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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)

    The Tragedy
    These letters will resolue him of my minde.
    Farewell. Exeunt.
    Enter Buckingham to execution.
    Buck. Will not king Richard let me speake with him.
    Rat. No my Lord, therefore be patient.
    3375Buck. Hastings, and Edwards children, Riuers, Gray,
    Holie king Henrie, and thy faire sonne Edward,
    Vaughan, and all that haue miscarried,
    By vnderhand corrupted, foule iniustice,
    If that your moodie discontented soules,
    3380Doe through the cloudes, behold this present houre,
    Euen for reuenge, mocke my destruction.
    This is Alsoules day fellowes, is it not?
    Rat. It is my Lord.
    Buck. Whie then Alsoules day, is my bodies domesday:
    3385This is the day, that in king Edwards time,
    I wisht might fall on me, when I was found,
    False to his children, or his wiues allies:
    This is the day, wherein I wisht to fall,
    By the false faith, of him I trusted most:
    3390This, this Alsoules day, to my fearefull soule,
    Is the determind respit of my wrongs:
    That high al-seer, that I dallied with,
    Hath turned my fained prayer on my head,
    And giuen in earnest what I begd in iest.
    3395Thus doeth he force the swordes of wicked men,
    To turne their owne pointes, on their Maisters bosome:
    Now Margarets curse, is fallen vpon my head,
    When he quorh she, shall split thy hart with sorrow.
    Remember, Margaret was a Prophetesse,
    3400Come sirs, conuey me to the blocke of shame,
    Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the dew of blame.
    Enter Richmond with drums and trumpets.
    Rich. Fellowes in armes, and my most louing friendes,
    Bruisd vnderneath the yoake of tyrannie,
    Thus farre into the bowels of the land,
    Haue we marcht on without impediment,
    3410And here receiue we, from our Father Stanlie,