The Life and Death of King Richard III - William Shakespeare (most popular novels .TXT) 📗

of your ancestors,
Your state of fortune and your due of birth,
The lineal glory of your royal house,
To the corruption of a blemish'd stock:
Whilst, in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts, -
Which here we waken to our country's good, -
The noble isle doth want her proper limbs;
Her face defac'd with scars of infamy,
Her royal stock graft with ignoble plants,
And almost shoulder'd 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 right 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.

GLOSTER.
I cannot tell if to depart in silence
Or bitterly to speak in your reproof
Best fitteth my degree or your condition:
If not to answer, you might haply think
Tongue-tied ambition, not replying, yielded
To bear the golden yoke of sovereignty,
Which fondly you would here impose on me;
If to reprove you for this suit of yours,
So season'd with your faithful love to me,
Then, on the other side, I check'd 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 and due of birth,
Yet so much is my poverty of spirit,
So mighty and so many my defects,
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 smother'd.
But, God be thank'd, there is no need of me, -
And much I need to help you, were there need; -
The royal tree hath left us royal fruit,
Which, mellow'd 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 wring from him!

BUCKINGHAM.
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 betroth'd
To Bona, sister to the King of France.
These both put off, a poor petitioner,
A care-craz'd mother to a many sons,
A beauty-waning and distressed widow,
Even in the afternoon of her best days,
Made prize and purchase of his wanton eye,
Seduc'd the pitch and height of his degree
To base declension and loath'd bigamy:
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 proffer'd benefit of dignity;
If not to bless us and the land withal,
Yet to draw forth your noble ancestry
From the corruption of abusing time
Unto a lineal true-derived course.

MAYOR.
Do, good my lord; your citizens entreat you.

BUCKINGHAM.
Refuse not, mighty lord, this proffer'd love.

CATESBY.
O, make them joyful, grant their lawful suit!

GLOSTER.
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.

BUCKINGHAM.
If you refuse it, - as, in love and zeal,
Loath 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, whe'er you accept our suit or no,
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.

[Exeunt BUCKINGHAM, the MAYOR and citizens retiring.]

CATESBY.
Call them again, sweet prince, accept their suit:
If you deny them, all the land will rue it.

GLOSTER.
Will you enforce me to a world of cares?
Call them again.

[CATESBY goes to the MAYOR, &c., and then exit.]

I am not made of stone,
But penetrable to your kind entreaties,
Albeit against my conscience and my soul.

[Re-enter BUCKINGHAM and CATESBY, MAYOR, &c., coming forward.]

Cousin of Buckingham, - and sage grave men,
Since you will buckle fortune on my back,
To bear her burden, whe'er I will or no,
I must have patience to endure the load:
But if black scandal or foul-fac'd 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.

MAYOR.
God bless your grace! we see it, and will say it.

GLOSTER.
In saying so, you shall but say the truth.

BUCKINGHAM.
Then I salute you with this royal title, -
Long live King Richard, England's worthy king!

ALL.
Amen.

BUCKINGHAM.
To-morrow may it please you to be crown'd?

GLOSTER.
Even when you please, for you will have it so.

BUCKINGHAM.
To-morrow, then, we will attend your grace:
And so, most joyfully, we take our leave.

GLOSTER.
[To the BISHOPS.]
Come, let us to our holy work again. -
Farewell, my cousin; - farewell, gentle friends.

[Exeunt.]


ACT IV.

SCENE I. London. Before the Tower

[Enter, on one side, QUEEN ELIZABETH, DUCHESS of YORK, and
MARQUIS of DORSET; on the other, ANNE DUCHESS of GLOSTER,
leading LADY MARGARET PLANTAGENET, CLARENCE's young daughter.]

DUCHESS.
Who meets us here? - my niece Plantagenet,
Led in the hand of her kind aunt of Gloster?
Now, for my life, she's wandering to the Tower,
On pure heart's love, to greet the tender princes. -
Daughter, well met.

ANNE.
God give your graces both
A happy and a joyful time of day!

QUEEN ELIZABETH.
As much to you, good sister! Whither away?

ANNE.
No farther than the Tower; and, as I guess,
Upon the like devotion as yourselves,
To gratulate the gentle princes there.

QUEEN ELIZABETH.
Kind sister, thanks; we'll enter all together: -
And in good time, here the lieutenant comes.

[Enter BRAKENBURY.]

Master Lieutenant, pray you, by your leave,
How doth the prince, and my young son of York?

BRAKENBURY.
Right well, dear madam. By your patience,
I may not suffer you to visit them.
The king hath strictly charg'd the contrary.

QUEEN ELIZABETH.
The king! who's that?

BRAKENBURY.
I mean the lord protector.

QUEEN ELIZABETH.
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?

DUCHESS.
I am their father's mother; I will see them.

ANNE.
Their aunt I am in law, in love their mother:
Then bring me to their sights; I'll bear thy blame,
And take thy office from thee on my peril.

BRAKENBURY.
No, madam, no, - I may not leave it so:
I am bound by oath, and therefore pardon me.

[Exit.]

[Enter STANLEY.]

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 GLOSTER.]
Come, madam, you must straight to Westminster,
There to be crowned Richard's royal queen.

QUEEN ELIZABETH.
Ah, cut my lace asunder,
That my pent heart may have some scope to beat,
Or else I swoon with this dead-killing news!

ANNE.
Despiteful tidings! O unpleasing news!

DORSET.
Be of good cheer: mother, how fares your grace?

QUEEN ELIZABETH.
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, hie thee, hie thee from this slaughter-house,
Lest thou increase the number of the dead;
And make me die the thrall of Margaret's curse,
Nor mother, wife, nor England's counted queen.

STANLEY.
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 ta'en tardy by unwise delay.

DUCHESS.
O ill-dispersing wind of misery! -
O my accursed womb, the bed of death!
A cockatrice hast thou hatch'd to the world,
Whose unavoided eye is murderous.

STANLEY.
Come, madam, come; I in all haste was sent.

ANNE.
And I with all unwillingness will go. -
O, would to God that the inclusive verge
Of golden metal that must round my brow
Were red-hot steel, to sear me to the brain !
Anointed let me be with deadly venom,
And die ere men can say God save the queen!

QUEEN ELIZABETH.
Go, go, poor soul; I envy not thy glory;
To feed my humour, wish thyself no harm.

ANNE.
No, why? - When he that is my husband now
Came to me, as I follow'd Henry's corse;
When scarce the blood was well wash'd from his hands
Which issued from my other angel husband,
And that dear saint which then I weeping follow'd;
O, when, I say, I look'd on Richard's face,
This was my wish, - "Be thou," quoth I, "accurs'd
For making me, so young, so old a widow!
And when thou wedd'st, let sorrow haunt thy bed;
And be thy wife, - if any be so mad, -
More miserable by the life of thee
Than thou hast made me by my dear lord's death!"
Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again,
Within so small a time, my woman's heart
Grossly grew captive to his honey words,
And prov'd 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 awak'd.
Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick;
And will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me.

QUEEN ELIZABETH.
Poor heart, adieu! I pity thy complaining.

ANNE.
No more than with my soul I mourn for yours.

DORSET.
Farewell, thou woeful welcomer of glory!

ANNE.
Adieu, poor soul, that tak'st thy leave of it!

DUCHESS.
[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!
I to my grave, where peace and rest lie with me!