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twg_000000025200 | now our brother Gloucester here, To make the blessed period of this peace. BUCKINGHAM. And in good time, Here comes Sir Ratcliffe and the Duke. Enter Ratcliffe and Richard. RICHARD. Good morrow to my sovereign King and Queen; And, princely peers, a happy time of day. KING EDWARD. Happy indeed, as we have spent the day. Gloucester, we have done | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025201 | deeds of charity, Made peace of enmity, fair love of hate, Between these swelling wrong-incensed peers. RICHARD. A blessed labour, my most sovereign lord, Among this princely heap, if any here By false intelligence or wrong surmise Hold me a foe, If I unwittingly, or in my rage, Have aught committed that is hardly borne By any in this presence, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025202 | I desire To reconcile me to his friendly peace. Tis death to me to be at enmity; I hate it, and desire all good mens love. First, madam, I entreat true peace of you, Which I will purchase with my duteous service; Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham, If ever any grudge were lodged between us; Of you and you, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025203 | Lord Rivers and of Dorset, That all without desert have frowned on me; Of you, Lord Woodville and Lord Scales;of you, Dukes, earls, lords, gentlemen; indeed, of all. I do not know that Englishman alive With whom my soul is any jot at odds More than the infant that is born tonight. I thank my God for my humility. QUEEN | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025204 | ELIZABETH. A holy day shall this be kept hereafter. I would to God all strifes were well compounded. My sovereign lord, I do beseech your Highness To take our brother Clarence to your grace. RICHARD. Why, madam, have I offered love for this, To be so flouted in this royal presence? Who knows not that the gentle Duke is dead? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025205 | [_They all start._] You do him injury to scorn his corse. KING EDWARD. Who knows not he is dead! Who knows he is? QUEEN ELIZABETH. All-seeing heaven, what a world is this! BUCKINGHAM. Look I so pale, Lord Dorset, as the rest? DORSET. Ay, my good lord, and no man in the presence But his red colour hath forsook his | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025206 | cheeks. KING EDWARD. Is Clarence dead? The order was reversed. RICHARD. But he, poor man, by your first order died, And that a winged Mercury did bear; Some tardy cripple bore the countermand, That came too lag to see him buried. God grant that some, less noble and less loyal, Nearer in bloody thoughts, and not in blood, Deserve not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025207 | worse than wretched Clarence did, And yet go current from suspicion! Enter Stanley Earl of Derby. STANLEY. A boon, my sovereign, for my service done! KING EDWARD. I prithee, peace. My soul is full of sorrow. STANLEY. I will not rise unless your Highness hear me. KING EDWARD. Then say at once what is it thou requests. STANLEY. The forfeit, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025208 | sovereign, of my servants life Who slew today a riotous gentleman Lately attendant on the Duke of Norfolk. KING EDWARD. Have I a tongue to doom my brothers death, And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave? My brother killed no man; his fault was thought, And yet his punishment was bitter death. Who sued to me for him? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025209 | Who, in my wrath, Kneeled at my feet, and bid me be advised? Who spoke of brotherhood? Who spoke of love? Who told me how the poor soul did forsake The mighty Warwick, and did fight for me? Who told me, in the field at Tewksbury, When Oxford had me down, he rescued me, And said, Dear brother, live, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025210 | be a king? Who told me, when we both lay in the field Frozen almost to death, how he did lap me Even in his garments, and did give himself, All thin and naked, to the numb-cold night? All this from my remembrance brutish wrath Sinfully plucked, and not a man of you Had so much grace to put it | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025211 | in my mind. But when your carters or your waiting vassals Have done a drunken slaughter, and defaced The precious image of our dear Redeemer, You straight are on your knees for pardon, pardon, And I, unjustly too, must grant it you. But for my brother not a man would speak, Nor I, ungracious, speak unto myself For him, poor | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025212 | soul. The proudest of you all Have been beholding to him in his life, Yet none of you would once beg for his life. O God, I fear Thy justice will take hold On me, and you, and mine and yours for this! Come, Hastings, help me to my closet. Ah, poor Clarence! [_Exeunt some with King and Queen._] RICHARD. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025213 | This is the fruit of rashness. Marked you not How that the guilty kindred of the Queen Looked pale when they did hear of Clarence death? O, they did urge it still unto the King. God will revenge it. Come, lords, will you go To comfort Edward with our company? BUCKINGHAM. We wait upon your Grace. [_Exeunt._] SCENE II. Another | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025214 | Room in the palace Enter the old Duchess of York with the two Children of Clarence. BOY. Good grandam, tell us, is our father dead? DUCHESS. No, boy. GIRL. Why do you weep so oft, and beat your breast, And cry O Clarence, my unhappy son? BOY. Why do you look on us, and shake your head, And call us | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025215 | orphans, wretches, castaways, If that our noble father were alive? DUCHESS. My pretty cousins, you mistake me both. I do lament the sickness of the King, As loath to lose him, not your fathers death. It were lost sorrow to wail one thats lost. BOY. Then you conclude, my grandam, he is dead. The King mine uncle is to blame | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025216 | for it. God will revenge it, whom I will importune With earnest prayers all to that effect. GIRL. And so will I. DUCHESS. Peace, children, peace. The King doth love you well. Incapable and shallow innocents, You cannot guess who caused your fathers death. BOY. Grandam, we can, for my good uncle Gloucester Told me, the King, provoked to it | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025217 | by the Queen, Devised impeachments to imprison him; And when my uncle told me so, he wept, And pitied me, and kindly kissed my cheek; Bade me rely on him as on my father, And he would love me dearly as his child. DUCHESS. Ah, that deceit should steal such gentle shape, And with a virtuous visard hide deep vice! | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025218 | He is my son, ay, and therein my shame; Yet from my dugs he drew not this deceit. BOY. Think you my uncle did dissemble, grandam? DUCHESS. Ay, boy. BOY. I cannot think it. Hark, what noise is this? Enter Queen Elizabeth with her hair about her ears, Rivers and Dorset after her. QUEEN ELIZABETH. Ah, who shall hinder me | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025219 | to wail and weep, To chide my fortune, and torment myself? Ill join with black despair against my soul And to myself become an enemy. DUCHESS. What means this scene of rude impatience? QUEEN ELIZABETH. To make an act of tragic violence. Edward, my lord, thy son, our King, is dead. Why grow the branches when the root is gone? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025220 | Why wither not the leaves that want their sap? If you will live, lament; if die, be brief, That our swift-winged souls may catch the Kings Or, like obedient subjects, follow him To his new kingdom of neer-changing night. DUCHESS. Ah, so much interest have I in thy sorrow As I had title in thy noble husband. I have bewept | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025221 | a worthy husbands death, And lived by looking on his images; But now two mirrors of his princely semblance Are cracked in pieces by malignant death, And I, for comfort, have but one false glass, That grieves me when I see my shame in him. Thou art a widow, yet thou art a mother, And hast the comfort of thy | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025222 | children left; But death hath snatched my husband from mine arms And plucked two crutches from my feeble hands, Clarence and Edward. O, what cause have I, Thine being but a moiety of my moan, To overgo thy woes and drown thy cries. BOY. Ah, aunt, you wept not for our fathers death. How can we aid you with our | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025223 | kindred tears? GIRL. Our fatherless distress was left unmoaned. Your widow-dolour likewise be unwept! QUEEN ELIZABETH. Give me no help in lamentation. I am not barren to bring forth complaints. All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes, That I, being governed by the watery moon, May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world. Ah, for my husband, for | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025224 | my dear Lord Edward! CHILDREN. Ah for our father, for our dear Lord Clarence! DUCHESS. Alas for both, both mine, Edward and Clarence! QUEEN ELIZABETH. What stay had I but Edward? And hes gone. CHILDREN. What stay had we but Clarence? And hes gone. DUCHESS. What stays had I but they? And they are gone. QUEEN ELIZABETH. Was never widow | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025225 | had so dear a loss. CHILDREN. Were never orphans had so dear a loss. DUCHESS. Was never mother had so dear a loss. Alas, I am the mother of these griefs. Their woes are parcelled, mine is general. She for an Edward weeps, and so do I; I for a Clarence weep, so doth not she; These babes for Clarence | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025226 | weep, and so do I; I for an Edward weep, so do not they. Alas, you three, on me, threefold distressed, Pour all your tears. I am your sorrows nurse, And I will pamper it with lamentation. DORSET. Comfort, dear mother. God is much displeased That you take with unthankfulness His doing. In common worldly things tis called ungrateful With | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025227 | dull unwillingness to repay a debt Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent; Much more to be thus opposite with heaven, For it requires the royal debt it lent you. RIVERS. Madam, bethink you, like a careful mother, Of the young prince your son. Send straight for him; Let him be crowned; in him your comfort lives. Drown desperate | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025228 | sorrow in dead Edwards grave, And plant your joys in living Edwards throne. Enter Richard, Buckingham, Stanley Earl of Derby, Hastings and Ratcliffe. RICHARD. Sister, have comfort. All of us have cause To wail the dimming of our shining star, But none can help our harms by wailing them. Madam my mother, I do cry you mercy; I did not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025229 | see your Grace. Humbly on my knee I crave your blessing. [_Kneels._] DUCHESS. God bless thee, and put meekness in thy breast, Love, charity, obedience, and true duty. RICHARD. Amen. [_Aside_.] And make me die a good old man! That is the butt end of a mothers blessing; I marvel that her Grace did leave it out. BUCKINGHAM. You cloudy | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025230 | princes and heart-sorrowing peers That bear this heavy mutual load of moan, Now cheer each other in each others love. Though we have spent our harvest of this king, We are to reap the harvest of his son. The broken rancour of your high-swolln hates, But lately splintered, knit, and joined together, Must gently be preserved, cherished, and kept. Me | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025231 | seemeth good that with some little train, Forthwith from Ludlow the young Prince be fet Hither to London, to be crowned our King. RIVERS. Why with some little train, my Lord of Buckingham? BUCKINGHAM. Marry, my lord, lest by a multitude The new-healed wound of malice should break out, Which would be so much the more dangerous By how much | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025232 | the estate is green and yet ungoverned. Where every horse bears his commanding rein And may direct his course as please himself, As well the fear of harm as harm apparent, In my opinion, ought to be prevented. RICHARD. I hope the King made peace with all of us; And the compact is firm and true in me. RIVERS. And | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025233 | so in me, and so, I think, in all. Yet since it is but green, it should be put To no apparent likelihood of breach, Which haply by much company might be urged. Therefore I say with noble Buckingham That it is meet so few should fetch the Prince. HASTINGS. And so say I. RICHARD. Then be it so, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025234 | go we to determine Who they shall be that straight shall post to Ludlow. Madam, and you, my sister, will you go To give your censures in this business? [_Exeunt all but Buckingham and Richard._] BUCKINGHAM. My lord, whoever journeys to the Prince, For Gods sake, let not us two stay at home. For by the way Ill sort occasion, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025235 | As index to the story we late talked of, To part the Queens proud kindred from the Prince. RICHARD. My other self, my counsels consistory, My oracle, my prophet, my dear cousin, I, as a child, will go by thy direction. Toward Ludlow then, for well not stay behind. [_Exeunt._] SCENE III. London. A street Enter one Citizen at one | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025236 | door, and Another at the other. FIRST CITIZEN. Good morrow, neighbour, whither away so fast? SECOND CITIZEN. I promise you, I scarcely know myself. Hear you the news abroad? FIRST CITIZEN. Yes, that the King is dead. SECOND CITIZEN. Ill news, byr Lady; seldom comes the better. I fear, I fear twill prove a giddy world. Enter another Citizen. THIRD | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025237 | CITIZEN. Neighbours, God speed. FIRST CITIZEN. Give you good morrow, sir. THIRD CITIZEN. Doth the news hold of good King Edwards death? SECOND CITIZEN. Ay, sir, it is too true, God help the while. THIRD CITIZEN. Then, masters, look to see a troublous world. FIRST CITIZEN. No, no; by Gods good grace, his son shall reign. THIRD CITIZEN. Woe to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025238 | that land thats governed by a child. SECOND CITIZEN. In him there is a hope of government, Which, in his nonage, council under him, And, in his full and ripened years, himself, No doubt shall then, and till then, govern well. FIRST CITIZEN. So stood the state when Henry the Sixth Was crowned in Paris but at nine months old. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025239 | THIRD CITIZEN. Stood the state so? No, no, good friends, God wot. For then this land was famously enriched With politic grave counsel; then the King Had virtuous uncles to protect his Grace. FIRST CITIZEN. Why, so hath this, both by his father and mother. THIRD CITIZEN. Better it were they all came by his father, Or by his father | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025240 | there were none at all, For emulation who shall now be nearest Will touch us all too near, if God prevent not. O, full of danger is the Duke of Gloucester, And the Queens sons and brothers haught and proud; And were they to be ruled, and not to rule, This sickly land might solace as before. FIRST CITIZEN. Come, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025241 | come, we fear the worst; all will be well. THIRD CITIZEN. When clouds are seen, wise men put on their cloaks; When great leaves fall, then winter is at hand; When the sun sets, who doth not look for night? Untimely storms make men expect a dearth. All may be well; but, if God sort it so, Tis more than | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025242 | we deserve or I expect. SECOND CITIZEN. Truly, the hearts of men are full of fear. You cannot reason almost with a man That looks not heavily and full of dread. THIRD CITIZEN. Before the days of change, still is it so. By a divine instinct mens minds mistrust Ensuing danger, as by proof we see The water swell before | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025243 | a boistrous storm. But leave it all to God. Whither away? SECOND CITIZEN. Marry, we were sent for to the Justices. THIRD CITIZEN. And so was I. Ill bear you company. [_Exeunt._] SCENE IV. London. A Room in the Palace Enter the Archbishop of York, the young Duke of York, Queen Elizabeth and the Duchess of York. ARCHBISHOP. Last night, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025244 | I hear, they lay at Stony Stratford, And at Northampton they do rest tonight. Tomorrow or next day they will be here. DUCHESS. I long with all my heart to see the Prince. I hope he is much grown since last I saw him. QUEEN ELIZABETH. But I hear no; they say my son of York Has almost overtaen him | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025245 | in his growth. YORK. Ay, mother, but I would not have it so. DUCHESS. Why, my good cousin? It is good to grow. YORK. Grandam, one night as we did sit at supper, My uncle Rivers talked how I did grow More than my brother. Ay, quoth my uncle Gloucester, Small herbs have grace; great weeds do grow apace. And | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025246 | since, methinks I would not grow so fast, Because sweet flowers are slow and weeds make haste. DUCHESS. Good faith, good faith, the saying did not hold In him that did object the same to thee! He was the wretchedst thing when he was young, So long a-growing and so leisurely, That if his rule were true, he should be | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025247 | gracious. ARCHBISHOP. And so no doubt he is, my gracious madam. DUCHESS. I hope he is, but yet let mothers doubt. YORK. Now, by my troth, if I had been remembered, I could have given my uncles Grace a flout To touch his growth nearer than he touched mine. DUCHESS. How, my young York? I prithee let me hear it. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025248 | YORK. Marry, they say my uncle grew so fast That he could gnaw a crust at two hours old. Twas full two years ere I could get a tooth. Grandam, this would have been a biting jest. DUCHESS. I prithee, pretty York, who told thee this? YORK. Grandam, his nurse. DUCHESS. His nurse? Why she was dead ere thou wast | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025249 | born. YORK. If twere not she, I cannot tell who told me. QUEEN ELIZABETH. A parlous boy! Go to, you are too shrewd. DUCHESS. Good madam, be not angry with the child. QUEEN ELIZABETH. Pitchers have ears. Enter a Messenger. ARCHBISHOP. Here comes a messenger. What news? MESSENGER. Such news, my lord, as grieves me to report. QUEEN ELIZABETH. How | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025250 | doth the Prince? MESSENGER. Well, madam, and in health. DUCHESS. What is thy news? MESSENGER. Lord Rivers and Lord Grey are sent to Pomfret, And, with them Sir Thomas Vaughan, prisoners. DUCHESS. Who hath committed them? MESSENGER. The mighty Dukes, Gloucester and Buckingham. ARCHBISHOP. For what offence? MESSENGER. The sum of all I can, I have disclosed. Why or for | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025251 | what the nobles were committed Is all unknown to me, my gracious lord. QUEEN ELIZABETH. Ah me! I see the ruin of my house. The tiger now hath seized the gentle hind; Insulting tyranny begins to jut Upon the innocent and aweless throne. Welcome, destruction, blood, and massacre; I see, as in a map, the end of all. DUCHESS. Accursed | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025252 | and unquiet wrangling days, How many of you have mine eyes beheld? My husband lost his life to get the crown, And often up and down my sons were tossed For me to joy and weep their gain and loss. And being seated, and domestic broils Clean over-blown, themselves, the conquerors Make war upon themselves, brother to brother, Blood to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025253 | blood, self against self. O, preposterous And frantic outrage, end thy damned spleen, Or let me die, to look on earth no more. QUEEN ELIZABETH. Come, come, my boy. We will to sanctuary. Madam, farewell. DUCHESS. Stay, I will go with you. QUEEN ELIZABETH. You have no cause. ARCHBISHOP. [_To the Queen._] My gracious lady, go, And thither bear your | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025254 | treasure and your goods. For my part, Ill resign unto your Grace The seal I keep; and so betide to me As well I tender you and all of yours. Go, Ill conduct you to the sanctuary. [_Exeunt._] ACT III SCENE I. London. A street The trumpets sound. Enter young Prince Edward, Richard, Buckingham, Cardinal Bourchier, Catesby and others. BUCKINGHAM. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025255 | Welcome, sweet Prince, to London, to your chamber. RICHARD. Welcome, dear cousin, my thoughts sovereign. The weary way hath made you melancholy. PRINCE. No, uncle, but our crosses on the way Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy. I want more uncles here to welcome me. RICHARD. Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of your years Hath not yet dived into | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025256 | the worlds deceit, Nor more can you distinguish of a man Than of his outward show, which, God He knows, Seldom or never jumpeth with the heart. Those uncles which you want were dangerous; Your Grace attended to their sugared words But looked not on the poison of their hearts. God keep you from them, and from such false friends! | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025257 | PRINCE. God keep me from false friends, but they were none. RICHARD. My lord, the Mayor of London comes to greet you. Enter Lord Mayor with Attendants. MAYOR. God bless your Grace with health and happy days! PRINCE. I thank you, good my lord, and thank you all. I thought my mother and my brother York Would long ere this | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025258 | have met us on the way. Fie, what a slug is Hastings, that he comes not To tell us whether they will come or no! Enter Lord Hastings. BUCKINGHAM. And in good time, here comes the sweating lord. PRINCE. Welcome, my lord. What, will our mother come? HASTINGS. On what occasion God He knows, not I, The Queen your mother | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025259 | and your brother York Have taken sanctuary. The tender prince Would fain have come with me to meet your Grace, But by his mother was perforce withheld. BUCKINGHAM. Fie, what an indirect and peevish course Is this of hers? Lord cardinal, will your Grace Persuade the Queen to send the Duke of York Unto his princely brother presently? If she | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025260 | deny, Lord Hastings, go with him, And from her jealous arms pluck him perforce. CARDINAL. My Lord of Buckingham, if my weak oratory Can from his mother win the Duke of York, Anon expect him here; but if she be obdurate To mild entreaties, God in heaven forbid We should infringe the holy privilege Of blessed sanctuary! Not for all | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025261 | this land Would I be guilty of so deep a sin. BUCKINGHAM. You are too senseless-obstinate, my lord, Too ceremonious and traditional. Weigh it but with the grossness of this age, You break not sanctuary in seizing him. The benefit thereof is always granted To those whose dealings have deserved the place And those who have the wit to claim | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025262 | the place. This prince hath neither claimed it nor deserved it And therefore, in mine opinion, cannot have it. Then taking him from thence that is not there, You break no privilege nor charter there. Oft have I heard of sanctuary-men, But sanctuary children, never till now. CARDINAL. My lord, you shall oerrule my mind for once. Come on, Lord | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025263 | Hastings, will you go with me? HASTINGS. I go, my lord. PRINCE. Good lords, make all the speedy haste you may. [_Exeunt Cardinal and Hastings._] Say, uncle Gloucester, if our brother come, Where shall we sojourn till our coronation? RICHARD. Where it seems best unto your royal self. If I may counsel you, some day or two Your Highness shall | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025264 | repose you at the Tower, Then where you please and shall be thought most fit For your best health and recreation. PRINCE. I do not like the Tower, of any place. Did Julius Caesar build that place, my lord? BUCKINGHAM. He did, my gracious lord, begin that place, Which, since, succeeding ages have re-edified. PRINCE. Is it upon record, or | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025265 | else reported Successively from age to age, he built it? BUCKINGHAM. Upon record, my gracious lord. PRINCE. But say, my lord, it were not registered, Methinks the truth should live from age to age, As twere retailed to all posterity, Even to the general all-ending day. RICHARD. [_Aside_.] So wise so young, they say, do never live long. PRINCE. What | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025266 | say you, uncle? RICHARD. I say, without characters, fame lives long. [_Aside_.] Thus, like the formal Vice, Iniquity, I moralize two meanings in one word. PRINCE. That Julius Caesar was a famous man. With what his valour did enrich his wit, His wit set down to make his valour live; Death makes no conquest of this conqueror, For now he | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025267 | lives in fame, though not in life. Ill tell you what, my cousin Buckingham. BUCKINGHAM. What, my gracious lord? PRINCE. An if I live until I be a man, Ill win our ancient right in France again, Or die a soldier, as I lived a king. RICHARD. [_Aside_.] Short summers lightly have a forward spring. Enter young Duke of York, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025268 | Hastings and the Cardinal. BUCKINGHAM. Now, in good time here comes the Duke of York. PRINCE. Richard of York, how fares our loving brother? YORK. Well, my dread lordso must I call you now. PRINCE. Ay brother, to our grief, as it is yours. Too late he died that might have kept that title, Which by his death hath lost | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025269 | much majesty. RICHARD. How fares our cousin, noble lord of York? YORK. I thank you, gentle uncle. O, my lord, You said that idle weeds are fast in growth. The Prince my brother hath outgrown me far. RICHARD. He hath, my lord. YORK. And therefore is he idle? RICHARD. O, my fair cousin, I must not say so. YORK. Then | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025270 | he is more beholding to you than I. RICHARD. He may command me as my sovereign, But you have power in me as in a kinsman. YORK. I pray you, uncle, give me this dagger. RICHARD. My dagger, little cousin? With all my heart. PRINCE. A beggar, brother? YORK. Of my kind uncle, that I know will give, And being | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025271 | but a toy, which is no grief to give. RICHARD. A greater gift than that Ill give my cousin. YORK. A greater gift? O, thats the sword to it. RICHARD. Ay, gentle cousin, were it light enough. YORK. O, then I see you will part but with light gifts; In weightier things youll say a beggar nay. RICHARD. It is | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025272 | too heavy for your Grace to wear. YORK. I weigh it lightly, were it heavier. RICHARD. What, would you have my weapon, little lord? YORK. I would, that I might thank you as you call me. RICHARD. How? YORK. Little. PRINCE. My lord of York will still be cross in talk. Uncle, your Grace knows how to bear with him. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025273 | YORK. You mean, to bear me, not to bear with me. Uncle, my brother mocks both you and me. Because that I am little, like an ape, He thinks that you should bear me on your shoulders. BUCKINGHAM. With what a sharp-provided wit he reasons! To mitigate the scorn he gives his uncle, He prettily and aptly taunts himself. So | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025274 | cunning and so young is wonderful. RICHARD. My lord, wilt please you pass along? Myself and my good cousin Buckingham Will to your mother, to entreat of her To meet you at the Tower and welcome you. YORK. What, will you go unto the Tower, my lord? PRINCE. My Lord Protector needs will have it so. YORK. I shall not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025275 | sleep in quiet at the Tower. RICHARD. Why, what should you fear? YORK. Marry, my uncle Clarence angry ghost. My grandam told me he was murdered there. PRINCE. I fear no uncles dead. RICHARD. Nor none that live, I hope. PRINCE. An if they live, I hope I need not fear. But come, my lord. With a heavy heart, Thinking | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025276 | on them, go I unto the Tower. [_A Sennet. Exeunt Prince Edward, York, Hastings, Dorset and all but Richard, Buckingham and Catesby._] BUCKINGHAM. Think you, my lord, this little prating York Was not incensed by his subtle mother To taunt and scorn you thus opprobriously? RICHARD. No doubt, no doubt. O, tis a parlous boy, Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025277 | He is all the mothers, from the top to toe. BUCKINGHAM. Well, let them rest. Come hither, Catesby. Thou art sworn as deeply to effect what we intend As closely to conceal what we impart. Thou knowst our reasons urged upon the way. What thinkst thou? Is it not an easy matter To make William Lord Hastings of our mind | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025278 | For the instalment of this noble Duke In the seat royal of this famous isle? CATESBY. He for his fathers sake so loves the Prince That he will not be won to aught against him. BUCKINGHAM. What thinkst thou then of Stanley? Will not he? CATESBY. He will do all in all as Hastings doth. BUCKINGHAM. Well then, no more | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025279 | but this: go, gentle Catesby, And, as it were far off, sound thou Lord Hastings How he doth stand affected to our purpose, And summon him tomorrow to the Tower To sit about the coronation. If thou dost find him tractable to us, Encourage him, and tell him all our reasons. If he be leaden, icy, cold, unwilling, Be thou | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025280 | so too, and so break off the talk, And give us notice of his inclination; For we tomorrow hold divided councils, Wherein thyself shalt highly be employed. RICHARD. Commend me to Lord William. Tell him, Catesby, His ancient knot of dangerous adversaries Tomorrow are let blood at Pomfret Castle, And bid my lord, for joy of this good news, Give | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025281 | Mistress Shore one gentle kiss the more. BUCKINGHAM. Good Catesby, go effect this business soundly. CATESBY. My good lords both, with all the heed I can. RICHARD. Shall we hear from you, Catesby, ere we sleep? CATESBY. You shall, my lord. RICHARD. At Crosby Place, there shall you find us both. [_Exit Catesby._] BUCKINGHAM. Now, my lord, what shall we | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025282 | do if we perceive Lord Hastings will not yield to our complots? RICHARD. Chop off his head, man; somewhat we will do. And look when I am king, claim thou of me The earldom of Hereford, and all the movables Whereof the King my brother was possessed. BUCKINGHAM. Ill claim that promise at your Graces hand. RICHARD. And look to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025283 | have it yielded with all kindness. Come, let us sup betimes, that afterwards We may digest our complots in some form. [_Exeunt._] SCENE II. Before Lord Hastings house Enter a Messenger to the door of Hastings. MESSENGER. My lord, my lord! [_Knocking._] HASTINGS. [_Within_.] Who knocks? MESSENGER. One from the Lord Stanley. HASTINGS. [_Within_.] What ist oclock? MESSENGER. Upon the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025284 | stroke of four. Enter Hastings. HASTINGS. Cannot my Lord Stanley sleep these tedious nights? MESSENGER. So it appears by that I have to say. First, he commends him to your noble self. HASTINGS. What then? MESSENGER. Then certifies your lordship that this night He dreamt the boar had razed off his helm. Besides, he says there are two councils kept, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025285 | And that may be determined at the one Which may make you and him to rue at th other. Therefore he sends to know your lordships pleasure, If you will presently take horse with him And with all speed post with him toward the north, To shun the danger that his soul divines. HASTINGS. Go, fellow, go. Return unto thy | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025286 | lord; Bid him not fear the separated council. His honour and myself are at the one, And at the other is my good friend Catesby, Where nothing can proceed that toucheth us Whereof I shall not have intelligence. Tell him his fears are shallow, without instance. And for his dreams, I wonder hes so simple To trust the mockery of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025287 | unquiet slumbers. To fly the boar before the boar pursues Were to incense the boar to follow us, And make pursuit where he did mean no chase. Go, bid thy master rise and come to me, And we will both together to the Tower, Where he shall see the boar will use us kindly. MESSENGER. Ill go, my lord, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025288 | tell him what you say. [_Exit._] Enter Catesby. CATESBY. Many good morrows to my noble lord. HASTINGS. Good morrow, Catesby; you are early stirring. What news, what news in this our tottring state? CATESBY. It is a reeling world indeed, my lord, And I believe will never stand upright Till Richard wear the garland of the realm. HASTINGS. How, wear | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025289 | the garland? Dost thou mean the crown? CATESBY. Ay, my good lord. HASTINGS. Ill have this crown of mine cut from my shoulders Before Ill see the crown so foul misplaced. But canst thou guess that he doth aim at it? CATESBY. Ay, on my life, and hopes to find you forward Upon his party for the gain thereof; And | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025290 | thereupon he sends you this good news, That this same very day your enemies, The kindred of the Queen, must die at Pomfret. HASTINGS. Indeed, I am no mourner for that news, Because they have been still my adversaries. But that Ill give my voice on Richards side To bar my masters heirs in true descent, God knows I will | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025291 | not do it, to the death. CATESBY. God keep your lordship in that gracious mind. HASTINGS. But I shall laugh at this a twelve-month hence, That they which brought me in my masters hate, I live to look upon their tragedy. Well, Catesby, ere a fortnight make me older Ill send some packing that yet think not ont. CATESBY. Tis | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025292 | a vile thing to die, my gracious lord, When men are unprepared and look not for it. HASTINGS. O monstrous, monstrous! And so falls it out With Rivers, Vaughan, Grey; and so twill do With some men else that think themselves as safe As thou and I, who, as thou knowst, are dear To princely Richard and to Buckingham. CATESBY. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025293 | The Princes both make high account of you [_Aside_.] For they account his head upon the Bridge. HASTINGS. I know they do, and I have well deserved it. Enter Stanley Earl of Derby. Come on, come on. Where is your boar-spear, man? Fear you the boar, and go so unprovided? STANLEY. My lord, good morrow; good morrow, Catesby. You may | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025294 | jest on, but, by the Holy Rood, I do not like these several councils, I. HASTINGS. My lord, I hold my life as dear as you do yours, And never in my days, I do protest, Was it so precious to me as tis now. Think you, but that I know our state secure, I would be so triumphant as | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025295 | I am? STANLEY. The lords at Pomfret, when they rode from London, Were jocund and supposed their states were sure, And they indeed had no cause to mistrust; But yet you see how soon the day oercast. This sudden stab of rancour I misdoubt; Pray God, I say, I prove a needless coward. What, shall we toward the Tower? The | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025296 | day is spent. HASTINGS. Come, come. Have with you. Wot you what, my lord? Today the lords you talked of are beheaded. STANLEY. They, for their truth, might better wear their heads Than some that have accused them wear their hats. But come, my lord, lets away. Enter a Pursuivant. HASTINGS. Go on before; Ill talk with this good fellow. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025297 | [_Exeunt Stanley and Catesby._] How now, sirrah? How goes the world with thee? PURSUIVANT. The better that your lordship please to ask. HASTINGS. I tell thee, man, tis better with me now Than when thou metst me last where now we meet. Then was I going prisoner to the Tower, By the suggestion of the Queens allies. But now, I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025298 | tell theekeep it to thyself This day those enemies are put to death, And I in better state than eer I was. PURSUIVANT. God hold it, to your honours good content! HASTINGS. Gramercy, fellow. There, drink that for me. [_Throws him his purse._] PURSUIVANT. I thank your honour. [_Exit._] Enter a Priest. PRIEST. Well met, my lord; I am glad | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025299 | to see your honour. HASTINGS. I thank thee, good Sir John, with all my heart. I am in your debt for your last exercise. Come the next sabbath, and I will content you. Enter Buckingham. PRIEST. Ill wait upon your lordship. [_Exit Priest._] BUCKINGHAM. What, talking with a priest, Lord Chamberlain? Your friends at Pomfret, they do need the priest; | 60 | gutenberg |
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