William Shakespeare - KING RICHARD III

GLOSTER

How now, how now! what say the citizens?

BUCKINGHAM

Now, by the holy mother of our Lord,

The citizens are mum, say not a word.

GLOSTER

Touch’d you the bastardy of Edward’s children?

BUCKINGHAM

I did; with his contráct with Lady Lucy,

And his contráct by deputy in France;

The insatiate greediness of his desires,

And his enforcement of the city wives;

His tyranny for trifles; his own bastardy,—

As being got, your father then in France,

And his resemblance, being not like the duke:

Withal I did infer your lineaments,—

Being the right idea of your father,

Both in your form and nobleness of mind;

Laid open all your victories in Scotland,

Your discipline in war, wisdom in peace,

Your bounty, virtue, fair humility;

Indeed, left nothing fitting for your purpose

Untouch’d or slightly handled in discourse:

And when mine oratory drew toward end

I bid them that did love their country’s good

Cry “God save Richard, England’s royal king!”

GLOSTER

And did they so?

BUCKINGHAM

No, so God help me, they spake not a word;

But, like dumb statues or breathing stones,

Star’d each on other, and look’d deadly pale.

Which when I saw, I reprehended them;

And ask’d the mayor what meant this wilful silence:

His answer was—the people were not us’d

To be spoke to but by the recorder.

Then he was urg’d to tell my tale again,—

“Thus saith the duke, thus hath the duke inferr’d;”

But nothing spoke in warrant from himself.

When he had done, some followers of mine own,

At lower end of the hall hurl’d up their caps,

And some ten voices cried, “God save King Richard!”

And thus I took the vantage of those few,—

“Thanks, gentle citizens and friends,” quoth I;

“This general applause and cheerful shout

Argues your wisdoms and your love to Richard:”

And even here brake off and came away.

GLOSTER

What, tongueless blocks were they! would they not speak?

Will not the mayor, then, and his brethren, come?

BUCKINGHAM

The mayor is here at hand. Intend some fear;

Be not you spoke with but by mighty suit:

And look you get a prayer-book in your hand,

And stand between two churchmen, good my lord;

For on that ground I’ll make a holy descant:

And be not easily won to our requests;

Play the maid’s part,—still answer nay, and take it.

GLOSTER

I go; and if you plead as well for them

As I can say nay to thee for myself,

No doubt we bring it to a happy issue.

BUCKINGHAM

Go, go, up to the leads; the lord mayor knocks.

[Exit GLOSTER.]

[Enter the LORD MAYOR, ALDERMEN, and Citizens.]

Welcome, my lord. I dance attendance here;

I think the duke will not be spoke withal.

[Enter, from the Castle, CATESBY.]

Now, Catesby,—what says your lord to my request?

CATESBY

He doth entreat your grace, my noble lord,

To visit him tomorrow or next day:

He is within, with two right reverend fathers,

Divinely bent to meditation:

And in no worldly suit would he be mov’d,

To draw him from his holy exercise.

BUCKINGHAM

Return, good Catesby, to the gracious duke;

Tell him, myself, the mayor and aldermen,

In deep designs, in matter of great moment,

No less importing than our general good,

Are come to have some conference with his grace.

CATESBY

I’ll signify so much unto him straight.

[Exit.]

BUCKINGHAM

Ah, ha, my lord, this prince is not an Edward!

He is not lolling on a lewd day-bed,

But on his knees at meditation;

Not dallying with a brace of courtezans,

But meditating with two deep divines;

Not sleeping, to engross his idle body,

But praying, to enrich his watchful soul:

Happy were England would this virtuous prince

Take on his grace the sovereignty thereof:

But, sure, I fear, we shall not win him to it.

MAYOR

Marry, God defend his grace should say us nay!

BUCKINGHAM

I fear he will. Here Catesby comes again.

[Re-enter CATESBY.]

Now, Catesby, what says his grace?

CATESBY

He wonders to what end you have assembled

Such troops of citizens to come to him:

His grace not being warn’d thereof before,

He fears, my lord, you mean no good to him.

BUCKINGHAM

Sorry I am my noble cousin should

Suspect me, that I mean no good to him:

By heaven, we come to him in perfect love;

And so once more return and tell his grace.

[Exit CATESBY.]

When holy and devout religious men

Are at their beads, ‘tis much to draw them thence,—

So sweet is zealous contemplation.

[Enter GLOSTER in a Galery above, between two BISHOPS. CATESBY returns.]

MAYOR

See where his grace stands ‘tween two clergymen!

BUCKINGHAM

Two props of virtue for a Christian prince,

To stay him from the fall of vanity:

And, see, a book of prayer in his hand,—

True ornaments to know a holy man.—

Famous Plantagenet, most gracious prince,

Lend favourable ear to our requests;

And pardon us the interruption

Of thy devotion and right Christian zeal.

GLOSTER

My lord, there needs no such apology:

I rather do beseech you pardon me,

Who, earnest in the service of my God,

Deferr’d the visitation of my friends.

But, leaving this, what is your grace’s pleasure?

BUCKINGHAM

Even that, I hope, which pleaseth God above,

And all good men of this ungovern’d isle.

GLOSTER

I do suspect I have done some offence

That seems disgracious in the city’s eye;

And that you come to reprehend my ignorance.

BUCKINGHAM

You have, my lord: would it might please your grace,

On our entreaties, to amend your fault!

GLOSTER

Else wherefore breathe I in a Christian land?

BUCKINGHAM

Know then, it is your fault that you resign

The supreme seat, the throne majestical,

The scepter’d office of your ancestors,

Your state of fortune and your due of birth,

The lineal glory of your royal house,

To the corruption of a blemish’d stock:

Whilst, in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts,—

Which here we waken to our country’s good,—

The noble isle doth want her proper limbs;

Her face defac’d with scars of infamy,

Her royal stock graft with ignoble plants,

And almost shoulder’d in the swallowing gulf

Of dark forgetfulness and deep oblivion.

Which to recure, we heartily solicit

Your gracious self to take on you the charge

And kingly government of this your land;—

Not as protector, steward, substitute,

Or lowly factor for another’s gain;

But as successively, from blood to blood,

Your right of birth, your empery, your own.

For this, consorted with the citizens,

Your very worshipful and loving friends,

And, by their vehement instigation,

In this just cause come I to move your grace.

GLOSTER

I cannot tell if to depart in silence

Or bitterly to speak in your reproof

Best fitteth my degree or your condition:

If not to answer, you might haply think

Tongue-tied ambition, not replying, yielded

To bear the golden yoke of sovereignty,

Which fondly you would here impose on me;

If to reprove you for this suit of yours,

So season’d with your faithful love to me,

Then, on the other side, I check’d my friends.

Therefore,—to speak, and to avoid the first,

And then, in speaking, not to incur the last,—