3.txt

anish .
Not to relent is beastly , savage , devilish .
My friend , I spy some pity in thy looks .
O , if thine eye be not a flatterer ,
Come thou on my side and entreat for me .
A begging prince what beggar pities not ?
Look behind you , my lord .
Take that , and that . If all this will not do ,
I’ll drown you in the malmsey butt within .
A bloody deed , and desperately dispatched .
How fain , like Pilate , would I wash my hands
Of this most grievous murder .
How now ? What mean’st thou that thou help’st me not ?
By heavens , the Duke shall know how slack you have been .
I would he knew that I had saved his brother .
Take thou the fee , and tell him what I say ,
For I repent me that the Duke is slain .
So do not I . Go , coward as thou art .
Well , I’ll go hide the body in some hole
Till that the Duke give order for his burial .
And when I have my meed , I will away ,
For this will out , and then I must not stay .
Why , so . Now have I done a good day’s work .
You peers , continue this united league .
I every day expect an embassage
From my Redeemer to redeem me hence ,
And more in peace my soul shall part to heaven
Since I have made my friends at peace on Earth .
Rivers and Hastings , take each other’s hand .
Dissemble not your hatred . Swear your love .
By heaven , my soul is purged from grudging hate ,
And with my hand I seal my true heart’s love .
So thrive I as I truly swear the like .
Take heed you dally not before your king ,
Lest He that is the supreme King of kings
Confound your hidden falsehood and award
Either of you to be the other’s end .
So prosper I as I swear perfect love .
And I as I love Hastings with my heart .
Madam , yourself is not exempt from this , —
Nor you , son Dorset , — Buckingham , nor you .
You have been factious one against the other . —
Wife , love Lord Hastings . Let him kiss your hand ,
And what you do , do it unfeignedly .
There , Hastings , I will never more remember
Our former hatred , so thrive I and mine .
Dorset , embrace him . — Hastings , love Lord Marquess .
This interchange of love , I here protest ,
Upon my part shall be inviolable .
And so swear I .
Now , princely Buckingham , seal thou this league
With thy embracements to my wife’s allies
And make me happy in your unity .
Whenever Buckingham doth turn his hate
Upon your Grace , but with all duteous love
Doth cherish you and yours , God punish me
With hate in those where I expect most love .
When I have most need to employ a friend ,
And most assurèd that he is a friend ,
Deep , hollow , treacherous , and full of guile
Be he unto me : this do I beg of God ,
When I am cold in love to you or yours .
A pleasing cordial , princely Buckingham ,
Is this thy vow unto my sickly heart .
There wanteth now our brother Gloucester here
To make the blessèd period of this peace .
And in good time
Here comes Sir Richard Ratcliffe and the Duke .
Good morrow to my sovereign king and queen ,
And , princely peers , a happy time of day .
Happy indeed , as we have spent the day .
Gloucester , we have done deeds of charity ,
Made peace of enmity , fair love of hate ,
Between these swelling , wrong-incensèd peers .
A blessèd labor , my most sovereign lord .
Among this princely heap , if any here
By false intelligence or wrong surmise
Hold me a foe ,
If I unwittingly , or in my rage ,
Have aught committed that is hardly borne
By any in this presence , I desire
To reconcile me to his friendly peace .
’Tis death to me to be at enmity ;
I hate it , and desire all good men’s love .
First , madam , I entreat true peace of you ,
Which I will purchase with my duteous service ; —
Of you , my noble cousin Buckingham ,
If ever any grudge were lodged between us ; —
Of you and you , Lord Rivers and of Dorset ,
That all without desert have frowned on me ; —
Of you , Lord Woodeville and Lord Scales ; — of you ,
Dukes , earls , lords , gentlemen ; indeed , of all .
I do not know that Englishman alive
With whom my soul is any jot at odds
More than the infant that is born tonight .
I thank my God for my humility .
A holy day shall this be kept hereafter .
I would to God all strifes were well compounded .
My sovereign lord , I do beseech your Highness
To take our brother Clarence to your grace .
Why , madam , have I offered love for this ,
To be so flouted in this royal presence ?
Who knows not that the gentle duke is dead ?
You do him injury to scorn his corse .
Who knows not he is dead ! Who knows he is ?
All-seeing heaven , what a world is this !
Look I so pale , Lord Dorset , as the rest ?
Ay , my good lord , and no man in the presence
But his red color hath forsook his cheeks .
Is Clarence dead ? The order was reversed .
But he , poor man , by your first order died ,
And that a wingèd Mercury did bear .
Some tardy cripple bare the countermand ,
That came too lag to see him burièd .
God grant that some , less noble and less loyal ,
Nearer in bloody thoughts , and not in blood ,
Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did ,
And yet go current from suspicion .
A boon , my sovereign , for my service done .
I prithee , peace . My soul is full of sorrow .
I will not rise unless your Highness hear me .
Then say at once what is it thou requests .
The forfeit , sovereign , of my servant’s life ,
Who slew today a riotous gentleman
Lately attendant on the Duke of Norfolk .
Have I a tongue to doom my brother’s death ,
And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave ?
My brother killed no man ; his fault was thought ,
And yet his punishment was bitter death .
Who sued to me for him ? Who , in my wrath ,
Kneeled at my feet , and bade me be advised ?
Who spoke of brotherhood ? Who spoke of love ?
Who told me how the poor soul did forsake
The mighty Warwick and did fight for me ?
Who told me , in the field at Tewkesbury ,
When Oxford had me down , he rescued me ,
And said “ Dear brother , live , and be a king ” ?
Who told me , when we both lay in the field
Frozen almost to death , how he did lap me
Even in his garments and did give himself ,
All thin and naked , to the numb-cold night ?
All this from my remembrance brutish wrath
Sinfully plucked , and not a man of you
Had so much grace to put it in my mind .
But when your carters or your waiting vassals
Have done a drunken slaughter and defaced
The precious image of our dear Redeemer ,
You straight are on your knees for pardon , pardon ,
And I , unjustly too , must grant it you .
But for my brother , not a man would speak ,
Nor I , ungracious , speak unto myself
For him , poor soul . The proudest of you all
Have been beholding to him in his life ,
Yet none of you would once beg for his life .
O God , I fear Thy justice will take hold
On me and you , and mine and yours for this ! —
Come , Hastings , help me to my closet . —
Ah , poor Clarence .
This is the fruits of rashness . Marked you not
How that the guilty kindred of the Queen
Looked pale when they did hear of Clarence’ death ?
O , they did urge it still unto the King .
God will revenge it . Come , lords , will you go
To comfort Edward with our company ?
We wait upon your Grace .
Good grandam , tell us , is our father dead ?
No , boy .
Why do you weep so oft , and beat your breast ,
And cry “ O Clarence , my unhappy son ” ?
Why do you look on us and shake your head ,
And call us orphans , wretches , castaways ,
If that our noble father were alive ?
My pretty cousins , you mistake me both .
I do lament the sickness of the King ,
As loath to lose him , not your father’s death .
It were lost sor