KING RICHARD III. William Shakespeare
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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!