Go home to bed, and like the owl by day,
If he arise, be mock'd and wonder'd at.
Q. Mar. Thanks, gentle Somerset; sweet
Oxford, thanks.
Prince. And take his thanks that yet hath nothing else.
Mess. Prepare you, lords, for Edward is at hand,
Ready to fight; therefore be resolute.
Oxf. I thought no less: it is his policy To haste thus fast, to find us unprovided.
Som. But he's deceived; we are in readiness. Q. Mar. This cheers my heart, to see your forwardness.
Oxf. Here pitch our battle; hence we will not budge.
Flourish and march. Enter KING EDWARD, GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE, and soldiers.
K. Edw. Brave followers, yonder stands the thorny wood,
Which, by the heavens' assistance and your strength,
Must by the roots be hewn up yet ere night.
I need not add more fuel to your fire,
For well I wot ye blaze to burn them out:
Give signal to the fight, and to it, lords!
Q. Mar. Lords, knights, and gentlemen, what
I should say
My tears gainsay; for every word I speak,
Ye see, I drink the water of mine eyes.
Therefore, no more but this: Henry, your sove-
reign,
Is prisoner to the foe; his state usurp'd,
His realm a slaughter-house, his subjects slain,
His statutes cancell'd and his treasure spent ;
And yonder is the wolf that makes this spoil. 80
You fight in justice: then, in God's name, lords,
Be valiant and give signal to the fight.
[Alarum: Retreat: Excursions. Exeunt.
SCENE V. Another part of the field. Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD, GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE, and soldiers; with QUEEN MARGARET, OXFORD, and SOMERSET, prisoners.
K. Edw. Now here a period of tumultuous broils.
Away with Oxford to Hames Castle straight:
For Somerset, off with his guilty head.
Go, bear them hence; I will not hear them speak. Oxf. For my part, I'll not trouble thee with words.
Som. Nor I, but stoop with patience to my fortune.
[Exeunt Oxford and Somerset, guarded. Q. Mar. So part we sadly in this troublous world,
To meet with joy in sweet Jerusalem.
K. Edw. Is proclamation made, that who finds
Edward
Shall have a high reward, and he his life?
Glew. It is: and lo, where youthful Edward
Enter soldiers, with PRINCE EDWARD. K. Edw. Bring forth the gallant, let us hear him speak.
What! can so young a thorn begin to prick?
Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make
For bearing arms, for stirring up my subjects,
And all the trouble thou hast turn'd me to?
Prince. Speak like a subject, proud ambitious
York!
Suppose that I am now my father's mouth; Resign thy chair, and where I stand kneel thou, Whilst I propose the selfsame words to thee, 20 Which, traitor, thou wouldst have me answer to. Q. Mar. Ah, that thy father had been so re
Glou That you might still have worn the petticoat,
And ne'er have stol'n the breech from Lancaster.
Prince. Let Æsop fable in a winter's night;
His currish riddles sort not with this place.
Glou. By heaven, brat, I'll plague ye for that
word.
Q. Mar. Ay, thou wast born to be a plague
Glou. For God's sake, take away this captive 'scold.
Prince. Nay, take away this scolding crookback rather.
30 K. Edw. Peace, wilful boy, or I will charm your tongue.
Clar. Untutor'd lad, thou art too malapert. Prince. I know my duty; you are all undutiful:
Lascivious Edward, and thou perjured George, And thou mis-shapen Dick, I tell ye all
I am your better, traitors as ye are : And thou usurp'st my father's right and mine. K. Edw. Take that, thou likeness of this railer here. [Stabs him.
Glou. Sprawl'st thou? take that, to end thy [Stabs him.
Cla. And there's for twitting me with per
Q. Mar. O, kill me too! Glou. Marry, and shall.
K. Edw. Hold, Richard, hold; for we have done too much.
Glou. Why should she live, to fill the world with words?
K. Edw. What, doth she swoon? use means for her recovery.
Glou. Clarence, excuse me to the king my brother;
I'll hence to London on a serious matter:
Ere ye come there, be sure to hear some news.
Clar. What? what?
Glou. The Tower, the Tower. [Exit. 50 Q. Mar. O Ned, sweet Ned! speak to thy mother, boy!
Canst thou not speak? O traitors! murderers!
They that stabb'd Cæsar shed no blood at all,
Did not offend, nor were not worthy blame,
If this foul deed were by to equal it:
He was a man; this, in respect, a child:
And men ne'er spend their fury on a child.
What's worse than murderer, that I may name it?
No, no, my heart will burst, an if I speak :
And I will speak, that so my heart may burst. 60
Butchers and villains! bloody cannibals!
How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp'd!
You have no children, butchers! if you had,
The thought of them would have stirr'd up re-
But if you ever chance to have a child,
Look in his youth to have him so cut off
As, deathsmen, you have rid this sweet young
prince!
K. Edw. Away with her; go, bear her hence perforce.
Q. Mar. Nay, never bear me hence, dispatch me here;
Here sheathe thy sword, I'll pardon thee my
death:
70
What, wilt thou not? then, Clarence, do it thou.
Clar. By heaven, I will not do thee so much
Q. Mar. Good Clarence, do; sweet Clarence, do thou do it.
Clar. Didst thou not hear me swear I would not do it?
Q. Mar. Ay, but thou usest to forswear thyself:
"Twas sin before, but now 'tis charity.
What, wilt thou not? Where is that devil's but-
cher,
Hard-favour'd Richard? Richard, where art thou?
Thou art not here: murder is thy alms-deed;
Petitioners for blood thou ne'er put'st back.
K. Edw. Away, I say; I charge ye, bear her
hence.
And I, the hapless male to one sweet bird,
Have now the fatal object in my eye
Where my poor young was limed, was caught
and kill'd.
Glou. Why, what a peevish fool was that of
Crete,
That taught his son the office of a fowl!
And yet, for all his wings, the fool was drown'd."
K. Hen. I, Dædalus; my poor boy, Icarus;
Thy father, Minos, that denied our course:
The sun that sear'd the wings of my sweet boy
Thy brother Edward, and thyself the sea
Whose envious gulf did swallow up his life.
Ah, kill me with thy weapon, not with words!
My breast can better brook thy dagger's point
Than can my ears that tragic history.
But wherefore dost thou come? is't for my life!
Glou. Think'st thou I am an executioner? 30
K. Hen. A persecutor, I am sure, thou art:
If murdering innocents be executing,
Why, then thou art an executioner.
Glou. Thy son I kill'd for his presumption.
K. Hen. Hadst thou been kill'd when first
thou didst presume,
Thou hadst not lived to kill a son of mine.
And thus I prophesy, that many a thousand,
Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear,
And many an old man's sigh and many a widow's,
And many an orphan's water-standing eye- 40
80 Men for their sons, wives for their husbands,
And orphans for their parents' timeless death-
Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born.
The owl shriek'd at thy birth,-an evil sign;
The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time;
Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempest shook down
trees;
Q. Mar. So come to you and yours, as to this prince! [Exit, led out forcibly. K.Edw. Where's Richard gone? Clar. To London, all in post; and, as I guess, To make a bloody supper in the Tower.
K. Edw. He's sudden, if a thing comes in his
head.
Now march we hence: discharge the common sort
With pay and thanks, and let's away to London
And see our gentle queen how well she fares:
By this, I hope, she hath a son for me.
SCENE VI. London. The Tower. Enter KING HENRY and GLOUCESTER, with the Lieutenant, on the walls.
Glou. Good day, my lord. What, at your book so hard?
K. Hen. Ay, my good lord:-my lord, I
should say rather;
'Tis sin to flatter; 'good' was little better:
'Good Gloucester' and 'good devil' were alike,
And both preposterous; therefore, not 'good
lord.'
Glou. Sirrah, leave us to ourselves: we must
[Exit Lieutenant.
K. Hen. So flies the reckless shepherd from
the wolf:
So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece
And next his throat unto the butcher's knife.
What scene of death hath Roscius now to act? 10
Glou. Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind;
The thief doth fear each bush an officer.
K. Hen. The bird that hath been limed in a
bush,
With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush;
The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top,
And chattering pies in dismal discords sung.
Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain,
And yet brought forth less than a mother's hope, ¦
To wit, an indigested and deformed lump,
Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree.
Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wast
born,
To signify thou camest to bite the world:
And, if the rest be true which I have heard,
Thou camest-
Glou. I'll hear no more: die, prophet, in thy
speech:
[Stabs him
For this, amongst the rest, was I ordain'd.
K. Hen. Ay, and for much more slaughter
after this.
O, God forgive my sins, and pardon thee! [Dies.
Glou. What, will the aspiring blood of Lan-
And this word 'love,' which greybeards call divine,
Be resident in men like one another
And not in me: I am myself alone.
Thus have we swept suspicion from our seat
And made our footstool of security.
Come hither, Bess, and let me kiss my boy.
Young Ned, for thee, thine uncles and myself
Have in our armours watch'd the winter's night,
Went all afoot in summer's scalding heat,
That thou mightst repossess the crown in peace;
And of our labours thou shalt reap the gain.
Glou. [Aside] I'll blast his harvest, if your
head were laid;
For yet I am not look'd on in the world.
Clarence, beware; thou keep'st me from the light: This shoulder was ordain'd so thick to heave;
But I will sort a pitchy day for thee;
For I will buz abroad such prophecies
That Edward shall be fearful of his life,
And then, to purge his fear, I'll be thy death.
King Henry and the prince his son are gone:
Clarence, thy turn is next, and then the rest, 90
Counting myself but bad till I be best.
I'll throw thy body in another room
And triumph, Henry, in thy day of doom.
SCENE VII. London. The palace. Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD, QUEEN ELIZABETH, CLARENCE, GLOUCESTER, HASTINGS, a Nurse with the young Prince, and At tendants.
K. Edw. Once more we sit in England's royal throne,
Re-purchased with the blood of enemies.
What valiant foemen, like to autumn's corn,
Have we mow'd down in tops of all their pride!
Three Dukes of Somerset, threefold renown'd
For hardy and undoubted champions;
Two Cliffords, as the father and the son,
And two Northumberlands; two braver men
Ne'er spurr'd their coursers at the trumpet's
With them, the two brave bears, Warwick and
Montague,
That in their chains fetter'd the kingly lion
And made the forest tremble when they roar'd.
And heave it shall some weight, or break my back:
Work thou the way,-and thou shalt execute. K. Edw. Clarence and Gloucester, love my lovely queen:
And kiss your princely nephew, brothers both. Clar. The duty that I owe unto your majesty I seal upon the lips of this sweet babe.
Q. Eliz. Thanks, noble Clarence; worthy brother, thanks.
Glou. And, that I love the tree from whence thou sprang'st,
Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit. [Aside] To say the truth, so Judas kiss'd his
And cried 'all hail!' when as he meant all harm. K. Edw. Now am I seated as my soul delights,
Having my country's peace and brothers' loves.
Clar. What will your grace have done with
Margaret?
Reignier, her father, to the king of France
Hath pawn'd the Sicils and Jerusalem,
And hither have they sent it for her ransom.
K. Edw. Away with her, and waft her hence
to France.
And now what rests but that we spend the time
With stately triumphs, mirthful comic shows,
Such as befits the pleasure of the court?
Sound drums and trumpets! farewell sour annoy!
For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy.
SCENE I. London. A street.
Enter RICHARD, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, solus.
Glou. 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-visaged war hath smooth'd his wrinkled
front;
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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 shaped 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
SIR JAMES TYRREL.
SIR JAMES BLOUNT.
SIR WALTER HERBERT.
SIR ROBERT BRAKENBURY, Lieutenant of the Tower.
CHRISTOPHER URSWICK, a priest. Another
TRESSEL and BERKELEY, gentlemen attending on the Lady Anne. Lord Mayor of London.
ELIZABETH, queen to King Edward IV. MARGARET, widow of King Henry VI. DUCHESS OF YORK, mother to King Edward IV. LADY ANNE, widow of Edward Prince of Wales, son to King Henry VI.; afterwards married to Richard.
A young Daughter of Clarence (MARGARET PLANTAGENET).
Ghosts of those murdered by Richard III., Lords and other Attendants; a Pursuivant, Scrivener, Citizens, Murderers, Messengers, Soldiers, &c.
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 spy 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
Enter CLARENCE, guarded, and BRAKENBURY.
Brother, good day: what means this armed guard
That waits upon your grace?
Clar.
His majesty,
Tendering my person's safety, hath appointed
This conduct to convey me to the Tower.
He should, for that, commit your godfathers:
O, belike his majesty hath some intent
That you shall be new-christen'd in the Tower. 50
But what's the matter, Clarence? may I know?
Clar. 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 moved his highness to commit me now.
Glou. Why, this it is, when men are ruled by
'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,
Anthony 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.
Clar. By heaven, I think there's no man is
But the queen's kindred and night-walking heralds
That trudge betwixt the king and Mistress Shore.
Heard ye not what an humble suppliant
Lord Hastings was to her for his delivery?
Glou. 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'erworn widow and herself,
Since that our brother dubb'd them gentlewomen,
Are mighty gossips in this monarchy.
I will deliver you, or else lie for you:
Meantime, have patience.
Clar.
I must perforce.
[Exeunt Clarence, Brakenbury, and Guard.
Glou. 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. 120
But who comes here? the new-deliver'd Hastings?
Hast. Good time of day unto my gracious lord!
Glou. As much unto my good lord chamberlain !
Well are you welcome to the open air.
How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment?
Hast. With patience, noble lord, as prisoners
But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks
That were the cause of my imprisonment.
Glou. No doubt, no doubt; and so shall
Clarence too;
For they that were your enemies are his, 80 And have prevail'd as much on him as you. Hast. More pity that the eagle should be mew'd,
Brak. Í beseech your graces both to pardon
His majesty hath straitly given in charge
That no man shall have private conference,
Of what degree soever, with his brother.
Glou. Even so; an't please your worship,
Brakenbury,
You may partake of any thing 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
While kites and buzzards prey at liberty.
Glou. What news abroad?
Hast. No news so bad abroad as this at home;
The king is sickly, weak and melancholy,
And his physicians fear him mightily.
Glou. Now, by Saint Paul, this news is bad
indeed.
O, he hath kept an evil diet long,
And overmuch consumed his royal person:
90 'Tis very grievous to be thought upon.
What, is he in his bed?
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 gentle
Glou. Go you before, and I will follow you.
[Exit Hastings.
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?
Her husband, knave: wouldst thou The readiest way to make the wench amends betray me?
Is to become her husband and her father:
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