Puslapio vaizdai
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God give your graces both A happy and a joyful time of day!

Q. Eliz. As much to you, good sister? Whither away?

Anne. No further than the Tower; and, as I guess, Upon the like devotion as yourselves,

To gratulate the gentle princes there.

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Anne. And I with all unwillingness will go.O, would to God, that the inclusive verge Of golden metal, that must round my brow, Were red-hot steel, to sear3 me to the brain! Anointed let me be with deadly venom; And die, ere men can say-God save the queen! Q. Eliz. Go, go, poor soul, I envy not thy glory; To feed my humour, wish thyself no harm. Anne. No! why?-When he, that is my husband

now,

Came to me, as I follow'd Henry's corse;

Q. Eliz. Kind sister, thanks; we'll enter all When scarce the blood was well wash'd from his Buck. My gracious sovereign.

together:

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Hath he set bounds between their love, and me? I am their mother, who shall bar me from them?

Duch. I am their father's mother, I will see them.

Anne. Their aunt I am in law, in love their mother:

Then bring me to their sights; I'll bear thy blame,
And take thy office from thee, on thy peril.
Brak. No, madam, no, I may not leave it so;
I am bound by oath, and therefore pardon me.
[Exit Brakenbury.

Enter Stanley.

Stan. Let me but meet you, ladies, one hour hence, And I'll salute your grace of York as mother, And reverend looker-on of two fair queens.Come, madam, you must straight to Westminster. [To the duchess of Gloster.

There to be crowned Richard's royal queen.
Q. Eliz. Ah, cut my lace asunder!
That my pent heart may have some scope to beat,
Or else I swoon with this dead-killing news.

Anne. Despiteful tidings! Ounpleasing news! Dor. Be of good cheer:-Mother, how fares your grace?

Q. Eliz. O Dorset, speak not to me, get thee gone, Death and destruction dog thee at the heels; Thy mother's name is ominous to children: If thou wilt outstrip death, go cross the seas, And live with Richmond, from the reach of hell. Go, hie thee, hie thee, from this slaughter-house, Lest thou increase the number of the dead; And make me die the thrall of Margaret's curse,Nor mother, wife, nor England's counted queen. Stan. Full of wise care is this your counsel,

madam:

Take all the swift advantage of the hours;

(1) A serpent supposed to originate from a cock's

egg.

hands,

Which issu'd from my other angel husband,

And that dead saint which then I weeping follow'd;
O, when, I say, I look'd on Richard's face,
This was my wish,- Be thou, quoth I, accurs'd,
For making me, so young, so old a widow!
And, when thou wedd'st, let sorrow haunt thy bed;
And be thy wife (if any be so mad)
More miserable by the life of thee,

Than thou hast made me by my dear lord's death!
Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again,

Even in so short a space, my woman's heart
Grossly grew captive to his honey words,

And prov'd the subject of mine own soul's curse:
Which ever since hath held mine eyes from rest;
For never yet one hour in his bed

Did I enjoy the golden dew of sleep,

But with his timorous dreams was still awak'd.
Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick;

And will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me.

Q. Eliz. Poor heart, adieu: I pity thy complaining. Anne. No more than with my soul I mourn for

yours. Dor. Farewell, thou woful welcomer of glory! Anne. Adieu, poor soul, that tak'st thy leave

of it!

Duch. Go thou to Richmond, and good fortune guide thee![To Dorset. Go thou to Richard, and good angels tend thee![To Anne. Go thou to sanctuary, and good thoughts possess thee! [To Q. Elizabeth. I to my grave, where peace and rest lie with me! Eighty odd years of sorrow have I seen, And each hour's joy wreck'd with a week of teen. Q. Eliz. Stay yet; look back, with me, unto the Tower.

Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes,
Whom envy hath immur'd within your walls!
Rough cradle for such little pretty ones!
Rude ragged nurse! old sullen play-fellow
For tender princes, use my babies well!

So foolish sorrow bids your stones farewell. [Exe. SCENE II-A room of state in the palace. Flourish of trumpets. Richard, as king upon his throne; Buckingham, Catesby, a Page, and others.

K. Rich. Stand all apart. -Cousin of Buckingham,

(2) The crown. (3) Burn. (4) Sorrow.

Look, how thou dream'st! I say again, give out, K. Rich. Give me thy hand. Thus high, by thy That Anne my queen is sick, and like to die: advice, And thy assistance, is king Richard seated :But shall we wear these glories for a day?

Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them?

Buck. Still live they, and for ever let them last! K. Rich. Ah, Buckingham, now do I play the touch,

About it; for it stands me much upon, 5
To stop all hopes, whose growth may damage me.-
[Exit Catesby.

I must be married to my brother's daughter,
Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass:-
Murder her brothers, and then marry her!
Uncertain way of gain! But I am in
To try if thou be current gold, indeed:-
So far in blood, that sin will pluck on sin.
Young Edward lives; -Think now what I would Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye.-

speak.

Re-enter Page, with Tyrrel.

Buck. Say on, my loving lord.
K. Rich. Why, Buckingham, I say, I would be Is thy name-Tyrrel?

king.

Buck. Why, so you are, my thrice-renowned liege.

K. Rich. Ha! am I king? 'Tis so: but Edward lives.

Buck. True, noble prince.

K. Rich.

O bitter consequence,
That Edward still should live, true, noble prince!--
Cousin, thou wast not wont to be so dull :-
Shall I be plain? I wish the bastards dead;
And I would have it suddenly perform'd.
What say'st thou now? speak suddenly, be brief.
Buck. Your grace may do your pleasure.

K. Rich. Tut, tut, thou art all ice, thy kindness

freezes:

Say, have I thy consent, that they shall die?
Buck. Give me some breath, some little pause,
dear lord,

Before I positively speak in this:
I will resolve your grace immediately. [Ex. Buck.
Cate. The king is angry; see, he gnaws his lip.
[Aside.
K. Rich. I will converse with iron-witted fools,
[Descends from his throne.

And unrespective2 boys: none are for me,
That look into me with considerate eyes ;-
High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect.--
Boy,

Page. My lord.

K. Rich. Know'st thou not any, whom corrupt

ing gold

Would tempt unto a close exploit of death?

Page. I know a discontented gentleman, Whose humble means match not his haughty mind: Gold were as good as twenty orators,

And will, no doubt, tempt him to any thing.

K. Rich. What is his name?
Page.

His name, my lord, is-Tyrrel.
K. Rich. I partly know the man; Go, call him
hither, boy.-
[Exit Page

The deep-revolving, witty4 Buckingham
No more shall be the neighbour to my counsels:
Hath he so long held out with me untir'd,
And stops he now for breath?-well, be it so.-

Enter Stanley.

Tyr. James Tyrrel, and your most obedient

subject.
K. Rich. Art thou, indeed?
Tyr.

Prove me, my gracious lord. K. Rich. Dar'st thou resolve to kill a friend of mine?

Tyr. Please you; but I had rather kill two ene

mies.

K. Rich. Why, then thou hast it; two deep ene-
mies,

Foes to my rest, and my sweet sleep's disturbers,
Are they that I would have thee deals upon :
Tyrrel, I mean those bastards in the Tower.
Tyr. Let me have open means to come to them,
And soon I'll rid you from the fear of them.
K. Rich. Thou sing'st sweet music. Hark, come
hither, Tyrrel;

Go, by this token:-Rise, and lend thine ear:
[Whispers.
There is no more but so:-Say, it is done,
And I will love thee, and prefer thee for it.
Tyr. I will despatch it straight.

Re-enter Buckingham.

[Exit.

Buck. My lord, I have consider'd in my mind The late demand that you did sound me in.

K. Rich. Well, let that rest. Dorset is fled to

Richmond.

Buck. I hear the news, my lord.
K. Rich. Stanley, he is your wife's son :-Well,
look to it.

Buck. 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 moveables,
Which you have promised I shall possess.

K. Rich. Stanley, look to your wife; if she convey
Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it.
Buck. What says your highness to my just re-

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K. Rich. How chance, the prophet could not at that time,

How now, lord Stanley? what's the news?
Know, my loving lord, Have told me, I being by, that I should kill him?

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K. Rich. Thou troublest me; I am not in the vein. [Exeunt King Richard, and train. Buck. 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, 2 while my fearful head is on: [Exit.

SCENE III.-The same. Enter Tyrrel.
Tyr. 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, whom I did suborn
To do this piece of ruthless butchery,
Albeit they were flesh'd villains, bloody dogs,
Melting with tenderness and mild compassion,
Wept like two children, in their death's 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,
Which, 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 replenished sweet work of nature,
That, from the prime creation, e'er she fram'd.
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.

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Cate. My lord,

so bluntly?

K. Rich. Good news or bad, that thou com'st in

Cate. Bad news, my lord: Mortons is filed to Richmond;

men,

And Buckingham, back'd with the hardy Welsh-
Is in the field, and still his power increaseth.
K. Rich. 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.

SCENE IV. The same. Before the Palace.
Enter Queen Margaret.

Q. Mar. 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 ani I witness to, And will to France; hoping, the consequence Will prove as bitter, black, and tragical. Withdraw thee, wretched Margaret! who comes here?

Enter Queen Elizabeth and the Duchess of York. Q. Eliz. 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!

Q. Mar. Hover abouther; say, that right for right Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night.

Duch. So many miseries have craz'd my voice, That my wo-wearied tongue is still and mute,Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?

Q. Mar. Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet, Edward for Edward pays a dying debt.

Q. Eliz. 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? Q. Mar. When holy Harry died, and my sweet

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!

Ah, who hath any cause to mourn, but we?

[Sitting down by her.

Q. Mar. If ancient sorrow be most reverent, Give mine the benefit of seniory,1 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;
I had a husband, till a Richard kill'd him:
Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him;
Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard kill'd him.
Duch. I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill him;
I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him.

Q. Mar. Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Richard kill'd him.

From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept
A hell-hound, that doth hunt us all to death:
That dog, that had his teeth before his eyes,
To worry lambs, and lap their gentle blood;
That foul defacer of God's handy-work;
That excellent grand tyrant of the earth,
That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls,
Thy womb let loose, to chase us to our graves.-
O upright, just, and true-disposing God,
How do I thank thee, that this carnal cur
Preys on the issue of his mother's body,
And makes her pew-fellow2 with others' moan!
Duch. O, Harry's wife, triumph not in my woes;
God witness with me, I have wept for thine.

Q. Mar. Bear with me, I am hungry for revenge,
And now I cloy me with beholding it.
Thy Edward he is dead, that kill'd my Edward;
Thy other Edward dead, to quit my Edward;
Young York he is but boot, because both they
Match not the high perfection of my loss.
Thy Clarence he is dead, that stabb'd my Edward;
And the beholders of this tragic play,
The adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey,
Untimely smother'd in their dusky graves.
Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer;
Only reserv'd their factor, to buy souls,
And send them thither: But at hand, at hand,
Ensues his piteous and unpitied end:

Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray,
To have him suddenly convey'd from hence :-
Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I pray,
That I may live to say, The dog is dead!

Q. Eliz. O, thou didst prophesy, the time would

come,

That I should wish for thee to help me curse
That bottled spider, that foul bunch-back'd toad.
Q. Mar. I call'd thee then, vain flourish of my
fortune;

I call'd thee then, poor shadow, painted queen;
The presentation of but what I was,
The flattering index of a direful pageant,
One heav'd a high, to be hurl'd down below :
A mother only mock'd with two fair babes;
A dream of what thou wast; a garishs flag,
To be the aim of every dangerous shot;
A sign of dignity, a breath, a bubble;
A queen in jest, only to fill the scene.
Where is thy husband now? where be thy brothers?
Where be thy two sons? wherein dost thou joy?
Who sues, and kneels, and says-God save the

queen?

Where be the bending peers that flatter'd thee?
Where be the thronging troops that follow'd thee?
Decline all this, and see what now thou art.
For happy wife, a most distressed widow;

(1) Seniority. (2) Companion.
(3) Thrown in to boot.

For joyful mother, one that wails the name;
For one being sued to, one that humbly sues;
For queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care:
For one that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me;
For one being fear'd of all, now fearing one;
For one commanding all, obey'd of none.
Thus hath the course of justice wheel'd about,
And left thee but a very prey to time;
Having no more but thought of what thou wert,
To torture thee the more, being what thou art.
Thou didst usurp my place, And dost thou not
Usurp the just proportion of my sorrow?
Now thy proud neck bears half my burden'd yoke;
From which even here I slip my wearied head,
And leave the burden of it all on thee.
Farewell, York's wife, and queen of sad mis-

chance,

These English woes shall make me smile in France. Q. Eliz. O thou well skill'd in curses, stay a while, And teach me how to curse mine enemies.

Q. Mar. Forbear to sleep the night, and fast the

day;

Compare dead happiness with living wo;
Think that thy babes were fairer than they were,
And he, that slew them, fouler than he is:
Bettering thy loss makes the bad causer worse;
Revolving this will teach thee how to curse.

Q. Eliz. My words are dull, O, quicken them with thine!

Q. Mar. Thy woes will make them sharp, and pierce like mine. Exit Q. Mar. Duch. Why should calamity be full of words? Q. Eliz. Windy attorneys to their client woes, Airy succeeders of intestate joys, Poor breathing orators of miseries! Let them have scope: though what they do impart Help nothing else, yet do they ease the heart.

Duch. If so, then be not tongue-ty'd: go with

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K. Rich. Ay, I thank God, my father, and your-
self.

Duch. Then patiently hear my impatience.
K. Rich. Madain, I have a touch of your con-
dition,

That cannot brook the accent of reproof.

Duch. O, let me speak.
K. Rich.

Do, then; but I'll not hear.
Duch. I will be mild and gentle in my words.
K. Rich. And brief, good mother; for I am in
haste.

Duch. Art thou so hasty? I have staid for thee,
God knows, in torment and in agony.

K. Rich. And came I not at last to comfort you?
Duch. No, by the holy rood, 2 thou know'st it well,
Thou cam'st on earth to make the earth my hell.
A grievous burden was thy birth to me;
Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy;
Thy school-days, frightful, desperate, wild, and fu-
rious;

Thy prime of manhood, daring, bold, and ven

turous;

Thy age confirm'd, proud, subtle, sly, and bloody,
More mild, but yet more harmful, kind in hatred:
What comfortable hour canst thou name,

That ever grac'd me in thy company?

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K. Rich. Lo, at their births good stars were opposite.

Q. Eliz. No, to their lives bad friends were contrary.

K. Rich. All unavoided is the doom of destiny.
Q. Eliz. True, when avoided grace makes des-
tiny:

My babes were destin'd to a fairer death,
If grace had bless'd thee with a fairer life.

K. Rich. You speak, as if that I had slain my
cousins.

Q. Eliz. Cousins, indeed; and by their uncle
cozen'd

Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life.
Whose hands 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 stills use of grief makes wild grief tame,
My tongue should to thy ears not name my boys,

K. Rich. 'Faith, none, but Humphrey Hour, that Till that my nails were anchor'd in thine eyes; call'd your grace

To breakfast once, forth of my company.

If I be so disgracious in your sight,
Let me march on, and not offend you, madam.-

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For I shall never speak to thee again.

K. Rich. So.

Duch. Either thou wilt die, by God's just ordi

nance,

Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror;
Or I with grief and extreme age shall perish,
And never look upon thy face again.
Therefore, take with thee my most heavy curse,
Which, in the day of battle, tire thee more,
Than all the cómplete 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.

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.

K. Rich. Madam, so thrive I in my enterprize,

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!

Q. Eliz. What good is cover'd with the face of

heaven,

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

K. Rich. The advancement of your children, gentle lady.

Q. Eliz. Up to some scaffold, there to lose their heads?

K. Rich. No, to the dignity and height of fortune, The high imperial type of this earth's glory.6

Q. Eliz. Flatter my sorrows with report of it;
Tell me, what state, what dignity, what honour,
Canst thou demise to any child of mine?

K. Rich. 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.

[Exit. Q. Eliz. Be brief, lest that the process of thy

Q. Eliz. Though far more cause, yet much less spirit to curse

Abides in me; I say amen to her.

[Going. K. Rich. Stay, madam, I must speak a word with

you.

Q. Eliz. I have no more sons of the royal blood, For thee to murder: for my daughters, Richard,They shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens; And therefore level not to hit their lives.

K. Rich. You have a daughter call'd-Elizabeth,
Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious.

Q. Eliz. 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.

K. Rich. Wrong not her birth, she is of royal
blood.

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kindness

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K. Rich. What do you think?

Q. Eliz. 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,
K. Rich. Be not so hasty to confound my mean-
ing:

I mean, that with my soul I love thy daughter,
And do intend to make her queen of England.

Q. Eliz. Well then, who dost thou mean shall be
her king?

K. Rich. Even he, that makes her queen: Who

else should be?

Q. Eliz. What, thou?

(5) Constant. (6) A crown. (7) Bequeath.

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