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Heroes of the work are ready for terrible deeds for the sake of power. Richard is a model of canonical evil, almost a fairy-tale villain, in whom there is nothing light. The main character goes to power through numerous crimes and deceptions. He does not spare underage nephews, ordering to kill them in the Tower, and then dies in a battle with another claimant to the throne.
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Liczba stron: 156
Contents
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
ACT I
SCENE I. London. A street
SCENE II. London. Another street.
SCENE III. London. A Room in the Palace.
SCENE IV. London. A Room in the Tower.
ACT II
SCENE I. London. A Room in the palace.
SCENE II. Another Room in the palace.
SCENE III. London. A street.
SCENE IV. London. A Room in the Palace.
ACT III
SCENE I. London. A street.
SCENE II. Before LORD HASTING'S house.
SCENE III. Pomfret. Before the Castle.
SCENE IV. London. A Room in the Tower.
SCENE V. London. The Tower Walls.
SCENE VI. London. A street.
SCENE VII. London. Court of Baynard's Castle.
ACT IV
SCENE I. London. Before the Tower
SCENE II. London. A Room of State in the Palace.
SCENE III. London. Another Room in the Palace.
SCENE IV. London. Before the Palace.
SCENE V. A Room in LORD STANLEY'S house.
ACT V
SCENE I. Salisbury. An open place.
SCENE II. Plain near Tamworth.
SCENE III. Bosworth Field.
SCENE IV. Another part of the Field.
SCENE V. Another part of the Field.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
KING EDWARD THE FOURTH
Sons to the king
EDWARD, PRINCE OF WALES afterwards KING EDWARD V
RICHARD, DUKE OF YORK
Brothers to the king
GEORGE, DUKE OF CLARENCE
RICHARD, DUKE OF GLOSTER, afterwards KING RICHARD III
A YOUNG SON OF CLARENCE
HENRY, EARL OF RICHMOND, afterwards KING HENRY VII
CARDINAL BOURCHIER, ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY
THOMAS ROTHERHAM, ARCHBISHOP OF YORK
JOHN MORTON, BISHOP OF ELY
DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM
DUKE OF NORFOLK
EARL OF SURREY, his son
EARL RIVERS, brother to King Edward’s Queen
MARQUIS OF DORSET and LORD GREY, her sons
EARL OF OXFORD
LORD HASTINGS
LORD STANLEY
LORD LOVEL
SIR THOMAS VAUGHAN
SIR RICHARD RATCLIFF
SIR WILLIAM CATESBY
SIR JAMES TYRREL
SIR JAMES BLOUNT
SIR WALTER HERBERT
SIR ROBERT BRAKENBURY, Lieutenant of the Tower
CHRISTOPHER URSWICK, a priest
Another Priest
LORD MAYOR OF LONDON
SHERIFF OF WILTSHIRE
ELIZABETH, Queen to King Edward IV
MARGARET, widow to King Henry VI
DUCHESS OF YORK, mother to King Edward IV, Clarence, and Gloster
LADY ANNE, widow to Edward, Prince of Wales, son to King
Henry VI; afterwards married to the Duke of Gloster
A YOUNG DAUGHTER OF CLARENCE
Lords, and other Attendants; two Gentlemen, a Pursuivant, Scrivener, Citizens, Murderers, Messengers, Ghosts, Soldiers, &c.
SCENE: England
ACT I
SCENE I. London. A street
[Enter GLOSTER.]
GLOSTER
Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this son of York;
And all the clouds that lour’d 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 chang’d to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visag’d war hath smooth’d 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 shap’d for sportive tricks,
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;
I, that am rudely stamp’d, and want love’s majesty
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
I, that am curtail’d of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deform’d, unfinish’d, 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 mew’d up,
About a prophecy which says that “G”
Of Edward’s heirs the murderer shall be.
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul:–here Clarence comes.
[Enter CLARENCE, guarded, and BRAKENBURY.]
Brother, good day: what means this armed guard
That waits upon your grace?
CLARENCE.
His majesty,
Tendering my person’s safety, hath appointed
This conduct to convey me to the Tower.
GLOSTER.
Upon what cause?
CLARENCE.
Because my name is George.
GLOSTER.
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?
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 such like toys as these,
Hath mov’d his highness to commit me now.
GLOSTER.
Why, this it is when men are rul’d by women:–
'Tis not the king that sends you to the Tower;
My Lady Grey his wife, Clarence, ’tis she
That tempers him to this extremity.
Was it not she and that good man of worship,
Antony Woodville, her brother there,
That made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower,
From whence this present day he is deliver’d?
We are not safe, Clarence; we are not safe.
CLARENCE.
By heaven, I think there is no man is secure
But the queen’s kindred, and night-walking heralds
That trudge betwixt the king and Mistress Shore.
Heard you not what an humble suppliant
Lord Hastings was to her for his delivery?
GLOSTER.
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’er-worn widow, and herself,
Since that our brother dubb’d them gentlewomen,
Are mighty gossips in our monarchy.
BRAKENBURY.
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.
GLOSTER.
Even so; an’t please your worship, Brakenbury,
You may partake of any thing 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 kindred are made gentlefolks:
How say you, sir? can you deny all this?
BRAKENBURY.
With this, my lord, myself have naught to do.
GLOSTER.
Naught to do with Mistress Shore! I tell thee, fellow,
He that doth naught with her, excepting one,
Were best to do it secretly alone.
BRAKENBURY.
What one, my lord?
GLOSTER.
Her husband, knave:–wouldst thou betray me?
BRAKENBURY.
I do beseech your grace to pardon me; and, withal,
Forbear your conference with the noble duke.
CLARENCE.
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