ACT I
SCENE I. London. A
street.
Enter GLOUCESTER, solus
GLOUCESTER
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;
And now, instead of mounting barded 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,
Deformed, 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 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 comes.
Enter CLARENCE, guarded, and
BRAKENBURY
Brother, good day; what means this armed guard
That waits upon your grace?
CLARENCE
His majesty
Tendering my person's safety, hath appointed
This conduct to convey me to the Tower.
GLOUCESTER
Upon what cause?
CLARENCE
Because my name is George.
GLOUCESTER
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 shall be new-christen'd in the Tower.
But what's the matter, Clarence? may I know?
CLARENCE
Yea, Richard, when I know;
for I protest
As yet I do not: but, as I can learn,
He hearkens after prophecies and dreams;
And from the cross-row plucks the letter G.
And says a wizard told him that by G
His issue disinherited should be;
And, for my name of George begins with G,
It follows in his thought that I am he.
These, as I learn, and such like toys as these
Have moved his highness to commit me now.
GLOUCESTER
Why, this it is, when men
are ruled 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,
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.
CLARENCE
By heaven, I think there's
no man is secure
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?
GLOUCESTER
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.
BRAKENBURY
I beseech your graces both
to pardon me;
His majesty hath straitly given in charge
That no man shall have private conference,
Of what degree soever, with his brother.
GLOUCESTER
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 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-folks:
How say you sir? Can you deny all this?
BRAKENBURY
With this, my lord, myself
have nought to do.
GLOUCESTER
Naught to do with mistress
Shore! I tell thee, fellow,
He that doth naught with her, excepting one,
Were best he do it secretly, alone.
BRAKENBURY
What one, my lord?
GLOUCESTER
Her husband, knave: wouldst
thou betray me?
BRAKENBURY
I beseech your grace to
pardon me, and withal
Forbear your conference with the noble duke.
CLARENCE
We know thy charge,
Brakenbury, and will obey.
GLOUCESTER
We are the queen's abjects,
and must obey.
Brother, farewell: I will unto the king;
And whatsoever 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.
CLARENCE
I know it pleaseth neither
of us well.
GLOUCESTER
Well, your imprisonment
shall not be long;
Meantime, have patience.
CLARENCE
I must perforce. Farewell.
Exeunt CLARENCE, BRAKENBURY, and
Guard
GLOUCESTER
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?
Enter HASTINGS
HASTINGS
Good time of day unto my
gracious lord!
GLOUCESTER
As much unto my good lord
chamberlain!
Well are you welcome to the open air.
How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment?
HASTINGS
With patience, noble lord,
as prisoners must:
But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks
That were the cause of my imprisonment.
GLOUCESTER
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.
HASTINGS
More pity that the eagle
should be mew'd,
While kites and buzzards prey at liberty.
GLOUCESTER
What news abroad?
HASTINGS
No news so bad abroad as
this at home;
The King is sickly, weak and melancholy,
And his physicians fear him mightily.
GLOUCESTER
Now, by Saint Paul, this
news is bad indeed.
O, he hath kept an evil diet long,
And overmuch consumed his royal person:
'Tis very grievous to be thought upon.
What, is he in his bed?
HASTINGS
He is.
GLOUCESTER
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 fall 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.
Exit
SCENE II. The same. Another street.
Enter the corpse of KING HENRY the Sixth, Gentlemen
with halberds to guard it; LADY ANNE being the mourner
LADY ANNE
Set down, set down your
honourable load,
If honour may be shrouded in a hearse,
Whilst I awhile obsequiously lament
The untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster.
Poor key-cold figure of a holy king!
Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster!
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 selfsame hand that made these wounds!
Lo, in these windows that let forth thy life,
I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes.
Cursed be the hand that made these fatal holes!
Cursed be 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 he made
A miserable by the death of him
As I am made by my poor lord and thee!
Come, now towards 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.
Enter GLOUCESTER
GLOUCESTER
Stay, you that bear the
corse, and set it down.
LADY ANNE
What black magician
conjures up this fiend,
To stop devoted charitable deeds?
GLOUCESTER
Villains, set down the
corse; or, by Saint Paul,
I'll make a corse of him that disobeys.
Gentleman
My lord, stand back, and
let the coffin pass.
GLOUCESTER
Unmanner'd dog! stand thou,
when I command:
Advance thy halbert higher than my breast,
Or, by Saint Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot,
And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness.
LADY ANNE
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.
GLOUCESTER
Sweet saint, for charity,
be not so curst.
LADY ANNE
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 madest, 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!
GLOUCESTER
Lady, you know no rules of
charity,
Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses.
LADY ANNE
Villain, thou know'st no
law of God nor man:
No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity.
GLOUCESTER
But I know none, and
therefore am no beast.
LADY ANNE
O wonderful, when devils
tell the truth!
GLOUCESTER
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.
LADY ANNE
Vouchsafe, defused
infection of a man,
For these known evils, but to give me leave,
By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self.
GLOUCESTER
Fairer than tongue can name
thee, let me have
Some patient leisure to excuse myself.
LADY ANNE
Fouler than heart can think
thee, thou canst make
No excuse current, but to hang thyself.
GLOUCESTER
By such despair, I should
accuse myself.
LADY ANNE
And, by despairing,
shouldst thou stand excused;
For doing worthy vengeance on thyself,
Which didst unworthy slaughter upon others.
GLOUCESTER
Say that I slew them not?
LADY ANNE
Why, then they are not
dead:
But dead they are, and devilish slave, by thee.
GLOUCESTER
I did not kill your
husband.
LADY ANNE
Why, then he is alive.
GLOUCESTER
Nay, he is dead; and slain
by Edward's hand.
LADY ANNE
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.
GLOUCESTER
I was provoked by her
slanderous tongue,
which laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders.
LADY ANNE
Thou wast provoked by thy
bloody mind.
Which never dreamt on aught but butcheries:
Didst thou not kill this king?
GLOUCESTER
I grant ye.
LADY ANNE
Dost grant me, hedgehog?
then, God grant me too
Thou mayst be damned for that wicked deed!
O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous!
GLOUCESTER
The fitter for the King of
heaven, that hath him.
LADY ANNE
He is in heaven, where thou
shalt never come.
GLOUCESTER
Let him thank me, that holp
to send him thither;
For he was fitter for that place than earth.
LADY ANNE
And thou unfit for any
place but hell.
GLOUCESTER
Yes, one place else, if you
will hear me name it.
LADY ANNE
Some dungeon.
GLOUCESTER
Your bed-chamber.
LADY ANNE
I'll rest betide the
chamber where thou liest!
GLOUCESTER
So will it, madam till I
lie with you.
LADY ANNE
I hope so.
GLOUCESTER
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?
LADY ANNE
Thou art the cause, and
most accursed effect.
GLOUCESTER
Your beauty was the cause
of that effect;
Your beauty: which did haunt me in my sleep
To undertake the death of all the world,
So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom.
LADY ANNE
If I thought that, I tell
thee, homicide,
These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks.
GLOUCESTER
These eyes could never
endure sweet beauty's wreck;
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.
LADY ANNE
Black night o'ershade thy
day, and death thy life!
GLOUCESTER
Curse not thyself, fair
creature thou art both.
LADY ANNE
I would I were, to be
revenged on thee.
GLOUCESTER
It is a quarrel most
unnatural,
To be revenged on him that loveth you.
LADY ANNE
It is a quarrel just and
reasonable,
To be revenged on him that slew my husband.
GLOUCESTER
He that bereft thee, lady,
of thy husband,
Did it to help thee to a better husband.
LADY ANNE
His better doth not breathe
upon the earth.
GLOUCESTER
He lives that loves thee
better than he could.
LADY ANNE
Name him.
GLOUCESTER
Plantagenet.
LADY ANNE
Why, that was he.
GLOUCESTER
The selfsame name, but one
of better nature.
LADY ANNE
Where is he?
GLOUCESTER
Here.
She spitteth at him
Why dost thou spit at me?
LADY ANNE
Would it were mortal
poison, for thy sake!
GLOUCESTER
Never came poison from so
sweet a place.
LADY ANNE
Never hung poison on a
fouler toad.
Out of my sight! thou dost infect my eyes.
GLOUCESTER
Thine eyes, sweet lady,
have infected mine.
LADY ANNE
Would they were basilisks,
to strike thee dead!
GLOUCESTER
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,
Shamed their aspect with store of childish drops:
These eyes that never shed remorseful tear,
No, when my father York and Edward wept,
To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made
When black-faced Clifford shook his sword at him;
Nor when thy warlike father, like a child,
Told the sad story of my father's death,
And twenty times made pause to sob and weep,
That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks
Like trees bedash'd with rain: in that sad time
My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear;
And what these sorrows could not thence exhale,
Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping.
I never sued to friend nor enemy;
My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing word;
But now thy beauty is proposed my fee,
My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak.
She looks scornfully at him
Teach not thy lips such scorn, for they were 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 bosom.
And let the soul forth that adoreth thee,
I lay it naked to the deadly stroke,
And humbly beg the death upon my knee.
He lays his breast open: she
offers at it with his sword
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.
Here she lets fall the sword
Take up the sword again, or take up me.
LADY ANNE
Arise, dissembler: though I
wish thy death,
I will not be the executioner.
GLOUCESTER
Then bid me kill myself,
and I will do it.
LADY ANNE
I have already.
GLOUCESTER
Tush, that was in thy rage:
Speak it again, and, even with the word,
That hand, which, for thy love, did kill thy love,
Shall, for thy love, kill a far truer love;
To both their deaths thou shalt be accessary.
LADY ANNE
I would I knew thy heart.
GLOUCESTER
'Tis figured in my tongue.
LADY ANNE
I fear me both are false.
GLOUCESTER
Then never man was true.
LADY ANNE
Well, well, put up your
sword.
GLOUCESTER
Say, then, my peace is
made.
LADY ANNE
That shall you know
hereafter.
GLOUCESTER
But shall I live in hope?
LADY ANNE
All men, I hope, live so.
GLOUCESTER
Vouchsafe to wear this
ring.
LADY ANNE
To take is not to give.
GLOUCESTER
Look, how this ring
encompasseth finger.
Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart;
Wear both of them, for both of them are thine.
And if thy poor devoted suppliant may
But beg one favour at thy gracious hand,
Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever.
LADY ANNE
What is it?
GLOUCESTER
That it would please thee
leave these sad designs
To him that hath more 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.
LADY ANNE
With all my heart; and much
it joys me too,
To see you are become so penitent.
Tressel and Berkeley, go along with me.
GLOUCESTER
Bid me farewell.
LADY ANNE
'Tis more than you deserve;
But since you teach me how to flatter you,
Imagine I have said farewell already.
Exeunt LADY ANNE, TRESSEL, and
BERKELEY
GLOUCESTER
Sirs, take up the corse.
GENTLEMEN
Towards Chertsey, noble
lord?
GLOUCESTER
No, to White-Friars; there
attend my coining.
Exeunt all but GLOUCESTER
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 I nothing to back my suit at all,
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,
Framed in the prodigality of nature,
Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal,
The spacious world cannot again afford
And will she yet debase her eyes on me,
That cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet prince,
And made her widow to a woful bed?
On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety?
On me, that halt and am unshapen 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 some score or two of tailors,
To study fashions to adorn my body:
Since I am crept in favour with myself,
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.
Exit
SCENE III. The palace.
Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH, RIVERS, and GREY
RIVERS
(= GREY = DERBY = DORSET)
Have patience, madam:
there's no doubt his majesty
Will soon recover his accustom'd health.
GREY
In that you brook it in, it
makes him worse:
Therefore, for God's sake, entertain good comfort,
And cheer his grace with quick and merry words.
QUEEN ELIZABETH
If he were dead, what would
betide of me?
RIVERS
No other harm but loss of
such a lord.
QUEEN ELIZABETH
The loss of such a lord
includes all harm.
GREY
The heavens have bless'd
you with a goodly son,
To be your comforter when he is gone.
QUEEN ELIZABETH
Oh, he is young and his
minority
Is put unto the trust of Richard Gloucester,
A man that loves not me, nor none of you.
RIVERS
Is it concluded that he
shall be protector?
QUEEN ELIZABETH
It is determined, not
concluded yet:
But so it must be, if the king miscarry.
Enter BUCKINGHAM and DERBY
GREY
Here
come the lords of Buckingham and Derby.
BUCKINGHAM
Good time of day unto your
royal grace!
DERBY
God make your majesty
joyful as you have been!
QUEEN ELIZABETH
The Countess Richmond, good
my Lord of Derby.
To your good prayers will scarcely say amen.
Yet, Derby, notwithstanding she's your wife,
And loves not me, be you, good lord, assured
I hate not you for her proud arrogance.
DERBY
I do beseech you, either not believe
The envious slanders of her false accusers;
Or, if she be accused in true report,
Bear with her weakness, which, I think proceeds
From wayward sickness, and no grounded malice.
RIVERS
Saw you the king to-day, my
Lord of Derby?
DERBY
But now
the Duke of Buckingham and I
Are come from visiting his majesty.
QUEEN ELIZABETH
What likelihood of his
amendment, lords?
BUCKINGHAM
Madam, good hope; his grace speaks
cheerfully.
QUEEN ELIZABETH
God grant him health! Did
you confer with him?
BUCKINGHAM
Madam, we did: he desires
to make atonement
Betwixt the Duke of Gloucester and your brothers,
And betwixt them and my lord chamberlain;
And sent to warn them to his royal presence.
QUEEN ELIZABETH
Would all were well! but
that will never be
I fear our happiness is at the highest.
Enter GLOUCESTER, HASTINGS, and
DORSET
GLOUCESTER
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 abused
By silken, sly, insinuating Jacks?
RIVERS
