KING RICHARD III. William Shakespeare

Grossly grew captive to his honey words,

       And prov’d the subject of mine own soul’s curse,—

       Which hitherto hath held my 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.

       QUEEN ELIZABETH

       Poor heart, adieu! I pity thy complaining.

       ANNE

       No more than with my soul I mourn for yours.

       DORSET

       Farewell, thou woeful welcomer of glory!

       ANNE

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

       DUCHESS

       [To DORSET]

       Go thou to Richmond, and good fortune guide thee!—

       [To ANNE]

       Go thou to Richard, and good angels tend thee!—

       [To QUEEN ELIZABETH]

       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 wreck’d with a week of teen.

       QUEEN ELIZABETH

       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 sorrows bids your stones farewell.

       [Exeunt.]

      SCENE II. London. A Room of State in the Palace

       [Flourish of trumpets. RICHARD, as King, upon his throne; BUCKINGHAM, CATESBY, RATCLIFF, LOVEL, a Page, and others.]

       KING RICHARD

       Stand all apart—Cousin of Buckingham,—

       BUCKINGHAM

       My gracious sovereign?

       KING RICHARD

       Give me thy hand.

       [Ascends the throne.]

       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?

       BUCKINGHAM

       Still live they, and for ever let them last!

       KING RICHARD

       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.

       BUCKINGHAM

       Say on, my loving lord.

       KING RICHARD

       Why, Buckingham, I say I would be king.

       BUCKINGHAM

       Why, so you are, my thrice-renownèd lord.

       KING RICHARD

       Ha! am I king? ‘tis so: but Edward lives.

       BUCKINGHAM

       True, noble prince.

       KING RICHARD

       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 say’st thou now? speak suddenly, be brief.

       BUCKINGHAM

       Your grace may do your pleasure.

       KING RICHARD

       Tut, tut, thou art all ice, thy kindness freezes:

       Say, have I thy consent that they shall die?

       BUCKINGHAM

       Give me some little breath, some pause, dear lord,

       Before I positively speak in this:

       I will resolve your grace immediately.

       [Exit.]

       CATESBY

       [Aside]

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

       KING RICHARD

       I will converse with iron-witted fools

       [Descends from his throne.]

       And unrespective boys; none are for me

       That look into me with considerate eyes:

       High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect.

       Boy!—

       PAGE

       My lord?

       KING RICHARD

       Know’st thou not any whom corrupting gold

       Will tempt unto a close exploit of death?

       PAGE

       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.

       KING RICHARD

       What is his name?

       PAGE

       His name, my lord, is Tyrrel.

       KING RICHARD

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

       [Exit PAGE.]

       The deep-revolving witty Buckingham

       No more shall be the neighbour to my counsels:

       Hath he so long held out with me untir’d,

       And stops he now for breath?—well, be it so.

       [Enter STANLEY.]

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

       STANLEY

       Know, my loving lord,

       The Marquis Dorset, as I hear, is fled

       To Richmond, in the parts where he abides.

       KING RICHARD

       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,