For Edward, for my brother, for his sake:
Why, sirs,
He sends ye not to murder me for this;
For in this sin he is as deep as I.
If God will be revenged for this deed,
O, know you yet, he doth it publicly:
Take not the quarrel from his powerful arm;
He needs no indirect nor lawless course
To cut off those that have offended him.
Who made thee, then, a bloody minister,
When gallant-springing brave Plantagenet,
That princely novice, was struck dead by thee?
Thy brother’s love, our duty, and thy fault,
Provoke us hither now to slaughter thee.
Oh, if you love my brother, hate not me;
I am his brother, and I love him well.
If you be hired for meed, go back again,
And I will send you to my brother Gloucester,
Who shall reward you better for my life
Than Edward will for tidings of my death.
O, no, he loves me, and he holds me dear:
Go you to him from me.
Tell him, when that our princely father York
Bless’d his three sons with his victorious arm,
And charged us from his soul to love each other,
He little thought of this divided friendship:
Bid Gloucester think of this, and he will weep.
Right,
As snow in harvest. Thou deceivest thyself:
’Tis he that sent us hither now to slaughter thee.
It cannot be; for when I parted with him,
He hugg’d me in his arms, and swore, with sobs,
That he would labour my delivery.
Why, so he doth, now he delivers thee
From this world’s thraldom to the joys of heaven.
Hast thou that holy feeling in thy soul,
To counsel me to make my peace with God,
And art thou yet to thy own soul so blind,
That thou wilt war with God by murdering me?
Ah, sirs, consider, he that set you on
To do this deed will hate you for the deed.
Not to relent is beastly, savage, devilish.
Which of you, if you were a prince’s son,
Being pent from liberty, as I am now,
If two such murderers as yourselves came to you,
Would not entreat for life?
My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks;
O, if thine eye be not a flatterer,
Come thou on my side, and entreat for me,
As you would beg, were you in my distress:
A begging prince what beggar pities not?
Take that, and that: if all this will not do, stabs him
I’ll drown you in the malmsey-butt within. Exit, with the body.
A bloody deed, and desperately dispatch’d!
How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands
Of this most grievous guilty murder done!
How now! what mean’st thou, that thou help’st me not?
By heavens, the duke shall know how slack thou art!
I would he knew that I had saved his brother!
Take thou the fee, and tell him what I say;
For I repent me that the duke is slain. Exit.
So do not I: go, coward as thou art.
Now must I hide his body in some hole,
Until the duke take order for his burial:
And when I have my meed, I must away;
For this will out, and here I must not stay.
Act II
Scene I
London. The palace.
Flourish. Enter King Edward sick, Queen Elizabeth, Dorset, Rivers, Hastings, Buckingham, Grey, and others. | |
King Edward |
Why, so: now have I done a good day’s work: |
Rivers |
By heaven, my heart is purged from grudging hate; |
Hastings | So thrive I, as I truly swear the like! |
King Edward |
Take heed you dally not before your king; |
Hastings | So prosper I, as I swear perfect love! |
Rivers | And I, as I love Hastings with my heart! |
King Edward |
Madam, yourself are not exempt in this, |
Queen Elizabeth |
Here, Hastings; I will never more remember |
King Edward | Dorset, embrace him; Hastings, love lord marquess. |
Dorset |
This interchange of love, I here protest, |
Hastings | And so swear I, my lord. They embrace. |
King Edward |
Now, princely Buckingham, seal thou this league |
Buckingham |
Whenever Buckingham doth turn his hate |
King Edward |
A pleasing cordial, princely Buckingham, |
Buckingham | And, in good time, here comes the noble duke. |
Enter Gloucester. | |
Gloucester |
Good morrow to my sovereign king and queen; |