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

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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, be gone.

Gloucester Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst. Anne

Foul devil, for God’s sake, hence, and trouble us not;
For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell,
Fill’d it with cursing cries and deep exclaims.
If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds,
Behold this pattern of thy butcheries.
O, gentlemen, see, see! dead Henry’s wounds
Open their congeal’d mouths and bleed afresh!
Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity;
For ’tis thy presence that exhales this blood
From cold and empty veins, where no blood dwells;
Thy deed, inhuman and unnatural,
Provokes this deluge most unnatural.
O God, which this blood madest, revenge his death!
O earth, which this blood drink’st revenge his death!
Either heaven with lightning strike the murderer dead,
Or earth, gape open wide and eat him quick,
As thou dost swallow up this good king’s blood,
Which his hell-govern’d arm hath butchered!

Gloucester

Lady, you know no rules of charity,
Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses.

Anne

Villain, thou know’st no law of God nor man:
No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity.

Gloucester But I know none, and therefore am no beast. Anne O wonderful, when devils tell the truth! Gloucester

More wonderful, when angels are so angry.
Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman,
Of these supposed evils, to give me leave,
By circumstance, but to acquit myself.

Anne

Vouchsafe, defused infection of a man,
For these known evils, but to give me leave,
By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self.

Gloucester

Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have
Some patient leisure to excuse myself.

Anne

Fouler than heart can think thee, thou canst make
No excuse current, but to hang thyself.

Gloucester By such despair, I should accuse myself. Anne

And, by despairing, shouldst thou stand excused;
For doing worthy vengeance on thyself,
Which didst unworthy slaughter upon others.

Gloucester Say that I slew them not? Anne

Why, then they are not dead:
But dead they are, and, devilish slave, by thee.

Gloucester I did not kill your husband. Anne Why, then he is alive. Gloucester Nay, he is dead; and slain by Edward’s hand. Anne

In thy foul throat thou liest: Queen Margaret saw
Thy murderous falchion smoking in his blood;
The which thou once didst bend against her breast,
But that thy brothers beat aside the point.

Gloucester

I was provoked by her slanderous tongue,
Which laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders.

Anne

Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind,
Which never dreamt on aught but butcheries:
Didst thou not kill this king?

Gloucester I grant ye. Anne

Dost grant me, hedgehog? then, God grant me too
Thou mayst be damned for that wicked deed!
O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous!

Gloucester The fitter for the King of heaven, that hath him. Anne He is in heaven, where thou shalt never come. Gloucester

Let him thank me, that holp to send him thither;
For he was fitter for that place than earth.

Anne And thou unfit for any place but hell. Gloucester Yes, one place else, if you will hear me name it. Anne Some dungeon. Gloucester Your bed-chamber. Anne Ill rest betide the chamber where thou liest! Gloucester So will it, madam till I lie with you. Anne I hope so. Gloucester

I know so. But, gentle Lady Anne,
To leave this keen encounter of our wits,
And fall somewhat into a slower method,
Is not the causer of the timeless deaths
Of these Plantagenets, Henry and Edward,
As blameful as the executioner?

Anne Thou art the cause, and most accursed effect. Gloucester

Your beauty was the cause of that effect;
Your beauty, which did haunt me in my sleep
To undertake the death of all the world,
So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom.

Anne

If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide,
These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks.

Gloucester

These eyes could never endure sweet beauty’s wreck;
You should not blemish it, if I stood by:
As all the world is cheered by the sun,
So I by that; it is my day, my life.

Anne Black night o’ershade thy day, and death thy life! Gloucester Curse not thyself, fair creature; thou art both. Anne I would I were, to be revenged on thee. Gloucester

It is a quarrel most unnatural,
To be revenged on him that loveth you.

Anne

It is a quarrel just and reasonable,
To be revenged on him that slew my husband.

Gloucester

He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband,
Did it to help thee to a better husband.

Anne His better doth not breathe upon the earth. Gloucester He lives that loves thee better than he could. Anne Name him. Gloucester Plantagenet. Anne Why, that was he. Gloucester The selfsame name, but one of better nature. Anne Where is he? Gloucester Here. She spitteth at him. Why dost thou spit at me? Anne Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake! Gloucester Never came poison from so sweet a place. Anne

Never hung poison on a fouler toad.
Out of my sight! thou dost infect my eyes.

Gloucester Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine. Anne Would they were basilisks, to strike thee dead! Gloucester

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 aspect 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 bedash’d with rain: in that sad time
My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear;
And what these sorrows could not thence exhale,
Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping.
I never sued to friend nor enemy;
My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing words;
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 lips such scorn, for they were made
For kissing,