 Act 3 of Richard the Third 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 3 Scene 1 London, a street The trumpet's sound Enter the Prince of Bells, Clouster, Buckingham, Catesby, Cardinal Bursier and others Welcome, sweet Prince, to London, to your chamber Welcome, dear cousin, my thoughts sovereign The weary way have made you melancholy No, uncle, but our crosses on the way have made it tedious, wearisome and heavy I want more uncles here to welcome me Sweet Prince, the untainted virtue of your years have not yet dived into the world's deceit The more can you distinguish of a man than of his outward show, which, God he knows, seldom nor never jumpeth with the heart Those uncles which you want were dangerous Your grace attended to their sugared words but looked not on the poison of their hearts God keep you from them and from such false friends God keep me from false friends, but they were numb My Lord, the Mayor of London comes to greet you Enter the Lord Mayor and his train God bless your grace with health and happy days I thank you, good my Lord, and thank you all Exe and Mayor, etc. I thought my mother and my brother York would long air this have met us on the way Fire, what a sluggish Hastings, that he comes not to tell us whether they will come or no And in good time, here comes the Sweating Lord Enter Hastings Welcome, my Lord. What? Will our mother come? On what occasion, God, he knows not I, the Queen, your mother, and your brother York have taken sanctuary The tender Prince would feign have come with me to meet your grace, but by his mother was perforce withheld Fire, what an indirect and peevish course is this of hers Lord Cardinal, will your grace persuade the Queen to send the Duke of York unto his princely brother presently? If she did I, Lord Hastings, go with him and from her jealous arms pluck him perforce My Lord of Buckingham, if my weak oratory can from his mother win the Duke of York, a non-expect in here But if she be obdurate, mild in treaties, God in heaven forbid, we should infringe the holy privilege of blessed sanctuary Not for all this land would I be guilty of so deep a sin You are too senseless obstinate, my Lord, too ceremonious and traditional Weed but with the grossness of this age, you break not sanctuary and seizing him The benefit thereof is always granted to those whose dealings have deserved the place, and those who have the wit to claim the place This Prince hath neither claimed it nor deserved it, and therefore, in my opinion, cannot have it Then taking him from thence that is not there, you break no privilege nor charter there oft I have heard of sanctuary men, but sanctuary children, there till now My Lord, you shall overrule my mind for once Come on, Lord Hastings, will you go with me? I go, my Lord Good Lords, make all the speedy haste you may Exe and Cardinal and Hastings Say, Uncle Gloucester, if our brother come, where shall we soldier unto our coronation? Where it seems best unto your royal self If I may counsel you, some day or two your Highness shall oppose you at the tower Then wear you please and shall be thought most fit for your best health and recreation I do not like the tower of any place Did Julius Caesar build that place, my Lord? He did, my gracious Lord, begin that place, which since succeeding ages have re-edified Is it upon record, or else reported successively from age to age he built it? Upon record, my gracious Lord But say, my Lord, it were not registered Methinks the truth should live from age to age, as to a retailed to all posterity, even to the general all-ending day Aside So wise, so young, they say, do never live long What say you, Uncle? I say, without characters, fame lives long Aside Thus, like the formal vice iniquity, I moralise two meanings in one word That Julius Caesar was a famous man With what his valour did enrich his wit, his wit set down to make his valour live Death makes no conquest of this conqueror For now he lives in fame, though not in life I'll tell you what, my cousin Buckingham What, my gracious Lord? And if I live until I be a man, I'll win our ancient right in France again Or die a soldier as I lived a king Aside Short summers lightly have a forward spring Now, in good time, here comes the Duke of York Enter York, Hastings and the Cardinal Richard of York, how fares our loving brother? Well, my dread lord, so must I call you now Aye, brother, to our grief as it is yours Too late he died that might have kept that title Which by his death has lost much majesty How fares our cousin noble lord of York? I thank you, gentle uncle Oh, my lord, you said that idle weeds are fast in growth The prince, my brother, hath outgrown me far He hath, my lord And therefore is he idle? Oh, my fair cousin, I must not say so Then he is more beholding to you than I He may command me as my sovereign But you have power in me as in a kinsman I pray you, uncle, give me this dagger My dagger, little cousin, with all my heart A beggar, brother Of my kind uncle that I know will give And being but a toy which is no grief to give A greater gift than that I'll give my cousin A greater gift? Oh, that's the sword to it Aye, gentle cousin, were it light enough? Oh, then I see you a part with but light gifts In weightier things you'll say a beggar nay It is too heavy for your grace to wear I weigh it lightly, were it heavier What? Would you have my weapon, little lord? I would, that I might thank you as you call me How? Little My lord of York will still be cross in talk Uncle, your grace knows how to bear with him You mean to bear me, not to bear with me Uncle, my brother mocks both you and me Because that I am little, like an ape He thinks that you should bear me on your shoulders With what a sharp provided width he reasons To mitigate the scorn he gives his uncle He prettily and aptly taunts himself So cunning and so young is wonderful My lord, wilt please you pass along Myself and my good cousin Buckingham Will to your mother to entreat of her To meet you at the tower and welcome you What? Will you go on to the tower, my lord? My lord protector, Meads will have it so I shall not sleep in quiet at the tower Why? What should you fear? Mary, my uncle Clarence's angry ghost My grandam told me he was murdered there I fear no uncle's dead Nor none that live, I hope And if they live, I hope I need not fear But come, my lord, and with a heavy heart Thinking on them, go I on to the tower Senate, axiom, prince, York, Hastings, cardinal and attendants Thank you, my lord, this little creating York Was not incensored by his subtle mother To taunt and scorn you thus appropriately No doubt, no doubt Oh, it is a parlous boy, bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable He is all the mothers from the top to toe Well, let them rest Come hither, Kate-speak Thou art sworn as deeply to effect what we intend As closely to conceal what we impart Thou knowest our reasons urged upon the way What thinksth thou? Is it not an easy matter to make William Lord Hastings of our mind For the instalment of this noble duke In the seat-royal of this famous isle He, for his father's sake, so loves the prince That he will not be one to ought against him What thinksth thou then of Stanley will not he He will do all and all as Hastings does Well, there no more but this Go, gentle Kate-speak And as it were far off Sound thou, Lord Hastings, how he dost stand effected To our purpose And summon him tomorrow to the tower To sit about the coronation If thou dost find him tractable to us Encourage him and tell him all our reasons If he be ledden, I see cold unwilling Be thou so too, and so break off the talk And give us notice of his inclination For we tomorrow hold divided councils Wherein thyself shall highly be employed Commend me to Lord William Tell him, Kate-speak, his ancient Not of dangerous adversaries Tomorrow I'll let blood at Pornford Castle And bid my lord for joy of this good news Give Mistress Shaw one gentle kiss the more Good Kate-speak, go, effect this business soundly My good lord's both, with all the heat I can Shall we hear from you, Kate-speak, ere we sleep? You shall, my lord At Crosby Place, there shall you find us both Exit Kate-speak And now, my lord, what shall we do if we perceive That Lord Hastings will not yield to our complots Chop off his head, man! Some what we will do And look, when I am king Claim thou of me the earldom of Hereford And all the movables were of the king My brother was possessed I'll claim that promise at your grace's hand And look to have it yielded with all kindness Come, let us sup be times That afterwards we may digest our complots In some form Excellent! Sain, too, before Lord Hastings' house Enter a messenger My lord, my lord! Knocking, where then? Who knocks? One from the lord Stanley Where then? What is it o'clock? Upon the stroke of four Enter Hastings Cannot my lord Stanley sleep these tedious nights? So it appears by that I have to say First he commends him to your noble self What then? Then certifies your lordship that this night He dreamt the boar had raised off his helm Besides he says there are two councils held And that may be determined at the one Which may make you and him to rue at the other Therefore he sends to know your lordship's pleasure If you will presently take horse with him And with all speed post with him toward the north To shun the danger that his soul divines Go, fellow, go, return unto thy lord Bid him not fear the separated councils His honour and myself are at the one And at the other is my good friend Catsby Where nothing can proceed that toucheth us Whereof I shall not have intelligence Tell him his fears are shallow, without instance And for his dreams I wonder he's so simple To trust the mockery of unquiet slumbers To fly the boar before the boar pursues Were to incense the boar to follow us And make pursuit where he did me no chase Go, bid thy master rise and come to me And we will both together to the tower Where he shall see the boar will use us kindly I'll go, my lord, and tell him what you say Exit Enter Catsby Many good morals to my noble lord Good moral, Catsby, you are early-staring What news? What news in this our tottering state? It is a reeling world indeed, my lord And I believe we'll never stand upright Till Richard wear the garland of the realm How? Wear the garland? Dost thou mean the crown? I'm a good lord I'll have this crown of mine cut from my shoulders Before I'll see the crown so foul misplaced But canst thou guess that he doth aim at it? I, on my life, and hopes to find you forward Upon his party for the gain thereof And thereupon he sends you this good news That this same very day your enemies, The kindred of the queen, must die at Pomfret Indeed, I'm no mourner for that news Because they have been still my adversaries But that I'll give my voice on Richard's side To bar my master's heirs and true descent God knows I will not do it to the death God, keep your lordship in that gracious mind But I shall laugh at this at twelve months hence That they which brought me in my master's hate I live to look upon their tragedy Well, cats, be ere a fortnight to make me older I'll send some packing that yet think not on To the vile thing to die, my gracious lord When men are unprepared and look not for it Oh, monstrous, monstrous And so falls it out with rivers, vorn, grey And so it will do with some men else That think themselves as safe as thou and I Who, as thou knowest, are dear to Princely Richard And to Muckingham The Prince is both may Kaye count of you Aside For they count his head upon the bridge I know they do, and I have well deserved it And to Stanley Come on, come on, where is your boarspear, man? Fair you the boar and go so unprovided My lord, good morrow, and good morrow, Catesby You may jest on, but by the holy rude I do not like these several councils, I My lord, I hold my life as dear as you do yours And never in my days I do protest was it so precious To me as it is now Think you but that I know our state secure I would be so triumphant as I am The lords at Pomfret when they rode from London Were jockoned and supposed their states were sure And they indeed had no cause to mistrust But yet you see how soon the day all cast This sudden stab of ranker I missed out Pray God, I say, I prove a needless coward What shall we toward the tower the day is spent? Come, come, have with you, what you want, my lord It's day the lords who talked of are beheaded They, for their truth, might better wear their heads Than some that have accused them wear their hats But come, my lord, let's away Enter a Persevent Go on, before, I'll talk with this good fellow Axion Stanley and Catesby How now, Serah? How goes the world with thee? The better that your lordship pleased to ask I tell thee, Mantis, better with me now Than when thou metst me last when now we meet Then I was going prisoner to the tower By the suggestion of the queen's allies But now I tell thee, keep it to thyself This day those enemies are put to death And I in better state than ere I was God hold it, dear honours, good content Grammarcy, fellow, there, drink that for me Throwing him his purse I thank you, your honour Exit Enter a priest Well met, my lord, I am glad to see your honour I thank thee, good Sir John, with all my heart I am in your debt for your last exercise Come the next Sabbath, and I will content you Enter Buckingham What, talking with the priest, Lord Chamberlain? Your friends at Pomfret, they do need the priest Your honour hath no striving work in hand Good faith, and when I met this holy man The man you talk of came into my mind What, you go toward the tower? I do, my lord, but long I cannot stay there I shall return before your lordship thence Nay, like enough for I stayed dinner there Aside And supper too, although thou knowst it not Come, will you go? I'll wait upon your lordship Exit Seeing three, Pomfret, before the castle Enter Radcliffe with guard Conducting reverse grey and woan to execution Sir Richard Radcliffe, let me tell thee this Today, shalt thou behold A subject die for truth For duty, and for loyalty God bless the prince from all the back of you And not your updammed bloodsuckers You live that shall cry wool for this hereafter Dispatch, the limit of your life is out Oh, Pomfret Pomfret, oh thou bloody prison Fatal and ominous to noble peers Within the guilty closure of thy walls Richard II here was hacked to death And for more slander to thy dismal seat We give to thee our guiltless blood to drink No Margaret's curse is fallen upon our heads When she exclaimed on Hastings, you and I For standing by when Richard stabbed her son Then cursed she, Richard Then cursed she, Buckingham Then cursed she, Hastings Oh, remember God To hear her prayer for them As now for us And for my sister and her princely sons Be satisfied, dear God With our true blood Which as thou knowest Unjustly must be spilt Make haste, the hour of death is expired Come, Gray, come, Vaughn Let us here embrace Farewell, until we meet again in heaven Accident Scene four, London, a room in the tower Buckingham, Stanley, Hastings, the bishop of Ealy Ratcliffe, Lovell and others sitting at a table Officers of the council attending Now, noble peers, the cause why we are met Is to determine of the coronation In God's name speak when is the royal day Are all things ready for that royal time? They are, and what but nomination? Tomorrow, then, I judge a happy day Who knows the Lord protect his mind herein? Who is most inward with the noble duke? Your grace, we think Should soonest know his mind We know each other's faces For our hearts He knows no more of mine than I of yours Or I of his, my Lord, than you of mine Lord Hastings, you and he are near in love I thank his grace I know he loves me well I confess in the coronation I have not sounded him Nor he delivered his gracious pleasure Any way therein, but you, my honourable lords May name the time, and in the duke's behalf I'll give my voice which I presume He'll take in gentle part In happy time, here comes the duke himself Enter Gloucester My noble lords and cousins all good morrow I have been longer sleeper But I trust my absence doth neglect A great design by which my presence might have been concluded Had you not come upon your cue, my lord William Lord Hastings had pronounced your part I mean, your voice, for crowning of the king Than my Lord Hastings, no man might be bolder His lordship knows me well, and loves me well My lord of Ely When I was last in Hoburn I saw good strawberries in your garden there I do beseech you, send for some of them Merry, and will, my lord, with all my heart Exit Cousin of Buckingham, a word with you Takes him aside Case be, have sounded Hastings in our business And finds the testy gentleman so hot That he will lose his head Air give consent his master's child As worshipfully he terms it Shall lose the royalty of England's throne Withdraw yourself awhile, I'll go with you Exit and cluster, and Buckingham We have not yet set down this day of triumph Tomorrow, in my judgment, is too sudden For I myself am not so well provided As else I would be were the day prolonged Re-enter Bishop of Ely Where is my lord the Duke of Glossier? I have sent for these strawberries His grace looks cheerfully and smooth this morning There's some conceit or other likes him well When that he bids good morrow with such spirit I think there's ne'er a man at Christendom Can lesser hide his love or hate than he For by his face straight shall you know his heart What of his heart perceives you in his face By any livelihood he showed today? Merry, that with no man here he is offended For were he he had shown it in his looks Re-enter Glossier and Buckingham I pray you all Tell me what they deserve That Duke conspire my death with devilish plots Of damned witchcraft And that have prevailed upon my body With their hellish charms The tender love I bear your grace, my lord Makes me most forward in this princely presence To doom the offenders who swear they be I say, my lord, they have deserved death Then be your eyes the witness of their evil Look how I am bewitched Behold, my arm is Like a blasted sapling withered up And this is Edward's wife That monstrous witch consorted With that harlot strumpet sure That by their witchcraft thus have marked me If they have done this deed, my noble lord If? Thou protector of this damned strumpet Talks thou to me of ifs? Thou art a traitor, off with his head Now, by St. Paul I swear I will not Dine until I see the same Love along Ratcliffe, look that it be done The rest, that love me, rise And follow me Exiant all except Hastings, Lovell and Ratcliffe Woe, woe for England, not a wit for me For I too fond might have prevented this Stanley did dream the board and raise his helm And I did scorn it and disdain to fly Three times today my footcloth Horse did stumble and started When he looked upon the tower His loathe to bear me to the slaughterhouse Oh, now I need the priest that spake to me I now repent, I told the pursuant As to triumphing how my enemies today At Pompford bloodly were butchered And I myself secure in grace and favour Oh, Margaret, Margaret, now thy heavy curse Is lighted on poor Hastings' wretched head Come, come, dispatch The Duke would be a dinner Make a short shrift, he longs to see your head Oh, momentary grace of mortal men Which we more hunt for than the grace of God Who builds his hope in air of your good looks Lives like a drunken sailor in a mast Ready with every nod to tumble down Into the fatal bowels of the deep Come, come, dispatch Tis bootless to exclaim Oh, bloody Richard, miserable England I prophesied a fearfulist time to thee That ever wretched age hath looked upon Come, lead me to the block Bear him my head They smile at me, who shortly shall be dead Exe'ened Scene five London, the tower-walls Antucloster and Buckingham in rusty armour Marvellous ill-favoured Come, cousin Canst thou quake and change thy colour Murder thy breath in middle of a word And then begin again and stop again As if thou werest distraught and mad with terror Tut, I can counterfeit the deep tragedium Speak and look back and pry on every side Tremble and start at wagging of a straw Intending deep suspicion Gastly looks are at my service Like enforced smiles And both are ready in their offices At any time to grace my stratagems But what is Kate's begone? Kate is, and see, he brings the mare along Enter the Lord Mayor and Kate's be Lord Mayor Look to the drawbridge there Hark, a drum Kate's be, oh, look the walls Lord Mayor, the reason we have sent Look back, defend thee, hear our enemies God and our innocencey defend and guard us Oh, be patient They are friends, Ratcliffe and Lovell Enter Lovell and Ratcliffe with Hastings head Here is the head of that ignoble traitor The dangerous and unsuspected Hastings So dear I loved the man that I must weep I took him for the plainest, harmless creature That breathed upon the earth a Christian Made him my book wherein my soul Recorded the history of all her secret thoughts So smooth he daubed his vice with show of virtue That his apparent open guilt omitted I mean his conversation with Shaw's wife He lived from all attainder of suspects Well, well, he was the covertest sheltered traitor That ever lived Would you imagine or almost believe Worth not that by great preservation We lived to tell it to you That the subtle traitor this day had plotted In the council house to murder me And my good lord of Gloucester had he done so What? Think you we are Turks or infidels Or that we would against the form of law Proceed thus rashly in the villain's death But that the extreme peril of the case The peace of England and our personal safety Enforced us to this execution Now fair befall you He deserved his death And your good graces both have well proceeded To warn false traitors from the like attempts I never looked for better at his hands After he once fell in with Mistress Shaw Yet had we not determined he should die Until your lordship came to see his end Which now the loving haste of these our friends Something against our meanings have prevented Because, my lord, we would have had You heard the traitor speak And timorously confess the manner And the purpose of his treasons That you might well have signified Same unto the citizens who happily May misconstur us in him and wail his death But, my good lord, your graces word shall serve As well as I had seen and heard him speak And do not doubt right noble princes both But I'll acquaint our deutious citizens With all your just proceedings in this case And to that end we wished your lordship here To avoid the censures of the carping world But since you come too late of our intent Yet witness what you hear we did intend And so, my good lord mayor, we bid farewell Exit, lord mayor Go after, after, cousin Buckingham The mayor, towards Guildhall, hies him in all post There, at your meet'st advantage of the time Infer the bastardy of Edward's children Tell them how Edward put to death a citizen Only for saying he would make his son Air to the crown, meaning, indeed, his house Which by the sign thereof was termed so Moreover, urge his hateful luxury And bestial appetite in change of lust Which stretched unto their servants, daughters, wives Even where his raging eye or savage heart Without control listed to make a prey Nay, for a need, thus far, come near my person Tell them when that my mother went with child Of that insatiate Edward, noble York My princely father then had wars in France And by true computation of the time Found that the issue was not his begot Which well appeared in his lineaments Being nothing like the noble Duke my father Yet touch this sparingly as twer far off Because, my lord, you know my mother lives Doubt not, my lord, I'll play the orator As if the golden fee for which I plead Were for myself, and so, my lord, adieu If you thrive well, bring them to Baynard's castle Where you shall find me well accompanied With reverent fathers and well-learned bishops I go, and towards three or four o'clock Look for the news that the guild hall affords Exit Go, lovell, with all speed, doctor Shaw Go thou To Catesby To fry a penker Bid them both meet me within this hour at Baynard's castle Exit, lovell, and Catesby Now will I in to take some privy order To draw the Brats of Clarence out of sight And to give order that no man or person Have any time recourse unto the princes Exit See in six, London, a street Enter a scrivener Here is the indictment of the good lord Hastings Which in a set hand fairly is engrossed That it may be to-day red o'er in Paul's And mark how well the sequel hangs together Eleven hours I have spent to write it over For yesterday night by Catesby was it sent me The precedent was full as long a-doing And yet within these five hours Hastings lived, untainted, unexamined Free at liberty Here's a good world the while Who is so gross that cannot see this palpable device Yet who so bold but says he sees it not Bad is the world, and all will come to naught When such ill-dealing must be seen in thought Exit See in seven, London, court of Banyard's castle Enter Gloucester and Buckingham meeting How now? How now? What say the citizens? Now by the holy mother of our lord The citizens of Mum say not a word Touched you the bastardly of Edward's children? I did, with his contract with Lady Lucy And his contract by deputy in France The insatiate greediness of his desires And his enforcement of the city wives His tyranny for trifles his own bastardly As being got your father then in France And his resemblance being not like the Duke With all I did infer your lineaments Being the right idea of your father Both in your form and nobleness of mind Laid open all your victories in Scotland Your discipline in war, wisdom in peace Your bounty, virtue, fair humility Indeed left nothing fitting for your purpose Untouched or slightly handled in discourse And when mine oratory drew to an end I bid them that did love their country's good cry God save Richard, England's royal king And did they so? No, so God help me they spake not a word But like dumb statues or breathing stones Stared each on other and looked deadly pale Which when I saw I reprehended them And asked the mayor what meant this willful silence His answer was The people were not used to be spoked to But by the recorder Then he was urged to tell my tale again Thus saith the Duke, thus hath the Duke inferred But nothing spoke in warrant from himself When he had done Some followers of mine own At lower end of the hall hurled up their caps And some ten voices cried God save King Richard And thus I took the vantage of those few Thanks gentle citizens and friends, quote I This general applause and cheerful shout Arguees your wisdoms and your love to Richard And even here break off and came away What tongueless blocks were they? Would they not speak? Were not the mayor then in his brethren come? The mayor is here at hand Intense some fear Be not you spoke with but by mighty suit And look you get a prayer book in your hand And stand between two churchmen good my lord For on that ground I'll make a holy desk hand And be not easily one to our requests Play the maids part Still answer nay and take it I go, and if you plead as well for them As I can say nay to thee for myself No doubt we bring it to a happy issue Go, go up to the leads The Lord Mayor knocks Exit Gloucester Enter the Lord Mayor, all the men and citizens Welcome my lord, I dance attendance here I think the Duke will not be spoke with all Enter from the castle Catespie Now Catespie, what says your lord to my request? He doesn't treat your grace my noble lord To visit him tomorrow or the next day He is within with two right reverend fathers Divinely bent to meditation And in a worldly suit would he be moved To draw him from his holy exercise Return good Catespie to the gracious Duke Tell him myself, the Mayor, and all the men In deep designs in matter of great moment No less importing than our general good I'll come to have some conference with his grace I'll signify so much unto him straight Exit Aha my lord, this prince is not an Edward He is not walling on a lewd daybed But on his knees at meditation Not dallying with a brace of cortisans But meditating with two deep divines Not sleeping to engross his idle body But praying to enrich his watchful soul Happy were England with this virtuous prince Take on his grace the sovereignty thereof But sure, I fear we shall not win him to it Mary, God defend his grace should say us nay I fear he will Here Catespie comes again Re-enter Catespie Now Catespie, what says his grace? He wonders to what end you have assembled Such troops of citizens to come to him His grace not being worn thereof before He fears my lord, you mean no good to him Sorry I am, my noble cousin should suspect me That I mean no good to him By heaven we come to him in perfect love And so once more return and tell his grace Exit Catespie When holy and devout religious men are at their beads Tis much to draw them thence So sweet is zealous contemplation Enter Gloucester in a gallery above Between two bishops Catespie returns See where his grace stands between two clergymen Two props of virtue for a Christian prince To stay him from the fall of vanity And see a book of prayer in his hand True ornaments to know holy man Famous plantagenet most gracious prince Lend favourable ear to our requests And pardon us the interruption of thy devotion And write Christian zeal My lord, there needs no such apology I rather do beseech you pardon me Who, earnest in the service of my god Deferred the visitation of my friends But leaving this, what is your grace's pleasure? Even that, I hope, which pleases God above And all good men of this ungoverned isle I do suspect I have done some offence That seems disgraceous in the city's eye And that you come to reprehend my ignorance You have, my lord Would it might please your grace on our entreaties To amend your fault? Else, wherefore, breathe I in a Christian land No, then, it is your fault That you resign the supreme seat The throne majestical The septored office of your ancestors Your state of fortune and your dew of birth The linear glory of your royal house To the corruption of a blemished stock Whilst in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts Which hear we wake into our country's good The noble isle doth want her proper limbs Her face defaced with scars of infamy Her royal stock grafted with ignoble plants And almost sheltered in the swallowing gulf Of dark forgetfulness and deep oblivion Which to recure we heartily solicit your gracious self To take on you the charge and kingly government Of this your land Not as protector, steward, substitute Or lowly factor for another's gain But as, successively, from blood to blood Your bright of birth, your empery, your own For this, consorted with the citizens Your very worshipful and loving friends And by their vehement instigation In this just cause come I to move your grace I cannot tell if to depart in silence Or bitterly to speak in your reproof Best fiteth my degree or your condition If not to answer, you might happily think Tungtide ambition, not replying, yielded To bear the golden yoke of sovereignty Which fondly you would hear impose on me If to reprove you for this suit of yours So seasoned with your faithful love to me Then on the other side I checked my friends Therefore, to speak and to avoid the first And then in speaking not to incur the last Definitively thus I answer you Your love deserves my thanks But my desert unmeritable shuns your high request First, if all obstacles were cut away And that my path were even to the crown As the ripe revenue in due of birth Yet so much is my poverty of spirit So mighty and so many my defence That I would rather hide me from my greatness Being a bark to brook no mighty sea Than in my greatness covet to be hid And in the vapour of my glory smothered But, God be thanked, there is no need of me And much I need to help you were there need The royal tree have left us royal fruit Which, mellowed by the stealing hours of time Will well become the seat of majesty And make no doubt us happy by his reign On him I lay that you would lay on me The right and fortune of his happy stars Which, God defend that I should ring from him My lord, this argues conscience in your grace But the respects thereof are nice and trivial All circumstances well considered You say that Edward is your brother's son So say we too but not by Edward's wife For first was he contract to Lady Lucy Your mother lives a witness to his vow And afterward by substitute betrothed to Bona Sister to the king of France These are both put off, a poor petitioner A care-crazed mother to many sons A beauty waning and distressed widow Even in the afternoon of her best days Made prize and purchase of his wanton eye Seduced the pitch and height of his degree To base declension and loathe big me By her, in his unlawful bed He got this Edward whom our manners call the prince More bitterly could I expostulate Save that for reverence to some alive I give a sparing limit to my tongue Then, good my lord, take to your royal self This profit-benefit of dignity And if not to bless us and the land with all Yet to draw forth your noble ancestry From the corruption of abusing time Unto a lineal true-derived course Do, good my lord, your citizens entreat you Refuse not, mighty lord, this profit love Oh, make them joyful, grant their lawful suit Alas, why would you heap those cares on me? I am unfit for state and majesty I do beseech you, take it not amiss I cannot, nor I will not yield to you If you refuse it, as in love and zeal Loathe to depose the child, your brother's son As well we know your tenderness of heart And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse Which we have noted in you to your kindred And equally indeed to all estates Yet know where you accept our suit or know Your brother's son shall never reign our king But we will plant some other in the throne To the disgrace and downfall of your house And in this resolution here we leave you Come, citizens, we will entreat no more Exe and Buckingham, the mayor and citizens retiring Call them again, sweet prince, accept their suit If you deny them, all the land will ruin Will you enforce me to a world of cares? Call them again KSP goes to the mayor, etc., and then exit I'm not made of stone, but penetrable to your kind in treaties Albeit against my conscience and my soul Re-enter Buckingham, and KSP mayor, etc., coming forward Cousin of Buckingham And sage-grave men, since you will buckle fortune on my back To bear her burden where I will or know I must have patience to endure the load But if black scandal or foul-faced reproach Attend the sequel of your imposition Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me From all the impure blots and stains thereof For God doth know, and you may partly see How far I am from the desire of this God bless your grace, we see it and we'll say it In saying so, you shall but say the truth Then I salute you with this royal title Long live King Richard, England's worthy king Amen Tomorrow may it please you to be crowned Even when you please, for you will have it so Tomorrow, then, we will attend your grace And so, most joyfully, we take our leave To the bishops Come, let us to our holy work again Farewell, my cousin, farewell, gentle friends Accident End of Act III Act IV of Richard III by William Shakespeare This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Act IV, Scene I London, before the Tower Enter, on one side, Queen Elizabeth, Duchess of York And Markey of Dorset On the other, Anne Duchess of Gloucester Lady Margaret Plantagenet, Clarence's young daughter Who meets us here? My niece Plantagenet Led in the hand of her kind aunt of Gloucester Now for my life she's wandering to the Tower On pure heart's love to greet the tender princes Daughter, well met God give your graces both a happy and a joyful time of day As much to you, good sister Wither away No farther than the Tower And as I guess upon the like devotion as yourselves To gratulate the gentle princes there My kind, sister, thanks We'll enter all together And in good time hear the lieutenant comes Enter, Brackenbury Master Lieutenant, pray you by your leave How doth the prince and my young son of York Right well, dear madam By your patience I may not suffer you to visit them The king hath strictly charged the contrary The king? Who's that? I mean the Lord Protector The Lord protect him from that kingly title Hath he set bounds between their love and me I am their mother, who shall bar me from them I am their father's mother, I will see them There aren't 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 my peril No, madam, no I may not leave it so, I am bound by oath And therefore pardon me Exit Enter Stanley 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 To the Duchess of Gloucester Come, madam, you must straight to Westminster There to be crowned Richard's Royal Queen Cut, my laces, Sunder, that my pent heart May have some scope to beat Or else I swoon with this dead-killing news Despiteful tidings, o unpleasing news Be of good cheer, mother, how fair is your grace? O dorset, speak not to me, get thee gone Death and destruction dog thee at thy 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, hide thee, hide thee from this slaughterhouse Lest thou increase the number of the dead And make me die the thrall of Margaret's curse Nor mother, wife, nor England's countered queen Full of wise care, is this your counsel, madam? Take all the swift advantage of the hours You shall have letters from me to my son In your behalf to meet you on the way Be not tamed tardy by unwise delay O ill-dispersing wind of misery Kill my accursed womb the bed of death A cockatrice has thou hatched to the world Whose unavoided eye is murderous Come, madam, come, eye in all haste was sent And eye 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 sear me to the brain Anointed let me be with deadly venom And die, airmen can say, God save the queen Go, go, poor soul, I envy not thy glory To feed my humour wish thyself no harm No? Why? When he that is my husband now came to me As I followed Henry's course When scarce the blood was well washed from his hands Which issued from my other angel husband And that dear saint which then I weeping followed O when I say I looked on Richard's face Was my wish, be thou, quoth I, a cursed For making me so young, so old a widow And when thou wept, 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, air I can repeat this curse again Within so small a time my woman's heart Grossly grew captive to his honey words And proved the subject of mine own soul's curse Which hitherto hath held my 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 awaked Besides he hates me for my father Warwick And will no doubt shortly be rid of me Poor heart, adieu, I pity thy complaining More than with my soul I mourn for yours Farewell, thou woeful welcomeer of glory Adieu, poor soul, that takes thy leave of it To Dorset Go thou to Richmond and good fortune guide thee To Anne Go thou to Richard and good angels tend thee To Queen Elizabeth Go thou to Sanctuary and good thoughts possess thee Aye, to my grave, where peace and rest lie with me Eighty odd years of sorrow have I seen And each hour's joy wrecked with a week of teen Stay yet Look back with me unto the tower Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes Whom envy hath amured within your walls Rough cradle for such little pretty ones Rude, ragged nurse, old sullen play-fellow For tender princes, use my baby's well So foolish sorrows bid your stones farewell Accident Scene two, London A room of state in the palace Flourish of trumpets, Richard as king upon his throne Buckingham, Cadesby, Ratcliffe, Lovell, a page and others Stand all apart Cousin of Buckingham My gracious sovereign Give me thy hand Ascends the throne Thus high, by thy 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 Still live they, and forever let them last Ah Buckingham, now do I play the touch To try if thou be current gold indeed Young Edward lives Think now what I would speak Say on, my loving lord Why, Buckingham, I say I would be king Why, so you are, my thrice renowned lord Huh? Am I king, tis so, but Edward lives True noble prince Oh, bitter consequence that Edward still should live True noble prince Cousin, thou was not want to be so dull Shall I be plain? I wish the bastards dead And I would have it suddenly performed What sayest thou now? Speak suddenly, be brief Your grace may do your pleasure Tut, tut, thou art all ice Thy kindness freezes Say, have I thy consent That they shall die? Give me some little breath Some pause, dear lord Before I positively speak in this I will resolve your grace immediately Exit Aside The king is angry, see, he gnaws his lip I will converse with iron-witted fools And unrespective boys Descends from his throne For me that look into me with considerate eyes High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect Boy! My lord? No, thou not any whom corrupting gold Will tempt unto a close exploit of death I know a discontented gentleman Whose humble means match not his haughty spirit Gold were as good as twenty orators And will, no doubt, tempt him to anything What is his name? His name, my lord, is Tyrell I partly know the man. Go, call him hither, boy Exit page A deep revolving witty Buckingham No more shall be the neighbor to my counsels Has he so long held out with me untired And stops he now for breath? Well, be it so Enter Stanley How now, lord Stanley, what's the news? Know, my loving lord, the marquis dorset As I hear is fled to Richmond In the parts where he abides Come hither, Catespear Rumour it abroad that Anne, my wife, Is very grievous sick I will take order for her keeping close Inquire me out some mean poor gentleman Whom I will marry straight to Clarence's daughter The boy is foolish and I fear him not Look how thou dreams I say again Give out that Anne, my queen, is sick And like to die about it For it stands me much upon to stop All hopes whose growth may damage me Exit Catespear 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 again But I am in so far in blood That sin will pluck on sin Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye Re-enter page with Tyrell Is thy name Tyrell? James Tyrell, in your most obedient subject Art thou indeed? Prove me, my gracious lord Darest thou resolve to kill a friend of mine? Please you, but I'd rather kill two enemies Why, then thou hast it Two deep enemies Foes to my rest and to my sweet sleep's disturbers Are they that I would have thee deal upon? Tyrell, I mean those bastards in the tower Let me have open means to come to them And soon I'll rid you from the fear of them Thou singst sweet music Huck, come hither Tyrell 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 I will dispatch it straight Exit Re-enter Buckingham My lord, I have considered in my mind The late request that you did sound me in Well, let that rest Dorset is fledged to Richmond I hear the news, my lord Stanley, here's your wife's son Well, look to it My lord, I claim the gift My due by promise For which your honour and your faith is pawned The Eldom of Hereford And the movables which you have promised That I shall possess Stanley, look to your wife If she convey letters to Richmond You shall answer it What says your highness to my just request? I do remember me Henry VI did prophesy That Richmond should be king When Richmond was a little peevish boy A king? Perhaps My lord How chance the prophet could not At that time have told me, I being by That I should kill him My lord, your promise for the Eldom Richmond When last I was at Exeter The mayor in courtesy Showed me the castle and called it Rougemont At which name I started, because a bard Of Ireland told me once I should not live long after I Saw Rougemont My lord Aye, what's the clock? I am thus bold to put your grace In mind of what you promised me Well, but what's the clock? Upon the stroke of ten Well, let it strike Why, let it strike? Because that like a jack, thou Keeps to the stroke between Thy begging and my meditation I am not in the giving vein today Why, then, resolve me Whether you will or no Thou troublest me I am not in the vein Exe and King Richard entrain And is it thus Repays he my deep service With such contempt Made I him king for this? Oh, let me think on hastings And be gone to Breknock While my fearful head is on Exit Scene three London, another room in the palace Enter Tyrol The tyrannous and bloody act is done The most starched deed of piteous massacre That ever get this land was guilty of Dytton and Forrest, who I did suborn To do this piece of ruthless buttery Albeit they were fleshed villains Bloody dogs, melted with tenderness And mild compassion, wept like Two children in their death-sad story Oh, thus, quote Dytton, lay the gentle babes Thus, thus, quote Forrest Girdling one another within their alabasteriness and arms Their lips were four red roses on a stout And in their summer beauty kissed each other A book of prayers on their pillow lay Which once, quote Forrest Almost changed my mind But, oh, the devil There the villains stopped When Dytton thus told on We smothered the most replenished sweet work of nature That from the prime creation ever 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 Enter King Richard Oh, health, my sovereign lord Kind Tyrol, am I happy in thy news? If to have done the thing you gave in charge To get your happiness, be happy then For it is done But didst thou see them dead? I did, my lord And buried, gentle Tyrol? The chaplain of the tower has buried them But to where to say the truth I do not know Come to me, Tyrol, 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 I humbly take my leave Exit 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 the world good night Now, for I know the Breton Richmond Ames at young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter And by that knot looks proudly on the crown To her go I a jolly thriving wooer Enter, Ratcliffe My lord Good or bad news that comes in so bluntly Bad news, my lord Morton is swear to Richmond And Buckingham, backed with a hardy Welshman Is in the field and still his power increases 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 and herald for a king Go, must a men, my council is my shield We must be brief when traitors brave the field Accident Scene four, London, before the palace Enter, Queen Margaret So now prosperity begins to mellow And drop into the rotten mouths of death Here, in these confines, slyly have I lurked To watch the waning of mine enemies A dire induction on my witness to and will to France Hoping the consequence will prove as bitter Black and tragical Withdraw the wretched Margaret, who comes here? Retires Enter, Queen Elizabeth and the Duchess of York 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 Hover about her Say that right for right has dimmed Your infant mourn to aged night So many miseries have crazed my voice That my woe-weary tongue is still and mute Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead? Plantagenet does quit Plantagenet Edward for Edward pays a dying debt 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? When Holy Harry died and my sweet son Dead life, blind sight, poor mortal living ghost Woe's seen world's shame, graves due by life usurped Brief abstract and record of tedious days Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood Sitting down 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 Sitting down by her Coming forward If ancient sorrow be most reverent Give mine the benefit of seniority And let my griefs frown on the upper hand Sitting down with them If sorrow can admit society Tell all your woes again by viewing mine I had an Edward till a Richard killed him I had a Henry till a Richard killed him Thou hadst an Edward till a Richard killed him Thou hadst a Richard till a Richard killed him I had a Richard too and thou didst kill him I had a Rutland too, thou hopes to kill him Thou hadst a Clarence too and Richard killed him him. From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept a hellhound 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 excellent grand tyrant of the earth that reigns in gaulid 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 kerr prays on the issue of his mother's body, and makes her a pewfellow with others, moan? O Harry's wife, triumph not in my woes. God witness with me I have wept for thine. 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. The 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 stabbed my Edward. And the beholders of this frantic play, the adulterate hastings, rivers, worn gray, untimely smothered in their dusky graves. Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligence, only reserve their factor to buy souls and send them dither. 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 pray, that I may live to say the dog is dead. Though thou dits'd prophesy the time would come that I should wish for thee to help me curse that bottled spider, that foul bunch-backed toad. 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 wasst, 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 be thy two sons? Where in dust thou joy? Who sews 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 one being sued to one that humbly sews. For queen a very cative crowned with care. For a 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 wheeled about and left thee but a very prey to time. Having no more but thought of what thou wasst, 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. Oh, thou well skilled in curses, stay a while, and teach me how to curse mine enemies. For bear to sleep the night and fast the day. Compare dead happiness with living woe. Think that thy babes were sweeter than they were, and he that slew them fowler than he is. Bettering thy loss makes the bad cause a worse. Revolving this will teach thee how to curse. My words are dull. Oh, quicken them with thine. Thy woes will make them sharp and pierce like mine. Exit. Why should calamity be full of words? Windy attorneys to their client woes, airy succeeders of intestate joys, poor breathing orators of miseries. Let them have scope. Though what they do in part held nothing else, yet do they ease the heart. If so, then be not tongue-tied. Go with me, and in the breath of bitter words let smother my damned son that thy too sweet son smothered. Drum within. I hear his drum. Be copious in exclaims. Enter King Richard and his train marching. Who intercepts me in my expedition? O she that might have intercepted thee by strangling thee in her accursed womb from all the slaughter's wretch that thou has done. Hidest thou that forehead with a golden crown, where should be branded if that right were right, the slaughter of the prince that owed that crown, and the dire death of my poor sons and brothers. Tell me, thou villain slave, where are my children? Thou toad, thou toad, where is thy brother Clarence, and little Ned Plantagen at his son? Where is the gentle rivers, Vaughn, Gray? Where is kind Hastings? A flourish, trumpets. Strike alarm, drums. Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women rail on the Lord's anointed. Strike, I say. Flourish. Alarums. Either be patient and entreat me fair, or with the clamorous report of war, thus will I drown your exclamations. Art thou my son? Aye, I thank God my father and yourself. Then patiently hear my impatience. Madam, I have a touch of your condition that cannot brook the accent of reproof. Oh, let me speak. Do then, but I'll not hear. I will be mild and gentle in my words. And brief, good mother, for I am in haste. Art thou so hasty? I have stayed for thee, God knows, in torment and in agony. And came I not at last to comfort you? No, by the holy rude, thou nosed it well. Thou camest on earth to make the earth my hell. A grievous burden was thy birth to me. Techey and wayward was thy infancy. Thy school-days frightful, desperate, wild and furious. Thy prime of manhood daring, bold and venturous. Thy age confirmed, proud, subtle, sly and bloody. More mild, but yet more harmful, kind in hatred. What comfortable hour canst thou name that ever graced me with thy company? Faith none but humfrey hour that called your grace to breakfast once fourth of my company. If I be so disgracious in your eye, let me march on and not offend you, madame. Strike up the drum. I prithee, hear me speak. You speak too bitterly. Hear me a word, for I shall never speak to thee again. So. Either thou wilt die by God's just ordinance, ere from this war thou turn a conqueror. Or I, with grief and extreme aid, shall perish and never more behold thy face again. Therefore take with thee my most grievous curse, which in the day of battle tire thee more than all the complete armor that thou wearst. 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. Exit. Though far more cause, yet much less spirit to curse abides in me, I say amen to her. Going. Stay, madam. I must talk a word with you. I have no more sons of the royal blood for thee to slaughter. For my daughters, Richard, they shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens, and therefore level not to hit their lives. You have a daughter called Elizabeth. Virtuous and fair? Royal and gracious? And must she die for this? Oh, let her live, and I'll corrupt her man as stain her beauty, slander myself as false to Edward's bed, throw over her the veil of infamy, so she may live unscarred of bleeding slaughter. I will confess she was not Edward's daughter. Wrong not her birth, she is of royal blood. To save her life I'll say she is not so. Her life is safest only in her birth. And only in that safety died her brothers. Lo, at their birth's good stars were opposite. No, to their life's bad friends were contrary. All unavoid is the doom of destiny. Oh, true, when avoided grace makes destiny. My babes were destined to a fairer death if grace had blessed thee with a fairer life. You speak as if that I had slain my cousins. Cousins, indeed! And by their uncle Cousin of Comfort, Kingdom, Kindred, Freedom, Life! Whose hands so ever lanced their tender hearts thy head all indirectly gave direction. No doubt the murderous knife was dull and blunt till it was wetted on thy stone-hard heart to revel in the entrails of my lambs. But that still use of grief makes wild grief tame. My tongue should to thy ears not name my boys till that my nails were anchored in thine eyes. And I in such a desperate bay of death, like a poor bark of sails and tackling ref, rush all to pieces on thy rocky bosom. Madam, so thrive I in my enterprise and dangerous success of bloody wars, as I intend more good to you and yours than ever you or yours by me were harmed. What good is covered with the face of heaven to be discovered that can do me good? Advancement of your children, gentle lady. Up to some scaffold there to lose their heads. Unto the dignity and height of honour, the high imperial type of this earth's glory. Flatter my sorrows with a port of it. Tell me, what state, what dignity, what honour canst thou demise to any child of mine? Even all I have. I and myself and all will I with all endow a child of thine. So in the lethy of thy angry soul thou drown the sad remembrance of those wrongs which thou supposest I have done to thee. Be brief. Lest that the process of thy kindness last longer telling than thy kindness date. Then know that from my soul I love thy daughter. Oh, my daughter's mother thinks it with her soul. What do you think? That thou dost love my daughter from thy soul. So from thy soul's loved it's thou love her brother's, and from my heart's love I do thank thee for it. Be not so hasty to confound my meaning. I mean that with my soul I love thy daughter, and do intend to make her queen of England. Well then, who dost thou mean shall be her king? Even he that makes her queen who else should be. What? Thou? I, even I. What think you of it, madam? How canst thou woo her? That would I learn of you as one being best acquainted with her humour. And wilt thou learn of me? Madam, with all my heart. Send to her, by the man that slew her brothers, a pair of bleeding hearts, thereon engrave Edward and York. Then happily will she weep. Therefore present to her as sometimes Margaret did to thy father steeped in Rutland's blood, a handkerchief, which, say to her, did drain the purple sap from her sweet brother's bodies, and bid her wipe her weeping eyes with all. If this inducement move her not to love, send her a letter of thy noble deeds. Tell her thou mates to weigh her uncle Clarence, her uncle Rivers. I, and for her sake, maids quick conveyance with her good aunt Anne. You mock me, madam, this is not the way to win your daughter. There is no other way. Unless thou couldst put on some other shape, and not be richer, that hath done all this. Say that I did all this, for love of her. Nay, then indeed she cannot choose but hate thee, having bought love with such a bloody spoil. Look, what is done cannot be now amended. Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes, which after hours gives leisure to repent. If I did take the kingdom from your sons, to make amends, I'll give it to your daughter. If I have killed the issue of your womb, to quicken your increase, I will beget mine issue of your blood upon your daughter. A grandam's name is little less in love than is the doting title of a mother. They are as children but one step below. Even of your metal, of your very blood, of all one pain, save for a night of groans endured of her for whom you bid like sorrow. Your children were vexation to your youth, but mine shall be a comfort to your age. The loss you have is but a son being king, and by that loss your daughter is made queen. I cannot make you what amends I would, therefore accept such kindness as I can. Dorset, your son, that with a fearful soul leads discontented steps in foreign soil, this fair alliance quickly shall call home to high promotions and great dignity. The king, that calls your beautiful daughter wife, familiarly shall call thy Dorset brother. Again you shall be mother to a king, and all the ruins of distressful times repaired with double riches of content. What we have many goodly days to see, the liquid drops of tears that you have shed shall come again transform to Orient Pearl, advantaging their loan with interest of ten times double gain of happiness. Go then, my mother, to thy daughter go. Make bold her bashful years with your experience. Prepare her ears to hear a wooer's tale. Put in her tender heart the aspiring flame of golden sovereignty. Acquaint the princess with these sweet silent hours of marriage joys. And when this arm of mine have chastised the petty rebel dull-brained Buckingham, bound with triumphant garlands will I come, and lead thy daughter to a conqueror's bed, to whom I will resale my conquest one, and she shall be sole victorice. Caesar's Caesar. What were I best to say? Her father's brother would be her lord, or shall I say her uncle, or he that slew her brother's and her uncle's? Under what title shall I woo for thee, that God the law my honour and her love can make seem pleasing to her tender years? In fur fair England's peace by this alliance, which she shall purchase with still-lasting war, tell her the king that may command entreats, that at her hands which the king's king forbids, say she shall be a high and mighty queen, to wail the title as her mother doth, say I will love her everlastingly, but how long shall that title ever last? Sweetly enforce unto her fair life's end, but how long fairly shall her sweet life last, as long as heaven and nature lengthens it, as long as hell and Richard likes of it, say I, her sovereign, am her subject low, but she your subject loath such sovereignty, be eloquent in my behalf to her, an honest tale's speed's best being plainly told, then plainly to her tell my loving tale, plain and not honest is too harsh a style. Your reasons are too shallow and too quick. Oh no, my reasons are too deep and dead, too deep and dead pour infants in their graves. Harp not on that string, madame, that is past. Harp on it still shall I till heartstrings break. Now by my George, my gutter and my crown, profane dishonoured and the third usurped, I swear by nothing for this is no oath. Thy George profane hath lost his lordly honour, thy gutter blemished, pawned his nightly virtue, thy crown usurped, disgraced his kingly glory. If something thou wouldst swear to be believed, swear then by something that thou hast not wronged. Now by the world, tis full of thy foul wrongs. My father's death, thy life hath that dishonoured. Then by myself, thy self is self misused. Why then by God? God's wrong is most of all. If thou hadst feared to break an oath by him, the unity thy brother made had not been broken, nor my brother slain. If thou hadst feared to break an oath by him, the imperial metal circling now thy head had graced the tender temples of my child, and both the princes had been breathing here, which now, to tender bedfellows for dust, thy broken faith had made a prey for worms. What can't thou swear by now? The time to come. That thou hast wronged in the time or past. For I myself have many tears to wash here after time, for time past wronged by thee. The children live whose fathers thou hast slaughtered, ungoverned youth to wail it in their age. The parents live whose children thou hast butchered, old barren plants to wail it with their age. Swear not by time to come, for that thou hast misused air used by times ill-used or past. As I intend to prosper and repent. So thrive I in my dangerous attempt of hostile arms. Myself, myself confound. Heaven and fortune bar me happy hours. Day yield me not thy light, nor night thy rest. Be opposite all planets of good luck to my proceeding. If, with pure heart's love, immaculate devotion, holy thoughts I tender not thy beauty as princely daughter. In her consists my happiness and thine, without her follows to thyself and thee herself, the land and many a Christian soul, death, desolation, ruin, and decay. It cannot be avoided but by this. It will not be avoided but by this. Therefore, dear mother, I must call you so. Be the attorney of my love to her. Plead what I will be, not what I have been. Not my desserts, but what I will deserve. Urge the necessity and state of times, and be not peevish found in great designs. Shall I be tempted of the devil thus? I, if the devil tempt you to do good. Shall I forget myself to be myself? I, if your self's remembrance wrong yourself. Yet thou didst kill my children. But in your daughter's womb I bury them. Where, in that nest of spicery, they shall breed selves of themselves to your reconforture. Shall I go in my daughter to thy will? And be a happy mother by the deed? I go. Write to me very shortly, and you shall understand from me her mind. Bear her my true love's kiss, and so farewell. Kissing her, exit Queen Elizabeth. Relenting fool and shallow changing woman. Enter Ratcliffe, gates be following. How now, what news? Most mighty sovereign, on the western coast rideth a peasant navy, to the shore throng many doubtful, hollow-hearted friends, unarmed and unresolved to be them back. This thought that Richmond is their admiral, and there they hull, expecting but the aid of Buckingham to welcome them ashore. Some light-foot friend posed to the Duke of Norfolk. Ratcliffe, thyself, or Catespear, where is he? Here, my good lord. Catespear, fly to the Duke. I will, my lord, with all convenient haste. Ratcliffe, come hither, posed to Salisbury. When thou comest, dither. To Catespea. Darlon, mindful villain, why stayst thou here and ghost not to the Duke? First, mighty liege, tell me your highness' pleasure, what from your grace I shall deliver to him? Oh, true, good Catespear. Bid him levies straight the greatest strength and power that he can make and meet me suddenly at Salisbury. I go. Exit. What may it please you, shall I do at Salisbury? Why, what was thou do there before I go? Your highness told me I should post before. Enter Stanley. My mind is changed. Stanley, what news with you? Non good, my liege, to please you with the hearing. But not so bad, but well may be reported. Hoiday, a riddle, neither good nor bad. What needs thou run so many miles about when thou mayst tell thy tale the nearest way? Once more. What? News. Richmond is on the seas. There let him sink and be the seas on him. White-livered runigate, what doth he there? I know not, mighty sovereign, but by guess. Well, as you guess. Stirred up by Dorset, Buckingham and Morton, he makes for England here to claim the crown. Is the chair empty? Is the sword unsuede? Is the king dead? The empire un-possessed? What heir of York is there alive but we? And who is England's king but great York's heir? Then tell me, what makes he upon the seas? Unless for that, my liege, I cannot guess. Unless for that he comes to be your liege, you cannot guess wherefore the Welshman comes. Thou wilt revolt and fly to hear my fear. No, mighty liege, therefore mistrust me not. Where is thy power, then, to beat him back? Where be thy penance and thy followers? Are they not now upon the western shore, safe conducting the rebels from their ships? No, my good lord, my friends are in the north. Cold friends to me! What do they in the north when they should serve their sovereign in the west? They have not been commanded, mighty king. Please, if your majesty to give me leave, I'll muster up my friends, and meet your grace, where and what time your majesty shall please. Aye, aye, thou wouldst be gone to join with Richmond, but I'll not trust thee. Most mighty sovereign, you have no cause to hold my friendship doubtful. I never was nor never will be false. Go, then, and muster men, but leave behind your son, George Stanley. Look your heart be firm, or else his head's assurance is but frail. So deal with him as I prove true to you. Exit. Enter a messenger. My gracious sovereign, now in Devonshire, as I by friends am well advertised. Sir Edward Courtney and the haughty prelate bishop of Exeter, his elder brother, with many more confederates, are in arms. Enter a second messenger. In Kent, my liege, the Guilfords are in arms, and every hour more competitors flock to the rebels, and their power grows strong. Enter a third messenger. My lord, the army of great Buckingham. Out on you, owls! Nothing but songs of death! He strikes him. There, take thou that till thou bring better news. The news I have to tell your majesty is that by sun floods and fall of waters, Buckingham's army is dispersed and scattered, and he himself wandered away alone. No man knows wither. I cry you mercy. There is my purse to cure that blow of thine. Have any well-advised friend proclaimed reward to him that brings the traitor in? Such proclamation has been made, my liege. Enter a fourth messenger. Sir Thomas Lovell and Lord Marquis Dorset to said my liege in Yorkshire are in arms, but this good comfort bring I to your highness. The Britain Navy is dispersed by Tempest. Richmond in Dorseture sent out a boat unto the shore to ask those on the banks if they were his assistants, yea or no. Who answered him they came from Buckingham upon his party. He mistrusting them, hoist sail, and made his course again for Britain. March on, march on, since we are up in arms. If not to fight with foreign enemies, yet to beat down these rebels here at home. Re-enter, Cadesby. My liege, the Duke of Buckingham is taken. That's the best news, that the Earl of Richmond is with a mighty power landed at Milford, is called their tidings, yet they must be told. Away towards Salisbury. While we reason here a royal battle might be won and lost. Someone take order Buckingham be brought to Salisbury. The rest, march on with me. Flourish, Exiant. Scene five. A room in Lord Stanley's house. Enter Stanley and Sir Christopher Oswick. Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from me. That in the sty of the most deadly bore, my son George Stanley is franked up in hold. If I revolt, half goes young George's head. The fear of that holds off my present aid. So get thee gone. Commend me to thy lord. With all say that the Queen hath heartily consented, he should espouse Elizabeth her daughter. But tell me, where is Prince Lee Richmond now? At Penbroke, or at Harford West in Wales. What men of name resort to him? Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned soldier. Sir Gilbert Talbot. Sir William Stanley. Oxford. Redoubted Penbroke Sir James Blunt. And Rice App Thomas, with a valiant crew. And many other of great name and worth. And toward London do they bend their power. If by the way, they be not fought withal. Well, hide thee to thy lord. I kiss his hand. My letter will resolve him of my mind. Farewell. Gives papers to Sir Christopher. Exiant. End of Act 4