Ratcliff
That he was never trained up in arms.
King Richard III
He said the truth: and what said Surrey then?
Ratcliff
He smiled and said ‘The better for our purpose.’
King Richard III
He was in the right; and so indeed it is.
Clock striketh
Ten the clock there. Give me a calendar.
Who saw the sun to-day?
Ratcliff
Not I, my lord.
King Richard III
Then he disdains to shine; for by the book
He should have braved the east an hour ago
A black day will it be to somebody. Ratcliff!
Ratcliff
My lord?
King Richard III
The sun will not be seen to-day;
The sky doth frown and lour upon our army.
I would these dewy tears were from the ground.
Not shine to-day! Why, what is that to me
More than to Richmond? for the selfsame heaven
That frowns on me looks sadly upon him.
Enter Norfolk
Norfolk
Arm, arm, my lord; the foe vaunts in the field.
King Richard III
Come, bustle, bustle; caparison my horse.
Call up Lord Stanley, bid him bring his power:
I will lead forth my soldiers to the plain,
And thus my battle shall be ordered:
My foreward shall be drawn out all in length,
Consisting equally of horse and foot;
Our archers shall be placed in the midst
John Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Earl of Surrey,
Shall have the leading of this foot and horse.
They thus directed, we will follow
In the main battle, whose puissance on either side
Shall be well winged with our chiefest horse.
This, and Saint George to boot! What think’st thou, Norfolk?
Norfolk
A good direction, warlike sovereign.
This found I on my tent this morning.
He sheweth him a paper
King Richard III
[Reads]
‘Jockey of Norfolk, be not too bold,
For Dickon thy master is bought and sold.’
A thing devised by the enemy.
Go, gentleman, every man unto his charge
Let not our babbling dreams affright our souls:
Conscience is but a word that cowards use,
Devised at first to keep the strong in awe:
Our strong arms be our conscience, swords our law.
March on, join bravely, let us to’t pell-mell
If not to heaven, then hand in hand to hell.
His oration to his Army
What shall I say more than I have inferr’d?
Remember whom you are to cope withal;
A sort of vagabonds, rascals, and runaways,
A scum of Bretons, and base lackey peasants,
Whom their o’er-cloyed country vomits forth
To desperate ventures and assured destruction.
You sleeping safe, they bring to you unrest;
You having lands, and blest with beauteous wives,
They would restrain the one, distain the other.
And who doth lead them but a paltry fellow,
Long kept in Bretagne at our mother’s cost?
A milk-sop, one that never in his life
Felt so much cold as over shoes in snow?
Let’s whip these stragglers o’er the seas again;
Lash hence these overweening rags of France,
These famish’d beggars, weary of their lives;
Who, but for dreaming on this fond exploit,
For want of means, poor rats, had hang’d themselves:
If we be conquer’d, let men conquer us,
And not these bastard Bretons; whom our fathers
Have in their own land beaten, bobb’d, and thump’d,
And in record, left them the heirs of shame.
Shall these enjoy our lands? lie with our wives?
Ravish our daughters?
Drum afar off
Hark! I hear their drum.
Fight, gentlemen of England! fight, bold yoemen!
Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head!
Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood;
Amaze the welkin with your broken staves!
Enter a Messenger
What says Lord Stanley? will he bring his power?
Messenger
My lord, he doth deny to come.
King Richard III
Off with his son George’s head!
Norfolk
My lord, the enemy is past the marsh
After the battle let George Stanley die.
King Richard III
A thousand hearts are great within my bosom:
Advance our standards, set upon our foes
Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George,
Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons!
Upon them! victory sits on our helms.
Exeunt
SCENE IV. ANOTHER PART OF THE FIELD.
Alarum: excursions. Enter Norfolk and forces fighting; to him Catesby
Catesby
Rescue, my Lord of Norfolk, rescue, rescue!
The king enacts more wonders than a man,
Daring an opposite to every danger:
His horse is slain, and all on foot he fights,
Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death.
Rescue, fair lord, or else the day is lost!
Alarums. Enter King Richard III
King Richard III
A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!
Catesby
Withdraw, my lord; I’ll help you to a horse.
King Richard III
Slave, I have set my life upon a cast,
And I will stand the hazard of the die:
I think there be six Richmonds in the field;
Five have I slain to-day instead of him.
A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!
Exeunt
SCENE V. ANOTHER PART OF THE FIELD.
Alarum. Enter King Richard III and Richmond; they fight. King Richard III is slain. Retreat and flourish. Re-enter Richmond, Derby bearing the crown, with divers other Lords
Richmond
God and your arms be praised, victorious friends,
The day is ours, the bloody dog is dead.
Derby
Courageous Richmond, well hast thou acquit thee.
Lo, here, this long-usurped royalty
From the dead temples of this bloody wretch
Have I pluck’d off, to grace thy brows withal:
Wear it, enjoy it, and make much of it.
Richmond
Great God of heaven, say Amen to all!
But, tell me, is young George Stanley living?
Derby
He is, my lord, and safe in Leicester town;
Whither, if it please you, we may now withdraw us.
Richmond
What men of name are slain on either side?
Derby
John Duke of Norfolk, Walter Lord Ferrers,
Sir Robert Brakenbury, and Sir William Brandon.
Richmond
Inter their bodies as becomes their births:
Proclaim a pardon to the soldiers fled
That in submission will return to us:
And then, as we have ta’en the sacrament,
We will unite the white rose and the red:
Smile heaven upon this fair conjunction,
That long have frown’d upon their enmity!
What traitor hears me, and says not amen?
England hath long been mad, and scarr’d herself;
The brother blindly shed the brother’s blood,
The father rashly slaughter’d his own son,
The son, compell’d, been butcher to the sire:
All this divided York and Lancaster,
Divided in their dire division,
O, now, let Richmond and Elizabeth,
The true succeeders of each royal house,
By God’s fair ordinance conjoin together!
And let their heirs, God, if thy will be so.
Enrich the time to come with smooth-faced peace,
With smiling plenty and fair prosperous days!
Abate the edge of traitors, gracious Lord,
That would reduce these bloody days again,
And make poor England weep in streams of blood!
Let them not live to taste this land’s increase
That would with treason wound this fair land’s peace!
Now civil wounds are stopp’d, peace lives again:
That she may long live here, God say amen!
Exeunt
The Complete Comedies
By
William Shakespeare
ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL
AS YOU LIKE IT
THE COMEDY OF ERRORS
LOVE’S LABOUR ’S LOST
MEASURE FOR MEASURE
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE
A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING
THE TAMING OF THE SHREW
TWELFTH NIGHT OR, WHAT YOU WILL
THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA
All’s Well That Ends Well
TABLE OF CONTENTS
THE CHARACTERS OF THE PLAY
ACT I
SCENE I. ROUSILLON. THE COUNT’S PALACE.
SCENE II. PARIS. THE KING’S PALACE.
SCENE III. ROUSILLON. THE COUNT’S PALACE.
ACT II
SCENE I. PARIS. THE KING’S PALACE.
SCENE II. ROUSILLON. THE COUNT’S PALACE.
SCENE III. PARIS. THE KING’S PALACE.
SCENE IV. PARIS. THE KING’S PALACE.
SCENE V. PARIS. THE KING’S PALACE.
ACT III
SCENE I. FLORENCE. THE DUKE’S PALACE.
SCENE II. ROUSILLON. THE COUNT’S PALACE.
SCENE III. FLORENCE. BEFORE THE DUKE’S PALACE.
SCENE IV. ROUSILLON. THE COUNT’S PALACE.
SCENE V. FLORENCE. WITHOUT THE WALLS. A TUCKET AFAR OFF.
SCENE VI. CAMP BEFORE FLORENCE.
SCENE VII. FLORENCE. THE WIDOW’S HOUSE.
ACT IV
SCENE I. WITHOUT THE FLORENTINE CAMP.
SCENE II. FLORENCE. THE WIDOW’S HOUSE.
SCENE III. THE FLORENTINE CAMP.
SCENE IV. FLORENCE. THE WIDOW’S HOUSE.
SCENE V. ROUSILLON. THE COUNT’S PALACE.
ACT V
SCENE I. MARSEILLES. A STREET.
SCENE II. ROUSILLON. BEFORE THE COUNT’S PALACE.
SCENE III. ROUSILLON. THE COUNT’S PALACE.
EPILOGUE
THE CHARACTERS OF THE PLAY
King of France.
The Duke of Florence.
Bertram, Count of Rousillon.
Lafeu, an old Lord.
Parolles, a follower of Bertram.
Several young French Lords, that serve with Bertram in the Florentine War.
Steward, Servant to the Countess of Rousillon.
Clown, Servant to the Countess of Rousillon.
A Page, Servant to the Countess of Rousillon.
Countess of Rousillon, Mother to Bertram.
Helena, a Gentlewoman protected by the Countess.
An old Widow of Florence.
Diana, daughter to the Widow.
Violenta, neighbour and friend to the Widow.
Mariana, neighbour and friend to the Widow.
Lords attending on the King; Officers; Soldiers, &c., French and Florentine.
ACT I
SCENE I. ROUSILLON. THE COUNT’S PALACE.
Enter Bertram, the Countess of Rousillon, Helena, and Lafeu, all in black
Countess
In delivering my son from me, I bury a second husband.
Bertram
And I in going, madam, weep o’er my father’s death anew: but I must attend his majesty’s command, to whom I am now in ward, evermore in subjection.
Lafeu
You shall find of the king a husband, madam; you, sir, a father: he that so generally is at all times good must of necessity hold his virtue to you; whose worthiness would stir it up where it wanted rather than lack it where there is such abundance.
Countess
What hope is there of his majesty’s amendment?
Lafeu
He hath abandoned his physicians, madam; under whose practises he hath persecuted time with hope, and finds no other advantage in the process but only the losing of hope by time.
Countess
This young gentlewoman had a father,— O, that ‘had’! how sad a passage ’tis!— whose skill was almost as great as his honesty; had it stretched so far, would have made nature immortal, and death should have play for lack of work. Would, for the king’s sake, he were living! I think it would be the death of the king’s disease.
Lafeu
How called you the man you speak of, madam?
Countess
He was famous, sir, in his profession, and it was his great right to be so: Gerard de Narbon.
Lafeu
He was excellent indeed, madam: the king very lately spoke of him admiringly and mourningly: he was skilful enough to have lived still, if knowledge could be set up against mortality.
Bertram
What is it, my good lord, the king languishes of?
Lafeu
A fistula, my lord.
Bertram
I heard not of it before.
Lafeu
I would it were not notorious. Was this gentlewoman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon?
Countess
His sole child, my lord, and bequeathed to my overlooking. I have those hopes of her good that her education promises; her dispositions she inherits, which makes fair gifts fairer; for where an unclean mind carries virtuous qualities, there commendations go with pity; they are virtues and traitors too; in her they are the better for their simpleness; she derives her honesty and achieves her goodness.
Lafeu
Your commendations, madam, get from her tears.
Countess
’Tis the best brine a maiden can season her praise in. The remembrance of her father never approaches her heart but the tyranny of her sorrows takes all livelihood from her cheek. No more of this, Helena; go to, no more; lest it be rather thought you affect a sorrow than have it.
Helena
I do affect a sorrow indeed, but I have it too.
Lafeu
Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, excessive grief the enemy to the living.
Countess
If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess makes it soon mortal.
Bertram
Madam, I desire your holy wishes.
Lafeu
How understand we that?
Countess
Be thou blest, Bertram, and succeed thy father
In manners, as in shape! thy blood and virtue
Contend for empire in thee, and thy goodness
Share with thy birthright! Love all, trust a few,
Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy
Rather in power than use, and keep thy friend
Under thy own life’s key: be cheque’d for silence,
But never tax’d for speech. What heaven more will,
That thee may furnish and my prayers pluck down,
Fall on thy head! Farewell, my lord;
’Tis an unseason’d courtier; good my lord,
Advise him.
Lafeu
He cannot want the best
That shall attend his love.
Countess
Heaven bless him! Farewell, Bertram.
Exit
Bertram
[To Helena] The best wishes that can be forged in your thoughts be servants to you! Be comfortable to my mother, your mistress, and make much of her.
Lafeu
Farewell, pretty lady: you must hold the credit of your father.
Exeunt Bertram and Lafeu
Helena
O, were that all! I think not on my father;
And these great tears grace his remembrance more
Than those I shed for him. What was he like?
I have forgot him: my imagination
Carries no favour in’t but Bertram’s.
I am undone: there is no living, none,
If Bertram be away. ’Twere all one
That I should love a bright particular star
And think to wed it, he is so above me:
In his bright radiance and collateral light
Must I be comforted, not in his sphere.
The ambition in my love thus plagues itself:
The hind that would be mated by the lion
Must die for love. ’Twas pretty, though plague,
To see him every hour; to sit and draw
His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls,
In our heart’s table; heart too capable
Of every line and trick of his sweet favour:
But now he’s gone, and my idolatrous fancy
Must sanctify his reliques. Who comes here?
Enter Parolles
[Aside] One that goes with him: I love him for his sake;
And yet I know him a notorious liar,
Think him a great way fool, solely a coward;
Yet these fixed evils sit so fit in him,
That they take place, when virtue’s steely bones
Look bleak i’ the cold wind: withal, full oft we see
Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly.
Parolles
Save you, fair queen!
Helena
And you, monarch!
Parolles
No.
Helena
And no.
Parolles
Are you meditating on virginity?
Helena
Ay. You have some stain of soldier in you: let me ask you a question. Man is enemy to virginity; how may we barricado it against him?
Parolles
Keep him out.
Helena
But he assails; and our virginity, though valiant, in the defence yet is weak: unfold to us some warlike resistance.
Parolles
There is none: man, sitting down before you, will undermine you and blow you up.
Helena
Bless our poor virginity from underminers and blowers up! Is there no military policy, how virgins might blow up men?
Complete Plays, The Page 249