The Arden Shakespeare Complete Works

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The Arden Shakespeare Complete Works Page 320

by William Shakespeare


  Nay, then indeed she cannot chose but hate thee,

  Having bought love with such a bloody spoil.

  290

  KING RICHARD

  Look what is done cannot be now amended:

  Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes,

  Which after-hours gives leisure to repent.

  If I did take the kingdom from your sons,

  To make amends I’ll give it to your daughter;

  295

  If I have kill’d the issue of your womb,

  To quicken your increase, I will beget

  Mine issue of your blood upon your daughter.

  A grandam’s name is little less in love

  Than is the doting title of a mother;

  300

  They are as children but one step below;

  Even of your metal, of your very blood;

  Of all one pain, save for a night of groans

  Endur’d of her, for whom you bid like sorrow.

  Your children were vexation to your youth,

  305

  But mine shall be a comfort to your age;

  The loss you have is but a son being King;

  And by that loss your daughter is made Queen.

  I cannot make you what amends I would:

  Therefore accept such kindness as I can.

  310

  Dorset your son, that with a fearful soul

  Leads discontented steps in foreign soil,

  This fair alliance quickly shall call home

  To high promotions and great dignity.

  The King that calls your beauteous daughter wife,

  315

  Familiarly shall call thy Dorset brother;

  Again shall you be mother to a king,

  And all the ruins of distressful times

  Repair’d with double riches of content.

  What! We have many goodly days to see.

  320

  The liquid drops of tears that you have shed

  Shall come again, transform’d to orient pearl,

  Advantaging their loan with interest

  Of ten times double gain of happiness.

  Go then, my mother; to thy daughter go:

  325

  Make bold her bashful years with your experience;

  Prepare her ears to hear a wooer’s tale;

  Put in her tender heart th’aspiring flame

  Of golden sovereignty; acquaint the Princess

  With the sweet, silent hours of marriage joys,

  330

  And when this arm of mine hath chastised

  The petty rebel, dull-brain’d Buckingham,

  Bound with triumphant garlands will I come

  And lead thy daughter to a conqueror’s bed;

  To whom I will retail my conquest won,

  335

  And she shall be sole victoress, Caesar’s Caesar.

  ELIZABETH

  What were I best to say? Her father’s brother

  Would be her lord? Or shall I say her uncle?

  Or he that slew her brothers and her uncles?

  Under what title shall I woo for thee,

  340

  That God, the law, my honour, and her love

  Can make seem pleasing to her tender years?

  KING RICHARD

  Infer fair England’s peace by this alliance.

  ELIZABETH

  Which she shall purchase with still-lasting war.

  KING RICHARD

  Tell her the King, that may command, entreats.

  345

  ELIZABETH

  That, at her hands, which the King’s King forbids.

  KING RICHARD

  Say she shall be a high and mighty queen.

  ELIZABETH To vail the title, as her mother doth.

  KING RICHARD Say I will love her everlastingly.

  ELIZABETH But how long shall that title ‘ever’ last?

  350

  KING RICHARD

  Sweetly in force, until her fair life’s end.

  ELIZABETH

  But how long fairly shall her sweet life last?

  KING RICHARD

  As long as heaven and nature lengthens it.

  ELIZABETH As long as hell and Richard likes of it.

  KING RICHARD Say I, her sovereign, am her subject low.

  355

  ELIZABETH

  But she, your subject, loathes such sovereignty.

  KING RICHARD Be eloquent in my behalf to her.

  ELIZABETH An honest tale speeds best being plainly told.

  KING RICHARD Then plainly to her tell my loving tale.

  ELIZABETH Plain and not honest is too harsh a style.

  360

  KING RICHARD

  Your reasons are too shallow and too quick.

  ELIZABETH O no, my reasons are too deep and dead:

  Too deep and dead, poor infants, in their graves.

  KING RICHARD

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

  ELIZABETH

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

  365

  KING RICHARD

  Now by my George, my Garter, and my crown –

  ELIZABETH

  Profan’d, dishonour’d, and the third usurp’d.

  KING RICHARD I swear –

  ELIZABETH By nothing, for this is no oath:

  Thy George, profan’d, hath lost his holy honour;

  Thy Garter, blemish’d, pawn’d his knightly virtue;

  370

  Thy crown, usurp’d, disgrac’d his kingly glory.

  If something thou wouldst swear to be believ’d,

  Swear then by something that thou hast not wrong’d.

  KING RICHARD Now, by the world –

  ELIZABETH ’Tis full of thy foul wrongs.

  KING RICHARD My father’s death –

  ELIZABETH Thy life hath it dishonour’d.

  375

  KING RICHARD Then by my self –

  ELIZABETH Thy self is self-misus’d.

  KING RICHARD Why then, by God –

  ELIZABETH God’s wrong is most of all:

  If thou didst fear to break an oath with Him,

  The unity the King my husband made

  Thou hadst not broken, nor my brothers died;

  380

  If thou hadst fear’d to break an oath by Him,

  Th’imperial metal circling now thy head

  Had grac’d the tender temples of my child,

  And both the Princes had been breathing here,

  Which now – two tender bed-fellows for dust –

  385

  Thy broken faith hath made the prey for worms.

  What can’st thou swear by now?

  KING RICHARD The time to come!

  ELIZABETH

  That thou hast wronged in the time o’erpast:

  For I myself have many tears to wash

  Hereafter time, for time past wrong’d by thee.

  390

  The children live whose fathers thou hast slaughter’d:

  Ungovern’d youth, to wail it in their age;

  The parents live whose children thou hast butcher’d:

  Old barren plants, to wail it with their age.

  Swear not by time to come, for that thou hast

  395

  Misus’d, ere us’d, by times ill-us’d o’erpast.

  KING RICHARD As I intend to prosper and repent,

  So thrive I in my dangerous affairs

  Of hostile arms! Myself myself confound!

  God and fortune, bar me happy hours!

  400

  Day, yield me not thy light, nor, night, thy rest!

  Be opposite, all planets of good luck,

  To my proceeding if with dear heart’s love,

  Immaculate devotion, holy thoughts,

  I tender not thy beauteous, princely daughter.

  405

  In her consists my happiness and thine;

  Without her follows to myself, and thee,


  Herself, the land, and many a Christian soul,

  Death, desolation, ruin, and decay.

  It cannot be avoided but by this;

  410

  It will not be avoided but by this.

  Therefore, dear mother – I must call you so –

  Be the attorney of my love to her;

  Plead what I will be, not what I have been;

  Not my deserts, but what I will deserve.

  415

  Urge the necessity and state of times,

  And be not peevish found in great designs.

  ELIZABETH Shall I be tempted of the devil thus?

  KING RICHARD Ay, if the devil tempt you to do good.

  ELIZABETH Shall I forget myself to be myself?

  420

  KING RICHARD

  Ay, if your self’s remembrance wrong yourself.

  ELIZABETH Yet thou didst kill my children.

  KING RICHARD

  But in your daughter’s womb I bury them,

  Where, in that nest of spicery, they will breed

  Selves of themselves, to your recomforture.

  425

  ELIZABETH Shall I go win my daughter to thy will?

  KING RICHARD And be a happy mother by the deed.

  ELIZABETH I go. Write to me very shortly,

  And you shall understand from me her mind.

  KING RICHARD

  Bear her my true love’s kiss; [Kisses her]

  and so farewell.

  430

  Exit Elizabeth

  Relenting fool, and shallow, changing woman!

  Enter RATCLIFFE.

  How now, what news?

  RATCLIFFE

  Most mighty sovereign, on the western coast

  Rideth a puissant navy; to our shores

  Throng many doubtful, hollow-hearted friends,

  435

  Unarm’d, and unresolv’d to beat them back.

  ’Tis thought that Richmond is their admiral;

  And there they hull, expecting but the aid

  Of Buckingham to welcome them ashore.

  KING RICHARD

  Some light-foot friend post to the Duke of Norfolk.

  440

  Ratcliffe, thyself – or Catesby – where is he?

  CATESBY Here, my good lord.

  KING RICHARD Catesby, fly to the Duke.

  CATESBY I will, my lord, with all convenient haste.

  KING RICHARD

  Ratcliffe, come hither. Post to Salisbury.

  When thou com’st thither –

  [to Catesby] Dull unmindful villain!

  445

  Why stay’st thou here and go’st not to the Duke?

  CATESBY

  First, mighty liege, tell me your Highness’ pleasure,

  What from your Grace I shall deliver to him.

  KING RICHARD

  O, true, good Catesby! Bid him levy straight

  The greatest strength and power that he can make,

  450

  And meet me suddenly at Salisbury.

  CATESBY I go. Exit.

  RATCLIFFE

  What, may it please you, shall I do at Salisbury?

  KING RICHARD

  Why, what wouldst thou do there before I go?

  RATCLIFFE

  Your Highness told me I should post before.

  455

  KING RICHARD My mind is chang’d.

  Enter STANLEY, EARL OF DERBY.

  Stanley, what news with you?

  STANLEY

  None good, my liege, to please you with the hearing;

  Nor none so bad but well may be reported.

  KING RICHARD

  Hoyday, a riddle! Neither good nor bad –

  What need’st thou run so many miles about

  460

  When thou mayst tell thy tale the nearest way?

  Once more, what news?

  STANLEY Richmond is on the seas.

  KING RICHARD

  There let him sink, and the seas on him –

  White-liver’d runagate! What doth he there?

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

  465

  KING RICHARD Well, as you guess?

  STANLEY

  Stirr’d up by Dorset, Buckingham, and Morton,

  He makes for England, here to claim the crown.

  KING RICHARD

  Is the chair empty? Is the sword unsway’d?

  Is the King dead? The empire unpossess’d?

  470

  What heir of York is there alive but we?

  And who is England’s King but great York’s heir?

  Then tell me, what makes he upon the seas!

 

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