 Dramatist Personae of Richard III Richard III by William Shakespeare Dramatist Personae King Edward IV Read by David Cole Edward, Prince of Wales Read by Sandra Richard, Duke of York Read by Trisha G. George, Duke of Clarence Read by Bob Sherman Richard, Duke of Gloucester Read by David Nickel Son of Clarence Read by Nazine Cadbury Henry, Earl of Richmond Played by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina Cardinal Boucher Read by Nullifidian Archbishop of York Read by Abai of Eli Voiced by Robert Smith The Duke of Buckingham Read by M.B. The Duke of Norfolk Read by Bruce Perry Earl of Surrey Read by Lucy Perry Earl, Rivers Read by Denny Sayers Marquis of Dorset Read by Stephen Carney Lot Gris Read by O.123 Oxford Read by Roger Clifton Lord Hastings Read by Peter Bloomfield Lord Stanley Read by Andy Minta Lord Lovel Read by L. Lambert Blossom Sir Thomas Vaughn Read by David Lawrence Sir Richard Radcliffe Read by Philip Podjoa King Sir William Catesby Read by Sahar Eisenstein Bond Sir James Tyrrell Read by Juanivo Mofo Sir James Blunt Read by Nullifidian Sir Walter Herbert Read by L. Lambert Lawson Sir Robert Brackenberry Read by Garrett Fitzgerald Christopher Urswick Read by Christopher Caron Priest Read by David Lawrence The Lord Mayor of London Played by Mark Smith Sheriff of Wiltshire Voiced by Robert Smith Queen Elizabeth Read by Elizabeth Clatt Margaret Read by Ruth Golding The Duchess of York Read by Karen Savage Lady Anne Read by Ariel Libshaw Daughter of Clarence Read by Avayee First Gentleman Read by David Lawrence Pursuvent Read by Matt Judd A Scrivener Read by Elizabeth Clatt Read by Stephen Carney Third Citizen Read by Juanivo Mofo First Murderer Voiced by Robert Smith Second Murderer Read by Zonia Messenger Read by Kalinda Second Messenger Read by Veronica Jenkins Third Messenger Read by Zonia Fourth Messenger Read by Roger Clifton Ghost of Prince Edward Read by Snafaxi Ghost of Henry VI Read by Juanivo Mofo Narrated by Dana Milingar End of Dramatist Persona Act 1 of Richard III by William Shakespeare This is a LibriVox recording. 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For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Act 1 Scene 1 London A Street Enter Gloucester Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York And all the clouds that lured 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 allurems changed to merry meetings Our dreadful marches to delightful measures Grim-visaged war have smoothed 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 This chivious pleasing of a lute But I that am not shaped for sportive tricks Nor made to court an amorous looking glass I that am rudely stamped And want love's majesty to strut before a wanton ambling nymph I that am curtailed Of this fair proportion Cheated of feature by dissembling nature Deformed, unfinished Sent before my time into this breathing world Scares 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 A shadow in the sun and discant on my own deformity And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover To entertain these farewell-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 B. has true and just As I am subtle, false, and treacherous This day should Clarence closely be mewed up About a prophecy which says that G. of Edward's heirs The murderer shall be My thoughts down to my soul, here Clarence comes Enter Clarence, guarded, and Brackenbury Brother, good day What means this armoured guard that waits upon your grace? His Majesty, tendering my person's safety Hath appointed this conduct to convey me to the tower Upon what cause? Because my name is George Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours He should for that commit your godfathers Oh, be like his Majesty, hath some intent That you should be new christened in the tower But what's the matter, Clarence? May I know? Yea, Richard, when I know, for I protest as yet I do not But as I can learn, he harkens 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 Have moved his highness to commit me now Why this it is when men are ruled by women It is not the king that sends you to the tower My Lady Grey, his wife, Clarence, is she That tempers him to this extremity Was it not she in 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 delivered We are not safe, Clarence We are not safe By heaven I think there is no man is secure But the Queen's kindred, a night-walking heralds A trudge betwixt the King in Mistress Shore Heard you not what an humble suppliant Lord Hastings was to her For his delivery 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 or worn widow and herself since that Our brother dubbed them gentle women Our mighty gossips in our monarchy I beseech your graces both to pardon me His Majesty has straightly given in charge That no man shall have private conference Of what degree so ever with your brother Even so, and please your worship, Brackenbren You may partake of anything 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 have a pretty foot A cherry lip, a bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue And that the Queen's kindred are made gentle folks How say you, sir? Can you deny all this? With this, my Lord, myself have not to do Not to do with Mistress Shore I tell thee, fellow, he that dubbed Nought with her Accepting one were best to do it secretly alone What one, my Lord? Her husband, Dave, wouldst thou betray me? I do beseech your grace to pardon me And with all, forbear your conference with the noble Duke We know thy charge, Brackenbury, and will obey We are the Queen's abjects and must obey Brother farewell, I will unto the King And whatsoever 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 I know it pleaseth neither of us well Well, your imprisonment shall not be long I will deliver or else lie for you Meantime, have patience I must perforce, farewell Exe and Clarence, Brackenbury, and guard 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 A good time of day unto my gracious Lord As much unto my good Lord Chamberlain Well, are you welcome to the open air How have your lordship brooked imprisonment? With patience, noble lord, as prisoners must But I shall live my lord to give them thanks That were the cause of my imprisonment No doubt, no doubt, and social Clarence, too For they that were your enemies are his And have prevailed as much on him as you More pity that the eagles should be mowed While kites and buzzards prey at liberty What news abroad? No news so bad abroad as this at home The king is sickly, weakened melancholy And his physicians fear him mightily By St. Paul that news is bad indeed Oh, he hath kept an evil diet long And over much consumed his royal person To his very grievance to be thought upon What is he in his bed? He is Go you before, and I will follow you Exit Hastings He cannot live, I hope And must not die till George Be packed with a post-horse up to heaven I'll in to urge his hatred more to Clarence With lies well-stealed with weighty arguments And if I fail not in my deep intent Clarence have 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 killed her husband and her father The readiest way to make the wench amends Is to become her husband and her father The witch will I Not all so much for love as for another Secret close intent by marrying her Which I must reach unto Ha, 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 two London, another street Enter the corpse of King Henry VI Born in an open coffin Gentlemen bearing halberds to guard it And Lady Anne is mourner Set down Set down your honourable load If honour may be shrouded in a hearse Whilst I, a while, obsequiously lament The 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 indicate thy ghost To hear the lamentations of poor Anne Wife to thy Edward to thy slaughtered son Stabbed by the self-same hand that made these wounds Low, in these windows that let forth thy life I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes Oh, 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 thing that lives If ever he have child, abortive be it Prudigious 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, whilst I lament King Henry's course The bearers take up the corpse and advance Enter Gloucester Stay, you that bear the corpse and set it down What black magician conjures up this fiend To stop devoted charitable deeds Villains, set down the corpse, or by St. Paul I'll make a corpse of him that disobeys My lord, stand back and let the coffin pass Unmanaged dog, stand thou when I command Advanced I, howbert, higher than my breast Or by St. Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot And spurn upon thee beggar for thy boldness The bearers set down the coffin What do you tremble? Are you all afraid? Alas, I blame you not, for you are mortal And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil Avant thou dreadful minister of hell Thou hath spent power over his mortal body His soul thou canst not have, therefore be gone Sweet saint, for charity be not so cursed Foul devil, for God's sake, hence and trouble us not For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell Filled it with cursing cries and deep exclaims If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds Behold this pattern of thy butcheries Oh, gentlemen, see See dead Henry's wounds open their congealed mouths And bleed afresh Blush, blush thou lump of foul deformity What is thy presence that exhales this blood From cold and empty veins where no blood dwells Thy deeds inhuman and unnatural Provokes this deluge most unnatural Oh, God, which this blood mates to revenge his death Oh, earth, which this blood drinks to revenge his death Either heaven with lightning strike the murderer dead Or earth gape open wide and eat him quick As thou dost swallow up this good king's blood Which his hell-governed arm hath butchered Lady, you know no rules of charity Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses Fill in thou no snow-law of God nor man No beast so fierce but no some touch of pity But I know none, and therefore am no beast Oh, wonderful, when devils tell the truth More wonderful when angels are so angry Vouch safe, divine perfection of a woman Of these supposed crimes to give me leave by circumstance But to acquit myself Vouch safe, diffused infection of a man Of these known evils but to give me leave by circumstance To accuse thy curse itself Fairer than tongue can name thee Let me have some patient leisure to excuse myself Fowler than heart can think thee Thou canst make no excuse current But to hang thyself By such despair I should accuse myself And by despairing shout thou stand excused For doing worthy vengeance on thyself That didst unworthy slaughter upon others Say that I slew them not Then say they were not slain But dead they are and devilish slave by thee I did not kill your husband Why, then, he is alive Nay, he is dead And slain by Edward's hand In thy foul throat thou liest Queen Margaret saw thy murderous falchern Smoking in his blood The witch thou once did spend against her breast But that thy brothers beat aside the point I was provoked by her slanderous tongue That laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders Thou was provoked by thy bloody mind That never dreamt unought but butcheries Didst thou not kill this king? I grant ye Just grant me, hedgehog Then God grant me, too, thou mayst be damned For that wicked deed O, he was gentle, mild and virtuous The better for the king of heaven that have him He is in heaven where thou shalt never come Let him thank me that hoped to send him thither For he was fitter for that place than earth And thou unfit for any place but hell Yes, one place else If you will hear me name it Some dungeon Your bed-chamber? He'll rest but hide the chamber where thou liest So will it, madam, till I lie with you I hope so I know so, but gentle lady Anne To leave this keen encounter of our wits And fall something into a slower method Is not the causer of the timeless deaths Of these plantagenets Henry and Edward As blameful as the executioner Thou was the cause and most accursed effect Your beauty was the cause of that effect Your beauty that did haunt me in my sleep To undertake the death of all the world So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom If I thought that, I tell the homicide These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks These eyes could not endure that beauty's wreck You should not blemish if I stood by As all the world is cheered by the sun So I ride that It is my day, my life Black knight or shade thy day And death thy life Curse not thyself, fair creature Thou art both I would I were to be revenged on thee It is a quarrel most unnatural To be revenged on him that loveth thee It is a quarrel just and reasonable To be revenged on him that killed my husband He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband Did it to help thee to a better husband His better doth not breathe upon the earth He lives that loves thee better than he could Name him Plantagenet Why, that was he Thyself's same name, but one of better nature Where is he? Here Why dost thou spit at me? Would it were mortal poison for thy sake? Never came poison from so sweet a place Never hung poison on a foul a toad Out of my sight thou dost infect mine eyes Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine Would they were basilisks to strike thee dead? I would they were, that I might die at once For now they kill me with a living death Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears Shamed their aspects with store of childish drops These eyes, which never shed remorseful tear No, when my father York and Edward wept To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made When black-faced Clifford shook his sword at him Nor when thy warlike father, like a child Told the sad story of my father's death Many times made pours to sob and weep That all the standards by had wet their cheeks Like trees bedashed with rain In that sad time my manly eyes Did scorn an humble tear And what these sorrows could not then exhale Thy beauty have and made them blind with weeping I never sued a friend nor enemy My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing word But now thy beauty is proposed my fee My proud heart sues and prompts my tongue to speak She looks scornfully at him Teach not thy lips such scorn For it was made for kissing, lady Not for such contempt If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive Lo, I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword Which, if thou pleased to hide in this true breast And let the soul forth that adores thee I lay it naked to the deadly stroke And humbly beg the death upon my knee Nay, do not pause, for I did kill King Henry He lays his breast open She offered set it with his sword But was thy beauty that provoked me Nay, now dispatch, twas I that stabbed young Edward She again offered that his breast But was thy heavenly face that set me on She lets fall to sword Take up the sword again Or take up me Arise, dissembler Though I wish thy death I will not be thy executioner Then bid me kill myself And I will do it I have already That was in thy rage, speak it again And even with the word this hand Which for thy love did kill thy love Shall for thy love kill a far truer love To both their deaths shall thou be accessory I would, I knew thy heart Tis figured in my tongue I fear me both, our force There never was man true Well, well, put up your sword Say then my peace is made That shall thou know hereafter But shall I live in hope Or men I hope live so Fout safe to wear this ring To take is not to give She puts on her ring Look how this ring encompasseth thy finger Even so thy breast encloses my poor heart Wear both of them, for both of them are thine And if thy poor devoted servant May but beg one favour at thy gracious hand Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever What is it? That it may please you, leave these sad designs To him that has most cause to be a mourner And presently repair to Crosby Place Where, after I have solemnly interred at Chertsey Monastery This noble king and wet his grave with my repentant tears I will with all expedient duty see you For diverse unknown reasons I beseech you Grant me this boon With all my heart And much it joys me too to see you are become so penitent Tressel and Berkley, go along with me Bid me farewell? Tis more than you deserve But since you teach me how to flatter you Imagine I have said farewell already Accent lady Anne, Tress and Berk Says, take up the corpse Toward Chertsey? Noble lord? No, to Whitefriars, there attend my coming Accent the rest with the corpse Was ever a woman in this humor wooed? Was ever a woman in this humor won? I'll have her But I will not keep her long What? I that killed her husband and his father To take her in her heart's extremist hate With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes The bleeding witness of her hatred by? Having got her conscience at these bars against me And I no friends to back my suit with all Plain devil and dissembling looks And yet to win her? Oh, the world to nothing! Ha! Has she forgot already that brave Prince Edward Her lord whom I some three months since stabbed In my angry mood at Tewkesbury? A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman Framed in the prodigality of nature Young, valiant, wise and no doubt right royal The spacious world cannot again afford And will she yet abase her eyes on me? That cropped the golden prime of the sweet prince And made her widow to a woeful bed? On me? Whose all not equals Edward's moiety? On me? That halt and am misshapen thus? My duke them to a beggarly denier I do mistake my person all this while Upon my life she finds, although I cannot Myself to be a marvellous proper man I'll be at charges for a looking glass And entertain a score or two of tailors To study fashions to adorn my body Since I am crept in favour with myself I will maintain it with some little cost But first I'll turn Yon fellow in his grave And then return lamenting to my love Shine out, fair son, till I have bought a glass That I may see my shadow as I pass Exit Scene three London, a room in the palace Enter Queen Elizabeth, Lord Rivers and Lord Grey Have patience, madam There's no doubt his majesty will soon recover His accustomed health In that you brook it ill It makes him worse Therefore for God's sake entertain good comfort And cheer his grace with quick and merry eyes If he were dead, what would be tied on me? No other harm but loss of such a lord? The loss of such a lord includes all harms The heavens have blessed you with a good listen To be a comforter when he is gone Ah, he is young And his minority is put into the trust of Richard Gloucester A man that loves not me nor none of you Is it concluded he shall be protector? It is determined, not concluded yet But so it must be if the king miscarry Enter Buckingham and Stanley Here come the lords of Buckingham and Stanley Good time of day unto your royal grace God make your majesty joyful as you have been The Countess Richmond, good my lord of Stanley To your good prayer will scarcely say amen Yet Stanley, notwithstanding she's your wife And loves not me Be you, good lord, assured I hate not you For her proud arrogance I do beseech you either not believe the envious slanders Of her false accusers Or if she be accused on true report There with her weakness which I think proceeds From wayward sickness and no grounded malice Saw you the king today, my lord of Stanley But now the Duke of Buckingham and I Are come from visiting his majesty What likelihood of his amendment, lords? Madam, good help His grace speaks gently Good god grant him health Did you confer with him? I, madam, he desires to make atonement Between the Duke of Gloucester and your brothers And between them and my lord Chamberlain And sent to warn them to his royal presence Would all were well But that will never be I fear our happiness is at the height Enter Gloucester, Hastings and Orset They do me wrong and I will not endure it Who are they that complain unto the king That I forsooth am stern and love them not? By holy Paul they love his grace But lightly that fill his ears With such dissentious rumours Because I cannot flatter and look fair Smile in men's faces Smooth deceive and cog Duck with French nods And apish courtesy I must be held a rankerous enemy I cannot a plain man live And think no harm But thus his simple truth Must be abused with silken sly Insinuating jacks To who in all this presence speaks your grace To thee that have not honesty nor grace When have I injured thee? When done thee wrong? Or thee, or thee, or any of your faction A plague upon you all His royal grace Can serve better than you would wish Cannot be quiet, scarce a breathing while But you must trouble him with lewd complaints Brother of Gloucester, you mistake the matter The king on his own royal disposition And not provoked by any suitor else Aiming be like at your interior hatred That in your outward action shows itself Against my children, brothers and myself Makes him to send That thereby he may gather the ground Of your ill will and so remove it I can't tell The world has grown so bad That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch Since every jack became a gentleman There's many a gentle person made a jack Come, come, we know your meaning, brother Gloucester You envy my advancement and my friends God grant we never may have need of you Meantime, God grants that we have need of you Our brother is imprisoned by your means Myself disgraced and the nobility held in contempt While great promotions are daily given to ennoble those That scarce some two days since were worth ennoble By him that raised me to this careful height From that contented hap which I enjoyed I never did incense his majesty against the Duke of Clarence But have been an earnest advocate to plead for him My lord, you do me shameful injury Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects You may deny that you were not the mean Of my lord Hastings' late imprisonment She may, my lord, for She may, lord Rivers Why, who knows not so? She may do more, sir, than denying that She may help you to many fair preferments And then deny her aiding hand therein And lay those honours on your high desert What, may she not? She may, I marry may she What, marry may she? What, marry may she? Marry with a king, a bachelor And a handsome stripling too I wish your grandam had a worser match My lord of Gloucester I have too long borne your blunt up braiding And your bitter scoffs By heaven I will acquaint his majesty Of those gross taunt that oft I have endured I had rather be a country servant made Than a great queen with this condition To be so baited, scorned, and stormed at Enter old Queen Margaret behind Small joy have I in being England's queen And lessened be that small god I beseech him Thy honour, state, and seat is due to me What? Threat you me with telling of the king? Tell him and spare not Look, what I have said I will avouch in presence of the king I dare adventure to be sent to the tower It is time to speak, my pains are quite forgot Out, devil, I do remember them too well Thou killed my husband Henry in the tower And Edward, my poor son at Tewkesbury ere you were queen, I, or your husband king I was a pack-horse in his great affairs A weeder out of his proud adversaries A liberal rewarder of his friends To royalise his blood I spelt mine own Aye, and much better blood than his or thine In all which time you and your husband grey Were factious for the house of Lancaster And rivers, so were you Was not your husband in Margaret's battle At St. Albans slain? Let me put in your minds if you forget What you have been ere this and what you are With all what I have been and what I am A murderous villain and so still thou art Poor Clarence did forsake his father Warwick Aye, and forswore himself Which, Jesus, pardon Which, God, revenge To fight on Edward's party for the crown And for his mead, poor Lord, he is mewed up I would to God my heart were flint like Edward's Or Edward's soft and pitiful like mine Aye, am too childish foolish for this world Aye, thee to hell for shame And leave this world thou cacodemon There thy kingdom is My Lord of Gloucester In those busy days Which here you urge to prove us enemies We follow then our Lord, our sovereign king So should we you If you should be our king If I should be? I'd rather be a peddler Far be it from my heart the thought thereof As little joy my Lord As you suppose you should enjoy For you this country's king As little joy you may suppose in me That I enjoy being the queen thereof As little joy enjoys the queen thereof For I am she and altogether joyless I can no longer hold me patient Advancing Hear me you wrangling pirates That fall out in sharing that which you have Pilled from me Which of you trembles not that looks on me If not that I am queen you bow like subjects Yet that by you deposed you quake like rebels Our gentle villain do not turn away Foul wrinkled witch what makes thou in my sight But repetition of what thou has marred That will I make before I let thee go Werd thou not banished on pain of death I was, but I do find more pain in banishment Than death can yield me here by my abode A husband and a son thou oest to me And thou a kingdom All of you allegiance This sorrow that I have by right is yours And all the pleasures you usurp are mine The curse my noble father laid on thee When thou didst crown his war-like brows with paper And with thy scorns droost rivers from his eyes And then to dry them gave the duke a clout Steeped in the faultless blood of pretty Rutland His curses, then, from bitterness of soul Denounced against thee are all fallen upon thee And God, not we, hath plagued thy bloody deed So just is God to write the innocent Oat was the foulest deed to slay that babe And the most merciless it ere was heard of Pirants themselves wept when it was reported No man hath prophesied revenge for it Nor Thumbelon then present wept to see it What were you snarling all before I came Ready to catch each other by the throat And turn you all your hatred now on me Did York's dread curse prevail so much with heaven That Henry's death, my lovely Edward's death Their kingdom's loss, my woeful punishment Should all but answer for that peevish brat Can curses pierce the clouds and enter heaven? Why, then, give way dull clouds to my quick curses Though not by war, by surfeit die your king As ours by murder to make him a king Edward thy son that now is Prince of Wales For Edward our son that was Prince of Wales Die in his use by like untimely violence Thyself for queen, for me that was a queen Live thy glory like my wretched self Long mayest thou live to wail thy children's death And see another as I see thee now decked in thy rights As thou art stalled in mine Long die thy happy days before thy death And after many lengths and hours of grief Die neither mother, wife, nor England's queen Rivers endorse it, you were stunned as by And so was thou, Lord Hastings, When my son was stabbed with bloody daggers God, I pray him that none of you may live his natural age But by some unlooked accident cut off Have done thy charm, thou hateful withered hag And leave out thee, stay, dog, for thou shalt hear me If heaven have any grievous plague in store Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee Oh, let them keep it till thy sins be ripe And then hurl down their indignation on thee The troubler of the poor world's peace The worm of conscience still been nor thy soul Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou lived And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine Unless it be while some tormenting dream Frights thee with a hell of ugly devils Thou elvish marked abortive rooting hawk Thou that was sealed in thy nativity The slave of nature and the son of hell Thou slander of thy heavy mother's womb Thou loathed issue of thy father's loins Thou rag of honour, thou detested Margaret Richard, I call thee not I cry thee mercy then, for I did think thou hadst called me all these bitter names I so I did, but looked for no reply Oh, let me make the period to my curse Tis done by me and ends in Margaret Thus have you breathed your curse against yourself Poor painted queen, then flourish of my fortune Why strews thou sugar on that bottled spider Whose deadly web in snareeth thee about Fool, fool, thou wetst a knife to kill thyself The day will come that thou shalt wish for me To help thee curse this poisonous bunch-backed toad False birding woman, end thy frantic curse Lest to thy harm thou move our patience Foul shame upon you, you have all moved mine Were you well served, you would be taught your duty To serve me well you all should do me duty Teach me to be your queen and you my subjects Oh, serve me well and teach yourselves that duty Dispute not with her, she is a lunatic Peace, Master Marcus, you are malapert Your fire-new stamp of honour is scarce current Oh, that your young nobility could judge what twer to lose it and be miserable They that stand high have many blasts to shake them And if they fall they dash themselves to pieces Good council, Mary, learn it, learn it, Marcus It touches you, my lord, as much as me I and much more, but I was born so high Our airy buildeth in the cedar's top And dallys with the wind and scorns the sun And turned the sun to shade alas, alas Witness my son now in the shade of death Whose bright, outshining beams, thy cloudy wrath Has in eternal darkness folded up Your airy buildeth in our airy's nest Oh, God that seized it, do not suffer it As it is one with blood lost, be it so Peace, peace for shame if not for charity Urge neither charity nor shame to me Uncharitably with me have you dealt And shamefully my hopes by your butchered My charity is outrage, life my shame And in that shame still live my sorrow's rage Have done, have done Oh, princely buckingham, I'll kiss thy hand In sign of league and amity with thee Now, fair before thee and thy noble house Thy garments are not spotted with our blood Nor thou within the compass of my curse Nor no one here, for curses never pass The lips of those that breathe them in the air I will not think but they ascend the sky And there await God's gentle sleeping peace Oh, buckingham, take heed of yonder dog Look when he fawns he bites And when he bites his venom tooth will rankle to the death Have not to do with him, beware of him Sin, death and hell have set their marks on him And all their ministers attend on him What does she say, my lord of buckingham? Nothing that I respect, my gracious lord What does thou scorn me for my gentle counsel And soothe the devil that I warned thee from? Oh, but remember this another day When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow And say poor Margaret was a prophetess Live each of you the subjects to his hate And he to yours and all of you to God's Exit My heather stand on in to hear her curses And so doth mine, I muse why she's at liberty I cannot blame her, by God's holy mother she has had too much wrong And I repent my part thereof that I have done to her I never did her any to my knowledge Yet you have all the vantage of her wrong I was too hot to do some body good That is too cold in thinking of it now Mary, as the Clarence he is well repaid He is franked up to fatting for his pains God pardon them that are the cause thereof A virtuous and a Christian-like conclusion To pray for them that hath done scathed to us So do I ever being well advised Aside For had I cursed now I had cursed myself Enter Catesby Madam, his Majesty did call for you And for your grace And you, my noble Lord Catesby, I come Lords, will you go with me? We wait upon your grace Exit all but Gloucester I do the wrong And first begin to brawl The secret mischiefs that I set abroach I lay unto the grievous charge of others Clarence, whom I indeed have cast in darkness I do beweep to many simple gulls Namely to Stanley, Hastings, Buckingham And tell them it is the Queen and her allies That stir the King against the Duke, my brother Now they believe it, and with all Wet me to be revenged on Rivers, Vaughn, Gray But then I sigh And with a piece of scripture tell them That God bids us too good for evil And thus I clothe my naked villainy With odd old ends stolen forth of holy writ And seem a saint when most I play the devil But soft, here come my executioners Enter two murderers How now, my hardy, stout resolvid mates Are you now going to dispatch this thing? We are, my Lord And come to have the warrant That we may be admitted where he is Well, thought upon, I haven't hear about me Gives the warrant When you have done, repair to Crosby Place But, sirs, be sudden in the execution With all, obdurate, do not hear him plead For Clarence is well spoken And perhaps may move your hearts to pity If you mark him T-tuck, my Lord We will not stand to pray Tuckers are no good doers Be assured, we go to use our hands And not our tongues Drop millstones when fool's eyes fall tears I like you, lads About your business straight, go, go, dispatch We will, my noble Lord Exeant Scene four London A room in the tower Enter Clarence and Brackenbury Why, looks your grace so heavily today? Oh, I have passed a miserable night So full of fearful dreams Of ugly sights As I am a Christian faithful man I would not spend another such a night Though twer to buy a world of happy days So full of dismal terror was the time What was your dream, my Lord? I pray you tell me Be thoughts that I had broken from the tower And was embarked to cross to Burgundy And in my company my brother Gloucester Who from my cabin tempted me to walk upon the hatches Thence we looked toward England Sighted up a thousand heavy times During the wars of York and Lancaster That had befallen us As we paced along upon the giddy footing of the hatches We thought that Gloucester stumbled And in falling struck me That thought to stay him overboard Into the tumbling billows of the main Oh, Lord, we thought what pain it was to drown What dreadful noise of waters in my ears What sights of ugly death within my eyes Be thoughts I saw a thousand fearful wrecks A thousand men that fishes gnawed upon Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl In estimable stones, unvalued jewels All scattered in the bottom of the sea Some lay in dead men's gulls And in the holes where eyes did once inhabit There were crept as were in scorn of eyes Reflecting gems that wooed The slimy bottom of the deep And mocked the dead bones that lay scattered by Had you such leisure in the time of death To gaze upon the secrets of the deep? We thought I had And often did I strive to yield the ghost But still the envious flood stopped in my soul And would not let it forth to find the empty Vast and wandering air But smothered it within my panting bulk Who almost burst to belch it in the sea Awake you not in this sore agony? No, no, my dream was lengthened after life Oh, then began the tempest to my soul I passed me thought the melancholy flood With that grim ferryman which poets write of Unto the kingdom of perpetual night The first that there did greet my stranger soul Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick Who spake aloud, what scourge for perjury Can this dark monarchy afford false clarence? And so he vanished Then came wandering by a shadow like an angel With bright hair, dabbled in blood And he shrieked out aloud Clarence has come, false-fleeting perjured Clarence, that stabbed me in the field by Tuxbury Seize on him, Furies, take him to your torments With that, we thought, a legion of foul fiends Environed me and howled in my ears Such hideous cries that with the very noise I trembling waked And for a season after could not believe But that I was in hell Such terrible impression made my dream No marvel, Lord, though it affraided you I am afraid, me thinks, to hear you tell it Ah, Brackenbury, I have done these things That now give evidence against my soul for Edward's sake And see how he requites me Oh, God, if my deep prayers cannot appease thee But thou wilt be avenged on my misdeeds Yet execute thy wrath in me alone Oh, spare my guiltless wife and my poor children Keeper, I pretty sit by me awhile My soul is heavy, and I feign would sleep I will, my Lord, God give your grace good rest Clarence reposes himself on a chair Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours Makes the night morning and the noontide night Princes have but their titles for their glories An outward honor for an inward toil And for unfelt imaginations They often feel a world of restless cares So that between their titles and her low name There's nothing differs but the outward fame Enter the two murderers Oh, who's here? What wouldst thou, fellow? And how came thou hither? I would speak with Clarence, and I came hither on my legs What, so brief? Tis better, sir, than to be tedious Let him see our commission and talk no more A paper is delivered to Brackenbury, who reads it I am in this, commanded to deliver The noble Duke of Clarence to your hands I will not reason what is meant hereby Because I will be guiltless of the meaning There lies the Duke asleep, and there the keys I'll to the King and signify to him that thus I have resigned to you, my charge You may, sir, to the point of wisdom Fare you well Exit Brackenbury What, shall we step him as he sleeps? No, he'll say it was done cowardly When he wakes When he wakes, why fool, he shall never wake Until the great judgment day Why, then he'll say we stabbed him sleeping The urging of that word judgment Has brought a kind of remorse in me What, are thou afraid? Not to kill him, having a warrant for it But to be damned for killing him From the witch no warrant can defend me I thought thou had spent resolute So I am, to let him live I'll back to the Duke of Gloucester And tell him so Nay, I pray thee, stay a little I hope my holy humour will change It was one to hold me, but one one tells twenty How dost thou feel, thyself, now? Face, some certain drags of conscience Are yet within me Remember our reward when deed's done Thou'ns, he dies, I had forgot the reward Where's thy conscience now? Oh, in the Duke of Gloucester's purse So when he opens his purse To give us our reward, thy conscience flies out? Tis no matter, let it go There's few or none will entertain it What if it come to thee again? I'll not meddle with it It makes a man coward A man cannot steal, but it accuses him A man cannot swear, but it checks him A man cannot lie with his neighbour's wife But it detects him Tis a blushing, shame-faced spirit That mutinies in a man's bosom It fills a man full of obstacles It made me once restore a purse of gold That by chance I found It bears any man that keeps it It is turned out of towns and cities For a dangerous thing And every man that means to live well Endeavours to trust to himself And live without it Thou'ns, tis even now at my elbow Persuading me not to kill the Duke Take the devil in thy mind And believe him not He would insinuate with thee But to make thee sigh I am strong-framed He cannot prevail with me Spoke like a tall man That respects thy reputation Come, shall we fall to work? Take him on the costoad With the hilts of thy sword And then throw him in the malmzy butt In the next room Oh, excellent device And make a sub of him Soft, he wakes Strike No, we'll leason with him Oh, where art thou, keeper? Give me a cup of wine You shall have wine enough, my lord, anan In God's name, what art thou? A man, as you are But not as I am, royal Nor you as we are, loyal Thy voice is thunder But thy looks are humble My voice is now the king's My looks my known How darkly and how deadly Thus thou speak Your eyes do menace me Why, look, you pale Who sent you hither? Wherefore do you come? To, to, to, to murder me Aye, aye Aye You scarcely have the hearts to tell me so And therefore cannot have the hearts to do it Wherein, my friends, have I offended you? Offended us, you have not But the king I shall be reconciled to him again Never, my lord, therefore prepare to die Are you drawn forth among a world of men To slay the innocent? What is my offence? Where is the evidence that doth accuse me? What lawful quest have given their verdict Up unto the frowning judge? Or who pronounced the bitter sentence Of poor Clarence's death? Before I be convict by course of law What happened me with death is most unlawful I charge you as you hope to have redemption By Christ's dear blood shed for our grievous sins That you depart and lay no hands on me The deed you undertake is damnable What we will do, we do upon command And he that has commanded is our king Heronious vassals, the great king of kings Hath in the table of his law commanded That thou shalt do no murder Will you then spurn at his edict and fulfill a man's Take heed, for he holds vengeance in his hand To hurl upon their heads that break his law And that same vengeance does he hurl on thee For false post-waring and for murder too Thou didst receive the sacrament of fight In quarrel of the house of Lancaster And, like a traitor to the name of God Didst break that vow, and with thy treacherous blade Unrippest the bowels of thy sovereign son Whom thou was sworn to cherish and defend How canst thou urge God's dreadful law to us When thou hast broke it on such a dear degree Alas, for whose sake did I that ill deed For Edward, for my brother, for his sake He sends you not to murder me for this For in that sin he is as deep as I If God will be avenged for the deed O know you yet, he doth it publicly Take not the quarrel from his powerful arm He needs no indirect or lawless course To cut off those that have offended him Who made thee then a bloody minister When gallant springing brave Plantagenet That princely novice was struck dead by thee My brother's love, the devil and my rage Thy brother's love, our duty and thy faults Provoke us hither now to slaughter thee O love my brother, hick not me I am his brother, and I love him well If you are hired for meed, go back again And I will send you to my brother Gloucester Who shall reward you better for my life Than Edward will for tidings of my death You are deceived, your brother Gloucester hates you O know, he loves me, and he holds me dear Go you to him from me Aye, so we will And that our princely father York Blessed his three sons with his victorious arm And charged us from his soul to love each other He little thought of this divided friendship Bid Gloucester think of this, and he will weep Aye, Milestones, as he'd lessened us to weep O do not slander him, for he is kind Right, as snow in harvest Come, you deceive yourself It is he that sends us to destroy you here It cannot be For he be wept my fortune And hugged me in his arms And swore with sobs that he would labour my delivery Why so he doth When he delivers you From this earth's thralldom to the joys of heaven Make peace with God, for you must die, my lord Have you that holy feeling in your souls To counsel me to make my peace with God And are you yet to your own soul so blind That you will war with God by murdering me? Oh, sirs, consider, days that set you on to do this deed Will hate you for the deed What shall we do? Relent and save your souls Relent? It is cowardly and womanish Not to relent his beastly, savage, devilish Which of you, if you were a prince's son Being pent from liberty as I am now If two such murderers as yourselves came to you Would not intrigue for life My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks Oh, if thine eye be not a flatterer Come thou on my side and entreat for me As you would beg were you in my distress A begging prince, what beggar pity's not Look behind you, my lord Staps him Take that, and that If all this will not do I'll drown you in the monzy butt within Exit with the body A bloody deed and desperately dispatched How faint like Pilate would I wash my hands Of this most grievous murder Reenter first, murderer How now? What meanest thou that thou helpest me not By heavens the Duke shall know How slack you have been I what he knew that I had saved his brother Take thou the fee and tell him what I say For I repent me that the Duke is slain Exit So do not I go, coward, as thou art Well, I'll go hide the body in some hole Till that the Duke give order for his burial And when I have my mead I will away For this will out And then I must not stay Exit End of Act I Act II of Richard III by William Shakespeare This is a LibriVax recording All LibriVax recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer Please visit LibriVax.org Act II Scene I London A Room in the Palace Enter King Edward, lad and sick Queen Elizabeth, Dorset, Rivers, Hastings, Buckingham, Grey and others Why so, now I have done a good day's work You peers continue this united league I every day expect an ambush hedge From my Redeemer to redeem me hence And more at peace my social part to heaven Since I have made my friends at peace on earth Rivers and Hastings Take each other's hand Disemble not your hatred Swear your love By heaven, my soul is purged from grudging hate And with my hand I seal my true heart's love So thrive I as I truly swear to like Take heed, you dally-knot Before your king, lest he that is the supreme king of kings Confound your hidden falsehood and award Either of you to be the other's end So prosper I as I swear perfect love And I as I love Hastings with my heart Madam, yourself is not exempt from this Nor you, son Dorset, Buckingham, nor you You have been factious one against the other Wife, love, Lord Hastings, let him kiss your hand And what you do, do it unfainedly There, Hastings, I will never more remember our former hatred So thrive I and mine Dorset, embrace him Hastings, love, Lord Marquis This interchange of love I hear protest Upon my part shall be inviolable So swear I Embrace his Dorset Now, princely Buckingham, seal thou this league With thy embracements to my wife's alliance And make me happy in your unity Whenever Buckingham doth turn his hate upon your grace To the queen But with all dutious love doth cherish you and yours God punish me with hate in those where I expect most love When I have most need to employ a friend And most assured that he is a friend Deep, hollow, treacherous and full of guile be he unto me This do I beg of heaven when I am culled in love to you or yours Embracing rivers, etc. A pleasing cordial princely Buckingham Is this thy vow unto my sickly heart There wanteth now our brother Gloucester here To make the blessed period of this peace And in good time here comes the noble Duke Enter Gloucester Good morrow to my sovereign king and queen And princely Peers, a happy time of day Happy indeed as we have spent the day Gloucester, we have done deeds of charity Make peace of enmity, fair love of hate Between these swelling, wrong, insensitive Peers A blessed labour, my most sovereign Lord Among this princely heap If any here, by false intelligence Or wrong surmise, hold me a foe If I unwittingly or in my rage Have ought committed that it is hardly born To any in this presence I desire to reconcile me to his friendly peace To his death to me, to be at enmity I hate it, and desire all good men's love First, madam, I entreat true peace of you Which I will purchase with my dutious service Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham If ever any grudge were lodged between us Of you and you, Lord Rivers and of Dorset That all without dessert have frowned on me Of you, Lord Woodville and Lord Scales of you Dukes, earls, lords, gentlemen Indeed of all I do not know that Englishman alive With whom my soul is any jot at odds More than the infant that is born tonight I thank my God for my humility A holy day shall this be kept hereafter I would, to God, all stripes were well compounded My sovereign Lord, I do beseech Your Highness To take our brother Clarence to Your grace Why, madam, have I offered love for this To be so flouted in this world presence? Who knows not that the gentle Duke is dead? They all start You do him injury to score on his corpse Who knows not he is dead? Who knows he is? All seeing heaven What a world is this? Look, I so pale, Lord Dorset, as the rest I, my good Lord, and no man in the presence But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks Is Clarence dead? The order was reversed But he, poor man, by your first order died And that a winged Mercury did bear Some tardy cripple bore the countermand That came too lag to see him buried God grant that some less noble and less loyal Nearer in bloody thoughts and not in blood Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did And yet go current from suspicion Enter Stanley A boon, my sovereign, for my service done I prithee peace, my soul is full of sorrow I will not rise unless Your Highness hear me Then say it once, what is it Thou requestest? The forfeit sovereign of my servant's life Who slew today a riotous gentleman Lately attendant on the Duke of Norfolk Have I a tongue to do my brother's death And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave? My brother killed no man His fault was thought And yet his punishment was bitter death Who sued to me for him Who in my wrath kneeled at my feet And bid me be advised Who spoke of brotherhood, who spoke of love Who told me how the poor soul did forsake The mighty warwick and did fight for me Who told me in the field at Chukesbury When Oxford had me down he rescued me And said, dear brother, live and be a king Who told me, when we both lay in the field Frozen almost to death, how he did lap me Even in his garments and did give himself All thin and naked to the numb cold night All this from my remembrance brutish wroth Sinfully plucked and not a man of you Had so much grace to put it in my mind But when your carters or your waiting vassals Have done a drunken slaughter and defaced The precious image of our dear Redeemer You straighter on your knees for pardon, pardon And I unjustly too must granted you But for my brother not a man would speak Nor I ungracious speak unto myself For him poor soul, the proudest of you all Have been beholding to him in his life Yet none of you would once beg for his life O God, I fear thy justice will take hold On me, on you, and mine, and yours for this Come hastings, help me to my closet Ah, poor Clarence Exiant king, queen, hastings, rivers, doorset and grey This is the fruit of rashness Marked you not how that the guilty kindred of the queen Looked pale when they did hear of Clarence's death Oh, they did urge it still unto the king God will revenge it Come, lords, will you go to comfort Edward with our company? We wait upon your grace Exiant Seen too, another room in the palace Enter the Duchess of York with a son and daughter of Clarence Good Grandum, Tarnus, is our father dead? No, boy Why do you weep so oft and beat your breast And cry, O Clarence, my unhappy son? Why do you look on us and shake your head And call us orphans, wretches, castaways If that our noble father were alive? My pretty cousins, you mistake me both I do lament the sickness of the king as loath to lose him Not your father's death It will last sorrow to wail one that's lost Then you conclude, my Grandum, he is dead The king, my uncle, is to blame for this God will revenge it Whom I will import in with earnest prayers all to that effect And so will I Peace, children peace The king doth love you well And capable and shallow innocence You cannot guess who caused your father's death Grandum, we can For my good uncle Glaster told me The king, provoked to it by the queen Devised impeachments to imprison him And when my uncle told me so He wept and pitted me And kindly kissed my cheek Bait me rely on him as on my father And he would love me dearly as his child Oh, that deceit should steal such gentle shape And with a virtuous wizard hide deep vice He is my son, I, and therein my shame Yet for my dugs he drew not this deceit Think you, my uncle, did this sample, Grandum? Aye, boy I cannot think it Huck, what noise is this? Enter Queen Elizabeth, distractedly Reverse and doors set following her Ah, who shall hinder me to wail and weep To chide my fortune and to mend myself I'll join with black despair against my soul And to myself become an enemy What means this scene of rude impatience? To make an act of tragic violence Edward, my lord, my son, our king is dead Why grow the branches when the root is gone? Why wither not the leaves that want their sap? If you will live, lament, if die be brief That our swift winged souls may catch the king's Or like obedient subjects follow him To his new kingdom of perpetual rest Ah, so much interest have I in thy sorrow As I had title in thy noble husband I have bewept a worthy husband's death And lived by looking on his images But now two mirrors of his princely semblance Are cracked in pieces by malignant death And I for comfort have but one false glass That grieves me when I see my shame in him Thou art a widow, yet thou art a mother And hast the comfort of thy children left But death hath snatched my husband from mine arms And plucked two crutches from my feeble hands Clarence and Edward, oh, what cause have I Thine being but a moiety of my moan To overgo thy woes and drown thy cries Ah, and, you wept not for our father's death How can we aid you with our kindred tears? Our fatherless distress was left unmoaned Your widow-doler likewise be unwept Give me no help in lamentation I am not barren to bring forth complaints All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes That I, being governed by the watery moon May send forth plenty's tears to drown the world Ah, for my husband, for my dear Lord Edward Ah, for our father, for our dear Lord Clarence Alas, for both, both mine, Edward and Clarence What stay had I but Edward, and he's gone What stay had we but Clarence, and he's gone What stays had I but they, and they are gone Was ever widow had so dear a loss Whenever orphans had so dear a loss Was never mother had so dear a loss Alas, I am the mother of these griefs Their woes are parceled, mine is general She for an Edward weeps, and so do I I for a Clarence weep, so doth not she These babes for Clarence weep, and so do I I for an Edward weep, so doth not they Alas, you three on me, threefold distressed Pour all your tears, I am your sorrow's nurse And I will pamper it with lamentation Comfort, dear mother, God is much displeased That you take with unthankfulness his doing In common worldly things his called ungrateful With done unwillingness to repay a debt With which a bounteous hand was kindly lent Much more to be thus opposite with heaven For it requires the royal debt it lent you Madam, be think you'd like a careful mother Of the young Prince your son Send straight for him, let him be crowned In him your comfort lives Drown desperate sorrow and dead Edward's grave And plant your joys in living And throne Enter Gloster, Buckingham, Stanley, Hastings, Redcliff and others Sister, have comfort All of us have cause to wail the dimming of our shining star But none can help our harms by wailing them Madam, my mother, I do cry you mercy I did not see your grace, humbly on my knee I crave your blessing God bless thee, and put meekness in thy breast Love, charity, obedience, and true duty Amen Aside And make me die a good old man That is the but end of a mother's blessing I marvel that her grace did leave it out You cloudy princes and heart-sorling peers That bear this heavy mutual load of moan Now cheer each other in each other's love Though we have spent our harvest of this king We ought to reap the harvest of his son The broken rancor of your high-sworn hearts But lately splintered, knit, and joined together Must gently be preserved, cherished and kept May seemeth good that with some little train Forthwith from Ludlow the young prince befetched Hitherto London to be crowned our king Why with some little train, my lord Buckingham Marry, my lord, lest by a multitude The new-heeled wound of malice should break out Which would be so much the more dangerous By how much the estate is green And yet ungoverned Where every horse bears his commanding reign And may direct his course as please himself As well the fear of harm as harm apparent In my opinion ought to be prevented I hope the king made peace with all of us And the compact is firm and true in me And so in me, and so I think in all Yet since it is but green It should be put to no apparent likelihood of breach Which happily by much company might be urged Therefore I say with noble Buckingham That it is meat so few should fetch the prince And so say I Then be it so, and go we to determine who they shall be That strange shall post to Ludlow Madam, and you, my mother, will you go To give your censures in this business? Exient all, Buckingham and Gloucester My lord, whoever journeys to the prince For God's sake, let not us two stay at home For by the way I'll sort occasion As index to the story we late talked of Depart the queen's proud kindred from the prince My other self My counsel's concessory My oracle, my prophet My dear cousin, I, as a child Will go by the high direction Toward Ludlow, then For we'll not stay behind Exient Seen three, London, a street Enter two citizens meeting Good-morrow, neighbor, wither away so fast I promise you I scarcely know myself Hear you the news abroad Yes, that the king is dead Yield news by your lady Seldom comes the better I fear to approve a giddy world Enter, sir, citizen Neighbours, Godspeed Give you good-morrow, sir Doth the news hold of good king Edward's death? Aye, sir, it is too true God help the while Then, masters, look to see a troublous world No, no, by God's good grace The sun shall reign Woe to that land that's governed by a child In him there's a hope of government Which, in his knowledge, counsel under him And in his full and ripened years himself No doubt shall then and till then govern well So stood the state when Henry VI was crowned in Paris But at nine months owed Stood the state so? No, no, good friends, God-what For then this land was famously enriched With politic grave counsel Then the king had virtuous uncles To protect his grace Why, so has this, both by his father and mother Bettered where they all came by his father Or by his father there were none at all For emulation, who shall now be nearest Will touch us all too near if God prevent not Oh, full of danger is the Duke of Gloucester And the queen's sons and brothers haunt him proud And were they to be ruled and not to rule The sickly land might sulless as before Come, come, we fear the worst All will be well When clouds are seen Wise men put on their cloaks When great leaves fall Then winter is at hand When the sun sets Who does not look for night Untimely storms make men expect at dirt All may be well, but if God sort it so It is more than we deserve or I expect Truly, the hearts of men are full of fear You cannot reason almost with a man That looks not heavily and full of dread Before the days of change still is it so By a divine instinct Men's minds mistrust ensuing danger As by proof we see the water swell And mistrust storm But leave it all to God, wither away Mary, we were sent forth to the Justices Then so was I, I'll bear you company Accident Scene four London A room in the palace Enter the Archbishop of York The young Duke of York Queen Elizabeth And the Duchess of York Last night I hear They at Northampton lay And at Stony Stratford They do rest tonight Next day they will be here I long with all my heart to see the Prince I hope he has much grown since last I saw him But I here know They say my son of York has almost Overtain him in his growth I, mother, but I would not have it so Why, my good cousin? It is good to grow Grandam, one night as we did sit at Supper My uncle Rivers talked how I did grow More than my brother I, quotes my uncle Gloucester All herbs have grace Great weeds do grow apace And since me thinks I would not grow so fast Because sweet flowers are slow And weeds make haste Good faith, good faith The saying did not hold in him That did object the same to thee He was the wretchedest thing when he was young So long a growing and so leisurely But if his rule were true he should be gracious And so no doubt he is, my gracious madam I hope he is But yet let mothers doubt Now by my troth if I had been remembered I could have given my uncle's grace a flout To touch his growth nearer than he touched mine How, my young York, I pretty let me hear it Mary, they say my uncle grew so fast That he could not a crust at two hours old Twas full two years ere I could get a tooth Grandam, this would have been a biting jest I pretty pretty York, who told thee this? Grandam, his nurse His nurse? Why she was dead ere thou was born If twer not she, I cannot tell who told me Apollus boy, go to, you are too shrewd Good madam, be not angry with the child Pitchers have ears Here comes a messenger Enter a messenger What news? Such news, my lord, as grieves me to report How doth the prince? Well, madam, and in health What is thy news? Lord Rivers and Lord Gray are sent to Pomfret With them sir Thomas Vaughn Prisoners Who hath committed them? The mighty Dukes, Gloucester and Buckingham For what offence? The sum of all I can I have disclosed Why, or for what, the nobles were committed Is all unknown to me, my gracious lady Ah, me, I see the ruin of my house The tiger now hath seized the gentle hind Insulting tyranny begins to jet upon the innocent And all is thrown Welcome, destruction, blood, and massacre I see, as in a map, the end of all A cursed and unquiet wrangling days How many of you have mine eyes beheld? My husband lost his life to get the crown And often up and down my sons were tossed For me to joy and weep their gain and loss And being seated and domestic broils Clean overblown, themselves the conquerors Make war upon themselves Brother to brother, blood to blood Self against self O preposterous and frantic outrage End thy damnate spleen Or let me die to look on deaf no more Come, come, my boy We will to sanctuary Madame Farewell Stay, I will go with you You have no cause to the queen My gracious lady, go And thither bear your treasure and your goods For my part I'll resign unto your grace The seal I keep, and so be tied to me As well I tender you and all of yours Go, I'll conduct you to the sanctuary Accident End of act two