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William Shakespeare: The Life and Death of King Richard III
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.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visag'd 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 shap'd for sportive tricks,
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;
I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deform'd, 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 piping time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time,
Unless to spy my shadow in the sun,
And descant on mine 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,
By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams,
To set my brother Clarence and the king
In deadly hate the one against the other:
And if King Edward be as true and just
As I am subtle, false, and treacherous,
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.
[Enter CLARENCE, guarded, and BRAKENBURY.]
Brother, good day: 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.
King Henry VI, Third Part
MONTAGUE, WARWICK, and Soldiers.]
I wonder how the king escap'd our hands.
While we pursued the horsemen of the North,
He slyly stole away and left his men,
Whereat the great Lord of Northumberland,
Whose warlike ears could never brook retreat,
Cheer'd up the drooping army; and himself,
Lord Clifford, and Lord Stafford, all abreast,
Charg'd our main battle's front, and breaking in,
Were by the swords of common soldiers slain.
Lord Stafford's father, Duke of Buckingham,
Is either slain or wounded dangerously;
I cleft his beaver with a downright blow.
That this is true, father, behold his blood.
[Showing his bloody sword.]
And, brother, here 's the Earl of Wiltshire's blood,
[To York, showing his.]
Whom I encounter'd as the battles join'd.
Speak thou for me, and tell them what I did.
Richard hath best deserv'd of all my sons.--
But is your grace dead, my Lord of Somerset?
Such hope have all the line of John of Gaunt!
Thus do I hope to shake King Henry's head.
And so do I.--Victorious Prince of York,
Before I see thee seated in that throne
Which now the house of Lancaster usurps,
I vow by heaven these eyes shall never close.
This is the palace of the fearful king,
And this the regal seat; possess it, York,
For this is thine, and not King Henry's heirs'.
Assist me, then, sweet Warwick, and I will;
For hither we have broken in by force.
We'll all assist you; he that flies shall die.