INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. THIS History was originally published in 1597. It was reprinted four times in quarto previous to its appearance in the folio of 1623. To understand the character of the Richard III.' of Shakspere, we must have traced its development by the author of the previous plays. Those who study the subject carefully will find how entire the unity is preserved between the last of these four dramas, which everybody admits to be the work of the "greatest name in all literature," in an unbroken link with the previous drama, which some have been in the habit of assigning to some obscure and very inferior writer. We are taught to open the Life and Death of King Richard III.,' and to look upon the extraordinary being who utters the opening lines as some new creation, set before us in the perfect completeness of self-formed villainy. We have not learnt to trace the growth of the mind of this bold bad man; to see how his bravery became gradually darkened with ferocity; how his prodigious talents insensibly allied themselves with cunning and hypocrisy; how, in struggling for his house, he ultimately proposed to struggle for himself; how, in fact, the bad ambition would be naturally kindled in his mind, to seize upon the power which was sliding from the hands of the voluptuous Edward, and the "simple, plain Clarence." The poet of the Richard III.' goes straightforward to his object; for he has made all the preparation in the previous dramas. No gradual development is wanting of the character which is now to sway the action. The struggle of the houses up to this point has been one only of violence; and it was therefore anarchical. "The big-boned" Warwick, and the fiery Clifford, alternately presided over the confusion. The power which changed the "Dreadful marches to delightful measures," seemed little more than accident. But Richard proposed to himself to subject events to his domination, not by courage alone, or activity, or even by the legitimate exercise of a commanding intellect, but by the clearest and coolest perception of the strength which he must inevitably possess who unites the deepest sagacity to the most thorough unscrupulousness in its exercise, and is an equal master of the weapons of force and of craft. The character of Richard is essentially different from any other character which Shakspere has drawn. His bloody violence is not that of Macbeth; nor his subtle treachery that of Iago. It is difficult to say whether he derives a greater satisfaction from the success of his crimes, or from the consciousness of power which attends the working of them. This is a feature which he holds in common with Iago. But then he does not labour with a "motiveless malignity," as Iago does. He has no vague suspicions, no petty jealousies, no remembrance of slight affronts, to stimulate him to a disproportioned and unnatural vengeance. He does not hate his victims; but they stand in his way, and as he does not love them, they perish. Villains of the blackest die disguise their crimes even from themselves. Richard shrinks not from their avowal to others, for a purpose. It is the result of the peculiar organization of Richard's mind, formed as it had been by circumstances as well as by nature, that he invariably puts himself in the attitude of one who is playing a part. It is this circumstance which makes the character (clumsy even as it has been made by the joinery of Cibber) such a favourite on the stage. It cannot be over-acted. It is only in the actual presence of a powerful enemy that Richard displays any portion of his natural character. His bravery required no dissimulation to uphold it. In his last battle-field he puts forth all the resources of his intellect in a worthy direction: but the retribution is fast approaching. It was not enough for offended justice that he should die as a hero: the terrible tortures of conscience were to precede the catastrophe. The drama has exhibited all it could exhibit-the palpable images of terror haunting a mind already anticipating the end. "Ratcliff, I fear, I fear," is the first revelation of the true inward man to a fellow-being, But the terror is but momentary : "Let not our babbling dreams affright our souls." To the last the poet exhibits the supremacy of Richard's intellect, his ready talent, and his unwearied energy. The tame address of Richmond to his soldiers, and the spirited exhortation of Richard, could not have been the result of accident. KING RICHARD III. PERSONS REPRESENTED. KING EDWARD IV. Appears, Act II. sc. 1. EDWARD PRINCE OF WALES, afterwards King RICHARD, Duke of York, son to the King. Appears, Act II. sc. 4. Act III. sc. 1. GEORGE, Duke of Clarence, brother to the King. Appears, Act I. sc. 1; sc. 4. RICHARD, Duke of Gloster, afterwards King Richard III., brother to the King. Appears, Act I. sc. 1; sc. 2; sc. 3. Act II. sc. 1; sc. 2. Act III. se; sc. 4; sc. 5; sc. 7. Act IV. sc. 2; sc. 3; sc. 4. sc. 3; sc. 4. Act V. Appears, Act V. sc. 3; sc. 4. EARL OF SURREY, son to the Duke of Norfolk. Appears, Act V. sc. 3. EARL RIVERS, brother to King Edward's Queen. Appears, Act I. sc. 3. Act II. sc. 1; sc. 2. Act III. sc. 3. MARQUIS OF DORSET, son to King Edward's Queen. Appears, Act I. se. 3. Act II. sc. 1; c. 2. Act IV. sc. 1. LORD GREY, 8on to King Edward's Queen. Appears, Act I. sc. 3. Act II. sc. 1. Act III. sc. 3. EARL OF OXFORD. Appears, Act V. sc. 2; sc. 3. LORD LOVEL. Appears, Act IIl. sc. 4; sc. 5. SIR THOMAS VAUGHAN. Appears, Act III. sc. 3. SIR RICHARD RATCLIFF. Appears, Act II. sc. 2. Act III. sc. 3; sc. 4; sc. 5. sc. 3: sc. 4. Act V. sc. 3. SIR WILLIAM CATESBY. Appears, Act I. sc. 3. Act III. sc. 2; sc. 5; sc. 7. sc. 2; sc. 4. Act V. sc. 3; sc. 4. SIR JAMES TYRREL. SIR JAMES BLOUNT. SIR WALTER HERBERT. Appears, Act V. sc. 2. Act IV Act IV. SIR ROBERT BRAKENBURY, Lieutenant of the Tower A Priest. Appears, Act III. sc. 2. Lord Mayor of London. Appears, Act III. sc. 5; sc. 7. Sheriff of Wiltshire. Appears, Act V. sc. 1. ELIZABETH, Queen of King Edward IV. Appears, Act I. sc. 3. Act II. sc. 1; so. 2; sc. 4. Act IV. sc. 1; sc. 4. MARGARET, widow of King Henry VI. Appears, Act I. sc. 3. Act IV. sc. 4. DUCHESS OF YORK, mother to King Edward IV., Clarence, and Gloster. Appears, Act II. sc. 2; sc. 4. Act IV. sc. 1; sc. 4. LADY ANNE, widow of Edward Prince of Wales, scn to King Henry VI., afterwards married to the Duke of Gloster. Appears, Act I. sc. 2. Act IV. sc. 1. A young Daughter of Clarence. Appears, Act II. sc. 2. Act IV. sc. 1. Lords, and other Attendants; two Gentlemen, a Pursuivant, Scrivener, Citizens, Murderers, Messengers, Ghosts, Soldiers, &c. SCENE, ENGLAND. SCENE I.-London. A Street. Enter GLOSTER. Glo. Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York;" And all the clouds that low'r'd upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. ACT I. Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths; An allusion to the cognizance of Edward IV., whic: adopted after the battle of Mortimer's Cross: "Dazzle mine eyes or do I see three suns ?"" as Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. But I, that am not shap'd for sportive tricks, I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;— a Barbed. Barbed and barded appear to have been D differently applied to a caparisoned horse. Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Of Edward's heirs the murtherer shall be. Dive, thoughts, down to my soul! here Clarence comes. Enter CLARENCE, guarded, and BRAKENBURY. Clar. Glo. Upon what cause? Because my name is George. Glo. Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours; He should, for that, commit your godfathers O, belike, his majesty hath some intent That you should be new christen'd in the Tower. But what's the matter, Clarence? may I know? Clar. Yea, Richard, when I know; for I protest As yet I do not: But, as I can learn, He hearkens after prophecies and dreams; And from the cross-row plucks the letter G, And says, a wizard told him, that by G His issue disinherited should be; And, for my name of George begins with G, It follows in his thought that I am he: These, as I learn, and such-like toys as these, Have mov'd his highness to commit me now. Glo. Why, this it is when men are rul'd by women: Was it not she and that good man of worsnip, That made him send lord Hastings to the Tower, Clar. By Heaven, I think there is no man secure Glo. Humbly complaining to her deity I'll tell you what,-I think it is our way, Brak. I beseech your graces both to pardon me; Glo. Even so; an please your worship, Brakenbury, : You may partake of anything we say: Brak. With this, my lord, myself have nought to da Glo. Naught to do with mistress Shore? I tell ther, fellow, He that doth naught with her, excepting one, Brak. What one, my lord? Glo. Her husband, knave:-Wouldst thou betray me 1 Brak. I do beseech your grace to pardon me; and, withal, Forbear your conference with the noble duke. Clar. I know it pleaseth neither of us well. I must perforce; farewell. [Exeunt CLARENCE, BRAKENBURY, and Guard Glo. Go, tread the path that thou shalt ne'er retum, Simple, plain Clarence! I do love thee so, That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven, If Heaven will take the present at our hands. But who comes here? the new-deliver'd Hastings. Enter HASTINGS. Hast. Good time of day unto my gracious lord! Glo. As much unto my good lord chamberlain! Well are you welcome to this open air. How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment? Hast. With patience, noble lord, as prisoners must: But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks That were the cause of my imprisonment. Glo. No doubt, no doubt, and so shall Clarence too; For they that were your enemies are his, And have prevail'd as much on him as you. Hast. More pity that the eagle should be mew'd, While kites and buzzards prey at liberty. Glo. What news abroad? Hast. No news so bad abroad as this at home: Glo. Now, by St. Paul, this news is bad indeed. Glo. Go you before, and I will follow you. He cannot live, I hope; and must not die a Anne. Set down, set down your honourable load,— To hear the lamentations of poor Anne, Stabb'd by the self-same hand that made these wounds! May fright the hopeful mother at the view; [The bearers take up the corpse, and advance. Glo. Stay, you that bear the corse, and set it down. Anne. What black magician conjures up this fiend, To stop devoted charitable deeds? Glo. Villains, set down the corse; or, by Saint Paul, I'll make a corse of him that disobeys! 1 Gent. My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass. Glo. Unmanner'd dog! stand thou when I command: Advance thy alberd higher than my breast, Or, by Saint Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot, And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness. [The bearers set down the coffin. Anne. What, do you tremble? are you all afraid? Alas, I blame you not; for you are mortal, And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil. Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell! Thou hadst but power over his mortal body, His soul thou canst not have; therefore be gone. Glo. Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst. Anne. Foul devil, for God's sake, hence, and trouble O, gentlemen, see, see! dead Henry's wounds O God, which this blood mad'st, revenge his death' Anne. Vouchsafe, diffus'd infection of a man, Glo. Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have Some patient leisure to excuse myself. Anne. Fouler than heart can think thee, thou cans! make No excuse current, but to hang thyself. Glo. By such despair I should accuse myself. But dead they are, and, devilish slave, by thee. Thou mayst be damned for that wicked deed! Glo. The fitter for the King of heaven that hath him. Anne. He is in heaven, where thou shalt never come. Glo. Let him thank me that holp to send him thither; For he was fitter for that place than earth. Anne. And thou unfit for any place but hell. Glo. Your bed-chamber. Anne. Il rest betide the chamber where thou liest! Glo. I know so.-But, gentle lady Anne, Of these Plantagenets, Henry and Edward, As blameful as the executioner? Anne. Thou wast the cause, and most accurs delect. Glo. Your beauty was the cause of that effect; You should not blemish it if I stood by: Anne. Black night o'ershade thy day, and death thy Glo. Curse not thyself, fair creature; thou art both. To be reveng'd on him that loveth thee. Anne. It is a quarrel just and reasonable, Anne. His better doth not breathe upon the earth. Glo. Anne. Plantagenet. Why, that was he. Glo. The self-same name, but one of better nature. Anne. Where is he? Glo. Here: [She spits at him.] Why dost thou spit Anne. 'Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake Glo. Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine. My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing word; My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak. I lay it naked to the deadly stroke, Anne. Arise, dissembler: though I wish thy death, Glo. Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it. Glo. Speak it again, and even with the word, Anne. To take is not to give. [She puts on the ring. But beg one favour at thy gracious hand, Glo. That it may please you leave these sad designs Anne. With all my heart; and much it joys me toc Tressel, and Berkley, go along with me. Glo. Bid me farewell. "Tis more than you deserve: But, since you teach me how to flatter you, Imagine I have said farewell already. [Exeunt LADY ANNE, TRESSEL, and BERKLEY Hath she forgot already that brave prince, [He lays his breast open; she offers at Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal, it with his sword. Nay, do not pause; for I did kill king Henry;- ward; The spacious world cannot again afford: And will she yet abase her eyes on me, That cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet prince. And made her widow to a woeful bed? On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety On me, that halt, and am misshapen thus? [She lets fall the sword. My dukedom to a beggarly denier, a Expedient-expeditious. the sword again, or take up me. |