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SHAKESPEARE'S TRAGEDY

KING RICHARD III.

i ;NIVERSITV i
LIBRARY

SHAKESPEARE'S WORKS

Edited by WM.

J. ROLFE, LiTT.D.

Bound in olive green limp leather with gilt top and decorated

title pages

in two colors.

Single volumes, net, 90 cents.

Forty volumes,

boxed, net, |36.00

The Merchant of Venice

Richard III.

Othello

Henry Vlll.

Julius Oesar

King Uar

A Midsummer-Night's Dream

The Taming of the Shrew

Macbeth

All's Well That Ends Well

Hamlet

Corlolanus

Much Ado About Nothing

The Comedy of Errors

Romeo and Juliet

Cymbellne

As you Like It

Antony and Cleopatra

The Tempest

Measure for Measure

Twelfth Night

Merry Wives of Windsor

The Winter's Tale

Love's Labour 's Lost

King John

Two Gentlemen of Verona

Richard II

Timon of Athens

Henry IV. Parti.

Trollus and Cresslda

Henry IV. Part II.

Pericles, Prince of Tyre

Henry V.

The Two Noble Kinsmen

Henry VI. Parti.

Venus and Adonis, Lucrece, etc.

Henry VI. Part II.

Sonnets

HeniyVI. Part III.

Titus Andronlcus

CO NT E NTS.

PAGB

Introduction to King Richard the Third 9

T. The History of the Play 9

TI. The Sources of the Plot 12

III. Critical Comments on the Play 14

KING RICHARD THE THIRD 35

Act 1 37

•* II 72

"III 87

" IV. 115

" V. 146

Notes. 165

.^'^

THE BLOODY TOWER.

BOSWORTH FIELD.

INTRODUCTION

KING RICHARD THE THIRD.

I. THE HISTORY OF THE PLAY.

The earliest known edition of the play is a quarto printed
in 1597, with the following title-page:

lo RICHARD III.

Wise, I dwelling in Paules Chuch-yard, at the | Signe of the
Angell. I 1597.

The play had been entered on the Stationers' Registers on
the 20th of October, 1597, by Wise, under the title of "The
Tragedie of Kinge Richard the Third, with the death of the
Duke of Clarence."

A second quarto edition was published the following year,
with the addition of ''By William Shake-speare " on the title-
page ; in other respects it is a reprint of the first. Other
quarto editions appeared in 1602, 1605, 1612, and 1622. All
four are said to be " newly augmented," but they contain
nothing that is not found in the 2d quarto, unless it be addi-
tional errors of the press.*

The text of the play in the ist folio differs materially from
that of the quartos. Besides many little changes in expres-
sion, it contains several passages — one of more than fifty
lines — not found in the earlier texts ; while, on the other
hand, it omits sundry lines — in some cases, essential to the
context — given in the quartos. The play is, moreover, one
of the worst printed in the folio, and the quartos often help
us in correcting the typographical errors. Which is on the
whole the better text, and what is the relation of the one to
the other, are questions which have been much disputed, but
probably will never be satisfactorily settled. The Cambridge
editors remark : " The respective origin and authority of the
ist quarto and ist folio texts oi Richard I IL is perhaps the
most difficult question which presents itself to an editor of
Shakespeare. In the case of most of the plays a brief survey
leads him to form a definite judgment ; in this, the most at-
tentive examination scarcely enables him to propose with
confidence a hypothetical conclusion." Staunton says : " the
diversity has proved, and will continue to prove, a source of

* A seventh quarto edition was printed in 1629, not from the folio of
1623, but from the quarto of 1622. An eighth quarto, a reprint of the
•erenth, appeared in 1634.

INTRODUCTION. H

incalculable trouble and perpetual dispute to the editors,
since, although it is admitted by every one properly qualified
to judge, that a reasonably perfect text can only be formed
from the two versions, there will always be a conflict of opin-
ions regarding some of the readings." Furnivall considers
" the making of the best text " of the play " the hardest puz-
zle in Shakspere-editing."

Non nostrum tantas componere lites. All that we can do is
tp take one of the texts as a basis — we are inclined, with
Collier, Knight, Verplanck, Hudson, and White, to choose
the folio* — and to use the other, according to our best judg-
ment, in correcting and amending it. All variations of any
importance will be recorded in the Notes.

The date of the play was fixed by Malone in 1593, and
Dowden considers that it " can hardly be later." White is
inclined to put it in the same year, "or early in 1594." Fur-
nivall and Stokes favour 1594 ; Fleay {Manual) says "prob-
ably 1595 ;" while Dyce (2d ed.) thinks it was "perhaps not
long before 1597, the date of the earliest quarto. "f If the
allusion to "Richard" in the 22d of John Weever's Epi-
• grammes^ addressed "Ad Gulielmum Shakespeare," is to
Richard III. y 2iS the critics generally agree, the date of the
play cannot well be later than 1595, as the Epigrammes^ ac-
cording to Drake and Ingleby, were written in 1595, though
not printed until 1599.

The internal evidence is in favour of as early a date as
1594. Stokes remarks: "There are many signs of compar-
atively early work; for instance, the prologue -like speech

* Malone preferred the quarto, as do the Cambridge editors, Staunton,
and (in his 2d ed.) Dyce. For a very full discussion of the relations of
the two texts, see the papers by Spedding and Peckersgill in the Trans-
actions of the New Shakspere Society, 1875-76, pp. I-124.

t Collier also (2d ed.), referring to Malone's date of 1593, is "disposed
to place it nearer the time of its original publication in 1597 ;" though
Stokes quotes him as agreeing with Malone.

12 RICHARD III.

with which the play opens ; * the scenes {(n-ixo/jLvdiai) where
the trilogy of the common lamentation of the women (ii. 2
and iv. i) alternates like a chorus, dramatic truth being sac-
rificed to the lyric or epic form, and to conceits in the style
of the pastoral Italian poetry * (Gervinus) ; the overstraining
of many of the characters; and the analysis of motive some-
times exhibited." Oechelhauser {Essay uber .Richard IIL)
observes that this play marks "the significant boundary-
stone which separates the works of Shakespeare's youth
from the immortal works of the period of his fuller splen-
dour."*.

II. THE SOURCES OF THE PLOT.

Shakespeare found his materials in Holinshed and Hall,
who for this portion of English history were chiefly indebted
to Sir Thomas More. Dowden {FHmer^ p. 79) remarks:
" Holin shed's account gives two views of Richard's char-
acter : one in the portion of history previous to the death of
Edward IV., in which Richard is painted in colours not so
deeply, so diabolically black; and the second, in which he
appears as he does in Shakspere's play. This second and
darker representation of Richard was derived by Holinshed
from Sir Thomas More's History of Edward IV. and Rich-
ard III., 2iVid More himself probably derived it from Cardi-
nal Morton, chancellor of Henry VIII. and the enemy of
Richard."

A Latin tragedy on some of the events of Richard's reign,
written by Dr. Legge, was acted at Cambridge before 1583;
and an English play, probably written before Shakespeare's,
was published in 1594, with the following title-page: "The
True Tragedie of Richard the third : Wherein is showne the

* See also extract from Furnivall, p. 33 below. In Guesses at Truth,
Augustus Hare argues that the fact that Richard boldly acknowledges
his deliberate wickedness, instead of endeavouring to palliate or excuse
it like £dmund or lago, shows that Shakespeare wrote this drama in his
youth.

INTRODUCTION,

death of Edward the fourth, with the smothering of the two
yoong Princes in the Tower: With a lamentable ende of
Shores wife, an example for all wicked women. And lastly,
the coniunction and ioyning of the two noble Houses, Lan-
caster and Yorke. As it was playd by the Queenes Males-
ties Players. London Printed by Thomas Creede, and are
to be sold by William Barley, at his shop in Newgate Market,
neare Christ Church doore. 1594."* Shakespeare certainly
made no use of the former of these plays, and little, if any,
of the latter.

With regard to " the degree of dramatic invention to be
ascribed to the poet in this brilliant delineation of the most
splendid theatrical villain of any stage," Verplanck remarks :
" More had given the dramatist nearly all his incidents, and
many of those minor details of Richard's person, manner, and
character which give life and individuality to his portrait.
He, and the subsequent chroniclers who built upon his work,
had shown Richard as a bold, able, ambitious, bad man —
they had described him as malicious, deceitful, envious, and
cruel. The poet has made the usurper a nobler and loftier
spirit than the historians had done, while he deepened every
dark shadow of guilt they had gathered around his mind or
his acts. The mere animal courage of the soldier he has
raised into a kindling and animated spirit of daring; he has
brought out his wit, his resource, his talent, his mounting
ambition, far more vividly than prior history had exhibited
them. His deeds of blood are made to appear, not as in the
Tudor chronicles, as prompted by gratuitous ferocity or en-
vious malignity, but as the means employed by selfish ambi-
tion for its own ends, careless of the misery which it inflicts,
or the moral obligations on which it tramples. The Richard
of Shakespeare has no communion with his kind — he feels

♦This play was reprinted by the Shakespeare Society in 1S44 from
the only perfect copy (now in the collection of the Duke of Devonshire)
that has come down to us. Dr. Legge's Latin tragedy is appended to it

14 kICHARD tit,

himself at once aloof from others and above them — he is
* himself alone;' and he therefore neither partakes in the
hatred nor the love or pity of * men like one another.' Ac-
cordingly, every thing that gives the poetic cast and dramatic
life and spirit ^o the character — every thing that elevates
Richard above the cruel, artful, cold-blooded tyrant of the
old hrstorians — all that mingles a sort of admiring interest
with our abhorrence of him, and invests the deformity of his
nature with a terrible majesty — is the poet's own conception ;
and he produces these effects not by the invention of new
incident, but by the pervading spirit with which he has ani-
mated the language and sentiments, and the vivid colouring
he has thus thrown over the old historical representation."

III. CRITICAL COMMENTS ON THE PLAY.
[From SchlegeVs ^^ Dramatic Liter aturey*\
The part o\ Richard the Third hz.^^ become highly celebrated
in Englarfd from its having been filled by excellent perform-
ers, and this has naturally had an influence on the admiration
of the piece itself, for many readers of Shakspeare stand in
want of good interpreters of the poet to understand him
properly. This admiration is certainly in every respect well
founded, though I cannot help thinking there is an injustice
in considering the three parts of Henry the Sixth as of little
value compared with Richard the Third, These four plays
were undoubtedly composed in succession, as is proved by
the style and the spirit in the handling of the subject. The
last is definitely announced in the one which precedes it, and
is also full of references to it \ the same views run through
the series; in a word, the whole make together only one sin-
gle work. Even the deep characterization of Richard is by
no means the exclusive property of the piece which bears his
name. His character is very distinctly drawn in the two

* Lectures on Dramatic Art and Literature^ by A. W. Schlegel ; Black's
translation, revised by Morrison (London, 1846), p. 435 fol

INTRODUCTION,

last parts of Henry the Sixth ; nay, even his first speeches
lead us already to form the most unfavourable anticipations of
his future conduct. He lowers obliquely like a dark thunder-
cloud on the horizon, which gradually approaches nearer and
nearer, and first pours out the devastating elements with
which it is charged when it hangs over the heads of mortals.
Two of Richard^s most significant soliloquies, which enable
us to draw the most important conclusions with regard to
his mental temperament, are to be found in the last part of
Henry the Sixth. As to the value and the justice of the ac-
tions to which passion impels us, we may be blind, but wick-
edness cannot mistake its own nature. Richard, as well as
lago, is a villain with full consciousness. That they should
say this in so many words is not perhaps in human nature;
but the poet has the right in soliloquies to lend a voice to tfie
most hidden thoughts, otherwise the form of the monologue
would, generally speaking, be censurable. Richard's de-
formity is the expression of his internal malice, and perhaps,
in part, the effect of it ; for where is the ugliness that would
not be softened by benevolence and openness? He, how-
ever, considers it as an iniquitous neglect of nature, which
justifies him in taking his revenge on that human society
from which it is the means of excluding him. Hence these
sublime lines :

"And this word love, which greybeards call divine,
Be resident in men like one another,
And not in me ; I am myself alone."

Wickedness is nothing but selfishness designedly unconscien-
tious ; however, it can never do altogether without the form
at least of morality, as this is the law of all thinking beings-
it must seek to found its depraved way of acting on some-
thing like principles. Although Richard is thoroughly ac-
quainted with the blackness of his mind and his hellish mis-
sion, he yet endeavours to justify this to himself by a sophism.
The happiness of being beloved is denied to him ; what then

i6 RICHARD III,

remains to him but the happiness of ruling ? All that stands
in the way of this must be removed. This envy of the enjoy-
ment of love is so much the more natural in Richard, as his
brother Edward, who, besides, preceded him in the possession
of the crown, was distinguished by the nobleness and beauty
of his figure, and was an almost irresistible conqueror of
female hearts. Notwithstanding his pretended renunciation,
Richard places his chief vanity in being able to please and
win over the women, if not by his figure, at least by his in-
sinuating discourse. Shakspeare here shows us, with his ac-
customed acuteness of observation, that human nature, even
when it is altogether decided in goodness or wickedness, is
still subject to petty infirmities. Richard's favourite amuse-
ment is to ridicule others, and he possesses an eminent satir-
ical wit. He entertains at bottom a contempt for all man-
kind ; for he is confident of his ability to deceive them,
whether as his instruments or his adversaries. In hypocrisy
he is particularly fond of using religious forms, as if actuated
by a desire of profaning in the service of hell the religion
whose blessings he had inwardly abjured.

So much for the main features of Richard's character.
The play named after him embraces also the latter part of
the reign of Edward IV., in the whole a period of eight
years. It exhibits all the machinations by which Richard
obtained the throne, and the deeds which he perpetrated to
secure himself in its possession, which lasted, however, but
two years. Shakspeare intended that terror rather than
compassion should prevail throughout this tragedy. He has
rather avoided than sought the pathetic scenes which he had
at command. Of all the sacrifices to Richard's lust of power,
Clarence alone is put to death on the stage. His dream ex-
cites a deep horror, and proves the omnipotence of the poet's
fancy. His conversation with the murderers is powerfully
agitating; but the earlier crimes of Clarence merited death,
although not from his brother's hand, The most innocent

INTRODUCTION.

and unspotted sacrifices are the two princes. We see but
little of them, and their murder is merely related. Anne
disappears without our learning any thing further respecting
her. In marrying the murderer of her husband, she had
shown a weakness almost incredible.' The parts of Lord
Rivers, and other friends of the queen, are of too secondary
a nature to excite a powerful sympathy. Hastings, from his
triumph at the fall of his friend, forfeits all title to compas-
sion. Buckingham is the satellite of the tyrant, who is after-
wards consigned by him to the axe of the executioner. In
the background the widowed Queen Margaret appears as the
fury of the past, who invokes a curse on the future. Every
calamity which her enemies draw down on each other is a
cordial to her revengeful heart. Other female voices join,
from time to time, in the lamentations and imprecations.
But Richard is the soul, or rather the demon, of the whole
tragedy. He fi^lfils the promise which he formerly made of
leading the murderous Machiavel to school. Notwithstand-
ing the uniform aversion with which he inspires us, he still
engages us in the greatest variety of ways by his profound
skill in dissimulation, his wit, his prudence, his presence of
mind, his quick activity, and his valour. He fights at last
against Richmond like a desperado, and dies the honourable
death of a hero on the field of battle. Shakspeare could not
change this historical issue, and yet it is by no means satis-
factory to our moral feelings, as Lessing, when speaking of a
German play on the same subject, has very judiciously re-
marked. How has Shakspeare solved this difficulty ? By a
wonderful invention he opens a prospect into the other
world, and shows us Richard in his last moments already
braeded with the stamp of reprobation. We see Richard
and Richmond in the night before the battle sleeping in
their tents ; tiie spirits of the murdered victims of the tyrant
ascend in succession, and pour out their curses against him,
and their blessings on his adversary. These apparitions are

l8 RICHARD III.

properly but the dreams of the two generals represented vis-
ibly. It is no doubt contrary to probability that their tents
should only be separated by so small a space ; but Shak-
speare could reckon on poetical spectators who were ready
to take the breadth of the stage for the distance between two
hostile camps, if for such indulgence they were to be recom-
pensed by beauties of so sublime a nature as this series of
spectres and Richard^s awakening soliloquy. The catastrophe
of Richard the Third is, in respect of the external events,
very like that of Macbeth, We have only to compare the
thorough difference of handling them to be convinced that
Shakspeare has most accurately observed poetical justice
in the genuine sense of the word, that is, as signifying the
revelation of an invisible blessing or curse which hangs over
human sentiments and actions.

[From Drakes ^' Shakespeare and his Ttmes.^'*]
The character of Richard the Third, which had been
opened in so masterly a manner in the Concluding Part of
Henry the Sixth, is, in this play, developed in all its horrible
grandeur. It is, in fact, the picture of a demoniacal incarna-
tion, moulding the passions and foibles of mankind, with su-
perhuman precision, to its own iniquitous purposes. Of this
isolated and peculiar state of being Richard himself seems
sensible when he declares —

" I have no brother, I am like no brother :
And this word love, which greybeards call divine,
Be resident in men like one another,
And not in me ; I am myself alone."

From a delineation like this Milton must have caught
many of the most striking features of his Satanic portrait.
The same union of unmitigated depravity and consummate
intellectual energy characterizes both, and renders what

'* Shakespeare and his Times, by Nathan Drake, M.D. (London, 1817),
vol. ii. p. 373.

INTRODUCTION,

would otheiVise be loathsome and disgusting an object of
sublimity and shuddering admiration.

The task, however, which Shakespeare undertook was, in
one instance, more arduous than that which Milton subse-
quently attempted ; for, in addition to the hateful constitution
of Richard's moral character, he had to contend also against
the prejudices arising from personal deformity, from a figure

" curtaird of its fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
DeformM, unfinished, sent before its time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up.*'

And yet, in spite of these striking personal defects, which
were considered, also, as indicatory of the depravity and
wickedness of his nature, the poet has contrived, through
the medium of high mental endowments, not only to obviate
disgust, but to excite extraordinary admiration.

One of the most prominent and detestable vices, indeed,
in Richard's character, his hypocrisy, connected, as it always
is, in his person, with the most profound skill and dissimula-
tion, has, owing to the various parts which it induces him to
assume, most materially contributed to the popularity of this
play, both on the stage and in the closet. He is one who can

''frame his face to all occasions," -
and accordingly appears, during the course of his career,
under the contrasted forms of a subject and a monarch,
a politician and a wit, a soldier and a suitor, a sinner
and a saint; and in all with such apparent ease and fidelity
to nature, that while to the explorer of the human mind he
affords, by his penetration and address, a subject of pecul-
iar interest and delight, he offers to the practised performer
a study well calculated to call forth his fullest and finest
exertions.

^o overwhelming and exclusive is the character of Rich-
ard, that the comparative insignificancy of all the other per-
sons of the drama may be necessarily inferred ; they are re-

20 RICHARD III.

fleeted to us, as it were, from his mirror, and become mor6
or less important, and more or less developed, as he finds it
necessary to act upon them } so that our estimate of their
character is entirely founded on his relative conduct, through
which we may very correctly appreciate their strength or
weakness.

The only exception to this remark is in the person of
Queen Margaret, who, apart from the agency of Richard,
and dimly seen in the darkest recesses of the picture, pours
forth, in union with the deep tone of this tragedy, the most
dreadful curses and imprecations; with such a wild and
prophetic fury, indeed, as to involve the whole scene in
tenfold gloom and horror.

We have to add that the moral of this play is great and
impressive. Richard, having excited a general sense of in-
dignation, and a general desire of revenge, and unaware of
his danger from having lost, through familiarity with guilt,
all idea of moral obligation, becomes at length the victim of
his own enormous crimes ; he falls not unvisited by the ter-
rors of conscience, for, on the eve of danger and of death,
the retribution of another world is placed before him ; the
spirits of those whom he had murdered reveal the awful sen-
tence of his fate, and his bosom heaves with the infliction of
eternal torture.

\From Verplanck's ''Shakespeare:'*]
Richard III, is, and long has been — taking the stage and
the closet together — the most universally and uninterrupt-
edly popular of its author's works. Few of Shakespeare's
plays passed through more than two or three editions, as
they originally appeared, separately, in the customary form
of quarto pamphlets. Of Hamlet^ which seems to have been
the most popular of the other tragedies, there are but six of

♦ The Illustrated Shakespeare, edited by G. C. Verplanck (New York,
1847), vol. i. p. 5 of Richard III

INTRODUCTION, jf

these editions; while oi Richard III, ^ between 1597 and 1634,
we have, in addition to the copies in the first two folios, no
less than eight separate editions, still preserved ; and it is
possible that there may have been yet another, no longer ex-
tant. There are also more references and allusions to it, in
the writings of Shakespeare's contemporaries, and in those
of the next generation of authors, than to any other of his
works. For instance, Bishop Corbet, in his poems, Fuller,
in his Church History^ and Milton, in one of his prose con-
troversial tracts, all refer to it as familiar to their readers.
It has kept perpetual possession of the stage, either in its
primitive form, or as altered and adapted to the tastes of the
times by Colley Gibber or by John Kemble. In one or
other of these forms Richard III. has been the favourite
character of all the eminent English tragedians, from Bur-
bage, the original " Crookback," who was identified in his
day, in the public mind, with the part,* through the long suc-
cession of the monarchs of the English stage — Betterton,

* Corbet, the witty and poetical Bishop of Oxford, in his Iter BoreaU^-
a poetical narrative of a journey, in the manner of Horace's Journey U
BrundusiuMf first printed in 1617-^thus incidentally records the popu-
larity of the play and of its theatrical hero, in his account of a visit to
Bosworth Field (misquoted by Verplanck and all the other editors) :
** Mine host was full of ale and history,

And in the morning when he brought us nigh

Where the two Roses join'd, you would suppose

Chaucer ne'er made the Romaunt of the Rose.

Hear him. See ye yon wood? There Richard lay

With his whole army. Look the other way,

And, lo 1 where Richmond in a bed of gorse

Encamped himself o'er night, and all his force :

Upon this hill they met Why, he could tell

The inch where Richmond stood, where Richard fell.

Besides what of his knowledge he could say,

He had authentic notice from the play ;

Which I might guess by 's must'ring up the ghostfl^

And policies not incident to hosts;

But chiefly by that one perspicuous thing

Where he mistook a player for a king.

For when he would have said, King Richard died.

And call'd, A horse I a horse I he Burbage cried.**

^2 RICHARD III,

Gibber, Quin, Garrick, Henderson, Kemble, Cooke, Kean —
down to our own days.

Yet, in all the higher attributes of the poetic drama, Rich-
ard III, bears no comparison with the poet's greater trag-
edies, or with the graver scenes of his more brilliant com-
edies. Intellectually and poetically, it must be assigned to
a much lower class than Romeo and Juliet or Othello ; than
Lear or Macbeth; than the Tempest or the Merchant of Venice.
It does not exhibit that profusion of intellectual wealth which,
in all the poet's greater works, overflows in every sentence,
crowding his dialogue with thought, and continually evolving
suggestions of the largest and deepest truth, from the indi-
vidual passion, character, or incident of the scene. Nor does
it display that fresh-springing and exuberant fancy, that ex-
quisite and perpetually present sense of the beautiful, which
intertwines the stern thoughts and dai*k contemplations even
of Hamlet and Lear with matchless delicacies of thought and
expression, and unexpected images of sweetness or joy.

If we except Clarence's dream, and the description of the
murder of the young princes in the Tower — passages such as
the author of Hamlet alone could have written — this favour-
ite tragedy has no scenes of the deeply pathetic or the awful-
ly grand or terrible. Its power and its elevation consist in
the grand, original, and sustained conception of its one prin-
cipal character, almost sublime in its demoniac heroism, in
its unflagging energy of heroic guilt " without remorse or
dread" — compelling us, in spite of personal and moral de-
formity, in spite of falsehood, fraud, treachery, and cruelty, to
admire what we detest. Thus its merit is almost exclusively
dramatic, keeping up a constant and excited attention and
interest, by the truth and spirit of its acted and living narra-
tive, the rapid succession of stirring incidents, and the vivid
portraiture of impressive character — all sustained by ani-
mated dialogue, and occasionally by kindling declamation.
The hold on public favour it took at once, and has continued

INTRODUCTION, 23

to hold for two centuries and a half, through every variation
of popular taste, is the highest and unquestionable proof that,
in all these respects, though but faintly marked with other
Shakespearian characteristics, it is a work of wonderful orig-
inality, vigour, fertility, and power of impression.

The connection of this tragedy with the three parts of
Henry VI, (and especially with the last) is very striking.
This connection differs altogether from that observable be-
tween the dramas of Jlmry IV. and Henry K, and those
which succeed them in chronological order. Between those,
the connection is little more than that which must result
from. the plot's being drawn from the same common histor-
ical source. There is little or no reference, in either of the
three parts, to the dialogue or invention of the plays chrono-
logically preceding ; nor is there any thing to show that the
several pieces were actually written in the order of this nar-
rative, or to contradict the external evidence that the plays,
prior in chronological order were last written. Precisely the
reverse holds true as to Henry VI. and Richard III There
is here not merely historical agreement, but the latter play
is evidently the production of one whose mind was filled with
the characters, dialogue, and subsidiary incidents of the pre-
ceding dramas. The tyrant- hero is himself but the full-
grown, gigantic development of the young Gloster oi Henry
VI, as Margaret is but the sequel, in her bitter, vindictive
old age, of the very Margaret, not of dry history, but of these
dramas.

[Frtm DcwderCs '' Shakspere:"^\

Certain qualities which make it unique among the dramas
of Shakspere characterize the play o{ King Richard III Its
manner of conceiving and presenting character has a cer-
tain resemblance, not elsewhere to be found in Shakspere's
writings, to the ideal manner of Marlowe. As in the plays

'* Shakspere: a Critical Study of his Mind and Art^hj '£.6,^2x6. Dowden
(2d ed. London, 1876), p. 180 foL (by permission).

24 RICHARD IIL

of Marlowe, there is here one dominant figure distinguished
by a few strongly marked and inordinately developed qual-
ities. There is in the characterization no mystery, but much
of a daemonic intensity. Certain passages are entirely in the
lyrical-dramatic style; an emotion, which is one and the
same, occupying at the same moment two or three of the
personages, and obtaining utterance through them almost
simultaneously, or in immediate succession; as a musical
motive is interpreted by an orchestra, or taken up singly by
successive instruments :

** Queen Elizabeth. Was never widow had so dear a loss!
''* Children, Were never orphans had so dear a loss I
^^ Duchess. Was never mother had so dear a loss I
Alas ! I am the mother of these griefs."

The daemonic intensity which distinguishes the play pro-
ceeds from the character of Richard, as from its source and
. centre. As with the chief personages of Marlowe's plays, so
Richard in this play rather occupies the imagination by au-
dacity and force, than insinuates himself through some sub-
tle solvent, some magic and mystery of art. His character
does not grow upon us; from the first it is complete. We
are not curious to discover what Richard is, as we are curi-
ous to come into presence of the soul of Hamlet. We are in
no doubt about Richard ; but it yields us a strong sensation
to observe him in various circumstances and situations; we
are roused and animated by the presence of almost super-
human energy and power, even though that power and that
energy be malign.

Coleridge has said of Richard that pride of intellect is his
characteristic. This is true, but his dominant characteristic
is not intellectual; it is rather a daemonic energy of will.
The same cause which produces tempest and shipwreck
produces Richard; he is a fierce elemental power raging
through the world ; but this elemental power is concentrated
in a human will. The need of action is with Richard an ap-

INTRODUCTION,

petite to which all the other appetites are subordinate. He
requires space in the world to bustle in ; his will must wreak
itself on men and things. All that is done in the play pro-
ceeds from Richard ; there is, as has been observed by Mr.
Hudson, no interaction. " The drama is not so much a com-
position of co-operative characters, mutually developing and
developed, as the prolonged yet hurried outcome of a single
character, to which the other persons serve but as exponents
and conductors; as if he were a volume of electricity disclos-
ing himself by means of others, and quenching their active
powers in the very process of doing so."*

Richard with his distorted and withered body, his arm
shrunk like " a blasted sapling," is yet a sublime figure by
virtue of his energy of will and tremendous power of intel-
lect All obstacles give way before him — the courage of
men, and the bitter animosity of women. And Richard has
a passionate scorn of men, because they are weaker and
more obtuse than he, the deformed outcast of nature. He
practises hypocrisy not merely for the sake of success, but
because his hypocrisy is a cynical jest, or a gross insult to
humanity. The Mayor of London has a bourgeois veneration
for piety and established forms of religion. Richard ad-
vances to meet him reading a book of prayers, and support-
ed on each side by a bishop. The grim joke, the contempt-
uous insult to the citizen faith in church and king, flatters
his malignant sense of power. To cheat a gull, a coarse
hypocrisy suffices. f ...

Richard's cynicism and insolence have in them a kind of
grim mirth; such a bonhomie as might be met with among
the humorists of Pandemonium. His brutality is a manner
of joking with a purpose. When his mother, with Queen

* Shakespeare^ his Life^ Arty and Characters, vol. ii. p. 156.

t The plan originates with Buckingham, but Richard plays his part
with manifest delight Shakspere had no historical authority for the
presence of the bishops. See Skottowe*s Life of Shakspeare^ vol. L
pp. 195-96.

26 RICHARD III.

Elizabeth, comes by " copious in exclaims/' ready to '' smoth-
er her damned son in the breath of bitter words," the mirth'
ful Richard calls for a flourish of trumpets to drown these
shrill female voices :

''A flourish, trumpets I strike alarum, drums !
Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women
Rail on the Lord's anointed. Strike, I say !"

On an occasion when hypocrisy is more serviceable than
brutality, Richard kneels to implore his mother's blessing,
but has a characteristic word of contemptuous impiety to
utter aside : '

^^ Duchess, God bless thee and put meekness in thy breast,
Love, charity, obedience, and true duty !

^* Richard. Amen ! 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."

He plays his part before his future wife, the Lady Anne,
laying open his breast to the sword's point with a malicious
confidence. He knows the measure of woman's frailty, and
relies on the spiritual force of his audacity and dissimulation
to subdue the weak hand which tries to lift the sword.
With no friends to back his suit, with nothing but " the plain
devil and dissembling looks," he wins his bride. The hid-
eous irony of such a courtship, the mockery it implies of hu-
man love, is enough to make a man " your only jigmaker,"
and sends Richard's blood dancing along his veins.

While Richard is plotting for the crown. Lord Hastings
threatens to prove an obstacle in the way. What is to be
done ? Buckingham is dubious and tentative :

" Now, my lord, what shall we do, if we perceive
Lord Hastings will not yield to our complots ?"

With sharp detonation, quickly begun and quickly over,
Richard's answer is discharged, " Chop oflf his head, man."
There can be no beginning, middle, or end to a deed so
simple and so summary. Presently Hastings making sun-

INTRODUCTION,

dry small assignations for future days and weeks, goes, a
murdered man, to the conference at the Tower. Richard,
whose startling figure emerges from the background through-
out the play with small regard for verisimilitude and always
at the most effective moment, is suddenly on the spot, just
as Hastings is about to give his voice in the conference
as though he were the representative of the absent Duke.
Richard is prepared, when the opportune instant has ar-
rived, to spring a mine under Hastings's feet. But mean-
while a matter of equal importance concerns him — my Lord
of Ely's strawberries. The flavour of Holborn strawberries
is exquisite, and the fruit must be sent for. Richard's de-
sire to appear disengaged from sinister thought is less im-
portant to note than Richard's need of indulging a cynical
contempt of human life. The explosion takes place ; Hast-
ings is seized; and the delicacies are reserved until the
head of Richard's enemy is off. There is a wantonness of
diablerie in this incident :

" Talk'st thou to me of ifs f Thou art a traitor.—
Off with Jiis head ! Now by Saint Paul I swear
I will not dine until I see the same."*

The fiery energy of Richard is at its simplest, unmingled
with irony or dissimulation, in great days of military move-
ment and of battle. Then the force within him expends it-
self in a paroxysm which has all the intensity of ungovern-
able spasmodic action, and which is yet organized and con-
trolled by his intellect. Then he is engaged at his truest
devotions, and numbers his Ave-Maries, not with beads, but
with ringing strokes upon the helmets of his foes.f He is
inspired with "the spleen of fiery dragons;" "a thousand
hearts are great within his bosom." On the eve of the bat-

♦ This scene, including the incident of the dish of strawberries, is from
Sir T. More's history. See Courtenay*s Commentaries on Shakespeare^
vol. i). pp. 84-87.

t 3 Henry VI ii. j.

28 RICHARD III.

tie of Bosworth Field, Richard, with uncontrollable eager
ness, urges his inquiry into the minutiae of preparation which
may insure success. He lacks his usual alacrity of spirit,
yet a dozen subalterns would hardly suffice to. receive the
orders which he rapidly enunciates. He is upon the wing of
" fiery expedition :"

**I will not sup to-night Give me some ink and paper.
What, is my beaver easier than it was ?
And all my armour laid within my tent?

Catesby, It is, my liege, and all things are in readiness.

King Richard. Good Norfolk, hie thee to thy charge;
Use careful watch, choose trusty sentinels.

Norfolk, I go, my lord.

JCing Richard, Stir with the lark to-morrow, gentle Norfolk.

Norfolk, I warrant you, my lord.

ICing Richard. Catesby !

Catesby. My lord ?

King Richard, Send out a pursuivant at arms
To Stanley's regiment; bid him bring his power
Before sun-rising, lest his son George fall
Into the blind cave of eternal night

Fill me a bowl of wine. Give me a watch. — • [Exit Catesby.
Saddle White Surrey for the field to-morrow.
Look that my staves be sound, and not too heavy. —
Ratcliff!"

And, learning from RatclifF that Northumberland and Sur-
rey are alert, giving his last direction that his attendant
should return at midnight to help him to arm, King Richard
retires into his tent.

In all his military movements, as in the whole of Richard's
career, there is something else than self-seeking. It is true
that Richard, like Edmund, like lago, is solitary ; he has no
friend, no brother ; " I am myself alone ;" and all that Rich-
ard achieves tends to his own supremacy. Nevertheless, the
central characteristic of Richard is not self-seeking or ambi-
tion. It is the necessity of releasing and letting loose upon
the world the force within him (mere force in which there is

INTRODUCTION.

nothing moral), the necessity of deploying before himself and
others the terrible resources of his will. One human tie
Shakspere attributes to Richard ; contemptuous to his moth-
er, indifferent to the life or death of Clarence and Edward,
except as their life or death may serve his own attempt upon
the crown, cynically loveless towards his feeble and unhappy
wife, Richard admires with an enthusiastic admiration his
great father :

" Methinks 't is prize enough to be his son."

And the memory of his father supplies him with a family
pride which, however, does not imply attachment or loyalty
to any member of his house.

"but I was born so high;
Our aery buildeth in the cedar's top,
And dallies with the wind and scorns the sun."

History supplied Shakspere with the figure of his Richard.
He has been accused of darkening the Colours, and exagger-
ating the deformity of the character of the historical Richard
found in More and Holinshed. The fact is precisely the con-
trary. The mythic Richard of the historians (and there must
have been some appalling fact to originate such a myth) is
made somewhat less grim and bloody by the dramatist.*
Essentially, however, Shakspere's Richard is of the diabol-
ical (something more dreadful than the criminal) class. He
is not weak, because he is single-hearted in his devotion to
evil. Richard does not serve two masters. He is not like
John, a dastardly criminal ; he is not like Macbeth, joyless
and faithless because he has deserted loyalty and honour.
He has a fierce joy, and he is an intense believer — in the

* See the detailed study of this play by W. Oechelhaiiser in Jahrbuch
ier deutscken Shakespeare- Geselhchafty^oi. iii. pp. 37-39, and pp. 47, 53.
Holinshed's treatment of the character of Richard is hardly in harmony
with itself. From the death of Edward IV. onwards the Richard of
Holinshed resembles Shakspere's Richard, but possesses fainter traces
if humamity.

JO RICHARD in.

creed of hell. And therefore he is strong. He inverts the
moral order of things, and tries to live in this inverted sys-
tem. He does not succeed ; he dashes himself to pieces
against the laws of the world which he has outraged. Yet,
while John is wholly despicable, we cannot refrain from
yielding a certain tribute of admiration to the bolder male-
factor, who ventures on the daring experiment of choosing
evil for his good.

Such an experiment, Shakspere declares emphatically, as
experience and history declare, must in the end fail. The
ghosts of the usurper's victims rise between the camps, and
are to Richard the Erinnyes, to Richmond inspirers of hope
and victorious courage. At length Richard trembles on the
brink of annihilation, trembles over the loveless gulf:

"I shall despair; there is no creature loves me;
And if I die, no soul shall pity me."

But the stir of battle restores him to resolute thoughts:
" Come, bustle, bustle, caparison my horse," and he dies in
a fierce paroxysm of action. Richmond conquers, and he
conquers expressly as the champion and representative of
the moral order of the world, which Richard had endeav-
oured to set aside :

** 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 thy victory."

The figure of Queen Margaret is painfully persistent upon
the mind's eye, and tyrannizes, almost as much as the figure
of King Richard himself, over the imagination. " Although
banished upon pain of death, she returns to England to as-
sist at the intestine conflicts of the House of York. Shak-
"nere personifies in her the ancient Nemesis; he gives hei

INTRODUCTION, 31

more than human proportions, and represents her as a sort
of supernatural apparition. She penetrates freely into the
palace of Edward IV.. she there breathes forth her hatred
in presence of the family of York and its courtier attendants.
No one dreams of arresting her, although she is an exiled
woman, and she goes forth, meeting no obstacle, as she had
entered. The same magic ring, which on the first occasion
opened the doors of the royal mansion, opens them for hei
once again, when Edward IV. is dead, and his sons have
been assassinated in the Tower by the order of Richard. *
She came, the first time, to curse he;* enemies ; she comes
now to gather the fruits of her malediction. Like an aveng-
ing Fury, or the classical Fate, she has announced to each
his doom."*

[From Mr, F, J, FumwalPs Introduction to the Play,X\
Richard the Third is written on the model of Shakspere's
great rival, Christopher Marlowe, the Canterbury cobbler's
son, who was stabbed in a tavern brawl on June i, 1593. It
was Marlowe's characteristic to embody in a character, and
realize with terrific force, the workings of a single passion.
In Tamburlaine he personified the lust of dominion, in Fans-
tus the lust of forbidden power and knowledge, in Barabas
(The yew of Malta) the lust of wealth and blood (J. A. Sy-
monds). In Richard III, Shakspere embodied ambition,
and sacrificed his whole play to this one figure. Gloster's
first declaration of his motives shows, of course, the young
dramatist, as the want of relief in the play, and the monot-
ony of its curses, also do. But Richard's hypocrisies, his
exultation in them, his despising and insulting his victims^
his grim humour and delight in gulling fools, and in his own
villainy, are admirably brought out, and that no less than
thirteen times in the play. i. With Clarence. 2. With Hast-

* A. Meziires, Shakespeare^ ses (Euvres et ses Critiques^ p. 139.
t The Leopold Shakspere (London, 1877), p. xxxix. (by permission)^^

32 RICHARD in.

ings. 3. With Anne, widow of Prince Edward, Henry the
Sixth's son, whom Richard the Third, when Gloster, had
stabbed. 4. With Queen Elizabeth, with Rivers and Hast-
ings, and possibly in his professed repentance for the wrongs
he did Queen Margaret in murdering her son and husband.*
5. With Edward the Fourth on his death-bed, and his queen,
and lords, and as to the author of Clarence's death. 6. With
his nephew, Clarence's son. 7. With Queen Elizabeth and
his mother, "Amen ! And make me die a good old man 1"

8. With Buckingham, " I as a child will go by thy direction.'*

9. With the young prince, Edward the Fifth, " God keep you
from them and from such false friends." 10. With Hastings
and the Bishop of Ely. 11. With the Mayor about Hastings
and then about taking the crown — (note Richard's utter
brutality and baseness in his insinuation of his mother's
adultery). 12. With Buckingham about the murder of the
princes. 13. With Queen Elizabeth when he repeats the
scene of his wooing with Anne, as the challenge-scene is re-
peated in Richard II, Villain as he is, he has the villain's
coolness too. He never loses temper, except when he strikes
the third messenger. As a general he is as skilful as Henry
the Fifth, and looks to his sentinels; while, like Henry the
Fourth, he is up and doing at the first notice of danger, and
takes the right practical measures. Yet the conscience he
ridicules, he is made to feel —

"there is no creature loves me;
And if I die, no soul shall pity me.''

But we must note that this is only when his will is but half
awake, half paralyzed by its weight of sleep. As soon as the
man is himself again, neither conscience nor care for love or
pity troubles him. The weakest part of the play is the scene
of the citizens' talk ; and the poorness of it, and the monot-
ony of the women's curses, have given rise to the theory that

* I have always, though, considered thi? genuine repentance, or at
Wast a genuine profession of it

INTRODUCTION. 33

in Richard IIL Shakspere was only re-writing an old play,
of which he let bits stand. But though I once thought this
possible, I have since become certain that it is not so. The
wooing of Anne by Richard has stirred me, in reading it
aloud, almost as much as any thing else in Shakspere. Note,
too, how the first lines of the play lift you out of the mist and
confusion of the Henry VI. plays into the sun of Shakspere*s
genius.

Note by the Editor.— Mr. James Russell Lowell, in a lecture at Chi-
cago, February 22, 1887, expressed the opinion that the play was merely
revised by Shakespeare. ** It appears to me," he said, " that an exam-
ination of Richard III, plainly indicates that it is a play which Shake-
speare adapted to the stage, making additions, sometimes longer and
sometimes shorter ; and toward the end he either grew weary of his work
or was pressed for time, and left the older author, whoever he was, pretty
much to himself."

This does not differ essentially from the decision to which Mr. F. G.
Fleay has come in his Chronicle History of Shakespeare^ published in 1886
(p. 276) :

" Richard IIL has always been regarded as entirely Shakespeare's,
and its likeness to 3 Henry VI. has more than anything else kept' alive
the untenable belief that this last-named play was also, in part or wholly,
written by our greatest dramatist. Yet the unlikeness of Richard III. to
the other historical plays of Shakespeare, and the impracticability of find-
ing a definite position for it, metrically or aesthetically, in any chrono-
logical arrangement, have made themselves felt. . . . There can be little
doubt that in this, as in John, Shakespeare derived his plot and part of
his text from an anterior play, the difference in !he two cases being that
in Richard III. he adopted much more of his predecessor's text. I be-
lieve that the anterior play was Marlowe's, partly written for Lord
Strange's company in 1593, but left unfinished at Marlowe's death, and
completed and altered by Shakespeare in 1594. . . . The unhistorical but
grandly classical conception of Margaret, the Cassandra prophetess, the
Helen- Ate of the House of Lancaster, which binds the whole tetralogy
[the three parts of Henry VI. and Richard III.'\ into one work, is evi-
dently due to Marlowe, and the consummate skill with which he has
fused the heterogeneous contributions of his coadjutors in the two earlier
Henry VI. plays is no less worthy of admiration. I do not think it pos-
sible to separate Marlowe's work from Shakespeare's in this play — it is
worked in with too cunning a hand. . . . Could any critic, if the elder John
were destroyed, tell us which lines had been adopted in the later play ?"

It may be noted incidentally that what Mr. Lowell says of the marks
of less careful revision of the earlier work toward the two. o( Richard IIL
is curiously in accordance with Mr. Fleay's theory of the make-up of

INTRODUCTION,

that portion of the folio text; as given in Dr. Ingleby's Shakespeare i The
Man and the Booky Part II. p. 139. He says there that the folio text up
to a certain point in the third scene of act v. "gives the acting version
in use in 1622 ;" but from that point to the end " it is supplemented from
the 1602 quarto," the prompter's copy from which the rest was printed
being probably " deficient towards the conclusion."

Even so cautious and conservative a critic as Halliwell - Phillipps
recognizes indications of earlier work in the play. In his Outlines of the
Life of Shakespeare (6th ed. vol. i. p. 136 — where, however, the passage
is reprinted without change from the earlier editions), after referring to
the historical sources of the plot in More and Holinshed, he adds :

" There are also slight traces of an older play to be observed, passages
which may belong to an inferior hand, and incidents, such as that of the
rising of the ghosts,* suggested probably by similar ones in a more
ancient composition. That the play of Richard III.^ as we naw have it,
is essentially Shakespeare's, cannot admit of a doubt ; but as little can it
be questioned that to the circumstance of an anterior work on the subject
having been used do we owe some of its weakness and excessively turbu-
lent character. No copy of this older play is known to exist, but one
brief speech and the two following lines have been accidentally pre-
served :

' My liege, the Duke of Buckingham is ta'en,
And Banister is come for his reward' —

[compare Richard III, iv. 4. 529 : * My liege, the Duke of Buckingham
is taken '], from which it is clear that the new dramatist did not hesitate
to adopt an occasional line from his predecessor, although he entirely
omitted the character of Banister. Both plays must have been success-
ful, for, notwithstanding the great popularity of Shakespeare's, the more
ancient one sustained its ground on the English stage until the reign of
Charles I."

As we have said above (p. 1 1), the date of the play is probably as early
as 1594, if not 1593. ItS peculiarities and imperfections may be partially
due to a mingling of earlier work by another hand, but we are inclined to
agree with Halliwell- Phillipps that it is "essentially Shakespeare's."

♦ Mr. Lowell remarked that the procession of ghosts in the play always struck him
" as ludicrous and odd rather than impressive."

JdUG

DRAMATIS PERSON jE,

' Sons to
I the King.

King Edward the Fourth.
Edward, Prince of Wales, after- ]

wards King Edward V.,
Richard, Duke of York, j

George, Duke of Clarence, )

Richard, Duke of Gloster, after- V ^;"°***_^f^ *°

wards King Richard III., ) *"^ ^^S*

A young Son of Clarence.

Henry, Earl of Richmond, afterwards King Honry VII.
Cardinal Bouchier, Archbishop of Canterbury.
Thomas Rotherham. Archbishop of York.
John Mor ton, Bishop of Ely.
DuKB OF Buckingham.
Duke of Norfolk.
Earl of Surrey, his Son.
Earl Rivers, Brother to Elizabeth.
Marquis of' Dorset and Lord Grby, Sons to Elizabeth.
Earl of Oxford.
Lord Hastings.
Lord Stanley.
Lord Lovel.
Sir Thomas Vaughan.
Sir Richard Ratcliff.
Sir William Catesby.
Sir James Tyrrel.
Sir James Blount.
Sir Walter Herbert.

Sir Robert Br a ken bury, Lieutenant of the Tower.
Christopher Urswick, a Priest. Another Priest.

Lord Mayor of London. Sheriff of Wiltshire. A Keeper

in the Tower.
Elizabeth, Queen to King Edward IV.
Margaret, Widow of King Henry VI.
Duchess of York, Mother to King Edward IV.
Lady Anne, Widow of Edward, Prince of Wales.
A young Daughter of Clarence.

Lords, and other Attendants ; two Gentlemen, a Pursuivant,
Scrivener, Murderers, Messengers, Ghosts, Soldiers, etc.

Scene: England.

ACT I.

Scene I. London, A Street

Enter Gloster.

Gloster, Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York,
And all the clouds that lowered upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
•Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths,
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments,
Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visag'd war hath smoothed his wrinkled front ;
And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,

38 RICHARD III.

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 majestj
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph ;
I, that am curtailed of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deform 'd, 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 ; — .
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 determined to prove a villain.
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,
By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams.
To set my brother Clarence and the king
In deadly hate, the one against the other;
And if King Edward be as true and just
As I am subtle, false, and treacherous,
This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up.
About a prophecy, which says that G
Of Edward's heirs the murtherer shall be.
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul ; here Clarence comes.-

Enter Clarence, guarded^ and Brakenbury.

Brother, good day. What means this armed guard
That waits upon your grace ?

Clarence. His majesty,

ACT L SCENE / 3^

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

Gloster, Upon what cause ?

Clarence, Because my name is George.

Gloster, 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-christen*d in the Tower. s©

But what's the matter, Clarence? may I know?

Clarence, 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 cross-row 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, 60

Have mov'd his highness to commit me now.

Gloster, Why, this it is when men are rul'd by women !
T is not the king that sends you to the Tower;
My Lady Grey, his wife, Clarence, 't is 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. 70

Clarence, 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?

Gloster. Humbly complaining to her deity
Got my lord chamberlain his liberty.

RICHARD III.

V 11 tell you what ; I think it is our way,

If we will keep in favour with the king,

To be her men and wear her livery. 8«

The jealous overworn widow and herself,

Since that our brother dubb'd them gentlewomen.

Are mighty gossips in our monarchy.

Brakenbury, 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.

Gloster, Even so ; an please your worship, Brakenbury,
You may partake of any thing we say.

We speak no treason, man: we say the king 90

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?

Brakenbury, With this, my lord, myself have nought
to do.

Gloster. 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. 100

Brakenbury, What one, my lord ?

Gloster, Her husband, knave. Would 'st thou betray me?

Brakenbury. I beseech your grace to pardon me, and
withal
Forbear your conference with the noble duke.

Clarence, We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will obey.

Gloster, 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,

UiCr L SCENE L 41

I will perform it to enfranchise you. u©

Meantime, this deep disgrace in brotherhood
Touches me deeper than you can imagine.

Clarence. I know it pleaseth neither of us well.

Gloster, Well, your imprisonment shall not be long;
I will deliver yon, or else lie for you.
Meantime, have patience.

Clarence, I must perforce. Farewell.

\Eooeunt Clarence^ Brakenhury^ and Guard,

Gloster. 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.— lao

But who comes here? the new-deliver'd Hastings?

Enter Hastings.

Hastings, Good time of day unto my gracious lord!

Gloster, As much unto my good lord chamberlain !
Well are you welcome to this open air.
How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment?

Hastings, With patience, noble lord, as prisoners must;
But I shall live^ my lord, to give them thanks
That were the cause of my imprisonment.

Gloster, No doubt, no doubt; and so shall Clarence too:
For they that were your enemies are his, 130

And have prevailed as much on him as you.

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

Gloster. What news abroad ?

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

Gloster, Now, by Saint Paul, that news is bad indeed.
O, he hath kept an evil diet long.
And overmuch consumed his royal person ; h©

42 RICHARD III.

'T is very grievous to be thought upon.
Where is he? in his bed?

Hastings, He is.

Gloster. . 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 *11 in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence,
With lies well steeVd with weighty arguments;
And if I fail not in my deep intent,

Clarence hath not another day to live : 150

Which done, God take King Edward to his mercy,
And leave the world for me to bustle in !
For then I '11 marry Warwick's youngest daughter.
What though I kiird 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 : i6q

Clarenice 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 the Sixth, borne in an open
coffin. Gentlemen bearing halberds to guard it ; and Lady
Anne as mourner,

Anne, Set down, set down your honourable load,
If honour may be shrouded in a hearse,
Whilst I awhile obsequiously lament
The untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster. —
Poor key-cold figure of a holy king!
Pale ashes of the House of Lancaster!

ACT I. SCENE II. 43

Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood 1

Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost

To hear the lamentations of poor Anne,

Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughtered son, lo

Stabb'd by the selfsame hand that made these wounds !

Lo, in these windows, that let forth thy life,

I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes. —

O, cursed be the hand that made these holes !

Cursed the heart that had the heart to do it !

Cursed the blood that let this blood from hence !

More direful hap betide that hated wretch.

That makes us wretched by the death of thee,

Than I can wish to wolves, to spiders, toads,

Or any creeping venom'd thing that lives ! jo

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 ! —

Come, now towards Chertsey with your holy load,

Taken from Paul's to be interred there; 30

And still, as you are weary of the weight.

Rest you, whiles I lament King Henry's corse.

[^The Bearers take up the corpse and advance.

Enter Gloster.

Gloster. Stay, you that bear the corse, and set it down.

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

Gloster, Villains, set down the corse ; or, by Saint Paul,
I '11 make a corse of him that disobeys !

I Gentleman, My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass.

RICHARD ITL

Gloster, Unman ner'd dog ! stand thou when I command ;
Advance thy halberd higher than my breast, 40

Or, by Saint Paul, I '11 strike thee to my foot,
And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness.

\The Bearers set down the coffin,

Anne, What ! do you tremble ? are you all afraid ?
Alas I I blame you not ; for you are mortal,
And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil. —
Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell I
Thou hadst but power over his mortal body.
His soul thou canst not have ; therefore, be gone.

Gloster, Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst.

Anne, Foul devil, for God's sake, hence, and trouble us
not ; 50

For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell,
Fiird 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 't is thy presence that exhales this blood
From cold and empty veins, where no blood dwells;
Thy deed, inhuman and unnatural, So

Provokes this deluge most unnatural. —
O God, which this blood mad'st, revenge his death I
O earth, which this blood drink'st, revenge his death !
Either, heaven, with lightning strike the murtherer 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 !

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

Anne, Villain, thou know'st nor law of God nor man ; 70
No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity.

ACT /. SCENE IL

Gloster, But I know none, and therefore am no beast.

Anne, O, wonderful when devils tell the truth I

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

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

Gloster, 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

Gloster, By such despair I should accuse myself.

Anne, And, by despairing, shalt thou stand excused
For doing worthy vengeance on thyself.
That didst unworthy slaughter upon others.

Gloster, Say that I slew them not ?

Anne, Why, then they are not dead;

But dead they are, and, devilish slave, by thee. 90

Gloster, I did not kill your husband.

Anne, Why, then he is alive.

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

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

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

Anne. Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind.
That never dreamt on aught but butcheries. 100

Didst thou not kill this king ?

Gloster. I grant ye.

Antu. Dost grant me, hedgehog? then, God grant me
too

46 RICHARD JJL

Thou mayst be damned for that wicked deed I
O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous !

Gloster, The better for the king of heaven that hath him.

Anne, He is in heaven, where thou shalt never come.

Gloster. 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. no

Gloster^ Yes, one place else, if you will hear me name it.

Anne. Some dungeon.

Gloster, Your bedchamber.

Anne, 111 rest betide the chamber where thou liest !

Gloster. So will it, madam, till I lie with you.

Anne, I hope so.

Gloster, 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, uo

As blameful as the executioner ?

Anne, Thou wast the cause, and most accurst effect.

Gloster, 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, homicide,
These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks.

Gloster, These eyes could not endure that beauty's wrack ;
You should not blemish it, if I stood by. 130

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 I

Gloster, Curse not thyself, fair creature; thou art both.

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

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

ACT /. SCENE II.

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

Gloster, He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband 140

Did it to help thee to a better husband.

Anne. His better doth not breathe upon the earth.

Gloster, He lives that loves you better than he could.

Anne, Name him.

Gloster, Plantagenet.

Anne, Why, that was he.

Gloster, The selfsame name, but one of better nature.

Anne, Where is he ?

Gloster, Here. \She spits at Aim.] Why

dost thou spit at me ?

Anne. Would it were mortal' poison, for thy sake !

Gloster, Never came poison from so sweet a place.

Anne, Never hung poison on a fouler toad.
Out of my sight ! thou dost infect mine eyes. 150

Gloster, Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine.

Anne. Would they were basilisks, to strike thee dead 1

Gloster. I would they were, that I might die at once.
For now they kill me with a living death.
Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears,
Sham'd their aspects with store of childish drops :
These eyes, which never shed remorseful tear ;
No, when my father Ybrk and Edward wept
To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made
When black-fac'd Clifford shook his sword at him ; i6o

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.

RICHARD Hi.

I never sued to friend nor enemy;

My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing word; 170

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
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. 180

\He lays his breast open ; she offers at it with his sword.
Nay, do not pause; for I did kill King Henry, —
But 't was thy beauty that provoked me.
Nay, now dispatch ; 't was I that stabb'd young Edward, —
But \ was thy heavenly face that set me on.

\She lets fall the stvord.
Take up the sword again, or take up me.

Anne, Arise, dissembler ; though I wish thy death,
I will not be thy executioner.

Gloster. Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it.

Anne. I have already.

Gloster. That was in thy rage :

Speak it again, and even with the word «qo

This hand, which for thy love did kill thy love.
Shall for thy love kill a far truer love;
To both their deaths shalt thou be accessary.

Anne, I would I knew thy heart.

Gloster, 'T is figured in my tongue.

Anne. I fear me both are false.

Gloster, Then, never man was true.

Anne, Well, well, put up your sword.

Gloster. Say, then, my peace is made.

ACT I. SCENE IL 49

Anne, That shalt thou know hereafter. aoo

Giosier, But shall I live in hope?

Anne. All men, I hope, live so.

Gioster, Vouchsafe to wear this ring.

Anne, To take is not to give. \^She puts on the ring,

Gloster, 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 favour at thy gracious hand,
Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever. aiw

Anne, What is it ?

Gloster. That it may please you leave thesis sad designs
To him that hath most cause to be a mourner,
And presently repair to Crosby liouse,
Where, after I have solemnly interred
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. aa*

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

Gloster. Bid me farewell.

Anne, 'T is 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.

Gentleman, Towards Chertsey, noble lord ?

Gloster, No, to White- Friars; there attend my coming. —

\Exeunt all but Gloster,
Was ever woman in this humour woo'd ?
Was ever woman in this humour won ? afo

I *11 have her, but I will not keep her long.

RICHARD III.

What ! I, that kilFd 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, 340

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 cropped the golden prime of this sweet prince,

And made her widow to a woful bed ?

On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety ? 250

On me, that halt 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 '11 be at charges for a looking-glass.

And entertain some score or two of tailors

To study fashions to adorn my body;

Since I am crept in favour with myself,

I will maintain it with some little cost. a6o

But, first, I '11 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

ACT L SCENE III, 51

Scene III. The Same. A Room in the Palace.
Enter Queen Elizabeth, Lord Rivers, and Lord Grey.

Rivets, Have patience, madam; there 's no doubt his
majesty
Will soon recover his accustomed health.

Grey. 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 words.

Queen Elizabeth. If he were dead, what would betide of
me?

Grey. No other harm but loss of such a lord.

Queen Elizabeth. The loss of such a lord includes all
harms.

Grey. The heavens have bless'd you with a goodly son.
To be your comforter' when he is gone. 10

Queen Elizabeth. Ah, he is young ; and his minority
Is put unto the trust of Richard Gloster,
A man that loves not me, nor none of you.

Rivers. Is it concluded he shall be protector ?

Queen Elizabeth. It is determined, not concluded yet;
But so it must* be, if the king miscarry.

Enter Buckingham and Stanley.

Grey. Here come the Lords of Buckingham and Stanley.

Buckingham. Good time of day unto your royal grace !

Stanley. God make your majesty joyful as you have been !

Qi4een Elizabeth. The Countess Richmond, good my Lord
of Stanley, ac

To your good prayer will scarcely say amen.
Yet, Stanley, notwithstanding she 's your wife.
And loves not me, be you, good lord, assured
I hate not you for her proud arrogance.

Stanley. I do beseech you, either not believe

5»

RICHARD III.

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.

Queen Elizabeth, Saw you the king to-day, my Lord of
Stanley ? 3c

Stanley, But now the Duke of Buckingham and I
Are come from visiting his majesty.

Queen Elizabeth, What likelihood of his amendment,

lords ?
Buckingham, Madam, good hope ; his grace speaks cheer-
fully.
Queen Elizabeth. God grant him health ! Did you confer

with him ?
Buckingham, Ay, madam ; he desires to make atonement
Between the Duke of Gloster and your brothers,
And between them and my lord chamberlain.
And sent to warn them to his royal presence.

Queen Elizabeth, Would all were well! — But that will
never be ; 4©

I fear our happiness is at the height.

Enter Oldster, Hastings, and Dorset.

Gloster, They do me wrong, and I will not endure it. —
Who are they that complain unto the king
That 1, forsooth, am stern and love them not }
By holy Paul, they love his grace but lightly
That fill his ears with such dissentious rumours.
Because I cannot flatter and speak fair,
Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive, and cog.
Duck with French nods and apish courtesy,
I must be held a rancorous enemy. 90

Cannot a plain man live, and think no harm,
But thus his simple truth must be -abus'd
With silken, sly, insinuating Jacks?

ACT I. SCENE IIL g^

Grey, To whom in all this presence speaks your grace?

Gloster. To thee, that hast nor honesty nor grace.
When have I injur'd 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 6c

But you must trouble him with lewd complaints.

Queen Elizabeth, Brother of Gloster, you mistake the ma*,
ter.
The king, on his own royal disposition,
And not provok'd 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 thereby he may gather
The ground of your ill-will, and so remove it.

Gloster. I cannot tell ; — the world is grown so bad 70

That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch.
Since every Jack became a gentleman,
There 's many a gentle person made a Jack.

Queen Elizabeth, Come, come, we know your meaning,
brother Gloster;
You envy ray advancement, and my friends'.
God grant we never may have need of you I

Gloster. Meantime, God grants that we have need of
you !
Our brother is imprison'd by your means,
Myself disgraced, and the nobility

Held in contempt ; while great promotions 80

Are daily given to ennoble tho.se
That scarce, some two days since, were worth a noble.

Queen Elizabeth. By Him that rais'd me to this careful
height
From that contented hap which I enjoy'd,

RICHARD III.

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.

Gloster, You may deny that you were not the mean 90
Of my Lord Hastings* late imprisonment.

Rivers. She may, my lord ; for —

Gloster. 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;
And then deny her aiding hand therein.
And lay those honours on your high desert.
What may she not ? She may, — ay, marry, may she, —

Rivers. What, marry, may she ?

Gloster. What, marry, may she? marry with a king, 100
A bachelor, and a handsome stripling too.
I wis your grandam had a worser match.

Queen Elizabeth. My Lord of Gloster, 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 endur'd.
I had rather be a country servant-maid
Than a great queen, with this condition —
To be so baited, scorn'd, and stormed at;

Enter Queen Margaret, behind^ where she remains.
Small joy have I in being England's queen. iro

Queen Margaret. And lessened be that small, God, I be-
seech him 1
^niy honour, state, and seat Is aue to me.

Gloster. What ! threat you me with telling of the king?
Ted him, and SDare not: look, what I have aaid

ACT I. SCENE III.

I m\\ avouch in presence of the king ;

I dare adventure to be sent to the Tower.

'T is time to speak ; my pains are quite forgot

Quem Margaret Out, devil ! I remember them too well.
Thou kiirdst my husband Henry in the Tower,
And Ekiward, my poor son, at Tewksbury. 120

Gloster, Ere you were queen, ay, or your husband king,
I was a pack-horse in his great affairs ;
A weeder-out of his proud adversaries,
A liberal rewarder of his friends :
To royalize his blood I spent mine own.

Queen Margaret Ay, and much better blood than his or
thine.

Gloster, 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 Alban's slain ? 130

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.

Queen Margaret A murtherous villain, and so still thou
art.

Gloster, Poor Clarence did forsake his father Warwick,
Ay, and forswore himself, — which Jesu pardon ! —

Queen Margaret Which God revenge !

Gloster, To fight on Edward's party, for the crown ;
And, for his meed, poor lord, he is mew'd up.
I would to God my heart were flint, like Edward's, m©

Or Edward's soft and pitiful, like mine ;
I am too childish-foolish for this world.

Queen Margaret Hie thee to hell for shame, and leave
this world,
Thou cacodsemon ! there thy kingdom is.

Rivers. My Lord of Gloster, in those busy days
Which here you urge to prove us enemies,

56 RICHARD III,

We followed then our lord, our sovereign king;
So should we you, if you should be our king.

Gioster. If I should be ! — I had rather be a pedler.
Far be it from my heart, the thought thereof! i^c

Queen Elizabeth. 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.

Queen Margaret, A little joy enjoys the queen thereof;
For I am she, and altogether joyless.

I can no longer hold me patient. — [Advancing.

Hear me, you wrangling pirates that fall out
In sharing that which you have piird from me I
Which of you trembles not that looks on me ? g^c

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 !

Gloster. Foul wrinkled witch, what mak'st thou in my
sight ?

Queen Margaret. But repetition of what thou hast marred ;
That will I make before I let thee go.

Gloster. Wert thou not banished on pain of death ?

Queen Margaret. I was; but I do find more pain in ban-
ishment
Than death can yield me here by my abode.
A husband and a son thou owest to me, — iw

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.

Gloster. The curse my noble father laid on thee,
When thou didst crown his warlike brows with paper,
And with thy scorns drew'st rivers from his eyes,
And then, to dry them, gav'st the duke a clout
Steep'd in the faultless blood of pretty Rutland, —
His curses, then from bitterness of soul

ACT I. SCENE TIL ^y

Denounc'd against thee, are all fallen upon thee ; , iSo

And God, not we, hath plagu'd thy bloody deed.

Queen Elizabeth, So just is God, to right the innocent.

Hastings, O, 't was the foulest deed to slay that babe,
And the most merciless that e'er was heard of!

Rrvers, Tyrants themselves wept when it was reported.

Dorset, No man but prophesied revenge for it.

Buckingham, Northumberland, then present, wept to see
it.

Queen Margaret. What 1 were you snarling all, before I
came,
Ready to catch each other by the throat.
And turn you all your hatred now on me? 190

Did York's dread curse prevail so much with heaven
That Henry's death, my lovely Edward's death,
Their kingdom's loss, my woful 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 murther, to make him. a king!
Edward, thy son, that now is Prince of Wales,
For Edward, our son, that was Prince of Wales, aoo

Die in his youth by like untimely violence !
Thyself a queen, for me that was a queen.
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,
Deck'd in thy rights, as thou art stall'd in mine !
Long die thy happy days before thy death ;
And, after many lengthen'd hours of grief.
Die neither mother, wife, nor England's queen ! —
Rivers, and Dorset, you were standers-by, — 21c

And so wast thou. Lord Hastings, — when my son
Was stabb'd with bloody daggers ; God, I pray him,

58 RICHARD III.

That none of you may live his natural age,
But by some unlook'd accident cut off!

Gloster. Have done thy charm, thou hateful withered hag !

Queen Margaret 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 aao

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 1
Thou elvish-mark'd, abortive, rooting hog!
Thou-that wast seaVd in thy nativity

The slave of nature and the son of hell ! aa©

Thou slander of thy heavy mother's womb I
Thou loathed issue of thy father's loins !
Thou rag of honour ! thou detested

Gloster, Margaret.

Queen Margaret. Richard !

Gloster. Ha!

Queen Margar£t. I call thee not

Gloster. I cry thee mercy then, for I did think
That thou hadst call'd me all these bitter names.

Queen Margaret. Why, so I did, but look'd for no reply.
O, let me make the period to my curse !

Gloster. 'T is done by me, and ends in — Margaret.

Queen Elizabeth. Thus have you breath'd your curse
against yourself. %^

Queen Margaret. Poor painted queen, vain flourish of my
fortune !

ACr L SCENE IIL

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-back'd toad.

Hastings, False-boding woman, end thy frantic curse,
Lest to thy harm thou move our patience.

Queen Margaret. Foul shame upon you! you have all
rpov'd mine.

Rivers, Were you well serv'd, you would be taught your
duty. 250

Queen Margaret, 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 !

Dorset, Dispute not with her; she is lunatic.

Queen Margaret, Peace, master marquess 1 you are mal-
apert ;
Your fire-new stamp of honour is scarce current.
O that your young nobility could judge
What *t were to lose it, and be miserable!
They that stand high have many blasts to shake them,
And if they fall they dash themselves tq pieces. a6o

Gloster, Good counsel, marry ! — learn it, learn it, mar-
quess.

Dorset, It touches you, my lord, as much as me.

Gloster, Ay, and much more ; but I was born so high :
Our aery buildeth in the cedar's top.
And dallies with the wind, and scorns the sun.

Queen Margaret, 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 aery buildeth in our aery's nest. — a;©

6o RICHARD IIL

O God, that seest it, do not suffer it !
As it was won with blood, lost be it so !

Buckingham, Peace, peace ! for shame, if not for charity.

Queen Margaret, Urge neither charity nor shame to me :
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 sorrow's rage I

Buckingham, Have done, have done.

Queen Margaret O princely Buckingham, I '11 kiss thy
hand, sBo

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.

Buckingham, Nor no one here ; for curses never pass
The lips of those that breathe them in the air.

Queen Margaret. I will not think but they ascend the sky.
And there awake God's gentle-sleeping peace.
O Buckingham, take heed of yonder dog !
Look, when he fawns, he bites ; and when he bites, 390

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.

Gloster, What doth she say, my Lord of Buckingham }

Buckingham, Nothing that I respect, my gracious lord.

Queen Margaret, 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, 300

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 ! \Exit.

ACT I. SCENE III. 6l

Hastings, My hair doth stand on end to hear her curses.

Rivers, And so doth mine. I muse why she 's at lib-
erty.

Gloster, I cannot blame her; by God's holy mother,
She hath had too much wrong, and I repent
My part thereof that I have done to her.

Queen Elizabeth, I never did her any, to my knowledge.

Gloster, Yet you have all the vantage of her wrong. 31°
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 frank'd up to fatting for his pains: —
God pardon them that are the cause thereof!

Rivers, A virtuous and a Christian-like conclusion,.
To pray for them that have done scath to us.

Gloster, So do I ever, being well advis'd ; —
[^Asidel For, had I curs'd now, I had cursed myself.

Enter Catesbv.

Catesby, Madam, his majesty doth call for you, — 320

And for your grace, and you, my noble lords.

Queen Elizabeth, Catesby, I come. — Lords, will you go
with me ?

Rivers, We wait upon your grace.

[Exeunt all but Gloster,

Gloster, 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, whom I, indeed, have cast in darkness,
I do beweep to many simple gulls,-^
Namely, to Stanley, Hastings, Buckingham, —
And tell them 't is the queen and her allies jjo

That stir the king against the duke my brother.
Now they believe it, and withal whet me
To be reveng'd on Rivers, Vaughan, Grey;

62 RICHARD TIL

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 villany
With odd old ends stolen forth of holy writ,
And seem a saint when most I play the devil.
But soft ! here come my executioners. —

Enter two Murderers.

How now, my hardy, stout-resolved mates ! 34c

Are you now going to dispatch this thing ?

I Murderer, We are, my lord ; and come to have the war-
rant,
That we may be admitted where he is.

Gloster, Well thought upon ; I have it here about me.

[Gives the warrant.
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.

I Murderer, Tut, tut, my lord, we will not stand to prate ;
Talkers are no good doers : be assured -as*

We go to use our hands, and not our tongues.

Gloster. Your eyes drop millstones when fools' eyes fall
tears.
I like you, lads ; — about your business straight.
Go, go, dispatch.

I Murderer, We will, my noble lord. [Exeunt

Scene IV. London, A Room in the Tower,

Enter Clarence and Keeper.

Keeper, Why looks your grace so heavily to-day ?
Clarence. O, I have passed a miserable night,
So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights,

ACT /. SCENE IV. 63

That, as I am a Christian faithful man,
I would not spend another such a night,
Though 't were to buy a world of happy days, —
So full of dismal terror was the time !

Keeper, What was your dream, my lord? I pray you
tell me.

Clarence, Methought that I had broken from the Tower,
And was embarked to cross to Burgundy; 10

And, in my company, my brother Gloster,
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 befalFn us. As we pac'd along
Upon the giddy footing of the hatches,
Methought that Gloster stumbled; and, in falling,
Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard
Into the tumbling billows of the main. 30

O Lord, methought, what pain it was to drown 1
What dreadful noise of water in mine ears !
What sights of ugly death within mine eyes I
Methought I saw a thousand fearful wracks ;
A thousand men that fishes gnaw'd upon ;
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels,
All scattered in the bottom of the sea :
Some lay in dead men's skulls ; and in the holes
Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept, jc

As 't were in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems.
That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep.
And mock'd the dead bones that lay scattered by.

Keeper, Had you such leisure in the time of death
To gaze upon these secrets of the deep ?

Clarence, Methought I had ; and often did I strive
To yield the ghost : but still the envious flood

64 RICHARD IIL

Stopped in my soul, and would not let it forth

To find the empty, vast, and wandVing air,

But smothered it within my panting bulk, a

Which almost burst to belch it in the sea.

Keeper, Awak'd you not in this spre agony ?

Clarence. No, no, my dream was lengthened after life !
O, then began the tempest to my soul !
I pass'd, methought, the melancholy flaod,
With that sour ferrymaq, 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, renowned Warwick ;
Who spake aloud, * What scourge for perjury \

Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence?'
And so he vanish*d. Then came wandering by
A shadow like an angel, with bright hair
Dabbled in blood ; and he shriek*d out aloud,
* Clarence is come, — false, fleeting, perjur'd Clarence, —
That stabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury ; —
Seize on him, Furies ! take him unto torment !'
With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends
Environed me, and howled in mine ears
Such hideous cries that with the very noise <

I trembling wak*d, and for a season after
Could not believe but that I was in hell,
Such terrible impression made my dream.

Keeper. No marvel, lord, though it sfffrighted you ;
I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it.

Clarence. 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 aveng'd on my misdeeds, j

Yet execute thy wrath in me alone \
O, spare my guiltless wife and my poor children 1 —

ACT I, SCENE IV. 65

Keeper, I prithee sit by me awhile ;
My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep.
Keeper, I will, my lord ; God give your grace good rest !

Clarence reposes himself on a chair^ and sleeps; then enter
Brakenbury.
Brakenbury, Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours,
Makes the night morning and the noontide night.
Princes have but their titles for their glories,
An outward honour for an inward toil,
And for unfelt imaginations lo

They often feel a world of restfess cares ;
So that between their titles and low name
There 's nothing differs but the outward fame.

Enter the two Murderers.
I Murderer, Ho ! who 's here ?

Brakenbury, What would'st thou, fellow ? and how cam'st
thou hither ?

1 Murderer, I would speak with Clarence, and I came
hither on my legs.

Brakenbury, What ! so brief?

2 Murderer, 'T is better, sir, than to be tedious. —

Let him see our commission ; and talk no more. 90

\A paper delivered to Brakenbury^ who reads it,
Brakenbury, 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 of the meaning. —
There lies the duke asleep, and there the keys.
I '11 to the king, and signify to him
That thus I have resigned to you my charge.

1 Murderer, You may, sir ; 't is a point of wisdom.

Fare you well. \Exeunt Brakenbury and Keeper,

2 Murderer, What, shall we stab him as he sleeps ? too

66 RICHARD III,

1 Murderer. No ; he '11 say 't was done cowardly, when he
wakes.

2 Murderer, Why, he shall never wake until the great
judgment day.

1 Murderer. Why, then he '11 say we stabbed him sleeping.

2 Murderer. The urging of that word judgment hath bred
a kind of remorse in me.

1 Murderer. What ! art thou afraid }

2 Murderer. Not to kill him, having a warrant; but to be
damned for killing him, from the which no warrant can de-
fend me. ^ III

1 Murderer. I thought thou hadst been resolute.

2 Murderer. So I am, to let him live.

1 Murderer. I '11 back to the Duke of Gloster, and tell him
so.

2 Murderer. Nay, I prithee, stay a little: I hope my holy
humour will change; it was wont to hold me but while one
tells twenty.

1 Murderer. How dost thou feel thyself now ?

2 Murderer. Faith, some certain dregs of conscience are
yet within me. lai

1 Murderer. Remember our reward when the deed 's done.

2 Murderer. Zounds ! he dies ! I had forgot the reward.

1 Murderer. Where 's thy conscience now?

2 Murderer. O, in the* Duke of Gloster's purse.

1 Murderer. When he opens his purse to give us our re-
ward, thy consience flies out.

2 Murderer. 'T is no matter; let it go: there 's few or
none will entertain it.

1 Murderer. What if it come to thee again ? .130

2 Murderer. I '11 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 ; 't is a blushing, shame-
faced spirit, that mutinies in a man's bosom; it fills a man
full of obstacles: it made me once restore a purse of gold,

ACT I. SCENE IV, 67

that by chance I found; it beggars any man that keeps it; it
is turned out of all towns and cities for a dangerous thing;
and every man that means to live well endeavours to trust
to himself and live without it.

1 Murderer. Zounds ! it is even now at my elbow, per-
suading me not to kill the duke. mi

2 Murderer. Take the devil in thy mind, and believe him
not; he would insinuate with thee but to make thee sigh.

1 Murderer. I am strong-framed ; he cannot prevail with
me.

2 Murderer. Spoke like a tall man that respects his rep-
utation. Come, shall we fall to work ?

1 Murderer. Take him on the costard with the hilts of thy
sword, and then throw him into the malmsey-butt in the next
room. 150

2 Murderer. O excellent device I and make a sop of him.

1 Murderer. Soft ! he wakes.

2 Murderer. Strike.

I Murderer. No, we 'II reason with him.

Clarence. [ Waking.'] Where art thou, keeper ? give me a

cup of wine.
I Murderer. You shall have wine enough, my lord,

anon.
Clarence. In God's name, what art thou ?
T Murderer. A man, as you are.
Clarence. But not, as I am, royal.

I Murderer. Nor you, as we are, loyal. 160

Clarence. Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks are humble.
I Murderer. My voice is now the king's, my looks mine

own.
Clarence. How darkly and how deadly dost thou speak !
Your eyes do menace me ; why look you pale 1
Who sent you hither ? Wherefore do you come ?
Both Murderers. To, to, to —
Clarence. To murther me 1

68 RICHARD III,

Both Murderers, Ay, ay.

Clarence, You scarcely have the hearts to tell me so,
And therefore cannot have the hearts to do it. 170

Wherein, my friends, have I offended you }

1 Murderer, Offended us you have not, but the king.
Clarence, I shall be reconcird to him again.

2 Murderer. Never, my lord ; therefore prepare to die.
Clarence, Are you drawn forth among a world of men

To slay the innocent ? What is my offence ?

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.? 180

Before 1 be convict by course of law,

To threaten me with death is most unlawful.

1 charge you, as you hope to have redemption

By Christ's dear blood bhed for our grievous sins,

That you depart, and lay no hands on me ;

The deed you undertake is damnable.

1 Murderer. What we will do, we do upon command.

2 Murderer, And he that hath commanded is our king.
Clarence, Erroneous vassals ! the great King of kings

Hath in the table of his law commanded 190

That thou shalt do no murther ; will you, then.

Spurn at his edict, and fulfil a man's?

Take heed; for he holds vengeance in his hand.

To hurl upon their heads that break his law.

2 Murderer, And that same vengeance doth he hurl on
thee
For false forswearing, and for murther too.
Thou didst receive the sacrament to fight
In quarrel of the house of Lancaster.

I Murderer. And, like a traitor to the name of God,
Didst break that vow, and with thy treacherous blade aoo
Unrip'dst the bowels of thy sovereign's son.

ACT I, SCENE IV, 69

2 Murderer, Whom thou wast sworn to cherish and defend

I Murderer. How canst thou urge God's dreadful law to us,
When thou hast broke it in such dear degree ?

Clarence. Alas ! for whose sake did I that ill deed ?
For Edward, for my brother, for his sake.
He sends you not to murther me for this.
For in that sin he is as deep as I.
If God will be avenged 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.

I Murderer. Who made thee, then, a bloody minister
When gallant-springing, brave Plantagenet,
That princely novice, was struck dead by thee ?

Clarence. My brother's love, the devil, and my rage.

1 Murderer, Thy brother's love, our duty, and thy fault
Provoke us hither now to slaughter thee.

Clarence. If you do love my brother, hate not me ; aao

I am his brother, and I love him well.
If you are hir'd for meed, go back again.
And I will send you to my brother Gloster,
Who shall reward you better for my life
Than Edward will for tidings of my death.

2 Murderer. You are deceived; your brother Gloster hates

you.

Clarence. O, no ; he loves me, and he holds me dear.
Go you to him from me.

Both Murderers. Ay, so we will.

Clarence. Tell him, when that our princely father York
Bless'd his three sons with his victorious arm, 3|o

And charg'd us from his soul to love each other.
He little thought of this divided friendship ;
Bid Gloster think on this, and he will weep.

I Murderer. Ay, ipillstones j as h^ Je§§on'd us to weep.

RICHARD III.

Clarence. O, do not slander him, for he is kind.

I Murderer. Right ; as snow in harvest. — Come, you de-
ceive yourself;
T is he that sends us to destroy you here.

Clarence. It cannot be ; for he bewept my fortune,
And hugg'd me in his arms, and swore, with sobs,
That he would labour my delivery. 340

1 Murderer. Why, so he doth when he delivers you
From this earth's thraldom to the joys of heaven.

2 Murderer. Make peace with God, for you must die, my

lord.
Clarence. 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
That you will war with God by murthering me 1 —

sirs, consider, they that set you on

To do this deed will hate you for the deed.
2 Murderer. What shall we do 1
Clarence. Relent, and save your souls.

1 Murderer. Relent! 't is cowardly and womanish. asi
Clarence. Not to relent is beastly, savage, devilish ! —

Which of you, if you were a prince's son,

Being pent from liberty, as I am now.

If two such murtherers as yourselves came to you,

Would not entreat for life } — '

My friend, I spy sonie pity in thy looks;

O, if thine eye be not a flatterer.

Come thou on my side and entreat for me.

As you would beg, were you in my distress. a6o

A begging prince what beggar pities not 1 •

2 Murderer. Look behind you, my lord.

I Murderer. Take that, and that ; if all this will not do,

\Stab5 him.

1 '11 drown you in the roalipsey-butt within.

\Exit^ with the body.

ACT I. SCENE IK

2 Murderer, A bloody deed, and desperately dispatch'd !
How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands
Of this most grievous murther !

Enter First Murderer.

1 Murderer, How now ? what mean'st thou, that thou

help'st me not?
By heaven, the duke shall know how slack you have been.

2 Murderer, I would he knew that I had sav'd his brother I
Take thou the fee, and tell him what I say, aji
For I repent me that the duke is slain. \ExiL

I Murderer, So do not I: go, coward, as thou art. — •
Well, I '11 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 1 must not stay. \Exit,

ACT II.

Scene I. London. A Room in the Palace,
Enter King Edward, led in sick, Queen Elizabeth, Dor-
set, Rivers, Hastings, Buckingham, Grey, and others.

King Edward. Why, so ;— now have I done a good day's
work. —
You peers, continue this united league :

ACT II. SCENE /.

I every day expect an embassage

From my Redeemer to redeem me hence ;

And now in peace my soul shall part to heaven,

Since I have made my friends at peace on earth. —

Rivers and Hastings, take each other's hand ;

Dissemble not your hatred, swear your love.

Rivers. By heaven, my soul is purged from grudging hate;
And with my hand I seal my true heart's love. lo

Hastings, So thrive I as I truly swear the like !
King Edward, 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.
Hastings. So prosper I as I swear perfect love !
Rivers, And I as I love Hastings with my heart !
King Edward. Madam, yourself are not exempt from
this, —
Nor your son Dorset, — Buckingham, nor you ; —
You have been factious one against the other. — w

Wife, love Lord Hastings, let him kiss your hand ;
And what you do, do it unfeignedly.

Queen Elizabeth, There, Hastings. — I will never more re-
member
Our former hatred, so thrive I and mine !
King Edward. Dorset, embrace him, — Hastings, love lord

marquess.
Dorset. This interchange of love, I here protest.
Upon my part shall be inviolable.

Hastings. And so swear I. »

King Edward. Now, princely Buckingham, seal thou this
league
With thy embracements to my wife's allies, jo

And make me happy in your unity.

Buckingham, Whenever Buckingham doth turn his hate
Upon your grace [to the Queen], but with all duteous love

RICHARD III,

Doth cherish you and yours, God punish me

With hate in those where I expect most love I

When I have most need to employ a friend,

And most assured that he is a friend,

Deep, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile.

Be he unto me I This do I beg of heaven,

When I am cold in love to you or yours. 40

King Edward. A pleasing cordial, princely Buckingham,
Is this thy vow unto my sickly heart.
There wanteth now our brother Gloster here,
To make the blessed period of this peace.

Buckingham, And, in good time, here comes the noble duke.

Enter Oldster.

Gloster, Good-morrow to my sovereign king and queen ; —
And, princely peers, a happy time of day !

King Edward, Happy, indeed, as we have spent the day. —
Brother, we have done deeds of charity ;
Made peace of enmity, fair love of hate, so

Between these swelling wrong-incensed peers.

Gloster, A blessed labour, 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.
'T is death to me to be at enmity; 60

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 lodg'd between us ; —
Of you. Lord Rivers, — and, Lord Grey, of you, —

ACT IL SCENE L

That all without desert have frown'd on me ; —

Dukes, earls, lords, gentlemen ; — indeed, of all.

I do not know that Englishman alive

With whom my soul is any jot at odds r»

More than the infant that is born to-night;

I thank my God for my humility.

Queen Elizabeth. 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.

Gloster, 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. 80

King Edward. Who knows not he is dead I who knows
he is?

Queen Elizabeth. All-seeing heaven, what a world is this I

Buckingham. Look I so pale. Lord Dorset, as the rest ?

Dorset. Ay, my good lord ; and no man in the presence
But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks.

King Edward. Is Clarence dead ? the order was reversed.

Gloster, But he, poor man, by your first order died.
And that a winged Mercury did bear;
Some tardy cripple bare the countermand.
That came too lag to see him buried. 90

God grant that some, less noble and less loyal,
Nearer in bloody thoughts, but not in blood.
Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did,
And yet go current from suspicion !

Enter Stanley.
Stanley. A boon, my sovereign, for my service done I
King Edward. I prithee, peace ; my soul is full of sorrow.
Stanley, I will not rise, unless your highness hear me.

Y6 RICHARD IJL

King Edward. Then say at once what is it thou re-
quest*st

Stanley. The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant's life,
Who slew to-day a riotous gentleman loo

Lately attendant on the Duke of Norfolk.

King Edward, Have I a tongue to doom my brother's
death.
And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave ?
My brother kiird no man ; his fault was thought,
And yet his punishment was bitter death.
Who sued to me for him ? who, in my wrath,
Kneerd at my feet, and bade me be advis'd?
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 ? no

Who told me, in the field at Tewksbury,
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. lao

But when your carters or your waiting-vassals
Have done a drunken slaughter, and defac'd
The precious image of our dear Redeemer,
You straight are on your knees for pardon, pardon;
And I, unjustly too, must grant it you.
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.— 130

ACT //. SCENE IL

God, I fear thy justice will take hold

On me and you, and mine and yours, for this I —
Come, Hastings, help me to my closet. —
Ah, poor Clarence I \Eooeunt King, Queen, Hastings, Rivers.
Dorset, and Grey,

Gioster, This is the fruit of rashness. — Mark'd you not
How that the guilty kindred of the queen
Look'd pale when they did hear of Clarence' death ?
O, they did urge it still unto the king I
God will revenge it. Come, lords ; will you go
To comfort Edward with our company? 140

Buckingham, We wait upon your grace. [Exeunt.

Scene II. Another Room in the Palace,

Enter the Duchess of York, with the tivo children of Clar-
ence.^

Boy, Good grandam, tell us, is our father dead ?

Duchess, No, boy.

Girl, Why do you weep so oft ? and beat your breast.
And cry * O Clarence, my unhappy son !'

Boy, Why do you look on us, and shake your head.
And t:all us orphans, wretches, castaways,
If that our noble father be alive ?

Duchess, My pretty cousins, you mistake me both.

1 do lament the sickness of the king,

As loath to lose him, not your father's death ; 10

It were lost sorrow to wail one that 's lost.

Boy, 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.

Girl, And so will I.

Duchess, Peace, children, peace ! the king doth love you
well.

78 RICHARD III,

Incapable and shallow innocents,

You cannot guess who caused your father's death.

Boy, Grandam, we can ; for my good uncle Gloster . ao
Told me the king, provok'd to it by the queen,
Devis'd impeachments to imprison him ;
And when my uncle told me so, he wept,
And pitied me, and kindly kiss'd my cheek,
Bade me rely on him as on my father,
And he would love me dearly as a child.

Duchess, Ah, that deceit should steal such gentle shape.
And with a virtuous visor hide deep vice I
He is my son, ay, and therein my shame.
Yet from my dugs he drew not this deceit. 30

Boy, Think you my uncle did dissemble, grandam ?

Duchess. Ay, boy.

Boy, I cannot think it. Hark ! what noise is this ?

Enter Queen Elizabeth, distractedlyy with her hair dishetf-
elled; Rivers and Do^ski foi/owing her.

Queen Elizabeth, Ah, who shall hinder me to wail and.
weep.
To chide my fortune and torment myself.?
I '11 join with black despair against my soul.
And to myself become an enemy.

Duchess, What means this scene of rude impatience ?

Queen Elizabeth. To make an act of tragic violence : —
Edward, my lord, thy son, our king, is dead ! — 44

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-winged souls may catch the king's.
Or, like obedient subjects, follow him
To his new kingdom of ne'er-changing night.

Duchess. Ah, so much interest have I in thy sorrow
As I had title in thy noble husband.

ACT II. SCENE II 79

I have bewept a worthy husband's death,

And liv'd with looking on his images ; 5»

fiut now two mirrors of his princely semblance

Are crack'd 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 snatch'd my husband from mine arms,

And pluck'd two crutches from my feeble hands,

Clarence and Edward. O, what cause have I,

Thine being but a moiety of my moan, fe

To overgo thy woes, and drown thy cries !

Boy, Ah, aunt, you wept not for our father's death !
How can we aid you with our kindred tears ?

Girl, Our fatherless distress was left unmoan'd ;
Your widow-dolour likewise be unwept !

Queen Elizabeth, 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 1 70

Ah, for my husband, for my dear lord Edward 1

Children, Ah, for our father, for our dear lord Clarence !

Duchess, Alas for both ! both mine, Edward and Clarence !

Queen Elizabeth, What stay had I but Edward ? and he 's
gone.

Children, What stay had we but Clarence ? and he 's gone.
* Duchess, What stays had I but they ? and they are gone.

Queen Elizabeth, Was never widow had so dear a loss.

Children, Were never orphans had so dear a loss.

Duchess, Was never mother had so dear a loss.
Alas, I am the mother of these griefs ! Sc

Their woes are parcelled, mine are general.
She for an Edward weeps, and so do I ;

8o RICHARD III.

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
Pour all your tears ! I am your sorrow's nurse,
And I will pamper it with lamentation.

Dorset, Comfort, dear mother I God is much displeas'd
That you take with unthankfulness his doing. ^q

In common worldly things 't is caird 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.

Rivers, Madam, bethink you, like a careful mother,
Of the young prince your son: send straight for him;
Let him be crown'd : in him your comfort lives.
Drown desperate sorrow in dead Edward's grave,
And plant your joys in living Edward's throne. loo

Enter Gloster, Buckingham, Stanley, Hastings, Rat-
cliff, and others,

Gloster. 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.

Duchess. God bless thee, and put meekness in thy breast,
Love, charii}', obedience, and true duty.

Gloster, Amen; [aside] and make me die a good old
man ! —
That is the butt-end of a mother's blessing; no

I marvel that her grace did leave it out.

Buckingham. You cloudy princes and heart - sorrowing
peers,

ACT IL SCEATE II. gl

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 rancour of your high-swoin hearts.

But lately splinter'd, knit, and joined together,

Must gently be preserved, cherish'd, and kept.

Me seemeth good, that, with some little train, lao

Forthwith from Ludlow the young prince be fet

Hither to London, to be crown'd our king.

Rivers. Why with some little train, my Lord of Bucking-
ham }

Buckingham, Marry, my lord, lest, by a multitude,
The new-heal'd wound of malice should break out;
Which would be so much the more dangerous
By how much the estate is green and yet ungovern*d.
Where every horse bears his commanding rein,
And may direct his course as please himself.
As well the fear of harm as harm apparent, 130

In my opinion, ought to be prevented.

Gioster. I hope the king made peace with all of us^
And the compact is firm and true in me.

Rivers, 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 urg^.
Therefore, I say with noble Buckingham,
That it is meet so few should fetch the prince.

Hastings, And so say L ,^

Gioster. Then be it so ; and go we to determine

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 ?

[Exeunt all but Buckingham and Gioster.

Buckingham. My lord, whoever journeys to the prince,

82 RICHARD JIJ,

For God's sake, let not us two stay at home :

For, by the way, I '11 sort occasion,

As index to the story we late talk'd of.

To part the queen's proud kindred from the prince.

Glosten My other self, ray counsel's consistory, 150

My oracle, my prophet ! — My dear cousin,
I, as a child, will go by thy direction.
Towards Ludlow then, for we '11 not stay behind. [Exeunt.

Scene III. Lotidon. A Street.
Enter two Citizens, meeting.

1 Citizen. Good morrow, neighbour ; whither away so fast ?

2 Citizen. I promise you, I scarcely know myself.
Hear you the news abroad ?

1 Citizen. Yes, that the king is dead.

2 Citizen. Ill news, by 'r lady; seldom comes the better:
I fear, I fear, 't will prove a giddy world.

Enter another Citizen.

3 Citizen. Neighbours, God speed !

1 Citizen. Give you good morrow, sir.
3 Citizen. Doth the n^ws hold of good King Edward's

death .?

2 Citizen. Ay, sir, it is too true ; God help the while !

3 Citizen. Then, masters, look to see a troublous world.

1 Citizen. No, no; by God's good grace, his son shall

reign. 10

3 Citizen. Woe to that land that 's govern'd by a child !

2 Citizen. In him there is a hope of government,
That in his nonage council under him,

And in his full and ripen'd years himself.
No doubt shall then and till then govern well.

I Citizen. So stood the state when Henry the Sixth
Was crown'd in Paris but at nine months old.

ACT IL SCENE III. ^-^

3 Citizen, Stood the state so ? no, no, good friends, God
wot;
For then this land was famously enrich'd
With politic grave counsel ; then the king lo

Had virtuous uncles to protect his grace.

I Citizen, Why, so hath this, both by his father and mother.

3 Citizen, 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 Gloster !
And the queen's sons and brothers haught and proud;
And were they to be ruFd, and not to rule,
This sickly land might solace as before. 30

1 Citizen, Come, come, we fear the worst ; all will be well.
3 Citizen, 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 make men expect a dearth.
All may be well ; but, if God sort it so,
'T is more than we deserve, or I expect.

2 Citizen, Truly, the hearts of men are full of fear :
You cannot reason almost with a man

That looks not heavily and full of dread. * 40

3 Citizen, 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 ?

2 Citizen, Marry, we were sent for to the justices.

3 Citizen, And so was I ; I '11 bear you company. \Eoceunt

84 RICHARD IIL

Scene IV. London. A Room in the Palace,

Enter the Archbishop of Yokvl, the young Duke of York,

Queen Elizabeth, and the Duchess of York.

Archbishop. Last night I heard they lay at Northampton ;
At Stony Stratford they do rest to-night :
To-morrow or next day they will be here.

Duchess. I long with all my heart to see the prince.
I hope he is much grown since last I saw him.

Queen Elizabeth. But I hear no ; they say my son ot Vork
Hath almost overtaken him in his growth.

York. Ay, mother, but I would not have it so.

Duchess. Why, my young cousin, it is good to grow.

York. Grandam, one night as we did sit at supper, lo

My uncle Rivers talked how I did grow
More than my brother; * Ay,' quoth my uncle Gloster,
* 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.

Duchess. 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. «>

Archbishop. And so, no doubt, he is, my gracious madam.

Duchess. I hope he is ; but yet let mothers doubt.

York. 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 touch 'd mine.

Duchess. How, my young York ? I prithee, let me hear it.

York. Marry, they say my uncle grew so fast
That he could gnaw a crust at two hours old ;
T was full two years ere I could get a tooth.
Grandam, this would have been a biting jest. 3«

ACT II. SCENE IV. 8$

Duchess. I prithee, pretty York, who told tbee this ?
York. Grandam, his nurse.

Duchess. His nurse ! why, she was dead ere thou wast born.
York. If 't were not she, I cannot tell who told me.
Queen Elizabeth. A parlous boy I Go to, you are too

shrewd.
Archbishop. Good madam, be not angry with the child.
Queen Elizabeth. Pitchers have ears.

Enter a Messenger.

Archbishop. Here comes a messenger : what news ?

Messenger. Such news, my lord, as grieves me to report.

Queen Elizabeth. Hov. doth the prince?

Messenger. Well, madam, and in health.

Duchess. What is thy news ? 4»

Messenger. Lord Rivers and Lord Grey are sent to Pom-
fret.
And with them Sir Thomas Vaughan, prisoners. .

Duchess. Who hath committed them.?

Messenger. The mighty dukes,

Gloster and Buckingham.

Archbishop. For what offence ?

Messenger. 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.

Queen Elizabeth. Ay me, I see the ruin of my house !
The tiger now hath seized the gentle hind; so

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.

Duchess. Accursed 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 toss'd,

86 RICHARD III,

For me to joy and weep their gain and loss:
And being seated, and domestic broils 6©

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 damned spleen.
Or let me die, to look on death no more I

Quern Elizabeth, Come, come, my boy; we will to sanc-
tuary. —
Madam, farewell.

Duchess, Stay, I will go with you.

Queen Elizabeth, You have no cause.

Archbishop, My gracious lady, go,

[To the Queen.
And thither bear your treasure and your goods.
For my part, I '11 resign unto your grace 7©

The seal I keep ; and so betide to me
As well I tender you and all of yours!
Come, I '11 conduct you to the sanctuary. [Exeunt,

rOMFRBT (HI 3).

ACT III.

Scene I. London, A Street

The trumpets sound. Enter the Prince of Wales, Gloster,

Buckingham, Cardinal Bouchier, Catesby, and others,

' Buckingham. Welcome, sweet prince, to London, to yout
chamber.
Gloster. Welcome, dear couisiri, my thought's sovereign;
The weary way hath made you melancholy.

Prince, No, uncle ; but our crosses on the way
Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy:
I want more uncles here to welcome me.

88 RICHARD IIL

Gloster, Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of your years
Hath not yet div'd into the world's deceit.
No more can you distinguish of a man
Than of his outward show; which, God he knows, ic

Seldom or never jumpeth with the heart.
Those uncles which you want were dangerous;
Your grace attended to their sugar'd words,
But look'd not on the poison of their hearts :
God keep you from them, and from such false friends 1

Prince. God keep me from false friends I but they were
none.

Gloster, My lord, the mayor of London comes to greet you.

Enter the Lord Mayor and his Train,
Mayor. God bless your grace with health and happy

days I
Prince, I thank you, good my lord ; and thank you all. —
I thought my mother and my brother York 20

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 Hastings.

Buckingham, And, in good time, here comes the sweating
lord.

Prince, Welcome, my lord. What! will our mother come?

Hastings. 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. - 30

Buckingham, 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
TJnto his princely brother presently? —

ACT III. SCENE /. 89

If she deny, Lord Hastings, go with him,

And from her jealous arms pluck him perforce.

Cardinal, My Lord of Buckingham, jf my weak oratory
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 40

We should infringe the holy privilege
Of blessed sanctuary 1 not for all this land
Would I be guilty of so great a sin.

Buckingham. 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. 50

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 ne'er till now.

Cardinal, My lord, you shall o'er-rule^ my mind for
once. —
Come on. Lord Hastings, will you go with me ?

Hastings, I go, my lord. 59

Prince, Good lords, make all the speedy haste you may. —
[Exeunt Cardinal and Hastings.
Say, uncle Gloster, if our brother come,
Where shall we sojourn till our coronation ?

Gloster. Where it think'st 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.

90 RICHARD III,

Prince. I do not like the Tower, of any place. —
Did Julius Caesar build that place, my lord? 69

Buckingham, He did, my gracious lord, begin that place.
Which, since, succeeding ages have re-edified.

Prince, Is it upon record, or else reported
Successively from age to age, he built it ?

Buckingham, Upon record, my gracious lord.

Prince, But say, my lord, it were not registered,
Methinks the truth should live from age to age,
As *t were retailed to all posterity.
Even to the general all-ending day.

Glaster, [Aside] So wise so young, they say, do never live
long.

Prince, What say you, uncle ? 80

Gloster, I say, without characters fame lives long.—
[Aside] Thus, like the formal Vice, Iniquity,
I moralize two meanings in one word.

Prince. That Julius Caesar was a famous man \
With what his valour did enrich his wit,
His wit set down to make his valour live.
Death makes no conquest of his conqueror ;
For now he lives in fame, though not in life. —
I '11 tell you what, my cousin Buckingham, —

Buckingham, What, my gracious lord ? 90

Prince, An if I live until I be a man,
I '11 win our ancient right in France again.
Or die a soldier, as I liv'd a king.

Gloster, [Aside] Short summers lightly have a forward
spring.

Enter York, Hastings, and the Cardinal.

Buckingham, Now, in good time, here comes the Duke or

York.
Prince. Richard of York, how fares our noble brother?
York. Well, my dread lord ; so must I call you now.

ACT III. SCENE /, 91

Prince, 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. io«

Gloster, How fares our cousin, noble Lord of York ?

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.

Gloster. He hath, my lord.

York. And therefore is he idle ?

Gloster. O, my fair cousin, I must not say so.

York. Then he is more beholding to you than I.

Gloster. He may command me as my sovereign.
But you have power in me as in a kinsman.

York. I pray you, uncle, give me this dagger. n*

Gloster. My dagger, little cousin ? with all my heart.

Prince. A beggar, brother ?

York. Of my kind uncle, that I know will give ;
And being but a toy, which is no grief to give.

Gloster. A greater gift than that I '11 give my cousin.

York. A greater gift ? O, that 's the sword to it.

Gloster. Ay, gentle cousin, were it light enough.

York. O, then, I see, you '11 part but with light gifts ;
In weightier things you '11 say a beggar nay.

Gloster. It is too weighty for your grace to wear. 120

York. I weigh it lightly, were it heavier.

Gloster. What ! would you have my weapon, little lord ?

York. I would, that I might thjnk you as you call me.

Gloster. How?

York. Little.

Prince. My Lord of York will still be cross in talk. —
Uncle, your grace knows how to bear with him.

York. 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, 130

He thinks that you should bear me on your shoulders.

RICHARD III,

Buckingham, 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.

Gloster, My lord, will 't please you pass along ?
Myself and my good cousin Buckingham ^

Will to your mother, to entreat of her
To meet you at the Tower and welcome you.

York, What ! will you go unto the Tower, my lord? 140

Prince, My lord protector needs will have it so.

York, I shall not sleep in quiet at the Tower.

Gloster, Why, what should you fear ?

York, Marry, my uncle Clarence' angry ghost;
My grandam told me he was murther'd there.

Prince, I fear no uncles dead.

Gloster, Nor none that live, I hope.

Prince, An if they live, I hope I need not fear.
But come, my lord ; and, with a heavy heart,
Thinking on them, go I unto the Tower. is©

\A sennet. Exeunt Prince^ York, Hastings^ Cardinal^
and Attendants,

Buckingham, Think you, my lord, this Httle prating York
Was not incensed by his subtle mother
To taunt *nd scorn you thus opprobriously ?

Gloster, No doubt, no doubt. O, 't is a parlous boy 1
Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable ;
He 's all the mother's, from the top to toe.

Buckingham. 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 know*st our reasons urg'd upon the way ; — x6o

What think'st thou ? is it not an easy matter
To make William Lord Hastings of our mind,
For the instalment of this noble duke
In the seat royal of this famous isle }

ACT IIL SCENE L

Catesby. He for his father's sake so loves the prince
That he will not be won to aught against him.

Buckingham, What think'st thou then of Stanley? will
not he?

Catesby, He will do all in all as Hastings doth.

Buckingham. Well, then, no more but this. Go, gentle
Catesby,
And, as it were far off, sound thou Lord Hastings 170

How he doth stand affected to our purpose ;
And summon him to-morrow to the Tower,
To sit about the coronation.
If thou dost find him tractable to us,
Encourage him, ai\d 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 to-morrow hold divided councils.
Wherein thyself C&alt highly be employed. 180

Gloster, Commend me to Lord William : tell him, Catesby,
His ancient knot of dangerous adversaries
To-morrow are let blood at Pomfret Castle ;
And bid my lord, for joy of this good news.
Give Mistress Shore one gentle kiss the more.

Buckingham, Good Catesby, go, effect this business
soundly.

Catesby, My good lords both, with all the heed I can.

Gloster, Shall we hear from you, Catesby, ere we sleep ?

Catesby, You shall, my lord. 189

Gloster, At Crosby House, there shall you find us both.

\Exit Catesby,

Buckingham, Now, my lord, what shall we do, if we per-
ceive
Lord Hastings will not yield to our complots ?

Gloster, Chop off his head, man; — something we will de-
termine.

94 RICHARD III.

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.
Buckingham, I '11 claim that promise at your grace's hand
Gloster, And look to have it yielded with all kindness.
Come, let us sup betimes, that afterwards i9«

We may digest our complots in some form. \Exeunt

Scene II. Before Lord Hastings's House,
Enter a Messenger.

Messenger, My lord ! my lord ! — [Knocking.

Hastings. [ Within.'] Who knocks ?
Messenger. One from the Lord Stanley.
Hastings. [Within.'] What is 't o'clock?
Messenger, Upon the stroke of four.

Enter Hastings.

Hastings. Cannot my Lord Stanley sleep these tedious
nights ?

Messenger, So it appears by that I have to say.
First, he commends him to your noble self.

Hastings. What then ?

Messenger. Then certifies your lordship that this night ic
He dreamt the boar had rased off his helm ;
Besides, he says, there are two councils kept,
And that may be determin'd at the one
Which may make you and him to rue at the 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.

Hastings. Go, fellow, go, return unto thy lord.
Bid him not fear ihe separated council : m

His honour and myself are at the one,

ACr ///. SCENE II,

And at the other is ray 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 mockery 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. 30

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.

Messenger, I '11 go, my lord, and tell him what you say.

[Exit,
Enter Catesby.

Catesby, Many good morrows to my noble lord !

Hastings, Good morrow, Catesby ; you are early stirring.
What news, what news, in this our tottering state?

Catesby, It is a reeling world, indeed, my lord ;
And, I believe, will never stand upright
Till Richard wear the garland of the realm. 40

Hastings, How ! wear the garland 1 dost thou mean the
crown ?

Catesby. Ay, my good lord.

Hastings, I '11 have this crown of mine cut from my
shoulders,
Before I '11 see the crown so foul misplac'd.
But canst thou guess that he doth aim at it ?

Catesby, 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. 50

Hastings, Indeed, I am no mourner for that news,
Because they have been still my adversaries ;

g^ RICHARD III.

But that I ni 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.

Catesby. God keep your lordship in that gracious mind i

Hastings, But I shall laugh at this a twelvemonth 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, 6<

I '11 send some packing that yet think not on 't.

Catesby. 'T is a vile thing to die, my gracious lord,
When men are unprepar'd and look not for it.

Hastings. O, monstrous, monstrous 1 and so falls it out
With Rivers, Vaughan, Grey; and so 't will do
With some men else, who think themselves as safe
As thou and I, who, as thou know'st, are dear
To princely Richard and to Buckingham.

Catesby, The princes both make high account of you;
[Aside] For they account his head upon the bridge. 70

Hastings, I know they do, and I have well deserv'd it —

JSnter Stanley.

Come on, come oti ; where is your boar-spear, man ?
Fear you the boar, and go so unprovided ?

Stanley. My lord, good morrow ; — good morrow, Catesby. —
You may jest on, but, by the holy rood,
I do not like these several councils, I.

Hastings. My lord, I hold my life as dear as yours;
And never in my days, I do protest.
Was it so precious to me as 't is now.

Think you, but that I know our state secure, 80

I would be so triumphant as I am ?

Stanley. The lords at Pom fret, when they rode from
London,
Were jocund and suppos'd their states were sure,
And they, ind^ed^ had no cause to mistrust ;

ACT III. SCENE II.

But yet, you see, how soon the day o'ercast.
This sudden stab of rancour I misdoubt ;
Pray God, I say, I prove a needless coward I
What, shall we toward the Tower ? the day is spent

Hastings. Come, come, have with you. — Wot you what,
my lord ?
To-day the lords you talk of are beheaded. 90

Stanley. 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.
Hastings. Go on before ; I '11 talk with this good fellow.--

[Exeunt Stanley and Catesby,

How now, sirrah ! how goes the world with thee ?
Pursuivant. The better that your lordship please to ask«
Hastings. I tell thee, man, 't is 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 queer's allies; im

But now I tell thee — keep it to thyself—

This day those enemies are put to death.

And I in better state than ere I was.
Pursuivant. God hold it to your honour's good content I
Hastings. Gramercy, fellow. There, drink that for me.

[Throwing him his purse.
Pursuivant. I thank your honour. [Exit.

Enter a Priest.

Priest Well met, my lord ; I am glad to see your honour.

Hastings. I thank thee, good Sir John, with all my heart.
I am in your debt for your last exercise ;
Come the next Sabbath, and I will content you. no

98 RICHARD III,

^nter Buckingham.

Buckingham, What, talking with a priest, lord chamber.
lain !
Your friends at Pomfret, they do need the priest ;
Your honour hath no shriving work in hand.

Hastings, Good faith, and when I met thi§ holy man.
The men you talk of came into my mind.
What, go you toward the Tower ?

Buckingham, I do, my lord, but long I cannot stay there;
I shall return before your lordship thence.

Hastings, Nay, like enough, for I stay dinner there.

Buckingham, \Aside\ And supper too, although thou
know'st it not.-^ laa

Come, will you go ?

Hastings, I 'U wait upon your lordship. [Exeunt,

Scene III. Pomfret, Before the Castle,

Enter Ratcliff, with a Guard, conducting Rivers, Grey,

and Vaughan to execution.

Rivers, Sir Richard Ratcliff, let me tell thee this, —
To-day shalt thou behold a subject die
For truth, for duty, and for loyalty.

Grey, God bless the prince from all the pack of you I
A knot you are of damned blood-suckers.

Vaughan. You live that shall cry woe for this hereafter,

Ratcliff, Dispatch; the limit of your lives is out.

Rivers, O Pomfret, Pomfret ! O thou bloody prison.
Fatal and ominous to noble peers !

Within the guilty closure of thy walls, m

Richard the Second here was hack'd to death :
And, for more slander to thy dismal seat,
We give to thee our guiltless blood to drink.

Grey, Now Margaret's curse is fallen upon our heads, .

ACT III, SCENE IV,

'' When she exclaim'd on Hastings, you, and I,
For standing by when Richard stabb'd her son.
Rivers, Then cursed she Richard, men curs'd she Buck-
ingham,
Then curs'd she Hastings. — O, remember, God,
To hear her prayer for them, as now for us I
And for my sister and her princely sons, ac

Be satisfied, dear God, with our true blood,
Which, as thou know'st, unjustly must be spilt I
Ratcliff. Make haste ; the hour of death is expiate.
Rivers, Come, Grey, — come, Vaughan, — let us here em-
brace :
Farewell until we meet again in heaven, \Exeunt

Scene IV. London, A Room in the Tower.
Buckingham, Stanley, Hastings, the Bishop of Ely,

Catesby, Lovel, and others^ sitting at a table; Officers of

the Council attending,

Hastings, Now, noble peers, the cause why we are met
Is to determine of the coronation.
In God's name, speak, — when is this royal day?

Buckingham, Is all things ready for the royal time?

Stanley, It is, and wants but nomination.

Ely, To-morrow then I judge a happy day.

Buckingham, Who knows the lord protector's mind herein?
Who is most inward with the noble duke ?

Ely, Your grace, we think, should soonest know his mind.

Buckingham, We know each other's faces : for our hearts,
He knows no more of mine than I of yours; ir

Nor I of his, my lord, than you of mine. —
Lord Hastings, you and he are near in love.

Hastings. I thank his grace, I know he loves me well;
But for his purpose in the coronation,
I have not sounded him, nor he deliver'd

lOo RICHARD III.

His gracious pleasure any way therein :

But you, my noble lords, may name the time.

And in the duke's behalf I '11 give my voice,

Which, I presume, he '11 take in gentle part 90

Enter Gloster.

Ely, In happy time, here comes the duke himself.

Gloster, 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.

Buckingham, Had you not come upon your cue, my lord,
William Lord Hastings had pronounc'd your part,
I mean your voice for crowning of the king.

Gloster, Than my Lord Hastings no man might be bolder;
His lordship knows me well, and loves me well. — 30

My 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.

Ely, Marry, and will, my lord, with* all my heart

\ExU Ely,

Gloster, Cousin of Buckingham, a word with you.

[Takes Aim 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. 4>

Buckingham, Wthdraw yourself a while ; I '11 go with you.
[Exeunt Gloster and Buckingham,

Stanley. We have not yet set down this day of triumph.
To-morrow, in my judgment, is too sudden ;
For I myself am not so well provided
As else I would be, were the day prolong'd

ACT III. SCENE IV. lox

Enter Bishop of Ely.

Ely, Where is my lord, the Duke of Gloster?
I have sent for these strawberries.

Hastings. 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. 30

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.

Stanley. What of his heart perceive you in his face
By any livelihood he show'd to-day ?

Hastings. Marry, that with no man here he is offended ;
For were he, he had shown it in his looks.

Enter Gloster and Buckingham.

Gloster. I pray you all, tell me what they deserve
That do conspire my death with devilish plots
Of damned witchcraft, and that have prevailed 60

Upon my body with their hellish charms ?

Hastings. The tender love I bear your grace, my lord,
Makes me most forward in this princely presence
To doom the offenders, whosoe'er they be ;
I say, my lord, they have deserved death.

Gloster. Then be your eyes the witness of their evil.
Look how I am bewitch'd ; behold mine arm
Is like a blasted sapling withered up :
And this is Edward's wife, that monstrous witch.
Consorted with that harlot strumpet Shore, n

That by their witchcraft thus have marked me.

Hastings. If they have done this deed, my noble lord, —

Gloster. If! thou protector of this damned strumpet,
Talk'st thou to me of ifs ? — Thou art a traitor ! —
Off with his head l-«^pQW, by Saint P5|u} \ swear,

loa RICHARD III,

I will not dine until I see the same. —
Lovel and Ratcliff, look that it be done ; —
The rest that love me, rise and follow me.

\E3ceunt Council, with GlosUr and Buckingham,
Hastings, Woe, woe, for England ! not a whit for me ;
For I, too fond, might have prevented this. so

Stanley did dream the boar did rase his helm ;
And I did scorn it, and disdain to fly.
Three times to-day my foot-cloth horse did stumble^
And started when he looked upon the Tower,
As loath to bear me to the slaughter-house.
O, now I need the priest that spake to me !
I now repent I told the pursuivant,
As too triumphing, how mine enemies
To-day at Pomfret bloodily were butchered.
And I myself secure in grace and favour.— 90

Margaret, Margaret, now thy heavy curse
Is lighted on poor Hastings' wretched head !

Ratcliff. Come, come, dispatch; the duke would be at
dinner:
Make a short shrift ; he longs to see your head.

Hastings, O, momentary grace of mortal men,
Which we more hunt for than the grace of God I
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. 100

LovcL Come, come, dispatch ; \ is bootless to exclaim.

Hastings. O, bloody Richard ! — miserable England 1

1 prophesy the fearfull'st time to thee
That ever wretched age hath look'd upon. —
Come, lead me to the block ; bear him my head :

They smile at me who shortly shall be dead. {Exeunt,

ACT III, SCENE y. 103

Scene V. 77u Tower Walls.
Enter Gloster and Buckingham, in rotten armour^ marvel-
lous ill-favoured,

Gloster, Come, cousin, canst thou quake, and change thy
colour,
Murther thy breath in middle of a word.
And then again begin,. and stop again,
As if thou wert distraught and mad with terror ?

Buckingham, 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 enforced smiles,
And both are ready in their offices 10

At any time to grace my stratagems.
But what ! is Catesby gone ?

Gloster, He is ; and, see, he brings the mayor along.

Enter the Lord Mayor and Catesby.

Buckingham, Lord mayor, —
Gloster. Look to the drawbridge there I
Buckingham, Hark ! a drum.

Gloster, Catesby, o'erlook the walls.
Buckingham, Lord mayor, the reason we have sent —
Gloster, Look back, defend thee, here are enemies.
Buckingham. God and our innocence defend and guard
us!

Enter Lovel and Ratcliff, with Hastings's head,

Gloster, Be patient, they are friends, RatclifF and Lovel. ac
Lavel Here is the head of that ignoble traitor.
The dangerous and unsuspected Hastings.

Gloster, So dear I lov'd the man, that I must weep.

I04

RICHARD III.

I took him for the plainest harmless creature

That breath'd upon the earth a Christian,

Made him my book wherein my soul recorded

The history of all her secret thoughts;

So smooth he daub'd his vice with show of virtue,

That, his apparent open guilt omitted, —

I mean his conversation with Shore's wife, — 30

He liv'd from all attainder of suspect.

Buckingham, Well, well, he was the covert'st sheltered
traitor
That ever liv'd. —

Would you imagine, or almost believe,
Were 't not that, by great preservation.
We live to tell it, that the subtle traitor
This day had plotted, in the council-house.
To murther me and my good Lord of Gloster?

Mayor, Had he done so ?

Gloster, What ! think you we are Turks or infidels ? 40
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,
Enforc'd us to this execution ?

Mayor, Now, fair befall you ! he deserv'd his death;
And your good graces both have well proceeded,
To warn false traitors from the like attempts.

Buckingham, I never look'd for better at his hands,
After he once fell in with Mistress Shore: sc

Yet had we not determin'd he should die,
Until your lordship came to see his end ;
Which now the loving haste of these our friends.
Something against our meanings, hath prevented :
Because, my lord, I would have had you heard
The traitor speak and timorously confess
The manner and the purpose of his treasons,

ACT III, SCENE V. 105

That you might well have signified the same

Unto the citizens, who haply may

Misconstrue us in him and wail his death. 60

Mayor, But, my good lord, your grace's word shall serve,
As well as I had seen and heard him speak:
And do not doubt, right noble princes both,
But I '11 acquaint our duteous citizens
With all your just proceedings in this case.

Gloster, And to that end we wish'd your lordship here,
To avoid the censures of the carping world.

Buckingham, But 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. r*

[Extf Lord Mayor,

Gloster, Go, after, after, cousin Buckingham.
The mayor towards Guildhall hies him in afl 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 termed so.
Moreover, urge his hateful luxury.

And bestial appetite in change of lust; 80

Which stretch'd 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 appeared in his lineaments, 90

Being nothing like the noble duke my father.

lo6 RICHARD III.

Yet touch this sparingly, as *t were far off;
Because, my lord, you know my mother lives.

Buckingham, Doubt not, my lord, I '11 play, the orator
As if the golden fee for which I plead
Were for myself; and so, my lord, adieu.

GlosUr, If you thrive well, bring them to Baynard's Cas-
tle,
Where you shall find me well accompanied
With reverend fathers and well-learned bishops,

Buckingham, I go; and towards three or four o'clock loo
Look for the news that the Guildhall affords. \ExiL

Gloster. Go, Lovel, with all speed to Doctor Shaw, —
Go thou \to Catesby\ to Friar Penker ; — bid them both
Meet me within this hour at Baynard's Castle. —

[Exeunt Lovel^nd Catesby,
Now will I go t6 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. \Exit

Scene VI. A Street
Enter a Scrivener.

Scrivener. Here is the indictment of the good Lord Hast-
ings,
Which in a set hand fairly is engrossed.
That it may be to-day 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 liv'd,
Untainted, unexamined, free, at liberty.
Here 's a good world the while 1 Who is so gross, lo

That cannot see this palpable device t

ACT IIL SCENE VTL 107

Yet who so bold but says he sees it not ?

Bad is the world; and all will come to nought,

When such ill dealing must be seen in thought \Exit

Scene VII. Baynard's Castle,
Enter Gloster and Buckingham, meeting,

Gloster. How now, how now ! what say the citizens?

Buckingham, Now by the holy mother of our Lord,
The citizens are mum, say not a word.

Gloster. Touched you the bastardy of Edward's children ?

Buckingham, I did ; with his contract with Lady Lucy,
And his contract by deputy in France ;
The insatiate greediness of his desifes,
And his enforcement of the city wives;
His tyranny for trifles ; his own bastardy.
As being got, your father then in France, 10

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 my oratory drew toward end, 20

I bade them that did love their country's good
Cry * God save Richard, England's royal king !'

Gloster. And did they so ?

Buckingham, No, so God help me, they spake not a word.
But, like dumb statuas or breathing stones,
Star'd each on other and look'd deadly pale ;
Which when I saw, I reprehended them.
And ask'd the mayor what meant this wilful silence.

I08 RICHARD III,

His answer was, the people were not us'd

To be spoke to but by the recorder. 30

Then he was urg'd 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 hurl'd up their caps,

And some ten voices cried, * God save King Richard I'

And thus I took the vantage of those few* —

' Thanks, gentle citizens and friends,' quoth I,

* This general applause and cheerful shout

Argues your wisdom and your love to Richard ;' 40

And even here brake off and came away.

Gloster, What tongueless blocks were they! would they
not speak ?
Will not the mayor then and his brethren come ?

Buckingham, 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 '11 make a holy descant.
And be not easily won to our requests ;
Play the maid's part, still answer nay, and take it. 50

Gloster, I go; and 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.

Buckingham, Go, go, up to the leads ; the lord mayor
knocks.-^ \Exit Gloster.

Enter the Lord Mayor, Aldermen, 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 ?

ACT III, SCENE VII. 109

CaUsby. He doth entreat your grace, my noble lord,

To visit him to-morrow or next day.

He is within, with two right reverend fathers, 60

Divinely bent to meditation ;

And in no worldly suits would he be mov'd

To draw him from his holy exercise.
Buckingham, 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.

Catesby, \ '11 signify so much unto him straight. \Exit,
Buckingham, Ah, ha, my lord, this prince is not an Ed-
ward ! 70

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

Take on his grace the sovereignty thereof;

But sure, I fear, we shall not win him to it. 79

Mayor, Marry, God defend his grace should say us nay I
Buckingham, I fear he will. Here Catesby comes again. —

Enter Catesby.

Now, Catesby, what says his grace ?

Catesby, He wonders to what end you have assembled
Such troops of citizens to come to him ;
His grace not being warn'd thereof before,
He fears, my lord, you mean no good to him.
' Buckingham, 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 ; 89

no RICHARD III.

And so once more return and tell his grace. — [Exit Catesby,

When holy and devout religious men

Are at their beads, 't is much to draw them thence,

So sweet is zealous contemplation.

Enter Gloster, in a gallery above, between two Bishops.
Catesby returns.

Mayor, See, where his grace stands 'tween two clergy-
men !

Buckingham, 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 ornament to know a holy man. —
Famous Plantagenet, most gracious prince,
Lend favourable ear to our requests, loo

And pardon us the interruption
Of thy devotion and right Christian zeal.

Gloster. 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?

Buckingham, Even that, I hope, which pleaseth God
above,
And all good men of this ungovern'd isle.

Gloster. I do suspect I have done some offence "o

That seems disgracious in the city's eye.
And that you come to reprehend my ignorance.

Buckingham, You have, my lord ; would it might please
your grace
On our entreaties to amend your fault !

Gloster. Else wherefore breathe I in a Christian land?

Buckingham. Know then, it is your fault that you resign
The supreme seat, the throne majestical,
The sceptred office of your ancestors.

ACT TIL SCENE VIL m

Your state of fortune" and your due of birth,

The lineal glory of your royal house, tut

To the corruption of a blemish'd stock ;

Whiles, in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts,

Which here we waken to our country's good,

This noble isle doth want her proper limbs;

Her face defaced with scars of infamy.

Her royal stock graft with ignoble plants,

And almost shoulder'd in the swallowing gulf

Of dark forgetfulness and deep oblivion. "

Which to recure, we heartily solicit

Your gracious self to take on you the charge is*

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.-

Gloster. I cannot tell, if to depart in silence, i4«

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, 15*

And then, in speaking, not to incur the last.
Definitively thus I answer you :
Your love deserves my thanks, but my desert

112 RICHARD III.

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, leo

Being a bark to brook no mighty sea,

Than in my greatness covet to be hid,

And in the vapour of my glory smothered.

But, God be thank'd, there is no need of me, —

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, 170

The right and fortune of his happy stars, —

Which God defend that I should wring from him !

Buckingham. My lord, this argues conscience in your
grace;
But the respects thereof are nice and trivial,
All circumstances, well considered.
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 ' i«o

To Bona, sister to the King of France.
These both put off, a poor petitioner,
A care-craz'd mother to a many sons,
A beauty-waning and distressed widow.
Even in the afternoon of her best days.
Made prize and purchase of his wanton eye,
Seduc'd the pitch and height of his degree

ACT III. SCENE VII,

113

To base declension and loath'd bigamy.

By her, in his unlawful bed, he got

This Edward, whom our manners call the prince. 190

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-derived course.

Mayor. Do, good my lord, your citizens entreat you. aoe

Buckingham. Refuse not, mighty lord, this proffer'd love.

Catesby. O, make them joyful, grant their lawful suit !

GlosUr. 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.

Buckingham. 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, aic

Which we have noted in you to your kindred,
And equally, indeed, to all estates, —
Yet know, whether you accept our suit or no.
Your brother's son shall never reign our king;
But we will plant some other in your throne,
To the disgrace and downfall of your house.
And in this resolution here we leave you. —
Come, citizens, we will entreat no more.

\Exii Buckingham; the May or ^ Aldermen^ and
Citizens retiring.

Catesby. Call him again, sweet prince, accept their suit;
If you deny them, all the land will rue it. aao

114

RICHARD III.

Glosier. Will you enforce me to a world of cares?
Call them again. I am not made of stone,
But penetrable to your kind entreaties,
Albeit against my conscience and my soul. —

Re-enter Buckingham and the rest.

Cousin of Buckingham, and sage, grave men,

Since you will buckle fortune on my back.

To bear her burthen, whether I will or no,

I must have patience to endure the load :

But if black scandal or foul-fac'd reproach

Attend the sequel of your imposition, aso

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.

Mayor, God bless your grace ! we see it, and will say it

Gloster, In saying so, you shall but say the truth.

Buckingham, Then. I salute you with this royal title, —
Long live King Richard, England^s worthy king !

All, Amen. 239

Buckingham, To-morrow may it please you to be crown'd ?

Gloster, Even when you please, for you will have it so.

Buckingham. To-morrow, then, we will attend your grace ;
And so most joyfully we take our leave.

Gloster, Come, let us to our holy work again. —

[To the Bishops.
Farewell, my cousin ; — farewell, gentle friends. [Exeunt.

ACT IV.

Scene I. before the Tower.

Enter ^ an one side^ Queen Elizabeth, Duchess of York,
and Marquis of Dorset; on the other, Anne Duchess
OF Gloster, leading Lady Margaret Plantagenet,
Clarence's young daughter.

Duchess. Who meets us here? — my niece Plantagene*"
Led in the hand of her kind aunt of Gloster!
Now, for my life, she 's wandering to the Tower.

Il6 RICHARD III,

On pure heart's love to greet the tender princes. —
Daughter, well met.

Anne, God give your graces both

A happy and a joyful time of day !.

.Queen Elizabeth, As much to you, good sister ! whithei
away?

Anne. No farther than the Tower, and, as I guess,
Upon the like devotion as yourselves.
To gratulate the gentle princes there. lo

Queen Elizabeth, Kind sister, thanks; we '11 enter all to-
gether :
And, in good time, here the lieutenant comes. —

Enter Brakenbury.

. Master lieutenant, pray you, by your leave,
How doth the prince, and my young son of York ?

Brakenbury, Right well, dear madam. By your patience,
I may not suffer you to visit them ;
The king hath strictly charg'd the contrary.

Queen Elizabeth, The king! who 's that?

Brakenbury, I mean the lord protector.

Queen Elizabeth, The Lord protect him from that kingly
title!
Hath he set bounds between their love and me ? ac

I am their mother; who shall bar me from them ?

Duchess, I am their father's mother ; I will see them.

Anne, Their aunt I am in law, in love their mother:
Then bring me to their sights; I '11 bear thy blame,
And take thy office from thee, on my peril.

Brakenbury. No, madam, no; I may not leave it so:
I am bound by oath, and therefore pardon me. \Exit

Enter Stanley.
Stanley, Let me but meet you, ladies, one hour hence.
And I '11 salute your grace of York as mother

ACT IK SCENE I, II7

And reverend looker-on of two fair queens. — 90

Come, madam, you must straight to Westminster,

\To the Duchess of Gloster.
There to be crowned Richard's royal queen.

Queen Elizabeth. Ah, cut my lace asunder.
That my pent heart may have some scope to beat,
Or else I swoon with this dead-killing newsl

Anne. Despiteful tidings ! O, unpleasing news 1

Dorset, Be of good cheer. — Mother, how fares your grace ?

Queen Elizabeth, O Dorset, speak not to me, get thee
gonel
Death and destruction dog 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 slaughter-house,
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.

Stanley. Full of wise care is this your counsel, madam. —
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 : si

Be not ta'en tardy by unwise delay.

Duchess. O, ill-dispersing wind of misery! —
O, my accursed womb, the bed of death 1
A cockatrice hast thou hatch'd to the world,
Whose unavoided eye is murtherous.

Stanley. Come, madam, come ; I in all haste was sent.

Ann€. 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 brain 1 fe

Anointed let me be with deadly venom,
And die ere men can say, God save the queen !

Il8 RICHARD IIL

Queen Elizabeth. Go, go, poor soul, I envy not thy glory^
To feed my humour wish thyself no harm.

Anne, No! why? — When he that is my husband now
Came to me, as 1 followed Henry's corse.
When scarce the blood was well wash'd from his hands
Which issued from my other angel husband,
And that dear saint which then I weeping followed, —
O, when, I say, I look'd on Richard's face, tq

This was my wish : ' Be thou,' quoth I, * accurs'd,
For making me, so young, so old a widow 1
And, when thou wed'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 prov'd the subject of mine own soul's curse, ai

Which hitherto hath held mine 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 awak'd.
Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick,
And will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me.

Queen Elizabeth, Poor heart, adieu I I pity thy complain'
ing.

Anne, No more than with my soul I mourn for yours.

Dorset. Farewell, thou woful welcomer of glory!

Anne. Adieu, poor soul, that tak'st thy leave of it! 90

Duchess. Go thou to Richmond, and good fortune guide
theel— [To Dorset.

Go thou to Richard, and good angels tend thee ! —

[To Anne.
Go thou to sanctuary, and good thoughts possess thee I —

{T(f Queen Mikabeth.

ACT IV. SCENE //.

119

I to my grave, where peace and rest lie with me 1

Eighty odd years of sorrow have I seen,

And each hour's joy wracked with a week of teen.

Queen Elizabeth. Stay yet, look back with me unto the
tower.—
Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes
Whom envy hath immur'd within your walls.
Rough cradle for such little pretty ones ! 100

Rude ragged nurse, old sullen play-fellow
For tender princes, use my babies well !
So foolish sorrow bids your stones farewell. [Exeunt

Scene II. A Room of State in the Palace,

A sennet. Enter Richard, crowned^ and in state; Bucking
HAM, Catesby, a Page, and others.

King Richard. Stand all apart.— Cousin of Buckingham !

Buckingham. My gracious sovereign.

[Richard ascends the throne. The trumpets sound.

King Richard. Give me thy hand. Thus high, by thy ad-
vice
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 ?

Buckingham. Still live they, and forever let them last !

King Richard. 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. 10

Buckingham, Say on, my loving lord.

King Richard, Why, Buckingham, I say I would be king.

Buckingham. Why, so you are, my thrice-renowned lord.

King Richard. Hal am I king? 'T is so; but Edward
lives.

Buckingham. True, noble prince.

King Richard, O, bitter consequence.

I20 RICHARD III,

That £dward still should live ! — * True, noble prince I' —

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 say'st thou now? speak suddenly; be brief. 20

Buckingham, Your grace may do your pleasure.

King Richard. Tut, tut! thou art all ice, thy kindness
freezes.
Say, have I thy consent that they shall die ?

Buckingham, Give me some little breath, some pause, dear
lord.
Before I positively speak in this;
I will resolve you herein presently. [Exit,

Catesby, [Aside to another] The king is angry; see, he
gnaws his lip.

King Richard. I will converse with iron-witted fools

[Descends from his throne.
And unrespective boys; none are for me
That look into me with considerate eyes. jo

High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect —
Boyl

Page, My lord?

King Richard, Know'st thou not any whom corrupting
gold
Will tempt unto a close exploit of death ?

Page, 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 any thing. S9

King Richard, What is his name?

Page, His name, my lord, is Tyrrel.

King Richard, I partly know the man ; go, call him hither,
boy. — [Exit Page.

The deep-revolving witty Buckingham
No more shall be the neighbour to my counsels.

ACT IK SCENE II. 121

Hath he so long held out with me untir'd,
And stops he now for breath ? — well, be it so.—

Enter Stanley.

How now, Lord Stanley? what 's the news?

Stanley, Know, my loving lord,
The Marquis Dorset, as I hear, is fled
To Richmond, in the parts where he abides.

King Richard, Come hither, Catesby; rumour it abroad 50
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. —

\Exit Catesby.
I must be married to my brother's daughter, 60

Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass. —
Murther 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 Page, with Tyrrel.

Is thy name Tyrrel ?

TyrreL James Tyrrel, and your most obedient subject.
King Richard, Art thou, indeed ?

Tyrrel. Prove me, my gracious lord

King Richard, Dar'st thou resolve to kill a friend of mine?
Tyrrel, Please you; but I had rather kill two enemies. 7c
King Richard, Why, then thou hast it; two deep enemies.

Foes to my rest and my sweet sleep's disturbers.

132 RICHARD III.

Are they that I would have thee deal upon.
Tyrrel, I mean those bastards in the Tower.

TyrreL Let me have open means to come to them,
And soon I '11 rid you from the fear of them.

King Richard, Thou sing'st sweet music. Hark, come
hither, Tyrrel ;
Go, by this token. — Rise, and lend thine ear. [ Whispers,
There is no more but so ; — say it is done,
And I will love thee and prefer thee for it. 80

Tyrrel. I will dispatch it straight. \Exit,

Enter Buckingham.

Buckingham. My lord, I have considered in my mind
The late demand that you did sound me in.

King Richard, Well, let that rest. Dorset is fled to Rich-
mond.

Buckingham. I hear the news, my lord.

King Richard. Stanley, he is your wife's son ; — well, look
unto it.

Buckingham. My lord, I claim the gift, my due by promise,
For which your honour and your faith is pawned;
The earldom of Hereford and the movables
Which you have promised I shall possess. 90

King Richard. Stanley, look to your wife; if she convey
Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it.

Buckingham. What says your highness to my just request?

King Richard. I do remember me, — Henry the Sixth
Did prophesy that Richmond should be king,
When Richmond was a little peevish boy.
A king ! — 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 ? 100

Buckingham. My lord, your promise for the earldom^ —

ACT IV. SCENE II. 123

King Richard. Richmond ! — ^When last I was at Exeter,
The mayor in courtesy show'd me the castle,
And caird 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, ky, what 's o'clock ?

Buckingham. I am thus bold to put your grace in mind
Of what you promised me. no

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. Thou troublest me ; I am not in the vein.
[Exeunt King Richard and Train

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 ia<

To Brecknock, while my fearful head is on. [Exit

'^./itevr

124

RICHARD III.

Scene III. The Same.
Enter Tyrrel.

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, whom I did suborn
To do this piece of ruthful butchery,
Albeit they were flesh'd villains, bloody dogs,
Melted with tenderness and mild compassion.
Wept like two children in their death's 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 kiss'd each other.
A book of prayers on their pillow lay.
Which once,' quoth Forrest, 'almost chang'd my mina;
But, O, the devil' — there the villain stopp'd;
When Dighton thus told on, — ' We smothered
The most replenished sweet work of Nature
That from the prime creation e'er she fram'd.'
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 King Richard.
And here he comes. — All health, my sovereign lord I

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.

King Richard. But didst thou see them dead ?

Tyrrel. I did, my lord.

ACT IV. SCENE III.

««5

King Richard, And buried, gentle Tyrrel ?

TyrreL The chaplain of the Tower hath buried them ;
But where, to say the truth, I do not know. 30

King Richard, Come to me, Tyrrel, soon, and after supper,
When thou shalt tell the process of their death,
jVleantime, but think how I may do thee good,
And be inheritor of thy desire.
Farewell till then.

TyrreL I humbly take my leave. \Exit

King Richard, 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 this world good night.
Now, for I know the Breton Richmond aims 40

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 Catesby.

Catesby, My lord ! —

King Richard, Good or bad news, that thou com*st in so
bluntly?

Catesby. 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.

King Richard, Ely with Richmond troubles me more near
Than Buckingham and his rash-levied strength. 50

Come, I have learned that fearful commenting
Is leaden servitor to dull delay;
Delay leads impotent and snail-pac'd 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. \Exeunt,

126 BICHARD III

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 slyly have I lurk'd,
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?

{Retiring

Enter Queen Elizabeth and the Duchess of York.

Queen Elizabeth, Ah, my poor prince^! ah, my tended
babes !
My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets 1 to

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 I

Queen Margaret, Hover about her; say that right for right
Hath dimmed your infant morn to aged night.

Duchess, So many miseries have craz'd my voice.
That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute. —
Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead ?

Queen Margaret. Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet, ao
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.

ACT IV, SCENE IV,

X27

Duchess, Dead life, blind sight, 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, \Sitiing daivn,
Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood ! 30

Queen Elizabeth, Ah, that thou wouldst as soon afford a
grave
As thou canst yield a melancholy seat I
Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here.
Ah, who hath any cause to mourn but we ?

[Sitting down by her.

Queen Margaret, If ancient sorrow be most reverent,

\Coming forward.
Give mine the benefit of seniory.
And let my griefs frown on the upper hand.
If sorrow can admit society, [Sitting down with them.

Tell o'er your woes again by viewing mine. —
1 had an Edward till a Richard kill'd him ; 40

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 kill'd him.

Duchess, I had a Richard too, and thou didst kfll 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 crept
A hell-hound 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 foul defacer of God's handiwork.
That excellent grand tyrant of the earth,
That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls.
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

138 RICHARD III.

Preys on the issue of his mother's body,
And makes her pew-fellow with others' moan !

Duchess, O, Harry's wife, triumph not in my woes 1
God witness with me, I have wept for thine. 60

Quern Margaret Bear with me; I am hungry for re-
venge,
And now I cloy me with beholding it.
Thy Edward he is dead, that kill'd my Edward ;
Thy other Edward dead, to quit my Edward ;
Young York he is but boot, because both they
Match not the high perfection of my loss.
Thy Clarence he is dead, that stabb'd my Edward*
And the beholders of this frantic play,
Th' adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey,
Untimely smother'd in their dusky graves. 70

Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer.
Only reserv'd 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 convey'd from hence. —
Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I pray,
That I may live and say, The dog is dead !

Queen Elizabeth, O, thou didst prophesy the time would
come
That I should wish for thee to help me curse %a

That bottled spider, that foul bunch-back'd toad !

Queen Margaret I call'd thee then vain flourish of iry
fortune ;
I call'd thee then poor shadow, painted queen;
The presentation of but what I was,
The flattering index of a direful pageant,
One heav'd a-high, to be hurl'd down below:
A mother only mock'd with two fair babes ;
A dream of what thou wast ; a garish flag,

ACT IV. SCENE IK 12^

To be the aim of every dangerous shot ;

A sign of dignity, a breath, a bubble; 90

A queen in jest, only to fill the scene.

Where is thy husband now ? where be thy brothers ^

Where be 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 distressed widow ;

For joyful mother, one that wails the name;

For one being sued to, one that humbly sues; 100

For queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care:

For one that scorned at me, now scorn'd of me;

For one being feared of all, now fearing one ;

P'or one commanding all, obeyed of none.

Thus hath the course of justice wheel'd 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? no

Now thy proud neck bears half my burthen'd yoke;

From which even here I slip my wearied head.

And leave the burthen of it all on thee.

Farewell, York's wife, and queen of sad mischance;

These English woes shall make me smile in France.

Queen Elizabeth. O thou well skill'd in curses, stay a
while,
And teach me how to curse mine enemies.

Queen Margaret Forbear to sleep the night, and fast the
day;
Compare dead happiness with living woe;
Think that thy babes were sweeter than they were, m

And he that slew them fouler than he is:

I30 RICHARD III.

Bettering thy loss makes the bad causer worse;
Revolving this will teach thee how to curse.

Queen Elizabeth, My words are dull; O, quicken them
with thine !

Queen Margaret Thy woes will make them sharp, and
pierce like mine. \Exit Queen Margaret

Duchess, Why should calamity be full of words ?

Queen Elizabeth, Windy attorneys to their client woes,
Airy succeeders of intestate joys,
Poor breathing orators of miseries I

Let them have scope; though what they will impart ijo

Help nothing else, yet do they ease the heart.

Duchess, If so, then be not tongue-tied ; go with me,
And in the br.eath of bitter words let 's smother
My damned son, that thy two sweet sons smother'd.

\A trumpet heard
The trumpet sounds; be copious in exclaims.

Enter King Richard and his train^ marching.

King Richard, Who intercepts me in my expedition ?

Duchess, O, she that might have intercepted thee,
By strangling thee in her accursed womb,
From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast done.

Queen Elizabeth, Hid'st thou that forehead with a golden
crown, i4»

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 ?

Duchess, Thou toad, thou toad, where is thy brother Clar-
ence,
And little Ned Plantagenet, his son ?

Queen Elizabeth, Where is the gentle Rivers, Vaughan,
Grey.>

Duchess, Where is kind Hastings ?

ACT IV. SCENE IV.

131

King Richard. A flourish, trumpets 1 — strike alarum,
drums 1 ^

Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women 150

Rail on the Lord's anointed. Strike, I say 1 —

[Flourish. Alarums.
Either be patient and entreat me fair,
Or with the clamorous report of war
Thus will I drown your exclamations.

Duchess. Art thou my soh ?

King Richard. Ay, I thank God, my father, and yourself.

Duchess. Then patiently hear my impatience.

King Richard. Madam, I have a touch of your condition,
That cannot brook the accent of reproof

Duchess. O, let me speak.

King Richard. Do, then ; but I '11 not hear. ,

Duchess. I will be mild and gentle in my words. 161

King Richard, And brief, good mother, for I am in
haste.

Duchess. Art ihou so hasty ? I have stay'd for thee,
Grod knows, in torment and in agony.

King Richard. And came I not at last to comfort you ?

Duchess. No, by the holy rood, thou know'st it well,
Thou cam'st on earth to make the earth my hell.
A grievous burthen was thy birth to me :
Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy;
Thy school-days frightful, desperate, wild, and furious; 17^
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 grac'd me with thy company ? ' i

King Richard. Faith, none, but Humphrey Hour, that call'd
your grace
To breakfast once forth of my company.
If I be so disgracious in your eye,

132 RICHARD III.

Let me march on, and not offend you, madam. —
Strike up the drum I

Duchess. I prithee hear me speak. i8o

King Richard, You speak too bitterly.

Duchess. Hear me a word;

For I shall never speak to thee again.

King Richard, So.

Duchess. 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 never more behold thy face again.
Therefore take with thee my most grievous curse,
Which in the day of battle tire thee more
Than all the complete armour that thou wear'st ! 190

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. {Exit.

Queen Elizabeth. Though far more cause, yet much less
spirit to curse
Abides in me ; I say amen to her. \Going.

King Richard. Stay, madam, I must talk a word with you.

Queen Elizabeth. I have no more sons of the royal blood
For thee to slaughter; for my daughters, Richard, aoi

They shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens.
And therefore level not to hit their lives.

King Richard. You have a daughter call'd Elizabeth.
Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious.

Queen Elizabeth. And must she die for this? O, let hei
live.
And I '11 corrupt her manners, stain her beauty.
Slander myself as false to Edward's bed.
Throw over her the veil of infamy I

ACT IV. SCENE IV, 133

So she may live unscarr'd of bleeding slaughter, aio

I will confess she was not Edward's daughter.

King Richard, Wrong not her birth; she is a royal,
princess.

Queen Elizabeth. To save her life, I '11 say she is not so.

King Richard, Her life is safest only in her birth.

Queen Elizabeth. And only in that safety died her broth-
ers.

King Richard, Lo, at their birth good stars were op-
posite.

Queen Elizabeth. No, to their lives ill friends were con-
trary.

King Richard. All unavoided is the doom of destiny.

Queen Elizabeth, True, when avoided grace makes des-
tiny.
My babes were destin'd to a fairer death, sao

If grace had bless'd thee with a fairer life.

King Richard, You speak as if that I had slain my
cousins.

Queen Elizabeth. Cousins, indeed; and by their uncle
cozen 'd
Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life.
Whose hand soever lanc'd their tender hearts,
Thy head, all indirectly, gave direction :
No doubt the murtherous 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, ^yi

My tongue should to thy ears not name my boys
Till that my nails were anchored in thine eyes;
And I, in such a desperate bay of death,
Like a poor bark, of sails and tackling reft,
Rush all to pieces on thy rocky bosom.

King Richard, Madam, so thrive I in my enterprise
And dangerous success of bloody wars

134 RICHARD IIL

As I intend more good to you and yours
Than ever you or yours by me were harmed !

Quan Elizabeth, What good is covered with the face oi
heaven, ' 240

To be discovered, that can do me good ?

King Richard, The advancement of your children, gentle

lady.
Queen Elizabeth, Up to some scaffold, there to lose their

heads ?
King Richard, Unto the dignity and height of fortune,
The high imperial type of this earth's glory.

Queen Elizabeth, Flatter my sorrow with report of it ;
Tell me what state, what dignity, what honour,
Canst thou demise to any child of mine ?

King Richard, Even all I have ; ay, and myself and all,
Will I withal endow a child of thine, as<>

So in the Lethe of thy angry soul
Thou drown the sad remembrance of those wrongs
Which thou supposest I have done to thee.

Queen Elizabeth, Be brief, lest that the process of thy
kindness
Last longer telling than thy kindness' date.
King Richard, Then know that from my soul I love thy

daughter.
Queen Elizabeth, My daughter's mother thinks it with her

soul.
King Richard, What do you think ?
Queen Elizabeth, That thou dost love my daughter from
thy soul.
So from thy soul's love didst thou love her brothers ; 260

And from my heart's love I do thank thee for it.
King Richard, Be not so hasty to confound my mean-
ing.
I mean, that with my soul I love thy daughter,
And do intend to make her queen of England.

ACT IV, SCENE IV. 135

Queen Elizabeth, Well, then, who dost thou mean shall be
her king?

King Richard, Even he that makes her queen ; who else
should be ?

Queen Elizabeth, What, thou ?

King Richard, Even so ; how think you of it ?

Queen Elizabeth, How canst thou woo her ?

King Richard, That I would learn of you,

As one being best acquainted with her humour. ajo

Queen Elizabeth, And wilt thou learn of me ?

King Richard, Madam, with all my heart.

Queen Elizabeth, 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, steep'd in Rutland's blood —
A handkerchief, which, say to her, did drain
The purple sap from her sweet brothers' bodies,
And bid her wipe her weeping eyes withal. 180

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 Rirers \ ay, and for her sake,
Mad'st quick conveyance with her good aunt Anne.

King Richard. You mock me, madam ; this is not the wa>
Tr win your daughter.

Queen Elizabeth. There is no other way.

Unless thou couldst put on some other shape,
And not be Richard that hath done all this.

King Richard, Say that I did all this for love of her? 390

Queen Elizabeth. Nay, then indeed she cannot choose but
love thee,
Having bought love with such a bloody spoil.

King Richard. Look, what is done cannot be now amended j

136 RICHARD IIL

Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes,

Which after-hours give leisure to repent.

If I did take the kingdom from your sons,

To make amends I Ul give it to your daughter

If I have kiird the issue of your womb,

To quicken your increase I will beget

Mine issue of your blood upon your daughter. jot

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 mettle, of your very blood ;

Of all one pain, save for a night of groans

Endur'd 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 320

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 loan with interest

Of ten-times-double gain of happiness.

Go then, my mother, to thy daughter go :

Make bold her bashful years with your experience \

ACT IV, SCENE IK

Prepare her ears to hear a wooer's tale ;

Put in her tender heart the aspiring flame 330

Of golden sovereignty ; acquaint the princess

With the sweet silent hours of marriage joys:

And when this arm of mine hath chastised

The petty rebel, duU-brain'd 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 victress, Caesar's Caesar.

Queen Elizabeth. What were I best to say? her father's
brother
Would be her lord ? Or shall I say her uncle ? 340

Or he that slew her brothers and her uncles?
Under what title shall I woo for thee.
That God, the law, my honour, and her love
Can make seem pleasing to her tender years?

King Richard, Infer fair England's peace by this alliance.

Queen Elizabeth, Which she shall purchase with still-last-
ing war.

Kmg Richard. Tell her the king, that may command, en-
treats.

Queen Elizabeth. That at her hands which the king's King
forbids.

King Richard. Say she shall be a high and mighty queen.

Queen Elizabeth. To wail the title as her mother doth.

King Richard. Say I will love her everlastingly. 351

Queen Elizabeth, But how long shall that title 'ever'
last?

King Richard. Sweetly in force unto her fair life's end.

Queen Elizabeth. But how long fairly shall her sweet life
last ?

King Richard. As long as heaven and nature lengthens it

Queen Elizabeth, As long as hell and Richard likes of it.

King Richard. Say I, her sovereign, am her subject low.

138 RICHARD IJI.

Queen Elizabeth. But she, your subject, loathes such sov-
ereignty.
King Richard, Be eloquent in my behalf to her.
Queen Elizabeth. An honest tale speeds best being plainly

told. 360

King Richard. Then plainly to her tell my loving tale.
Queen Elizabeth. Plain, and not honest, is too harsh a style.
King Richard. Your reasons are too shallow and too quick.
Queen Elizabeth. O, no, my reasons are too deep and

dead, —
Too deep and dead, poor infants, in their graves.

King Richard. Harp not on that string, madam ; that is

past.
Queen Elizabeth. Harp on it still shall I, till heart-strings

break.
King Richard. Now, by my George, my garter, and my

crown, —
Queen Elizabeth. Profan'd, dishonoured, and the third

usurped.
King Richard. I swear —

Queen Elizabeth. By nothing; for this is no oath.

Thy George, profan'd, hath lost his lordly honour ; 371

Thy garter, blemish'd, pawn*d his knightly virtue;
Thy crown, usurped, disgraced his kingly glory.
If something thou wouldst swear to be believ'd,
Swear then by something that thou hast not wrong'd.
King Richard. Then by myself, —

Queen Elizabeth. Thyself is self-misus'd.

King Richard. Now by the world, —
Queen Elizabeth. *T is full of thy foul wrongs.

King Richard. My father's death, —
Queen Elizabeth. Thy life hath it dishonour*d.

King Richard. Why, then, by God, —
Queen Elizabeth. God's wrong is most of all.

If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by Him, 380

ACT IV. SCENE IV. i^<^

The unity the king my husband made
Thou hadst not broken, nor my brother slain.
If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by Him,
The 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 ?

King Richard, The time to come.

Queen Elizabeth, That thou hast wronged in the time
o'erpast ; 39c

For I myself have many tears to wash
Hereafter time, for time past wrong'd by thee.
The children live whose fathers thou hast slaughtered,
Ungovern'd youth, to wail it with their age;
The parents live whose children thou hast butcher'd.
Old barren plants, to wail it with their age.
Swear not by time to come ; for that thou hast
Misused ere us'd, by times ill-us'd o'erpast.

King Richard, As I intend to prosper and repent,
So thrive I in my dangerous affairs 4<»

Of hostile arms ! myself myself confound !
Heaven and fortune bar me happy hours !
Day, yield me not thy light, nor, night, thy rest I
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. 4,0

Death, desolation, ruin, and decay:
It cannot be avoided but by this;
It will not be avoided but by this.

I^o RICHARD III

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.

Queen Elizabeth. Shall I be tempted of the devil thus ?

King Richard, Ay, if the devil tempts thee to do good

Queen Elizabeth. Shall I forget myself to be myself?

King Richard, Ay, if your self's remembrance wrong your-
self.

Queen Elizabeth, Shall I go win my daughter to thy will ?

King Richard, And be a happy mother by the deed.

Queen Elizabeth, I go. — Write to me very shortly.
And you shall understand from me her mind.

King Richard, Bear her my true love's kiss, and so fare-
well. — \Exit Queen Elizabeth,
Relenting fool, and shallow, changing woman ! —
How now 1 what news ? 430

^«/^r Ratcliff; Cat^sby following,

Ratcliff, yiosi 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.

King Richard. Some light-foot friend post to the Duke of
Norfolk ;—
Ratcliff, thyself, — or Catesby; where is he? 439

Catesby, Here, my good lord.

King Richard. Catesby, fly to the duke.

Catesby. I will, my lord, with all convenient haste.

King Richard. Ratcliff, come hither. Post to Salisbury:

ACT IV. SCENE IV.

141

When thou com'st thither, — Dull, unmindful villain,

, \To Cateshy.

Why stay'st thou here, and go'st not to the duke ?

Catesby. First, mighty liege, tell me your highness' pleas-
ure.
What from your grace I shall deliver to him.

King Richard, O, true, good Catesby. — Bid him levy

straight

The greatest strength and power he can make,

And meet me suddenly at Salisbury. 449

Catesby. I go. \Exit

Ratdiff. What, may it please you, shall I do at Salisbury ?

King Richard, Why, what wouldst thou do there before

I go?
Ratcliff. Your highness told me I should post before. .

Enter Stanley.
King Richard. My mind is changed. — Stanley, what news

with you ?
Stanley. None good, my liege, to please you with the
hearing;
Nor none so bad but well may be reported.

King Richard. Heyday, a riddle I 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 ?

Stanley. Richmond is on the seas. 460

King Richard. There let him sink, and be the seas on
him,
White-liver'd runagate ! — What doth he there ?

Stanley. I know not, mighty sovereign, but by guess.
King Richard. Well, as you guess ?
Stanley. Stirr'd up by Dorset, Buckingham, and Morton,
He makes for England, here to claim the crown.
King Richard. Is the chair empty ? is the sword unswayed ?

142 RICHARD IIL

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? 470

Then, tell me, what makes he upon the seas ?

Stanley. Unless for that, my liege, I cannot guess.

King Richard, 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.

Stanley, No, my good lord ; therefore mistrust me not.

King Richard. 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? 4«o

Stanley, No, my good lord, my friends are in the north.

King Richard, Cold friends to me 1 What do they in the
north
When they should serve their sovereign in the west?

Stanley, They have not been commanded, mighty king.
Pleaseth your majesty to give me leave,
I '11 muster up my friends and meet your grace
Where and what time your majesty shall please.

King Richard, Ay, thou wouldst be gone to join with
Richmond ;
But I '11 not trust thee.

Stanley, Most mighty sovereign,

You have no cause to hold my friendship doubtful. 490

I never was nor never will be false.

King Richard, Go, then, and muster men ; but leave be-
hind
Your son, George Stanley. Look your heart be firm.
Or else his head's assurance is but frail.

Stanley, So deal with him as I prove true to you.

\Exit StanUy
Enter a Messenger.

Messenger, My gracious sovereign, now in Devonshire,

ACT IF, SCENE IV. 143

As I by friends am well advertised,

Sir Edward Courtney and the haughty prelate.

Bishop of Exeter, his elder brother,

With many moe confederates, are in arms. 500

Enter another Messenger.^

2 Messenger, In Kent, my liege, the Guildfords are in

arms ;
And every hour more competitors
Flock to the rebels, and their power grows strong.

Enter a third Messenger.

3 Messenger, My lord, the army of great Buckingham —
King Richard, Out on ye, owls! nothing but songs of

death ? [^He strikes him.

There, take thou that, till thou bring better news.

3 Messenger. The news I have to tell your majesty
Is, that by sudden floods and fall of waters
Buckingham's army is dispersed and scattered.
And he himself wander'd away alone, s"

No man knows whither.

King Richard. I cry thee mercy ;

There is my purse to cure that blow of thine.
Hath any well-advised friend proclaimed
Reward to him that brings the traitor in ?

3 Messenger, Such proclamation hath been made, my lord.

Enter a fourth Messenger.

4 Messenger, Sir Thomas Lovel and Lord Marquis Dorset,
^T is said, my liege, in Yorkshire are in arms ;

But this good con^fort bring I to your highness, —

The Breton navy is dispers'd by tempest.

Richmond, in Dorsetshire, sent out a boat s*b

Unto the shore, to ask those on the banks

If tiiey were bis assistants, yea or noj

144 RICHARD III,

Who answered him, they came from Buckingham
Upon his party: he, mistrusting them,
Hois'd sail and made his course again for Bretagne.
King Richard, 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.

Catesby, My liege, the Duke of Buckingham is taken ;
That is the best news : that the Earl of Richmond 530

Is with a mighty power landed at Milford
Is colder news, but yet they must be told.

King Richard, Away towards Salisbury ! while we reason
here
A royal battle might be won and lost. —
Some one take order Buckingham be brought
To Salisbury; the rest march on with me. \ExeunL

Scene V. Lord Stanley's House,
Enter Stanley and Sir Christopher Urswick.

Stanley, Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from me,-
That in the sty of the most deadly boar
My son George Stanley is frank'd 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 pow ?

Christopher. At Pembroke, or at Hertford West, in Wales.

Stanley, What men of name resort to him ? o

Christopher, Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned soldier;
Sir Gilbert Talbot, Sir William Stanley;

ACT IV. SCENE K

145

Oxford, redoubted Pembroke, Sir James ^lunt,
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.

Stanley. Well, hie thee to thy lord ; I kiss his hand :
My letter will resolve him of my mind. jo

Farewell. \Exeunt,

TAMWORTH CASTLB.

ACT V.

Scene I. Salisbury. An open Place.
Enter the Sheriff and Guard, with Buckingham, led to exe

cution.

Buckingham, Will not King Richard let me speak with

him?
Sheriff. No, my good lord ; therefore be patient.
Buckingham. Hastings, and Edward's children, Grey, anc*

Rivers,

ACT V, SCENE IL 147

Holy King Henry, and thy fair son Edward,
Vaughan, and all that have niiscarried
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? ic

' Sheriff, It is.
Buckingham, Why, then All - Souls' day is my body's
doomsday.
This is the day which, in King Edward's time,
I wish'd might fall on me when I was found
False to his children or his wife's allies;
This is the day wherein I wish'd to fall .
By the false faith of him whom most I trusted ;
This, this All-Souls' day to my fearful soul
Is the determin'd respite of my wrongs.
That high All-Seer which I dallied with a©

Hath turn'd my feigned prayer on my head.
And given in earnest what I begg'd 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. 29

\Exeunt Buckingham and Officers.

Scene II. A Plain near Tamworth,

Enter Richmond, Oxford, Blunt, Herbert, and others^
with drum and colours,

Richmond, Fellows in arms, and my most loving friends,
Bruis'd underneath the yoke of tyranny.

148 RICHARD III.

Thus far into the bowels of the land

Have we march'd on without impediment ;

And here receive we from our father Stanley

Lines of fair comfort and encouragement

The wretched, bloody, and usurping boar,

That spoird your summer fields and fruitful vines,

Swills your warm blood like wash, and makes his trough

In your emboweird bosoms, — this foul swine i*

Is now even in the centre 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.

To reap the harvest of perpetual peace

By this one bloody trial of sharp war.

Oxford, Every man's conscience is a thousand men,
To fight against this guilty homicide.

Herbert I doubt not but his friends will turn to us.

Blunt He hath no friends but what are friends for
fear, ao

Which in his dearest need will fly from him.

Richmond. 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. [Exeunt

Scene III. Bosworth Field.

Enter King Richard in arms, with Norfolk, Surrey, and

others.

King Richard. Here pitch our tents, even here in Bos-
worth field. —
My Lord of Surrey, why look you so sad ?
Surrey. My heart is ten times lighter than my looks.
King Richard. My Lord of Norfolk, —
Norfolk. Here, most gracious liege.

ACT y. SCENE III.

149

King Richard, Norfolk, we^ must have knocks ; ha ! must
we not ?

Norfolk, We must both give and take, my loving
lord.

King Richard, Up with my tent! here will I lie to-
night ; — \Soldiers begin to set up the King's tent.
But where to-morrow? — Well, all 's one for that.—
Who hath descried the number of the traitors?

Norfolk, Six or seven thousand is their utmost power. 10

King Richard. 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, to-morrow is a busy day. [Exeunt,

Enter, on the other side of the field, Richmond, Sir William
Brandon, Blunt, Oxford, and others. Some of the Sol-
diers ///^^ Richmond's tent,
Richmond, The weary sun hath made a golden set.

And by the bright track of his fiery car ac

Gives token of a goodly day to-morrow. —

Sir William Brandon, you shall bear my standard. —

Give me some ink and paper in my tent;

I '11 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 good night to him, 30

And by the second hour in the morning

Desire the earl to see me in my tent. —

ISO

RICHARD III,

Yet one thing more, good captain, do for me ;
Where is Lord Stanley quartered ? do you know?

Blunt. Unless I have mistaken his colours 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.

Richmond, If without peril it be possible.
Sweet Blunt, make some good means to speak with him, 40
And give him from me this most needful note. •

Blunt, Upon my life, my lord, I '11 undertake it;
And so, God give you quiet rest to-night !

Richmond. Good night, good Captain Blunt. — Come, gen-
tlemen.
Let us consult upon to-morrow's business.
In to my tent 1 the dew is raw and cold.

\They withdraw into the tent.

Enter, to his tent, King Richard, Norfolk, Ratcliff, and
Catesby.

King Richard. What is 't o'clock ?

Catesby. It 's supper time, my lord ;

It 's nine o'clock.

King Richard, I will not sup to-night. —
Give me some ink and paper. —

What, is my beaver easier than it was ? 50

And all my armour laid into my tent.'*

Catesby. It is, my liege ; and all things are in readiness.

King Richard. Good Norfolk, hie thee to thy charge.
Use careful watch, choose trusty sentinels.

Norfolk. I go, my lord.

King Richard. Stir with the lark to-morrow, gentle Nor-
folk.

Norfolk. I warrant you, my lord. [Exit,

King Richard. Catesby 1

Catesby. My lord ?

AC'J' K SCENE III.

151

King Richard, Send out a pursuivant-at-arms

To Stanley's regiment; bid him bring iiis power 60

Before sun-rising, lest his son George fall
into the blind cave of eternal night. — [Exit Catesby,

Fill me a bowl of wine. — Give me a watch. —
Saddle white Surrey for the field to-morrow. —
Look that my staves be sound,and not too heavy.-^ .
Ratcliff!—

Ratdiff. My lord ?

King Richard. Saw'st thou the melancholy Lord Nor.
thumberland ?

Ratcliff. Thomas the Earl of Surrey, and himself,
Much about cock-shut time, from troop to troop 7c

Went through the army, cheering up the soldiers.

King Richard. 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. —
Set it down. — Is ink and paper ready?

Ratcliff. It is, my lord.

King Richard. Bid my guard watch. Leave me

Ratcliff, about the mid of night come to my tent
And help^to arm me. — Leave me, I say.

{Exeunt Ratcliff and the other attendants.

Enter Stanley to Richmond in his tent, Lords and others
attending.
Stanley. Fortune and victory sit on thy helm ! so

Richmond, All comfort that the dark night can afford

Be to thy person, noble father-in-law !

Tell me how fares our loving mother?

Stanley. I, by attorney, bless thee from thy mother,

Who prays continually for Richmond's good ;

So much for that. — The silent hours steal on,

Ai>d flaky darkness breaks within the east.

152 RICHARD III.

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 loo

Which so long sunder'd friends should dwell upon.

God give us leisure for these rites of love 1

Once more adieu. Be valiant, and speed well 1

Richmond, Good lords, conduct him to his regiment
I *11 strive, with troubled thoughts, to take a nap.
Lest leaden slumber peize me down to-morrow,
When I should mount with wings of victory.
Once more good night, kind lords and gentlemen. —

\Exeunt all but Richmond.
O Thou, whose captain I account myself,
Look on my forces with a gracious eye; xic

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 thy 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 1 \Siecj^s,

ACT v. SCENE III. 153

ne Ghost of Prince Edward, son to Henry the Sixth,
appears between the two tents.
Ghost, [To jRirhard,] Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-
morrow I
Think how thou stabb'dst me in my prime of youth lao

At Tewksbury ; despair, therefore, and die I—

[To Riehmond,'] Be cheerful, Richmond, for the wronged
souls
Of butcher'd princes fight in thy behalf;
King Henry's issue, Richmond, comforts thee.

The Ghost 0/ Heijry the Sixth appears.
Ghost. [To Richard.'] When I was mortal, my anointed
body
By thee was punched full of deadly holes.
Think on the Tower and me ; despair and die I
Harry the Sixth bids thee despair and die. —

[To Richmond.'] Virtuous and holy, be thou conqueror I
Harry, that prophesied thou shouldst be king, 130

Doth comfort thee in sleep ; live and flourish !

The Ghost 0/ ChAREiiCE appears.

Ghost. [2b Richard.] Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-
morrow !
I, that was wash'd to death with fulsome wine,
Poor Clarence, by thy guile betray'd to death 1
To-morrow in the battle think on me.
And fall thy edgeless sword ! Despair and die ! —

[To Richmond.] Thou offspring of the house of Lan
caster.
The wronged heirs of York do pray for thee ;
Good angels guard thy battle ! Live and flourish I

X54 RICHARD 111,

The Ghosts of Rivers, Grey, and Vaughan appear.
Rivers, \2b RichariL\ Let me sit heavy on thy soul to
morrow,
Rivers, that died at Pomfret! Despair and die! .

Grey, [To Richard,] Think upon Grey, and let thy soul

despair !
Vaughan, [To Richard.] Think upon Vaughan, and with
guilty fear
Let fall thy lance ! Despair and die !

^11, [To Richmond.] Awake ! and think our wrongs in
Richard's bosom
Will conquer him. Awake, and win the day 1

The Ghost of Hastings appears.
Ghost, [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! 150

Arm, fight, and conquer, for fair England's sake !

The Ghosts of the two young Princes appear.
Ghosts. 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 ihee despair and die ! —
Sleep, Richmond, sleep in peace and wake in joy;

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. 155

The Ghost ^ Queen Anne appears.
Ghost. Richard, thy wife, that wretched Anne^ thy wife,
That never slept a quiet hour with thee,
Now fills thy sleep with perturbations;

ACT V, SCENE III. 155

To-morrow in the battle think on me,

And fall thy edgeless sword ! Despair and die I —

[To Richmond,^ Thou, quiet soul, sleep thou a quiet
sleep ;
Dream of success and happy victory !
Thy adversary's wife doth pray for thee.

The Ghost of Buckingham appears.

Ghost [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, 170

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 ;
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 !

[The Ghosts vanish. King Richard
starts out of his dream.

King Richard, Give me another horse! — bind up my
» wounds ! —

Have mercy, Jesu ! — Soft ! I did but dream. —
O, coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me ! — iSc

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 murtherer 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?
0; no ! alas, I rather hate myself 190

156 RICHARD III.

For hateful deeds committed by myself I

I am a villain ; yet I lie, I am not.

Fool, of thyself speak well. — Fool, do not Ratter.

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 high'st degree,

Murther, stern murther, in the dir's;t degree,

All several sins, all us'd in each degree,

Throng to the bar, crying all * Guilty ! guilty 1' «»

I shall despair. — There is no creature loves me;

And if I die, no soul shall pity me. —

Nay, wherefore should they, since that I myself

Find in myself no pity to myself?

Methought the souls of all that I had murther'd

Came to my tent, and every one did threat

To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard.

• Enter Ratcliff.

Ratcliff, My lord,—

King Richard. Who 's there ?

Ratcliff, Ratcliff, my lord; 't is I The early village
cock at^

Hath twice done salutation to the morn ; '
Your friends are up, and buckle on their armour.

King Richard O Ratcliff! I have dream'd a fearful
dream. —
What thinkest thou ? will our friends prove all true ?

Ratcliff. No doubt, my lord.

King Richard, O Ratcliff I I fear, I fear,-^

Ratcliff. Nay, good my lord, be not afraid of shadows.

King Richard. By the apostle Paul, shadows to-night
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. «o

ACT V. SCENE III.

157

It is not yet near day. Come, go with me :
Under our tents I '11 play the eavesdropper^
To hear if any mean to shrink from me. \Exeunt

Enter Oxford and others to Richmond in his tent.

Lords, Good morrow, Richmond.

Richmond, Cry mercy, lords, and watchful gentlemen,
That you have ta'en a tardy sluggard here.

Lards, How have you slept, my lord ?

Richmond, The sweetest sleep, and fairest-boding dreams
That ever entered in a drowsy head.

Have I since your departure had, my lords. 230

Methought their souls, whose bodies Richard murther'd.
Came to my tent, and cried on victory 1
I promise you my heart is very jocund
In the remembrance of so fair a dream.
How far into the morning is it, lords?

Lords, Upon the stroke of four.

Richmond, Why, then, 't is time to arm, and - give di-
- rection. — \He advances to the troops.

More than I have said, loving countrymen.
The leisure and enforcement of the time
Forbids to dwell on : yet remember this, — 240

God and our good cause fight upon our side ;
The prayers of holy saints and wronged souls.
Like high-rear'd 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 ; 350
A base foul stone, made precious by the foil
Of England's chair, where he is falsely set;

158 RICHARD III,

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, a6o

Your wives shall welcome home the conquerors;

If you do free your children from the sword,

Your children's children quit 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 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; 270

God and Saint George ! Richmond and victory I \Exeunt.

Enter King Richard, Ratcliff, Attendants, and Forces.
King Richard, What said Northumberland as touching

Richmond ?
Ratcliff. That he was never trained up in arms.
King Richard, He said the truth ; and what said Surrey

then ?
Ratcliff. He smil'd and said, the better for our purpose.
King Richard, He was i' the right; and so, indeed, it is. —

\Clock strikes.
Tell the clock there. — Give me a calendar. —
Who saw the sun to-day ?

Ratcliff. Not I, my lord.

King Richard, Then he disdains to shine; for by the
book
He should have brav'd the east an hour ago; aSo

ACT V. SCENE III. 159

A black day will it be to somebody. —
RatclifF,—

Ratdiff, My lord ?

King Richard, The sun will not be seen to-day;

The sky doth frown and lower upon our army.
I would these dewy tears were from the ground.
Not shine to-day I Why, what is that to me
More than to Richmond ? for the selfsame heaven
That frowns on me looks sadly upon him.

Enter Norfolk.

Norfolk, Arm, arm, my lord ! the foe vaunts in the field.

King Richard, Come, bustle, bustle. — Caparison my
horse. — 090

Call up Lord Stanley, bid him bring his power.
I will lead forth my soldiers to the plain,
And thus my battle shall be ordered :
My fore ward shall be drawn out all in length,
Consisting equally of horse and foot ;
Our archers shall be placed in the midst.
John Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Earl of Surrey,
Shall have the leading of the foot and, horse.
They thus directed, we will follow

In the main battle, whose puissance on either side 30a

Shall be well winged with our chiefest horse.
This, and Saint George to boot ! — What think'st thou, Nor-
folk?

Norfolk. A good direction, warlike sovereign. —
This found I on my tent this morning. \Giving a scroll.

King Richard, [Reads] * yocky of Norfolk^ be not so bold^
For Dickon thy master is bought and soW
A thing devised by the enemy. —
Go, gentlemen, every man to his charge.
Let not our babbling dreams affright our souls,
For conscience is a wx)rd that cowards use, 310

i6o RICHARD III.

Devised at first to keep the strong in awe;

Our strong arms be our conscience, swords our law,

March on, join bravely, let us to 't pell-mell ;

If not to heaven, then hand in hand to hell. —

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'er-cloyed country vomits forth

To desperate adventures and assur'd destruction. 330

You sleeping safe, they bring you to unrest;

You having lands and bless'd with beauteous wives^

They would restrain the one, distain the other.

And who doth lead them but a paltry fellow

Long kept in Bretagnje at our mother's cost,

A milk-sop, one that never in his life

Felt so much cold as over shoes in snow?

Let 's whip these stragglers o*er the seas again,

Lash hence these overweening rags of France,

These famish'd beggars, weary of their lives; 330

Who, but for dreaming on this fond exploit,

For want df means, poor rats, had hang'd themselves.

If we be conquered, let men conquer us,

And not these bastard Bretons, whom our fathers

Have in their own land beaten, bobb'd, and thump'd,

And on record left them the heirs of shame. —

Hark 1 I hear their drum. [^Drum afar ofi.

Fight, gentlemen of England ! fight, bold yeomen I

Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head !

Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood I 340

Amaze the welkin with your broken staves ! —

Enter a Messenger.
What says liOrd Stanley? >yill he bring his power?
Messenger, My lord, he doth deny to come.

ACT V. SCENE IV, i6i

King Richard, Off with his son George's head !

Norfolk, My lord, the enemy is pass'd the marsh ;
\fter the battle let George Stanley die.

King Richard, A thousand hearts are great within my
bosom.
Advance our standards ! set upon our foes 1
Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George,
Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons 1 350

Upon them I Victory sits on our helms. \Exeunt

Scene IV. Another Part of the Field,

Alarum : Excursions. Enter Norfolk and Forces ; to him

Catesby.

Catesby, Rescue, my Lord of Norfolk 1 rescue, rescue I
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 1

Alarum, Enter King Richard.
King Richard, A horse! a horse 1 my kingdom for a

horse !
Catesby, Withdraw, my lord ; I Ml help you to a horse.
King Richard, Slave ! I have set my life upon a cast,
And I will stand the hazard of the die. 10

I think there be six Richmonds in the field;
Five have I slaiA to-day instead of him. —
A horse ! a horse ! my kingdom for a horse ! {Exeunt,

i5a RICHaku 211. >

Alarums, Enter Richard and Richmond, fighting; and
exeunt^ fighting. Retreat and fiourish, l^hen enter Rich-
mond, Stanley bearing the crown^ with divers other Lords,
and Forces.

Richmond, God and your arms be prais'd, victorious
friends,

The day is ours, the bloody dog is dead.

Stanley, Courageous Richmond, well hast thou acquit thee.

Lo, here, this long-usurped royalty

From the dead temples of this bloody wretch

Have I pluck'd off, to grace thy brows withal ;

Wear it, enjoy it, and make much of it. ao

Richmond. Great God of heaven, say amen to all ! —

But, tell me, is young George Stanley living ?

Stanley, He is, my lord, and safe in Leicester town ;

Whither, if it please you, we may withdraw us.

Richmond. What men of name are slain on either side \
Stanley, John Duke of Norfolk, Walter Lord Ferrers,

Sir Robert Brakenbury, and Sir William Brandon.
Richmond, Inter their bodies as becomes their births.

Proclaim a pardon to the soldiers fled

That in submission will return to us ; y.

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 hath frown'd upon their enmity ! —

What traitor hears me, and says not amen ?

England hath long been mad, and scarr'd 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,

ACT V. SCENE IV.

163

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-fac'd peace,

With smiling plenty, and fair prosperous daysl

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 stopp'd, Peace lives again :

That she may long live here, God say amen ! \^Exeunt

RICHARD III. (FROM THE WAKWICK ROLL.)

NOTES.

ABBREVIATIONS USED IN THE NOTES.

Abbott (or Gr.), Abbott's Shakespearian Grammar (third edition).
A. S., Anglo-Saxon.

A. v.. Authorized Version of the Bible (1611).

B. and F., Beaumont and Fletcher.
B. J., Ben Jonson.

Camb. ed., " Cambridge edition" of Shakespeare, edited by Clark and Wright

Ct {confer), compare.

Clarke, " Cassell's Illustrated Shakespeare," edited by Charles and Mary Cowdcn
Clarke (London, n. d.).

Coll., Collier (second edition;.

Coll. MS., Manuscript Corrections of Second Folio, edited by Collier.

D., Dyce (second edition).

H., Hudson (first edition).

Halliwell, J. O. Halliwell (folio ed. of Shakespeare).

Id. {,idem)y the same.

J. H., J. Hunter's ed. of RicJtardlll. (London, 1874).

K., Knight (second ediiion\

Lawson, W. Lawson's ed. oi Richard III. (London and Glasgow, 1877).

Nares, Glossary^ edited by Halliwell and Wright (London, 1859).

Prol., Prologue.

S., Shakespeare.

Schmidt, A. Schmidt's Shakespeare-Lexicon (Berlin, 1874),

Sr., Singer.

St., Staunton.

Theo., Theobald.

v., Verplanck.

W., R. Grant White.

Walker, Wm. Sidney Walker's Critical Examination 0/ the Text 0/ Shakespeare
(London, i860).

Warb., Warburton.

Wb., Webster's Dictionary (revised quario edition oi 1879).

Wore, Worcester's Dictionary (quarto edition).

The abbreviations of the names of Shakespeare's Plays will be readily understood ; as
T. N. for Twelfth Night, Cor. for Coriolanus, 3 Hen. VI. for The Third Part of King
Henry the Sixth, etc. P. P. refers to TJie Passionate Pilgrim ; V. and A . to Venus
and Adonis; L. C. to Lover's Complaint ; and Sonn. to the Sonnets.

When the abbreviation of the name of a play is followed by a reference to Page,
Rolfe's edition of the play is meant.

Thei numbers of the lines (except for Richard III.) are those of the "Globe " ed. oi
of the " Acme " reprint of that ed.

NOTES.

'■'i^'a'ii'''!;

INTRODUCTION.

Thk following extracts from More, Hail, and Holinshed (the spelling
being modernized) comprise all the passages of any importance illustra-
tive of the play :

i68 NOTES.

Richard, the third son, of whom we now entreat, was in wit and cour-
age equal with either of them, in body and prowess far under them both,
little of stature, ill-featured of limbs, crooked-backed, his left shoulder
much higher than his right, hard favoured of visage, and such as is in
states called warlike,* in other men otherwise. He was malicious, wrath-
ful, envious ; and from before his birth ever froyard. It is for truth re-
ported that the Duchess, his mother, had so much ado in her travail that
she could not be delivered of him uncut ; and that he came into the world
with the feet forward as men be borne outward, and (as the fame runneth)
also not untoothed : whether men of hatred report above the truth, or
else that nature changed her course in his beginnings which in the course
of his life man^ things unnaturally committed. So that the full confluence
of these qualities, with the defects of favour and amiable proportion, gave
proof to this rule of physiognomy —

^''Distortum vultum sequitur distortio morutn.^

None evil captain was he in the war, as to which his disposition was more
meetly than for peace. Sundry victories had he, and sometime overthrows,
but never on default, as for his own person, either of hardiness or politic
order. Free was he called of dispense, and somewhat above his power
liberal ; with large gifts he got him unsteadfast friendship, for which he
was fain to pill and spoil in other places, and got him steadfast hatred.
He was close and secret, a deep dissimuler, lowly of countenance, arro-
gant of heart, outwardly companiable where he inwardly hated, not let-
ting! to kiss whom he thought to kill, dispitious and cruel, not for evil
will alway, but ofter for ambition, and either for the surety or increase of
his estate. Friend and foe was much-what| indifferent, where his advan-
tage grew; he spared no man's death whose life withstood his purpose.
He slew with his own hands King Henry VI., being prisoner in the Tower
as men constantly said, and that without commandment or knowledge of
the king, which would undoubtedly, if he had intended that thing, have
appointed that butcherly office to some other than his own born brother.
Some wise men also ween that his drift, covertly conveyed, lacked not in
helping forth his brother of Clarence to his death, which he resisted open-
ly, howbeit somewhat (as men deemed) more faintly than he that were
heartily minded to his wealth. § And they that thus deem, think that he
long time in King Edward's life forethought to be king, in case that the
king his brother (whose life he looked that evil diet should shorten) should
happen to decease (as indeed he did) while his children were young.
And they deem that for this intent he was glad of his brother's death, the

* The word in More is ** warlye ;" but Hall gives the passage thus : " Such as in e»
tates is called a warlyke visage, and emong common persons a crabbed face." — Ed,
t Forbouing, hesitating. CLR.o/L. lo :

" When Collatine unwisely did not let
To praise the clear unmatched red and white," etc
For the transitive use (=hinder), see Ham. p. 195. — Ed.
X Very much ; a compound like somewhat Most-vahat is another obsolete ont.-^Ed.
S Weal, wel£u«. See M. of V. p. 165, and cf. commonwealth— ^t. common weal, etc.

INTRODUCTION. 169

Duke of Clarence, whose life must needs have hindered him so intending,
whether the same Duke of Clarence had kept him true to his nephew the
young king, or enterprised to be king himself. But of all this point is
there no certainty; and whoso divineth upon conjectures, may as well
shoot too far as too short:— More.

Where a man [quoth the Duke of Buckingham] is by lawful means in
peril, there needeth he the tuition of some special privilege, which is the
only ground and cause of all sanctuaries ; from which necessity this noble
prince is far, whose love to his king, nature, and kindred proveth; whose
innocency to all the world his tender youth proveth; and so sanctuary as
for him not necessary, nor none he can have. Men come not to sanctuary
as they come to baptism, to require it by his godfathers; he must ask it
himself that must have it, and reason, sithe no man hath cause to have it
but whose conscience of his own fault maketh him have need to require
it What will then hath yonder babe, which if he had discretion to re-
quire it, if need were, I daresay would now be right angry with them that
keep him there. . . . And if nobody may be taken out of sanctuary because
he sayeth he will abide there, then if a child will take sanctuary because
he feareth to go to school, his master must let him alone. And as sim-
ple as that example is, yet is there less reason in our case than in it, for
there, though it be a childish fear, yet is there at the least some fear, and
herein is no fear at all. And verily, I have heard of sanctuary men, but
I never heard before of sanctuary children; and, therefore, as for the con-
clusion of my mind, whoso may deserve to have need it, if they think it
for their surety, let them keep it. But he can be no sanctuaiy man that
neither hath wisdom to desire it, nor malice to deserve it And he that
taketh one out of sanctuary, to do him good, I say plainly that he break-
eth no sanctuary. — Hall.

The protector and the duke after that they had sent the lord cardinal,
the Archbishop of York then Lord Chancellor, the Bishop of Ely, the
Lord Stanley, and the Lord Hastings, then Lord Chamberlain, with
many other noblemen, to common^ and devise about the coronation in
one place, as fast were they in another place contriving the contrary, and
to make the protector king.

To which council albeit there were adhibited very few, and they were
secret, yet began there here and thereabouts some manner of muttering
among the people, as though all should not long be well, though they
neither wist what they feared nor wherefore; were it that before such
great things men's hearts of a secret instinct of nature misgive them, as
the sea without wind swelleth of himself sometime before a tempest; or
were it, that some one man, happily somewhat perceiving, filled many
men with suspicion, though he showed few men what he knew. Howbeit,
somewhat the dealing itself made men to muse on the matter, though the
council were close. For by little and little all folk withdrew from the
Tower and drew unto Crosbie's and Bishop's Gates Street, where the

* Commune, zonltx.—Ed,

I70

NOTES,

protector kept his household. The protector had the resort, the king in
manner desolate.

While some for their business made suit to them that had the doing,
some were by their friends secretly warned that it might happily turn
them to no good, to be too much attendant about the king without the
protector's appointment, which removed also divers of the prince's old
servants from him, and set new about him. Thus many things coming
together, partly by chance, partly of purpose, caused at length not com-
mon people only that wound with the wind, but wise men also, and some
lords eke, to mark the matter and muse thereon ; so far forth that the
Lord Stanley, that was after Earl of Derb^, wisely mistrusted it, and said
unto the Lord Hastings that he much misliked these two several coun-
cils. " For while we" (quoth he) " talk of one matter in the one place,
little wot we whereof they talk in the other place." — Holinshed.

Many lords assembled in the Tower, and there sat in council, devising
the honourable solemnity of the king's coronation, of which the time ap-
pointed then so near approached, that the pageants and subtleties were
in making day and night at Westminster, and much victuals killed there-
fore, that afterward was cast away. These lords so sitting together, com-
moning of this matter, the protector came in among them, first about nine,
of the clock, saluting them courteously, and excusing himself that he had
been so long, saying merely that he had been asleep that day. After a
little talking with them, he said unto the Bishop of Ely: My lord, you
have very good strawberries at your garden in Holberne ; I require you
let us have a mess of them. Gladly, my lord, quoth he, would God I had
some better thing as ready to your pleasure as that. And therewithal, in
all the haste he sent his servant for a mess of strawberries. The pro-
tector set the lords fast in commoning, and thereupon praying them to
spare him for a little while, departed thence. And soon after one hour,
between ten and eleven, he returned into the chamber among them, all
changed, with a wonderful sour angry countenance, knitting the brows,
frowning, and fretting, and gnawing on his lips, and so sat him down in
his place; all the lords much dismayed, and sore marvelling of this man-
ner of sudden change, and what thing should him ail. Then when he had
sitten still awhile, thus he began : What were they worthy to have, that
compass and imagine the destruction of me, being so near of blood unto
the king, and protector of his royal person and his realm. At this ques-
tion, all the lords sat sore astonied, musing much by whom this question
should be meant, of which every man wist himself clear. Then the Lord
Chamberlain, as he that for the love between them thought he might be
boldest with him, answered and said. That they were worthy to be pun-
ished as heinous traitors, whatsoever they were. And all the other af-
firmed the same. That is (quoth he) yonder, sorceress my brother's wife,
and other with her (meaning the queen). At these words many of the
other lords were greatly abashed that favoured her. But the Lord Hast-
ings was in his mind better content that it was moved by her, than by
any other whom he loved better. Albeit his heart somewhat grudged
that he was not afore made of council in this matter as he was of the tak-

INTRODUCTION, 171

ing of her kindred and of their putting to death, which were by his assent
before devised to be beheaded at Pontefract this self-same day; in which
he was not ware that it was by other devised that he himself should the
same day be beheaded at London. Then said the protector : Ye shall all
see in what wise that sorceress, and that other witch of her council, Shore's
wife, with their affinity, have by their sorcery and witchcraft wasted my
body. And therewith he plucked up his doublet sleeve to his elbow upon
his left arm, where he showed a werish withered arm, and small, as it was
never other. Hereupon every man's mind sore misgave them, well per-
ceiving that this matter was but a quarrel. For they well wist that the
queen was too wise to go about any such folly. And also if she would,
yet would she, of all folk, least make Shore's wife of her council, whom of
all women she most hated, as that concubine whom the king her husband
had most loved. And also no man was there present but well knew that
his arm was ever such since his birth. Natheless the Lord Chamberlain
(which from the death of King Edward kept Shore's wife, on whom he
somewhat doted in the king's life, saving as it is said he that while for-
bare her of reverence toward his king, or else of a certain kind of fidelity
to his friend) answered and said : Certainly, my lord, if they have so hei-
nously done, they be worthy of heinous punishment. What, quoth the
protector, thou servest me I ween with ifs and with ands; I tell thee
they have so done, and that I will make good on thy body, traitor. And
therewith, as in a great anger, he clapped his fist upon the board a great
rap. At which token one cried treason without the chamber. There-
with a door clapped, and in come there rushing men in harness as many
as the chamber might hold. And anon the protector said to the Lord
Hastings, I arrest thee, traitor. What,me, my lord, quoth he. Yea, thee,
traitor, quoth the protector. An^ another let fly at the Lord Stanley,
which shrunk at the stroke, and fell under the table, or else his head had
been cleft to the teeth; for as shortly as he shrank, yet ran the blood
about his ears. Then were they all quickly bestowed in divers chambers,
except the Lord Chamberlain, whom the protector bade speed and shrive
him a pace, for by Saint Paul (quoth he) I will not to dinner till I see thy
head off. It booted him not to ask why, but heavily he took a priest at
adventure, and made a short shrift, for a longer would not be suffered, the
protector made so much haste to dinner, which he might not go lo until
this were done, for saving of his oath. So he was brought forth into the
green beside the chapel within the Tower, and his head laid down upon
a long log of timber, and there stricken off, and afterward his body with
the head enterred at Windsor beside the body of King Edward, whose
both souls our Lord pardon. — More.

A marvellous case it is to hear either the warnings that he should have
voided, or the tokens of that he could not void. For the next night be-
fore his death, the Lord Stanley sent to him a trusty messenger at mid-
night, in all the haste, requiring him to rise and ride away with him for
he was disposed utterly no longer for to abide, for he had a fearful dream,
in the which he thought that a boar with his tusks so rased them both
by the heads that the blood ran about both their shoulders; and for ^

172

NOTES,

much as the protector gave the boar for his cognisance, he imagined that
it should be he. This dream made such a fearful impression in his heart
that he was thoroughly determined no longer to tarry, but had his horse
ready, if the Lord Hastings would go with him, so that they would ride
so far that night, that they should be out of danger by the next day. Ah !
good lord (quoth the Lord Hastings to the messenger), leaneth my lord
thy master so much to such trifles, and hath such faith in dreams, whic^
either his own fear phantasieth, or do rise in the night's rest by reason of
the day's thought? Tell him it is plain witchcraft to believe in such
dreams, which if they were tokens of things to come, why thinketh he not
that we might as likely make them true by our going, if we were caught
and brought back (as friends fail fliers) ; for then had the boar a cause
likely to rase us with his tusks, as folks that fled for some falsehood ;
wherefore, either is there peril nor none there is indeed, or if any be, it is
rather in going than abiding. And if we should needs fall in peril one
way or other, yet had I liefer that men should say it were by other men's
falsehood, than think it were either our own fault or faint feeble heart;
and therefore go to thy master, and commend me to him, and say that I
pray him to be merry and have no fear, for I assure him I am assured of
the man he wotteth of, as I am sure of mine own hand. God send grace
(quoth the messenger), and so departed. Certain it is also that in riding
toward the Tower, the same morning in which he was beheaded, his horse
that he was accustomed to ride on, stumbled with him twice or thrice al-
most to the falling : which thing although it happeth to them daily to
whom no mischance is toward, yet hath it been, as an old evil token, ob-
served as a going toward mischief. Now this that followeth was no
warning but an envious scorn. The same morning, ere he were up from
his bed, there came to him Sir Thomas Haward son to the Lord Haward
(which lord was one of the priviest of t*^e lord protector's council and do-
ing), as it were of courtesy to accompany him to the council, but of truth
sent by the lord protector to haste him hitherward.

This Sir Thomas, while the Lord Hastings staid a while communing
with a priest whom he met in the Tower Street, brake the lord's tale, say-
ing to him merely. What, my lord ! I pray you come on ; wherefore talk
you so long with that priest ? you have no need of a priest yet : and
laughed upon him, as though he would say. You shall have need of one
soon. But little wist the other what he meant (but or* night these
words were well remembered by them that heard them); so the true Lord
Hastings little mistrusted, and was never merrier, nor thought his life in
more surety in all his days, which thing is often a sign of change : but I
shall rather let any thing pass me than the vain surely of man's mind so
near his death ; for upon the very Tower wharf, so near the place where
his head was off so soon after as a man might well cast a ball, a pursui-
vant of his own, called Hastings, met with him, and of their meeting in
that place he was put in remembrance of another time in which it hap-
pened them to meet before together in the place, at which time the Lord
Hastings had been accused to King Edward by the Lord Rivers, the

• C?r=beibre. See Temp. p. 119—^1^

INTXODUCTIOy.

queen's brother, insomuch that he was for a while, which lasted not long,
highly in the king's indignation. As he now met the same pursuivant
in the same place, the jeopardy so well passed, it gave him great pleasure
to talk with him thereof, with whom he had talked in the same place of
that matter, and therefore he said. Ah, Hastings, art thou remembered
when I met thee here once with an heavy heart ? Yea, my lord (quoth he),
that 1 remember well, and thanked be to God they gat no good nor you
no harm thereby. Thou wouldest say so (quoth he) if thou knewest so
much as I do, which few know yet, and more shall shortly. That meant
he, that the Earl Rivers and the Lord Richard and Sir Thomas Vaughan
should that day be beheaded at Pomfret, as they were indeed; which act
he wist well should be done, but nothing ware that the axe hung so near
his own head. In faith, man (quoth he), I was never so sorry, nor never
stood in so great danger of my life, as I did when thou and I met here ;
and lo ! the world is turned now ; now stand mine enemies in the danger,
as thou mayest hap to hear more hereafter, and 1 never in my life merrier,
nor never in so great surety. . . .

Now flew the fame of this lord's death through the city and farther
about, like a wind in every man's ear; but the protector immediately
after dinner, intending to set some colour upon the matter, sent in all the
haste for many substantial men out of the city into the Tower, and at
their coming himself with the Duke of Buckingham stood harnessed in
old evil-favoured briganders,* such as no man would ween that they
would have vouchsafed to have put on their backs, except some sudden
necessity had constrained them. Then the lord protector showed them
that the Lord Hastings and other of his conspiracy had contrived to have
suddenly destroyed him and the Duke of Buckingham there the same day
in counsel, and what they intended farther was yet not well known; of
which their treason, he had never knowledge before ten of the clock the
same forenoon, which sudden fear drave them to put on such harness as
came next to their hands for their defence, and so God help them ! that
the mischief turned upon them that would have done it ; and thus he re-
quired them- to report. Every man answered fair, as though no man mis-
trusted the matter, which of truth no man believed. . . .

When the Duke [of Buckingham] had said, and looked that the people,
whom he hoped that the mayor had framed before, should, after this flat-
tering proposition made, have cried King Richard ! King Richard 1 all
was still and mute, and not one \Yord answered to; wherewith the duke
was marvellously abashed, and taking the mayor near to him, with other
that were about him privy to the matter, said unto them softly. What
meaneth this that the people be so still ? Sir, quoth the mayor, percaset
they perceive you not well. That shall we amend, quoth he, if be that
will help; and therewith somewhat louder rehearsed the same matter
again, in other order and other words, so well and ornately, and never-
theless so evidently and plain, with voice, gesture, and countenance so

* Brigandines ; a kind of coat of mail. Cf. Milton, S. A. 1120: " And brigandine of
brass," etc.— Ed

1 Perchance. Cf. Bacon, Colours 0/ Good and Evil : "though percase it will be more
strong by glory and fame," ttc— Ed.

174

NOTES,

comely and so convenient, that every man much marvelled that heard
liim, and thought that they never heard in their lives so evil a tale so well
told. But were it for wonder, or fear, or that each looked that other
should speak first, not one word was there answered of all the people that
stood before; but all were as still as the midnight, not so much rounding*
among them, by which they might seem once to commune what was best
to do. When the mayor saw this, he, with other partners of the counsel,
drew about the duke, and said that the people had not been accustomed
there to be spoken to but by the recorder, which is the mouth of the city,
and haply to him they will answer. With that the recorder, called Thomas
Fitz William, a sad man and an honest, which was but newly come to the
office, and never had spoken to the i>eople biefore, and loth was with that
matter to begin, notwithstanding, thereunto commanded by the mayor,
made rehearsal to the commons of that which the duke had twice pur«
posed himself; but the recorder so tempered his tale that he showed
every thing as the duke his words were, and no part of his own : but all
this no change made in the people, which alway after one stood as they
had been amazed. Whereupon the duke rounded with the mayor, and
said, This is a marvellous obstinate silence ; and therewith turned to the
people again, with these words ; Dear friends, we come to move you to
that thing which peradventure we so greatly needed not, but that the lords
of this realm and commons of other parts might have sufficed, saying such
love we bear you, and so much set by you, that we would not gladly do
without you that thing in which to be partners is your weal and honour,
which as to us seemeth you see not or weigh not ; wherefore we require
you to give us an answer, one or other, whether ye be minded, as all the
nobles of the realm be, to have this noble prince, now protector, to be
your king.? And at these words the people began to whisper among
themselves secretly, that the voice was neither loud nor base, but like a
swarm of bees, till at the last, at the nether end of the hall, a bushment t
of the duke's servants, and one Nashfield, and other belonging to the pro-
tector, with some prentices and lads that thrusted into the hall amongst
the press, began suddenly at men's backs to cry out as loud as they could,
King Richard ! King Richard ! and then threw up their caps in token of
joy, and they that stood before cast back their heads marvelling thereat,
but nothing they said. And when the duke and the mayor saw this man-
ner, they wisely turned it to their purpose, and said it was a goodly cry
and a joyful to hear every man with one voice, and no man saying nay.
Wherefore friends (quoth the duke), sith we perceive that it is all your
whole minds to have this noble man for your king, whereof we shall
make his grace so effectual report that we doubt not but that it shall
redound to your great wealth and commodity: we therefore require
you that to-morrow ye go with us, and we with you, to his noble grace,
to make our humble petition and request to him in manner before re-
membered.

• Whispering. See Hen. VIII. p. 168, foot-note, and cf. K. John^ ii. i. 566 : '* rounded
in the ear," etc— £"</.
t A concealed body of men. Cf. ambush. — Ed.

INTRODUCTION.

175

Then on the morrow the mayor and aldermen and chief commoners of
the city, in their best manner apparelled, assembling them together at
Paul's, resorted to Baynard's castle, where the protector lay, to which
place also, according to the appointment, repaired the Duke of Bucking-
ham, and divers nobles with him, besides many knights and gentlemen.
And thereupon the duke sent word to the lord protector of the being
there of a great honourable company to move a great matter to his grace.
Whereupon the protector made great difficulty to come down to them,
except he knew some part of their errand, as though he doubted, and
partly mistrusted, the coming of such a number to him so suddenly, with-
out any warning or knowledge whether they came for good or harm.
Then, when the duke had showed this to the mayor and other, that they
might thereby see how little the protector looked for this matter, they
sent again by the messenger such loving message, and therewith so hum*
bly besought him to vouchsafe that they might resort to his presence to
purpose their intent, of which they would to none other person any part
disclose. At the last he came out of his chamber, and yet not down to
them, but in a gallery over them, with a bishop on every hand of him,
where they beneath might see him and speak to him, as though he would
not yet come near them till he wist what they meant. And thereupon
the Duke of Buckingham first made humble petition to him, on the be'
half of them all, that his grace would pardon them, and license them to
purpose unto his grace the intent of their coming without his displeasure,
without which pardon obtained they durst not be so bold to move him of
that matter ; in which, albeit they meant as much honour to his grace as
wealth to all the realm beside, yet were they not sure how his grace would
take it, whom they would in no wise offend. I'hen the protector, as he
was very gentle of himself, and also longed sore apparently to know what
they meant, gave him leave to purpose what him liked, verily trusting for
the good mind that he bare them all, none of them any thing would in-
tend to himward,* wherewith he thought to be grieved. When the duke
had this leave and pardon to speak, then waxed he bold to show him
their intent and purpose, with all the causes moving them thereto, as ye
before have heard; and finally, to beseech his grace that it would like
him, of his accustomed goodness and zeal unto the realm, now with his
eye of pity to behold the long continued distress and decay of the same,
and to set his gracious hand to the redress and amendment thereof, by
taking upon him the crown and governance of the realm according to his
right and title lawfully descended unto him, and to the laud of God, profit
and surety of the land, and unto his grace so much the more honour and
less pain, in that tiever prince reigned upon any people that were so glad
to live under his obeisance as the people of this realm under his.

When the protector had heard the proposition, he looked very strange-
ly thereat, and made answer, that albeit he knew partly the things by
them alleged to be true, yet such entire love he bare to King Edward and
his children, and so much more regarded his honour in other realms

• Cf. " to usward '* {Pt. xL 5, Epk. i. 19), " to thecward " (i Sam. xix. 4), " to youward "
<jr/*. fii. 2), t\x^—Bd.

176 NOTES.

about than the crown of any one, of which he was never desirous, so that
he could not find in his heart in this point to induce to their desire, for
in all other nations where the truth were not well known it should per-
adventure be thought that it were his own ambitious mind and device to
depose the prince and to take himself the crown, with which infamy he
would in no wise have his honour stained for any crown, in which he had
ever perchance perceived much more labour and pain than pleasure to
him that so would use it, as he that would not and were not worthy to
have it. Notwithstanding, he not only pardoned them of the motion that
they made him, but also thatiked them for the love and hearty favour they
bare him, praying them for his sake to bear the same to the prince under
whom he was and would be content to live, and with his labour and coun-
sel, as far as it should like the king to use it, he would do his uttermost
devoir to set the realm in good estate, which was already in the little time
of his protectorship (lauded be God !) well begun, in that the malice of
such as were before the occasion of the contrary, and of new intended to
be, were now, partly by good policy, partly more by God his special prov-
idence than man's provision, repressed and put under.

Upon this answer given, the Duke of Buckingham, by the protector his
license, a little rounded, as well with other noble men about him as with
the mayor and recorder of bondon. And after that (upon like pardon de-
sired and obtained) he showed aloud unto the protector, for a final con-
clusion, that the realm was appointed that King Edward his line should
no longer reign upon them, both that they had so far gone that it was
now no surety to retreat, as for that they thought it for the weal universal
to take that way, although they had not yet begun it. Wherefore, if it
would like his grace to take the crown upon him, they would humbly be-
seech him thereunto, and if he would give them a resolute answer to the
contrary (which they would be loth to hear), then must they seek, and
should not fail to find some other nobleman that would. These words
much moved the protector, which, as every man of small intelligence may
wit, would never have inclined thereto ; but when he saw there was none
other way but that he must take it, or else he and his both to go from it,
he said to the lords and commons, Sith it is we perceive well that all the
realm is so set (whereof we be very sorry), that they will not suffer in any
wise King Edward his line to govern them, whom no man earthly can
govern against their wills : and we also perceive that no man is there to
whom the crown can by so just title appertain as to ourself, as very right
heir lawfully begotten of the body of our most dread and dear father
Richard late Duke of York, to which title is now joined your election,
the nobles and commons of the realm, which we of all titles possible take
for most effectual, we be content and agree favourably to incline to your
petition and request, and according to the same here we take upon us the
royal estate of pre-eminence and kingdom of the two noble realms Eng-
land and France ; the one, from this day forward by us and our heirs to
rule, govern, and defend ; the other, by God his grace and your good help,
to get again, subdue, and establish for ever in due obedience unto this
realm of England, the advancement whereof we never ask of God longer
to live than we intend to procure and set forth. With this there was a

INTRODUCTION,

177

great cry and shout, crying King Richard ! and so the lords went up to
the king, and so he was after that day called.

And forasmuch as his mind gave him that, his nephews living, men
would not reckon that he could have right to the realm, he thought there-
fore without delay to rid them, as though the killing of his kinsmen might
end his cause and make him kindly king. Whereupon he sent John
Green, whom he specially trusted, unto Sir Robert Brakenbury, constable
of the Tower, with a letter and credence also, that the same Sir Robert
in any wise should put the two children to death. This John Green did
his errand to Brakenbury, kneeling before Our Lady in the Tower; who
plainly answered that he would never put them to death to die therefore.
With the which answer Green returned, recounting the same to King
Richard at Warwick, yet on his journey; wherewith he took such dis-
pleasure and thought, that the same night he said to a secret page of his,
Ah, whom shall a man trust? they that I have brought up myself, they
that I weened would have most surely served me, even those fail me, and
at my commandment will do nothing for me. Sir, quoth the page, there
lieth one in the pallet chamber without, that I dare well say, to do your
grace pleasure, the thing were right hard that he would refuse : meaning
by this James Tyrrel. . . .

James Tyrrel devised that they should be murthered in their beds, and
no blood shed; to the execution whereof he appointed Miles Forest, one
of the four that before kept them, a fellow flesh bred in murther before-
time ; and to him he joined one John Dighton, his own horse-keeper, a
big, broad, square, and strong knave. Then all the other being removed
from them, this Miles Forest and John Dighton about midnight, thesely*
children lying in their beds, came into the chamber, and suddenly lapped
them up amongst the clothes, and so bewrapped them and entangled them,
keeping down by force the feather-bed and pillows hard unto their mouths,
that within a while they smothered and stifled them ; and their breaths
failing, they gave up to God their innocent souls into the joys of heaven,
leaving to the tormentors their bodies dead in the bed ; which after the
wretches perceived, first by the struggling with the pangs of death, and
after long lying still, to be thoroughly dead, they laid the bodies out upon
the bed, and fetched James Tyrrel to see them ; which when he saw them
perfectly dead, he caused the murtherers to bury them at the stair foot,
meetly deep in the ground, under a great heap of stones.

Then rode James Tyrrel in great haste to King Richard, and showed
him all the manner of the murther ; who gave him great thanks, and, as
men say, there made him knight. — More.

There came into his ungracious mind a thing not only detestable to be
spoken of in the remembrance of man, but much more cruel and abom-
inable to be put in execution : for when he resolved in his wavering mind
how great a fountain of mischief toward him should spring if the Earl of
Richmond should be advanced to the marriage of his niece (which thing

* Seely, innocent, helpless. In Rich. II. v. 5. 25, the quartos have " seely,** the folios
" silly." See our ed. p. zi-j.—Ed.

178 NOTES.

he heard say by the rumour of the people that no small number of wise
and witty personages enterprised to compass and bring to conclusion), he
clearly determined to reconcile to his favour his brother's wife, Queen
Elizabeth, either by fair words or liberal promises, firmly believing, her
favour once obtained, that she would not stick to commit and lovingly
credit to him the rule and governance both of her and her daughters; and
so by that means the Earl of Richmond of the affinity of his niece should
be utterly defrauded and beguiled. And if no ingenious remedy could be
otherwise invented to save the innumerable mischiefs which were even at
hand and like to fall, if it should happen Queen Anne his wife to depart
out of this present world, then he himself would rather take to wife his
cousin and niece the Lady Elizabeth, than for lack of that aflfinity the
whole realm should run to ruin, as who said, that if he once fell from his
estate and dignity the ruin of the realm must needs shortly ensue and fol-
low. Wherefore he sent to the queen, being in sanctuary, divers and often
messages, which first should excuse and purge him of ail things before
against her attempted or procured, and after should so largely promise
promotions innumerable and benefits, not only to her, but also to her son
Lord Thomas Marquis Dorset, that they should bring her, if it were pos-
sible, into some wan-hope,* or, as some men say, into a fool's paradise.

The messengers, being men both of wit and gravity, so persuaded the
queen with great and pregnant reasons, then with fair and large promises,
that she began somewhat to relent and to give to them no deaf ear, inso-
much that she faithfully j^romised to submit and yield herself fully and
frankly to the king's will and pleasure. . . .

Amongst the noblemen whom he most mistrusted these were the prin-
cipal : Thomas Lord Stanley, Sir William Stanley his brother, Gilbert
Taylor, and six hundred other, of whose purposes although King Richard
were ignorant, yet he gave neither confidence nor credence to any one of
them, and least of all to the Lord Stanley, because he was joined in mat-
rimony with the Lady Margaret, mother to the Earl of Richmond, as after-
ward apparently ye may perceive. For when the said Lord Stanley would
have departed mto his country to visit his family, and to recreate and re-
fresh his spirits (as he openly said), but the truth was to the intent to be
in a perfect readiness to receive the Earl of Richmond at his first arrival
in England, the king in no wise would suffer him to depart before that he
had left as an hostage in the court George Stanley, Lord Strange, his first
begotten son and heir. ...

In the mean season King Richard (which was appointed now to finish
his last labour by the very divine justice and providence of God, which
called him to condign punishment for his sceleratet merits and mischiev-
ous deserts) marched to a place meet for two battles to encounter, by a
village called Bosworth, not far from Leicester, and there he pitched his
field, refreshed his soldiers, and took his rest. The fame went that he had
the same night a dreadful and a terrible dream ; for it seemed to him, be-

* Here=delusive hope, as the context shows. It is literally want 0/ hope. Sec Wb.
and cf. the Scotch compounds, wan-grace^ wan-lnck, wan-thrifty etc — Ed.

t Wicked (Latin sceUratus). Merits=At&tn% in a bad sense ; as in Lgar^ iii. 5. 8, v 3
H, A. and C v. 2. 178, cic— Ed.

INTRODUCTION. 179

ing asleep^ that he saw divers images like terrible devils, which pulled and
hauled him, not suffering him to take any q^uiet or rest. The which strange
vision not so suddenly strake his heart with a sudden fear, but it stuffed
his head and troubled his mind with many dreadful and busy imagina-
tions ; for incontinent after, his heart being also damped, he prognosti-
cated before the doubtful chance of the battle to come, not using the alac*
rity and mirth' of mind and of countenance as he was accustomed to do
before he came toward the battle. And lest that it might be suspected
that he was abashed for fear of his enemies, and for that cause looked so
piteously, he recited and declared to his familiar friends in the morning
his wonderful vision and terrible dream. ...

Between both armies there was a great morass, which the Earl of Rich-
mond left on his' right hand, for this intent, that it should be on that sid#
a defence for his part ; and in so doing he had the sun at his back and in
the face of his enemies. When King Richard saw the earl*s company
was passed the morass, he commanded with all haste to set upon them ;
then the trumpets blew and the soldiers shunted, and the king's archers
courageously let fly their arrows : the earl's bowmen stood not still, but
paid them home again. The terrible shot once passed, the armies joined
and came to hand-strokes, where neither sword nor bill was spared ; at
which encounter the Lord Stanley joined with the earl. The Earl of Ox*
ford in the mean season, fearing lest while his company was fighting they
should be compassed and circumvented with the multitude of his enemies,
gave commandment in every rank that no man should be so hardy as tc
go above ten foot from the standard ; which commandment once known,
they knit themselves together and ceased a little from fighting. The ad-
versaries, suddenly abashed at the matter, and mistrusting some fraud 01
deceit, be^an also to pause, and left striking, and not against the wills of
many, which had liefer had the kin^ destroyed than saved, and therefore
they fought very faintly or stood still. The Earl of Oxford, bringing all
his band together on the one part, set on his enemies freshly. Again, the
adversaries perceiving that, placed their men slender and thin before, and
thick and broad behind, beginning again hardily the battle. While the
two forwards thus mortally fought, each intending to vanquish and con-
vince the other. King Richard was admonished by his explorators and es-
pials* that the Earl of Richmond, accompanied with a small number of
men of arms, was not far off; and as he approached and marched toward
him, he perfectly knew his personage by certain demonstrations and to-
kens which he had learnt and known of other; and being inflamed with
ire and vexed with outrageous malice, he put his spurs to his horse and
rode out of the side of the range of his battle, leaving the avant-gardes
fighting, and like a hungry lion ran with spear in rest toward him. The
Earl of Richmond perceived well the king furiously coming toward him,
and, by cause the whole hope of his wealth and purpose was to be de-
termined by battle, he gladly proffered to encounter with him body to
fcody and man to man. King Richard set on so sharply at the first brunt

* BxfUrmtort a$td «^«aZr=scouU and spies. For the latter word, see Ham. p. ai^

£8o NOTES.

that he overthrew the earl's standard and slew Sir William Brandon, his
standard-bearer (which was father to Sir Charles Brandon, by King Henry
the Eighth created Duke of Suffolk), and matched hand to hand with Sir
John Cheinye, a man of great force and strength, which would have re-
sisted him, and the said John was by him mantully overthrown, and so he
making open passage by dint of sword as he went forward, the Earl ot
Richmond withstood his violence and kept him at the sword's point with-
out advantage longer than his companions other thought or judged ;
which, being almost in d^espair of victory, were suddenly recomforted by
Sir William Stanley, which came to succours with three thousand tall
men, at which very instant King Richard's men were driven back and
fled, and he himself, manfully fighting in the middle of his enemies, was
slain and brought to his death as he worthily had deserved.

Of the nobility were slain John Duke ot Norfolk, which was warned
by divers to refrain from the field, insomuch that the night before he
should set forward toward the king one' wrote on his gate :

** lack of Norfolk, bt not too boM,
For Dykoa tbjr master b bought and •old.'*— Haia.

ACT L

ScBNB Id— The acts and scenes are marked throughout in the folio but

not in the ouartos.

2. Sun, The quartos have " sonne," and the folio •• Son." There may
be a play upon the word, and there is certainly an allusion to the heraldic
cognizance of Edward IV., which was a sun, m memory of the three suns
that are said to have appeared at the battle of Mortimer's Cross when he
defeated the Lancastrians. Steevens quotes Drayton, Miseries of Queen

argqr . ••Three suns were seen that instant to appear.

Which soon again shut themselves up in one;'*
and again m the 22d song of the PolyolHan :

*'And thankful to hieh heaven, which of his cause had care.
Three suns for his device still in bis ensign bare.**

& Measures, Dances. See R. and y, p. 153.

g. Grim-visaed, CC grim-iaoked in M. Iv. />. v. i. 171, and grim
grinning in K. and A, 933. See also on v. 3. 91 below.

la Barbed, Caparisoned for war. See Rich, II, p. 1961

1 1. Fearful, Terrible ; as in iii. 4. 103 below. Some make itasfull of
fear; as in iv. 2. 121, iv. 3. 51, iv. 4. 313, v. 1. 18, and v. 3. 18a.

13. Pleasing, Schmidt makes thisss pleasure, will, command.

17. Ambling, For the contemptuous use of the word, dfl I ffen^IV*
Ui. 2. 60, R, and 7, i. 4. II, and //am, iii. i. Kl.

19. Feature, ceauty, comeliness. Cf. I/am, p. 220.

Dissembling, Deceitful (Johnson). Warb. explained it, ••that puts to«
gether things of a dissimilar kind, as a brave soul and a deformed body.''

33. Unfashionable, Changed by Pope to "unfashionably;" but the ad*

ACT /. SCEN^ /. 18 1

rerbiaS ending Is sometimes omitted in one of a pair of adjectives. C£
lii. 4. 48 below : ''cheerfully and smooth." See Gr. 397.

24. Piping, ** When the pipe is sounding instead of the fife ; or, per*
haps, when no manlv martial voice is heard, but only that of women and
children "(Schmidt).

26. See, The folio reading; the quartos have ''spy.*' This is a fair
sample of hundreds of little variations between the two texts. We shall
not attempt to note all of them, but shall give enough to show how trivial
they often are and how perplexing it is to choose between them. See
p. 10 above.

37. Descant Comment See on iii. 7. 48 below; and ctH.c/L, 1 134 :

** For hurden-wiM I H hum on Taramn still,
While thou on Tcreus descant'st better skilL**

29. WeH*spoken, Cf. i. 3. 348 below. The word is still in use ; but such
forms were more common in Elizabethan English. See Gr. 294 and 374.

32. Inductions dangerous, ' ** Preparations for mischie£ The induction
is preparatory to the action of the play " (Johnson). CC iv. 4. 5 below.

33. Libels, The only instance of the word in S.
36. Just, Honest, as good as his word.

38. Mew'd up. Shut up, imprisoned. Cf. 132 and i. 3. 139 below ; and
sec M. N, D, p. 126.

39. A prophecy t etc. Holinshed (quoted by Malone) says: " Some have
reported that the cause of this nobleman^s death rose of a foolish prophe-
cie, which was, that after King Edward should raign one whose first let-
ter of his name should be a G; wherewith the king and the queene were
sore troubled, and began to conceive a grievous grudge against this duke,
and could not be in quiet until they had brought him to his end." Stee*
vens cites Niccols, Tragical life and Death i^ Richard III,:

** By that blind riddle of the letter G,
Geoige lost his fife; it took efiect in me."

^Tendering, Having regard to. Cf. ii. 4. 72 below. See. Rich.//,
p. 151 or ITam, p. 244. Here there is a touch of sarcasm in the word.
45. Conduct, Escort. See /iT, Tohn, p. 133.

49. Belike, It is likely, it would seem. Cf. i. 3. 65 below.

50. Should, The quartos have ••shall."

52. For, The (quarto reading; the folio has ••but," which a reviser
would hardly substitute when it occurs in the next line. It may be a com-
positor's slip.

54. Hearkens after. Gives heed to. Cf. Much Ado, p. 166.

55. The cross-row. The alphabet ; so called, according to some, from
the cross anciently placed before it, to indicate that religion was the chief
end of learning ; or, as others say, from a superstitious custom of writing
the alphabet in the form of a cross, by way of charm (Nares). The orig-
inal form was Christ-cross-row ^ which became corrupted into criss-cross*
row and contracted into cross-row, Halliwell quotes Babilon, Seconde
Weike ofDu BartaSy 1 596 :

** Who teach ns how to read and put into our pawes
Some little Chriscrosrow instead of ^ivj^l lawes."

l82 NOTES.

f. H. cites Drayton, Sonnet i : "To con my cross-row ere I learn'd to
spell ;" and Lawson adds from Wordsworth, Excursion^ book viii. :
" From infant conning of the Christ-cross-row,
Or puzzling through a primer, line by line."

58. For. Because. See M. of V. p. 134, note on For he is a Christian.

60. Toys. *' Fancies, freaks of imagination " (Johnson). Cf Ham. i. 3.
6 : *' toys of desperation ;" 0th. iii. 4. 156 ; " no jealous toy," etc.

'65. That tempers him^ etc. The reading of the ist quarto, changed in
the 2d to "That tempts," etc. The folio has "That tempts him to this
harsh Extremity." Here the earliest reading is clearly the best The
queen did not tempt the king, who was ruled by her, but tempered or
moulded him to her will. Cf. T G. of V. iii. 2. 64, Hen. V. ii. 2. 118, etc

67. Woodeville. The quartos have " Wooduile," the folio "Woode-
ulle." However spelt, the word is here a trisyllable. There, as Clarke
remarks, " has the effect of denotement, with a dash of sarcasm super-
added."

75. To her for his. The quarto reading. ' The ist folio has " was, for
her," changed in the 2d to "was, for his."

81. Overworn widow. A contemptuous reference to the queen (she was
a widow when the king married her), herself h^w^^ Mistress Shore. For
overworn (=worn out) cf. V.and A. 135, 866, and Sonit. 63. 2.

87. Of what degree soever. Referring to mauy not to conference.

92. Well struck inyears. Cf. C?^«.xviii. 11, xxiv. \^Josh.yC\\\. i^Luke^v 7,etc

94. Passing. Exceedingly ; often used adverbially, but only before ad-
jectives and adverbs.

97. Nought. The first quarto and the folio have nought here,.but
naught in the next two lines. The latter is usually the spelling in the
early eds. when the word is = worthless, bad, wicked. See A. Y. L. p. 142.

100. Were best. It were best for him. See J. C. p. 166, note on You
were best; or Gr. 230, 352 (cf. 190).

106. Abjects. " That is, not the queen's subjects^ whom she might pro-
tect, but.her abjects, whom she drives away " (Johnson). Mason remarks :
" Gloster forms a substantive from the adjective abject, and uses it to ex-
press a lower degree of submission than is implied by the word subject,
which otherwise he would naturally have made use of. The queen's ab-
jects means the most servile of her subjects.^'* It is the only instance of the
noun in S. Cf. B. J., Every Man Out of his Humour: " I '11 make thee
stoop, thou abject." Steevens cites Chapman, Odyssey: "Whither?
rogue ! abject." See also Ps. xxxv. 15.

115. Lie. That is, lie in prison (Schmidt). Cf. i Hen. /F. iv. 3. 96:
" There without ransom to lie forfeited." See also 3 Hen. VI. iii. 2. 70, etc.

116. I must perforce. Steevens sees an allusion to the proverb, "Pa-
tience perforce is a medicine for a mad dog." Cf. R. and J. p. 16 1, note
on Patience perforce.

121. New-delivered. As we have noted in other plays (see Ham. p. 236,
on new-lighted, and 2 Hen. IV. p. 180, on new-dated), S. was fond of com-
pounds with new. Cf. 50 above, and ii. 2. 125 and iv. 4. 10 below.

131. PrevaiPd on. Prevailed against. Cf. iii. 4. 60 below.

132. Mew'd. S^e on 38 above.

ACT I. SCENE II, 183

137. Fear him. Fear for him. See Ham. p. 188,, or Gr. 200.

138. By Saint Paul. The folio has " by S. lohn," but by Saint Paui else-
where in the play. The oath is said to have been habitual with Richard.

139. An evil diet. *' A bad regimen " (Steevens and Schmidt), or bad
habits in general. The expression is taken from More (p. 168 above).

142. Where is he^ etc. The folio reading ; the quartos have " What, is
he in his bed ?"

152. Bustle. Be busy or active. Cf. v. 3. 290 below.

153. Warwick's youngest daughter. Lady Anne, widow of Prince Ed-
ward, son of Henry VI. In 3 Hen. VI. iii. 3. 242, Warwick proposes his
" eldest daughter" as a wife for Edward, but it was really the younger one
that he married.

158. Close, Equivalent to secret^ as often. Cf. iv. 2. 35 below.

159. By marrying her. Transposed for emphasis. Cf Gr. 425.

Scene II. — 3. Obsequiously, As befits the obsequies. Cf. obsequious
in Ham. i. 2. 92 : ** To do obsequious sorrow."

5. Key-cold, Cf. R, ofL. 1774: " in key-cold Lucrece' bleeding stream."
Steevens remarks : " A key, on account of the coldness of the metal of
which it is composed, was anciently employed tu stop any slight bleeding.
The epithet is common to many old writers." See Uekker, Satiromastix :
"for fear your wise brains take key-cold ;" and The Country Girl^ 1647 •
" The key-cold figure of a man."

8. Invocate, Used by S, three times (cf, Sonn, 38. 10 and i Hen, VI, i.
I. 52) ; invoke only twice.

12. Windows, Figuratively used as " not the usual and natural pas-
sage " (Schmidt). Cf. K. John^ \, 1. 171 and v. 7. 29.

13. Helpless, Affording no help, unavailing. Cf. C. of E, ii. I. 39 :

"So thou, that hast no unkind mate to grieve thee,
With urging helpless patience wouldst relieve me.'*

See also Gr. 202.

III. Disgracious. S. uses the word only here and in iv. 4. 178 below.

117. Majestical. Used by S. oftener than majestic. Cf. Ham. p. 176.

119. Your state, etc. The line is not in the quartos.

124. Her proper. The reading of the ist and 2d quartos ; " his " in all
the other early eds. In the next line all the quartos have Her, the folios
" His."

126. Graft. Not a contraction oi grafted,h\\X. from the verb ^^^ for
which see A. V. L. p. 171 or 2 Hen. IV. p. 200. On Shakespeare's knowl-
edge of gardening, see W. T. p. 190.

127. Shouldered in. Pushed or thrust into. S. uses the verb only here

220 NOTES,

and in i Hen. VI, iv. i. 189: "This shouldering of each other in the
court" For i«=into, see on i. 2. 261 above. Some have taken skauldet'd
to be=immersed to the shoulders.

129. Recure. Restore to health. Cf. V. and A. 465 : " A smile recures
the wounding of a frown ;" and Sonn. 45. 9 : " Until life's composition be
recur'd." So unhecur4n£^=past cure, incurable, in T. A. iii. i. 90 : " Some
unrecuring wound."

135. Empery. Empire. See Hen, V, p. 150.

143-152. If not . . . answer yati. These lines are not in the quartos.

146. Fondly. Unwisely. Ci./ond in iii. 4. 80 above.

154. Unmeritable, '• Unmeriting " {Cor. ii. i. 47), devoid of merit; as in
y, C. iv. I. 12 : **a slight unmeritable man." Cf. Gr. 3.

156. And that. And if that, and if. Gr. 285.

157. The ripe revenue^ etc. "That which comes to me in right of great-
er maturity in age and judgment; Gloster thus comparing his own claims
to the crown with those of the young prince his nephew, to whom he after-
wards alludes in the words * xo^iS. fruity and so continuing the same fig-
ure of speech" (Clarke).

On the accent of revenue in S., see M. N, D. p. 125. ^

165. And much I need^ etc " And I want much of the ability requisite
to give you help, if help were needed " (Johnson). Clarke believes it also
includes the meaning,' craftily implied, " And much I ought to help you,
if you need help."

167. Stealing, That is, stealing on, moving imperceptibly.

172. Defend. See on 80 above.

174. The respects thei-eof etc.- The considerations or motives that
influence you are over - scrupulous and of little weight. On nice^ cf.

** And nice affections wavering stood in doubt
If best were as it was, or best without.*'

178. Contract. Contracted, affianced. For the form, see Gr. 342. Cf.
acquit in v. 4. 16 below.

180. By substitute. By proxy ; according to the custom of the times.
Cf. the reference in Longfellow's Belfry of Bruges to the proxy- wedding
of the Archduke Maximilian and Mane de Valois in 1477; and see the
author's note on the passage.

181. Bona, " Daughter to the Duke of Savoy, and sister to Charlotte,
wife to Louis XL King of France " (Malone).

183. A many, A form like afew^ but now obsolete. See Hen, V, p, 17a
Gr. 87. For sons the quartos have " children."

188. Declension. Decline, degradation. See 2 Hen, IV, p. 165.

^* Bigamy t by a canon of the Council of Lyons, A.D. 1274 (adopted in
England by a statute in 4 Edward I.), was made unlawful and infamous.
It differed from polygamy^ or having two wives at once ; as it consisted in
either marrying two virgins successively, or once marrying a widow"
(Blackstone). S. uses the word nowhere else.

190. Whom our manners call^ etc. Whom by courtesy we call, etc.

192. To some alive. Hinting at the Duchess of York, the mother oi
Edward and Richard. Cf. iii. 5. 92 above.

ACT IV. SCENE A 221

201. Refuse not, etc. This line is not in the quartos.

216. Effeminate remorse. Feminine pity. Cf. M.forM. ii. 2. 54:

*• If so ^our heart were touched with that remorse
As mine is to him;'*

Id. V. I. 100': " My sisterly remorse," etc. See also on i. 2. 157 above.
218. Come^ citizens^ etc The quartos read :

" Come citizens, zounds, He entreat no more.

"<!?/<;. O do not sweare my lord of Buckingham!"

W. remarks : " It is quite probable that the passage was originally writ-
ten thus, and that the change was made by Shakespeare because it made
Gloster overdo his hypocrisy ; for zounds was a common and venial ex-
pletive in Shakespeare's time. If, as Mr. Collier suggests, the zounds was
struck out only in consequence of the statute 3 Jac. 1., we should restore
the reading of the quarto ; for the removal of the quasi oath of course re-
quired the removal of the remonstrance." On the omission oi zounds and
similar oaths in the folio, see 0th. p. 1 1.

Exit Buckingham^ etc. " The proper stage-directions for this passage
were first supplied by Mr. Dyce. The quartos have no directions ; the
folio, in the careless manner common in old dramatic publications, has
*^ Exeunt^ and afterwards, ^ Enter Buckingham^ and the rest."* But clearly,
from Catesby's entreaty and Richard's reply, there was an audience left
for his hypocrisy " (W.).

220. If you deny them, etc. In the quartos this line is given to another
speaker, and reads ^'•Ano. Do, good my lord, lest all the land do rue it."

227. Whether. The folio has " where," and some follow Steevens in
reading "whe'r." See Gr.466. .

231. Mere enforcement. Absolute compulsion. See J. Cp. 129 (note
on Merely upon myself) or Temp. p. 1 1 1 (note on We are merely cheated).
On enforcementy cf. A. Y. L. p. 166.

Acquittance. Acquit ; the only instance of the verb in S.

237. Royal, The quartos have " kingly," and in the next line " royal "
for worthy. There are many such petty variations above which we nave
not noted.

243. And sOy etc. The quartos omit this line.

ACT IV.

Scene I. — i. Niece. Here=granddaughter. So ;f^/^^7(/=grandchi)d
{0th. i. I. 112) and cousin (i Hen. VI. ii. 5. 64 and T. and C. i. 2. 13). See
also on cousin^ ii. 2. 8 above.

2-6. Led . . . day. These lines are not in the quartos.

5. Godgiveytic. Malone remarks of this reappearance of Anne: "We
have not seen this lady since the second scene of the first act, in which
she promised to meet Richard at Crosby Place. She was married about
the year 1472." The portrait of Anne is from the Warwick Roll in the
Heralds' College. It " presents us with the peculiar head-dress character-
izing this period, namely a cap or caul of gold embroidery, covered by a

222

NOTES.

veil of some very transparent material, stiffened out in the form of wings '*
(K.).

QUEEN ANNE.

9. Like . . , as, Cf. T.and C. prol. 25 : "In like conditions as our ar-
gument," etc

10. Gralulate, Congratulate, greet. C{. T, A.'i. 1. 221 : " And gratu-
late his safe return to Rome ;" and T. of A. i. 2. 131 : " To gratulate thy
plenteous bosom."

14. How doth, etc. The line in the quartos is simply " How fares the
Prince ?"

15. Patience. A trisyllable ; as in i. 3. 248 above. See also i Hen, IV,

PP- 153. 175-

18. The king, etc. The quarto reading is :

"^. Eliz. The king! why, who's that?

'■'^ Br/ik. I cry you mercy: I mean the lord protector."

20. Between. The quartos have *' betwixt," and in the next line ** should
keep " for shnll bar. There are many such trifling variations in the re-
mainder of the scene.

24. Sights. For the plural cf. Rich. If. iv. i. 314 : ** Whither you will,
so I were from your sights ;" and see note in our ed. p. 206. The quar*
tos have simply "Then feare not thou."

26. Leave it. " That is, resign my office " (Johnson).

ACT IK SCENE I.

223

35. Dead-killing. Cf. R. of L. 540: "a cockatrice* dead-killing eye."
We have " kill her dead " in M. N. D. iii. 2. 269. Cf. Ham. iii. 2. 194.

36. Despitefuly etc. The line is not in the quartos.

45. Thrall. Slave ; as in Sonn. 154. 12 ; " I, my mistress* thrall,** ejc
See also Macb. p. 225.

49. My son. That is, son to Margaret, Countess of Richmond, whose
third husband Stanley was. .

55. Whose umnjoided eye^ etc. See on i. 2. 152 above, and cf. the quota
tion in note on 35 just above.

58. Inclusive verge. Enclosing circle. Cf. Rich. IL ii. I. 102 : " incaged
in so small a verge " (that is, the crown, as here).

60. Red-hot steel. Steevens sees here an allusion to the ancient mode
of punishing a regicide by placing a red-hot iron crown on his head. Cf.
Goldsmith, Traveller, 436: " Luke's iron crown ;" and see our ed. p. 121.

65. No I why ? ' The why is not in the quartos. W. prints ** No why .?*'
which he explains as=" Why not.?'* For ** No had.?" and similar in-
stances of no with a verdy see A', ybhn, p. 167 ; but we are not aware of
any examples of such use of the negative with why, etc.

74. If any be so mad. That is, so mad as to become thy wife.

75. Life, The quartos have " death,'*

79. Honey. Often used by S. as an adjective ; as in V. and A. 16, Sonn,
65. 5, Temp. iv. i. 79, etc see also R. and J. p. 177, note on Honey nurse.
Honeyed occurs only in Hen. V, i. i. 50.

82. Hour. A dissyllable ; as in v. 3. 31 below. Gr. 480.

83. The golden dew of sleep, Cf. J. C, ii. i. 230 : " the honey-heavy dew
of slumber.'*

84. His timorous dreams, ** Not only is this characteristic touch con-
firmed by historical accounts of Richard's disturbed nights, but the dram-
atist has given it consistency and forcible effect of climax by the impres-
sive picture presented to our sight in the waking words uttered by this
guilt-burdened soul in starting from sleep in v. 3 *' (Clarke).

91. Go thou, etc. The 2d folio reads : " Due. Yorke. Go to Richmond,
to Dorset, to Anne, to the Queene, and good fortune guide thee,** etc. In
the margin of the ist folio, from which the 2d was printed, some one had
evidently inserted the stage-directions " to Dorset," " to Anne," and ** to
the Queene," which the printer took to be additions to the text. The
error is repeated in the 3d folio, but corrected in the 4th (Camb. ed.).

95. Eighty odd years, eX-Q.. Malone remarks: "Shakespeare has here,
I believe, spoken at random. The present scene is in 1483 Richard,
Duke of York, the husband of this lady, had he then been living, would
have been but seventy-three years old, and we may reasonably sui)pose
that his Duchess was younger than he was. Nor aid she go speedily to
her grave. She lived till 1495."

96. Teen. Sorrow. See R. and J. p. 150 or Temp. p. 113.
97-103. Stay yet . . .farewell. These lines are not in the quartos.
loi. Nurse . . . playfellawt- Johnson remarks: "To call the Tower

nurse and playfellorw is very harsh : perhaps part of the speech is ad-
dressed to the Tower and part to the Lieutenant." Malone replies that
S. was only thinking of the children as " being constrained to carry on .

224

N07^E&

their daily pastime and to receive their daily nutriment within its walls,
and hence, with his usual licentiousness oi metaphor, calls the edifice
itself their playfellow and nurse." Neither of the critics seems to have
appreciated the maternal pathos and poetry of the passage. It is not
Shakespeare ' who speaks, but the mother, whose heart bleeds at the
thought of the rough exchange for cradle and nurse and playfellow that
is given them in these ancient stones. How can any one read the lines,
and not have all the mother come into his eyes [Hen, V. iv. 6. 31), as it
did into the poet's heart and pen ! And yet Monk Mason says that " the
last line of the speech proves that the whole of it is addressM to the
Tower, and apolo^zesfor the absurdity of that address by attributing it to
soiTOw" (the italics are ours). When will three such critics meet again
on one " Variorum " page t

Scene II.— 8. Touch. Touchstone. Cf. Per. ii. 2. 37 : "gold that 's
by the touchstone tried ;" and see also i Hen. IV. p. 193, note on Musi
bide the touch.

i^. Consequence. Sequel. Cf. iv. 4. 6 below.

24. Some little breath, some pause, dear lord. The quartos have " some
breath, some little pause, my lord ;" and in the following lines,

** Before I positively speak herein:
I will resolve your grace immediately."

26. Resolve. Satisfy, inform, or nearly = answer. Cf. 116 and iv. 5. 20
below. See also J. C. p. 158, note on Be resolved.

27. He gnaws his lip. The old historians say that this was Richard's
habit when he was thoughtful or angry.

28. Iron-witted. " Unfeeling, insensible " (Schmidt). Cf R. and J. iv.
5. 126 : ** I will dry-beat you with an iron wit," etc.

29. Unrespective. " Devoid of respect and consideration, regardless,
unthinking " (Schmidt). S. uses the word only here and in T. and C, ii,
2. 71.

35. Close. Secret. See on i. i. 158 above.

42. Witty. Cunning, artful ; as in Much Ado, iv. 2. 27 : " A marvellous
witty fellow, I assure you ; but I will go about with him." " Richard is
sneering at Buckingham's pretensions to adroitness and skill in fraud '"
(Clarke).

45. Welly be it so. These words are not in the quartos.

47-52. Knoiu, my loving lord, etc. The 1st quarto reads thus :

** Datby. My Lord, I heare the Marques Dorset
Is fled to Richmond, in those partes beyond the seas where he abides

"^King. Catesby. Cat. My Lord.

"King. Rumor it abroad
That Anne my wife is sicke and like to die,*' etc

The 1st folio has :

*' Stanley. Know my louing Lord, the Marquesse Dorset
As I heare, is fled to Richmond^
In the parts where he abides.

^^ Rick. Come hither Catmby^ rumor it abroad,
That Aime my Wife is very gneuous sicke, ^' etc.

ACT IV. SCENE II. 225

'1 he arrangement of the lines in the text is due to Pope and Stcevens.
The former omitted loving, which the latter restored.
52. Take order. Give order, take measures. See on iii. 5. 105 above.

54. Whom I will marry, etc. See on iv. 3. 37 below.

55. The boy is foolish. Polydore Virgil (quoted by Malone) describes
him as an idiot, "qui gallinam ab ansere non facile, internosceret ;" but
this appears to have been because his education had been entirely neg-
lected rather than from any natural defect. .

58. // stands me much upon. It is important for me, it concerns me.
Cf. Ham, V. 2. 63 : " Does it not, thinks 't thee, stand me now upon ... To
quit him with this arm ?" and see note in our ed. p. 269. Gr. 204.

63. But I am in, etc. Cf. Macb. iii. 4. 136 :

"I am in blood
Stepped In so far that, should I wade no more,
Returning were as tedious as go o'er;"

and M. N. D. iii. 2. 47 :

*' If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep,
« Being o'er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep,
And kill me too."

Vox pluck on, cf K, John, iii. i. 57 : "And with her golden hand hath
pluck'd on France," etc See also T N, p. 168.

65. Tear-falling, Tear-dropping. For the transitive use oi fall, see
on i. 3. 353 above.

66. Is thy name Tyrrel ? This Tyrrel was executed for high treason
in the beginning of the reign of Henry VII.

Steevens calls attention to the fact that, according to More, the king
at this interview with Tyrrel " was sitting on a draught." In Eastwood
and Wriglit's Bible Word- Book, the passage is quoted in the note on
draught-house (2 Kings, x. 27) and draught {Matt, xv. 17, Mark, vii. 19).

73. Deal upon. Deal with ; used by S. only here. In A. and C, iii.
II. 39, " Dealt on lieutenantry "—.acted by deputy.

80. Prefer, Advance, promote. Cf Hen. VIII. iv. 1. 102 : " Newly pre*
ferr'd from the king's secretary," etc. The quartos read here :

"And I will love thee, and prefere thee too.
" Tir. 'T is done my gracious lord.
**King: Shall we heare from the Tirrel ere we sleep?

** Enter Buckiugham.
*'Tir. Ye shall my Lord."

88. PatmCd. Pledged. See 2 Hen. IV, p. 185.

96. Peevish. See on i. 3. 194 above.

98-115. My lord , . . to-day. These lines are in the quartos, but not in
the folios. It is not easy to account for their omi.ssion in the latter, as
they are clearly Shakespeare's, and it is hardly conceivable that he would
strike them out in revising the play.

99. How chance, etc. How chances it, etc. See M. N, D, p. 128.

100. I being by. Malone notes that Richard was not by when Henry
uttered the prophecy. See 3 Hen. VI iv. 6. 68 fol. Malone believes this
to have been an oversight on the poet's part ; but it is quite as likely, as

^26 NOTES.

Clarke suggests, that he means to "give effect to Richard's scoff by mak-
ing him misstate the attendant circumstances of the prophecy."

104. Rougemont, Reed notes that Hooker, writing in Elizabeth's time,
mentions this as " a very old and antient castle, named Rugemont ; that
is to say, the Red Hill, taking that name of the red soil or earth where-
upon it is situated." He adds that it " was first built, as some think, by
Julius Caesar, but rather, and in truth, by the Romans after him." How-
ever that may have been, it was either rebuilt or much repaired by William
the Conqueror, who gave it to Baldwin de Briono, husband of his niece
Albrina, in the possession of whose descendants it remained until the
time of Henry III., who seized it for himself. It was dismantled during
the Civil War, and has not since been rebuilt. Its remains are still to
be seen on a high hill to the north of the city.

113. A Jack, That is, a "Jack o' the clock" (see Rich. II. p. 218), a
figure that struck the hours, like the two bronze statues on the Clock
Tower at Venice.

116. Resolve me. See on 26 above.

121. Brecknock. That is, Brecknock Castle in South Wales. It was
built in 1094 by Bernard Newmarch, a relative of the Conqueror, and
enlarged by Humphrey de liohun. Earl of Hereford. The keep, which
is now the chief remnant of it, is called Ely Tower from having been the
prison of the Bishop of Ely who figures in this play ; and here the mar-
riage between the Earl oi^ Richmond and Elizabeth, daughter of Edward
IV., was first planned. The castle and the walls of the town of Brecon
(or Brecknock) were destroyed by the inhabitants during the Civil War,
to avoid the expense of mamtaining and defending them.

Scene III. — i. AcU The quartos have " deed," and " act " for deed in
the next line.

5. This piece of ruthfid butchery. The ist and 2d quartos have "ruth-
less piece of;" the later quartos "ruthfull piece of." For r«/^/«/=pitc-
ous, cf. 3 Hen. VI. ii. 5. 95 : " these ruthful deeds ;" and T. and C. v. 3.
48 : " ruthful work." So pitiful is used in the double sense of compas-
sionate and exciting compassion. In like manner, as W. remarks^^wc
now say, with the same force, either a shameful deed or a shameless deed ;
in one instance meaning that the act causes shame in the observer — in
the other, that it shows a lack of shame in the performer. So the same
act may be characterized as pitiful, sorrowful, ruthful, or pitiless, sorrow-
less, ruthless."

6. Flesh'd. Cruel, hardened. Cf. Hen. V. iii.3. 11 : "the fleshM sol-
dier, rough and hard of heart."

II. Alabaster innocent. The quartos have "innocent alabaster," and
in 13 "Which" for And.

14. Prayers. A dissyllable ; as in iii. 7. 97 above.

18. Replenished. Complete, consummate ; as in ^ T. ii. I. 79: "The
most replenish'd villain in the world."

19. Prime. First; as in Hen. VIII\\\.2, 162: "The prime man of
the state." In the same play we find the comparative /r«Vff/r (i. 2.67)
and the superlative primest (ii. 4. 229).

ACT IV. SCENE IV,

227

20. Hence both, etc. The ist and 2d quartos have "Thus both," etc. ;
the other quartos omit the line. Schmidt makes ^<7/i^ w///i= overcome
with ; as in Rich, II. ii. I. 184: " York is too far gone with grief;" but,
with the folio itxi^gone may as naturally be joined with hetice. J. H. ex-
plains hence as= hereupon. On remorse^ of. i. 4. 107 and iii. 7. 210 above.

22. This tidings. S. makes tidings (like news) either singular or plural.
See R. and J. p. 195.

30. Bnt where^ etc The quartos read " But how or in what place I do
not know." The " Bloody Tower " (see p. 164) is now pointed out as the
scene of the murder of the princes ; but there is no proof that it occurred
there, and previous to the reign of Elizabeth the place was called the
*' Garden Tower," because it adjoined what was then the constable's gar-
den. A very old tradition, however, marks the angle at the right of the
gate seen in the cut as the plac.e of the hasty burial of the princes by
Dighton and Forrest. According to the old historians, they were subse-
quently interred elsewhere by a priest under the direction of Brakenbury.
In 1674 some bones were found under a staircase in the White Tower
(as an inscription now records) which were buried by Charles II. in West-
minster Abbey as those of the murdered princes. They were found in a
wooden chest some ten feet under ground.

31. Soon, and after supper. The quartos have " soon at after supper."
Clarke gives "soon at after-supper." For after-supper^ see 2 Hen. IV.
pp. 166, 200.

37. Match^ d in marriage. To Sir Richard Pole, b^ whom she had a
son who afterwards became Cardinal Pole. See on iii. 5. 106 above.

40. For. Because, since. See on i. i. 58 above.

The Breton Richmond. He calls Richmond so because after the bat-
tle of Tewksbury he had taken refuge in the court of Francis II., Duke
of Bretagne (Malone).

46. Morton. The Bishop of Ely. See on iii. 4. 31 above.

47. With. By ; as often. Gr. 193.

51. Fearful commenting^ etc. "Timorous thought and cautious disqui-
sition are the dull attendants on delay" (Johnson). For fearfut={u\\ of
fear, cf. iv. 2. 121 above, and iv. 4. 313, v. i. 18, and v. 3. 182 below.

55. Mercury. Cf ii. I. 88 above.

56. My counsel is my shield. That is, action, and not deliberation, shall
be my policy.

Scene IV. — 5. Induction. See on i. i. 32 above.

8. Withdraw thee, wretched Margaret, etc. Verplanck remarks : " In
this scene we take leave of Margaret of Anjou, that *she-WDlf of France,*
who has been almost as much the presiding evil genius of the last two
parts of Henry VI. as Richard is of this. Mrs. Jameson, who was led to
a partial adoption of Malone's opinion on the three parts of Henry VI.,
not so much from his argument as from their appearing to her to * have
less of poetry and passion, and more of unnecessary verbiage and inflated
language, than the rest of Shakespeare's plays,' finds an additional and
original argument in the character of Queen Margaret. Her criticism on
the style is just, but she would hardly have drawn her inference from it

228 NOTES,

if she had been aware that the evidence shows tliese to be the produc-
tions of the immature and unpractised Shakespeare, beginning to form
for himself and his country the historic drama. Her other argument,
which she considers * the most conclusive of all to those who have stud-
ied Shakespeare in his own spirit,' is thus stated : * Margaret, as exhib-
ited in these' tragedies, is a dramatic portrait of considerable truth and
vigour and consistency; but she is not one of Shakespeare's women.
He who knew so well in what true greatness of spirit consisted — who
could excite our respect and sympathy, even for a Lady Macbeth, would
never have given us a heroine without a touch of heroism ; he would not
have portrayed a high-hearted woman struggling unsubdued against the
strangest vicissitudes of fortune ; meeting reverses and disasters, such as
would have broken the most masculine spirit, with unbroken constancy
— yet left her without a single personal quality which wculd excite our
interest in her bravely endured misfortunes ; and this in the very face of
history. He would not have given us, in lieu of the magnanimous queen,
a mere " Amazonian trull," with every coarser feature of depravity and
ferocity ; he would have redeemed her from unmingled detestation ; he
would have breathed into her some of his own sweet spirit ; he would
have given the woman a soul.'

"Now, as we here find that, in Richard I 11.^ all these characteristics
of Margaret are adopted and recapitulated, it is clear that this argument
against the character being Shakespeare's destroys itself by proving too
much ; for it would prove that this play too is by some other hand than
his, which no one can assert, in the wildest mood of critical conjecture.
Shakespeare mijiht certainly have given a higher and more heroic cast
to Margaret ot Anjou ; but the truth evidently is, that having, partly
from the intimation of the chroniclers, very probably (as Courtenay sug-
gests) from uncontradicted and universally believed tradition, adopted, m
spite of his imputed Lancastrian prejudices, this view of Margaret's fe-
rocity, cruelty, and conjugal infidelity, he must have seen that he could
not breathe mto such a personage * his own sweet spirit,' any more than
into Goneril, Regan, or the queen of Cymbdine^ and therefore placed her
in bold and unmitigated contrast to the mild virtues of the *holy Henry.'
The comparison of Margaret with Lady Macbeth suggests a deep moral
truth, which must have been in the poet's mind, though he has not em-
bodied it in formal moral declamation. Our interest in Lady Macbeth is
kept up, in spite of her crimes, by her unflagging and devoted attachment
to her husband, and their mutual and touching confidence and solace in
each other, even in guilt as well as in sorrow. Margaret has no com-
munion with Henry's heart ; she scorns him, and her affections roam
elsewhere. That last redeeming virtue of woman being lost, Margaret
has nothing left but her talent and courage ; and those qualities alone
cannot impart the respect and sympathy which we continue to feel for
the guilty but nobler wife of Macbeth."

10. Unblmvn. The ist folio has "vnblowed," for which the composi-
tor is doubtless responsible.

15. Right for right. Retributive justice. Cf. 141 below. V. remarks:
" In i. 3. Margaret was reproached with the murder of young Rutland,

ACT IV, SCENE IV, 229

and the death of her husband and son were imputed to divine vengeance
roused by that wicked act. * So just is God to right the innocent' Mar-
garet now means to say, * The right of me, an injured mother, whose son
was slain at Tewksbury, has now joperated as powerfully as that right
which the death of Rutland gave you to divine justice, and has destroyed
your children in their turn.' "

20. Quit, *' Here used to express comprehensively * requite the death
of and 'acquit the crime of " (Clarke). See Rich. II, p. 208 or Ham,
p. 269.

23. In. See on i. 2. 261 aboVe.

24. When didsty etc When ere now didst, etc. The editor ef the 2d
folio, not seeing the meaning, changed When to ** Why."

28. Record, For the accent, see on iii. i. 72 above.

35. Ancient. Old, long-standing. See on iii. 1. 182 |ibove.
Reverent. Reverend. The two words are used indiscriminately in the

early eds.

36. Seniory. Seniority. In the early eds. it is spelt "signorie," **sign-
iorie," " signeurie," " signeury," etc.

41. Harry. The quartos have " Richard " and the folios " husband."
Harry is the reading of the Camb. editors, and seems preferable to Cap-
ell's conjecture of " Henry," which is generally adopted. W. retains
"husband."

45. Holp^st. See on i. 2. 108 above.

47. From forth the kennel^ etc. Apparently an allusion to the myth of
Scylla.

49. Tliat had his teethy etc See on ii. 4. 28 above.

52, 53. That excellent, etc. These two lines are not in the quartos, and
are accidentally transposed in the folios. Capell corrected the arrange-
ment. £>«///«/=pre-eminent. Cf.^.fl«^/Ci. 1.40: "Excellent false-
hood!"

53. Galled eyes, Cf. Ham, \. 2. 155 : " her galled eyes ;" and T, andC»
V. 3. 55 : " Their eyes o'ergalled with recourse of tears."

56. Carnal, Bloodthirsty. Cf. 2 Hen. IV. iv. 5. 133:

"the wild dog
Shall flesh his tooth on every innocent."

58. PeW'fellow, Companion. Steevens cites, among other contempo-
raneous instances of the word, Dekker and Webster's Northward Hoe,
1607 : " He would make him pue-fellow with a lord's steward at the least."

65. Boot, Something given to boot (cf T. and C, iv. 5. 40), or into the
bargain.

69. Adulterate, Used by S. oftener than adulterous. See Ham, p. 195,

71. Intelligencer, Agent. See 2 Hen. IV. p. 184.

72. Their, Hell is here personified as plural, as heaven is in several
instances. See Rich. II, p. 157, note on They see.

76. From hence. The quartos have" " away."

77. Cancel his bond of life. For the metaphor, cf. Mach. iii. 2. 49 :

"Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond
That keeps me pale ;"
and Cymb, v. 4. 27 :

230 NOTES.

"take this life,
And cancel these cold bonds."

8i. Bottled spider. See on i. 3. 242 above.

S4. Presentation, Show, semblance ; as in ^. K Z. v. 4. 1 12 : " He uses
his folly like a stalking-horse, and under the presentation of that he shoots
his wit."

85. Index, Prelude. See on ii. 2. 148 above. Here it means either
the spoken prologue or, as Steevens makes it, the printed programme, of
a pageant or dumb-show. Schmidt suggests that the pageants " were
perhaps introduced and explained by painted emblems;" or, as others
suppose, a painted cloth was hung up outside as an advertisement of the
show. Y or pageant in this sense, cf. Temp. iv. i. 155, M. N. D. iii. 2. 1 14,
A. V, L. ii. 7. 138, iii. 4. 55, etc.

86. A'high. On high. Gr. 24.

88-90. A dream , , , a bubble. The quartos read :

** A dreame of which thou wert, a breath, a bubble,
A signe of dignitie, a garish flagge,
To be the aime of euery dangerous shot."

For garish - gaudy, bright, see R. and J. p. 186, note on The garish sun.
In the last line there is an allusion " to the dangerous situation of those
to whose care the standards of armies were intrusted " (Steevens).

91. Scene. Used in the theatrical sense; as in 27 above. See also ii.
2. 38 above.

, 92. Where be^ etc. This use of ^<f is "especially frequent in questions
of appeal " (Gr. 299).

97. Decline all this. That is, run through all this from first to last ; as
in declining^ or giving the cases of a noun, in grammar (Malone). Cf. T.
and C. ii. 3. 55 : "1 '11 decline the whole question." The word is used in
the literal sense in M. W, iv. i. 42.

100. For one being suedto^ etc. The quartos transpose this line and the
next

loi. Caitiff. For the feminine use, cf. A, W, iii. 2. 117 and 0th, iy. i.
109. See 0th. p. 197.

103. For one being fear'' d, etc. This line is not in the quartos, which
transpose 102 and 104. In 102, 103, and 104, the folios misprint "she"
for one,

105. WheeVd. The quarto reading; the folios have "whirl'd."

112. Wearied head. The quartos have " weary (" wearied " in 6th, 7th,
and 8th) necke."

120. Sweeter. The quartos have "fairer," and in 87 above "sweet"
{ox fair. W. remarks : " This double change in counterpart could not
have been accidental ; and, indeed, it is far more natural and touching \o
MStfair in the mere descriptive allusion to the babes, and sweet in de-
scribing a mother's memory of them."

122. Bettering. Magnifying. Some eds. print "bad-causer."

127. Windy attornevs, etc. " Meaning that words are but breathing ex-
ponents of grief, are but successors to joy that is dead and that has died
without a will, bequeathing nothing " (Clarke).

ACT IK SCE-NE /K

«3i

128. Intestate. The folios misprint " intestine."
135. The trumpet' sounds. The quartos read ** I hear his drum." For
exclaims^ see on i. 2. 52 above.

141. Branded, The quartos have "graven."

142. Owed. Owned, was rightful possessor of. See K. John^ pp. 141,
145.

149. A flourish^ etc. See p. 26 sibove.

152. Entreat, Treat; as elsewhere with///;- ox fairly. See Rich, II,
J"- I- 37» 3 H^^' VL i. I. 271, T. and C, iv. 4. 115, etc.

157. Impatience, A quadrisyllable. Cf. patience in i. 3. 248 and iv. i.
15 above.

158. Condition. Disposition, temper. See Hen, F. pp. 183, 186.
160. Oy lety etc. The two speeches in this line are not in the quartos.
166. Rood, Cross. See on iii. 2. 75 above.

169. Tetchy. Touchy, fretful. Cf. T. and C, i. I. 99 : "And he 's as
tetchy to be wooed to woo ;" and R, and J, \, 3. 32 : " To see it tetchy,"
etc.

172. Thy age confirm'' d. Thy riper age.

173. More mildy etc The line is not in the quartos.

Kind in hatred. Cf. what More says (p. 168 above) : " outwardly com-
paniable where he inwardly hated," etc.

175. Graced me. Blessed me, made me happy (Johnson).

176. Humphrey Hour, The critics have been in doubt whether this
is the name of some person not mentioned by the chroniclers, or a cant
personification of the breakfast hour; but it is probably the latter. Cf.
the use of" Tom Troth " for troth or truth, Steevens quotes The Wit of
a Woman, 1604 : " Gentlemen, time makes us brief: our old mistress,
Houre, is at hand." He thinks there may be also an allusion to the old
proverbial phrase of " dining with Duke Humphrey ;" which is said to
have originTlted in the fact that one of the aisles in St. Paul's Cathedral,
called Duke Humphrey's Walk, was a place where those who had no
means of getting a dinner used to loiter during the usual hour of the
meal, as if detained by some business. Cf. Gabriel Harvey's Foure Let-
ters, etc., 1592 : "to seeke his dinner in Poules with Duke Humphrey :
to licke dishes, to be a beggar ;" and Nash, Wonderful Prognostication,
etc., 1591 : "Sundry fellowes in their silkes shall be appointed to keepe
duke Humfrye company in Poules, because they know not where to get
their dinners abroad." Duke Humphrey was buried at St. Albans, but,
according to Stowe, there was in St. Paul's "a fair monument" to Sir
John Bewcampe [Beauchamp], who died in 1358, and who " is by igno-
rant people misnamed to be Humphrey Duke of Gloster."

177. Forth of. Out of, away from. See on i. 3. 337 above; and cf.
Gr. 156, 165.

178. Disgracious. See on iii. 7. ill above. For eye the quartos have
" sight."

179. And not offend, etc. The quartos read :

"and not offend your grace.
*' Ditch. O heare me speake lor 1 shal neuer see thee more.
^* King. Come, come, you are 100 bitter."

232 NOTES,

183. So. Often used to express acquiescence or approbations well
C£ ii. I. X above.

185. Turn, Return. See A, K Z. p. 169.

186. Extreme, For the accent, see on iii. C. 43 above.

190. Complete, Accented on the first syllable when it immediately pre-
cedes the noun, but not in the predicate (Schmidt). See Ham, p. 194.

i<)\. Prayers. A dissyllable. See on iv. 3. 14 above. For/flr^=part,
side, see on iii. 2. 47 above.

193. Whisper. For the transitive use, cf. Muck Ado^ iii. 1. 4, W, T. i. 2.
437, iv. 4. 827, etc

196. Serves, Waits upon, attends.

203. Level. Aim ; a technical use of the word. Cf. Much Adoy iv. i.
239: "But if all aim but this be levell'd false;" 2 Zr<r«. /K. iii. 2. 286 :
** the foeman may with as great aim level at the edge of a penknife," etc

205. Gracious. A trisyllable. See on 157 above.

212. A royal princess. The quartos have "of royal blood."

218. Unavoided, Unavoidable; as in Rich, II, ii. I. 268: "And un-
avoided is the danger now ;" and i Hen. VI. iv. 5. 8 : "A terrible and un-
avoided danger." The only instance of the ordinary sense in S. is iv. i.
55 above.

222-235. You speak . . . bosom. These lines are not in the quartos.

226. All indirectly gave direction, Cf. Ham. ii. I. 66 : " By indirections
find directions out ;" and K, Jokn, iii. i. 276:

"though indirect.
Yet indirection thereby grows direct.** '

228. Till it was wketted, etc Cf. 2 Hen, IV, iv. 5. 108 :

"Thou hid'st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts.
Which thou hast whetted on thy stony heart ;*'

^xAM.ofV,\s, I. 123:

" Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh Jew,
Thou mak'st thy knife keen."

2^0. Still. Continual, constant. Cf. the use of the adverb in still-
lasting^ 346 below.

232. My nailsy etc Cf. M. N. D. iii. 2. 298 :

" I am not yet so low
But that my nails can reach unto thine eyes ;"

and 2 Hen, VI, i. 3. 144 :

" Could I come near your beauty with my nails.
I 'd set my ten commandments in your faoe."

In the latter case it is a duchess, as here a queen, that speaks. " Tempera
mutantur, et nos mutamur in illis."

zyi. Dangerous success. Doubtful issue. The quartos have " danger-
ous attempt of hostile armes " (cf 400 below). For success^ cf. T, and C,

i'3'34^* "for the success,

Although particular, shall give a scantling
Of good or bad unto the general ;"

ACT IV, SCENE IK 233

Id, ii. a. 117 : "Nor fear of bad success in a bad cause," etc. Some make
j«rr^jx=succession (see W. 71 p. 161).

245. Type, Badge, sign ; not " exhibition, show, display," as Johnson
explained it Cf. 3 Hen, VI. i. 4. 121 : " Thy father bears tnc type of King
of Naples " (that is, the crown).

248. Demise, Bequeath, grant ; the only instance of the word in S.
The 2d folio has "devise."

251. Lethe, For other allusions to the river of oblivion, see Ham,
p. 195.

259. From, The queen plays upon the sense of " away from " (Gr. 158)
which the preposition often had. See T. N. p. 130.

276. Sometime. Once. Cf. Cymb, v. 5. 333 : " that Belarius whom you
sometime banish'd," etc.

On the passage, cf. i. 3. 174 fol. above. See also 3 Hen, VI, i. 4. 79 fol.

278, 279. Whichy say to her . . . brothers' bodies. This is not in the
quartos. The folios have " brothers body ;" corrected by Warb.

280. Wipe . . . withal. The quartos have " dry . . . therewith," and in
282 "story . . . acts " for letter . . . deeds. We give only occasional sam-
ples of these little variations in the two texts.

290-344. Say , , , years ? This is the longest of the passages found in
the folios, but not in the quartos. See p. 10 above.

.299. Quicken. Give life to; as in Temp. iii. i. 6: "quickens what 's
dead,*' etc Cf. the play on quick in 363 below, and see also on i. 2. 65
above.

304. Mettle. The ist and 2d folios have " mettall," the 3d " mettle,"
the 4th " metal." The early eds. use metal and mettle without regard to
the meaning. See Rich, II, p. 157.

306. Bid, Bore, endured ; the past tense oihide (Johnson and Schmidt).
Cf. T N, ii. 4. 97 :

" There is no woman's sides
Can bide the beating of so strong a passion,** etc.

313. Fearful, Full of fear. See on i. 1. 11 above.

324. Orient pearl, Cf. M, N, D. iv. i. 59, A, and C, i. 5. 41, V, and A,
981, and P, P. 133.

325. Advantaging, Increasing. For the verb, cf. Temp, i. i. 34, T, N.
iv. 2. 119, J. C, iii. I. 242, etc. The folio misprints " Loue " for loan,

338. Victress. The spelling of the 4th folio ; the earlier folios have
" victoresse." It is the only instance of the word in S.

339. Were I best '( Would it be best for me ? See on i. 1. 100 above.

345. Infer. See on iii. 5. 74 above.

346. Still-lasting. Everlasting. See on 230 above. The hyphen is
not in the early eds. and might perhaps be omitted.

348. Which the king^s King forbids. Alluding to Lev. xviii. 14.

350. Wail, The quarto reading ; the folios misprint " varle " or "vail."

356. Likes of it. Likes it. Cf. Much AdOy v. 4. 59 : "I am your hus-
band, if you like of me," etc. For the form of likes and lengthens in 355,
see Gr. 336.

363. Quick, Hasty. In her reply the queen plays on the other sense
of ^«/V/t = living. Cf. the quibble in L, L. L- v. 2. 687.

234 NOTES,

368. My George, The medallion with the figure of St. George on
horseback, which was part of the insignia of the Knights of the Garter.
Cf. 2 Hen. VI. iv. i. 29 : " Look on my George ; I am a gentleman."

371. His. Its; as in the two following lines. Gr. 228.

376-378. Then by myself^ etc. In the quartos the order of the oaths is :
Now by the worlds My father's tieathy Then by myself,

380-389. If thou hadst fear'' d^ etc. This passage is evidently corrupt in
both the folio and the quarto texts, which we give below, indicating by
italics (as W. does) the words in which they differ. The folio reads :

•* If thou didd'st /eare to breake an Oath with him,
The vnity th? King my husband made.
Thou had'st not broken, nor my Brothers died.
If thou had' St fear'd to breake an oath by him,
Th' Imperiall mettall, circling now thy he'ad^

Had grac'd the tender temples of my Child,
And both the Princes had bene breathing he
Which now two tender ^^^-iellowes f&r dust.

Thy broken Faith hath made the prey for Wormcs.
IVkat can'st thou sweare by now.*''

The quarto reads thus :

•* If i^aw hadst feard to breake an oath by him.
The vnitie the king my brother made,
Hcut not beene broken, nor my brother slaine.
If thou hadst feard to breake an oath by him
The emperiall mettel circling now thy broWy
Had erast the tender temples of my childe,
And both the princes had beene breathing here.
Which now two tender //ay-fellowesyi?r dust,
Thy broken faith hath made a praye for wormes."

392. Hereafter, Used adjectively ; as in i Hen. VI. ii. 2. 10 : " here-
after ages."

394. Ungovern^d, That is, left with no one to govern of guide them.

398. O'erpast. The folio has "repast," the first letter of "ore-past"
(its reading in 390 above) having been accidentally dropped.

404. Opposite, Opposed, adverse ; as in 216 above. S. mentions //a«-
ets nearly a score of times, but always with an astrological reference. Cf.
Much Adoy V. 2. 41, W. T. i. 2. 201, ii. i. 105, Ham. i. i. 162, 0th, ii. 3. 182,
etc.

407. Tender, Regard, hold dear. See on ii. 4 72 above.

419. Peevish found. See on i. 3. 194 and iii. i. 31 above. The ist
quarto has "pieuish, fond," the other quartos "peeuish, fond" or "peeuish
fond." Some editors adopt Malone's conjecture of "peevish-fond."

426. Shortly. Perhaps a trisyllable, as M alone and Abbott (Gr. 477)
make it. The next line is not in the quartos.

429. Shallow^ changing woman. " Such was the real character of this
queen dowager, who would have married her daughter to King Richard,
and did all in her power to alienate the Marquis of Dorset, her son, from
the Earl of Richmond " (Steevens).

432. Puissant. Always a dissyllable in S. On puissance^ see K, John^
p. 158.

436. Hull. Float, or, in nautical phrase, "lie to." Sec T-N. p. 131.

ACT IV, SCENE IV,

235

441. Convenient. Suitable, befitting. Cf. Lear^ iv. 5. 31 :

" And more convenient is he for my hand
Than for your lady's," etc.

448. Strength, For strength— ioxct^ army, see 2 Hen, IV, p. 159; and
iox power in the same sense, Id,^, 150. Cf. also. iv. 3. 50 above, and 531
and V. 3. 26 below.

454. My mind is changed, " Richard's precipitation and confusion is
in this scene very happily represented by inconsistent orders, and sudden
variations of opinion " (Johnson). The quartos read here " My mind is
changed, sir, my mind is chang'd ;" followed, on the entrance of Stanley,
by ** How now, what news with you ?"

457. Heyday. The early eds. have " Hoyday ;" as in T, and C v. i. 73
(where, however, the quarto has " Heyday ) and T, of A, i. 2. 137.

458. What. Why; as often before need, Cf. R. of L, 31 ; "What
needeth then apologies be made?" Cymb, iii. 4. 34: " What shall I need
to draw my sword ?" etc.

Miles. The early quartos have " mile," for which cf. I Hen, IV. p. 204.

459. The nearest. The quartos have " a nearer."

462. White-livered runagate ! Cowardly vagabond ! For white-livered,
see Hen. V. p. 163, or 2 Hen. IV. p. 188. Some editors join the words to
what follows instead of what precedes.

467. Chair. Throne ; as in v. 3. 252 below.

469. What heir of York, etc " Theie were other heirs who had a better
title than Richard, as Malone remarked — Elizabeth and the other daugh-
ters of Edward IV., and Edward, son of Richard's elder brother, the
Duke of Clarence ; and although, as Ritson rejoined, Edward's issue
had been pronounced illegitimate, and Clarence attainted of high
treason, yet this was unjustly done by procurement of Richard himself"
(W.).

471. Makes. Does. See on i. 3. 164 above.

474. You cannot guess, etc. We make this a question, as W. does. If
a period be put at the end of the line, as in the early eds. and most of the
modern ones, the sentence must be supposed to be ironical. The Welsh-
man is a contemptuous reference to Richmond's Welsh descent. He was
half-brother to Henry VI., being the son of the king's mother. Queen
Katherine, widow of Henry V., by her second husband, Owen Tudor, a
Welsh gentleman.

476. My good lord. The quartos have " mighty liege," and **are" for
be (see on 92 above) in 478. In 482 they have ** Richard " for me, and in
484 " sovereign " for king.

485. Pleaseth, If it pleaseth. See 2 Hen. IV, p. 184. The quartos
have " Please it."

491. Nor never, " Corrected " by Pope to " nor ever." For the double
negative see Gr. 406.

497. Advertised, Informed. The accent in S. is regularly on the sec-
ond syllable, and so with advertisement, Cf. 71 and C, ii. 2. 212 : "I was
advertis'd their great general slept," etc

500. Moe. More ; used regularly only in the plural. See A, K L,
p. 176. Cf. Gr. 17.

236 NOTES.

502. Competitors. Confederates, associates. See 71 N. p. 158.

503. Flocks etc. The quartos read : " Flock to their aid, and still their
power increaseth."

507-511* The news , . . whither^ The quartos read :

^*Mes. Your grace mistakes, the newes I bring is good
My newes is that by sudden floud, and fall of water,
The Duke of Buckmghams armie is disperst and scattered,
And he himself fled, no man knowes whether.

^^King. O I one you mercie, I did mistake.
Ratcliffe reward him, for the blow I gaue him."

513. Well-advised. See on i. 3. 318 al)Ove.

524. Upon his party. See on iii. 2. 47 above.

525. Hoiid. The past tense of hoise. Cf. 2 Hen. VI. \. 1. 169 : " We '11
quickly hoise Duke Humphrey from his seat;" and see Ham, p. 241, note
on Hoist. The word here is spelt " hoist " in the quartos and " hoys'd "
in the folios.

532. Colder. More unwelcome. Cf. 2 Hen. VI. i. i. 237 : "Cold news
for me," etc.

News is spelt " newes " in the folios, but there is no reason for making
it dissyllabic, as Schmidt does. He probably overlooked the fact that
the folios have "news, but yet" in place of the "tidings, yet" of the
quartos. Nnvs is plural here, as they shows ; but it is smgular just
above, as often. Cf. Rich. II. p. 198, note on This news. See also on iv.
3. 22 above.

533. Reason. Talk. See on i. 4. 154 above.

534. Take order. See on iv. 2. 52 above.

Scene V. — i. Sir Christopher, This Urswick was a priest, and chap-
lain to the Countess of Richmond. He was afterwards almoner to Henry
VH., and was offered the bishopric of Norwich, which he refused, and re-
tired to Hackney, where he died in 1521. His monument is still to be,
seen in the church at Hackney. For .Sir as a priestly title, see on iii. 2.
108 above.

3. Franked up in hold. Stied up in confinement See on i. 3. 314
above.

5. Holds off. The quartos have " withholds."

7. Withal^ sayy etc. In the quartos this is put into Stanley's closing
speech (iq below), which reads thus :

" Return unto thy lord ; commend me to him :
Tell him the queen hath heartily consented
He shall espouse Elizabeth her daughter.
These letters will resolve him of my mind.
Farewell."

10. Hertford West. The folio reading ; the ist quarto has " Harford-
west," andf some of the other quartos " Herford-west."

14. Redoubted. Redoubtable, dread ; as in Rich, II. iii. 3. 198, Hen, V,
ii. 4. 14, etc.

15. Rice ap Thomas. The ap is Welsh = of, and in personal names =
son of.

ACT F. SCENES I. AND IL

237

17. Bend theif^ power. Lead their forces. See on iv. 4. 448 above.
The quartos have ** bend their course."
20. Resolve, Inform. See on iv. 2. 26 above.

ACT V.

Scene I. — Salisbury, The locality is not indicated in the early eds.,
but, according to Hall, the execution of Buckingham was at Salisbury.

1. Will not Kin^ Richard^ etc. Steevens remarks : " The reason why
Buckingham solicited an interview with the king is explained in Hen. VIII.

' ' ^^' * I would have play*d

The part my father meant to act upon
The usurper Richard ; who, being at Salisbury,
Made suit to come in 's presence ; which, if granted,
As he made semblance of his duty, would
Have put his knife into him.' "

Hall and Holinshed also hint that this was his purpose.

2. Patient A trisyllable. See on i. 3. 157 above.

19. The determined respite of my wrongs. The limit of the respite al-
lowed me before being punished for the wrongs I have done. Cf. i Hen.
VI. iv. 6. 9 : ** To my determined time thou gav'st new date ;" that is, ex-
tended the time that had reached its limit.

20. Which. Whom ; as in the Lord's Prayer. Gr. 265.

24. In, Into. See on i. 2. 261 above. The quartos haye "on."
26. When hey etc Cf. i. 3. 300 above.

25. Lead me, officers. The quartos have " sirs, convey me."

Scene II. — Oxford, who enters with Richmond, was John de Vere,
Earl of Oxford, a zealous Lancastrian, who after a long confinement in
Hames Castle, Picardy, escaped thence in 1484, and joined the Earl of
Richmond at Paris. He commanded the archers at the battle of Bos-
worth. Sir James Blunt had been captain of the castle of Hames, and
assisted Oxford to escape (Malone).

3. The bowels of the land. Boswell remarks that this was once a com-
mon metaphor. He cites an instance of it from the Law Reports : " The
plaintiff declared that he was possessed of a colliery . . . lying in the
bowels of such a close."

7. Wretched. ** Hateful, abominable " (Schmidt). The quartos have
"reckless." Coll. says that wr^/r^^^/ " could not have been Shakespeare's
language ;" but cf. R. of L, 999 : " Such wretched hands such wretched
blood should spill " (where both hands and blood are Tarquin's).

13. Tamworth. " Tamworth tower and town " {Marmion, i. 1 1) are on
the borders of Staffordshire and Warwickshire, about twenty miles due
west of Leicester. The castle was founded by Robert de Marmion, a fol-
lower of the Conqueror, but was afterwards rebuilt on a higher site. It is
still in good condition, and belongs to Marquis Townshend. See cut on
p. 145 s^x^ve.

17. Men. The quartos have "swords."

238 NOTES. ,

21. Dearest. Most urgent See I Hen, IV, p. 140, note on This deat
expedience.

Scene III.— 9. Traitors, The quartos have "foe," and in the next
line " greatest number " for utmost power,

II. Battalia, The quartos have " battalion." The only other instance
of either form in S. is in Ham. iv. 5. 79 : " But in battalions." Battalia
is not the plural of battalion^ but an old noun singular. See Wb. s. v.

" Richmond's forces are said to have been only five thousand ; and
Richard's army consisted of about twelve thousand men. But Lord Stan-
ley lay at a small distance with three thousand men, and Richard may be
supposed to have reckoned on them as his friends, though the event
proved otherwise " (Malone).

19. Enter ^ on the other side of the fields Richmona^ etc W. remarks :
" It should be remembered that the field was represented by a platform
about as large as the floor of a drawing-room in a modern full-sized
house. The representatives of Richard and Richmond were actually
within easy conversational distance of each other, and could almost have
shaken hands ; and the tents, of course, occupied the same relative posi-
tions. Such were the arrangements of our primitive stage. We now, by
the aid of scene-painters and carpenters, and at the sound of the prompt-
er's whistle,'separate the representatives of York and Lancaster by cer-
tain yards of coloured canvas, and our stage ghosts address themselves to
Richard only ; and there are those who, forgetting that the stage does
not, never can, and should not if it could, represent the facts of real life,
think that we have gained greatly by the change.

"5*r William Brattdon^viho bore Richmond's standard, was father to
Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, who married Mary, the sister of Hen-
ry VIII. and the widow of Louis XII. of France. The folio directs Dor-
set to enter here ; but Dorset, at this time, was in pawn to a royal money-
lender, Charles VIII. of France, for ready cash Stdvanced to furnish Rich-
mond forth. As Shakespeare quite surely knew this from the chronicles
which he consulted in the preparation of the play, and as the mistake is
one that might easily have crept into the prompter's book, being a mere
stage-direction, it mry be corrected without authority."

23-26. Give me . , . power. The quartos put this into the speech be-
ginning with 44 below :

I' Rick. Farewell, good Blunt.
Giue me some inke, etc

They also omit 27 and 28.

2^ Model, Outline, plan. Stt2 I/en,IV.p,i^%,oT Much Ado,\i.i2j,

25. Limit, Appoint, assign. For j«'^r3/= separate, see on iii. 2. 76
above.

29. Keeps. Remains with. ** Regiment was used in Shakespeare's time
to mean any considerable body of men, under the regiment or command
of one leader, and without reference to the number or organization of the
troops that composed it " (W.).

40. Sweet Blunt, The ouartos have " Good Captain Blunt, bear my
good night to him;" which is a repetition of 30 above. W. remarks:

ACT y. SCENE IIL 239

"This passage affords a marked instance of the warm simplicity of phrase
with which men addressed each other in Shakespeare's time. Lieuten-
ant-General Scott, with all his courtesy, did not probably address General
Worth as Sweet Worth, on the eve of the battle of Churubusco ; and
this difference in manners must be constantly borne in mind in reading
Shakespeare's works — especially his Sonnets.'^

43. And sOy etc. The line is not in the quartos.

46. Dew, The quartos have " air."

48. Nine. The quartos have ** six," which many editors retain. V.
observes : ** This is on the authority of Steevens, who remarks that * a
supper at as late an hour as nine o'clock, in 1485, would have been a
prodigy.' We know very well what the supper-hour of the higher classes
at that period was. Harrison tells us (Preface to Holinshed), *the no-
bilitie, gentrie, and students ordinarily go to dinner at eleven before
noon, and to supper zXfive^ or between five and six, at afternoone.' From
this reason, I do not doubt that the poet wrote originally * six o'clock.'
But, on revision, he saw that that hour would not agree with the context
The Earls of Pembroke and Surrey are said to have before gone through
the army at 'cock-shut time,' or twilight, which in August, in that part
of England (the battle of Bosworth Field was on August 22, 1485), when
the sunset is after seven, would be much later than the time assigned for
this scene. Besides, in the preceding scene, * the weary sun ' had already
* made a golden set ;' and this scene, therefore, is long after six. It seems
then that the poet, perceiving that the whole conduct of this scene re-
quired a later hour, and wishing to preserve the incident of Richard's
refusing to sup, altered the time to what — though not the common sup-
per hour of domestic life — might well be that of an army, which had just
encamped, after a march^ The insertion of six confuses the time of all
this act."

49. Beaver, Here apparently=helmet. See I Hen, IV, p. 189.

58. Catesby! This is the reading of the quartos, though, by a misprint,
they assign the reply to ^^ Rat." instead of" Cat," Pope corrected the
error. The folios have " Ratcliffe," and give the reply to him ; but it is
evident from what follows that it is Catesby who is aispatched to send
the pursuivant to Stanley, and that Ratcliff remains behind.

63. Watch. A watch-light or watch-candle (Johnson and Schmidt).
The king would not use the word grve^ if he meant a guard ; and the or-
der for the guard is given in 77 below.

64. White Surrey. According to Hall and Holinshed, the king was
" mounted on a great white courser."

65. Staves. The staff vt^is the shaft of the lance, Here put for the lance
itself, as in 341 below. Cf. JC. John, ii. i. 318, Macb. v. 3. 48, etc.

On the passage, see p. 28 above.

68. Melancholy. "Richard calls him melancholy htcdMSt he did not
join heartily in his cause " (Malone). Cf. 2 above.

69. Cock-shut time. Twilight. A cock-shut was a kind of net used for
catching woodcocks, and was generally set in the dusk of the evening.
Steevens quotes Arden of Fever sham ^ 1592 : " In the twilight, cock-shut
light ;" and The Widow^ 1652 : " a fine cock-shut evening."

240

NOTES.

72. So. See on iv. 4. 183 above.

73. / have nott etc. See p. 179 above.

75. Is ink and paper ready ? For the question and reply, cf. iii. 4. 4, 5
above.

77. Bid my guard watch. If this is not the order for the guard (see on
63 above), it is a message to the guard that would be set at the royal
tent as a matter of course, admonishing them to be vigilant.

83. Laving. The reading of the ist and 2d quartos ; the other early
eds. have ** noble," which is doubtless the compositor's accidental repe-
tition of the same word just above.

87. Flaky. ** Scattering like flakes " (Schmidt).

91. Mortal-staring. " Having a deadly stare, grim-looking " (Schmidt).
Cf. '* grim-visag'd " in i. i. 9 above. Perhaps, as Clarke suggests, the
word ** includes the effect of War staring or glaring fatally upon its vic-
tims, and their deadly stare when killed." It is infinitely better than any
of the " emendations " that have been proposed ; like " mortal -fearing,"
"mortal-scaring," "mortal-staving," "Inortal-stabbing,"' '* mortal-dar*
J"g»" etc.

93. With best advanta^e^ etc. " I will take the best opportunity to elude
the dangers of this conjuncture " (Johnson).

98. Leisure. That is, want of leisure. Cf. Rich. II. i. I. 5 : " Which
then our leisure would not let us hear." See also 239 below.

105. With troubled thoughts. The folios have "troubled with noise,*'
which W. prefers on the ground that " if S. at first wrote troubled thoughts^
which is possible, he seems to have remembered, on the revision of the
play, that he had represented Richmond as entirely untroubled in mind-,
and sure of victory from the time when he first appears upon the scene."
But troubled thoughts need not imply any thing more than being " careful
and troubled about many things," as a general, however confident of vie
tory, must be on the eve of a decisive battle.
ic^. Feize. Weigh. See iT. y<?A«, p. 151.

III. Bruising irons. J. H. quotes Fs. ii. 9 (Prayer-Book version):
" Thou shalt bruise them with a rod of iron." For /r^wj= weapons, cf.
T. andC. ii. 3. 18 : " drawing their massy irons," etc

117. Windows. That is, the eyelids. See F. and y. p. 172, note on Gny
eye. Cf. also F. and J. iv. i. 100 : " thy eyes' windows Fall like death," etc

125. My anointed body. Cf. Lear^ iii. 7. 58 : "his anointed flesh," etc
See also i v. 4. 151 above.

126. Punched. The word (which S. uses nowhere else) seems undig-
nified now; but Steevens cites Chapman, ///a^, vi. : "with a goad he
punch'd each furious dame." Deadly is found only in the ist quarto.

133. Fulsome. " Rich, cloyingly sweet " (Clarke), as malmsey is. Stee-
vens says that S. " seems to have forgot himself," as Clarence was killed
before oeing thrown into the malmsey-butt. But see i. 4 263 above,
which implies- that the murderers trusted to the drowning to complete
their work.

136. FcUl. Let fall. See on i. 3. 353 above, and cf. iv. 2. 65.

144. Let fall thy lance. To fill the measure, Capell gave "hurtles*
lance," andf the Coll. MS. has "pointless lance."

ACT V. SCENE III.

241

147. 754^ GAast of Hastings appears. In the ist and 2d quartos the
ghosts of the young princes come in before the ghost of Hastings. The
order in the later e^s. is chronological throughout.

153. Lead, The reading of the ist quarto; *Maid" in all the other
early eds.

157. Annoy, Cf. V. and A. 497: "death's annoy;" Id. 599: "worse
than Tantalus' is her annoy," etc

174. I died for hope^ etc. " I died for the hope of lending you aid ere
I could lend you aid " (Clarke). The ellipsis is not unlike others in S.
Cf. Gr. 382 fol. Hanmer* gave " forsook," Steevens conjectured " for-
holpe" (=unhelped, deserted), and Tyrwhitt "foredone" (see M. N. D.
p. 188). D. remarks : " However we are to understand it, the following
passage, in Greene's James the Fourth^ seems to determine -that it is right :

*War will then cease when dead ones are reviv'd;
Some then will yield when I am dead for hope/ "

W., after quoting D., says : "In my opinion, the passage has been mis-
understood only because explanation has been sought too remotely. Does
it not clearly niean, both here* and in the passage from Greene, I died to
hope ? — to and/^r, as the sign of the dative, h«iving been used almost in-
terchangeably. (See, for instance, in Richard's next speech, * no pity to
myself.') Buckingham (as we learn from Hall's Chronicle)^ without pay
or provisions for his soldiers, retarded by deluges of rain, which laid the
country waste and made it impassable, was abandoned by his partisans,
betrayed by an old servant, and put to death in an obscure country town
before he could approach Richmond ; and so he was dead to hope ere he
could lend Richmond aid. An examination of the context in Greene's
play and of the situation of the speaker — King James — justifies a similar
mterpretation of that passage. The king sees that when his case be-
comes hopeless, then war will cease."

181. The lights burn blue. According to ancient superstition, an indi-
cation of the presence of a ghost. Steevens quotes Lyly, Gdlathea, 1592 :
" My mother would often tell me when the candle burnt blue, there was
some ill spirit in the house."

For now all the early eds. except the ist quarto have "not"

194 Several. Separate. See on 25 above.

196. Highest. For the contraction, see on iii. 4 103 above.

201. There is no creature^ etc. See p. 32 above.

205-207. Methoughty etc. Johnson suspected that these lines are mis-
placed, but was in doubt where they belong. Mason proposed to insert
them after 213. W. would put them either after 179 or after 213. The
former would be the best place, if any change were called for ; but we
agree with Clarke that they are probably where S. meant them to be,
"giving emphasis to the vision just beheld, marking vividly its impres-
sion on the mind of the speaker, and giving reason for the previous words,
* I myself find in myself no pity to myself.' "

It IS barely possible, however, that there has been an interpolation here.
W. Remarks : " Ritson suggested, with much reason, in my judgment —
for I had reached the same conclusion before I knew that he had pre-
ceded me in it — that the twenty-two lines, from * What do I fear myself?'

242

NOTES,

etc., to * Find in myself/ etc., inclusive, are not Shakespeare's ; in which'
case the last three lines quite surely are not transposed, but should fol-
low immediately after the first five. The situation is one which a * star '
actor could not patiently see wasted without an effective scene for him ;
and Burbadge might have had these twenty-two lines added to his part ;
though why not by Shakespeare himself it is difficult to conjecture. But
the hnes are quite surely very much inferior to the rest of the play, and
— what is of more consequence — not in the style in which Shakespeare
wrote at any period of his life."

211. Done salutation, Cf. y. C. iv. 2. 5 : "To do you salutation from
my master."

213-215. O Ratcliff . . . my lord. These lines are omitted in the folios.

216. Shadows, Mason cited this as evidence that lines 205-207 were
addressed to Ratcliff; but shadows more naturally refers to Richard's
fears lest his friends should not prove true ; or, as Mason himself admits,
we may "suppose that the idea of shadows is included in what Richard
calls ^fearful dream,^^

220. In proof. That is, in armour that has been proved^ or tested. Cf.
Macb. i. 2. 54: "lapp'd in proof;" and see Rich. II. p. 162.

225. Cry mercy. " I cry you mercy." See on i. 3. 235 above.

229. In. Into. See on L 2. 261 above.

232. Cried on. Cried out, gave the cry of. Cf. Ham. v. 2. 375 : "cries
on havoc ;" Oth. v. i. 48 : " cries on murther," etc. See Ham. p. 276^

239. Leisure. See on 98 above.

244. Richard except. The except may be either the preposition trans-
posed (Gr. 203), as Schmidt makes it, or the participle contracted (Gr.
342).

251. Foil, Alluding to Xhtfoil or leaf of metal placed behind a trans-
parent gem to set it off. A poor or imperfect stone would of course gain
most by such a background. Cf. Ham. v. 2. 266 :

" I Ml be your foil, Laertes; in mine ignorance
Your skill shall, like a star i* the darkest night,
Stick fiery off indeed."

J. H. quotes Drayton, Heroic. Epist. :

*' With a deceitful foil to lay a ground.
To make a glass to seem a diamond."

255. IVdrd. Guard, protect. Cf. T. and C. i. 2. 292 : " if I cannot ward
what I would not have hit ;" and T. A. iii. i. 195 :

"Tell him it was a hand that warded him
From thousand dangers.**

256. Sweat, The reading of the ist and 2d quartos ; "sweare " in the
other early eds.

26a In safeguard of. In defence of; as in 3 Hen. VI. ii. 2. 18 : " And
cloves will peck in safeguard of their brood," etc.

263. Quit, Requite. See on iv. 4. 20 above.

266. The ransom^ etc " Thefne paid by me in atonement for my rash-
ness shall be my dead corse " (Johnson).

268. The gain. For the redundant use of the noun, see Gr. 417.

ACT V. SCENE III.

243

27a Boldly, St. reads " bold" See on iii. 4. 48 above.

276. Tell the clock. *• Count the clock " {J. C ii. I. 192). CC Temp, ii,

'• 289 • "They '11 tell the clock to any business that

We say befits the hour.*'

See also Ham. p. 238.
280. Braved, Made brave or bright. Cf. Sonn. 12. 2 :

'* When I do count the clock that tells the time,
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night," etc.

For the verb, cf. the quibble in T, of S. iv. 3. 125, where Grumio says
to the tailor : ** Face not me : thou hast braved many men ; brave not
me ; I will neither be faced nor braved."
282. Will not be seen, " Refuses to be seen " (J. H.).

289. Vaunts. Exults, makes a bold show. For the intransitive use,
cf. Sonn. 15. 7 and I Hen. IV, v. 3. 43.

290. Bustle t bustle. Cf. i. i. 152 above.

293. Afy battle shall be ordered. My army shall be arranged. See on
i. 3. 130 above.

294. Foreward.. Vanguard; used by S. only here (cf. "the two for-
wards," p. 179 above). Van he has only in A, and C. iv. 6. 9, and van-
guard not at all. For va^oard, his worcf elsewhere, see Hen. V. p. 178.

The words out all are found only in the ist quarto.

306. Puissance. Often used in this concrete sense ; as in A', yohn, iii.
'• 339: "go, draw our puissance together," etc For the varying pro-
nunciation of the word, see K. John^ p. 158.

301. Chief est. A common superlative in S. Cf. M. ofV. ii. 8. 43, K.
Johny ii. 1. 39, Cor. ii. 2. 88, v. 6. 150, Ham. i. 2. 117, etc.

302. This^ and Saint George to boot! " That is, this is the order of battle
which promises success ; and over and above this is the protection of our
patron saint" (Johnson). But perhaps to boo/=to help, as Hawkins and
Malone explain it Schmidt also thinks this may be the meaning ; as in
IV. T. i. 2. 80 : " Grace to boot !" which is evidently=God be gracious to
us ! God help us !

304. This found /, etc See p. 180 above.

306. Dickon. Dick. It is the name of one of the characters in Gam-
mer Gurton's Needle^ 1575. A spot on Bosworth Field is still known as
" Dickon's Nook."

For bought and sold =hetr3iyed, see A^ yohn, p. 176.

313. Let us to Upell-melly etc. Cf. JC. Johu^ ii. i. 406 :

*• Whv then defy each other, and pell-mell
Make work upon ourselves, for heaven or hell.*'

315. Inferred. See on iii. 5. 74 above.

317. Sort. Company. Cf. Rich. II. iv. I. 246: "a sort of traitors ;" and
see our ed. p. 205.

321. You to. The ist quarto has "to you."

323. Restrain. " Withhold them from you and keep them to them-
•elves " (Schmidt). Cf. Cor. v. 3. 167 :

" That thou restrain'st from me the duty which
To a mother's part belongs;"

244 NOTES.

and T, of A, v. i. 151 : "restraining aid to Timon." Warb. conjectured
"distrain," which is also in the Coll. MS.

325. Mother's, S. here follows Holinshed, who gives by mistake
*' moothers *' for " brothers." Hall, from whom Holinshed copied, gives
it correctly (Farmer). Douce adds that in the^rj/ ed. of Holinshed the
word is " brothers," showing that S. used the second ed., in which the
error occurs. While Richmond was at the court of Bretagne, he was
maintained by the Duke of Burgundy, brother-in-law to Richard.

326. Milk-sop. The Mirrour for Magistrates calls him " A weake
Welch milksop" (Steevens).

329. Overweening. Presumptuous. See 2 Hen. IV. p. 182.

335. Bobfd. Drubbed ; as in T. and C. ii. I. 76 ; "1 have bobbed his
brain more than he has beat my bones."

336. Record. For the accent, see on iii. I. 72 above.

338. Fight. The folios, and some of the later quartos, misprint "Right,"
and " boldly " for bold.

341. Staves. Lances. See on 65 above.

343. Deny. Refuse. See R, and y. p. 159.

345. The marsh. There was a large marsh in Bosworth plain between
the two armies, which Richmond passed, and arranged his forces so that
it protected his right wing. He th-us also compelled the enemy to fight
with the sun in their faces, a great disadvantage when bows and arrows
were in use (Malone). See p. 179 above.

350. Spleen. Fire, ardour. Cf. JC. John, ii. i. 68 : " With ladies* faces
and fierce dragons' spleens," etc.

351. Helms. The reading of ist, 2d, 4th, and 8th quartos; " helpes " or
" helps " in the other early eds.

Scene IV. — 2. Enacts. Performs ; as in i Hen. VI. i. 1. 122, iii. i. 116,
etc. Than a »ia/?=than a mere man could.

3. Daring an opposite. Daring to oppose himself. For opposite^o^-
ponent, see T N. p. 145.

12. Five have I slain^ etc. Cf. i Hen. IV. v. 4. 25 fol.

V. remarks : " The poet had here more than mere dramatic effect to ex-
cuse his making the tyrant fall by Richmond's hand. It is stated by the
chroniclers that Richard was determined to engage with Richmond, if pos-
sible, in single combat. For this purpose he rode furiously to that quarter
of the field where the Earl was ; attacked his standard-bearer (Sir Will-
iam Brandon), and killed him ; then assaulted Sir John Cheny, whom he
overthrew. Having thus cleared his way to his antagonist, he engaged in
single combat with him, and probably would have been victorious ; but at
that instant Sir William Stanley joined Richmond's army, and the royal
forces fled with great precipitation. Richard was soon afterwards over-
powered by numbers, and fell fighting bravely to the last moment'.'

14. And exeunt^ fighting. " The quartos, as well as the folio, have the
direction, Uhey fight^ Richard is slaine."* But they, Richard and Richmond,
must go out fighting, else Stanley could not afterwards enter with the lat-
ter (as he is directed to do in all the old editions), bearing the crown, and
say, * Lo, here this long-usurped royalty. . . have \ plucked off.' The truth

ACT K SCENE IV,

245

is, that the entrances and exits are very carelessly noted in our old dra-
matic literature. Mr. Dyce here marks a new scene — Scene V. But, al-
though it seems improbable that Richmond, Stanley, and the others
should return, after Richard was slain, to the very place where the latter
cried, *A horse ! a horse!' yet, dramatically, nothing is gained by the
change, and as far as reference to the text is concerned, much is lost "
(W.). The Camb. editors, on the other hand, retain the old stage-direc-
tion, " because it is probable from Derby's speech, * From the dead tem-
ples of this bloody wretch,' that Richard's body is lying where it fell, in
view of the audience."

16. Acquit. Acquitted ; as in M, W. i. 3. 27 : "I am glad I am so ac-
quit of this tinder-box." Gr. 342.

20. Enjoy it. These words are found only in the ist ahd 2d quartos.

21. Say amen to all. Say so be it to all, grant that it may come to pass.
23. Leicester, Bosworth Field is fourteen miles from Leicester, where

Richard spent the night before the battle. The old Blue Boar Inn at
which he slept, and which K. says is still standing, was torn down in 1836.

THB 9Pyp 30AR INN, LEICESTER,

246 ADDENDA.

31. Ta^en the sacrament. Taken an oath. Sec on i. 4. 197 above.

40. All this divided^ etc. W. puts a period ^iXtx Lancaster ;\i\xt as
Mr. Robson (quoted by D.) remarks, the preceding lines give the conse-
quence^ not the causCy of the division. It must be admitted, however, that
the repetition in the next line is awkward. H. (school ed.) assumes that
line 41 has been accidentally transposed, and puts it after 43 — an extreme-
ly plausible emendation.

46. Smooth-fac'd. Cf. Z. Z. Z. v. 2. 838, and JC. John, ii. i. 573.

48. AbaU. Blunt (Schmidt.). Cf. 2 Hen. IV. p. 150. Steevens made
it=subdue; as in Cor. iii. 3. 132: ** most Abated captives." D. quotes the
novel ol Pericles y 1608: V Absence abates that edge that Presence whets;"
and St. cites Florio's definition oispontare: "to abate the edge or point
of any thing or weapon, to blunt, to unpoint." Coll. adopts the " rebate "
(cf. M./orM. i. 4. 60) of the Coll. MS.

49. Reduce. Bring back; its etymological sense (Latin reduco). Cf.
Hen. V. v. 2. 63 : " Which to reduce into our former favour," etc

ADDENDA.

The True Tragedie of Richard the third (p. 12). — Collier gives
the following interesting account of this old play:

*• The piece, as a literary composition, deserves little remarl^ ; but as a
drama it possesses several peculiar features. It is in some respects un-
like any relic of the kind, and was evidently written several years before
it came from Creede's press. It opens with a singular dialogue between
Truth and Poetry :

' Poetrie. Truth, well met.

Truth, lliankes, Poetrie: what makes thou upon a stage?

Poet. Shadowes.

Truth. Then, will I adde bodies to the shadowts.
Therefore depart, and give Truth leave
To show her pageant.

Pogt. Why, will Truth be a Player?

Truth. No; but Tragedia like for to present
A Tragedie in England done but late.
That will revive the hearts of drooping mindes.

roet. Whereof?

Truth. Marry, thus.*

** Hence Truth proceeds with a sort of argument of the play ; but be-
fore the Induction begins, the ghost of George, Duke of Clarence, had
passed over the stage, delivering two lines as he went, which we give pre-
cisely as in the original copy now before us :

* Cresse crucr san^inis, satietur sang^tifu cresse^
Quod sfiero scitio. O scitio, scitio, vendicta V

"The drama itself opens with a scene representing the death of Ed-
ward IV., and the whole story is thenceforward most inartificially and
clumsily conducted, with a total disregard of dates, facts, and places, by
characters imperfectly drawn and ill sustained. Shore's wife plays a con-
spicuous part; and the tragedy does not finish with the battle of Bos-

ADDENDA.

247

worth Field, but is carried on subsequently, although the plot is clearly
at an end. The conclusion is as remarkable as the commencement.
After the death of Richard, Report (a personification like some of those
in the old Moralities) enters, and holds a dialogue with a Page, to inform
the audience of certain matters not exhibited ; and after a long scene be-
tween Richmond, the Queen-mother, Princess Elizabeth, etc, two Mes-
sengers enter, and, mixing with the personages of the play, detail the suc-
cession of events and of monarchs from the death of Richard until the
accession of Elizabeth. The Queen-mother then comes forward, and pro-
nounces a panegyric upon Elizabeth, ending thus :

* For which, if ere her life be tane away,
God grant her soule may live in heaven for aye;
For ff her Graces dayes be brought to end,
Your hope is gone on whom did peace depend.*

"As in this epilogue no allusion is made to the Spanish Armada,
though other public events of less prominence are touched upon, we may
infer that the drama was written before 1588.

" The style in which it is composed deserves observation ; it is partly
in prose, partly in heavy blank-verse (such as was penned before Mar-
lowe had introduced his improvements, and Shakespeare had adopted
and advanced them), partly in ten-syllable rhyming couplets and stanzas,
and partly in the long fourteen-syllable metre, which seems to have been
popular even before prose was employed upon our stage. In every point
of view it may be asserted that few more curious dramatic relics exist
in our language. It is the most ancient printed specimen of composition
for a public theatre of which the subject was derived from English
history.

" Boswell asserts that the True Tragedy of Richard the Third had
'evidently been used and read by Shakespeare;' but we cannot trace any
resemblances, but such as were probably purely accidental, and are mere-
ly trivial. Two persons could hardly take up the same period of our an-
nals, as the groundwork of a drama, without some coincidences ; but
there is no point, either in the conduct of the plot or in the language in
which it is clothed, where our great dramatist does not show his measure-
less superiority. The portion of the story in which the two plays make
the nearest approach to each other is just before the murder of the
princes, where Richard strangely takes a page into his confidence respect-
ing the fittest agent for the purpose.

" In the Memoirs of Edivard Alleyn^ it is shown that Henslowe's com-
pany, subsequent to 1599, was either in possession of a play upon the
story of Richard III., or that some of the poets he employed were en-
gaged upon such a drama. From the sketch of five scenes, there insert-
ed, we may judge that it was a distinct performance from the True Trag-
edy of Richard the Third. By an entry in Henslowe's Diary, dated 22d
June, 1602, we learn that Ben Jonson received 10/. in earnest of a play
called Richard Crookback^ and for certain additions he was to make to
Kyd*s Spanish Tragedy, Considering the success of Shakespeare's Rich-
ard I 11.^ and the active contention, at certain periods, between the com-
pany to which Shakespeare belonged and that under the management of

248 ADDEISTDA.

Henslowe, it may be looked upon as singular that the latter should have
been without a drama on that portion of English history until after 1599 ;
and it is certainly not less singular that as late as 1602 Ben Jonson should
have been occupied in writing a new play upon the subject. Possibly
about that date Shakespeare's Richard IIL had been revived with the
additions ; and hence the employment of Jonson on a rival drama, and the
publication of the third edition of Shakespeare's tragedy after an interval
of four years."

. Verplanck, after quoting the above, remarks : " It may be added that,
as the unhorsing of Richard is contrary io the old historical account, his
well-known cry on his last battle-field, so popular on the stage, and which
has been re-echoed by succeeding dramatists — * A horse ! a ho/se ! my
kingdom for a horse !' — is to be traced to this rude old play, where it is
thus given :

' The Battle enters^ Richard wounded with his Page,

King. A horse, a horse, a fi-esh horse!

Page. Ah ! fly, my lord, and save your life.

King. Fly, villain! Look I as though I would fly?— No! first shall,* etc.

<* Possibly, too, the substitution of the ghost-scene, in place of Richard's
dream of devils, related by Hall, might have been suggested by one of
the lines in Richard's last speech before the battle, in the old play ; and
as this is the most elaborated speech it contains, it is here extracted :

* King. The hell of life that hangs upon the crown,
The daily cares, the nightly dreams.
The wretched crews, the treason of the foe.
And horror of my bloody practice past.
Strikes such a terror to my wounded conscience.
That, sleep I, wake I, or whatsoever I do,
Methinks their ehosts come ^ping for revenge,
Whom I have slain in reachmg for a crown.
Qarence complains and crieth for revenee;
My nephews* bloods, Revenge! revenge! doth cry;
The headless peers come pressing for revenge;
And every one cries, Let the tyrant die.
The sun by day^ shines hotly for revenge ;
The moon by night eclipseth for revenge;
The stars are tum'd to comets for revenge ;
The planets change their courses for revenge;
The birds sing not, but sorrow for revenge;
The silly lambs sit bleating for revenge ;
The screeching raven sits croaking for revenge ;
Whole herds of beasts come bellowing for revenge :
And all, yea, all the world. I think.
Cries for revenge, and nothing but revenge :
But to conclude, I have deserv'd revenge.
In company I dare not trust my friend ;
Being auone, I dread the secret foe ;
I doubt my food, lest poison lurk therein.
My bed is uncoth, rest refrains my head.
Then such a life I count far worse to be
Than thousand deaths unto a damned death 1
How! was't death, I said? who dare attempt my death'
Nay, who dare so much as once to think my death?
Thoueh enemies there be that would my body kill.
Yet shall thejr leave a never-dying mind.
But you, villains, rebels, traitors as you are,

ADDENDA. 249

How came the foe in, pressing so near?

Where, where slei)t the garrison that should 'a beat them back?

Where was our friends to intercept the foe?

All gone, quite fled^ his loyalty quite laid a-bed.

Then vengeance, mischief, horror with mischance.

Wild-fire, with whirlwinds, light upon your heads,

That thus betray'd your prince by your imtruth!'

"To such a performance it is evident Shakespeare's Richard could
have owed little beyond such straggling hints. Knight justly remarks ;

• There is not a trace in the elder play of the character of Shakespeare's
Richard : in that play he is a coarse ruffian only — an unintellectual vil-
lain. The author has not even had the skill to copy the dramatic narra-
tive of Sir Thomas More in the scene of the arrest of Hastings. It is
sufficient for him to make Richard display the brute force of the tyrant.
The affected complacency, the mock passion, the bitter sarcasm of the
Richard of the historian were left for Shakespeare to imitate and im-
prove.' "

The Politics of the Play. — Mr. Richard Simpson, in his paper on
"The Politics of Shakspere's Historical Plays," read before the New
Shakspere Society, October 9, 1874 (published in the Transactions of
the Society for 1874, pp. 396-441), has the following remarks on Rich-
ard II L :

" The drama of the fall of the house of Lancaster is completed by the
play of Richard III The' references in this play to the three parts of
Henry VI. are so many as to make it impossible to deny the serial char-
acter and unity of the whole tetralogy, whatever questions may be raised
as to the authorship of parts of it. The whole exhibits the fate of virtuous
weakness in the face of unscrupulous strength, and concludes with the
fate of this strength in the face of Providence. Henry VI. perishes by
natural causes. The forces which destroy Richard III. are wholly super-
natural. Three women are introduced whose curses are inevitable, like
those of the Eumenides. Ghosts prophesy the event of a battle. Men's
imprecations on themselves are literally fulfilled. Their destiny is made
more to depend on their words than their actions ; it is removed out of
their hands, and placed in those of some unearthly power which hears
prayer and judges the earth. As if the lesson of the poet was that there
is human remedy where there are ordinary human motives, but that for
])ower joined with Machiavellian policy the only remedy is patience de-
pehdent on Providence.

" Richard III., like King John, commits his last and unpardonable of-
fence when he slays the right heir. But the poet treats the offences dif-
ferently : he calls the barons who opposed John rebels ; his moral judg-
ment seems to approve those who placed the first Tudor on the throne.
The two cases were placed on equal footing by the opposition writers.

• What disgrace or shame was it,' asks Cardinal Allen, 'for all the chief
lords of our country to revolt from King John and to deny him aid, until
he returned to the See Apostolic ? . : . or for the English nobility, and
specially for the renowned Stanley [he is defending Sir William Stan-
ley], to revolt from King Richard the tyrant, and to yield himself and

25©

ADDENDA.

his charge to Henry VII. ?' The difference seems to be, that John's
barons would have sold England to the French King. Stanley, in spite
of the Breton auxiliaries of the Tudor, preserved the crown to a native
dynasty. It is to be noted, too, that as the poet places his loudest de-
nunciations of Papal usurpations in the mouth of John, who was just
about to become the Pope's *man,' so does he put his most solemn
warning against traitors in the mouth of the successful rebel. But trea-
son in his mind is not against the crowned head, it is against the country:

' Abate the edge of traitors, gracious Lord, ^
That would reduce these bloody times again, . . .
That would with treason wound this fair land's peace.*

*'In the composition of this play the dangers of a disputed succession
were before Shakspere's eyes. The third scene of the second act ex-
hibits the evils incident on the decease of a prince when the succession
is doubtful or belongs to a child.

" In Richard III, also the poet gave what he long left as a final picture
of the absolutism of the crown, as it had been developed by the civil
wars. By the extinction of the old baronage it had lost the counterpoise
which balanced it Edward IV. surrounded himself with new peers, re-
lations of his wife, through whom he governed. Richard III. cut all
these oflfi destroyed what remained of the older nobles, and declared his
intention of doing every thing for himself, and using nothing but unre-
spective boys for his ministers. He issues his commands without pre-
tence of legality. His merits as a legislator are entirely put out of sight
by the poet He makes himself, to use Raleigh's words, * not only an ab-
solute monarch like unto the sovereigns of England and France^ but a Turk
to tread under his feet all natural and fundamental laws.' Absolutism
was, to the eyes of politicians of those days, a legal state of things. Tjrran-
ny was only the vicious personal aberration of the rightful absolute prince.
Raleigh similarly lamented the cessation of yillenage : * Since slaves were
made free, which were of great use and service, there are grown up a rab-
ble of rogues, cutpurses, and other like trades, slaves in nature though not
inlmor'

The "Time- Analysis" of the Play. — This is summed up by Mr.
P. A. Daniel ( Trans, of New Shaks. Soc. 1877-79, p. 336) as follows :

"Time of this play eleven days represented on the stage; with inter-
vals. Total dramatic time with'in one month (?).
Day I. Act I. sc. i. and ii.
Interval.*
** 2. Act I. sc. iii. and iv. Act II. sc. i. and iL
•* 3. Act II. sc. iii.

Interval ; for the journey to Ludlow.
•* 4. Act II. sc. iv.
«« 5. Act III. sc. i.
** 6. Act III. sc. ii.-vii.

* " For the funeral and the subsequent marriage of Richard with the Lady Anne.
The interval, however, must be short. Besides Richard's * Clarence hath not anothef
day to live ' of sc- i<» note also the reference in I. iii. 91 to Hastings* late imprisonment.''

ADDENDA. ' 251

Day 7. Act IV. sc. 1.

" 8. Act IV. sc. ii .♦-v.

Interval. Richard's march to Salisbury.
«* 9. Act V. sc. i.

Interval, Richard's march from Salisbury to Leicester.
•* 10. Act V. sc. ii.t and first half of sc. iii.
" 1 1. Act V. second half of sc. iii. and sc. iv. and v.
Historic dates: The dead body of Henry VI. exposed to public view
in St. Paul's, 22d May, 1471. Marriage of Richard with Anne, 1472.
Death of Clarence, beginning of 1478. Death of Edward IV., 9th Apnil,

* " The early hour at which this scene closes (* upon the stroke of ten '), and the feet
that it is after the coronation— for Anne is not present, and Stanley's business is to re-
port the flight of Dorset -suggest the commencement of a new day with this scene ; but
as Dorset's flight could not be lung concealed from Richard, we can scarcely imagine
the time to be later than the morrow of Act IV. sc. i."

With regard to the next scene (iv. 3) Mr. Daniel asks: "The time of this scene .^
Well, just before supper-time, about five or six o'clock p. m. On the same day as the
preceding scene? It should be if Tyrrel kept his promise to a king not prone to let his
purpose cool. Then the youn^ princes were abed early in the afternoon. Not impos-
sible ; but the reader must decide for himself on the probabilities of the case- I take it
to be the same day, notwithstanding the astounding celerity of the march of events of
which we gain intelligence when Tyrrel goes off to meditate, between this and after-sup
per time, how the King may do him good- We learn that between this time and ten m

jolly thriving wooer,' to young Elizabeth, and so prevent the aims of Breton Richmond
m that quarter! And this is not all ; for Catesby comes in with the intelligence that £]y
has fled to Richmond, and that Buckingham — here at ten this morning — is in the fiel^
back'd with the hardy Welshmen, and still his power increaseth I

Richard ends the scene, determining to make instant preparations to i)ut down Buck-
ingham's rebellion. Does he wait for supper? I think not. If Buckingham can fly
firom London to Brecknock {150 miles), levy an army there, and let the news of his pro-
ceedings fly back to London all in the course of a few hours, Richard may surely muster
up his men in ten minutes. He does so.

I need hardly say that it is Tyrrel's business which forces sc ii. and iii. of Act IV. into
one day ; if we could throw him over, or suppose him to have taken a week or a month
in which to fulfil his murderous engagement, so much time as we allow him might be
placed as an interval between these two scenes ; but the dramatist fixes his time, and in
our reckoning I presume we are bound to accept the definite before the indefinite.
Scenes ii. and iii- oeing thus brought together, scenes iv. and v. join them as a matter
of course."

t ** Richmond hears that Richard now lies near Leicester, 'one day's march 'from
Tamworth, and thither he proceeds to join battle with him. Here, as the author gives
us two definite points, with the time necessary for traversing the space between them, a
little digression may be allowable, with the view of ascertaining the lapse of time — ^ifany
— supposed by the plot of the drama between our Days 8 and 10. From Tamworth to
Leicester is ' one dav's march :' the distance on the map, in a straight line, is 34 miles.
Calculated at this rate, Richmond has marched from Milford to Tamworth— 160 miles
=six to seven days. Richard has marched from London to Salisbury, and from Salis-
bury to Leicester— 190 miles=seven to eight days. Are we to distribute this time be-
tween the two last intervals that I have doubtfully marked, or are we to go to history,
where we find that Richmond landed at Milford Haven on the 7th August, 1485. and
fought the battle of Bosworth Field on the 22d of the same month ? Or are we to be
guided by the instances of the annihilation of time and space which this Play elsewhere
affords us? It seems a fruitless inquiry, but it at any rate leads to the conclusion that
the author himself actually, if not designedly, put aside all such considerations when con*
structing the plots of his dramas."

252 ADDENDA.

1483. Rivers and Grey arrested, 30th April, 1483. Hastings executed,
13th June, 1483. Rivers, Grey, Vaughan, and Hawes executed, 15th
June, 1483. Buckingham harangues the citizens in Guildhall, 24th June,
1483. Lord Mayor and citizens offer Richard the crown, 25th June ; he
is declared King at Westminster Hall, 26th June; and crowned, 6th
July, .483. Buckingham executed, October, 1483. Death of Queen
Anne, i6th March, 1485. Henry VII. lands at Milford" Haven, 7th
August, 1485. Battle of Bosworth Field, 22d August, 1485."

The Early Texts. — In the present edition (see p. 11) we have fol-
lowed the folio, except where the quarto has clearly the better reading.
According to Mr. Spedding (see p. 1 1, foot-note) there are about 1300
variations in the two texts. In act i., out of 1062 lines in the quarto, '* a
little more than 300 " have been altered in the folio ; in act ii. 161 lines
out of 414; in act iii. 411 out of 1028; in act iv. 321 out of 848; and in
act v., which appears to have been revised less minutely, 89 out of 458.
The folio also contains 193 lines (inserted in 45 diifecent places) which
are not in the quarto ; while, on the other hand, the quarto has a num-
ber of lines, and in one instance a passage of 17 lines, omitted in the folio.
The more important of these variations are mentioned in the Notes, with
a sufficient number of the others to show how trivial they are. The dif-
ference is often too slight to hang an argument upon ; wherefore the
critics, as their wont is, have disputed over it all the more vehemently.

List of Characters in the Play, with the Scenes in which
THEY Appear. — The numbers in parentheses indicate the lines the
characters have in each scene.

King Edward: ii. 1(64). Whole no. 64.

Prince Edward: iii. 1(43) ; v. 3(8). Whole no. 51.

Duke of York: ii. 4(16); iii. 1(23) ; v. 3(8). Whole no. 47.

Clarence : i. 1(22), 4(142) ; v. 3(10). Whole no. 174.

Gloster {Richard III,): i. 1(125), 2(154), 3(125); ii. 1(56), 4(32),
5(69). 7(73) ; iv. 2(83), 3(26). 4(108) ; v. 3(154), 4(6). Whole no. n6i.

Boy (Son of Clarence) : ii. 2(21). Whole no. 21.

Richmond: v. 2(19), 3(85), 5(32). Whole no. 136.

Cardinal: iii. 1(9). Whole no. 9.

Archbishop : ii. 4(12). Whole no. 12.

Bishop of Ely : iii. 4(7). Whole no. 7.

Buckingham: i. 3(12) ; ii. 1(12), 2(24) ; iii. 1(58). 2(7), 4(12), 5(27),
7(156) ; iv. 2(29) ; V. 1(27), 3(10). Whole no. 374,

Norfolk: v. 3(10). Whole no. 10.

Surrey : v. 3(1). Whole no. i.

Rivers: i. 3(18); ii. 1(4), 2(12); iii. 3(17); v. 3(4). Whole no. 55

Dorset: i. 3(3) ; ii. 1(4), 2(7) ; iv. 1(1). Whole no. 15.

Grey : i. 3(6) ; iii. 3(4) ; v. 3(3). Whole no. 13.

Oxford: v. 2(2). Whole no. 2.

HasHngs: i. 1(10), 3(5) ; ii. 1(3). 2(1) ; iii. 1(6), 2(70), 4(49) ; v. 3(5).
Whole no. 149.

ADDENDA,

253

Stanley: i. 3(8); ii. 1(5); iii. 2(13), 4(8); iv. i(ii), 2(3), 4(17), 5(12);
V. 3(21), 5(9). Whole no. 107.

Lovel: iii. 4(1), 5^2). Whole no. 3.

Vaughan : iii. 3(1) ; v. 3(4). Whole no. 5.

RaUliff: iii. 3(3)» 4(2) ; iv. 4(10) ; v. 3(15). Whole no. 30.

CaUsby: i. 3(2); iii. 1(5), 2(16), 7(14); iv. 2(2), 3(4), 4(8) ; v. 3(4),
4(7). Whole no. 62.

Tyrrel: iv. 2(8), 3(29). Whole no. 37.

Bhunt : v. 2(2), 3(6). Whole no. 8.

Herbert: v. 2(1). Whole no. i.

Brakenbury: i. 1(8), 4(25) ; iv. 1(6). Whole no. 39.

Urswick : iv. 5(8). Whole no. 8.

Priest: iii. 2(1). Whole no. i.

Mayor: iii. 1(1), 5(11), 7(5). Whole no. 17.

Sheriff: v. 1(2). Whole no. 2.

Gentleman : i. 2(2). Whole no. 2.

1st Murderer: i. 3(7^, 4(59). Whole no. 66.

2d Murderer: i. 4(69). Whole no. 69.

1st Citizen : ii. 3(8). Whole no. 8.

2d Citizen : ii. 3(13). Whole no. 13.

3</ Citizen : ii. 3(28). Whole no. 28.

Pursuivant : iii. 2(3). Whole no. 3.

Scrivener: iii. 6(14). Whole no. 14.

1st Messenger : ii. 4(9); iii. 2(15); iv. 4(5); v. 3(1). Whole no. 30.

2d Messenger : iv. 4(3). Whole no. 3.

yi Messenger : iv. 4(7). Whole no. 7.

4/A Messenger: iv. 4(10). Whole no. 10.

Ghost of Henry VI. : v. 3(9). Whole no. 9.

Ghost of Prince Edward V. : v. 3(8). Whole no. 8.

Page : iv. 2(6). Whole no. 6.

Lords : v. 3(3). Whole no. 3.

** Another'' : iii. 7(1). Whole no. i.

Queen Elizabeth: i. 3(50); "• i(7). 2(21), 4(15); iv. 1(32), 4(149).
Whole no. 274.

Queen Margaret : i. 3(124) ; iv. 4(94). Whole no. 218.

Duchess of York : ii. 2(44), 4(26) ; iv. 1(16), 4(54). Whole no. 14a

Lady Anne : i. 2(118) ; iv. 1(39) ; v. 3(8). Whole no. 165.

Giti {Daughter of Clarence) : ii. 2(9). Whole no. 9.

In the above enumeration, parts of lines are counted as whole lines,
making the total in the play greater than it is. The actual number of
lines in each scene (Globe edition numbering;) is as follows : i. 1(162),
2(263), 3(356), 4(290) ; ii. 1(140), 2(154), 3(49). 4(73) ; iii- 1(200), 2(124),
3(25), 4(109), 5(109), 6(14), 7(247) ; iv. 1(104), 2(126), 3(57), 4(540),
5(20) ; V. 1(29), 2(24), 3(351), 4(13) ; 5(41). Whole number in the play,
3620.

THE TOWBK OK LONDON

INDEX OF WORDS AND PHRASES
EXPLAINED.

9 ttiany, 220.

abase, 187.

abate (=blunt), 246.

abjectSt 182.

abroach, 192.

acquaint of, 189.

acquit (=acquitted', 245.

acquittance (verb), 221.

adulterate, 229.

advantaging, 233.

adveuture (verb), 189.

advertised (accent;, 235.

aery. 191.

afte^ (imperative), 216.

a-high, 230.

all tne world to nothing, 187.

almost (=hardly), 215.

ambling ( contemptuous ),

180.
ancient (=oId), 210, 229.
annoy (noun), 241.
anointed body, 240.
answer nay and take it, 219.
ap (Welsh), 236.
apparent (=manifest), 201,

as (=asif), 216.
as (omitted), 199, 211.
aspect (accent), 184.
at the height, 188.
attainder, 215.
aweless, 205.
ay me, 205.

baited at, 189.

barbed^ 180.

basilisk, 185.

battalia, 238.

battle (=army), 189, 243.

Baynard's Castle, 216.

be advised, 199.

be at charges for, 187.

beaver (= helmet), 239.

bedashed, 185.

beholding (=beholden), 199,

209.
^like, 181, 188.
bend their power, 237.

betide, 185, 187, 205.

bettering, 230.

beweep, 192.

bid (from bide), 233.

bigamy, 220-

Blue Boar Inn, 245.

Blunt, Sir James, 237.

bobbed, 244.

Bona, 220.

book (—table-book), 215.

boot, 229.

bottled spider, 191, 227.

Bouchier, Cardinal, 206.

bought and sold, 243.

bowels of the land, 237.

Brandon, Sir William, 2.^8.

br?.ved, 243.

breathing-while, 188.

Brecknock, 226.

Breton Riclimond, 227.

briganders, 173.

brook it ill, 187.

bruising irons, 240.

bulk (=chest), 193.

buried (trisyllable', 199.

bushment, 174.

bustle (=be busy), 183, 243.

but, 190, 198.

by (omitted), 219.

by Saint Paul, 183.

by substitute, 220.

caoodxmon, 189.

caitiff (feminine), 230.

Camera Regis, 206.

cancel his bond of life, 229.

capable, 210-
; careful (—full of care', 188.
, carnal ( -bloodthirsty), 229.
I censures (-opinions), 202.

chair ( - throne), 235.
' chamber ( — London), 206.

change (= caprice), 216.
, characters (play upon), 208.

cheerfully and smooth, 213.

Chertsey, 184.
, chiefest, 243.

childish-foolish, 189.

I Christian (trisyllable), 215.

cited up, 193.

Clarence', 210

clean (=completely), 205.

close (=secret), 183, 224.

closure, 212.

cloudy (of persons), 201.

cock-shut time, 239.
[ cog (=deceive), 188.

colder, 236.

tommon (verb), 169.

compact (accent), 201.
I competitors, 236.

complete (accent), 232.

complots (accent), 2 10.

concluded, 187.
I condition ( = disposition )t
I 231.

I conduct (=;escort), 181.
' consequence, 224.

content (=:pay), 212.

contract (accent), 218.

contract (^contracted), 220

convenient (^suitable), 235

conversation, 215.

Convict (=convicted), 195.

costard, 195.

Countess Richmond, 187.

cousin (=nephew), 206.

cousins ( = grandchildren ).

cried on (—cried out), 242.
[ Crosby House, 186, 210.
I cross-row, i8i.

cry thee mercy, 191, 201, 242.
I cue, 213.
' curst, 184.

I dally (= trifle), 198.
j dangerous success, 232
, daring an opposite, 244.

dead-killing, 223.
; deal upon, 225.

dear (intensive', 196 200
I dearest (= most urgent), 238.

declension, 220.

decline, 230.
. defend (=forbid), 219, 229.

256 INDEX OF WORDS AND PHRASES EXPLAINED,

demise, 233.

denier, 187.

deny (=refuse), 207, 244.

descant (=comment), 181.

descan: ;i.i music), 218.

determined, 187.

determined respite, 237.

devoted (=pious), 184.

Dickon, 243.

diffused, iSc.

dining with. Duke Hum-

phrei^, 231.
disgracious, 319, 73 1.
dissembling, 180.
dissentious, 188.
distraught, 21^.
divided councils, 210.
Doctor Shaw, 317.
done salutation, 342.
duck with French nods, 188.
dugs, 200.

effect (=execution), 185.

elvish-marked, 190.

embracements, 198.

empery, 220.

enacts (=perfonns), 244.

enforced (=forced), 215.

enforcement, 221.

engross (=:make gross), 219-

ensuing (=coming), 204.

entreat (= treat), 231.

envious (= malicious), 187.

erroneous (personal), 196.

espials, 179.

evidence (=witness), 195.

evil diet, 183.

excellent, 229.

excei>t, 242

exclaim on, 212.

exclaims (noun), 184, 231.

exercise, 212.

exhale (=^draw out), 184.

expedient, 186.

expiate (=finished>, 213.

explorators, 179.

extreme (accent), 31 5, 232.

factious for, 189, 198.

fair befall thee, 192, 216.

faithful, 193.

fall (transitive), 192, 225, 240.

fear (=fear for), 183.

fear (reflexive!, 186.

fearful, 180, 227, 233.

fearful) 'st, 214.

feature (=bcauty), 180.

fei, 20I.

fire-new, 191.

flak^r, 240.

fleeting (-inconstant), 104.

(lesiied. 226.

flourish (=vamish., 191.

foil, 243.

fond (= foolish), 214.

fondly, 320.

foot-doth horse, 214.

for (=because), 183, 201, 227.

foreward, 243.

forfeit. 199.

formal Vice, Iniquity, 208.

f9rth of 192,231.

franked up, 192, 336.

Friar Penker, 217.

from (play upon), 233.

fulsome, 240.

gallant-springing, 196.

galled eyes, 239.

garish, 330.

garland (=crown*, 2n.

gentle villain, 189.

George, 234.

giddy (=excitable\ 203.

go current from suspicion.

Godwin

he knows, 306.
God help the while ! 303.
God I pray him, 190.
gone with, 327.
good world the while, 218.
graced (=blessed), 231.
gracious (trisyllable), 232.
graft (participle^ 219.
gramercy, 212.
gratulate, 222.
grim-visaged, 180.
gross (—dull', 218.
grossness of this age, 307.
ground (in music), 218.

had been remembered, 204.

hap (=fortune), 183.

hatches (=deck), 193.

hats (=heads?), 212.

haught, 203.

have with you, 213.

heap (of persons), 198.

hearken after, 181.

heaven (plural), 190.

hell (plural , 229.

helpless (=unavailing), 183.

hence, 237-

hereafter (adjective), 234.

Hertford West, 236.

heyday, 235.

hieh'st, 241.

hilts (=hilt\ 195.

his (=its), 234.

hoised, 236.

Holbom, 213.

holp, 185, 188, 229.

holy humour, 194.

holy rood, 211.

honey ^adjective), 223.

hour (dissyllable), 333.

how chance, 335.
hull (verb), 334.
Humphrey Hour, 331.

I grant ye, 185.

I wis, 1 88.

idea (==image), 3ia.

if (omitted), 216.

images (^children), 300.
! impatience (metre), 300, 331-
I importune (accent), 199.

ill (=into), 187, 188, 330, 339,
337,343.

in (=upon ?), 194.

in all post, 316.

in good time, 306.

in quarrel of, 196.

in safeguard of; 343.

in thoueht, 3 18.

incapable, 300.

incensed, 310.

inclusive veree. 223.

index (=prelude), 203, 230

induction, 337.

inductions dangerous, 181.

infer (=bring in), 316, 318
a33i 243-

insatiate, 316.

insinuate with, 195.

instance (=cau8e), sii.

instinct (accent), 304.

intelligencer, 339.
' intend (= pretend), 315, 318

interior (—inward), 188.

invocate, 183.

inward with, 313.

irons (=weapon8), 34a

iron-witted, 334.
j is all things, etc., 213.

Jack, 326.
' jumpeth (=agrees\ 306.

just (=honest), 181.
' jut, 305.

; keeps (=stays with), 338.
I key-cold, 183.

labour (=:work for), 196.

l^dy Lucy, 318.
I lag (=late), 199.
, lap (=wrap), 199.
I leads (=roof', 319.
; leisure, 240, 242.
I lessoned, 196.
; let blood, are, 310.

Lethe, 233.

letting (—forbearing), 168.

level (=aim), 333.
, lewd (=vile), 188.
! libels, 181.

lie (in prison\ 182.
[ lie in the throat, 185.

INDEX OF WORDS AND PHRASES EXPLAINED, 257

lighted, 214.

lightly (=commonly), 909.

lights burn blue, the, 241.

like as, 22a.

likes (=pleases), aij.

likes of It, 233.

limit (=:appoint), 238.

livelihood, 214.

living death, 185. f

love-bed, 219.

Lovel (name of dog), 191.

Ludlow, 201.

luxury (=lust}, ai6.

majestical, 219.
make (=do), 180, 235.
make the period to, 191.
manner person, 217.
map {=picture), 205.
Margaret of Anjou, 227.
marvellous (adverb), 187.
me seemeth, 201.
mean (=means), 188.
measures (=dances), 180.
meed (=reward), 196b
meet'st, 216.
melancholy, 239.
mere (=absolute), 221.
merits (^demerits), 178.
methinks, 207.
methought, 193.
mettle, 233.

mewed up, 181, 182, 189.
millstones (from the eyes),

192, 196.
miscarry (=die), 187.
misdoubt, 211.
model (=outline), 238.
moe, ?.35.
moiety, 187, 200.
moralize, 209.
mortal-staring, 240b
Morton, 227.
move our patience, 191.
much-what, 168.
muse (=wonder), 192.
my (objective), 191.

new-delivered, 182.
news (number), 236.
nice, 220.
niece ( = granddaughter ),

221.
no marvel though, 194.
no ! why ? 223.
noble (coin), 188.
nor never, 235.
nought (spelling), 182.
novice (=youth), 196.

obdurate (accent), 192, 207.
obsequiously, 183.
o''erwom, i8a.

of any place, 207.
opposite (= opponent), 244.
opposite (=opposed), 234.
opposite with, 201.
or (=before), 172.
orient pearl, 233.
other self, 203.
overblown, 205.
overgo (==exceed), 20a
overweening, 244.
owed (=owned), 231.
Oxford, Earl of, 237.

pageant ( = dumb-show), 230.

pains (=labours), 189.

parcelled, 200.

parlous, 204, 210.

part (= depart), 197.

party (=side), 189, 211, 232,

236.
passing (adverb), 182.
patience (trisvllable), 222.
patient (trisyllable)} 189.
pattern (=masterpiece), 184.
Paul's, 218.

pawned (^pledged), 225.
peevish ( = silly ), 190, 207,

225,234.
peize, 240.
percase, 173.
perforce, 207.

period (^completion), 198.
pew-fellow, 229.
pilled, 189.
piping, 181.

pitchers have ears, 204.
plainest harmless, 215.
please (impersonal), 201, 212.
pleaseth (impersonal), 235.
pleasing (=pleasure?), 180.
pluck on, 225.
plucked, 199, 207.
Pomfre^2i2.
power (=army), 235.
prayers (dissyllable), 200,

226, 232.
precedent (=first draft), 218.
prefer (=promote), 225.
presentation, 230.
prevailed on, 182.
prime (=first), 226.
prodigious, 184.
prolonged (=put oflO, 213.
promotions (metre), 188.
proof (=annour), 242.
proper (=handsome), 187.
puissance (concrete), 243.
puissant (dissyllable), 234.
punched, 240.
pursuivant, 212.

quest (=inquest), 195.
quick, 184, 187, 190, 233-

quicken, 233.

quit (=requite), 229, 242.

rag (personal), 191.

raseo, 211.

reason (=talk), 195, 204, 236.

receive the sacrament, 196.

record (accent), 207, 229,244.

recorder (accent), 218.

recure, 220.

redoubted, 236.

reduce (bring back), 246.

re-edified, 207.

regiment, 238.

remorse (=pity), 221, 227.

remorseful, 185.

replenished, 226.

repose you, 207.

resolve (=:satisfy), 224, 226

respect (=care for), 192.
respects (=motive8), 220.
restrain, 243.
retailed (=retold), 207.
reverent, 229.
Rice ap Thomas, 236.
right for right, 228.
r<K)d (= cross), 211, 231.
Rougemont, 226.
rounding, 174.
royalize, 189.
runagate, 235.
ruthtul, 226.

sacrament (=oath), 246.

Saint George to bootl 243

sanctuary, 205.

scath (—harm), 192.

scelerate, 178.

scene (figurative), 230.

sconis (noun), 190, 210.

scrivener, 218.

seldom comes the better

203.
sely, 177.
seniory, 229.
senseless-obstinate, 207.
serves (=waits on), 232.
several (=separate), 21 1, a4»
shamefast, 195.
sharp-provided, 210.
shortly (trisyllable?). 234.
shouldered in, 219.
shrift, 214.
shriving-work, 212.
sights, 222.

silken (—effeminate), 188.
Sir (of priests), 212, 236.
sit about, 210.
slave of nature, 191.
slower (—serious), 185.
slug, 206.
smooth (—flatter), 188.

«58

INDEX OF WORDS AND PHRASES EXPLAINED.

smoothing, 185.

so (omitted), 185-

so(=well), 232,24a

solace (intransitive), 203.

sometime (=once , 233.

sop, 195.

sort (=company), 243.

sort (=find), 203.

sort (=ordain), 204.

soar (=morose), 193.

^xuingly, 216.

spleen (=ardour), 244.

spleen (=hate), 205.

spam at, 196.

spurn upon, 184.

stalled, 190.

stands me upon, it, 225.

Stanley, 1S7.

statuas, 218.

sUves (= lances), 339, 242.

stealing, 220.

still (=constantly), 199, 204,

311.

still (=continual), 232.
still-lasting, 233.
stopped in, 193.
stoutHTsolved, 192.
strength (=:army), 235.
success (=issue), 232.
sun (play upon), 180.
suspects (noun), 188, 2x5.
sweet Blunt, 238.
swelling (=angry), 198.

take order, 317, 225, 336.
tall (=stout), 195.
Tamworth, 237.
tear-falling, 335.
teen,32>

ten the dock, 243.

temper (=moald), 182.

tender (=r^^d}, 181, 205,
334-

tetdiy, 231.

think'st best, it, 307.

thrall (=slave), 223.
' tidines (niimbor), 227.

timeless (=untimely;, 184.

to himward, 175.

to the death, 21 1.

toad (venomous), 185.

too late (=too lately), 209.
I too late of, 216.
I touch (=touchstone), 224.

toys (= Andes', 182.

triumphing (accent), 214.

troubled thoughts, 240.

truth (=honesty, 212.

turn (—return), 232.

type (=badge), 233.

una voided, 232.

unfashionable (adverb), 180.

ungovemed, 234.
' ungradous, 199.

unhappiness, 184.

unlooked, 190.

unmannered, 184.

unmeritable, 220.

unrecuring, 330.

unrespective, 224.

untainted, 218.

unvalued, 193.

upon his party, six.

Urswick, Sir Christopher,
; 236.

I vantage, 318.

' vaunts (tntransitive), 24>
1 verge (=cirdej, 233.

Vice, 208.
, victress, 233-
I

! wan-hope. 178-
I wants but nomination, 213

ward (=guard , 243.
' warn (=suinmon), 188.

watch (= watch-light), 339
i watery moon, aoo.

wealth (=wea]), 16&

weigh lightly, 209.

well advised. 192, 236.

well struck in years, 182.

well-spoken. 181, 192.

Welshman, 235.

were best, 182,233.

what (—who), 195.

what (=why), 235.

where be, etc.. 230.

which (=whomS 237.

whisper (transitive;, 233.

White Surrey, 339.

White-friars, 186.

white-livered, 235.

windows (=eyelids), 340,

windows (metaphor), 183

with (=by , 227.

withal, 219.

witty (=cunning), 334.

WoodeviUe, 182.

wot, 303, 2X2.

wot you what? 212.

wrack, X85.

wretched (=hatefiil), 337.

tealous (=inous), 3x9^
sounds, 321.

! BKEMtSST

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