« PreviousContinue »
GLOSTER'S DEFORMITY. Why, love forswore me in my mother's womb: And, for I should not deal in her soft laws She did corrupt frail nature with some bribe To shrink mine arm up like a wither'd shrub; To make an envious mountain on my back, Where sits deformity to mock my body; To shape my legs of an unequal size; To disproportion me in every part, Like to a chaos, or an unlick'd bear whelp, That carries no impression like the dam. And am I then a man to be belov'd?
GLOSTER'S DISSIMULATION. Why, I can smile, and murder while I smile; And cry, content, to that which grieves my heart, And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, And frame my face to all occasions. "I'll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall; I'll slay more gazers than the basilisk; I'll play the orator as well as Nestor, Deceive more slily then Ulysses could, And, like a Sinon, take another Troy; I can add colours to the chameleon; Change shapes, with Proteus, for advantages, And set the murd'rous Machiavel to school, Can I do this, and cannot get a crown?
HENRY VI. ON HIS OWN LENITY.
I have not stopp'd mine ears to their demands, Nor posted off their suits with slow delays; My pity hath been halm to heal their wounds, My mildness hath allay'd their swelling griefs, My mercy dry'd their water-flowing tears: I have not been desirous of their wealth, Nor much oppress’d them with great subsidies, Vor forward of revenge, though they much err'd
ACT V. DYING SPEECH OF THE EARL OF WARWICK. Ah who is nigh? come to me, friend or foe, And tell me, who is victor, York, or Warwick? Why ask I that? my mangled body shows, My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart shows, That I must yield my body to the earth, And, by my fall, the conquest to my foe. Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge, Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle, Under whose shade the ramping lion slept ! Whose top-branch over-peerd Jove's spreading tree, And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful wind. These eyes, that now are dimm'd with death's black
veil, Have been as piercing as the mid-day sun, To search the secret treasons of the world: The wrinkles in my brows, now fill?d with blood, Were liken'd oft to kingly sepulchres; For who liv'd king, but I could dig his grave? And who durst smile, when Warwick bent his brow? Lo, now my glory smeard in dust and blood! My parks, my walks, my manors that I had, Even now forsake me: and, of all my lands, Is nothing left me, but my body's length! QUEEN MARGARET'S SPEECH BEFORE THE BATTLE or
Lords, knights, and gentlemen, what I should say
* Ungay, deny,
"OMENS ON THE BIRTH OF RICHARD III.
The owl shriek'd at thy birth, an evil sign
KING RICHARD III.
ACT I. THE DUKE OF GLOSTER ON HIS OWN DEFORMITY. 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,t Grim-visag‘d war haih 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, unfinishid, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up And that so lamely and unfashionable,
* To rook, signified to squat down or lodge on any thing. † Dances.
That dogs bark at me, as I halt by them;
GLOSTER'S LOVE FOR LADY ANNE.
tears, Sham'd their aspects with store of childish drops: These eyes, which never shed remorseful* tear, Not, when my father York and Edward wept, To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made, When black-fac'd Clifford shook his sword at him! Nor when thy warlike father, like a child, Told the sad story of my father's death; And twenty times made pause, to sob, and weep, That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks, Like trees bedash'd with rain: in that sad time, My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear; And what these sorrows could not thence exhale, Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping, I never su'd to friend, nor enemy: My tongue could never learn sweet soothing words; But now thy beauty is propos’d my fee, My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to
speak. GLOSTER'S PRAISES OF HIS OWN PERSON, AFTER
HIS SUCCESSFUL ADDRESSES.
a score or two of tailors,
† A small French coin,
Since I am crept in favour with myself,
QUEEN MARGARET'S EXECRATIONS ON GLOSTER.
of honour!--thou detested
I was born so high,
we look'd toward England,