Tragedie of King Richard the Third

' ■ : Thc'Tfttgidie
Dar. A boon?- (iny foucraign'c) for my fcru»cedone,
Km, I pr;iy ih:e peace my loule is full of ibrow.
-Ddr. I will not rife vnleffc your highneffegraunr.
Km. Then fbeake at once yvhat it is thou demanded}
Day.The forfcit(foucraigne) cf my (cruants life,
Who flew to dry a ryotous gentleman
Lately attending one the Duke of Norff«lke.
Xw.Hauc I a Tongue to doome my brothers death,
v^nd (hall t he fame giue pardone to a flaue *
My brother flew no man his fault was thought,
-A nd yet his punni foment was crticll death.
Who fued to me for him ? who in my rage,
Kneeled at my feete and bad me be aduifde ?
Who fpake of brother-hood who of loue?
Who told me hoW the poore foule did forfake
The mighty Warwick*, and did fight forme?
Who told me in the field at Tewxkury,
Wh;n Oxford had me downe he refeued me,
^fnd fayd deare brother Hue and be a King ?
Who told me when we both lay in the ficld3
Frozen almoft to death,how he lappe'tne,
Euen in his owne armes, and gaue himfclfe
All thin and naked to the numb could night ?
All this from my remembrance brutifli wrath
Sinfully plucktandnota man of you
Had fomuch grace to put it in my minde.
But when your carters or your wayting yaffailes
Hauc done adrunken flaughtcr, and defac’d
The precious Image of our deare redeemer,
You ftraigbt arc one your knees for pardon,pardon.
And I vniuftly too,muft graunt it you.
But for my brother not a man would ipeake.
Nor I (vngratiousJfpcake vnto my felfe,
For him poore foule.* the proudeft one you all
Haue beene beholding to him in his life .*
Yet none of you would once pleade for his life:
Oh God I feare thy luftice will take holdc
On me,and you,and mine, and yours for this.
Come Haftings helpo mee to my defer, oh poorc
(£xit*
cj'Richai&thilhtrd.
Glo, This is the fruit ofrawnefTe : marke you not
How that the guiitie kindred oftbe Queene,
Lookc pale when they did heare of Clarence death:
Oh, they dkl vrge it flill vnto the King,
God will rcuenge it. But come lets in
To comfort Edward with our company. Exeuut,
Enter ‘Dutches of Tork*, with Clarence Children,
*£01. Tell me good Granam, is our Father dead ?
Da/. No Boy. f bread ?
Boy. Why doe you wring your hands and beat your
And crie, Oh Clarence my vnhappy Tonne ?
Girle. Why doe you looke on vs and fhake yo*r head
And call vs wretched, Orphancs, caflawaies,
Ifthat our noble father be aliuc? *
Dut. My pritty Cofens you miftake me much,
I do lament the flekneffe of the King.*
As loth to loofe him now your fathers dead:
It were loft labour to weepe for one that’s loft.
Boy. Then Granam you conclude that he is dead.
The King my rncle is too blame for this .*
God will reuenge it, whom I will importune
Withdayly prayers all to thatcffe&.
Dut. Peace children peacc,the King doth loue you well.
Incapable and fhallow inocents.
You cannot geffe who caufed your fathers death.
2?ey. Granara, we can: for my good Vndc Glocefler
Told me,the King prouoked by the Queene,
Dcuis’d impeachments to imprifon him:
And when he told me fb he wept,
And hugd me in his armes, and kindly kift my cheekes.
And bad me relic on him as one nay father,
And he would ioue me dcardy as his childe.
Out. Oh that deceite fhould fteale iuch gentle foapes.
And with avertuous vizard hide foule guile.
He U my forme,yea and therein my fhamc .*
Yet from my dugs he drew net this deccite.
Boy. Thinke you my Vncle did diflerable,Granam ?
Dut. I Boy.
Boj. I cannot thinkc it,harke,’vvhac noy fe is this-?
E Enter