Abbildungen der Seite

llast. 0, 'twas the foulest deed to slay that babe, And the most merciless that ere was heard of!

Riv. Tyrants themselves wept when it was reported.
Dor. No man but prophesied revenge for it.
Buck. Northumberland, then present, wept to see it.

Q. Yar. 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 woiul banishment,
Could 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 !
If not by war, by surfeit die your king,
As ours by murder, to make him a king!
Edward, ihy son, which now is Prince of Wales,
For Edward my son, which was Prince of Wales,

200 Die in his youth by like untimely violence! Thyself a queen, for me that was a queen, Onlive 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 lours of grief, Die neither mother, wife, por England's queen! Rivers and Dorset, you were standers by,

210 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!

Glou. Have done thy charm, thou hateful wither'd hag! Q. Mar. 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, 0, let them keep it till thy sins be ripe, And then hurl down their indignation

220 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 livest, And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends! No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine, Unless it be whilst some tormenting dream Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils! Thou elvish-mark'd, abortive, rooting hog!


Thou that wast seald 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-

Glou, Margaret.
Q. Mar. Richard!

Q. Mar.

I call thee not.
Glou. I cry tliee mercy then, for I had thought
That thou hadst call'd me all these bitter names.

Q. Mar. Why, so I did; but look'd for uo reply. 0, let me make the period to my curse! Glou. 'Tis done by me, and ends “Margaret.” 2. Eliz. Thus have you breathed your curse against yourself.

240 B. Mar. Poor painted queen, vain flourish of my fortune! Why strew'st thou sugar on that bottlcd spider, Whose deadly web ensnareth thicc about! Fool, fool! thou whet’st a knife to kill thyself. The time will come when thou shalt wish for me To help thee curse that poisonous bunch-back'd toad.

Hast. False-boding woman, end thy frantic curse, Lest to thy harm thou move our patience. Q. Mar. Foul shame upon you! you have all moved

mine. Rio. Were you well served, you would be taught your duty.

250 Q. Můr. To serve me well, you all should do me duty, Teach me to be your queen, and you my subjects: 0, serve me well, and teach yourselves that duty!

Dor. Dispute not with her; she is lunatic.

Q. Mar. 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. 260

Gloul. Good counsel, marry: learn it, learn it, marquess.
Dor. It touchetli you, my lord, as much as me.

Glou. Yea, and much more: but I was born so high,
Our acry buildeth in the cedar's top,
And dailies with the wind and scorns the sun.

Q. Mar. 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.

You aery buildeth in our aery's nest.

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

Buck. Have done! for shame, if not for charity.

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

Buck. Have done, have done.

Q: Mar. O princely Buckingham, I'll kiss thy hand, 280 In sign of league and amity with thee: Now fair befal thee and thy noble house! Thy garments are not spotied with our blood; Nor thou within the compass of my curse.

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

R. Mar. I'll not believe but they ascend the sky,
And there a wake God's gentle-sleeping peace.
O Buckingham, take heed of yonder dog!
Look, when he fawns, he bites; and when he bites, 290
His venom tooth will rankle to the deat:
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.

Giou. What doth she say, my Lord of Buckingham?
Buck. Nothing that I respoci, my gracious lord.

Q. Mar. What, dost thou scorn me for my gentle counsel?
And soothe the devil that I warn thee from?
O, but remember this another day,
When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow, 300
And say poor Margaret was a prophetess!
Live cach of you the subjects to his hate,
And he to yours, and all of you to God's!

Hast. My hair doth stand on end to hear her curses.
Rin. And so doth mine: I muse why she's at liberty.

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

Q. Eliz. I never did her any, to my knowledge.

Glou. But you have all the vantage of her wrong. 310 I was too lot to do somebody good, That is too cold in thinking of it now. Marry, as for Clarence, he is well repaid; lle is frank'l up to fatting for his pains: God pardon them that are the cause of it!

Riv. A virtuous and a Christian-like conclusion,


for them that have done scathc to us.
Glou. So do I ever: [.Aside] being well advised.
For had I cursed now, I had cursed myself.

Cates. Madam, bis majesty doth call for you;
And for your grace; and you, my noble lords.

321 Q: Eliz. Catesby, we come. Lords, will you go with us? Řiv. Madam, we will attend your grace.

[Ereunt all but Gloucester, Glou. I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl. The secrct mischiefs that I set abroach I lay unto the grievous charge of others. Clarence, whom I, indeed, lave laid in darkness, I do beweep to many simple gulls; Namely, to Hastings, Derby, Buckingham; And say it is the queen and her allies

That stir the king against the duke my brother.
Now, they believe it; and witial whet me
To be revenged 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 old odd ends stolen out of holy writ;
And seem a saint, when most I play the devil.

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

340 Are you now going to dispatch this deed? First Mur. We are, my lord; and come to have the war

rant, That we may be admitted where he is. Glou. Well thought upon; I have it here about me.

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

350 Fear not, my lord, we will not stand to prate; Talkers are no good doers: be assured We come to use our hands and uot our tongues. (lou. Your eyes drop millstones, when fools' eyes drop


I like you, lads; about your business straight;
Go, go, dispatch.

First Murd. We will, my nobile lord.


SCENE IV. London, The Tower.

Brak. Why looks your grace so heavily to-day?

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

Brak. What was your dream? I long to hear you tell it.

Clar. Metlioughits that I had broken from the Tower, And was embark'l to cross to Burgundy;

10 And, in my company, my brother Gloucester; Who from my cabin tempted me to walk l'pon the hatches: thence we look'd toward England, And cited up a thousand fearful times, During the wars of York and Lancaster That had befall’n 11s. As we paced along Upon the giddy footing of the batches, Methought that Gloucester stumbled; and, in falling, Struck ine, that thought to stay lum, overboard, Into the tumbling billows of the main.

20 Lord, Lorl! methought, what pain it was to drown! What dreadful noise of waters in mine cars! What ugly sights of death within mine eyes! Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks; Ten thousand men that fishes gnaw'd upon; Wedges of gold, great anchors, leaps of pearl, Inestimable stones, unvalueil jewels, All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea: Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those holes Where cres did once inhabit, there were crept,

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

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

Clar: Methought I had; and often did I strive
To yield the ghost: but still the envious flood
Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth
To seek the empty, vast and wandering air;

« ZurückWeiter »