Читать книгу King Richard III (The Unabridged Play) + The Classic Biography: The Life of William Shakespeare - William Shakespeare - Страница 26

[Enter QUEEN MARGARET.]

QUEEN MARGARET

So, now prosperity begins to mellow,

And drop into the rotten mouth of death.

Here in these confines slily have I lurk’d

To watch the waning of mine enemies.

A dire induction am I witness to,

And will to France; hoping the consequence

Will prove as bitter, black, and tragical.—

Withdraw thee, wretched Margaret: who comes here?

[Retires.]

[Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH and the DUCHESS OF YORK.]

QUEEN ELIZABETH

Ah, my poor princes! ah, my tender babes!

My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets!

If yet your gentle souls fly in the air

And be not fix’d in doom perpetual,

Hover about me with your airy wings

And hear your mother’s lamentation!

QUEEN MARGARET

Hover about her; say that right for right

Hath dimm’d your infant morn to agèd night.

DUCHESS

So many miseries have craz’d my voice

That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute.—

Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?

QUEEN MARGARET

Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet,

Edward for Edward pays a dying debt.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

Wilt thou, O God, fly from such gentle lambs,

And throw them in the entrails of the wolf?

When didst Thou sleep when such a deed was done?

QUEEN MARGARET

When holy Harry died, and my sweet son.

DUCHESS

Dead life, blind sight, poor mortal living ghost,

Woe’s scene, world’s shame, grave’s due by life usurp’d,

Brief abstract and recórd of tedious days,

Rest thy unrest on England’s lawful earth,

[Sitting down.]

Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

Ah, that thou wouldst as soon afford a grave

As thou canst yield a melancholy seat!

Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here.

Ah, who hath any cause to mourn but we?

[Sitting down by her.]

QUEEN MARGARET

[Coming forward.]

If ancient sorrow be most reverent,

Give mine the benefit of seniory,

And let my griefs frown on the upper hand.

If sorrow can admit society,

[Sitting down with them.]

Tell o’er your woes again by viewing mine:—

I had an Edward, till a Richard kill’d him;

I had a Henry, till a Richard kill’d him:

Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard kill’d him;

Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard kill’d him.

DUCHESS

I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill him;

I had a Rutland too, thou holp’st to kill him.

QUEEN MARGARET

Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Richard kill’d him.

From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept

A hellhound that doth hunt us all to death:

That dog, that had his teeth before his eyes,

To worry lambs and lap their gentle blood;

That foul defacer of God’s handiwork;

That excellent grand tyrant of the earth,

That reigns in gallèd eyes of weeping souls,—

Thy womb let loose to chase us to our graves.—

O upright, just, and true-disposing God,

How do I thank Thee that this carnal cur

Preys on the issue of his mother’s body,

And makes her pew-fellow with others’ moan!

DUCHESS

O Harry’s wife, triumph not in my woes!

God witness with me, I have wept for thine.

QUEEN MARGARET

Bear with me; I am hungry for revenge,

And now I cloy me with beholding it.

Thy Edward he is dead, that kill’d my Edward;

The other Edward dead to quit my Edward;

Young York he is but boot, because both they

Match not the high perfection of my loss:

Thy Clarence he is dead that stabb’d my Edward;

And the beholders of this frantic play,

The adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey,

Untimely smother’d in their dusky graves.

Richard yet lives, hell’s black intelligencer;

Only reserv’d their factor to buy souls,

And send them thither: but at hand, at hand,

Ensues his piteous and unpitied end:

Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray,

To have him suddenly convey’d from hence.—

Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I pray,

That I may live to say “The dog is dead.”

QUEEN ELIZABETH

O, thou didst prophesy the time would come

That I should wish for thee to help me curse

That bottled spider, that foul bunch-back’d toad!

QUEEN MARGARET

I call’d thee then, vain flourish of my fortune;

I call’d thee then, poor shadow, painted queen;

The presentation of but what I was,

The flattering index of a direful pageant;

One heav’d a-high to be hurl’d down below,

A mother only mock’d with two fair babes;

A dream of what thou wast; a garish flag,

To be the aim of every dangerous shot;

A sign of dignity, a breath, a bubble;

A queen in jest, only to fill the scene.

Where is thy husband now? where be thy brothers?

Where be thy two sons? wherein dost thou joy?

Who sues, and kneels, and says, “God save the queen?”

Where be the bending peers that flatter’d thee?

Where be the thronging troops that follow’d thee?

Decline all this, and see what now thou art:

For happy wife, a most distressèd widow;

For joyful mother, one that wails the name;

For one being su’d to, one that humbly sues;

For queen, a very caitiff crown’d with care;

For she that scorn’d at me, now scorn’d of me;

For she being fear’d of all, now fearing one;

For she commanding all, obey’d of none.

Thus hath the course of justice wheel’d about

And left thee but a very prey to time;

Having no more but thought of what thou wast,

To torture thee the more, being what thou art.

Thou didst usurp my place, and dost thou not

Usurp the just proportion of my sorrow?

Now thy proud neck bears half my burden’d yoke;

From which even here I slip my weary head,

And leave the burden of it all on thee.

Farewell, York’s wife, and queen of sad mischance:—

These English woes shall make me smile in France.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

O thou well skill’d in curses, stay awhile,

And teach me how to curse mine enemies!

QUEEN MARGARET

Forbear to sleep the night, and fast the day;

Compare dead happiness with living woe;

Think that thy babes were sweeter than they were,

And he that slew them fouler than he is;

Bettering thy loss makes the bad-causer worse;

Revolving this will teach thee how to curse.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

My words are dull; O, quicken them with thine!

QUEEN MARGARET

Thy woes will make them sharp, and pierce like mine.

[Exit.]

DUCHESS

Why should calamity be full of words?

QUEEN ELIZABETH

Windy attorneys to their client woes,

Airy succeeders of intestate joys,

Poor breathing orators of miseries!

Let them have scope: though what they do impart

Help nothing else, yet do they ease the heart.

DUCHESS

If so, then be not tongue-tied: go with me,

And in the breath of bitter words let’s smother

My damnèd son, that thy two sweet sons smother’d.

[Drum within]

I hear his drum:—be copious in exclaims.

[Enter KING RICHARD and his Train, marching.]

KING RICHARD

Who intercepts me in my expedition?

DUCHESS

O, she that might have intercepted thee,

By strangling thee in her accursèd womb,

From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast done!

QUEEN ELIZABETH

Hidest thou that forehead with a golden crown,

Where should be branded, if that right were right,

The slaughter of the prince that ow’d that crown,

And the dire death of my poor sons and brothers?

Tell me, thou villain-slave, where are my children?

DUCHESS

Thou toad, thou toad, where is thy brother Clarence?

And little Ned Plantagenet, his son?

QUEEN ELIZABETH

Where is the gentle Rivers, Vaughan, Grey?

DUCHESS

Where is kind Hastings?

KING RICHARD

A flourish, trumpets! strike alarum, drums!

Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women

Rail on the Lord’s anointed: strike, I say!

[Flourish. Alarums.]

Either be patient and entreat me fair,

Or with the clamorous report of war

Thus will I drown your exclamations.

DUCHESS

Art thou my son?

KING RICHARD

Ay, I thank God, my father, and yourself.

DUCHESS

Then patiently hear my impatience.

KING RICHARD

Madam, I have a touch of your condition

That cannot brook the accent of reproof.

DUCHESS

O, let me speak!

KING RICHARD

Do, then; but I’ll not hear.

DUCHESS

I will be mild and gentle in my words.

KING RICHARD

And brief, good mother; for I am in haste.

DUCHESS

Art thou so hasty? I have stay’d for thee,

God knows, in torment and in agony.

KING RICHARD

And came I not at last to comfort you?

DUCHESS

No, by the holy rood, thou know’st it well

Thou cam’st on earth to make the earth my hell.

A grievous burden was thy birth to me;

Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy;

Thy schooldays frightful, desperate, wild, and furious;

Thy prime of manhood daring, bold, and venturous;

Thy age confirm’d, proud, subtle, sly, and bloody,

More mild, but yet more harmful, kind in hatred:

What comfortable hour canst thou name

That ever grac’d me with thy company?

KING RICHARD

Faith, none but Humphrey Hour, that call’d your grace

To breakfast once forth of my company.

If I be so disgracious in your eye,

Let me march on and not offend you, madam.—

Strike up the drum.

DUCHESS

I pr’ythee hear me speak.

KING RICHARD

You speak too bitterly.

DUCHESS

Hear me a word;

For I shall never speak to thee again.

KING RICHARD

So.

DUCHESS

Either thou wilt die by God’s just ordinance

Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror;

Or I with grief and extreme age shall perish

And never more 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.

[Exit.]

QUEEN ELIZABETH

Though far more cause, yet much less spirit to curse

Abides in me; I say amen to her.

[Going.]

KING RICHARD

Stay, madam, I must talk a word with you.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

I have no more sons of the royal blood

For thee to slaughter: for my daughters, Richard,—

They shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens;

And therefore level not to hit their lives.

KING RICHARD

You have a daughter call’d Elizabeth.

Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

And must she die for this? O, let her live,

And I’ll corrupt her manners, stain her beauty:

Slander myself as false to Edward’s bed;

Throw over her the veil of infamy:

So she may live unscarr’d of bleeding slaughter,

I will confess she was not Edward’s daughter.

KING RICHARD

Wrong not her birth; she is of royal blood.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

To save her life I’ll say she is not so.

KING RICHARD

Her life is safest only in her birth.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

And only in that safety died her brothers.

KING RICHARD

Lo, at their births good stars were opposite.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

No, to their lives bad friends were contrary.

KING RICHARD

All unavoided is the doom of destiny.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

True, when avoided grace makes destiny:

My babes were destined to a fairer death,

If grace had bless’d thee with a fairer life.

KING RICHARD

You speak as if that I had slain my cousins.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

Cousins, indeed; and by their uncle cozen’d

Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life.

Whose hand soever lanc’d their tender hearts,

Thy head, all indirectly, gave direction:

No doubt the murderous knife was dull and blunt

Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart,

To revel in the entrails of my lambs.

But that still use of grief makes wild grief tame,

My tongue should to thy ears not name my boys

Till that my nails were anchor’d in thine eyes;

And I, in such a desperate bay of death,

Like a poor bark, of sails and tackling reft,

Rush all to pieces on thy rocky bosom.

KING RICHARD

Madam, so thrive I in my enterprise

And dangerous success of bloody wars,

As I intend more good to you and yours

Than ever you or yours by me were harm’d!

QUEEN ELIZABETH

What good is cover’d with the face of heaven,

To be discover’d, that can do me good?

KING RICHARD

Advancement of your children, gentle lady.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

Up to some scaffold, there to lose their heads?

KING RICHARD

Unto the dignity and height of honour,

The high imperial type of this earth’s glory.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

Flatter my sorrows with report of it;

Tell me what state, what dignity, what honour,

Canst thou demise to any child of mine?

KING RICHARD

Even all I have; ay, and myself and all

Will I withal endow a child of thine;

So in the Lethe of thy angry soul

Thou drown the sad remembrance of those wrongs

Which thou supposest I have done to thee.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

Be brief, lest that the process of thy kindness

Last longer telling than thy kindness’ date.

KING RICHARD

Then know, that from my soul I love thy daughter.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

My daughter’s mother thinks it with her soul.

KING RICHARD

What do you think?

QUEEN ELIZABETH

That thou dost love my daughter from thy soul:

So from thy soul’s love didst thou love her brothers;

And from my heart’s love I do thank thee for it.

KING RICHARD

Be not so hasty to confound my meaning:

I mean that with my soul I love thy daughter,

And do intend to make her Queen of England.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

Well, then, who dost thou mean shall be her king?

KING RICHARD

Even he that makes her queen: who else should be?

QUEEN ELIZABETH

What, thou?

KING RICHARD

I, even I: what think you of it, madam?

QUEEN ELIZABETH

How canst thou woo her?

KING RICHARD

That would I learn of you

As one being best acquainted with her humour.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

And wilt thou learn of me?

KING RICHARD

Madam, with all my heart.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

Send to her, by the man that slew her brothers,

A pair of bleeding hearts; thereon engrave

“Edward” and “York.” Then haply will she weep:

Therefore present to her,—as sometimes Margaret

Did to thy father, steep’d in Rutland’s blood,—

A handkerchief; which, say to her, did drain

The purple sap from her sweet brothers’ bodies,

And bid her wipe her weeping eyes withal.

If this inducement move her not to love,

Send her a letter of thy noble deeds;

Tell her thou mad’st away her uncle Clarence,

Her uncle Rivers; ay, and for her sake

Mad’st quick conveyance with her good aunt Anne.

KING RICHARD

You mock me, madam; this is not the way

To win your daughter.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

There is no other way;

Unless thou couldst put on some other shape,

And not be Richard that hath done all this.

KING RICHARD

Say that I did all this for love of her?

QUEEN ELIZABETH

Nay, then indeed she cannot choose but hate thee,

Having bought love with such a bloody spoil.

KING RICHARD

Look, what is done cannot be now amended:

Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes,

Which after-hours gives leisure to repent.

If I did take the kingdom from your sons,

To make amends I’ll give it to your daughter.

If I have kill’d the issue of your womb,

To quicken your increase I will beget

Mine issue of your blood upon your daughter.

A grandam’s name is little less in love

Than is the doating title of a mother;

They are as children but one step below,

Even of your mettle, of your very blood;

Of all one pain,—save for a night of groans

Endur’d of her, for whom you bid like sorrow.

Your children were vexation to your youth;

But mine shall be a comfort to your age.

The loss you have is but a son being king,

And by that loss your daughter is made queen.

I cannot make you what amends I would,

Therefore accept such kindness as I can.

Dorset your son, that with a fearful soul

Leads discontented steps in foreign soil,

This fair alliance quickly shall call home

To high promotions and great dignity:

The king, that calls your beauteous daughter wife,

Familiarly shall call thy Dorset brother;

Again shall you be mother to a king,

And all the ruins of distressful times

Repair’d with double riches of content.

What! we have many goodly days to see:

The liquid drops of tears that you have shed

Shall come again, transform’d to orient pearl,

Advantaging their loan with interest

Of ten times double gain of happiness.

Go, then, my mother, to thy daughter go;

Make bold her bashful years with your experience;

Prepare her ears to hear a wooer’s tale:

Put in her tender heart the aspiring flame

Of golden sovereignty; acquaint the princess

With the sweet silent hours of marriage joys:

And when this arm of mine hath chastised

The petty rebel, dull-brain’d Buckingham,

Bound with triumphant garlands will I come,

And lead thy daughter to a conqueror’s bed;

To whom I will retail my conquest won,

And she shall be sole victoress, Caesar’s Caesar.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

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?

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?

KING RICHARD

Infer fair England’s peace by this alliance.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

Which she shall purchase with still-lasting war.

KING RICHARD

Tell her the king, that may command, entreats.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

That at her hands which the king’s King forbids.

KING RICHARD

Say she shall be a high and mighty queen.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

To wail the title, as her mother doth.

KING RICHARD

Say I will love her everlastingly.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

But how long shall that title, “ever,” last?

KING RICHARD

Sweetly in force unto her fair life’s end.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

But how long fairly shall her sweet life last?

KING RICHARD

As long as heaven and nature lengthens it.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

As long as hell and Richard likes of it.

KING RICHARD

Say I, her sovereign, am her subject low.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

But she, your subject, loathes such sovereignty.

KING RICHARD

Be eloquent in my behalf to her.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

An honest tale speeds best being plainly told.

KING RICHARD

Then plainly to her tell my loving tale.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

Plain and not honest is too harsh a style.

KING RICHARD

Your reasons are too shallow and too quick.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

O, no, my reasons are too deep and dead;—

Too deep and dead, poor infants, in their graves.

KING RICHARD

Harp not on that string, madam; that is past.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

Harp on it still shall I till heartstrings break.

KING RICHARD

Now, by my George, my garter, and my crown,—

QUEEN ELIZABETH

Profan’d, dishonour’d, and the third usurp’d.

KING RICHARD

I swear,—

QUEEN ELIZABETH

By nothing; for this is no oath:

Thy George, profan’d, hath lost his lordly honour;

Thy garter, blemish’d, pawn’d his knightly virtue;

Thy crown, usurp’d, disgrac’d his kingly glory.

If something thou wouldst swear to be believ’d,

Swear then by something that thou hast not wrong’d.

KING RICHARD

Now, by the world,—

QUEEN ELIZABETH

‘Tis full of thy foul wrongs.

KING RICHARD

My father’s death,—

QUEEN ELIZABETH

Thy life hath that dishonour’d.

KING RICHARD

Then, by myself,—

QUEEN ELIZABETH

Thy self is self-misus’d.

KING RICHARD

Why, then, by God,—

QUEEN ELIZABETH

God’s wrong is most of all.

If thou hadst fear’d to break an oath by Him,

The unity the king thy brother made

Had not been broken, nor my brother slain:

If thou hadst fear’d to break an oath by Him,

The imperial metal, circling now thy head,

Had grac’d the tender temples of my child;

And both the princes had been breathing here,

Which now, two tender bedfellows for dust,

Thy broken faith hath made a prey for worms.

What canst thou swear by now?

KING RICHARD

The time to come.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

That thou hast wrongèd in the time o’erpast;

For I myself have many tears to wash

Hereafter time, for time past wronged by thee.

The children live whose fathers thou hast slaughter’d,

Ungovern’d youth, to wail it in their age;

The parents live whose children thou hast butcher’d,

Old barren plants, to wail it with their age.

Swear not by time to come: for that thou hast

Misus’d ere used, by times ill-us’d o’erpast.

KING RICHARD

As I intend to prosper and repent!

So thrive I in my dangerous attempt

Of hostile arms! myself myself confound!

Heaven 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 proceeding!—if, with pure heart’s love,

Immaculate devotion, holy thoughts,

I tender not thy beauteous princely daughter!

In her consists my happiness and thine;

Without her, follows to myself and thee,

Herself, the land, and many a Christian soul,

Death, desolation, ruin, and decay:

It cannot be avoided but by this;

It will not be avoided but by this.

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;

Not my deserts, but what I will deserve:

Urge the necessity and state of times,

And be not peevish found in great designs.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

Shall I be tempted of the devil thus?

KING RICHARD

Ay, if the devil tempt you to do good.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

Shall I forget myself to be myself?

KING RICHARD

Ay, if your self’s remembrance wrong yourself.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

Yet thou didst kill my children.

KING RICHARD

But in your daughter’s womb I bury them:

Where, in that nest of spicery, they shall breed

Selves of themselves, to your recomforture.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

Shall I go win my daughter to thy will?

KING RICHARD

And be a happy mother by the deed.

QUEEN ELIZABETH

I go.—Write to me very shortly,

And you shall understand from me her mind.

KING RICHARD

Bear her my true love’s kiss; and so, farewell.

[Kissing her. Exit QUEEN ELIZABETH.]

Relenting fool, and shallow, changing woman!

[Enter RATCLIFF; CATESBY following.]

How now! what news?

RATCLIFF

Most mighty sovereign, on the western coast

Rideth a puissant navy; to the shore

Throng many doubtful hollow-hearted friends,

Unarm’d, and unresolv’d to beat them back:

‘Tis thought that Richmond is their admiral;

And there they hull, expecting but the aid

Of Buckingham to welcome them ashore.

KING RICHARD

Some lightfoot friend post to the Duke of Norfolk:—

Ratcliff, thyself,—or Catesby; where is he?

CATESBY

Here, my good lord.

KING RICHARD

Catesby, fly to the duke.

CATESBY

I will my lord, with all convenient haste.

KING RICHARD

Ratcliff, come hither: post to Salisbury:

When thou com’st thither,—

[To CATESBY.]

Dull, unmindful villain,

Why stay’st thou here, and go’st not to the duke?

CATESBY

First, mighty liege, tell me your highness’ pleasure,

What from your grace I shall deliver to him.

KING RICHARD

O, true, good Catesby:—bid him levy straight

The greatest strength and power that he can make,

And meet me suddenly at Salisbury.

CATESBY

I go.

[Exit.]

RATCLIFF

What, may it please you, shall I do at Salisbury?

KING RICHARD

Why, what wouldst thou do there before I go?

RATCLIFF

Your highness told me I should post before.

[Enter STANLEY.]

KING RICHARD

My mind is chang’d.—Stanley, what news with you?

STANLEY

None good, my liege, to please you with the hearing;

Nor none so bad but well may be reported.

KING RICHARD

Hoyday, a riddle! neither good nor bad!

What need’st thou run so many miles about,

When thou mayest tell thy tale the nearest way?

Once more, what news?

STANLEY

Richmond is on the seas.

KING RICHARD

There let him sink, and be the seas on him!

White-liver’d runagate, what doth he there?

STANLEY

I know not, mighty sovereign, but by guess.

KING RICHARD

Well, as you guess?

STANLEY

Stirr’d up by Dorset, Buckingham, and Morton,

He makes for England here, to claim the crown.

KING RICHARD

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?

STANLEY

Unless for that, my liege, I cannot guess.

KING RICHARD

Unless for that he comes to be your liege,

You cannot guess wherefore the Welshman comes.

Thou wilt revolt and fly to him, I fear.

STANLEY

No, mighty leige; therefore mistrust me not.

KING RICHARD

Where is thy power, then, to beat him back?

Where be thy tenants and thy followers?

Are they not now upon the western shore,

Safe-conducting the rebels from their ships?

STANLEY

No, my good lord, my friends are in the north.

KING RICHARD

Cold friends to me: what do they in the north,

When they should serve their sovereign in the west?

STANLEY

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.

KING RICHARD

Ay, ay, thou wouldst be gone to join with Richmond;

But I’ll not trust thee.

STANLEY

Most mighty sovereign,

You have no cause to hold my friendship doubtful:

I never was nor never will be false.

KING RICHARD

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.

STANLEY

So deal with him as I prove true to you.

[Exit.]

[Enter a MESSENGER.]

MESSENGER

My gracious sovereign, now in Devonshire,

As I by friends am well advértisèd,

Sir Edward Courtney, and the haughty prelate,

Bishop of Exeter, his elder brother,

With many more confederates, are in arms.

[Enter a second MESSENGER.]

SECOND MESSENGER

In Kent, my liege, the Guilfords are in arms;

And every hour more competitors

Flock to the rebels, and their power grows strong.

[Enter a third MESSENGER.]

THIRD MESSENGER

My lord, the army of great Buckingham,—

KING RICHARD

Out on you, owls! Nothing but songs of death?

[He strikes him.]

There, take thou that till thou bring better news.

THIRD MESSENGER

The news I have to tell your majesty

Is, that by sudden floods and fall of waters,

Buckingham’s army is dispers’d and scatter’d;

And he himself wander’d away alone,

No man knows whither.

KING RICHARD

I cry you mercy:

There is my purse to cure that blow of thine.

Hath any well-advisèd friend proclaim’d

Reward to him that brings the traitor in?

THIRD MESSENGER

Such proclamation hath been made, my liege.

[Enter a fourth MESSENGER.]

FOURTH MESSENGER

Sir Thomas Lovel and Lord Marquis Dorset,

‘Tis said, my liege, in Yorkshire are in arms.

But this good comfort bring I to your highness,—

The Britagne navy is dispers’d by tempest:

Richmond, in Dorsetshire, sent out a boat

Unto the shore, to ask those on the banks

If they were his assistants, yea or no;

Who answer’d him they came from Buckingham

Upon his party. He, mistrusting them,

Hois’d sail, and made his course again for Britagne.

KING RICHARD

March on, march on, since we are up in arms;

If not to fight with foreign enemies,

Yet to beat down these rebels here at home.

[Re-enter CATESBY.]

CATESBY

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.

KING RICHARD

Away towards Salisbury! while we reason here

A royal battle might be won and lost:—

Some one take order Buckingham be brought

To Salisbury; the rest march on with me.

[Flourish. Exeunt.]