Complete Plays, The (305 page)

To Lady Anne

Go thou to Richard, and good angels guard thee!

To Queen Elizabeth

Go thou to sanctuary, and good thoughts possess thee!
I 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.

Queen Elizabeth

Stay, yet look back with me unto the Tower.
Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes
Whom envy hath immured within your walls!
Rough cradle for such little pretty ones!
Rude ragged nurse, old sullen playfellow
For tender princes, use my babies well!
So foolish sorrow bids your stones farewell.

Exeunt

S
CENE
II. L
ONDON
. T
HE
PALACE
.

Sennet. Enter King Richard III, in pomp, crowned; Buckingham, Catesby, a page, and others

King Richard III

Stand all apart Cousin of Buckingham!

Buckingham

My gracious sovereign?

King Richard III

Give me thy hand.

Here he ascendeth his throne

Thus high, by thy advice
And thy assistance, is King Richard seated;
But shall we wear these honours for a day?
Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them?

Buckingham

Still live they and for ever may they last!

King Richard III

O Buckingham, now do I play the touch,
To try if thou be current gold indeed
Young Edward lives: think now what I would say.

Buckingham

Say on, my loving lord.

King Richard III

Why, Buckingham, I say, I would be king,

Buckingham

Why, so you are, my thrice renowned liege.

King Richard III

Ha! am I king? ’tis so: but Edward lives.

Buckingham

True, noble prince.

King Richard III

O bitter consequence,
That Edward still should live! ‘True, noble prince!’
Cousin, thou wert not wont to be so dull:
Shall I be plain? I wish the bastards dead;
And I would have it suddenly perform’d.
What sayest thou? speak suddenly; be brief.

Buckingham

Your grace may do your pleasure.

King Richard III

Tut, tut, thou art all ice, thy kindness freezeth:
Say, have I thy consent that they shall die?

Buckingham

Give me some breath, some little pause, my lord
Before I positively herein:
I will resolve your grace immediately.

Exit

Catesby

[Aside to a stander by]
The king is angry: see, he bites the lip.

King Richard III

I will converse with iron-witted fools
And unrespective boys: none are for me
That look into me with considerate eyes:
High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect.
Boy!

Page

My lord?

King Richard III

Know’st thou not any whom corrupting gold
Would tempt unto a close exploit of death?

Page

My lord, I know a discontented gentleman,
Whose humble means match not his haughty mind:
Gold were as good as twenty orators,
And will, no doubt, tempt him to any thing.

King Richard III

What is his name?

Page

 
His name, my lord, is Tyrrel.

King Richard III

I partly know the man: go, call him hither.

Exit Page

The deep-revolving witty Buckingham
No more shall be the neighbour to my counsel:
Hath he so long held out with me untired,
And stops he now for breath?

Enter Stanley

How now! what news with you?

Stanley

My lord, I hear the Marquis Dorset’s fled
To Richmond, in those parts beyond the sea
Where he abides.

Stands apart

King Richard III

Catesby!

Catesby

 
My lord?

King Richard III

 
Rumour it abroad
That Anne, my wife, is sick and like to die:
I will take order for her keeping close.
Inquire me out some mean-born gentleman,
Whom I will marry straight to Clarence’ daughter:
The boy is foolish, and I fear not him.
Look, how thou dream’st! I say again, give out
That Anne my wife is sick and like to die:
About it; for it stands me much upon,
To stop all hopes whose growth may damage me.

Exit Catesby

I must be married to my brother’s daughter,
Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass.
Murder her brothers, and then marry her!
Uncertain way of gain! But I am in
So far in blood that sin will pluck on sin:
Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye.

Re-enter Page, with Tyrrel

Is thy name Tyrrel?

Tyrrel

James Tyrrel, and your most obedient subject.

King Richard III

Art thou, indeed?

Tyrrel

 
Prove me, my gracious sovereign.

King Richard III

Darest thou resolve to kill a friend of mine?

Tyrrel

Ay, my lord;
But I had rather kill two enemies.

King Richard III

Why, there thou hast it: two deep enemies,
Foes to my rest and my sweet sleep’s disturbers
Are they that I would have thee deal upon:
Tyrrel, I mean those bastards in the Tower.

Tyrrel

Let me have open means to come to them,
And soon I’ll rid you from the fear of them.

King Richard III

Thou sing’st sweet music. Hark, come hither, Tyrrel
Go, by this token: rise, and lend thine ear:

Whispers

There is no more but so: say it is done,
And I will love thee, and prefer thee too.

Tyrrel

’Tis done, my gracious lord.

King Richard III

Shall we hear from thee, Tyrrel, ere we sleep?

Tyrrel

Ye shall, my Lord.

Exit

Re-enter Buckingham

Buckingham

My Lord, I have consider’d in my mind
The late demand that you did sound me in.

King Richard III

Well, let that pass. Dorset is fled to Richmond.

Buckingham

I hear that news, my lord.

King Richard III

Stanley, he is your wife’s son well, look to it.

Buckingham

My lord, I claim your gift, my due by promise,
For which your honour and your faith is pawn’d;
The earldom of Hereford and the moveables
The which you promised I should possess.

King Richard III

Stanley, look to your wife; if she convey
Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it.

Buckingham

What says your highness to my just demand?

King Richard III

As I remember, Henry the Sixth
Did prophesy that Richmond should be king,
When Richmond was a little peevish boy.
A king, perhaps, perhaps,—

Buckingham

My lord!

King Richard III

How chance the prophet could not at that time
Have told me, I being by, that I should kill him?

Buckingham

My lord, your promise for the earldom,—

King Richard III

Richmond! When last I was at Exeter,
The mayor in courtesy show’d me the castle,
And call’d it Rougemont: at which name I started,
Because a bard of Ireland told me once
I should not live long after I saw Richmond.

Buckingham

My Lord!

King Richard III

 
Ay, what’s o’clock?

Buckingham

I am thus bold to put your grace in mind
Of what you promised me.

King Richard III

Well, but what’s o’clock?

Buckingham

Upon the stroke of ten.

King Richard III

Well, let it strike.

Buckingham

Why let it strike?

King Richard III

Because that, like a Jack, thou keep’st the stroke
Betwixt thy begging and my meditation.
I am not in the giving vein to-day.

Buckingham

Why, then resolve me whether you will or no.

King Richard III

Tut, tut,
Thou troublest me; am not in the vein.

Exeunt all but Buckingham

Buckingham

Is it even so? rewards he my true service
With such deep contempt made I him king for this?
O, let me think on Hastings, and be gone
To Brecknock, while my fearful head is on!

Exit

S
CENE
III. T
HE
SAME
.

Enter Tyrrel

Tyrrel

The tyrannous and bloody deed is done.
The most arch of piteous massacre
That ever yet this land was guilty of.
Dighton and Forrest, whom I did suborn
To do this ruthless piece of butchery,
Although they were flesh’d villains, bloody dogs,
Melting with tenderness and kind compassion
Wept like two children in their deaths’ sad stories.
‘Lo, thus’ quoth Dighton, ‘lay those tender babes:’
‘Thus, thus,’ quoth Forrest, ‘girdling one another
Within their innocent alabaster arms:
Their lips were four red roses on a stalk,
Which in their summer beauty kiss’d each other.
A book of prayers on their pillow lay;
Which once,’ quoth Forrest, ‘almost changed my mind;
But O! the devil’— there the villain stopp’d
Whilst Dighton thus told on: ‘We smothered
The most replenished sweet work of nature,
That from the prime creation e’er she framed.’
Thus both are gone with conscience and remorse;
They could not speak; and so I left them both,
To bring this tidings to the bloody king.
And here he comes.

Enter King Richard III

All hail, my sovereign liege!

King Richard III

Kind Tyrrel, am I happy in thy news?

Tyrrel

If to have done the thing you gave in charge
Beget your happiness, be happy then,
For it is done, my lord.

King Richard III

But didst thou see them dead?

Tyrrel

I did, my lord.

King Richard III

 
And buried, gentle Tyrrel?

Tyrrel

The chaplain of the Tower hath buried them;
But how or in what place I do not know.

King Richard III

Come to me, Tyrrel, soon at after supper,
And 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 soon.

Exit Tyrrel

The son of Clarence have I pent up close;
His daughter meanly have I match’d 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 aims
At young Elizabeth, my brother’s daughter,
And, by that knot, looks proudly o’er the crown,
To her I go, a jolly thriving wooer.

Enter Catesby

Catesby

My lord!

King Richard III

Good news or bad, that thou comest in so bluntly?

Catesby

Bad news, my lord: Ely is fled to Richmond;
And Buckingham, back’d with the hardy Welshmen,
Is in the field, and still his power increaseth.

King Richard III

Ely with Richmond troubles me more near
Than Buckingham and his rash-levied army.
Come, I have heard 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!
Come, muster men: my counsel is my shield;
We must be brief when traitors brave the field.

Exeunt

S
CENE
IV. B
EFORE
THE
PALACE
.

Enter Queen Margaret

Queen Margaret

So, now prosperity begins to mellow
And drop into the rotten mouth of death.
Here in these confines slily have I lurk’d,
To watch the waning of mine adversaries.
A dire induction am I witness to,
And will to France, hoping the consequence
Will prove as bitter, black, and tragical.
Withdraw thee, wretched Margaret: who comes here?

Enter Queen Elizabeth and the Duchess Of York

Queen Elizabeth

Ah, my young princes! ah, my tender babes!
My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets!
If yet your gentle souls fly in the air
And be not fix’d in doom perpetual,
Hover about me with your airy wings
And hear your mother’s lamentation!

Queen Margaret

Hover about her; say, that right for right
Hath dimm’d your infant morn to aged night.

Duchess Of York

So many miseries have crazed my voice,
That my woe-wearied tongue is mute and dumb,
Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?

Queen Margaret

Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet.
Edward for Edward pays a dying debt.

Queen Elizabeth

Wilt thou, O God, fly from such gentle lambs,
And throw them in the entrails of the wolf?
When didst thou sleep when such a deed was done?

Queen Margaret

When holy Harry died, and my sweet son.

Duchess Of York

Blind sight, dead life, poor mortal living ghost,
Woe’s scene, world’s shame, grave’s due by life usurp’d,
Brief abstract and record of tedious days,
Rest thy unrest on England’s lawful earth,

Sitting down

Unlawfully made drunk with innocents’ blood!

Queen Elizabeth

O, that thou wouldst as well afford a grave
As thou canst yield a melancholy seat!
Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here.
O, who hath any cause to mourn but I?