Richard III
Page 5
And, Rivers, so were you.— Was not your husband127
In Margaret’s battle128 at St Albans slain?
Let me put in your minds, if you forget,
What you have been ere this130, and what you are:
Withal131, what I have been, and what I am.
QUEEN MARGARET A murd’rous villain, and so still thou art.
RICHARD Poor Clarence did forsake his father133, Warwick,
Ay, and forswore himself134 — which Jesu pardon! —
QUEEN MARGARET Which God revenge!
RICHARD To fight on Edward’s party for the crown.
And for his meed137, poor lord, he is mewed up.
I would to God my heart were flint, like Edward’s,
Or Edward’s soft and pitiful139, like mine.
I am too childish-foolish140 for this world.
QUEEN MARGARET Hie141 thee to hell for shame, and leave this world,
Thou cacodemon!142 There thy kingdom is.
RIVERS My lord of Gloucester, in those busy days
Which here you urge144 to prove us enemies,
We followed then our lord, our sovereign king.
So should we you, if you should be our king.
RICHARD If I should be? I had rather be a pedlar.
Far be it from my heart, the thought thereof.
QUEEN ELIZABETH As little joy, my lord, as you suppose
You should enjoy were you this country’s king,
As little joy you may suppose in me,
That I enjoy, being the queen thereof.
QUEEN MARGARET A little joy enjoys the queen thereof,
For I am she, and altogether joyless.
I can no longer hold me patient.—
Comes forward
Hear me, you wrangling pirates, that fall out
In sharing that which you have pilled157 from me.
Which of you trembles not that looks on me?
If not, that I am queen, you bow like subjects159,
Yet that, by you deposed, you quake like rebels.
To Richard
Ah, gentle villain161, do not turn away.
RICHARD Foul wrinkled witch, what mak’st thou162 in my sight?
QUEEN MARGARET But repetition of what thou hast marred163,
That will I make164 before I let thee go.
RICHARD Wert thou not banishèd on pain of death?
QUEEN MARGARET I was, but I do find more pain in banishment
Than death can yield me here by my abode.167
A husband and a son thou ow’st to me,
And thou169 a kingdom; all of you allegiance.
The sorrow that I have, by right is yours,
And all the pleasures you usurp are mine.
RICHARD The curse my noble father laid on thee172,
When thou didst crown his warlike brows with paper
And with thy scorns drew’st rivers from his eyes,
And then, to dry them, gav’st the duke a clout175
Steeped in the faultless blood of pretty Rutland176 —
His curses then, from bitterness of soul
Denounced against thee, are all fall’n upon thee,
And God, not we, hath plagued179 thy bloody deed.
QUEEN ELIZABETH So just is God, to right the innocent.
HASTINGS O, ’twas the foulest deed to slay that babe181,
And the most merciless that e’er was heard of!
RIVERS Tyrants themselves wept when it was reported.
DORSET No man but prophesied184 revenge for it.
BUCKINGHAM Northumberland, then present, wept to see it.
QUEEN MARGARET What? Were you snarling all before I came,
Ready to catch187 each other by the throat,
And turn you all your hatred now on me?
Did York’s dread curse prevail so much with heaven?
That Henry’s death, my lovely Edward’s death,
Their kingdom’s loss, my woeful banishment,
Should all but answer for that peevish192 brat?
Can curses pierce the clouds and enter heaven?
Why then give way, dull clouds, to my quick194 curses.
Though not by war, by surfeit195 die your king,
As ours by murder, to make him a king.—
To Elizabeth
Edward thy son, that now is Prince of Wales,
For Edward our son, that was Prince of Wales,
Die in his youth by like199 untimely violence!
Thyself a queen, for me that was a queen,
Outlive thy glory, like my wretched self!
Long mayst thou live to wail thy children’s death,
And see another, as I see thee now,
Decked in thy rights, as thou art stalled204 in mine.
Long die thy happy days before thy death,
And, after many lengthened hours of grief,
Die neither mother, wife, nor England’s queen.—
Rivers and Dorset, you were standers-by208,
And so wast thou, Lord Hastings, when my son
Was stabbed with bloody daggers: God, I pray him,
That none of you may live his natural age,
But by some unlooked212 accident cut off.
RICHARD Have done thy charm, thou hateful withered hag.213
QUEEN MARGARET And leave out thee? Stay, dog, for thou shalt hear me.
If heaven have any grievous plague in store
Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee,
O, let them217 keep it till thy sins be ripe,
And then hurl down their indignation
On thee, the troubler of the poor world’s peace.
The worm of conscience still begnaw220 thy soul.
Thy friends suspect for221 traitors while thou liv’st,
And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends.
No sleep close up that deadly223 eye of thine,
Unless it be while some tormenting dream
Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils.
Thou elvish-marked, abortive, rooting hog226,
Thou that wast sealed in thy nativity227
The slave of nature228 and the son of hell.
Thou slander of thy heavy229 mother’s womb,
Thou loathèd issue230 of thy father’s loins,
Thou rag231 of honour, thou detested—
RICHARD Margaret.232
QUEEN MARGARET Richard.
RICHARD Ha?
QUEEN MARGARET I call thee not.
RICHARD I cry thee mercy236 then, for I did think
That thou hadst called me all these bitter names.
QUEEN MARGARET Why, so I did, but looked for238 no reply.
O, let me make the period239 to my curse.
RICHARD ’Tis done by me, and ends in ‘Margaret’.
QUEEN ELIZABETH Thus have you breathed your curse against yourself.
QUEEN MARGARET Poor painted queen, vain flourish of my fortune.242
Why strew’st thou sugar on that bottled243 spider,
Whose deadly web ensnareth thee about?
Fool, fool, thou whet’st245 a knife to kill thyself.
The day will come that thou shalt wish for me
To help thee curse this poisonous bunch-backed247 toad.
HASTINGS False-boding woman, end thy frantic248 curse,
Lest to thy harm thou move our patience.
QUEEN MARGARET Foul shame upon you! You have all moved mine.
RIVERS Were you well served251, you would be taught your duty.
QUEEN MARGARET To serve me well, you all should do me duty252,
Teach me to be your queen, and you my subjects.
DORSET Dispute not with her, she is lunatic.
QUEEN MARGARET Peace, Master Marquis, you are malapert256:
Your fire-new stamp of honour is scarce current.257
O, that your young nobility258 could judge
What ’twere to lose it, and be miserable.
They that stand high have many blasts to shake them,
And if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces.
RICHARD Good counsel, marry. Learn it, learn it, marquis.
DORSET It touches you, my lord, as much as me.
RICHARD Ay, and much more. But I was born so high264,
Our eyrie265 buildeth in the cedar’s top,
And dallies with the wind and scorns the sun.266
QUEEN MARGARET And turns the sun267 to shade. Alas, alas!
Witness my son, now in the shade of death,
Whose bright out-shining beams thy cloudy wrath
Hath in eternal darkness folded up.
Your eyrie buildeth in our eyrie’s nest.
O God, that see’st it, do not suffer272 it.
As it is won with blood, lost be it so!
BUCKINGHAM Peace, peace, for shame, if not for charity.
QUEEN MARGARET Urge neither charity nor shame to me:
Uncharitably with me have you dealt,
And shamefully my hopes by you are butchered.
My charity is outrage, life my shame278,
And in that shame still279 live my sorrow’s rage.
BUCKINGHAM Have done, have done.
QUEEN MARGARET O princely Buckingham, I’ll kiss thy hand
In sign of league and amity with thee.
Now fair283 befall thee and thy noble house.
Thy garments are not spotted with our blood,
Nor thou within the compass285 of my curse.
BUCKINGHAM Nor no one here, for curses never pass286
The lips of those that breathe them in the air.
QUEEN MARGARET I will not think but288 they ascend the sky,
And there awake God’s gentle-sleeping peace.
O Buckingham, take heed of yonder dog:
Look when291 he fawns, he bites; and when he bites,
His venom tooth will rankle292 to the death.
Have not to do with him, beware of him.
Sin, death and hell have set their marks294 on him,
And all their ministers attend on him.
RICHARD What doth she say, my lord of Buckingham?
BUCKINGHAM Nothing that I respect297, my gracious lord.
QUEEN MARGARET What, dost thou scorn me for my gentle counsel?
And soothe299 the devil that I warn thee from?
O, but remember this another day,
When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow,
And say poor Margaret was a prophetess.—
Live each of you the subjects to his hate,
And he to yours, and all of you to God’s.
Exit
BUCKINGHAM My hair doth stand on end to hear her curses.
RIVERS And so doth mine. I muse why she’s at liberty.
RICHARD I cannot blame her. By God’s holy mother,
She hath had too much wrong, and I repent
My part thereof that I have done to her.
QUEEN ELIZABETH I never did her any, to my knowledge.
RICHARD Yet you have all the vantage of her wrong.311
I was too hot to do somebody good312,
That is too cold313 in thinking of it now.
Marry, as for Clarence, he is well repaid:
He is franked up to fatting315 for his pains —
God pardon them that are the cause thereof!
RIVERS A virtuous and a Christian-like conclusion,
To pray for them that have done scathe318 to us.
RICHARD So do I ever, being well advised.319—
For had I cursed now, I had cursed myself.
Speaks to himself
Enter Catesby
CATESBY Madam, his majesty doth call for you,
And for your grace, and yours, my gracious lord.
QUEEN ELIZABETH Catesby, I come. Lords, will you go with me?
RIVERS We wait upon324 your grace.
Exeunt all but [Richard of] Gloucester
RICHARD I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl.
The secret mischiefs that I set abroach326
I lay unto the grievous charge of327 others.
Clarence, who I indeed have cast in darkness328,
I do beweep to many simple gulls329 —
Namely, to Derby, Hastings, Buckingham —
And tell them ’tis the queen and her allies331
That stir332 the king against the duke my brother.
Now they believe it, and withal whet333 me
To be revenged on Rivers, Dorset, Grey.
But then I sigh, and with a piece of scripture,
Tell them that God bids us do good for evil:
And thus I clothe my naked villainy
With odd old ends338 stol’n forth of holy writ,
And seem a saint when most I play the devil.
Enter two Murderers
But, soft, here come my executioners.—
How now, my hardy341, stout-resolvèd mates,
Are you now going to dispatch342 this thing?
FIRST MURDERER We are, my lord, and come to have the warrant
That we may be admitted where he is.
RICHARD Well thought upon. I have it here about me.
Gives the warrant
When you have done, repair346 to Crosby Place.
But, sirs, be sudden347 in the execution,
Withal obdurate348, do not hear him plead;
For Clarence is well-spoken349, and perhaps
May move your hearts to pity if you mark350 him.
FIRST MURDERER Tut, tut! My lord, we will not stand to prate351:
Talkers are no good doers. Be assured
We go to use our hands and not our tongues.
RICHARD Your eyes drop millstones when fools’ eyes fall354 tears.
I like you, lads. About your business straight.355
Go, go, dispatch.
FIRST MURDERER We will, my noble lord.
[Exeunt]
Act 1 Scene 4
running scene 3
Enter Clarence and Keeper
KEEPER Why looks your grace so heavily1 today?
CLARENCE O, I have passed a miserable night,
So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights,
That, as I am a Christian faithful man,
I would not spend5 another such a night,
Though ’twere6 to buy a world of happy days,
So full of dismal7 terror was the time.
KEEPER What was your dream, my lord? I pray you tell me.
CLARENCE Methoughts that I had broken from the Tower,
And was embarked to cross to Burgundy,
And in my company my brother Gloucester,
Who from my cabin tempted me to walk
Upon the hatches13: there we looked toward England,
And cited up14 a thousand heavy times,
During the wars of York and Lancaster
That had befall’n us. As we paced along
Upon the giddy17 footing of the hatches,
Methought that Gloucester stumbled, and in falling
Struck me, that thought to stay19 him, overboard,
Into the tumbling billows of the main.20
O lord, methought, what pain it was to drown!
What dreadful noise of water in mine ears,
/> What sights of ugly death within mine eyes.
Methoughts I saw a thousand fearful wrecks:
A thousand men that fishes gnawed upon:
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
Inestimable stones, unvalued27 jewels,
All scattered in the bottom of the sea.
Some lay in dead men’s skulls, and in the holes
Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept,
As ’twere in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems,
That wooed the slimy bottom of the deep,
And mocked the dead bones that lay scattered by.
KEEPER Had you such leisure in the time of death
To gaze upon these secrets of the deep?
CLARENCE Methought I had, and often did I strive
To yield the ghost. But still the envious flood37
Stopped in38 my soul, and would not let it forth
To find the empty, vast39 and wand’ring air,
But smothered it within my panting bulk40,
Which almost burst to belch it in the sea.
KEEPER Awaked you not in this sore42 agony?
CLARENCE No, no, my dream was lengthened after life.
O, then began the tempest to my soul,
I passed, methought, the melancholy flood45,
With that sour ferryman46 which poets write of,
Unto the kingdom of perpetual night.47
The first that there did greet my stranger48 soul,
Was my great father-in-law, renownèd Warwick,
Who spake aloud, ‘What scourge for perjury50
Can this dark monarchy afford51 false Clarence?’
And so he vanished. Then came wand’ring by
A shadow53 like an angel, with bright hair
Dabbled in blood, and he shrieked54 out aloud,
‘Clarence is come: false, fleeting55, perjured Clarence,
That stabbed me in the field56 by Tewkesbury.
Seize on him, Furies57, take him unto torment!’
With that, methought, a legion58 of foul fiends
Environed59 me, and howlèd in mine ears
Such hideous cries, that with the very noise
I trembling waked, and for a season61 after
Could not believe but that I was in hell,
Such terrible impression made the dream.
KEEPER No marvel, lord, though64 it affrighted you,
I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it.
CLARENCE Ah, keeper, keeper, I have done these things,
That now give evidence against my soul,
For Edward’s sake, and see how he requites68 me.