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Ebook has 1192 lines and 32625 words, and 24 pages
Dramatis Personae
GEORGE, DUKE OF CLARENCE, brother to Edward and Richard BOY, son to Clarence GIRL, daughter to Clarence
SIR WILLIAM CATESBY SIR RICHARD RATCLIFFE LORD LOVELL DUKE OF NORFOLK EARL OF SURREY
Lords, and other Attendants; two Gentlemen, a Pursuivant, Scrivener, Citizens, Murderers, Messengers, Ghosts, Soldiers, &c.
SCENE: England
ACT I
Enter Richard, Duke of Gloucester, alone.
Enter Clarence, guarded and Brakenbury.
Brother, good day. What means this armed guard That waits upon your Grace?
CLARENCE. His Majesty, Tend'ring my person's safety, hath appointed This conduct to convey me to the Tower.
RICHARD. Upon what cause?
CLARENCE. Because my name is George.
RICHARD. Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours. He should, for that, commit your godfathers. O, belike his Majesty hath some intent That you should be new-christened in the Tower. But what's the matter, Clarence? May I know?
CLARENCE. Yea, Richard, when I know, for I protest As yet I do not. But, as I can learn, He hearkens after prophecies and dreams, And from the cross-row plucks the letter G, And says a wizard told him that by "G" His issue disinherited should be. And for my name of George begins with G, It follows in his thought that I am he. These, as I learn, and such like toys as these, Hath moved his Highness to commit me now.
RICHARD. Why, this it is when men are ruled by women. 'Tis not the King that sends you to the Tower; My Lady Grey his wife, Clarence, 'tis she That tempers him to this extremity. Was it not she and that good man of worship, Antony Woodville, her brother there, That made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower, From whence this present day he is delivered? We are not safe, Clarence; we are not safe.
RICHARD. Humbly complaining to her deity Got my Lord Chamberlain his liberty. I'll tell you what: I think it is our way, If we will keep in favour with the King, To be her men and wear her livery. The jealous o'er-worn widow and herself, Since that our brother dubbed them gentlewomen, Are mighty gossips in our monarchy.
BRAKENBURY. I beseech your Graces both to pardon me. His Majesty hath straitly given in charge That no man shall have private conference, Of what degree soever, with your brother.
RICHARD. Even so; an please your worship, Brakenbury, You may partake of anything we say. We speak no treason, man. We say the King Is wise and virtuous, and his noble Queen Well struck in years, fair, and not jealous. We say that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot, A cherry lip, a bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue; And that the Queen's kindred are made gentlefolks. How say you, sir? Can you deny all this?
BRAKENBURY. With this, my lord, myself have naught to do.
RICHARD. Naught to do with Mistress Shore? I tell thee, fellow, He that doth naught with her, excepting one, Were best to do it secretly alone.
BRAKENBURY. What one, my lord?
RICHARD. Her husband, knave! Wouldst thou betray me?
BRAKENBURY. I do beseech your Grace to pardon me, and withal Forbear your conference with the noble Duke.
CLARENCE. We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will obey.
RICHARD. We are the Queen's abjects and must obey. Brother, farewell. I will unto the King, And whatsoe'er you will employ me in, Were it to call King Edward's widow "sister," I will perform it to enfranchise you. Meantime, this deep disgrace in brotherhood Touches me deeper than you can imagine.
CLARENCE. I know it pleaseth neither of us well.
RICHARD. Well, your imprisonment shall not be long. I will deliver or else lie for you. Meantime, have patience.
CLARENCE. I must perforce. Farewell.
RICHARD. Go tread the path that thou shalt ne'er return. Simple, plain Clarence, I do love thee so That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven, If heaven will take the present at our hands. But who comes here? The new-delivered Hastings?
Enter Lord Hastings.
HASTINGS. Good time of day unto my gracious lord.
RICHARD. As much unto my good Lord Chamberlain. Well are you welcome to the open air. How hath your lordship brooked imprisonment?
HASTINGS. With patience, noble lord, as prisoners must; But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks That were the cause of my imprisonment.
RICHARD. No doubt, no doubt; and so shall Clarence too, For they that were your enemies are his, And have prevailed as much on him as you.
HASTINGS. More pity that the eagles should be mewed, Whiles kites and buzzards prey at liberty.
RICHARD. What news abroad?
HASTINGS. No news so bad abroad as this at home: The King is sickly, weak, and melancholy, And his physicians fear him mightily.
RICHARD. Now, by Saint John, that news is bad indeed. O, he hath kept an evil diet long, And overmuch consumed his royal person. 'Tis very grievous to be thought upon. Where is he, in his bed?
HASTINGS. He is.
RICHARD. Go you before, and I will follow you.
Enter the corse of King Henry the Sixth, with Halberds to guard it, Lady Anne, being the mourner, Tressel and Berkeley and other Gentlemen.
ANNE. Set down, set down your honourable load, If honour may be shrouded in a hearse, Whilst I awhile obsequiously lament Th' untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster. Poor key-cold figure of a holy king, Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster. Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood, Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost To hear the lamentations of poor Anne, Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughtered son, Stabbed by the selfsame hand that made these wounds. Lo, in these windows that let forth thy life I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes. O, cursed be the hand that made these holes; Cursed the heart that had the heart to do it; Cursed the blood that let this blood from hence. More direful hap betide that hated wretch That makes us wretched by the death of thee Than I can wish to adders, spiders, toads, Or any creeping venomed thing that lives. If ever he have child, abortive be it, Prodigious, and untimely brought to light, Whose ugly and unnatural aspect May fright the hopeful mother at the view, And that be heir to his unhappiness. If ever he have wife, let her be made More miserable by the death of him Than I am made by my young lord and thee. Come now towards Chertsey with your holy load, Taken from Paul's to be interred there; And still, as you are weary of this weight, Rest you, whiles I lament King Henry's corse.
Enter Richard, Duke of Gloucester.
RICHARD. Stay, you that bear the corse, and set it down.
ANNE. What black magician conjures up this fiend To stop devoted charitable deeds?
RICHARD. Villains, set down the corse or, by Saint Paul, I'll make a corse of him that disobeys!
GENTLEMAN. My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass.
RICHARD. Unmannered dog, stand thou, when I command! Advance thy halberd higher than my breast, Or by Saint Paul I'll strike thee to my foot And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness.
ANNE. What, do you tremble? Are you all afraid? Alas, I blame you not, for you are mortal, And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil. Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell! Thou hadst but power over his mortal body; His soul thou canst not have; therefore begone.
RICHARD. Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst.
ANNE. Foul devil, for God's sake, hence, and trouble us not; For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell, Filled it with cursing cries and deep exclaims. If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds, Behold this pattern of thy butcheries. O, gentlemen, see, see dead Henry's wounds Open their congealed mouths and bleed afresh! Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity, For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood From cold and empty veins where no blood dwells. Thy deeds, inhuman and unnatural, Provokes this deluge most unnatural. O God, which this blood mad'st, revenge his death! O earth, which this blood drink'st, revenge his death! Either heaven with lightning strike the murderer dead, Or earth gape open wide and eat him quick, As thou dost swallow up this good King's blood, Which his hell-governed arm hath butchered.
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