The Complete Works of William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare (moboreader .TXT) 📕

Tell them how Edward put to death a citizen Only for saying he would make his son Heir to the crown-meaning indeed his house, Which by the sign thereof was termed so.

Moreover, urge his hateful luxury

And bestial appetite in change of lust, Which stretch’d unto their servants, daughters, wives, Even where his raging eye or savage heart Without control lusted to make a prey.

Nay, for a need, thus far come near my person: Tell them, when that my mother went with child Of that insatiate Edward, noble York

My princely father then had wars in France And, by true computation of the time, Found that the issue was not his begot; Which well appeared in his lineaments, Being nothing like the noble Duke my father.

Yet touch this sparingly, as ‘twere far off; Because, my lord, you know my mother lives.

BUCKINGHAM. Doubt not, my lord, I’ll play the orator As if the golden fee for which I plead Were for myself; and so, my lord, adieu.

GLOUCESTER. If you thrive well, bring them to Baynard’s Castle;

Where you shall find me well accompanied With reverend fathers and well learned bishops.

BUCKINGHAM. I go; and towards three or four o’clock Look for the news that the Guildhall affords. Exit GLOUCESTER. Go, Lovel, with all speed to Doctor Shaw.

[To CATESBY] Go thou to Friar Penker. Bid them both Meet me within this hour at Baynard’s Castle.

Exeunt all but GLOUCESTER

Now will I go to take some privy order To draw the brats of Clarence out of sight, And to give order that no manner person Have any time recourse unto the Princes. Exit

SCENE 6.

London. A street

Enter a SCRIVENER

SCRIVENER. Here is the indictment of the good Lord Hastings; Which in a set hand fairly is engross’d That it may be to-day read o’er in Paul’s.

And mark how well the sequel hangs together: Eleven hours I have spent to write it over, For yesternight by Catesby was it sent me; The precedent was full as long a-doing; And yet within these five hours Hastings liv’d, Untainted, unexamin’d, free, at liberty.

Here’s a good world the while! Who is so gros That cannot see this palpable device?

Yet who’s so bold but says he sees it not?

Bad is the world; and all will come to nought, When such ill dealing must be seen in thought. Exit

SCENE 7.

London. Baynard’s Castle

Enter GLOUCESTER and BUCKINGHAM, at several doors GLOUCESTER. 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.

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

BUCKINGHAM. I did; with his contract with Lady Lucy, And his contract by deputy in France; Th’ insatiate greediness of his desire, 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!’

GLOUCESTER. 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 wilfull silence.

His answer was, the people were not used 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.

GLOUCESTER. 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.

GLOUCESTER. 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 GLOUCESTER

Enter the LORD MAYOR, ALDERMEN, and citizens Welcome, my lord. I dance attendance here; I think the Duke will not be spoke withal.

Enter 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 suits 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 love-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. My lord,

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 GLOUCESTER aloft, 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.

GLOUCESTER. My lord, there needs no such apology: I do beseech your Grace to 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.

GLOUCESTER. 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!

GLOUCESTER. 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 scept’red 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; Whiles 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 should’red 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.

GLOUCESTER. 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-Definitively thus I answer you:

Your love deserves my thanks, but my desert Unmeritable shuns your high request.

First, if all obstacles were cut away, And that my path were even to the crown, As the ripe revenue and due of birth, Yet so much is my poverty of spirit,

So mighty and so many my defects,

That I would rather hide me from my greatness-Being a bark to brook no mighty sea—

Than in my greatness covet to be hid, And in the vapour of my glory smother’d.

But, God be thank’d, there is no need of meAnd much I need to help you, were there need.

The royal tree hath left us royal fruit Which, mellow’d by the stealing hours of time, Will well become the seat of majesty

And make, no doubt, us happy by his reign.

On him I lay that you would lay on meThe right and fortune of his happy stars, Which God defend that I should wring from him.

BUCKINGHAM. My lord, this argues conscience in your Grace;

But the respects thereof are nice and trivial, All circumstances well considered.

You say that Edward is your brother’s son.

So say we too, but not by Edward’s wife; For first was he contract to Lady Lucy-Your mother lives a witness to his vow-And afterward by substitute betroth’d To Bona, sister to the King of France.

These both put off, a poor petitioner, A care-craz’d mother to a many sons,

A beauty-waning and distressed widow, Even in the afternoon of her best days, Made prize and purchase of his wanton eye, Seduc’d the pitch and height of his degree To base declension and loath’d bigamy.

By her, in his unlawful bed, he got

This Edward, whom our manners call the Prince.

More bitterly could I expostulate,

Save that, for reverence to some alive, I give a sparing limit to my tongue.

Then, good my lord, take to your royal self This proffer’d benefit of dignity;

If not to bless us and the land withal, Yet to draw forth your noble ancestry From the corruption of abusing times

Unto a lineal true-derived course.

MAYOR. Do,