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Read Ebook: King Richard III by Shakespeare William
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Ebook has 1192 lines and 32625 words, and 24 pages
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.
RICHARD. Lady, you know no rules of charity, Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses.
ANNE. Villain, thou know'st nor law of God nor man. No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity.
RICHARD. But I know none, and therefore am no beast.
ANNE. O wonderful, when devils tell the truth!
RICHARD. Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have Some patient leisure to excuse myself.
ANNE. Fouler than heart can think thee, thou canst make No excuse current but to hang thyself.
ANNE. And by despairing shalt thou stand excused For doing worthy vengeance on thyself That didst unworthy slaughter upon others.
RICHARD. Say that I slew them not?
ANNE. Then say they were not slain. But dead they are, and, devilish slave, by thee.
RICHARD. I did not kill your husband.
ANNE. Why then he is alive.
RICHARD. Nay, he is dead, and slain by Edward's hand.
ANNE. In thy foul throat thou liest. Queen Margaret saw Thy murd'rous falchion smoking in his blood, The which thou once didst bend against her breast, But that thy brothers beat aside the point.
RICHARD. I was provoked by her sland'rous tongue, That laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders.
ANNE. Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind, That never dream'st on aught but butcheries. Didst thou not kill this King?
RICHARD. I grant ye.
ANNE. Dost grant me, hedgehog? Then, God grant me too Thou mayst be damned for that wicked deed. O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous.
RICHARD. The better for the King of Heaven that hath him.
ANNE. He is in heaven, where thou shalt never come.
RICHARD. Let him thank me that holp to send him thither, For he was fitter for that place than earth.
ANNE. And thou unfit for any place but hell.
RICHARD. Yes, one place else, if you will hear me name it.
ANNE. Some dungeon.
RICHARD. Your bed-chamber.
ANNE. Ill rest betide the chamber where thou liest!
RICHARD. So will it, madam, till I lie with you.
ANNE. I hope so.
RICHARD. I know so. But, gentle Lady Anne, To leave this keen encounter of our wits, And fall something into a slower method: Is not the causer of the timeless deaths Of these Plantagenets, Henry and Edward, As blameful as the executioner?
ANNE. Thou wast the cause and most accursed effect.
RICHARD. Your beauty was the cause of that effect: Your beauty, that did haunt me in my sleep To undertake the death of all the world, So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom.
ANNE. If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide, These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks.
RICHARD. These eyes could not endure that beauty's wrack; You should not blemish it if I stood by. As all the world is cheered by the sun, So I by that; it is my day, my life.
ANNE. Black night o'ershade thy day, and death thy life.
RICHARD. Curse not thyself, fair creature; thou art both.
ANNE. I would I were, to be revenged on thee.
RICHARD. It is a quarrel most unnatural, To be revenged on him that loveth thee.
ANNE. It is a quarrel just and reasonable, To be revenged on him that killed my husband.
RICHARD. He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband, Did it to help thee to a better husband.
ANNE. His better doth not breathe upon the earth.
RICHARD. He lives that loves thee better than he could.
ANNE. Name him.
RICHARD. Plantagenet.
ANNE. Why, that was he.
RICHARD. The selfsame name, but one of better nature.
ANNE. Where is he?
RICHARD. Here.
Why dost thou spit at me?
ANNE. Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake.
RICHARD. Never came poison from so sweet a place.
ANNE. Never hung poison on a fouler toad. Out of my sight! Thou dost infect mine eyes.
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