To be so flouted79 in this royal presence?
Who knows not that the gentle80 duke is dead?
They all start
You do him injury to scorn his corpse.
KING EDWARD IV 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 forsook86 his cheeks.
KING EDWARD IV Is Clarence dead? The order was reversed.
RICHARD But he, poor man, by your first order died,
And that a wingèd Mercury89 did bear:
Some tardy cripple bare the countermand90,
That came too lag91 to see him burièd.
God grant that some, less noble and less loyal92,
Nearer in bloody thoughts, and not in blood,
Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did,
And yet go current95 from suspicion.
Enter [Lord Stanley,] Earl of Derby
Kneels
DERBY A boon96, my sovereign, for my service done.
KING EDWARD IV I prithee peace. My soul is full of sorrow.
DERBY I will not rise, unless your highness hear me.
KING EDWARD IV Then say at once what is it thou requests.
Rises
DERBY The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant’s life100,
Who slew today a riotous gentleman
Lately attendant on the Duke of Norfolk.
KING EDWARD IV Have I a tongue to doom my brother’s death103,
And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave?
My brother killed no man: his fault was thought,
And yet his punishment was bitter death.
Who sued107 to me for him? Who, in my wrath,
Kneeled at my feet, and bid me be advised?108
Who spoke of brotherhood? Who spoke of love?
Who told me how the poor soul did forsake110
The mighty Warwick and did fight for me?
Who told me, in the field112 at Tewkesbury
When Oxford had me down113, he rescued 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 lap116 me
Even in his garments, and did give himself,
All thin and naked, to the numb118 cold night?
All this from my remembrance119 brutish wrath
Sinfully plucked, and not a man of you
Had so much grace to put it in my mind.
But when your carters or your waiting vassals122
Have done a drunken slaughter, and defaced123
The precious image of our dear Redeemer,
You straight125 are on your knees for pardon, pardon,
And I, unjustly too, must grant it you.
But127 for my brother not a man would speak,
Nor I, ungracious128, speak unto myself
For him, poor soul. The proudest129 of you all
Have been beholding130 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 you133, and mine, and yours for this!—
Come, Hastings, help me to my closet.134
Ah, poor Clarence.
Exeunt some with King and Queen
RICHARD This is the fruits of rashness. Marked136 you not
How that the guilty kindred of the queen
Looked pale when they did hear of Clarence’ death?
O, they did urge it still139 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
Act 2 Scene 2
running scene 4 continues
Enter the old Duchess of York with the two children of Clarence
BOY Good grandam1, tell us, is our father dead?
DUCHESS OF YORK No, boy.
DAUGHTER Why do you weep so oft, and beat your breast,
And cry ‘O Clarence, my unhappy son’?
BOY Why do you look on us, and shake your head,
And call us orphans, wretches, castaways6,
If that our noble father were alive?
DUCHESS OF YORK My pretty cousins8, you mistake me both:
I do lament the sickness of the king,
As10 loath to lose him, not your father’s death.
It were lost11 sorrow to wail one that’s lost.
BOY Then you conclude, my grandam, he is dead.
The king mine uncle is to blame for it.
God will revenge it, whom I will importune14
With earnest prayers all to that effect.
DAUGHTER And so will I.
DUCHESS OF YORK Peace, children, peace. The king doth love you well.
Incapable and shallow18 innocents,
You cannot guess who caused your father’s death.
BOY Grandam, we can, for my good uncle Gloucester
Told me the king, provoked to it by the queen,
Devised impeachments22 to imprison him;
And when my uncle told me so, he wept,
And pitied me, and kindly24 kissed my cheek,
Bade me rely on him as on my father,
And he would love me dearly as a child.
DUCHESS OF YORK Ah, that deceit should steal such gentle shape27,
And with a virtuous visor28 hide deep vice!
He is my son — ay, and therein my shame.
Yet from my dugs30 he drew not this deceit.
BOY Think you my uncle did dissemble, grandam?
DUCHESS OF YORK Ay, boy.
Wailing within
BOY I cannot think it. Hark, what noise is this?
Enter the Queen with her hair about her ears, Rivers and Dorset after her
QUEEN ELIZABETH Ah, who shall hinder me to wail and weep,
To chide35 my fortune, and torment myself?
I’ll join with black36 despair against my soul,
And to myself become an enemy.37
DUCHESS OF YORK What means this scene of rude impatience?38
QUEEN ELIZABETH To make an act39 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 want42 their sap?
If you will live, lament: if die, be brief43,
That our swift-wingèd souls may catch44 the king’s,
Or, like obedient subjects, follow him
To his new kingdom of ne’er-changing night.
DUCHESS OF YORK Ah, so much interest47 have I in thy sorrow
As I had title in48 thy noble husband.
I have bewept a worthy husband’s death,
And lived with looking on his images50:
But now two mirrors of his princely semblance51
Are cracked in pieces by malignant death,
And I for comfort have but one false glass53,
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 snatched my husband from mine arms,
And plucked two crutches from my feeble hands,
Clarence and Edward. O, what cause have I,
Thine being but a moiety60 of my moan,
To overgo61 thy woes and drown thy cries.
To the Queen
BOY Ah, aunt, you wept not f
or our father’s death:
How can we aid you with our kindred63 tears?
DAUGHTER Our fatherless distress was left unmoaned.64
To the Queen
Your widow-dolour likewise be65 unwept.
QUEEN ELIZABETH Give me no help in lamentation,
I am not barren to bring forth complaints.67
All springs reduce68 their currents to mine eyes,
That I, being governed by the watery moon69,
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 OF YORK Alas for both, both mine, Edward and Clarence!
QUEEN ELIZABETH What stay74 had I but Edward? And he’s gone.
CHILDREN What stay had we but Clarence? And he’s gone.
DUCHESS OF YORK What stays had I but they? And they are gone.
QUEEN ELIZABETH Was never widow had so dear77 a loss.
CHILDREN Were never orphans had so dear a loss!
DUCHESS OF YORK Was never mother had so dear a loss.
Alas, I am the mother of these griefs!
Their woes are parcelled, mine is general.81
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 distressed,
Pour all your tears! I am your sorrow’s nurse87,
And I will pamper88 it with lamentation.
To the Queen
DORSET Comfort, dear mother. God is much displeased
That you take with unthankfulness, his doing.
In common worldly things, ’tis called ungrateful,
With dull92 unwillingness to repay a debt
Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent,
Much more to be thus opposite94 with heaven,
For it requires95 the royal debt it lent you.
RIVERS Madam, bethink you, like a careful96 mother
Of the young prince your son: send straight for him
Let him be crowned. In him your comfort lives.
Drown desperate sorrow in dead Edward’s grave
And plant your joys in living Edward’s throne.
Enter Richard, Buckingham, [Stanley, Earl of] Derby, Hastings and Ratcliffe
To the Queen
RICHARD Sister, have comfort. All of us have cause
To wail the dimming of our shining star,
But none can help our harms by wailing them.—
Madam, my mother, I do cry you mercy104:
I did not see your grace. Humbly on my knee
Kneels
I crave your blessing.
DUCHESS OF YORK God bless thee, and put meekness107 in thy breast,
Love, charity, obedience and true duty.
↓Richard rises↓
Aside
RICHARD Amen.—And make me die a good old man.
That is the butt-end110 of a mother’s blessing;
I marvel that her grace111 did leave it out.
BUCKINGHAM You cloudy112 princes and heart-sorrowing peers,
That bear this heavy mutual load of moan113,
Now cheer each other in each other’s love.
Though we have spent our harvest of this king,
We are to reap the harvest of his son.
The broken rancour117 of your high-swoll’n hates,
But lately splintered118, knit, and joined together,
Must gently be preserved, cherished, and kept.119
Meseemeth good, that, with some little train120,
Forthwith121 from Ludlow the young prince be fet
Hither to London, to be crowned our king.
RIVERS Why with some little train, my lord of Buckingham?
BUCKINGHAM Marry, my lord, lest by a multitude124,
The new-healed wound of malice should break out,
Which would be so much the more dangerous
By how much the estate127 is green and yet ungoverned.
Where every horse bears his commanding rein128,
And may direct his course as please himself,
As well the fear of harm, as harm apparent130,
In my opinion, ought to be prevented.
RICHARD I hope the king made peace with132 all of us,
And the compact133 is firm and true in me.
RIVERS And so in me, and so, I think, in all.
Yet since it is but green135, it should be put
To no apparent136 likelihood of breach,
Which haply137 by much company might be urged:
Therefore I say with noble Buckingham,
That it is meet139 so few should fetch the prince.
HASTINGS And so say I.
RICHARD Then be it so, and go we to determine
Who they shall be that straight shall post142 to Ludlow.
Madam, and you my sister, will you go
To give your censures144 in this business?
Exeunt. Buckingham and Richard remain
BUCKINGHAM My lord, whoever journeys to the prince,
For God’s sake, let not us two stay at home.
For by147 the way I’ll sort occasion,
As index148 to the story we late talked of,
To part the queen’s proud kindred from the prince.
RICHARD My other self, my counsel’s150 consistory,
My oracle, my prophet, my dear cousin,
I, as a child, will go by thy direction.152
Towards Ludlow then, for we’ll not stay behind.
Exeunt
Act 2 Scene 3
running scene 5
Enter one Citizen at one door, and another at the other
FIRST CITIZEN Good morrow, neighbour. Whither away so fast?
SECOND CITIZEN I promise you, I scarcely know myself.
Hear you the news abroad?3
FIRST CITIZEN Yes, that the king is dead.
SECOND CITIZEN Ill news, by’r lady5, seldom comes the better:
I fear, I fear ’twill prove a giddy6 world.
Enter another Citizen
THIRD CITIZEN Neighbours, God speed.7
FIRST CITIZEN Give you good morrow8, sir.
THIRD CITIZEN Doth the news hold9 of good King Edward’s death?
SECOND CITIZEN Ay, sir, it is too true, God help the while.10
THIRD CITIZEN Then, masters11, look to see a troublous world.
FIRST CITIZEN No, no. By God’s good grace his son shall reign.
THIRD CITIZEN Woe to that land that’s governed by a child.
SECOND CITIZEN In him there is a hope of government,
Which in his nonage15, council under him,
And in his full and ripened years, himself,
No doubt shall then, and till then govern well.
FIRST CITIZEN So stood the state when Henry the Sixth
Was crowned in Paris but at nine months old.
THIRD CITIZEN Stood the state so?20 No, no, good friends, God wot,
For then this land was famously enriched
With politic grave counsel22; then the king
Had virtuous uncles to protect23 his grace.
FIRST CITIZEN Why, so hath this, both by his father and mother.
THIRD CITIZEN Better it were they all came by his father,
Or by his father there were none at all.
For emulation27, who shall now be nearest,
Will touch us all too near28, if God prevent not.
O, full of danger is the Duke of Gloucester,
And the queen’s sons and brothers haught30 and proud:
And were they to be ruled, and not to rule,
This sickly land might solace32 as before.
FIRST CITIZEN Come, come, we fear the worst. All will be well.
THIRD CITIZEN When clouds are seen, wise men put on their cloaks;
When great leaves fall, then winter is at hand;
When the sun sets, who doth not look for36 night?
Untimely storms makes men expect a dearth.37
All may be well; but, if God sort38 it so,
’Tis more than we deserve or I expect.
SECOND CITIZEN Truly, the hearts of men are full of fear.
You cannot reason almost41 with a man
That looks not heavily42 and full of dread.
THIRD CITIZEN Before the days of change, still43 is it so.
By a divine instinct men’s minds mistrust44
Pursuing danger. As by proof45, we see
The water swell before a boist’rous46 storm.
But leave it all to God. Whither away?47
SECOND CITIZEN Marry, we were sent for to the justices.48
THIRD CITIZEN And so was I. I’ll bear you company.
Exeunt
Act 2 Scene 4
running scene 6
Enter [the] Archbishop, young York, the Queen and the Duchess
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK Last night, I heard, they lay at Stony Stratford1
And as Northampton2 they do rest tonight.
Tomorrow, or next day, they will be here.
DUCHESS OF WORK I long with all my heart to see the prince.
I hope he is much grown since last I saw him.
QUEEN ELIZABETH But I hear, no. They say my son of York
Has almost overta’en him in his growth.
YORK Ay, mother, but I would not have it so.
DUCHESS OF YORK Why, my good cousin9, it is good to grow.
YORK Grandam, one night as we did sit at supper,
My uncle Rivers talked how I did grow
More than my brother. ‘Ay’, quoth my uncle Gloucester,
‘Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow apace.13’
And since, methinks, I would not grow so fast,
Because sweet flowers are slow and weeds make haste.
DUCHESS OF YORK Good faith, good faith, the saying did not hold16
Richard III Page 7
