University of Virginia Library

ACT the III.

Enter Prince Edward, with the Dukes of Gloucester, Buckingham, Lord Stanley, Tressel, and Attendants.
Rich.
‘Now, my Royal Cousin, welcome to London,
‘Welcome to all those honour'd Dignities
‘Which by your Father's Will, and by your Birth,
‘You stand the undoubted Heir Possess'd of;
And, if my plain simplicity of Heart
May take the liberty to shew it self,
You're farther welcome to your Uncles Care
And Love: Why do you sigh, my Lord?
The weary way has made you melancholy.

Pr. Ed.
No, Uncle, but our crosses on the way
Have made it Tedious, Wearisome and Heavy,
I want more Uncles here to welcome me.

Tress.
More Uncles! What means his Highness?
Aside.

Ld. Stan.
(Aside.)
Why, Sir, the careful Duke of Gloucester has
Secur'd his Kinsmen on the way: Lord Rivers, Gray,
Sir Thomas Vaughan, and others of his Friends,
Are Prisoners now in Pomfret Castle;
On what pretence I boots not: There they are;
Let the Devil and the Duke alone to accuse 'em.

Rich.
My Lord, the Mayor of London comes to greet you.

Enter Lord Mayor, and Citizens.
Ld. May.
Vouchsafe, most Gracious Sovereign to accept
The general Homage of your Loyal City;
We farther beg your Royal leave to speak
In deep Condolement of your Father's loss:
And, far as our true sorrow will permit
To gratulate your Accession to his Throne.

Pr. Ed.
I thank you, good my Lord, and thank you all.
Alas, my youth is yet unfit to govern,
Therefore the Sword of Justice is in abler hands:
But be assur'd of this, so much already
I perceive I love you, that tho' I know not yet
To do you offices of good, yet this I know,
I'd sooner die, than basely do you wrong.

Rich.
So wise, so young, they say do never live long.

[Aside.
Pr. Ed.
My Lords,
I thought my Mother and my Brother York
Wou'd long e're this have met us on the way:
Say, Uncle Gloucester, if our Brother come,
Where shall we sojourn till our Coronation?

Rich.
Where it shall seem best to your Royal self,
May I advise you, Sir, some day or two
Your Highness shall repose you at the Tower,
Then where you please, and shall be thought most fit
For your best Health and Recreation.

Pr. Ed.
Why at the Tower? But be it as you please.

Buc.
My Lord, your Brother's Grace of York.

Enter the young Duke of York attended.
Pr. Ed.
Richard of York! How fares our dearest Brother?

D. York.
‘O my dear Lord! So I must call you now.

[embracing.
Pr. Ed.
I, Brother, to our grief, as it is yours:
‘Too soon he dy'd who might have better worn
‘That Title, which in me will loose its Majesty.

Rich.
How fares our Cousin, Noble Lord of York?

D. York.
Thank you kindly, dear Uncle. O my Lord,
You said that Idle Weeds were fast in growth,
The King my Brother has out grown me far.

Rich.
He has my Lord.

D. York.
And therefore is he Idle?

Rich.
O pretty Cousin, I must not say so.

D. York.
Nay, Uncle, I don't believe the sayings true,
For if it were, you'd be an Idle Weed.

Rich.
How so, Cousin?

D. York.
Because I've heard Folks say you grew so fast
Your Teeth wou'd gnaw a Crust at two hours old,
Now 'twas two years e'er I cou'd get a Tooth.

Rich.
Indeed—I find the Brat is taught this lesson.
(Aside.
Who told thee this, my pretty merry Cousin?

D. York.
Why, your Nurse, Uncle.

Rich.
My Nurse, Child, she was dead before thou wert born.

D. York.
If 'twas not she, I can't tell who told me.

Rich.
So subtle too; 'tis pity thou art short liv'd.

[Aside.
Pr. Ed.
My Brother, Uncle, will be cross in talk.

Rich.
O, fear not, my Lord, we shall never Quarrel.

Pr. Ed.
I hope your Grace knows how to bear with him?

D. York.
You mean to bear me; not to bear With me,
Uncle, my brother mocks both you and me,
Because that I am little, like an Ape.
He thinks that you should bear me on your shoulders.

Pr. Ed.
Fie, Brother, I have no such meaning.

Ld. Stan.
(Aside.)
With what a sharp provided Wit he reasons,
To mitigate the scorn he gives his Uncle:
He prettily and aptly taunts himself.

Tress.
So cunning, and so young, is wonderful.
Aside.

Rich.
My Lord, wilt please you pass along?
My self, and my good Cousin Buckingham
Will to your Mother to entreat of her
To meet and bid you welcome at the Tower.

D. York.
What will you go to the Tower, my dear Lord?

Pr. Ed.
My Lord Protector will have it so.

D. York.
I sha'n't sleep in quiet at the Tower.

Rich.
I'll warrant you. King Henry lay there,
And he sleeps in quiet.

[Aside.
Pr. Ed.
What shou'd you fear, Brother?

D. York.
My Uncle Clarence Ghost, my Lord.
My Grandmother told me he was kill'd there.

Pr. Ed.
I fear no Uncles dead.

Rich.
‘Nor any, Sir, that live, I hope.

Pr. Ed.
‘I hope so too. But come, my Lords,
‘To the Tower, since it must he so.

[Ex. all but R. and B.
D. Buc.
Think you, my Lord, this little prating York.
Was not instructed by his subtle Mother
To taunt and scorn you thus Opprobriously?

Rich.
‘No doubt, no doubt. O! 'tis a shrewd young Master:
Stubborn, Bold, Quick, Forward and Capable;
He is all the Mothers from the Top to Toe.
But let them rest: now what says Catesby?

D. Buc.
My Lord, 'tis much as I suspected, and
He's here himself to inform you.

Enter Catesby.
Rich.
So, Catesby, hast thou been tampering? What News?

Cat.
My Lord, according to the instruction given me,
With words at distance dropt I sounded Hastings,
Piercing how far he did affect your purpose,
To which indeed I found him Cold, Unwilling.
The sum is this, he seem'd a while to understand me not.
At length from plainer speaking urg'd to answer,
He said in heat, rather than wrong the Head
To whom the Crown was due, he'd lose his own:

Rich.
Indeed, his own then answer for that saying,
He shall be taken care of: Mean while Catesby,
Be thou near me: Cousin of Buckingham
Lets lose no time: The Mayor and Citizens
Are now sendin buisie meeting at Guild-Hall,
‘Thither I'd have you haste immediately,
‘And at your meetest 'vantage of the time
‘Improve those Hints I gave you late to speak of:
But above all, infer the Bastardy
Of Edward's Children;
Nay, for a need, thus far come near my Person,
Tell 'em, when my Mother went with Child of him,
My Princely Father then had Wars in France
And by true Computation of the time
Found, that the issue was not his begot,
Which in his lineaments too plain appear'd,
Being nothing like the Noble York my Father:
Yet touch this sparingly, as 'twere far of,
Because, my Lord, you know my Mother lives.

D. Buc.
‘Doubt not, my Lord, I'll play the Orator
‘As if my self might wear the Golden Fee,
‘For which I Plead.

Rich.
If you thrive well, bring 'em to see me here,
‘Where you shall find me seriously employ'd
‘With the most Learned Fathers of the Church.

D. Buc.
I fly, my Lord, to serve you.

Rich.
To serve thy self, my Cousin;
For look, when I am King, claim thou of me
The Earldom of Hereford, and all those Moveables,
Whereof the King my Brother stood possest.

D. Buc.
I shall remember that your Grace was Bountiful.

Rich.
Cousin, I have said it.

B. Buc.
I am gone, my Lord.
[Exit. Buc.

Rich.
So—I've secur'd my Cousin here: These Moveables
Will never let his Brains have rest till I am King: Catesby,
Go thou with speed to Doctor Shaw, and thence
‘To Fryar Beuker: Haste, and bid 'em both
‘Attend me here, within an hour at farthest:
[Exit Catesby
Mean while my private orders shall be given
To lock up all admittance to the Princes.
Now, by St. Paul, the work goes bravely on—
How many frightful stops wou'd Conscience make
In some soft heads to undertake like me:
—Come; this Conscience is a convenient Scarecrow,
It Guards the fruit which Priests and Wisemen tast,
Who never set it up to fright themselves:
They know 'tis rags, and gather in the face on't,
While half-starv'd shallow Daws thro Fear are honest.
Why were Laws made, but that we're Rogues by Nature?
Conscience! 'tis our Coin, we live by parting with it,
And he thrives best that has the most to spare:
The protesting Lover buys hope with it,
And the deluded Virgin short liv'd pleasure.
Old gray beards cram their Avarice with it,
Your Lank-jaw'd hungry Judge will dine upon't,
And hang the Guiltless rather than eat his Mutton cold.
The Crown'd head quits it for Despotick sway,
The stubborn People for unaw'd Rebellion:
There's not a Slave but has his share of Villain;
Why then shall after Ages think my deeds
Inhumane? Since my worst are but Ambition:
Ev'n all Mankind to some lov'd Ills incline,
Great Men chuse Greater Sins—Ambition's mine.

[Exit.
Enter Lady Ann. Sola.
Lady A.
When, when shall I have rest? Was Marriage made
To be the Scourge of our Offences here?
Ah no! 'Twas meant a Blessing to the Vertuous,
It once was so to me, tho' now my Curse:
The fruit of Edward's Love was sweet and pleasing:
But oh! Untimely cropt by cruel Richard,
Who rudely having grafted on his stock
Now makes my Life yield only sorrow.
Let me have Musick to compose my thoughts.
[Song here.
It will not be: Nought but the grave can close my Eyes.
—How many labouring Wretches take their rest,
While I, night after night, with cares lie waking,
As if the gentle Nurse of Nature, Sleep,
Had vow'd to rock my peevish sense no more.
‘O partial sleep! Canst thou in smoaky Cottages
‘Stretch out the Peasants Limbs on Beds of Straw,
‘And lay him fast, cram'd with distressful Bread?
Yet in the softest breeze of Peaceful Night
‘Under the Canopies of costly State,
‘Tho' lull'd with sounds of sweetest melody,
Refuse one moments slumber to a Princess?
O mockery of Greatness! But see,
He comes! The rude disturber of my Pilow.

Enter Richard, Aloof.
Rich.
Ha! still in tears; let 'em flow on; they're signs
Of a substantial grief—Why don't she die?
She must: My Interest will not let her live.
The fair Elizabeth has caught my Eye,
My Heart's vacant; and she shall fill her place—
They say that Women have but tender hearts,
'Tis a mistake, I doubt; I've found 'em tough:
They'll bend, indeed: But he must strain that cracks 'em.
All I can hope's to throw her into sickness:
Then I may send her a Physicians help.
(Aside.
So, Madam: What, you still take care, I see
To let the World believe I love you not,
This outward Mourning now, has malice in't,
So have these sullen disobedient tears:
I'll have you tell the World I doat on you.

Lady A.
I wish I could, but 'twill not be believ'd:
Have I deserv'd this usage?

Rich.
You have: You do not please me as at first.

Lady A.
What have I done? What horrid Crime committed?

Rich.
To me the worst of Crimes, out-liv'd my liking.

Lady A.
If that be Criminal, Just Heaven be kind,
And take me while my Penitence is warm:
O Sir, forgive, and kill me.

Rich.
Umh! No,—The medling World will call it murder,
And I wou'd have 'em think me pitifull:
Now wert thou not afraid of self-Destruction,
Thou hast a fair excuse for't.

Lady A.
How fain wou'd I be Friends with Death? O name it.

Rich.
Thy Husband's hate: Nor do I hate thee only
From the dull'd edge of sated Appetite
But from the eager Love I bear another:
Some call me Hypocrite: What think'st thou now,
Do I dissemble?

Lady A.
Thy Vows of Love to me were all dissembled.

Rich.
Not one: For when I told thee so, I lov'd:
Thou art the only Soul I never yet deceiv'd:
And 'tis my honesty that tells thee now
With all my heart, I hate thee—
If this have no Effect, she is immortal.

(Aside.
Lady A.
Forgive me Heaven, that I forgave this Man.
O may my story told in after Ages,
Give warning to our easie Sexes ears:
May it Unveil the hearts of Men, and strike
Them deaf to their dissimulated Love.

[Enter Catesby.
Cat.
My Lord, his Grace of Buckingham attends
Your Highness Pleasure.

Rich.
Wait on him; I'll expect him here.
(Exit Cat.
Your Absence, Madam, will be necessary.

Lady A.
Wou'd my death were so.

(Exit.
Rich.
It may be shortly.
So, my Cousin, What say the Citizens?

Enter Buckingham.
D. Buc.
‘Now, by our hopes, my Lord, they're senseless stones,
‘Their hesitating fear has struck 'em dumb.

Rich.
Touch'd you the Bastardy of Edward's Children?

D. Buc.
I did, with his Contract to Lady Lucy.
Nay, his own Bastardy and Tyranny for Trifles;
—Laid open all your Victories in Scotland,
Your Discipline in War, Wisdom in Peace:
Your Bounty, Justice, fair Humility.
Indeed left nothing that might gild our Cause
Untouch'd, or slightly handled in my talk,
And when my Oration drew towards an end,
I urg'd of them that lov'd their Countries good
To do you right, and cry, Long live King Richard.

Rich.
And did they so?

D. Buc.
‘Not one, by Heaven: But each like Statues fix'd
‘Speechless and Pale, star'd in his fellows Face,
Which when I saw, I reprehended them,
And ask'd the Mayor what meant this wilfull silence?
His answer was, the people were not us'd
To be spoken to but by the Recorder,
‘Who then took on him to repeat my words.
Thus saith the Duke, thus has the Duke inferr'd:
But nothing urg'd in Warrant from himself.
When he had done, some Followers of my own
At lower end of th'Hall, hurl'd up their Caps,
And some ten voices cry'd, God save King Richard,
At which I took the 'vantage of those few,
And cry'd, Thanks gentle Citizens and Friends,
This general applause and chearful shout
Argues your Wisdom, and your Love to Richard,
And even here broke of, and came away.

Rich.
O Tongueless Blocks! Wou'd they not speak?
Will not the Mayor then and his Brethren come?

D. Buc.
The Mayor is here at hand: Feign you some fear,
And be not spoke with, but by mighty suit:
‘A Prayer-Book in your hand, my Lord, were well,
Standing between two Churchmen of Repute,
For on that ground I'll make an holy descant:
Yet be not easily won to our Requests,
‘Seem like the Virgin, fearful of your wishes.

Rich.
‘My other self! My Counsel's Consistory!
‘My Oracle! my Prophet! My dear Cousin!
[Embracing.
‘I, as a Child, will go by thy direction.

D. Buc.
Hark! the Lord Mayor's at hand: Away, my Lord;
Nor doubt, but yet we reach our point propos'd.

Rich.
We cannot fail, my Lord, while you are Pilot.
A little flattery sometimes does well.

[Aside.]
[Exit Rich.
Enter Lord Mayor, and Citizens.
D. Buc..
Welcome, my Lord, I dance attendance here;
I'm afraid the Duke will not be spoke withal.
[Enter Catesby.
Now, Catesby, what says your Lord to my request?

Cat.
My Lord, he humbly does entreat your Grace
To visit him to morrow, or next day.
He's now retir'd with two Right Reverend Fathers
Divinely bent to Meditation,
And in no worldly suits wou'd be mov'd,
To interrupt his Holy Exercise.

D. Buc.
Return, good Catesby, to the gracious Duke;
Tell him, my Self, the Mayor, and Citizens,
In deep designs, in matters of great moment,
No less importing than our general good,
Are come to have some Conference with his Grace.

Cat.
My Lord, I'll instantly inform his Highness.

D. Buc.
Ah! my good Lord! This Prince is not an Edward,
He is not lulling on a lewd Love-bed;
But on his knees at Meditation:
Not dallying with a brace of Curtizans,
But with two deep Divines in secret praying.
Happy were England wou'd this Vertuous Prince
Take on himself the toil of Sovereignty.

Ld. May.
Happy indeed, my Lord.
He will not sure refuse our proffer'd Love?

D. Buc.
Alas my Lord, you know him not, his mind's
Above this World; he's for a Crown Immortal!
Look there! His door opens: Now where's our hope?

Ld. May.
See where his Grace: stands 'tween two Clergymen?

D. Buc.
Ay, ay; 'tis there he's caught: There's his Ambition.

Ld. May.
How low he bows to thank 'em for their care!
And, see, a Prayer-Book in his hand!

D. Buc.
Wou'd he were King, we'd give him leave to pray.
Methinks I wish it for the love he bears the City.
How have I heard him vow he thought it Hard
The Mayor should lose his Title with his Office?
Well! who knows? he may be won?

Ld. May.
Ah! my Lord!

D. Buc.
See! He comes forth: my Friends be resolute,
I know he's cautious to a fault but do not
Leave him till our honest suit be granted.

Enter Richard with a Book.
Rich.
Cousin of Buckingham!
I do beseech your Grace to pardon me,
Who, earnest in my Zealous Meditation,
So long deferr'd the service of my Friends:
Now do I fear I've done some strange offence,
That looks disgracious in the City's Eye; If so,
'Tis Just you shou'd reprove my Ignorance.

D. Buc.
You have, my Lord: We wish your Grace
On our entreaties wou'd amend your fault.

Rich.
Else wherefore breath I in a Christian Land?

D. Buc.
Know then it is your fault, that you resign
The Sceptred Office of your Ancestors,
Fair England's Throne, your own due right of Birth,
To the Corruption of a blemisht stock,
While in the Mildness of your sleeping thoughts,
(Which here we waken to our Country's good)
This wounded Isle does want her proper Limbs,
‘Which to recure, joyn'd with these Loyal Men,
‘Your very Worshipful and Loving Friends,
And by their vehement Instigation
In this Just Cause, I come to move your Highness,
That on your gracious self you'd take the Charge
And Kingly Government of this your Land,
Not as Protector, Steward, Substitute,
Or lowly Factor for another's Gain:
But as successively from Blood to Blood,
Your own, by right of Birth, and lineal Glory.

Rich.
I cannot tell, if to depart in silence,
Or bitterly to speak in your reproof,
Fits best with my Degree or your Condition:
‘Therefore to speak in just refusal of your suit,
And then in speaking not to check my Friends.
Definitively thus I answer you;
Your Love deserves my Thanks, but my desert
Unmeritable shuns your fond Request:
For, Heaven be thanked, there is no need of me;
The Royal stock has left us Royal fruit,
Which mellow'd by the stealing hours of time,
Will well become the seat of Majesty,
And make us (no doubt) happy by his Reign.
On him I lay what you wou'd lay on me,
The Right and Fortune of his happy Stars,
‘Which Heaven forbid my thoughts shou'd rob him of.

D. Buc.
My Lord, this argues Conscience in your Grace,
But Circumstances well consider'd:
The weak respects thereof are nice and trivial.
You say that Edward was your Brothers Son
So say we too, but not by Edward's Wife:
‘If solemn Contracts are of any force,
‘That Title Justice gave to Lady Lucy:
‘Even of his Birth cou'd I severely speak;
‘Save that for reverence to some alive,
I give a spairing limit to my Tongue.

Ld. May.
Upon our knees, my Lord, we beg your Grace
To wear this precious Robe of Dignity,
Which on a Child must sit too loose and heavy.
'Tis yours; befitting both your Wisdom and your Birth.

Cat.
My Lord, this coldness is unkind,
Nor suits it with such ardent Loyalty?

D. Buc.
O make 'em happy: Grant their Lawful Suit.

Rich.
Alas! Why wou'd you heap this care on me?
I am unfit for State and Majesty.
I thank you for your Loves, but must declare
(I do beseech you take it not amiss)
I will not! dare not! must not yield to you.

D. Buc.
If you refuse us through a soft remorse,
Loth to depose the Child, your Brother's Son:
(As well we know your tenderness of Heart)
Yet know, tho' you deny us to the last,
Your Brother's Son shall never Reign our King:
But we will plant some other in the Throne,
To the disgrace and downfall of your House.
‘And thus resolv'd I bid you, Sir, Farewell.
My Lord, and Gentlemen, I crave your pardon
For this vain trouble: M'intent was good,
I wou'd have serv'd my Country and my King;
But 'twill not be: Farewel! When next we meet—

Ld. May.
Be not too rash, my Lord, his Grace relents.

D. Buc.
Away, you but deceive your selves—
[Exit Buc.

Cat.
Call him again; sweet Prince accept their suit.

Ld. May.
If you deny us, all the Land will rue it.

Rich.
Call him again—You will enforce me to
A World of cares; I am not made of stone,
But penetrable to your kind entreaties:
Tho' Heaven knows against my own Inclining.
Cousin of Buckingham, and sage grave Men.
[Re-enter Buc.
Since you will buckle Fortune on my Back
To bear her burthen whether I will or no,
I must have patience to endure the load:
But if black Scandalor foul-fac'd Reproach
Attend the sequel of your Imposition,
Your meer Enforcement shall Acquittance me:
For Heaven knows, as you may all partly see,
How far I am from the desire of this.

Ld. May.
Heaven guard your Grace: We see it, and will say it.

Rich.
You will but say the truth, my Lord.

D. Buc.
My heart's so full it scarce has vent for words;
My knee will better speak my duty now.
[Kneels.
Long live our Soveraign, Richard King of England.

Rich.
Indeed your words have touch'd me nearly Cousin:
Pray rise. I wish you cou'd recall 'em.

D. Buc.
It wou'd be Treason now, my Lord: To morrow,
‘If it so please your Grace, from Counsel
‘Orders shall be given for your Coronation.

Rich.
Even when you please: for you will have it so.

D. Buc.
To morrow then we will attend your Highness:
And now me take our leaves with joy.

Rich.
Cousin Adieu! my loving Friends farewel:
I must to my Holy Work again.
[Exeunt B. and Citizens.
Richard. Solus.
Why now my golden dream is out—
Ambition like an early Friend throws back
My Curtains with an eager Hand, o'rejoy'd
To tell me what I dreamt is true—A Crown!
Thou bright reward of ever daring minds,
O! How thy awful Glory wraps my Soul!
Nor can the means that got thee dim thy lustre;
For, not mens Love, Fear pays thee Adoration:
And Fame not more survives from Good than Evil deeds.
Th'aspiring youth that fir'd th'Ephesian Dome
Out-lives in Fame the pious Fool that rais'd it:
Conscience, lie still—More lives must yet be drain'd,
Crowns got with Blood must be with Blood maintain'd:

[Exit.