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As
Richard III
opens, Richard is Duke of Gloucester and his brother, Edward IV, is king. Richard is eager to clear his way to the crown. He manipulates Edward into imprisoning their brother, Clarence, and then has Clarence murdered in the Tower. Meanwhile, Richard succeeds in marrying Lady Anne, even though he killed her father-in-law, Henry VI, and her husband.
When the ailing King Edward dies, Prince Edward, the older of his two young sons, is next in line for the throne. Richard houses the Prince and his younger brother in the Tower. Richard then stages events that yield him the crown.
After Richard’s coronation, he has the boys secretly killed. He also disposes of Anne, his wife, in order to court his niece, Elizabeth of York. Rebellious nobles rally to Henry Tudor, Earl of Richmond. When their armies meet, Richard is defeated and killed. Richmond becomes Henry VII. His marriage to Elizabeth of York ends the Wars of the Roses and starts the Tudor dynasty.
ACT
1
Scene
1
Enter
Richard
,
Duke
of
Gloucester
,
alone
.
Now
is
the
winter
of
our
discontent
Made
glorious
summer
by
this
son
of
York
,
And
all
the
clouds
that
loured
upon
our
house
In
the
deep
bosom
of
the
ocean
buried
.
Now
are
our
brows
bound
with
victorious
wreaths
,
Our
bruisèd
arms
hung
up
for
monuments
,
Our
stern
alarums
changed
to
merry
meetings
,
Our
dreadful
marches
to
delightful
measures
.
Grim-visaged
war
hath
smoothed
his
wrinkled
front
;
And
now
,
instead
of
mounting
barbèd
steeds
To
fright
the
souls
of
fearful
adversaries
,
He
capers
nimbly
in
a
lady’s
chamber
To
the
lascivious
pleasing
of
a
lute
.
But
I
,
that
am
not
shaped
for
sportive
tricks
,
Nor
made
to
court
an
amorous
looking
glass
;
I
,
that
am
rudely
stamped
and
want
love’s
majesty
To
strut
before
a
wanton
ambling
nymph
;
I
,
that
am
curtailed
of
this
fair
proportion
,
Cheated
of
feature
by
dissembling
nature
,
Deformed
,
unfinished
,
sent
before
my
time
Into
this
breathing
world
scarce
half
made
up
,
And
that
so
lamely
and
unfashionable
That
dogs
bark
at
me
as
I
halt
by
them
—
ACT 1. SC. 1
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-spoken
days
,
I
am
determinèd
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
mewed
up
About
a
prophecy
which
says
that
G
Of
Edward’s
heirs
the
murderer
shall
be
.
Dive
,
thoughts
,
down
to
my
soul
.
Here
Clarence
comes
.
Enter
Clarence
,
guarded
,
and
Brakenbury
.
Brother
,
good
day
.
What
means
this
armèd
guard
That
waits
upon
your
Grace
?
His
Majesty
,
Tend’ring
my
person’s
safety
,
hath
appointed
This
conduct
to
convey
me
to
the
Tower
.
Upon
what
cause
?
Because
my
name
is
George
.
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
?
ACT 1. SC. 1
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
crossrow
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
.
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
,
Anthony
Woodeville
,
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
.
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
?
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
favor
with
the
King
,
To
be
her
men
and
wear
her
livery
.
The
jealous
o’erworn
widow
and
herself
,
Since
that
our
brother
dubbed
them
gentlewomen
,
Are
mighty
gossips
in
our
monarchy
.
ACT 1. SC. 1
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
.
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
?
With
this
,
my
lord
,
myself
have
naught
to
do
.
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
.
I
do
beseech
your
Grace
to
pardon
me
,
and
withal
Forbear
your
conference
with
the
noble
duke
.
We
know
thy
charge
,
Brakenbury
,
and
will
obey
.
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
.
ACT 1. SC. 1
I
know
it
pleaseth
neither
of
us
well
.
Well
,
your
imprisonment
shall
not
be
long
.
I
will
deliver
you
or
else
lie
for
you
.
Meantime
,
have
patience
.
I
must
,
perforce
.
Farewell
.
Exit
Clarence
,
Brakenbury
,
and
guard
.
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
.
Good
time
of
day
unto
my
gracious
lord
.
As
much
unto
my
good
Lord
Chamberlain
.
Well
are
you
welcome
to
the
open
air
.
How
hath
your
Lordship
brooked
imprisonment
?
With
patience
,
noble
lord
,
as
prisoners
must
.
But
I
shall
live
,
my
lord
,
to
give
them
thanks
That
were
the
cause
of
my
imprisonment
.
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
.
More
pity
that
the
eagles
should
be
mewed
,
Whiles
kites
and
buzzards
prey
at
liberty
.
What
news
abroad
?
No
news
so
bad
abroad
as
this
at
home
:
ACT 1. SC. 1
The
King
is
sickly
,
weak
,
and
melancholy
,
And
his
physicians
fear
him
mightily
.
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
?
He
is
.
Go
you
before
,
and
I
will
follow
you
.
Exit
Hastings
.
He
cannot
live
,
I
hope
,
and
must
not
die
Till
George
be
packed
with
post-horse
up
to
heaven
.
I’ll
in
to
urge
his
hatred
more
to
Clarence
With
lies
well
steeled
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
killed
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
much
for
love
As
for
another
secret
close
intent
By
marrying
her
which
I
must
reach
unto
.
But
yet
I
run
before
my
horse
to
market
.
Clarence
still
breathes
;
Edward
still
lives
and
reigns
.
When
they
are
gone
,
then
must
I
count
my
gains
.
He
exits
.
ACT 1. SC. 2
Scene
2
Enter
the
corse
of
Henry
the
Sixth
on
a
bier
,
with
Halberds
to
guard
it
,
Lady
Anne
being
the
mourner
,
accompanied
by
Gentlemen
.
Set
down
,
set
down
your
honorable
load
,
If
honor
may
be
shrouded
in
a
hearse
,
Whilst
I
awhile
obsequiously
lament
Th’
untimely
fall
of
virtuous
Lancaster
.
They
set
down
the
bier
.
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
,
cursèd
be
the
hand
that
made
these
holes
;
Cursèd
the
heart
that
had
the
heart
to
do
it
;
Cursèd
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
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
.
—
ACT 1. SC. 2
Come
now
towards
Chertsey
with
your
holy
load
,
Taken
from
Paul’s
to
be
interrèd
there
.
They
take
up
the
bier
.
And
still
,
as
you
are
weary
of
this
weight
,
Rest
you
,
whiles
I
lament
King
Henry’s
corse
.
Enter
Richard
,
Duke
of
Gloucester
.
Stay
,
you
that
bear
the
corse
,
and
set
it
down
.
What
black
magician
conjures
up
this
fiend
To
stop
devoted
charitable
deeds
?
Villains
,
set
down
the
corse
or
,
by
Saint
Paul
,
I’ll
make
a
corse
of
him
that
disobeys
.
My
lord
,
stand
back
and
let
the
coffin
pass
.
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
.
They
set
down
the
bier
.
,
to
the
Gentlemen
and
Halberds
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
.
Sweet
saint
,
for
charity
,
be
not
so
curst
.
Foul
devil
,
for
God’s
sake
,
hence
,
and
trouble
us
not
,
For
thou
hast
made
the
happy
Earth
earth
thy
hell
,
ACT 1. SC. 2
Filled
it
with
cursing
cries
and
deep
exclaims
.
If
thou
delight
to
view
thy
heinous
deeds
,
Behold
this
pattern
of
thy
butcheries
.
She
points
to
the
corpse
.
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
earth
,
which
this
blood
drink’st
,
revenge
his
death
!
Either
heaven
with
lightning
strike
the
murderer
dead
,
Or
Earth
earth
gape
open
wide
and
eat
him
quick
,
As
thou
dost
swallow
up
this
good
king’s
blood
,
Which
his
hell-governed
arm
hath
butcherèd
.
Lady
,
you
know
no
rules
of
charity
,
Which
renders
good
for
bad
,
blessings
for
curses
.
Villain
,
thou
know’st
nor
law
of
God
nor
man
.
No
beast
so
fierce
but
knows
some
touch
of
pity
.
But
I
know
none
,
and
therefore
am
no
beast
.
O
,
wonderful
,
when
devils
tell
the
truth
!
More
wonderful
,
when
angels
are
so
angry
.
Vouchsafe
,
divine
perfection
of
a
woman
,
Of
these
supposèd
crimes
to
give
me
leave
By
circumstance
but
to
acquit
myself
.
Vouchsafe
,
defused
infection
of
a
man
,
ACT 1. SC. 2
Of
these
known
evils
but
to
give
me
leave
By
circumstance
to
curse
thy
cursèd
self
.
Fairer
than
tongue
can
name
thee
,
let
me
have
Some
patient
leisure
to
excuse
myself
.
Fouler
than
heart
can
think
thee
,
thou
canst
make
No
excuse
current
but
to
hang
thyself
.
By
such
despair
I
should
accuse
myself
.
And
by
despairing
shalt
thou
stand
excused
For
doing
worthy
vengeance
on
thyself
That
didst
unworthy
slaughter
upon
others
.
Say
that
I
slew
them
not
.
Then
say
they
were
not
slain
.
But
dead
they
are
,
and
,
devilish
slave
,
by
thee
.
I
did
not
kill
your
husband
.
Why
then
,
he
is
alive
.
Nay
,
he
is
dead
,
and
slain
by
Edward’s
hands
.
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
.
I
was
provokèd
by
her
sland’rous
tongue
,
That
laid
their
guilt
upon
my
guiltless
shoulders
.
Thou
wast
provokèd
by
thy
bloody
mind
,
That
never
dream’st
on
aught
but
butcheries
.
Didst
thou
not
kill
this
king
?
I
grant
you
.
Dost
grant
me
,
hedgehog
?
Then
,
God
grant
me
too
ACT 1. SC. 2
Thou
mayst
be
damnèd
for
that
wicked
deed
.
O
,
he
was
gentle
,
mild
,
and
virtuous
.
The
better
for
the
King
of
heaven
that
hath
him
.
He
is
in
heaven
,
where
thou
shalt
never
come
.
Let
him
thank
me
,
that
holp
to
send
him
thither
,
For
he
was
fitter
for
that
place
than
Earth
earth
.
And
thou
unfit
for
any
place
but
hell
.
Yes
,
one
place
else
,
if
you
will
hear
me
name
it
.
Some
dungeon
.
Your
bedchamber
.
Ill
rest
betide
the
chamber
where
thou
liest
!
So
will
it
,
madam
,
till
I
lie
with
you
.
I
hope
so
.
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
?
Thou
wast
the
cause
and
most
accursed
effect
.
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
.
If
I
thought
that
,
I
tell
thee
,
homicide
,
ACT 1. SC. 2
These
nails
should
rend
that
beauty
from
my
cheeks
.
These
eyes
could
not
endure
that
beauty’s
wrack
.
You
should
not
blemish
it
,
if
I
stood
by
.
As
all
the
world
is
cheerèd
by
the
sun
,
So
I
by
that
.
It
is
my
day
,
my
life
.
Black
night
o’ershade
thy
day
,
and
death
thy
life
.
Curse
not
thyself
,
fair
creature
;
thou
art
both
.
I
would
I
were
,
to
be
revenged
on
thee
.
It
is
a
quarrel
most
unnatural
To
be
revenged
on
him
that
loveth
thee
.
It
is
a
quarrel
just
and
reasonable
To
be
revenged
on
him
that
killed
my
husband
.
He
that
bereft
thee
,
lady
,
of
thy
husband
Did
it
to
help
thee
to
a
better
husband
.
His
better
doth
not
breathe
upon
the
earth
.
He
lives
that
loves
thee
better
than
he
could
.
Name
him
.
Plantagenet
.
Why
,
that
was
he
.
The
selfsame
name
,
but
one
of
better
nature
.
Where
is
he
?
Here
.
(
She
spits
at
him
.
)
Why
dost
thou
spit
at
me
?
ACT 1. SC. 2
Would
it
were
mortal
poison
for
thy
sake
.
Never
came
poison
from
so
sweet
a
place
.
Never
hung
poison
on
a
fouler
toad
.
Out
of
my
sight
!
Thou
dost
infect
mine
eyes
.
Thine
eyes
,
sweet
lady
,
have
infected
mine
.
Would
they
were
basilisks’
basilisks
to
strike
thee
dead
.
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
,
Shamed
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-faced
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
bedashed
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
proposed
my
fee
,
My
proud
heart
sues
and
prompts
my
tongue
to
speak
.
She
looks
scornfully
at
him
.
Teach
not
thy
lip
such
scorn
,
for
it
was
made
ACT 1. SC. 2
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
And
humbly
beg
the
death
upon
my
knee
.
He
kneels
and
lays
his
breast
open
;
she
offers
at
it
with
his
sword
.
Nay
,
do
not
pause
,
for
I
did
kill
King
Henry
—
But
’twas
thy
beauty
that
provokèd
me
.
Nay
,
now
dispatch
;
’twas
I
that
stabbed
young
Edward
—
But
’twas
thy
heavenly
face
that
set
me
on
.
She
falls
the
sword
.
Take
up
the
sword
again
,
or
take
up
me
.
Arise
,
dissembler
.
Though
I
wish
thy
death
,
I
will
not
be
thy
executioner
.
,
rising
Then
bid
me
kill
myself
,
and
I
will
do
it
.
I
have
already
.
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
accessory
.
I
would
I
knew
thy
heart
.
’Tis
figured
in
my
tongue
.
I
fear
me
both
are
false
.
Then
never
was
man
true
.
Well
,
well
,
put
up
your
sword
.
Say
then
my
peace
is
made
.
That
shalt
thou
know
hereafter
.
But
shall
I
live
in
hope
?
ACT 1. SC. 2
All
men
I
hope
live
so
.
Vouchsafe
to
wear
this
ring
.
To
take
is
not
to
give
.
He
places
the
ring
on
her
hand
.
Look
how
my
ring
encompasseth
thy
finger
;
Even
so
thy
breast
encloseth
my
poor
heart
.
Wear
both
of
them
,
for
both
of
them
are
thine
.
And
if
thy
poor
devoted
servant
may
But
beg
one
favor
at
thy
gracious
hand
,
Thou
dost
confirm
his
happiness
forever
.
What
is
it
?
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
interred
At
Chertsey
monast’ry
this
noble
king
And
wet
his
grave
with
my
repentant
tears
,
I
will
with
all
expedient
duty
see
you
.
For
divers
unknown
reasons
,
I
beseech
you
,
Grant
me
this
boon
.
With
all
my
heart
,
and
much
it
joys
me
too
To
see
you
are
become
so
penitent
.
—
Tressel
and
Berkeley
,
go
along
with
me
.
Bid
me
farewell
.
’Tis
more
than
you
deserve
;
But
since
you
teach
me
how
to
flatter
you
,
Imagine
I
have
said
farewell
already
.
Two
exit
with
Anne
.
The
bier
is
taken
up
.
Towards
Chertsey
,
noble
lord
?
No
,
to
Whitefriars
.
There
attend
my
coming
.
Halberds
and
gentlemen
exit
with
corse
.
ACT 1. SC. 2
Was
ever
woman
in
this
humor
wooed
?
Was
ever
woman
in
this
humor
won
?
I’ll
have
her
,
but
I
will
not
keep
her
long
.
What
,
I
that
killed
her
husband
and
his
father
,
To
take
her
in
her
heart’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
at
all
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
Stabbed
in
my
angry
mood
at
Tewkesbury
?
A
sweeter
and
a
lovelier
gentleman
,
Framed
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
cropped
the
golden
prime
of
this
sweet
prince
And
made
her
widow
to
a
woeful
bed
?
On
me
,
whose
all
not
equals
Edward’s
moiety
?
On
me
,
that
halts
and
am
misshapen
thus
?
My
dukedom
to
a
beggarly
denier
,
I
do
mistake
my
person
all
this
while
!
Upon
my
life
,
she
finds
,
although
I
cannot
,
Myself
to
be
a
marv’lous
proper
man
.
I’ll
be
at
charges
for
a
looking
glass
And
entertain
a
score
or
two
of
tailors
To
study
fashions
to
adorn
my
body
.
Since
I
am
crept
in
favor
with
myself
,
I
will
maintain
it
with
some
little
cost
.
But
first
I’ll
turn
yon
fellow
in
his
grave
ACT 1. SC. 3
And
then
return
lamenting
to
my
love
.
Shine
out
,
fair
sun
,
till
I
have
bought
a
glass
,
That
I
may
see
my
shadow
as
I
pass
.
He
exits
.
Scene
3
Enter
Queen
Elizabeth
,
the
Lord
Marquess
of
Dorset
,
Lord
Rivers
,
and
Lord
Grey
.
Have
patience
,
madam
.
There’s
no
doubt
his
Majesty
Will
soon
recover
his
accustomed
health
.
In
that
you
brook
it
ill
,
it
makes
him
worse
.
Therefore
,
for
God’s
sake
,
entertain
good
comfort
And
cheer
his
Grace
with
quick
and
merry
eyes
.
If
he
were
dead
,
what
would
betide
on
me
?
No
other
harm
but
loss
of
such
a
lord
.
The
loss
of
such
a
lord
includes
all
harms
.
The
heavens
have
blessed
you
with
a
goodly
son
To
be
your
comforter
when
he
is
gone
.
Ah
,
he
is
young
,
and
his
minority
Is
put
unto
the
trust
of
Richard
Gloucester
,
A
man
that
loves
not
me
nor
none
of
you
.
Is
it
concluded
he
shall
be
Protector
?
It
is
determined
,
not
concluded
yet
;
But
so
it
must
be
if
the
King
miscarry
.
ACT 1. SC. 3
Enter
Buckingham
and
Lord
Stanley
,
Earl
of
Derby
.
Here
comes
the
lord
Lord
of
Buckingham
,
and
Derby
.
,
to
Queen
Elizabeth
Good
time
of
day
unto
your
royal
Grace
.
God
make
your
Majesty
joyful
,
as
you
have
been
.
The
Countess
Richmond
,
good
my
lord
Lord
of
Derby
,
To
your
good
prayer
will
scarcely
say
amen
.
Yet
,
Derby
,
notwithstanding
she’s
your
wife
And
loves
not
me
,
be
you
,
good
lord
,
assured
I
hate
not
you
for
her
proud
arrogance
.
I
do
beseech
you
either
not
believe
The
envious
slanders
of
her
false
accusers
,
Or
if
she
be
accused
on
true
report
,
Bear
with
her
weakness
,
which
I
think
proceeds
From
wayward
sickness
and
no
grounded
malice
.
Saw
you
the
King
today
,
my
lord
Lord
of
Derby
?
But
now
the
Duke
of
Buckingham
and
I
Are
come
from
visiting
his
Majesty
.
What
likelihood
of
his
amendment
,
lords
?
Madam
,
good
hope
.
His
Grace
speaks
cheerfully
.
God
grant
him
health
.
Did
you
confer
with
him
?
Ay
,
madam
.
He
desires
to
make
atonement
Between
the
Duke
of
Gloucester
and
your
brothers
,
And
between
them
and
my
Lord
Chamberlain
,
And
sent
to
warn
them
to
his
royal
presence
.
ACT 1. SC. 3
Would
all
were
well
—
but
that
will
never
be
.
I
fear
our
happiness
is
at
the
height
.
Enter
Richard
,
Duke
of
Gloucester
,
and
Hastings
.
They
do
me
wrong
,
and
I
will
not
endure
it
!
Who
is
it
that
complains
unto
the
King
That
I
,
forsooth
,
am
stern
and
love
them
not
?
By
holy
Paul
,
they
love
his
Grace
but
lightly
That
fill
his
ears
with
such
dissentious
rumors
.
Because
I
cannot
flatter
and
look
fair
,
Smile
in
men’s
faces
,
smooth
,
deceive
,
and
cog
,
Duck
with
French
nods
and
apish
courtesy
,
I
must
be
held
a
rancorous
enemy
.
Cannot
a
plain
man
live
and
think
no
harm
,
But
thus
his
simple
truth
must
be
abused
With
silken
,
sly
,
insinuating
Jacks
?
To
who
in
all
this
presence
speaks
your
Grace
?
To
thee
,
that
hast
nor
honesty
nor
grace
.
When
have
I
injured
thee
?
When
done
thee
wrong
?
—
Or
thee
?
—
Or
thee
?
Or
any
of
your
faction
?
A
plague
upon
you
all
!
His
royal
Grace
,
Whom
God
preserve
better
than
you
would
wish
,
Cannot
be
quiet
scarce
a
breathing
while
But
you
must
trouble
him
with
lewd
complaints
.
Brother
of
Gloucester
,
you
mistake
the
matter
.
The
King
,
on
his
own
royal
disposition
,
And
not
provoked
by
any
suitor
else
,
Aiming
belike
at
your
interior
hatred
That
in
your
outward
action
shows
itself
Against
my
children
,
brothers
,
and
myself
,
Makes
him
to
send
,
that
he
may
learn
the
ground
.
ACT 1. SC. 3
I
cannot
tell
.
The
world
is
grown
so
bad
That
wrens
make
prey
where
eagles
dare
not
perch
.
Since
every
Jack
became
a
gentleman
,
There’s
many
a
gentle
person
made
a
Jack
.
Come
,
come
,
we
know
your
meaning
,
brother
Gloucester
.
You
envy
my
advancement
,
and
my
friends’
.
God
grant
we
never
may
have
need
of
you
.
Meantime
God
grants
that
we
have
need
of
you
.
Our
brother
is
imprisoned
by
your
means
,
Myself
disgraced
,
and
the
nobility
Held
in
contempt
,
while
great
promotions
Are
daily
given
to
ennoble
those
That
scarce
some
two
days
since
were
worth
a
noble
.
By
Him
that
raised
me
to
this
careful
height
From
that
contented
hap
which
I
enjoyed
,
I
never
did
incense
his
Majesty
Against
the
Duke
of
Clarence
,
but
have
been
An
earnest
advocate
to
plead
for
him
.
My
lord
,
you
do
me
shameful
injury
Falsely
to
draw
me
in
these
vile
suspects
.
You
may
deny
that
you
were
not
the
mean
Of
my
Lord
Hastings’
late
imprisonment
.
She
may
,
my
lord
,
for
—
She
may
,
Lord
Rivers
.
Why
,
who
knows
not
so
?
She
may
do
more
,
sir
,
than
denying
that
.
She
may
help
you
to
many
fair
preferments
ACT 1. SC. 3
And
then
deny
her
aiding
hand
therein
,
And
lay
those
honors
on
your
high
desert
.
What
may
she
not
?
She
may
,
ay
,
marry
,
may
she
—
What
,
marry
,
may
she
?
What
,
marry
,
may
she
?
Marry
with
a
king
,
A
bachelor
,
and
a
handsome
stripling
too
.
Iwis
,
your
grandam
had
a
worser
match
.
My
lord
Lord
of
Gloucester
,
I
have
too
long
borne
Your
blunt
upbraidings
and
your
bitter
scoffs
.
By
heaven
,
I
will
acquaint
his
Majesty
Of
those
gross
taunts
that
oft
I
have
endured
.
I
had
rather
be
a
country
servant-maid
Than
a
great
queen
with
this
condition
,
To
be
so
baited
,
scorned
,
and
stormèd
at
.
Enter
old
Queen
Margaret
,
apart
from
the
others
.
Small
joy
have
I
in
being
England’s
queen
.
,
aside
And
lessened
be
that
small
,
God
I
beseech
Him
!
Thy
honor
,
state
,
and
seat
is
due
to
me
.
,
to
Queen
Elizabeth
What
,
threat
you
me
with
telling
of
the
King
?
Tell
him
and
spare
not
.
Look
,
what
I
have
said
,
I
will
avouch
’t
in
presence
of
the
King
;
I
dare
adventure
to
be
sent
to
th’
Tower
.
’Tis
time
to
speak
.
My
pains
are
quite
forgot
.
,
aside
Out
,
devil
!
I
do
remember
them
too
well
:
Thou
killed’st
my
husband
Henry
in
the
Tower
,
And
Edward
,
my
poor
son
,
at
Tewkesbury
.
,
to
Queen
Elizabeth
Ere
you
were
queen
,
ay
,
or
your
husband
king
,
I
was
a
packhorse
in
his
great
affairs
,
A
weeder-out
of
his
proud
adversaries
,
ACT 1. SC. 3
A
liberal
rewarder
of
his
friends
.
To
royalize
his
blood
,
I
spent
mine
own
.
,
aside
Ay
,
and
much
better
blood
than
his
or
thine
.
,
to
Queen
Elizabeth
In
all
which
time
,
you
and
your
husband
Grey
Were
factious
for
the
House
of
Lancaster
.
—
And
,
Rivers
,
so
were
you
.
—
Was
not
your
husband
In
Margaret’s
battle
at
Saint
Albans
slain
?
Let
me
put
in
your
minds
,
if
you
forget
,
What
you
have
been
ere
this
,
and
what
you
are
;
Withal
,
what
I
have
been
,
and
what
I
am
.
,
aside
A
murd’rous
villain
,
and
so
still
thou
art
.
,
to
Queen
Elizabeth
Poor
Clarence
did
forsake
his
father
Warwick
,
Ay
,
and
forswore
himself
—
which
Jesu
pardon
!
—
,
aside
Which
God
revenge
!
To
fight
on
Edward’s
party
for
the
crown
;
And
for
his
meed
,
poor
lord
,
he
is
mewed
up
.
I
would
to
God
my
heart
were
flint
,
like
Edward’s
,
Or
Edward’s
soft
and
pitiful
,
like
mine
.
I
am
too
childish-foolish
for
this
world
.
,
aside
Hie
thee
to
hell
for
shame
,
and
leave
this
world
,
Thou
cacodemon
!
There
thy
kingdom
is
.
My
lord
Lord
of
Gloucester
,
in
those
busy
days
Which
here
you
urge
to
prove
us
enemies
,
We
followed
then
our
lord
,
our
sovereign
king
.
So
should
we
you
,
if
you
should
be
our
king
.
If
I
should
be
?
I
had
rather
be
a
peddler
.
Far
be
it
from
my
heart
,
the
thought
thereof
.
ACT 1. SC. 3
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
.
,
aside
As
little
joy
enjoys
the
queen
thereof
,
For
I
am
she
,
and
altogether
joyless
.
I
can
no
longer
hold
me
patient
.
She
steps
forward
.
Hear
me
,
you
wrangling
pirates
,
that
fall
out
In
sharing
that
which
you
have
pilled
from
me
!
Which
of
you
trembles
not
that
looks
on
me
?
If
not
,
that
I
am
queen
,
you
bow
like
subjects
,
Yet
that
,
by
you
deposed
,
you
quake
like
rebels
.
—
Ah
,
gentle
villain
,
do
not
turn
away
.
Foul
,
wrinkled
witch
,
what
mak’st
thou
in
my
sight
?
But
repetition
of
what
thou
hast
marred
.
That
will
I
make
before
I
let
thee
go
.
Wert
thou
not
banishèd
on
pain
of
death
?
I
was
,
but
I
do
find
more
pain
in
banishment
Than
death
can
yield
me
here
by
my
abode
.
A
husband
and
a
son
thou
ow’st
to
me
;
To
Queen
Elizabeth
.
And
thou
a
kingdom
;
—
all
of
you
,
allegiance
.
This
sorrow
that
I
have
by
right
is
yours
,
And
all
the
pleasures
you
usurp
are
mine
.
The
curse
my
noble
father
laid
on
thee
When
thou
didst
crown
his
warlike
brows
with
paper
,
ACT 1. SC. 3
And
with
thy
scorns
drew’st
rivers
from
his
eyes
,
And
then
,
to
dry
them
,
gav’st
the
Duke
a
clout
Steeped
in
the
faultless
blood
of
pretty
Rutland
—
His
curses
then
,
from
bitterness
of
soul
Denounced
against
thee
,
are
all
fall’n
upon
thee
,
And
God
,
not
we
,
hath
plagued
thy
bloody
deed
.
So
just
is
God
to
right
the
innocent
.
O
,
’twas
the
foulest
deed
to
slay
that
babe
,
And
the
most
merciless
that
e’er
was
heard
of
!
Tyrants
themselves
wept
when
it
was
reported
.
No
man
but
prophesied
revenge
for
it
.
Northumberland
,
then
present
,
wept
to
see
it
.
What
,
were
you
snarling
all
before
I
came
,
Ready
to
catch
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
peevish
brat
?
Can
curses
pierce
the
clouds
and
enter
heaven
?
Why
then
,
give
way
,
dull
clouds
,
to
my
quick
curses
!
Though
not
by
war
,
by
surfeit
die
your
king
,
As
ours
by
murder
to
make
him
a
king
.
To
Queen
Elizabeth
.
Edward
thy
son
,
that
now
is
Prince
of
Wales
,
For
Edward
our
son
,
that
was
Prince
of
Wales
,
Die
in
his
youth
by
like
untimely
violence
.
Thyself
a
queen
,
for
me
that
was
a
queen
,
ACT 1. SC. 3
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
stalled
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-by
,
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
unlooked
accident
cut
off
.
Have
done
thy
charm
,
thou
hateful
,
withered
hag
.
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
them
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
begnaw
thy
soul
.
Thy
friends
suspect
for
traitors
while
thou
liv’st
,
And
take
deep
traitors
for
thy
dearest
friends
.
No
sleep
close
up
that
deadly
eye
of
thine
,
Unless
it
be
while
some
tormenting
dream
Affrights
thee
with
a
hell
of
ugly
devils
.
Thou
elvish-marked
,
abortive
,
rooting
hog
,
Thou
that
wast
sealed
in
thy
nativity
The
slave
of
nature
and
the
son
of
hell
,
Thou
slander
of
thy
heavy
mother’s
womb
,
Thou
loathèd
issue
of
thy
father’s
loins
,
Thou
rag
of
honor
,
thou
detested
—
Margaret
.
ACT 1. SC. 3
Richard
!
Ha
?
I
call
thee
not
.
I
cry
thee
mercy
,
then
,
for
I
did
think
That
thou
hadst
called
me
all
these
bitter
names
.
Why
,
so
I
did
,
but
looked
for
no
reply
.
O
,
let
me
make
the
period
to
my
curse
!
’Tis
done
by
me
and
ends
in
Margaret
.
,
to
Queen
Margaret
Thus
have
you
breathed
your
curse
against
yourself
.
Poor
painted
queen
,
vain
flourish
of
my
fortune
,
Why
strew’st
thou
sugar
on
that
bottled
spider
,
Whose
deadly
web
ensnareth
thee
about
?
Fool
,
fool
,
thou
whet’st
a
knife
to
kill
thyself
.
The
day
will
come
that
thou
shalt
wish
for
me
To
help
thee
curse
this
poisonous
bunch-backed
toad
.
False-boding
woman
,
end
thy
frantic
curse
,
Lest
to
thy
harm
thou
move
our
patience
.
Foul
shame
upon
you
,
you
have
all
moved
mine
.
Were
you
well
served
,
you
would
be
taught
your
duty
.
To
serve
me
well
,
you
all
should
do
me
duty
:
Teach
me
to
be
your
queen
,
and
you
my
subjects
.
O
,
serve
me
well
,
and
teach
yourselves
that
duty
!
,
to
Rivers
Dispute
not
with
her
;
she
is
lunatic
.
ACT 1. SC. 3
Peace
,
Master
Marquess
,
you
are
malapert
.
Your
fire-new
stamp
of
honor
is
scarce
current
.
O
,
that
your
young
nobility
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
.
Good
counsel
,
marry
.
—
Learn
it
,
learn
it
,
marquess
.
It
touches
you
,
my
lord
,
as
much
as
me
.
Ay
,
and
much
more
;
but
I
was
born
so
high
.
Our
aerie
buildeth
in
the
cedar’s
top
,
And
dallies
with
the
wind
and
scorns
the
sun
.
And
turns
the
sun
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
aerie
buildeth
in
our
aerie’s
nest
.
O
God
,
that
seest
it
,
do
not
suffer
it
!
As
it
is
won
with
blood
,
lost
be
it
so
.
Peace
,
peace
,
for
shame
,
if
not
for
charity
.
Urge
neither
charity
nor
shame
to
me
.
Addressing
the
others
.
Uncharitably
with
me
have
you
dealt
,
And
shamefully
my
hopes
by
you
are
butchered
.
My
charity
is
outrage
,
life
my
shame
,
And
in
that
shame
still
live
my
sorrows’
rage
.
Have
done
,
have
done
.
O
princely
Buckingham
,
I’ll
kiss
thy
hand
ACT 1. SC. 3
In
sign
of
league
and
amity
with
thee
.
Now
fair
befall
thee
and
thy
noble
house
!
Thy
garments
are
not
spotted
with
our
blood
,
Nor
thou
within
the
compass
of
my
curse
.
Nor
no
one
here
,
for
curses
never
pass
The
lips
of
those
that
breathe
them
in
the
air
.
I
will
not
think
but
they
ascend
the
sky
,
And
there
awake
God’s
gentle
sleeping
peace
.
Aside
to
Buckingham
.
O
Buckingham
,
take
heed
of
yonder
dog
!
Look
when
he
fawns
,
he
bites
;
and
when
he
bites
,
His
venom
tooth
will
rankle
to
the
death
.
Have
not
to
do
with
him
.
Beware
of
him
.
Sin
,
death
,
and
hell
have
set
their
marks
on
him
,
And
all
their
ministers
attend
on
him
.
What
doth
she
say
,
my
lord
Lord
of
Buckingham
?
Nothing
that
I
respect
,
my
gracious
lord
.
What
,
dost
thou
scorn
me
for
my
gentle
counsel
,
And
soothe
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
.
She
exits
.
My
hair
doth
stand
an
end
to
hear
her
curses
.
And
so
doth
mine
.
I
muse
why
she’s
at
liberty
.
I
cannot
blame
her
.
By
God’s
holy
mother
,
ACT 1. SC. 3
She
hath
had
too
much
wrong
,
and
I
repent
My
part
thereof
that
I
have
done
to
her
.
I
never
did
her
any
,
to
my
knowledge
.
Yet
you
have
all
the
vantage
of
her
wrong
.
I
was
too
hot
to
do
somebody
good
That
is
too
cold
in
thinking
of
it
now
.
Marry
,
as
for
Clarence
,
he
is
well
repaid
;
He
is
franked
up
to
fatting
for
his
pains
.
God
pardon
them
that
are
the
cause
thereof
.
A
virtuous
and
a
Christian-like
conclusion
To
pray
for
them
that
have
done
scathe
to
us
.
So
do
I
ever
—
(
speaks
to
himself
)
being
well
advised
,
For
had
I
cursed
now
,
I
had
cursed
myself
.
Enter
Catesby
.
Madam
,
his
Majesty
doth
call
for
you
,
—
And
for
your
Grace
,
—
and
yours
,
my
gracious
lords
.
Catesby
,
I
come
.
—
Lords
,
will
you
go
with
me
?
We
wait
upon
your
Grace
.
All
but
Richard
,
Duke
of
Gloucester
exit
.
I
do
the
wrong
and
first
begin
to
brawl
.
The
secret
mischiefs
that
I
set
abroach
I
lay
unto
the
grievous
charge
of
others
.
Clarence
,
who
I
indeed
have
cast
in
darkness
,
I
do
beweep
to
many
simple
gulls
,
Namely
,
to
Derby
,
Hastings
,
Buckingham
,
And
tell
them
’tis
the
Queen
and
her
allies
That
stir
the
King
against
the
Duke
my
brother
.
ACT 1. SC. 3
Now
they
believe
it
and
withal
whet
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
ends
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
hardy
,
stout
,
resolvèd
mates
?
Are
you
now
going
to
dispatch
this
thing
?
We
are
,
my
lord
,
and
come
to
have
the
warrant
That
we
may
be
admitted
where
he
is
.
Well
thought
upon
.
I
have
it
here
about
me
.
He
gives
a
paper
.
When
you
have
done
,
repair
to
Crosby
Place
.
But
,
sirs
,
be
sudden
in
the
execution
,
Withal
obdurate
;
do
not
hear
him
plead
,
For
Clarence
is
well-spoken
and
perhaps
May
move
your
hearts
to
pity
if
you
mark
him
.
Tut
,
tut
,
my
lord
,
we
will
not
stand
to
prate
.
Talkers
are
no
good
doers
.
Be
assured
We
go
to
use
our
hands
and
not
our
tongues
.
Your
eyes
drop
millstones
when
fools’
eyes
fall
tears
.
I
like
you
lads
.
About
your
business
straight
.
Go
,
go
,
dispatch
.
We
will
,
my
noble
lord
.
They
exit
.
ACT 1. SC. 4
Scene
4
Enter
Clarence
and
Keeper
.
Why
looks
your
Grace
so
heavily
today
?
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
spend
another
such
a
night
Though
’twere
to
buy
a
world
of
happy
days
,
So
full
of
dismal
terror
was
the
time
.
What
was
your
dream
,
my
lord
?
I
pray
you
tell
me
.
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
hatches
.
Thence
we
looked
toward
England
And
cited
up
a
thousand
heavy
times
,
During
the
wars
of
York
and
Lancaster
,
That
had
befall’n
us
.
As
we
paced
along
Upon
the
giddy
footing
of
the
hatches
,
Methought
that
Gloucester
stumbled
,
and
in
falling
Struck
me
,
that
thought
to
stay
him
,
overboard
Into
the
tumbling
billows
of
the
main
.
O
Lord
,
methought
what
pain
it
was
to
drown
,
What
dreadful
noise
of
waters
in
my
ears
,
What
sights
of
ugly
death
within
my
eyes
.
Methoughts
I
saw
a
thousand
fearful
wracks
,
A
thousand
men
that
fishes
gnawed
upon
,
Wedges
of
gold
,
great
anchors
,
heaps
of
pearl
,
Inestimable
stones
,
unvalued
jewels
,
All
scattered
in
the
bottom
of
the
sea
.
ACT 1. SC. 4
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
.
Had
you
such
leisure
in
the
time
of
death
To
gaze
upon
these
secrets
of
the
deep
?
Methought
I
had
,
and
often
did
I
strive
To
yield
the
ghost
,
but
still
the
envious
flood
Stopped
in
my
soul
and
would
not
let
it
forth
To
find
the
empty
,
vast
,
and
wand’ring
air
,
But
smothered
it
within
my
panting
bulk
,
Who
almost
burst
to
belch
it
in
the
sea
.
Awaked
you
not
in
this
sore
agony
?
No
,
no
,
my
dream
was
lengthened
after
life
.
O
,
then
began
the
tempest
to
my
soul
.
I
passed
,
methought
,
the
melancholy
flood
,
With
that
sour
ferryman
which
poets
write
of
,
Unto
the
kingdom
of
perpetual
night
.
The
first
that
there
did
greet
my
stranger-soul
Was
my
great
father-in-law
,
renownèd
Warwick
,
Who
spake
aloud
What
scourge
for
perjury
Can
this
dark
monarchy
afford
false
Clarence
?
And
so
he
vanished
.
Then
came
wand’ring
by
A
shadow
like
an
angel
,
with
bright
hair
Dabbled
in
blood
,
and
he
shrieked
out
aloud
Clarence
is
come
—
false
,
fleeting
,
perjured
Clarence
,
That
stabbed
me
in
the
field
by
Tewkesbury
.
Seize
on
him
,
furies
.
Take
him
unto
torment
.
With
that
,
methoughts
,
a
legion
of
foul
fiends
ACT 1. SC. 4
Environed
me
and
howlèd
in
mine
ears
Such
hideous
cries
that
with
the
very
noise
I
trembling
waked
,
and
for
a
season
after
Could
not
believe
but
that
I
was
in
hell
,
Such
terrible
impression
made
my
dream
.
No
marvel
,
lord
,
though
it
affrighted
you
.
I
am
afraid
,
methinks
,
to
hear
you
tell
it
.
Ah
keeper
,
keeper
,
I
have
done
these
things
,
That
now
give
evidence
against
my
soul
,
For
Edward’s
sake
,
and
see
how
he
requites
me
.
—
O
God
,
if
my
deep
prayers
cannot
appease
thee
,
But
thou
wilt
be
avenged
on
my
misdeeds
,
Yet
execute
thy
wrath
in
me
alone
!
O
,
spare
my
guiltless
wife
and
my
poor
children
!
—
Keeper
,
I
prithee
sit
by
me
awhile
.
My
soul
is
heavy
,
and
I
fain
would
sleep
.
I
will
,
my
lord
.
God
give
your
Grace
good
rest
.
Clarence
sleeps
.
Enter
Brakenbury
the
Lieutenant
.
Sorrow
breaks
seasons
and
reposing
hours
,
Makes
the
night
morning
,
and
the
noontide
night
.
Princes
have
but
their
titles
for
their
glories
,
An
outward
honor
for
an
inward
toil
,
And
,
for
unfelt
imaginations
,
They
often
feel
a
world
of
restless
cares
,
So
that
between
their
titles
and
low
name
There’s
nothing
differs
but
the
outward
fame
.
Enter
two
Murderers
.
Ho
,
who’s
here
?
ACT 1. SC. 4
What
wouldst
thou
,
fellow
?
And
how
cam’st
thou
hither
?
I
would
speak
with
Clarence
,
and
I
came
hither
on
my
legs
.
What
,
so
brief
?
’Tis
better
,
sir
,
than
to
be
tedious
.
—
Let
him
see
our
commission
,
and
talk
no
more
.
Brakenbury
reads
the
commission
.
I
am
in
this
commanded
to
deliver
The
noble
Duke
of
Clarence
to
your
hands
.
I
will
not
reason
what
is
meant
hereby
Because
I
will
be
guiltless
from
the
meaning
.
There
lies
the
Duke
asleep
,
and
there
the
keys
.
He
hands
them
keys
.
I’ll
to
the
King
and
signify
to
him
That
thus
I
have
resigned
to
you
my
charge
.
You
may
,
sir
.
’Tis
a
point
of
wisdom
.
Fare
you
well
.
Brakenbury
and
the
Keeper
exit
.
What
,
shall
I
stab
him
as
he
sleeps
?
No
.
He’ll
say
’twas
done
cowardly
,
when
he
wakes
.
Why
,
he
shall
never
wake
until
the
great
Judgment
Day
.
Why
,
then
he’ll
say
we
stabbed
him
sleeping
.
The
urging
of
that
word
judgment
hath
bred
a
kind
of
remorse
in
me
.
What
,
art
thou
afraid
?
Not
to
kill
him
,
having
a
warrant
,
but
to
be
damned
for
killing
him
,
from
the
which
no
warrant
can
defend
me
.
I
thought
thou
hadst
been
resolute
.
ACT 1. SC. 4
So
I
am
—
to
let
him
live
.
I’ll
back
to
the
Duke
of
Gloucester
and
tell
him
so
.
Nay
,
I
prithee
stay
a
little
.
I
hope
this
passionate
humor
of
mine
will
change
.
It
was
wont
to
hold
me
but
while
one
tells
twenty
.
How
dost
thou
feel
thyself
now
?
Faith
,
some
certain
dregs
of
conscience
are
yet
within
me
.
Remember
our
reward
when
the
deed’s
done
.
Zounds
,
he
dies
!
I
had
forgot
the
reward
.
Where’s
thy
conscience
now
?
O
,
in
the
Duke
of
Gloucester’s
purse
.
When
he
opens
his
purse
to
give
us
our
reward
,
thy
conscience
flies
out
.
’Tis
no
matter
.
Let
it
go
.
There’s
few
or
none
will
entertain
it
.
What
if
it
come
to
thee
again
?
I’ll
not
meddle
with
it
.
It
makes
a
man
a
coward
:
a
man
cannot
steal
but
it
accuseth
him
;
a
man
cannot
swear
but
it
checks
him
;
a
man
cannot
lie
with
his
neighbor’s
wife
but
it
detects
him
.
’Tis
a
blushing
,
shamefaced
spirit
that
mutinies
in
a
man’s
bosom
.
It
fills
a
man
full
of
obstacles
.
It
made
me
once
restore
a
purse
of
gold
that
by
chance
I
found
.
It
beggars
any
man
that
keeps
it
.
It
is
turned
out
of
towns
and
cities
for
a
dangerous
thing
,
and
every
man
that
means
to
live
well
endeavors
to
trust
to
himself
and
live
without
it
.
Zounds
,
’tis
even
now
at
my
elbow
,
persuading
me
not
to
kill
the
Duke
.
Take
the
devil
in
thy
mind
,
and
ACT 1. SC. 4
believe
him
not
.
He
would
insinuate
with
thee
but
to
make
thee
sigh
.
I
am
strong-framed
.
He
cannot
prevail
with
me
.
Spoke
like
a
tall
man
that
respects
thy
reputation
.
Come
,
shall
we
fall
to
work
?
Take
him
on
the
costard
with
the
hilts
of
thy
sword
,
and
then
throw
him
into
the
malmsey
butt
in
the
next
room
.
O
,
excellent
device
—
and
make
a
sop
of
him
!
Soft
,
he
wakes
.
Strike
!
No
,
we’ll
reason
with
him
.
Clarence
wakes
.
Where
art
thou
,
keeper
?
Give
me
a
cup
of
wine
.
You
shall
have
wine
enough
,
my
lord
,
anon
.
In
God’s
name
,
what
art
thou
?
A
man
,
as
you
are
.
But
not
,
as
I
am
,
royal
.
Nor
you
,
as
we
are
,
loyal
.
Thy
voice
is
thunder
,
but
thy
looks
are
humble
.
My
voice
is
now
the
King’s
,
my
looks
mine
own
.
How
darkly
and
how
deadly
dost
thou
speak
!
Your
eyes
do
menace
me
.
Why
look
you
pale
?
Who
sent
you
hither
?
Wherefore
do
you
come
?
To
,
to
,
to
—
To
murder
me
?
Ay
,
ay
.
ACT 1. SC. 4
You
scarcely
have
the
hearts
to
tell
me
so
And
therefore
cannot
have
the
hearts
to
do
it
.
Wherein
,
my
friends
,
have
I
offended
you
?
Offended
us
you
have
not
,
but
the
King
.
I
shall
be
reconciled
to
him
again
.
Never
,
my
lord
.
Therefore
prepare
to
die
.
Are
you
drawn
forth
among
a
world
of
men
To
slay
the
innocent
?
What
is
my
offense
?
Where
is
the
evidence
that
doth
accuse
me
?
What
lawful
quest
have
given
their
verdict
up
Unto
the
frowning
judge
?
Or
who
pronounced
The
bitter
sentence
of
poor
Clarence’
death
Before
I
be
convict
by
course
of
law
?
To
threaten
me
with
death
is
most
unlawful
.
I
charge
you
,
as
you
hope
to
have
redemption
,
By
Christ’s
dear
blood
shed
for
our
grievous
sins
,
That
you
depart
,
and
lay
no
hands
on
me
.
The
deed
you
undertake
is
damnable
.
What
we
will
do
,
we
do
upon
command
.
And
he
that
hath
commanded
is
our
king
.
Erroneous
vassals
,
the
great
King
of
kings
Hath
in
the
table
of
His
law
commanded
That
thou
shalt
do
no
murder
.
Will
you
then
Spurn
at
His
edict
and
fulfill
a
man’s
?
Take
heed
,
for
He
holds
vengeance
in
His
hand
To
hurl
upon
their
heads
that
break
His
law
.
And
that
same
vengeance
doth
He
hurl
on
thee
ACT 1. SC. 4
For
false
forswearing
and
for
murder
too
.
Thou
didst
receive
the
sacrament
to
fight
In
quarrel
of
the
House
of
Lancaster
.
And
,
like
a
traitor
to
the
name
of
God
,
Didst
break
that
vow
,
and
with
thy
treacherous
blade
Unrippedst
the
bowels
of
thy
sovereign’s
son
.
Whom
thou
wast
sworn
to
cherish
and
defend
.
How
canst
thou
urge
God’s
dreadful
law
to
us
When
thou
hast
broke
it
in
such
dear
degree
?
Alas
!
For
whose
sake
did
I
that
ill
deed
?
For
Edward
,
for
my
brother
,
for
his
sake
.
He
sends
you
not
to
murder
me
for
this
,
For
in
that
sin
he
is
as
deep
as
I
.
If
God
will
be
avengèd
for
the
deed
,
O
,
know
you
yet
He
doth
it
publicly
!
Take
not
the
quarrel
from
His
powerful
arm
;
He
needs
no
indirect
or
lawless
course
To
cut
off
those
that
have
offended
Him
.
Who
made
thee
then
a
bloody
minister
When
gallant-springing
,
brave
Plantagenet
,
That
princely
novice
,
was
struck
dead
by
thee
?
My
brother’s
love
,
the
devil
,
and
my
rage
.
Thy
brother’s
love
,
our
duty
,
and
thy
faults
Provoke
us
hither
now
to
slaughter
thee
.
If
you
do
love
my
brother
,
hate
not
me
.
I
am
his
brother
,
and
I
love
him
well
.
If
you
are
hired
for
meed
,
go
back
again
,
ACT 1. SC. 4
And
I
will
send
you
to
my
brother
Gloucester
,
Who
shall
reward
you
better
for
my
life
Than
Edward
will
for
tidings
of
my
death
.
You
are
deceived
.
Your
brother
Gloucester
hates
you
.
O
no
,
he
loves
me
,
and
he
holds
me
dear
.
Go
you
to
him
from
me
.
Ay
,
so
we
will
.
Tell
him
,
when
that
our
princely
father
York
Blessed
his
three
sons
with
his
victorious
arm
,
He
little
thought
of
this
divided
friendship
.
Bid
Gloucester
think
of
this
,
and
he
will
weep
.
Ay
,
millstones
,
as
he
lessoned
us
to
weep
.
O
,
do
not
slander
him
,
for
he
is
kind
.
Right
,
as
snow
in
harvest
.
Come
,
you
deceive
yourself
.
’Tis
he
that
sends
us
to
destroy
you
here
.
It
cannot
be
,
for
he
bewept
my
fortune
,
And
hugged
me
in
his
arms
,
and
swore
with
sobs
That
he
would
labor
my
delivery
.
Why
,
so
he
doth
,
when
he
delivers
you
From
this
Earth’s
earth’s
thralldom
to
the
joys
of
heaven
.
Make
peace
with
God
,
for
you
must
die
,
my
lord
.
Have
you
that
holy
feeling
in
your
souls
To
counsel
me
to
make
my
peace
with
God
,
And
are
you
yet
to
your
own
souls
so
blind
ACT 1. SC. 4
That
you
will
war
with
God
by
murd’ring
me
?
O
sirs
,
consider
:
they
that
set
you
on
To
do
this
deed
will
hate
you
for
the
deed
.
,
to
First
Murderer
What
shall
we
do
?
Relent
,
and
save
your
souls
.
Which
of
you
—
if
you
were
a
prince’s
son
Being
pent
from
liberty
,
as
I
am
now
—
If
two
such
murderers
as
yourselves
came
to
you
,
Would
not
entreat
for
life
?
Ay
,
you
would
beg
,
Were
you
in
my
distress
.
Relent
?
No
.
’Tis
cowardly
and
womanish
.
Not
to
relent
is
beastly
,
savage
,
devilish
.
To
Second
Murderer
.
My
friend
,
I
spy
some
pity
in
thy
looks
.
O
,
if
thine
eye
be
not
a
flatterer
,
Come
thou
on
my
side
and
entreat
for
me
.
A
begging
prince
what
beggar
pities
not
?
Look
behind
you
,
my
lord
.
Take
that
,
and
that
.
(
Stabs
him
.
)
If
all
this
will
not
do
,
I’ll
drown
you
in
the
malmsey
butt
within
.
He
exits
with
the
body
.
A
bloody
deed
,
and
desperately
dispatched
.
How
fain
,
like
Pilate
,
would
I
wash
my
hands
Of
this
most
grievous
murder
.
Enter
First
Murderer
.
How
now
?
What
mean’st
thou
that
thou
help’st
me
not
?
ACT 1. SC. 4
By
heavens
,
the
Duke
shall
know
how
slack
you
have
been
.
I
would
he
knew
that
I
had
saved
his
brother
.
Take
thou
the
fee
,
and
tell
him
what
I
say
,
For
I
repent
me
that
the
Duke
is
slain
.
He
exits
.
So
do
not
I
.
Go
,
coward
as
thou
art
.
Well
,
I’ll
go
hide
the
body
in
some
hole
Till
that
the
Duke
give
order
for
his
burial
.
And
when
I
have
my
meed
,
I
will
away
,
For
this
will
out
,
and
then
I
must
not
stay
.
He
exits
.
ACT
2
Scene
1
Flourish
.
Enter
King
Edward
,
sick
,
Queen
Elizabeth
,
Lord
Marquess
Dorset
,
Rivers
,
Hastings
,
Buckingham
,
Woodeville
,
Grey
,
and
Scales
.
Why
,
so
.
Now
have
I
done
a
good
day’s
work
.
You
peers
,
continue
this
united
league
.
I
every
day
expect
an
embassage
From
my
Redeemer
to
redeem
me
hence
,
And
more
in
peace
my
soul
shall
part
to
heaven
Since
I
have
made
my
friends
at
peace
on
Earth
earth
.
Rivers
and
Hastings
,
take
each
other’s
hand
.
Dissemble
not
your
hatred
.
Swear
your
love
.
,
taking
Hastings’
hand
By
heaven
,
my
soul
is
purged
from
grudging
hate
,
And
with
my
hand
I
seal
my
true
heart’s
love
.
So
thrive
I
as
I
truly
swear
the
like
.
Take
heed
you
dally
not
before
your
king
,
Lest
He
that
is
the
supreme
King
of
kings
Confound
your
hidden
falsehood
,
and
award
Either
of
you
to
be
the
other’s
end
.
So
prosper
I
as
I
swear
perfect
love
.
ACT 2. SC. 1
And
I
as
I
love
Hastings
with
my
heart
.
,
to
Queen
Elizabeth
Madam
,
yourself
is
not
exempt
from
this
,
—
Nor
you
,
son
Dorset
,
—
Buckingham
,
nor
you
.
You
have
been
factious
one
against
the
other
.
—
Wife
,
love
Lord
Hastings
.
Let
him
kiss
your
hand
,
And
what
you
do
,
do
it
unfeignedly
.
There
,
Hastings
,
I
will
never
more
remember
Our
former
hatred
,
so
thrive
I
and
mine
.
Hastings
kisses
her
hand
.
Dorset
,
embrace
him
.
—
Hastings
,
love
Lord
Marquess
.
This
interchange
of
love
,
I
here
protest
,
Upon
my
part
shall
be
inviolable
.
And
so
swear
I
.
They
embrace
.
Now
,
princely
Buckingham
,
seal
thou
this
league
With
thy
embracements
to
my
wife’s
allies
And
make
me
happy
in
your
unity
.
,
to
Queen
Elizabeth
Whenever
Buckingham
doth
turn
his
hate
Upon
your
Grace
,
but
with
all
duteous
love
Doth
cherish
you
and
yours
,
God
punish
me
With
hate
in
those
where
I
expect
most
love
.
When
I
have
most
need
to
employ
a
friend
,
And
most
assurèd
that
he
is
a
friend
,
Deep
,
hollow
,
treacherous
,
and
full
of
guile
Be
he
unto
me
:
this
do
I
beg
of
God
,
When
I
am
cold
in
love
to
you
or
yours
.
Queen
Elizabeth
and
Buckingham
embrace
.
A
pleasing
cordial
,
princely
Buckingham
,
ACT 2. SC. 1
Is
this
thy
vow
unto
my
sickly
heart
.
There
wanteth
now
our
brother
Gloucester
here
To
make
the
blessèd
period
of
this
peace
.
And
in
good
time
Here
comes
Sir
Richard
Ratcliffe
and
the
Duke
.
Enter
Ratcliffe
,
and
Richard
,
Duke
of
Gloucester
.
Good
morrow
to
my
sovereign
king
and
queen
,
And
,
princely
peers
,
a
happy
time
of
day
.
Happy
indeed
,
as
we
have
spent
the
day
.
Gloucester
,
we
have
done
deeds
of
charity
,
Made
peace
of
enmity
,
fair
love
of
hate
,
Between
these
swelling
,
wrong-incensèd
peers
.
A
blessèd
labor
,
my
most
sovereign
lord
.
Among
this
princely
heap
,
if
any
here
By
false
intelligence
or
wrong
surmise
Hold
me
a
foe
,
If
I
unwittingly
,
or
in
my
rage
,
Have
aught
committed
that
is
hardly
borne
By
any
in
this
presence
,
I
desire
To
reconcile
me
to
his
friendly
peace
.
’Tis
death
to
me
to
be
at
enmity
;
I
hate
it
,
and
desire
all
good
men’s
love
.
First
,
madam
,
I
entreat
true
peace
of
you
,
Which
I
will
purchase
with
my
duteous
service
;
—
Of
you
,
my
noble
cousin
Buckingham
,
If
ever
any
grudge
were
lodged
between
us
;
—
Of
you
and
you
,
Lord
Rivers
and
of
Dorset
,
That
all
without
desert
have
frowned
on
me
;
—
Of
you
,
Lord
Woodeville
and
Lord
Scales
;
—
of
you
,
Dukes
,
earls
,
lords
,
gentlemen
;
indeed
,
of
all
.
I
do
not
know
that
Englishman
alive
With
whom
my
soul
is
any
jot
at
odds
ACT 2. SC. 1
More
than
the
infant
that
is
born
tonight
.
I
thank
my
God
for
my
humility
.
A
holy
day
shall
this
be
kept
hereafter
.
I
would
to
God
all
strifes
were
well
compounded
.
My
sovereign
lord
,
I
do
beseech
your
Highness
To
take
our
brother
Clarence
to
your
grace
.
Why
,
madam
,
have
I
offered
love
for
this
,
To
be
so
flouted
in
this
royal
presence
?
Who
knows
not
that
the
gentle
duke
is
dead
?
They
all
start
.
You
do
him
injury
to
scorn
his
corse
.
Who
knows
not
he
is
dead
!
Who
knows
he
is
?
All-seeing
heaven
,
what
a
world
is
this
!
Look
I
so
pale
,
Lord
Dorset
,
as
the
rest
?
Ay
,
my
good
lord
,
and
no
man
in
the
presence
But
his
red
color
hath
forsook
his
cheeks
.
Is
Clarence
dead
?
The
order
was
reversed
.
But
he
,
poor
man
,
by
your
first
order
died
,
And
that
a
wingèd
Mercury
did
bear
.
Some
tardy
cripple
bare
the
countermand
,
That
came
too
lag
to
see
him
burièd
.
God
grant
that
some
,
less
noble
and
less
loyal
,
Nearer
in
bloody
thoughts
,
and
not
in
blood
,
Deserve
not
worse
than
wretched
Clarence
did
,
And
yet
go
current
from
suspicion
.
Enter
Lord
Stanley
,
Earl
of
Derby
.
ACT 2. SC. 1
,
kneeling
A
boon
,
my
sovereign
,
for
my
service
done
.
I
prithee
,
peace
.
My
soul
is
full
of
sorrow
.
I
will
not
rise
unless
your
Highness
hear
me
.
Then
say
at
once
what
is
it
thou
requests
.
The
forfeit
,
sovereign
,
of
my
servant’s
life
,
Who
slew
today
a
riotous
gentleman
Lately
attendant
on
the
Duke
of
Norfolk
.
Have
I
a
tongue
to
doom
my
brother’s
death
,
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
sued
to
me
for
him
?
Who
,
in
my
wrath
,
Kneeled
at
my
feet
,
and
bade
me
be
advised
?
Who
spoke
of
brotherhood
?
Who
spoke
of
love
?
Who
told
me
how
the
poor
soul
did
forsake
The
mighty
Warwick
and
did
fight
for
me
?
Who
told
me
,
in
the
field
at
Tewkesbury
,
When
Oxford
had
me
down
,
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
lap
me
Even
in
his
garments
and
did
give
himself
,
All
thin
and
naked
,
to
the
numb-cold
night
?
All
this
from
my
remembrance
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
vassals
Have
done
a
drunken
slaughter
and
defaced
The
precious
image
of
our
dear
Redeemer
,
ACT 2. SC. 2
You
straight
are
on
your
knees
for
pardon
,
pardon
,
And
I
,
unjustly
too
,
must
grant
it
you
.
Stanley
rises
.
But
for
my
brother
,
not
a
man
would
speak
,
Nor
I
,
ungracious
,
speak
unto
myself
For
him
,
poor
soul
.
The
proudest
of
you
all
Have
been
beholding
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
you
,
and
mine
and
yours
for
this
!
—
Come
,
Hastings
,
help
me
to
my
closet
.
—
Ah
,
poor
Clarence
.
Some
exit
with
King
and
Queen
.
This
is
the
fruits
of
rashness
.
Marked
you
not
How
that
the
guilty
kindred
of
the
Queen
Looked
pale
when
they
did
hear
of
Clarence’
death
?
O
,
they
did
urge
it
still
unto
the
King
.
God
will
revenge
it
.
Come
,
lords
,
will
you
go
To
comfort
Edward
with
our
company
?
We
wait
upon
your
Grace
.
They
exit
.
Scene
2
Enter
the
old
Duchess
of
York
with
the
two
children
of
Clarence
.
Good
grandam
,
tell
us
,
is
our
father
dead
?
No
,
boy
.
Why
do
you
weep
so
oft
,
and
beat
your
breast
,
And
cry
O
Clarence
,
my
unhappy
son
?
Why
do
you
look
on
us
and
shake
your
head
,
ACT 2. SC. 2
And
call
us
orphans
,
wretches
,
castaways
,
If
that
our
noble
father
were
alive
?
My
pretty
cousins
,
you
mistake
me
both
.
I
do
lament
the
sickness
of
the
King
,
As
loath
to
lose
him
,
not
your
father’s
death
.
It
were
lost
sorrow
to
wail
one
that’s
lost
.
Then
,
you
conclude
,
my
grandam
,
he
is
dead
.
The
King
mine
uncle
is
to
blame
for
it
.
God
will
revenge
it
,
whom
I
will
importune
With
earnest
prayers
,
all
to
that
effect
.
And
so
will
I
.
Peace
,
children
,
peace
.
The
King
doth
love
you
well
.
Incapable
and
shallow
innocents
,
You
cannot
guess
who
caused
your
father’s
death
.
Grandam
,
we
can
,
for
my
good
uncle
Gloucester
Told
me
the
King
,
provoked
to
it
by
the
Queen
,
Devised
impeachments
to
imprison
him
;
And
when
my
uncle
told
me
so
,
he
wept
,
And
pitied
me
,
and
kindly
kissed
my
cheek
,
Bade
me
rely
on
him
as
on
my
father
,
And
he
would
love
me
dearly
as
a
child
.
Ah
,
that
deceit
should
steal
such
gentle
shape
,
And
with
a
virtuous
visor
hide
deep
vice
.
He
is
my
son
,
ay
,
and
therein
my
shame
,
Yet
from
my
dugs
he
drew
not
this
deceit
.
Think
you
my
uncle
did
dissemble
,
grandam
?
Ay
,
boy
.
I
cannot
think
it
.
Hark
,
what
noise
is
this
?
ACT 2. SC. 2
Enter
Queen
Elizabeth
with
her
hair
about
her
ears
,
Rivers
and
Dorset
after
her
.
Ah
,
who
shall
hinder
me
to
wail
and
weep
,
To
chide
my
fortune
and
torment
myself
?
I’ll
join
with
black
despair
against
my
soul
And
to
myself
become
an
enemy
.
What
means
this
scene
of
rude
impatience
?
To
make
an
act
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
want
their
sap
?
If
you
will
live
,
lament
.
If
die
,
be
brief
,
That
our
swift-wingèd
souls
may
catch
the
King’s
,
Or
,
like
obedient
subjects
,
follow
him
To
his
new
kingdom
of
ne’er-changing
night
.
Ah
,
so
much
interest
have
I
in
thy
sorrow
As
I
had
title
in
thy
noble
husband
.
I
have
bewept
a
worthy
husband’s
death
And
lived
with
looking
on
his
images
;
But
now
two
mirrors
of
his
princely
semblance
Are
cracked
in
pieces
by
malignant
death
,
And
I
,
for
comfort
,
have
but
one
false
glass
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
moiety
of
my
moan
,
To
overgo
thy
woes
and
drown
thy
cries
!
ACT 2. SC. 2
,
to
Queen
Elizabeth
Ah
,
aunt
,
you
wept
not
for
our
father’s
death
.
How
can
we
aid
you
with
our
kindred
tears
?
,
to
Queen
Elizabeth
Our
fatherless
distress
was
left
unmoaned
.
Your
widow-dolor
likewise
be
unwept
!
Give
me
no
help
in
lamentation
.
I
am
not
barren
to
bring
forth
complaints
.
All
springs
reduce
their
currents
to
mine
eyes
,
That
I
,
being
governed
by
the
watery
moon
,
May
send
forth
plenteous
tears
to
drown
the
world
.
Ah
,
for
my
husband
,
for
my
dear
lord
Edward
!
Ah
,
for
our
father
,
for
our
dear
lord
Clarence
!
Alas
for
both
,
both
mine
,
Edward
and
Clarence
!
What
stay
had
I
but
Edward
?
And
he’s
gone
.
What
stay
had
we
but
Clarence
?
And
he’s
gone
.
What
stays
had
I
but
they
?
And
they
are
gone
.
Was
never
widow
had
so
dear
a
loss
.
Were
never
orphans
had
so
dear
a
loss
.
Was
never
mother
had
so
dear
a
loss
.
Alas
,
I
am
the
mother
of
these
griefs
.
Their
woes
are
parceled
;
mine
is
general
.
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
,
ACT 2. SC. 2
Pour
all
your
tears
.
I
am
your
sorrow’s
nurse
,
And
I
will
pamper
it
with
lamentation
.
,
to
Queen
Elizabeth
Comfort
,
dear
mother
.
God
is
much
displeased
That
you
take
with
unthankfulness
His
his
doing
.
In
common
worldly
things
,
’tis
called
ungrateful
With
dull
unwillingness
to
repay
a
debt
Which
with
a
bounteous
hand
was
kindly
lent
;
Much
more
to
be
thus
opposite
with
heaven
,
For
it
requires
the
royal
debt
it
lent
you
.
Madam
,
bethink
you
,
like
a
careful
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
,
Duke
of
Gloucester
,
Buckingham
,
Lord
Stanley
,
Earl
of
Derby
,
Hastings
,
and
Ratcliffe
.
,
to
Queen
Elizabeth
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
mercy
;
I
did
not
see
your
Grace
.
Humbly
on
my
knee
I
crave
your
blessing
.
He
kneels
.
God
bless
thee
,
and
put
meekness
in
thy
breast
,
Love
,
charity
,
obedience
,
and
true
duty
.
,
standing
Amen
.
Aside
.
And
make
me
die
a
good
old
man
!
That
is
the
butt
end
of
a
mother’s
blessing
;
I
marvel
that
her
Grace
did
leave
it
out
.
You
cloudy
princes
and
heart-sorrowing
peers
ACT 2. SC. 2
That
bear
this
heavy
mutual
load
of
moan
,
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
rancor
of
your
high-swoll’n
hates
,
But
lately
splintered
,
knit
,
and
joined
together
,
Must
gently
be
preserved
,
cherished
,
and
kept
.
Meseemeth
good
that
with
some
little
train
Forthwith
from
Ludlow
the
young
prince
be
fet
Hither
to
London
,
to
be
crowned
our
king
.
Why
with
some
little
train
,
my
lord
Lord
of
Buckingham
?
Marry
,
my
lord
,
lest
by
a
multitude
The
new-healed
wound
of
malice
should
break
out
,
Which
would
be
so
much
the
more
dangerous
By
how
much
the
estate
is
green
and
yet
ungoverned
.
Where
every
horse
bears
his
commanding
rein
And
may
direct
his
course
as
please
himself
,
As
well
the
fear
of
harm
as
harm
apparent
,
In
my
opinion
,
ought
to
be
prevented
.
I
hope
the
King
made
peace
with
all
of
us
;
And
the
compact
is
firm
and
true
in
me
.
And
so
in
me
,
and
so
,
I
think
,
in
all
.
Yet
since
it
is
but
green
,
it
should
be
put
To
no
apparent
likelihood
of
breach
,
Which
haply
by
much
company
might
be
urged
.
Therefore
I
say
with
noble
Buckingham
That
it
is
meet
so
few
should
fetch
the
Prince
.
And
so
say
I
.
Then
be
it
so
,
and
go
we
to
determine
ACT 2. SC. 3
Who
they
shall
be
that
straight
shall
post
to
Ludlow
.
—
Madam
,
and
you
,
my
sister
,
will
you
go
To
give
your
censures
in
this
business
?
All
but
Buckingham
and
Richard
exit
.
My
lord
,
whoever
journeys
to
the
Prince
,
For
God’s
sake
let
not
us
two
stay
at
home
.
For
by
the
way
I’ll
sort
occasion
,
As
index
to
the
story
we
late
talked
of
,
To
part
the
Queen’s
proud
kindred
from
the
Prince
.
My
other
self
,
my
council’s
consistory
,
My
oracle
,
my
prophet
,
my
dear
cousin
,
I
,
as
a
child
,
will
go
by
thy
direction
.
Toward
Ludlow
then
,
for
we’ll
not
stay
behind
.
They
exit
.
Scene
3
Enter
one
Citizen
at
one
door
,
and
another
at
the
other
.
Good
morrow
,
neighbor
,
whither
away
so
fast
?
I
promise
you
I
scarcely
know
myself
.
Hear
you
the
news
abroad
?
Yes
,
that
the
King
is
dead
.
Ill
news
,
by
’r
Lady
.
Seldom
comes
the
better
.
I
fear
,
I
fear
,
’twill
prove
a
giddy
world
.
Enter
another
Citizen
.
Neighbors
,
God
speed
.
Give
you
good
morrow
,
sir
.
ACT 2. SC. 3
Doth
the
news
hold
of
good
King
Edward’s
death
?
Ay
,
sir
,
it
is
too
true
,
God
help
the
while
.
Then
,
masters
,
look
to
see
a
troublous
world
.
No
,
no
,
by
God’s
good
grace
,
his
son
shall
reign
.
Woe
to
that
land
that’s
governed
by
a
child
.
In
him
there
is
a
hope
of
government
,
Which
,
in
his
nonage
,
council
under
him
,
And
,
in
his
full
and
ripened
years
,
himself
,
No
doubt
shall
then
,
and
till
then
,
govern
well
.
So
stood
the
state
when
Henry
the
Sixth
Was
crowned
in
Paris
but
at
nine
months
old
.
Stood
the
state
so
?
No
,
no
,
good
friends
,
God
wot
,
For
then
this
land
was
famously
enriched
With
politic
grave
counsel
;
then
the
King
Had
virtuous
uncles
to
protect
his
Grace
.
Why
,
so
hath
this
,
both
by
his
father
and
mother
.
Better
it
were
they
all
came
by
his
father
,
Or
by
his
father
there
were
none
at
all
,
For
emulation
who
shall
now
be
nearest
Will
touch
us
all
too
near
if
God
prevent
not
.
O
,
full
of
danger
is
the
Duke
of
Gloucester
,
And
the
Queen’s
sons
and
brothers
haught
and
proud
,
And
were
they
to
be
ruled
,
and
not
to
rule
,
This
sickly
land
might
solace
as
before
.
ACT 2. SC. 4
Come
,
come
,
we
fear
the
worst
.
All
will
be
well
.
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
for
night
?
Untimely
storms
makes
men
expect
a
dearth
.
All
may
be
well
;
but
if
God
sort
it
so
,
’Tis
more
than
we
deserve
or
I
expect
.
Truly
,
the
hearts
of
men
are
full
of
fear
.
You
cannot
reason
almost
with
a
man
That
looks
not
heavily
and
full
of
dread
.
Before
the
days
of
change
,
still
is
it
so
.
By
a
divine
instinct
,
men’s
minds
mistrust
Ensuing
danger
,
as
by
proof
we
see
The
water
swell
before
a
boist’rous
storm
.
But
leave
it
all
to
God
.
Whither
away
?
Marry
,
we
were
sent
for
to
the
Justices
.
And
so
was
I
.
I’ll
bear
you
company
.
They
exit
.
Scene
4
Enter
Archbishop
,
the
young
Duke
of
York
,
Queen
Elizabeth
,
and
the
Duchess
of
York
.
Last
night
,
I
hear
,
they
lay
at
Stony
Stratford
,
And
at
Northampton
they
do
rest
tonight
.
Tomorrow
or
next
day
they
will
be
here
.
ACT 2. SC. 4
I
long
with
all
my
heart
to
see
the
Prince
.
I
hope
he
is
much
grown
since
last
I
saw
him
.
But
I
hear
no
;
they
say
my
son
of
York
Has
almost
overta’en
him
in
his
growth
.
Ay
,
mother
,
but
I
would
not
have
it
so
.
Why
,
my
good
cousin
?
It
is
good
to
grow
.
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
.
And
since
,
methinks
I
would
not
grow
so
fast
Because
sweet
flowers
are
slow
and
weeds
make
haste
.
Good
faith
,
good
faith
,
the
saying
did
not
hold
In
him
that
did
object
the
same
to
thee
!
He
was
the
wretched’st
thing
when
he
was
young
,
So
long
a-growing
and
so
leisurely
,
That
if
his
rule
were
true
,
he
should
be
gracious
.
And
so
no
doubt
he
is
,
my
gracious
madam
.
I
hope
he
is
,
but
yet
let
mothers
doubt
.
Now
,
by
my
troth
,
if
I
had
been
remembered
,
I
could
have
given
my
uncle’s
Grace
a
flout
To
touch
his
growth
nearer
than
he
touched
mine
.
How
,
my
young
York
?
I
prithee
let
me
hear
it
.
ACT 2. SC. 4
Marry
,
they
say
my
uncle
grew
so
fast
That
he
could
gnaw
a
crust
at
two
hours
old
.
’Twas
full
two
years
ere
I
could
get
a
tooth
.
Grandam
,
this
would
have
been
a
biting
jest
.
I
prithee
,
pretty
York
,
who
told
thee
this
?
Grandam
,
his
nurse
.
His
nurse
?
Why
,
she
was
dead
ere
thou
wast
born
.
If
’twere
not
she
,
I
cannot
tell
who
told
me
.
A
parlous
boy
!
Go
to
,
you
are
too
shrewd
.
Good
madam
,
be
not
angry
with
the
child
.
Pitchers
have
ears
.
Enter
a
Messenger
.
Here
comes
a
messenger
.
—
What
news
?
Such
news
,
my
lord
,
as
grieves
me
to
report
.
How
doth
the
Prince
?
Well
,
madam
,
and
in
health
.
What
is
thy
news
?
Lord
Rivers
and
Lord
Grey
are
sent
to
Pomfret
,
And
,
with
them
,
Sir
Thomas
Vaughan
,
prisoners
.
Who
hath
committed
them
?
The
mighty
dukes
,
Gloucester
and
Buckingham
.
For
what
offense
?
The
sum
of
all
I
can
,
I
have
disclosed
.
Why
,
or
for
what
,
the
nobles
were
committed
Is
all
unknown
to
me
,
my
gracious
lord
.
ACT 2. SC. 4
Ay
me
!
I
see
the
ruin
of
my
house
.
The
tiger
now
hath
seized
the
gentle
hind
.
Insulting
tyranny
begins
to
jut
Upon
the
innocent
and
aweless
throne
.
Welcome
,
destruction
,
blood
,
and
massacre
.
I
see
,
as
in
a
map
,
the
end
of
all
.
Accursèd
and
unquiet
wrangling
days
,
How
many
of
you
have
mine
eyes
beheld
?
My
husband
lost
his
life
to
get
the
crown
,
And
often
up
and
down
my
sons
were
tossed
For
me
to
joy
,
and
weep
,
their
gain
and
loss
.
And
being
seated
,
and
domestic
broils
Clean
overblown
,
themselves
the
conquerors
Make
war
upon
themselves
,
brother
to
brother
,
Blood
to
blood
,
self
against
self
.
O
,
preposterous
And
frantic
outrage
,
end
thy
damnèd
spleen
,
Or
let
me
die
,
to
look
on
Earth
earth
no
more
.
,
to
York
Come
,
come
,
my
boy
.
We
will
to
sanctuary
.
—
Madam
,
farewell
.
Stay
,
I
will
go
with
you
.
You
have
no
cause
.
,
to
Queen
Elizabeth
My
gracious
lady
,
go
,
And
thither
bear
your
treasure
and
your
goods
.
For
my
part
,
I’ll
resign
unto
your
Grace
The
seal
I
keep
;
and
so
betide
to
me
As
well
I
tender
you
and
all
of
yours
.
Go
.
I’ll
conduct
you
to
the
sanctuary
.
They
exit
.
ACT
3
Scene
1
The
trumpets
sound
.
Enter
young
Prince
Edward
,
Richard
Duke
of
Gloucester
,
Buckingham
,
the
Cardinal
,
Catesby
,
and
others
.
Welcome
,
sweet
prince
,
to
London
,
to
your
chamber
.
,
to
Prince
Welcome
,
dear
cousin
,
my
thoughts’
sovereign
.
The
weary
way
hath
made
you
melancholy
.
No
,
uncle
,
but
our
crosses
on
the
way
Have
made
it
tedious
,
wearisome
,
and
heavy
.
I
want
more
uncles
here
to
welcome
me
.
Sweet
prince
,
the
untainted
virtue
of
your
years
Hath
not
yet
dived
into
the
world’s
deceit
;
Nor
more
can
you
distinguish
of
a
man
Than
of
his
outward
show
,
which
,
God
He
knows
,
Seldom
or
never
jumpeth
with
the
heart
.
Those
uncles
which
you
want
were
dangerous
.
Your
Grace
attended
to
their
sugared
words
But
looked
not
on
the
poison
of
their
hearts
.
God
keep
you
from
them
,
and
from
such
false
friends
.
ACT 3. SC. 1
God
keep
me
from
false
friends
,
but
they
were
none
.
My
lord
,
the
Mayor
of
London
comes
to
greet
you
.
Enter
Lord
Mayor
with
others
.
God
bless
your
Grace
with
health
and
happy
days
.
I
thank
you
,
good
my
lord
,
and
thank
you
all
.
—
I
thought
my
mother
and
my
brother
York
Would
long
ere
this
have
met
us
on
the
way
.
Fie
,
what
a
slug
is
Hastings
that
he
comes
not
To
tell
us
whether
they
will
come
or
no
!
Enter
Lord
Hastings
.
And
in
good
time
here
comes
the
sweating
lord
.
Welcome
,
my
lord
.
What
,
will
our
mother
come
?
On
what
occasion
God
He
knows
,
not
I
,
The
Queen
your
mother
and
your
brother
York
Have
taken
sanctuary
.
The
tender
prince
Would
fain
have
come
with
me
to
meet
your
Grace
,
But
by
his
mother
was
perforce
withheld
.
Fie
,
what
an
indirect
and
peevish
course
Is
this
of
hers
!
—
Lord
Cardinal
,
will
your
Grace
Persuade
the
Queen
to
send
the
Duke
of
York
Unto
his
princely
brother
presently
?
—
If
she
deny
,
Lord
Hastings
,
go
with
him
,
And
from
her
jealous
arms
pluck
him
perforce
.
My
lord
Lord
of
Buckingham
,
if
my
weak
oratory
ACT 3. SC. 1
Can
from
his
mother
win
the
Duke
of
York
,
Anon
expect
him
here
;
but
if
she
be
obdurate
To
mild
entreaties
,
God
in
heaven
forbid
We
should
infringe
the
holy
privilege
Of
blessèd
sanctuary
!
Not
for
all
this
land
Would
I
be
guilty
of
so
deep
a
sin
.
You
are
too
senseless
obstinate
,
my
lord
,
Too
ceremonious
and
traditional
.
Weigh
it
but
with
the
grossness
of
this
age
,
You
break
not
sanctuary
in
seizing
him
.
The
benefit
thereof
is
always
granted
To
those
whose
dealings
have
deserved
the
place
And
those
who
have
the
wit
to
claim
the
place
.
This
prince
hath
neither
claimed
it
nor
deserved
it
And
therefore
,
in
mine
opinion
,
cannot
have
it
.
Then
taking
him
from
thence
that
is
not
there
,
You
break
no
privilege
nor
charter
there
.
Oft
have
I
heard
of
sanctuary
men
,
But
sanctuary
children
,
never
till
now
.
My
lord
,
you
shall
o’errule
my
mind
for
once
.
—
Come
on
,
Lord
Hastings
,
will
you
go
with
me
?
I
go
,
my
lord
.
Good
lords
,
make
all
the
speedy
haste
you
may
.
The
Cardinal
and
Hastings
exit
.
Say
,
uncle
Gloucester
,
if
our
brother
come
,
Where
shall
we
sojourn
till
our
coronation
?
Where
it
seems
best
unto
your
royal
self
.
If
I
may
counsel
you
,
some
day
or
two
Your
Highness
shall
repose
you
at
the
Tower
;
Then
where
you
please
and
shall
be
thought
most
fit
For
your
best
health
and
recreation
.
ACT 3. SC. 1
I
do
not
like
the
Tower
,
of
any
place
.
—
Did
Julius
Caesar
build
that
place
,
my
lord
?
He
did
,
my
gracious
lord
,
begin
that
place
,
Which
,
since
,
succeeding
ages
have
re-edified
.
Is
it
upon
record
,
or
else
reported
Successively
from
age
to
age
,
he
built
it
?
Upon
record
,
my
gracious
lord
.
But
say
,
my
lord
,
it
were
not
registered
,
Methinks
the
truth
should
live
from
age
to
age
,
As
’twere
retailed
to
all
posterity
,
Even
to
the
general
all-ending
day
.
,
aside
So
wise
so
young
,
they
say
,
do
never
live
long
.
What
say
you
,
uncle
?
I
say
,
without
characters
fame
lives
long
.
Aside
.
Thus
,
like
the
formal
Vice
,
Iniquity
,
I
moralize
two
meanings
in
one
word
.
That
Julius
Caesar
was
a
famous
man
.
With
what
his
valor
did
enrich
his
wit
,
His
wit
set
down
to
make
his
valor
live
.
Death
makes
no
conquest
of
this
conqueror
,
For
now
he
lives
in
fame
,
though
not
in
life
.
I’ll
tell
you
what
,
my
cousin
Buckingham
—
What
,
my
gracious
lord
?
An
if
I
live
until
I
be
a
man
,
I’ll
win
our
ancient
right
in
France
again
Or
die
a
soldier
,
as
I
lived
a
king
.
,
aside
Short
summers
lightly
have
a
forward
spring
.
ACT 3. SC. 1
Enter
young
Duke
of
York
,
Hastings
,
and
the
Cardinal
.
Now
in
good
time
here
comes
the
Duke
of
York
.
Richard
of
York
,
how
fares
our
loving
brother
?
Well
,
my
dread
lord
—
so
must
I
call
you
now
.
Ay
,
brother
,
to
our
grief
,
as
it
is
yours
.
Too
late
he
died
that
might
have
kept
that
title
,
Which
by
his
death
hath
lost
much
majesty
.
How
fares
our
cousin
,
noble
lord
Lord
of
York
?
I
thank
you
,
gentle
uncle
.
O
my
lord
,
You
said
that
idle
weeds
are
fast
in
growth
.
The
Prince
my
brother
hath
outgrown
me
far
.
He
hath
,
my
lord
.
And
therefore
is
he
idle
?
O
my
fair
cousin
,
I
must
not
say
so
.
Then
he
is
more
beholding
to
you
than
I
.
He
may
command
me
as
my
sovereign
,
But
you
have
power
in
me
as
in
a
kinsman
.
I
pray
you
,
uncle
,
give
me
this
dagger
.
My
dagger
,
little
cousin
?
With
all
my
heart
.
A
beggar
,
brother
?
Of
my
kind
uncle
,
that
I
know
will
give
,
And
being
but
a
toy
,
which
is
no
grief
to
give
.
ACT 3. SC. 1
A
greater
gift
than
that
I’ll
give
my
cousin
.
A
greater
gift
?
O
,
that’s
the
sword
to
it
.
Ay
,
gentle
cousin
,
were
it
light
enough
.
O
,
then
I
see
you
will
part
but
with
light
gifts
.
In
weightier
things
you’ll
say
a
beggar
nay
.
It
is
too
heavy
for
your
Grace
to
wear
.
I
weigh
it
lightly
,
were
it
heavier
.
What
,
would
you
have
my
weapon
,
little
lord
?
I
would
,
that
I
might
thank
you
as
you
call
me
.
How
?
Little
.
My
lord
Lord
of
York
will
still
be
cross
in
talk
.
Uncle
,
your
Grace
knows
how
to
bear
with
him
.
You
mean
,
to
bear
me
,
not
to
bear
with
me
.
—
Uncle
,
my
brother
mocks
both
you
and
me
.
Because
that
I
am
little
,
like
an
ape
,
He
thinks
that
you
should
bear
me
on
your
shoulders
.
,
aside
With
what
a
sharp-provided
wit
he
reasons
!
To
mitigate
the
scorn
he
gives
his
uncle
,
He
prettily
and
aptly
taunts
himself
.
So
cunning
and
so
young
is
wonderful
.
,
to
Prince
My
lord
,
will
’t
please
you
pass
along
?
ACT 3. SC. 1
Myself
and
my
good
cousin
Buckingham
Will
to
your
mother
,
to
entreat
of
her
To
meet
you
at
the
Tower
and
welcome
you
.
,
to
Prince
What
,
will
you
go
unto
the
Tower
,
my
lord
?
My
Lord
Protector
needs
will
have
it
so
.
I
shall
not
sleep
in
quiet
at
the
Tower
.
Why
,
what
should
you
fear
?
Marry
,
my
uncle
Clarence’
angry
ghost
.
My
grandam
told
me
he
was
murdered
there
.
I
fear
no
uncles
dead
.
Nor
none
that
live
,
I
hope
.
An
if
they
live
,
I
hope
I
need
not
fear
.
To
York
.
But
come
,
my
lord
.
With
a
heavy
heart
,
Thinking
on
them
,
go
I
unto
the
Tower
.
A
sennet
.
Prince
Edward
,
the
Duke
of
York
,
and
Hastings
exit
.
Richard
,
Buckingham
,
and
Catesby
remain
.
,
to
Richard
Think
you
,
my
lord
,
this
little
prating
York
Was
not
incensèd
by
his
subtle
mother
To
taunt
and
scorn
you
thus
opprobriously
?
No
doubt
,
no
doubt
.
O
,
’tis
a
parlous
boy
,
Bold
,
quick
,
ingenious
,
forward
,
capable
.
He
is
all
the
mother’s
,
from
the
top
to
toe
.
Well
,
let
them
rest
.
—
Come
hither
,
Catesby
.
Thou
art
sworn
as
deeply
to
effect
what
we
intend
As
closely
to
conceal
what
we
impart
.
Thou
knowest
our
reasons
,
urged
upon
the
way
.
ACT 3. SC. 1
What
thinkest
thou
?
Is
it
not
an
easy
matter
To
make
William
Lord
Hastings
of
our
mind
For
the
installment
of
this
noble
duke
In
the
seat
royal
of
this
famous
isle
?
He
,
for
his
father’s
sake
,
so
loves
the
Prince
That
he
will
not
be
won
to
aught
against
him
.
What
think’st
thou
then
of
Stanley
?
Will
not
he
?
He
will
do
all
in
all
as
Hastings
doth
.
Well
then
,
no
more
but
this
:
go
,
gentle
Catesby
,
And
,
as
it
were
far
off
,
sound
thou
Lord
Hastings
How
he
doth
stand
affected
to
our
purpose
And
summon
him
tomorrow
to
the
Tower
To
sit
about
the
coronation
.
If
thou
dost
find
him
tractable
to
us
,
Encourage
him
and
tell
him
all
our
reasons
.
If
he
be
leaden
,
icy
,
cold
,
unwilling
,
Be
thou
so
too
,
and
so
break
off
the
talk
,
And
give
us
notice
of
his
inclination
;
For
we
tomorrow
hold
divided
councils
,
Wherein
thyself
shalt
highly
be
employed
.
Commend
me
to
Lord
William
.
Tell
him
,
Catesby
,
His
ancient
knot
of
dangerous
adversaries
Tomorrow
are
let
blood
at
Pomfret
Castle
,
And
bid
my
lord
,
for
joy
of
this
good
news
,
Give
Mistress
Shore
one
gentle
kiss
the
more
.
Good
Catesby
,
go
effect
this
business
soundly
.
My
good
lords
both
,
with
all
the
heed
I
can
.
Shall
we
hear
from
you
,
Catesby
,
ere
we
sleep
?
ACT 3. SC. 2
You
shall
,
my
lord
.
At
Crosby
House
,
there
shall
you
find
us
both
.
Catesby
exits
.
Now
,
my
lord
,
what
shall
we
do
if
we
perceive
Lord
Hastings
will
not
yield
to
our
complots
?
Chop
off
his
head
.
Something
we
will
determine
.
And
look
when
I
am
king
,
claim
thou
of
me
The
earldom
of
Hereford
,
and
all
the
movables
Whereof
the
King
my
brother
was
possessed
.
I’ll
claim
that
promise
at
your
Grace’s
hand
.
And
look
to
have
it
yielded
with
all
kindness
.
Come
,
let
us
sup
betimes
,
that
afterwards
We
may
digest
our
complots
in
some
form
.
They
exit
.
Scene
2
Enter
a
Messenger
to
the
door
of
Hastings
.
,
knocking
My
lord
,
my
lord
.
,
within
Who
knocks
?
One
from
the
Lord
Stanley
.
,
within
What
is
’t
o’clock
?
Upon
the
stroke
of
four
.
Enter
Lord
Hastings
.
Cannot
my
Lord
Stanley
sleep
these
tedious
nights
?
So
it
appears
by
that
I
have
to
say
.
First
,
he
commends
him
to
your
noble
self
.
ACT 3. SC. 2
What
then
?
Then
certifies
your
Lordship
that
this
night
He
dreamt
the
boar
had
razèd
off
his
helm
.
Besides
,
he
says
there
are
two
councils
kept
,
And
that
may
be
determined
at
the
one
Which
may
make
you
and
him
to
rue
at
th’
other
.
Therefore
he
sends
to
know
your
Lordship’s
pleasure
,
If
you
will
presently
take
horse
with
him
And
with
all
speed
post
with
him
toward
the
north
To
shun
the
danger
that
his
soul
divines
.
Go
,
fellow
,
go
.
Return
unto
thy
lord
.
Bid
him
not
fear
the
separated
council
.
His
Honor
and
myself
are
at
the
one
,
And
at
the
other
is
my
good
friend
Catesby
,
Where
nothing
can
proceed
that
toucheth
us
Whereof
I
shall
not
have
intelligence
.
Tell
him
his
fears
are
shallow
,
without
instance
.
And
for
his
dreams
,
I
wonder
he’s
so
simple
To
trust
the
mock’ry
of
unquiet
slumbers
.
To
fly
the
boar
before
the
boar
pursues
Were
to
incense
the
boar
to
follow
us
And
make
pursuit
where
he
did
mean
no
chase
.
Go
,
bid
thy
master
rise
and
come
to
me
,
And
we
will
both
together
to
the
Tower
,
Where
he
shall
see
the
boar
will
use
us
kindly
.
I’ll
go
,
my
lord
,
and
tell
him
what
you
say
.
He
exits
.
Enter
Catesby
.
Many
good
morrows
to
my
noble
lord
.
ACT 3. SC. 2
Good
morrow
,
Catesby
.
You
are
early
stirring
.
What
news
,
what
news
in
this
our
tott’ring
state
?
It
is
a
reeling
world
indeed
,
my
lord
,
And
I
believe
will
never
stand
upright
Till
Richard
wear
the
garland
of
the
realm
.
How
wear
the
garland
?
Dost
thou
mean
the
crown
?
Ay
,
my
good
lord
.
I’ll
have
this
crown
of
mine
cut
from
my
shoulders
Before
I’ll
see
the
crown
so
foul
misplaced
.
But
canst
thou
guess
that
he
doth
aim
at
it
?
Ay
,
on
my
life
,
and
hopes
to
find
you
forward
Upon
his
party
for
the
gain
thereof
;
And
thereupon
he
sends
you
this
good
news
,
That
this
same
very
day
your
enemies
,
The
kindred
of
the
Queen
,
must
die
at
Pomfret
.
Indeed
,
I
am
no
mourner
for
that
news
,
Because
they
have
been
still
my
adversaries
.
But
that
I’ll
give
my
voice
on
Richard’s
side
To
bar
my
master’s
heirs
in
true
descent
,
God
knows
I
will
not
do
it
,
to
the
death
.
God
keep
your
Lordship
in
that
gracious
mind
.
But
I
shall
laugh
at
this
a
twelve-month
hence
,
That
they
which
brought
me
in
my
master’s
hate
,
I
live
to
look
upon
their
tragedy
.
Well
,
Catesby
,
ere
a
fortnight
make
me
older
I’ll
send
some
packing
that
yet
think
not
on
’t
.
ACT 3. SC. 2
’Tis
a
vile
thing
to
die
,
my
gracious
lord
,
When
men
are
unprepared
and
look
not
for
it
.
O
monstrous
,
monstrous
!
And
so
falls
it
out
With
Rivers
,
Vaughan
,
Grey
;
and
so
’twill
do
With
some
men
else
that
think
themselves
as
safe
As
thou
and
I
,
who
,
as
thou
know’st
,
are
dear
To
princely
Richard
and
to
Buckingham
.
The
Princes
both
make
high
account
of
you
—
Aside
.
For
they
account
his
head
upon
the
Bridge
.
I
know
they
do
,
and
I
have
well
deserved
it
.
Enter
Lord
Stanley
.
Come
on
,
come
on
.
Where
is
your
boar-spear
,
man
?
Fear
you
the
boar
and
go
so
unprovided
?
My
lord
,
good
morrow
.
—
Good
morrow
,
Catesby
.
—
You
may
jest
on
,
but
,
by
the
Holy
Rood
,
I
do
not
like
these
several
councils
,
I
.
My
lord
,
I
hold
my
life
as
dear
as
you
do
yours
,
And
never
in
my
days
,
I
do
protest
,
Was
it
so
precious
to
me
as
’tis
now
.
Think
you
but
that
I
know
our
state
secure
,
I
would
be
so
triumphant
as
I
am
?
The
lords
at
Pomfret
,
when
they
rode
from
London
,
Were
jocund
and
supposed
their
states
were
sure
,
And
they
indeed
had
no
cause
to
mistrust
;
But
yet
you
see
how
soon
the
day
o’ercast
.
This
sudden
stab
of
rancor
I
misdoubt
.
Pray
God
,
I
say
,
I
prove
a
needless
coward
!
What
,
shall
we
toward
the
Tower
?
The
day
is
spent
.
ACT 3. SC. 2
Come
,
come
.
Have
with
you
.
Wot
you
what
,
my
lord
?
Today
the
lords
you
talked
of
are
beheaded
.
They
,
for
their
truth
,
might
better
wear
their
heads
Than
some
that
have
accused
them
wear
their
hats
.
But
come
,
my
lord
,
let’s
away
.
Enter
a
Pursuivant
.
Go
on
before
.
I’ll
talk
with
this
good
fellow
.
Lord
Stanley
and
Catesby
exit
.
How
now
,
sirrah
?
How
goes
the
world
with
thee
?
The
better
that
your
Lordship
please
to
ask
.
I
tell
thee
,
man
,
’tis
better
with
me
now
Than
when
thou
met’st
me
last
where
now
we
meet
.
Then
was
I
going
prisoner
to
the
Tower
By
the
suggestion
of
the
Queen’s
allies
.
But
now
,
I
tell
thee
—
keep
it
to
thyself
—
This
day
those
enemies
are
put
to
death
,
And
I
in
better
state
than
e’er
I
was
.
God
hold
it
,
to
your
Honor’s
good
content
!
Gramercy
,
fellow
.
There
,
drink
that
for
me
.
Throws
him
his
purse
.
I
thank
your
Honor
.
Pursuivant
exits
.
Enter
a
Priest
.
Well
met
,
my
lord
.
I
am
glad
to
see
your
Honor
.
I
thank
thee
,
good
Sir
John
,
with
all
my
heart
.
ACT 3. SC. 3
I
am
in
your
debt
for
your
last
exercise
.
Come
the
next
sabbath
,
and
I
will
content
you
.
I’ll
wait
upon
your
Lordship
.
Priest
exits
.
Enter
Buckingham
.
What
,
talking
with
a
priest
,
Lord
Chamberlain
?
Your
friends
at
Pomfret
,
they
do
need
the
priest
;
Your
Honor
hath
no
shriving
work
in
hand
.
Good
faith
,
and
when
I
met
this
holy
man
,
The
men
you
talk
of
came
into
my
mind
.
What
,
go
you
toward
the
Tower
?
I
do
,
my
lord
,
but
long
I
cannot
stay
there
.
I
shall
return
before
your
Lordship
thence
.
Nay
,
like
enough
,
for
I
stay
dinner
there
.
,
aside
And
supper
too
,
although
thou
know’st
it
not
.
—
Come
,
will
you
go
?
I’ll
wait
upon
your
Lordship
.
They
exit
.
Scene
3
Enter
Sir
Richard
Ratcliffe
,
with
Halberds
,
carrying
the
nobles
Rivers
,
Grey
,
and
Vaughan
to
death
at
Pomfret
.
Sir
Richard
Ratcliffe
,
let
me
tell
thee
this
:
Today
shalt
thou
behold
a
subject
die
For
truth
,
for
duty
,
and
for
loyalty
.
,
to
Ratcliffe
God
bless
the
Prince
from
all
the
pack
of
you
!
A
knot
you
are
of
damnèd
bloodsuckers
.
ACT 3. SC. 3
,
to
Ratcliffe
You
live
that
shall
cry
woe
for
this
hereafter
.
Dispatch
.
The
limit
of
your
lives
is
out
.
O
Pomfret
,
Pomfret
!
O
thou
bloody
prison
,
Fatal
and
ominous
to
noble
peers
!
Within
the
guilty
closure
of
thy
walls
,
Richard
the
Second
here
was
hacked
to
death
,
And
,
for
more
slander
to
thy
dismal
seat
,
We
give
to
thee
our
guiltless
blood
to
drink
.
Now
Margaret’s
curse
is
fall’n
upon
our
heads
,
When
she
exclaimed
on
Hastings
,
you
,
and
I
,
For
standing
by
when
Richard
stabbed
her
son
.
Then
cursed
she
Richard
.
Then
cursed
she
Buckingham
.
Then
cursed
she
Hastings
.
O
,
remember
,
God
,
To
hear
her
prayer
for
them
as
now
for
us
!
And
for
my
sister
and
her
princely
sons
,
Be
satisfied
,
dear
God
,
with
our
true
blood
,
Which
,
as
thou
know’st
,
unjustly
must
be
spilt
.
Make
haste
.
The
hour
of
death
is
expiate
.
Come
,
Grey
.
Come
,
Vaughan
.
Let
us
here
embrace
.
They
embrace
.
Farewell
until
we
meet
again
in
heaven
.
They
exit
.
ACT 3. SC. 4
Scene
4
Enter
Buckingham
,
Lord
Stanley
,
Earl
of
Derby
,
Hastings
,
Bishop
of
Ely
,
Norfolk
,
Ratcliffe
,
Lovell
,
with
others
,
at
a
table
.
Now
,
noble
peers
,
the
cause
why
we
are
met
Is
to
determine
of
the
coronation
.
In
God’s
name
,
speak
.
When
is
the
royal
day
?
Is
all
things
ready
for
the
royal
time
?
It
is
,
and
wants
but
nomination
.
Tomorrow
,
then
,
I
judge
a
happy
day
.
Who
knows
the
Lord
Protector’s
mind
herein
?
Who
is
most
inward
with
the
noble
duke
?
Your
Grace
,
we
think
,
should
soonest
know
his
mind
.
We
know
each
other’s
faces
;
for
our
hearts
,
He
knows
no
more
of
mine
than
I
of
yours
,
Or
I
of
his
,
my
lord
,
than
you
of
mine
.
—
Lord
Hastings
,
you
and
he
are
near
in
love
.
I
thank
his
Grace
,
I
know
he
loves
me
well
.
But
for
his
purpose
in
the
coronation
,
I
have
not
sounded
him
,
nor
he
delivered
His
gracious
pleasure
any
way
therein
.
But
you
,
my
honorable
lords
,
may
name
the
time
,
And
in
the
Duke’s
behalf
I’ll
give
my
voice
,
Which
I
presume
he’ll
take
in
gentle
part
.
Enter
Richard
,
Duke
of
Gloucester
.
ACT 3. SC. 4
In
happy
time
here
comes
the
Duke
himself
.
My
noble
lords
and
cousins
all
,
good
morrow
.
I
have
been
long
a
sleeper
;
but
I
trust
My
absence
doth
neglect
no
great
design
Which
by
my
presence
might
have
been
concluded
.
Had
you
not
come
upon
your
cue
,
my
lord
,
William
Lord
Hastings
had
pronounced
your
part
—
I
mean
your
voice
for
crowning
of
the
King
.
Than
my
Lord
Hastings
no
man
might
be
bolder
.
His
Lordship
knows
me
well
and
loves
me
well
.
—
My
lord
Lord
of
Ely
,
when
I
was
last
in
Holborn
I
saw
good
strawberries
in
your
garden
there
;
I
do
beseech
you
,
send
for
some
of
them
.
Marry
and
will
,
my
lord
,
with
all
my
heart
.
Exit
Bishop
of
Ely
.
Cousin
of
Buckingham
,
a
word
with
you
.
They
move
aside
.
Catesby
hath
sounded
Hastings
in
our
business
And
finds
the
testy
gentleman
so
hot
That
he
will
lose
his
head
ere
give
consent
His
master’s
child
,
as
worshipfully
he
terms
it
,
Shall
lose
the
royalty
of
England’s
throne
.
Withdraw
yourself
awhile
.
I’ll
go
with
you
.
Richard
and
Buckingham
exit
.
We
have
not
yet
set
down
this
day
of
triumph
.
Tomorrow
,
in
my
judgment
,
is
too
sudden
,
For
I
myself
am
not
so
well
provided
As
else
I
would
be
,
were
the
day
prolonged
.
ACT 3. SC. 4
Enter
the
Bishop
of
Ely
.
Where
is
my
lord
the
Duke
of
Gloucester
?
I
have
sent
for
these
strawberries
.
His
Grace
looks
cheerfully
and
smooth
this
morning
.
There’s
some
conceit
or
other
likes
him
well
When
that
he
bids
good
morrow
with
such
spirit
.
I
think
there’s
never
a
man
in
Christendom
Can
lesser
hide
his
love
or
hate
than
he
,
For
by
his
face
straight
shall
you
know
his
heart
.
What
of
his
heart
perceive
you
in
his
face
By
any
livelihood
he
showed
today
?
Marry
,
that
with
no
man
here
he
is
offended
,
For
were
he
,
he
had
shown
it
in
his
looks
.
Enter
Richard
and
Buckingham
.
I
pray
you
all
,
tell
me
what
they
deserve
That
do
conspire
my
death
with
devilish
plots
Of
damnèd
witchcraft
,
and
that
have
prevailed
Upon
my
body
with
their
hellish
charms
?
The
tender
love
I
bear
your
Grace
,
my
lord
,
Makes
me
most
forward
in
this
princely
presence
To
doom
th’
offenders
,
whosoe’er
they
be
.
I
say
,
my
lord
,
they
have
deservèd
death
.
Then
be
your
eyes
the
witness
of
their
evil
.
He
shows
his
arm
.
Look
how
I
am
bewitched
!
Behold
mine
arm
Is
like
a
blasted
sapling
withered
up
;
ACT 3. SC. 4
And
this
is
Edward’s
wife
,
that
monstrous
witch
,
Consorted
with
that
harlot
,
strumpet
Shore
,
That
by
their
witchcraft
thus
have
markèd
me
.
If
they
have
done
this
deed
,
my
noble
lord
—
If
?
Thou
protector
of
this
damnèd
strumpet
,
Talk’st
thou
to
me
of
ifs
?
Thou
art
a
traitor
.
—
Off
with
his
head
.
Now
by
Saint
Paul
I
swear
I
will
not
dine
until
I
see
the
same
.
—
Lovell
and
Ratcliffe
,
look
that
it
be
done
.
—
The
rest
that
love
me
,
rise
and
follow
me
.
They
exit
.
Lovell
and
Ratcliffe
remain
,
with
the
Lord
Hastings
.
Woe
,
woe
for
England
!
Not
a
whit
for
me
,
For
I
,
too
fond
,
might
have
prevented
this
.
Stanley
did
dream
the
boar
did
raze
his
helm
,
And
I
did
scorn
it
and
disdain
to
fly
.
Three
times
today
my
foot-cloth
horse
did
stumble
,
And
started
when
he
looked
upon
the
Tower
,
As
loath
to
bear
me
to
the
slaughterhouse
.
O
,
now
I
need
the
priest
that
spake
to
me
!
I
now
repent
I
told
the
pursuivant
,
As
too
triumphing
,
how
mine
enemies
Today
at
Pomfret
bloodily
were
butchered
,
And
I
myself
secure
in
grace
and
favor
.
O
Margaret
,
Margaret
,
now
thy
heavy
curse
Is
lighted
on
poor
Hastings’
wretched
head
.
Come
,
come
,
dispatch
.
The
Duke
would
be
at
dinner
.
Make
a
short
shrift
.
He
longs
to
see
your
head
.
O
momentary
grace
of
mortal
men
,
Which
we
more
hunt
for
than
the
grace
of
God
!
ACT 3. SC. 5
Who
builds
his
hope
in
air
of
your
good
looks
Lives
like
a
drunken
sailor
on
a
mast
,
Ready
with
every
nod
to
tumble
down
Into
the
fatal
bowels
of
the
deep
.
Come
,
come
,
dispatch
.
’Tis
bootless
to
exclaim
.
O
bloody
Richard
!
Miserable
England
,
I
prophesy
the
fearfull’st
time
to
thee
That
ever
wretched
age
hath
looked
upon
.
—
Come
,
lead
me
to
the
block
.
Bear
him
my
head
.
They
smile
at
me
who
shortly
shall
be
dead
.
They
exit
.
Scene
5
Enter
Richard
and
Buckingham
,
in
rotten
armor
,
marvelous
ill-favored
.
Come
,
cousin
,
canst
thou
quake
and
change
thy
color
,
Murder
thy
breath
in
middle
of
a
word
,
And
then
again
begin
,
and
stop
again
,
As
if
thou
were
distraught
and
mad
with
terror
?
Tut
,
I
can
counterfeit
the
deep
tragedian
,
Speak
,
and
look
back
,
and
pry
on
every
side
,
Tremble
and
start
at
wagging
of
a
straw
,
Intending
deep
suspicion
.
Ghastly
looks
Are
at
my
service
,
like
enforcèd
smiles
,
And
both
are
ready
,
in
their
offices
,
At
any
time
to
grace
my
stratagems
.
But
what
,
is
Catesby
gone
?
He
is
;
and
see
he
brings
the
Mayor
along
.
ACT 3. SC. 5
Enter
the
Mayor
and
Catesby
.
Lord
Mayor
—
Look
to
the
drawbridge
there
!
Hark
,
a
drum
!
Catesby
,
o’erlook
the
walls
.
Catesby
exits
.
Lord
Mayor
,
the
reason
we
have
sent
—
Look
back
!
Defend
thee
!
Here
are
enemies
.
God
and
our
innocence
defend
and
guard
us
!
Enter
Lovell
and
Ratcliffe
,
with
Hastings’
head
.
Be
patient
.
They
are
friends
,
Ratcliffe
and
Lovell
.
Here
is
the
head
of
that
ignoble
traitor
,
The
dangerous
and
unsuspected
Hastings
.
So
dear
I
loved
the
man
that
I
must
weep
.
I
took
him
for
the
plainest
harmless
creature
That
breathed
upon
the
Earth
earth
a
Christian
;
Made
him
my
book
,
wherein
my
soul
recorded
The
history
of
all
her
secret
thoughts
.
So
smooth
he
daubed
his
vice
with
show
of
virtue
That
,
his
apparent
open
guilt
omitted
—
I
mean
his
conversation
with
Shore’s
wife
—
He
lived
from
all
attainder
of
suspects
.
Well
,
well
,
he
was
the
covert’st
sheltered
traitor
That
ever
lived
.
—
Would
you
imagine
,
or
almost
believe
,
Were
’t
not
that
by
great
preservation
We
live
to
tell
it
,
that
the
subtle
traitor
ACT 3. SC. 5
This
day
had
plotted
,
in
the
council
house
,
To
murder
me
and
my
good
lord
Lord
of
Gloucester
?
Had
he
done
so
?
What
,
think
you
we
are
Turks
or
infidels
?
Or
that
we
would
,
against
the
form
of
law
,
Proceed
thus
rashly
in
the
villain’s
death
,
But
that
the
extreme
peril
of
the
case
,
The
peace
of
England
,
and
our
persons’
safety
Enforced
us
to
this
execution
?
Now
fair
befall
you
!
He
deserved
his
death
,
And
your
good
Graces
both
have
well
proceeded
To
warn
false
traitors
from
the
like
attempts
.
I
never
looked
for
better
at
his
hands
After
he
once
fell
in
with
Mistress
Shore
.
Yet
had
we
not
determined
he
should
die
Until
your
Lordship
came
to
see
his
end
(
Which
now
the
loving
haste
of
these
our
friends
,
Something
against
our
meanings
,
have
prevented
)
,
Because
,
my
lord
,
I
would
have
had
you
heard
The
traitor
speak
and
timorously
confess
The
manner
and
the
purpose
of
his
treasons
,
That
you
might
well
have
signified
the
same
Unto
the
citizens
,
who
haply
may
Misconster
us
in
him
,
and
wail
his
death
.
But
,
my
good
lord
,
your
Graces’
words
shall
serve
As
well
as
I
had
seen
and
heard
him
speak
;
And
do
not
doubt
,
right
noble
princes
both
,
But
I’ll
acquaint
our
duteous
citizens
With
all
your
just
proceedings
in
this
case
.
And
to
that
end
we
wished
your
Lordship
here
,
T’
avoid
the
censures
of
the
carping
world
.
ACT 3. SC. 5
Which
since
you
come
too
late
of
our
intent
,
Yet
witness
what
you
hear
we
did
intend
.
And
so
,
my
good
Lord
Mayor
,
we
bid
farewell
.
Mayor
exits
.
Go
after
,
after
,
cousin
Buckingham
.
The
Mayor
towards
Guildhall
hies
him
in
all
post
.
There
,
at
your
meetest
vantage
of
the
time
,
Infer
the
bastardy
of
Edward’s
children
.
Tell
them
how
Edward
put
to
death
a
citizen
Only
for
saying
he
would
make
his
son
Heir
to
the
Crown
—
meaning
indeed
his
house
,
Which
,
by
the
sign
thereof
,
was
termèd
so
.
Moreover
,
urge
his
hateful
luxury
And
bestial
appetite
in
change
of
lust
,
Which
stretched
unto
their
servants
,
daughters
,
wives
,
Even
where
his
raging
eye
or
savage
heart
,
Without
control
,
lusted
to
make
a
prey
.
Nay
,
for
a
need
,
thus
far
come
near
my
person
:
Tell
them
when
that
my
mother
went
with
child
Of
that
insatiate
Edward
,
noble
York
My
princely
father
then
had
wars
in
France
,
And
,
by
true
computation
of
the
time
,
Found
that
the
issue
was
not
his
begot
,
Which
well
appearèd
in
his
lineaments
,
Being
nothing
like
the
noble
duke
my
father
.
Yet
touch
this
sparingly
,
as
’twere
far
off
,
Because
,
my
lord
,
you
know
my
mother
lives
.
Doubt
not
,
my
lord
.
I’ll
play
the
orator
As
if
the
golden
fee
for
which
I
plead
Were
for
myself
.
And
so
,
my
lord
,
adieu
.
If
you
thrive
well
,
bring
them
to
Baynard’s
Castle
,
ACT 3. SC. 6
Where
you
shall
find
me
well
accompanied
With
reverend
fathers
and
well-learnèd
bishops
.
I
go
;
and
towards
three
or
four
o’clock
Look
for
the
news
that
the
Guildhall
affords
.
Buckingham
exits
.
Go
,
Lovell
,
with
all
speed
to
Doctor
Shaa
.
To
Ratcliffe
.
Go
thou
to
Friar
Penker
.
Bid
them
both
Meet
me
within
this
hour
at
Baynard’s
Castle
.
Ratcliffe
and
Lovell
exit
.
Now
will
I
go
to
take
some
privy
order
To
draw
the
brats
of
Clarence
out
of
sight
,
And
to
give
order
that
no
manner
person
Have
any
time
recourse
unto
the
Princes
.
He
exits
.
Scene
6
Enter
a
Scrivener
.
Here
is
the
indictment
of
the
good
Lord
Hastings
,
Which
in
a
set
hand
fairly
is
engrossed
,
That
it
may
be
today
read
o’er
in
Paul’s
.
And
mark
how
well
the
sequel
hangs
together
:
Eleven
hours
I
have
spent
to
write
it
over
,
For
yesternight
by
Catesby
was
it
sent
me
;
The
precedent
was
full
as
long
a-doing
,
And
yet
within
these
five
hours
Hastings
lived
,
Untainted
,
unexamined
,
free
,
at
liberty
.
Here’s
a
good
world
the
while
!
.
Who
is
so
gross
That
cannot
see
this
palpable
device
?
Yet
who
so
bold
but
says
he
sees
it
not
?
ACT 3. SC. 7
Bad
is
the
world
,
and
all
will
come
to
naught
When
such
ill
dealing
must
be
seen
in
thought
.
He
exits
.
Scene
7
Enter
Richard
and
Buckingham
at
several
doors
.
How
now
,
how
now
?
What
say
the
citizens
?
Now
,
by
the
holy
mother
of
our
Lord
,
The
citizens
are
mum
,
say
not
a
word
.
Touched
you
the
bastardy
of
Edward’s
children
?
I
did
;
with
his
contract
with
Lady
Lucy
And
his
contract
by
deputy
in
France
;
Th’
unsatiate
greediness
of
his
desire
And
his
enforcement
of
the
city
wives
;
His
tyranny
for
trifles
;
his
own
bastardy
,
As
being
got
,
your
father
then
in
France
,
And
his
resemblance
being
not
like
the
Duke
.
Withal
,
I
did
infer
your
lineaments
,
Being
the
right
idea
of
your
father
,
Both
in
your
form
and
nobleness
of
mind
;
Laid
open
all
your
victories
in
Scotland
,
Your
discipline
in
war
,
wisdom
in
peace
,
Your
bounty
,
virtue
,
fair
humility
;
Indeed
,
left
nothing
fitting
for
your
purpose
Untouched
or
slightly
handled
in
discourse
.
And
when
mine
oratory
drew
toward
end
,
I
bid
them
that
did
love
their
country’s
good
Cry
God
save
Richard
,
England’s
royal
king
!
And
did
they
so
?
ACT 3. SC. 7
No
.
So
God
help
me
,
they
spake
not
a
word
But
,
like
dumb
statues
or
breathing
stones
,
Stared
each
on
other
and
looked
deadly
pale
;
Which
when
I
saw
,
I
reprehended
them
And
asked
the
Mayor
what
meant
this
willful
silence
.
His
answer
was
,
the
people
were
not
used
To
be
spoke
to
but
by
the
Recorder
.
Then
he
was
urged
to
tell
my
tale
again
:
Thus
saith
the
Duke
.
Thus
hath
the
Duke
inferred
—
But
nothing
spoke
in
warrant
from
himself
.
When
he
had
done
,
some
followers
of
mine
own
,
At
lower
end
of
the
hall
,
hurled
up
their
caps
,
And
some
ten
voices
cried
God
save
King
Richard
!
And
thus
I
took
the
vantage
of
those
few
.
Thanks
,
gentle
citizens
and
friends
,
quoth
I
.
This
general
applause
and
cheerful
shout
Argues
your
wisdoms
and
your
love
to
Richard
—
And
even
here
brake
off
and
came
away
.
What
tongueless
blocks
were
they
!
Would
they
not
speak
?
Will
not
the
Mayor
then
and
his
brethren
come
?
The
Mayor
is
here
at
hand
.
Intend
some
fear
;
Be
not
you
spoke
with
but
by
mighty
suit
.
And
look
you
get
a
prayer
book
in
your
hand
And
stand
between
two
churchmen
,
good
my
lord
,
For
on
that
ground
I’ll
make
a
holy
descant
.
And
be
not
easily
won
to
our
requests
.
Play
the
maid’s
part
:
still
answer
nay
,
and
take
it
.
I
go
.
An
if
you
plead
as
well
for
them
As
I
can
say
nay
to
thee
for
myself
,
No
doubt
we
bring
it
to
a
happy
issue
.
Knocking
within
.
ACT 3. SC. 7
Go
,
go
,
up
to
the
leads
.
The
Lord
Mayor
knocks
.
Richard
exits
.
Enter
the
Mayor
and
Citizens
.
Welcome
,
my
lord
.
I
dance
attendance
here
.
I
think
the
Duke
will
not
be
spoke
withal
.
Enter
Catesby
.
Now
,
Catesby
,
what
says
your
lord
to
my
request
?
He
doth
entreat
your
Grace
,
my
noble
lord
,
To
visit
him
tomorrow
or
next
day
.
He
is
within
,
with
two
right
reverend
fathers
,
Divinely
bent
to
meditation
,
And
in
no
worldly
suits
would
he
be
moved
To
draw
him
from
his
holy
exercise
.
Return
,
good
Catesby
,
to
the
gracious
duke
.
Tell
him
myself
,
the
Mayor
,
and
aldermen
,
In
deep
designs
,
in
matter
of
great
moment
No
less
importing
than
our
general
good
,
Are
come
to
have
some
conference
with
his
Grace
.
I’ll
signify
so
much
unto
him
straight
.
He
exits
.
Ah
ha
,
my
lord
,
this
prince
is
not
an
Edward
!
He
is
not
lolling
on
a
lewd
love-bed
,
But
on
his
knees
at
meditation
;
Not
dallying
with
a
brace
of
courtesans
,
But
meditating
with
two
deep
divines
;
Not
sleeping
,
to
engross
his
idle
body
,
But
praying
,
to
enrich
his
watchful
soul
.
Happy
were
England
would
this
virtuous
prince
ACT 3. SC. 7
Take
on
his
Grace
the
sovereignty
thereof
.
But
sure
I
fear
we
shall
not
win
him
to
it
.
Marry
,
God
defend
his
Grace
should
say
us
nay
.
I
fear
he
will
.
Here
Catesby
comes
again
.
Enter
Catesby
.
Now
,
Catesby
,
what
says
his
Grace
?
He
wonders
to
what
end
you
have
assembled
Such
troops
of
citizens
to
come
to
him
,
His
Grace
not
being
warned
thereof
before
.
He
fears
,
my
lord
,
you
mean
no
good
to
him
.
Sorry
I
am
my
noble
cousin
should
Suspect
me
that
I
mean
no
good
to
him
.
By
heaven
,
we
come
to
him
in
perfect
love
,
And
so
once
more
return
and
tell
his
Grace
.
Catesby
exits
.
When
holy
and
devout
religious
men
Are
at
their
beads
,
’tis
much
to
draw
them
thence
,
So
sweet
is
zealous
contemplation
.
Enter
Richard
aloft
,
between
two
Bishops
.
Catesby
reenters
.
See
where
his
Grace
stands
,
’tween
two
clergymen
.
Two
props
of
virtue
for
a
Christian
prince
,
To
stay
him
from
the
fall
of
vanity
;
And
,
see
,
a
book
of
prayer
in
his
hand
,
True
ornaments
to
know
a
holy
man
.
—
Famous
Plantagenet
,
most
gracious
prince
,
Lend
favorable
ear
to
our
requests
,
ACT 3. SC. 7
And
pardon
us
the
interruption
Of
thy
devotion
and
right
Christian
zeal
.
My
lord
,
there
needs
no
such
apology
.
I
do
beseech
your
Grace
to
pardon
me
,
Who
,
earnest
in
the
service
of
my
God
,
Deferred
the
visitation
of
my
friends
.
But
,
leaving
this
,
what
is
your
Grace’s
pleasure
?
Even
that
,
I
hope
,
which
pleaseth
God
above
And
all
good
men
of
this
ungoverned
isle
.
I
do
suspect
I
have
done
some
offense
That
seems
disgracious
in
the
city’s
eye
,
And
that
you
come
to
reprehend
my
ignorance
.
You
have
,
my
lord
.
Would
it
might
please
your
Grace
,
On
our
entreaties
,
to
amend
your
fault
.
Else
wherefore
breathe
I
in
a
Christian
land
?
Know
,
then
,
it
is
your
fault
that
you
resign
The
supreme
seat
,
the
throne
majestical
,
The
sceptered
office
of
your
ancestors
,
Your
state
of
fortune
,
and
your
due
of
birth
,
The
lineal
glory
of
your
royal
house
,
To
the
corruption
of
a
blemished
stock
,
Whiles
in
the
mildness
of
your
sleepy
thoughts
,
Which
here
we
waken
to
our
country’s
good
,
The
noble
isle
doth
want
her
proper
limbs
—
Her
face
defaced
with
scars
of
infamy
,
Her
royal
stock
graft
with
ignoble
plants
,
And
almost
shouldered
in
the
swallowing
gulf
Of
dark
forgetfulness
and
deep
oblivion
;
Which
to
recure
,
we
heartily
solicit
ACT 3. SC. 7
Your
gracious
self
to
take
on
you
the
charge
And
kingly
government
of
this
your
land
,
Not
as
Protector
,
steward
,
substitute
,
Or
lowly
factor
for
another’s
gain
,
But
as
successively
,
from
blood
to
blood
,
Your
right
of
birth
,
your
empery
,
your
own
.
For
this
,
consorted
with
the
citizens
,
Your
very
worshipful
and
loving
friends
,
And
by
their
vehement
instigation
,
In
this
just
cause
come
I
to
move
your
Grace
.
I
cannot
tell
if
to
depart
in
silence
Or
bitterly
to
speak
in
your
reproof
Best
fitteth
my
degree
or
your
condition
.
If
not
to
answer
,
you
might
haply
think
Tongue-tied
ambition
,
not
replying
,
yielded
To
bear
the
golden
yoke
of
sovereignty
,
Which
fondly
you
would
here
impose
on
me
.
If
to
reprove
you
for
this
suit
of
yours
,
So
seasoned
with
your
faithful
love
to
me
,
Then
on
the
other
side
I
checked
my
friends
.
Therefore
,
to
speak
,
and
to
avoid
the
first
,
And
then
,
in
speaking
,
not
to
incur
the
last
,
Definitively
thus
I
answer
you
:
Your
love
deserves
my
thanks
,
but
my
desert
Unmeritable
shuns
your
high
request
.
First
,
if
all
obstacles
were
cut
away
And
that
my
path
were
even
to
the
crown
As
the
ripe
revenue
and
due
of
birth
,
Yet
so
much
is
my
poverty
of
spirit
,
So
mighty
and
so
many
my
defects
,
That
I
would
rather
hide
me
from
my
greatness
,
Being
a
bark
to
brook
no
mighty
sea
,
Than
in
my
greatness
covet
to
be
hid
And
in
the
vapor
of
my
glory
smothered
.
But
,
God
be
thanked
,
there
is
no
need
of
me
,
ACT 3. SC. 7
And
much
I
need
to
help
you
,
were
there
need
.
The
royal
tree
hath
left
us
royal
fruit
,
Which
,
mellowed
by
the
stealing
hours
of
time
,
Will
well
become
the
seat
of
majesty
,
And
make
,
no
doubt
,
us
happy
by
his
reign
.
On
him
I
lay
that
you
would
lay
on
me
,
The
right
and
fortune
of
his
happy
stars
,
Which
God
defend
that
I
should
wring
from
him
.
My
lord
,
this
argues
conscience
in
your
Grace
,
But
the
respects
thereof
are
nice
and
trivial
,
All
circumstances
well
considerèd
.
You
say
that
Edward
is
your
brother’s
son
;
So
say
we
too
,
but
not
by
Edward’s
wife
.
For
first
was
he
contract
to
Lady
Lucy
—
Your
mother
lives
a
witness
to
his
vow
—
And
afterward
by
substitute
betrothed
To
Bona
,
sister
to
the
King
of
France
.
These
both
put
off
,
a
poor
petitioner
,
A
care-crazed
mother
to
a
many
sons
,
A
beauty-waning
and
distressèd
widow
,
Even
in
the
afternoon
of
her
best
days
,
Made
prize
and
purchase
of
his
wanton
eye
,
Seduced
the
pitch
and
height
of
his
degree
To
base
declension
and
loathed
bigamy
.
By
her
in
his
unlawful
bed
he
got
This
Edward
,
whom
our
manners
call
the
Prince
.
More
bitterly
could
I
expostulate
,
Save
that
,
for
reverence
to
some
alive
,
I
give
a
sparing
limit
to
my
tongue
.
Then
,
good
my
lord
,
take
to
your
royal
self
This
proffered
benefit
of
dignity
,
If
not
to
bless
us
and
the
land
withal
,
Yet
to
draw
forth
your
noble
ancestry
From
the
corruption
of
abusing
times
Unto
a
lineal
,
true-derivèd
course
.
ACT 3. SC. 7
Do
,
good
my
lord
.
Your
citizens
entreat
you
.
Refuse
not
,
mighty
lord
,
this
proffered
love
.
O
,
make
them
joyful
.
Grant
their
lawful
suit
.
Alas
,
why
would
you
heap
this
care
on
me
?
I
am
unfit
for
state
and
majesty
.
I
do
beseech
you
,
take
it
not
amiss
;
I
cannot
,
nor
I
will
not
,
yield
to
you
.
If
you
refuse
it
,
as
in
love
and
zeal
Loath
to
depose
the
child
,
your
brother’s
son
—
As
well
we
know
your
tenderness
of
heart
And
gentle
,
kind
,
effeminate
remorse
,
Which
we
have
noted
in
you
to
your
kindred
And
equally
indeed
to
all
estates
—
Yet
know
,
whe’er
you
accept
our
suit
or
no
,
Your
brother’s
son
shall
never
reign
our
king
,
But
we
will
plant
some
other
in
the
throne
,
To
the
disgrace
and
downfall
of
your
house
.
And
in
this
resolution
here
we
leave
you
.
—
Come
,
citizens
.
Zounds
,
I’ll
entreat
no
more
.
O
,
do
not
swear
,
my
lord
Lord
of
Buckingham
!
Buckingham
and
some
others
exit
.
Call
him
again
,
sweet
prince
.
Accept
their
suit
.
If
you
deny
them
,
all
the
land
will
rue
it
.
Will
you
enforce
me
to
a
world
of
cares
?
Call
them
again
.
I
am
not
made
of
stones
,
But
penetrable
to
your
kind
entreaties
,
Albeit
against
my
conscience
and
my
soul
.
Enter
Buckingham
and
the
rest
.
ACT 3. SC. 7
Cousin
of
Buckingham
and
sage
,
grave
men
,
Since
you
will
buckle
Fortune
fortune
on
my
back
,
To
bear
her
burden
,
whe’er
I
will
or
no
,
I
must
have
patience
to
endure
the
load
;
But
if
black
scandal
or
foul-faced
reproach
Attend
the
sequel
of
your
imposition
,
Your
mere
enforcement
shall
acquittance
me
From
all
the
impure
blots
and
stains
thereof
,
For
God
doth
know
,
and
you
may
partly
see
,
How
far
I
am
from
the
desire
of
this
.
God
bless
your
Grace
!
We
see
it
and
will
say
it
.
In
saying
so
,
you
shall
but
say
the
truth
.
Then
I
salute
you
with
this
royal
title
:
Long
live
Richard
,
England’s
worthy
king
!
Amen
.
Tomorrow
may
it
please
you
to
be
crowned
?
Even
when
you
please
,
for
you
will
have
it
so
.
Tomorrow
,
then
,
we
will
attend
your
Grace
,
And
so
most
joyfully
we
take
our
leave
.
,
to
the
Bishops
Come
,
let
us
to
our
holy
work
again
.
—
Farewell
,
my
cousin
.
Farewell
,
gentle
friends
.
They
exit
.
ACT
4
Scene
1
Enter
Queen
Elizabeth
,
with
the
Duchess
of
York
,
and
the
Lord
Marquess
of
Dorset
,
at
one
door
;
Anne
,
Duchess
of
Gloucester
with
Clarence’s
daughter
,
at
another
door
.
Who
meets
us
here
?
My
niece
Plantagenet
Led
in
the
hand
of
her
kind
aunt
of
Gloucester
?
Now
,
for
my
life
,
she’s
wandering
to
the
Tower
,
On
pure
heart’s
love
,
to
greet
the
tender
prince
.
—
Daughter
,
well
met
.
God
give
your
Graces
both
A
happy
and
a
joyful
time
of
day
.
As
much
to
you
,
good
sister
.
Whither
away
?
No
farther
than
the
Tower
,
and
,
as
I
guess
,
Upon
the
like
devotion
as
yourselves
,
To
gratulate
the
gentle
princes
there
.
Kind
sister
,
thanks
.
We’ll
enter
all
together
.
Enter
Brakenbury
,
the
Lieutenant
.
And
in
good
time
here
the
Lieutenant
comes
.
—
Master
Lieutenant
,
pray
you
,
by
your
leave
,
How
doth
the
Prince
and
my
young
son
of
York
?
ACT 4. SC. 1
Right
well
,
dear
madam
.
By
your
patience
,
I
may
not
suffer
you
to
visit
them
.
The
King
hath
strictly
charged
the
contrary
.
The
King
?
Who’s
that
?
I
mean
,
the
Lord
Protector
.
The
Lord
protect
him
from
that
kingly
title
!
Hath
he
set
bounds
between
their
love
and
me
?
I
am
their
mother
.
Who
shall
bar
me
from
them
?
I
am
their
father’s
mother
.
I
will
see
them
.
Their
aunt
I
am
in
law
,
in
love
their
mother
.
Then
bring
me
to
their
sights
.
I’ll
bear
thy
blame
And
take
thy
office
from
thee
,
on
my
peril
.
No
,
madam
,
no
.
I
may
not
leave
it
so
.
I
am
bound
by
oath
,
and
therefore
pardon
me
.
Brakenbury
the
Lieutenant
exits
.
Enter
Stanley
.
Let
me
but
meet
you
ladies
one
hour
hence
,
And
I’ll
salute
your
Grace
of
York
as
mother
And
reverend
looker-on
of
two
fair
queens
.
To
Anne
.
Come
,
madam
,
you
must
straight
to
Westminster
,
There
to
be
crownèd
Richard’s
royal
queen
.
Ah
,
cut
my
lace
asunder
That
my
pent
heart
may
have
some
scope
to
beat
,
Or
else
I
swoon
with
this
dead-killing
news
!
Despiteful
tidings
!
O
,
unpleasing
news
!
ACT 4. SC. 1
,
to
Queen
Elizabeth
Be
of
good
cheer
,
mother
.
How
fares
your
Grace
?
O
Dorset
,
speak
not
to
me
.
Get
thee
gone
.
Death
and
destruction
dogs
thee
at
thy
heels
.
Thy
mother’s
name
is
ominous
to
children
.
If
thou
wilt
outstrip
death
,
go
,
cross
the
seas
,
And
live
with
Richmond
,
from
the
reach
of
hell
.
Go
,
hie
thee
,
hie
thee
from
this
slaughterhouse
,
Lest
thou
increase
the
number
of
the
dead
And
make
me
die
the
thrall
of
Margaret’s
curse
,
Nor
mother
,
wife
,
nor
England’s
counted
queen
.
Full
of
wise
care
is
this
your
counsel
,
madam
.
To
Dorset
.
Take
all
the
swift
advantage
of
the
hours
.
You
shall
have
letters
from
me
to
my
son
In
your
behalf
,
to
meet
you
on
the
way
.
Be
not
ta’en
tardy
by
unwise
delay
.
O
ill-dispersing
wind
of
misery
!
O
my
accursèd
womb
,
the
bed
of
death
!
A
cockatrice
hast
thou
hatched
to
the
world
,
Whose
unavoided
eye
is
murderous
.
,
to
Anne
Come
,
madam
,
come
.
I
in
all
haste
was
sent
.
And
I
with
all
unwillingness
will
go
.
O
,
would
to
God
that
the
inclusive
verge
Of
golden
metal
that
must
round
my
brow
Were
red-hot
steel
to
sear
me
to
the
brains
!
Anointed
let
me
be
with
deadly
venom
,
And
die
ere
men
can
say
God
save
the
Queen
.
Go
,
go
,
poor
soul
,
I
envy
not
thy
glory
.
To
feed
my
humor
,
wish
thyself
no
harm
.
ACT 4. SC. 1
No
?
Why
?
When
he
that
is
my
husband
now
Came
to
me
as
I
followed
Henry’s
corse
,
When
scarce
the
blood
was
well
washed
from
his
hands
Which
issued
from
my
other
angel
husband
And
that
dear
saint
which
then
I
weeping
followed
—
O
,
when
,
I
say
,
I
looked
on
Richard’s
face
,
This
was
my
wish
:
be
thou
,
quoth
I
,
accursed
For
making
me
,
so
young
,
so
old
a
widow
;
And
,
when
thou
wedd’st
,
let
sorrow
haunt
thy
bed
;
And
be
thy
wife
,
if
any
be
so
mad
,
More
miserable
by
the
life
of
thee
Than
thou
hast
made
me
by
my
dear
lord’s
death
.
Lo
,
ere
I
can
repeat
this
curse
again
,
Within
so
small
a
time
my
woman’s
heart
Grossly
grew
captive
to
his
honey
words
And
proved
the
subject
of
mine
own
soul’s
curse
,
Which
hitherto
hath
held
my
eyes
from
rest
,
For
never
yet
one
hour
in
his
bed
Did
I
enjoy
the
golden
dew
of
sleep
,
But
with
his
timorous
dreams
was
still
awaked
.
Besides
,
he
hates
me
for
my
father
Warwick
,
And
will
,
no
doubt
,
shortly
be
rid
of
me
.
Poor
heart
,
adieu
.
I
pity
thy
complaining
.
No
more
than
with
my
soul
I
mourn
for
yours
.
Farewell
,
thou
woeful
welcomer
of
glory
.
Adieu
,
poor
soul
that
tak’st
thy
leave
of
it
.
,
to
Dorset
Go
thou
to
Richmond
,
and
good
fortune
guide
thee
.
To
Anne
.
Go
thou
to
Richard
,
and
good
angels
tend
thee
.
ACT 4. SC. 2
To
Queen
Elizabeth
.
Go
thou
to
sanctuary
,
and
good
thoughts
possess
thee
.
I
to
my
grave
,
where
peace
and
rest
lie
with
me
.
Eighty-odd
years
of
sorrow
have
I
seen
,
And
each
hour’s
joy
wracked
with
a
week
of
teen
.
Stay
,
yet
look
back
with
me
unto
the
Tower
.
—
Pity
,
you
ancient
stones
,
those
tender
babes
Whom
envy
hath
immured
within
your
walls
—
Rough
cradle
for
such
little
pretty
ones
.
Rude
ragged
nurse
,
old
sullen
playfellow
For
tender
princes
,
use
my
babies
well
.
So
foolish
sorrows
bids
your
stones
farewell
.
They
exit
.
Scene
2
Sound
a
sennet
.
Enter
Richard
in
pomp
;
Buckingham
,
Catesby
,
Ratcliffe
,
Lovell
,
and
others
,
including
a
Page
.
Stand
all
apart
.
—
Cousin
of
Buckingham
.
The
others
move
aside
.
My
gracious
sovereign
.
Give
me
thy
hand
.
Here
he
ascendeth
the
throne
.
Sound
trumpets
.
Thus
high
,
by
thy
advice
And
thy
assistance
is
King
Richard
seated
.
But
shall
we
wear
these
glories
for
a
day
,
Or
shall
they
last
and
we
rejoice
in
them
?
Still
live
they
,
and
forever
let
them
last
.
Ah
,
Buckingham
,
now
do
I
play
the
touch
,
To
try
if
thou
be
current
gold
indeed
:
Young
Edward
lives
;
think
now
what
I
would
speak
.
ACT 4. SC. 2
Say
on
,
my
loving
lord
.
Why
,
Buckingham
,
I
say
I
would
be
king
.
Why
so
you
are
,
my
thrice-renownèd
lord
.
Ha
!
Am
I
king
?
’Tis
so
—
but
Edward
lives
.
True
,
noble
prince
.
O
bitter
consequence
That
Edward
still
should
live
true
noble
prince
!
Cousin
,
thou
wast
not
wont
to
be
so
dull
.
Shall
I
be
plain
?
I
wish
the
bastards
dead
,
And
I
would
have
it
suddenly
performed
.
What
sayst
thou
now
?
Speak
suddenly
.
Be
brief
.
Your
Grace
may
do
your
pleasure
.
Tut
,
tut
,
thou
art
all
ice
;
thy
kindness
freezes
.
Say
,
have
I
thy
consent
that
they
shall
die
?
Give
me
some
little
breath
,
some
pause
,
dear
lord
,
Before
I
positively
speak
in
this
.
I
will
resolve
you
herein
presently
.
Buckingham
exits
.
,
aside
to
the
other
Attendants
The
King
is
angry
.
See
,
he
gnaws
his
lip
.
,
aside
I
will
converse
with
iron-witted
fools
And
unrespective
boys
.
None
are
for
me
That
look
into
me
with
considerate
eyes
.
High-reaching
Buckingham
grows
circumspect
.
—
Boy
!
,
coming
forward
My
lord
?
Know’st
thou
not
any
whom
corrupting
gold
Will
tempt
unto
a
close
exploit
of
death
?
ACT 4. SC. 2
I
know
a
discontented
gentleman
Whose
humble
means
match
not
his
haughty
spirit
.
Gold
were
as
good
as
twenty
orators
,
And
will
,
no
doubt
,
tempt
him
to
anything
.
What
is
his
name
?
His
name
,
my
lord
,
is
Tyrrel
.
I
partly
know
the
man
.
Go
,
call
him
hither
,
boy
.
Page
exits
.
Aside
.
The
deep-revolving
witty
Buckingham
No
more
shall
be
the
neighbor
to
my
counsels
.
Hath
he
so
long
held
out
with
me
,
untired
,
And
stops
he
now
for
breath
?
Well
,
be
it
so
.
Enter
Stanley
.
How
now
,
Lord
Stanley
,
what’s
the
news
?
Know
,
my
loving
lord
,
The
Marquess
Dorset
,
as
I
hear
,
is
fled
To
Richmond
,
in
the
parts
where
he
abides
.
He
walks
aside
.
Come
hither
,
Catesby
.
Rumor
it
abroad
That
Anne
my
wife
is
very
grievous
sick
.
I
will
take
order
for
her
keeping
close
.
Inquire
me
out
some
mean
poor
gentleman
,
Whom
I
will
marry
straight
to
Clarence’
daughter
.
The
boy
is
foolish
,
and
I
fear
not
him
.
Look
how
thou
dream’st
!
I
say
again
,
give
out
That
Anne
my
queen
is
sick
and
like
to
die
.
About
it
,
for
it
stands
me
much
upon
To
stop
all
hopes
whose
growth
may
damage
me
.
Catesby
exits
.
Aside
.
I
must
be
married
to
my
brother’s
daughter
,
Or
else
my
kingdom
stands
on
brittle
glass
.
ACT 4. SC. 2
Murder
her
brothers
,
and
then
marry
her
—
Uncertain
way
of
gain
.
But
I
am
in
So
far
in
blood
that
sin
will
pluck
on
sin
.
Tear-falling
pity
dwells
not
in
this
eye
.
Enter
Tyrrel
.
Is
thy
name
Tyrrel
?
James
Tyrrel
,
and
your
most
obedient
subject
.
Art
thou
indeed
?
Prove
me
,
my
gracious
lord
.
Dar’st
thou
resolve
to
kill
a
friend
of
mine
?
Please
you
.
But
I
had
rather
kill
two
enemies
.
Why
then
,
thou
hast
it
.
Two
deep
enemies
,
Foes
to
my
rest
,
and
my
sweet
sleep’s
disturbers
,
Are
they
that
I
would
have
thee
deal
upon
.
Tyrrel
,
I
mean
those
bastards
in
the
Tower
.
Let
me
have
open
means
to
come
to
them
,
And
soon
I’ll
rid
you
from
the
fear
of
them
.
Thou
sing’st
sweet
music
.
Hark
,
come
hither
,
Tyrrel
.
Tyrrel
approaches
Richard
and
kneels
.
Go
,
by
this
token
.
Rise
,
and
lend
thine
ear
.
Tyrrel
rises
,
and
Richard
whispers
to
him
.
Then
Tyrrel
steps
back
.
There
is
no
more
but
so
.
Say
it
is
done
,
And
I
will
love
thee
and
prefer
thee
for
it
.
I
will
dispatch
it
straight
.
He
exits
.
Enter
Buckingham
.
ACT 4. SC. 2
My
lord
,
I
have
considered
in
my
mind
The
late
request
that
you
did
sound
me
in
.
Well
,
let
that
rest
.
Dorset
is
fled
to
Richmond
.
I
hear
the
news
,
my
lord
.
Stanley
,
he
is
your
wife’s
son
.
Well
,
look
unto
it
.
My
lord
,
I
claim
the
gift
,
my
due
by
promise
,
For
which
your
honor
and
your
faith
is
pawned
—
Th’
earldom
of
Hereford
and
the
movables
Which
you
have
promisèd
I
shall
possess
.
Stanley
,
look
to
your
wife
.
If
she
convey
Letters
to
Richmond
,
you
shall
answer
it
.
What
says
your
Highness
to
my
just
request
?
I
do
remember
me
,
Henry
the
Sixth
Did
prophesy
that
Richmond
should
be
king
,
When
Richmond
was
a
little
peevish
boy
.
A
king
perhaps
—
My
lord
—
How
chance
the
prophet
could
not
at
that
time
Have
told
me
,
I
being
by
,
that
I
should
kill
him
?
My
lord
,
your
promise
for
the
earldom
—
Richmond
!
When
last
I
was
at
Exeter
,
The
Mayor
in
courtesy
showed
me
the
castle
And
called
it
Rougemont
,
at
which
name
I
started
,
Because
a
bard
of
Ireland
told
me
once
I
should
not
live
long
after
I
saw
Richmond
.
My
lord
—
ACT 4. SC. 3
Ay
,
what’s
o’clock
?
I
am
thus
bold
to
put
your
Grace
in
mind
Of
what
you
promised
me
.
Well
,
but
what’s
o’clock
?
Upon
the
stroke
of
ten
.
Well
,
let
it
strike
.
Why
let
it
strike
?
Because
that
,
like
a
jack
,
thou
keep’st
the
stroke
Betwixt
thy
begging
and
my
meditation
.
I
am
not
in
the
giving
vein
today
.
Why
then
,
resolve
me
whether
you
will
or
no
.
Thou
troublest
me
;
I
am
not
in
the
vein
.
He
exits
,
and
is
followed
by
all
but
Buckingham
.
And
is
it
thus
?
Repays
he
my
deep
service
With
such
contempt
?
Made
I
him
king
for
this
?
O
,
let
me
think
on
Hastings
and
be
gone
To
Brecknock
,
while
my
fearful
head
is
on
!
He
exits
.
Scene
3
Enter
Tyrrel
.
The
tyrannous
and
bloody
act
is
done
,
The
most
arch
deed
of
piteous
massacre
That
ever
yet
this
land
was
guilty
of
.
Dighton
and
Forrest
,
who
I
did
suborn
To
do
this
piece
of
ruthless
butchery
,
Albeit
they
were
fleshed
villains
,
bloody
dogs
,
Melted
with
tenderness
and
mild
compassion
,
ACT 4. SC. 3
Wept
like
two
children
in
their
deaths’
sad
story
.
O
thus
,
quoth
Dighton
,
lay
the
gentle
babes
.
Thus
,
thus
,
quoth
Forrest
,
girdling
one
another
Within
their
alabaster
innocent
arms
.
Their
lips
were
four
red
roses
on
a
stalk
,
And
in
their
summer
beauty
kissed
each
other
.
A
book
of
prayers
on
their
pillow
lay
,
Which
once
,
quoth
Forrest
,
almost
changed
my
mind
,
But
,
O
,
the
devil
—
There
the
villain
stopped
;
When
Dighton
thus
told
on
:
We
smotherèd
The
most
replenishèd
sweet
work
of
nature
That
from
the
prime
creation
e’er
she
framed
.
Hence
both
are
gone
with
conscience
and
remorse
;
They
could
not
speak
;
and
so
I
left
them
both
To
bear
this
tidings
to
the
bloody
king
.
Enter
Richard
.
And
here
he
comes
.
—
All
health
,
my
sovereign
lord
.
Kind
Tyrrel
,
am
I
happy
in
thy
news
?
If
to
have
done
the
thing
you
gave
in
charge
Beget
your
happiness
,
be
happy
then
,
For
it
is
done
.
But
did’st
thou
see
them
dead
?
I
did
,
my
lord
.
And
buried
,
gentle
Tyrrel
?
The
chaplain
of
the
Tower
hath
buried
them
,
But
where
,
to
say
the
truth
,
I
do
not
know
.
Come
to
me
,
Tyrrel
,
soon
at
after-supper
,
When
thou
shalt
tell
the
process
of
their
death
.
Meantime
,
but
think
how
I
may
do
thee
good
,
ACT 4. SC. 3
And
be
inheritor
of
thy
desire
.
Farewell
till
then
.
I
humbly
take
my
leave
.
Tyrrel
exits
.
The
son
of
Clarence
have
I
pent
up
close
,
His
daughter
meanly
have
I
matched
in
marriage
,
The
sons
of
Edward
sleep
in
Abraham’s
bosom
,
And
Anne
my
wife
hath
bid
this
world
goodnight
.
Now
,
for
I
know
the
Breton
Richmond
aims
At
young
Elizabeth
,
my
brother’s
daughter
,
And
by
that
knot
looks
proudly
on
the
crown
,
To
her
go
I
,
a
jolly
thriving
wooer
.
Enter
Ratcliffe
.
My
lord
.
Good
or
bad
news
,
that
thou
com’st
in
so
bluntly
?
Bad
news
,
my
lord
.
Morton
is
fled
to
Richmond
,
And
Buckingham
,
backed
with
the
hardy
Welshmen
,
Is
in
the
field
,
and
still
his
power
increaseth
.
Ely
with
Richmond
troubles
me
more
near
Than
Buckingham
and
his
rash-levied
strength
.
Come
,
I
have
learned
that
fearful
commenting
Is
leaden
servitor
to
dull
delay
;
Delay
leads
impotent
and
snail-paced
beggary
;
Then
fiery
expedition
be
my
wing
,
Jove’s
Mercury
,
and
herald
for
a
king
.
Go
,
muster
men
.
My
counsel
is
my
shield
.
We
must
be
brief
when
traitors
brave
the
field
.
They
exit
.
ACT 4. SC. 4
Scene
4
Enter
old
Queen
Margaret
.
So
now
prosperity
begins
to
mellow
And
drop
into
the
rotten
mouth
of
death
.
Here
in
these
confines
slyly
have
I
lurked
To
watch
the
waning
of
mine
enemies
.
A
dire
induction
am
I
witness
to
,
And
will
to
France
,
hoping
the
consequence
Will
prove
as
bitter
,
black
,
and
tragical
.
Withdraw
thee
,
wretched
Margaret
.
Who
comes
here
?
She
steps
aside
.
Enter
Duchess
of
York
and
Queen
Elizabeth
.
Ah
,
my
poor
princes
!
Ah
,
my
tender
babes
,
My
unblown
flowers
,
new-appearing
sweets
,
If
yet
your
gentle
souls
fly
in
the
air
And
be
not
fixed
in
doom
perpetual
,
Hover
about
me
with
your
airy
wings
And
hear
your
mother’s
lamentation
.
,
aside
Hover
about
her
;
say
that
right
for
right
Hath
dimmed
your
infant
morn
to
agèd
night
.
So
many
miseries
have
crazed
my
voice
That
my
woe-wearied
tongue
is
still
and
mute
.
Edward
Plantagenet
,
why
art
thou
dead
?
,
aside
Plantagenet
doth
quit
Plantagenet
;
Edward
for
Edward
pays
a
dying
debt
.
Wilt
thou
,
O
God
,
fly
from
such
gentle
lambs
And
throw
them
in
the
entrails
of
the
wolf
?
When
didst
thou
sleep
when
such
a
deed
was
done
?
ACT 4. SC. 4
,
aside
When
holy
Harry
died
,
and
my
sweet
son
.
,
to
Queen
Elizabeth
sitting
down
Dead
life
,
blind
sight
,
poor
mortal
living
ghost
,
Woe’s
scene
,
world’s
shame
,
grave’s
due
by
life
usurped
,
Brief
abstract
and
record
of
tedious
days
,
Rest
thy
unrest
on
England’s
lawful
earth
,
Unlawfully
made
drunk
with
innocent
blood
.
,
as
they
both
sit
down
sitting
down
beside
her
Ah
,
that
thou
wouldst
as
soon
afford
a
grave
As
thou
canst
yield
a
melancholy
seat
,
Then
would
I
hide
my
bones
,
not
rest
them
here
.
Ah
,
who
hath
any
cause
to
mourn
but
we
?
,
coming
forward
joining
them
If
ancient
sorrow
be
most
reverend
,
Give
mine
the
benefit
of
seigniory
,
And
let
my
griefs
frown
on
the
upper
hand
.
If
sorrow
can
admit
society
,
Tell
over
your
woes
again
by
viewing
mine
.
I
had
an
Edward
till
a
Richard
killed
him
;
I
had
a
husband
till
a
Richard
killed
him
.
Thou
hadst
an
Edward
till
a
Richard
killed
him
;
Thou
hadst
a
Richard
till
a
Richard
killed
him
.
I
had
a
Richard
too
,
and
thou
did’st
kill
him
;
I
had
a
Rutland
too
;
thou
holp’st
to
kill
him
.
Thou
hadst
a
Clarence
too
,
and
Richard
killed
him
.
From
forth
the
kennel
of
thy
womb
hath
crept
A
hellhound
that
doth
hunt
us
all
to
death
—
That
dog
,
that
had
his
teeth
before
his
eyes
,
To
worry
lambs
and
lap
their
gentle
blood
;
That
excellent
grand
tyrant
of
the
Earth
earth
,
That
reigns
in
gallèd
eyes
of
weeping
souls
;
That
foul
defacer
of
God’s
handiwork
ACT 4. SC. 4
Thy
womb
let
loose
to
chase
us
to
our
graves
.
O
upright
,
just
,
and
true-disposing
God
,
How
do
I
thank
thee
that
this
carnal
cur
Preys
on
the
issue
of
his
mother’s
body
And
makes
her
pew-fellow
with
others’
moan
!
,
standing
O
Harry’s
wife
,
triumph
not
in
my
woes
!
God
witness
with
me
,
I
have
wept
for
thine
.
Bear
with
me
.
I
am
hungry
for
revenge
,
And
now
I
cloy
me
with
beholding
it
.
Thy
Edward
he
is
dead
,
that
killed
my
Edward
,
Thy
other
Edward
dead
,
to
quit
my
Edward
;
Young
York
,
he
is
but
boot
,
because
both
they
Matched
not
the
high
perfection
of
my
loss
.
Thy
Clarence
he
is
dead
that
stabbed
my
Edward
,
And
the
beholders
of
this
frantic
play
,
Th’
adulterate
Hastings
,
Rivers
,
Vaughan
,
Grey
,
Untimely
smothered
in
their
dusky
graves
.
Richard
yet
lives
,
hell’s
black
intelligencer
,
Only
reserved
their
factor
to
buy
souls
And
send
them
thither
.
But
at
hand
,
at
hand
Ensues
his
piteous
and
unpitied
end
.
Earth
gapes
,
hell
burns
,
fiends
roar
,
saints
pray
,
To
have
him
suddenly
conveyed
from
hence
.
Cancel
his
bond
of
life
,
dear
God
I
pray
,
That
I
may
live
and
say
The
dog
is
dead
.
,
standing
O
,
thou
didst
prophesy
the
time
would
come
That
I
should
wish
for
thee
to
help
me
curse
That
bottled
spider
,
that
foul
bunch-backed
toad
!
I
called
thee
then
vain
flourish
of
my
fortune
.
I
called
thee
then
poor
shadow
,
painted
queen
,
The
presentation
of
but
what
I
was
,
The
flattering
index
of
a
direful
pageant
,
ACT 4. SC. 4
One
heaved
a-high
to
be
hurled
down
below
,
A
mother
only
mocked
with
two
fair
babes
,
A
dream
of
what
thou
wast
,
a
garish
flag
To
be
the
aim
of
every
dangerous
shot
,
A
sign
of
dignity
,
a
breath
,
a
bubble
,
A
queen
in
jest
,
only
to
fill
the
scene
.
Where
is
thy
husband
now
?
Where
be
thy
brothers
?
Where
are
thy
two
sons
?
Wherein
dost
thou
joy
?
Who
sues
and
kneels
and
says
God
save
the
Queen
?
Where
be
the
bending
peers
that
flattered
thee
?
Where
be
the
thronging
troops
that
followed
thee
?
Decline
all
this
,
and
see
what
now
thou
art
:
For
happy
wife
,
a
most
distressèd
widow
;
For
joyful
mother
,
one
that
wails
the
name
;
For
one
being
sued
to
,
one
that
humbly
sues
;
For
queen
,
a
very
caitiff
crowned
with
care
;
For
she
that
scorned
at
me
,
now
scorned
of
me
;
For
she
being
feared
of
all
,
now
fearing
one
;
For
she
commanding
all
,
obeyed
of
none
.
Thus
hath
the
course
of
justice
whirled
about
And
left
thee
but
a
very
prey
to
time
,
Having
no
more
but
thought
of
what
thou
wast
To
torture
thee
the
more
,
being
what
thou
art
.
Thou
didst
usurp
my
place
,
and
dost
thou
not
Usurp
the
just
proportion
of
my
sorrow
?
Now
thy
proud
neck
bears
half
my
burdened
yoke
,
From
which
even
here
I
slip
my
weary
head
And
leave
the
burden
of
it
all
on
thee
.
Farewell
,
York’s
wife
,
and
queen
of
sad
mischance
.
These
English
woes
shall
make
me
smile
in
France
.
She
begins
to
exit
.
O
,
thou
well-skilled
in
curses
,
stay
awhile
,
And
teach
me
how
to
curse
mine
enemies
.
ACT 4. SC. 4
Forbear
to
sleep
the
nights
,
and
fast
the
days
;
Compare
dead
happiness
with
living
woe
;
Think
that
thy
babes
were
sweeter
than
they
were
,
And
he
that
slew
them
fouler
than
he
is
.
Bettering
thy
loss
makes
the
bad
causer
worse
.
Revolving
this
will
teach
thee
how
to
curse
.
My
words
are
dull
.
O
,
quicken
them
with
thine
!
Thy
woes
will
make
them
sharp
and
pierce
like
mine
.
Margaret
exits
.
Why
should
calamity
be
full
of
words
?
Windy
attorneys
to
their
clients’
woes
,
Airy
succeeders
of
intestate
joys
,
Poor
breathing
orators
of
miseries
,
Let
them
have
scope
;
,
though
what
they
will
impart
Help
nothing
else
,
yet
do
they
ease
the
heart
.
If
so
,
then
be
not
tongue-tied
.
Go
with
me
,
And
in
the
breath
of
bitter
words
let’s
smother
My
damnèd
son
that
thy
two
sweet
sons
smothered
.
A
trumpet
sounds
.
The
trumpet
sounds
.
Be
copious
in
exclaims
.
They
rise
.
Enter
King
Richard
and
his
train
,
including
Catesby
.
Who
intercepts
me
in
my
expedition
?
O
,
she
that
might
have
intercepted
thee
,
By
strangling
thee
in
her
accursèd
womb
,
From
all
the
slaughters
,
wretch
,
that
thou
hast
done
.
ACT 4. SC. 4
,
to
Richard
Hid’st
thou
that
forehead
with
a
golden
crown
Where
should
be
branded
,
if
that
right
were
right
,
The
slaughter
of
the
prince
that
owed
that
crown
And
the
dire
death
of
my
poor
sons
and
brothers
?
Tell
me
,
thou
villain-slave
,
where
are
my
children
?
,
to
Richard
Thou
toad
,
thou
toad
,
where
is
thy
brother
Clarence
,
And
little
Ned
Plantagenet
his
son
?
,
to
Richard
Where
is
the
gentle
Rivers
,
Vaughan
,
Grey
?
,
to
Richard
Where
is
kind
Hastings
?
A
flourish
,
trumpets
!
Strike
alarum
,
drums
!
Let
not
the
heavens
hear
these
telltale
women
Rail
on
the
Lord’s
anointed
.
Strike
,
I
say
!
Flourish
.
Alarums
.
Either
be
patient
and
entreat
me
fair
,
Or
with
the
clamorous
report
of
war
Thus
will
I
drown
your
exclamations
.
Art
thou
my
son
?
Ay
,
I
thank
God
,
my
father
,
and
yourself
.
Then
patiently
hear
my
impatience
.
Madam
,
I
have
a
touch
of
your
condition
,
That
cannot
brook
the
accent
of
reproof
.
O
,
let
me
speak
!
Do
then
,
but
I’ll
not
hear
.
I
will
be
mild
and
gentle
in
my
words
.
And
brief
,
good
mother
,
for
I
am
in
haste
.
ACT 4. SC. 4
Art
thou
so
hasty
?
I
have
stayed
for
thee
,
God
knows
,
in
torment
and
in
agony
.
And
came
I
not
at
last
to
comfort
you
?
No
,
by
the
Holy
Rood
,
thou
know’st
it
well
.
Thou
cam’st
on
Earth
earth
to
make
the
Earth
earth
my
hell
.
A
grievous
burden
was
thy
birth
to
me
;
Tetchy
and
wayward
was
thy
infancy
;
Thy
school
days
frightful
,
desp’rate
,
wild
,
and
furious
;
Thy
prime
of
manhood
daring
,
bold
,
and
venturous
;
Thy
age
confirmed
,
proud
,
subtle
,
sly
,
and
bloody
,
More
mild
,
but
yet
more
harmful
,
kind
in
hatred
.
What
comfortable
hour
canst
thou
name
,
That
ever
graced
me
with
thy
company
?
Faith
,
none
but
Humfrey
Hower
,
that
called
your
Grace
To
breakfast
once
,
forth
of
my
company
.
If
I
be
so
disgracious
in
your
eye
,
Let
me
march
on
and
not
offend
you
,
madam
.
—
Strike
up
the
drum
.
I
prithee
,
hear
me
speak
.
You
speak
too
bitterly
.
Hear
me
a
word
,
For
I
shall
never
speak
to
thee
again
.
So
.
Either
thou
wilt
die
by
God’s
just
ordinance
Ere
from
this
war
thou
turn
a
conqueror
,
Or
I
with
grief
and
extreme
age
shall
perish
And
nevermore
behold
thy
face
again
.
Therefore
take
with
thee
my
most
grievous
curse
,
ACT 4. SC. 4
Which
in
the
day
of
battle
tire
thee
more
Than
all
the
complete
armor
that
thou
wear’st
.
My
prayers
on
the
adverse
party
fight
,
And
there
the
little
souls
of
Edward’s
children
Whisper
the
spirits
of
thine
enemies
And
promise
them
success
and
victory
.
Bloody
thou
art
;
bloody
will
be
thy
end
.
Shame
serves
thy
life
and
doth
thy
death
attend
.
She
exits
.
Though
far
more
cause
,
yet
much
less
spirit
to
curse
Abides
in
me
.
I
say
amen
to
her
.
Stay
,
madam
.
I
must
talk
a
word
with
you
.
I
have
no
more
sons
of
the
royal
blood
For
thee
to
slaughter
.
For
my
daughters
,
Richard
,
They
shall
be
praying
nuns
,
not
weeping
queens
,
And
therefore
level
not
to
hit
their
lives
.
You
have
a
daughter
called
Elizabeth
,
Virtuous
and
fair
,
royal
and
gracious
.
And
must
she
die
for
this
?
O
,
let
her
live
,
And
I’ll
corrupt
her
manners
,
stain
her
beauty
,
Slander
myself
as
false
to
Edward’s
bed
,
Throw
over
her
the
veil
of
infamy
.
So
she
may
live
unscarred
of
bleeding
slaughter
,
I
will
confess
she
was
not
Edward’s
daughter
.
Wrong
not
her
birth
.
She
is
a
royal
princess
.
To
save
her
life
,
I’ll
say
she
is
not
so
.
Her
life
is
safest
only
in
her
birth
.
ACT 4. SC. 4
And
only
in
that
safety
died
her
brothers
.
Lo
,
at
their
birth
good
stars
were
opposite
.
No
,
to
their
lives
ill
friends
were
contrary
.
All
unavoided
is
the
doom
of
destiny
.
True
,
when
avoided
grace
makes
destiny
.
My
babes
were
destined
to
a
fairer
death
If
grace
had
blessed
thee
with
a
fairer
life
.
You
speak
as
if
that
I
had
slain
my
cousins
.
Cousins
,
indeed
,
and
by
their
uncle
cozened
Of
comfort
,
kingdom
,
kindred
,
freedom
,
life
.
Whose
hand
soever
launched
their
tender
hearts
,
Thy
head
,
all
indirectly
,
gave
direction
.
No
doubt
the
murd’rous
knife
was
dull
and
blunt
Till
it
was
whetted
on
thy
stone-hard
heart
,
To
revel
in
the
entrails
of
my
lambs
.
But
that
still
use
of
grief
makes
wild
grief
tame
,
My
tongue
should
to
thy
ears
not
name
my
boys
Till
that
my
nails
were
anchored
in
thine
eyes
,
And
I
,
in
such
a
desp’rate
bay
of
death
,
Like
a
poor
bark
of
sails
and
tackling
reft
,
Rush
all
to
pieces
on
thy
rocky
bosom
.
Madam
,
so
thrive
I
in
my
enterprise
And
dangerous
success
of
bloody
wars
As
I
intend
more
good
to
you
and
yours
Than
ever
you
or
yours
by
me
were
harmed
!
What
good
is
covered
with
the
face
of
heaven
,
To
be
discovered
,
that
can
do
me
good
?
ACT 4. SC. 4
Th’
advancement
of
your
children
,
gentle
lady
.
Up
to
some
scaffold
,
there
to
lose
their
heads
.
Unto
the
dignity
and
height
of
fortune
,
The
high
imperial
type
of
this
Earth’s
earth’s
glory
.
Flatter
my
sorrow
with
report
of
it
.
Tell
me
what
state
,
what
dignity
,
what
honor
,
Canst
thou
demise
to
any
child
of
mine
?
Even
all
I
have
—
ay
,
and
myself
and
all
—
Will
I
withal
endow
a
child
of
thine
;
So
in
the
Lethe
of
thy
angry
soul
Thou
drown
the
sad
remembrance
of
those
wrongs
Which
thou
supposest
I
have
done
to
thee
.
Be
brief
,
lest
that
the
process
of
thy
kindness
Last
longer
telling
than
thy
kindness’
date
.
Then
know
that
from
my
soul
I
love
thy
daughter
.
My
daughter’s
mother
thinks
it
with
her
soul
.
What
do
you
think
?
That
thou
dost
love
my
daughter
from
thy
soul
.
So
from
thy
soul’s
love
didst
thou
love
her
brothers
,
And
from
my
heart’s
love
I
do
thank
thee
for
it
.
Be
not
so
hasty
to
confound
my
meaning
.
I
mean
that
with
my
soul
I
love
thy
daughter
And
do
intend
to
make
her
Queen
of
England
.
Well
then
,
who
dost
thou
mean
shall
be
her
king
?
ACT 4. SC. 4
Even
he
that
makes
her
queen
.
Who
else
should
be
?
What
,
thou
?
Even
so
.
How
think
you
of
it
?
How
canst
thou
woo
her
?
That
would
I
learn
of
you
,
As
one
being
best
acquainted
with
her
humor
.
And
wilt
thou
learn
of
me
?
Madam
,
with
all
my
heart
.
Send
to
her
,
by
the
man
that
slew
her
brothers
,
A
pair
of
bleeding
hearts
;
thereon
engrave
Edward
and
York
.
Then
haply
will
she
weep
.
Therefore
present
to
her
—
as
sometime
Margaret
Did
to
thy
father
,
steeped
in
Rutland’s
blood
—
A
handkerchief
,
which
say
to
her
did
drain
The
purple
sap
from
her
sweet
brother’s
body
,
And
bid
her
wipe
her
weeping
eyes
withal
.
If
this
inducement
move
her
not
to
love
,
Send
her
a
letter
of
thy
noble
deeds
;
Tell
her
thou
mad’st
away
her
uncle
Clarence
,
Her
uncle
Rivers
,
ay
,
and
for
her
sake
Mad’st
quick
conveyance
with
her
good
aunt
Anne
.
You
mock
me
,
madam
.
This
is
not
the
way
To
win
your
daughter
.
There
is
no
other
way
,
Unless
thou
couldst
put
on
some
other
shape
And
not
be
Richard
,
that
hath
done
all
this
.
Say
that
I
did
all
this
for
love
of
her
.
Nay
,
then
indeed
she
cannot
choose
but
hate
thee
,
Having
bought
love
with
such
a
bloody
spoil
.
ACT 4. SC. 4
Look
what
is
done
cannot
be
now
amended
.
Men
shall
deal
unadvisedly
sometimes
,
Which
after-hours
gives
leisure
to
repent
.
If
I
did
take
the
kingdom
from
your
sons
,
To
make
amends
I’ll
give
it
to
your
daughter
.
If
I
have
killed
the
issue
of
your
womb
,
To
quicken
your
increase
I
will
beget
Mine
issue
of
your
blood
upon
your
daughter
.
A
grandam’s
name
is
little
less
in
love
Than
is
the
doting
title
of
a
mother
.
They
are
as
children
but
one
step
below
,
Even
of
your
metal
,
of
your
very
blood
,
Of
all
one
pain
,
save
for
a
night
of
groans
Endured
of
her
for
whom
you
bid
like
sorrow
.
Your
children
were
vexation
to
your
youth
,
But
mine
shall
be
a
comfort
to
your
age
.
The
loss
you
have
is
but
a
son
being
king
,
And
by
that
loss
your
daughter
is
made
queen
.
I
cannot
make
you
what
amends
I
would
;
Therefore
accept
such
kindness
as
I
can
.
Dorset
your
son
,
that
with
a
fearful
soul
Leads
discontented
steps
in
foreign
soil
,
This
fair
alliance
quickly
shall
call
home
To
high
promotions
and
great
dignity
.
The
king
that
calls
your
beauteous
daughter
wife
Familiarly
shall
call
thy
Dorset
brother
.
Again
shall
you
be
mother
to
a
king
,
And
all
the
ruins
of
distressful
times
Repaired
with
double
riches
of
content
.
What
,
we
have
many
goodly
days
to
see
!
The
liquid
drops
of
tears
that
you
have
shed
Shall
come
again
,
transformed
to
orient
pearl
,
Advantaging
their
love
with
interest
Of
ten
times
double
gain
of
happiness
.
Go
then
,
my
mother
;
to
thy
daughter
go
.
ACT 4. SC. 4
Make
bold
her
bashful
years
with
your
experience
;
Prepare
her
ears
to
hear
a
wooer’s
tale
;
Put
in
her
tender
heart
th’
aspiring
flame
Of
golden
sovereignty
;
acquaint
the
Princess
With
the
sweet
silent
hours
of
marriage
joys
;
And
when
this
arm
of
mine
hath
chastisèd
The
petty
rebel
,
dull-brained
Buckingham
,
Bound
with
triumphant
garlands
will
I
come
And
lead
thy
daughter
to
a
conqueror’s
bed
,
To
whom
I
will
retail
my
conquest
won
,
And
she
shall
be
sole
victoress
,
Caesar’s
Caesar
.
What
were
I
best
to
say
?
Her
father’s
brother
Would
be
her
lord
?
Or
shall
I
say
her
uncle
?
Or
he
that
slew
her
brothers
and
her
uncles
?
Under
what
title
shall
I
woo
for
thee
,
That
God
,
the
law
,
my
honor
,
and
her
love
Can
make
seem
pleasing
to
her
tender
years
?
Infer
fair
England’s
peace
by
this
alliance
.
Which
she
shall
purchase
with
still-lasting
war
.
Tell
her
the
King
,
that
may
command
,
entreats
—
That
,
at
her
hands
,
which
the
King’s
King
forbids
.
Say
she
shall
be
a
high
and
mighty
queen
.
To
vail
the
title
,
as
her
mother
doth
.
Say
I
will
love
her
everlastingly
.
But
how
long
shall
that
title
ever
last
?
Sweetly
in
force
unto
her
fair
life’s
end
.
ACT 4. SC. 4
But
how
long
fairly
shall
her
sweet
life
last
?
As
long
as
heaven
and
nature
lengthens
it
.
As
long
as
hell
and
Richard
likes
of
it
.
Say
I
,
her
sovereign
,
am
her
subject
low
.
But
she
,
your
subject
,
loathes
such
sovereignty
.
Be
eloquent
in
my
behalf
to
her
.
An
honest
tale
speeds
best
being
plainly
told
.
Then
plainly
to
her
tell
my
loving
tale
.
Plain
and
not
honest
is
too
harsh
a
style
.
Your
reasons
are
too
shallow
and
too
quick
.
O
no
,
my
reasons
are
too
deep
and
dead
—
Too
deep
and
dead
,
poor
infants
,
in
their
graves
.
Harp
not
on
that
string
,
madam
;
that
is
past
.
Harp
on
it
still
shall
I
till
heart-strings
break
.
Now
by
my
George
,
my
Garter
,
and
my
crown
—
Profaned
,
dishonored
,
and
the
third
usurped
.
I
swear
—
By
nothing
,
for
this
is
no
oath
.
Thy
George
,
profaned
,
hath
lost
his
lordly
honor
;
ACT 4. SC. 4
Thy
Garter
,
blemished
,
pawned
his
knightly
virtue
;
Thy
crown
,
usurped
,
disgraced
his
kingly
glory
.
If
something
thou
wouldst
swear
to
be
believed
,
Swear
then
by
something
that
thou
hast
not
wronged
.
Then
,
by
myself
—
Thyself
is
self-misused
.
Now
,
by
the
world
—
’Tis
full
of
thy
foul
wrongs
.
My
father’s
death
—
Thy
life
hath
it
dishonored
.
Why
then
,
by
God
.
God’s
wrong
is
most
of
all
.
If
thou
didst
fear
to
break
an
oath
with
Him
,
The
unity
the
King
my
husband
made
Thou
hadst
not
broken
,
nor
my
brothers
died
.
If
thou
hadst
feared
to
break
an
oath
by
Him
,
Th’
imperial
metal
circling
now
thy
head
Had
graced
the
tender
temples
of
my
child
,
And
both
the
Princes
had
been
breathing
here
,
Which
now
,
two
tender
bedfellows
for
dust
,
Thy
broken
faith
hath
made
the
prey
for
worms
.
What
canst
thou
swear
by
now
?
The
time
to
come
.
That
thou
hast
wrongèd
in
the
time
o’erpast
;
For
I
myself
have
many
tears
to
wash
Hereafter
time
,
for
time
past
wronged
by
thee
.
The
children
live
whose
fathers
thou
hast
slaughtered
,
Ungoverned
youth
,
to
wail
it
in
their
age
;
ACT 4. SC. 4
The
parents
live
whose
children
thou
hast
butchered
,
Old
barren
plants
,
to
wail
it
with
their
age
.
Swear
not
by
time
to
come
,
for
that
thou
hast
Misused
ere
used
,
by
times
ill-used
o’erpast
.
As
I
intend
to
prosper
and
repent
,
So
thrive
I
in
my
dangerous
affairs
Of
hostile
arms
!
Myself
myself
confound
,
Heaven
and
fortune
bar
me
happy
hours
,
Day
,
yield
me
not
thy
light
,
nor
night
thy
rest
,
Be
opposite
all
planets
of
good
luck
To
my
proceeding
if
,
with
dear
heart’s
love
,
Immaculate
devotion
,
holy
thoughts
,
I
tender
not
thy
beauteous
princely
daughter
.
In
her
consists
my
happiness
and
thine
.
Without
her
follows
to
myself
and
thee
,
Herself
,
the
land
,
and
many
a
Christian
soul
,
Death
,
desolation
,
ruin
,
and
decay
.
It
cannot
be
avoided
but
by
this
;
It
will
not
be
avoided
but
by
this
.
Therefore
,
dear
mother
—
I
must
call
you
so
—
Be
the
attorney
of
my
love
to
her
;
Plead
what
I
will
be
,
not
what
I
have
been
;
Not
my
deserts
,
but
what
I
will
deserve
.
Urge
the
necessity
and
state
of
times
,
And
be
not
peevish
found
in
great
designs
.
Shall
I
be
tempted
of
the
devil
thus
?
Ay
,
if
the
devil
tempt
you
to
do
good
.
Shall
I
forget
myself
to
be
myself
?
Ay
,
if
your
self’s
remembrance
wrong
yourself
.
Yet
thou
didst
kill
my
children
.
ACT 4. SC. 4
But
in
your
daughter’s
womb
I
bury
them
,
Where
,
in
that
nest
of
spicery
,
they
will
breed
Selves
of
themselves
,
to
your
recomforture
.
Shall
I
go
win
my
daughter
to
thy
will
?
And
be
a
happy
mother
by
the
deed
.
I
go
.
Write
to
me
very
shortly
,
And
you
shall
understand
from
me
her
mind
.
Bear
her
my
true
love’s
kiss
;
and
so
,
farewell
.
Queen
exits
.
Relenting
fool
and
shallow
,
changing
woman
!
Enter
Ratcliffe
.
How
now
,
what
news
?
Most
mighty
sovereign
,
on
the
western
coast
Rideth
a
puissant
navy
.
To
our
shores
Throng
many
doubtful
hollow-hearted
friends
,
Unarmed
and
unresolved
to
beat
them
back
.
’Tis
thought
that
Richmond
is
their
admiral
;
And
there
they
hull
,
expecting
but
the
aid
Of
Buckingham
to
welcome
them
ashore
.
Some
light-foot
friend
post
to
the
Duke
of
Norfolk
—
Ratcliffe
thyself
,
or
Catesby
.
Where
is
he
?
Here
,
my
good
lord
Lord
.
Catesby
,
fly
to
the
Duke
.
I
will
,
my
lord
,
with
all
convenient
haste
.
Ratcliffe
,
come
hither
.
Post
to
Salisbury
.
ACT 4. SC. 4
When
thou
com’st
thither
—
To
Catesby
.
Dull
,
unmindful
villain
,
Why
stay’st
thou
here
and
go’st
not
to
the
Duke
?
First
,
mighty
liege
,
tell
me
your
Highness’
pleasure
,
What
from
your
Grace
I
shall
deliver
to
him
.
O
true
,
good
Catesby
.
Bid
him
levy
straight
The
greatest
strength
and
power
that
he
can
make
And
meet
me
suddenly
at
Salisbury
.
I
go
.
He
exits
.
What
,
may
it
please
you
,
shall
I
do
at
Salisbury
?
Why
,
what
wouldst
thou
do
there
before
I
go
?
Your
Highness
told
me
I
should
post
before
.
My
mind
is
changed
.
Enter
Lord
Stanley
.
Stanley
,
what
news
with
you
?
None
good
,
my
liege
,
to
please
you
with
the
hearing
,
Nor
none
so
bad
but
well
may
be
reported
.
Hoyday
,
a
riddle
!
Neither
good
nor
bad
.
What
need’st
thou
run
so
many
miles
about
When
thou
mayst
tell
thy
tale
the
nearest
way
?
Once
more
,
what
news
?
Richmond
is
on
the
seas
.
There
let
him
sink
,
and
be
the
seas
on
him
!
White-livered
runagate
,
what
doth
he
there
?
I
know
not
,
mighty
sovereign
,
but
by
guess
.
ACT 4. SC. 4
Well
,
as
you
guess
?
Stirred
up
by
Dorset
,
Buckingham
,
and
Morton
,
He
makes
for
England
,
here
to
claim
the
crown
.
Is
the
chair
empty
?
Is
the
sword
unswayed
?
Is
the
King
dead
,
the
empire
unpossessed
?
What
heir
of
York
is
there
alive
but
we
?
And
who
is
England’s
king
but
great
York’s
heir
?
Then
tell
me
,
what
makes
he
upon
the
seas
?
Unless
for
that
,
my
liege
,
I
cannot
guess
.
Unless
for
that
he
comes
to
be
your
liege
,
You
cannot
guess
wherefore
the
Welshman
comes
.
Thou
wilt
revolt
and
fly
to
him
,
I
fear
.
No
,
my
good
lord
.
Therefore
mistrust
me
not
.
Where
is
thy
power
,
then
,
to
beat
him
back
?
Where
be
thy
tenants
and
thy
followers
?
Are
they
not
now
upon
the
western
shore
,
Safe-conducting
the
rebels
from
their
ships
?
No
,
my
good
lord
.
My
friends
are
in
the
north
.
Cold
friends
to
me
.
What
do
they
in
the
north
When
they
should
serve
their
sovereign
in
the
west
?
They
have
not
been
commanded
,
mighty
king
.
Pleaseth
your
Majesty
to
give
me
leave
,
I’ll
muster
up
my
friends
and
meet
your
Grace
Where
and
what
time
your
Majesty
shall
please
.
Ay
,
thou
wouldst
be
gone
to
join
with
Richmond
,
But
I’ll
not
trust
thee
.
ACT 4. SC. 4
Most
mighty
sovereign
,
You
have
no
cause
to
hold
my
friendship
doubtful
.
I
never
was
nor
never
will
be
false
.
Go
then
and
muster
men
,
but
leave
behind
Your
son
George
Stanley
.
Look
your
heart
be
firm
,
Or
else
his
head’s
assurance
is
but
frail
.
So
deal
with
him
as
I
prove
true
to
you
.
Stanley
exits
.
Enter
a
Messenger
.
My
gracious
sovereign
,
now
in
Devonshire
,
As
I
by
friends
am
well
advertisèd
,
Sir
Edward
Courtney
and
the
haughty
prelate
,
Bishop
of
Exeter
,
his
elder
brother
,
With
many
more
confederates
are
in
arms
.
Enter
another
Messenger
.
In
Kent
,
my
liege
,
the
Guilfords
are
in
arms
,
And
every
hour
more
competitors
Flock
to
the
rebels
,
and
their
power
grows
strong
.
Enter
another
Messenger
.
My
lord
,
the
army
of
great
Buckingham
—
Out
on
you
,
owls
!
Nothing
but
songs
of
death
.
He
striketh
him
.
There
,
take
thou
that
till
thou
bring
better
news
.
The
news
I
have
to
tell
your
Majesty
Is
that
by
sudden
floods
and
fall
of
waters
Buckingham’s
army
is
dispersed
and
scattered
,
ACT 4. SC. 4
And
he
himself
wandered
away
alone
,
No
man
knows
whither
.
I
cry
thee
mercy
.
There
is
my
purse
to
cure
that
blow
of
thine
.
He
gives
money
.
Hath
any
well-advisèd
friend
proclaimed
Reward
to
him
that
brings
the
traitor
in
?
Such
proclamation
hath
been
made
,
my
lord
.
Enter
another
Messenger
.
Sir
Thomas
Lovell
and
Lord
Marquess
Dorset
,
’Tis
said
,
my
liege
,
in
Yorkshire
are
in
arms
.
But
this
good
comfort
bring
I
to
your
Highness
:
The
Breton
navy
is
dispersed
by
tempest
.
Richmond
,
in
Dorsetshire
,
sent
out
a
boat
Unto
the
shore
to
ask
those
on
the
banks
If
they
were
his
assistants
,
yea
,
or
no
—
Who
answered
him
they
came
from
Buckingham
Upon
his
party
.
He
,
mistrusting
them
,
Hoised
sail
and
made
his
course
again
for
Brittany
.
March
on
,
march
on
,
since
we
are
up
in
arms
,
If
not
to
fight
with
foreign
enemies
,
Yet
to
beat
down
these
rebels
here
at
home
.
Enter
Catesby
.
My
liege
,
the
Duke
of
Buckingham
is
taken
.
That
is
the
best
news
.
That
the
Earl
of
Richmond
Is
with
a
mighty
power
landed
at
Milford
Is
colder
tidings
,
yet
they
must
be
told
.
Away
towards
Salisbury
!
While
we
reason
here
,
A
royal
battle
might
be
won
and
lost
.
ACT 4. SC. 5
Someone
take
order
Buckingham
be
brought
To
Salisbury
.
The
rest
march
on
with
me
.
Flourish
.
They
exit
.
Scene
5
Enter
Stanley
,
Earl
of
Derby
,
and
Sir
Christopher
.
Sir
Christopher
,
tell
Richmond
this
from
me
:
That
in
the
sty
of
the
most
deadly
boar
My
son
George
Stanley
is
franked
up
in
hold
;
If
I
revolt
,
off
goes
young
George’s
head
;
The
fear
of
that
holds
off
my
present
aid
.
So
get
thee
gone
.
Commend
me
to
thy
lord
.
Withal
,
say
that
the
Queen
hath
heartily
consented
He
should
espouse
Elizabeth
her
daughter
.
But
tell
me
,
where
is
princely
Richmond
now
?
At
Pembroke
,
or
at
Ha’rfordwest
in
Wales
.
What
men
of
name
resort
to
him
?
Sir
Walter
Herbert
,
a
renownèd
soldier
;
Sir
Gilbert
Talbot
,
Sir
William
Stanley
,
Oxford
,
redoubted
Pembroke
,
Sir
James
Blunt
,
And
Rice
ap
Thomas
,
with
a
valiant
crew
,
And
many
other
of
great
name
and
worth
;
And
towards
London
do
they
bend
their
power
,
If
by
the
way
they
be
not
fought
withal
.
,
giving
Sir
Christopher
a
paper
Well
,
hie
thee
to
thy
lord
.
I
kiss
his
hand
.
My
letter
will
resolve
him
of
my
mind
.
Farewell
.
They
exit
.
ACT
5
Scene
1
Enter
Buckingham
,
with
Sheriff
and
Halberds
,
led
to
execution
.
Will
not
King
Richard
let
me
speak
with
him
?
No
,
my
good
lord
.
Therefore
be
patient
.
Hastings
and
Edward’s
children
,
Grey
and
Rivers
,
Holy
King
Henry
and
thy
fair
son
Edward
,
Vaughan
,
and
all
that
have
miscarrièd
By
underhand
,
corrupted
,
foul
injustice
,
If
that
your
moody
,
discontented
souls
Do
through
the
clouds
behold
this
present
hour
,
Even
for
revenge
mock
my
destruction
.
—
This
is
All
Souls’
Day
,
fellow
,
is
it
not
?
It
is
.
Why
,
then
,
All
Souls’
Day
is
my
body’s
doomsday
.
This
is
the
day
which
,
in
King
Edward’s
time
,
I
wished
might
fall
on
me
when
I
was
found
False
to
his
children
and
his
wife’s
allies
.
This
is
the
day
wherein
I
wished
to
fall
By
the
false
faith
of
him
whom
most
I
trusted
.
This
,
this
All
Souls’
Day
to
my
fearful
soul
ACT 5. SC. 2
Is
the
determined
respite
of
my
wrongs
.
That
high
All-seer
which
I
dallied
with
Hath
turned
my
feignèd
prayer
on
my
head
And
given
in
earnest
what
I
begged
in
jest
.
Thus
doth
he
force
the
swords
of
wicked
men
To
turn
their
own
points
in
their
masters’
bosoms
.
Thus
Margaret’s
curse
falls
heavy
on
my
neck
:
When
he
,
quoth
she
,
shall
split
thy
heart
with
sorrow
,
Remember
Margaret
was
a
prophetess
.
—
Come
,
lead
me
,
officers
,
to
the
block
of
shame
.
Wrong
hath
but
wrong
,
and
blame
the
due
of
blame
.
Buckingham
exits
with
Officers
.
Scene
2
Enter
Richmond
,
Oxford
,
Blunt
,
Herbert
,
and
others
,
with
Drum
and
Colors
.
Fellows
in
arms
,
and
my
most
loving
friends
,
Bruised
underneath
the
yoke
of
tyranny
,
Thus
far
into
the
bowels
of
the
land
Have
we
marched
on
without
impediment
,
And
here
receive
we
from
our
father
Stanley
Lines
of
fair
comfort
and
encouragement
.
The
wretched
,
bloody
,
and
usurping
boar
,
That
spoiled
your
summer
fields
and
fruitful
vines
,
Swills
your
warm
blood
like
wash
,
and
makes
his
trough
In
your
embowelled
bosoms
—
this
foul
swine
Is
now
even
in
the
center
of
this
isle
,
Near
to
the
town
of
Leicester
,
as
we
learn
.
From
Tamworth
thither
is
but
one
day’s
march
.
In
God’s
name
,
cheerly
on
,
courageous
friends
,
ACT 5. SC. 3
To
reap
the
harvest
of
perpetual
peace
By
this
one
bloody
trial
of
sharp
war
.
Every
man’s
conscience
is
a
thousand
men
To
fight
against
this
guilty
homicide
.
I
doubt
not
but
his
friends
will
turn
to
us
.
He
hath
no
friends
but
what
are
friends
for
fear
,
Which
in
his
dearest
need
will
fly
from
him
.
All
for
our
vantage
.
Then
,
in
God’s
name
,
march
.
True
hope
is
swift
,
and
flies
with
swallow’s
wings
;
Kings
it
makes
gods
,
and
meaner
creatures
kings
.
All
exit
.
Scene
3
Enter
King
Richard
,
in
arms
,
with
Norfolk
,
Ratcliffe
,
and
the
Earl
of
Surrey
,
with
Soldiers
.
Here
pitch
our
tent
,
even
here
in
Bosworth
field
.
—
Soldiers
begin
to
pitch
the
tent
.
My
lord
Lord
of
Surrey
,
why
look
you
so
sad
?
My
heart
is
ten
times
lighter
than
my
looks
.
My
lord
Lord
of
Norfolk
—
Here
,
most
gracious
liege
.
Norfolk
,
we
must
have
knocks
,
ha
,
must
we
not
?
We
must
both
give
and
take
,
my
loving
lord
.
Up
with
my
tent
!
—
Here
will
I
lie
tonight
.
ACT 5. SC. 3
But
where
tomorrow
?
Well
,
all’s
one
for
that
.
Who
hath
descried
the
number
of
the
traitors
?
Six
or
seven
thousand
is
their
utmost
power
.
Why
,
our
battalia
trebles
that
account
.
Besides
,
the
King’s
name
is
a
tower
of
strength
Which
they
upon
the
adverse
faction
want
.
—
Up
with
the
tent
!
—
Come
,
noble
gentlemen
,
Let
us
survey
the
vantage
of
the
ground
.
Call
for
some
men
of
sound
direction
;
Let’s
lack
no
discipline
,
make
no
delay
,
For
,
lords
,
tomorrow
is
a
busy
day
.
The
tent
now
in
place
,
they
exit
.
Enter
Richmond
,
Sir
William
Brandon
,
Oxford
,
Dorset
,
Herbert
,
Blunt
,
and
others
who
set
up
Richmond’s
tent
.
The
weary
sun
hath
made
a
golden
set
,
And
by
the
bright
track
of
his
fiery
car
Gives
token
of
a
goodly
day
tomorrow
.
—
Sir
William
Brandon
,
you
shall
bear
my
standard
.
—
Give
me
some
ink
and
paper
in
my
tent
;
I’ll
draw
the
form
and
model
of
our
battle
,
Limit
each
leader
to
his
several
charge
,
And
part
in
just
proportion
our
small
power
.
—
My
Lord
of
Oxford
,
you
,
Sir
William
Brandon
,
And
you
,
Sir
Walter
Herbert
,
stay
with
me
.
The
Earl
of
Pembroke
keeps
his
regiment
.
—
Good
Captain
Blunt
,
bear
my
goodnight
to
him
,
And
by
the
second
hour
in
the
morning
Desire
the
Earl
to
see
me
in
my
tent
.
Yet
one
thing
more
,
good
captain
,
do
for
me
.
Where
is
Lord
Stanley
quartered
,
do
you
know
?
ACT 5. SC. 3
Unless
I
have
mista’en
his
colors
much
,
Which
well
I
am
assured
I
have
not
done
,
His
regiment
lies
half
a
mile
,
at
least
,
South
from
the
mighty
power
of
the
King
.
If
without
peril
it
be
possible
,
Sweet
Blunt
,
make
some
good
means
to
speak
with
him
,
And
give
him
from
me
this
most
needful
note
.
He
gives
a
paper
.
Upon
my
life
,
my
lord
,
I’ll
undertake
it
,
And
so
God
give
you
quiet
rest
tonight
.
Good
night
,
good
Captain
Blunt
.
Blunt
exits
.
Come
,
gentlemen
,
Let
us
consult
upon
tomorrow’s
business
.
Into
my
tent
.
The
dew
is
raw
and
cold
.
Richmond
,
Brandon
,
Dorset
,
Herbert
,
and
Oxford
withdraw
into
the
tent
.
The
others
exit
.
Enter
to
his
tent
Richard
,
Ratcliffe
,
Norfolk
,
and
Catesby
,
with
Soldiers
.
What
is
’t
o’clock
?
It’s
suppertime
,
my
lord
.
It’s
nine
o’clock
.
I
will
not
sup
tonight
.
Give
me
some
ink
and
paper
.
What
,
is
my
beaver
easier
than
it
was
,
And
all
my
armor
laid
into
my
tent
?
It
is
,
my
liege
,
and
all
things
are
in
readiness
.
Good
Norfolk
,
hie
thee
to
thy
charge
.
Use
careful
watch
.
Choose
trusty
sentinels
.
ACT 5. SC. 3
I
go
,
my
lord
.
Stir
with
the
lark
tomorrow
,
gentle
Norfolk
.
I
warrant
you
,
my
lord
.
He
exits
.
Catesby
.
My
lord
.
Send
out
a
pursuivant-at-arms
To
Stanley’s
regiment
.
Bid
him
bring
his
power
Before
sunrising
,
lest
his
son
George
fall
Into
the
blind
cave
of
eternal
night
.
Catesby
exits
.
To
Soldiers
.
Fill
me
a
bowl
of
wine
.
Give
me
a
watch
.
Saddle
white
Surrey
for
the
field
tomorrow
.
Look
that
my
staves
be
sound
and
not
too
heavy
.
—
Ratcliffe
.
My
lord
.
Sawst
thou
the
melancholy
Lord
Northumberland
?
Thomas
the
Earl
of
Surrey
and
himself
,
Much
about
cockshut
time
,
from
troop
to
troop
Went
through
the
army
cheering
up
the
soldiers
.
So
,
I
am
satisfied
.
Give
me
a
bowl
of
wine
.
I
have
not
that
alacrity
of
spirit
Nor
cheer
of
mind
that
I
was
wont
to
have
.
Wine
is
brought
.
Set
it
down
.
Is
ink
and
paper
ready
?
It
is
,
my
lord
.
Bid
my
guard
watch
.
Leave
me
.
Ratcliffe
,
about
the
mid
of
night
come
to
my
tent
And
help
to
arm
me
.
Leave
me
,
I
say
.
Ratcliffe
exits
.
Richard
sleeps
in
his
tent
,
which
is
guarded
by
Soldiers
.
ACT 5. SC. 3
Enter
Stanley
,
Earl
of
Derby
to
Richmond
in
his
tent
.
Fortune
and
victory
sit
on
thy
helm
!
All
comfort
that
the
dark
night
can
afford
Be
to
thy
person
,
noble
father-in-law
.
Tell
me
,
how
fares
our
loving
mother
?
I
,
by
attorney
,
bless
thee
from
thy
mother
,
Who
prays
continually
for
Richmond’s
good
.
So
much
for
that
.
The
silent
hours
steal
on
,
And
flaky
darkness
breaks
within
the
east
.
In
brief
,
for
so
the
season
bids
us
be
,
Prepare
thy
battle
early
in
the
morning
,
And
put
thy
fortune
to
the
arbitrament
Of
bloody
strokes
and
mortal-staring
war
.
I
,
as
I
may
—
that
which
I
would
I
cannot
—
With
best
advantage
will
deceive
the
time
And
aid
thee
in
this
doubtful
shock
of
arms
.
But
on
thy
side
I
may
not
be
too
forward
,
Lest
,
being
seen
,
thy
brother
,
tender
George
,
Be
executed
in
his
father’s
sight
.
Farewell
.
The
leisure
and
the
fearful
time
Cuts
off
the
ceremonious
vows
of
love
And
ample
interchange
of
sweet
discourse
,
Which
so-long-sundered
friends
should
dwell
upon
.
God
give
us
leisure
for
these
rites
of
love
!
Once
more
,
adieu
.
Be
valiant
and
speed
well
.
Good
lords
,
conduct
him
to
his
regiment
.
I’ll
strive
with
troubled
thoughts
to
take
a
nap
,
Lest
leaden
slumber
peise
me
down
tomorrow
When
I
should
mount
with
wings
of
victory
.
Once
more
,
good
night
,
kind
lords
and
gentlemen
.
ACT 5. SC. 3
All
but
Richmond
leave
his
tent
and
exit
.
Richmond
kneels
.
O
Thou
,
whose
captain
I
account
myself
,
Look
on
my
forces
with
a
gracious
eye
.
Put
in
their
hands
Thy
bruising
irons
of
wrath
,
That
they
may
crush
down
with
a
heavy
fall
The
usurping
helmets
of
our
adversaries
.
Make
us
Thy
ministers
of
chastisement
,
That
we
may
praise
Thee
in
the
victory
.
To
Thee
I
do
commend
my
watchful
soul
,
Ere
I
let
fall
the
windows
of
mine
eyes
.
Sleeping
and
waking
,
O
,
defend
me
still
!
Sleeps
.
Enter
the
Ghost
of
young
Prince
Edward
,
son
to
Harry
the
Sixth
.
,
(
to
Richard
)
Let
me
sit
heavy
on
thy
soul
tomorrow
.
Think
how
thou
stabbed’st
me
in
my
prime
of
youth
At
Tewkesbury
.
Despair
therefore
,
and
die
!
(
To
Richmond
.
)
Be
cheerful
,
Richmond
,
for
the
wrongèd
souls
Of
butchered
princes
fight
in
thy
behalf
.
King
Henry’s
issue
,
Richmond
,
comforts
thee
.
He
exits
.
Enter
the
Ghost
of
Henry
the
Sixth
.
,
(
to
Richard
)
When
I
was
mortal
,
my
anointed
body
By
thee
was
punchèd
full
of
deadly
holes
.
Think
on
the
Tower
and
me
.
Despair
and
die
!
Harry
the
Sixth
bids
thee
despair
and
die
.
(
To
Richmond
.
)
Virtuous
and
holy
,
be
thou
conqueror
.
Harry
,
that
prophesied
thou
shouldst
be
king
,
Doth
comfort
thee
in
thy
sleep
.
Live
and
flourish
.
He
exits
.
ACT 5. SC. 3
Enter
the
Ghost
of
Clarence
.
,
(
to
Richard
)
Let
me
sit
heavy
in
thy
soul
tomorrow
,
I
,
that
was
washed
to
death
with
fulsome
wine
,
Poor
Clarence
,
by
thy
guile
betrayed
to
death
.
Tomorrow
in
the
battle
think
on
me
,
And
fall
thy
edgeless
sword
.
Despair
and
die
!
(
To
Richmond
.
)
Thou
offspring
of
the
house
of
Lancaster
,
The
wrongèd
heirs
of
York
do
pray
for
thee
.
Good
angels
guard
thy
battle
.
Live
and
flourish
.
He
exits
.
Enter
the
Ghosts
of
Rivers
,
Grey
,
and
Vaughan
.
,
(
to
Richard
)
Let
me
sit
heavy
in
thy
soul
tomorrow
,
Rivers
,
that
died
at
Pomfret
.
Despair
and
die
!
,
(
to
Richard
)
Think
upon
Grey
,
and
let
thy
soul
despair
!
,
(
to
Richard
)
Think
upon
Vaughan
,
and
with
guilty
fear
Let
fall
thy
lance
.
Despair
and
die
!
,
(
to
Richmond
)
Awake
,
and
think
our
wrongs
in
Richard’s
bosom
Will
conquer
him
.
Awake
,
and
win
the
day
.
They
exit
.
Enter
the
Ghosts
of
the
two
young
Princes
.
,
(
to
Richard
)
Dream
on
thy
cousins
smothered
in
the
Tower
.
Let
us
be
lead
within
thy
bosom
,
Richard
,
And
weigh
thee
down
to
ruin
,
shame
,
and
death
.
Thy
nephews’
souls
bid
thee
despair
and
die
.
(
To
Richmond
.
)
Sleep
,
Richmond
,
sleep
in
peace
and
wake
in
joy
.
ACT 5. SC. 3
Good
angels
guard
thee
from
the
boar’s
annoy
.
Live
,
and
beget
a
happy
race
of
kings
.
Edward’s
unhappy
sons
do
bid
thee
flourish
.
They
exit
.
Enter
the
Ghost
of
Hastings
.
,
(
to
Richard
)
Bloody
and
guilty
,
guiltily
awake
,
And
in
a
bloody
battle
end
thy
days
.
Think
on
Lord
Hastings
.
Despair
and
die
!
(
To
Richmond
.
)
Quiet
,
untroubled
soul
,
awake
,
awake
.
Arm
,
fight
,
and
conquer
for
fair
England’s
sake
.
He
exits
.
Enter
the
Ghost
of
Lady
Anne
his
wife
.
,
(
to
Richard
)
Richard
,
thy
wife
,
that
wretched
Anne
thy
wife
,
That
never
slept
a
quiet
hour
with
thee
,
Now
fills
thy
sleep
with
perturbations
.
Tomorrow
,
in
the
battle
,
think
on
me
,
And
fall
thy
edgeless
sword
.
Despair
and
die
!
(
To
Richmond
.
)
Thou
quiet
soul
,
sleep
thou
a
quiet
sleep
.
Dream
of
success
and
happy
victory
.
Thy
adversary’s
wife
doth
pray
for
thee
.
She
exits
.
Enter
the
Ghost
of
Buckingham
.
,
(
to
Richard
)
The
first
was
I
that
helped
thee
to
the
crown
;
The
last
was
I
that
felt
thy
tyranny
.
O
,
in
the
battle
think
on
Buckingham
,
And
die
in
terror
of
thy
guiltiness
.
Dream
on
,
dream
on
,
of
bloody
deeds
and
death
.
Fainting
,
despair
;
despairing
,
yield
thy
breath
.
(
To
Richmond
.
)
I
died
for
hope
ere
I
could
lend
thee
aid
,
ACT 5. SC. 3
But
cheer
thy
heart
,
and
be
thou
not
dismayed
.
God
and
good
angels
fight
on
Richmond’s
side
,
And
Richard
fall
in
height
of
all
his
pride
.
He
exits
.
Richard
starteth
up
out
of
a
dream
.
Give
me
another
horse
!
Bind
up
my
wounds
!
Have
mercy
,
Jesu
!
—
Soft
,
I
did
but
dream
.
O
coward
conscience
,
how
dost
thou
afflict
me
!
The
lights
burn
blue
;
it
is
now
dead
midnight
.
Cold
fearful
drops
stand
on
my
trembling
flesh
.
What
do
I
fear
?
Myself
?
There’s
none
else
by
.
Richard
loves
Richard
,
that
is
,
I
am
I
.
Is
there
a
murderer
here
?
No
.
Yes
,
I
am
.
Then
fly
!
What
,
from
myself
?
Great
reason
why
:
Lest
I
revenge
.
What
,
myself
upon
myself
?
Alack
,
I
love
myself
.
Wherefore
?
For
any
good
That
I
myself
have
done
unto
myself
?
O
,
no
.
Alas
,
I
rather
hate
myself
For
hateful
deeds
committed
by
myself
.
I
am
a
villain
.
Yet
I
lie
;
I
am
not
.
Fool
,
of
thyself
speak
well
.
Fool
,
do
not
flatter
.
My
conscience
hath
a
thousand
several
tongues
,
And
every
tongue
brings
in
a
several
tale
,
And
every
tale
condemns
me
for
a
villain
.
Perjury
,
perjury
,
in
the
highest
degree
;
Murder
,
stern
murder
,
in
the
direst
degree
;
All
several
sins
,
all
used
in
each
degree
,
Throng
to
the
bar
,
crying
all
Guilty
,
guilty
!
I
shall
despair
.
There
is
no
creature
loves
me
,
And
if
I
die
no
soul
will
pity
me
.
And
wherefore
should
they
,
since
that
I
myself
Find
in
myself
no
pity
to
myself
?
Methought
the
souls
of
all
that
I
had
murdered
Came
to
my
tent
,
and
every
one
did
threat
Tomorrow’s
vengeance
on
the
head
of
Richard
.
ACT 5. SC. 3
Enter
Ratcliffe
.
My
lord
.
Zounds
,
who
is
there
?
Ratcliffe
,
my
lord
,
’tis
I
.
The
early
village
cock
Hath
twice
done
salutation
to
the
morn
.
Your
friends
are
up
and
buckle
on
their
armor
.
O
Ratcliffe
,
I
have
dreamed
a
fearful
dream
!
What
think’st
thou
,
will
our
friends
prove
all
true
?
No
doubt
,
my
lord
.
O
Ratcliffe
,
I
fear
,
I
fear
.
Nay
,
good
my
lord
,
be
not
afraid
of
shadows
.
By
the
apostle
Paul
,
shadows
tonight
Have
struck
more
terror
to
the
soul
of
Richard
Than
can
the
substance
of
ten
thousand
soldiers
Armed
in
proof
and
led
by
shallow
Richmond
.
’Tis
not
yet
near
day
.
Come
,
go
with
me
.
Under
our
tents
I’ll
play
the
eavesdropper
To
see
if
any
mean
to
shrink
from
me
.
Richard
and
Ratcliffe
exit
.
Enter
the
Lords
to
Richmond
,
in
his
tent
.
Good
morrow
,
Richmond
.
Cry
mercy
,
lords
and
watchful
gentlemen
,
That
you
have
ta’en
a
tardy
sluggard
here
.
How
have
you
slept
,
my
lord
?
The
sweetest
sleep
and
fairest-boding
dreams
That
ever
entered
in
a
drowsy
head
Have
I
since
your
departure
had
,
my
lords
.
ACT 5. SC. 3
Methought
their
souls
whose
bodies
Richard
murdered
Came
to
my
tent
and
cried
on
victory
.
I
promise
you
,
my
soul
is
very
jocund
In
the
remembrance
of
so
fair
a
dream
.
How
far
into
the
morning
is
it
,
lords
?
Upon
the
stroke
of
four
.
,
leaving
the
tent
Why
,
then
’tis
time
to
arm
and
give
direction
.
His
oration
to
his
soldiers
.
More
than
I
have
said
,
loving
countrymen
,
The
leisure
and
enforcement
of
the
time
Forbids
to
dwell
upon
.
Yet
remember
this
:
God
,
and
our
good
cause
,
fight
upon
our
side
.
The
prayers
of
holy
saints
and
wrongèd
souls
,
Like
high-reared
bulwarks
,
stand
before
our
faces
.
Richard
except
,
those
whom
we
fight
against
Had
rather
have
us
win
than
him
they
follow
.
For
what
is
he
they
follow
?
Truly
,
gentlemen
,
A
bloody
tyrant
and
a
homicide
;
One
raised
in
blood
,
and
one
in
blood
established
;
One
that
made
means
to
come
by
what
he
hath
,
And
slaughtered
those
that
were
the
means
to
help
him
;
A
base
foul
stone
,
made
precious
by
the
foil
Of
England’s
chair
,
where
he
is
falsely
set
;
One
that
hath
ever
been
God’s
enemy
.
Then
if
you
fight
against
God’s
enemy
,
God
will
,
in
justice
,
ward
you
as
his
soldiers
.
If
you
do
sweat
to
put
a
tyrant
down
,
You
sleep
in
peace
,
the
tyrant
being
slain
.
If
you
do
fight
against
your
country’s
foes
,
Your
country’s
fat
shall
pay
your
pains
the
hire
.
If
you
do
fight
in
safeguard
of
your
wives
,
Your
wives
shall
welcome
home
the
conquerors
.
ACT 5. SC. 3
If
you
do
free
your
children
from
the
sword
,
Your
children’s
children
quits
it
in
your
age
.
Then
,
in
the
name
of
God
and
all
these
rights
,
Advance
your
standards
;
draw
your
willing
swords
.
For
me
,
the
ransom
of
my
bold
attempt
Shall
be
this
cold
corpse
on
the
Earth’s
earth’s
cold
face
,
But
if
I
thrive
,
the
gain
of
my
attempt
The
least
of
you
shall
share
his
part
thereof
.
Sound
drums
and
trumpets
boldly
and
cheerfully
.
God
,
and
Saint
George
,
Richmond
,
and
victory
!
They
exit
.
Enter
King
Richard
,
Ratcliffe
,
and
Soldiers
.
What
said
Northumberland
as
touching
Richmond
?
That
he
was
never
trainèd
up
in
arms
.
He
said
the
truth
.
And
what
said
Surrey
then
?
He
smiled
and
said
The
better
for
our
purpose
.
He
was
in
the
right
,
and
so
indeed
it
is
.
The
clock
striketh
.
Tell
the
clock
there
.
Give
me
a
calendar
.
He
looks
in
an
almanac
.
Who
saw
the
sun
today
?
Not
I
,
my
lord
.
Then
he
disdains
to
shine
,
for
by
the
book
He
should
have
braved
the
east
an
hour
ago
.
A
black
day
will
it
be
to
somebody
.
Ratcliffe
!
My
lord
.
The
sun
will
not
be
seen
today
.
ACT 5. SC. 3
The
sky
doth
frown
and
lour
upon
our
army
.
I
would
these
dewy
tears
were
from
the
ground
.
Not
shine
today
?
Why
,
what
is
that
to
me
More
than
to
Richmond
,
for
the
selfsame
heaven
That
frowns
on
me
looks
sadly
upon
him
.
Enter
Norfolk
.
Arm
,
arm
,
my
lord
.
The
foe
vaunts
in
the
field
.
Come
,
bustle
,
bustle
.
Caparison
my
horse
.
—
Call
up
Lord
Stanley
;
bid
him
bring
his
power
.
—
I
will
lead
forth
my
soldiers
to
the
plain
,
And
thus
my
battle
shall
be
orderèd
:
My
foreward
shall
be
drawn
out
all
in
length
,
Consisting
equally
of
horse
and
foot
;
Our
archers
shall
be
placèd
in
the
midst
.
John
Duke
of
Norfolk
,
Thomas
Earl
of
Surrey
,
Shall
have
the
leading
of
this
foot
and
horse
.
They
thus
directed
,
we
will
follow
In
the
main
battle
,
whose
puissance
on
either
side
Shall
be
well
wingèd
with
our
chiefest
horse
.
This
,
and
Saint
George
to
boot
!
—
What
think’st
thou
,
Norfolk
?
A
good
direction
,
warlike
sovereign
.
He
sheweth
him
a
paper
.
This
found
I
on
my
tent
this
morning
.
reads
Jockey
of
Norfolk
,
be
not
so
bold
.
For
Dickon
thy
master
is
bought
and
sold
.
A
thing
devisèd
by
the
enemy
.
—
Go
,
gentlemen
,
every
man
unto
his
charge
.
Let
not
our
babbling
dreams
affright
our
souls
.
Conscience
is
but
a
word
that
cowards
use
,
Devised
at
first
to
keep
the
strong
in
awe
.
ACT 5. SC. 3
Our
strong
arms
be
our
conscience
,
swords
our
law
.
March
on
.
Join
bravely
.
Let
us
to
it
pell
mell
,
If
not
to
heaven
,
then
hand
in
hand
to
hell
.
His
oration
to
his
army
.
What
shall
I
say
more
than
I
have
inferred
?
Remember
whom
you
are
to
cope
withal
,
A
sort
of
vagabonds
,
rascals
,
and
runaways
,
A
scum
of
Bretons
and
base
lackey
peasants
,
Whom
their
o’ercloyèd
country
vomits
forth
To
desperate
adventures
and
assured
destruction
.
You
sleeping
safe
,
they
bring
to
you
unrest
;
You
having
lands
and
blessed
with
beauteous
wives
,
They
would
restrain
the
one
,
distain
the
other
.
And
who
doth
lead
them
but
a
paltry
fellow
,
Long
kept
in
Brittany
at
our
mother’s
cost
,
A
milksop
,
one
that
never
in
his
life
Felt
so
much
cold
as
overshoes
in
snow
?
Let’s
whip
these
stragglers
o’er
the
seas
again
,
Lash
hence
these
overweening
rags
of
France
,
These
famished
beggars
weary
of
their
lives
,
Who
,
but
for
dreaming
on
this
fond
exploit
,
For
want
of
means
,
poor
rats
,
had
hanged
themselves
.
If
we
be
conquered
,
let
men
conquer
us
,
And
not
these
bastard
Bretons
,
whom
our
fathers
Have
in
their
own
land
beaten
,
bobbed
,
and
thumped
,
And
in
record
left
them
the
heirs
of
shame
.
Shall
these
enjoy
our
lands
,
lie
with
our
wives
,
Ravish
our
daughters
?
Drum
afar
off
.
Hark
,
I
hear
their
drum
.
Fight
,
gentlemen
of
England
.
—
Fight
,
bold
yeomen
.
—
Draw
,
archers
;
draw
your
arrows
to
the
head
.
—
ACT 5. SC. 4
Spur
your
proud
horses
hard
,
and
ride
in
blood
.
Amaze
the
welkin
with
your
broken
staves
.
—
Enter
a
Messenger
.
What
says
Lord
Stanley
?
Will
he
bring
his
power
?
My
lord
,
he
doth
deny
to
come
.
Off
with
his
son
George’s
head
!
My
lord
,
the
enemy
is
past
the
marsh
.
After
the
battle
let
George
Stanley
die
.
A
thousand
hearts
are
great
within
my
bosom
.
Advance
our
standards
.
Set
upon
our
foes
.
Our
ancient
word
of
courage
,
fair
Saint
George
,
Inspire
us
with
the
spleen
of
fiery
dragons
.
Upon
them
!
Victory
sits
on
our
helms
.
They
exit
.
Scene
4
Alarum
.
Excursions
.
Enter
Norfolk
,
with
Soldiers
,
and
Catesby
.
Rescue
,
my
lord
Lord
of
Norfolk
,
rescue
,
rescue
!
The
King
enacts
more
wonders
than
a
man
,
Daring
an
opposite
to
every
danger
.
His
horse
is
slain
,
and
all
on
foot
he
fights
,
Seeking
for
Richmond
in
the
throat
of
death
.
Rescue
,
fair
lord
,
or
else
the
day
is
lost
.
Norfolk
exits
with
Soldiers
.
Alarums
.
Enter
Richard
.
A
horse
,
a
horse
,
my
kingdom
for
a
horse
!
Withdraw
,
my
lord
.
I’ll
help
you
to
a
horse
.
ACT 5. SC. 5
Slave
,
I
have
set
my
life
upon
a
cast
,
And
I
will
stand
the
hazard
of
the
die
.
I
think
there
be
six
Richmonds
in
the
field
;
Five
have
I
slain
today
instead
of
him
.
A
horse
,
a
horse
,
my
kingdom
for
a
horse
!
They
exit
.
Scene
5
Alarum
.
Enter
Richard
and
Richmond
.
They
fight
.
Richard
is
slain
.
Then
retreat
being
sounded
,
Richmond
exits
,
and
Richard’s
body
is
removed
.
Flourish
.
Enter
Richmond
,
Stanley
,
Earl
of
Derby
,
bearing
the
crown
,
with
other
Lords
,
and
Soldiers
.
God
and
your
arms
be
praised
,
victorious
friends
!
The
day
is
ours
;
the
bloody
dog
is
dead
.
,
offering
him
the
crown
Courageous
Richmond
,
well
hast
thou
acquit
thee
.
Lo
,
here
this
long-usurpèd
royalty
From
the
dead
temples
of
this
bloody
wretch
Have
I
plucked
off
,
to
grace
thy
brows
withal
.
Wear
it
,
enjoy
it
,
and
make
much
of
it
.
Great
God
of
heaven
,
say
amen
to
all
!
But
tell
me
,
is
young
George
Stanley
living
?
He
is
,
my
lord
,
and
safe
in
Leicester
town
,
Whither
,
if
it
please
you
,
we
may
now
withdraw
us
.
What
men
of
name
are
slain
on
either
side
?
John
,
Duke
of
Norfolk
,
Walter
,
Lord
Ferrers
,
Sir
Robert
Brakenbury
,
and
Sir
William
Brandon
.
ACT 5. SC. 5
Inter
their
bodies
as
becomes
their
births
.
Proclaim
a
pardon
to
the
soldiers
fled
That
in
submission
will
return
to
us
.
And
then
,
as
we
have
ta’en
the
sacrament
,
We
will
unite
the
white
rose
and
the
red
;
Smile
heaven
upon
this
fair
conjunction
,
That
long
have
frowned
upon
their
enmity
.
What
traitor
hears
me
and
says
not
Amen
?
England
hath
long
been
mad
and
scarred
herself
:
The
brother
blindly
shed
the
brother’s
blood
;
The
father
rashly
slaughtered
his
own
son
;
The
son
,
compelled
,
been
butcher
to
the
sire
.
All
this
divided
York
and
Lancaster
,
Divided
,
in
their
dire
division
.
O
,
now
let
Richmond
and
Elizabeth
,
The
true
succeeders
of
each
royal
house
,
By
God’s
fair
ordinance
conjoin
together
,
And
let
their
heirs
,
God
,
if
Thy
will
be
so
,
Enrich
the
time
to
come
with
smooth-faced
peace
,
With
smiling
plenty
and
fair
prosperous
days
.
Abate
the
edge
of
traitors
,
gracious
Lord
,
That
would
reduce
these
bloody
days
again
And
make
poor
England
weep
in
streams
of
blood
.
Let
them
not
live
to
taste
this
land’s
increase
,
That
would
with
treason
wound
this
fair
land’s
peace
.
Now
civil
wounds
are
stopped
,
peace
lives
again
.
That
she
may
long
live
here
,
God
say
amen
.
They
exit
.
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a short line which cannot be joined with other lines to form a full metrical line, or which may not be definitively identified asverse or prose
editorial emendation
text from the Quarto in the passages based on the Folio
text from the Folio in the passages based on the Quarto