Cuts for Act 4, Scene 4

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Page 106 - Top of scene.

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 adversaries.]
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?

QUEEN MARGARET

Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Richard kill'd him.
From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept
A hell-hound that doth hunt us all to death:
[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 galled 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!]
 

O Harry's wife, triumph not in my woes!
God witness with me, I have wept for thine.
 

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:
Thy 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 tragic play,
The adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey,
Untimely smother'd in their dusky graves.
Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer,
[Only reserved 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 away.]
Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I prey,
That I may live to say, The dog is dead!
 

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!
 

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 heaved a-high, to be hurl'd down below;
A mother only mock'd with two sweet 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 are 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 distressed widow;
For joyful mother, one that wails the name;
For one being sued 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 whirled about,
And left thee but a very prey to time;
[Having no more but thought of what thou wert,
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 burthen'd yoke;
From which even here I slip my weary neck,
And leave the burthen of it all on thee.]
Farewell, York's wife, and queen of sad mischance:
These English woes will make me smile in France.
 

DUCHESS OF YORK

Why should calamity be full of words?

[Windy attorneys to their client woes,
Airy succeeders of intestate joys,
Poor breathing orators of miseries!
{Let them have scope: though what they will impart
Help nothing else, yet do they ease the heart.}
 

{If so, then be not tongue-tied.  Go with me.
And in the breath of bitter words let's smother
My damned son, which thy two sweet sons smother'd.}
The trumpet sounds.  Be copious in exclaims.

DUCHESS OF YORK

Thou toad, thou toad, where is thy brother Clarence?
[And little Ned Plantagenet, his son?]
 

Where is the gentle Rivers, Vaughan, Grey?

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.]
 

Art thou my son?

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.
 

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.
 

You speak as if that I had slain my cousins.
 

Cousins, indeed; and by their uncle cozen'd
Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life.
Whose hand soever lanced 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.]
 

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 were by me harm'd!
 

What good
[is cover'd with the face of heaven,
To be discover'd,]
that can <to me do> good?
 

The advancement of your children, gentle lady.

Up to some scaffold, there to lose their heads?

[Unto the dignity and height of honour
The high imperial type of this earth's glory.]
 

[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 III

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

[My daughter's mother thinks it with her soul.]

[What do you think?]

[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.]
 

[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.
 

KING RICHARD III

That would I learn of you,
[As one that are best acquainted with her humour.]
 

And wilt thou learn of me?

Madam, with all my heart.

Send to her, by the man that slew her brothers,
A pair of bleeding-hearts; thereon engrave
Edward and York; then haply she will weep:
[Therefore present to her--as sometime 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 brother's body
And bid wipe dry her weeping eyes withal.]
If this inducement move her not to love,
Send her a letter of thy noble acts;
Tell her thou madest away her uncle Clarence,
Her uncle Rivers; yea, and, for her sake,
Mad'st quick conveyance with her good aunt Anne.
 

KING RICHARD III

Look, what is done cannot be now amended:
Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes,
Which after hours give leisure to repent.
If I did take the kingdom from your sons,
To make amends, Ill 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 doting title of a mother;
They are as children but one step below,
Even of your mettle, of your very blood;
Of an one pain, save for a night of groans
Endured 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 victress, Caesar's Caesar.
 

KING RICHARD III

Why then, by God--

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 brothers died.]
If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by Him,
The imperial metal, circling now thy head,
Had graced the tender temples of my child,
And both the princes had been breathing here,
[Which now, two tender playfellows to dust,
Thy broken faith hath made a prey for worms.]
What canst thou swear by now?
 

The time to come.

[That thou hast wronged in the time o'erpast;
For I myself have many tears to wash
Hereafter time, for time past wrong'd by thee.
The children live, whose parents thou hast slaughter'd,
Ungovern'd youth, to wail it in their age;
The parents live, whose children thou hast butcher'd,
Old wither'd plants, to wail it with their age.]
Swear not by time to come; for that thou hast
Misused ere used, by times ill-used o'erpast.
 

As I intend to prosper and repent,
So thrive I in my dangerous affairs
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 proceedings, if, with dear 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 can 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-fond in great designs.
 

QUEEN ELIZABETH

[I go. Write to me very shortly.
And]
{You shall understand from me her mind.}
 

RATCLIFF

Most mighty sovereign, on the western coast
Rideth a puissant navy;
[to the shore
Throng many doubtful hollow-hearted friends,
Unarm'd, and unresolved 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.
 

STANLEY

Richmond is on the seas.

There let him sink.
[and be the seas on him!
White-liver'd runagate]
What doth he there?
 

I know not, mighty sovereign, but by guess.

Well, as you guess?

[Stirr'd up by Dorset, Buckingham, and Morton,]
He makes for England, here to claim the crown.
 

[Is the chair empty? is the sword unsway'd?]
Is the King dead? the empire unpossess'd?
What heir of York is there alive but we?
[And who is England's king but great York's heir?]
Then, tell me, what makes he upon the sea?
 

Unless for that, my liege, I cannot guess.

[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.
 

No, my good lord; therefore mistrust me not.

[Where is thy power, then, to beat him back?
Where are thy tenants and thy followers?
Are they not now upon the western shore.
Safe-conducting the rebels from their ships!]
 

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

[Cold friends to Richard: what do they in the north,
When they should serve their sovereign in the west?]
 

[They have not been commanded, mighty sovereign:
Please it your majesty to give me leave,
I'll muster up my friends, and meet your grace
Where and what time your majesty shall please.]
 

Ay, ay. thou wouldst be gone to join with Richmond:
I will not trust thee..
 

First Messenger

My gracious sovereign, now in Devonshire,
[As I by friends am well advertised,]
Sir Edward Courtney, and the haughty prelate
Bishop of Exeter, his elder brother,
With many more confederates, are in arms.

Third Messenger

The news I have to tell your majesty
Is, that by sudden floods and fall of waters,
Buckingham's army is dispersed and scatter'd.
[And he himself wander'd away alone,
No man knows whither.]
 

I cry thee mercy:
There is my purse to cure that blow of thine.
[Hath any well-advised friend proclaim'd
Reward to him that brings the traitor in?]
 

[Such proclamation hath been made, my lord.]

Enter another Messenger

Sir Thomas Lovel and Lord Marquess Dorset,
'Tis said, my liege, in Yorkshire are in arms.
But this good comfort bring I to Your Highness,
The Breton navy is dispersed by tempest:
[Richmond, in Yorkshire, 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,
Hoisted sail and made away for Brittany.]
 

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

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.
 

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.]