ACT III. | |
SCENE VII. London. Court of Baynard's Castle. | |
| [Enter GLOSTER and BUCKINGHAM, meeting.] |
GLOSTER. | |
| How now, how now! what say the citizens? |
BUCKINGHAM. | |
| Now, by the holy mother of our Lord, |
| The citizens are mum, say not a word. |
GLOSTER. | |
| Touch'd you the bastardy of Edward's children? |
BUCKINGHAM. | |
| I did; with his contract with Lady Lucy, |
| And his contract by deputy in France; |
| The insatiate greediness of his desires, |
| And his enforcement of the city wives; |
| His tyranny for trifles; his own bastardy,-- |
| As being got, your father then in France, |
| And his resemblance, being not like the duke: |
| Withal I did infer your lineaments,-- |
| Being the right idea of your father, |
| Both in your form and nobleness of mind; |
| Laid open all your victories in Scotland, |
| Your discipline in war, wisdom in peace, |
| Your bounty, virtue, fair humility; |
| Indeed, left nothing fitting for your purpose |
| Untouch'd or slightly handled in discourse: |
| And when mine oratory drew toward end |
| I bid them that did love their country's good |
| Cry "God save Richard, England's royal king!" |
GLOSTER. | |
| And did they so? |
BUCKINGHAM. | |
| No, so God help me, they spake not a word; |
| But, like dumb statues or breathing stones, |
| Star'd each on other, and look'd deadly pale. |
| Which when I saw, I reprehended them; |
| And ask'd the mayor what meant this wilful silence: |
| His answer was--the people were not us'd |
| To be spoke to but by the recorder. |
| Then he was urg'd to tell my tale again,-- |
| Thus saith the duke, thus hath the duke inferr'd; |
| But nothing spoke in warrant from himself. |
| When he had done, some followers of mine own, |
| At lower end of the hall hurl'd up their caps, |
| And some ten voices cried "God save King Richard!" |
| And thus I took the vantage of those few,-- |
| Thanks, gentle citizens and friends, quoth I; |
| This general applause and cheerful shout
Argues your wisdoms and your love to Richard: |
| And even here brake off and came away. |
GLOSTER. | |
| What, tongueless blocks were they! would they not speak? |
| Will not the mayor, then, and his brethren, come? |
BUCKINGHAM. | |
| The mayor is here at hand. Intend some fear; |
| Be not you spoke with but by mighty suit: |
| And look you get a prayer-book in your hand, |
| And stand between two churchmen, good my lord; |
| For on that ground I'll make a holy descant: |
| And be not easily won to our requests; |
| Play the maid's part,--still answer nay, and take it. |
GLOSTER. | |
| I go; and if you plead as well for them |
| As I can say nay to thee for myself, |
| No doubt we bring it to a happy issue. |
BUCKINGHAM. | |
| Go, go, up to the leads; the lord mayor knocks. |
| [Exit GLOSTER.] |
| [Enter the LORD MAYOR, ALDERMEN, and Citizens.] |
| Welcome, my lord. I dance attendance here; |
| I think the duke will not be spoke withal. |
| [Enter, from the Castle, CATESBY.] |
| Now, Catesby,--what says your lord to my request? |
CATESBY. | |
| He doth entreat your grace, my noble lord, |
| To visit him to-morrow or next day: |
| He is within, with two right reverend fathers, |
| Divinely bent to meditation: |
| And in no worldly suit would he be mov'd, |
| To draw him from his holy exercise. |
BUCKINGHAM. | |
| Return, good Catesby, to the gracious duke; |
| Tell him, myself, the mayor and aldermen, |
| In deep designs, in matter of great moment, |
| No less importing than our general good, |
| Are come to have some conference with his grace. |
CATESBY. | |
| I'll signify so much unto him straight. |
| [Exit.] |
BUCKINGHAM. | |
| Ah, ha, my lord, this prince is not an Edward! |
| He is not lolling on a lewd day-bed, |
| But on his knees at meditation; |
| Not dallying with a brace of courtezans, |
| But meditating with two deep divines; |
| Not sleeping, to engross his idle body, |
| But praying, to enrich his watchful soul: |
| Happy were England would this virtuous prince |
| Take on his grace the sovereignty thereof: |
| But, sure, I fear, we shall not win him to it. |
MAYOR. | |
| Marry, God defend his grace should say us nay! |
BUCKINGHAM. | |
| I fear he will. Here Catesby comes again. |
| [Re-enter CATESBY.] |
| Now, Catesby, what says his grace? |
CATESBY. | |
| He wonders to what end you have assembled |
| Such troops of citizens to come to him: |
| His grace not being warn'd thereof before, |
| He fears, my lord, you mean no good to him. |
BUCKINGHAM. | |
| Sorry I am my noble cousin should |
| Suspect me, that I mean no good to him: |
| By heaven, we come to him in perfect love; |
| And so once more return and tell his grace. |
| [Exit CATESBY.] |
| When holy and devout religious men |
| Are at their beads, 'tis much to draw them thence,-- |
| So sweet is zealous contemplation. |
| [Enter GLOSTER in a Galery above, between two BISHOPS. CATESBY |
| returns.] |
MAYOR. | |
| See where his grace stands 'tween two clergymen! |
BUCKINGHAM. | |
| Two props of virtue for a Christian prince, |
| To stay him from the fall of vanity: |
| And, see, a book of prayer in his hand,-- |
| True ornaments to know a holy man.-- |
| Famous Plantagenet, most gracious prince, |
| Lend favourable ear to our requests; |
| And pardon us the interruption |
| Of thy devotion and right Christian zeal. |
GLOSTER. | |
| My lord, there needs no such apology: |
| I rather do beseech you pardon me, |
| Who, earnest in the service of my God, |
| Deferr'd the visitation of my friends. |
| But, leaving this, what is your grace's pleasure? |
BUCKINGHAM. | |
| Even that, I hope, which pleaseth God above, |
| And all good men of this ungovern'd isle. |
GLOSTER. | |
| I do suspect I have done some offence |
| That seems disgracious in the city's eye; |
| And that you come to reprehend my ignorance. |
BUCKINGHAM. | |
| You have, my lord: would it might please your grace, |
| On our entreaties, to amend your fault! |
GLOSTER. | |
| Else wherefore breathe I in a Christian land? |
BUCKINGHAM. | |
| Know then, it is your fault that you resign |
| The supreme seat, the throne majestical, |
| The scepter'd office of your ancestors, |
| Your state of fortune and your due of birth, |
| The lineal glory of your royal house, |
| To the corruption of a blemish'd stock: |
| Whilst, in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts,-- |
| Which here we waken to our country's good,-- |
| The noble isle doth want her proper limbs; |
| Her face defac'd with scars of infamy, |
| Her royal stock graft with ignoble plants, |
| And almost shoulder'd in the swallowing gulf |
| Of dark forgetfulness and deep oblivion. |
| Which to recure, we heartily solicit |
| Your gracious self to take on you the charge |
| And kingly government of this your land;-- |
| Not as protector, steward, substitute, |
| Or lowly factor for another's gain; |
| But as successively, from blood to blood, |
| Your right of birth, your empery, your own. |
| For this, consorted with the citizens, |
| Your very worshipful and loving friends, |
| And, by their vehement instigation, |
| In this just cause come I to move your grace. |
GLOSTER. | |
| I cannot tell if to depart in silence |
| Or bitterly to speak in your reproof |
| Best fitteth my degree or your condition: |
| If not to answer, you might haply think |
| Tongue-tied ambition, not replying, yielded |
| To bear the golden yoke of sovereignty, |
| Which fondly you would here impose on me; |
| If to reprove you for this suit of yours, |
| So season'd with your faithful love to me, |
| Then, on the other side, I check'd my friends. |
| Therefore,--to speak, and to avoid the first, |
| And then, in speaking, not to incur the last,-- |
| Definitively thus I answer you. |
| Your love deserves my thanks; but my desert |
| Unmeritable shuns your high request. |
| First, if all obstacles were cut away, |
| And that my path were even to the crown, |
| As the ripe revenue and due of birth, |
| Yet so much is my poverty of spirit, |
| So mighty and so many my defects, |
| That I would rather hide me from my greatness,-- |
| Being a bark to brook no mighty sea,-- |
| Than in my greatness covet to be hid, |
| And in the vapour of my glory smother'd. |
| But, God be thank'd, there is no need of me,-- |
| And much I need to help you, were there need;-- |
| The royal tree hath left us royal fruit, |
| Which, mellow'd by the stealing hours of time, |
| Will well become the seat of majesty, |
| And make, no doubt, us happy by his reign. |
| On him I lay that you would lay on me,-- |
| The right and fortune of his happy stars; |
| Which God defend that I should wring from him! |
BUCKINGHAM. | |
| My lord, this argues conscience in your grace; |
| But the respects thereof are nice and trivial, |
| All circumstances well considered. |
| You say that Edward is your brother's son: |
| So say we too, but not by Edward's wife; |
| For first was he contract to Lady Lucy,-- |
| Your mother lives a witness to his vow,-- |
| And afterward by substitute betroth'd |
| To Bona, sister to the King of France. |
| These both put off, a poor petitioner, |
| A care-craz'd mother to a many sons, |
| A beauty-waning and distressed widow, |
| Even in the afternoon of her best days, |
| Made prize and purchase of his wanton eye, |
| Seduc'd the pitch and height of his degree |
| To base declension and loath'd bigamy: |
| By her, in his unlawful bed, he got |
| This Edward, whom our manners call the prince. |
| More bitterly could I expostulate, |
| Save that, for reverence to some alive, |
| I give a sparing limit to my tongue. |
| Then, good my lord, take to your royal self |
| This proffer'd benefit of dignity; |
| If not to bless us and the land withal, |
| Yet to draw forth your noble ancestry |
| From the corruption of abusing time |
| Unto a lineal true-derived course. |
MAYOR. | |
| Do, good my lord; your citizens entreat you. |
BUCKINGHAM. | |
| Refuse not, mighty lord, this proffer'd love. |
CATESBY. | |
| O, make them joyful, grant their lawful suit! |
GLOSTER. | |
| Alas, why would you heap those cares on me? |
| I am unfit for state and majesty:-- |
| I do beseech you, take it not amiss: |
| I cannot nor I will not yield to you. |
BUCKINGHAM. | |
| If you refuse it,--as, in love and zeal, |
| Loath to depose the child, your brother's son-- |
| As well we know your tenderness of heart |
| And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse, |
| Which we have noted in you to your kindred, |
| And equally, indeed, to all estates,-- |
| Yet know, whe'er you accept our suit or no, |
| Your brother's son shall never reign our king; |
| But we will plant some other in the throne, |
| To the disgrace and downfall of your house: |
| And in this resolution here we leave you.-- |
| Come, citizens, we will entreat no more. |
| [Exeunt BUCKINGHAM, the Mayor and citizens retiring.] |
CATESBY. | |
| Call them again, sweet prince, accept their suit: |
| If you deny them, all the land will rue it. |
GLOSTER. | |
| Will you enforce me to a world of cares? |
| Call them again. |
| [CATESBY goes to the Mayor, &c., and then exit.] |
| I am not made of stone, |
| But penetrable to your kind entreaties, |
| Albeit against my conscience and my soul. |
| [Re-enter BUCKINGHAM and CATESBY, Mayor, &c., coming forward.] |
| Cousin of Buckingham,--and sage grave men, |
| Since you will buckle fortune on my back, |
| To bear her burden, whe'er I will or no, |
| I must have patience to endure the load: |
| But if black scandal or foul-fac'd reproach |
| Attend the sequel of your imposition, |
| Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me |
| From all the impure blots and stains thereof; |
| For God doth know, and you may partly see, |
| How far I am from the desire of this. |
MAYOR. | |
| God bless your grace! we see it, and will say it. |
GLOSTER. | |
| In saying so, you shall but say the truth. |
BUCKINGHAM. | |
| Then I salute you with this royal title,-- |
| Long live King Richard, England's worthy king! |
ALL. | |
| Amen. |
BUCKINGHAM. | |
| To-morrow may it please you to be crown'd? |
GLOSTER. | |
| Even when you please, for you will have it so. |
BUCKINGHAM. | |
| To-morrow, then, we will attend your grace: |
| And so, most joyfully, we take our leave. |
GLOSTER. | |
| [To the BISHOPS.] |
| Come, let us to our holy work again.-- |
| Farewell, my cousin;--farewell, gentle friends. |
| [Exeunt.] |