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  • Title: Richard the Third (Quarto 1, 1597)
  • Editor: Adrian Kiernander

  • Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Adrian Kiernander
    Peer Reviewed

    Richard the Third (Quarto 1, 1597)

    of Richard the third.
    Or with the clamorus report of war:
    Thus will I drowne your exclamations.
    2930Du. Art thou my son?
    King. I, I thanke God, my father and your selfe,
    Du. Then patiently here my impatience.
    King. Madam I haue a touch of your condition,
    Which cannot brooke the accent of reproofe.
    Du. I will be mild and gentle in my speach.
    King. And briefe good mother for I am in hast.
    Du. Art thou so hastie I haue staid for thee,
    2940God knowes in anguish, paine and agonie,
    King. And came I not at last to comfort you?
    Du. No by the holie roode thou knowst it well,
    Thou camst on earth to make the earth my hell,
    A greuous burthen was thy berth to me,
    2945Techie and waiward was thy infancie,
    Thy schoele-daies frightful, desperate, wild, and furious.
    Thy prime of manhood, daring, bold and venturous,
    Thy age confirmed, proud, subtile, bloudie, trecherous,
    2950What comfortable houre canst thou name
    That euer grac't me in thy companie?
    King. Faith none but Humphrey houre, that cald your grace
    To breake fast once forth of my companie,
    2955If I be so disgracious in your sight,
    Let me march on, and not offend your grace.
    Du. O heare me speake for I shal neuer see thee more.
    King. Come, come, you art too bitter.
    Du. Either thou wilt die by Gods iust ordinance,
    Eeare from this war thou turne a conqueror,
    2965Or I with griefe and extreame age shall perish,
    And neuer looke vpon thy face againe,
    Therefore take with thee my most heauy curse,
    Which in the daie of battaile tire thee more
    Then all the compleat armor that thou wearst,
    2970My praiers on the aduerse partie fight,
    And there the little soules of Edwards children,
    Whisper the spirits of thine enemies,
    And promise them successe and victoric,