Richard III

lady, not for such contempt.
If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive,
Lo, here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword;
Which if thou please to hide in this true bosom,
And let the soul forth that adoreth thee,
I lay it naked to the deadly stroke,
And humbly beg the death upon my knee. He lays his breast open: she offers at it with his sword.
Nay, do not pause; for I did kill King Henry,
But ’twas thy beauty that provoked me.
Nay, now dispatch; ’twas I that stabb’d young Edward,
But ’twas thy heavenly face that set me on. Here she lets fall the sword.
Take up the sword again, or take up me. Anne

Arise, dissembler: though I wish thy death,
I will not be the executioner.

Gloucester Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it. Anne I have already. Gloucester

Tush, that was in thy rage:
Speak it again, and, even with the word,
That hand, which, for thy love, did kill thy love,
Shall, for thy love, kill a far truer love;
To both their deaths thou shalt be accessary.

Anne I would I knew thy heart. Gloucester ’Tis figured in my tongue. Anne I fear me both are false. Gloucester Then never man was true. Anne Well, well, put up your sword. Gloucester Say, then, my peace is made. Anne That shall you know hereafter. Gloucester But shall I live in hope? Anne All men, I hope, live so. Gloucester Vouchsafe to wear this ring. Anne To take is not to give. Gloucester

Look, how this ring encompasseth thy finger,
Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart;
Wear both of them, for both of them are thine.
And if thy poor devoted suppliant may
But beg one favour at thy gracious hand,
Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever.

Anne What is it? Gloucester

That it would please thee leave these sad designs
To him that hath more cause to be a mourner,
And presently repair to Crosby Place;
Where, after I have solemnly interr’d
At Chertsey monastery this noble king,
And wet his grave with my repentant tears,
I will with all expedient duty see you:
For divers unknown reasons, I beseech you,
Grant me this boon.

Anne

With all my heart; and much it joys me too,
To see you are become so penitent.
Tressel and Berkeley, go along with me.

Gloucester Bid me farewell. Anne

’Tis more than you deserve;
But since you teach me how to flatter you,
Imagine I have said farewell already. Exeunt Lady Anne, Tressel, and Berkeley.

Gloucester Sirs, take up the corse. Gentleman Towards Chertsey, noble lord? Gloucester

No, to White-Friars; there attend my coming. Exeunt all but Gloucester.
Was ever woman in this humour woo’d?
Was ever woman in this humour won?
I’ll have her; but I will not keep her long.
What! I, that kill’d her husband and his father,
To take her in her heart’s extremest hate,
With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes,
The bleeding witness of her hatred by;
Having God, her conscience, and these bars against me,
And I nothing to back my suit at all,
But the plain devil and dissembling looks,
And yet to win her, all the world to nothing!
Ha!
Hath she forgot already that brave prince,
Edward, her lord, whom I, some three months since,
Stabb’d in my angry mood at Tewksbury?
A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman,
Framed in the prodigality of nature,
Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal,
The spacious world cannot again afford:
And will she yet debase her eyes on me,
That cropp’d the golden prime of this sweet prince,
And made her widow to a woeful bed?
On me, whose all not equals Edward’s moiety?
On me, that halt and am unshapen thus?
My dukedom to a beggarly denier,
I do mistake my person all this while:
Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot,
Myself to be a marvellous proper man.
I’ll be at charges for a looking-glass,
And entertain some score or two of tailors,
To study fashions to adorn my body:
Since I am crept in favour with myself,
I will maintain it with some little cost.
But first I’ll turn yon fellow in his grave;
And then return lamenting to my love.
Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass,
That I may see my shadow as I pass. Exit.

Scene III

The palace.

	Enter Queen Elizabeth, Lord Rivers, and Lord Grey.
Rivers	Have patience, madam: there’s no doubt his majesty Will soon recover his accustom’d health.
Grey	In that you brook it ill, it makes him worse: Therefore, for God’s sake, entertain good comfort, And cheer his grace with quick and merry words.
Queen Elizabeth	If he were dead, what would betide of me?
Rivers	No other harm but loss of such a lord.
Queen Elizabeth	The loss of such a lord includes all harm.
Grey	The heavens have bless’d you with a goodly son, To be your comforter when he is gone.
Queen Elizabeth	Oh, he is young, and his minority Is put unto the trust of Richard Gloucester, A man that loves not me, nor none of you.
Rivers	Is it concluded that he shall be protector?
Queen Elizabeth	It is determined, not concluded yet: But so it must be, if the king miscarry.
	Enter Buckingham and Derby.
Grey	Here come the lords of Buckingham and Derby.
Buckingham	Good time of day unto your royal grace!
Derby	God make your majesty joyful as you have been!
Queen Elizabeth	The Countess Richmond, good my Lord of Derby, To your good prayers will scarcely say amen. Yet, Derby, notwithstanding she’s your wife, And loves not me, be you, good lord, assured I hate not you for her proud arrogance.
Derby	I do beseech you, either not believe The envious slanders of her false accusers; Or, if she be accused in true report, Bear with her weakness, which, I think, proceeds From wayward sickness, and no grounded malice.
Rivers	Saw you the king to-day, my Lord of Derby?
Derby	But now the Duke of Buckingham and I Are come from visiting his majesty.
Queen Elizabeth	What likelihood of his amendment, lords?
Buckingham	Madam, good hope; his grace speaks cheerfully.
Queen Elizabeth	God grant him health! Did you confer with him?
Buckingham	Madam, we did: he desires to make atonement Betwixt the Duke of Gloucester and your brothers, And betwixt them and my lord chamberlain; And sent to warn them to his royal presence.
Queen Elizabeth	Would all were well! but that