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This programme contains some violent scenes
God save King Edward, fourth of that name!
Once more we sit in England's royal throne,
Re-purchased with the blood of enemies.
-Hail the House of York.
Brother Richard, will you stand by us?
My liege, it is the Earl of Richmond.
He is the House of Lancaster.
I am the Queen!
-Where's Richard gone?
-To make a bloody supper in the Tower!
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.
Grim-visaged 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 shaped for sportive tricks,
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;
I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty
I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
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!
HE BREATHES HEAVILY
Why, I, in this weak and piping time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time
Unless to spy my shadow in the sun And descant on my 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,
'To set the King, my brother and Clarence
'In deadly hate the one against the other'
And if King Edward be as true and just
As I am subtle, false and treacherous
Then 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.
Brother, what means this armed guard That waits upon your grace?
His Majesty Tendering my person's safety,
hath appointed This conduct to convey me to the Tower
-Upon what cause?
-Because my name is George.
Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours;
He should, for this, commit your godfathers.
He hearkens after prophecies and dreams;
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 thoughts that I am he.
This it is when men are ruled by women.
'Tis not the King that sends you to the Tower,
Elizabeth, his wife, 'tis she That tempers him to this extremity.
We are not safe, Clarence,
we are not safe.
I beseech your graces both to pardon me.
His Majesty has straightly given in charge
That no man shall have private conference,
Of what degree so ever, with his brother.
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.
How say you, sir? Can you deny all this?
I do beseech your grace to pardon me and withal.
Forbear your conference with the noble Duke.
We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will obey.
I will unto the King.
Meantime, this deep disgrace touches me deeper than you can imagine.
I know it pleaseth neither of us well.
Well, your imprisonment will not be long.
Meantime, be patient.
I must perforce.
Go, tread the path that thou shalt ne'er return.
Simple, plain Clarence!
I do love thee so,
that shortly I will send thy soul...to Heaven.
Good time of day to you, Lord Chamberlain. What news?
The King is sickly, weak and melancholy,
And his physicians fear him mightily.
He broke the feast and has returned to bed.
Oh, he hath kept an evil diet long
And overmuch consumed his royal person.
-Where is he? In his bed?
Go you before, and I will follow you.
He cannot live, I hope,
and must not die till George be packed with post-horse up to Heaven.
I'll in to urge his hatred more And if I fail not in my deep intent,
Dear George hath not another day to live.
How now, my hardy, stout resolved mates.
Are you now tomorrow to dispatch this thing?
We are, my lord.
And we come to have the warrant that we may be admitted where he is.
Well thought upon, I have it here about me.
But, sirs, be sudden in the execution.
Do not hear him plead.
My brother is well spoken,
And perhaps may move your hearts to pity if you mark him.
Tut, tut, my lord, we will not stand to prate.
Talkers are no good doers,
Be assured, we go to use our hands and not our tongues.
Your eyes drop millstones, when fools' eyes drop tears.
I like you, lads.
About your business straight. Go, go, dispatch.
-We will, my noble lord.
FLY BUZZES IN BACKGROUND
Cursed be the hand that made those fatal holes!
Cursed be the heart that had the heart to do it!
More direful hap betide that hated wretch
Than I can wish to adders,
If ever he have wife, let her be made more miserable
By the death of him
than I by my husband
And father-in-law, King Henry.
What black magician conjures up this fiend?
..thou dreadful minister of hell!
Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst.
Villain, thou know'st no law of God
Nor man, no beast so fierce But knows some touch of pity.
But I know none, and therefore am no beast.
O, wonderful when devils tell the truth.
More wonderful when angels are so angry.
Fairer than tongue can name thee,
Let me have some patient leisure to excuse myself.
I shall not grant excuses
To the thing that killed my husband, my father
and my King.
Dead, they are, and, devilish slave, by thee.
I did not kill your husband.
Why, then, is he alive?
Nay, he is dead, and by King Edward's hand.
In thy foul throat thou liest.
Queen Margaret saw thy murderous dagger
smoking in his blood.
Didst thou not kill the King?
I grant ye, yea.
Dost grant me, hedgehog?
-Better for the King of Heaven that hath him.
He is in heaven, where thou shalt never come.
He was fitter for that place than earth.
And thou unfit for any place but hell.
Yes, one place else, if you will hear me name it.
Is not the causer of these timeless deaths
As blameful as the executioner?
Thou was the cause and most accursed effect.
Your beauty was the cause of that effect.
Your beauty, that did haunt me in my sleep
To undertake the death of all the world,
So I might live one hour
in your sweet bosom.
If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide,
These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks.
These eyes could not endure sweet beauty's wreck.
You should not blemish it, if I stood by.
It is a quarrel most unnatural to be revenged on him that loveth thee.
It is a quarrel just and reasonable
To be revenged on him that killed my husband.
He that bereft thee of thy husband, lady,
Did it to help thee to a better husband.
Better dost not breathe upon the earth.
-He lives that loves thee better than he could.
-Where is he?
Why dost thou spit on me?
Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake.
Never came poison from so sweet a place.
Never hung poison on a fouler toad.
Out of my sight!
Oh, thou dost infect my eyes.
Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine.
If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive,
Teach not thy mouth such scorn,
For it was made for kissing, lady, not for such contempt.
I lend thee this sharp-pointed blade
Which if thou choose to hide in this true breast
And let the soul forth that adoreth thee
I lay it naked until the deadly stroke.
Nay, do not pause...
..for I did kill King Henry.
Nay, now dispatch.
'Twas I that stabbed your husband.
Take up the knife again or take up me.
Though I wish thy death
I will not be thy executioner.
Then bid me kill myself and I will do it.
Well, well, put up your blade.
Then say my peace is made.
That shall you know hereafter.
But shall I live in hope?
All men, I hope, live so.
Vouchsafe to wear this ring.
To take is not to give.
Look how my ring encompasseth thy finger.
Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart.
And if thy poor devoted servant may But beg one favour
at thy gracious hand,
Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever.
That it may please you, presently repair to Westminster.
I will with all expedient duty see you there.
I beseech you, come.
Bid me farewell.
Much it joys me to see you are become so penitent.
Was ever woman in this humour wooed?
Was ever woman in this humour won?
I'll have her, but I'll not keep her long.
I, that killed her husband and her father,
To take her in her extremest hate,
Curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes,
And yet to win her, all the world to nothing!
And will she yet debase her eyes to look on me?
On me, that halts and am misshapen thus?
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 a score or two of tailors
To study fashions to adorn my body.
Since I have crept in favour with myself,
I will maintain it at some little cost.
Shine out, fair sun,
till I have bought a glass,
That I may see my shadow as I pass.
Have patience, sister.
There's no doubt His Majesty will soon recover his accustomed term.
If he were dead, what would betide on me, brother?
No other harm but loss of such a lord.
The loss of such a lord includes all harms.
The heavens have blessed you with a goodly son, Mother,
To be your comforter when he has gone.
Ah, he is young and his minority
Is put unto the trust of Richard Gloucester,
A man that loves not me nor none of you.
Is it concluded that he shall be protector?
So it must be,
if the King miscarry.
Here come the lords of Buckingham and Stanley.
Good time of day unto your royal grace.
What likelihood of his amendment, lords?
Madam, good hope. His grace speaks cheerfully.
-Did you confer with him?
He desires to make atonement between the Duke of Gloucester
And your brother and son,
and between them and my Lord Hastings.
He has sent to bring them to his royal presence.
Would all were well.
But that will never be.
They do me wrong and I will not accept it.
Who are they that do complain unto the King
That I, forsooth, am stern and love them not?
Oh, by holy Paul, they love his grace
But lightly that fill his ears With such dissentious rumours.
Because I cannot flatter or look fair,
Smile in men's faces,
smooth, deceive and cog,
I must be held a rancorous enemy.
To whom in all this presence speaks your grace?
To thee, that hast not honesty nor grace, Lord Grey.
When have I injured thee? When done thee wrong?
Or thee, Lord Rivers? Or thee, Elizabeth?
Or any of your faction?
A plague upon you all.
His royal grace cannot rest scarce a breathing-while
But you must trouble him with lewd complaints.
We know your meaning, brother Gloucester.
You envy my advancement and my friends'.
God grant we never may have need of you.
Meantime, God grants that we have need of you.
Our brother George, imprisoned by your means,
Myself disgraced, and the nobility held in contempt.
I never did incense His Majesty against the Duke of Clarence,
But have been an earnest advocate to plead for him.
You do me shameful injury falsely to draw me in such vile suspects.
By heaven, I will acquaint His Majesty of those gross taunts
Which oft I have endured.
Tell him, and spare not.
Lord, I have said I will avouch it in Edward's presence.
Ere you were Queen, aye, or your husband King,
I was the packhorse in his great affairs.
To royalise his blood, I spilt mine own!
I would to God my heart were flint, like Edward's.
I'm too childish-foolish for this world.
Hear me, you wrangling pirates,
That fall out in sharing that which you have pilled from me!
Which of you trembles not
that looks on me?
O gentle villain,
do not turn away.
Foul, wrinkled witch,
what makest thou in my sight?
A husband and a son
thou owest to me.
And thou a kingdom.
All of you allegiance.
This sorrow I have by right is yours,
And all the pleasures you usurp
Give way, dull clouds,
to my quick curses!
Edward thy son, that now is Prince of Wales,
For Edward my son, that was Prince of Wales,
Die in his youth by untimely violence.
Long die thy happy days before thy death.
Cease thy curses, thou wretched, withered hag!
And leave thee out? For thou shalt hear me.
If heaven have any grievous plague in store,
O, let them keep it till thy sins be ripe,
And then hurl down their indignation on thee,
The troubler of the poor world's peace.
No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine
Unless whilst some tormenting dream affrights thee
With a hell of ugly devils!
Thou elvish-marked, abortive, rooting hog!
The slave of nature and the son of hell.
Thus have you breathed your curse
Poor painted Queen,
vain flourish of my fortune!
Why strewest thou sugar on that bottled spider
Whose deadly web ensnareth thee about?
Thou whet'st a knife to kill thyself.
The day will come when thou shalt wish for me
To help thee curse that poisonous bunchbacked toad.
Dispute not with her, she is lunatic.
Witness my son,
now in the shade of death,
Whose bright out-shining beams
thy cloudy wrath Hath in eternal darkness folded up.
if not for charity.
take heed of yonder dog.
Look, when he fawns, he bites,
And, when he bites, his venom tooth will rankle to the death.
Have not to do with him.
Beware of him.
What doth she say, my Lord of Buckingham?
-Nothing that I respect, my gracious lord.
Dost thou scorn me for my gentle counsel?
And soothe the devil that I warn thee from?
but remember this another day,
When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow
And say, "Poor Margaret
"was a prophetess."
Live each of you
the subjects to his hate,
And he to yours
and all of you
My hair doth stand on end to hear her curses.
And so doth mine.
I muse why she's at liberty.
She hath had too much wrong
And I do repent my part thereof that I have done to her.
I never did her any,
to my knowledge.
Yet you have all the vantage of her wrong.
Madam, His Majesty doth call for you.
And for you, my grace. And you, my gracious lords.
Lords, will you go with me?
We wait upon your grace.
The secret mischiefs that I set abroach
I lay unto the grievous charge of others.
And Clarence, whom I, indeed, have laid in darkness,
I do beweep to many simple gulls,
Namely to Stanley, Hastings, Buckingham,
And tell them 'tis the Queen and her allies
That stir the King against the Duke, my brother.
Now, they believe it,
and withal whet me to be revenged on Rivers and on Grey.
But then I sigh,
and, with a piece of scripture,
Tell them that God bids us do good for evil.
And thus I clothe my naked villainy
With old odd ends stolen forth of holy writ
And seem a saint
when most I play the devil.
Why looks your grace so heavily today?
O, I've passed a miserable night.
So full of fearful dreams, ugly sights
That, as I am a Christian faithful man,
I would not spend another such a night,
Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days.
What was your dream, my lord?
I passed methought
the melancholy flood
With that sour ferryman poets write of
Unto the kingdom of perpetual night.
that there did greet my stranger soul,
Shadow like an angel
with bright hair
dabbled in blood.
And he shrieked out aloud
"Clarence is come
"That stabbed me in the woods by Tewkesbury.
"Seize on him, Furies,
"take him to your torment."
methought, a legion of foul fiends environed me
And houled in mine ears such
That with the very noise I trembling waked,
And for a season after
could not believe
but that I was in hell.
No marvel, my lord, though it affrighted you.
-I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it.
Keeper, I have done these things,
But now give evidence against my soul, for Edward's sake
And see how he requites me.
Keeper, prithy sit by me awhile.
My soul is heavy,
and I fain would sleep.
I will, my lord.
God give your grace good rest.
BANGING ON DOOR
What words, thou fellows?
How camest thou hither?
We would speak to Prince George,
and I came hither on my legs.
What? So brief?
'Tis better, sir, than to be tedious.
See our commission.
We talk no more.
In God's name, who sent you hither?
Wherefore come you?
To murder me?
Wherein, my friends, have I offended you?
Offended us you have not,
but the King.
I am his brother,
and I love him well.
If you be hired for money
And I will send you to my brother Gloucester
And he will reward you better for my life
Than Edward will for tidings of my death.
You are deceived,
your brother Gloucester hates you.
Make peace with God, for you must die, my lord.
-My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks.
If all this will not do,
I'll drown you in the bucket.
Why, so, now have I done a good day's work.
You peers, continue this united league.
Rivers and Hastings
dissemble not your hatred,
swear your love.
By heaven, my soul is purged from grudging hate,
And with my hand I seal my true heart's love.
So thrive I, as I truly swear the like.
Madam, yourself is not exempt from this.
Nor you, stepson Grey.
Buckingham, nor you.
You have been factious one against the other.
And what you do, do it unfeignedly.
So thrive I and mine.
This interchange of love shall be inviolable.
And, in good time, here comes the Duke of Gloucester.
Good morrow to my sovereign King and Queen.
And, princely peers, a happy time of day.
Happy, indeed, as we have spent the day making peace of enmity,
Fair love of hate,
between these swelling wrong-incensed peers.
A blessed labour, my most sovereign lord.
If I unwittingly, or in my rage,
Have aught committed that is hardly borne by any in this presence,
I desire to reconcile me to his friendly peace.
There is no Englishman alive
with whom my soul is any jot at odds.
I would to God all strifes were well compounded.
My sovereign Lord, I do beseech your highness
To bring our brother Clarence to your grace.
have I offered love for this
To be so flouted in this royal presence?
Who knows not that the gentle Duke is dead?
THEY GASP AND MUTTER
You do him injury to scorn his corpse!
Who knows not he is dead! Who knows he is?
All heaven, what a world is this!
Is Clarence dead?
The order was reversed.
But he, poor man, by your first order died,
And that a winged Mercury did bear,
Some tardy cripple bore the countermand
And came too lag to see him buried.
Who sued to me for him?
Who, in my wrath, kneeled at my feet And bade me be advised?
Who spoke of brotherhood?
Who spoke of love?
All of this from my remembrance brutish wrath sinfully plucked,
And not a man of you had so much grace to put it in my mind.
Nor I, ungracious, spake unto myself for him, poor soul.
O God, I fear thy justice will take hold on me
and mine and yours
Elizabeth, help me to my closet.
O, poor George!
This is the fruit of rashness!
Marked you not
How that the guilty kindred of the Queen
Looked pale when they did hear of Clarence' death?
O, they did urge it still unto the King.
God will revenge it.
We wait upon your grace.
Who shall hinder me to wail and weep,
To chide my fortune and torment myself?
What means this scene of rude impatience?
If you will live, lament,
if die, be brief,
That our swift-winged souls may catch the King's,
And, like obedient subjects, follow him
To his new kingdom of ne'er-changing night.
So much interest have I in thy sorrow
As I had title in thy noble husband.
I have bewept a worthy husband's death,
And lived with looking on his images
But now two mirrors of his princely semblance
Are cracked in pieces by malignant death,
And I for comfort have but one false glass,
Which grieves me when I see my shame in him.
Thou art a widow - yet thou art a mother,
Thou hast the comfort of thy children left;
But death hath snatch'd my husband from my side
And pluck'd two crutches from my feeble hands:
Clarence and Edward.
Pour all your tears:
I am your sorrow's nurse,
And I will pamper it with lamentations.
Madam, bethink you, like a careful mother,
Of the young Prince your son:
Send straight for him; Let him be crown'd;
In him your comfort lives.
Sister, sister, have comfort:
All of us have cause
To wail the dimming of our shining star,
But none can help our harms by wailing them.
Madam, my mother, I do cry you mercy: I did not see your grace.
I crave your blessing.
God bless thee, and put meekness in thy breast;
Love, charity, obedience, and true duty.
You here that bear this heavy load of moan,
Now cheer each other in each other's love.
Meseemeth good, that with some little train,
Forthwith from Ludlow the young Prince be fetched
Hither to London, to be crown'd our King.
Why with some little train, my Lord of Buckingham?
Marry, my lord, lest by a multitude
The new-heal'd wound of malice should break out,
Which would be so much the more dangerous
By how much the estate is green and yet ungovern'd.
Then be it so, and go we to determine
Who they shall be that shall straight to Ludlow.
Madam, and you, my sister, will you go
To give your censures in this business?
With all my heart.
Cousin of Buckingham.
My lord, whoever journeys to the Prince,
For God's sake let not us two stay at home:
For by the way I'll sort occasion,
To part the Queen's proud kindred from the Prince.
My other self,
my counsel's consistory,
My oracle, my prophet, my dear cousin:
As a child, I will follow your direction.
Toward Ludlow then, for we'll not leave behind.
At Northampton they do rest tonight:
Tomorrow, or next day, they will be here.
I long with all my heart to see Prince Edward;
I hope he is much grown since last I saw him.
Ah, but I hear no: they say his royal brother
Has almost overta'en him in his growth.
Ay, mother, but I would not have it so.
Why, my good cousin? It is good to grow.
Grandam, one night as we did sit at supper,
My uncle Rivers talk'd how I did grow
More than my brother.
"Ay," quoth my uncle Richard, "Small herbs have grace;
"great weeds do grow apace."
Good faith, good faith, the saying did not hold
In him that did object the same to thee!
He was the wretched'st thing when he was young,
So long a-growing, and so leisurely,
That if his rule were true, he should be gracious.
Parlous boy: go to, you are too shrewd.
KNOCK ON DOOR
Such news, madam, as grieves me to report.
How doth the Prince?
Oh, well, madam, and in health.
Then what is thy news?
Lord Rivers and Lord Grey Are sent to Pomfret, prisoners.
Who hath committed them?
The mighty Dukes, Gloucester and Buckingham.
For what offence?
The sum of all I can I have disclos'd.
Accursed and unquiet wrangling days,
How many of you have mine eyes beheld!
Come, come, my boy: We will to sanctuary.
Stay, I will go with you.
Welcome, sweet Prince, to London.
Welcome, dear cousin, my thoughts' sovereign.
The weary way hath made you melancholy.
I want more uncles here to welcome me.
Where are my uncles Rivers and Grey?
Those uncles which you want were dangerous;
Your grace attended to their sugar'd words,
But look'd not on the poison of their hearts.
God keep you from them, and from such false friends!
My lord, the Mayor of London comes to greet you!
God bless your grace with health and happy days!
I thank you, good my lord, and thank you all.
My good Lord Stanley.
The Queen your mother and your brother York
Have taken sanctuary. The tender Prince
Would fain have come with me to meet your grace,
But by his mother was perforce withheld.
Fie, what an indirect and peevish course
Is this of hers!
will your grace,
Persuade the Queen to send the Duke of York
Unto his princely brother presently?
If she refuse, Lord Hastings, go with him
And from her jealous arms pluck him perforce.
God in Heaven forbid
We should infringe the holy privilege
Of blessed sanctuary!
You are too ceremonious and traditional.
You break not sanctuary in seizing him!
The benefit thereof is always granted
To those whose dealings have deserv'd the place,
And those who have the wit to claim the place.
Oft have I heard of sanctuary men,
But sanctuary children, never till now.
My lord, you shall o'er-rule my mind for once.
Come on, Lord Hastings.
Say, uncle Gloucester, when our brother comes,
Where shall we sojourn till our coronation?
If I may counsel you, some day or two
Your Highness shall repose you at the Tower,
Then after where you please that shall be thought most fit
For your best health and recreation.
I do not like the Tower, of any place.
Did Julius Caesar build that place, my lord?
He did, my lord, begin that place,
Which since, succeeding ages have re-edified.
So wise so young, they say, do never live long.
And in good time here comes the Duke of York.
Richard of York: How fares our loving brother?
Well, my dread lord - so must I call you now.
How fares my cousin, noble Lord of York?
I thank you, gentle uncle.
O my lord,
You said that idle weeds are fast in growth.
I did, my lord, but meant no harm.
I pray you, uncle, give me this dagger.
What, would you have my weapon, little lord?
I would, that I might thank you as you call me.
My brother York will still be cross in talk;
Uncle, your grace knows how to bear with him.
You mean to bear me, not to bear with me;
Uncle, my brother mocks both you and me:
Because that I am little like an ape,
He thinks you should bear me on your shoulders!
BUCKINGHAM FORCES A LAUGH
With what a sharp-provided wit he reasons:
So cunning and so young is wonderful!
My lord, will't please you pass along?
Myself and my good cousin Buckingham
Will to your mother, to entreat of her
To meet you at the Tower and welcome you.
What, will you go to the Tower, my lord?
My Lord Protector needs will have it so.
I shall not sleep in quiet at the Tower.
Why, what should you fear?
My uncle Clarence' angry ghost:
My grandam told me he was murder'd there.
I fear no uncles dead.
Nor none that live, I hope?
And if they live, I hope I need not fear.
Go I unto the Tower.
'Tis a parlous boy,
Bold, ingenious, quick, forward, capable:
He is all the mother's, from the top to toe.
Well, let them rest.
Come hither, Catesby:
Go now, gentle Catesby, sound thou Hastings
How he doth stand affected to our purpose,
For the instalment of this noble Duke
In the seat royal of this famous isle.
Tell him, Catesby
That his ancient knot of dangerous adversaries
Tomorrow shall be let blood at Pomfret castle.
What shall we do if we perceive
Lord Hastings shall not yield to our complots?
Chop off his head, man.
And look you when I am King; claim thou of me
The earldom of Hereford, and all the moveables
Thereof of which the King, my brother, was possess'd.
I'll claim that promise at your grace's hand.
What news in this our tott'ring state?
It is a reeling world indeed, my lord,
And I believe will never stand upright
Till Richard wear the garland of the realm.
How, wear the garland? Dost thou mean the crown?
Ay, my good lord.
I'll have this crown of mine cut from my shoulders
Before I'll see the crown so foul misplac'd.
But canst thou guess that he doth aim at it?
Ay, upon my life,
And thereupon he sends you this good news
That tomorrow night Rivers and Grey,
The kindred of the Queen, must die at Pomfret.
Indeed, I am no mourner for that news.
Today shalt thou behold two subjects die
For truth, for duty, and for loyalty.
God spare the Princes from the pack of you.
A knot you are of damned blood-suckers!
Dispatch: The limit of your lives is out.
Now Margaret's curse is fall'n upon our heads.
Make haste; the hour of death is expiate.
We give thee our guiltless blood to drink.
Now, noble peers, the cause why we are met
Is to determine of the coronation of young Edward.
Are all things ready for the royal time?
They are, and wants but nomination.
Tomorrow, then, I judge a happy day.
Who knows the Lord Protector's mind herein?
Who is most inward with the noble Duke?
Your grace, we think, should soonest know his mind.
We know each other's faces; for our hearts
He knows no more of mine than I of yours.
Lord Hastings, you and he are near in love.
I thank his grace, I know he loves me well
But for his purpose in the coronation
I have not sounded him.
But you, my noble lords, may name the time;
And in the Duke's behalf I'll give my voice.
In happy time, here comes the Duke himself.
My noble lords and cousins all, good morrow:
I have been long a sleeper, but I trust
My absence doth neglect no great design
Which by my presence might have been concluded.
Had not you come upon your cue, my lord,
William Lord Hastings had pronounc'd your part -
I mean your voice for crowning of the King.
Oh? Than Lord Hastings no man might be so bold:
His lordship knows me well, and loves me well.
My Lord of Ely, last time I was in Holborn
I saw good strawberries in your garden there,
I do beseech you, send for some of them.
Marry, I will, my lord, with all my heart.
Cousin of Buckingham, a word with you.
We have not yet set down this day of triumph.
Tomorrow, in my judgment, is too sudden.
Where is my lord Duke of Gloucester? I have sent for these strawberries.
His grace looks cheerfully and smooth today:
I think there's never a man in Christendom
Can lesser hide his love and hate than he,
For by his face straight shall you know his heart.
What of his heart perceive you in his face
By any livelihood he show'd today?
Marry, that with no man here he is offended,
For were he, he had shown it in his looks.
I pray God he be not, I say.
I pray you all, tell me how they should be treated
That do conspire my death through devilish plots
Of damned witchcraft, that have prevail'd
Upon my body with their hellish charms?
The tender love I bear your grace,
Leads me to say they have deserved death.
Then let your eyes be the witness to their evil.
See how I am bewitch'd!
Behold, mine arm
Is like a blasted sapling wither'd up!
And this is Edward's wife, that monstrous witch,
That by her witchcraft thus have marked me.
If by this deed she have, my noble lord -
Thou protector of this damned strumpet,
Talk'st thou to me of ifs!
Thou art a traitor:
Off with his head!
Now by Saint Paul
I shall not dine until I see the same!
Catesby, look that it be done;
All the rest that love me, rise and follow me.
The manner and the purpose of his treasons,
My lords, you might signify
Unto the citizens, who haply may
Misconstrue us in him and wail his death.
I'll acquaint our duteous citizens
With all your just proceedings in this cause.
KNOCK ON DOOR
Go, cousin Buckingham,
To the Mayor and citizens at Guildhall.
There, at your meet'st advantage of the time,
Infer the bastardy of Edward's children.
I dance attendance here.
I think the Duke will not be spoke withal.
Now, Catesby, what says your lord to my request?
He is within, with two right reverend fathers,
Divinely bent to meditation;
And in no worldly suits would he be draw
To move him from his holy exercise.
Return, good Catesby, to the gracious Duke;
Tell him myself, the Mayor and aldermen,
In deep design, in matter of great moment,
Are come to have some conference with his grace.
I'll signify so much unto him straight.
Ah ha, my lords, this Prince is not an Edward:
He is not lolling on a lewd love-bed,
But on his knees at meditation.
Happy were England, would this virtuous Prince
Take on his graces the sovereignty thereof.
God defend his grace should say us nay!
I fear he will.
Now, Catesby, what says his grace?
He wonders to what end you have assembled
Such troops of citizens to come to him.
He fears, my lord, you mean no good to him.
By heaven, we come to him in perfect love:
And so once more return and tell his grace.
When holy and devout religious men
Are at their beads, 'tis much to draw them thence,
So sweet is zealous contemplation.
See where his grace kneels, 'tween two clergymen!
And see, a book of prayer in his hand!
Famous Plantagenet, most gracious Prince,
Lend favourable ears to our requests,
And pardon us the interruption
Of thy devotion and right Christian zeal.
I do suspect that I have done some offence
Which seems disgracious in the City's eye.
We heartily solicit
Your gracious self to take on you the charge
And kingly government of this, your land,
Your right of birth, your empery, your own.
God be thank'd, there is no need of me.
The royal tree hath left us royal fruit,
The dear Prince, safely in the Tower stowed,
Who will bring us all happiness by his reign.
On him I lay that you would lay on me:
You say that Edward is your brother's son:
So say we too - but not by Edward's wife!
For first he was contract to Lady Bona.
This Elizabeth, a poor widow,
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 little Edward, whom we call a Prince.
Then, good my lord, take to your royal self
This proffer'd benefit of dignity.
Do, my good lord: Your citizens entreat you.
Alas, why would you heap this care on me?
I am unfit for state and majesty.
I cannot, and I will not, yield to you.
If you refuse it,
As well we know your tenderness of heart,
And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse.
Yet know, your brother's son shall never reign our King,
But we will plant some other in the throne
To the disgrace and downfall of this, your House;
And with this resolution here we leave you.
Come, citizens; zounds, I'll entreat no more.
O, do not swear, my Lord of Buckingham!
Call him again, sweet Prince; accept their suit.
If you deny them, all the land will rue it.
Will you entreat me to a world of cares?
Call them again!
I am not made of stone.
My cousin of Buckingham, and sage, grave men,
If you do buckle fortune on my back,
I must have patience to endure the load.
But God doth know, and you may partly see,
How far I am from the desire of this.
God bless your grace: We see it, and will say it.
And in saying so, you do but say the truth.
Then I salute you with this royal title:
Long live Richard, England's worthy King!
ALL: Long live Richard, England's worthy King!
Tomorrow may it please you to be crown'd?
Even when you please, for you will have it so.
And so most joyfully we take our leave.
And I will to my holy work again.
Farewell, my cousin, farewell, gentle friends.
Open this gate!
Who meets us here?
God give your graces both A happy and a joyful time of day.
As much to you, good sister. What make you here?
As I guess,
Upon the like devotion as yourselves:
To gratulate the gentle Princes here.
Kind sister, thanks; we'll enter all together.
Master Lieutenant, pray you by your leave:
How doth the Prince, and my young son of York?
Right well, dear madam.
By your patience, I may not suffer you to visit them.
The King hath strictly charged the contrary.
The King! Who's that?
I mean the Lord Protector.
The Lord protect him from that kingly title!
I am their mother. Who shall bar me from them?
I am their father's mother. I will see them.
Their aunt I am in law, in love their mother:
Then bring me to their sights.
No, madam, no. I may not leave it so:
I am bound by oath, and therefore pardon me.
Come, madam, you must straight to Westminster,
There to be crowned Richard's royal Queen.
O, cut my lace asunder,
Or else I swoon with this dead-killing news!
O, unpleasing news!
O, ill-dispersing wind of misery!
O, my accursed womb, the bed of death!
A cockatrice hast thou hatch'd to the world,
Whose unavoided eye is murderous.
Come, madam, come. I in all haste am sent.
Would to God that the inclusive verge
Of golden metal that must round my brow
Were red-hot steel, to sear me to the brains!
Anointed let me be with deadly venom,
And die, ere men can say, "God save the Queen!"
Go, go, poor soul,
I envy not your glory.
Go thou to Richard,
And good angels tend thee!
Stand all apart.
Cousin of Buckingham!
My gracious sovereign?
Give me thy hand.
God save King Richard,
Third of that name.
-God save the King!
TAPPING GETS LOUDER
HE CRIES OUT
Thus high, by thy advice and thy assistance,
Is King Richard seated.
But shall we wear these glories for a day?
Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them?
Still live they and for ever let them last!
Young Edward lives.
I say, I would be King.
Why, so you are, my thrice renowned lord.
Cousin, thou wert not wont to be so dull:
Shall I be plain?
I wish the bastards dead.
And I would have it suddenly perform'd.
What sayest thou now? Speak suddenly.
Your grace may do your pleasure.
SOFTLY: Tut, tut.
Thou art all ice,
Thy kindness freezes:
Say, have I thy consent that they shall die?
Give me some little breath, some pause, dear lord,
Before I positively speak in this.
I will resolve you herein presently.
Know'st thou not any whom corrupting gold
Might tempt unto a close exploit of death?
I know a discontented gentleman.
Gold will, no doubt, tempt him to anything.
-What is his name?
-His name, my lord, is Tyrell.
I partly know the man. Have him sent for.
The deep-revolving witty Buckingham
No more shall be the neighbour to my counsels:
Hath he so long held out with me untired,
And stops he now for breath?
Well, be it so.
How now, Stanley! What's the news?
Know, my loving lord, that the Earl of Richmond Henry Tudor
Is on the move in France.
He comes to claim your crown, has followers
And marches toward the coast.
Stanley, Richmond is thy wife's son.
Well, look unto it.
Come hither, Catesby.
Rumour it abroad that Anne, my wife, is very grievous sick:
I will take order for her keeping close.
Look, how thou dream'st! I say again.
Give out that Anne my Queen is sick and like to die.
For it stands upon me
To stop all hopes whose growth may damage me.
Is thy name Tyrell?
James Tyrell, and your most obedient subject.
Art thou, indeed?
Prove me, my gracious lord.
Darest thou resolve to kill a friend of mine?
So please you. I'd rather kill two enemies.
Why, then thou hast it:
Two deep enemies,
Foes to my unrest,
My sweet sleep's disturbers
Are they that I would have thee deal upon.
Tyrell, I mean those bastards in the Tower.
Let me have open means to come to them,
And soon I'll rid you of the fear of them.
Say it is done,
And I will love thee, and prefer thee for it.
I will dispatch it straight.
My lord, I have consider'd in my mind
The late request that you did...
Well, let that rest.
My lord, I claim the gift, my due by promise,
The earldom of Hereford and the moveables
which you have promised I shall possess.
Stanley, look to your wife.
If she convey letters to Richmond, you shall answer it.
What says your highness to my just demand?
I do remember me
Henry the Sixth did prophesy that Richmond should be King,
when Richmond was a little peevish boy.
A King, perhaps, perhaps.
My lord, your promise for the earldom.
When I was last at Exeter,
The mayor in courtesy show'd me the castle,
And call'd it Rougemont:
At which name I started,
Because a bard of Ireland told me once
I should not live long after I saw Richmond.
I am not in the giving vein today.
TAPPING GETS LOUDER
MUFFLED CRIES AND BANGING
All hail for my sovereign lord!
Kind Tyrell, am I happy by thy news?
Brakenbury is burying them.
Come to me again, Tyrell, in the morning.
Meantime, but think how I may do thee good.
Now, for I know the Breton Richmond aims
At young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter,
And, by that knot, looks proudly at the crown,
To her I'll go, a jolly thriving wooer.
-Good or bad news, that thou comest in so bluntly?
Bad, my lord.
The Bishop of Ely flies to France to join with Richmond's power there,
And Buckingham, back'd with the hardy Welshmen,
Takes to the field, and still his power increaseth.
Ely with Richmond touches me more near
Than Buckingham with his rash-levied strength.
Go, muster men:
My counsel is my shield.
We must be brief when traitors brave the field.
HE CRIES OUT
My poor princes!
SHE CRIES SOFTLY
Ah, my tender babes!
If yet your gentle souls fly in the air
Hover about me with your airy wings!
So many miseries have crazed my voice,
That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute.
Wilt thou, O God, fly from such gentle lambs,
And throw them in the entrails of the wolf?
Dead life, blind sight, poor mortal living ghost,
Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth,
Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood!
Thou wouldst as soon afford a grave
As thou canst yield a melancholy seat!
O, who hath any cause to mourn but we?
I call'd thee once poor shadow, painted Queen.
Where is thy husband now?
Where be thy brother?
Where be the thronging troops that follow'd thee?
Decline all this, and see what now thou art:
For happy wife, a most distressed widow.
For joyful mother, one that wails the name.
O, thou didst prophesy the time would come
That I should wish for thee to help me curse
That bottled spider, that foul bunchbacked toad!
I had a husband till a Richard kill'd him.
Thou hadst two sons till a Richard kill'd them.
I had a husband, and thou didst kill him.
I had an Edmund too, and thou didst kill him.
Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Richard kill'd him.
From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept
A hell-hound that doth hunt us all to death.
O, Harry's wife, triumph not in my woes!
God witness, I have wept enough for thee.
Bear with me.
I am hungry for revenge,
Clarence, Hastings, Rivers, Grey, and Anne,
Untimely smother'd in their dusky graves.
Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer.
Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I pray,
That I may live and say,
The dog is dead!
O, thou well skill'd in curses, stay awhile,
And teach me how to curse mine enemies!
Forbear to sleep the nights, and fast the days.
Compare dead happiness with living woe.
Think that thy babes were sweeter than they were,
And he that slew them fouler than he is:
Revolving this will teach thee how to curse.
My words are dull.
O, quicken them with thine!
Thy woes will make them sharp, and pierce like mine.
If so, then be not tongue-tied: go with me.
And with the breath of bitter words let's smother
My damned son, that thy two sweet sons smother'd.
Most mighty sovereign,
On the western coast rideth the puissant navy to our shores.
'Tis thought that Richmond is their admiral,
And there they hull, expecting but the aid
Of Buckingham to welcome them ashore.
Some light-footed friend post to the Duke of Norfolk:
Ratcliffe, thyself, or Catesby.
Catesby! Fly to the Duke. Ratcliffe, come hither.
Post to Salisbury
And when thou comest thither...
Why stand'st thou here, and go'st not to the Duke?
Tell me what your highness' pleasure is.
What would you have me deliver to the Duke?
Bid him straight to levy
The greatest strength and power he can make,
And meet me suddenly at Salisbury.
What shall it please you shall I do at Salisbury?
Why, what wouldst thou there before I go?
Your highness told me I should post before.
My mind is changed.
Stanley, what's the news with you?
Richmond is on the seas.
He makes for England, here to claim the crown.
Is the chair empty? Is the sword unsway'd?
Is the King dead? The empire unpossess'd?
What heir of York is there alive but we?
And who is England's King but great York's heir?
Then tell me, what makes he upon the seas?
Unless for that, my liege, I cannot guess.
Thou wilt revolt and fly to him, I fear.
He is thy step-son.
No, my good lord, therefore mistrust me not.
Where is thine army, then, to beat him back?
Are they now upon the western shore
Safe-conducting the rebels from their ships?
No, my good lord, my friends are in the north.
Cold friends to me: What do they in the north,
When they should serve their sovereign in the west?
They have not been commanded, mighty King.
Pleaseth Your Majesty to give me leave,
I'll muster up my friends, and meet your grace
Where and what time Your Majesty shall please.
Thou wouldst be gone to join with Richmond.
But I'll not trust thee.
Most mighty sovereign,
You have no cause to hold my friendship doubtful:
I never was nor never will be false.
Go, then, and muster men.
But leave behind your son, George Stanley.
Look your heart be firm.
Or else his head's assurance is but frail.
So deal with him as I prove true to you.
My liege, the Duke of Buckingham is taken.
That is the best news:
That the Earl of Richmond
Is with a mighty power landed at Milford
Is colder tidings, yet they must be told.
While we reason here,
A royal battle might be won and lost.
Who intercepts me in my expedition?
O, she that should have intercepted thee,
By strangling thee in her accursed womb
From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast done!
Tell me, thou villain slave, where are my children?
Thou toad, thou toad, where is thy brother Clarence?
Where are the gentle Rivers, the sweet Grey?
Where is kind Hastings?
A husband and a son thou owest to me.
Strike alarum, drums!
Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women.
Strike, I say!
Art thou my son?
Ay, I thank God, my father, and yourself.
-O, let me speak!
-Do, then: but I'll not listen.
I will be mild and gentle in my words.
And brief, good mother, for I am in haste.
Art thou so hasty?
I have stay'd for thee,
In torment and in agony.
Thou camest on Earth to make the Earth my hell.
A grievous burden was thy birth to me.
Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy.
Thy school-days frightful, desperate, wild, and furious,
Thy prime of manhood daring, bold, and venturous,
Thy age confirm'd, proud, subtle, sly and bloody,
More mild, and yet more harmful, kind in hatred.
What comfortable hour canst thou name,
That ever graced me with thy company?
If I be so disgracious in your eye,
Let me march on, and not offend you, madam.
Strike up the drum!
I prithee, hear me speak.
You speak too bitterly.
Hear me a word,
For I shall never speak to thee again.
Either thou wilt die by God's just ordinance,
Ere from this battle thou return conqueror,
Or I with grief shall perish
And nevermore behold thy face again.
Therefore take with thee my most grievous curse
Which, in the day of battle, tire thee more
Than all the complete armour that thou wear'st!
My prayers on the adverse party fight,
And there the little souls of Edward's children
Whisper the spirits of thine enemies
And promise them success and victory.
Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end.
Shame serves thy life and doth thy death attend.
Though far more cause, yet much less spirit to curse
Abides in me, I say amen to her.
I must talk a word with you.
You have a daughter call'd Elizabeth,
Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious.
And must she die for this?
O, let her live,
And I'll corrupt her manners, stain her beauty
So she may live unscarr'd of bleeding slaughter.
I will confess she was not Edward's daughter.
Her life is safest only in her birth.
And only in that safety died her brothers.
You speak as if that I had slain my cousins.
And by their uncle cozened of comfort, kingdom,
Kindred, freedom, life.
Madam, know that from my soul I love thy daughter
And do intend to make her Queen of England.
Well, then, who doth thou mean shall be her King?
Even he that makes her Queen, who else should be?
How think you of it?
How canst thou woo her?
That would I learn of you,
As one that are best acquainted with her humour.
What were I best to say?
Her father's brother would be her lord? Or shall I say her uncle?
Or he that slew her brothers and her uncles?
But in your daughter's womb, I bury them.
Wherein that nest of spicery they will breed selves of themselves
To your recomforture.
Under what title shall I woo for thee?
That God, the law, my honour and her love,
Can make seem pleasing to her tender years?
Say, she shall be a high and mighty Queen.
To wail the title, as her mother doth.
-What canst thou swear by now?
God and fortune bar me happy hours!
Day, yield me not thy light, nor, night, thy rest!
Be opposite all planets of good luck to my proceedings if,
With dear heart's love,
I tender not thy beauteous princely daughter!
In her consists my happiness and thine.
Without her follows to myself and thee,
Death, desolation, ruin and decay.
It cannot be avoided but by this.
It will not be avoided but by this.
Look, what is done cannot be now amended.
If I did take the kingdom from your sons,
To make amends I'll give it to your daughter.
Therefore, dear mother,
I must call you so.
Be the attorney of my love to her,
Plead what I will be, not what I have been.
Shall I be tempted of the devil thus?
Ay, if the devil tempt you to do good.
Write to me very shortly,
And you shall understand from me her mind.
Bear my true love's kiss.
And so farewell.
Shallow, changing woman!
Strike alarums, drums!
Gentle Blunt, tell Richmond this from me,
That in the sty of this most deadly boar
My son George Stanley is franked up in hold.
If I revolt, off goes young George's head.
The fear of that holds off my present aid.
So get thee gone. Commend me to thy holy lord.
Withal say, the Queen hath heartly consented that he should espouse
Elizabeth her daughter.
But tell me, where is princely Richmond now?
At Pembroke in Wales, and towards Bosworth does he bend his power,
If by the way they be not fought withal.
Well, hie thee to thy lord. I kiss his hand.
My letter will resolve him of my mind.
Will not King Richard let me speak with him?
-No, my good lord.
Therefore, be patient.
This is All-Souls' Day, Catesby, is it not?
Why, then All-Souls' Day is my body's doomsday.
Thus Margaret's curse falls heavy on my neck,
"When he," quoth she, "shall split thy heart with sorrow!"
Come, Catesby, lead me to the block of shame.
Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame.
Lead on, executioner.
CHATTER OF SOLDIERS
The weary sun hath made a golden set,
And by the bright track of his fiery car
Gives token of a goodly day tomorrow.
Where is Lord Stanley quartered, do you know?
His regiment lies half a mile at least south
From the mighty power of the King's camp.
Make some good means to speak with him
And give him from me this most needful note.
Upon my life, my lord, I'll undertake it.
Goodnight, good Captain Blunt.
Come, gentlemen, let us consult upon tomorrow's business.
Into my tent. The dew is raw and cold.
I will not sup tonight.
Fill me a bowl of wine.
TAPPING AGAIN, FASTER
Is my visor easier than it was? Is all my armour laid into my tent?
It is, my liege, and all things are in readiness.
Fortune and victory sit on thy helm!
All comfort that the dark night can afford
Be to thy person, noble father-in-law!
In brief, for so the season bids us be,
Prepare thy battle early in the morning.
With best advantage I'll deceive the time,
And aid thee in this doubtful shock of arms.
But on thy side I may not be too forward
Lest, being seen, thy brother, tender George,
Be executed in his father's sight.
Radcliff, send out a messenger to Stanley's regiment:
Bid him bring his power
Before sunrising, lest his son George fall
Into the blind cave of eternal night.
O thou, whose captain I account myself,
Look on my forces with a gracious eye.
Make us thy ministers of chastisement
That we may praise thee in the victory!
To thee I do commend my watchful soul.
HE STARTS, GASPING
When I was mortal,
My anointed body by thee was punched full of deadly holes.
Harry the Sixth bids thee despair, and die!
Poor George Clarence, by thee betrayed to death.
Tomorrow in the battle think on me,
And fall thy edgeless sword.
Despair, and die!
The first was I that helped thee to the crown.
The last was I that felt thy tyranny.
Dream on, dream on, of bloody deeds and death;
Fainting, despair; despairing, yield thy breath!
Richard, thy wife,
HE CRIES OUT
That wretched Anne, thy wife,
Never slept a quiet hour with thee,
Now fills thy sleep with perturbations.
Tomorrow in the battle, think on me.
Despair and die.
HE SHOUTS OUT
-THE PRINCES BOTH:
-Dream on thy cousins smothered in the Tower.
Let us be lead within thy bosom, Richard,
And weigh thee down to ruin, shame, and death!
Thy nephews' souls bid thee despair and die!
HIS CRIES ECHO
HE SHOUTS, THEY LAUGH
HIS PANTING SLOWS
O, coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me!
Cold, fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh.
What do I fear? Myself?
There's none else by. Is there a murderer here? No.
My conscience hath a thousand several tongues,
And every tongue brings in a several tale,
And every tale condemns me for a villain.
BROKEN WHISPER: I shall despair.
There is no creature loves me!
And if I die, no soul will pity me.
And wherefore should they?
Since I myself find in myself no pity to myself.
Your friends are up, and buckle on their armour.
Catesby, I have dreamed a fearful dream!
-Will our friends prove all true?
-No doubt, my lord.
O, by the apostle Paul, shadows to-night
Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard
Than can the presence of 10,000 soldiers.
It is not yet near day.
Come, armour me.
How have you slept, my lord?
The sweetest sleep, and fairest-boding dreams
That ever entered in a drowsy head.
How far into the morning is it?
Upon the stroke of four.
Then 'tis time to arm and give direction.
HORNS GIVE THEIR SUMMONS
Come, Radcliff, bustle!
Caparison my horse!
I will lead my men forth unto the plains.
Go, gentlemen, every man unto his charge.
Our strong arms be our conscience,
Our swords our law.
Remember whom you are to cope withal.
A sort of vagabonds, rascals, and runaways.
A scum of Bretons, and base lackey peasants.
Loving countrymen, remember this.
If you do swear to put a tyrant down,
You sleep in peace, the tyrant being slain.
And who doth lead them but a paltry fellow,
Long kept in Bretagne at our brother's cost. A milk-sop!
If you do free your children from the sword,
Your children's children requite it in your age.
One who never in his life
Felt so much cold as o'er shoes in snow?
Let's whip these stragglers o'er seas again.
In the name of God and all these rights...
-Shall we let them enjoy our lands? ALL:
-Lay with our wives? ALL:
Ravage our daughters?
Draw your willing swords...
For if we thrive,
The gain of our attempt the least of you shall share his part thereof.
Advance our standards! Set upon our foes!
Sound drums and trumpets, boldly and cheerfully.
God and St George!
Richmond and victory!
CHEERING AND NEIGHS
Let us to it pell-mell!
If not to heaven, then hand in hand to hell!
CRIES OF WARRIORS
CLASH OF STEEL ON STEEL
SCREAMS OF THE DYING
Rescue! Rescue, rescue!
The King's horse is slain!
Rescue, else the day is lost!
A horse, a horse!
My kingdom for a horse!
Withdraw, my lord, I'll help you to a horse.
I think there be six Richmonds in the field.
Five have I slain today instead of him.
A horse, a horse!
My kingdom for a horse!
Your arm, my lord.
METALLIC SQUISH OF PIERCING BLADE
HIS BREATH HISSES OUT
God and your arms be praised.
Victorious friends, the day is ours.
The bloody dog is dead.
Well hast thou acquit thee.
But tell me, is young George Stanley living?
Great God of Heaven, say amen to all!
My brother Henry.
Oh, here this long-usurped royalty.
Wear it, enjoy it, and make much of it.
Proclaim a pardon to the soldiers fled
That in submission will return to us.
And then, as we have ta'en the sacrament,
We will unite the white rose and the red.
God save King Henry, seventh of that name.
-God save the King.
England hath long been mad and scarred herself.
The brother blindly shed the brother's blood.
The son, compelled, been butcher to the sire.
All this divided York and Lancaster, divided in their dire division.
O, now let Richmond and Elizabeth,
The true succeeders of each royal house,
By God's fair ordinance conjoin together.
Now civil wounds are stopped, peace lives again.
That she may long live here, God say amen.