William Shakespeare - KING RICHARD III

BUCKINGHAM

My lord, I have consider’d in my mind

The late request 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 to it.

BUCKINGHAM

My lord, I claim the gift, my due by promise,

For which your honour and your faith is pawn’d:

The earldom of Hereford, and the movables

Which you have promisèd 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 show’d me the castle

And call’d it Rougemount; 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 o’clock?

BUCKINGHAM

I am thus bold to put your grace in mind

Of what you promis’d me.

KING RICHARD

Well, but what’s o’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 to-day.

BUCKINGHAM

Why then, resolve me whether you will or no.

KING RICHARD

Thou troublest me; I am not in the vein.

[Exeunt KING RICHARD and Train.]

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.]

[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, who I did suborn

To do this piece of ruthless butchery,

Albeit they were flesh’d villains, bloody dogs,

Melted with tenderness and mild compassion,

Wept like two children in their deaths’ sad story.

“O, thus,” quoth Dighton, “lay the gentle babes,”—

“Thus, thus,” quoth Forrest, “girdling one another

Within their alabaster innocent arms:

Their lips were four red roses on a stalk,

And in their summer beauty kiss’d each other.

A book of prayers on their pillow lay;

Which once,” quoth Forrest, “almost chang’d my mind;

But, O, the devil,”—there the villain stopp’d;

When Dighton thus told on:—“We smothered

The most replenishèd 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:—

And here he comes:—

[Enter KING RICHARD.]

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 match’d in marriage;

The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham’s bosom,

And Anne my wife hath bid the world goodnight.

Now, for I know the Britagne 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 RATCLIFF.]

RATCLIFF

My lord,—

KING RICHARD

Good or bad news, that thou com’st in so bluntly?

RATCLIFF

Bad news, my lord: Morton is fled to Richmond;

And Buckingham, back’d 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 learn’d that fearful commenting

Is leaden servitor to dull delay;

Delay leads impotent and snail-pac’d 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.]

[Enter 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 lurk’d

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?

[Retires.]

[Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH and the DUCHESS OF YORK.]

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 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 agèd night.

DUCHESS

So many miseries have craz’d my voice

That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute.—

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

Dead life, blind sight, poor mortal living ghost,

Woe’s scene, world’s shame, grave’s due by life usurp’d,

Brief abstract and recórd of tedious days,

Rest thy unrest on England’s lawful earth,

[Sitting down.]

Unlawfully made drunk with innocent 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?

[Sitting down by her.]

QUEEN MARGARET

[Coming forward.]

If ancient sorrow be most reverent,

Give mine the benefit of seniory,

And let my griefs frown on the upper hand.

If sorrow can admit society,

[Sitting down with them.]

Tell o’er your woes again by viewing mine:—

I had an Edward, till a Richard kill’d him;