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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
    Enter Dutches of Yorke, with Clarence Children.
    Boy. Tell me good Granam, is our father dead?
    Dut. No boy.
    1275Boy. Why doe you wring your hands, and beate your (breast,
    And crie, Oh Clarence my vnhappy sonne?
    Gerl. Why doe you looke on vs and shake your head,
    And call vs wretches, Orphanes, castawaies,
    If that our noble father be aliue?
    1280Dut. My prety Cosens, you mistake me much,
    I doe lament the sicknesse of the King:
    As loth to loose him, not your fathers death:
    It were lost labour, to weepe for one thats lost.
    Boy. Then Granam you conclude that he is dead,
    1285The King my Vnckle is too blame for this:
    God will reuenge it, whom I will importune
    With daily praiers, all to that effect.
    Dut. Peace children, peace, the King doth loue you wel,
    1290Incapable and shallow innocents,
    You cannot guesse who causde your fathers death.
    Boy. Granam we can: For my good Vnckle Glocester
    Tould me, the King prouoked by the Queene,
    Deuisd impeachments to imprison him:
    1295And when he tould me so, he wept,
    And hugd me in his arme, and kindly kist my checke,
    And bad me rely on him as in my father,
    And he would loue me dearely as his child.
    Dut. Oh that deceit should steale such gentle shapes,
    1300And with a vertuous visard hide foule guile:
    He is my sonne, yea, and therein my shame:
    Yet from my dugs he drew not this deceit.
    Boy. Thinke you my Vnckle did dissemble Granam?
    Dut. I boy.
    1305Boy. I cannot thinke it, hark what noise is this. Enter the Quee.
    Qu. Oh who shall hinder me to waile and weepe?
    To chide my fortune, and torment my selfe?
    1310Ile ioine with blacke despaire against my soule,
    And to my selfe become an enemy.
    Dut. What meanes this sceane of rude impatience.
    Qu. To make an act of tragicke violence: