Now is the winter of our discontent 
Made glorious summer by this sun of York ;
And all the clouds that lour'd 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 smooth'd his wrinkled front ;
And now ,instead of mounting barbed steeds ,
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries ,
He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber 
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute .
But I , that am not shap'd for sportive tricks ,
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass ;
I , that am rudely stamp'd , and want love's majesty 
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph ;
I , that am curtail'd of this fair proportion ,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature ,
Deform'd , unfinish'd , 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 murderer shall be .
Dive , thoughts , down to my soul : here Clarence comes .


Brother , good day : what means this armed guard 

That waits upon your Grace ?

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

Upon what cause ?

Because my name is George .

Alack ! my lord , that fault is none of yours ;
He should , for that , commit your godfathers .
O ! belike his majesty hath some intent 
That you should be new-christen'd in the Tower .
But what's the matter , Clarence ? may I know ?

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 ,
Have mov'd his highness to commit me now .

Why , this it is , when men are rul'd by women :
'Tis not the king that sends you to the Tower ;
My Lady Grey , his wife , Clarence , 'tis she 
That tempers him to this extremity .
Was it not she and that good man of worship ,
Antony Woodville , her brother there ,
That made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower ,
From whence this present day he is deliver'd ?
We are not safe , Clarence ; we are not safe .

By heaven , I think there is no man secure 
But the queen's kindred and night-walking heralds 
That trudge betwixt the king and Mistress Shore .
Heard you not what a humble suppliant 
Lord Hastings was to her for his delivery ?

Humbly complaining to her deity 
Got my lord chamberlain his liberty .
I'll tell you what ; I think it is our way ,
If we will keep in favour with the king ,
To be her men and wear her livery :
The jealous o'er-worn widow and herself ,
Since that our brother dubb'd them gentlewomen ,
Are mighty gossips in our monarchy .

I beseech your Graces both to pardon me ;
His majesty hath straitly given in charge 
That no man shall have private conference ,
Of what degree soever , with your brother .

Even so ; an please your worship , Brakenbury ,
You may partake of anything we say :
We speak no treason , man : we say the king 
Is wise and virtuous , and his noble queen 
Well struck in years , fair , and not jealous ;
We say that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot ,
A cherry lip , a bonny eye , a passing pleasing tongue ;
And that the queen's kindred are made gentlefolks .
How say you , sir ? can you deny all this ?

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

Naught to do with Mistress Shore ! I tell thee , fellow ,
He that doth naught with her , excepting one ,
Were best to do it secretly , alone .

What one , my lord ?

Her husband , knave . Wouldst thou betray me ?

I beseech your Grace to pardon me ; and withal 
Forbear your conference with the noble duke .

We know thy charge , Brakenbury , and will obey .

We are the queen's abjects , and must obey .
Brother , farewell : I will unto the king ;
And whatsoe'er you will employ me in ,
Were it to call King Edward's widow sister ,
I will perform it to enfranchise you .
Meantime , this deep disgrace in brotherhood 
Touches me deeper than you can imagine .

I know it pleaseth neither of us well .

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

I must perforce : farewell .


Go , tread the path that thou shalt ne'er return ,
Simple , plain Clarence ! I do love thee so 
That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven ,
If heaven will take the present at our hands .
But who comes here ? the new-deliver'd Hastings !


Good time of day unto my gracious lord !

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

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

No doubt , no doubt ; and so shall Clarence too ;
For they that were your enemies are his ,
And have prevail'd as much on him as you .

More pity that the eagles should be mew'd ,
While kites and buzzards prey at liberty .

What news abroad ?

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

Now by Saint Paul , this news is bad indeed .
O ! he hath kept an evil diet long ,
And over-much consum'd his royal person :
'Tis very grievous to be thought upon .
What , is he in his bed ?

He is .

Go you before , and I will follow you .

He cannot live , I hope ; and must not die 
Till George be pack'd with post-horse up to heaven .
I'll in , to urge his hatred more to Clarence ,
With lies well steel'd with weighty arguments ;
And , if I fail not in my deep intent ,
Clarence hath not another day to live :
Which done , God take King Edward to his mercy ,
And leave the world for me to bustle in !
For then I'll marry Warwick's youngest daughter .
What though I kill'd her husband and her father ,
The readiest way to make the wench amends 
Is to become her husband and her father :
The which will I ; not all so much for love 
As for another secret close intent ,
By marrying her , which I must reach unto .
But yet I run before my horse to market :
Clarence still breathes ; Edward still lives and reigns :
When they are gone , then must I count my gains .

Set down , set down your honourable load ,
If honour may be shrouded in a hearse ,
Whilst I a while obsequiously lament 
The untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster .
Poor key-cold figure of a holy king !
Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster !
Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood !
Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost ,
To hear the lamentations of poor Anne ,
Wife to thy Edward , to thy slaughter'd son ,
Stabb'd by the self-same 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 adders , spiders , toads ,
Or any creeping venom'd thing that lives !
If ever he have child , abortive be it ,
Prodigious , and untimely brought to light ,
Whose ugly and unnatural aspect 
May fright the hopeful mother at the view ;
And that be heir to his unhappiness !
If ever he have wife , let her be made 
More miserable by the death of him 
Than I am made by my young lord and thee !
Come , now toward Chertsey with your holy load ,
Taken from Paul's to be interred there ;
And still , as you are weary of the weight ,
Rest you , whiles I lament King Henry's corse .

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

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

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

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

Unmanner'd dog ! stand thou when I command :
Advance thy halberd higher than my breast ,
Or , by Saint Paul , I'll strike thee to my foot ,
And spurn upon thee , beggar , for thy boldness .


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

Sweet saint , for charity , be not so curst .

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

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

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

But I know none , and therefore am no beast .

O ! wonderful , when devils tell the truth .

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

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

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

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

By such despair I should accuse myself .

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

Say that I slew them not .

Then say they were not slain :
But dead they are , and , devilish slave , by thee .

I did not kill your husband .

Why , then he is alive .

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

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

I was provoked by her sland'rous tongue ,
That laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders .

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

I grant ye .

Dost grant me , hedge-hog ? Then , God grant me too 
Thou mayst be damned for that wicked deed !
O ! he was gentle , mild , and virtuous .

The fitter for the King of heaven , that hath him .

He is in heaven , where thou shalt never come .

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

And thou unfit for any place but hell .

Yes , one place else , if you will bear me name it .

Some dungeon .

Your bed-chamber .

Ill rest betide the chamber where thou liest !

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

I hope so .

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

Thou wast the cause , and most accurs'd effect .

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

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

These eyes could not endure that beauty's wrack ;
You should not blemish it if I stood by :
As all the world is cheered by the sun ,
So I by that ; it is my day , my life .

Black night o'ershade thy day , and death thy life !

Curse not thyself , fair creature ; thou art both .

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

It is a quarrel most unnatural ,
To be reveng'd on him that loveth thee .

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

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

His better doth not breathe upon the earth .

He lives that loves thee better than he could .

Name him .

Plantagenet .

Why , that was he .

The self-same name , but one of better nature .

Where is he ?

Here .

Why dost thou spit at me ?

Would it were mortal poison , for thy sake !

Never came poison from so sweet a place .

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

Thine eyes , sweet lady , have infected mine .

Would they were basilisks , to strike thee dead !

I would they were , that I might die at once ;
For now they kill me with a living death .
Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears ,
Sham'd their aspects with store of childish drops ;
These eyes , which never shed remorseful tear ;
No , when my father York and Edward wept 
To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made 
When black-fac'd Clifford shook his sword at him ;
Nor when thy war-like father like a child ,
Told the sad story of my father's death ,
And twenty times made pause to sob and weep ,
That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks ,
Like trees bedash'd with rain : in that sad time ,
My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear ;
And what these sorrows could not thence exhale ,
Thy beauty hath , and made them blind with weeping .
I never su'd to friend , nor enemy ;
My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing words ;
But , now thy beauty is propos'd my fee ,
My proud heart sues , and prompts my tongue to speak .

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 open to the deadly stroke ,
And humbly beg the death upon my knee .

Nay , do not pause ; for I did kill King Henry ;
But 'twas thy beauty that provoked me .
Nay , now dispatch ; 'twas I that stabb'd young Edward ;

But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on .

Take up the sword again , or take up me .

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

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

I have already .

That was in thy rage :
Speak it again , and , even with the word ,
This hand , which for thy love did kill thy love ,
Shall , for thy love , kill a far truer love :
To both their deaths shalt thou be accessary .

I would I knew thy heart .

'Tis figur'd in my tongue .

I fear me both are false .

Then never man was true .

Well , well , put up your sword .

Say , then , my peace is made .

That shalt thou know hereafter .

But shall I live in hope ?

All men , I hope , live so .

Vouchsafe to wear this ring .

To take is not to give .


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 .

What is it ?

That it may please you leave these sad designs 
To him that hath most cause to be a mourner ,
And presently repair to Crosby-place ;
Where , after I have solemnly interr'd 
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 .

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

Bid me farewell .

'Tis more than you deserve ;
But since you teach me how to flatter you ,
Imagine I have said farewell already .


Sirs , take up the corse .

Toward Chertsey , noble lord ?

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

Was ever woman in this humour woo'd ?
Was ever woman in this humour won ?
I'll have her ; but I will not keep her long .
What ! I , that kill'd her husband , and his father ,
To take her in her heart's extremest hate ;
With curses in her mouth , tears in her eyes ,
The bleeding witness of her hatred by ;
Having God , her conscience , and these bars against me ,
And nothing I to back my suit withal 
But the plain devil and dissembling looks ,
And yet to win her , all the world to nothing !
Ha !
Hath she forgot already that brave prince ,
Edward , her lord , whom I , some three months since ,
Stabb'd in my angry mood at Tewksbury ?
A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman ,
Fram'd in the prodigality of nature ,
Young , valiant , wise , and , no doubt , right royal ,
The spacious world cannot again afford :
And will she yet abase her eyes on me ,
That cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet prince ,
And made her widow to a woeful bed ?
On me , whose all not equals Edward's moiety ?
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'll be at charges for a looking-glass ,
And entertain a score or two of tailors ,
To study fashions to adorn my body :
Since I am crept in favour with myself ,
I will maintain it with some little cost .
But first I'll turn yon fellow in his grave ,
And then return lamenting to my love .
Shine out , fair sun , till I have bought a glass ,
That I may see my shadow as I pass .


Have patience , madam : there's no doubt his majesty 
Will soon recover his accustom'd health .

In that you brook it ill , it makes him worse :
Therefore , for God's sake , entertain good comfort ,
And cheer his Grace with quick and merry words .

If he were dead , what would betide on me ?

No other harm but loss of such a lord .

The loss of such a lord includes all harms .

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

Ah ! he is young ; and his minority 
Is put into the trust of Richard Gloucester ,
A man that loves not me , nor none of you .

Is it concluded he shall be protector ?

It is determin'd , not concluded yet :
But so it must be if the king miscarry .


Here come the Lords of Buckingham and Stanley .

Good time of day unto your royal Grace !

God make your majesty joyful as you have been !

The Countess Richmond , good my Lord of Stanley ,
To your good prayer will scarcely say amen .
Yet , Stanley , notwithstanding she's your wife ,
And loves not me , be you , good lord , assur'd 
I hate not you for her proud arrogance .

I do beseech you , either not believe 
The envious slanders of her false accusers ;
Or , if she be accus'd on true report ,
Bear with her weakness , which , I think , proceeds 
From wayward sickness , and no grounded malice .

Saw you the king to-day , my Lord of Stanley ?

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

What likelihood of his amendment , lords ?

Madam , good hope ; his Grace speaks cheerfully .

God grant him health ! did you confer with him ?

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

Would all were well ! But that will never be .
I fear our happiness is at the highest .


They do me wrong , and I will not endure it :
Who are they that complain unto the king ,
That I , forsooth , am stern and love them not ?
By holy Paul , they love his Grace but lightly 
That fill his ears with such dissentious 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 .
Cannot a plain man live and think no harm ,
But thus his simple truth must be abus'd 
By silken , sly , insinuating Jacks ?

To whom in all this presence speaks your Grace ?

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 person ,
Whom God preserve better than you would wish !
Cannot be quiet scarce a breathing-while ,
But you must trouble him with lewd complaints .

Brother of Gloucester , you mistake the matter .
The king , on his own royal disposition ,
And not 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 .

I cannot tell ; the world is grown so bad 
That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch :
Since every Jack became a gentleman 
There's many a gentle person made a Jack .

Come , come , we know your meaning , brother Gloucester ;
You envy my advancement and my friends' .
God grant we never may have need of you !

Meantime , God grants that we have need of you :
Our brother is imprison'd by your means ,
Myself disgrac'd , and the nobility 
Held in contempt ; while great promotions 
Are daily given to ennoble those 
That scarce , some two days since , were worth a noble .

By him that rais'd me to this careful height 
From that contented hap which I enjoy'd ,
I never did incense his majesty 
Against the Duke of Clarence , but have been 
An earnest advocate to plead for him .
My lord , you do me shameful injury ,
Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects .

You may deny that you were not the mean 
Of my Lord Hastings' late imprisonment .

She may , my lord ; for 

She may , Lord Rivers ! why , who knows not so ?
She may do more , sir , than denying that :
She may help you to many fair preferments ,
And then deny her aiding hand therein ,
And lay those honours on your high deserts .
What may she not ? She may ,ay , marry , may she ,

What , marry , may she ?

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

My Lord of Gloucester , I have too long borne 
Your blunt upbraidings and your bitter scoffs ;
By heaven , I will acquaint his majesty 
Of those gross taunts that oft I have endur'd .
I had rather be a country servantmaid 
Than a great queen , with this condition ,
To be so baited , scorn'd , and stormed at :
Small joy have I in being England's queen .


And lessen'd be that small , God , I beseech him !
Thy honour , state , and seat is due to me .

What ! threat you me with telling of the king ?
Tell him , and spare not : look , what I have said 
I will avouch in presence of the king :
I dare adventure to be sent to the Tower .
'Tis time to speak ; my pains are quite forgot .

Out , devil ! I remember them too well :
Thou kill'dst my husband Henry in the Tower ,
And Edward , my poor son , at Tewksbury .

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 split mine own .

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

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 ?
Let me put in your minds , if you forget ,
What you have been ere now , and what you are ;
Withal , what I have been , and what I am .

A murderous villain , and so still thou art .

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

Which God revenge !

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

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

My Lord of Gloucester , in those busy days 
Which here you urge to prove us enemies ,
We follow'd then our lord , our lawful king ;
So should we you , if you should be our king .

If I should be ! I had rather be a pedlar .
Far be it from my heart the thought thereof !

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 .

As little joy enjoys the queen thereof ;
For I am she , and altogether joyless .
I can no longer hold me patient .

Hear me , you wrangling pirates , that fall out 
In sharing that which you have pill'd from me !
Which of you trembles not that looks on me ?
If not , that , I being queen , you bow like subjects ,
Yet that , by you depos'd , you quake like rebels ?
Ah ! gentle villain , do not turn away .

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

But repetition of what thou hast marr'd ;
That will I make before I let thee go .

Wert thou not banished on pain of death ?

I was ; but I do find more pain in banishment 
Than death can yield me here by my abode .
A husband and a son thou ow'st to me ;
And thou , a kingdom ; all of you , allegiance :
This sorrow that I have by right is yours ,
And all the pleasures you usurp are mine .

The curse my noble father laid on thee ,
When thou didst crown his war-like 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 
Denounc'd against thee , are all fall'n upon thee ;
And God , not we , hath plagu'd thy bloody deed .

So just is God , to right the innocent 

O ! 'twas the foulest deed to slay that babe ,
And the most merciless , that e'er was heard of .

Tyrants themselves wept when it was reported .

No man but prophesied revenge for it .

Northumberland , then present , wept to see it .

What ! were you snarling all before I came ,
Ready to catch each other by the throat ,
And turn you all your hatred now on me ?
Did York's dread curse prevail so much with heaven 
That Henry's death , my lovely Edward's death ,
Their kingdom's loss , my woeful banishment ,
Should all but answer for that peevish brat ?
Can curses pierce the clouds and enter heaven ?
Why then , give way , dull clouds , to my quick curses !
Though not by war , by surfeit die your king ,
As ours by murder , to make him a king !
Edward , thy son , that now is Prince of Wales ,
For Edward , my son , which was Prince of Wales ,
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 loss ,
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 ,
And so wast thou , Lord Hastings ,when my son 
Was stabb'd with bloody daggers : God , I pray him ,
That none of you may live your natural age ,
But by some unlook'd accident cut off .

Have done thy charm , thou hateful wither'd hag !

And leave out thee ? stay , dog , for thou shalt hear me .
If heaven have any grievous plague in store 
Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee ,
O ! let them keep it till thy sins be ripe ,
And then hurl down their indignation 
On thee , the troubler of the poor world's peace .
The worm of conscience still begnaw thy soul !
Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou liv'st 
And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends !
No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine ,
Unless it be while some tormenting dream 
Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils !
Thou elvish-mark'd , abortive , rooting hog !
Thou that wast seal'd in thy nativity 
The slave of nature and the son of hell !
Thou slander of thy mother's heavy womb !
Thou loathed issue of thy father's loins !
Thou rag of honour ! thou detested 

Margaret !

Richard !

Ha !

I call thee not .

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

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

'Tis done by me , and ends in 'Margaret .' 

Thus have you breath'd your curso against yourself .

Poor painted queen , vain flourish of my fortune !
Why strew'st thou sugar on that bottled spider ,
Whose deadly web ensnareth thee about ?
Fool , fool ! thou whet'st a knife to kill thyself .
The day will come that thou shalt wish for me 
To help thee curse this pois'nous bunch-back'd toad .

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

Foul shame upon you ! you have all mov'd mine .

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

To serve me well , you all should do me duty ,
Teach me to be your queen , and you my subjects :
O ! serve me well , and teach yourselves that duty .

Dispute not with her , she is lunatic .

Peace ! Master marquess , you are malapert :
Your fire-new stamp of honour is scarce current .
O ! that your young nobility could judge 
What 'twere to lose it , and be miserable !
They that stand high have many blasts to shake them ,
And if they fall , they dash themselves to pieces .

Good counsel , marry : learn it , learn it , marquess .

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

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

And turns the sun to shade ; alas ! alas !
Witness my son , now in the shade of death ;
Whose bright out-shining beams thy cloudy wrath 
Hath in eternal darkness folded up .
Your aery buildeth in our aery's nest :
O God ! that seest it , do not suffer it ;
As it was won with blood , lost be it so !

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

Urge neither charity nor shame to me :
Uncharitably with me have you dealt ,
And shamefully my hopes by you are butcher'd .
My charity is outrage , life my shame ;
And in that shame still live my sorrow's rage !

Have done , have done .

O princely Buckingham ! I'll kiss thy hand ,
In sign of league and amity with thee :
Now fair befall thee and thy noble house !
Thy garments are not spotted with our blood ,
Nor thou within the compass of my curse .

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

I will not think but they ascend the sky ,
And there awake God's gentle-sleeping peace .
O Buckingham ! take heed of yonder dog :
Look , when he fawns , he bites ; and when he bites 
His venom tooth will rankle to the death :
Have not to do with him , beware of him ;
Sin , death and hell have set their marks on him ,
And all their ministers attend on him .

What doth she say , my Lord of Buckingham ?

Nothing that I respect , my gracious lord .

What ! dost thou scorn me for my gentle counsel ,
And soothe the devil that I warn thee from ?
O ! but remember this another day ,
When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow ,
And say poor Margaret was a prophetess .
Live each of you the subject to his hate ,
And he to yours , and all of you to God's !


My hair doth stand on end to hear her curses .

And so doth mine . I muse why she's at liberty .

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

I never did her any , to my knowledge .

Yet you have all the vantage of her wrong .
I was too hot to do somebody good ,
That is too cold in thinking of it now .
Marry , as for Clarence , he is well repaid ;
He is frank'd up to fatting for his pains :
God pardon them that are the cause thereof !

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

So do I ever 

being well-advis'd ;
For had I curs'd now , I had curs'd myself .


Madam , his majesty doth call for you ;
And for your Grace ; and you , my noble lords .

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

We wait upon your Grace .


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 'tis the queen and her allies 
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 ;
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 stol'n forth of holy writ ,
And seem a saint when most I play the devil .


But soft ! here come my executioners .
How now , my hardy , stout resolved mates !

Are you now going to dispatch this thing ?

We are , my lord ; and come to have the warrant ,
That we may be admitted where he is .

Well thought upon ; I have it here about me :

When you have done , repair to Crosby-place .
But , sirs , be sudden in the execution ,
Withal obdurate , do not hear him plead ;
For Clarence is well-spoken , and perhaps 
May move your hearts to pity , if you mark him .

Tut , tut , my lord , we will not stand to prate ;
Talkers are no good doers : be assur'd 
We go to use our hands and not our tongues .

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

We will , my noble lord .


Why looks your Grace so heavily to-day ?

O , I have pass'd a miserable night ,
So full of ugly sights , of ghastly dreams ,
That , as I am a Christian faithful man ,
I would not spend another such a night ,
Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days ,
So full of dismal terror was the time .

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

Methought that I had broken from the Tower ,
And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy ;
And in my company my brother Gloucester ,
Who from my cabin tempted me to walk 
Upon the hatches : thence we look'd toward England ,
And cited up a thousand heavy times ,
During the wars of York and Lancaster ,
That had befall'n us . As we pac'd along 
Upon the giddy footing of the hatches ,
Methought that Gloucester stumbled ; and , in falling ,
Struck me , that thought to stay him , overboard ,
Into the tumbling billows of the main .
Lord , Lord ! methought what pain it was to drown :
What dreadful noise of water in mine ears !
What sights of ugly death within mine eyes !
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 , unvalu'd jewels ,
All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea .
Some lay in dead men's skulls ; and in those holes 
Where eyes did once inhabit , there were crept ,
As 'twere in scorn of eyes , reflecting gems ,
That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep ,
And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by .

Had you such leisure in the time of death 
To gaze upon those secrets of the deep ?

Methought I had ; and often did I strive 
To yield the ghost ; but still the envious flood 
Stopt in my soul , and would not let it forth 
To find the empty , vast , and wandering air ;
But smother'd it within my panting bulk ,
Which almost burst to belch it in the sea .

Awak'd you not with this sore agony ?

No , no , my dream was lengthen'd after life ;
O ! then began the tempest to my soul .
I pass'd , methought , the melancholy flood ,
With that grim ferryman which poets write of ,
Unto the kingdom of perpetual night .
The first that there did greet my stranger soul ,
Was my great father-in-law , renowned Warwick ;
Who cried 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 
Environ'd 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 .

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

O Brakenbury ! 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 ,
Yet execute thy wrath on me alone :
O ! spare my guiltless wife and my poor children .
I pray thee , gentle keeper , stay by me ;
My soul is heavy , and I fain would sleep .

I will , my lord . God give your Grace good rest !

Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours ,
Makes the night morning , and the noon-tide night .
Princes have but their titles for their glories ,
An outward honour for an inward toil ;
And , for unfelt imaginations ,
They often feel a world of restless cares :
So that , between their titles and low names ,
There's nothing differs but the outward fame .


Ho ! who's here ?

What wouldst thou , fellow ? and how cam'st thou hither ?

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

What ! so brief ?

'Tis better , sir , than to be tedious .
Let him see our commission , and talk no more .


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'll to the king ; and signify to him 
That thus I have resign'd to you my charge .

You may , sir ; 'tis a point of wisdom : fare you well .


What ! shall we stab him as he sleeps ?

No ; he'll say 'twas done cowardly , when he wakes .

When he wakes ! why , fool , he shall never wake till the judgment-day .

Why , then he'll say we stabbed him sleeping .

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

What ! art thou afraid ?

Not to kill him , having a warrant for it ; but to be damn'd for killing him , from the which no warrant can defend me .

I thought thou hadst been resolute .

So I am , to let him live .

I'll back to the Duke of Gloucester , and tell him so .

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

How dost thou feel thyself now ?

Some certain dregs of conscience are yet within me .

Remember our reward when the deed's done .

'Zounds ! he dies : I had forgot the reward .

Where's thy conscience now ?

In the Duke of Gloucester's purse .

So when he opens his purse to give us our reward , thy conscience flies out .

'Tis no matter ; let it go : there's few or none will entertain it .

What if it come to thee again ?

I'll not meddle with it ; it makes a man a coward ; a man cannot steal , but it accuseth him ; a man cannot swear , but it checks him ; a man cannot lie with his neighbour's wife , but it detects him : 'tis a blushing shamefast spirit , that mutinies in a man's bosom ; it fills one full of obstacles ; it made me once restore a purse of gold that 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 .

'Zounds ! it is even now at my elbow , persuading me not to kill the duke .

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

Tut , I am strong-framed ; he cannot prevail with me .

Spoke like a tall fellow that respects his reputation . Come , shall we to this gear ?

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

O , excellent device ! make a sop of him .

Soft ! he wakes .

Strike !

No , we'll reason with him .

Where art thou , keeper ? give me a cup of wine .

You shall have wine enough , my lord , anon .

In God's name , what art thou ?

A man , as you are .

But not , as I am , royal .

Nor you , as we are , loyal .

Thy voice is thunder , but thy looks are humble .

My voice is now the king's , my looks mine own .

How darkly , and how deadly dost thou speak !
Your eyes do menace me : why look you pale ?
Who sent you hither ? Wherefore do you come ?

To , to , to 

To murder me ?

Ay , ay .

You scarcely have the hearts to tell me so ,
And therefore cannot have the hearts to do it .
Wherein , my friends , have I offended you ?

Offended us you have not , but the king .

I shall be reconcil'd to him again .

Never , my lord ; therefore prepare to die .

Are you call'd forth from out 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 pronounc'd 
The bitter sentence of poor Clarence' death ?
Before I be convict by course of law ,
To threaten me with death is most unlawful .
I charge you , as you hope to have redemption 
By Christ's dear blood shed for our grievous sins ,
That you depart and lay no hands on me ;
The deed you undertake is damnable .

What we will do , we do upon command .

And he that hath commanded is our king .

Erroneous vassal ! the great King of kings 
Hath in the table of his law commanded 
That thou shalt do no murder : will you , then ,
Spurn at his edict and fulfil a man's ?
Take heed ; for he holds vengeance in his hand ,
To hurl upon their heads that break his law .

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

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

Whom thou wast sworn to cherish and defend .

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

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

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

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

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

If you do love my brother , hate not me ;
I am his brother , and I love him well .
If you are hir'd for meed , go back again ,
And I will send you to my brother Gloucester ,
Who shall reward you better for my life 
Than Edward will for tidings of my death .

You are deceiv'd , your brother Gloucester hates you .

O , no ! he loves me , and he holds me dear :
Go you to him from me .

Ay , so we will .

Tell him , when that our princely father York 
Bless'd his three sons with his victorious arm ,
And charg'd us from his soul to love each other ,
He little thought of this divided friendship :
Bid Gloucester think on this , and he will weep .

Ay , millstones ; as he lesson'd us to weep .

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

Right ;
As snow in harvest . Thou deceiv'st thyself :
'Tis he that sends us to destroy you here .

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 .

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

Make peace with God , for you must die , my lord .

Hast thou that holy feeling in thy soul ,
To counsel me to make my peace with God ,
And art thou yet to thy own soul so blind ,
That thou wilt war with God by murdering me ?
O ! sirs , consider , he that set you on 
To do this deed , will hate you for the deed .

What shall we do ?

Relent and save your souls .

Relent ! 'tis cowardly , and womanish .

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 murd'rers as yourselves came to you ,
Would not entreat for life ?
My friend , I spy some pity in thy looks ;
O ! if thine eye be not a flatterer ,
Come thou on my side , and entreat for me ,
As you would beg , were you in my distress :
A begging prince what beggar pities not ?

Look behind you , my lord .

Take that , and that : if all this will not do ,
I'll drown you in the malmsey-butt within .


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


How now ! what mean'st thou , that thou help'st me not ?
By heaven , the duke shall know how slack you have been .

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


So do not I : go , coward as thou art .
Well , I'll go hide the body in some hole ,
Till that the duke give order for his burial :
And when I have my meed , I will away ;
For this will out , and here I must not stay .

Why , so : now have I done a good day's work .
You peers , continue this united league :
I every day expect an embassage 
From my Redeemer to redeem me hence ;
And more in peace my soul shall part to heaven ,
Since I have made my friends at peace on earth .
Rivers and Hastings , take each other's hand ;
Dissemble not your hatred , swear your love .

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

So thrive I , as I truly swear the like !

Take heed , you dally not before your king ;
Lest he that is the supreme King of kings 
Confound your hidden falsehood , and award 
Either of you to be the other's end .

So prosper I , as I swear perfect love !

And I , as I love Hastings with my heart !

Madam , yourself are not exempt in this ,
Nor you , son Dorset , Buckingham , nor you ;
You have been factious one against the other .
Wife , love Lord Hastings , let him kiss your hand ;
And what you do , do it unfeignedly .

There , Hastings ; I will never more remember 
Our former hatred , so thrive I and mine !

Dorset , embrace him ; Hastings , love lord marquess .

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

And so swear I .


Now , princely Buckingham , seal thou this league 
With thy embracements to my wife's allies ,
And make me happy in your unity .

Whenever Buckingham doth turn his hate 
Upon your Grace , but with all duteous love 
Doth cherish you and yours , God punish me 
With hate in those where I expect most love !
When I have most need to employ a friend ,
And most assured that he is a friend ,
Deep , hollow , treacherous , and full of guile ,
Be he unto me ! This do I beg of God ,
When I am cold in love to you or yours .


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

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


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

Happy , indeed , as we have spent the day .
Gloucester , we have done deeds of charity ;
Made peace of enmity , fair love of hate ,
Between these swelling wrong-incensed peers .

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 :
'Tis death to me to be at enmity ;
I hate it , and desire all good men's love .
First , madam , I entreat true peace of you ,
Which I will purchase with my duteous service ;
Of you , my noble cousin Buckingham ,
If ever any grudge were lodg'd between us ;
Of you , Lord Rivers , and Lord Grey , of you ,
That all without desert have frown'd on me ;
Of you , Lord Woodvile , and Lord Scales , of you ;
Dukes , earls , lords , gentlemen ; indeed , of all .
I do not know that Englishman alive 
With whom my soul is any jot at odds 
More than the infant that is born to-night :
I thank my God for my humility .

A holy day shall this be kept hereafter :
I would to God all strifes were well compounded .
My sov'reign lord , I do beseech your highness 
To take our brother Clarence to your grace .

Why , madam , have I offer'd love for this ,
To be so flouted in this royal presence ?
Who knows not that the gentle duke is dead ?

You do him injury to scorn his corse .

Who knows not he is dead ! who knows he is ?

All-seeing heaven , what a world is this !

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

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

Is Clarence dead ? the order was revers'd .

But he , poor man , by your first order died ,
And that a winged Mercury did bear ;
Some tardy cripple bore the countermand ,
That came too lag to see him buried .
God grant that some , less noble and less loyal ,
Nearer in bloody thoughts , and not in blood ,
Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did ,
And yet go current from suspicion .


A boon , my sov'reign , for my service done !

I prithee , peace : my soul is full of sorrow .

I will not rise , unless your highness hear me .

Then say at once , what is it thou request'st .

The forfeit , sovereign , of my servant's life ;
Who slew to-day a riotous gentleman 
Lately attendant on the Duke of Norfolk .

Have I a tongue to doom my brother's death ,
And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave ?
My brother kill'd no man , his fault was thought ;
And yet his punishment was bitter death .
Who su'd to me for him ? who , in my wrath ,
Kneel'd 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 ?
Who told me , in the field at Tewksbury ,
When Oxford had me down , he rescu'd 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 pluck'd , and not a man of you 
Had so much grace to put it in my mind .
But when your carters or your waiting-vassals 
Have done a drunken slaughter , and 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 .
O God ! I fear , thy justice will take hold 
On me and you and mine and yours for this .
Come , Hastings , help me to my closet . O ! poor Clarence !


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 :
God will revenge it . Come , lords ; will you go 
To comfort Edward with our company ?

We wait upon your Grace .


Good grandam , tell us , is our father dead ?

No , boy .

Why do you wring your hands , and beat your breast ,
And cry 'O Clarence , my unhappy son ?' 

Why do you look on us , and shake your head ,
And call us orphans , wretches , castaways ,
If that our noble father be alive ?

My pretty cousins , you mistake me much ;
I do lament the sickness of the king ,
As loath to lose him , not your father's death ;
It were lost sorrow to wail one that's lost .

Then , grandam , you conclude that he is dead .
The king mine uncle is to blame for it :
God will revenge it ; whom I will importune 
With earnest prayers all to that effect .

And so will I .

Peace , children , peace ! the king doth love you well :
Incapable and shallow innocents ,
You cannot guess who caus'd your father's death .

Grandam , we can ; for my good uncle Gloucester 
Told me , the king , provok'd to't 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 his child .

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

Think you my uncle did dissemble , grandam ?

Ay , boy .

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


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

What means this scene of rude impatience ?

To make an act of tragic violence :
Edward , my lord , thy son , our king , is dead !
Why grow the branches now the root is wither'd ?
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 perpetual rest .

Ah ! so much interest have I in thy sorrow 
As I had title in thy noble husband .
I have bewept a worthy husband's death ,
And liv'd with looking on his images ;
But 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 thee :
But death hath snatch'd my husband from mine arms ,
And pluck'd two crutches from my feeble limbs ,
Clarence and Edward . O ! what cause have I 
Thine being but a moiety of my grief 
To overgo thy plaints , and drown thy cries !

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

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

Give me no help in lamentation ;
I am not barren to bring forth complaints :
All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes ,
That I , being govern'd by the wat'ry moon ,
May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world !
Ah ! for my husband , for my dear Lord Edward !

Ah ! for our father , for our dear Lord Clarence !

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

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

What stay had we but Clarence ? and he's gone .

What stays had I but they ? and they are gone .

Was never widow had so dear a loss .

Were never orphans had so dear a loss .

Was never mother had so dear a loss .
Alas ! I am the mother of these griefs :
Their woes are parcell'd , mine are general .
She for an Edward weeps , and so do I ;
I for a Clarence weep , so doth not she :
These babes for Clarence weep , and so do I ;
I for an Edward weep , so do not they :
Alas ! you three , on me , threefold distress'd ,
Pour all your tears ; I am your sorrow's nurse ,
And I will pamper it with lamentation .

Comfort , dear mother : God is much displeas'd 
That you take with unthankfulness his doing .
In common worldly things 'tis call'd ungrateful 
With dull unwillingness to repay a debt 
Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent ;
Much more to be thus opposite with heaven ,
For it requires the royal debt it lent you .

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


Sister , have comfort : all of us have cause 
To wail the dimming of our shining star ;
But none can cure their 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 .

God bless thee ! and put meekness in thy mind ,
Love , charity , obedience , and true duty .

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 .

You cloudy princes and heart-sorrowing peers ,
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-swoln hearts ,
But lately splinter'd , knit , and join'd together ,
Must gently be preserv'd , cherish'd , and kept :
Me seemeth good , that , with some little train ,
Forthwith from Ludlow the young prince be fetch'd 
Hither to London , to be crown'd our king .

Why with some little train , my Lord of 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 ,
In my opinion , ought to be prevented .

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

And so in me ; and so , I think , in all :
Yet , since it is but green , it should be put 
To no apparent likelihood of breach ,
Which haply by much company might be urg'd :
Therefore I say with noble Buckingham ,
That it is meet so few should fetch the prince .

And so say I .

Then be it so ; and go we to determine 
Who they shall be that straight shall post to Ludlow .
Madam , and you my mother , will you go 
To give your censures in this business ?


My lord , whoever journeys to the prince ,
For God's sake , let not us two stay at home :
For by the way I'll sort occasion ,
As index to the story we late talk'd of ,
To part the queen's proud kindred from the prince .

My other self , my counsel's consistory ,
My oracle , my prophet ! My dear cousin ,
I , as a child , will go by thy direction .
Towards Ludlow then , for we'll not stay behind .


Good morrow , neighbour : whither away so fast ?

I promise you , I scarcely know myself :
Hear you the news abroad ?

Ay ; that the king is dead .

Ill news , by'r lady ; seldom comes the better :
I fear , I fear , 'twill prove a giddy world .


Neighbours , God speed !

Give you good morrow , sir .

Doth the news hold of good King Edward's death ?

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

Then , masters , look to see a troublous world .

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

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

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 .

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

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 
Had virtuous uncles to protect his Grace .

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

Better it were they all came by his father ,
Or by his father there were none at all ;
For emulation , who shall now be nearest ,
Will touch us all too near , if God prevent not .
O ! full of danger is the Duke of Gloucester !
And the queen's sons and brothers haught and proud ;
And were they to be rul'd , and not to rule ,
This sickly land might solace as before .

Come , come , we fear the worst , all will be well .

When clouds are seen , wise men put on their cloaks ;
When great leaves fall , then winter is at hand ;
When the sun sets , who doth not look for night ?
Untimely storms make men expect a dearth .
All may be well ; but , if God sort it so ,
'Tis more than we deserve , or I expect .

Truly , the hearts of men are full of fear :
You cannot reason almost with a man 
That looks not heavily and full of dread .

Before the days of change , still is it so :
By a divine instinct men's minds mistrust 
Ensuing danger ; as , by proof , we see 
The waters swell before a boisterous storm .
But leave it all to God . Whither away ?

Marry , we were sent for to the justices .

And so was I : I'll bear you company .


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

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

But I hear , no ; they say my son of York 
Hath almost overta'en him in his growth .

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

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

Grandam , one night , as we did sit at supper ,
My uncle Rivers talk'd how I did grow 
More than my brother : 'Ay ,' quoth my uncle Gloucester ,
'Small herbs have grace , great weeds do grow apace :' 
And since , methinks , I would not grow so fast ,
Because sweet flowers are slow and weeds make haste .

Good faith , good faith , the saying did not hold 
In him that did object the same to thee :
He was the wretched'st thing when he was young ,
So long a-growing , and so leisurely ,
That , if his rule were true , he should be gracious .

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

I hope he is ; but yet let mothers doubt .

Now , by my troth , if I had been remember'd ,
I could have given my uncle's grace a flout ,
To touch his growth nearer than he touch'd mine .

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

Marry , they say my uncle grew so fast ,
That he could gnaw a crust at two hours old :
'Twas full two years ere I could get a tooth .
Grandam , this would have been a biting jest .

I prithee , pretty York , who told thee this ?

Grandam , his nurse .

His nurse ! why , she was dead ere thou wast born .

If 'twere not she , I cannot tell who told me .

A parlous boy : go to , you are too shrewd .

Good madam , be not angry with the child .

Pitchers have ears .


Here comes a messenger . What news ?

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

How doth the prince ?

Well , madam , and in health .

What is thy news ?

Lord Rivers and Lord Grey are sent to Pomfret ,
With them Sir Thomas Vaughan , prisoners .

Who hath committed them ?

The mighty dukes ,
Gloucester and Buckingham .

For what offence ?

The sum of all I can I have disclos'd :
Why or for what the nobles were committed 
Is all unknown to me , my gracious lord .

Ah me ! I see the ruin of my house !
The tiger now hath seiz'd the gentle hind ;
Insulting tyranny begins to jet 
Upon the innocent and aweless throne :
Welcome , destruction , death , and massacre !
I see , as in a map , the end of all .

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 ,
For me to joy and weep their gain and loss :
And being seated , and domestic broils 
Clean over-blown , 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 .

Come , come , my boy ; we will to sanctuary .
Madam , farewell .

Stay , I will go with you .

You have no cause .

My gracious lady , go ;
And thither bear your treasure and your goods .
For my part , I'll resign unto your Grace 
The seal I keep : and so betide to me 
As well I tender you and all of yours !
Come ; I'll conduct you to the sanctuary .


Welcome , sweet prince , to London , to your chamber .

Welcome , dear cousin , my thoughts' sovereign ;
The weary way hath made you melancholy .

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

Sweet prince , the untainted virtue of your years 
Hath not yet div'd into the world's deceit :
No more can you distinguish of a man 
Than of his outward show ; which , God he knows ,
Seldom or never jumpeth with the heart .
Those uncles which you want were dangerous ;
Your Grace attended to their sugar'd words ,
But look'd not on the poison of their hearts :
God keep you from them , and from such false friends !

God keep me from false friends ! but they were none .

My lord , the Mayor of London comes to greet you .


God bless your Grace with health and happy days !

I thank you , good my lord ; and thank you all .
I thought my mother and my brother York 
Would long ere this have met us on the way :
Fie ! what a slug is Hastings , that he comes not 
To tell us whether they will come or no .


And in good time here comes the sweating lord .

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

On what occasion , God he knows , not I ,
The queen your mother , and your brother York ,
Have taken sanctuary : the tender prince 
Would fain have come with me to meet your Grace ,
But by his mother was perforce withheld .

Fie ! what an indirect and peevish course 
Is this of hers ! Lord Cardinal , will your Grace 
Persuade the queen to send the Duke of York 
Unto his princely brother presently ?
If she deny , Lord Hastings , go with him ,
And from her jealous arms pluck him perforce .

My Lord of Buckingham , if 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 
We should infringe the holy privilege 
Of blessed sanctuary ! not for all this land 
Would I be guilty of so great a sin .

You are too senseless-obstinate , my lord ,
Too ceremonious and traditional :
Weigh it but with the grossness of this age ,
You break not sanctuary in seizing him .
The benefit thereof is always granted 
To those whose dealings have deserv'd the place 
And those who have the wit to claim the place :
This prince hath neither claim'd it , nor deserv'd 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 .

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

I go , my lord .

Good lords , make all the speedy haste you may .

Say , uncle Gloucester , if our brother come ,
Where shall we sojourn till our coronation ?

Where it seems best unto your royal self .
If I may counsel you , some day or two 
Your highness shall repose you at the Tower :
Then where you please , and shall be thought most fit 
For your best health and recreation .

I do not like the Tower , of any place :
Did Julius C sar build that place , my lord ?

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

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

Upon record , my gracious lord .

But say , my lord , it were not register'd ,
Methinks the truth should live from age to age ,
As 'twere retail'd to all posterity ,
Even to the general all-ending day .

So wise so young , they say , do never live long .

What say you , uncle ?

I say , without characters , fame lives long .


Thus , like the formal Vice , Iniquity ,
I moralize two meanings in one word .

That Julius C sar 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 this conqueror ,
For now he lives in fame , though not in life .
I'll tell you what , my cousin Buckingham ,

What , my gracious lord ?

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

Short summers lightly have a forward spring .


Now , in good time , here comes the Duke of York .

Richard of York ! how fares our loving brother ?

Well , my dread lord ; so must I call you now .

Ay , brother , to our grief , as it is yours :
Too late he died that might have kept that title ,
Which by his death hath lost much majesty .

How fares our cousin , noble Lord of York ?

I thank you , gentle uncle . O , my lord ,
You said that idle weeds are fast in growth :
The prince my brother hath outgrown me far .

He hath , my lord .

And therefore is he idle ?

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

Then he is more beholding to you than I .

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

I pray you , uncle , give me this dagger .

My dagger , little cousin ? with all my heart .

A beggar , brother ?

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

A greater gift than that I'll give my cousin .

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

Ay , gentle cousin , were it light enough .

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

It is too weighty for your Grace to wear .

I weigh it lightly , were it heavier .

What ! would you have my weapon , little lord ?

I would , that I might thank you , as you call me .

How ?

Little .

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

You mean , to bear me , not to bear with me :
Uncle , my brother mocks both you and me .
Because that I am little , like an ape ,
He thinks that you should bear me on your shoulders .

With what a sharp provided with he reasons !
To mitigate the scorn he gives his uncle ,
He prettily and aptly taunts himself :
So cunning and so young is wonderful .

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 .

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

My Lord Protector needs will have it so .

I shall not sleep in quiet at the Tower .

Why , what would you fear ?

Marry , my uncle Clarence' angry ghost :
My grandam told me he was murder'd there .

I fear no uncles dead .

Nor none that live , I hope .

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 .


Think you , my lord , this little prating York 
Was not incensed by his subtle mother 
To taunt and scorn you thus opprobriously ?

No doubt , no doubt : O ! 'tis a parlous boy ;
Bold , quick , ingenious , forward , capable :
He's all the mother's , from the top to toe .

Well , let them rest . Come hither , Catesby ; thou art sworn 
As deeply to effect what we intend 
As closely to conceal what we impart .
Thou know'st our reasons urg'd upon the way :
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 ?

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

What think'st thou then of Stanley ? what will he ?

He will do all in all as Hastings doth .

Well then , no more but this : go , gentle Catesby ,
And , as it were far off , sound thou Lord Hastings ,
How he doth stand affected to our purpose ;
And summon him to-morrow to the Tower ,
To sit about the coronation .
If thou dost find him tractable to us ,
Encourage him , and tell him all our reasons :
If he be leaden , icy-cold , unwilling ,
Be thou so too , and so break off the talk ,
And give us notice of his inclination ;
For we to-morrow hold divided councils ,
Wherein thyself shalt highly be employ'd .

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 .

Good Catesby , go , effect this business soundly .

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

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

You shall , my lord .

At Crosby-place , there shall you find us both .


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

Chop off his head ; something we will determine :
And , look , when I am king , claim thou of me 
The earldom of Hereford , and all the moveables 
Whereof the king my brother stood possess'd .

I'll claim that promise at your Grace's hand .

And look to have it yielded with all kindness .
Come , let us sup betimes , that afterwards 
We may digest our complots in some form .


My lord ! my lord !

Who knocks ?

One from the Lord Stanley .

What is't o'clock ?

Upon the stroke of four .


Cannot my Lord Stanley sleep these tedious nights ?

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

What then ?

Then certifies your lordship , that this night 
He dreamt the boar had razed off his helm :
Besides , he says there are two councils held ;
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 towards the north ,
To shun the danger that his soul divines .

Go , fellow , go , return unto thy lord ;
Bid him not fear the separated councils :
His honour and myself are at the one ,
And at the other is my good friend Catesby ;
Where nothing can proceed that toucheth us 
Whereof I shall not have intelligence .
Tell him his fears are shallow , wanting instance :
And for his dreams , I wonder he's so fond 
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 .
Go , bid thy master rise and come to me ;
And we will both together to the Tower ,
Where , he shall see , the boar will use us kindly .

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

Many good morrows to my noble lord !

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

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

How ! wear the garland ! dost thou mean the crown ?

Ay , my good lord .

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

Ay , on my life ; and hopes to find you forward 
Upon his party for the gain thereof :
And thereupon he sends you this good news ,
That this same very day your enemies ,
The kindred of the queen , must die at Pomfret .

Indeed , I am no mourner for that news ,
Because they have been still my adversaries ;
But that I'll give my voice on Richard's side ,
To bar my master's heirs in true descent ,
God knows I will not do it , to the death .

God keep your lordship in that gracious mind !

But I shall laugh at this a twelve-month hence ,
That they which brought me in my master's hate ,
I live to look upon their tragedy .
Well , Catesby , ere a fortnight make me older ,
I'll send some packing that yet think not on't .

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

O monstrous , monstrous ! and so falls it out 
With Rivers , Vaughan , Grey ; and so 'twill do 
With some men else , who think themselves as safe 
As thou and I ; who , as thou know'st , are dear 
To princely Richard and to Buckingham .

The princes both make high account of you ;


For they account his head upon the bridge .

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


Come on , come on ; where is your boar-spear , man ?

Fear you the boar , and go so unprovided ?

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

My lord , I hold my life as dear as you do yours ;
And never , in my days , I do protest ,
Was it so precious to me as 'tis now .
Think you , but that I know our state secure ,
I would be so triumphant as I am ?

The lords at Pomfret , when they rode from London ,
Were jocund and suppos'd their state was sure ,
And they indeed had no cause to mistrust ;
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 !
What , shall we toward the Tower ? the day is spent .

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

They , for their truth , might better wear their heads ,
Than some that have accus'd them wear their hats .
But come , my lord , let's away .


Go on before ; I'll talk with this good fellow .

How now , sirrah ! how goes the world with thee ?

The better that your lordship please to ask .

I tell thee , man , 'tis better with me now 
Than when I met thee last where now we meet :
Then was I going prisoner to the Tower ,
By the suggestion of the queen's allies ;
But now , I tell thee ,keep it to thyself ,
This day those enemies are put to death ,
And I in better state than e'er I was .

God hold it to your honour's good content !

Gramercy , fellow : there , drink that for me .


God save your lordship .

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

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 .


What , talking with a priest , lord chamberlain ?
Your friends at Pomfret , they do need the priest :
Your honour hath no shriving work in hand .

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

I do , my lord ; but long I shall not stay :
I shall return before your lordship thence .

Nay , like enough , for I stay dinner there .

And supper too , although thou know'st it not .
Come , will you go ?

I'll wait upon your lordship .


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

God bless the prince from all the pack of you !
A knot you are of damned blood suckers .

You live that shall cry woe for this hereafter .

Dispatch ; the limit of your lives is out .

O Pomfret , Pomfret ! O thou bloody prison !
Fatal and ominous to noble peers !
Within the guilty closure of thy walls 
Richard the Second here was hack'd to death ;
And , for more slander to thy dismal seat ,
We give thee up our guitless blood to drink .

Now Margaret's curse is fall'n upon our heads ,
When she exclaim'd on Hastings , you , and I ,
For standing by when Richard stabb'd her son .

Then curs'd she Richard , then curs'd she Buckingham ,
Then curs'd she Hastings : O ! remember , God ,
To hear her prayer for them , as now for us ;
And for my sister and her princely sons ,
Be satisfied , dear God , with our true blood ,
Which , as thou know'st , unjustly must be spilt .

Make haste ; the hour of death is expiate .

Come , Grey , come , Vaughan ; let us here embrace :
And take our leave until we meet in heaven .

My lords , at once : the cause why we are met 
Is to determine of the coronation :
In God's name , speak , when is the royal day ?

Are all things ready for that royal time ?

It is ; and wants but nomination .

To-morrow then I judge a happy day .

Who knows the Lord Protector's mind herein ?
Who is most inward with the noble duke ?

Your Grace , we think , should soonest know his mind .

We know each other's faces ; for our hearts ,
He knows no more of mine than I of yours ;
Nor I of his , my lord , than you of mine .
Lord Hastings , you and he are near in love .

I thank his Grace , I know he loves me well ;
But , for his purpose in the coronation ,
I have not sounded him , nor he deliver'd 
His gracious pleasure any way therein :
But you , my noble lords , may name the time ;
And in the duke's behalf I'll give my voice ,
Which , I presume , he'll take in gentle part .


In happy time , here comes the duke himself .

My noble lords and cousins all , good morrow .
I have been long a sleeper ; but , I trust ,
My absence doth neglect no great design ,
Which by my presence might have been concluded .

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

Than my Lord Hastings no man might be bolder :
His lordship knows me well , and loves me well .
My Lord of Ely , when I was last in Holborn ,
I saw good strawberries in your garden there ;
I do beseech you send for some of them .

Marry , and will , my lord , with all my heart .


Cousin of Buckingham , a word with you .

Catesby hath sounded Hastings in our business ,
And finds the testy gentleman so hot ,
That he will lose his head ere give consent 
His master's child , as worshipfully he terms it ,
Shall lose the royalty of England's throne .

Withdraw yourself a while ; I'll go with you .


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 .


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

His Grace looks cheerfully and smooth this morning :
There's some conceit or other likes him well ,
When that he bids good morrow with such spirit .
I think there's never a man in Christendom 
Can lesser hide his hate or love than he ;
For by his face straight shall you know his heart .

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

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


I pray you all , tell me what they deserve 
That do conspire my death with devilish plots 
Of damned witchcraft , and that have prevail'd 
Upon my body with their hellish charms ?

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

Then be your eyes the witness of their evil .
Look how I am bewitch'd ; behold mine arm 
Is like a blasted sapling , wither'd up :
And this is Edward's wife , that monstrous witch 
Consorted with that harlot strumpet Shore ,
That by their witchcraft thus have marked me .

If they have done this thing , my noble lord ,

If ! thou protector of this damned strumpet ,
Talk'st thou to me of ifs ? Thou art a traitor :
Off with his head ! now , by Saint Paul , I swear ,
I will not dine until I see the same .
Lovel and Ratcliff , look that it be done :
The rest , that love me , rise , and follow me .


Woe , woe , for England ! not a whit for me ;
For I , too fond , might have prevented this .
Stanley did dream the boar did raze his helm ;
And I did scorn it , and disdain'd to fly .
Three times to-day my foot-cloth horse did stumble ,
And startled 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 butcher'd 
And I myself secure in grace and favour .
O Margaret , Margaret ! now thy heavy curse 
Is lighted on poor Hastings' wretched head .

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

O momentary grace of mortal man ,
Which we more hunt for than the grace of God !
Who builds his hope in air of your good looks ,
Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast ;
Ready with every nod to tumble down 
Into the fatal bowels of the deep .

Come , come , dispatch ; 'tis bootless to exclaim .

O bloody Richard ! miserable England !
I prophesy the fearfull'st time to thee 
That ever wretched age hath look'd upon .
Come , lead me to the block ; bear him my head :
They smile at me who shortly shall be dead .


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

Tut ! I can counterfeit the deep tragedian ,
Speak and look back , and pry on every side ,
Tremble and start at wagging of a straw ,
Intending deep suspicion : ghastly looks 
Are at my service , like enforced smiles ;
And both are ready in their offices ,
At any time , to grace my stratagems .
But what ! is Catesby gone ?

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


Lord Mayor ,

Look to the drawbridge there !

Hark ! a drum .

Catesby , o'erlook the walls .

Lord Mayor , the reason we have sent ,

Look back , defend thee ; here are enemies .

God and our innocency defend and guard us !


Be patient , they are friends , Ratcliff and Lovel .

Here is the head of that ignoble traitor ,
The dangerous and unsuspected Hastings .

So dear I lov'd the man , that I must weep .
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 ,
He liv'd from all attainder of suspect .

Well , well , he was the covert'st shelter'd 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 murder me and my good Lord of Gloucester ?

Had he done so ?

What ! think you we are Turks or infidels ?
Or that we would , against the form of law ,
Proceed thus rashly in the villain's death ,
But that the extreme peril of the case ,
The peace of England and our person's safety ,
Enforc'd us to this execution ?

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

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 meaning , hath prevented :
Because , my lord , we would have had you heard 
The traitor speak , and timorously confess 
The manner and the purpose of his treason ;
That you might well have signified the same 
Unto the citizens , who haply may 
Misconster us in him , and wail his death .

But , my good lord , your 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'll acquaint our duteous citizens 
With all your just proceedings in this cause .

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

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 .


Go , after , after , cousin Buckingham .
The mayor towards Guildhall hies him in all post :
There , at your meetest vantage of the time ,
Infer the bastardy of Edward's children :
Tell them how Edward put to death a citizen ,
Only for saying he would make his son 
Heir to the crown ; meaning indeed his house ,
Which by the sign thereof was termed so .
Moreover , urge his hateful luxury 
And bestial appetite in change of lust ;
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 ,
Being nothing like the noble duke my father .
Yet touch this sparingly , as 'twere far off ;
Because , my lord , you know my mother lives .

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

If you thrive well , bring them to Baynard's Castle ;
Where you shall find me well accompanied 
With reverend fathers and well-learned bishops .

I go ; and towards three or four o'clock 
Look for the news that the Guildhall affords .


Go , Lovel , with all speed to Doctor Shaw ;


Go thou to Friar Penker ; bid them both 
Meet me within this hour at Baynard's Castle .

Now will I in , to take some privy order ,
To draw the brats of Clarence out of sight ;
And to give notice that no manner person 
Have any time recourse unto the princes .


Here is the indictment of the good Lord Hastings ;
Which in a set hand fairly is engross'd ,
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 , unexamin'd , free , at liberty .
Here's a good world the while ! Who is so gross 
That cannot see this palpable device ?
Yet who so bold but says he sees it not ?
Bad is the world ; and all will come to naught ,
When such ill dealing must be seen in thought .


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

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

Touch'd you the bastardy of Edward's children ?

I did ; with his contract with Lady Lucy ,
And his contract by deputy in France ;
The insatiate greediness of his desires ,
And his enforcement of the city wives ;
His tyranny for trifles ; his own bastardy ,
As being got , your father then in France ,
And his resemblance , being not like the duke :
Withal I did infer your lineaments ,
Being the right idea of your father ,
Both in your form and nobleness of mind ;
Laid open all your victories in Scotland ,
Your discipline in war , wisdom in peace ,
Your bounty , virtue , fair humility ;
Indeed , left nothing fitting for your purpose 
Untouch'd or slightly handled in discourse ;
And when my oratory drew toward end ,
I bade them that did love their country's good 
Cry 'God save Richard , England's royal king !' 

And did they so ?

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 :
His answer was , the people were not wont 
To be spoke to but by the recorder .
Then he was urg'd to tell my tale again :
'Thus saith the duke , thus hath the duke inferr'd ;' 
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 !' 
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 :' 
And even here brake off , and came away .

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

The mayor is here at hand . Intend some fear ;
Be not you spoke with but by mighty suit :
And look you get a prayer-book in your hand ,
And stand between two churchmen , good my lord :
For on that ground I'll make a holy descant :
And be not easily won to our requests ;
Play the maid's part , still answer nay , and take it .

I go ; 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 .

Go , go , up to the leads ! the Lord Mayor knocks .

Welcome , my lord : I dance attendance here ;
I think the duke will not be spoke withal .


Now , Catesby ! what says your lord to my request ?

He doth entreat your Grace , my noble lord ,
To visit him to-morrow or next day .
He is within , with two right reverend fathers ,
Divinely bent to meditation ;
And in no worldly suit would he be mov'd ,
To draw him from his holy exercise .

Return , good Catesby , to the gracious duke :
Tell him , myself , the mayor and aldermen ,
In deep designs in matter of great moment ,
No less importing than our general good ,
Are come to have some conference with his Grace .

I'll signify so much unto him straight .


Ah , ha , my lord , this prince is not an Edward !
He is not lolling on a lewd day-bed ,
But on his knees at meditation ;
Not dallying with a brace of courtezans ,
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 sore , I fear , we shall not win him to it .

Marry , God defend his Grace should say us nay !

I fear he will . Here Catesby comes again .

Now , Catesby , what says his Grace ?

He wonders to what end you have assembled 
Such troops of citizens to come to him ,
His Grace not being warn'd thereof before :
My lord , he fears you mean no good to him .

Sorry I am my noble cousin should 
Suspect me that I mean no good to him .
By heaven , we come to him in perfect love ;
And so once more return , and tell his Grace .

When holy and devout religious men 
Are at their beads , 'tis much to draw them thence ;
So sweet is zealous contemplation .


See , where his Grace stands 'tween two clergymen !

Two props of virtue for a Christian prince ,
To stay him from the fall of vanity ;
And , see , a book of prayer in his hand ;
True ornament to know a holy man .
Famous Plantagenet , most gracious prince ,
Lend favourable ear to our requests ,
And pardon us the interruption 
Of thy devotion , and right Christian zeal .

My lord , there needs no such apology ;
I do beseech your Grace to pardon me ,
Who , earnest in the service of my God ,
Deferr'd the visitation of my friends .
But , leaving this , what is your Grace's pleasure ?

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

I do suspect I have done some offence 
That seems disgracious in the city's eye ;
And that you come to reprehend my ignorance .

You have , my lord : would it might please your Grace ,
On our entreaties to amend your fault !

Else wherefore breathe I in a Christian land ?

Know then , it is your fault that you resign 
The supreme seat , the throne majestical ,
The sceptred office of your ancestors ,
Your state of fortune and your due of birth ,
The lineal glory of your royal house ,
To the corruption of a 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 defac'd 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 
And kingly government of this your land ;
Not as protector , steward , substitute ,
Or lowly factor for another's gain ;
But as successively from blood to blood ,
Your right of birth , your empery , your own .
For this , consorted with the citizens ,
Your very worshipful and loving friends ,
And by their vehement instigation ,
In this just cause come I to move your Grace .

I cannot tell , if to depart in silence 
Or bitterly to speak in your reproof ,
Best fitteth my degree or your condition :
If not to answer , you might haply think 
Tongue-tied ambition , not replying , yielded 
To bear the golden yoke of sov'reignty ,
Which fondly you would here impose on me ;
If to reprove you for this suit of yours ,
So season'd with your faithful love to me ,
Then , on the other side , I check'd my friends .
Therefore , to speak , and to avoid the first ,
And then , in speaking , not to incur the last ,
Definitively thus I answer you .
Your love deserves my thanks ; but my desert 
Unmeritable shuns your high request .
First , if all obstacles were cut away ,
And that my path were even to the crown ,
As the ripe revenue and due of birth ,
Yet so much is my poverty of spirit ,
So mighty and so many my defects ,
That I would rather hide me from my greatness ,
Being a bark to brook no mighty sea ,
Than in my greatness covet to be hid ,
And in the vapour of my glory smother'd .
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 , mellow'd by the stealing hours of time ,
Will well become the seat of majesty ,
And make , no doubt , us happy by his reign .
On him I lay that you would lay on me ,
The right and fortune of his happy stars ;
Which God defend that I should wring from him !

My lord , this argues conscience in your Grace ;
But the respects thereof are nice and trivial ,
All circumstances well 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 betroth'd 
To Bona , sister to the King of France .
These both put by , 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 
To base declension and loath'd bigamy :
By her , in his unlawful bed , he got 
This Edward , whom our manners call the prince .
More bitterly could I expostulate ,
Save that , for reverence to some alive ,
I give a sparing limit to my tongue .
Then , good my lord , take to your royal self 
This proffer'd 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 .

Do , good my lord ; your citizens entreat you .

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

O ! make them joyful : grant their lawful suit :

Alas ! why would you heap those cares on me ?
I am unfit for state and majesty :
I do beseech you , take it not amiss ,
I cannot nor I will not yield to you .

If you refuse it , as , in love and zeal ,
Loath to depose the child , your brother's son ;
As well we know your tenderness of heart 
And gentle , kind , effeminate remorse ,
Which we have noted in you to your kindred ,
And egally , indeed , to all estates ,
Yet whether you accept our suit or no ,
Your brother's son shall never reign our king ;
But we will plant some other in the throne ,
To the disgrace and downfall of your house :
And in this resolution here we leave you .
Come , citizens , we will entreat no more .


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

Will you enforce me to a world of cares ?
Call them again : I am not made of stone ,
But penetrable to your kind entreats ,

Albeit against my conscience and my soul .


Cousin of Buckingham , and sage , grave men ,
Since you will buckle fortune on my back ,
To bear her burden , whe'r 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 ,
Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me 
From all the impure blots and stains thereof ;
For God doth know , and you may partly see ,

How far I am from the desire of this .

God bless your Grace ! we see it , and will say it .

In saying so , you shall but say the truth .

Then I salute you with this royal title :
Long live King Richard , England's worthy king !

Amen .

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

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

To-morrow then we will attend your Grace :
And so most joyfully we take our leave .

Come , let us to our holy work again .
Farewell , my cousin ;farewell , gentle friends .

Who meets us here ? my niece Plantagenet ,
Led in the hand of her kind aunt of Gloucester ?
Now , for my life , she's wand'ring to the Tower ,
On pure heart's love , to greet the tender princes .
Daughter , well met .

God give your Graces both 
A happy and a joyful time of day !

As much to you , good sister ! whither away ?

No further than the Tower ; and , as I guess ,
Upon the like devotion as yourselves ,
To gratulate the gentle princes there .

Kind sister , thanks : we'll enter all together :


And , in good time , here the lieutenant comes .
Master lieutenant , pray you , by your leave ,

How doth the prince , and my young son of York ?

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

The king ! who's that ?

I mean the Lord Protector .

The Lord protect him from that kingly title !
Hath he set bounds between their love and me ?
I am their mother ; who shall bar me from them ?

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

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

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

Let me but meet you , ladies , one hour hence ,
And I'll salute your Grace of York as mother ,
And reverend looker-on of two fair queens .


Come , madam , you must straight to Westminster ,
There to be crowned Richard's royal queen .

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

Despiteful tidings ! O ! unpleasing news !

Be of good cheer : mother , how fares your Grace ?

O , Dorset ! speak not to me , get thee gone ;
Death and destruction dog thee at the 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 .

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 :
Be not ta'en tardy by unwise delay .

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

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

And I with all unwillingness will go .
O ! would to God that the inclusive verge 
Of golden metal that must round my brow 
Were red-hot steel to sear me to the brain .
Anointed let me be with deadly venom ;
And die , ere men can say 'God save the queen !' 

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

No ! why ? When he , that is my husband now 
Came to me , as I follow'd Henry's corse ;
When scarce the blood was well wash'd from his hands ,
Which issu'd from my other angel husband ,
And that dead saint which then I weeping follow'd ;
O ! when I say , I look'd on Richard's face ,
This was my wish , 'Be thou ,' quoth I , 'accurs'd ,
For making me so young , so old a widow !
And , when thou wedd'st , let sorrow haunt thy bed ;
And be thy wife if any be so mad 
More miserable by the life of thee 
Than thou hast made me by my dear lord's death !' 
Lo ! ere I can repeat this curse again ,
Within so small a time , my woman's heart 
Grossly grew captive to his honey words ,
And prov'd the subject of mine own soul's curse :
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 .

Poor heart , adieu ! I pity thy complaining .

No more than with my soul I mourn for yours .

Farewell ! thou woeful welcomer of glory !

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

Go thou to Richmond , and good fortune guide thee !


Go thou to Richard , and good angels tend thee !


Go thou to sanctuary , and good thoughts possess thee !
I to my grave , where peace and rest lie with me !
Eighty odd years of sorrow have I seen ,
And each hour's joy wrack'd with a week of teen .

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 !
Rude ragged nurse , old sullen playfellow 
For tender princes , use my babies well .
So foolish sorrow bids your stones farewell .


Stand all apart . Cousin of Buckingham .

My gracious sovereign !

Give me thy hand .

Thus high , by thy advice ,
And thy assistance , is King Richard seated :
But shall we wear these glories for a day ?
Or shall they last , and we rejoice in them ?

Still live they , and for ever let them last !

Ah ! Buckingham , now do I play the touch ,
To try if thou be current gold indeed :
Young Edward lives : think now what I would speak .

Say on , my loving lord .

Why , Buckingham , I say , I would be king .

Why , so you are , my thrice-renowned liege .

Ha ! am I king ? 'Tis so : but Edward lives .

True , noble prince .

O bitter consequence ,
That Edward still should live ! 'True , noble prince !' 
Cousin , thou wast not wont to be so dull :
Shall I be plain ? I wish the bastards dead ;
And I would have it suddenly perform'd .
What sayst thou now ? speak suddenly , be brief .

Your Grace may do your pleasure .

Tut , tut ! thou art all ice , thy kindness freezes :
Say , have I thy consent that they shall die ?

Give me some little breath , some pause , dear lord ,
Before I positively speak in this :
I will resolve you herein presently .


The king is angry : see , he gnaws his lip .

I will converse with iron-witted fools 
And unrespective boys : none are for me 
That look into me with considerate eyes .
High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect .
Boy !

My lord !

Know'st thou not any whom corrupting gold 
Will tempt unto a close exploit of death ?

I know a discontented gentleman ,
Whose humble means match not his haughty spirit :
Gold were as good as twenty orators ,
And will , no doubt , tempt him to anything .

What is his name ?

His name , my lord , is Tyrrell .

I partly know the man : go , call him hither .

The deep-revolving witty Buckingham 
No more shall be the neighbour to my counsel .
Hath he so long held out with me untir'd ,
And stops he now for breath ? well , be it so .

How now , Lord Stanley ! what's the news ?

Know , my loving lord ,
The Marquess Dorset , as I hear , is fled 
To Richmond , in the parts where he abides .

Come hither , Catesby : rumour it abroad ,
That Anne my wife is very grievous sick ;
I will take order for her keeping close .
Inquire me out some mean poor gentleman ,
Whom I will marry straight to Clarence' daughter :
The boy is foolish , and I fear not him .
Look , how thou dream'st ! I say again , give out 
That Anne my queen is sick , and like to die :
About it ; for it stands me much upon ,
To stop all hopes whose growth may damage me .

I must be married to my brother's daughter ,
Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass .
Murder her brothers , and then marry her !
Uncertain way of gain ! But I am in 
So far in blood , that sin will pluck on sin :
Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye .

Is thy name Tyrrell ?

James Tyrrell , and your most obedient subject .

Art thou , indeed ?

Prove me , my gracious lord .

Dar'st thou resolve to kill a friend of mine ?

Please you ; but I had rather kill two enemies .

Why , then thou hast it : two deep enemies ,
Foes to my rest , and my sweet sleep's disturbers ,
Are they that I would have thee deal upon .
Tyrrell , I mean those bastards in the Tower .

Let me have open means to come to them ,
And soon I'll rid you from the fear of them .

Thou sing'st sweet music . Hark , come hither , Tyrrell :
Go , by this token : rise , and lend thine ear .

There is no more but so : say it is done ,
And I will love thee , and prefer thee for it .

I will dispatch it straight .

My lord , I have consider'd in my mind 
The late demand that you did sound me in .

Well , let that rest . Dorset is fled to Richmond .

I hear the news , my lord .

Stanley , he is your wife's son : well , look to it .

My lord , I claim the gift , my due by promise ,
For which your honour and your faith is pawn'd ;
The earldom of Hereford and the moveables 
Which you have promised I shall possess .

Stanley , look to your wife : if she convey 
Letters to Richmond , you shall answer it .

What says your highness to my just request ?

I do remember me , Henry the Sixth 
Did prophesy that Richmond should be king ,
When Richmond was a little peevish boy .
A king ! perhaps 

My lord !

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

My lord , your promise for the earldom ,

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

My lord !

Ay , what's o'clock ?

I am thus bold to put your Grace in mind 
Of what you promis'd me .

Well , but what is't o'clock ?

Upon the stroke of ten .

Well , let it strike .

Why let it strike ?

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

Why , then resolve me whe'r you will , or no .

Thou troublest me : I am not in the vein .


And is it thus ? repays he my deep service 
With such contempt ? made I him king for this ?
O , let me think on Hastings , and be gone 
To Brecknock , while my fearful head is on .


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 ruthless butchery ,
Albeit they were flesh'd villains , bloody dogs ,
Melting with tenderness and mild compassion ,
Wept like to children in their death's sad story .
'Oh ! 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 ,
Which in their summer beauty kiss'd each other .
A book of prayers on their pillow lay ;
Which once ,' quoth Forrest , 'almost chang'd my mind ;
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 :
And here he comes .

All health , my sovereign lord !

Kind Tyrrell , am I happy in thy news ?

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

But didst thou see them dead ?

I did , my lord .

And buried , gentle Tyrrell ?

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

Come to me , Tyrrell , soon at after-supper ,
When thou shalt tell the process of their death .
Meantime , but think how I may do thee good ,
And be inheritor of thy desire .
Farewell till then .

I humbly take my leave .


The son of Clarence have I pent up close ;
His daughter meanly have I match'd in marriage ;
The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom ,
And Anne my wife hath bid the world good night .
Now , for I know the Breton Richmond aims 
At young Elizabeth , my brother's daughter ,
And , by that knot , looks proudly on the crown ,
To her go I , a jolly thriving wooer .


My lord !

Good or bad news , that thou com'st in so bluntly ?

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

Ely with Richmond troubles me more near 
Than Buckingham and his rash-levied strength .
Come ; I have learn'd 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 .


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


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

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

So many miseries have craz'd my voice ,
That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute .
Edward Plantagenet , why art thou dead ?

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

Wilt thou , O God ! fly from such gentle lambs ,
And throw them in the entrails of the wolf ?
When didst thou sleep when such a deed was done ?

When holy Harry died , and my sweet son .

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 ,

Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood !

Ah ! that thou wouldst as soon afford a grave 
As thou canst yield a melancholy seat ;
Then would I hide my bones , not rest them here .
Ah ! who hath any cause to mourn but I ?


If ancient sorrow be most reverend ,
Give mine the benefit of seniory ,
And let my griefs frown on the upper hand ,
If sorrow can admit society .

Tell o'er your woes again by viewing mine :
I had an Edward , till a Richard kill'd him ;
I had a Harry , till a Richard kill'd him :
Thou hadst an Edward , till a Richard kill'd him ;
Thou hadst a Richard , till a Richard kill'd him .

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

Thou hadst a Clarence too , and Richard kill'd him .
From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept 
A hellhound that doth hunt us all to death :
That dog , that had his teeth before his eyes ,
To worry lambs , and lap their gentle blood ,
That 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 
Preys on the issue of his mother's body ,
And makes her pew-fellow with others' moan .

O ! Harry's wife , triumph not in my woes :
God witness with me , I have wept for thine .

Bear with me ; I am hungry for revenge ,
And now I cloy me with beholding it .
Thy Edward he is dead , that 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 tragic play ,
The adulterate Hastings , Rivers , Vaughan , Grey ,
Untimely smother'd in their dusky graves .
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 to say , The dog is dead .

O ! thou didst prophesy the time would come 
That I should wish for thee to help me curse 
That bottled spider , that foul bunchback'd toad .

I call'd thee then vain flourish of my 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 wert , a breath , a bubble ,
A sign of dignity , a garish flag ,
To be the aim of every dangerous shot ;
A queen in jest , only to fill the scene .
Where is thy husband now ? where be thy brothers ?
Where are thy children ? wherein dost thou joy ?
Who sues and kneels and cries God save the queen ?
Where be the bending peers that flatter'd thee ?
Where be the thronging troops that follow'd 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 su'd to , one that humbly sues ;
For queen , a very caitiff crown'd with care ;
For one that scorn'd at me , now scorn'd of me ;
For one being fear'd of all , now fearing one ;
For one commanding all , obey'd of none .
Thus hath the course of justice whirl'd about ,
And left thee but a very prey to time ;
Having no more but thought of what thou wert ,
To torture thee the more , being what thou art .
Thou didst usurp my place , and dost thou not 
Usurp the just proportion of my sorrow ?
Now thy proud neck bears half my burden'd yoke ;
From which even here , I slip my wearied head ,
And leave the burden of it all on thee .
Farewell , York's wife , and queen of sad mischance :
These English woes shall make me smile in France .

O thou , well skill'd in curses , stay awhile ,
And teach me how to curse mine enemies .

Forbear to sleep the night , and fast the day ;
Compare dead happiness with living woe ;
Think that thy babes were fairer than they were ,
And he that slew them fouler than he is :
Bettering thy loss makes the bad causer worse :
Revolving this will teach thee how to curse .

My words are dull ; O ! quicken them with thine !

Thy woes will make them sharp , and pierce like mine .


Why should calamity be full of words ?

Windy attorneys to their client woes ,
Airy succeeders of intestate joys ,
Poor breathing orators of miseries !
Let them have scope : though what they do impart 
Help nothing else , yet do they ease the heart .

If so , then be not tongue-tied : go with me ,
And in the breath of bitter words let's smother 
My damned son , that thy two sweet sons smother'd .

The trumpet sounds : be copious in exclaims .


Who intercepts me in my expedition ?

O ! she that might have intercepted thee ,
By strangling thee in her accursed womb ,
From all the slaughters , wretch , that thou hast done !

Hid'st thou that forehead with a golden crown ,
Where should be branded , if that right were right ,
The slaughter of the prince that ow'd that crown ,
And the dire death of my poor sons and brothers ?
Tell me , thou villain slave , where are my children ?

Thou toad , thou toad , where is thy brother Clarence 
And little Ned Plantagenet , his son ?

Where is the gentle Rivers , Vaughan , Grey ?

Where is kind Hastings ?

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

Either be patient , and entreat me fair ,
Or with the clamorous report of war 
Thus will I drown your exclamations .

Art thou my son ?

Ay ; I thank God , my father , and yourself .

Then patiently hear my impatience .

Madam , I have a touch of your condition ,
That cannot brook the accent of reproof .

O , let me speak !

Do , then ; but I'll not hear .

I will be mild and gentle in my words .

And brief , good mother ; for I am in haste .

Art thou so hasty ? I have stay'd for thee ,
God knows , in torment and in agony .

And came I not at last to comfort you ?

No , by the holy rood , thou know'st it well ,
Thou cam'st on earth to make the earth my hell .
A grievous burden was thy birth to me ;
Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy ;
Thy school-days frightful , desperate , wild and furious ;
Thy prime of manhood daring , bold , and venturous ;
Thy age confirm'd , 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 in thy company ?

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 ,
Let me march on , and not offend you , madam .
Strike up the drum !

I prithee , hear me speak .

You speak too bitterly .

Hear me a word ;
For I shall never speak to thee again .

So !

Either thou wilt die by God's just ordinance ,
Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror ;
Or I with grief and extreme age shall perish 
And never look upon 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 !
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 .


Though far more cause , yet much less spirit to curse 
Abides in me : I say amen to her .


Stay , madam ; I must talk a word with you .

I have no moe sons of the royal blood 
For thee to slaughter : for my daughters , Richard ,
They shall be praying nuns , not weeping queens ;
And therefore level not to hit their lives .

You have a daughter call'd Elizabeth ,
Virtuous and fair , royal and gracious .

And must she die for this ? O ! let her live ,
And I'll corrupt her manners , stain her beauty ;
Slander myself as false to Edward's bed ;
Throw over her the veil of infamy :
So she may live unscarr'd of bleeding slaughter ,
I will confess she was not Edward's daughter .

Wrong not her birth ; she is of royal blood .

To save her life , I'll say she is not so .

Her life is safest only in her birth .

And only in that safety died her brothers .

Lo ! at their births good stars were opposite !

No , to their lives ill friends were contrary .

All unavoided is the doom of destiny .

True , when avoided grace makes destiny .
My babes were destin'd to a fairer death ,
If grace had bless'd thee with a fairer life .

You speak as if that I had slain my cousins .

Cousins , indeed ; and by their uncle cozen'd 
Of comfort , kingdom , kindred , freedom , life .
Whose hands soever lanc'd their tender hearts 
Thy head , all indirectly , gave direction :
No doubt the murderous knife was dull and blunt 
Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart ,
To revel in the entrails of my lambs .
But that still use of grief makes wild grief tame ,
My tongue should to thy ears not name my boys 
Till that my nails were anchor'd 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 .

Madam , so thrive I in my enterprise 
And dangerous success of bloody wars ,
As I intend more good to you and yours 
Than ever you or yours by me were harm'd .

What good is cover'd with the face of heaven ,
To be discover'd , that can do me good ?

The advancement of your children , gentle lady .

Up to some scaffold , there to lose their heads ?

No , to the dignity and height of fortune ,
The high imperial type of this earth's glory .

Flatter my sorrow with report of it :
Tell me what state , what dignity , what honour ,
Canst thou demise to any child of mine ?

Even all I have ; ay , and myself and all ,
Will I withal endow a child of thine ;
So in the Lethe of thy angry soul 
Thou drown the sad remembrance of those wrongs 
Which thou supposest I have done to thee .

Be brief , lest that the process of thy kindness 
Last longer telling than thy kindness' date .

Then know , that from my soul I love thy daughter .

My daughter's mother thinks it with her soul .

What do you think ?

That thou dost love my daughter from thy soul :
So from thy soul's love didst thou love her brothers ;
And from my heart's love I do thank thee for it .

Be not too hasty to confound my meaning :
I mean , that with my soul I love thy daughter ,
And do intend to make her Queen of England .

Well then , who dost thou mean shall be her king ?

Even he that makes her queen : who else should be ?

What ! thou ?

Even so : what think you of it ?

How canst thou woo her ?

That I would learn of you ,
As one being best acquainted with her humour .

And wilt thou learn of me ?

Madam , with all my heart .

Send to her , by the man that slew her brothers ,
A pair of bleeding hearts ; thereon engrave 
Edward and York ; then haply will she weep :
Therefore present to her , as sometime Margaret 
Did to thy father , steep'd in Rutland's blood ,
A handkerchief , which , say to her , did drain 
The purple sap from her sweet brother's body ,
And bid her wipe her weeping eyes withal .
If this inducement move her not to love ,
Send her a letter of thy noble deeds ;
Tell her thou mad'st away her uncle Clarence ,
Her uncle Rivers ; ay , and for her sake ,
Mad'st quick conveyance with her good aunt Anne .

You mock me , madam ; this is not the way 
To win your daughter .

There is no other way 
Unless thou couldst put on some other shape ,
And not be Richard that hath done all this .

Say , that I did all this for love of her ?

Nay , then indeed , she cannot choose but hate thee ,
Having bought love with such a bloody spoil .

Look , what is done cannot be now amended :
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'll give it to your daughter .
If I have kill'd the issue of your womb ,
To quicken your increase , I will beget 
Mine issue of your blood upon your daughter :
A grandam's name is little less in love 
Than is the doting title of a mother ;
They are as children but one step below ,
Even of your 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 
Repair'd 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 , transform'd 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 ;
Prepare her ears to hear a wooer's tale ;
Put in her tender heart the aspiring flame 
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 , dull-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 , C sar's C sar .

What were I best to say ? her father's brother 
Would be her lord ? Or shall I say , her uncle ?
Or , he that slew her brothers and her uncles ?
Under what title shall I woo for thee ,
That God , the law , my honour , and her love 
Can make seem pleasing to her tender years ?

Infer fair England's peace by this alliance .

Which she shall purchase with still lasting war .

Tell her , the king , that may command , entreats .

That at her hands which the king's King forbids .

Say , she shall be a high and mighty queen .

To wail the title , as her mother doth .

Say , I will love her everlastingly .

But how long shall that title 'ever' last ?

Sweetly in force unto her fair life's end .

But how long fairly shall her sweet life last ?

As long as heaven and nature lengthens it .

As long as hell and Richard likes of it .

Say , I , her sovereign , am her subject low .

But she , your subject , loathes such sovereignty .

Be eloquent in my behalf to her .

An honest tale speeds best being plainly told .

Then plainly to her tell my loving tale .

Plain and not honest is too harsh a style .

Your reasons are too shallow and too quick .

O , no ! my reasons are too deep and dead ;
Too deep and dead , poor infants , in their graves .

Harp not on that string , madam ; that is past .

Harp on it still shall I till heart-strings break .

Now , by my George , my garter , and my crown ,

Profan'd , dishonour'd , and the third usurp'd .

I swear ,

By nothing ; for this is no oath .
Thy George , profan'd , hath lost his holy honour ;
Thy garter , blemish'd , pawn'd his knightly virtue ;
Thy crown , usurp'd , disgrac'd his kingly glory .
If something thou wouldst swear to be believ'd ,
Swear , then , by something that thou hast not wrong'd .

Now , by the world ,

'Tis full of thy foul wrongs .

My father's death ,

Thy life hath that dishonour'd .

Then , by myself ,

Thyself is self-misus'd .

Why , then , by God ,

God's wrong is most of all .
If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by him ,
The unity the king my husband made 
Had not been broken , nor my brothers died :
If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by him ,
The imperial metal , circling now thy head ,
Had grac'd the tender temples of my child ,
And both the princes had been breathing here ,
Which now , too tender bed-fellows for dust ,
Thy broken faith hath made a prey for worms .
What canst thou swear by now ?

The time to come .

That thou hast wronged in the time o'erpast ;
For I myself have many tears to wash 
Hereafter time for time past wrong'd by thee .
The children live , whose parents thou hast slaughter'd ,
Ungovern'd youth , to wail it in 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 
Misus'd ere us'd , by times ill-us'd o'erpast .

As I intend to prosper , and repent ,
So thrive I in my dangerous affairs 
Of hostile arms ! myself myself confound !
Heaven and fortune bar me happy hours !
Day , yield me not thy light ; nor , night , thy rest !
Be opposite all planets of good luck 
To my proceeding , if , with pure heart's love ,
Immaculate devotion , holy thoughts ,
I tender not thy beauteous princely daughter !
In her consists my happiness and thine ;
Without her , follows to myself , and thee ,
Herself , the land , and many a Christian soul ,
Death , desolation , ruin , and decay :
It cannot be avoided but by this ;
It will not be avoided but by this .
Therefore , dear mother ,I must call you so ,
Be the attorney of my love to her :
Plead what I will be , not what I have been ;
Not my deserts , but what I will deserve :
Urge the necessity and state of times ,
And be not peevish-fond in great designs .

Shall I be tempted of the devil thus ?

Ay , if the devil tempt thee to do good .

Shall I forget myself to be myself ?

Ay , if your self's remembrance wrong yourself .

Yet thou didst kill my children .

But in your daughter's womb I bury them :
Where , in that nest of spicery , they shall breed 
Selves of themselves , to your recomforture .

Shall I go win my daughter to thy will ?

And be a happy mother by the deed .

I go . Write to me very shortly ,
And you shall understand from me her mind .

Bear her my true love's kiss ; and so farewell .

Relenting fool , and shallow changing woman !

How now ! what news ?

Most mighty sovereign , on the western coast 
Rideth a puissant navy ; to the shores 
Throng many doubtful hollow-hearted friends ,
Unarm'd , and unresolv'd to beat them back .
'Tis thought that Richmond is their admiral ;
And there they hull , expecting but the aid 
Of Buckingham to welcome them ashore .

Some light-foot friend post to the Duke of Norfolk :
Ratcliff , thyself , or Catesby ; where is he ?

Here , my good lord .

Catesby , fly to the duke .

I will , my lord , with all convenient haste .

Ratcliff , come hither . Post to Salisbury :
When thou com'st thither ,

Dull , unmindful villain ,
Why stay'st thou here , and go'st not to the duke ?

First , mighty liege , tell me your highness' pleasure ,
What from your Grace I shall deliver to him .

O ! true , good Catesby : bid him levy straight 
The greatest strength and power he can make ,
And meet me suddenly at Salisbury .

I go .


What , may it please you , shall I do at Salisbury ?

Why , what wouldst thou do there before I go ?

Your highness told me I should post before .


My mind is chang'd . Stanley , what news with you ?

None good , my liege , to please you with the hearing ;
Nor none so bad but well may be reported .

Hoyday , a riddle ! neither good nor bad !
What need'st thou run so many miles about ,
When thou mayst tell thy tale the nearest way ?
Once more , what news ?

Richmond is on the seas .

There let him sink , and be the seas on him !
White-liver'd runagate ! what doth he there ?

I know not , mighty sovereign , but by guess .

Well , as you guess ?

Stirr'd up by Dorset , Buckingham , and Morton ,
He makes for England , here to claim the crown .

Is the chair empty ? is the sword unsway'd ?
Is the king dead ? the empire unpossess'd ?
What heir of York is there alive but we ?
And who is England's king but great York's heir ?
Then , tell me , what makes he upon the seas ?

Unless for that , my liege , I cannot guess .

Unless for that he comes to be your liege ,
You cannot guess wherefore the Welshman comes .
Thou wilt revolt and fly to him I fear .

No , my good lord ; therefore mistrust me not .

Where is thy power then to beat him back ?
Where be thy tenants and thy followers ?
Are they not now upon the western shore ,
Safe-conducting the rebels from their ships ?

No , my good lord , my friends are in the north .

Cold friends to me : what do they in the north 
When they should serve their sovereign in the west ?

They have not been commanded , mighty king :
Pleaseth your majesty to give me leave ,
I'll muster up my friends , and meet your Grace ,
Where and what time your majesty shall please .

Ay , ay , thou wouldst be gone to join with Richmond :
But I'll not trust thee .

Most mighty sovereign ,
You have no cause to hold my friendship doubtful .
I never was nor never will be false .

Go then and muster men : but leave behind 
Your son , George Stanley : look your heart be firm ,
Or else his head's assurance is but frail .

So deal with him as I prove true to you .

My gracious sovereign , now in Devonshire ,
As I by friends am well advertised ,
Sir Edward Courtney , and the haughty prelate ,
Bishop of Exeter , his brother there ,
With many moe confederates are in arms .


In Kent , my liege , the Guildfords are in arms ;
And every hour more competitors 
Flock to the rebels , and their power grows strong .


My lord , the army of great Buckingham 

Out on ye , owls ! nothing but songs of death ?

There , take thou that , till thou bring better news .

The news I have to tell your majesty 
Is , that by sudden floods and fall of waters ,
Buckingham's army is dispers'd and scatter'd ;
And he himself wander'd away alone ,
No man knows whither .

I cry thee mercy :
There is my purse , to cure that blow of thine .
Hath any well-advised friend proclaim'd 
Reward to him that brings the traitor in ?

Such proclamation hath been made , my liege .


Sir Thomas Lovel , and Lord Marquess Dorset ,
'Tis said , my liege , in Yorkshire are in arms :
But this good comfort bring I to your highness ,
The Breton navy is dispers'd by tempest .
Richmond , in Dorsetshire , sent out a boat 
Unto the shore to ask those on the banks 
If they were his assistants , yea or no ;
Who answer'd him , they came from Buckingham 
Upon his party : he , mistrusting them ,
Hois'd sail , and made away for Brittany .

March on , march on , since we are up in arms ;
If not to fight with foreign enemies ,
Yet to beat down these rebels here at home .


My liege , the Duke of Buckingham is taken ,
That is the best news : that the Earl of Richmond 
Is with a mighty power landed at Milford 
Is colder news , but yet they must be told .

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 .


Sir Christopher , tell Richmond this from me :
That in the sty of this most bloody 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 now ?

At Pembroke , or at Ha'rford-west , in Wales .

What men of name resort to him ?

Sir Walter Herbert , a renowned soldier ,
Sir Gilbert Talbot , Sir William Stanley ,
Oxford , redoubted Pembroke , Sir James Blunt ,
And Rice ap Thomas , with a valiant crew ;
And many other of great name and worth :
And towards London do they bend their power ,
If by the way they be not fought withal .

Well , hie thee to thy lord ; I kiss his hand :
My letter will resolve him of my mind .
Farewell .

Will not King Richard let me speak with him ?

No , my good lord ; therefore be patient .

Hastings , and Edward's children , Grey and Rivers ,
Holy King Henry , and thy fair son Edward ,
Vaughan , and all that have miscarried 
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 , fellows , is it not ?

It is , my lord .

Why , then All-Souls' day is my body's doomsday .
This is the day that , 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 
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 on 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 .

Fellows in arms , and my most loving friends ,
Bruis'd underneath the yoke of tyranny ,
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 spoil'd your summer fields and fruitful vines ,
Swills your warm blood like wash , and makes his trough 
In your embowell'd bosoms , this foul swine 
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 .

Every man's conscience is a thousand men ,
To fight against this guilty homicide .

I doubt not but his friends will turn to us .

He hath no friends but what are friends for fear ,
Which in his dearest need will fly from him .

All for our vantage : then , in God's name , march :
True hope is swift , and flies with swallow's wings ;
Kings it makes gods , and meaner creatures kings .


Here pitch our tent , even here in Bosworth field .
My Lord of Surrey , why look you so sad ?

My heart is ten times lighter than my looks .

My Lord of Norfolk ,

Here , most gracious liege .

Norfolk , we must have knocks ; ha ! must we not ?

We must both give and take , my loving lord .

Up with my tent ! here will I lie to-night ;

But where to-morrow ? Well , all's one for that .
Who hath descried the number of the traitors ?

Six or seven thousand is their utmost power .

Why , our battalia trebles that account ;
Besides , the king's name is a tower of strength ,
Which they upon the adverse faction want .
Up with the tent ! Come , noble gentlemen ,
Let us survey the vantage of the ground ;
Call for some men of sound direction :
Let's lack no discipline , make no delay ;
For , lords , to-morrow is a busy day .


The weary sun hath made a golden set ,
And , by the bright track of his fiery car ,
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'll draw the form and model of our battle ,
Limit each leader to his several charge ,
And part in just proportion our small power .
My Lord of Oxford , you , Sir William Brandon ,
And you , Sir Walter Herbert , stay with me .
The Earl of Pembroke keeps his regiment :
Good Captain Blunt , bear my good-night to him ,
And by the second hour in the morning 
Desire the earl to see me in my tent .
Yet one thing more , good captain , do for me ;
Where is Lord Stanley quarter'd , do you know ?

Unless I have mista'en his colours much ,
Which , well I am assur'd , I have not done ,
His regiment lies half a mile at least 
South from the mighty power of the king .

If without peril it be possible ,
Good Captain Blunt , bear my good-night to him ,
And give him from me this most needful note .

Upon my life , my lord , I'll undertake it ;
And so , God give you quiet rest to-night !

Good-night , good Captain Blunt . Come , gentlemen ,
Let us consult upon to-morrow's business ;
In to my tent , the air is raw and cold .

What is 't o'clock ?

It's supper-time , my lord ;
It's nine o'clock .

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 into my tent ?

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

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

I go , my lord .

Stir with the lark to-morrow , gentle Norfolk .

I warrant you , my lord .


Ratcliff !

My lord ?

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 .
Saddle white Surrey for the field to-morrow .
Look that my staves be sound , and not too heavy .
Ratcliff !

My lord !

Saw'st thou the melancholy Lord Northumberland ?

Thomas the Earl of Surrey , and himself ,
Much about cock-shut time , from troop to troop 
Went through the army , cheering up the soldiers .

So , I am satisfied . Give me a bowl of wine :
I have not that alacrity of spirit ,
Nor cheer of mind , that I was wont to have .
Set it down . Is ink and paper ready ?

It is , my lord .

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 .


Fortune and victory sit on thy helm !

All comfort that the dark night can afford 
Be to thy person , noble father-in-law !
Tell me , how fares our loving mother ?

I , by attorney , bless thee from thy mother ,
Who prays continually for Richmond's good :
So much for that . The silent hours steal on ,
And flaky darkness breaks within the east .
In brief , for so the season bids us be ,
Prepare thy battle early in the morning ,
And put thy fortune to the arbitrement 
Of bloody strokes and mortal-staring war .
I , as I may ,that which I would I cannot ,
With best advantage will deceive the time ,
And aid thee in this doubtful shock of arms :
But on thy side I may not be too forward ,
Lest , being seen , thy brother , tender George ,
Be executed in his father's sight .
Farewell : the leisure and the fearful time 
Cuts off the ceremonious vows of love 
And ample interchange of sweet discourse ,
Which so long sunder'd friends should dwell upon :
God give us leisure for these rites of love !
Once more , adieu : be valiant , and speed well !

Good lords , conduct him to his regiment .
I'll strive , with troubled thoughts , to take a nap ,
Lest leaden slumber peise me down to-morrow ,
When I should mount with wings of victory .
Once more , good-night , kind lords and gentlemen .

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 !
To thee I do commend my watchful soul ,
Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes :
Sleeping and waking , O ! defend me still !

Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow !
Think how thou stab'dst me in my prime of youth 
At Tewksbury : despair , therefore , and die !
Be cheerful , Richmond ; for the wronged souls 
Of butcher'd princes fight in thy behalf :
King Henry's issue , Richmond , comforts thee .


When I was mortal , my anointed body 
By thee was punched full of deadly holes :
Think on the Tower and me ; despair and die !
Henry the Sixth bids thee despair and die .


Virtuous and holy , be thou conqueror !
Harry , that prophesied thou shouldst be the king ,
Doth comfort thee in thy sleep : live thou and flourish !


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 !
To-morrow in the battle think on me ,
And fall thy edgeless sword : despair , and die !


Thou offspring of the house of Lancaster ,
The wronged heirs of York do pray for thee :
Good angels guard thy battle ! live , and flourish !


Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow !
Rivers , that died at Pomfret ! despair , and die !

Think upon Grey , and let thy soul despair .

Think upon Vaughan , and with guilty fear 
Let fall thy pointless lance : despair , and die !

Awake ! and think our wrongs in Richard's bosom 
Will conquer him : awake , and win the day !


Bloody and guilty , guiltily awake ;
And in a bloody battle end thy days !
Think on Lord Hastings , so despair , and die !


Quiet , untroubled soul , awake , awake !
Arm , fight , and conquer , for fair England's sake !


Dream on thy cousins smother'd in the Tower :
Let us be lead within thy bosom , Richard ,
And weigh thee down to ruin , shame , and death !
Thy nephews' souls bid thee despair , and die !


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 .


Richard , thy wife , that wretched Anne thy wife ,
That never slept a quiet hour with thee ,
Now fills thy sleep with perturbations :
To-morrow in the battle think on me ,
And fall thy edgeless sword : despair , and die !


Thou quiet soul , sleep thou a quiet sleep ;
Dream of success and happy victory !
Thy adversary's wife doth pray for thee .


The first was I that help'd thee to the crown ;
The last was I that felt thy tyranny .
O ! in the battle think on Buckingham ,
And die in terror of thy guiltiness !
Dream on , dream on , of bloody deeds and death :
Fainting , despair ; despairing , yield thy breath !


I died for hope ere I could lend thee aid :
But cheer thy heart , and be thou not dismay'd :
God and good angels fight on Richmond's side ;
And Richard falls in height of all his pride .


Give me another horse ! bind up my wounds !
Have mercy , Jesu ! Soft ! I did but dream .
O coward conscience , how dost thou afflict me !
The lights burn blue . It is now dead midnight .
Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh .
What ! do I fear myself ? there's none else by :
Richard loves Richard , that is , I am I .
Is there a murderer here ? No . Yes , I am :
Then fly : what ! from myself ? Great reason why :
Lest I revenge . What ! myself upon myself ?
Alack ! I love myself . Wherefore ? for any good 
That I myself have done unto myself ?
O ! no : alas ! I rather hate myself 
For hateful deeds committed by myself .
I am a villain . Yet I lie ; I am not .
Fool , of thyself speak well : fool , do not flatter .
My conscience hath a thousand several tongues ,
And every tongue brings in a several tale ,
And every tale condemns me for a villain .
Perjury , perjury , in the high'st degree :
Murder , stern murder , in the dir'st degree ;
All several sins , all us'd in each degree ,
Throng to the bar , crying all , 'Guilty ! guilty !' 
I shall despair . There is no creature loves me ;
And if I die , no soul will pity me :
Nay , wherefore should they , since that I myself 
Find in myself no pity to myself ?
Methought the souls of all that I had murder'd 
Came to my tent ; and every one did threat 
To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard .


My lord !

'Zounds ! who's there ?

Ratcliff , my lord ; 'tis I . The early village cock 
Hath twice done salutation to the morn ;
Your friends are up , and buckle on their armour .

O Ratcliff ! I have dream'd a fearful dream .
What thinkest thou , will our friends prove all true ?

No doubt , my lord .

O Ratcliff ! I fear , I fear ,

Nay , good my lord , be not afraid of shadows .

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 .
It is not yet near day . Come , go with me ;
Under our tents I'll play the eaves-dropper ,
To hear if any mean to shrink from me .

Good morrow , Richmond !

Cry mercy , lords , and watchful gentlemen ,
That you have ta'en a tardy sluggard here .

How have you slept , my lord ?

The sweetest sleep , the fairest-boding dreams 
That ever enter'd in a drowsy head ,
Have I since your departure had , my lords .
Methought their souls , whose bodies Richard murder'd ,
Came to my tent and cried on victory :
I promise you , my heart is very jocund 
In the remembrance of so fair a dream .
How far into the morning is it , lords ?

Upon the stroke of four .

Why , then 'tis time to arm and give direction .
His oration to his Soldiers .
More than I have said , loving countrymen ,
The leisure and enforcement of the time 
Forbids to dwell on : yet remember this ,
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 rais'd in blood , and one in blood establish'd ;
One that made means to come by what he hath ,
And slaughter'd those that were the means to help him ;
A base foul stone , made precious by the foil 
Of England's chair , where he is falsely set ;
One that hath ever been God's enemy .
Then , if you fight against God's enemy ,
God will in justice , ward you as his soldiers ;
If you do sweat to put a tyrant down ,
You sleep in peace , the tyrant being slain ;
If you do fight against your country's foes ,
Your country's fat shall pay your pains the hire ;
If you do fight in safeguard of your wives ,
Your wives shall welcome home the conquerors ;
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 corse on the earth's cold face ;
But if I thrive , the gain of my attempt 
The least of your shall share his part thereof .
Sound drums and trumpets , boldly and cheerfully ;
God and Saint George ! Richmond and victory !

What said Northumberland as touching Richmond ?

That he was never trained up in arms .

He said the truth : and what said Surrey then ?

He smil'd , and said , 'The better for our purpose .' 

He was i' the right ; and so , indeed , it is .

Tell the clock there . Give me a calendar .
Who saw the sun to-day ?

Not I , my lord .

Then he disdains to shine ; for by the book 
He should have brav'd the east an hour ago :
A black day will it be to somebody .
Ratcliff !

My lord ?

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 ! Why , what is that to me 
More than to Richmond ? for the self-same heaven 
That frowns on me looks sadly upon him .


Arm , arm , my lord ! the foe vaunts in the field .

Come , bustle , bustle ; caparison my horse .
Call up Lord Stanley , bid him bring his power :
I will lead forth my soldiers to the plain ,
And thus my battle shall be ordered :
My foreward 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 this foot and horse .
They thus directed , we will follow 
In the main battle , whose puissance on either side 
Shall be well winged with our chiefest horse .
This , and Saint George to boot ! What think'st thou , Norfolk ?

A good direction , war-like sovereign .
This found I on my tent this morning .


Jockey of Norfolk , be not too bold ,
For Dickon thy master is bought and sold .
A thing devised by the enemy .
Go , gentlemen ; every man to his charge :
Let not our babbling dreams affright our souls ;
Conscience is but a word that cowards use ,
Devis'd 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 .
His oration to his Army .
What shall I say more than I have inferr'd ?
Remember whom you are to cope withal :
A sort of vagabonds , rascals , and run-aways ,
A scum of Bretons and base lackey peasants ,
Whom their o'er-cloyed country vomits forth 
To desperate adventures and assur'd destruction .
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 Britaine at our mother's cost ?
A milksop , one that never in his life 
Felt so much cold as over shoes in snow ?
Let's whip these stragglers o'er the sea again ;
Lash hence these overweening rags of France ,
These famish'd beggars , weary of their lives ;
Who , but for dreaming on this fond exploit ,
For want of means , poor rats , had hang'd themselves :
If we be conquer'd , 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 .
Shall these enjoy our lands ? lie with our wives ?
Ravish our daughters ?

Hark ! I hear their drum .
Fight , gentlemen of England ! fight , bold yeomen !
Draw , archers , draw your arrows to the head !
Spur your proud horses hard , and ride in blood ;
Amaze the welkin with your broken staves !

What says Lord Stanley ? will he bring his power ?

My lord , he doth deny to come .

Off with his son George's head !

My lord , the enemy is pass'd the marsh :
After the battle let George Stanley die .

A thousand hearts are great within my bosom :
Advance our standards ! set upon our foes !
Our ancient word of courage , fair Saint George ,
Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons !
Upon them ! Victory sits upon our helms .


Rescue , my Lord of Norfolk ! rescue , rescue !
The king enacts more wonders than a man ,
Daring an opposite to every danger :
His horse is slain , and all on foot he fights ,
Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death .
Rescue , fair lord , or else the day is lost !


A horse ! a horse ! my kingdom for a horse !

Withdraw , my lord ; I'll help you to a horse .

Slave ! I have set my life upon a cast ,
And I will stand the hazard of the die .
I think there be six Richmonds in the field ;
Five have I slain to-day , instead of him .
A horse ! a horse ! my kingdom for a horse !

God and your arms be prais'd , victorious friends ;
The day is ours , the bloody dog is dead .

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 .

Great God of heaven , say amen to all !
But , tell me , is young George Stanley living ?

He is , my lord , and safe in Leicester town ;
Whither , if you please , we may withdraw us .

What men of name are slain on either side ?

John Duke of Norfolk , Walter Lord Ferrers ,
Sir Robert Brakenbury , and Sir William Brandon .

Inter their bodies as becomes their births :
Proclaim a pardon to the soldiers fied 
That in submission will return to us ;
And then , as we have ta'en the sacrament ,
We will unite the white rose and the red :
Smile , heaven , upon this fair conjunction ,
That long 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 slaughter'd his own son ,
The son , compell'd , been butcher to the sire :
All this divided York and Lancaster ,
Divided in their dire division ,
O ! now , let Richmond and Elizabeth ,
The true succeeders of each royal house ,
By God's fair ordinance conjoin together ;
And let their heirs God , if thy will be so ,
Enrich the time to come with smooth-fac'd peace ,
With smiling plenty , and fair prosperous days !
Abate the edge of traitors , gracious Lord ,
That would reduce these bloody days again ,
And make poor England weep in streams of blood !
Let them not live to taste this land's increase ,
That would with treason wound this fair land's peace !
Now civil wounds are stopp'd , peace lives again :
That she may long live here , God say amen !