The Same. The Court of Baynard's Castle. |
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Enter GLOUCESTER and BUCKINGHAM, meeting. |
Glo. How now, how now! what say the citizens? |
Buck. Now, by the holy mother of our Lord, |
The citizens are mum, say not a word. |
Glo. Touch'd you the bastardy of Edward's children? |
Buck. I did; with his contract with Lady Lucy, |
And his contract by deputy in France; |
The insatiate greediness of his desires, |
And his enforcement of the city wives; |
His tyranny for trifles; his own bastardy, |
As being got, your father then in France, |
And his resemblance, being not like the duke: |
Withal I did infer your lineaments, |
Being the right idea of your father, |
Both in your form and nobleness of mind; |
Laid open all your victories in Scotland, |
Your discipline in war, wisdom in peace, |
Your bounty, virtue, fair humility; |
Indeed, left nothing fitting for your purpose |
Untouch'd or slightly handled in discourse; |
And when my oratory drew toward end, |
I bade them that did love their country's good |
Cry 'God save Richard, England's royal king!' |
Glo. And did they so? |
Buck. No, so God help me, they spake not a word; |
But, like dumb statuas or breathing stones, |
Star'd each on other, and look'd deadly pale. |
Which when I saw, I reprehended them; |
And ask'd the mayor what meant this wilful silence: |
His answer was, the people were not wont |
To be spoke to but by the recorder. |
Then he was urg'd to tell my tale again: |
'Thus saith the duke, thus hath the duke inferr'd;' |
But nothing spoke in warrant from himself. |
When he had done, some followers of mine own, |
At lower end of the hall, hurl'd up their caps, |
And some ten voices cried, 'God save King Richard!' |
And thus I took the vantage of those few, |
'Thanks, gentle citizens and friends,' quoth I; |
'This general applause and cheerful shout |
Argues your wisdom and your love to Richard:' |
And even here brake off, and came away. |
Glo. What tongueless blocks were they! would they not speak? |
Will not the mayor then and his brethren come? |
Buck. The mayor is here at hand. Intend some fear; |
Be not you spoke with but by mighty suit: |
And look you get a prayer-book in your hand, |
And stand between two churchmen, good my lord: |
For on that ground I'll make a holy descant: |
And be not easily won to our requests; |
Play the maid's part, still answer nay, and take it. |
Glo. I go; and if you plead as well for them |
As I can say nay to thee for myself, |
No doubt we bring it to a happy issue. |
Buck. Go, go, up to the leads! the Lord Mayor knocks. [Exit GLOUCESTER. |
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Enter the Lord Mayor, Aldermen, and Citizens. |
Welcome, my lord: I dance attendance here; |
I think the duke will not be spoke withal. |
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Enter, from the Castle, CATESBY. |
Now, Catesby! what says your lord to my request? |
Cate. He doth entreat your Grace, my noble lord, |
To visit him to-morrow or next day. |
He is within, with two right reverend fathers, |
Divinely bent to meditation; |
And in no worldly suit would he be mov'd, |
To draw him from his holy exercise. |
Buck. Return, good Catesby, to the gracious duke: |
Tell him, myself, the mayor and aldermen, |
In deep designs in matter of great moment, |
No less importing than our general good, |
Are come to have some conference with his Grace. |
Cate. I'll signify so much unto him straight. [Exit. |
Buck. Ah, ha, my lord, this prince is not an Edward! |
He is not lolling on a lewd day-bed, |
But on his knees at meditation; |
Not dallying with a brace of courtezans, |
But meditating with two deep divines; |
Not sleeping, to engross his idle body, |
But praying, to enrich his watchful soul. |
Happy were England, would this virtuous prince |
Take on his Grace the sovereignty thereof: |
But sore, I fear, we shall not win him to it. |
May. Marry, God defend his Grace should say us nay! |
Buck. I fear he will. Here Catesby comes again. |
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Re-enter CATESBY. |
Now, Catesby, what says his Grace? |
Cate. He wonders to what end you have assembled |
Such troops of citizens to come to him, |
His Grace not being warn'd thereof before: |
My lord, he fears you mean no good to him. |
Buck. Sorry I am my noble cousin should |
Suspect me that I mean no good to him. |
By heaven, we come to him in perfect love; |
And so once more return, and tell his Grace. [Exit CATESBY. |
When holy and devout religious men |
Are at their beads, 'tis much to draw them thence; |
So sweet is zealous contemplation. |
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Enter GLOUCESTER, in a gallery above, between two Bishops. CATESBY returns. |
May. See, where his Grace stands 'tween two clergymen! |
Buck. Two props of virtue for a Christian prince, |
To stay him from the fall of vanity; |
And, see, a book of prayer in his hand; |
True ornament to know a holy man. |
Famous Plantagenet, most gracious prince, |
Lend favourable ear to our requests, |
And pardon us the interruption |
Of thy devotion, and right Christian zeal. |
Glo. My lord, there needs no such apology; |
I do beseech your Grace to pardon me, |
Who, earnest in the service of my God, |
Deferr'd the visitation of my friends. |
But, leaving this, what is your Grace's pleasure? |
Buck. Even that, I hope, which pleaseth God above, |
And all good men of this ungovern'd isle. |
Glo. I do suspect I have done some offence |
That seems disgracious in the city's eye; |
And that you come to reprehend my ignorance. |
Buck. You have, my lord: would it might please your Grace, |
On our entreties to amend your fault! |
Glo. Else wherefore breathe I in a Christian land? |
Buck. Know then, it is your fault that you resign |
The supreme seat, the throne majestical, |
The sceptred office of your ancestors, |
Your state of fortune and your due of birth, |
The lineal glory of your royal house, |
To the corruption of a blemish'd stock; |
Whiles, in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts,— |
Which here we waken to our country's good,— |
This noble isle doth want her proper limbs; |
Her face defac'd with scars of infamy, |
Her royal stock graft with ignoble plants, |
And almost shoulder'd in the swallowing gulf |
Of dark forgetfulness and deep oblivion. |
Which to recure we heartily solicit |
Your gracious self to take on you 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 right of birth, your empery, your own. |
For this, consorted with the citizens, |
Your very worshipful and loving friends, |
And by their vehement instigation, |
In this just cause come I to move your Grace. |
Glo. I cannot tell, if to depart in silence |
Or bitterly to speak in your reproof, |
Best fitteth my degree or your condition: |
If not to answer, you might haply think |
Tongue-tied ambition, not replying, yielded |
To bear the golden yoke of sov'reignty, |
Which fondly you would here impose on me; |
If to reprove you for this suit of yours, |
So season'd with your faithful love to me, |
Then, on the other side, I check'd my friends. |
Therefore, to speak, and to avoid the first, |
And then, in speaking, not to incur the last, |
Definitively thus I answer you. |
Your love deserves my thanks; but my desert |
Unmeritable shuns your high request. |
First, if all obstacles were cut away, |
And that my path were even to the crown, |
As the ripe revenue and due of birth, |
Yet so much is my poverty of spirit, |
So mighty and so many my defects, |
That I would rather hide me from my greatness, |
Being a bark to brook no mighty sea, |
Than in my greatness covet to be hid, |
And in the vapour of my glory smother'd. |
But, God be thank'd, there is no need of me; |
And much I need to help you, were there need; |
The royal tree hath left us royal fruit, |
Which, mellow'd by the stealing hours of time, |
Will well become the seat of majesty, |
And make, no doubt, us happy by his reign. |
On him I lay that you would lay on me, |
The right and fortune of his happy stars; |
Which God defend that I should wring from him! |
Buck. My lord, this argues conscience in your Grace; |
But the respects thereof are nice and trivial, |
All circumstances well considered. |
You say that Edward is your brother's son: |
So say we too, but not by Edward's wife; |
For first was he contract to Lady Lucy, |
Your mother lives a witness to his vow, |
And afterward by substitute betroth'd |
To Bona, sister to the King of France. |
These both put by, a poor petitioner, |
A care-craz'd mother to a many sons, |
A beauty-waning and distressed widow, |
Even in the afternoon of her best days, |
Made prize and purchase of his wanton eye, |
Seduc'd the pitch and height of his degree |
To base declension and loath'd bigamy: |
By her, in his unlawful bed, he got |
This Edward, whom our manners call the prince. |
More bitterly could I expostulate, |
Save that, for reverence to some alive, |
I give a sparing limit to my tongue. |
Then, good my lord, take to your royal self |
This proffer'd benefit of dignity; |
If not to bless us and the land withal, |
Yet to draw forth your noble ancestry |
From the corruption of abusing times, |
Unto a lineal true-derived course. |
May. Do, good my lord; your citizens entreat you. |
Buck. Refuse not, mighty lord, this proffer'd love. |
Cate. O! make them joyful: grant their lawful suit: |
Glo. Alas! why would you heap those cares on me? |
I am unfit for state and majesty: |
I do beseech you, take it not amiss, |
I cannot nor I will not yield to you. |
Buck. If you refuse it, as, in love and zeal, |
Loath to depose the child, your brother's son; |
As well we know your tenderness of heart |
And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse, |
Which we have noted in you to your kindred, |
And egally, indeed, to all estates, |
Yet whether you accept our suit or no, |
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 in this resolution here we leave you. |
Come, citizens, we will entreat no more. [Exit BUCKINGHAM and Citizens. |
Cate. Call them again, sweet prince; accept their suit: |
If you deny them, all the land will rue it. |
Glo. Will you enforce me to a world of cares? |
Call them again: I am not made of stone, |
But penetrable to your kind entreats, [Exit CATESBY. |
Albeit against my conscience and my soul. |
|
Re-enter BUCKINGHAM and the rest. |
Cousin of Buckingham, and sage, grave men, |
Since you will buckle fortune on my back, |
To bear her burden, whe'r I will or no, |
I must have patience to endure the load: |
But if black scandal or foul-fac'd reproach |
Attend the sequel of your imposition, |
Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me |
From all the impure blots and stains thereof; |
For God doth know, and you may partly see, |
How far I am from the desire of this. |
May. God bless your Grace! we see it, and will say it. |
Glo. In saying so, you shall but say the truth. |
Buck. Then I salute you with this royal title: |
Long live King Richard, England's worthy king! |
All. Amen. |
Buck. To-morrow may it please you to be crown'd? |
Glo. Even when you please, for you will have it so. |
Buck. To-morrow then we will attend your Grace: |
And so most joyfully we take our leave. |
Glo. [To the Bishops.] Come, let us to our holy work again. |
Farewell, my cousin;—farewell, gentle friends. [Exeunt. |
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