sarnab/Shakespeare_Corpus · Datasets at Hugging Face

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GLOUCESTER: Alas, why would you heap these cares on me? I am unfit for state and majesty; I do beseech you, take it not amiss; I cannot nor I will not yield to you.
BUCKINGHAM: If you refuse it,--as, in love and zeal, Loath to depose the child, Your brother's son; As well we know your tenderness of heart And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse, Which we have noted in you to your kin, And egally indeed to all estates,-- Yet whether you accept our suit or no, Your brother's son shall never reign our king; But we will plant some other in the throne, To the disgrace and downfall of your house: And in this resolution here we leave you.-- Come, citizens: 'zounds! I'll entreat no more.
GLOUCESTER: O, do not swear, my lord of Buckingham.
CATESBY: Call them again, my lord, and accept their suit.
ANOTHER: Do, good my lord, lest all the land do rue it.
GLOUCESTER: Would you enforce me to a world of care? Well, call them again. I am not made of stone, But penetrable to your. kind entreats, Albeit against my conscience and my soul. Cousin of Buckingham, and you sage, grave men, Since you will buckle fortune on my back, To bear her burthen, whether I will or no, I must have patience to endure the load: But if black scandal or foul-faced reproach Attend the sequel of your imposition, Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me From all the impure blots and stains thereof; For God he knows, and you may partly see, How far I am from the desire thereof.
Lord Mayor: God bless your grace! we see it, and will say it.
GLOUCESTER: In saying so, you shall but say the truth.
BUCKINGHAM: Then I salute you with this kingly title: Long live Richard, England's royal king!
Lord Mayor: Amen.
BUCKINGHAM: To-morrow will it please you to be crown'd?
GLOUCESTER: Even when you please, since you will have it so.
BUCKINGHAM: To-morrow, then, we will attend your grace: And so most joyfully we take our leave.
GLOUCESTER: Come, let us to our holy task again. Farewell, good cousin; farewell, gentle friends.
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 princes. Daughter, well met.
LADY ANNE: God give your graces both A happy and a joyful time of day!
QUEEN ELIZABETH: As much to you, good sister! Whither away?
LADY 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. 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 straitly charged the contrary.
QUEEN ELIZABETH: The king! why, who's that?
BRAKENBURY: I cry you mercy: I mean the lord protector.
QUEEN ELIZABETH: The Lord protect him from that kingly title! Hath he set bounds betwixt their love and me? I am their mother; who should keep me from them?
DUCHESS OF YORK: I am their fathers mother; I will see them.
LADY 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.
LORD STANLEY: Let me but meet you, ladies, one hour hence, And I'll salute your grace of York as mother, And reverend looker on, of two fair queens. Come, madam, you must straight to Westminster, There to be crowned Richard's royal queen.
QUEEN ELIZABETH: O, cut my lace in sunder, that my pent heart May have some scope to beat, or else I swoon With this dead-killing news!
LADY 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 hence! Death and destruction dog thee at the 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.
LORD STANLEY: Full of wise care is this your counsel, madam. Take all the swift advantage of the hours; You shall have letters from me to my son To meet you on the way, and welcome you. 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 hatch'd to the world, Whose unavoided eye is murderous.
LORD STANLEY: Come, madam, come; I in all haste was sent.
LADY ANNE: And I in all unwillingness will go. I would to God that the inclusive verge Of golden metal that must round my brow Were red-hot steel, to sear me to the brain! 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.
LADY ANNE: No! why? When he that is my husband now Came to me, as I follow'd Henry's corse, When scarce the blood was well wash'd from his hands Which issued from my other angel husband And that dead saint which then I weeping follow'd; O, when, I say, I look'd on Richard's face, This was my wish: 'Be thou,' quoth I, ' 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-- As miserable by the life of thee As thou hast made me by my dear lord's death! Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again, Even in so short a space, my woman's heart Grossly grew captive to his honey words And proved the subject of my own soul's curse, Which ever since hath kept my eyes from rest; For never yet one hour in his bed Have I enjoy'd the golden dew of sleep, But have been waked by his timorous dreams. 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.
LADY ANNE: No more than from my soul I mourn for yours.
QUEEN ELIZABETH: Farewell, thou woful welcomer of glory!
LADY ANNE: Adieu, poor soul, that takest thy leave of it!
DUCHESS OF YORK:
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.
KING RICHARD III: Stand all apart Cousin of Buckingham!
BUCKINGHAM: My gracious sovereign?
KING RICHARD III: Give me thy hand. Thus high, by thy advice And thy assistance, is King Richard seated; But shall we wear these honours for a day? Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them?
BUCKINGHAM: Still live they and for ever may they last!
KING RICHARD III: O 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 III: Why, Buckingham, I say, I would be king,
BUCKINGHAM: Why, so you are, my thrice renowned liege.
KING RICHARD III: Ha! am I king? 'tis so: but Edward lives.
BUCKINGHAM: True, noble prince.
KING RICHARD III: O bitter consequence, That Edward still should live! 'True, noble prince!' Cousin, thou wert not wont to be so dull: Shall I be plain? I wish the bastards dead; And I would have it suddenly perform'd. What sayest thou? speak suddenly; be brief.
BUCKINGHAM: Your grace may do your pleasure.
KING RICHARD III: Tut, tut, thou art all ice, thy kindness freezeth: Say, have I thy consent that they shall die?
BUCKINGHAM: Give me some breath, some little pause, my lord Before I positively herein: I will resolve your grace immediately.
CATESBY:
KING RICHARD III: 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 III: Know'st thou not any whom corrupting gold Would tempt unto a close exploit of death?
Page: My lord, I know a discontented gentleman, Whose humble means match not his haughty mind: Gold were as good as twenty orators, And will, no doubt, tempt him to any thing.
KING RICHARD III: What is his name?
Page: His name, my lord, is Tyrrel.
KING RICHARD III: I partly know the man: go, call him hither. The deep-revolving witty Buckingham No more shall be the neighbour to my counsel: Hath he so long held out with me untired, And stops he now for breath? How now! what news with you?
STANLEY: My lord, I hear the Marquis Dorset's fled To Richmond, in those parts beyond the sea Where he abides.
KING RICHARD III: Catesby!
CATESBY: My lord?
KING RICHARD III: Rumour it abroad That Anne, my wife, is sick and like to die: I will take order for her keeping close. Inquire me out some mean-born 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 wife is sick and like to die: About it; for it stands me much upon, To stop all hopes whose growth may damage me. 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. Is thy name Tyrrel?
TYRREL: James Tyrrel, and your most obedient subject.
KING RICHARD III: Art thou, indeed?
TYRREL: Prove me, my gracious sovereign.
KING RICHARD III: Darest thou resolve to kill a friend of mine?
TYRREL: Ay, my lord; But I had rather kill two enemies.
KING RICHARD III: 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 III: Thou sing'st sweet music. Hark, come hither, Tyrrel Go, by this token: rise, and lend thine ear: There is no more but so: say it is done, And I will love thee, and prefer thee too.
TYRREL: 'Tis done, my gracious lord.
KING RICHARD III: Shall we hear from thee, Tyrrel, ere we sleep?
TYRREL: Ye shall, my Lord.
BUCKINGHAM: My Lord, I have consider'd in my mind The late demand that you did sound me in.
KING RICHARD III: Well, let that pass. Dorset is fled to Richmond.
BUCKINGHAM: I hear that news, my lord.
KING RICHARD III: Stanley, he is your wife's son well, look to it.
BUCKINGHAM: My lord, I claim your gift, my due by promise, For which your honour and your faith is pawn'd; The earldom of Hereford and the moveables The which you promised I should possess.
KING RICHARD III: Stanley, look to your wife; if she convey Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it.
BUCKINGHAM: What says your highness to my just demand?
KING RICHARD III: As I remember, Henry the Sixth Did prophesy that Richmond should be king, When Richmond was a little peevish boy. A king, perhaps, perhaps,--
BUCKINGHAM: My lord!
KING RICHARD III: 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 III: Richmond! When last I was at Exeter, The mayor in courtesy show'd me the castle, And call'd it Rougemont: 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 III: Ay, what's o'clock?
BUCKINGHAM: I am thus bold to put your grace in mind Of what you promised me.
KING RICHARD III: Well, but what's o'clock?
BUCKINGHAM: Upon the stroke of ten.
KING RICHARD III: Well, let it strike.
BUCKINGHAM: Why let it strike?
KING RICHARD III: Because that, like a Jack, thou keep'st the stroke Betwixt thy begging and my meditation. I am not in the giving vein to-day.

GLOUCESTER: Alas, why would you heap these cares on me? I am unfit for state and majesty; I do beseech you, take it not amiss; I cannot nor I will not yield to you.

BUCKINGHAM: If you refuse it,--as, in love and zeal, Loath to depose the child, Your brother's son; As well we know your tenderness of heart And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse, Which we have noted in you to your kin, And egally indeed to all estates,-- Yet whether you accept our suit or no, Your brother's son shall never reign our king; But we will plant some other in the throne, To the disgrace and downfall of your house: And in this resolution here we leave you.-- Come, citizens: 'zounds! I'll entreat no more.

GLOUCESTER: O, do not swear, my lord of Buckingham.

CATESBY: Call them again, my lord, and accept their suit.

ANOTHER: Do, good my lord, lest all the land do rue it.

GLOUCESTER: Would you enforce me to a world of care? Well, call them again. I am not made of stone, But penetrable to your. kind entreats, Albeit against my conscience and my soul. Cousin of Buckingham, and you sage, grave men, Since you will buckle fortune on my back, To bear her burthen, whether I will or no, I must have patience to endure the load: But if black scandal or foul-faced reproach Attend the sequel of your imposition, Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me From all the impure blots and stains thereof; For God he knows, and you may partly see, How far I am from the desire thereof.

Lord Mayor: God bless your grace! we see it, and will say it.

GLOUCESTER: In saying so, you shall but say the truth.

BUCKINGHAM: Then I salute you with this kingly title: Long live Richard, England's royal king!

Lord Mayor: Amen.

BUCKINGHAM: To-morrow will it please you to be crown'd?

GLOUCESTER: Even when you please, since you will have it so.

BUCKINGHAM: To-morrow, then, we will attend your grace: And so most joyfully we take our leave.

GLOUCESTER: Come, let us to our holy task again. Farewell, good cousin; farewell, gentle friends.

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 princes. Daughter, well met.

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

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

LADY 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. 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 straitly charged the contrary.

QUEEN ELIZABETH: The king! why, who's that?

BRAKENBURY: I cry you mercy: I mean the lord protector.

QUEEN ELIZABETH: The Lord protect him from that kingly title! Hath he set bounds betwixt their love and me? I am their mother; who should keep me from them?

DUCHESS OF YORK: I am their fathers mother; I will see them.

LADY 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.

LORD STANLEY: Let me but meet you, ladies, one hour hence, And I'll salute your grace of York as mother, And reverend looker on, of two fair queens. Come, madam, you must straight to Westminster, There to be crowned Richard's royal queen.

QUEEN ELIZABETH: O, cut my lace in sunder, that my pent heart May have some scope to beat, or else I swoon With this dead-killing news!

LADY 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 hence! Death and destruction dog thee at the 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.

LORD STANLEY: Full of wise care is this your counsel, madam. Take all the swift advantage of the hours; You shall have letters from me to my son To meet you on the way, and welcome you. 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 hatch'd to the world, Whose unavoided eye is murderous.

LORD STANLEY: Come, madam, come; I in all haste was sent.

LADY ANNE: And I in all unwillingness will go. I would to God that the inclusive verge Of golden metal that must round my brow Were red-hot steel, to sear me to the brain! 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.

LADY ANNE: No! why? When he that is my husband now Came to me, as I follow'd Henry's corse, When scarce the blood was well wash'd from his hands Which issued from my other angel husband And that dead saint which then I weeping follow'd; O, when, I say, I look'd on Richard's face, This was my wish: 'Be thou,' quoth I, ' 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-- As miserable by the life of thee As thou hast made me by my dear lord's death! Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again, Even in so short a space, my woman's heart Grossly grew captive to his honey words And proved the subject of my own soul's curse, Which ever since hath kept my eyes from rest; For never yet one hour in his bed Have I enjoy'd the golden dew of sleep, But have been waked by his timorous dreams. 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.

LADY ANNE: No more than from my soul I mourn for yours.

QUEEN ELIZABETH: Farewell, thou woful welcomer of glory!

LADY ANNE: Adieu, poor soul, that takest thy leave of it!

DUCHESS OF YORK:

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.

KING RICHARD III: Stand all apart Cousin of Buckingham!

BUCKINGHAM: My gracious sovereign?

KING RICHARD III: Give me thy hand. Thus high, by thy advice And thy assistance, is King Richard seated; But shall we wear these honours for a day? Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them?

BUCKINGHAM: Still live they and for ever may they last!

KING RICHARD III: O 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 III: Why, Buckingham, I say, I would be king,

BUCKINGHAM: Why, so you are, my thrice renowned liege.

KING RICHARD III: Ha! am I king? 'tis so: but Edward lives.

BUCKINGHAM: True, noble prince.

KING RICHARD III: O bitter consequence, That Edward still should live! 'True, noble prince!' Cousin, thou wert not wont to be so dull: Shall I be plain? I wish the bastards dead; And I would have it suddenly perform'd. What sayest thou? speak suddenly; be brief.

BUCKINGHAM: Your grace may do your pleasure.

KING RICHARD III: Tut, tut, thou art all ice, thy kindness freezeth: Say, have I thy consent that they shall die?

BUCKINGHAM: Give me some breath, some little pause, my lord Before I positively herein: I will resolve your grace immediately.

CATESBY:

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

Page: My lord, I know a discontented gentleman, Whose humble means match not his haughty mind: Gold were as good as twenty orators, And will, no doubt, tempt him to any thing.

KING RICHARD III: What is his name?

Page: His name, my lord, is Tyrrel.

KING RICHARD III: I partly know the man: go, call him hither. The deep-revolving witty Buckingham No more shall be the neighbour to my counsel: Hath he so long held out with me untired, And stops he now for breath? How now! what news with you?

STANLEY: My lord, I hear the Marquis Dorset's fled To Richmond, in those parts beyond the sea Where he abides.

KING RICHARD III: Catesby!

CATESBY: My lord?

KING RICHARD III: Rumour it abroad That Anne, my wife, is sick and like to die: I will take order for her keeping close. Inquire me out some mean-born 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 wife is sick and like to die: About it; for it stands me much upon, To stop all hopes whose growth may damage me. 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. Is thy name Tyrrel?

TYRREL: James Tyrrel, and your most obedient subject.

KING RICHARD III: Art thou, indeed?

TYRREL: Prove me, my gracious sovereign.

KING RICHARD III: Darest thou resolve to kill a friend of mine?

TYRREL: Ay, my lord; But I had rather kill two enemies.

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

TYRREL: 'Tis done, my gracious lord.

KING RICHARD III: Shall we hear from thee, Tyrrel, ere we sleep?

TYRREL: Ye shall, my Lord.

BUCKINGHAM: My Lord, I have consider'd in my mind The late demand that you did sound me in.

KING RICHARD III: Well, let that pass. Dorset is fled to Richmond.

BUCKINGHAM: I hear that news, my lord.

KING RICHARD III: Stanley, he is your wife's son well, look to it.

BUCKINGHAM: My lord, I claim your gift, my due by promise, For which your honour and your faith is pawn'd; The earldom of Hereford and the moveables The which you promised I should possess.

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

BUCKINGHAM: What says your highness to my just demand?

KING RICHARD III: As I remember, Henry the Sixth Did prophesy that Richmond should be king, When Richmond was a little peevish boy. A king, perhaps, perhaps,--

BUCKINGHAM: My lord!

KING RICHARD III: 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 III: Richmond! When last I was at Exeter, The mayor in courtesy show'd me the castle, And call'd it Rougemont: 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 III: Ay, what's o'clock?

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

KING RICHARD III: Well, but what's o'clock?

BUCKINGHAM: Upon the stroke of ten.

KING RICHARD III: Well, let it strike.

BUCKINGHAM: Why let it strike?

KING RICHARD III: Because that, like a Jack, thou keep'st the stroke Betwixt thy begging and my meditation. I am not in the giving vein to-day.