text
stringlengths 4
3.08k
|
|---|
BUCKINGHAM: Why, then resolve me whether you will or no. |
KING RICHARD III: Tut, tut, Thou troublest me; am not in the vein. |
BUCKINGHAM: Is it even so? rewards he my true service With such deep contempt made I him king for this? O, let me think on Hastings, and be gone To Brecknock, while my fearful head is on! |
TYRREL: The tyrannous and bloody deed is done. The most arch of piteous massacre That ever yet this land was guilty of. Dighton and Forrest, whom I did suborn To do this ruthless piece of butchery, Although they were flesh'd villains, bloody dogs, Melting with tenderness and kind compassion Wept like two children in their deaths' sad stories. 'Lo, thus' quoth Dighton, 'lay those tender babes:' 'Thus, thus,' quoth Forrest, 'girdling one another Within their innocent alabaster arms: Their lips were four red roses on a stalk, Which in their summer beauty kiss'd 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 stopp'd Whilst Dighton thus told on: 'We smothered The most replenished sweet work of nature, That from the prime creation e'er she framed.' Thus both are gone with conscience and remorse; They could not speak; and so I left them both, To bring this tidings to the bloody king. And here he comes. All hail, my sovereign liege! |
KING RICHARD III: 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, my lord. |
KING RICHARD III: But didst thou see them dead? |
TYRREL: I did, my lord. |
KING RICHARD III: And buried, gentle Tyrrel? |
TYRREL: The chaplain of the Tower hath buried them; But how or in what place I do not know. |
KING RICHARD III: Come to me, Tyrrel, soon at after supper, And 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 soon. The son of Clarence have I pent up close; His daughter meanly have I match'd in marriage; The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom, And Anne my wife hath bid the world good night. Now, for I know the Breton Richmond aims At young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter, And, by that knot, looks proudly o'er the crown, To her I go, a jolly thriving wooer. |
CATESBY: My lord! |
KING RICHARD III: Good news or bad, that thou comest in so bluntly? |
CATESBY: Bad news, my lord: Ely is fled to Richmond; And Buckingham, back'd with the hardy Welshmen, Is in the field, and still his power increaseth. |
KING RICHARD III: Ely with Richmond troubles me more near Than Buckingham and his rash-levied army. Come, I have heard 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! Come, muster men: my counsel is my shield; We must be brief when traitors brave the field. |
QUEEN MARGARET: So, now prosperity begins to mellow And drop into the rotten mouth of death. Here in these confines slily have I lurk'd, To watch the waning of mine adversaries. 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 ELIZABETH: Ah, my young princes! ah, my tender babes! My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets! If yet your gentle souls fly in the air And be not fix'd in doom perpetual, Hover about me with your airy wings And hear your mother's lamentation! |
QUEEN MARGARET: Hover about her; say, that right for right Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night. |
DUCHESS OF YORK: So many miseries have crazed my voice, That my woe-wearied tongue is mute and dumb, Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead? |
QUEEN MARGARET: 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: When holy Harry died, and my sweet son. |
DUCHESS OF YORK: Blind sight, dead life, poor mortal living ghost, Woe's scene, world's shame, grave's due by life usurp'd, Brief abstract and record of tedious days, Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth, Unlawfully made drunk with innocents' blood! |
QUEEN ELIZABETH: O, that thou wouldst as well afford a grave As thou canst yield a melancholy seat! Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here. O, who hath any cause to mourn but I? |
QUEEN MARGARET: If ancient sorrow be most reverend, Give mine the benefit of seniory, And let my woes frown on the upper hand. If sorrow can admit society, Tell o'er your woes again by viewing mine: I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him; I had a Harry, till a Richard kill'd him: Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard kill'd 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 kill'd him. From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept A hell-hound 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 excellent grand tyrant of the earth, That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls, 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 stabb'd my Edward: Thy other Edward dead, to quit my Edward; Young York he is but boot, because both they Match not the high perfection of my loss: Thy Clarence he is dead that kill'd my Edward; And the beholders of this tragic play, The adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey, Untimely smother'd 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 convey'd away. Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I prey, That I may live to 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-back'd toad! |
QUEEN MARGARET: I call'd thee then vain flourish of my fortune; I call'd 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 hurl'd down below; A mother only mock'd with two sweet babes; A dream of what thou wert, a breath, a bubble, A sign of dignity, a garish flag, To be the aim of every dangerous shot, A queen in jest, only to fill the scene. Where is thy husband now? where be thy brothers? Where are thy children? wherein dost thou, joy? Who sues to thee and cries 'God save the queen'? Where be the bending peers that flatter'd thee? Where be the thronging troops that follow'd 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 queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care; For one being sued to, one that humbly sues; For one that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me; For one being fear'd of all, now fearing one; For one commanding all, obey'd of none. Thus hath the course of justice wheel'd about, And left thee but a very prey to time; Having no more but thought of what thou wert, 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 burthen'd yoke; From which even here I slip my weary neck, And leave the burthen of it all on thee. Farewell, York's wife, and queen of sad mischance: These English woes will make me smile in France. |
QUEEN ELIZABETH: O thou well skill'd 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 fairer 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. |
DUCHESS OF YORK: Why should calamity be full of words? |
QUEEN ELIZABETH: Windy attorneys to their client woes, Airy succeeders of intestate joys, Poor breathing orators of miseries! Let them have scope: though what they do impart Help not all, 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, which thy two sweet sons smother'd. I hear his drum: be copious in exclaims. |
KING RICHARD III: 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: Hidest thou that forehead with a golden crown, Where should be graven, if that right were right, The slaughter of the prince that owed that crown, And the dire death of my two 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 kind Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey? |
KING RICHARD III: A flourish, trumpets! strike alarum, drums! Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women Rail on the Lord's enointed: strike, I say! 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 III: Ay, I thank God, my father, and yourself. |
DUCHESS OF YORK: Then patiently hear my impatience. |
KING RICHARD III: Madam, I have a touch of your condition, Which cannot brook the accent of reproof. |
DUCHESS OF YORK: O, let me speak! |
KING RICHARD III: Do then: but I'll not hear. |
DUCHESS OF YORK: I will be mild and gentle in my speech. |
KING RICHARD III: And brief, good mother; for I am in haste. |
DUCHESS OF YORK: Art thou so hasty? I have stay'd for thee, God knows, in anguish, pain and agony. |
KING RICHARD III: And came I not at last to comfort you? |
DUCHESS OF YORK: No, by the holy rood, thou know'st it well, Thou camest on earth to make the earth my hell. A grievous burthen was thy birth to me; Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy; Thy school-days frightful, desperate, wild, and furious, Thy prime of manhood daring, bold, and venturous, Thy age confirm'd, proud, subdued, bloody, treacherous, More mild, but yet more harmful, kind in hatred: What comfortable hour canst thou name, That ever graced me in thy company? |
KING RICHARD III: Faith, none, but Humphrey Hour, that call'd your grace To breakfast once forth of my company. If I be so disgracious in your sight, Let me march on, and not offend your grace. Strike the drum. |
DUCHESS OF YORK: I prithee, hear me speak. |
KING RICHARD III: You speak too bitterly. |
DUCHESS OF YORK: Hear me a word; For I shall never speak to thee again. |
KING RICHARD III: 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 look upon thy face again. Therefore take with thee my most heavy curse; Which, in the day of battle, tire thee more Than all the complete armour that thou wear'st! 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. |
QUEEN ELIZABETH: Though far more cause, yet much less spirit to curse Abides in me; I say amen to all. |
KING RICHARD III: Stay, madam; I must speak a word with you. |
QUEEN ELIZABETH: I have no more sons of the royal blood For thee to murder: for my daughters, Richard, They shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens; And therefore level not to hit their lives. |
KING RICHARD III: You have a daughter call'd 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 unscarr'd of bleeding slaughter, I will confess she was not Edward's daughter. |
KING RICHARD III: Wrong not her birth, she is of royal blood. |
QUEEN ELIZABETH: To save her life, I'll say she is not so. |
KING RICHARD III: Her life is only safest in her birth. |
QUEEN ELIZABETH: And only in that safety died her brothers. |
KING RICHARD III: Lo, at their births good stars were opposite. |
QUEEN ELIZABETH: No, to their lives bad friends were contrary. |
KING RICHARD III: 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 bless'd thee with a fairer life. |
KING RICHARD III: You speak as if that I had slain my cousins. |
QUEEN ELIZABETH: Cousins, indeed; and by their uncle cozen'd Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life. Whose hand soever lanced 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 anchor'd 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 III: 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 wrong'd! |
QUEEN ELIZABETH: What good is cover'd with the face of heaven, To be discover'd, that can do me good? |
KING RICHARD III: The advancement of your children, gentle lady. |
QUEEN ELIZABETH: Up to some scaffold, there to lose their heads? |
KING RICHARD III: No, to the dignity and height of honour 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 III: 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 be process of thy kindness Last longer telling than thy kindness' date. |
KING RICHARD III: Then know, that from my soul I love thy daughter. |
QUEEN ELIZABETH: My daughter's mother thinks it with her soul. |
KING RICHARD III: 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 III: 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: Say then, who dost thou mean shall be her king? |
KING RICHARD III: Even he that makes her queen who should be else? |
QUEEN ELIZABETH: What, thou? |
KING RICHARD III: I, even I: what think you of it, madam? |
QUEEN ELIZABETH: How canst thou woo her? |
KING RICHARD III: That would I learn of you, As one that are best acquainted with her humour. |
QUEEN ELIZABETH: And wilt thou learn of me? |
KING RICHARD III: 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 sometime Margaret Did to thy father, steep'd in Rutland's blood,-- A handkerchief; which, say to her, did drain The purple sap from her sweet brother's body And bid her dry her weeping eyes therewith. If this inducement force her not to love, Send her a story of thy noble acts; Tell her thou madest away her uncle Clarence, Her uncle Rivers; yea, and, for her sake, Madest quick conveyance with her good aunt Anne. |
KING RICHARD III: Come, come, you mock me; this is not the way To win our 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. |