,
Which hitherto hath held mine eyes from rest:
For neuer yet one howre in his Bed
Did I enioy the golden deaw of sleepe,
But with his timorous Dreames was still awak'd.
Besides, he hates me for my Father Warwicke,
And will (no doubt) shortly be rid of me.

Qu.
Poore heart adieu, I pittie thy complaining.

Anne.
No more, then with my soule I mourne for yours.

Dors.
Farewell, thou wofull welcommer of glory.

Anne.
Adieu, poore soule, that tak'st thy leaue of it.

Du.Y.
Go thou to Richmond, & good fortune guide thee,
Go thou to Richard, and good Angels tend thee,
Go thou to Sanctuarie, and good thoughts possesse thee,
I to my Graue, where peace and rest lye with mee.
Eightie odde yeeres of sorrow haue I seene,
And each howres ioy wrackt with a weeke of teene.

Qu.
Stay, yet looke backe with me vnto the Tower.
Pitty, you ancient Stones, those tender Babes,
Whom Enuie hath immur'd within your Walls,
Rough Cradle for such little prettie ones,
Rude ragged Nurse, old sullen Play-fellow,
For tender Princes: vse my Babies well;
So foolish Sorrowes bids your Stones farewell.
Exeunt.
Original text
Act IV, Scene II
Sound a Sennet. Enter Richard in pompe,
Buckingham, Catesby, Ratcliffe, Louel.

Rich.
Stand all apart. Cousin of Buckingham.

Buck.
My gracious Soueraigne.

Rich.
Giue me thy hand.
Sound.


Thus high, by thy aduice,
and thy assistance, / Is King Richard seated:
But shall we weare these Glories for a day?
Or shall they last, and we reioyce in them?

Buck.
Still liue they, and for euer let them last.

Rich.
Ah Buckingham, now doe I play the Touch,
To trie if thou be currant Gold indeed:
Young Edward liues, thinke now what I would speake.

Buck.
Say on my louing Lord.

Rich.
Why Buckingham, I say I would be King.

Buck.
Why so you are, my thrice-renowned Lord.

Rich.
Ha? am I King? 'tis so: but Edward liues.

Buck
True, Noble Prince.

Rich.
O bitter consequence!
That Edward still should liue true Noble Prince.
Cousin, thou wast not wont to be so dull.
Shall I be plaine? I wish the Bastards dead,
And I would haue it suddenly perform'd.
What say'st thou now? speake suddenly, be briefe.

Buck.
Your Grace may doe your pleasure.

Rich.
Tut, tut, thou art all Ice, thy kindnesse freezes:
Say, haue I thy consent, that they shall dye?

Buc.
Giue me some litle breath, some pawse, deare Lord,
Before I positiuely speake in this:
I will resolue you herein presently.
Exit Buck.

Catesby.
The King is angry, see he gnawes his Lippe.

Rich.
I will conuerse with Iron-witted Fooles,
And vnrespectiue Boyes: none are for me,
That looke into me with considerate eyes,
High-reaching Buckingham growes circumspect.
Boy.

Page.
My Lord.

Rich.
Know'st thou not any, whom corrupting Gold
Will tempt vnto a close exploit of Death?

Page.
I know a discontented Gentleman,
Whose humble meanes match not his haughtie spirit:
Gold were as good as twentie Orators,
And will (no doubt) tempt him to any thing.

Rich.
What is his Name?

Page.
His Name, my Lord, is Tirrell.

Rich.
I partly know the man: goe call him hither, / Boy.
Exit.
The deepe reuoluing wittie Buckingham,
No more shall be the neighbor to my counsailes.
Hath he so long held out with me, vntyr'd,
And stops he now for breath? Well, be it so.
Enter Stanley.
How now, Lord Stanley, what's the newes?

Stanley.
Know my louing Lord,
the Marquesse Dorset /As I heare, is fled
to Richmond, / In the parts where he abides.
Rich.



Come hither Catesby, rumor it abroad,
That Anne my Wife is very grieuous sicke,
I will take order for her keeping close.
Inquire me out some meane poore Gentleman,
Whom I will marry straight to Clarence Daughter:
The Boy is foolish, and I feare not him.
Looke how thou dream'st: I say againe, giue out,
That Anne, my Queene, is sicke, and like to dye.
About it, for it stands me much vpon
To stop all hopes, whose growth may dammage me.
I must be marryed to my Brothers Daughter,
Or else my Kingdome stands on brittle Glasse:
Murther her Brothers, and then marry her,
Vncertaine way of gaine. But I am in
So farre in blood, that sinne will pluck on sinne,
Teare-falling Pittie dwells not in this Eye.
Enter Tyrrel.
Is thy Name Tyrrel?

Tyr.
Iames Tyrrel, and your most obedient subiect.

Rich.
Art thou indeed?

Tyr.
Proue me, my gracious Lord.

Rich.
Dar'st thou resolue to kill a friend of mine?

Tyr.
Please you:
But I had rather kill two enemies.

Rich.
Why then thou hast it: two deepe enemies,
Foes to my Rest, and my sweet sleepes disturbers,
Are they that I would haue thee deale vpon:
Tyrrel, I meane those Bastards in the Tower.

Tyr.
Let me haue open meanes to come to them,
And soone Ile rid you from the feare of them.

Rich.
Thou sing'st sweet Musique: / Hearke, come hither Tyrrel,
Goe by this token: rise, and lend thine Eare,
Whispers.
There is no more but so: say it is done,
And I will loue thee, and preferre thee for it.

Tyr.
I will dispatch it straight.
Exit.
Enter Buckingham.

Buck.
My Lord, I haue consider'd in my minde,
The late request that you did sound me in.

Rich.
Well, let that rest: Dorset is fled to Richmond.

Buck.
I heare the newes, my Lord.

Rich.
Stanley, hee is your Wiues Sonne: well, looke vnto it.

Buck.
My Lord, I clayme the gift, my due by promise,
For which your Honor and your Faith is pawn'd,
Th'Earledome of Hertford, and the moueables,
Which you haue promised I shall possesse.

Rich
Stanley looke to your Wife: if she conuey
Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it.

Buck.
What sayes your Highnesse to my iust request?

Rich.
I doe remember me, Henry the Sixt
Did prophecie, that Richmond should be King,
When Richmond was a little peeuish Boy.
A King perhaps.

Buck.
May it please you to resolue me in my suit.

Rich.
Thou troublest me, I am not in the vaine.
Exit.

Buck.
And is it thus? repayes he my deepe seruice
With such contempt? made I him King for this?
O let me thinke on Hastings, and be gone
To Brecnock, while my fearefull Head is on.
Exit.
Original text
Act IV, Scene III
Enter Tyrrel.

Tyr.
The tyrannous and bloodie Act is done,
The most arch deed of pittious massacre
That euer yet this Land was guilty of:
Dighton and Forrest, who I did suborne
To do this peece of ruthfull Butchery,
Albeit they were flesht Villaines, bloody Dogges,
Melted with tendernesse, and milde compassion,
Wept like to Children, in their deaths sad Story.
O thus (quoth Dighton) lay the gentle Babes:
Thus, thus (quoth Forrest) girdling one another
Within their Alablaster innocent Armes:
Their lips were foure red Roses on a stalke,
And in their Summer Beauty kist each other.
A Booke of Prayers on their pillow lay,
Which one (quoth Forrest) almost chang'd my minde:
But oh the Diuell, there the Villaine stopt:
When Dighton thus told on, we smothered
The most replenished sweet worke of Nature,
That from the prime Creation ere she framed.
Hence both are gone with Conscience and Remorse,
They could not speake, and so I left them both,
To beare this tydings to the bloody King.
Enter Richard.
And heere he comes. All health my Soueraigne Lord.

Ric.
Kinde Tirrell, am I happy in thy Newes.

Tir.
If to haue done the thing you gaue in charge,
Beget your happinesse, be happy then,
For it is done.

Rich.
But did'st thou see them dead.

Tir.
I did my Lord.

Rich.
And buried gentle Tirrell.

Tir.
The Chaplaine of the Tower hath buried them,
But where (to say the truth) I do not know.

Rich.
Come to me Tirrel soone, and after Supper,
When thou shalt tell the processe of their death.
Meane time, but thinke how I may do the good,
And be inheritor of thy desire.
Farewell till then.

Tir.
I humbly take my leaue.

Rich.
The Sonne of Clarence haue I pent vp close,
His daughter meanly haue I matcht in marriage,
The Sonnes of Edward sleepe in Abrahams bosome,
And Anne my wife hath bid this world good night.
Now for I know the Britaine Richmond aymes
At yong Elizabeth my brothers daughter,
And by that knot lookes proudly on the Crowne,
To her go I, a iolly thriuing wooer.
Enter Ratcliffe.

Rat.
My Lord.

Rich.
Good or bad newes, that thou com'st in so bluntly?

Rat.
Bad news my Lord, Mourton is fled to Richmond,
And Buckingham backt with the hardy Welshmen
Is in the field, and still his power encreaseth.

Rich.
Ely with Richmond troubles me more neere,
Then Buckingham and his rash leuied Strength.
Come, I haue learn'd, that fearfull commenting
Is leaden seruitor to dull delay.
Delay leds impotent and Snaile-pac'd Beggery:
Then fierie expedition be my wing,
Ioues Mercury, and Herald for a King:
Go muster men: My counsaile is my Sheeld,
We must be breefe, when Traitors braue the Field.
Exeunt.
Original text
Act IV, Scene IV
Enter old Queene Margaret.

Mar.
So now prosperity begins to mellow,
And drop into the rotten mouth of death:
Heere in these Confines slily haue I lurkt,
To watch the waining of mine enemies.
A dire induction, am I witnesse to,
And will to France, hoping the consequence
Will proue as bitter, blacke, and Tragicall.
Withdraw thee wretched Margaret, who comes heere?
Enter Dutchesse and Queene.

Qu.
Ah my poore Princes! ah my tender Babes:
My vnblowed Flowres, new appearing sweets:
If yet your gentle soules flye in the Ayre,
And be not fixt in doome perpetuall,
Houer about me with your ayery wings,
And heare your mothers Lamentation.

Mar.

Houer about her, say that right for right
Hath dim'd your Infant morne, to Aged night.

Dut.
So many miseries haue craz'd my voyce,
That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute.
Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?

Mar.

Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet,
Edward for Edward, payes a dying debt.

Qu.
Wilt thou, O God, flye from such gentle Lambs,
And throw them in the intrailes of the Wolfe?
When didst thou sleepe, when such a deed was done?

Mar.
When holy Harry dyed, and my sweet Sonne.

Dut.
Dead life, blind sight, poore mortall liuing ghost,
Woes Scene, Worlds shame, Graues due, by life vsurpt,
Breefe abstract and record of tedious dayes,
Rest thy vnrest on Englands lawfull earth,
Vnlawfully made drunke with innocent blood.

Qu.
Ah that thou would'st assoone affoord a Graue,
As thou canst yeeld a melancholly seate:
Then would I hide my bones, not rest them heere,
Ah who hath any cause to mourne but wee?

Mar.
If ancient sorrow be most reuerent,
Giue mine the benefit of signeurie,
And let my greefes frowne on the vpper hand
If sorrow can admit Society.
I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him:
I had a Husband, till a Richard kill'd him:
Thou had'st an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him:
Thou had'st a Richard, till a Richard kill'd him.

Dut.
I had a Richard too, and thou did'st kill him;
I had a Rutland too, thou hop'st to kill him.

Mar.
Thou had'st a Clarence too, / And Richard kill'd him.
From forth the kennell of thy wombe hath crept
A Hell-hound that doth hunt vs all to death:
That Dogge, that had his teeth before his eyes,
To worry Lambes, and lap their gentle blood:
That foule defacer of Gods handy worke:
That reignes in gauled eyes of weeping soules:
That excellent grand Tyrant of the earth,
Thy wombe let loose to chase vs to our graues.
O vpright, iust, and true-disposing God,
How do I thanke thee, that this carnall Curre
Prayes on the issue of his Mothers body,
And makes her Pue-fellow with others mone.

Dut.
Oh Harries wife, triumph not in my woes:
God witnesse with me, I haue wept for thine.

Mar.
Beare with me: I am hungry for reuenge,
And now I cloy me with beholding it.
Thy Edward he is dead, that kill'd my Edward,
The other Edward dead, to quit my Edward:
Yong Yorke, he is but boote, because both they
Matcht not the high perfection of my losse.
Thy Clarence he is dead, that stab'd my Edward,
And the beholders of this franticke play,
Th'adulterate Hastings, Riuers, Vaughan, Gray,
Vntimely smother'd in their dusky Graues.
Richard yet liues, Hels blacke Intelligencer,
Onely reseru'd their Factor, to buy soules,
And send them thither: But at hand, at hand
Insues his pittious and vnpittied end.
Earth gapes, Hell burnes, Fiends roare, Saints pray,
To haue him sodainly conuey'd from hence:
Cancell his bond of life, deere God I pray,
That I may liue and say, The Dogge is dead.

Qu.
O thou did'st prophesie, the time would come,
That I should wish for thee to helpe me curse
That bottel'd Spider, that foule bunch-back'd Toad.

Mar.
I call'd thee then, vaine flourish of my fortune:
I call'd thee then, poore Shadow, painted Queen,
The presentation of but what I was;
The flattering Index of a direfull Pageant;
One heau'd a high, to be hurl'd downe below:
A Mother onely mockt with two faire Babes;
A dreame of what thou wast, a garish Flagge
To be the ayme of euery dangerous Shot;
A signe of Dignity, a Breath, a Bubble;
A Queene in ieast, onely to fill the Scene.
Where is thy Husband now? Where be thy Brothers?
Where be thy two Sonnes? Wherein dost thou Ioy?
Who sues, and kneeles, and sayes, God saue the Queene?
Where be the bending Peeres that flattered thee?
Where be the thronging Troopes that followed thee?
Decline all this, and see what now thou art.
For happy Wife, a most distressed Widdow:
For ioyfull Mother, one that wailes the name:
For one being sued too, one that humbly sues:
For Queene, a very Caytiffe, crown'd with care:
For she that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me:
For she being feared of all, now fearing one:
For she commanding all, obey'd of none.
Thus hath the course of Iustice whirl'd about,
And left thee but a very prey to time,
Hauing no more but Thought of what thou wast.
To torture thee the more, being what thou art,
Thou didst vsurpe my place, and dost thou not
Vsurpe the iust proportion of my Sorrow?
Now thy proud Necke, beares halfe my burthen'd yoke,
From which, euen heere I slip my wearied head,
And leaue the burthen of it all, on thee.
Farwell Yorkes wife, and Queene of sad mischance,
These English woes, shall make me smile in France.

Qu.
O thou well skill'd in Curses, stay a-while,
And teach me how to curse mine enemies.

Mar.
Forbeare to sleepe the night, and fast the day:
Compare dead happinesse, with liuing woe:
Thinke that thy Babes were sweeter then they were,
And he that slew them fowler then he is:
Bett'ring thy losse, makes the bad causer worse,
Reuoluing this, will teach thee how to Curse.

Qu.
My words are dull, O quicken them with thine.

Mar.
Thy woes will make them sharpe, And pierce like mine.
Exit Margaret.

Dut.
Why should calamity be full of words?

Qu.
Windy Atturnies to their Clients Woes,
Ayery succeeders of intestine ioyes,
Poore breathing Orators of miseries,
Let them haue scope, though what they will impart,
Helpe nothing els, yet do they ease the hart.

Dut.
If so then, be not Tongue-ty'd: go with me,
And in the breath of bitter words, let's smother
My damned Son, that thy two sweet Sonnes smother'd.
The Trumpet sounds, be copious in exclaimes.
Enter King Richard, and his Traine.

Rich.
Who intercepts me in my Expedition?

Dut.
O she, that might haue intercepted thee
By strangling thee in her aceursed wombe,
From all the slaughters (Wretch) that thou hast done.

Qu.
Hid'st thou that Forhead with a Golden Crowne
Where't should be branded, if that right were right?
The slaughter of the Prince that ow'd that Crowne,
And the dyre death of my poore Sonnes, and Brothers.
Tell me thou Villaine-slaue, where are my Children?

Dut.
Thou Toad, thou Toade, / Where is thy Brother Clarence?
And little Ned Plantagenet his Sonne?

Qu.
Where is the gentle Riuers, Vaughan, Gray?

Dut.
Where is kinde Hastings?

Rich.
A flourish Trumpets, strike Alarum Drummes:
Let not the Heauens heare these Tell-tale women
Raile on the Lords Annointed. Strike I say.
Flourish. Alarums.
Either be patient, and intreat me fayre,
Or with the clamorous report of Warre,
Thus will I drowne your exclamations.

Dut.
Art thou my Sonne?

Rich.
I, I thanke God, my Father, and your selfe.

Dut.
Then patiently heare my impatience.

Rich.
Madam, I haue a touch of your condition,
That cannot brooke the accent of reproofe.

Dut.
O let me speake.

Rich.
Do then, but Ile not heare.

Dut:
I will be milde, and gentle in my words.

Rich.
And breefe (good Mother) for I am in hast.

Dut.
Art thou so hasty? I haue staid for thee
(God knowes) in torment and in agony.

Rich.
And came I not at last to comfort you?

Dut.
No by the holy Rood, thou know'st it well,
Thou cam'st on earth, to make the earth my Hell.
A greeuous burthen was thy Birth to me,
Tetchy and wayward was thy Infancie.
Thy School-daies frightfull, desp'rate, wilde, and furious,
Thy prime of Manhood, daring, bold, and venturous:
Thy Age confirm'd, proud, subtle, slye, and bloody,
More milde, but yet more harmfull; Kinde in hatred:
What comfortable houre canst thou name,
That euer grac'd me with thy company?

Rich.
Faith none, but Humfrey Hower, / That call'd your Grace
To Breakefast once, forth of my company.
If I be so disgracious in your eye,
Let me march on, and not offend you Madam.
Strike vp the Drumme.

Dut.
I prythee heare me speake.

Rich.
You speake too bitterly.

Dut.
Heare me a word:
For I shall neuer speake to thee againe.

Rich.
So.

Dut.
Either thou wilt dye, by Gods iust ordinance
Ere from this warre thou turne a Conqueror:
Or I with greefe and extreame Age shall perish,
And neuer more behold thy face againe.
Therefore take with thee my most greeuous Curse,
Which in the day of Battell tyre thee more
Then all the compleat Armour that thou wear'st.
My Prayers on the aduerse party fight,
And there the little soules of Edwards Children,
Whisper the Spirits of thine Enemies,
And promise them Successe and Victory:
Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end:
Shame serues thy life, and doth thy death attend.
Exit.

Qu.
Though far more cause, yet much lesse spirit to curse
Abides in me, I say Amen to her.

Rich.
Stay Madam, I must talke a word with you.

Qu.
I haue no more sonnes of the Royall Blood
For thee to slaughter. For my Daughters ( Richard)
They shall be praying Nunnes, not weeping Queenes:
And therefore leuell not to hit their liues.

Rich.
You haue a daughter call'd Elizabeth,
Vertuous and Faire, Royall and Gracious?

Qu.
And must she dye for this? O let her liue,
And Ile corrupt her Manners, staine her Beauty,
Slander my Selfe, as false to Edwards bed:
Throw ouer her the vaile of Infamy,
So she may liue vnscarr'd of bleeding slaughter,
I will confesse she was not Edwards daughter.

Rich.
Wrong not her Byrth, she is a Royall Princesse.

Qu.
To saue her life, Ile say she is not so.

Rich.
Her life is safest onely in her byrth.

Qu.
And onely in that safety, dyed her Brothers.

Rich.
Loe at their Birth, good starres were opposite.

Qu.
No, to their liues, ill friends were contrary.

Rich!
All vnauoyded is the doome of Destiny.

Qu.
True: when auoyded grace makes Destiny.
My Babes were destin'd to a fairer death,
If grace had blest thee with a fairer life.

Rich,
You speake as if that I had slaine my Cosins?

Qu.
Cosins indeed, and by their Vnckle couzend,
Of Comfort, Kingdome, Kindred, Freedome, Life,
Whose hand soeuer lanch'd their tender hearts,
Thy head (all indirectly) gaue direction.
No doubt the murd'rous Knife was dull and blunt,
Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart,
To reuell in the Intrailes of my Lambes.
But that still vse of greefe, makes wilde greefe tame,
My tongue should to thy eares not name my Boyes,
Till that my Nayles were anchor'd in thine eyes:
And I in such a desp'rate Bay of death,
Like a poore Barke, of sailes and tackling reft,
Rush all to peeces on thy Rocky bosome.

Rich.
Madam, so thriue I in my enterprize
And dangerous successe of bloody warres,
As I intend more good to you and yours,
Then euer you and yours by me were harm'd.

Qu.
What good is couer'd with the face of heauen,
To be discouered, that can do me good.

Rich.
Th'aduancement of your children, gentle Lady

Qu.
Vp to some Scaffold, there to lose their heads.

Rich.
Vnto the dignity and height of Fortune,
The high Imperiall Type of this earths glory.

Qu.
Flatter my sorrow with report of it:
Tell me, what State, what Dignity, what Honor,
Canst thou demise to any childe of mine.

Rich.
Euen all I haue; I, and my selfe and all,
Will I withall indow a childe of thine:
So in the Lethe of thy angry soule,
Thou drowne the sad remembrance of those wrongs,
Which thou supposest I haue done to thee.

Qu.
Be breefe, least that the processe of thy kindnesse
Last longer telling then thy kindnesse date.

Rich.
Then know, That from my Soule, I loue thy Daughter.

Qu.
My daughters Mother thinkes it with her soule.

Rich.
What do you thinke?

Qu.
That thou dost loue my daughter from thy soule
So from thy Soules loue didst thou loue her Brothers,
And from my hearts loue, I do thanke thee for it.

Rich.
Be not so hasty to confound my meaning:
I meane that with my Soule I loue thy daughter,
And do intend to make her Queene of England.

Qu.
Well then, who dost yu meane shallbe her King.

Rich.
Euen he that makes her Queene: / Who else should bee?

Qu.
What, thou?

Rich.
Euen so: How thinke you of it?

Qu.
How canst thou woo her?

Rich.
That I would learne of you,
As one being best acquainted with her humour.

Qu.
And wilt thou learne of me?

Rich.
Madam, with all my heart.

Qu.
Send to her by the man that slew her Brothers,
A paire of bleeding hearts: thereon ingraue
Edward and Yorke, then haply will she weepe:
Therefore present to her, as sometime Margaret
Did to thy Father, steept in Rutlands blood,
A hand-kercheefe, which say to her did dreyne
The purple sappe from her sweet Brothers body,
And bid her wipe her weeping eyes withall.
If this inducement moue her not to loue,
Send her a Letter of thy Noble deeds:
Tell her, thou mad'st away her Vnckle Clarence,
Her Vnckle Riuers, I (and for her sake)
Mad'st quicke conueyance with her good Aunt Anne.

Rich.
You mocke me Madam, this not the way
To win your daughter.

Qu.
There is no other way,
Vnlesse thou could'st put on some other shape,
And not be Richard, that hath done all this.

Ric.
Say that I did all this for loue of her.

Qu.
Nay then indeed she cannot choose but hate thee
Hauing bought loue, with such a bloody spoyle.

Rich.
Looke what is done, cannot be now amended:
Men shall deale vnaduisedly sometimes,
Which after-houres giues leysure to repent.
If I did take the Kingdome from your Sonnes,
To make amends, Ile giue it to your daughter:
If I haue kill'd the issue of your wombe,
To quicken your encrease, I will beget
Mine yssue of your blood, vpon your Daughter:
A Grandams name is little lesse in loue,
Then is the doting Title of a Mother;
They are as Children but one steppe below,
Euen of your mettall, of your very blood:
Of all one paine, saue for a night of groanes
Endur'd of her, for whom you bid like sorrow.
Your Children were vexation to your youth,
But mine shall be a comfort to your Age,
The losse you haue, is but a Sonne being King,
And by that losse, your Daughter is made Queene.
I cannot make you what amends I would,
Therefore accept such kindnesse as I can.
Dorset your Sonne, that with a fearfull soule
Leads discontented steppes in Forraine soyle,
This faire Alliance, quickly shall call home
To high Promotions, and great Dignity.
The King that calles your beauteous Daughter Wife,
Familiarly shall call thy Dorset, Brother:
Againe shall you be Mother to a King:
And all the Ruines of distressefull Times,
Repayr'd with double Riches of Content.
What? we haue many goodly dayes to see:
The liquid drops of Teares that you haue shed,
Shall come againe, transform'd to Orient Pearle,
Aduantaging their Loue, with interest
Often-times double gaine of happinesse.
Go then (my Mother) to thy Daughter go,
Make bold her bashfull yeares, with your experience,
Prepare her eares to heare a Woers Tale.
Put in her tender heart, th'aspiring Flame
Of Golden Soueraignty: Acquaint the Princesse
With the sweet silent houres of Marriage ioyes:
And when this Arme of mine hath chastised
The petty Rebell, dull-brain'd Buckingham,
Bound with Triumphant Garlands will I come,
And leade thy daughter to a Conquerors bed:
To whom I will retaile my Conquest wonne,
And she shalbe sole Victoresse, Casars Casar.

Qu.
What were I best to say, her Fathers Brother
Would be her Lord? Or shall I say her Vnkle?
Or he that slew her Brothers, and her Vnkles?
Vnder what Title shall I woo for thee,
That God, the Law, my Honor, and her Loue,
Can make seeme pleasing to her tender yeares?

Rich.
Inferre faire Englands peace by this Alliance.

Qu
Which she shall purchase with stil lasting warre.

Rich.
Tell her, the King that may command, intreats.

Qu.
That at her hands, which the kings King forbids.

Rich.
Say she shall be a High and Mighty Queene.

Qu.
To vaile the Title, as her Mother doth.

Rich.
Say I will loue her euerlastingly.

Qu.
But how long shall that title euer last?

Rich.
Sweetly in force, vnto her faire liues end.

Qu.
But how long fairely shall her sweet life last?

Rich.
As long as Heauen and Nature lengthens it.

Qu.
As long as Hell and Richard likes of it.

Rich.
Say, I her Soueraigne, am her Subiect low.

Qu.
But she your Subiect, lothes such Soueraignty.

Rich.
Be eloquent in my behalfe to her.

Qu.
An honest tale speeds best, being plainly told.

Rich.
Then plainly to her, tell my louing tale.

Qu.
Plaine and not honest, is too harsh a style.

Rich.
Your Reasons are too shallow, and to quicke.

Qu.
O no, my Reasons are too deepe and dead,
Too deepe and dead (poore Infants) in their graues,

Rich.
Harpe not on that string Madam, that is past.
Harpe on it still shall I, till heart-strings breake.
Now by my George, my Garter, and my Crowne.

Qu.
Prophan'd, dishonor'd, and the third vsurpt.

Rich.
I sweare.

Qu.
By nothing, for this is no Oath:
Thy George prophan'd, hath lost his Lordly Honor;
Thy Garter blemish'd, pawn'd his Knightly Vertue;
Thy Crowne vsurp'd, disgrac'd his Kingly Glory:
If something thou would'st sweare to be beleeu'd,
Sweare then by something, that thou hast not wrong'd.

Rich.
Then by my Selfe.

Qu.
Thy Selfe, is selfe-misvs'd.

Rich.
Now by the World.

Qu.
'Tis full of thy foule wrongs.

Rich.
My Fathers death.

Qu.
Thy life hath it dishonor'd.

Rich.
Why then, by Heauen.

Qu.
Heanens wrong is most of all:
If thou didd'st feare to breake an Oath with him,
The vnity the King my husband made,
Thou had'st not broken, nor my Brothers died.
If thou had'st fear'd to breake an oath by him,
Th' Imperiall mettall, circling now thy head,
Had grac'd the tender temples of my Child,
And both the Princes had bene breathing heere,
Which now two tender Bed-fellowes for dust,
Thy broken Faith hath made the prey for Wormes.
What can'st thou sweare by now.

Rich.
The time to come.

Qu.
That thou hast wronged in the time ore-past:
For I my selfe haue many teares to wash
Heereafter time, for time past, wrong'd by thee.
The Children liue, whose Fathers thou hast slaughter'd,
Vngouern'd youth, to waile it with their age:
The Parents liue, whose Children thou hast butcher'd,
Old barren Plants, to waile it with their Age.
Sweare not by time to come, for that thou hast
Misvs'd ere vs'd, by times ill-vs'd repast.

Rich.
As I entend to prosper, and repent:
So thriue I in my dangerous Affayres
Of hostile Armes: My selfe, my selfe confound:
Heauen, and Fortune barre me happy houres:
Day, yeeld me not thy light; nor Night, thy rest.
Be opposite all Planets of good lucke
To my proceeding, if with deere hearts loue,
Immaculate deuotion, holy thoughts,
I tender not thy beautious Princely daughter.
In her, consists my Happinesse, and thine:
Without her, followes to my selfe, and thee;
Her selfe, the Land, and many a Christian soule,
Death, Desolation, Ruine, and Decay:
It cannot be auoyded, but by this:
It will not be auoyded, but by this.
Therefore deare Mother (I must call you so)
Be the Atturney of my loue to her:
Pleade what I will be, not what I haue beene;
Not my deserts, but what I will deserue:
Vrge the Necessity and state of times,
And be not peeuish found, in great Designes.

Qu.
Shall I be tempted of the Diuel thus?

Rich.
I, if the Diuell tempt you to do good.

Qu.
Shall I forget my selfe, to be my selfe.

Rich.
I, if your selfes remembrance wrong your selfe.

Qu.
Yet thou didst kil my Children.

Rich.
But in your daughters wombe I bury them.
Where in that Nest of Spicery they will breed
Selues of themselues, to your recomforture.

Qu.
Shall I go win my daughter to thy will?

Rich.
And be a happy Mother by the deed.

Qu.
I go, write to me very shortly,
And you shal vnderstand from me her mind.

Rich.
Beare her my true loues kisse, and so farewell.
Exit Q.
Relenting Foole, and shallow-changing Woman.
Enter Ratcliffe.
How now, what newes?

Rat.
Most mightie Soueraigne, on the Westerne Coast
Rideth a puissant Nauie: to our Shores
Throng many doubtfull hollow-hearted friends,
Vnarm'd, and vnresolu'd to beat them backe.
'Tis thought, that Richmond is their Admirall:
And there they hull, expecting but the aide
Of Buckingham, to welcome them ashore.

Rich.
Some light-foot friend post to ye Duke of Norfolk:
Ratcliffe thy selfe, or Catesby, where is hee?

Cat.
Here, my good Lord.

Rich.
Catesby, flye to the Duke.

Cat.
I will, my Lord, with all conuenient haste.

Rich.
Catesby come hither, poste to Salisbury:
When thou com'st thither: Dull vnmindfull Villaine,
Why stay'st thou here, and go'st not to the Duke?

Cat.
First, mighty Liege, tell me your Highnesse pleasure,
What from your Grace I shall deliuer to him.

Rich.
O true, good Catesby, bid him leuie straight
The greatest strength and power that he can make,
And meet me suddenly at Salisbury.

Cat.
I goe.
Exit.

Rat.
What, may it please you, shall I doe at Salisbury?

Rich.
Why, what would'st thou doe there, before I goe?

Rat.
Your Highnesse told me I should poste before.

Rich.
My minde is chang'd:
Enter Lord Stanley.
Stanley, what newes with you?

Sta.
None, good my Liege, to please you with ye hearing,
Nor none so bad, but well may be reported.

Rich.
Hoyday, a Riddle, neither good nor bad:
What need'st thou runne so many miles about,
When thou mayest tell thy Tale the neerest way?
Once more, what newes?

Stan.
Richmond is on the Seas.

Rich.
There let him sinke, and be the Seas on him,
White-liuer'd Runnagate, what doth he there?

Stan.
I know not, mightie Soueraigne, but by guesse.

Rich.
Well, as you guesse.

Stan.
Stirr'd vp by Dorset, Buckingham, and Morton,
He makes for England, here to clayme the Crowne.

Rich.
Is the Chayre emptie? is the Sword vnsway'd?
Is the King dead? the Empire vnpossest?
What Heire of Yorke is there aliue, but wee?
And who is Englands King, but great Yorkes Heire?
Then tell me, what makes he vpon the Seas?

Stan.
Vnlesse for that, my Liege, I cannot guesse.

Rich.
Vnlesse for that he comes to be your Liege,
You cannot guesse wherefore the Welchman comes.
Thou wilt reuolt, and flye to him, I feare.

Stan.
No, my good Lord, therefore mistrust me not.

Rich.
Where is thy Power then, to beat him back?
Where be thy Tenants, and thy followers?
Are they not now vpon the Westerne Shore,
Safe-conducting the Rebels from their Shippes?

Stan.
No, my good Lord, my friends are in the North.

Rich.
Cold friends to me: what do they in the North,
When they should serue their Soueraigne in the West?

Stan.
They haue not been commanded, mighty King:
Pleaseth your Maiestie to giue me leaue,
Ile muster vp my friends, and meet your Grace,
Where, and what time your Maiestie shall please.

Rich.
I, thou would'st be gone, to ioyne with Richmond:
But Ile not trust thee.

Stan.
Most mightie Soueraigne,
You haue no cause to hold my friendship doubtfull,
I neuer was, nor neuer will be false.

Rich.
Goe then, and muster men: but leaue behind
Your Sonne George Stanley: looke your heart be firme,
Or else his Heads assurance is but fraile.

Stan.
So deale with him, as I proue true to you.
Exit Stanley.
Enter a Messenger.

Mess.
My gracious Soueraigne, now in Deuonshire,
As I by friends am well aduertised,
Sir Edward Courtney, and the haughtie Prelate,
Bishop of Exeter, his elder Brother,
With many moe Confederates, are in Armes.
Enter another Messenger.

Mess.
In Kent, my Liege, the Guilfords are in Armes,
And euery houre more Competitors
Flocke to the Rebels, and their power growes strong.
Enter another Messenger.

Mess.
My Lord, the Armie of great Buckingham.

Rich.
Out on ye, Owles, nothing but Songs of Death,
He striketh him.
There, take thou that, till thou bring better newes.

Mess.
The newes I haue to tell your Maiestie,
Is, that by sudden Floods, and fall of Waters,
Buckinghams Armie is dispers'd and scatter'd,
And he himselfe wandred away alone,
No man knowes whither.

Rich.
I cry thee mercie:
There is my Purse, to cure that Blow of thine.
Hath any well-aduised friend proclaym'd
Reward to him that brings the Traytor in?

Mess.
Such Proclamation hath been made, my Lord.
Enter another Messenger.

Mess.
Sir Thomas Louell, and Lord Marquesse Dorset,
'Tis said, my Liege, in Yorkeshire are in Armes:
But this good comfort bring I to your Highnesse,
The Brittaine Nauie is dispers'd by Tempest.
Richmond in Dorsetshire sent out a Boat
Vnto the shore, to aske those on the Banks,
If they were his Assistants, yea, or no?
Who answer'd him, they came from Buckingham,
Vpon his partie: he mistrusting them,
Hoys'd sayle, and made his course againe for Brittaine.

Rich.
March on, march on, since we are vp in Armes,
If not to fight with forraine Enemies,
Yet to beat downe these Rebels here at home.
Enter Catesby.

Cat.
My Liege, the Duke of Buckingham is taken,
That is the best newes: that the Earle of Richmond
Is with a mighty power Landed at Milford,
Is colder Newes, but yet they must be told.

Rich.
Away towards Salsbury, while we reason here,
A Royall batteil might be wonne and lost:
Some one take order Buckingham be brought
To Salsbury, the rest march on with me.
Florish. Exeunt
Original text
Act IV, Scene V
Enter Derby, and Sir Christopher.

Der.
Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from me,
That in the stye of the most deadly Bore,
My Sonne George Stanley is frankt vp in hold:
If I reuolt, off goes yong Georges head,
The feare of that, holds off my present ayde.
So get thee gone: commend me to thy Lord.
Withall say, that the Queene hath heartily consented
He should espouse Elizabeth hir daughter.
But tell me, where is Princely Richmond now?

Chri.
At Penbroke, or at Hertford West in Wales.

Der.
What men of Name resort to him.

Chri,
Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned Souldier,
Sir Gilbert Talbot, Sir William Stanley,
Oxford, redoubted Pembroke, Sir Iames Blunt,
And Rice ap Thomas, with a valiant Crew,
And many other of great name and worth:
And towards London do they bend their power,
If by the way they be not fought withall.

Der.
Well hye thee to thy Lord: I kisse his hand,
My Letter will resolue him of my minde.
Farewell.
Exeunt
Modern text
Act IV, Scene I
Enter Queen Elizabeth, the Duchess of York, and
Marquess of Dorset at one door; Anne, Duchess of
Gloucester, and Lady Margaret Plantagenet, Clarence's
young daughter, at another door

DUCHESS OF YORK
Who meets us here? My niece Plantagenet,
Led in the hand of her kind aunt of Gloucester?
Now, for my life, she's wandering to the Tower
On pure heart's love, to greet the tender Prince.
Daughter, well met.

ANNE
God give your graces both
A happy and a joyful time of day!

QUEEN ELIZABETH
As much to you, good sister. Whither away?

ANNE
No farther than the Tower, and, as I guess,
Upon the like devotion as yourselves,
To gratulate the gentle princes there.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Kind sister, thanks. We'll enter all together.
Enter Brakenbury, the Lieutenant
And in good time, here the Lieutenant comes.
Master Lieutenant, pray you, by your leave,
How doth the Prince, and my young son of York?

BRAKENBURY
Right well, dear madam. By your patience,
I may not suffer you to visit them;
The King hath strictly charged the contrary.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
The King! Who's that?

BRAKENBURY
I mean the Lord Protector.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
The Lord protect him from that kingly title!
Hath he set bounds between their love and me?
I am their mother; who shall bar me from them?

DUCHESS OF YORK
I am their father's mother; I will see them.

ANNE
Their aunt I am in law, in love their mother;
Then bring me to their sights. I'll bear thy blame
And take thy office from thee on my peril.

BRAKENBURY
No, madam, no! I may not leave it so:
I am bound by oath, and therefore pardon me.
Exit Brakenbury
Enter the Earl of Derby

DERBY
Let me but meet you, ladies, one hour hence,
And I'll salute your grace of York as mother
And reverend looker-on of two fair queens.
(To Anne)
Come, madam, you must straight to Westminster,
There to be crowned Richard's royal Queen.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Ah, cut my lace asunder,
That my pent heart may have some scope to beat,
Or else I swoon with this dead-killing news!

ANNE
Despiteful tidings! O unpleasing news!

DORSET
Be of good cheer. Mother, how fares your grace?

QUEEN ELIZABETH
O Dorset, speak not to me, get thee gone!
Death and destruction dog thee at thy heels;
Thy mother's name is ominous to children.
If thou wilt outstrip death, go cross the seas,
And live with Richmond, from the reach of hell.
Go hie thee, hie thee from this slaughter-house,
Lest thou increase the number of the dead
And make me die the thrall of Margaret's curse,
Nor mother, wife, nor England's counted Queen.

DERBY
Full of wise care is this your counsel, madam.
(To Dorset) Take all the swift advantage of the hours.
You shall have letters from me to my son
In your behalf, to meet you on the way.
Be not ta'en tardy by unwise delay.

DUCHESS OF YORK
O ill-dispersing wind of misery!
O my accursed womb, the bed of death!
A cockatrice hast thou hatched to the world,
Whose unavoided eye is murderous.

DERBY
Come, madam, come! I in all haste was sent.

ANNE
And I with all unwillingness will go.
O, would to God that the inclusive verge
Of golden metal that must round my brow
Were red-hot steel, to sear me to the brains!
Anointed let me be with deadly venom
And die ere men can say, ‘ God save the Queen!’

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Go, go, poor soul! I envy not thy glory.
To feed my humour wish thyself no harm.

ANNE
No? Why? When he that is my husband now
Came to me as I followed Henry's corse,
When scarce the blood was well washed from his hands
Which issued from my other angel husband
And that dear saint which then I weeping followed –
O, when, I say, I looked on Richard's face,
This was my wish: ‘ Be thou,’ quoth I, ‘ accursed
For making me, so young, so old a widow!
And when thou wed'st, let sorrow haunt thy bed;
And be thy wife, if any be so mad,
More miserable by the life of thee
Than thou hast made me by my dear lord's death!’
Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again,
Within so small a time, my woman's heart
Grossly grew captive to his honey words
And proved the subject of mine own soul's curse,
Which hitherto hath held mine eyes from rest;
For never yet one hour in his bed
Did I enjoy the golden dew of sleep,
But with his timorous dreams was still awaked.
Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick,
And will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Poor heart, adieu! I pity thy complaining.

ANNE
No more than with my soul I mourn for yours.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Farewell, thou woeful welcomer of glory.

ANNE
Adieu, poor soul, that tak'st thy leave of it.

DUCHESS OF YORK
(To Dorset)
Go thou to Richmond, and good fortune guide thee!
(To Anne)
Go thou to Richard, and good angels tend thee!
(To Queen Elizabeth)
Go thou to sanctuary, and good thoughts possess thee!
I to my grave, where peace and rest lie with me!
Eighty odd years of sorrow have I seen,
And each hour's joy wrecked with a week of teen.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Stay, yet look back with me unto the Tower.
Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes
Whom envy hath immured within your walls –
Rough cradle for such little pretty ones!
Rude ragged nurse, old sullen playfellow
For tender princes – use my babies well!
So foolish sorrow bids your stones farewell.
Exeunt
Modern text
Act IV, Scene II
Sound a sennet. Enter Richard as King, in pomp,
Buckingham, Catesby, Ratcliffe, Lovel, a Page, and
attendants

KING RICHARD
Stand all apart. Cousin of Buckingham –

BUCKINGHAM
My gracious sovereign?

KING RICHARD
Give me thy hand.
Sound
Here he ascendeth his throne
Thus high, by thy advice
And thy assistance, is King Richard seated.
But shall we wear these glories for a day?
Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them?

BUCKINGHAM
Still live they, and for ever let them last!

KING RICHARD
Ah, Buckingham, now do I play the touch,
To try if thou be current gold indeed.
Young Edward lives. Think now what I would say.

BUCKINGHAM
Say on, my loving lord.

KING RICHARD
Why, Buckingham, I say I would be king.

BUCKINGHAM
Why, so you are, my thrice -renowned lord.

KING RICHARD
Ha! Am I king? 'Tis so. But Edward lives.

BUCKINGHAM
True, noble prince.

KING RICHARD
O bitter consequence
That Edward still should live true noble prince!
Cousin, thou wast not wont to be so dull.
Shall I be plain? I wish the bastards dead,
And I would have it suddenly performed.
What sayest thou now? Speak suddenly, be brief.

BUCKINGHAM
Your grace may do your pleasure.

KING RICHARD
Tut, tut, thou art all ice; thy kindness freezes.
Say, have I thy consent that they shall die?

BUCKINGHAM
Give me some little breath, some pause, dear lord,
Before I positively speak in this.
I will resolve you herein presently.
Exit Buckingham

CATESBY
(aside)
The King is angry. See, he gnaws his lip.

KING RICHARD
I will converse with iron-witted fools
And unrespective boys. None are for me
That look into me with considerate eyes.
High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect.
Boy!

PAGE
My lord?

KING RICHARD
Know'st thou not any whom corrupting gold
Would tempt unto a close exploit of death?

PAGE
I know a discontented gentleman
Whose humble means match not his haughty spirit.
Gold were as good as twenty orators,
And will, no doubt, tempt him to anything.

KING RICHARD
What is his name?

PAGE
His name, my lord, is Tyrrel.

KING RICHARD
I partly know the man. Go call him hither, boy.
Exit Page
The deep-revolving witty Buckingham
No more shall be the neighbour to my counsels.
Hath he so long held out with me, untired,
And stops he now for breath? Well, be it so.
Enter the Earl of Derby
How now, Lord Stanley? What's the news?

DERBY
Know, my loving lord,
The Marquess Dorset, as I hear, is fled
To Richmond in the parts where he abides.
Derby stands aside

KING RICHARD
Come hither, Catesby. Rumour it abroad
That Anne my wife is grievous sick.
I will take order for her keeping close.
Inquire me out some mean poor gentleman,
Whom I will marry straight to Clarence' daughter.
The boy is foolish, and I fear not him.
Look how thou dream'st! I say again, give out
That Anne, my Queen, is sick and like to die.
About it! For it stands me much upon
To stop all hopes whose growth may damage me.
Exit Catesby
I must be married to my brother's daughter,
Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass.
Murder her brothers, and then marry her –
Uncertain way of gain! But I am in
So far in blood that sin will pluck on sin.
Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye.
Enter Page, with Tyrrel
Is thy name Tyrrel?

TYRREL
James Tyrrel, and your most obedient subject.

KING RICHARD
Art thou, indeed?

TYRREL
Prove me, my gracious lord.

KING RICHARD
Dar'st thou resolve to kill a friend of mine?

TYRREL
Please you;
But I had rather kill two enemies.

KING RICHARD
Why, there thou hast it! Two deep enemies,
Foes to my rest and my sweet sleep's disturbers,
Are they that I would have thee deal upon.
Tyrrel, I mean those bastards in the Tower.

TYRREL
Let me have open means to come to them,
And soon I'll rid you from the fear of them.

KING RICHARD
Thou sing'st sweet music. Hark, come hither, Tyrrel.
Go by this token. Rise, and lend thine ear.
Whispers
There is no more but so; say it is done,
And I will love thee and prefer thee for it.

TYRREL
I will dispatch it straight.
Exit
Enter Buckingham

BUCKINGHAM
My Lord, I have considered in my mind
The late demand that you did sound me in.

KING RICHARD
Well, let that rest. Dorset is fled to Richmond.

BUCKINGHAM
I hear the news, my lord.

KING RICHARD
Stanley, he is your wife's son. Well, look unto it.

BUCKINGHAM
My lord, I claim the gift, my due by promise,
For which your honour and your faith is pawned,
Th' earldom of Hereford and the movables
Which you promised I shall possess.

KING RICHARD
Stanley, look to your wife; if she convey
Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it.

BUCKINGHAM
What says your highness to my just request?

KING RICHARD
I do remember me Henry the Sixth
Did prophesy that Richmond should be king
When Richmond was a little peevish boy.
A king! – Perhaps! –

BUCKINGHAM
My lord –

KING RICHARD
How chance the prophet could not at that time
Have told me, I being by, that I should kill him?

BUCKINGHAM
My lord, your promise for the earldom!

KING RICHARD
Richmond! When last I was at Exeter,
The Mayor in courtesy showed me the castle,
And called it Rouge-mount; at which name I started,
Because a bard of Ireland told me once
I should not live long after I saw Richmond.

BUCKINGHAM
My lord –

KING RICHARD
Ay, what's a clock?

BUCKINGHAM
I am thus bold to put your grace in mind
Of what you promised me.

KING RICHARD
Well, but what's a clock?

BUCKINGHAM
Upon the stroke of ten.

KING RICHARD
Well, let it strike.

BUCKINGHAM
Why let it strike?

KING RICHARD
Because that like a Jack thou keep'st the stroke
Betwixt thy begging and my meditation.
I am not in the giving vein today.

BUCKINGHAM
May it please you to resolve me in my suit?

KING RICHARD
Thou troublest me; I am not in the vein.
Exeunt all but Buckingham

BUCKINGHAM
And is it thus? Repays he my deep service
With such contempt? Made I him king for this?
O, let me think on Hastings, and be gone
To Brecknock, while my fearful head is on!
Exit
Modern text
Act IV, Scene III
Enter Tyrrel

TYRREL
The tyrannous and bloody act is done,
The most arch deed of piteous massacre
That ever yet this land was guilty of.
Dighton and Forrest, whom I did suborn
To do this piece of ruthless butchery,
Albeit they were fleshed villains, bloody dogs,
Melting with tenderness and mild compassion,
Wept like two children in their death's sad story.
‘ O, thus,’ quoth Dighton, ‘ lay the gentle babes.’
‘ Thus, thus,’ quoth Forrest, ‘ girdling one another
Within their alablaster innocent arms.
Their lips were four red roses on a stalk,
Which in their summer beauty kissed each other.
A book of prayers on their pillow lay,
Which once,’ quoth Forrest, ‘ almost changed my mind;
But O! The devil ’ – there the villain stopped;
When Dighton thus told on – ‘ We smothered
The most replenished sweet work of nature
That from the prime creation e'er she framed.’
Hence both are gone with conscience and remorse.
They could not speak; and so I left them both,
To bear this tidings to the bloody King.
Enter King Richard
And here he comes. All health, my sovereign lord!

KING RICHARD
Kind Tyrrel, am I happy in thy news?

TYRREL
If to have done the thing you gave in charge
Beget your happiness, be happy then,
For it is done.

KING RICHARD
But didst thou see them dead?

TYRREL
I did, my lord.

KING RICHARD
And buried, gentle Tyrrel?

TYRREL
The chaplain of the Tower hath buried them;
But where, to say the truth, I do not know.

KING RICHARD
Come to me, Tyrrel, soon at after-supper,
When thou shalt tell the process of their death.
Meantime, but think how I may do thee good,
And be inheritor of thy desire.
Farewell till then.

TYRREL
I humbly take my leave.
Exit

KING RICHARD
The son of Clarence have I pent up close,
His daughter meanly have I matched in marriage,
The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom,
And Anne my wife hath bid this world good night.
Now, for I know the Britain Richmond aims
At young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter,
And by that knot looks proudly on the crown,
To her go I, a jolly thriving wooer.
Enter Ratcliffe

RATCLIFFE
My lord –

KING RICHARD
Good or bad news, that thou com'st in so bluntly?

RATCLIFFE
Bad news, my lord. Morton is fled to Richmond,
And Buckingham, backed with the hardy Welshmen,
Is in the field, and still his power increaseth.

KING RICHARD
Ely with Richmond troubles me more near
Than Buckingham and his rash-levied strength.
Come! I have learned that fearful commenting
Is leaden servitor to dull delay;
Delay leads impotent and snail-paced beggary.
Then fiery expedition be my wing,
Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king!
Go, muster men. My counsel is my shield;
We must be brief when traitors brave the field.
Exeunt
Modern text
Act IV, Scene IV
Enter old Queen Margaret

QUEEN MARGARET
So now prosperity begins to mellow
And drop into the rotten mouth of death.
Here in these confines slily have I lurked,
To watch the waning of mine enemies.
A dire induction am I witness to,
And will to France, hoping the consequence
Will prove as bitter, black, and tragical.
Withdraw thee, wretched Margaret! Who comes here?
Queen Margaret retires
Enter Duchess of York and Queen Elizabeth

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Ah, my poor princes! Ah, my tender babes!
My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets!
If yet your gentle souls fly in the air
And be not fixed in doom perpetual,
Hover about me with your airy wings
And hear your mother's lamentation!

QUEEN MARGARET
(aside)
Hover about her. Say that right for right
Hath dimmed your infant morn to aged night.

DUCHESS OF YORK
So many miseries have crazed my voice
That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute.
Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?

QUEEN MARGARET
(aside)
Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet;
Edward for Edward pays a dying debt.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Wilt thou, O God, fly from such gentle lambs
And throw them in the entrails of the wolf?
When didst Thou sleep when such a deed was done?

QUEEN MARGARET
(aside)
When holy Harry died, and my sweet son.

DUCHESS OF YORK
Dead life, blind sight, poor mortal-living ghost,
Woe's scene, world's shame, grave's due by life usurped,
Brief abstract and record of tedious days,
Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth,
Sits down
Unlawfully made drunk with innocents' blood!

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Ah, that thou wouldst as soon afford a grave
As thou canst yield a melancholy seat!
Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here.
Ah, who hath any cause to mourn but we?
Sits down by her

QUEEN MARGARET
(comes forward)
If ancient sorrow be most reverend,
Give mine the benefit of seniory
And let my griefs frown on the upper hand.
If sorrow can admit society,
Sits down with them
Tell over your woes again by viewing mine.
I had an Edward, till a Richard killed him;
I had a Harry, till a Richard killed him:
Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard killed him;
Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard killed him.

DUCHESS OF YORK
I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill him;
I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him.

QUEEN MARGARET
Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Richard killed him.
From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept
A hellhound that doth hunt us all to death.
That dog, that had his teeth before his eyes,
To worry lambs and lap their gentle blood,
That foul defacer of God's handiwork
That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls,
That excellent grand tyrant of the earth
Thy womb let loose to chase us to our graves.
O upright, just, and true-disposing God,
How do I thank Thee that this carnal cur
Preys on the issue of his mother's body
And makes her pew-fellow with others' moan!

DUCHESS OF YORK
O Harry's wife, triumph not in my woes!
God witness with me I have wept for thine.

QUEEN MARGARET
Bear with me! I am hungry for revenge,
And now I cloy me with beholding it.
Thy Edward he is dead, that killed my Edward;
Thy other Edward dead, to quit my Edward;
Young York he is but boot, because both they
Matched not the high perfection of my loss.
Thy Clarence he is dead that stabbed my Edward,
And the beholders of this frantic play,
Th' adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey,
Untimely smothered in their dusky graves.
Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer;
Only reserved their factor to buy souls
And send them thither. But at hand, at hand,
Ensues his piteous and unpitied end.
Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray,
To have him suddenly conveyed from hence.
Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I pray,
That I may live and say, ‘ The dog is dead.’

QUEEN ELIZABETH
O, thou didst prophesy the time would come
That I should wish for thee to help me curse
That bottled spider, that foul bunch-backed toad!

QUEEN MARGARET
I called thee then vain flourish of my fortune;
I called thee then poor shadow, painted queen,
The presentation of but what I was,
The flattering index of a direful pageant,
One heaved a-high to be hurled down below,
A mother only mocked with two fair babes,
A dream of what thou wast, a garish flag
To be the aim of every dangerous shot;
A sign of dignity, a breath, a bubble,
A queen in jest, only to fill the scene.
Where is thy husband now? Where be thy brothers?
Where are thy two sons? Wherein dost thou joy?
Who sues and kneels and says, ‘ God save the Queen ’?
Where be the bending peers that flattered thee?
Where be the thronging troops that followed thee?
Decline all this, and see what now thou art:
For happy wife, a most distressed widow;
For joyful mother, one that wails the name;
For one being sued to, one that humbly sues;
For queen, a very caitiff crowned with care;
For she that scorned at me, now scorned of me;
For she being feared of all, now fearing one;
For she commanding all, obeyed of none.
Thus hath the course of justice wheeled about
And left thee but a very prey to time,
Having no more but thought of what thou wast,
To torture thee the more, being what thou art.
Thou didst usurp my place, and dost thou not
Usurp the just proportion of my sorrow?
Now thy proud neck bears half my burdened yoke,
From which even here I slip my weary head
And leave the burden of it all on thee.
Farewell, York's wife, and Queen of sad mischance!
These English woes shall make me smile in France.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
O thou well-skilled in curses, stay awhile
And teach me how to curse mine enemies!

QUEEN MARGARET
Forbear to sleep the nights, and fast the days;
Compare dead happiness with living woe;
Think that thy babes were sweeter than they were
And he that slew them fouler than he is.
Bettering thy loss makes the bad causer worse;
Revolving this will teach thee how to curse.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
My words are dull. O, quicken them with thine!

QUEEN MARGARET
Thy woes will make them sharp and pierce like mine.
Exit Queen Margaret

DUCHESS OF YORK
Why should calamity be full of words?

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Windy attorneys to their client's woes,
Airy succeeders of intestate joys,
Poor breathing orators of miseries,
Let them have scope! Though what they will impart
Help nothing else, yet do they ease the heart.

DUCHESS OF YORK
If so, then be not tongue-tied: go with me,
And in the breath of bitter words let's smother
My damned son that thy two sweet sons smothered.
The trumpet sounds. Be copious in exclaims.
Enter King Richard and his train, marching, with
drums and trumpets

KING RICHARD
Who intercepts my expedition?

DUCHESS OF YORK
O, she that might have intercepted thee,
By strangling thee in her accursed womb,
From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast done!

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Hid'st thou that forehead with a golden crown
Where should be branded, if that right were right,
The slaughter of the prince that owed that crown
And the dire death of my poor sons and brothers?
Tell me, thou villain-slave, where are my children?

DUCHESS OF YORK
Thou toad, thou toad, where is thy brother Clarence?
And little Ned Plantagenet, his son?

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Where is the gentle Rivers, Vaughan, Grey?

DUCHESS OF YORK
Where is kind Hastings?

KING RICHARD
A flourish, trumpets! Strike alarum, drums!
Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women
Rail on the Lord's anointed. Strike, I say!
Flourish. Alarums
Either be patient and entreat me fair,
Or with the clamorous report of war
Thus will I drown your exclamations.

DUCHESS OF YORK
Art thou my son?

KING RICHARD
Ay, I thank God, my father, and yourself.

DUCHESS OF YORK
Then patiently hear my impatience.

KING RICHARD
Madam, I have a touch of your condition
That cannot brook the accent of reproof.

DUCHESS OF YORK
O, let me speak!

KING RICHARD
Do then, but I'll not hear.

DUCHESS OF YORK
I will be mild and gentle in my words.

KING RICHARD
And brief, good mother, for I am in haste.

DUCHESS OF YORK
Art thou so hasty? I have stayed for thee,
God knows, in torment and in agony.

KING RICHARD
And came I not at last to comfort you?

DUCHESS OF YORK
No, by the Holy Rood, thou know'st it well,
Thou cam'st on earth to make the earth my hell.
A grievous burden was thy birth to me;
Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy;
Thy schooldays frightful, desperate, wild, and furious;
Thy prime of manhood daring, bold, and venturous;
Thy age confirmed, proud, subtle, sly, and bloody,
More mild, but yet more harmful – kind in hatred.
What comfortable hour canst thou name
That ever graced me with thy company?

KING RICHARD
Faith, none, but Humphrey Hour, that called your grace
To breakfast once, forth of my company.
If I be so disgracious in your eye,
Let me march on and not offend you, madam.
Strike up the drum.

DUCHESS OF YORK
I prithee hear me speak.

KING RICHARD
You speak too bitterly.

DUCHESS OF YORK
Hear me a word,
For I shall never speak to thee again.

KING RICHARD
So.

DUCHESS OF YORK
Either thou wilt die by God's just ordinance
Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror,
Or I with grief and extreme age shall perish
And never more behold thy face again.
Therefore take with thee my most grievous curse,
Which in the day of battle tire thee more
Than all the complete armour that thou wearest!
My prayers on the adverse party fight,
And there the little souls of Edward's children
Whisper the spirits of thine enemies
And promise them success and victory!
Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end;
Shame serves thy life and doth thy death attend.
Exit

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Though far more cause, yet much less spirit to curse
Abides in me, I say amen to her.

KING RICHARD
Stay, madam; I must talk a word with you.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
I have no more sons of the royal blood
For thee to slaughter. For my daughters, Richard,
They shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens;
And therefore level not to hit their lives.

KING RICHARD
You have a daughter called Elizabeth
Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
And must she die for this? O, let her live,
And I'll corrupt her manners, stain her beauty,
Slander myself as false to Edward's bed,
Throw over her the veil of infamy.
So she may live unscarred of bleeding slaughter,
I will confess she was not Edward's daughter.

KING RICHARD
Wrong not her birth; she is a royal princess.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
To save her life, I'll say she is not so.

KING RICHARD
Her life is safest only in her birth.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
And only in that safety died her brothers.

KING RICHARD
Lo, at their births good stars were opposite.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
No, to their lives ill friends were contrary.

KING RICHARD
All unavoided is the doom of destiny.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
True, when avoided grace makes destiny.
My babes were destined to a fairer death
If grace had blessed thee with a fairer life.

KING RICHARD
You speak as if that I had slain my cousins!

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Cousins indeed, and by their uncle cozened
Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life.
Whose hand soever lanched their tender hearts,
Thy head, all indirectly, gave direction.
No doubt the murderous knife was dull and blunt
Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart
To revel in the entrails of my lambs.
But that still use of grief makes wild grief tame,
My tongue should to thy ears not name my boys
Till that my nails were anchored in thine eyes;
And I, in such a desperate bay of death,
Like a poor bark of sails and tackling reft,
Rush all to pieces on thy rocky bosom.

KING RICHARD
Madam, so thrive I in my enterprise
And dangerous success of bloody wars
As I intend more good to you and yours
Than ever you or yours were by me harmed!

QUEEN ELIZABETH
What good is covered with the face of heaven,
To be discovered, that can do me good?

KING RICHARD
Th' advancement of your children, gentle lady.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Up to some scaffold, there to lose their heads?

KING RICHARD
Unto the dignity and height of fortune,
The high imperial type of this earth's glory.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Flatter my sorrows with report of it.
Tell me, what state, what dignity, what honour
Canst thou demise to any child of mine?

KING RICHARD
Even all I have – yea, and myself and all –
Will I withal endow a child of thine,
So in the Lethe of thy angry soul
Thou drown the sad remembrance of those wrongs
Which thou supposest I have done to thee.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Be brief, lest that the process of thy kindness
Last longer telling than thy kindness' date.

KING RICHARD
Then know that from my soul I love thy daughter.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
My daughter's mother thinks it with her soul.

KING RICHARD
What do you think?

QUEEN ELIZABETH
That thou dost love my daughter from thy soul.
So from thy soul's love didst thou love her brothers,
And from my heart's love I do thank thee for it.

KING RICHARD
Be not so hasty to confound my meaning.
I mean that with my soul I love thy daughter
And mean to make her Queen of England.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Well then, who dost thou mean shall be her king?

KING RICHARD
Even he that makes her queen. Who else should be?

QUEEN ELIZABETH
What, thou?

KING RICHARD
Even so. How think you of it?

QUEEN ELIZABETH
How canst thou woo her?

KING RICHARD
That would I learn of you,
As one being best acquainted with her humour.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
And wilt thou learn of me?

KING RICHARD
Madam, with all my heart.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Send to her by the man that slew her brothers
A pair of bleeding hearts; thereon engrave
‘ Edward ’ and ‘ York ’; then haply she will weep.
Therefore present to her – as sometimes Margaret
Did to thy father, steeped in Rutland's blood –
A handkerchief, which say to her did drain
The purple sap from her sweet brother's body,
And bid her wipe her weeping eyes withal.
If this inducement move her not to love,
Send her a letter of thy noble deeds:
Tell her thou mad'st away her uncle Clarence,
Her uncle Rivers; yea, and for her sake,
Mad'st quick conveyance with her good aunt Anne!

KING RICHARD
You mock me, madam; this is not the way
To win your daughter.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
There is no other way,
Unless thou couldst put on some other shape,
And not be Richard that hath done all this.

KING RICHARD
Say that I did all this for love of her.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Nay, then indeed she cannot choose but hate thee,
Having bought love with such a bloody spoil.

KING RICHARD
Look what is done cannot be now amended.
Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes,
Which after-hours give leisure to repent.
If I did take the kingdom from your sons,
To make amends I'll give it to your daughter.
If I have killed the issue of your womb,
To quicken your increase I will beget
Mine issue of your blood upon your daughter;
A grandam's name is little less in love
Than is the doting title of a mother;
They are as children but one step below,
Even of your metal, of your very blood,
Of all one pain, save for a night of groans
Endured of her for whom you bid like sorrow.
Your children were vexation to your youth
But mine shall be a comfort to your age.
The loss you have is but a son being king,
And by that loss your daughter is made queen.
I cannot make you what amends I would;
Therefore accept such kindness as I can.
Dorset your son, that with a fearful soul
Leads discontented steps in foreign soil,
This fair alliance quickly shall call home
To high promotions and great dignity.
The King, that calls your beauteous daughter wife,
Familiarly shall call thy Dorset brother.
Again shall you be mother to a king,
And all the ruins of distressful times
Repaired with double riches of content.
What! We have many goodly days to see:
The liquid drops of tears that you have shed
Shall come again, transformed to orient pearl,
Advantaging their love with interest
Of ten times double gain of happiness.
Go then, my mother; to thy daughter go;
Make bold her bashful years with your experience;
Prepare her ears to hear a wooer's tale;
Put in her tender heart th' aspiring flame
Of golden sovereignty; acquaint the Princess
With the sweet silent hours of marriage joys;
And when this arm of mine hath chastised
The petty rebel, dull-brained Buckingham,
Bound with triumphant garlands will I come
And lead thy daughter to a conqueror's bed;
To whom I will retail my conquest won,
And she shall be sole victoress, Caesar's Caesar.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
What were I best to say? Her father's brother
Would be her lord? Or shall I say her uncle?
Or he that slew her brothers and her uncles?
Under what title shall I woo for thee
That God, the law, my honour, and her love
Can make seem pleasing to her tender years?

KING RICHARD
Infer fair England's peace by this alliance.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Which she shall purchase with still-lasting war.

KING RICHARD
Tell her the King, that may command, entreats.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
That at her hands which the King's king forbids.

KING RICHARD
Say she shall be a high and mighty queen.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
To vail the title, as her mother doth.

KING RICHARD
Say I will love her everlastingly.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
But how long shall that title ‘ ever ’ last?

KING RICHARD
Sweetly in force unto her fair life's end.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
But how long fairly shall her sweet life last?

KING RICHARD
As long as heaven and nature lengthens it.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
So long as hell and Richard likes of it.

KING RICHARD
Say I, her sovereign, am her subject love.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
But she, your subject, loathes such sovereignty.

KING RICHARD
Be eloquent in my behalf to her.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
An honest tale speeds best being plainly told.

KING RICHARD
Then plainly to tell her my loving tale.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Plain and not honest is too harsh a style.

KING RICHARD
Your reasons are too shallow and too quick.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
O no, my reasons are too deep and dead –
Too deep and dead, poor infants, in their graves.

KING RICHARD
Harp not on that string, madam; that is past.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Harp on it still shall I till heart-strings break.

KING RICHARD
Now, by my George, my Garter, and my crown –

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Profaned, dishonoured, and the third usurped.

KING RICHARD
I swear –

QUEEN ELIZABETH
By nothing, for this is no oath.
The George, profaned, hath lost his lordly honour;
Thy Garter, blemished, pawned his knightly virtue;
Thy crown, usurped, disgraced his kingly glory.
If something thou wouldst swear to be believed,
Swear then by something that thou hast not wronged.

KING RICHARD
Then by myself –

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Thyself is self-misused.

KING RICHARD
Now by the world –

QUEEN ELIZABETH
'Tis full of thy foul wrongs.

KING RICHARD
My father's death –

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Thy life hath it dishonoured.

KING RICHARD
Why then, by God –

QUEEN ELIZABETH
God's wrong is most of all.
If thou didst fear to break an oath with Him,
The unity the King my husband made
Thou hadst not broken, nor my brothers died.
If thou hadst feared to break an oath by Him,
Th' imperial metal, circling now thy head,
Had graced the tender temples of my child,
And both the princes had been breathing here,
Which now, two tender bedfellows for dust,
Thy broken faith hath made the prey for worms.
What canst thou swear by now?

KING RICHARD
The time to come.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
That thou hast wronged in the time o'erpast;
For I myself have many tears to wash
Hereafter time, for time past wronged by thee.
The children live whose fathers thou hast slaughtered,
Ungoverned youth, to wail it in their age;
The parents live whose children thou hast butchered,
Old barren plants, to wail it with their age.
Swear not by time to come, for that thou hast
Misused ere used, by times ill-used o'erpast.

KING RICHARD
As I intend to prosper and repent,
So thrive I in my dangerous affairs
Of hostile arms! Myself myself confound!
Heaven and fortune bar me happy hours!
Day, yield me not thy light, nor, night, thy rest!
Be opposite all planets of good luck
To my proceedings if, with dear heart's love,
Immaculate devotion, holy thoughts,
I tender not thy beauteous princely daughter!
In her consists my happiness and thine;
Without her, follows to myself and thee,
Herself, the land, and many a Christian soul,
Death, desolation, ruin, and decay.
It cannot be avoided but by this;
It will not be avoided but by this.
Therefore, dear mother – I must call you so –
Be the attorney of my love to her:
Plead what I will be, not what I have been –
Not my deserts, but what I will deserve;
Urge the necessity and state of times,
And be not peevish-fond in great designs.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Shall I be tempted of the devil thus?

KING RICHARD
Ay, if the devil tempt you to do good.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Shall I forget myself to be myself?

KING RICHARD
Ay, if yourself's remembrance wrong yourself.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Yet thou didst kill my children.

KING RICHARD
But in your daughter's womb I bury them,
Where, in that nest of spicery, they will breed
Selves of themselves, to your recomforture.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
Shall I go win my daughter to thy will?

KING RICHARD
And be a happy mother by the deed.

QUEEN ELIZABETH
I go. Write to me very shortly,
And you shall understand from me her mind.

KING RICHARD
Bear her my true love's kiss; and so farewell –
Exit Queen Elizabeth
Relenting fool, and shallow, changing woman!
Enter Ratcliffe, Catesby following
How now? What news?

RATCLIFFE
Most mighty sovereign, on the western coast
Rideth a puissant navy; to our shores
Throng many doubtful, hollow-hearted friends,
Unarmed, and unresolved to beat them back.
'Tis thought that Richmond is their admiral;
And there they hull, expecting but the aid
Of Buckingham to welcome them ashore.

KING RICHARD
Some light-foot friend post to the Duke of Norfolk:
Ratcliffe, thyself – or Catesby – where is he?

CATESBY
Here, my good lord.

KING RICHARD
Catesby, fly to the Duke.

CATESBY
I will, my lord, with all convenient haste.

KING RICHARD
Ratcliffe, come hither. Post to Salisbury.
When thou com'st thither – (To Catesby) Dull unmindful villain,
Why stay'st thou here and go'st not to the Duke?

CATESBY
First, mighty liege, tell me your highness' pleasure,
What from your grace I shall deliver to him.

KING RICHARD
O, true, good Catesby; bid him levy straight
The greatest strength and power that he can make
And meet me suddenly at Salisbury.

CATESBY
I go.
Exit

RATCLIFFE
What, may it please you, shall I do at Salisbury?

KING RICHARD
Why, what wouldst thou do there before I go?

RATCLIFFE
Your highness told me I should post before.

KING RICHARD
My mind is changed.
Enter Earl of Derby
Stanley, what news with you?

DERBY
None good, my liege, to please you with the hearing,
Nor none so bad but well may be reported.

KING RICHARD
Hoyday, a riddle! Neither good nor bad!
What need'st thou run so many miles about,
When thou mayst tell thy tale a nearest way?
Once more, what news?

DERBY
Richmond is on the seas.

KING RICHARD
There let him sink, and be the seas on him!
White-livered runagate, what doth he there?

DERBY
I know not, mighty sovereign, but by guess.

KING RICHARD
Well, as you guess?

DERBY
Stirred up by Dorset, Buckingham, and Morton,
He makes for England, here to claim the crown.

KING RICHARD
Is the chair empty? Is the sword unswayed?
Is the King dead? The empire unpossessed?
What heir of York is there alive but we?
And who is England's king but great York's heir?
Then tell me, what makes he upon the seas?

DERBY
Unless for that, my liege, I cannot guess.

KING RICHARD
Unless for that he comes to be your liege,
You cannot guess wherefore the Welshman comes.
Thou wilt revolt and fly to him, I fear.

DERBY
No, my good lord; therefore mistrust me not.

KING RICHARD
Where is thy power then to beat him back?
Where be thy tenants and thy followers?
Are they not now upon the western shore,
Safe-conducting the rebels from their ships?

DERBY
No, my good lord, my friends are in the north.

KING RICHARD
Cold friends to me! What do they in the north
When they should serve their sovereign in the west?

DERBY
They have not been commanded, mighty king.
Pleaseth your majesty to give me leave,
I'll muster up my friends and meet your grace
Where and what time your majesty shall please.

KING RICHARD
Ay, thou wouldst be gone to join with Richmond;
I will not trust thee.

DERBY
Most mighty sovereign,
You have no cause to hold my friendship doubtful.
I never was nor never will be false.

KING RICHARD
Go then, and muster men. But leave behind
Your son, George Stanley. Look your heart be firm,
Or else his head's assurance is but frail.

DERBY
So deal with him as I prove true to you.
Exit
Enter a Messenger

FIRST MESSENGER
My gracious sovereign, now in Devonshire,
As I by friends am well advertised,
Sir Edward Courtney and the haughty prelate,
Bishop of Exeter, his elder brother,
With many more confederates, are in arms.
Enter another Messenger

SECOND MESSENGER
In Kent, my liege, the Guildfords are in arms,
And every hour more competitors
Flock to the rebels and their power grows strong.
Enter another Messenger

THIRD MESSENGER
My lord, the army of great Buckingham –

KING RICHARD
Out on you, owls! Nothing but songs of death?
He striketh him
There, take thou that, till thou bring better news.

THIRD MESSENGER
The news I have to tell your majesty
Is that by sudden flood and fall of water
Buckingham's army is dispersed and scattered,
And he himself wandered away alone,
No man knows whither.

KING RICHARD
I cry thee mercy.
There is my purse to cure that blow of thine.
Hath any well-advised friend proclaimed
Reward to him that brings the traitor in?

THIRD MESSENGER
Such proclamation hath been made, my lord.
Enter another Messenger

FOURTH MESSENGER
Sir Thomas Lovel and Lord Marquess Dorset,
'Tis said, my liege, in Yorkshire are in arms.
But this good comfort bring I to your highness:
The Britain navy is dispersed by tempest;
Richmond in Dorsetshire sent out a boat
Unto the shore to ask those on the banks
If they were his assistants, yea or no;
Who answered him they came from Buckingham,
Upon his party. He, mistrusting them,
Hoised sail, and made his course again for Britain.

KING RICHARD
March on, march on, since we are up in arms;
If not to fight with foreign enemies,
Yet to beat down these rebels here at home.
Enter Catesby

CATESBY
My liege, the Duke of Buckingham is taken.
That is the best news. That the Earl of Richmond
Is with a mighty power landed at Milford
Is colder tidings, but yet they must be told.

KING RICHARD
Away towards Salisbury! While we reason here,
A royal battle might be won and lost.
Someone take order Buckingham be brought
To Salisbury; the rest march on with me.
Flourish. Exeunt
Modern text
Act IV, Scene V
Enter Earl of Derby, and Sir Christopher Urswick,
a Priest

DERBY
Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from me:
That in the sty of the most deadly boar
My son George Stanley is franked up in hold;
If I revolt, off goes young George's head;
The fear of that holds off my present aid.
So, get thee gone; commend me to thy lord.
Withal say that the Queen hath heartily consented
He should espouse Elizabeth her daughter.
But, tell me, where is princely Richmond now?

URSWICK
At Pembroke, or at Ha'rfordwest in Wales.

DERBY
What men of name resort to him?

URSWICK
Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned soldier,
Sir Gilbert Talbot, Sir William Stanley,
Oxford, redoubted Pembroke, Sir James Blunt,
And Rice ap Thomas, with a valiant crew,
And many other of great name and worth;
And towards London do they bend their power,
If by the way they be not fought withal.

DERBY
Well, hie thee to thy lord. I kiss his hand;
My letters will resolve him of my mind.
Gives letter
Farewell.
Exeunt
SHAKESPEARE'S WORDS © 2020 DAVID CRYSTAL & BEN CRYSTAL