For now the devil, who told me I was doing the right thing,
says that this deed has been noted in hell.
I'll take this dead king to the living king.
Take the others out, and bury them here.
Exeunt
Windsor Castle
Flourish. Enter BOLINGBROKE, the DUKE OF YORK, With other LORDS
and attendants
BOLINGBROKE.
Kind uncle York, the latest news we hear
Is that the rebels have consum'd with fire
Our town of Ciceter in Gloucestershire;
But whether they be ta'en or slain we hear not.
Enter NORTHUMBERLAND
Welcome, my lord. What is the news?
Kind uncle York, the latest news I've heard
is that the rebels have burnt down
our town of Cirencester in Gloucestershire;
but whether they have been captured or killed I have not heard.
Welcome, my lord. What's the news?
NORTHUMBERLAND.
First, to thy sacred state wish I all
happiness.
The next news is, I have to London sent
The heads of Salisbury, Spencer, Blunt, and Kent.
The manner of their taking may appear
At large discoursed in this paper here.
Firstly, to your holy majesty I wish all happiness.
The next news is, I have sent the heads of Salisbury, Spencer,
Blunt and Kent to London. The circumstances of their capture
are fully explained in this paper here.
BOLINGBROKE.
We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains;
And to thy worth will add right worthy gains.
I thank you, kind Percy, for your efforts;
you shall be rewarded for them.
Enter FITZWATER
FITZWATER.
My lord, I have from Oxford sent to London
The heads of Brocas and Sir Bennet Seely;
Two of the dangerous consorted traitors
That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow.
My lord, I have sent the heads of Brocas and Sir Bennet Seely
from Oxford to London;
two of the dangerous plotting traitors
who tried to fatally overthrow you at Oxford.
BOLINGBROKE.
Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be forgot;
Right noble is thy merit, well I wot.
Your efforts, Fitzwater, will not be forgotten;
I know that you are richly deserving.
Enter PERCY, With the BISHOP OF CARLISLE
PERCY.
The grand conspirator, Abbot of Westminster,
With clog of conscience and sour melancholy,
Hath yielded up his body to the grave;
But here is Carlisle living, to abide
Thy kingly doom, and sentence of his pride.
The great conspirator, Abbot of Westminster,
consumed by guilt and depression,
has given his body up to the grave;
but here is Carlisle, still alive, to suffer
your kingly sentence, and the punishment for his pride.
BOLINGBROKE.
Carlisle, this is your doom:
Choose out some secret place, some reverend room,
More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life;
So as thou liv'st in peace, die free from strife;
For though mine enemy thou hast ever been,
High sparks of honour in thee have I seen.
Carlisle, this is your punishment:
find some secret place, some respectable room,
bigger than you have now, and enjoy your life in it.
As long as you live in peace, you will die peacefully;
for although you have always been my enemy
I have seen great signs of honour in you.
Enter EXTON, with attendants, hearing a coffin
EXTON.
Great King, within this coffin I present
Thy buried fear. Herein all breathless lies
The mightiest of thy greatest enemies,
Richard of Bordeaux, by me hither brought.
Great King, I present to you inside this coffin
the fear which was hanging over you. Inside here, dead,
lies the mightiest of your great enemies,
Richard of Bordeaux, brought here by me.
BOLINGBROKE.
Exton, I thank thee not; for thou hast wrought
A deed of slander with thy fatal hand
Upon my head and all this famous land.
Exton, I do not thank you; for you have committed
a deed with your killing hand which stains
my reputation and this whole land.
EXTON.
From your own mouth, my lord, did I this deed.
My lord, I did this thing on your orders.
BOLINGBROKE.
They love not poison that do poison need,
Nor do I thee. Though I did wish him dead,
I hate the murderer, love him murdered.
The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour,
But neither my good word nor princely favour;
With Cain go wander thorough shades of night,
And never show thy head by day nor light.
Lords, I protest my soul is full of woe
That blood should sprinkle me to make me grow.
Come, mourn with me for what I do lament,
And put on sullen black incontinent.
I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land,
To wash this blood off from my guilty hand.
March sadly after; grace my mournings here
In weeping after this untimely bier.
Those who need poison do not love poison,
and I do not love you. Though I wanted him dead,
I hate the murderer and love his victim.
You can take guilt as the payment for your efforts,
but you do not have my good word nor my princely favour;
go and wander through the shades of night with Cain,
and never show your face by day or by light.
Lords, I tell you that my soul is full of sorrow
that I should profit through the spilling of blood.
Come and mourn with me for that which I lament,
and put on mourning clothes at once.
I shall make a voyage to the Holy Land,
to wash this blood off my guilty hands.
March sadly afterwards; dignify my mourning
by weeping as you follow this too early funeral.
Exeunt
The End
In Plain and Simple English
EDWARD THE FOURTH
Sons to the King
EDWARD, PRINCE OF WALES afterwards KING EDWARD V
RICHARD, DUKE OF YORK,
Brothers to the King
GEORGE, DUKE OF CLARENCE,
RICHARD, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, afterwards KING RICHARD III
A YOUNG SON OF CLARENCE (Edward, Earl of Warwick)
HENRY, EARL OF RICHMOND, afterwards KING HENRY VII
CARDINAL BOURCHIER, ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY
THOMAS ROTHERHAM, ARCHBISHOP OF YORK
JOHN MORTON, BISHOP OF ELY
DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM
DUKE OF NORFOLK
EARL OF SURREY, his son
EARL RIVERS, brother to King Edward's Queen
MARQUIS OF DORSET and LORD GREY, her sons
EARL OF OXFORD
LORD HASTINGS
LORD LOVEL
LORD STANLEY, called also EARL OF DERBY
SIR THOMAS VAUGHAN
SIR RICHARD RATCLIFF
SIR WILLIAM CATESBY
SIR JAMES TYRREL
SIR JAMES BLOUNT
SIR WALTER HERBERT
SIR WILLIAM BRANDON
SIR ROBERT BRAKENBURY, Lieutenant of the Tower
CHRISTOPHER URSWICK, a
priest
LORD MAYOR OF LONDON
SHERIFF OF WILTSHIRE
HASTINGS, a pursuivant
TRESSEL and BERKELEY, gentlemen attending on Lady Anne
ELIZABETH, Queen to King Edward IV
MARGARET, widow of King Henry VI
DUCHESS OF YORK, mother to King Edward IV
LADY ANNE, widow of Edward, Prince of Wales, son to King
Henry VI; afterwards married to the Duke of Gloucester
A YOUNG DAUGHTER OF CLARENCE (Margaret Plantagenet,
Countess of Salisbury)
Ghosts, of Richard's victims
Lords, Gentlemen, and Attendants; Priest, Scrivener, Page,
Bishops,
Aldermen, Citizens, Soldiers, Messengers, Murderers, Keeper
SCENE: England
London. A street
Enter RICHARD, DUKE OF RICHARD, solus
RICHARD.
Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front,
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 majesty
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph-
I-that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deform'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 me as I halt by them-
Why, I, 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 murderer shall be.
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul. Here Clarence comes.
Enter CLARENCE, guarded, and BRAKENBURY
Brother, good day. What means this armed guard
That waits upon your Grace?
Now this miserable time
has been made wonderful by Edward;
and all the clouds that were hanging over our family
have sunk back into the sea.
Now our foreheads carry victorious wreaths,
our battered weapons are hung up as memorials,
great chaos has been changed to pleasant greetings,
grim marches to delightful music.
The terrible face of war has been smoothed over:
and now, instead of mounting armoured horses
to terrify his fearful enemies,
he dances lightly in a lady's bedroom
to the sexy music of a lute.
But I was not made for those flirtatious games,
or to look in the mirror of love;
I am poorly made and don't have the
wherewithal to dance in front of a amorously inclined lass:
I, who haven't been given the correct proportions,
who has been cheated of looks by deceitful Nature,
deformed, unfinished, sent into the world only
half made, before my time–
and I am so lame and unfashionable
that dogs bark at me if I stopnear them–
why, I, in this time of songs of peace,
have no pleasure to pass away the time,
unless it is to see my shadow on the ground,
and sing a song about my own deformities.
And therefore, since I cannot be a lover
to suit these pleasant days,
I am determined I will be a villain,
and despise the idle pleasures of others.
I have constructed a plot, with a dangerous beginning,
through drunken prophesies, lies, and dreams,
to make my brother Clarence and the King
develop a deadly hatred for each other:
and if King Edward is as true and just
as I am cunning, lying, and treacherous,
then today Clarence should be imprisoned
due to a prophecy, which says that ‘G’
will murder Edward's heirs–
I will bury my thoughts deep in my soul: here comes Clarence.
Good day, brother; why are you accompanied
by this armed guard?
CLARENCE.
His Majesty,
Tend'ring my person's safety, hath appointed
This conduct to convey me to th' Tower.
His Majesty,
out of concern for my safety, has appointed
this escort to take me to the Tower.
RICHARD.
Upon what cause?
For what reason?
CLARENCE.
Because my name is George.
Because my name is George.
RICHARD.
Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours:
He should, for that, commit your godfathers.
O, belike his Majesty hath some intent
That you should be new-christ'ned in the Tower.
But what's the matter, Clarence? May I know?
Alas, my lord, that's no fault of yours:
he should imprison your godfathers for that.
Perhaps his Majesty has some plan
for you to be newly christened in the Tower.
But what's the problem, Clarence? May I know?
CLARENCE.
Yea, Richard, when I know; for I protest
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 he.
These, as I learn, and such like toys as these
Hath mov'd his Highness to commit me now.
You shall know, Richard, when I do; for I tell you
that at the moment I don't; all I can discover is that
he has been listening to prophecies and dreams,
and out of the alphabet he has picked the letter G,
and says that a wizard told him that G
would disinherit his children;
and, as my name George begins with G,
he thinks that I must be that person.
It's this, and things like this, so I hear,
that has made his Highness imprison me now.
RICHARD.
Why, this it is when men are rul'd by women:
'Tis not the King that sends you to the Tower;
My Lady Grey his wife, Clarence, 'tis she
That tempers him to thi
s extremity.
Was it not she and that good man of worship,
Antony Woodville, her brother there,
That made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower,
From whence this present day he is delivered?
We are not safe, Clarence; we are not safe.
Why, this is what happens when men are ruled by women:
it's not the king who's sending you to the Tower;
it's his wife, Lady Grey, Clarence, it's her
who has encouraged this absurdity.
Wasn't it her and that good holy man,
Antony Woodville, her brother,
that made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower,
from which he was released today?
We are not safe, Clarence; we are not safe.
CLARENCE.
By heaven, I think there is no man is secure
But the Queen's kindred, and night-walking heralds
That trudge betwixt the King and Mistress Shore.
Heard you not what an humble suppliant
Lord Hastings was to her, for her delivery?
By heaven, I don't think anyone's safe
apart from the Queen's family and the nightly messengers
who go between the King and Mistress Shore.
Haven't you heard how humbly Lord Hastings
begged her for her forgiveness?
RICHARD.
Humbly complaining to her deity
Got my Lord Chamberlain his liberty.
I'll tell you what-I think it is our way,
The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) Page 36