Richard III (4 page)

RICHARD
    Now is the winter of our discontent

Made glorious summer by this
son of York
²
:

And all the clouds that
loured
³
upon our house

In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.

Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths,

Our bruisèd
arms
⁶
hung up for monuments,

Our stern
alarums
⁷
changed to merry meetings,

Our
dreadful
marches to delightful
measures.
⁸

Grim-visaged war hath smoothed his wrinkled
front
⁹
,

And now, instead of mounting
barbèd
¹⁰
steeds

To fright the souls of
fearful
¹¹
adversaries.

He
capers
nimbly in a lady’s
chamber
¹²

To the lascivious
pleasing
¹³
of a lute.

But I, that am not shaped for
sportive
tricks
¹⁴
,

Nor made to
court an amorous looking-glass
¹⁵
:

I, that am
rudely stamped
, and
want
¹⁶
love’s majesty

To strut before a
wanton
ambling
¹⁷
nymph:

I, that am
curtailed
¹⁸
of this fair proportion,

Cheated of
feature
by
dissembling
¹⁹
nature,

Deformed, unfinished,
sent before my time
²⁰

Into this breathing world, scarce half
made up
²¹
,

And that so lamely and
unfashionable
²²

That dogs bark at me as I
halt
²³
by them —

Why, I, in this weak
piping
²⁴
time of peace,

Have no delight to pass away the time,

Unless to see my shadow in the sun

And
descant
²⁷
on mine own deformity.

And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover,

To
entertain
these fair
well-spoken
²⁹
days,

I am
determinèd
³⁰
to prove a villain

And hate the idle pleasures of these days.

Plots have I laid,
inductions
³²
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
³⁷
and treacherous,

This day should Clarence closely be
mewed up
³⁸
,

About
a prophecy, which says that
‘G’
³⁹

Of Edward’s heirs the murderer shall be.

Dive, thoughts, down to my soul: here Clarence comes.—

Brother, good day. What means this armèd guard

That
waits upon
⁴³
your grace?

CLARENCE
    His majesty,

Tend’ring
⁴⁵
my person’s safety, hath appointed

This
conduct
to convey me to
th’Tower.
⁴⁶

RICHARD
    Upon what cause?

CLARENCE
    Because my name is George.

RICHARD
    Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours.

He should, for that,
commit
your
godfathers.
⁵⁰

O,
belike
⁵¹
his majesty hath some intent

That you should be
new-christened
⁵²
in the Tower.

But what’s the
matter
⁵³
, Clarence, may I know?

CLARENCE
    Yea, Richard, when I know, but I
protest
⁵⁴

As yet I do not. But, as I can learn.

He
hearkens after
⁵⁶
prophecies and dreams,

And from the
cross-row
⁵⁷
plucks the letter G,

And says a wizard told him that by ‘G’

His
issue
⁵⁹
disinherited should be:

And,
for
⁶⁰
my name of George begins with G,

It follows in his thought that I am he.

These, as I learn, and such like
toys
⁶²
as these,

Hath moved his highness to commit me now.

RICHARD
    Why, this it is when men are ruled by women:

’Tis not the king that sends you to the Tower,

My
lady Grey
⁶⁶
his wife, Clarence, ’tis she

That tempts him to this harsh extremity.

Was it not she and that good man of
worship
⁶⁸
,

Anthony Woodville
⁶⁹
, her brother there,

That made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower,

From whence this present day he is
delivered?
⁷¹

We are not safe, Clarence, we are not safe.

CLARENCE
    By heaven, I think there is no man secure

But the queen’s kindred and
night-walking heralds
⁷⁴

That
trudge betwixt
the king and
Mistress
Shore.
⁷⁵

Heard you not what an humble
suppliant
⁷⁶

Lord Hastings was to her, for his
delivery?
⁷⁷

RICHARD
    Humbly
complaining
to
her deity
⁷⁸

Got my
Lord Chamberlain
⁷⁹
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.
⁸²

The jealous
o’erworn
widow
⁸³
and herself,

Since that our brother
dubbed them
⁸⁴
gentlewomen,

Are mighty
gossips
⁸⁵
in our monarchy.

BRACKENBURY
    I beseech your graces both to pardon me:

His majesty hath
straitly given in charge
⁸⁷

That no man shall have private conference,

Of what degree soever
⁸⁹
, with your brother.

RICHARD
    Even so,
an
⁹⁰
please your worship, Brackenbury,

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
⁹⁴
and not jealous.

We say that Shore’s wife hath a pretty foot,

A cherry lip, a bonny eye, a
passing
⁹⁶
pleasing tongue,

And that the queen’s kindred are made gentlefolks.

How say you sir? Can you deny all this?

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

RICHARD
    Naught to do with Mistress Shore? I tell thee, fellow,

He that
doth naught
¹⁰¹
with her, excepting one,

Were best to do it secretly, alone.

BRACKENBURY
    What one, my lord?

RICHARD
    Her husband, knave. Wouldst thou
betray me?
¹⁰⁴

BRACKENBURY
    I do beseech your grace to pardon me, and
withal
¹⁰⁵

Forbear
¹⁰⁶
your conference with the noble duke.

CLARENCE
    We know thy
charge
¹⁰⁷
, Brackenbury, and will obey.

RICHARD
    We are the queen’s
abjects
¹⁰⁸
, 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
¹¹²
you.

Meantime, this deep disgrace in brotherhood

Touches
¹¹⁴
me deeper than you can imagine.

Embraces him

CLARENCE
    I know it pleaseth neither of us well.

RICHARD
    Well, your imprisonment shall not be long.

I will deliver you or else
lie for you.
¹¹⁷

Meantime, have patience.

CLARENCE
    I must
perforce.
¹¹⁹
Farewell.

RICHARD
    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
¹²³
at our hands.

But who comes here? The
new-delivered
¹²⁴
Hastings?

HASTINGS
    Good time of day unto my gracious lord.

RICHARD
    As much unto my good Lord Chamberlain.

Well are you welcome to this open air.

How hath your lordship
brooked
¹²⁸
imprisonment?

HASTINGS
    With patience, noble lord, as prisoners must.

But I shall live, my lord, to
give them thanks
¹³⁰

That were the cause of my imprisonment.

RICHARD
    No doubt, no doubt. And so shall Clarence too,

For they that were your enemies are his,

And have prevailed as much on him as you.

HASTINGS
    More pity that the eagles should be
mewed
¹³⁵
,

Whiles
kites and buzzards
¹³⁶
play at liberty.

RICHARD
    What news
abroad?
¹³⁷

HASTINGS
    No news so bad abroad as this at home:

The king is sickly, weak and melancholy,

And his physicians fear
him
¹⁴⁰
mightily.

RICHARD
    Now, by Saint John, that news is bad indeed.

O, he hath kept an evil
diet
¹⁴²
long,

And overmuch consumed his royal person.

’Tis very grievous to be thought upon.

Where is he, in his bed?

HASTINGS
    He is.

RICHARD
    Go you before, and I will follow you.

He cannot live, I hope, and must not die

Till George be
packed
with
post-horse
¹⁴⁹
up to heaven.

I’ll in to urge his hatred more to Clarence,

With lies well
steeled
¹⁵¹
with weighty arguments.

And, if I fail not in my
deep
¹⁵²
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
¹⁵⁵
in.

For then I’ll marry
Warwick’s youngest daughter.
¹⁵⁶

What though I killed
her husband
and her
father?
¹⁵⁷

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
¹⁶¹
intent,

By marrying her which I must
reach unto.
¹⁶²

But yet I
run before my horse to market
¹⁶³
:

Clarence still breathes, Edward still lives and reigns.

When they are gone, then must I count my gains.

ANNE
    Set down, set down your honourable load —

If honour may be
shrouded
in a
hearse
²
—

Whilst I awhile
obsequiously
³
lament

Th’untimely fall of virtuous
Lancaster.
⁴

They set down the coffin

Poor
key-cold
⁵
figure of a holy king,

Pale
ashes
⁶
of the house of Lancaster,

Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood,

Be it
lawful that I
invocate
⁸
thy ghost,

To hear the lamentations of poor Anne,

Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughtered son,

Stabbed by the selfsame hand that made these wounds.

Lo
, in these
windows
¹²
that let forth thy life,

I pour the helpless
balm
¹³
of my poor eyes.

O, cursèd 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
¹⁷
that hated wretch

That makes us wretched by the death of thee

Than I can wish to wolves, to
spiders, toads
¹⁹
,

Or any creeping venomed thing that lives.

If ever he have child,
abortive
²¹
be it,

Prodigious
²²
, and untimely brought to light,

Whose ugly and unnatural
aspect
²³

May fright the hopeful mother at the view,

And
that
be heir to his
unhappiness.
²⁵

If ever he have wife, let her be made

More miserable by the death of him

Than I am made by my young lord and thee.—

Come, now towards
Chertsey
²⁹
with your holy load,