1    So, now prosperity begins to mellow
2    And drop into the rotten mouth of death.
3    Here in these confines slily have I lurk'd,
4    To watch the waning of mine adversaries.
5    A dire induction am I witness to,
6    And will to France, hoping the consequence
7    Will prove as bitter, black, and tragical.
8    Withdraw thee, wretched Margaret: who comes here?

9    Ah, my young princes! ah, my tender babes!
10   My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets!
11   If yet your gentle souls fly in the air
12   And be not fix'd in doom perpetual,
13   Hover about me with your airy wings
14   And hear your mother's lamentation!

15   Hover about her; say, that right for right
16   Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night.

17   So many miseries have crazed my voice,
18   That my woe-wearied tongue is mute and dumb,
19   Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?

20   Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet.
21   Edward for Edward pays a dying debt.

22   Wilt thou, O God, fly from such gentle lambs,
23   And throw them in the entrails of the wolf?
24   When didst thou sleep when such a deed was done?

25   When holy Harry died, and my sweet son.

26   Blind sight, dead life, poor mortal living ghost,
27   Woe's scene, world's shame, grave's due by life usurp'd,
28   Brief abstract and record of tedious days,
29   Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth,
Sitting down
30   Unlawfully made drunk with innocents' blood!

31   O, that thou wouldst as well afford a grave
32   As thou canst yield a melancholy seat!
33   Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here.
34   O, who hath any cause to mourn but I?

35   If ancient sorrow be most reverend,
36   Give mine the benefit of seniory,
37   And let my woes frown on the upper hand.
38   If sorrow can admit society,
Sitting down with them
39   Tell o'er your woes again by viewing mine:
40   I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him;
41   I had a Harry, till a Richard kill'd him:
42   Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him;
43   Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard killed him;

44   I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill him;
45   I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him.

46   Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Richard kill'd him.
47   From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept
48   A hell-hound that doth hunt us all to death:
49   That dog, that had his teeth before his eyes,
50   To worry lambs and lap their gentle blood,
51   That foul defacer of God's handiwork,
52   That excellent grand tyrant of the earth,
53   That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls,
54   Thy womb let loose, to chase us to our graves.
55   O upright, just, and true-disposing God,
56   How do I thank thee, that this carnal cur
57   Preys on the issue of his mother's body,
58   And makes her pew-fellow with others' moan!

59   O Harry's wife, triumph not in my woes!
60   God witness with me, I have wept for thine.

61   Bear with me; I am hungry for revenge,
62   And now I cloy me with beholding it.
63   Thy Edward he is dead, that stabb'd my Edward:
64   Thy other Edward dead, to quit my Edward;
65   Young York he is but boot, because both they
66   Match not the high perfection of my loss:
67   Thy Clarence he is dead that kill'd my Edward;
68   And the beholders of this tragic play,
69   The adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey,
70   Untimely smother'd in their dusky graves.
71   Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer,
72   Only reserved their factor, to buy souls
73   And send them thither: but at hand, at hand,
74   Ensues his piteous and unpitied end:
75   Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray.
76   To have him suddenly convey'd away.
77   Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I prey,
78   That I may live to say, The dog is dead!

79   O, thou didst prophesy the time would come
80   That I should wish for thee to help me curse
81   That bottled spider, that foul bunch-back'd toad!

82   I call'd thee then vain flourish of my fortune;
83   I call'd thee then poor shadow, painted queen;
84   The presentation of but what I was;
85   The flattering index of a direful pageant;
86   One heaved a-high, to be hurl'd down below;
87   A mother only mock'd with two sweet babes;
88   A dream of what thou wert, a breath, a bubble,
89   A sign of dignity, a garish flag,
90   To be the aim of every dangerous shot,
91   A queen in jest, only to fill the scene.
92   Where is thy husband now? where be thy brothers?
93   Where are thy children? wherein dost thou, joy?
94   Who sues to thee and cries 'God save the queen'?
95   Where be the bending peers that flatter'd thee?
96   Where be the thronging troops that follow'd thee?
97   Decline all this, and see what now thou art:
98   For happy wife, a most distressed widow;
99   For joyful mother, one that wails the name;
100  For queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care;
101  For one being sued to, one that humbly sues;
102  For one that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me;
103  For one being fear'd of all, now fearing one;
104  For one commanding all, obey'd of none.
105  Thus hath the course of justice wheel'd about,
106  And left thee but a very prey to time;
107  Having no more but thought of what thou wert,
108  To torture thee the more, being what thou art.
109  Thou didst usurp my place, and dost thou not
110  Usurp the just proportion of my sorrow?
111  Now thy proud neck bears half my burthen'd yoke;
112  From which even here I slip my weary neck,
113  And leave the burthen of it all on thee.
114  Farewell, York's wife, and queen of sad mischance:
115  These English woes will make me smile in France.

116  O thou well skill'd in curses, stay awhile,
117  And teach me how to curse mine enemies!

118  Forbear to sleep the nights, and fast the days;
119  Compare dead happiness with living woe;
120  Think that thy babes were fairer than they were,
121  And he that slew them fouler than he is:
122  Bettering thy loss makes the bad causer worse:
123  Revolving this will teach thee how to curse.

124  My words are dull; O, quicken them with thine!

125  Thy woes will make them sharp, and pierce like mine.

126  Why should calamity be full of words?

127  Windy attorneys to their client woes,
128  Airy succeeders of intestate joys,
129  Poor breathing orators of miseries!
130  Let them have scope: though what they do impart
131  Help not all, yet do they ease the heart.

132  If so, then be not tongue-tied: go with me.
133  And in the breath of bitter words let's smother
134  My damned son, which thy two sweet sons smother'd.
135  I hear his drum: be copious in exclaims.

136  Who intercepts my expedition?

137  O, she that might have intercepted thee,
138  By strangling thee in her accursed womb
139  From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast done!

140  Hidest thou that forehead with a golden crown,
141  Where should be graven, if that right were right,
142  The slaughter of the prince that owed that crown,
143  And the dire death of my two sons and brothers?
144  Tell me, thou villain slave, where are my children?

145  Thou toad, thou toad, where is thy brother Clarence?
146  And little Ned Plantagenet, his son?

147  Where is kind Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey?

148  A flourish, trumpets! strike alarum, drums!
149  Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women
150  Rail on the Lord's enointed: strike, I say!
Flourish. Alarums
151  Either be patient, and entreat me fair,
152  Or with the clamorous report of war
153  Thus will I drown your exclamations.

154  Art thou my son?

155  Ay, I thank God, my father, and yourself.

156  Then patiently hear my impatience.

157  Madam, I have a touch of your condition,
158  Which cannot brook the accent of reproof.

159  O, let me speak!

160  Do then: but I'll not hear.

161  I will be mild and gentle in my speech.

162  And brief, good mother; for I am in haste.

163  Art thou so hasty? I have stay'd for thee,
164  God knows, in anguish, pain and agony.

165  And came I not at last to comfort you?

166  No, by the holy rood, thou know'st it well,
167  Thou camest on earth to make the earth my hell.
168  A grievous burthen was thy birth to me;
169  Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy;
170  Thy school-days frightful, desperate, wild, and furious,
171  Thy prime of manhood daring, bold, and venturous,
172  Thy age confirm'd, proud, subdued, bloody,
173  treacherous,
174  More mild, but yet more harmful, kind in hatred:
175  What comfortable hour canst thou name,
176  That ever graced me in thy company?

177  Faith, none, but Humphrey Hour, that call'd
178  your grace
179  To breakfast once forth of my company.
180  If I be so disgracious in your sight,
181  Let me march on, and not offend your grace.
182  Strike the drum.

183  I prithee, hear me speak.

184  You speak too bitterly.

185  Hear me a word;
186  For I shall never speak to thee again.

187  So.

188  Either thou wilt die, by God's just ordinance,
189  Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror,
190  Or I with grief and extreme age shall perish
191  And never look upon thy face again.
192  Therefore take with thee my most heavy curse;
193  Which, in the day of battle, tire thee more
194  Than all the complete armour that thou wear'st!
195  My prayers on the adverse party fight;
196  And there the little souls of Edward's children
197  Whisper the spirits of thine enemies
198  And promise them success and victory.
199  Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end;
200  Shame serves thy life and doth thy death attend.

201  Though far more cause, yet much less spirit to curse
202  Abides in me; I say amen to all.

203  Stay, madam; I must speak a word with you.

204  I have no more sons of the royal blood
205  For thee to murder: for my daughters, Richard,
206  They shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens;
207  And therefore level not to hit their lives.

208  You have a daughter call'd Elizabeth,
209  Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious.

210  And must she die for this? O, let her live,
211  And I'll corrupt her manners, stain her beauty;
212  Slander myself as false to Edward's bed;
213  Throw over her the veil of infamy:
214  So she may live unscarr'd of bleeding slaughter,
215  I will confess she was not Edward's daughter.

216  Wrong not her birth, she is of royal blood.

217  To save her life, I'll say she is not so.

218  Her life is only safest in her birth.

219  And only in that safety died her brothers.

220  Lo, at their births good stars were opposite.

221  No, to their lives bad friends were contrary.

222  All unavoided is the doom of destiny.

223  True, when avoided grace makes destiny:
224  My babes were destined to a fairer death,
225  If grace had bless'd thee with a fairer life.

226  You speak as if that I had slain my cousins.

227  Cousins, indeed; and by their uncle cozen'd
228  Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life.
229  Whose hand soever lanced their tender hearts,
230  Thy head, all indirectly, gave direction:
231  No doubt the murderous knife was dull and blunt
232  Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart,
233  To revel in the entrails of my lambs.
234  But that still use of grief makes wild grief tame,
235  My tongue should to thy ears not name my boys
236  Till that my nails were anchor'd in thine eyes;
237  And I, in such a desperate bay of death,
238  Like a poor bark, of sails and tackling reft,
239  Rush all to pieces on thy rocky bosom.

240  Madam, so thrive I in my enterprise
241  And dangerous success of bloody wars,
242  As I intend more good to you and yours,
243  Than ever you or yours were by me wrong'd!

244  What good is cover'd with the face of heaven,
245  To be discover'd, that can do me good?

246  The advancement of your children, gentle lady.

247  Up to some scaffold, there to lose their heads?

248  No, to the dignity and height of honour
249  The high imperial type of this earth's glory.

250  Flatter my sorrows with report of it;
251  Tell me what state, what dignity, what honour,
252  Canst thou demise to any child of mine?

253  Even all I have; yea, and myself and all,
254  Will I withal endow a child of thine;
255  So in the Lethe of thy angry soul
256  Thou drown the sad remembrance of those wrongs
257  Which thou supposest I have done to thee.

258  Be brief, lest that be process of thy kindness
259  Last longer telling than thy kindness' date.

260  Then know, that from my soul I love thy daughter.

261  My daughter's mother thinks it with her soul.

262  What do you think?

263  That thou dost love my daughter from thy soul:
264  So from thy soul's love didst thou love her brothers;
265  And from my heart's love I do thank thee for it.

266  Be not so hasty to confound my meaning:
267  I mean, that with my soul I love thy daughter,
268  And mean to make her queen of England.

269  Say then, who dost thou mean shall be her king?

270  Even he that makes her queen who should be else?

271  What, thou?

272  I, even I: what think you of it, madam?

273  How canst thou woo her?

274  That would I learn of you,
275  As one that are best acquainted with her humour.

276  And wilt thou learn of me?

277  Madam, with all my heart.

278  Send to her, by the man that slew her brothers,
279  A pair of bleeding-hearts; thereon engrave
280  Edward and York; then haply she will weep:
281  Therefore present to her--as sometime Margaret
282  Did to thy father, steep'd in Rutland's blood,--
283  A handkerchief; which, say to her, did drain
284  The purple sap from her sweet brother's body
285  And bid her dry her weeping eyes therewith.
286  If this inducement force her not to love,
287  Send her a story of thy noble acts;
288  Tell her thou madest away her uncle Clarence,
289  Her uncle Rivers; yea, and, for her sake,
290  Madest quick conveyance with her good aunt Anne.

291  Come, come, you mock me; this is not the way
292  To win our daughter.

293  There is no other way
294  Unless thou couldst put on some other shape,
295  And not be Richard that hath done all this.

296  Say that I did all this for love of her.

297  Nay, then indeed she cannot choose but hate thee,
298  Having bought love with such a bloody spoil.

299  Look, what is done cannot be now amended:
300  Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes,
301  Which after hours give leisure to repent.
302  If I did take the kingdom from your sons,
303  To make amends, Ill give it to your daughter.
304  If I have kill'd the issue of your womb,
305  To quicken your increase, I will beget
306  Mine issue of your blood upon your daughter
307  A grandam's name is little less in love
308  Than is the doting title of a mother;
309  They are as children but one step below,
310  Even of your mettle, of your very blood;
311  Of an one pain, save for a night of groans
312  Endured of her, for whom you bid like sorrow.
313  Your children were vexation to your youth,
314  But mine shall be a comfort to your age.
315  The loss you have is but a son being king,
316  And by that loss your daughter is made queen.
317  I cannot make you what amends I would,
318  Therefore accept such kindness as I can.
319  Dorset your son, that with a fearful soul
320  Leads discontented steps in foreign soil,
321  This fair alliance quickly shall call home
322  To high promotions and great dignity:
323  The king, that calls your beauteous daughter wife.
324  Familiarly shall call thy Dorset brother;
325  Again shall you be mother to a king,
326  And all the ruins of distressful times
327  Repair'd with double riches of content.
328  What! we have many goodly days to see:
329  The liquid drops of tears that you have shed
330  Shall come again, transform'd to orient pearl,
331  Advantaging their loan with interest
332  Of ten times double gain of happiness.
333  Go, then my mother, to thy daughter go
334  Make bold her bashful years with your experience;
335  Prepare her ears to hear a wooer's tale
336  Put in her tender heart the aspiring flame
337  Of golden sovereignty; acquaint the princess
338  With the sweet silent hours of marriage joys
339  And when this arm of mine hath chastised
340  The petty rebel, dull-brain'd Buckingham,
341  Bound with triumphant garlands will I come
342  And lead thy daughter to a conqueror's bed;
343  To whom I will retail my conquest won,
344  And she shall be sole victress, Caesar's Caesar.

345  What were I best to say? her father's brother
346  Would be her lord? or shall I say, her uncle?
347  Or, he that slew her brothers and her uncles?
348  Under what title shall I woo for thee,
349  That God, the law, my honour and her love,
350  Can make seem pleasing to her tender years?

351  Infer fair England's peace by this alliance.

352  Which she shall purchase with still lasting war.

353  Say that the king, which may command, entreats.

354  That at her hands which the king's King forbids.

355  Say, she shall be a high and mighty queen.

356  To wail the tide, as her mother doth.

357  Say, I will love her everlastingly.

358  But how long shall that title 'ever' last?

359  Sweetly in force unto her fair life's end.

360  But how long fairly shall her sweet lie last?

361  So long as heaven and nature lengthens it.

362  So long as hell and Richard likes of it.

363  Say, I, her sovereign, am her subject love.

364  But she, your subject, loathes such sovereignty.

365  Be eloquent in my behalf to her.

366  An honest tale speeds best being plainly told.

367  Then in plain terms tell her my loving tale.

368  Plain and not honest is too harsh a style.

369  Your reasons are too shallow and too quick.

370  O no, my reasons are too deep and dead;
371  Too deep and dead, poor infants, in their grave.

372  Harp not on that string, madam; that is past.

373  Harp on it still shall I till heart-strings break.

374  Now, by my George, my garter, and my crown,--

375  Profaned, dishonour'd, and the third usurp'd.

376  I swear--

377  By nothing; for this is no oath:
378  The George, profaned, hath lost his holy honour;
379  The garter, blemish'd, pawn'd his knightly virtue;
380  The crown, usurp'd, disgraced his kingly glory.
381  if something thou wilt swear to be believed,
382  Swear then by something that thou hast not wrong'd.

383  Now, by the world--

384  'Tis full of thy foul wrongs.

385  My father's death--

386  Thy life hath that dishonour'd.

387  Then, by myself--

388  Thyself thyself misusest.

389  Why then, by God--

390  God's wrong is most of all.
391  If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by Him,
392  The unity the king thy brother made
393  Had not been broken, nor my brother slain:
394  If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by Him,
395  The imperial metal, circling now thy brow,
396  Had graced the tender temples of my child,
397  And both the princes had been breathing here,
398  Which now, two tender playfellows to dust,
399  Thy broken faith hath made a prey for worms.
400  What canst thou swear by now?

401  The time to come.

402  That thou hast wronged in the time o'erpast;
403  For I myself have many tears to wash
404  Hereafter time, for time past wrong'd by thee.
405  The children live, whose parents thou hast
406  slaughter'd,
407  Ungovern'd youth, to wail it in their age;
408  The parents live, whose children thou hast butcher'd,
409  Old wither'd plants, to wail it with their age.
410  Swear not by time to come; for that thou hast
411  Misused ere used, by time misused o'erpast.

412  As I intend to prosper and repent,
413  So thrive I in my dangerous attempt
414  Of hostile arms! myself myself confound!
415  Heaven and fortune bar me happy hours!
416  Day, yield me not thy light; nor, night, thy rest!
417  Be opposite all planets of good luck
418  To my proceedings, if, with pure heart's love,
419  Immaculate devotion, holy thoughts,
420  I tender not thy beauteous princely daughter!
421  In her consists my happiness and thine;
422  Without her, follows to this land and me,
423  To thee, herself, and many a Christian soul,
424  Death, desolation, ruin and decay:
425  It cannot be avoided but by this;
426  It will not be avoided but by this.
427  Therefore, good mother,--I must can you so--
428  Be the attorney of my love to her:
429  Plead what I will be, not what I have been;
430  Not my deserts, but what I will deserve:
431  Urge the necessity and state of times,
432  And be not peevish-fond in great designs.

433  Shall I be tempted of the devil thus?

434  Ay, if the devil tempt thee to do good.

435  Shall I forget myself to be myself?

436  Ay, if yourself's remembrance wrong yourself.

437  But thou didst kill my children.

438  But in your daughter's womb I bury them:
439  Where in that nest of spicery they shall breed
440  Selves of themselves, to your recomforture.

441  Shall I go win my daughter to thy will?

442  And be a happy mother by the deed.

443  I go. Write to me very shortly.
444  And you shall understand from me her mind.

445  Bear her my true love's kiss; and so, farewell.
Exit QUEEN ELIZABETH
446  Relenting fool, and shallow, changing woman!
Enter RATCLIFF; CATESBY following
447  How now! what news?

448  My gracious sovereign, on the western coast
449  Rideth a puissant navy; to the shore
450  Throng many doubtful hollow-hearted friends,
451  Unarm'd, and unresolved to beat them back:
452  'Tis thought that Richmond is their admiral;
453  And there they hull, expecting but the aid
454  Of Buckingham to welcome them ashore.

455  Some light-foot friend post to the Duke of Norfolk:
456  Ratcliff, thyself, or Catesby; where is he?

457  Here, my lord.

458  Fly to the duke:
To RATCLIFF
459  Post thou to Salisbury
460  When thou comest thither--
To CATESBY
461  Dull, unmindful villain,
462  Why stand'st thou still, and go'st not to the duke?

463  First, mighty sovereign, let me know your mind,
464  What from your grace I shall deliver to him.

465  O, true, good Catesby: bid him levy straight
466  The greatest strength and power he can make,
467  And meet me presently at Salisbury.

468  I go.

469  What is't your highness' pleasure I shall do at
470  Salisbury?

471  Why, what wouldst thou do there before I go?

472  Your highness told me I should post before.

473  My mind is changed, sir, my mind is changed.
Enter STANLEY
474  How now, what news with you?

475  None good, my lord, to please you with the hearing;
476  Nor none so bad, but it may well be told.

477  Hoyday, a riddle! neither good nor bad!
478  Why dost thou run so many mile about,
479  When thou mayst tell thy tale a nearer way?
480  Once more, what news?

481  Richmond is on the seas.

482  There let him sink, and be the seas on him!
483  White-liver'd runagate, what doth he there?

484  I know not, mighty sovereign, but by guess.

485  Well, sir, as you guess, as you guess?

486  Stirr'd up by Dorset, Buckingham, and Ely,
487  He makes for England, there to claim the crown.

488  Is the chair empty? is the sword unsway'd?
489  Is the king dead? the empire unpossess'd?
490  What heir of York is there alive but we?
491  And who is England's king but great York's heir?
492  Then, tell me, what doth he upon the sea?

493  Unless for that, my liege, I cannot guess.

494  Unless for that he comes to be your liege,
495  You cannot guess wherefore the Welshman comes.
496  Thou wilt revolt, and fly to him, I fear.

497  No, mighty liege; therefore mistrust me not.

498  Where is thy power, then, to beat him back?
499  Where are thy tenants and thy followers?
500  Are they not now upon the western shore.
501  Safe-conducting the rebels from their ships!

502  No, my good lord, my friends are in the north.

503  Cold friends to Richard: what do they in the north,
504  When they should serve their sovereign in the west?

505  They have not been commanded, mighty sovereign:
506  Please it your majesty to give me leave,
507  I'll muster up my friends, and meet your grace
508  Where and what time your majesty shall please.

509  Ay, ay. thou wouldst be gone to join with Richmond:
510  I will not trust you, sir.

511  Most mighty sovereign,
512  You have no cause to hold my friendship doubtful:
513  I never was nor never will be false.

514  Well,
515  Go muster men; but, hear you, leave behind
516  Your son, George Stanley: look your faith be firm.
517  Or else his head's assurance is but frail.

518  So deal with him as I prove true to you.

519  My gracious sovereign, now in Devonshire,
520  As I by friends am well advertised,
521  Sir Edward Courtney, and the haughty prelate
522  Bishop of Exeter, his brother there,
523  With many more confederates, are in arms.

524  My liege, in Kent the Guildfords are in arms;
525  And every hour more competitors
526  Flock to their aid, and still their power increaseth.

527  My lord, the army of the Duke of Buckingham--

528  Out on you, owls! nothing but songs of death?
He striketh him
529  Take that, until thou bring me better news.

530  The news I have to tell your majesty
531  Is, that by sudden floods and fall of waters,
532  Buckingham's army is dispersed and scatter'd;
533  And he himself wander'd away alone,
534  No man knows whither.

535  I cry thee mercy:
536  There is my purse to cure that blow of thine.
537  Hath any well-advised friend proclaim'd
538  Reward to him that brings the traitor in?

539  Such proclamation hath been made, my liege.

540  Sir Thomas Lovel and Lord Marquis Dorset,
541  'Tis said, my liege, in Yorkshire are in arms.
542  Yet this good comfort bring I to your grace,
543  The Breton navy is dispersed by tempest:
544  Richmond, in Yorkshire, sent out a boat
545  Unto the shore, to ask those on the banks
546  If they were his assistants, yea or no;
547  Who answer'd him, they came from Buckingham.
548  Upon his party: he, mistrusting them,
549  Hoisted sail and made away for Brittany.

550  March on, march on, since we are up in arms;
551  If not to fight with foreign enemies,
552  Yet to beat down these rebels here at home.

553  My liege, the Duke of Buckingham is taken;
554  That is the best news: that the Earl of Richmond
555  Is with a mighty power landed at Milford,
556  Is colder tidings, yet they must be told.

557  Away towards Salisbury! while we reason here,
558  A royal battle might be won and lost
559  Some one take order Buckingham be brought
560  To Salisbury; the rest march on with me.