1^ IM- "9- • /^/^-^ RICHARD AND THE BISHOPS Copyright, 1901 By THE UNIVERSITY SOCIETY COLLEGI LIBRARY PR. THE /\ Z TRAGEDY OF KING RICHARD HI. l^.o Preface. The Editions. TJie Tragedy of King Richard the Third was first printed in 1597, with the following title- page :— " The Tragedy of | King Richard the Third. | Containing, | His treacherous Plots against his brother Clarence : | the pittief uU murther of his innocent nephewes : | his tyrannicall vsnrpation : with the whole course | of his detested life, and most deserved death. [ As it hath been lately Acted by the | Right honourable the Lord Chamber- I laine his servants. | at London | Printed by Valentine Sims, for Andrew Wise, \ dwelling in Paules Churchyard, at the | Sign of the Angell. | 1597. | " This edition, known as Quarto i, was reprinted more or less correctly in subsequent Quartos issued in the years 1598 (Quarto^ 2), 1602 (Quarto 3), 1605 (Quarto 4), 1612 (Quarto 5), 1622 (Quarto 6), 1629 (Quarto 7), 1634 (Quarto 8) ; each of these issues followed its imme- diate predecessor, except in the case of the 161 2 edition, which was printed from the Quarto of 1602 : in the second and subsequent Quartos the name of the author (By Wil- liam Shakespeare) was added. The First and Second Folios give the title of the play as follows : — " The Tragedy of Richard the Third : with the Landing of Earle Richmond, and the Battell at Bosworth Field." The Text. The textual problems connected with Richard the Third are of a complicated nature, owifig to Preface THE TRAGEDY OF the many differences between the Quarto version and that of the Foho. The main differences may be grouped under the following heads: — (i) The Folio contains nearly 200 lines which are not found in the Quarto,* while the Quarto contains at least one notable passage not found in the Folio (IV. ii. 103-120) ; (2) it gives alterations of the Quarto, which could not have been intended by Shake- speare;* (3) in a great many cases it removes (a) gross and obvious metrical defects,! (b) imaginary metrical ir- regularities of the Quarto;! (4) it introduces a number of alterations to avoid repeating the same word;§ (5) it often modifies '' certain terms of phrase and use of *F/xr.;— 1. ii. 16, 25, 155-167; iii. 116, 167-169; iv. 36, 37, 69-72, 113, 114, 216, 260-263, 267, 269; II. i. 67; ii. 89-100, 123-140; III. i. 172-174; iii. 7, 8, 15; iv. 104-107; V. 7, 103-105; vii. 5, 6, 37, 98, 99, 120, 127, 144-153, 202, 245; IV. i. 2-6, 37, 98-104; iv. 20, 21, 28, 32. 53» 103, 159, 172, 179, 221-234, 276, 277, 288-342, 400; V\ iii. 27. 28, 43. *E.g. ' Unmannered dog, standst tJwu zvJien I command' (I. ii. 39). ' Or let me die, to look on earth no more' (II. iv. 65). '\ E.g. 'And when my uncle told me so he zvcpt, And pitied me, and kindly kissed my cheek ; Bade me rely on him as on my father' (II. ii. 23-25)- Cp. the Quarto version :-^ ' And when he told me so, he wept And hugg'd me in his arm, and kindly kiss'd my cheek And bade me rely on him as on my father.' %E.g. '1 do remember me, Henry tJie Sixth,' instead of 'As I remember, Henry the Sixth' (IV. ii. 98) ; (i.e., Henery the Sixth). §E.g. ' Methought that Gloucester stumbled; and in stumbling (Folios, falling) Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard' (I. iv. 18.) ' By heaven my heart (Folios soul) is purged from ^ grudging hate And with my hand I seal my true heart's love' (II. i. 9). KING RICHARD III. Preface words," which had evidently become obsolete, e.g. zvhich is changed to that ; bctzcixt to betzveen ; thou zvcrt to thoit zuast; yea to / (aye) ; uioe to more, or other; yon to thou ; (6) there are besides certain minute verbal changes in the Folio, the reason for which is not so clear as in the previous cases, but probably in most instances they are due to euphony;* (7) the stage-directions in the Folio are fuller and more accurate than those in the Quarto. Which is the best Authority ? Critics are divided on this point, some championing the cause of the Quartos, others of the Folios ; the chief representatives of the former party are the Cambridge Editors ; of the latter James Spedding, Delius, Daniel, etc. (i.) According to the Cambridge Editors, some such schicme as the following will best account for the phe- nomena of the text : — Ai A2 I 1^ Bi B3 I I Q. F. Where Ai is the Author's original MS.; Bi a transcript by another hand with some accidental omissions and, of course, slips of the pen. From this transcript was printed the Quarto of 1597, while A2 is the Author's original MS. revised by himself, with corrections and additions, inter- linear, marginal, and on inserted leaves ; B2 a copy of this revised MS., made by another hand, probably after the death of the Author, and perhaps a very short time before 1623. From B2 the Folio text was printed ; the writer of B-' had perhaps occasionally recourse to the Quarto of i6o2 to supplement passages which, by its being frayed or '"^ E.g. 'To bring (Folios, hear) this tidings to the bloody King' (IV. iii. 22.) 'The imperial metal circling nozv thy brow' (Folios, head); (IV. iv. 382). Preface THE TRAGEDY OF stained, had become illegible in A2 (v. page x., Camb. ed.). " Assuming the truth of this hypothesis," the Cam- bridge Editors conclude, " the object of an editor must be to give in the text as near an approximation as possible to A2, rejecting from Fi all that is due to the unknown writer of B2 and supplying its place from Qi, which, errors of pen and press apart, certainly came from the l:and of Shakespeare. In the construction of our text we have steadily borne this principle in mind, only de- viating from it in a few instances where we have retained the expanded version of the Folio in preference to the briefer version of the Quarto, even when we incline to think that the earlier form is more terse, and therefore not likely to have been altered by its author. . . . Cceteris paribus, zee have adopted the reading of the Quarto." (ii.) James Spedding, in an exhaustive essay on the subject,"^ contested this view, maintaining " that the text of the Folio (errors being corrected or allowed for) rep- resents the result of Shakespeare's own latest version, and approaches nearest to the form in which he wished it to stand," that the First Quarto was printed without preparation for the press or superintendence by himself, and that he began to prepare a corrected and amended copy, but had not leisure to complete this new version, f Delius anticipated Spedding in his inquiry, J and came to an even more determined conclusion as regards the superiority of the Folio ; according to him a nameless corrector had tampered with the original MS. before it went to the printer in 1597, while the true text appears in the Folio version. Mr. Daniel (Facsimile Reprint of Quarto i) is also in favour of the Folio " as the basis of the text " ; after a * On the corrected edition of Richard III., pp. 1-75, New Shake- spere Society's Transactions, 1875-6. ■f Ibid. V. p. 190, where Spedding summed up his views, after considering Mr. Pickersgill's objections (pp. 77-124). Xv. German Shakespeare Society's Year Book, Vol. VII. 4 KING RICHARD III. Preface careful analysis of the early Quartos he comes to the conclusion that the Folio version was printed from a copy of Quarto 6, altered '' in accordance with the theatrical MS. which the transcriber had before him." (iii.) Surveying all the evidence, the present writer thinks it possible to take a somewhat neutral position; the partisanship of the two schools seems too determined in its devotion to the one text or the other. Whatever may be the history of the First Quarto it certainly goes back to the author's MS., probably abridged for acting purposes ; but on the whole it is a careless piece of print- ing ; whatever may be the history of the First Folio ver- sion, one can certainly trace in it the touch of a hand other than Shakespeare's ; * the editor did his work with insuf- ficient caution, though comparatively few changes for the worse are intentionally his ; he probably had a Third.or Sixth Quarto collated with an unabridged AIS., ordering an untrustworthy assistant to correct the printed copy, and to add the omitted passages ; subsequently he prob- ably read through the whole, amending here and there, and not troubling to consult the MS. too often. Hence the genuineness of most of the added passages, and the doubtful character of so many of the smaller changes. The Date of Composition. Authorities are agreed in assigning Richard III. to 1594 or thereabouts, relying mainly on the internal evidence of style, especially the manifest influence of Marlowe ; in considering this infl.u- ence it must be borne in mind that the play belongs naturally to the group of history plays dealing with the * E.g. 'My Lady Grey, his zvife, Clarence, 'tis she That tempts him to this harsh extremity' (I. i. 64). Q. I.' That tempers Jiim to this extremity.' Q. 2/ That tempts him to this extremity.' Q. 3. ' That temps him to tJiis extremity.' Spedding held there is nothing to choose between the two lines, but there seems all the difference in the world between the Folio and Quarto reading. Preface THE TRAGEDY OF House of York, and links itself intimately to 2 Henry VL, and 3 Henry VI, Noteworthy Marlowan characteristics are the following: — (a) Richard,' like Tami3erlaine, or Faustus, or Barabas, monopolises the whole action of the Drama; {h) the characters of this play of passion seem intended, for the most part, merely to set off the hero's " ideal villainy " : (c) the absence of evolution of charac- ter in the hero; {d) the hero's consciousness and avowal of his villainy; {e) the tone of the play is often lyrical or epical rather than dramatic (e.g., the lamentation of the women, II. ii.; IV. i.); (0 blank verse is used throughout, while prose and the lyrical forms found in the earlier plays are conspicuously absent. The play of Richard III. was evidently Shakespeare's experiment — his only experiment — in the Marlowan method of tragedy, but in one respect, at least, Shakespeare shows himself no blind follower of IMarlowe ; he weaves Nemesis into the play and shows its consummation in Richard's fall, hence the significance of Margaret's fateful presence, haunting the scenes like some prophetic Chorus of ancient Drama. In John Weever's Epigranimes, printed in 1599, but written in 1595, the 22nd Epigram, addressed Ad Guliel- iniun Shakespeare, mention is made of Romeo and Rich- ard as well-known characters, and the reference is evi- dently to Richard HI., and not to Richard //.^' Possibly, too, the wooing of Estrild in the old play of Locrine is imitated, as Mr. Fleay {Shakespeare Alanual) has sug- gested, from Richard HI., I. ii. ; Locrine was first printed in 1595- The Source of the Plot. Sir Thomas More's Life of Rkhard jhe Third, incorporated by Ha ll Rr Holinshed in th eir histories, isj he ultimate source of the pla v. S hake - speare evidentl y used the second editin n of Holinshed, " "copymg^a mistake wh ich_oc curs only in that editio n. The "^^ Romeo, Richard; more, ivhose names I knozv not." 6 KING RICHARD III. Preface wooing of Queen Anne, as well as Queen Margaret's part, are, however, purely imaginary (cp. Courtenav's Commentaries on the Historical Plays, 11. 60-117). Possibly Shakespeare borrowed a few hints from an ea.rlier pl'ay written before 1588, and published in 1594, entitled— '^ The True Tragedie of Richard the Third/'"^ To Dr. Legge's Latin play (acted at Cambridge before 1583) he certainly owed nothing. There were 'several other plays on this subject, probably Interior of the Great Council Room on the upper storey of the V\ nite i uwer. From an engraving by Fairholt. * Reprinted by Shakespeare Society, 1844, from the only perfect ccpyextant.— iV.i?.— In the old play we find "A horse, a horse, a fresh horse," also, Richard's reference to the ghosts of his victims " crying for revenge." The same Society printed Richard's Vi- sion, a seventeenth century poem founded on Shakespeare's play, containing an interesting reference thereto. Preface THE TRAGEDY OF one, wholly or in part, by Ben Jonson (vide Henslowe's Diary, 22nd June, 1602), called Richard Crookhack, and another, now lost, perhaps more intimately connected with Shakespeare's. Duration of Action. The time of Richard III., as analysed by Mr. Daniel {Neiv Shakespeare SocietyTrans., 1877-79), covers eleven days represented on the stage; with intervals. The total dramatic time is probably within one month. Day I, Act I. Sc. i., ii. Interval. Day 2^ Act I. Sc. iii., iv. ; Act II. Sc. i., ii. Day 3, Act II. Sc. iii. Interval; for the journey to Ludlow. Da^ 4, Act II. Sc. iv. Day 5, Act III. Sc. i. Day 6, Act. III. Sc. ii.-vii. Day 7, Act IV. Sc. i. Day 8, Act. IV. Sc. ii.-v. Interval; Richard's march to Salisbury. Day 9, Act V. Sc. i. Interval; Ricli- ard's march from Salisbury to Leicester. Day 10, Act V. Sc. ii., and first half of Sc. iii. Day 11, Act V., second half of Sc. iii., and Sc. iv., v. The historic time is from about the date of Henry VI. 's obsequies, May 1471, to the Battle of Bosworth Field, 22nd August, 1485. KING RICHARD III. Critical Comments. I. Argument. I. Richard, Duke of Gloucester, resolves to obtain the crown of England, notwithstanding the fact that he is not in the direct line of succession. He aims a secret blow against his brother Clarence, who is involved by him in a quarrel with their brother, King Edward IV., and immured in the Tower, where he is shortly after- w^ards murdered. Gloucester next seeks to strengthen his cause by suing for the hand of Lady Anne, w^hich he wins in the very presence of the corpse of her father-in- law, Henry VI., dead at his hands, and despite the fact that her husband had also been slain by him. II. King Edward, in declining health, seeks to foster peace in his realm. He dies, and his young son Edward, Prince of Wales, is summoned to London to be crowned. Before he arrives, Gloucester, who is made lord pro- tector, finds means to weaken the prince by imprisoning and afterwards executing three noblemen of the latter's party. III. Richard meets the prince and his younger brother in London, and under pretext of assigning them a lodging imprisons them in the Tower. Lord Hastings, a powerful nobleman, faithful to the royal line, is be- headed, also by Richard's orders. The Duke of Buck- ingham upholds Gloucester, and is largely instrumental in obtaining for him the coveted crown. IV. Buckingham, how^ever, hesitates when the new King Richard III. desires at his hands the lives of the two princes; and he is further disaffected by the king's Comments THE TRAGEDY OF refusal to grant him a certain earldom previously prom- ised as a reward for his support. He accordingly for- sakes Richard and seeks to unite his strength with that of Henry, Earl of Richmond, who is taking up arms against the usurping monarch. Buckingham is taken prisoner and soon afterwards put to death. The two boy princes are assassinated in the Tower; and Queen Anne is secretly put to death in order to leave Richard free for an alliance with the heiress of York, Elizabeth, daughter of Edward IV., for whose hand he sues to her mother. ♦ V. In the meantime Richmond has invaded England and encounters Richard's forces at Bosworth Field in Leicestershire. The king, though disquieted on the pre- ceding night by visions of his many slain victims, fights desperately; but his forces are defeated and he himself is slain by Richmond. The victor is recognized as King Henry VIL, and by marriage with Elizabeth of York brings to a close the long contention between the rival houses of York and Lancaster. McSpadden : Shakespearian Synopses. II. Character of Richard. The character of Richard the Third, which had been opened in so masterly a manner in the Concluding Part of Henry the Sixth, is, in this play, developed in all its horrible grandeur. It is, in fact, the picture of a de- moniacal incarnation, moulding the passions and foibles of mankind, with superhuman precision, to its own in- iquitous purposes. Of this isolated and peculiar state of being Richard himself seems sensible when he declares — " I have no brother, I am like no brother : And this word love, which greybeards call divine, Be resident in men like one another, And not in me; I am myself alone." 10 KING RICHARD III. Comments From a delineation like this Alilton must have caught many of "the most striking features of his Satanic por- trait. The same union of unmitigated depravity and consummate intellectual energy characterizes both, and renders what would otherwise be loathsome and disgust- ing an object of sublimity and shuddering admiration. The task, however, which Shakespeare undertook was, in one instance, more arduous than that which Milton subsequently attempted; for, in addition to the hateful constitution of Richard's moral character, he had to con- tend also against the prejudices arising from personal deformity, from a figure " curtail'd of its fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deform'd, unfinish'd. sent before its time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up." And yet, in spite of these striking personal defects, which were considered, also, as indicatory of the depravity and wickedness of his nature, the Poet has contrived, through the medium of high mental endowments, not only to obviate disgust, but to excite extraordinary ad- miration. One of the most prominent and detestable vices, in- deed, in Richard's character, his hypocrisy, connected, as it always is, in his person, with the most profound skill and dissimulation, has, owang to the various parts which it induces him to assume, most materially contributed to the popularity of this play, both on the stage and in the closet. He is one who can " frame his face to all occasions," and accordingly appears, during the course of his career, under the contrasted forms of a subject and a monarch, a politician and a wit, a soldier and a suitor, a sinner and a saint ; and in all with such apparent ease and fidelity to nature, that while to the explorer of the human mind he affords, by his penetration and address, a subject of peculiar interest and delight, he offers to the practised II Comments THE TRAGEDY OF performer a study well calculated to call forth his fullest and finest exertions. Drake : Shakespeare and his Times. Richard is the very personation of confidence in self- conduct and self-control, in his absolute command of every form of dissimulation, and still more difficult, of simulation. He is arrogant no less, on the strength of his superiority to any natural stirrings of love or pity, of terror or remorse. Like lago he believes in the absolute sway of will-wielded intellect to subject and mould pas- sion to its own determinations, while both are, uncon- sciously to themselves, overmastered and enslaved by a tyrannous passion that ever keeps out of their own sight as if lurking- and shifting place behind them. Richard's true fall and punishment is his humiliation on his point of reliance and pride; he comes to require friends when friends fail in heart or in heartiness, he regrets affection, would fain be pitied, admits terror, and believes in the power of conscience if he endeavours to defy it. The in- voluntary forces of his being rise in insurrection against the oppression of the voluntary. His human nature vin- dicates the tendencies of humanity, when the organism which was strained to sustain itself on the principle of renunciation of sympathy falters and breaks down. The power of the strongest will has its limitations; mere de- fiance will not free the mind from superstition, and mere brutality cannot absolutely close up the welling springs of tenderness. Lloyd: Critical Essays on the Plays of Shakespeare. III. Shakespeare Self=Proiected in Richard. Into this character Shakespeare transforms himself in imagination. It is the mark of the dramatic poet to be always able to get out of his own skin and into another's. 12 KING RICHARD III. Comments But in later times some of the greatest dramatists have shrunk shuddering from the out-and-out criminal, as being too remote from them. For example, Goethe. His wrong-doers are only weaklings, like Weislingen or Clavigo ; even his Mephistopheles is not really evil. Shakespeare, on the other hand, made the effort to feel like Richard. How did he set about it? Exactly as we do when we strive to understand another personality; for example, Shakespeare himself. He imagines himself into him; that is to say, he projects his mind into the other's body and lives in it for the time being. The ques- tion the poet has to answer is always this: How should I feel and act if I were a prince, a woman, a conqueror, an outcast, and so forth? Shakespeare takes, as his point of departure, the ig- nominy inflicted by Nature; Richard is one of Nature's victims. How can Shakespeare feel with him here — Shakespeare, to whom deformity of body was unknown, and who had been immoderately favoured by Nature? But he, too, had long endured humiliation, and had lived under mean conditions which afforded no scope either to his will or to his talents. Poverty is itself a deformity; and the condition of an actor was a blemish like a hump on his back. Thus he is in a position to enter with ease into the feelings of one of Nature's victims. He has simply to give free course to all the moods in his own mind w^hich have been evoked by personal humiliation, and to let them ferment and run riot. Next comes the consciousness of superiority in Rich- ard, and the lust of power which springs from it. Shake- speare cannot have lacked the consciousness of his per- sonal superiority, and, like every man of genius, he must have had the lust of power in his soul, at least as a rudi- mentary organ. Ambitious he must assuredly have been, though not after the fashion of the actors and dramatists of our day. Their mere jugglery passes for art, while his art was regarded by the great majority as mere jugglery. His artistic self-esteem received a check 13 Comments THE TRAGEDY OF in its growth; but none the less there was ambition be- hind the tenacity of purpose which in a few years raised him from a servitor in the theatre to a shareholder and director, and which led. him to develop the greatest pro- ductive talent of his country, till he outshone all rivals in his calling, and won the appreciation of the leaders of fashion and taste. Brandes : William Shakespeare. IV. Lady Anne. For the very reason that the Poet has not given any individual characteristics to this woman, it seems as though he would say: Such is feminine human nature. It is quite evident that in his younger days he was not so much alive to the beauties of the womanly character as he became at a later period of his Hfe. He is fond of drawing unamiable women like Adriana in The Comedy of Errors, violent and corrupt women like Tamora in Titus Androniciis, and Alargaret in Henry VI., or scolding women like Katherine in The Taming of the Shrew. Here he gives us a picture of peculiarly feminine weakness, and personifies in Richard his own contempt for it. Exasperate a woman against you (he seems to say), do her all the evil you can think of, kill her husband, de- prive her thereby of the succession to a crown, fill her to overflowing with hatred and execration — then if you can only cajole her into believing that in all you have done, crimes and everything, you have been actuated simply and solely by burning passion for her, by the hope of ap- proaching her and winning her hand — why, then the game is yours, and sooner or later she will give in. Her vanity cannot hold out. If it is proof against ten meas- ures of flattery, it will succumb to a hundred ; and if even that is not enough, then pile on more. Every woman has a price at which her vanity is for sale; you have only to 14 KING RICHARD III. Comments dare greatly and bid high enough. So Shakespeare makes this crookbacked assassin accept Anne's insults without winking and retort upon them his declaration of love — he at once seems less hideous in her eyes from the fact that his crimes were committed for her sake. Shake- speare makes him hand her his drawn sword, to pierce him to the heart if she wnll; he is sure enough that she will do nothing of the sort. She cannot withstand the intense volition in his glance; he hypnotises her hatred; the exaltation with which his lust of powder inspires him bewilders and overpowers her, and he becomes almost beautiful in her eyes when he bares his breast to her re- venge. She yields to him under the influence of an at- traction in which are mingled dizziness, terror, and per- verted sensuality. His very hideousness becomes a stim- ulus the more. Brandes : William Shakespeare. V. Queen Margaret. Although banished upon pain of death, she [Mar- garet] returns to England to assist at the intestine con- flicts of the House of York. Shakespeare personifies in her the ancient Nemesis; he gives her more than human proportions, and represents her as a sort of supernatural apparition. She penetrates freely into the palace of Edw^ard IV., she there breathes forth her hatred in pres- ence of the family of York and its courtier attendants. No one dreams of arresting her, although she is an exiled w^oman, and she goes forth, meeting no obstacle, as she had entered. The same magic ring, which on the first occasion opened the doors of the royal mansion, opens them for her once again, when Edward IV. is dead, and his sons have been assassinated in the Tower by the order of Richard. She came, the first time, to curse her enemies ; she comes now^ to gather the fruits of her IS Comments THE TRAGF.DY OF malediction. Like an avenging Fury, or the classical Fate, she has announced to each his doom. Mezieres: Shakespeare, ses CEiivres et ses Critiques. VI. Unique Among the Dramas. Certain qualities which make it unique among the dramas of Shakspere characterize the play of King Rich- ard III. Its manne r_o l conceiving and presenting cha r- acter has a certam resemblance, not elsewhere t_o !Ib,e foun d in Shaksper e's writin gs tn the iVJe al manne-r _of Marlowe, As^n the pl _ays of ^ lailowe^ thereishere one dominant figurFdis tinguished~by a fewstFongiyliia rked and inofdirnitet3^"'^velope(l qualities, ihere is in the cHaracterization no mystery, but rnuch of a demonic in- tensity. Certain passages are entirely in the lyrical- dramatic style — an emotion which is one and the same, occupying, at the same moment, two or three of the per- sonages, and obtaining utterance through them almost simultaneously, or in immediate succession; as a musi- cal motive is interpreted by an orchestra, or taken up singly by successive instruments: — Eliz. Was never widow had so dear a loss. Chil. Were never orphans had so dear a loss. Duck. Was never mother had so dear a loss. Alas ! I am the mother of these griefs. Mere verisimilitude in the play of King Richard III. becomes, at times, subordinate to effects of symphonic orchestration or of statuesque composition. There is a Blake-like terror and beauty in the scene in which the three women — queens and a duchess — seat themselves upon the ground in their desolation and despair and cry aloud in utter anguish of spirit. First by the mother of two kings, then by Edward's widow, last by the terrible Medusa-like Queen Margaret, the same attitude is as- i6 KING RICHARD III. Comments sumecl and the same grief is poured forth. Misery has made them indifferent to all ceremony of queenship, and, for a time, to their private differences; they are seated, a rigid yet tumultuously passionate group, in the majesty of mere womanhood and supreme calamity. Readers acquainted with Blake's illustrations to the Book of Job will remember what effects, sublime and appalling, the artist produces by animating a group of figures with one common passion, which spontaneously produces in each individual the same extravagant move- ment of head and limbs. The demonic intensity which distinguishes the play proceeds from the character of Richard as from its source and centre. As with the chief personages of Mar- lowe's plays, so R,ichard in this play rather occupies the imagination by audacity and force than insinuates him- self through some subtle solvent, some magic and mys- tery of art. His character does not grow upon us; from the first it is complete. We are not curious to discover what Richard is, as we are curious to come into presence of the soul of Hamlet. We are in no doubt about Rich- ard; but it yields us a strong sensation to observe him in various circumstances and situations; we are roused and animated by the presence of almost superhuman energy and power, even though that power and that en- ergy be malign. . . . He plays his part before his future wife, the Lady Anne, laying open his breast to the sword's point with a malicious confidence. He knows the measure of woman's frailty, and relies on the spiritual force of his audacity and dissinmlation to subdue the weak hand which tries to lift the sword. With no friends to back his suit, with nothing but " the plain devil, and dissem- bling looks," he wins his bride. The hideous irony of such a courtship, the mockery it implies of human love, is enough to make a man " your only jigmaker," and sends Richard's blood dancing along his veins. While Richard is plotting for the crown, Lord Has- 17 Comments THE TRAGEDY OF tings threatens to prove an obstacle in the way. What is to be done? Buckingham is dubious and tentative: — " Now, my lord, what shall we do, if we perceive Lord Hastings will not yield to our complots? " With sharp detonation, quickly begun and quickly over, Richard's answer is discharged, " Chop off his head, man! " There can be no beginning, middle, or end to a deed so simple and so summary. Presently, Hastings, making sundry small assignations for future days and weeks, goes, a murdered man, to the confer- ence at the Tower. Richard, whose startling figure emerges from the background throughout the play with small regard for verisimilitude, and always at the most effective moment, is suddenly on the spot, just as Has- tings is about to give his voice in the conference as though he were the representative of the absent Duke. Richard is prepared, when the opportune instant has ar- rived, to spring a mine under Hastings's feet. But mean- while a matter of equal importance concerns him— my Lord of Ely's strawberries: the flavor of Holborn straw- berries is exquisite, and the fruit must be sent for. Rich- ard's desire to appear disengaged from sinister thought is less important to note than Richard's need of mdul- ging a cynical contempt of hyman life. The explosion takes place; Hastings is seized; and the delicacies are reserved until the head of Richard's enemy is off. There is a wantonness of diablerie in this incident: — " Talk' St thou to me of ifs? Thou art a traitor — Off with his head! Now, by Saint Paul, I swear I will not dine until I see the same ! " DowDEN : Shakspere. VII. Want of Interaction. There is, properly speaking, no interaction between Richard and the other persons of the drama. He is the i8 KING RICHARD III. Comments all-in-all of the play, the soul of everything that is done, the theme of everything that is said: there is scarce a thought, feeling, or purpose expressed, but what is either from him, or in some way concerning him, he being the author, the subject, or the occasion of it. And herein is this play chiefly distinguished from all the others, and, certainly, as a work of art, not distinguished for the bet- ter, that the entire action in all its parts and stages, so far at least as it has any human origin or purpose, both springs from the hero as its source, and determines in him as its end. So that the drama is not properly a com- position of cooperative characters, mutually developing and developed; but the prolonged yet hurried outcome of a single character, to which all the other persons serve but as exponents and conductors; as if he were a volume of electrical activity, disclosing himself by means of others, and quenching their active powers at the very moment of doing so. Observe, we say the other persons, not characters ; for however much their forms meet the eye, their inward being is for the most part held in abey- ance and kept from transpiring by the virtual ubiquity of the hero. Hudson : The Works of Shakespeare. However successful and life-like, however many-sided and extraordinary a character may be, it cannot of itself constitute a dramatic work of art. Characterisation is but one particular function of dramatic poetry; it is very important, but still not the first and highest object. It stands in the same relation to the entire organism as a portrait to an historical painting. In the latter every figure ought to be a living portrait full of individual reality, but receives its true significance only from its position and from its relation to the other figures; ac- cordingly, the interaction of the several parts among one another, and their cooperation in the action represented, gives the picture its historical character. It is precisely 19 Comments THE TRAGEDY OF the same with a dramatic composition, because it is so in real life. When viewed in this light Richard III. might seem open to censure. " I am myself alone " is his spell- word, and, Hke a sudden flash of light, reveals not only the character of Richard himself, but that of the whole drama. As in life so in the play, he in reality stands alone. All the other personages (chiefly women and chil- dren, or single subjects) are in no way his equals, and are powerless against the whole royal power which is on his side. The destructive force of his tyranny, the vio- lence of his unmitigated selfishness and wickedness, ac- companied as they are by intellect, wit, and eloquence, have no organic counterpoise. On the one side we have only power and energy, on the other only submission and impotence. The principle of interaction, which is so important in life and in history, retires far into the back- ground; not till the fifth act is the tyrant opposed by a real and worthy adversary in the person of Richmond. Accordingly, the drama is wanting in drastic animation; the action (that which is actually done or which happens) proceeds but slowly compared with others of Shak- speare's plays. Ulrici : Shakspeare's Dramatic Art, VIII. A Comparison. If we compare the speeches [of Edmund in Lear, and of lago in Othello] with Richard's, and in like manner if we compare the way in which lago's plot is first sown, and springs up and gradually grows and ripens in his brain, with Richard's downright enunciation of his pro- jected series of crimes from the first, we may discern the contrast between the youth and the mature manhood of the mightiest intellect that ever lived upon earth, a con- trast almost equally observable in the difference between the diction and metre of the two plays, and not unlike 20 KING RICHARD III. Commenis that between a great river rushing along turbidly in Spring, bearing the freshly melted snows from Alpine mountains, with flakes of light scattered here and there over its surface, and the same river, when its waters have subsided into their autumnal tranquillity, and compose a vast mirror for the whole landscape around them, and for the sun and stars and sky and clouds overhead. Hare : Guesses at Truth. IX. Popularity of the Play. Richard III. is, and long has been — taking the stage and the closet together — the most universally and unin- terruptedly popular of its author's w^orks. Few of Shake- speare's plays passed through more than two or three editions, as they originally appeared, separately, in the customary form of quarto pamphlets. Of Hamlet, which seems to have been the most popular of the other trag- edies, there are but six of these editions ; while of Rich- ard III., between 1597 and, 1634, we have, in addition to the copies in the first two Folios, no less than eight sepa- rate editions, still preserved; and it is possible that there may have been yet another, no longer extant. There are also more references and allusions to it, in the writings of Shakespeare's contemporaries, and in those of the next generation of authors, than to any other of his works. For instance. Bishop Corbet, in his poems, Ful- ler, in his Church History, and Milton, in one of his prose controversial tracts, all refer to it as familiar to their readers. It has kept perpetual possession of the stage, either in its primitive form, or as altered and adapted to the tastes of the times by CoUey Gibber or by John Kemble. In one or other of these forms Richard III. has been the favourite character of all the eminent Eng- lish tragedians, from Burbage, the original " Crook- back," who was identified in his day, in the public mind, 2i Comments with the part, through the long succession of the mon- archs of the Enghsh stage — Betterton, Gibber, Quin, Garrick, Henderson, Kemble, Gooke, Kean — down to our own days. Yet, in all the higher attributes of the poetic drama Richard III. bears no comparison with the Poet's greater tragedies, or with the graver scenes of his more brilliant comedies. Intellectually and poetically, it must be assigned to a much lower class than Romeo and Juliet, or Othello ; than Lear or Macbeth ; than The Tem- pest or The Merchant of Venice. Verplanck : The Illustrated Shakespeare. 22 The Tragedy of King Richard III DRAMATIS PERSONAE. King Edward tJie Fourth. Edward, Prince of Wales, aftcrzcards King Edivard V.r'y ^'^^l^^ Richard, Duke of York, j a'z«§: George, Duke of Clarence, ^ Richard, Duke of Gloucester, I brothers to the King. afterwards King Richard III.,, J A young son of Clarence. Henry, Earl of Richmond, afterwards King Henry VII. Cardinal Bourchier, Archbishop of Canterbury. Thomas Rotherham, Archbishop of York. John Morton, Bishop of Ely. Duke of Buckingham. Duke of Norfolk. Earl of Surrey, his son. Earl Rivers, brother to Elizabeth. Marquis of Dorset and Lord Grey, sons to Elisabeth. Earl of Oxford. Lord Hastings. LoR.o Stanley, called also Earl of Derby. Lord Lovel. Sir Thomas Vaughan. Sir Richard Ratcliff. Sir William Catesby. Sir James Tyrrel. Sir James Blount. Sir Walter Herbert. Sir Robert Brakenbury, Lieutenant of the Tower. Sir William Brandon. Christopher Urswick, a priest. Another Priest. Tressel and Berkeley, gentlemen attending on the Lady Anne. Lord Mayor of London. Sheriff of Wiltshire. Elizabeth, queen to King Edward IV. Margaret, widow of King Henry VI. Duchess of York, mother to King Edward IV. Lady Anne, zvidow of Edward Prince of Wales, son to King Henry VI.; afterwards married to Richard. A young daughter of Clarence (Margaret Plantagexet) . Ghosts of those murdered by Richard HL, Lords and other At- tendants, a Pursuivant. Scrivener, Citizens, Mur- derers, Messengers, Soldiers, etc. Scene : England, 24 The Tragedy of KING RICHARD III. ACT FIRST. Scene I. London. A street. Enter Richard, Duke of Gloucester, solus. Glou. 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 changed to merry meetings, Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. Grim-visaged war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front ; And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds lo 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 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 20 25 Act I. Sc. i. THE TRAGEDY OF 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, 30 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. 40 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? Clar. His majesty. Tendering my person's safety, hath appointed This conduct to convey me to the Tower. Glou. Upon what cause? Clar. Because my name is George. Glou, Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours ; 26 KINp RICHARD III. Act I. Sc. i. He should, for that, commit your godfathers : O, behke his majesty hath some intent That you shall be new-christen'd in the Tower. 50 But what 's the matter, Clarence ? may I know ? Clar. 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 60 Have moved his highness to commit me now. Glon. Why, this it is, when men are ruled by women : ' Tis npt the king that sends you to the To wer ; My Lady Grey h is w ife, Cla rence, 'tis she llTaftempershim]^ ^ extrem ity . Was it not she and that good man of worship, Anthony Woodville, her brother there. That made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower, From whence this present day he is deliver'd? We are n ot safe, Clarence ; we are not safe. 70 Clar. By heaven, I think there 's no man is secure, But the queen's kindred and night-walking heralds. That trudge betwixt the king and Mistress Shore. Heard ye not what an humble suppliant Lord Hastings was to her for his delivery? GIou. Humbly complaining to her deity Got my lord chamberlain his liberty. I '11 tell you what ; I think it is our way, If we will keep in favour with the king, 27 Act I. Sc. 1. THE TRAGEDY OF To be her men and wear her livery : 80 The jealous o'erworn widow and herself, Since that our brother dubb'd them gentlewomen, Are mighty gossips in this monarchy. Brak. 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 his brother. Glo\i. 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 90 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 gentle-folks : How say you, sir? can you deny all this? Brak. With this, my lord, myself have nought to do. Glou. Naught to do with Mistress Shore! I tell thee, fellow, He that doth naught with her, excepting one. Were best he do it secretly alone. 100 Brak, What one, my lord ? Glou. Her husband, knave : wouldst thou betray me ? Brak. I beseech your grace to pardon me, and withal Forbear your conference with the noble duke. Clar. We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will obey. Glou, We are the queen's abjects, and must obey. Brother, farewell : I will linto the king ; And whatsoever you will employ me in. Were it to call King Edward's widow sister, I will perform it to enfranchise you. no Meantime, this deep d isgrace in brotherhood KING RICHARD III. Act I. Sc. i. Touches me deep er than von canjiriafyirie. ^ ' CMJ^f-^ / Clar. I know it pleaseth neither of us^well JtLJ ^(^^^^' Glon. Well, your imprisonment shall not be long ; I will deliver you, or else lie for you : Meantime, have patience. Clar. I must perforce. Farewell. [Exeunt Clarence, Brakenbury, and Guard. Clou. 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. 120 But who comes here ? the new-deliver'd Hastings ? Enter Lord Hastings. Hast. Good time of day unto my gracious lord ! Gloti. As much unto my good lord chamberlain ! Well are you welcome to the open air. How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment? Hast. With patience, noble lord, as prisoners must : But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks That were the cause of my imprisonment. Glou. No doubt, no doubt ; and so shall Clarence too ; For they that were your enemies are his, 130 And have prevail'd as much on him as you. Hast. More pity that the eagle should be mew'd. While kites and buzzards prey at liberty. Glou. What news abroad? Hast. No news so bad abroad as this at home ; The king is sickly, weak and melancholy, And his physicians fear him mightily. Glou. Now, by Saint Paul, this news is bad indeed. O, he hath kept an evil diet long, 29 Act I. Sc. ii. THE TRAGEDY OF And overmuch consumed his royal person : 140 'Tis very grievous to be thought upon. What, is he in his bed ? Hast. He is.' Glou. 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 post-horse up to heaven. 1 '11 in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence, 4 / With lies well steel'd with weighty arguments ; ^::ij6^ / And, if 1 fail not in my deep intent, V Clarence hath not another day to live: 150 ^- Which done, God take King Edward to his mercy, And leave the world for me to bustle in ! For then I '11 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: 160 Clarence still breathes ; Edward still lives and reigns : t When they are gone, then must I count my gains. • [Exit. Scene II. The same. Another street. Enter the corpse of King Henry the Sixth, Gentlemen with halberds to guard it; Lady Anne being the mourner. Anne. Set down, set down your honourable load — 1 1 honour may be shrouded in a hearse — Avhilst I awhile obsequiously lament 30 KING RICHARD III. Act I. Sc. ii. The untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster. Poor key-cold figure of a holy king ! Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster ! Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood ! Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost, To hear the lamentations of poor Anne, Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughtered son, lo Stabb'd by the selfsame hand that made these wounds ! Lo, in these windows that let forth thy life I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes. Cursed be the hand that made these fatal holes ! Cursed be the heart that had the heart to do it ! Cursed the blood that let this blood from hence ! More direful hap betide that hated wretch. That makes us wretched by the death of thee, Than I can wish to adders, spiders, toads, Or any creeping venom'd thing that lives ! 20 If ever he have child, abortive be it, Prodigious, and untimely brought to light, Whose ugly and unnatural aspect May fright the hopeful mother at the view ; And that be heir to his unhappiness ! If ever he have wife, let her be made As miserable by the death of him, As I am made by my poor lord and thee ! Come, now towards Chertsey with your holy load. Taken from Paul's to be interred there ; 30 And still, as you are weary of the weight, Rest you, whiles I lament King Henry's corse. Enter Gloucester. Glou. Stay, you that bear the corse, and set it down. 31 Act I. Sc. ii. THE TRAGEDY OF Anne. What black magician conjures up this fiend, To stop devoted charitable deeds? Glou. Villains, set down the corse ; or, by Saint Paul, I '11 make a corse of him that disobeys. Gent. My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass. Giou. Unmanner'd dog ! stand thou, when I command : Advance thy halberd higher than my breast, 40 Or, by Saint Paul, I '11 strike thee to my foot. And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness. Anne. What, do you tremble? are you all afraid? Alas, I blame you not ; for you are mortal. And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil. Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell ! Thou hadst but power over his mortal body, His soul thou canst not have ; therefore, be gone. Glou. Sw^eet saint, for charity, be not so curst. Anne. Foul devil, for God's sake, hence^ and trouble us not ; 50 For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell, Fill'd it with cursing cries and deep exclaims. If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds, Behold this pattern of thy butcheries. O, gentlemen, see, see ! dead Henry's wounds Open their congeal'd mouths and bleed afresh. Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity; For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood From cold and empty veins, where no blood dwells : Thy deed, inhuman and unnatural, 60 Provokes this deluge most unnatural. O God, which this blood madest, revenge his death ! O earth, which this blood drink'st, revenge his death ! Either heaven with lightning strike the murderer dead. 32; KING RICHARD III. Act I. Sc. ii. Or earth, gape open wide and eat him quick, As thou dost swallow up this good king's blood, Which his hell-govern'd arm hath butchered ! Glou. Lady, you know no rules of charity, Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses. Anne. Villain, thou know'st no law of God nor man : 70 No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity. Glou. But I know none, and therefore am no beast. Anne. O wonderful, when devils tell the truth! Glou. More wonderful, when angels are so angry. Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman, Of these supposed evils, to give me leave, By circumstance, but to acquit myself. Anne. Vouchsafe, defused infection of a man. For these known evils, but to give me leave, By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self. 80 Glou. Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have Some patient leisure to excuse myself. Anne. Fouler than heart can think thee, thou canst make No excuse current, but to hang thyself. Glou, By such despair, I should accuse myself. Anne. And, by despairing, shouldst thou stand excused For doing worthy vengeance on thyself. Which didst unworthy slaughter upon others. Glou. Say that I slew them not ? Anne. Why, then they are not dead : But dead they are, and, devilish slave, by thee. 90 Glou. I did not kill your husband. Anne. Why, then he is alive. Glou. ^^ay, he is dead ; a n d slain bj Edward's hand . Anne. In thy foul throat thou liest : Queen Margaret saw Thy murderous falchion smoking in his blood ; 3Z Act I. Sc. ii. THE TRAGEDY OF The which thou once didst bend against her breast, But that thy brothers beat aside the point. Glou. I was provoked by her slanderous tongue, Which laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders. Anne. Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind, Which never dreamt on aught but butcheries : lOO Didst thou not kill this king? GloM. Igrant ye. Anne. Dost grant me, hedgehog? then, God grant me too Thou mayst be damned for that wicked deed ! O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous ! Gloii. The fitter for the King of heaven, that hath him. Anne. He is in heaven, where thou shalt never come. Glon. Let him thank me, that holp to send him thither ; For he was fitter for that place than earth. Anne. And thou unfit for any place but hell. Glou. Yes, one place else, if you will hear me name it. Anne. Some dungeon. Glon. Your bed-chamber. iii Anne. I '11 rest betide the chamber where thou liest ! Glon. So will it, madam, till I lie with you. Anne. I hope so. Glon. I know so. But, gentle Lady Anne, To leave this keen encounter of our wits. And fall somewhat into a slower method, Is not the causer of the timeless deaths Of these Plantagenets, Henry and Edward, As blameful as the executioner? Anne. Thou art the cause, and most accursed effect. 120 Glou. Your beauty was the cause of that-^ff ect ; Your beauty, which did hau ^^" me i^ ^y gl^fp T o undertake the death of all the worj^d , 34 KING RICHARD III. Act I. Sc. ii. So I mieht live one hour in vour sweet bosom. •Vi 2___ :: >_ Aline. If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide, These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks. Clou, These eyes could never endure sweet beauty's wreck ; You should not blemish it, if I stood by : As all the world is cheered by the sun, So I by that ; it is my day, my life. 130 Amte. Black night o'ershade thy day, and death thy life ! Clou. Curse not thyself, fair creature ; thou art both. Anne. I would I w^ere, to be revenged on thee. Glon. It is a quarrel most unnatural, To be revenged on him that loveth you. Anne. It is a quarrel just and reasonable, To be revenged on him that slew my husband. Glou. He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband. Did it to help thee to a better husband. Anne. His better doth not breathe upon the earth. 140 Glon. He lives that loves you better than he could. Anne. Name him. Glou. Plantagenet. Anne. Why, that was he. Glou. The selfsame name, but one of better nature. Anne. "Where is he ? Glon. Here. [She spitfeth at him.] Why dost thou spit at me ? Anne. Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake ! Glou. Never came poison from so sweet a place. Anne. Never hung poison on a fouler toad. Out of my sight ! thou dost infect my eyes. Glou. Thine eyes, sw^eet lady, have Infected mine. 150 Anne. Would they were basilisks, to strike thee dead ! 35 I Act I. Sc. ii. THE TRAGEDY OF Glou. I would they were, that I might die at onc e ; For n ow they kill me with a living death . Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt \yS6J^^ tears, f\ Shamed their aspect with store of childish drops : _ Vl These eyes, which never shed remorseful tear, I J) '^ No, when my father York and Edward wept, To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made When black-faced Clifford shook his sword at him ; Nor when thy warlike father, like a child, i6o ^^t^J^ Told the sad story of my father's death, (^^ And twenty times made pause to sob and weep, Q 0j^ That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks. Like trees bedash'd with rain : in that sad time My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear ; And what these sorrows could not thence exhale, Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping. I never sued to friend nor enemy ; My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing words ; But, now thy beauty is proposed my fee, 170 My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak. [She looks scornfully at him. Teach not thy lips such scorn, for they were made For kissing, lady, not for such contempt. If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive, Lo, here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword ; Which if thou please to hide in this true bosom, And let the soul forth that adoreth thee, I lay it naked to the deadly stroke, nd humbly beg the death upon my knee. [He lays his breast open: she offers at it zvith his szuord. 36 KING RICHARD III. Act I. Sc. ii. Nay, do not pause ; for I did kill King Henryl i8o But 'twas thy beauty that provoked me. ^ Nay, now dispatch; 'twas I that stabb'd young Edward, But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on. [He7'e she lets fall the sword. Take up the sword again, or take up me. Anne. Arise, dissembler : though I wish thy death, I will not be the executioner. Glou. Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it. Anne. I have already. Glou. Tush, that was in thy rage : Speak it again, and, even with the w^or d, That hand, wh icti^_tor_ thy love, did kill thy jpve, Shall , for thy love^ill a far truer love^ 191 To^th their deaths shalt thou be acce ssary. Anne. I would I knew thy heart. Glou. 'Tis figured in my tongue. Anne. I fear me both are false. Glou. Then never man was true. Anne. Well, well, put up your sword. Glou. Say, then, my peace is made. Anne. That shall you know hereafter. Glou. But shall I live in hope ? 200 Anne. All men, I hope, Hve so. Glou. Vouchsafe to wear this ring. Anne. To take is not to give. Glou. Look, how this ring encompasseth thy finger, Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart ; Wear both of them, for both of them are thine. And if thy poor devoted suppliant may But beg one favour at thy gracious hand, Act I. Sc. ii. THE TRAGEDY OF Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever. Anne. What is it? 210 Glou. That it would please thee leave these sad designs To him that hath more cause to be a mourner, And presently repair to Crosby Place ; Where, after I have solemnly interr'd At Chertsey monastery this noble king, And wet his grave with my repentant tears, I will with all expedient duty see you : For divers imknown reasons, I beseech you, Grant me this boon. Anne. With all my heart ; and much it joys me too, 220 To see you are become so penitent. Tressel and Berkeley, go along with me. Glou. Bid me farewell. Anne. 'Tis more than you deserve ; gut sin ce you teach me ho w _to flatter you . Imagine I have said farewell already—^