The Life and Death of King Richard III by William Shakespeare (books for men to read .TXT) 📕

Persons Represented.

KING EDWARD THE FOURTH

Sons to the king
EDWARD, PRINCE OF WALES afterwards KING EDWARD V
RICHARD, DUKE OF YORK

Brothers to the king
GEORGE, DUKE OF CLARENCE
RICHARD, DUKE OF GLOSTER, afterwards KING RICHARD III

A YOUNG SON OF CLARENCE
HENRY, EARL OF RICHMOND, afterwards KING HENRY VII
CARDINAL BOURCHIER, ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY
THOMAS ROTHERHAM, ARCHBISHOP OF YORK
JOHN MORTON, BISHOP OF ELY
DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM
DUKE OF NORFOLK
EARL OF SURREY, his son
EARL RIVERS, brother to King Edward's Queen
MARQUIS OF DORSET and LORD GREY, her sons
EARL OF OXFORD
LORD HASTINGS
LORD STANLEY
LORD LOVEL
SIR THOMAS VAUGHAN
SIR RICHARD RATCLIFF
SIR WILLIAM CATESBY
SIR JAMES TYRREL
SIR JAMES BLOUNT
SIR WALTER HERBERT
SIR ROBERT BRAKENBURY, Lieutenant of the Tower
CHRISTOPHER URSWICK, a priest
Another Priest
LORD MAYOR OF LONDON
SHERIFF OF WILTSHIRE

ELIZABETH, Queen to King Edward IV
MARGARET, widow to King Henry VI
DUCHESS OF YORK, mother to King Edward IV, Clarence, and Gloster
LADY ANNE, widow to Edward, Prince of Wales, son to King
Henry VI; afterwards married to the Duke of Gloster
A YOUNG DAUGHTER OF CLARENCE

Lords, and other Attendants; two Gentlemen, a Pursuivant,
Scrivener, Citizens, Murderers, Messengers, Ghosts, Soldiers, &c.

SCENE: England


ACT I.

SCENE I. London. A street

[Enter GLOSTER.]

GLOSTER
Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front;
And now, - instead of mounting barbed steeds
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, -
He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
But I, - that am not shap'd for sportive tricks,
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;
I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time
Into this breathing world scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at me as I halt by them; -
Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time,
Unless to spy my shadow in the sun,
And descant on mine own deformity:
And therefore, - since I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain these fair well-spoken days, -
I am determined to prove a villain,
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,
By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams,
To set my brother Clarence and the king
In deadly hate the one against the other:
And if King Edward be as true and just
As I am subtle, false, and treacherous,
This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up, -
About a prophecy which says that G
Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be.
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul: - here Clarence comes.

[Enter CLARENCE, guarded, and BRAKENBURY.]

Brother, good day: what means this armed guard
That waits upon your grace?

CLARENCE.
His majesty,
Tendering my person's safety, hath appointed
This conduct to convey me to the Tower.

GLOSTER.
Upon what cause?

CLARENCE.
Because my name is George.

GLOSTER.
Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours;
He should, for that, commit your godfathers: -
O, belike his majesty hath some intent
That you should be new-christen'd in the Tower.
But what's the matter, Clarence? may I know?

CLARENCE.
Yea, Richard, when I know; for I protest
As yet I do not: but, as I can learn,
He hearkens after prophecies and dreams;
And from the cross-row plucks the letter G,
And says a wizard told him that by G
His issue disinherited should be;
And, for my name of George begins with G,
It follows in his thought that I am he.
These, as I learn, and such like toys as these,
Hath mov'd his highness to commit me now.

GLOSTER.
Why, this it is when men are rul'd by women: -
'Tis not the king that sends you to the Tower;
My Lady Grey his wife, Clarence, 'tis she
That tempers him to this extremity.
Was it not she and that good man of worship,
Antony Woodville, her brother there,
That made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower,
From whence this present day he is deliver'd?
We are not safe, Clarence; we are not safe.

CLARENCE.
By heaven, I think there is no man is secure
But the queen's kindred, and night-walking heralds
That trudge betwixt the king and Mistress Shore.
Heard you not what an humble suppliant
Lord Hastings was to her for his delivery?

GLOSTER.
Humbly complaining to her deity
Got my Lord Chamberlain his liberty.
I'll tell you what, - I think it is our way,
If we will keep in favour with the king,
To be her men and wear her livery:
The jealous o'er-worn widow, and herself,
Since that our brother dubb'd them gentlewomen,
Are mighty gossips in our monarchy.

BRAKENBURY.
I beseech your graces both to pardon me;
His majesty hath straitly given in charge
That no man shall have private conference,
Of what degree soever, with your brother.

GLOSTER.
Even so; an't please your worship, Brakenbury,
You may partake of any thing we say:
We speak no treason, man; - we say the king
Is wise and virtuous; and his noble queen
Well struck in years, fair, and not jealous; -
We say that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot,
A cherry lip, a bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue;
And that the queen's kindred are made gentlefolks:
How say you, sir? can you deny all this?

BRAKENBURY.
With this, my lord, myself have naught to do.

GLOSTER.
Naught to do with Mistress Shore! I tell thee, fellow,
He that doth naught with her, excepting one,
Were best to do it secretly alone.

BRAKENBURY.
What one, my lord?

GLOSTER.
Her husband, knave: - wouldst thou betray me?

BRAKENBURY.
I do beseech your grace to pardon me; and, withal,
Forbear your conference with the noble duke.

CLARENCE.
We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will obey.

GLOSTER.
We are the queen's abjects and must obey. -
Brother, farewell: I will unto the king;
And whatsoe'er you will employ me in, -
Were it to call King Edward's widow sister, -
I will perform it to enfranchise you.
Meantime, this deep disgrace in brotherhood
Touches me deeper than you can imagine.

CLARENCE.
I know it pleaseth neither of us well.

GLOSTER.
Well, your imprisonment shall not be long;
I will deliver or else lie for you:
Meantime, have patience.

CLARENCE.
I must perforce: farewell.

[Exeunt CLARENCE, BRAKENBURY, and guard.]

GLOSTER.
Go tread the path that thou shalt ne'er return.
Simple, plain Clarence! - I do love thee so
That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven,
If heaven will take the present at our hands. -
But who comes here? The new-delivered Hastings?

[Enter HASTINGS.]

HASTINGS.
Good time of day unto my gracious lord!

GLOSTER.
As much unto my good Lord Chamberlain!
Well are you welcome to the open air.
How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment?

HASTINGS.
With patience, noble lord, as prisoners must;
But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks
That were the cause of my imprisonment.

GLOSTER.
No doubt, no doubt; and so shall Clarence too;
For they that were your enemies are his,
And have prevail'd as much on him as you.

HASTINGS.
More pity that the eagles should be mew'd
Whiles kites and buzzards prey at liberty.

GLOSTER.
What news abroad?

HASTINGS.
No news so bad abroad as this at home, -
The king is sickly, weak, and melancholy,
And his physicians fear him mightily.

GLOSTER.
Now, by Saint Paul, that news is bad indeed.
O, he hath kept an evil diet long,
And overmuch consum'd his royal person:
'Tis very grievous to be thought upon.
What, is he in his bed?

HASTINGS.
He is.

GLOSTER.
Go you before, and I will follow you.

[Exit HASTINGS.]

He cannot live, I hope; and must not die
Till George be pack'd with posthorse up to heaven.
I'll in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence
With lies well steel'd with weighty arguments;
And, if I fail not in my deep intent,
Clarence hath not another day to live;
Which done, God take King Edward to his mercy,
And leave the world for me to bustle in!
For then I'll marry Warwick's youngest daughter:
What though I kill'd her husband and her father?
The readiest way to make the wench amends
Is to become her husband and her father:
The which will I; not all so much for love
As for another secret close intent,
By marrying her, which I must reach unto.
But yet I run before my horse to market:
Clarence still breathes; Edward still lives and reigns:
When they are gone, then must I count my gains.

[Exit.]


SCENE II. London. Another street.

[Enter the corpse of King Henry the Sixth, borne in an open
coffin, Gentlemen bearing halberds to guard it; and Lady
Anne as mourner.]

ANNE.
Set down, set down your honourable load, -
If honour may be shrouded in a hearse, -
Whilst I awhile obsequiously lament
Th' untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster. -
Poor key-cold figure of a holy king!
Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster!
Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood!
Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost,
To hear the lamentations of poor Anne,
Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughter'd son,
Stabb'd by the self-same hand that made these wounds!
Lo, in these windows that let forth thy life,
I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes: -
O, cursed be the hand that made these holes!
Cursed the heart that had the heart to do it!
Cursed the blood that let this blood from hence!
More direful hap betide that hated wretch
That makes us wretched by the death of thee,
Than I can wish to adders, spiders, toads,
Or any creeping venom'd thing that lives!
If ever he have child, abortive be it,
Prodigious, and untimely brought to light,
Whose ugly and unnatural aspect
May fright the hopeful mother at the view;
And that be heir to his unhappiness!
If ever he have wife, let her be made
More miserable by the death of him
Than I am made by my young lord and thee! -
Come, now towards Chertsey with your holy load,
Taken from Paul's to be interred there;
And still, as you are weary of this weight,
Rest you, whiles I lament King Henry's corse.

[The Bearers take up the Corpse and advance.]

[Enter GLOSTER.]

GLOSTER.
Stay, you that bear the corse, and set it down.

ANNE.
What black magician conjures up this fiend,
To stop devoted charitable deeds?

GLOSTER.
Villains, set down the corse; or, by Saint Paul,
I'll make a corse of him that disobeys!

FIRST GENTLEMAN.
My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass.

GLOSTER.
Unmanner'd dog! stand thou, when I command:
Advance thy halberd higher than my breast,