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  • Title: Richard the Third (Folio 1, 1623)
  • Editor: Adrian Kiernander

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

    Richard the Third (Folio 1, 1623)

    Scena Secunda.
    Enter a Messenger to the Doore of Hastings.
    1795Mess. My Lord, my Lord.
    Hast. Who knockes?
    Mess. One from the Lord Stanley.
    Hast. What is't a Clocke?
    Mess. Vpon the stroke of foure.
    1800Enter Lord Hastings.
    Hast. Cannot my Lord Stanley sleepe these tedious
    Nights?
    Mess. So it appeares, by that I haue to say:
    First, he commends him to your Noble selfe.
    1805Hast. What then?
    Mess. Then certifies your Lordship, that this Night
    He dreamt, the Bore had rased off his Helme:
    Besides, he sayes there are two Councels kept;
    And that may be determin'd at the one,
    1810Which may make you and him to rue at th'other.
    Therefore he sends to know your Lordships pleasure,
    If you will presently take Horse with him,
    And with all speed post with him toward the North,
    To shun the danger that his Soule diuines.
    1815Hast. Goe fellow, goe, returne vnto thy Lord,
    Bid him not feare the seperated Councell:
    His Honor and my selfe are at the one,
    And at the other, is my good friend Catesby;
    Where nothing can proceede, that toucheth vs,
    1820Whereof I shall not haue intelligence:
    Tell him his Feares are shallow, without instance.
    And for his Dreames, I wonder hee's so simple,
    To trust the mock'ry of vnquiet slumbers.
    To flye the Bore, before the Bore pursues,
    1825Were to incense the Bore to follow vs,
    And make pursuit, where he did meane no chase.
    Goe, bid thy Master rise, and come to me,
    And we will both together to the Tower,
    Where he shall see the Bore will vse vs kindly.
    1830Mess. Ile goe, my Lord, and tell him what you say.
    Exit.
    Enter Catesby.
    Cates. Many good morrowes to my Noble Lord.
    Hast. Good morrow Catesby, you are early stirring:
    1835What newes, what newes, in this our tott'ring State?
    Cates. It is a reeling World indeed, my Lord:
    And I beleeue will neuer stand vpright,
    Till Richard weare the Garland of the Realme.
    Hast. How weare the Garland?
    1840Doest thou meane the Crowne?
    Cates. I, my good Lord.
    Hast. Ile haue this Crown of mine cut frõ my shoulders,
    Before Ile see the Crowne so foule mis-plac'd:
    But canst thou guesse, that he doth ayme at it?
    1845Cates. I, on my life, and hopes to find you forward,
    Vpon his partie, for the gaine thereof:
    And thereupon he sends you this good newes,
    That this same very day your enemies,
    The Kindred of the Queene, must dye at Pomfret.
    1850Hast. Indeed I am no mourner for that newes,
    Because they haue beene still my aduersaries:
    But, that Ile giue my voice on Richards side,
    To barre my Masters Heires in true Descent,
    God knowes I will not doe it, to the death.
    1855Cates. God keepe your Lordship in that gracious
    minde.
    Hast. But I shall laugh at this a twelue-month hence,
    That they which brought me in my Masters hate,
    I liue to looke vpon their Tragedie.
    1860Well Catesby, ere a fort-night make me older,
    Ile send some packing, that yet thinke not on't.
    Cates. 'Tis a vile thing to dye, my gracious Lord,
    When men are vnprepar'd, and looke not for it.
    Hast. O monstrous, monstrous! and so falls it out
    1865With Riuers, Vaughan, Grey: and so 'twill doe
    With some men else, that thinke themselues as safe
    As thou and I, who (as thou know'st) are deare
    To Princely Richard, and to Buckingham.
    Cates. The Princes both make high account of you,
    1870For they account his Head vpon the Bridge.
    Hast. I know they doe, and I haue well deseru'd it.
    Enter Lord Stanley.
    Come on, come on, where is your Bore-speare man?
    Feare you the Bore, and goe so vnprouided?
    1875Stan. My Lord good morrow, good morrow Catesby:
    You may ieast on, but by the holy Rood,
    I doe not like these seuerall Councels, I.
    Hast. My Lord, I hold my Life as deare as yours,
    And neuer in my dayes, I doe protest,
    1880Was it so precious to me, as 'tis now:
    Thinke you, but that I know our state secure,
    I would be so triumphant as I am?
    Sta. The Lords at Pomfret, whẽ they rode from London,
    Were iocund, and suppos'd their states were sure,
    1885And they indeed had no cause to mistrust:
    But yet you see, how soone the Day o're-cast.
    This sudden stab of Rancour I misdoubt:
    Pray God (I say) I proue a needlesse Coward.
    What, shall we toward the Tower? the day is spent.
    1890Hast. Come, come, haue with you:
    Wot you what, my Lord,
    To day the Lords you talke of, are beheaded.
    Sta. They, for their truth, might better wear their Heads,
    Then some that haue accus'd them, weare their Hats.
    1895But come, my Lord, let's away.
    Enter a Pursuiuant.
    Hast. Goe on before, Ile talke with this good fellow.
    Exit Lord Stanley, and Catesby.
    How now, Sirrha? how goes the World with thee?
    1900Purs. The better, that your Lordship please to aske.
    Hast. I tell thee man, 'tis better with me now,
    Then when thou met'st me last, where now we meet:
    Then was I going Prisoner to the Tower,
    By the suggestion of the Queenes Allyes.
    1905But now I tell thee (keepe it to thy selfe)
    This day those Enemies are put to death,
    And I in better state then ere I was.
    Purs. God hold it, to your Honors good content.
    Hast. Gramercie fellow: there, drinke that for me.
    1910Throwes him his Purse.
    Purs. I thanke your Honor. Exit Pursuiuant.
    Enter a Priest.
    Priest. Well met, my Lord, I am glad to see your Ho-
    nor.
    1915Hast. I thanke thee, good Sir Iohn, with all my heart.
    I am in your debt, for your last Exercise:
    Come the next Sabboth, and I will content you.
    Priest. Ile wait vpon your Lordship.
    Enter Buckingham.
    1920Buc. What, talking with a Priest, Lord Chamberlaine?
    Your friends at Pomfret, they doe need the Priest,
    Your Honor hath no shriuing worke in hand.
    Hast. Good faith, and when I met this holy man,
    The men you talke of, came into my minde.
    1925What, goe you toward the Tower?
    Buc. I doe, my Lord, but long I cannot stay there:
    I shall returne before your Lordship, thence.
    Hast. Nay like enough, for I stay Dinner there.
    Buc. And Supper too, although thou know'st it not.
    1930Come, will you goe?
    Hast. Ile wait vpon your Lordship. Exeunt.
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