Richard III, William Shakespeare [if you liked this book txt] 📗

boy.
A king, perhaps, perhaps⁠— Buckingham My lord! King Richard

How chance the prophet could not at that time
Have told me, I being by, that I should kill him?

Buckingham My lord, your promise for the earldom⁠— King Richard

Richmond! When last I was at Exeter,
The mayor in courtesy show’d me the castle.
And call’d it Rougemont: at which name I started,
Because a bard of Ireland told me once,
I should not live long after I saw Richmond.

Buckingham My Lord! King Richard Ay, what’s o’clock? Buckingham

I am thus bold to put your grace in mind
Of what you promised me.

King Richard Well, but what’s o’clock? Buckingham Upon the stroke of ten. King Richard Well, let it strike. Buckingham Why let it strike? King Richard

Because that, like a Jack, thou keep’st the stroke
Betwixt thy begging and my meditation.
I am not in the giving vein to-day.

Buckingham Why, then resolve me whether you will or no. King Richard

Tut, tut,
Thou troublest me; am not in the vein. Exeunt all but Buckingham.

Buckingham

Is it even so? rewards he my true service
With such deep contempt? made I him king for this?
O, let me think on Hastings, and be gone
To Brecknock, while my fearful head is on! Exit.

Scene III

The same.

Enter Tyrrel. Tyrrel

The tyrannous and bloody deed is done,
The most arch of piteous massacre
That ever yet this land was guilty of.
Dighton and Forrest, whom I did suborn
To do this ruthless piece of butchery,
Although they were flesh’d villains, bloody dogs,
Melting with tenderness and kind compassion
Wept like two children in their deaths’ sad stories.
“Lo, thus,” quoth Dighton, “lay those tender babes:”
“Thus, thus,” quoth Forrest, “girdling one another
Within their innocent alabaster arms:
Their lips were four red roses on a stalk,
Which in their summer beauty kiss’d 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 stopp’d;
Whilst Dighton thus told on: “We smothered
The most replenished sweet work of nature,
That from the prime creation e’er she framed.”
Thus both are gone with conscience and remorse;
They could not speak; and so I left them both,
To bring this tidings to the bloody king.
And here he comes.

Enter King Richard. All hail, my sovereign liege! King Richard Kind Tyrrel, am I happy in thy news? Tyrrel

If to have done the thing you gave in charge
Beget your happiness, be happy then,
For it is done, my lord.

King Richard But didst thou see them dead? Tyrrel I did, my lord. King Richard And buried, gentle Tyrrel? Tyrrel

The chaplain of the Tower hath buried them;
But how or in what place I do not know.

King Richard

Come to me, Tyrrel, soon at after supper,
And thou shalt tell the process of their death.
Meantime, but think how I may do thee good,
And be inheritor of thy desire.
Farewell till soon. Exit Tyrrel.
The son of Clarence have I pent up close;
His daughter meanly have I match’d in marriage;
The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham’s bosom,
And Anne my wife hath bid the world good night.
Now, for I know the Breton Richmond aims
At young Elizabeth, my brother’s daughter,
And, by that knot, looks proudly o’er the crown,
To her I go, a jolly thriving wooer.

Enter Catesby. Catesby My lord! King Richard Good news or bad, that thou comest in so bluntly? Catesby

Bad news, my lord: Ely is fled to Richmond;
And Buckingham, back’d with the hardy Welshmen,
Is in the field, and still his power increaseth.

King Richard

Ely with Richmond troubles me more near
Than Buckingham and his rash-levied army.
Come, I have heard 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!
Come, muster men: my counsel is my shield;
We must be brief when traitors brave the field. Exeunt.

Scene IV

Before the palace.

Enter Queen Margaret. Queen Margaret

So, now prosperity begins to mellow
And drop into the rotten mouth of death.
Here in these confines slily have I lurk’d,
To watch the waning of mine adversaries.
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?

Enter Queen Elizabeth and the Duchess of York. Queen Elizabeth

Ah, my young princes! ah, my tender babes!
My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets!
If yet your gentle souls fly in the air
And be not fix’d in doom perpetual,
Hover about me with your airy wings
And hear your mother’s lamentation!

Queen Margaret

Hover about her; say, that right for right
Hath dimm’d your infant morn to aged night.

Duchess

So many miseries have crazed my voice,
That my woe-wearied tongue is mute and dumb,
Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?

Queen Margaret

Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet.
Edward for Edward pays a dying debt.

Queen Elizabeth

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?

Queen Margaret When holy Harry died, and my sweet son. Duchess

Blind sight, dead life, poor mortal living ghost,
Woe’s scene, world’s shame, grave’s due by life usurp’d,
Brief abstract and record of tedious days,
Rest thy unrest on England’s lawful earth, Sitting down.
Unlawfully made drunk with innocents’ blood!

Queen Elizabeth

O, that thou wouldst as well afford a grave
As thou canst yield a melancholy seat!
Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here.
O, who hath any cause to mourn but I? Sitting down by her.

Queen Margaret

If ancient sorrow be most reverend,
Give mine the benefit of seniory,
And let my woes frown on the upper hand.
If sorrow can admit society, Sitting down with them.
Tell o’er your woes again by viewing mine:
I had an Edward, till a Richard kill’d him;
I had a Harry, till a Richard kill’d him:
Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard kill’d him;
Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard killed him;

Duchess

I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill him;
I had a Rutland too, thou holp’st to kill him.

Queen Margaret

Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Richard kill’d him.
From forth the kennel of thy womb hath