Ghosts of those murdered by Richard III; Lords and other Attendants; a Pursuivant, Scrivener, Citizens,
Murderers, Messengers, Soldiers, etc.
SCENE: England.]
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 determined to prove a villain
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,
By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams,
To set my brother Clarence and the King
In deadly hate the one against the other;
And if King Edward be as true and just
As I am subtle, false, and treacherous,
This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up
About a prophecy, which says that G
Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be.
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul; here Clarence
As yet I do not; but, as I can learn,
He hearkens after prophecies and dreams,
And from the cross-row plucks the letter G, 55
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 60
Have mov'd his Highness to commit me now.
Glou. Why, this it is, when men are rul'd by
Glou. Her husband, knave. Wouldst thou betray me?
Brak. I do beseech your Grace to pardon me, and withal
Forbear your conference with the noble Duke. Clar. We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will obey.
Glou. We are the Queen's abjects, and must
With lies well steel'd with weighty arguments;
And, if I fail not in my deep intent,
Clarence hath not another day to live;
Which done, God take King Edward to his
And leave the world for me to bustle in! For then I'll marry Warwick's youngest daughter.
What though I kill'd her husband and her
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.
[Exit.
SCENE II. [The same. Another street.] Enter the corpse of KING HENRY VI, [GENTLEMEN] with halberds to guard it, [among them TRESSEL and BERKELEY; LADY ANNE being the mourner.
Anne. Set down, set down your honourable load,
If honour may be shrouded in a hearse,
Whilst I a while obsequiously lament
The untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster.
[The coffin is set down.]
Poor key-cold figure of a holy king!
Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster!
Thon 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 slaught'red son, 10
Stabb'd by the self-same hand that made these
Glou. Stay, you that bear the corse, and set it down.
Anne. What black magician conjures up this fiend
To stop devoted charitable deeds.?
Glou. Villains, set down the corse; or, by Saint Paul,
I'll make a corse of him that disobeys. Gent. My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass.
Glou. Unmanner'd dog! stand thou, when I command.
Advance thy halberd higher than my breast, 40 Or, by Saint Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot, And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness. [The coffin is set down again.] Anne. What, do you tremble? Are you all afraid?
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 55
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 mad'st, revenge his death!
O earth, which this blood drink'st, revenge his death!
Either heaven with lightning strike the murderer dead,
Or earth gape open wide and eat him quick, 65 As thou dost swallow up this good king's blood, Which his hell-govern'd arm hath butchered! Glou. Lady, you know no rules of charity, Which renders good for bad, blessings for
No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity.
Glou. But I know none, and therefore am
Anne. O wonderful, when devils tell the truth!
Glou. More wonderful, when angels are so
Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman, Of these supposed crimes, to give me leave By circumstance but to acquit myself.
Anne. Thou wast the cause, and most a curs'd effect.
Glou. Your beauty was the cause of that effect;
Your beauty, that did haunt me in my sleep
To undertake the death of all the world,
So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom.
Anne. If I thought that, I tell thee, homi-
cide,
These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks.
Glou. These eyes could not endure that 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!
Glou. Curse not thyself, fair creature; thou art both.
Anne. I would I were, to be reveng'd on
But, now thy beauty is propos'd 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
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 lays his breast open: she offers
at it with his sword.
At Chertsey monastery 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.
To see you are become so penitent.
Tressel and Berkeley, go along with me.
Glou. Bid me farewell.
Anne.
'Tis more than you deserve;
But since you teach me how to flatter you,
Imagine I have said farewell already.
[Exeunt Lady Anne, Tressel, and Berkeley.
[Glou. Sirs, take up the corse.]
Gent.
Towards Chertsey, noble lord?
Glou. No, to White-Friars; there attend my
[Exeunt all but Gloucester.
Was ever woman in this humour woo'd?
Was ever woman in this humour won ?
I'll have her; but I will not keep her long. 230
What! I, that kill'd 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 withal
But the plain devil and dissembling looks,
And yet to win her, all the world to nothing!
Ha!
Hath she forgot already that brave prince, Edward, her lord, whom I, some three months since,
Stabb'd in my angry mood at Tewksbury?
A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman,
Fram'd in the prodigality of nature,
Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal,
The spacious world cannot again afford.
And will she yet abase her eyes on me,
That cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet
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 marvellous 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 favour with myself,
I will maintain it with some little cost.
But first I'll turn yon fellow in his grave;
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. [Exit.
SCENE III. [The palace.]
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