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

him kiss your hand;
And what you do, do it unfeignedly.

QUEEN ELIZABETH.
There, Hastings; I will never more remember
Our former hatred, so thrive I and mine!

KING EDWARD.
Dorset, embrace him; - Hastings, love lord marquis.

DORSET.
This interchange of love, I here protest,
Upon my part shall be inviolable.

HASTINGS.
And so swear I.

[Embraces Dorset.]

KING EDWARD.
Now, princely Buckingham, seal thou this league
With thy embracements to my wife's allies,
And make me happy in your unity.

BUCKINGHAM.
Whenever Buckingham doth turn his hate
Upon your grace [to the queen], but with all duteous love
Doth cherish you and yours, God punish me
With hate in those where I expect most love!
When I have most need to employ a friend,
And most assured that he is a friend,
Deep, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile,
Be he unto me! - this do I beg of heaven
When I am cold in love to you or yours.

[Embracing Rivers &c.]

KING EDWARD.
A pleasing cordial, princely Buckingham,
Is this thy vow unto my sickly heart.
There wanteth now our brother Gloster here,
To make the blessed period of this peace.

BUCKINGHAM.
And, in good time, here comes the noble duke.

[Enter GLOSTER.]

GLOSTER.
Good morrow to my sovereign king and queen;
And, princely peers, a happy time of day!

KING EDWARD.
Happy, indeed, as we have spent the day.
Gloster, we have done deeds of charity;
Made peace of enmity, fair love of hate,
Between these swelling wrong-incensed peers.

GLOSTER.
A blessed labour, my most sovereign lord, -
Among this princely heap, if any here,
By false intelligence or wrong surmise,
Hold me a foe;
If I unwittingly, or in my rage,
Have aught committed that is hardly borne
To any in this presence, I desire
To reconcile me to his friendly peace:
'Tis death to me to be at enmity;
I hate it, and desire all good men's love. -
First, madam, I entreat true peace of you,
Which I will purchase with my duteous service; -
Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham,
If ever any grudge were lodg'd between us; -
Of you, and you, Lord Rivers, and of Dorset,
That all without desert have frown'd on me;
Of you, Lord Woodville, and, Lord Scales, of you; -
Dukes, earls, lords, gentlemen; - indeed, of all.
I do not know that Englishman alive
With whom my soul is any jot at odds
More than the infant that is born to-night:
I thank my God for my humility.

QUEEN ELIZABETH.
A holy day shall this be kept hereafter: -
I would to God all strifes were well compounded. -
My sovereign lord, I do beseech your highness
To take our brother Clarence to your grace.

GLOSTER.
Why, madam, have I off'red love for this,
To be so flouted in this royal presence?
Who knows not that the gentle duke is dead?

[They all start.]

You do him injury to scorn his corse.

KING EDWARD.
Who knows not he is dead! Who knows he is?

QUEEN ELIZABETH.
All-seeing heaven, what a world is this!

BUCKINGHAM.
Look I so pale, Lord Dorset, as the rest?

DORSET.
Ay, my good lord; and no man in the presence
But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks.

KING EDWARD.
Is Clarence dead? the order was revers'd.

GLOSTER.
But he, poor man, by your first order died,
And that a winged Mercury did bear;
Some tardy cripple bore the countermand
That came too lag to see him buried.
God grant that some, less noble and less loyal,
Nearer in bloody thoughts, an not in blood,
Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did,
And yet go current from suspicion!

[Enter Stanley.]

STANLEY.
A boon, my sovereign, for my service done!

KING EDWARD.
I pr'ythee, peace: my soul is full of sorrow.

STANLEY.
I Will not rise unless your highness hear me.

KING EDWARD.
Then say at once what is it thou request'st.

STANLEY.
The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant's life;
Who slew to-day a riotous gentleman
Lately attendant on the Duke of Norfolk.

KING EDWARD.
Have I a tongue to doom my brother's death,
And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave?
My brother kill'd no man, - his fault was thought,
And yet his punishment was bitter death.
Who su'd to me for him? who, in my wrath,
Kneel'd at my feet, and bid me be advis'd?
Who spoke of brotherhood? who spoke of love?
Who told me how the poor soul did forsake
The mighty Warwick, and did fight for me?
Who told me, in the field at Tewksbury,
When Oxford had me down, he rescu'd me,
And said "Dear brother, live, and be a king"?
Who told me, when we both lay in the field
Frozen almost to death, how he did lap me
Even in his garments, and did give himself,
All thin and naked, to the numb-cold night?
All this from my remembrance brutish wrath
Sinfully pluck'd, and not a man of you
Had so much grace to put it in my mind.
But when your carters or your waiting-vassals
Have done a drunken slaughter, and defac'd
The precious image of our dear Redeemer,
You straight are on your knees for pardon, pardon;
And I, unjustly too, must grant it you: -
But for my brother not a man would speak, -
Nor I, ungracious, speak unto myself
For him, poor soul. The proudest of you all
Have been beholding to him in his life;
Yet none of you would once beg for his life. -
O God, I fear Thy justice will take hold
On me, and you, and mine, and yours, for this!
Come, Hastings, help me to my closet.
Ah, poor Clarence!

[Exeunt KING, QUEEN, HASTINGS, RIVERS, DORSET, and GREY.]

GLOSTER.
This is the fruit of rashness! Mark'd you not
How that the guilty kindred of the queen
Look'd pale when they did hear of Clarence' death?
O, they did urge it still unto the king!
God will revenge it. - Come, lords, will you go
To comfort Edward with our company?

BUCKINGHAM.
We wait upon your grace.

[Exeunt.]


SCENE II. Another Room in the palace.

[Enter the DUCHESS OF YORK, with A SON and DAUGHTER of
CLARENCE.]

SON.
Good grandam, tell us, is our father dead?

DUCHESS.
No, boy.

DAUGHTER.
Why do you weep so oft, and beat your breast,
And cry "O Clarence, my unhappy son!"

SON.
Why do you look on us, and shake your head,
And call us orphans, wretches, castaways,
If that our noble father were alive?

DUCHESS.
My pretty cousins, you mistake me both;
I do lament the sickness of the king,
As loath to lose him, not your father's death;
It were lost sorrow to wail one that's lost.

SON.
Then you conclude, my grandam, he is dead.
The king mine uncle is to blame for this:
God will revenge it; whom I will importune
With earnest prayers all to that effect.

DAUGHTER.
And so will I.

DUCHESS.
Peace, children, peace! the king doth love you well:
Incapable and shallow innocents,
You cannot guess who caus'd your father's death.

SON.
Grandam, we can; for my good uncle Gloster
Told me, the king, provok'd to it by the queen,
Devis'd impeachments to imprison him:
And when my uncle told me so, he wept,
And pitied me, and kindly kiss'd my cheek;
Bade me rely on him as on my father,
And he would love me dearly as his child.

DUCHESS.
Ah, that deceit should steal such gentle shape,
And with a virtuous visard hide deep vice!
He is my son; ay, and therein my shame;
Yet from my dugs he drew not this deceit.

SON.
Think you my uncle did dissemble, grandam?

DUCHESS.
Ay, boy.

SON.
I cannot think it. - Hark! what noise is this?

[Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH, distractedly; RIVERS and DORSET following
her.]

QUEEN ELIZABETH.
Ah, who shall hinder me to wail and weep,
To chide my fortune, and torment myself?
I'll join with black despair against my soul,
And to myself become an enemy.

DUCHESS.
What means this scene of rude impatience?

QUEEN ELIZABETH.
To make an act of tragic violence: -
Edward, my lord, thy son, our king, is dead. -
Why grow the branches when the root is gone?
Why wither not the leaves that want their sap? -
If you will live, lament; if die, be brief,
That our swift-winged souls may catch the king's;
Or, like obedient subjects, follow him
To his new kingdom of perpetual rest.

DUCHESS.
Ah, so much interest have I in thy sorrow
As I had title in thy noble husband!
I have bewept a worthy husband's death,
And liv'd by looking on his images:
But now two mirrors of his princely semblance
Are crack'd in pieces by malignant death,
And I for comfort have but one false glass,
That grieves me when I see my shame in him.
Thou art a widow, yet thou art a mother,
And hast the comfort of thy children left;
But death hath snatch'd my husband from mine arms,
And pluck'd two crutches from my feeble hands, -
Clarence and Edward. O, what cause have I, -
Thine being but a moiety of my moan, -
To overgo thy woes and drown thy cries?

SON.
Ah, aunt, you wept not for our father's death!
How can we aid you with our kindred tears?

DAUGHTER.
Our fatherless distress was left unmoan'd,
Your widow-dolour likewise be unwept!

QUEEN ELIZABETH.
Give me no help in lamentation;
I am not barren to bring forth complaints:
All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes,
That I, being govern'd by the watery moon,
May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world!
Ah for my husband, for my dear Lord Edward!

CHILDREN.
Ah for our father, for our dear Lord Clarence!

DUCHESS.
Alas for both, both mine, Edward and Clarence!

QUEEN ELIZABETH.
What stay had I but Edward? and he's gone.

CHILDREN.
What stay had we but Clarence? and he's gone.

DUCHESS.
What stays had I but they? and they are gone.

QUEEN ELIZABETH.
Was never widow had so dear a loss!

CHILDREN.
Were never orphans had so dear a loss!

DUCHESS.
Was never mother had so dear a loss!
Alas, I am the mother of these griefs!
Their woes are parcell'd, mine is general.
She for an Edward weeps, and so do I:
I for a Clarence weep, so doth not she:
These babes for Clarence weep, and so do I;
I for an Edward weep, so do not they: -
Alas, you three, on me, threefold distress'd,
Pour all your tears! I am your sorrow's nurse,
And I will pamper it with lamentation.

DORSET.
Comfort, dear mother: God is much displeas'd
That you take with unthankfulness His doing:
In common worldly things 'tis called ungrateful,
With dull unwillingness to repay a debt
Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent;
Much more to be thus opposite with heaven,
For it requires the royal debt it lent you.

RIVERS.
Madam, bethink you, like a careful mother,
Of the young prince your son: send straight for him;
Let him be crown'd; in him your comfort lives.
Drown desperate sorrow in dead Edward's grave,
And plant your joys in living Edward's throne.

[Enter GLOSTER, BUCKINGHAM, STANLEY, HASTINGS, RATCLIFF and
others.]

GLOSTER.
Sister, have comfort: all of us have cause
To wail the dimming of our shining star;
But