The Hollow Crown: Henry VI part 2

God save King Edward, fourth of that name!

Once more we sit in England's royal throne,

Re-purchased with the blood of enemies.

Hail the House of York.

Brother Richard, will you stand by us?

My liege, it is the Earl of Richmond.

He is the House of Lancaster.

I am the Queen!

- Where's Richard gone? - To make a bloody supper in the Tower!

Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer

by this sun of York;

And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house

In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.

Grim-visaged war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front;

And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds

To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,

He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber

To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.

But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks,

Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;

I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty

I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,

Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,

Deformed, unfinish'd,

sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,

And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me

as I halt by them!

Why, I, in this weak and piping time of peace,

Have no delight to pass away the time

Unless to spy my shadow in the sun And descant on my own deformity:

And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover,

To entertain these fair well-spoken days

I am determined to prove a villain

And hate the idle pleasures of these days.

'Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,

'To set the King, my brother and Clarence

'In deadly hate the one against the other'

And if King Edward be as true and just

As I am subtle, false and treacherous

Then this day should Clarence closely be mew'd up,

About a prophecy, which says that "G"

Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be.

Dive, thoughts, down to my soul: here Clarence comes.

Brother, what means this armed guard That waits upon your grace?

His Majesty Tendering my person's safety,

hath appointed This conduct to convey me to the Tower

- Upon what cause? - Because my name is George.

Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours;

He should, for this, commit your godfathers.

He hearkens after prophecies and dreams;

And says a wizard told him that by G

His issue disinherited should be

And, for my name of George begins with G,

It follows in his thoughts that I am he.

This it is when men are ruled by women.

'Tis not the King that sends you to the Tower,

Elizabeth, his wife, 'tis she That tempers him to this extremity.

We are not safe, Clarence,

we are not safe.

I beseech your graces both to pardon me.

His Majesty has straightly given in charge

That no man shall have private conference,

Of what degree so ever, with his brother.

We speak no treason, man.

We say the King is...

wise and virtuous,

And his noble Queen well struck in years,

fair, and not jealous.

How say you, sir? Can you deny all this?

I do beseech your grace to pardon me and withal.

Forbear your conference with the noble Duke.

We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will obey.

Brother, farewell.

I will unto the King.

Meantime, this deep disgrace touches me deeper than you can imagine.

I know it pleaseth neither of us well.

Well, your imprisonment will not be long.

Meantime, be patient.

I must perforce.

Farewell.

Go, tread the path that thou shalt ne'er return.

Simple, plain Clarence!

I do love thee so,

that shortly I will send thy soul... to Heaven.

Good time of day to you, Lord Chamberlain. What news?

The King is sickly, weak and melancholy,

And his physicians fear him mightily.

He broke the feast and has returned to bed.

Oh, he hath kept an evil diet long

And overmuch consumed his royal person.

- Where is he? In his bed? - He is.

Go you before, and I will follow you.

He cannot live, I hope,

and must not die till George be packed with post-horse up to Heaven.

I'll in to urge his hatred more And if I fail not in my deep intent,

Dear George hath not another day to live.

How now, my hardy, stout resolved mates.

Are you now tomorrow to dispatch this thing?

We are, my lord.

And we come to have the warrant that we may be admitted where he is.

Well thought upon, I have it here about me.

But, sirs, be sudden in the execution.

Do not hear him plead.

My brother is well spoken,

And perhaps may move your hearts to pity if you mark him.

Tut, tut, my lord, we will not stand to prate.

Talkers are no good doers,

Be assured, we go to use our hands and not our tongues.

Your eyes drop millstones, when fools' eyes drop tears.

I like you, lads.

About your business straight. Go, go, dispatch.

We will, my noble lord.

Cursed be the hand that made those fatal holes!

Cursed be the heart that had the heart to do it!

More direful hap betide that hated wretch

Than I can wish to adders,

spiders, toads.

If ever he have wife, let her be made more miserable

By the death of him

than I by my husband

And father-in-law, King Henry.

What black magician conjures up this fiend?

What black magician conjures up this fiend?

Avaunt...

.. thou dreadful minister of hell!

Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst.

Villain, thou know'st no law of God

Nor man, no beast so fierce But knows some touch of pity.

But I know none, and therefore am no beast.

O, wonderful when devils tell the truth.

More wonderful when angels are so angry.

Fairer than tongue can name thee,

Let me have some patient leisure to excuse myself.

I shall not grant excuses

To the thing that killed my husband, my father

and my King.

Dead.

Dead, they are, and, devilish slave, by thee.

I did not kill your husband.

Why, then, is he alive?

Nay, he is dead, and by King Edward's hand.

In thy foul throat thou liest.

Queen Margaret saw thy murderous dagger

smoking in his blood.

Didst thou not kill the King?

I grant ye, yea.

Dost grant me, hedgehog?

He was

gentle,

mild

- and virtuous. - Better for the King of Heaven that hath him.

He is in heaven, where thou shalt never come.

He was fitter for that place than earth.

And thou unfit for any place but hell.

Yes, one place else, if you will hear me name it.

- Some dungeon? - Your bedchamber.

Is not the causer of these timeless deaths

As blameful as the executioner?

Thou was the cause and most accursed effect.

Your beauty was the cause of that effect.

Your beauty, that did haunt me in my sleep

To undertake the death of all the world,

So I might live one hour

in your sweet bosom.

If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide,

These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks.

These eyes could not endure sweet beauty's wreck.

You should not blemish it, if I stood by.

It is a quarrel most unnatural to be revenged on him that loveth thee.

It is a quarrel just and reasonable

To be revenged on him that killed my husband.

He that bereft thee of thy husband, lady,

Did it to help thee to a better husband.

Better dost not breathe upon the earth.

- He lives that loves thee better than he could. - Where is he?

Here.

Why dost thou spit on me?

Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake.

Never came poison from so sweet a place.

Never hung poison on a fouler toad.

Out of my sight!

Oh, thou dost infect my eyes.

Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine.

If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive,

Teach not thy mouth such scorn,

For it was made for kissing, lady, not for such contempt.

Lo, here,

I lend thee this sharp-pointed blade

Which if thou choose to hide in this true breast

And let the soul forth that adoreth thee

I lay it naked until the deadly stroke.

Nay, do not pause...

.. for I did kill King Henry.

Nay, now dispatch.

'Twas I that stabbed your husband.

Take up the knife again or take up me.

Arise, dissembler.

Though I wish thy death

I will not be thy executioner.

Then bid me kill myself and I will do it.