ACT I. | |
SCENE I. London. A street | |
| [Enter GLOSTER.] |
GLOSTER. | |
| 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? |
CLARENCE. | |
| His majesty, |
| Tendering my person's safety, hath appointed |
| This conduct to convey me to the Tower. |
GLOSTER. | |
| Upon what cause? |
CLARENCE. | |
| Because my name is George. |
GLOSTER. | |
| 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-christen'd in the Tower. |
| But what's the matter, 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. |
GLOSTER. | |
| 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 this 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 deliver'd? |
| 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 for her delivery? |
GLOSTER. | |
| Humbly complaining to her deity |
| Got my Lord Chamberlain his liberty. |
| I'll tell you what,--I think it is our way, |
| If we will keep in favour with the king, |
| To be her men and wear her livery: |
| The jealous o'er-worn widow, and herself, |
| Since that our brother dubb'd them gentlewomen, |
| Are mighty gossips in our monarchy. |
BRAKENBURY. | |
| I beseech your graces both to pardon me; |
| His majesty hath straitly given in charge |
| That no man shall have private conference, |
| Of what degree soever, with your brother. |
GLOSTER. | |
| Even so; an't please your worship, Brakenbury, |
| You may partake of any thing we say: |
| We speak no treason, man;--we say the king |
| Is wise and virtuous; and his noble queen |
| Well struck in years, fair, and not jealous;-- |
| We say that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot, |
| A cherry lip, a bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue; |
| And that the queen's kindred are made gentlefolks: |
| How say you, sir? can you deny all this? |
BRAKENBURY. | |
| With this, my lord, myself have naught to do. |
GLOSTER. | |
| Naught to do with Mistress Shore! I tell thee, fellow, |
| He that doth naught with her, excepting one, |
| Were best to do it secretly alone. |
BRAKENBURY. | |
| What one, my lord? |
GLOSTER. | |
| Her husband, knave:--wouldst thou betray me? |
BRAKENBURY. | |
| I do beseech your grace to pardon me; and, withal, |
| Forbear your conference with the noble duke. |
CLARENCE. | |
| We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will obey. |
GLOSTER. | |
| We are the queen's abjects and must obey.-- |
| Brother, farewell: I will unto the king; |
| And whatsoe'er you will employ me in,-- |
| Were it to call King Edward's widow sister,-- |
| I will perform it to enfranchise you. |
| Meantime, this deep disgrace in brotherhood |
| Touches me deeper than you can imagine. |
CLARENCE. | |
| I know it pleaseth neither of us well. |
GLOSTER. | |
| Well, your imprisonment shall not be long; |
| I will deliver or else lie for you: |
| Meantime, have patience. |
CLARENCE. | |
| I must perforce: farewell. |
| [Exeunt CLARENCE, BRAKENBURY, and guard.] |
GLOSTER. | |
| Go tread the path that thou shalt ne'er return. |
| Simple, plain Clarence!--I do love thee so |
| That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven, |
| If heaven will take the present at our hands.-- |
| But who comes here? The new-delivered Hastings? |
| [Enter HASTINGS.] |
HASTINGS. | |
| Good time of day unto my gracious lord! |
GLOSTER. | |
| As much unto my good Lord Chamberlain! |
| Well are you welcome to the open air. |
| How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment? |
HASTINGS. | |
| With patience, noble lord, as prisoners must; |
| But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks |
| That were the cause of my imprisonment. |
GLOSTER. | |
| No doubt, no doubt; and so shall Clarence too; |
| For they that were your enemies are his, |
| And have prevail'd as much on him as you. |
HASTINGS. | |
| More pity that the eagles should be mew'd |
| Whiles kites and buzzards prey at liberty. |
GLOSTER. | |
| What news abroad? |
HASTINGS. | |
| No news so bad abroad as this at home,-- |
| The king is sickly, weak, and melancholy, |
| And his physicians fear him mightily. |
GLOSTER. | |
| Now, by Saint Paul, that news is bad indeed. |
| O, he hath kept an evil diet long, |
| And overmuch consum'd his royal person: |
| 'Tis very grievous to be thought upon. |
| What, is he in his bed? |
HASTINGS. | |
| He is. |
GLOSTER. | |
| Go you before, and I will follow you. |
| [Exit HASTINGS.] |
| He cannot live, I hope; and must not die |
| Till George be pack'd with posthorse up to heaven. |
| I'll in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence |
| With lies well steel'd with weighty arguments; |
| And, if I fail not in my deep intent, |
| Clarence hath not another day to live; |
| Which done, God take King Edward to his mercy, |
| And leave the world for me to bustle in! |
| For then I'll marry Warwick's youngest daughter: |
| What though I kill'd her husband and her father? |
| The readiest way to make the wench amends |
| Is to become her husband and her father: |
| The which will I; not all so much for love |
| As for another secret close intent, |
| By marrying her, which I must reach unto. |
| But yet I run before my horse to market: |
| Clarence still breathes; Edward still lives and reigns: |
| When they are gone, then must I count my gains. |
| [Exit.] |