William Shakespeare - KING RICHARD III

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 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.

[Exit.]

QUEEN ELIZABETH

Though far more cause, yet much less spirit to curse

Abides in me; I say amen to her.

[Going.]

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 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

Wrong not her birth; she is of royal blood.

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 bad 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 bless’d 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 cozen’d

Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life.

Whose hand soever lanc’d 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

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 by me were harm’d!

QUEEN ELIZABETH

What good is cover’d with the face of heaven,

To be discover’d, that can do me good?

KING RICHARD

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 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

Even all I have; ay, 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 do intend 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

I, even I: what think you of it, madam?

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 will she weep:

Therefore present to her,—as sometimes 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 brothers’ bodies,

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; ay, 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 gives 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 kill’d 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 doating title of a mother;

They are as children but one step below,

Even of your mettle, of your very blood;

Of all one pain,—save for a night of groans

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 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

Repair’d 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, transform’d to orient pearl,

Advantaging their loan 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 the aspiring flame