Richard III

Be patient, madam. I’m sure his majesty will recover his health soon.

You’ll only make him worse with all your worry. For God’s sake, let people comfort you. Then you’ll be able to cheer him up.

If he were dead, what would happen to me?

Nothing more than that you’d lose your husband.

Losing this husband will cause me all sorts of harm.

You have been blessed with an excellent son, who will comfort you when the king is dead.

But he’s young, and as long as he’s too young to become king, Richard, the duke of Gloucester, has power over him. Richard loves neither me nor any of you.

Has it been decided that Richard will be Protector?

It’s been decided, though not yet officially announced. But that’s what will happen if the king dies.

Here come Lord Buckingham and Lord Derby.

(to QUEEN ELIZABETH) Good afternoon, your royal Highness!

I hope God makes you happy again, like you once were.

My good Lord Derby, the countess Richmond would hardly say “amen” to your kind words. But don’t worry. I don’t hold it against you, even though she’s your wife, that she’s so unfriendly and arrogant.

Please don’t believe the false rumors you’ve heard about her feelings toward you, or if they’re true, then forgive her, since she’s only acting that way because she’s sick, not because she hates you.

Did you see the king today, Lord Derby?

Yes, the duke of Buckingham and I have just returned from visiting him.

What are the chances of his getting better, lords?

Madam, keep up hope. He seems cheerful.

God give him health. Did you talk with him?

Yes, madam. He wants to patch things up between Richard and your brothers, and between your brothers and Hastings. He has summoned them all.

I wish I could believe you that all was well! But I’m worried that things can only go downhill from here.

They’re out to get me, and I won’t stand for it! Which of you has been complaining to the king that I don’t like them? By God, whoever is worrying the king with these lies doesn’t love him very much. Just because I don’t know how to flatter and act nice, to smile in men’s faces and, as soon as their backs are turned, spread rumors about them, to bow and scrape like a nobleman trained in the French court, people have to think I’m their enemy. Can’t a plain man live and do no harm to anyone without being taken advantage of by a bunch of slick, sneaky lowlifes?

Which of us are you referring to?

You, who are neither honest nor good. When did I ever do you any harm? Or you? Or you? Or any of you? Damn you all! The king—whom I hope God will protect better than you would like—can’t get a minute’s rest without you bothering him with your outrageous complaints.

Brother, you’ve made a mistake. The king himself noticed your hatred toward my children, my brothers, and myself. No one had to point it out to him—it’s obvious. He asked people to visit him. He wanted to find out the reason for your ill will, so he could do something about it.

I can’t tell what’s going on. The world has become so bad that now little wrens have settled where eagles used to roost. Since every peasant has been made into a nobleman, many noblemen have been dragged down to the level of peasants.

Come, come, I know what you’re referring to, Richard. You resent my friends’ rise in society, and my own. Let’s hope we never need your help for anything.

Meanwhile, we’re the ones who need you. My brother is imprisoned because of you, I am disgraced, and the nobility are held in contempt while those who two days ago weren’t worth a dime have suddenly been promoted.

By the Lord who raised me to this weighty post from the happy and carefree life I used to enjoy, I promise you I never did anything to get the king to turn against the duke of Clarence. In fact, I’ve always been on his side and have pleaded for him. My lord, you’re doing me a huge injustice to suggest otherwise.

Oh, and I’ll bet you’ll also deny you were responsible for Lord Hastings’ recent stay in prison.

She may deny that, my lord, because—

She may, Lord Rivers? Everybody knows she may. She may do a lot more than that, sir. She may help you to get many nice promotions, and then deny she helped you, claiming you won them on your own merits. What can’t she do? She could even—

She could even what?

She could even what? She could marry a king, a bachelor, a handsome young lad. Certainly, your grandmother had a worse match.

My lord of Gloucester, I have suffered your blunt upbraidings and your bitterness toward me for too long. By God, I will tell the king about these taunts. I would rather be a country serving maid than a great queen if it meant I could escape your scorn and constant harassment.

I’ve had very little joy as England’s queen.

(speaking so no one else can hear) God, give her even less joy, I beg you! Elizabeth, your honor, your high rank, and your position as queen are all owed to me.

(to QUEEN ELIZABETH) What! You’re threatening to tell the king? Go ahead, and don’t spare a single detail. Look, what I have said to you I will repeat in the presence of the king. If it means I’ll be sent to the Tower, so be it. It’s time for me to speak the truth. All the pains I took on King Edward’s behalf have been forgotten.

(speaking so no one else can hear) You devil! I remember these pains all too well. You killed my husband, Henry, in the Tower and my poor son, Edward, at Tewksbury.

(to QUEEN ELIZABETH) Before you were queen—in fact, before your husband was king—I was a packhorse for his great affairs, a weeder-out of his proud enemies, a generous rewarder of his friends. In order to make his blood royal, I spent my own blood.

(speaking so no one else can hear) Yes, and you spent better blood than his or your own.

(to QUEEN ELIZABETH) In all that time, you and your first husband, Sir John Grey, were fighting for the Lancasters.—And so were you, Rivers.—Elizabeth, wasn’t your first husband killed while fighting in Queen Margaret’s army at Saint Alban’s? In case you’ve forgotten, I want to remind you where you come from and what side you were on before you arrived here. And I want you to remember whom I fought for, who I have been, and who I am.

(speaking so no one else can hear) You were a murderous villain, and you still are.

(to ELIZABETH) Poor Clarence abandoned his father-in-law, a Lancaster, and broke his own oath—may Jesus forgive him!—

(speaking so no one else can hear) May God take revenge on him!

(to QUEEN ELIZABETH) —in order to fight on Edward’s side to help him win the crown. And now he is rewarded by being thrown in prison! I wish to God my heart were made of stone, like Edward’s is. Or I wish Edward’s were soft and full of feeling, as mine is, so that he would let Clarence go. I am too childish, too innocent, for this world.

(speaking so no one else can hear) Hurry to hell, then, and leave the world alone, you demon! Hell is where your kingdom is.

My Lord of Gloucester, in those busy days, which you’re bringing up now to prove we’re your enemies, we followed the lawful king. If you were king, we would do the same.

If I were king? I’d rather be a peddler. The thought of being king doesn’t appeal to me in the least.

You’re right to imagine that being this country’s leader brings no pleasure. As queen, I have felt none.

(speaking so no one else can hear) No pleasure for the queen, indeed: I am the real queen, and the experience is completely joyless. I can no longer hold my tongue.

Hear me, you wrangling pirates. You’re quarreling over what doesn’t even belong to you—you stole it from me! Which of you does not tremble when you see me? If you aren’t trembling because you know I am queen and you are my subjects, then you’re shaking because you threw me from the throne! (to RICHARD) Oh highborn villain, do not turn away!

Ugly, wrinkled witch, what are you doing here?

Only describing what you have ruined. Or at least that’s what I plan to do before I let you go.

Weren’t you banished on pain of death?

I was. But I felt more pain from exile than I would have from being dead here at home. You, Richard, owe me a husband and a son. The rest of you owe me a kingdom. And all of you owe me allegiance. The sorrow that I feel actually belongs to you, and the high life you enjoy actually belongs to me. You stole it from me.

The curse my noble warrior-father laid on you when you set a paper crown on his head just before slaying him has finally borne fruit. Your scorn for him was so shocking that he cried rivers. To stop up his tears, you handed him a rag soaked with the blood of his own child. God, not us, is responsible for punishing you for your bloody deed.

God is just. He rewards the innocent.

Oh, killing that child was the dirtiest, most merciless deed there ever was!

Tyrants themselves wept when they heard about it.

Everyone understood there would be a heavy payback.

Even Northumberland wept to see it.

What, were you all snarling before I arrived, ready to catch each other by the throat like dogs, but now that I’m here, you turn your hatred toward me? Did the duke of York’s terrible curse have so much weight with God that God repaid him not only with Henry’s death and my lovely Edward’s death but with the loss of their kingdom and with my banishment, too? All because of what happened to that brat Rutland? If curses can pierce the clouds and enter heaven that easily, then open up, thick clouds, and listen to my curses!

(to QUEEN ELIZABETH) Though your king did not die in battle, let him die from overindulging his appetites, as my husband was murdered to make your husband king. May your son Edward, who is currently the prince of Wales, die young and violently, as payback for the death of my son Edward, the former prince of Wales. And may you outlive your glory just as miserably as I have, to make up for taking my position as queen. May you live long enough to mourn your children’s deaths and watch another woman enjoy the throne, as I now watch you. Let your happy days die long before you do. After many extended hours of grief, may you die neither a mother, a wife, nor England’s queen. Rivers, Dorset, and Lord Hastings, you all stood by as my son was stabbed. For his sake, I pray to God that none of you die a natural death but have your lives cut short by some unforeseen accident.

Enough of your magic spells, you hateful, withered hag.

And leave you out? Don’t move, dog. It’s your turn now. If heaven has any plagues beyond what I can drum up, let it wait until your sins are piled high and then hurl them down on you, you destroyer of a whole world of peace! May conscience eat away at your soul constantly. May you suspect your true friends of being traitors and take the worst traitors as your closest friends. May you never sleep a wink except to dream of a hell full of ugly devils.

You deformed, prematurely born, rooting hog, you evil birth defect, you insult to your mother’s womb, you hated disgrace to your father’s sperm, you disgusting—

Margaret.

Richard.

Yes?

I didn’t call you.

I beg your pardon—I thought it was me whom you were calling all those terrible names.

Yes, I was, but I don’t want an answer from you. Let me finish my curse.

I’ve finished it for you, and it ends in “Margaret.”

He’s turned your curse against you, Margaret.

Poor imitation queen, why do you align yourself with this humpbacked spider when he’s got you trapped in his deadly web? Fool! You’re sharpening a knife to cut yourself. The day will come when you’ll wish I could help you cast spells against this poisonous, hunchbacked toad.

Woman, stop your frantic curses and false prophesies before we run out of patience and do something bad to you.

Shame on you; I’ve already run out of patience with you all.

If you got what you deserved, you would learn some respect.

What I deserve is that you treat me like a queen, and what you deserve is to act like my subjects. Give me what I deserve, and do your duty!

(to RIVERS) Don’t argue with her. She’s crazy.

Enough from you, mister, you’re being impertinent. Unlike those born into nobility, your claim to royalty is so recent that you hardly even know what it means to lose it. People in high positions are shaken by many blasts of wind, and when they fall, they shatter into pieces.

Good advice, indeed. Take it to heart, Dorset.

It applies to you as much as to me, my lord.

Yes, and much more so. But I was born that high. Like an eagle, which builds its nest at the top of a high tree, I play in the wind and am not afraid to look at the sun.

But you turn that sun into a shadow. Take my son, for example. He is dead now. You put out his bright life forever. You are building your nest in our nest. Oh God who’s watching, don’t let him get away with this! He won his position violently. Let him lose it that way, too.

Stop—if you can’t be kind, at least have some shame.

How dare you talk about kindness or shame. (to the others) You have only been unkind to me, and you have shamefully butchered my hopes. My kindness to you is to be outraged at what has happened, and my sad, sad shame is in what you have done to my life.

Enough, enough.

Oh noble Buckingham, I’ll kiss your hand to show my friendship and support for you. I wish only good things upon you and your noble family! Your clothes aren’t spattered with my family’s blood, and you aren’t affected by my curse.

No one here is affected by your curse, because curses are just words with no power.

I think they rise up to heaven and arouse God from his gentle sleep. (so that only BUCKINGHAM hears) Oh Buckingham, watch out for that dog, Richard! When he seems to be fawning on you, he’s actually about to bite. And his poisonous bite kills. Have nothing to do with him. Beware of him. All the powers of sin, death, and hell are doing his bidding.

What is she saying, my lord?

Nothing that interests me, my good lord.

What, you ignore my kind advice and try to please the devil I’m warning you about? Oh, just remember this another day, when he splits your heart in two with sorrow. Then you’ll say poor Margaret was a prophet. Richard will come to hate everyone here, as you will come to hate him—and as God will come to hate you all.

Her curses have made my hair stand on end.

Mine, too. I don’t understand why she’s not locked up.

I can’t blame her. She has been wronged too often. I regret what I have done to hurt her.

I never caused her any harm, as far as I know.

But you have all the advantages from the harm done. For my part, I was too eager to do King Edward good. He doesn’t even seem to notice now. And look how he’s repaid poor Clarence for his loyalty—penned him up like a pig being fattened for slaughter. God pardon those who are responsible for Clarence’s troubles.

That’s very virtuous and Christian of you, Richard, to pray for those who have done us harm.

I always pray for them (to himself) because “they” are none other than myself. If I cursed Clarence’s wrongdoers, I’d be cursing myself.

Madam, his majesty asks for you, and for you, Duke of Gloucester, and for you, my noble lords.

Catesby, we’ll be there soon.—Lords, will you come with me?

We will wait on you, your majesty.

Incredible. I do the wrong and am the first to start quarrels. What I did in secret I blame on others. I cry about Clarence, whom I had imprisoned, in front of these simple fools—namely, Hastings, Derby and Buckingham—and tell them that the queen and her allies roused the king against my brother Clarence. They believe me and urge me to take revenge on Rivers, Vaughan, and Grey. But then I sigh and quote a chunk of the Bible—how God says do good in return for evil. Ha! Dressing my out-and-out wickedness in scraps of Scripture, I look like a saint exactly when I’m most like the devil.

But quiet. Here come the murderers I’ve hired. How’s it going, hardy, reliable friends! Are you going to take care of this thing now?

We are, my lord. We’ve come to get the warrant so we can be let into his cell.

Good thinking. I have it on me here. (he hands over the warrant) When you’re done, go to Crosby Place. But, sirs, do the job fast. And stick to your mission. Don’t let him plead for his life, because Clarence is a good talker and may make you pity him if you let him get started.

Tut, tut, my lord, we’re not going to stand around chit-chatting. Talkers aren’t good doers. Rest assured that we’re going there to use our hands, not our tongues.

When fools cry, you remain stony. I like you guys. Go straight to work. Hurry now, get the job done.

We will, my noble lord.