William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition (110 page)
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Authors: William Shakespeare
Tags: #Drama, #Literary Criticism, #Shakespeare
BOOK: William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition
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TYRRELL
Let me have open means to come to them,
And soon I’ll rid you from the fear of them.
And soon I’ll rid you from the fear of them.
KING RICHARD
Thou sing’st sweet music. Hark, come hither, Tyrrell.
Go, by this token. Rise, and lend thine ear.
Go, by this token. Rise, and lend thine ear.
Richard whispers in his ear
‘Tis no more but so. Say it is done,
And I will love thee, and prefer thee for it.
And I will love thee, and prefer thee for it.
TYRRELL I will dispatch it straight. ⌈KING RICHARD⌉
Shall we hear from thee, Tyrrell, ere we sleep?
Enter Buckingham
⌈TYRRELL⌉ Ye shall, my lord.
Exit
Exit
BUCKINGHAM
My lord, I have considered in my mind
The late request that you did sound me in.
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 pawned:
Th’earldom of Hereford, and the movables
Which you have promised I shall possess.
For which your honour and your faith is pawned:
Th’earldom of Hereford, and the movables
Which you have promised I shall possess.
KING RICHARD
Stanley, look to your wife. If she convey
Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it.
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... perhaps.
Did prophesy that Richmond should be king,
When Richmond was a little peevish boy.
A king... perhaps... 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?
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 showed me the castle,
And called it ‘Ruge-mount’—at which name I started,
Because a bard of Ireland told me once
I should not live long after I saw ‘Richmond’.
The Mayor in courtesy showed me the castle,
And called it ‘Ruge-mount’—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 promised me.
Of what you promised me.
KING RICHARD
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 today.
Betwixt thy begging and my meditation.
I am not in the giving vein today.
BUCKINGHAM
Why then resolve me, whe’er you will or no?
KING RICHARD
Thou troublest me. I am not in the vein.
Exit Richard, followed by all but Buckingham
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 Brecon, while my fearful head is on.
With such contempt? Made I him king for this?
O let me think on Hastings, and be gone
To Brecon, while my fearful head is on.
Exit
⌈
at another door
⌉
Enter Sir James Tyrrell
TYRRELL
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 fleshed 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 kissed each other.
A book of prayers on their pillow lay,
Which once’, quoth Forrest, ‘almost changed my mind.
But O, the devil’—there the villain stopped,
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.—AH health, my sovereign lord.
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 fleshed 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 kissed each other.
A book of prayers on their pillow lay,
Which once’, quoth Forrest, ‘almost changed my mind.
But O, the devil’—there the villain stopped,
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.
Enter King Richard
KING RICHARD
Kind Tyrrell, am I happy in thy news?
TYRRELL
If to have done the thing you gave in charge
Beget your happiness, be happy then,
For it is done.
Beget your happiness, be happy then,
For it is done.
KING RICHARD
But didst thou see them dead?
TYRRELL
I did, my lord.
KING RICHARD
And buried, gentle Tyrrell?
TYRRELL
The chaplain of the Tower hath buried them;
But where, to say the truth, I do not know.
But where, to say the truth, I do not know.
KING RICHARD
Come to me, Tyrrell, 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.
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.
TYRRELL
I humbly take my leave.
Exit
KING RICHARD
The son of Clarence have I pent up close.
His daughter meanly have I matched in marriage.
The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham’s bosom,
And Anne, my wife, hath bid this world goodnight.
Now, for I know the Breton Richmond aims
At young Elizabeth, my brother’s daughter,
And by that knot looks proudly o’er the crown,
To her go I, a jolly thriving wooer—
His daughter meanly have I matched in marriage.
The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham’s bosom,
And Anne, my wife, hath bid this world goodnight.
Now, for I know the Breton Richmond aims
At young Elizabeth, my brother’s daughter,
And by that knot looks proudly o’er the crown,
To her go I, a jolly thriving wooer—
Enter Sir Richard Ratcliffe,
⌈
running
⌉
RATCLIFFE My lord.
KING RICHARD
Good news or bad, that thou com’st in so bluntly?
RATCLIFFE
Bad news, my lord. Ely is fled to Richmond,
And Buckingham, backed with the hardy Welshmen,
Is in the field, and still his power increaseth.
And Buckingham, backed 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 learned that fearful commenting
Is leaden servitor to dull delay.
Delay leads impotent and snail-paced beggary.
Then fiery expedition be my wing:
Jove’s Mercury, an herald for a king.
Go, muster men. My counsel is my shield.
We must be brief, when traitors brave the field.
Than Buckingham. and his rash-levied strength.
Come, I have learned that fearful commenting
Is leaden servitor to dull delay.
Delay leads impotent and snail-paced beggary.
Then fiery expedition be my wing:
Jove’s Mercury, an herald for a king.
Go, muster men. My counsel is my shield.
We must be brief, when traitors brave the field.
Exeunt
4.4Enter old Queen Margaret
QUEEN MARGARET
So now prosperity begins to mellow
And drop into the rotten mouth of death.
Here in these confines slyly have I lurked
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?
And drop into the rotten mouth of death.
Here in these confines slyly have I lurked
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.
⌈
Enter the old Duchess of York and Queen Elizabeth
⌉
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 fixed in doom perpetual,
Hover about me with your airy wings
And hear your mother’s lamentation.
My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets!
If yet your gentle souls fly in the air,
And be not fixed in doom perpetual,
Hover about me with your airy wings
And hear your mother’s lamentation.
QUEEN MARGARET (aside)
Hover about her, say that right for right
Hath dimmed your infant morn to aged night.
Hath dimmed your infant morn to aged night.
DUCHESS OF YORK
So many miseries have crazed my voice
That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute.
Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?
That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute.
Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?
QUEEN MARGARET (
aside
)
aside
)
Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet;
Edward for Edward pays a dying debt.
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?
And throw them in the entrails of the wolf?
When didst thou sleep, when such a deed was done?
QUEEN MARGARET (
aside
)
aside
)
When holy Harry died, and my sweet son.
DUCHESS OF YORK
Dead life, blind sight, poor mortal living ghost,
Woe’s scene, world’s shame, grave’s due by life
usurped,
Brief abstract and record of tedious days,
Rest thy unrest on England’s lawful earth,
Unlawfully made drunk with innocents’ blood.
They sit
Woe’s scene, world’s shame, grave’s due by life
usurped,
Brief abstract and record of tedious days,
Rest thy unrest on England’s lawful earth,
Unlawfully made drunk with innocents’ blood.
They sit
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?
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?
QUEEN MARGARET (
coming forward
)
coming forward
)
If ancient sorrow be most reverend,
Give mine the benefit of seniory,
And let my griefs frown on the upper hand.
If sorrow can admit society,
Tell o’er your woes again by viewing mine.
I had an Edward, till a Richard killed him;
I had a husband, till a Richard killed him.
(
To Elizabeth
) Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard killed him;
Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard killed him.
Give mine the benefit of seniory,
And let my griefs frown on the upper hand.
If sorrow can admit society,
Tell o’er your woes again by viewing mine.
I had an Edward, till a Richard killed him;
I had a husband, till a Richard killed him.
(
To Elizabeth
) Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard killed him;
Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard killed him.
DUCHESS OF YORK
rising
rising
I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill him;
I had a Rutland too, thou holpst to kill him.
I had a Rutland too, thou holpst to kill him.
QUEEN MARGARET
Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Richard killed 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 handiwork,
That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls;
That excellent grand tyrant of the earth
Thy womb let loose to chase us to our graves.
O upright, just, and true-disposing God,
How do I thank thee that this charnel cur
Preys on the issue of his mother’s body,
And makes her pewfellow with others’ moan.
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 handiwork,
That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls;
That excellent grand tyrant of the earth
Thy womb let loose to chase us to our graves.
O upright, just, and true-disposing God,
How do I thank thee that this charnel cur
Preys on the issue of his mother’s body,
And makes her pewfellow with others’ moan.
DUCHESS OF YORK
O Harry’s wife, triumph not in my woes.
God witness with me, I have wept for thine.
God witness with me, I have wept for thine.
QUEEN MARGARET
Bear with me. I am hungry for revenge,
And now I cloy me with beholding it.
Thy Edward, he is dead, that killed my Edward;
Thy other Edward dead, to quite my Edward;
Young York, he is but boot, because both they
Matched not the high perfection of my loss;
Thy Clarence, he is dead, that stabbed my Edward,
And the beholders of this frantic plays—
Th’adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Gray—
Untimely smothered in their dusky graves.
Richard yet lives, hell’s black intelligencer,
Only reserved 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 conveyed from hence.
Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I plead,
That I may live and say, ‘The dog is dead’.
And now I cloy me with beholding it.
Thy Edward, he is dead, that killed my Edward;
Thy other Edward dead, to quite my Edward;
Young York, he is but boot, because both they
Matched not the high perfection of my loss;
Thy Clarence, he is dead, that stabbed my Edward,
And the beholders of this frantic plays—
Th’adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Gray—
Untimely smothered in their dusky graves.
Richard yet lives, hell’s black intelligencer,
Only reserved 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 conveyed from hence.
Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I plead,
That I may live and say, ‘The dog is dead’.
QUEEN ELIZABETH
O thou didst prophesy the time would come
That I should wish for thee to help me curse
That bottled spider, that foul bunch-backed toad.
That I should wish for thee to help me curse
That bottled spider, that foul bunch-backed toad.
QUEEN MARGARET
I called thee then ‘vain flourish of my fortune’;
I called thee then, poor shadow, ‘painted queen’—
The presentation of but what I was,
The flattering index of a direful pageant,
One heaved a-high to be hurled down below,
A mother only mocked with two fair babes,
A dream of what thou wast, a garish 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 are thy two sons? Wherein dost thou joy?
Who sues, and kneels, and says ‘God save the Queen’?
Where be the bending peers that flattered thee?
Where be the thronging troops that followed thee?
Decline all this, and see what now thou art:
For happy wife, a most distressed widow;
For joyful mother, one that wails the name;
For queen, a very caitiff, crowned with care;
For one being sued to, one that humbly sues;
For she that scorned at me, now scorned of me;
For she being feared of all, now fearing one;
For she commanding all, obeyed of none.
Thus hath the course of justice whirled 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 burdened yoke—
From which, even here, I slip my weary head,
And leave the burden of it all on thee.
Farewell, York’s wife, and queen of sad mischance.
These English woes shall make me smile in France.
I called thee then, poor shadow, ‘painted queen’—
The presentation of but what I was,
The flattering index of a direful pageant,
One heaved a-high to be hurled down below,
A mother only mocked with two fair babes,
A dream of what thou wast, a garish 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 are thy two sons? Wherein dost thou joy?
Who sues, and kneels, and says ‘God save the Queen’?
Where be the bending peers that flattered thee?
Where be the thronging troops that followed thee?
Decline all this, and see what now thou art:
For happy wife, a most distressed widow;
For joyful mother, one that wails the name;
For queen, a very caitiff, crowned with care;
For one being sued to, one that humbly sues;
For she that scorned at me, now scorned of me;
For she being feared of all, now fearing one;
For she commanding all, obeyed of none.
Thus hath the course of justice whirled 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 burdened yoke—
From which, even here, I slip my weary head,
And leave the burden of it all on thee.
Farewell, York’s wife, and queen of sad mischance.
These English woes shall make me smile in France.
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