Part 161

DORSET. Comfort, dear mother. God is much displeased That you take with unthankfulness His doing. In common worldly things ’tis called ungrateful With dull unwillingness to repay a debt Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent; Much more to be thus opposite with heaven, For it requires the royal debt it lent you.

RIVERS. Madam, bethink you, like a careful mother, Of the young prince your son. Send straight for him; Let him be crowned; in him your comfort lives. Drown desperate sorrow in dead Edward’s grave, And plant your joys in living Edward’s throne.

Enter Richard, Buckingham, Stanley Earl of Derby, Hastings and Ratcliffe.

RICHARD. 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. Humbly on my knee I crave your blessing.

[_Kneels._]

DUCHESS. God bless thee, and put meekness in thy breast, Love, charity, obedience, and true duty.

RICHARD. Amen. [_Aside_.] And make me die a good old man! That is the butt end of a mother’s blessing; I marvel that her Grace did leave it out.

BUCKINGHAM. You cloudy princes and heart-sorrowing peers That bear this heavy mutual load of moan, Now cheer each other in each other’s love. Though we have spent our harvest of this king, We are to reap the harvest of his son. The broken rancour of your high-swoll’n hates, But lately splintered, knit, and joined together, Must gently be preserved, cherished, and kept. Me seemeth good that with some little train, Forthwith from Ludlow the young Prince be fet Hither to London, to be crowned our King.

RIVERS. Why with some little train, my Lord of Buckingham?

BUCKINGHAM. Marry, my lord, lest by a multitude The new-healed wound of malice should break out, Which would be so much the more dangerous By how much the estate is green and yet ungoverned. Where every horse bears his commanding rein And may direct his course as please himself, As well the fear of harm as harm apparent, In my opinion, ought to be prevented.

RICHARD. I hope the King made peace with all of us; And the compact is firm and true in me.

RIVERS. And so in me, and so, I think, in all. Yet since it is but green, it should be put To no apparent likelihood of breach, Which haply by much company might be urged. Therefore I say with noble Buckingham That it is meet so few should fetch the Prince.

HASTINGS. And so say I.

RICHARD. Then be it so, and go we to determine Who they shall be that straight shall post to Ludlow. Madam, and you, my sister, will you go To give your censures in this business?

[_Exeunt all but Buckingham and Richard._]

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, As index to the story we late talked of, To part the Queen’s proud kindred from the Prince.

RICHARD. My other self, my counsel’s consistory, My oracle, my prophet, my dear cousin, I, as a child, will go by thy direction. Toward Ludlow then, for we’ll not stay behind.

[_Exeunt._]

SCENE III. London. A street

Enter one Citizen at one door, and Another at the other.

FIRST CITIZEN. Good morrow, neighbour, whither away so fast?

SECOND CITIZEN. I promise you, I scarcely know myself. Hear you the news abroad?

FIRST CITIZEN. Yes, that the King is dead.

SECOND CITIZEN. Ill news, by’r Lady; seldom comes the better. I fear, I fear ’twill prove a giddy world.

Enter another Citizen.

THIRD CITIZEN. Neighbours, God speed.

FIRST CITIZEN. Give you good morrow, sir.

THIRD CITIZEN. Doth the news hold of good King Edward’s death?

SECOND CITIZEN. Ay, sir, it is too true, God help the while.

THIRD CITIZEN. Then, masters, look to see a troublous world.

FIRST CITIZEN. No, no; by God’s good grace, his son shall reign.

THIRD CITIZEN. Woe to that land that’s governed by a child.

SECOND CITIZEN. In him there is a hope of government, Which, in his nonage, council under him, And, in his full and ripened years, himself, No doubt shall then, and till then, govern well.

FIRST CITIZEN. So stood the state when Henry the Sixth Was crowned in Paris but at nine months old.

THIRD CITIZEN. Stood the state so? No, no, good friends, God wot. For then this land was famously enriched With politic grave counsel; then the King Had virtuous uncles to protect his Grace.

FIRST CITIZEN. Why, so hath this, both by his father and mother.

THIRD CITIZEN. Better it were they all came by his father, Or by his father there were none at all, For emulation who shall now be nearest Will touch us all too near, if God prevent not. O, full of danger is the Duke of Gloucester, And the Queen’s sons and brothers haught and proud; And were they to be ruled, and not to rule, This sickly land might solace as before.

FIRST CITIZEN. Come, come, we fear the worst; all will be well.

THIRD CITIZEN. When clouds are seen, wise men put on their cloaks; When great leaves fall, then winter is at hand; When the sun sets, who doth not look for night? Untimely storms make men expect a dearth. All may be well; but, if God sort it so, ’Tis more than we deserve or I expect.

SECOND CITIZEN. Truly, the hearts of men are full of fear. You cannot reason almost with a man That looks not heavily and full of dread.

THIRD CITIZEN. Before the days of change, still is it so. By a divine instinct men’s minds mistrust Ensuing danger, as by proof we see The water swell before a boist’rous storm. But leave it all to God. Whither away?

SECOND CITIZEN. Marry, we were sent for to the Justices.

THIRD CITIZEN. And so was I. I’ll bear you company.

[_Exeunt._]

SCENE IV. London. A Room in the Palace

Enter the Archbishop of York, the young Duke of York, Queen Elizabeth and the Duchess of York.

ARCHBISHOP. Last night, I hear, they lay at Stony Stratford, And at Northampton they do rest tonight. Tomorrow or next day they will be here.

DUCHESS. I long with all my heart to see the Prince. I hope he is much grown since last I saw him.

QUEEN ELIZABETH. But I hear no; they say my son of York Has almost overta’en him in his growth.

YORK. Ay, mother, but I would not have it so.

DUCHESS. Why, my good cousin? It is good to grow.

YORK. Grandam, one night as we did sit at supper, My uncle Rivers talked how I did grow More than my brother. “Ay,” quoth my uncle Gloucester, “Small herbs have grace; great weeds do grow apace.” And since, methinks I would not grow so fast, Because sweet flowers are slow and weeds make haste.

DUCHESS. 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.

ARCHBISHOP. And so no doubt he is, my gracious madam.

DUCHESS. I hope he is, but yet let mothers doubt.

YORK. Now, by my troth, if I had been remembered, I could have given my uncle’s Grace a flout To touch his growth nearer than he touched mine.

DUCHESS. How, my young York? I prithee let me hear it.

YORK. Marry, they say my uncle grew so fast That he could gnaw a crust at two hours old. ’Twas full two years ere I could get a tooth. Grandam, this would have been a biting jest.

DUCHESS. I prithee, pretty York, who told thee this?

YORK. Grandam, his nurse.

DUCHESS. His nurse? Why she was dead ere thou wast born.

YORK. If ’twere not she, I cannot tell who told me.

QUEEN ELIZABETH. A parlous boy! Go to, you are too shrewd.

DUCHESS. Good madam, be not angry with the child.

QUEEN ELIZABETH. Pitchers have ears.

Enter a Messenger.

ARCHBISHOP. Here comes a messenger. What news?

MESSENGER. Such news, my lord, as grieves me to report.

QUEEN ELIZABETH. How doth the Prince?

MESSENGER. Well, madam, and in health.

DUCHESS. What is thy news?

MESSENGER. Lord Rivers and Lord Grey are sent to Pomfret, And, with them Sir Thomas Vaughan, prisoners.

DUCHESS. Who hath committed them?

MESSENGER. The mighty Dukes, Gloucester and Buckingham.

ARCHBISHOP. For what offence?

MESSENGER. The sum of all I can, I have disclosed. Why or for what the nobles were committed Is all unknown to me, my gracious lord.

QUEEN ELIZABETH. Ah me! I see the ruin of my house. The tiger now hath seized the gentle hind; Insulting tyranny begins to jut Upon the innocent and aweless throne. Welcome, destruction, blood, and massacre; I see, as in a map, the end of all.

DUCHESS. Accursed and unquiet wrangling days, How many of you have mine eyes beheld? My husband lost his life to get the crown, And often up and down my sons were tossed For me to joy and weep their gain and loss. And being seated, and domestic broils Clean over-blown, themselves, the conquerors Make war upon themselves, brother to brother, Blood to blood, self against self. O, preposterous And frantic outrage, end thy damned spleen, Or let me die, to look on earth no more.

QUEEN ELIZABETH. Come, come, my boy. We will to sanctuary. Madam, farewell.

DUCHESS. Stay, I will go with you.

QUEEN ELIZABETH. You have no cause.

ARCHBISHOP. [_To the Queen._] My gracious lady, go, And thither bear your treasure and your goods. For my part, I’ll resign unto your Grace The seal I keep; and so betide to me As well I tender you and all of yours. Go, I’ll conduct you to the sanctuary.

[_Exeunt._]

ACT III

SCENE I. London. A street

The trumpets sound. Enter young Prince Edward, Richard, Buckingham, Cardinal Bourchier, Catesby and others.

BUCKINGHAM. Welcome, sweet Prince, to London, to your chamber.

RICHARD. Welcome, dear cousin, my thoughts’ sovereign. The weary way hath made you melancholy.

PRINCE. No, uncle, but our crosses on the way Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy. I want more uncles here to welcome me.

RICHARD. Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of your years Hath not yet dived into the world’s deceit, Nor more can you distinguish of a man Than of his outward show, which, God He knows, Seldom or never jumpeth with the heart. Those uncles which you want were dangerous; Your Grace attended to their sugared words But looked not on the poison of their hearts. God keep you from them, and from such false friends!

PRINCE. God keep me from false friends, but they were none.

RICHARD. My lord, the Mayor of London comes to greet you.

Enter Lord Mayor with Attendants.

MAYOR. God bless your Grace with health and happy days!

PRINCE. I thank you, good my lord, and thank you all. I thought my mother and my brother York Would long ere this have met us on the way. Fie, what a slug is Hastings, that he comes not To tell us whether they will come or no!

Enter Lord Hastings.

BUCKINGHAM. And in good time, here comes the sweating lord.

PRINCE. Welcome, my lord. What, will our mother come?

HASTINGS. On what occasion God He knows, not I, 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.

BUCKINGHAM. Fie, what an indirect and peevish course Is this of hers? Lord cardinal, will your Grace Persuade the Queen to send the Duke of York Unto his princely brother presently? If she deny, Lord Hastings, go with him, And from her jealous arms pluck him perforce.

CARDINAL. My Lord of Buckingham, if my weak oratory Can from his mother win the Duke of York, Anon expect him here; but if she be obdurate To mild entreaties, God in heaven forbid We should infringe the holy privilege Of blessed sanctuary! Not for all this land Would I be guilty of so deep a sin.

BUCKINGHAM. You are too senseless-obstinate, my lord, Too ceremonious and traditional. Weigh it but with the grossness of this age, You break not sanctuary in seizing him. The benefit thereof is always granted To those whose dealings have deserved the place And those who have the wit to claim the place. This prince hath neither claimed it nor deserved it And therefore, in mine opinion, cannot have it. Then taking him from thence that is not there, You break no privilege nor charter there. Oft have I heard of sanctuary-men, But sanctuary children, never till now.

CARDINAL. My lord, you shall o’errule my mind for once. Come on, Lord Hastings, will you go with me?

HASTINGS. I go, my lord.

PRINCE. Good lords, make all the speedy haste you may.

[_Exeunt Cardinal and Hastings._]

Say, uncle Gloucester, if our brother come, Where shall we sojourn till our coronation?

RICHARD. Where it seems best unto your royal self. If I may counsel you, some day or two Your Highness shall repose you at the Tower, Then where you please and shall be thought most fit For your best health and recreation.

PRINCE. I do not like the Tower, of any place. Did Julius Caesar build that place, my lord?

BUCKINGHAM. He did, my gracious lord, begin that place, Which, since, succeeding ages have re-edified.

PRINCE. Is it upon record, or else reported Successively from age to age, he built it?

BUCKINGHAM. Upon record, my gracious lord.

PRINCE. But say, my lord, it were not registered, Methinks the truth should live from age to age, As ’twere retailed to all posterity, Even to the general all-ending day.

RICHARD. [_Aside_.] So wise so young, they say, do never live long.

PRINCE. What say you, uncle?

RICHARD. I say, without characters, fame lives long. [_Aside_.] Thus, like the formal Vice, Iniquity, I moralize two meanings in one word.

PRINCE. That Julius Caesar was a famous man. With what his valour did enrich his wit, His wit set down to make his valour live; Death makes no conquest of this conqueror, For now he lives in fame, though not in life. I’ll tell you what, my cousin Buckingham.

BUCKINGHAM. What, my gracious lord?

PRINCE. An if I live until I be a man, I’ll win our ancient right in France again, Or die a soldier, as I lived a king.

RICHARD. [_Aside_.] Short summers lightly have a forward spring.

Enter young Duke of York, Hastings and the Cardinal.

BUCKINGHAM. Now, in good time here comes the Duke of York.

PRINCE. Richard of York, how fares our loving brother?

YORK. Well, my dread lord—so must I call you now.

PRINCE. Ay brother, to our grief, as it is yours. Too late he died that might have kept that title, Which by his death hath lost much majesty.

RICHARD. How fares our cousin, noble lord of York?

YORK. I thank you, gentle uncle. O, my lord, You said that idle weeds are fast in growth. The Prince my brother hath outgrown me far.

RICHARD. He hath, my lord.

YORK. And therefore is he idle?

RICHARD. O, my fair cousin, I must not say so.

YORK. Then he is more beholding to you than I.

RICHARD. He may command me as my sovereign, But you have power in me as in a kinsman.

YORK. I pray you, uncle, give me this dagger.

RICHARD. My dagger, little cousin? With all my heart.

PRINCE. A beggar, brother?

YORK. Of my kind uncle, that I know will give, And being but a toy, which is no grief to give.

RICHARD. A greater gift than that I’ll give my cousin.

YORK. A greater gift? O, that’s the sword to it.

RICHARD. Ay, gentle cousin, were it light enough.

YORK. O, then I see you will part but with light gifts; In weightier things you’ll say a beggar nay.

RICHARD. It is too heavy for your Grace to wear.

YORK. I weigh it lightly, were it heavier.

RICHARD. What, would you have my weapon, little lord?

YORK. I would, that I might thank you as you call me.

RICHARD. How?

YORK. Little.

PRINCE. My lord of York will still be cross in talk. Uncle, your Grace knows how to bear with him.

YORK. 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 that you should bear me on your shoulders.

BUCKINGHAM. With what a sharp-provided wit he reasons! To mitigate the scorn he gives his uncle, He prettily and aptly taunts himself. So cunning and so young is wonderful.

RICHARD. My lord, wil’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.

YORK. What, will you go unto the Tower, my lord?

PRINCE. My Lord Protector needs will have it so.

YORK. I shall not sleep in quiet at the Tower.

RICHARD. Why, what should you fear?

YORK. Marry, my uncle Clarence’ angry ghost. My grandam told me he was murdered there.

PRINCE. I fear no uncles dead.

RICHARD. Nor none that live, I hope.

PRINCE. An if they live, I hope I need not fear. But come, my lord. With a heavy heart, Thinking on them, go I unto the Tower.

[_A Sennet. Exeunt Prince Edward, York, Hastings, Dorset and all but Richard, Buckingham and Catesby._]

BUCKINGHAM. Think you, my lord, this little prating York Was not incensed by his subtle mother To taunt and scorn you thus opprobriously?

RICHARD. No doubt, no doubt. O, ’tis a parlous boy, Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable. He is all the mother’s, from the top to toe.

BUCKINGHAM. Well, let them rest. Come hither, Catesby. Thou art sworn as deeply to effect what we intend As closely to conceal what we impart. Thou know’st our reasons urged upon the way. What think’st thou? Is it not an easy matter To make William Lord Hastings of our mind For the instalment of this noble Duke In the seat royal of this famous isle?

CATESBY. He for his father’s sake so loves the Prince That he will not be won to aught against him.

BUCKINGHAM. What think’st thou then of Stanley? Will not he?

CATESBY. He will do all in all as Hastings doth.

BUCKINGHAM. Well then, no more but this: go, gentle Catesby, And, as it were far off, sound thou Lord Hastings How he doth stand affected to our purpose, And summon him tomorrow to the Tower To sit about the coronation. If thou dost find him tractable to us, Encourage him, and tell him all our reasons. If he be leaden, icy, cold, unwilling, Be thou so too, and so break off the talk, And give us notice of his inclination; For we tomorrow hold divided councils, Wherein thyself shalt highly be employed.

RICHARD. Commend me to Lord William. Tell him, Catesby, His ancient knot of dangerous adversaries Tomorrow are let blood at Pomfret Castle, And bid my lord, for joy of this good news, Give Mistress Shore one gentle kiss the more.

BUCKINGHAM. Good Catesby, go effect this business soundly.

CATESBY. My good lords both, with all the heed I can.

RICHARD. Shall we hear from you, Catesby, ere we sleep?

CATESBY. You shall, my lord.

RICHARD. At Crosby Place, there shall you find us both.

[_Exit Catesby._]

BUCKINGHAM. Now, my lord, what shall we do if we perceive Lord Hastings will not yield to our complots?

RICHARD. Chop off his head, man; somewhat we will do. And look when I am king, claim thou of me The earldom of Hereford, and all the movables Whereof the King my brother was possessed.

BUCKINGHAM. I’ll claim that promise at your Grace’s hand.

RICHARD. And look to have it yielded with all kindness. Come, let us sup betimes, that afterwards We may digest our complots in some form.

[_Exeunt._]

SCENE II. Before Lord Hastings’ house

Enter a Messenger to the door of Hastings.

MESSENGER. My lord, my lord!

[_Knocking._]

HASTINGS. [_Within_.] Who knocks?

MESSENGER. One from the Lord Stanley.

HASTINGS. [_Within_.] What is’t o’clock?

MESSENGER. Upon the stroke of four.

Enter Hastings.

HASTINGS. Cannot my Lord Stanley sleep these tedious nights?

MESSENGER. So it appears by that I have to say. First, he commends him to your noble self.

HASTINGS. What then?

MESSENGER. Then certifies your lordship that this night He dreamt the boar had razed off his helm. Besides, he says there are two councils kept, And that may be determined at the one Which may make you and him to rue at th’ other. Therefore he sends to know your lordship’s pleasure, If you will presently take horse with him And with all speed post with him toward the north, To shun the danger that his soul divines.

HASTINGS. Go, fellow, go. Return unto thy lord; Bid him not fear the separated council. His honour and myself are at the one, And at the other is my good friend Catesby, Where nothing can proceed that toucheth us Whereof I shall not have intelligence. Tell him his fears are shallow, without instance. And for his dreams, I wonder he’s so simple To trust the mockery of unquiet slumbers. To fly the boar before the boar pursues Were to incense the boar to follow us, And make pursuit where he did mean no chase. Go, bid thy master rise and come to me, And we will both together to the Tower, Where he shall see the boar will use us kindly.

MESSENGER. I’ll go, my lord, and tell him what you say.

[_Exit._]

Enter Catesby.

CATESBY. Many good morrows to my noble lord.

HASTINGS. Good morrow, Catesby; you are early stirring. What news, what news in this our tott’ring state?

CATESBY. It is a reeling world indeed, my lord, And I believe will never stand upright Till Richard wear the garland of the realm.

HASTINGS. How, wear the garland? Dost thou mean the crown?

CATESBY. Ay, my good lord.

HASTINGS. I’ll have this crown of mine cut from my shoulders Before I’ll see the crown so foul misplaced. But canst thou guess that he doth aim at it?

CATESBY. Ay, on my life, and hopes to find you forward Upon his party for the gain thereof; And thereupon he sends you this good news, That this same very day your enemies, The kindred of the Queen, must die at Pomfret.

HASTINGS. Indeed, I am no mourner for that news, Because they have been still my adversaries. But that I’ll give my voice on Richard’s side To bar my master’s heirs in true descent, God knows I will not do it, to the death.

CATESBY. God keep your lordship in that gracious mind.

HASTINGS. But I shall laugh at this a twelve-month hence, That they which brought me in my master’s hate, I live to look upon their tragedy. Well, Catesby, ere a fortnight make me older I’ll send some packing that yet think not on’t.

CATESBY. ’Tis a vile thing to die, my gracious lord, When men are unprepared and look not for it.

HASTINGS. O monstrous, monstrous! And so falls it out With Rivers, Vaughan, Grey; and so ’twill do With some men else that think themselves as safe As thou and I, who, as thou know’st, are dear To princely Richard and to Buckingham.

CATESBY. The Princes both make high account of you— [_Aside_.] For they account his head upon the Bridge.

HASTINGS. I know they do, and I have well deserved it.

Enter Stanley Earl of Derby.

Come on, come on. Where is your boar-spear, man? Fear you the boar, and go so unprovided?

STANLEY. My lord, good morrow; good morrow, Catesby. You may jest on, but, by the Holy Rood, I do not like these several councils, I.

HASTINGS. My lord, I hold my life as dear as you do yours, And never in my days, I do protest, Was it so precious to me as ’tis now. Think you, but that I know our state secure, I would be so triumphant as I am?

STANLEY. The lords at Pomfret, when they rode from London, Were jocund and supposed their states were sure, And they indeed had no cause to mistrust; But yet you see how soon the day o’ercast. This sudden stab of rancour I misdoubt; Pray God, I say, I prove a needless coward. What, shall we toward the Tower? The day is spent.

HASTINGS. Come, come. Have with you. Wot you what, my lord? Today the lords you talked of are beheaded.

STANLEY. They, for their truth, might better wear their heads Than some that have accused them wear their hats. But come, my lord, let’s away.

Enter a Pursuivant.

HASTINGS. Go on before; I’ll talk with this good fellow.

[_Exeunt Stanley and Catesby._]

How now, sirrah? How goes the world with thee?

PURSUIVANT. The better that your lordship please to ask.

HASTINGS. I tell thee, man, ’tis better with me now Than when thou met’st me last where now we meet. Then was I going prisoner to the Tower, By the suggestion of the Queen’s allies. But now, I tell thee—keep it to thyself— This day those enemies are put to death, And I in better state than e’er I was.

PURSUIVANT. God hold it, to your honour’s good content!

HASTINGS. Gramercy, fellow. There, drink that for me.