Текст книги "William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition"

Автор книги: William Shakespeare

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RICHARD III

IN narrative sequence, Richard III follows directly after Richard Duke of York, and that play’s closing scenes, in which Richard of Gloucester expresses his ambitions for the crown, suggest that Shakespeare had a sequel in mind. But he seems to have gone back to tell the beginning of the story of Henry VI’s reign before covering the events from Henry VI’s death (in 1471) to the Battle of Bosworth (1485). We have no record of the first performance of Richard III (probably in late 1592 or early 1593, outside London); it was printed in 1597, with five reprints before its inclusion in the 1623 Folio.

The principal source of information about Richard III available to Shakespeare was Sir Thomas More’s History of King Richard III as incorporated in chronicle histories by Edward Hall (1542) and Raphael Holinshed (1577, revised in 1587), both of which Shakespeare seems to have used. His artistic influences include the tragedies of the Roman dramatist Seneca (who was born about 4 BC and died in AD 65), with their ghosts, their rhetorical style, their prominent choruses, and their indirect, highly formal presentation of violent events. (Except for the stabbing of Clarence (1.4) there is no on-stage violence in Richard III until the final battle scenes.)

In this play, Shakespeare demonstrates a more complete artistic control of his historical material than in its predecessors: Richard himself is a more dominating central figure than is to be found in any of the earlier plays, historical events are freely manipulated in the interests of an overriding design, and the play’s language is more highly patterned and rhetorically unified. That part of the play which shows Richard’s bloody progress to the throne is based on the events of some twelve years; the remainder covers the two years of his reign. Shakespeare omits some important events, but invents Richard’s wooing of Lady Anne over her father-in-law’s coffin, and causes Queen Margaret, who had returned to France in 1476 and who died before Richard became king, to remain in England as a choric figure of grief and retribution. The characterization of Richard as a self-delighting ironist builds upon More. The episodes in which the older women of the play—the Duchess of York, Queen Elizabeth, and Queen Margaret—bemoan their losses, and the climactic procession of ghosts before the final confrontation of Richard with the idealized figure of Richmond, the future Henry VII, help to make Richard III the culmination of a tetralogy as well as a masterly poetic drama in its own right. The final speech, in which Richmond, heir to the house of Lancaster and grandfather of Queen Elizabeth I, proclaims the union of ‘the white rose and the red’ in his marriage to Elizabeth of York, provides a patriotic climax which must have been immensely stirring to the play’s early audiences.

Colley Cibber’s adaptation (1700) of Richard III, incorporating the death of Henry VI, shortening and adapting the play, and making the central role (played by Cibber) even more dominant than it had originally been, held the stage with great success until the late nineteenth century. Since then, Shakespeare’s text has been restored (though usually abbreviated—next to Hamlet, this is Shakespeare’s longest play), and the role of Richard has continued to present a rewarding challenge to leading actors.

THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY

The Tragedy of King Richard the Third

1.1 Enter Richard Duke of Gloucester

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

Now is the winter of our discontent

Made glorious summer by this son of York;

And all the clouds that loured upon our house

In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.

Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths,

Our bruised arms hung up for monuments,

Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,

Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.

Grim-visaged war hath smoothed his wrinkled front,

And now—instead of mounting barbed steeds

To fright the souls of fearful adversaries—

He capers nimbly in a lady’s chamber

To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.

But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks

Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass,

I that am rudely stamped and want love’s majesty

To strut before a wanton ambling nymph,

I that am curtailed of this fair proportion,

Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,

Deformed, unfinished, sent before my time

Into this breathing world scarce half made up—

And that so lamely and unfashionable

That dogs bark at me as I halt by them—

Why, I in this weak piping time of peace

Have no delight to pass away the time,

Unless to spy my shadow in the sun

And descant on mine own deformity.

And therefore since I cannot prove a lover

To entertain these fair well-spoken days,

I am determined to prove a villain

And hate the idle pleasures of these days.

Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,

By drunken prophecies, libels and dreams

To set my brother Clarence and the King

In deadly hate the one against the other.

And if King Edward be as true and just

As I am subtle false and treacherous,

This day should Clarence closely be mewed up

About a prophecy which says that ‘G’

Of Edward’s heirs the murderer shall be.

Enter George Duke of Clarence, guarded, and Sir Robert Brackenbury

Dive, thoughts, down to my soul: here Clarence comes.

Brother, good day. What means this armèd guard

That waits upon your grace?

CLARENCE

His majesty,

Tend’ring my person’s safety, hath appointed

This conduct to convey me to the Tower.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

Upon what cause?

CLARENCE

Because my name is George.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours.

He should for that commit your godfathers.

Belike his majesty hath some intent

That you should be new-christened in the Tower.

But what’s the matter, Clarence? May I know?

CLARENCE

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 suchlike toys as these,

Hath moved his highness to commit me now.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

Why, this it is when men are ruled by women.

‘Tis not the King that sends you to the Tower;

My Lady Gray, his wife—Clarence, ’tis she

That tempts him to this harsh extremity.

Was it not she, and that good man of worship

Anthony Woodeville her brother there,

That made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower,

From whence this present day he is delivered?

We are not safe, Clarence; we are not safe.

CLARENCE

By heaven, I think there is no man secure

But the Queen’s kindred, and night-walking heralds

That trudge betwixt the King and Mrs Shore.

Heard ye not what an humble suppliant

Lord Hastings was for his delivery?

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

Humbly complaining to her deity

Got my Lord Chamberlain his liberty.

I’ll tell you what: I think it is our way,

If we will keep in favour with the King,

To be her men and wear her livery.

The jealous, o’erworn widow and herself,

Since that our brother dubbed them gentlewomen,

Are mighty gossips in our monarchy.

BRACKENBURY

I beseech your graces both to pardon me.

His majesty hath straitly given in charge

That no man shall have private conference,

Of what degree soever, with your brother.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

Even so. An’t please your worship, Brackenbury,

You may partake of anything we say.

We speak no treason, man. We say the King

Is wise and virtuous, and his noble Queen

Well struck in years, fair, and not jealous.

We say that Shore’s wife hath a pretty foot,

A cherry lip,

A bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue,

And that the Queen’s kin are made gentlefolks.

How say you, sir? Can you deny all this?

BRACKENBURY

With this, my lord, myself have naught to do.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

Naught to do with Mrs Shore? I tell thee, fellow:

He that doth naught with her—excepting one—

Were best to do it secretly alone.

BRACKENBURY What one, my lord?

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

Her husband, knave. Wouldst thou betray me?

BRACKENBURY

I beseech your grace to pardon me, and do withal

Forbear your conference with the noble Duke.

CLARENCE

We know thy charge, Brackenbury, and will obey.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

We are the Queen’s abjects, and must obey.

Brother, farewell. I will unto the King,

And whatsoe‘er you will employ me in—

Were it to call King Edward’s widow ‘sister’—

I will perform it to enfranchise you.

Meantime, this deep disgrace in brotherhood

Touches me dearer than you can imagine.

CLARENCE

I know it pleaseth neither of us well.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

Well, your imprisonment shall not be long.

I will deliver you or lie for you.

Meantime, have patience.

CLARENCE

I must perforce. Farewell.

Exeunt Clarence, Brackenbury, and guard, to the Tower

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

Go tread the path that thou shalt ne’er return.

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-delivered Hastings?

Enter Lord Hastings from the Tower

LORD HASTINGS

Good time of day unto my gracious lord.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

As much unto my good Lord Chamberlain.

Well are you welcome to the open air.

How hath your lordship brooked imprisonment?

LORD HASTINGS

With patience, noble lord, as prisoners must.

But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks

That were the cause of my imprisonment.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

No doubt, no doubt—and so shall Clarence too,

For they that were your enemies are his,

And have prevailed as much on him as you.

LORD HASTINGS

More pity that the eagles should be mewed

While kites and buzzards prey at liberty.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER What news abroad? 135

LORD HASTINGS

No news so bad abroad as this at home:

The King is sickly, weak, and melancholy,

And his physicians fear him mightily.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

Now by Saint Paul, that news is bad indeed.

O he hath kept an evil diet long,

And overmuch consumed his royal person.

’Tis very grievous to be thought upon.

Where is he ? In his bed ?

LORD HASTINGS He is.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

Go you before and I will follow you. Exit Hastings

He cannot live, I hope, and must not die

Till George be packed with post-haste up to heaven.

I’ll in to urge his hatred more to Clarence,

With lies well steeled with weighty arguments.

And if I fail not in my deep intent,

Clarence hath not another day to live—

Which done, God take King Edward to his mercy

And leave the world for me to bustle in.

For then I’ll marry Warwick’s youngest daughter.

What though I killed her husband and her father?

The readiest way to make the wench amends

Is to become her husband and her father,

The which will I: not all so much for love,

As for another secret close intent,

By marrying her, which I must reach unto.

But yet I run before my horse to market.

Clarence still breathes, Edward still lives and reigns;

When they are gone, then must I count my gains.

Exit

1.2 Enter gentlemen, bearing the corpse of King Henry the Sixth in an open coffin, with halberdiers to guard it, Lady Anne being the mourner

LADY ANNE

Set down, set down your honourable load,

If honour may be shrouded in a hearse,

Whilst I a while obsequiously lament

Th’untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster.

They set the coffin down

Poor key-cold figure of a holy king,

Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster,

Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood:

Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost

To hear the lamentations of poor Anne,

Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughtered son,

Stabbed by the selfsame hand that made these wounds.

Lo, in these windows that let forth thy life,

I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes.

O cursed be the hand that made these holes,

Cursed the blood that let this blood from hence,

Cursed the heart that had the heart to do it.

More direful hap betide that hated wretch

That makes us wretched by the death of thee

Than I can wish to wolves, to spiders, toads,

Or any creeping venomed thing that lives.

If ever he have child, abortive be it,

Prodigious, and untimely brought to light,

Whose ugly and unnatural aspect

May fright the hopeful mother at the view,

And that be heir to his unhappiness.

If ever he have wife, let her be made

More miserable by the death of him

Than I am made by my young lord and thee.—

Come now towards Chertsey with your holy load,

Taken from Paul’s to be interred there,

⌈The gentlemen lift the coffin⌉

And still as you are weary of this weight

Rest you, whiles I lament King Henry’s corpse.

Enter Richard Duke of Gloucester

RICHARD GLOUCESTER (to the gentlemen)

Stay, you that bear the corpse, and set it down.

LADY ANNE

What black magician conjures up this fiend

To stop devoted charitable deeds?

RICHARD GLOUCESTER (to the gentlemen)

Villains, set down the corpse, or by Saint Paul

I’ll make a corpse of him that disobeys.

⌈HALBERDIER⌉

My lord, stand back and let the coffin pass.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

Unmannered dog, stand thou when I command.

Advance thy halberd higher than my breast,

Or by Saint Paul I’ll strike thee to my foot

And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness.

They set the coffin down

LADY ANNE (to gentlemen and halberdiers)

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.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

Sweet saint, for charity be not so cursed.

LADY ANNE

Foul devil, for God’s sake hence and trouble us not,

For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell,

Filled it with cursing cries and deep exclaims.

If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds,

Behold this pattern of thy butcheries.—

O gentlemen, see, see! Dead Henry’s wounds

Ope their congealed mouths and bleed afresh.—

Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity,

For ‘tis thy presence that ex-hales this blood

From cold and empty veins where no blood dwells.

Thy deed, inhuman and unnatural,

Provokes this deluge supernatural.

O God, which this blood mad’st, revenge his death.

O earth, which this blood drink‘st, revenge his death.

Either heav’n with lightning strike the murd’rer dead,

Or earth gape open wide and eat him quick

As thou dost swallow up this good king’s blood,

Which his hell-governed arm hath butchered.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

Lady, you know no rules of charity,

Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses.

LADY ANNE

Villain, thou know’st no law of God nor man.

No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

But I know none, and therefore am no beast.

LADY ANNE

O wonderful, when devils tell the truth!

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

More wonderful, when angels are so angry.

Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman,

Of these supposed crimes to give me leave

By circumstance but to acquit myself.

LADY ANNE

Vouchsafe, diffused infection of a man,

Of these known evils but to give me leave

By circumstance t’accuse thy cursèd self.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have

Some patient leisure to excuse myself.

LADY ANNE

Fouler than heart can think thee, thou canst make

No excuse current but to hang thyself.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

By such despair I should accuse myself. 85

LADY ANNE

And by despairing shalt thou stand excused,

For doing worthy vengeance on thyself

That didst unworthy slaughter upon others.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

Say that I slew them not.

LADY ANNE

Then say they were not slain.

But dead they are—and, devilish slave, by thee.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

I did not kill your husband.

LADY ANNE

Why, then he is alive.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

Nay, he is dead, and slain by Edward’s hand.

LADY ANNE

In thy foul throat thou liest. Queen Margaret saw

Thy murd’rous falchion smoking in his blood,

The which thou once didst bend against her breast,

But that thy brothers beat aside the point.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

I was provoked by her sland’rous tongue,

That laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders.

LADY ANNE

Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind,

That never dream’st on aught but butcheries.

Didst thou not kill this king?

RICHARD GLOUCESTER I grant ye.

LADY ANNE

Dost grant me, hedgehog? Then God grant me, too,

Thou mayst be damned for that wicked deed.

O he was gentle, mild, and virtuous.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

The better for the King of Heaven that hath him.

LADY ANNE

He is in heaven, where thou shalt never come.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

Let him thank me that holp to send him thither,

For he was fitter for that place than earth.

LADY ANNE

And thou unfit for any place but hell.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

Yes, one place else, if you will hear me name it.

LADY ANNE

Some dungeon.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER Your bedchamber.

LADY ANNE

III rest betide the chamber where thou liest.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

So will it, madam, till I lie with you.

LADY ANNE

I hope so.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER I know so. But gentle Lady Anne,

To leave this keen encounter of our wits

And fall something into a slower method,

Is not the causer of the timeless deaths

Of these Plantagenets, Henry and Edward,

As blameful as the executioner?

LADY ANNE

Thou wast the cause of that accursed effect.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

Your beauty was the cause of that effect—

Your beauty that did haunt me in my sleep

To undertake the death of all the world

So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom.

LADY ANNE

If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide,

These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

These eyes could not endure sweet beauty’s wreck.

You should not blemish it if I stood by.

As all the world is cheered by the sun,

So I by that: it is my day, my life.

LADY ANNE

Black night o’ershade thy day, and death thy life.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

Curse not thyself, fair creature: thou art both.

LADY ANNE

I would I were, to be revenged on thee.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

It is a quarrel most unnatural,

To be revenged on him that loveth you.

LADY ANNE

It is a quarrel just and reasonable,

To be revenged on him that killed my husband.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband,

Did it to help thee to a better husband.

LADY ANNE

His better doth not breathe upon the earth.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

He lives that loves thee better than he could.

LADY ANNE

Name him.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER Plantagenet.

LADY ANNE

Why, that was he.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

The selfsame name, but one of better nature.

LADY ANNE

Where is he?

RICHARD GLOUCESTER Here.

She spits at him

Why dost thou spit at me?

LADY ANNE

Would it were mortal poison for thy sake.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

Never came poison from so sweet a place.

LADY ANNE

Never hung poison on a fouler toad.

Out of my sight! Thou dost infect mine eyes.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine.

LADY ANNE

Would they were basilisks to strike thee dead.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

I would they were, that I might die at once,

For now they kill me with a living death.

Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears,

Shamed their aspects with store of childish drops.

I never sued to friend nor enemy;

My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing word;

But now thy beauty is proposed my fee,

My proud heart sues and prompts my tongue to speak.

She looks scornfully at him

Teach not thy lip such scorn, for it was made

For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.

If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive,

⌈He kneels and offers her his sword⌉

Lo, here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword,

Which if thou please to hide in this true breast

And let the soul forth that adoreth thee,

I lay it naked to the deadly stroke

And humbly beg the death upon my knee.

He lays his breast open; she offers at it with his sword

Nay, do not pause, for I did kill King Henry;

But ‘twas thy beauty that provoked me.

Nay, now dispatch: ’twas I that stabbed young

Edward;

But ’was thy heavenly face that set me on.

She drops the sword

Take up the sword again, or take up me.

LADY ANNE

Arise, dissembler.

⌈He rises⌉

Though I wish thy death,

I will not be thy executioner.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it.

LADY ANNE

I have already.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER That was in thy rage.

Speak it again, and even with the word

This hand—which for thy love did kill thy love—

Shall, for thy love, kill a far truer love.

To both their deaths shalt thou be accessary.

LADY ANNE I would I knew thy heart.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER ’Tis figured in my tongue.

LADY ANNE I fear me both are false.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER Then never man was true.

LADY ANNE Well, well, put up your sword.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER Say then my peace is made. 185

LADY ANNE That shalt thou know hereafter.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER But shall I live in hope?

LADY ANNE All men, I hope, live so.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER Vouchsafe to wear this ring.

LADY ANNE To take is not to give.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

Look how my ring encompasseth thy finger;

Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart.

Wear both of them, for both of them are thine.

And if thy poor devoted servant may

But beg one favour at thy gracious hand,

Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever.

LADY ANNE What is it?

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

That it may please you leave these sad designs

To him that hath most cause to be a mourner,

And presently repair to Crosby House,

Where—after I have solemnly interred

At Chertsey monast’ry this noble king,

And wet his grave with my repentant tears—

I will with all expedient duty see you.

For divers unknown reasons, I beseech you

Grant me this boon.

LADY ANNE

With all my heart—and much it joys me, too,

To see you are become so penitent.

Tressell and Berkeley, go along with me.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

Bid me farewell.

LADY ANNE ’Tis more than you deserve.

But since you teach me how to flatter you,

Imagine I have said farewell already.

Exeunt two with Anne

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

Sirs, take up the corpse.

GENTLEMAN Towards Chertsey, noble lord?

RICHARD GLOUCESTER.

No, to Blackfriars; there attend my coming.

Exeunt with corpse all but Gloucester

Was ever woman in this humour wooed?

Was ever woman in this humour won?

I’ll have her, but I will not keep her long.

What, I that killed her husband and his father,

To take her in her heart’s extremest hate,

With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes,

The bleeding witness of my hatred by,

Having God, her conscience, and these bars against me,

And I no friends to back my suit withal

But the plain devil and dissembling looks—

And yet to win her, all the world to nothing? Ha !

Hath she forgot already that brave prince,

Edward her lord, whom I some three months since

Stabbed in my angry mood at Tewkesbury ?

A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman,

Framed in the prodigality of nature,

Young, valiant, wise, and no doubt right royal,

The spacious world cannot again afford—

And will she yet abase her eyes on me,

That cropped 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 halts and am misshapen thus?

My dukedom to a beggarly denier,

I do mistake my person all this while.

Upon my life she finds, although I cannot,

Myself to be a marv’lous proper man.

I’ll be at charges for a looking-glass

And entertain a score or two of tailors

To study fashions to adorn my body.

Since I am crept in favour with myself,

I will maintain it with some little cost.

But first I’ll turn yon fellow in his grave,

And then return lamenting to my love.

Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass,

That I may see my shadow as I pass. Exit