Internet Shakespeare Editions


Jump to line
Help on texts

About this text

  • 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.
    3810Draw archers draw your arrowes to the head,
    Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in bloud,
    Amaze the welkin with your broken staues,
    What saies lord Stanley, wil he bring his power?
    3815Mes. My lord, he doth deny to come,
    King Off with his sonne Georges head.
    Nor. My lord, the enemie is past the marsh,
    After the battaile let George Stanley die.
    King A thousand harts are great within my bosome,
    3820Aduance our standards, set vpon our foes,
    Our ancient word of courage, faire saint George
    Inspire vs with the spleene of fierie Dragons,
    Vpon them victorie sits on our helmes. Exeunt.
    Alarum, excursions, Enter Catesby.
    3825Cates. Rescew my lord of Norffolke, rescew, rescew,
    The king enacts more wonders then a man,
    Daring an opposite to euerie danger,
    His horse is slaine, and all on foot he fights,
    3830Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death,
    Rescew faire lord, or else the daie is lost.
    Enter Richard.
    King A horse, a horse, my kingdome for a horse.
    3835Cates. Withdraw my lord, ile helpe you to a horse.
    King Slaue I haue set my life vpon a cast,
    And I will stand the hazard of the die,
    I thinke there be sixe Richmonds in the field,
    Fiue haue I slaine to daie in stead of him,
    3840A horse, a horse, my kingdome for a horse.
    Alarum, Enter Richard and Richmond, they fight, Richard is slain
    then retrait being sounded. Enter Richmond, Darby, bearing the
    crowne, with other Lords, &c.
    3845Ri. God and your armes be praisd victorious freends,
    The daie is ours, the bloudie dog is dead.
    Dar. Couragious Richmond, wel hast thou acquit thee,
    3850Loe here this long vsurped roialtie.
    From the dead temples of this bloudie wretch,
    Haue I pluckt off to grace thy browes withall,
    Weare it, enioy it, and make much of it.