The Dramatic Works of William Shakspeare

Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. *
Grim visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled
frout:

And now, instead of mounting barbed + 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 shap'd for sportive tricks,
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;
I that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's ma-
jesty,

To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
1, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deformi'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable,
That dogs bark at ine, as I halt by them;
Why 1, 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 murderers shall be.
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul ! here Clarence

comes.

Enter CLARENCE, guarded, and BRAKEN.

BURY.

Brother, good day: What means this armed guard,

That waits upon your grace?

Clar. His majesty,

Tendering my person's safety, hath appointed,
This conduct to convey me to the Tower.

Glo. Upon what cause?

That trudge betwixt the king and mistress
Shore.

Heard you not, what an humble suppliant
Lord Hastings was to her for his delivery ?

Glo. 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'er-worn widow, and herself, ⚫
Since that our brother dubb'd them gentlewo-
men,

Are mighty gossips in this monarchy.

Brak. 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.
Glo. Even so? an please your worship, Bia
kenbury,

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 the queen's kindred are made gentlefolks :
How say you, Sir? can you deny all this ?
Brak. With this, my lord, myself have naught

to do.

Glo. Naught to do with mistress Shore? I tell
thee, fellow,

He that doth naught with her, excepting one
Were best to do it secretly, alone.
Brak. What one, my lord?

Glo. Her husband, knave :-Would'st thou be-
tray me?

Brak. I beseech your grace to pardon me

and, withal,

Forbear your conference with the noble duke.
Clar. We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and

will obey.

Glo. 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.
Mean time, this deep disgrace in brotherhood,
:-Touches me deeper than you can imagine.

Clar. Because my name is-George.
Glo. Alack, my lord, that fault is none of
your's;

He should, for that, commit your godfathers
Oh! 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?
Clar. Yea, Richard, when I know; for I pro-I
test,

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 be:
These, as I learn, and such like toys as these,
Have mov'd his highness to commit me now.
Glo. Why, this it is, when men are rul'd by

Clar. I know it pleaseth neither of us well. Glo. Well, your imprisonment shall not be long;

will deliver you, or else lie for you: Mean time, have patience.

Clar. I must perforce; farewell.

[Exeunt CLARENCE, BRAKENBURY, and Guard.

Glo. 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 Hast-
ings?

Enter HASTINGS.

Hast. Good time of day unto my gracious lord!

Glo. As much anto my good lord chamber.
lain !

Well are you welcome to this open air.
How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment?
Hast. With patience, noble lord, as prisoners

548

Hast. More pity that the eagle should be | Taken from Paul's to be interred there; mew'd

While kites and buzzards prey at liberty.

Glo. What news abroad?

Hast. No news so bad abroad, as this at

home

The king is sickly, weak, and melancholy,
And his physicians fear him mightily.

Glo. Now, by Saint Paul, this news is bad
indeed.

Oh! he hath kept an evil diet long,
And over-unuch consum'd his royal person;
'Tis very grievous to be thought upon.
What, is he in his bed?

Hast. He is.

Glo. 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 posthorse up to
heaven.

I'll in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence,
With lies well steel'd with weighty arguments;
And, if I fail not in my deep intent,
Clarence bath not another day to live:
Which done, God take king Edward to his
mercy,

And leave the world for ine to bustle in!
For

then

I'll marry daughter:

Warwick's

youngest

What though I kill'd her husband and her fa-
ther,

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
[Exit.
gains.
SCENE 11.-The same. Another Street.
Enter the corpse of King HENRY the Sixth,
borne in an open coffin, Gentlemen bearing
halberts to guard it; and Lady ANNE as

mourner.

Anne. Set down, set down your honourable

load,

2f honour may be shrouded in a hearse,
Whilst a while 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 I
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 self-same hand that made these

wounds!

Lo, in these windows that let forth thy life,
I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes :-
Oh! cursed 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 bap 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 be 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 be made
More miserable by the death of him,
Thau

I am made by my young lord
thee!-

Come, now, toward Chertsey with your
load,

and

holy

Glo. Stay you that bear the corse, and set it
down.

Anne. What black magician conjures up this
fiend,

To stop devoted charitable deeds?

Glo. Villains, set down the corse; or, by
Saint Paul,

I'll make a corse of him that disobeys.

1 Gent. My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass.

Glo. Unmanner'd dog! stand thou when f
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 bold-

ness.

[The bearers set down the coffin. 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 bell!
Thou hadst but power over his mortal body,
His soul thou canst not have; therefore, be
gone.

Glo. Sweet saint, for charity be not so curst.
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 ex-
claims.

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
afresh!"-

[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors]

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 !
Glo. Lady, you know no rules of charity,
Which

renders good for bad, blessings for

curses.

Anne. Villain, thou know'st no law of God

nor man:

No beast so fierce, but knows some touch of pity.
Glo. But I know none, and therefore am no

beast.

Anne. O wonderful, when devils tell the truth!

Glo. 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.

Anne. Vouchsafe, diffus'd infection of a man,
For these known evils, but to give me leave,
By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self.
Glo. Fairer than tongue can name thee, let

me have

Some patient leisure to excuse myself.

It is a tradition (derived probably from the ancient Swedes) that the inurdered body bleeds on the touch of the murderer.

Anne. Fouler than heart can think thee, thou | To be reveng'd on him that kill'd my huscanst make

No excuse current, but to hang thyself.

Glo. By such despair, I should accuse myself.

Anne. And, by despairing, shalt thou stand excus'd;

For doing worthy vengeance on thyself,
That didst unworthy slaughter upon others.
Glo. Say, that I slew them not?

Anne. Why then, they are not dead:

But dead they are, and, devilish slave, by thee.

Glo. I did not kill your husband.
Anne. Why, then he is alive.

Glo. Nay, he is dead; and slain by Edward's hand.

Anne. In thy soul's throat thou liest; queen Margaret saw

Thy murderous faulchion smoking in his blood The which thou once didst bend against her breast,

But that thy brothers beat aside the point.

Glo. I was provoked by her sland'rous

tongue,

That laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders.

Anne. Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind,

That never dreamt on aught but butcheries:
Didst thou not kill this king?

Glo. I grant ye.

Anne. Dost grant me, hedge hog? then God grant me too,

Thou may'st be damned for that wicked deed! Oh! he was gentle, mild, and virtuous.

Glo. The fitter for the King of heaven that bath him.

Anne. He is in heaven, where thou shalt

never come.

Glo. Let him thank me, that holp to send him thither;

For he was fitter for that place, than earth. Anne. And thou unfit for any place but hell.

Glo. Yes, one place else, if you will hear me name it.

Anne. Some dungeon.

Glo. Your bedchamber.

band.

Glo. He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband,

Did it to help thee to a better husband.
Anne. His better doth not breathe upon the

earth.

Glo. He lives that loves you better than he could.

Anne. Name him.

Glo. Plantagenet.

Anne. Why, that was he.

Glo. The self-same name, but one of better

nature.

Anne. Where is he?

Glo. Here: [She spits at him.] Why dost thou spit at me?

Anne. 'Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake!

Glo. Never came poison from so sweet a place.

Anne. Never hung poison on a fouler toad. Out of my sight! thou dost infect mine eyes.

Glo. Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine.

Anne. 'Would they were basilisks, to strike thee dead!

Glo. 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,

Sham'd their aspects with store of childish drops;

These eyes, which never shed remorseful⚫ tear,

Not, when my father York and Edward wept,
To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made,
When black-fac'd 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;

Anne. Il rest betide the chamber where thou And what these sorrows could not thence ex

liest !

Glo. So will it, madam, till I lie with you.
Anne. I hope so.

Glo. 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 ?

Anne. Thou wast the cause, and most accurs'd effect.

Glo. 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 bo

hale, Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping.

I never su'd to friend nor enemy;

My tongue could never learn sweet soothing word

But now thy beauty is propos'd my fee, My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak.

[She looks scornfully at him. Teach not thy lip such scora; for it was 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 breast,

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 despatch; 'twas I that stabb'd young
Edward;

[She again offers at his breast. But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on. [She lets fall the sword. Take up the sword again, or take up me. Anne. Arise, dissembler: though I wish thy death,

I will not be thy executioner.

• Pitiful.

Glo. Then bid me kill myself, and I will do | On me that halt and am misshapen thus ? it.

Anne. I have already.

Glo. That was in thy rage:

Speak it again, and, even with the word,

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.

This hand, which, for thy love, did kill thy I'll be at charges for a looking-glass;

love,

Shall for thy love, kill a far truer love :

To both their deaths shalt thou be accessary.
Anne. I would I knew thy heart.
Glo. 'Tis figur'd in my tongue.
Anne. I fear me, both are false.
Glo. Then man was never true.

Anne. Well, well, put up your sword.
Glo. Say then, my peace is made.
Anne. That shall you know hereafter.
Glo. But shall I live in hope?
Anne. All men, I hope, live so.
Glo. Vouchsafe to wear this ring.
Anne. To take, is not to give.

[She puts on the ring. Glo. Look, how this ring encompasseth thy finger,

Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart; Wear both of them, for both of them are thine.

And if thy poor devoted servant may
But beg one favour at thy gracious hand,
Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever.
Anne. What is it?

Glo. That it may please you 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 monast'ry, 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.

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.
Glo. Bid me farewell.

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.

Glo. Take up the corse, Sirs.
Kent. Towards Chertsey, noble lord?
Glo. No, to White-Friars; there attend my
coming.

[Exeunt the rest, with the corse. 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 father

his

And entertain a score or two of tailors,
To study fashions to adorn my body:
Since I am crept in favour with myself,
I will maintain it with some little cost.
But, first, I'll turn you fellow in his grave;
And then return lamenting to my love.-
Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a
glass,
[Exit.

That I may see my shadow as I pass.

SCENE III.-The same.-A Room in the Palace.

Enter Queen ELIZABETH, Lord RIVERS, and Lord GREY.

Riv. Have patience, madam; there's no doubt his majesty

Will soon recover his accustom'd health.
Grey. In that you brook it ill, it makes him

worse:

Therefore, for God's sake, entertain good comfort,

And cheer his grace with quick and merry words.

Q. Eliz. If he were dead, what would betide of me?

Grey. No other harm, but loss of such a lord. Q. Eliz. The loss of such a lord includes all

harms.

Grey. The heavens have bless'd you with

goodly son,

To be your comforter when he is gone.
Q. Eliz. Ah! he is young; and bis minority
Is put into the trust of Richard Gloster,
A man that loves not me, nor none of you.
Riv. Is it concluded, he shall be protector?
Q. Eliz. It is determin'd, not conclade
yet;

But so it must be, if the king miscarry.

Enter BUCKINGHAM and STANLEY. Grey. Here come the lords of Buckingham and Stanley.

Buck. Good time of day unto your royal grace!

Stan. God make your majesty joyful as you have been!

Q. Eliz. The countess Richmond, good my lord of Stanley,

To your good prayer will scarcely say―amen.
Yet, Stanley, notwithstanding she's your wife,
And loves not me, be you, good lord, assur'd,
I hate not you for her proud arrogance.
Stan. I do beseech you either not believe
The envious slanders of her false accusers;
Or if she be accus'd on true report,
Bear with her weakness, which, I think, pro-
ceeds

From wayward sickness, and no grounded malice.

Q. Eliz. Saw you the king to-day, my lor! of Stanley?

Stan. But now, the duke of Buckingham, and I,

Are come from visiting his majesty.

Q. Eliz. What likelihood of his amendment,

lords?

Buck. Madam, good hope: his grace speaks cheerfully.

Q. Eliz. God grant him health! Did you confer with him?

Buck. Ay, madam : he desires to make atone

ment

That cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet Between the duke of Gloster and your bro.

prince,

And made her widow to a woeful bed?

Ou me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety?

thers,

And between them and my lord chamberlain; And sent to warn them to his presence.

« Zurück Weiter »

Books

The Dramatic Works of William Shakspeare, Band 9