sound :
"With them the two brave bears, Warwick and

Montague,
That in their chains fetter'd the kingly lion,
And made the forest tremble when they roai d.
Thus have we swept suspicion from our seat.
And made our footstool of security. —
("ome hither, Bess, and let me kiss my boy.—
Young Ned, for thee thine uncles and myself
Have in our armovu-s watch'dthe winter's night,
"Went all afoot in summer's scalding heat,
That thou mightst repossess the crown in peace ;
And of our labours thou shalt reap the gain.
Glo. [Aside] I '11 blast his harvest if your head

were laid ;
For yet I am not look'd on in the world.
This shoulder was ordain'd so thick to heave ;
And heave it shall some weight, or break my

back. —
"Work thou the way, and thou shalt execute.
A'. Eihv. Clarence and Gloster, love my lovely

queen ;
And kiss your princely nephew, brothers both.
Clar. The duty that I owe unto your majesty
T seal upon the lips of this sweet babe.

Queen. Thanks, noble Clarence ; worthy

brother, thanks.
Glo. And, that I love the tree from whence

thou sprang'st.
Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit. —
[Aside] To say the truth, so Judas kissd his

master,
And cried, ' all hail ! ' whenas he meant all harm.
yv. Edu\ Now am I seated as my soul delights.
Having my country's peace and brothers' loves.

H4



Act V Scene 7

Clar. What will your grace have done with
Margaret ?
Reignier, her father, to the King of France
Hath pawn'd the Sicils and Jerusalem,
And hither have they sent it for her ransom.
K. Edto. Away with her, and waft her hence
to France. —
And now what rests, but that we spend the time
With stately triumphs, mirthful comic shows,
Such as befits the pleasure of the court?
Sound driuns and trumpets ! farewell sour

annoy !
For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy.

[Exeunt.



»»5



THE

TRAGEDY OF KING RICHARD III



DRAMATIS PERSONS.

Kino Edward the Fourth.

Edward, Prince of Wales, afterwards King ^

Edward v., \ sons to

Richard, Duke of York, ) t^® ^'"'?-

Gkorge, Duke of Clarence, -.

Richard, Duke of Gloster, afterwards King - brothers to

Richard III., ' the King.

A young Son of Clarence.

Hknry, Earl of Richmond, afterwards King Henry VII.
Cardinal Boichier, Archbishop of Canterbury.
Thomas Rotiierham, Archbishop of York.
John Morton, Bishop of Ely.
Duke of Buckingham.
DuKK OF Norfolk.
Earl of Surrey, his son.
Earl Rivers, brother to Elizabeth.
Marquis of Dorset and Lord Grey, sons to Elizabeth.
Earl of Oxford.
Lord Hastings.

Lord Stanley, called also Earl of Derby.
Lord Lovel.
Sir Thomas Vauohan.
Sir Richard Ratclikf.
Sir William Catesby'.
Sir James Tyrrel.
Sir James Blount.
Sir Walter Herbert.

Sir Robert Brakenbury', Lieutenant of the Tower.
Christopher Urswick, a Priest. Another Priest.
Lord Mayor of London. Sheriff of Wiltshire. A Keeper

in the Tower.

Elizabeth, Queen to King Edward lY.
Margaret, widow of King Henry VI.
Duchess of York, mother to King Edward IV.
Lady Anne, widow of Edward, Prince of Wales.

A young Daughter of Clarence (Margaret Plantagknkt). '

I

Lords, and other Attendants; two Gentlemen, a Pur- I

Buivant, Scrivener, ^lurderers, Messengers, Ghosts, !

Soldiers, etc. j

Scene: England. i

1
1x8 \



THE

TRAGEDY OF KING RICHARD III

ACT I.

Scene 1.— London. A Street.

Enter Richard, Duke of Gloster.

Glo. Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York,
And all the clouds that lower'd upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious

wreaths,
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments,
Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled

front ;
And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries.
He capers nimbly in a lady's chambei".
To the lascivious pleading of a lute.
But I, that am not shap'd for sportive tricks,
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass ;
I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's

majesty
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph ;
I, that am curtail'd of this fair pi-oportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time

J 19



King Richard III

Into this breathing world, scarce half made up.
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at nie as I halt by theiu ;
Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace.
Have no delight to pass away the time,
Unless to see my shadow in the sun
And descant on mine own deformity :
And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover.
To entertain these fair well-spokeu days,
I am determined to prove a villain
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,
By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams.
To set my brother Clarence and the king
In deadly hate, the one against the other ;
And if King Edward be as true and just
As I am subtle, false, and treacherous.
This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up.
About a prophecy, which says that G
Of Edward's heirs the murtherer shall be.
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul ; here Clarence
comes.

Enter Clorcncc, guarded, and Brakenhury.

Brother, good day. What means this armed

guard
That waits upon your grace ?

Clar. His majesty,

Tendering my person's safety, hath appointed
This conduct to convey me to the Tower.

Glo. Upon what cause?

Clar. Because my name is George.

Glo. Alack, my lord, that fault is none of
yours ;
He should, for that, commit your godfathers.
O, belike his majesty bath some intent

130



Act I Scene 1

That you should be new-christen'd in the Tower.
But what 's the matter, Clarence ? may I know ?
Clar. Yea, Richard, when I know ; for, I pro-
test.
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 [alphabet
His issue disinherited should be ;
And, for my name of Geoi-ge begins with G,
It follows in his thought that I am he.
These, as I learn, and such like toys as these.
Have mov'd his highness to commit me now.
Glo. Why, this it is when men are rul'd 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,
Anthony Woodeville, her brother there,
That made him send Lord Hastings to the

Tower,
From whence this present day he is deliver'd ?
We are not safe, Clarence, we are not safe.
Clar. By heaven, I think there is no man
secure
But the queen's kindred, and night-walking

heralds
That trudge betwixt the king and Mistress

Shore.
Heard you not what an humble suppliant
Lord Hastings was to her for his delivery?

Glo. Humbly complaining to her deity
Got my lord chamberlain his liberty.
I '11 tell you what ; I think it is our way,
If we will keep in favour Avith the king,

MI



King Kichard ill

To be her men and wear hex* livery.
The jealous o'erworn widow and herself,
Since that our brother dubb'd them gentle-
women,
Are mighty gossips in our monarchy.
Brak. I beseech your graces both to pardon
me;
His majesty hath straitlj - given in charge
That no man shall have private conference,
Of what degree soever, with your brother.
Glo. Even so ; an please your worship, Braken-
bury.
You may partake of any thing 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 gentle-
folks.
How say you, sir ? can you deny all this ?
Brak. With this, my lord, myself have

nought to do.
Glo. Naught to do with Mistress Shore ? I
tell thee, fellow.
He that doth naught with her, excepting one,
Weie best to do it secretly, alone.
Brak. What one, my lord ?
Glo. Her husband, knave. Would'st thou

betray me ?
Brak. I beseech your grace to pardon me, and
withal
Forbear your conference with the noble duke.
Clar. We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and
will obey.



Act I Scene 1

Glo. 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, [uiwrate

Meantime, this deep disgrace in brotherhood
Touches me deeper than you can imagine.
Clar. I know it pleaseth neither of us well.
Glo. Well, your imprisonment shall not be
long;
I will deliver you, or else lie for yovi.
Meantime, have patience.

Clar. I must perforce. Farewell.

[Exeunt Clarence, Brakenbury, and Guard.
Glo. 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 1 the new-deliver'd Hast-
ings ?

Enter Hastings.

Hast. Good time of day unto my gracious

lord!
Glo. As much unto my good lord chamberlain I
Well are you welcome to this open air.
How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment?
Hast, With patience, noble lord, as prisoners
must ;
But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks
That were the cause of my imprisonment.

Glo. No doubt, no doubt ; and so shall Clar-
ence too :
For they that were your enemies are his,
And have prevail'd as much on him as you.

123



Kiiiof Ricliarcl III



'O



Hani. More pity that the eagle should be
mew'd,
While kites and buzzards prey at liberty.

GJo. What news abroad ?

Hast. No news so bad abroad as this at home :
The king is sickly, weak, and melancholy.
And his physicians fear him mightily.

Glo. Now, by Saint Paul, that news is bad
indeed.
O, he hath kept an evil diet long.
And overmuch consum'd his royal person ;
'Tis very grievous to be thought upon.
Where is he ? in his bed ?

Hast. He is.

Glo. Go you before, and I will follow you.

[Eocit Hastings.
He cannot live, 1 hope ; and nuist not die
Till George be pack'd with post-horse up to

heaven.
I '11 in, to \irge his hatred more to Clarence,
With lies well steel'd with weighty arguments;
And if I fail not in my deep intent,
Clarence hath not another day to live :
Which done, God take King Edward to his

mercy.
And leave the world for me to bustle in !
For then I'll marry Warwick's youngest

daughter.
What though I kill'd her husband and her

father ?
The readiest way to make the wench amends.
Is to become her husband and her father :
The which will I ; not all so nuich for love
As for another secret close intent,
By marrying her which I nuist reach unto.
But yet I run before my horse to market :

124



Act I Scene 2

Clarence still breathes, Edward still lives and

reigns ;
When they are gone, then must I count my

gains. [Exit.

Scene 2.— The Same. Another Street.

Enter the corpse of King Hem-y the Sixth, borne
in an open coffin. Gentlemen hearing hal-
berds to guard it ; and Lady Anne as
mourner,

Anne. Set down, set down your honourable

load,
If honour may be shrouded in a hearse.
Whilst I awhile obsequiously lament
The untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster. —
Poor key-cold figure of a holy king I
Pale ashes of the House of Lancaster I
Thou bloodless renmant 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 slaughter'd son,
Stabb'd 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 wolves, to spiders, toads,
Or any creeping venom'd thing that lives !
If ever he have child, abortive be it,
Prodigious, and untinaely brought to light,
Whose ugly and unnatural aspect
May fright the hopeful mother at the view ;

125



King Kichard 111

And that be heir to his unhappiness !

If ever he have wife, let her be made

More miserable by the death of hira

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 the weight.
Rest you, whiles I lament King Henry's corse.
\_The Bear'ers take up the corpse and adva7u:e.

Enter Gloster.

Glo. Stay, you that bear the corse, and set it

down.
Anne. What black magician conjures up this
fiend,
To stop devoted charitable deeds ?

Glo. Villains, set down the corse ; or, by Saint-
Paul,
I '11 make a corse of him that disobeys !
\st Gent. My lord, stand back, and let the

cofiBn pass.
Glo. Unmanner'd dog ! stand thou when I
command ;
Advance thy halberd higher than my breast.
Or, by Saint Paul, I '11 strike thee to my foot.
And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness.
[The Bearers set down the coffin.
Anne. What! do you tremble? are you all
afraid ?
Alas ! I blame you not ; for you are niorUil,
And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil. —
Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell 1
Thou hadst but power over his mortal body.
His soul thou canst not have ; therefore, be gone.

u6



Act I Scene 2

Glo. 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,
Fill'd 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 congeal'd mouths and bleed afresh!—
Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity,
For 'tis thy presence that exhales* this [draws out

blood
From cold and empty veins, where no blood

dwells ;
Thy deed, 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 mur-

therer dead.
Or, earth, gape open wide and eat him quick,
As thou doth swallow up this good king's blood.
Which his hell-govern 'd arm hath butchered !

Glo. Lady, you know no rules of charity.

Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses.

An7ie. Villain, thou know'st nor law of God

nor man ;

No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity.

Glo. But I know none, and therefore am no

beast.
Anne. O, wonderful when devils tell the truth !
Glo. More wonderful when angels are so angry.
Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman,
Of these supposed crimes to give me leave

127



Kin<^ Ricluiid III

By circumstaiu-e* but to acquit myself. [detaU*
Aline. Vouchsafe, defus'd* infection of uimpeicM
a man,
For these known evils but to give me leave
By circumstance to curse thy cursed self.

Glo. Fairer than tongue can name thee, let
me have
Some patient leisure to excuse myself.
Aii'tie, Fouler than heait can think thee, thou
canst make
No excuse current but to hang thyself.

Glo. By such despair I should accuse myself.
Anne. And, by despairing, shalt thou stand
excus'd
For doing worthy vengeance on thyself.
That didst unworthy slaughter upon othei-s.
Glo. Say that I slew them not ?
Anne. Why, then they are not dead ;

But dead they are, and, devilish slave, by thee.
Glo. I did not kill your husband.
An)i^. Why, then he is alive,

Glo. Nay, he is dead ; and slain by Edward's

hand.
Anne. In thy foul throat thou liest : Queen
Margaret saw
Thy murtherous falchion smoking in his blood ;
The which thou once didst bend against her

breast,
But that thy brothers beat aside the point.

Glo. I was provoked by her slanderous tongue,
Thatlaid their guilt upon my giiiltless shoulders.
Anne. Thou wast provoked by thy bloody
mind.
That never dieanit on aught but butcheries.
Didst thou not kill this king ?
Glo. I grant ye.

128



Act I Scene 2

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 !

Glo. The better for the king of heaven that

hath him.
Anne. He is in heaven, where thou shalt

never come.
Glo. Let him thank me, that holp to send him
thither ;
For he was fitter for that place than earth.
An')ie. And thou unfit for any place but hell.
Glo. Yes, one place else, if you will hear me

name it.
Anne. Some dungeon.
Glo. Your bedchamber.
An7ie. Ill rest betide the chamber where thou

liest !
Glo. So will it, madam, till I lie with you.
Anne. I hope so.

Glo. 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 [untimely
Of these Plantagenets, Henry and Edward,
As blameful as the executioner ?
Anne. Thou wast the cause, and most accurst

effect.
Glo. 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.
Anrie. If I thought that, I tell thee, homi-
cide,
These nails should rend that beauty from my
cheeks.
7 I "9



Kino- Richard III



•o



Glo. Those eyes could not endure that heauty's
wrafk ;
You should not blemish it, if I stood by.
As all the Morld 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 !
Glo. Curse not thyself, fair creature ; thou art

both.
Anne. I would I were, to be reveng'd on

thee.
Glo. It is a quarrel most unnatural.
To be reveng'd on him that loveth thee.

Anne. It is a quarrel just and reasonable.
To be reveng'd on him that kill'd my husband.

Glo. 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.
Glo. He lives that loves you better than he

could.
Anne. Name him.
Glo. Plantagenet.

Anne. Why, that was he.

Glo. The selfsame name, but one of better

nature.
Anne. Where is he?
Glo. Here. [She i^pits at him.]

Why dost thou spit at me ?
Anne. Would it were mortal poison, for thy

sake !
Glo. 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.
Glo. Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected
mine.



130



Act I Scene 2

Anne. AVould they were basilisks, to strike

thee dead I
Glo. I would they were, that I might die at

once,
For now they kill me with a living death.
Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt

tears,
Sham'd their aspects with store of childish

drops :
These eyes, which never shed remorseful tear ;
No, when my father York and Edward wept
To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made
When black-fac'd Clifford shook his sword at

him ;
Nor when thy warlike father, like a child.
Told the sad story of my father's death,
And twenty times made pause to sob and weep,
That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks.
Like trees bedash'd with rain : in that sad time
My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear ;
And what these sorrows could not thence exhale,
Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with

weeping.
I never sued to friend nor enemy ;
My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing

word;
But, now thy beauty is propos'd my fee.
My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue

to speak. [She looks scoi-nfuUy at him.
Teach not thy lip such scorn, for it was made
For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.
If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive,
Lo, here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword ;
Which if thou please to hide in this true breast,
And let the soul forth that adoreth thee,
I lay it naked to the deadly stroke,

'3'



King Richard III

And humbly bog the death upon my knee.

[He lays his breast open : she offers
at it loith his sword.
Nay, do not pause ; for I did kill King Henry,
But 'twas thy beauty that provoked me.
Na5% now dispatch ; 'twas I that stabb'd young

Edward,
But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on.

[She lets fall the sicord.
Take up the sword again, or take up me.
Anne. Arise, dissembler ; though I \>ish thy
death,
I will not be thy executioner.

Glo. Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it.
Anne. I have already.

Glo. That was in thy rage :

Speak it again, and even with the word
This hand, which for thy love did kill thy love,
Shall for thy love kill a far truer love ;
To both their deaths shalt thou be accessary.
Anne. I would I knew thy heart.
Glo. 'Tis figur'd in my tongue.
Anne. I fear me both are false.
Glo. Then, never man was true.
Anne. Well, well, put up your sword.
Glo. Say, then, my peace is made.
Anyie. That shalt thou know hereafter.
Glo. But shall I live in hope ?
Anne. All men, I hope, live so,
Glo. Vouchsafe to wear this ring.
Anne. To take is not to give.

[She puts on the ring.
Glo. Look, how my ring encompasseth thy
finger.
Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart ;
Wear both of them, for both of them ave thine.

132



Act I Scene 2

And if thy poor devoted servant may
But beg one favour at thy gracious hand,
Thou dost eonflrin his happiness for ever.

Anne. What is it ?

Glo. That it may please you leave these sad
designs
To him that hath most cause to be a mourner,
And presently repair to Crosby House,
Where, after I have solemnly interr'd
At Chertsey monastery this noble king,
And wet his grave with my repentant tears,
I will with all expedient duty see yovi.
For divers unknown reasons, I beseech you.
Grant me this boon.

Anne. With all my heart; and much it joys
me too
To see you are become so penitent.—
Tressel and Berkeley, go along with me.

Glo. Bid me farewell.

Anne. 'Tis more than yovi deserve ;

But since you teach me how to flatter you.
Imagine I have said farewell already.

[Exeunt Lady Anne, Tressel, and Berkeley.

Gent. Towards Chertsey, noble lord ?

Glo. No, to White-Friars ; there attend my
coming. [Exeunt all but Gloster.

W^as ever woman in this humour woo'd ?
Was ever woman in this humour won ?
I '11 have her, but I will not keep her long.
What I I, that kill'd her husband and his father.
To take her in her heait's extremest hate.
With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes,
The bleeding witness of my hatred by.
Having God, her conscience, and these bars

against me.
And I no friends to back my suit withal

133



King Ricliard III

But the plain devil and dissembling looks.

And yet to win her,— all the world to nothing!

Ha!

Hath she forgot already that brave prince,

Edward, her lord, whom I, some three months

since,
Stabb'd in my angry mood at Tewksbury ?
A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman
Fram'd in the prodigality of nature.
Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal,
The spacious world cannot again afford ;
And will she yet abase her eyes on me.
That cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet

prince.
And made her widow to a woful bed?
On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety ?
On me, that halt and am misshapen thus ?
My dukedom to a beggarly denier,* (the smaUestcoin
I do mistake my person all this while !
Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot,
Myself to be a marvellous proper man.
I '11 be at charges for a looking-glass.
And entertain some score or two of tailors
To study fashions to adorn my body ;
Since I am crept in favour with myself,
I will maintain it with some little cost.
But, first, I'll turn yon fellow in his gi*ave,
And then retvu-n lamenting to my love.—
Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass,
That I may see my shadow as I pass. [Exit.

Scene 3.— The Same. A Room in the Palace.

Enter Queen Elizabeth, Lord Rivers, and

Lord Grey.

Riv. Have patience, madam ; there 's no

doubt his majesty

134



Act I Scene 3

Will soon recover his accustom'd health.
Grey. In that you brook it ill, it makes him
worse ;
Therefore, for God's sake, entertain good com-
fort,
And cheer his grace with quick and merry words.
Q. Eliz. If he were dead, what would betide

of me?
Ch'ey. No other harm but loss of such a lord.
Q. Eliz. The loss of such a lord includes all

harms.
Grey. The heavens have bless'd you with a
goodly son,
To be your comforter when he is gone.

Q. Eliz. Ah, he is young ; and his minority
Is put unto the trust of Richard Gloster,
A man that loves not me, nor none of you.
Riv. Is it concluded he shall be protector ?
Q. Eliz. It is determin'd, not concluded yet ;
But so it must be, if the king miscarry.

Enter Buckingham and Derby {Lord Stanley).

Grey. Here come the Lords of Buckingham