Act1Scene3_edited.txt

London. A Room in the Palace.

Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH, LORD RIVERS, and LORD GREY.

Have patience, madam: there no doubt his majesty	 
Will soon recover his accustom health.	   4
In that you brook it ill, it makes him worse:	 
Therefore, for God sake, entertain good comfort,	 
And cheer his Grace with quick and merry words.	 
If he were dead, what would betide on me?	   8
No other harm but loss of such a lord.	 
The loss of such a lord includes all harms.	 
The heavens have bless you with a goodly son,	 
To be your comforter when he is gone.	  12
Ah! he is young; and his minority	 
Is put into the trust of Richard Gloucester,	 
A man that loves not me, nor none of you.	 
Is it concluded he shall be protector?	  16
 It is determin not concluded yet:	 
But so it must be if the king miscarry.	 

Enter BUCKINGHAM and STANLEY.

Here come the Lords of Buckingham and Stanley.	  20
Good time of day unto your royal Grace!	 
God make your majesty joyful as you have been!	 
The Countess Richmond, good my Lord of Stanley,	 
To your good prayer will scarcely say amen.	  24
Yet, Stanley, notwithstanding she your wife,	 
And loves not me, be you, good lord, assur’d	 
I hate not you for her proud arrogance.	 
I do beseech you, either not believe	  28
The envious slanders of her false accusers;	 
Or, if she be accus on true report,	 
Bear with her weakness, which, I think, proceeds	 
From way ward sickness, and no grounded malice.	  32
Saw you the king to-day, my Lord of Stanley?	 
But now the Duke of Buckingham and I,	 
Are come from visiting his majesty.	 
What likelihood of his amendment, lords?	  36
Madam, good hope; his Grace speaks cheerfully.	 
God grant him health! did you confer with him?	 
Ay, madam: he desires to make atonement	 
Between the Duke of Gloucester and your brothers,	  40
And between them and my lord chamberlain;	 
And sent to warn them to his royal presence.	 
Would all were well! But that will never be.	 
I fear our happiness is at the highest.	  44

Enter GLOUCESTER, HASTINGS, and DORSET.

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?	  48
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 faces, smooth, deceive, and cog,	  52
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 abus’d	  56
By silken, sly, insinuating Jacks?	 
To whom in all this presence speaks your Grace?	 
To thee, that hast nor honesty nor grace.	 
When have I injure thee? when done thee wrong?	  60
Or thee? or thee? or any of your faction?	 
A plague upon you all! His royal person,? 
Whom God preserve better than you would wish!? 
Cannot be quiet scarce a breathing-while,	  64
But you must trouble him with lewd complaints.	 
Brother of Gloucester, you mistake the matter.	 
The king, on his own royal disposition,	 
And not provoke by any suitor else,	  68
Aiming, belike, at your interior hatred,	 
That in your outward action shows itself	 
Against my children, brothers, and myself,	 
Makes him to send; that thereby he may gather	  72
The ground of your ill-will, and so remove it.	 
I cannot tell; the world is grown so bad	 
That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch:	 
Since every Jack became a gentleman	  76
There many a gentle person made a Jack.	 
Come, come, we know your meaning, brother Gloucester;	 
You envy my advancement and my friends?	 
God grant we never may have need of you!	  80
Meantime, God grants that we have need of you:	 
Our brother is imprisoned by your means,	 
Myself disgrace, and the nobility	 
Held in contempt; while great promotions	  84
Are daily given to ennoble those	 
That scarce, some two days since, were worth a noble.	 
By him that raise me to this careful height	 
From that contented hap which I enjoy’d,	  88
I never did incense his majesty	 
Against the Duke of Clarence, but have been	 
An earnest advocate to plead for him.	 
My lord, you do me shameful injury,	  92
Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects.	 
You may deny that you were not the mean	 
Of my Lord Hastings? late imprisonment.	 
She may, my lord; for?  96
She may, Lord Rivers! why, who knows not so?	 
She may do more, sir, than denying that:	 
She may help you to many fair preferments,	 
And then deny her aiding hand therein,	 100
And lay those honours on your high deserts.	 
What may she not? She may, may, marry, may she,? 
What, marry, may she?	 
What, marry, may she! marry with a king,	 104
A bachelor, a handsome stripling too.	 
I wis your grandam had a worser match.	 
My Lord of Gloucester, I have too long borne	 
Your blunt upbraidings and your bitter scoffs;	 108
By heaven, I will acquaint his majesty	 
Of those gross taunts that oft I have endur’d.	 
I had rather be a country servantmaid	 
Than a great queen, with this condition,	 112
To be so baited, scorn, and stormed at:	 
Small joy have I in being England queen.	 

Enter QUEEN MARGARET, behind.

And lessen be that small, God, I beseech him!	 116
Thy honour, state, and seat is due to me.	 
What! threat you me with telling of the king?	 
Tell him, and spare not: look, what I have said	 
I will avouch in presence of the king:	 120
I dare adventure to be sent to the Tower.	 
is time to speak; my pains are quite forgot.	 
Out, devil! I remember them too well:	 
Thou killst my husband Henry in the Tower,	 124
And Edward, my poor son, at Tewksbury.	 
Ere you were queen, ay, or your husband king,	 
I was a pack-horse in his great affairs,	 
A weeder-out of his proud adversaries,	 128
A liberal rewarder of his friends;	 
To royalize his blood I spilt mine own.	 
Ay, and much better blood than his, or thine.	 
In all which time you and your husband Grey	 132
Were factious for the house of Lancaster;	 
And, Rivers, so were you. Was not your husband	 
In Margaret battle at Saint Albanslain?	 
Let me put in your minds, if you forget,	 136
What you have been ere now, and what you are;	 
Withal, what I have been, and what I am.	 
A murderous villain, and so still thou art.	 
Poor Clarence did forsake his father, Warwick,	 140
Ay, and forswore himself, which Jesu pardon!? 
Which God's revenge!	 
To fight on Edward party for the crown;	 
And for his meed, poor lord, he is mew up.	 144
I would to God my heart were flint, like Edward’s;	 
Or Edward soft and pitiful, like mine:	 
I am too childish-foolish for this world.	 
Hie thee to hell for shame, and leave this world,	 148
Thou cacodemon! there thy kingdom is.	 
My Lord of Gloucester, in those busy days	 
Which here you urge to prove us enemies,	 
We follow then our lord, our lawful king;	 152
So should we you, if you should be our king.	 
If I should be! I had rather be a pedlar.	 
Far be it from my heart the thought thereof!	 
As little joy, my lord, as you suppose	 156
You should enjoy, were you this country’s king,	 
As little joy you may suppose in me	 
That I enjoy, being the queen thereof.	 
As little joy enjoys the queen thereof;	 160
For I am she, and altogether joyless.	 
I can no longer hold me patient.	 
Hear me, you wrangling pirates, that fall out	 
In sharing that which you have pill  from me!	 164
Which of you trembles not that looks on me?	 
If not, that, I being queen, you bow like subjects,	 
Yet that, by you depos, you quake like rebels?	 
Ah! gentle villain, do not turn away.	 168
Foul wrinkled witch, what makt thou in my sight?	 
But repetition of what thou hast marry;	 
That will I make before I let thee go.	 
Wert thou not banished on pain of death?	 172
I was; but I do find more pain in banishment	 
Than death can yield me here by my abode.	 
A husband and a son thou owe it to me;	 
And thou, a kingdom; all of you, allegiance:	 176
This sorrow that I have by right is yours,	 
And all the pleasures you usurp are mine.	 
The curse my noble father laid on thee,	 
When thou didst crown his war-like brows with paper,	 180
And with thy scorns drew it rivers from his eyes;	 
And then, to dry them, gavet the duke a clout	 
Steep in the faultless blood of pretty Rutland;	 
His curses, then from bitterness of soul	 184
Denounce against thee, are all fall upon thee;	 
And God, not we, hath plague thy bloody deed.	 
So just is God, to right the innocent.	 
O! I was the foulest deed to slay that babe,	 188
And the most merciless, that ear was heard of.	 
Tyrants themselves wept when it was reported.	 
No man but prophesied revenge for it.	 
Northumberland, then present, wept to see it.	 192
What! were you snarling all before I came,	 
Ready to catch each other by the throat,	 
And turn you all your hatred now on me?	 
Did York's dread curse prevail so much with heaven	 196
That Henry's death, my lovely Edward's death,	 
Their kingdom's loss, my woeful banishment,	 
Should all but answer for that peevish brat?	 
Can curses pierce the clouds and enter heaven?	 200
Why then, give way, dull clouds, to my quick curses!	 
Though not by war, by surfeit die your king,	 
As ours by murder, to make him a king!	 
Edward, thy son, that now is Prince of Wales,	 204
For Edward, my son, which was Prince of Wales,	 
Die in his youth by like untimely violence!	 
Thyself a queen, for me that was a queen,	 
Outlive thy glory, like my wretched self!	 208
Long mayst thou live to wail thy children’s loss,	 
And see another, as I see thee now,	 
Deck in thy rights, as thou art stall in mine!	 
Long die thy happy days before thy death;	 212
And, after many lengthen hours of grief,	 
Die neither mother, wife, nor England's queen!	 
Rivers, and Dorset, you were standers by,? 
And so wast thou, Lord Hastings, then my son	 216
Was stabbed with bloody daggers: God, I pray him,	 
That none of you may live your natural age,	 
But by some unlooked accident cut off.	 
Have done thy charm, thou hateful wither's hag!	 220
And leave out thee? stay, dog, for thou shalt hear me.	 
If heaven have any grievous plague in store	 
Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee,	 
O! let them keep it till thy sins be ripe,	 224
And then hurl down their indignation	 
On thee, the troubler of the poor world peace.	 
The worm of conscience still begnaw thy soul!	 
Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou livet	 228
And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends!	 
No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine,	 
Unless it be while some tormenting dream	 
Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils!	 232
Thou elvish-mark, abortive, rooting hog!	 
Thou that wast sealed in thy nativity	 
The slave of nature and the son of hell!	 
Thou slander of thy mother's heavy womb!	 236
Thou loathed issue of thy father's loins!	 
Thou rag of honour! thou detested? 
Margaret!	 
Richard!	 240
Ha!	 
I call thee not.	 
I cry thee mercy then, for I did think	 
That thou hadst called me all these bitter names.	 244
Why, so I did; but looked for no reply.	 
O! let me make the period to my curse.	 
It is done by me, and ends in Margaret.? 
Thus have you breathe your curse against yourself.	 248
Poor painted queen, vain flourish of my fortune!	 
Why strewst thou sugar on that bottled spider,	 
Whose deadly web ensnareth thee about?	 
Fool, fool! thou whetst a knife to kill thyself.	 252
The day will come that thou shalt wish for me	 
To help thee curse this poisonous bunch-back toad.	 
False-boding woman, end thy frantic curse,	 
Lest to thy harm thou move our patience.	 256
Foul shame upon you! you have all move mine.	 
Were you well served, you would be taught your duty.	 
To serve me well, you all should do me duty,	 
Teach me to be your queen, and you my subjects:	 260
O! serve me well, and teach yourselves that duty.	 
Dispute not with her, she is lunatic.	 
Peace! Master marquess, you are malapert:	 
Your fire-new stamp of honour is scarce current.	 264
O! that your young nobility could judge	 
What were to lose it, and be miserable!	 
They that stand high have many blasts to shake them,	 
And if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces.	 268
Good counsel, marry: learn it, learn it, marquess.	 
It touches you, my lord, as much as me.	 
Ay, and much more; but I was born so high,	 
Our aery buildeth in the cedar top,	 272
And dallies with the wind, and scorns the sun.	 
And turns the sun to shade; alas! alas!	 
Witness my son, now in the shade of death;	 
Whose bright out-shining beams thy cloudy wrath	 276
Hath in eternal darkness folded up.	 
Your aery buildeth in our aery nest:	 
O God! that seest it, do not suffer it;	 
As it was won with blood, lost be it so!	 280
Peace, peace! for shame, if not for charity.	 
Urge neither charity nor shame to me:	 
Uncharitably with me have you dealt,	 
And shamefully my hopes by you are butcher’d.	 284
My charity is outrage, life my shame;	 
And in that shame still live my sorrow rage!	 
Have done, have done.	 
O princely Buckingham! I'll kiss thy hand,	 288
In sign of league and amity with thee:	 
Now fair befall thee and thy noble house!	 
Thy garments are not spotted with our blood,	 
Nor thou within the compass of my curse.	 292
Nor no one here; for curses never pass	 
The lips of those that breathe them in the air.	 
I will not think but they ascend the sky,	 
And there awake God's gentle-sleeping peace.	 296
O Buckingham! take heed of yonder dog:	 
Look, when he fawns, he bites; and when he bites	 
His venom tooth will rankle to the death:	 
Have not to do with him, beware of him;	 300
Sin, death and hell have set their marks on him,	 
And all their ministers attend on him.	 
What doth she say, my Lord of Buckingham?	 
Nothing that I respect, my gracious lord.	 304
What! dost thou scorn me for my gentle counsel,	 
And soothe the devil that I warn thee from?	 
O! but remember this another day,	 
When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow,	 308
And say poor Margaret was a prophetess.	 
Live each of you the subject to his hate,	 
And he to yours, and all of you to God! 
My hair doth stand on end to hear her curses.	 312
And so doth mine. I muse why she's at liberty.	 
I cannot blame her: by God holy mother,	 
She hath had too much wrong, and I repent	 
My part thereof that I have done to her.	 316
I never did her any, to my knowledge.	 
Yet you have all the vantage of her wrong.	 
I was too hot to do somebody good,	 
That is too cold in thinking of it now.	 320
Marry, as for Clarence, he is well repaid;	 
He is frank up to fatting for his pains:	 
God pardon them that are the cause thereof!	 
A virtuous and a Christian-like conclusion,	 324
To pray for them that have done scath to us.	 
So do I ever, being well-advised;	 
For had I cursed now, I had cursed myself.	 

Enter CATESBY.	328

Madam, his majesty doth call for you;	 
And for your Grace; and you, my noble lords.	 
Catesby, I come. Lords, will you go with me?	 
We wait upon your Grace.	 332
I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl.	 
The secret mischiefs that I set abroach	 
I lay unto the grievous charge of others.	 
Clarence, whom I, indeed, have cast in darkness,	 336
I do beweep to many simple gulls;	 
Namely, to Stanley, Hastings, Buckingham;	 
And tell them is the queen and her allies	 
That stir the king against the duke my brother.	 340
Now they believe it; and withal whet me	 
To be revenge on Rivers, Vaughan, Grey;	 
But then I sigh, and, with a piece of scripture,	 
Tell them that God bids us do good for evil:	 344
And thus I clothe my naked villany	 
With odd old ends stole forth of holy writ,	 
And seem a saint when most I play the devil.	 

Enter two Murderers.	348

But soft! here come my executioners.	 
How now, my hardy, stout resolved mates!	 
Are you now going to dispatch this thing?	 
We are, my lord; and come to have the warrant,	 352
That we may be admitted where he is.	 
Well thought upon; I have it here about me:	 
When you have done, repair to Crosby-place.	 
But, sirs, be sudden in the execution,	 356
Withal obdurate, do not hear him plead;	 
For Clarence is well-spoken, and perhaps	 
May move your hearts to pity, if you mark him.	 
Tut, tut, my lord, we will not stand to prate;	 360
Talkers are no good doers: be assur’d	 
We go to use our hands and not our tongues.	 
Your eyes drop millstones, when fools?eyes fall tears:	 
I like you, lads; about your business straight;	 364
Go, go, dispatch.	 
We will, my noble lord.