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How now, my lord, what say the citizens?
What’s going on, my lord? What do the people say?
Now, by the holy mother of our Lord, The citizens are mum and speak not a word.
By the holy mother of our Lord, The people are silent and say nothing.
Touch’d you the bastardy of Edward’s children?
Did you mention the illegitimacy of Edward’s children?
I did; with his contract with Lady Lucy, And his contract by deputy in France; The insatiate greediness of his desires, And his enforcement of the city wives; His tyranny for trifles; his own bastardy, As being got, your father then in France, His resemblance, being not like the duke; Withal I did infer your lineaments, Being the right idea of your father, Both in your form and nobleness of mind; Laid open all your victories in Scotland, Your dicipline in war, wisdom in peace, Your bounty, virtue, fair humility: Indeed, left nothing fitting for the purpose Untouch’d, or slightly handled, in discourse And when mine oratory grew to an end I bid them that did love their country’s good Cry ’God save Richard, England’s royal king!’
I did; I spoke of his marriage to Lady Lucy, And his secret marriage in France; His insatiable greed, And his abuse of the city’s women; His cruelty over small things; his own illegitimacy, Since he was conceived while your father was in France, His appearance, not resembling the duke; I also pointed out how much you resemble your father, In both looks and nobility of spirit; I mentioned all your victories in Scotland, Your discipline in war, your wisdom in peace, Your generosity, virtue, and humble nature: In fact, I left nothing important out, Or only briefly touched on it during my speech. And when my speech was over, I asked those who loved their country’s welfare To cry out, ‘God save Richard, England’s royal king!’
Ah! and did they so?
Ah! And did they do that?
No, so God help me, they spake not a word; But, like dumb statues or breathing stones, Gazed each on other, and look’d deadly pale. Which when I saw, I reprehended them; And ask’d the mayor what meant this wilful silence: His answer was, the people were not wont To be spoke to but by the recorder. Then he was urged to tell my tale again, ’Thus saith the duke, thus hath the duke inferr’d;’ But nothing spake in warrant from himself. When he had done, some followers of mine own, At the lower end of the hall, hurl’d up their caps, And some ten voices cried ’God save King Richard!’ And thus I took the vantage of those few, ’Thanks, gentle citizens and friends,’ quoth I; ’This general applause and loving shout Argues your wisdoms and your love to Richard:’ And even here brake off, and came away.
No, by God, they didn’t say a word; But stood like silent statues or breathing stones, Staring at each other, looking very pale. When I saw that, I scolded them; And asked the mayor what this strange silence meant: His answer was, that the people weren’t used To being addressed except by the recorder. Then I had to ask him to repeat my speech, ‘This is what the duke says, this is the duke’s reasoning;’ But he didn’t say anything on his own. When he finished, some of my supporters, At the far end of the hall, threw up their hats, And about ten voices shouted, ‘God save King Richard!’ And so I took advantage of that moment, ‘Thank you, good citizens and friends,’ I said; ‘This general cheer and loving shout Shows your wisdom and your love for Richard:’ And I broke off right there, and left.
What tongueless blocks were they! would not they speak?
What silent fools they were! Couldn’t they speak?
No, by my troth, my lord.
No, I swear, my lord.
Will not the mayor then and his brethren come?
Will the mayor and his colleagues not come?
The mayor is here at hand: intend some fear; Be not you spoke with, but by mighty suit: And look you get a prayer-book in your hand, And stand betwixt two churchmen, good my lord; For on that ground I’ll build a holy descant: And be not easily won to our request: Play the maid’s part, still answer nay, and take it.
The mayor is here: we need to make him worried; Don’t talk to him directly, only through a strong request: And make sure you have a prayer-book in your hand, And stand between two priests, my lord; Because I’ll use that to make a holy argument: And don’t agree too quickly to our request: Act like a maiden, always say no, and then accept it.
I go; and if you plead as well for them As I can say nay to thee for myself, No doubt well bring it to a happy issue.
I’ll go; and if you argue as well for them As I can say no to you for myself, No doubt this will end well.
Go, go, up to the leads; the lord mayor knocks.
Go, go, up to the roof; the lord mayor is knocking.
Welcome my lord; I dance attendance here; I think the duke will not be spoke withal.
Welcome, my lord; I’m here waiting on you; I think the duke won’t want to be spoken to.
Here comes his servant: how now, Catesby, What says he?
Here comes his servant: what’s the news, Catesby? What does he say?
My lord: he doth entreat your grace; To visit him to-morrow or next day: He is within, with two right reverend fathers, Divinely bent to meditation; And no worldly suit would he be moved, To draw him from his holy exercise.
My lord: he asks you to visit him either tomorrow or the next day: He’s inside, with two very respected priests, Deep in meditation; And he wouldn’t be persuaded by any worldly request, To interrupt his holy reflection.
Return, good Catesby, to thy lord again; Tell him, myself, the mayor and citizens, In deep designs and matters of great moment, No less importing than our general good, Are come to have some conference with his grace.
Go back, good Catesby, and tell your lord again; Tell him that I, the mayor, and the citizens, With important matters and great issues, No less important than the good of the people, Have come to discuss something with him.
I’ll tell him what you say, my lord.
I’ll tell him what you say, my lord.
Ah, ha, my lord, this prince is not an Edward! He is not lolling on a lewd day-bed, But on his knees at meditation; Not dallying with a brace of courtezans, But meditating with two deep divines; Not sleeping, to engross his idle body, But praying, to enrich his watchful soul: Happy were England, would this gracious prince Take on himself the sovereignty thereof: But, sure, I fear, we shall ne’er win him to it.
Ah, my lord, this prince is not like Edward! He’s not lying around on a lazy day-bed, But on his knees in deep thought; Not fooling around with a couple of mistresses, But meditating with two serious scholars; Not sleeping to indulge his lazy body, But praying to strengthen his attentive soul: England would be fortunate if this kind prince Took the throne for himself: But I fear we’ll never convince him to do it.
Marry, God forbid his grace should say us nay!
God forbid that he should refuse us!
I fear he will.
I fear he will.
How now, Catesby, what says your lord?
What’s going on, Catesby, what did your lord say?
My lord, He wonders to what end you have assembled Such troops of citizens to speak with him, His grace not being warn’d thereof before: My lord, he fears you mean no good to him.
My lord, He wonders what your purpose is in gathering So many citizens to talk to him, Without warning him beforehand: My lord, he’s afraid you mean him harm.
Sorry I am my noble cousin should Suspect me, that I mean no good to him: By heaven, I come in perfect love to him; And so once more return and tell his grace.
I’m sorry, my noble cousin, that you think I mean him harm: By heaven, I come with pure love for him; So go back and tell him this once more.
When holy and devout religious men Are at their beads, ’tis hard to draw them thence, So sweet is zealous contemplation.
When holy and devout religious men Are deep in prayer, it’s hard to pull them away, So sweet is zealous contemplation.
See, where he stands between two clergymen!
Look, there he stands between two clergymen!
Two props of virtue for a Christian prince, To stay him from the fall of vanity: And, see, a book of prayer in his hand, True ornaments to know a holy man. Famous Plantagenet, most gracious prince, Lend favourable ears to our request; And pardon us the interruption Of thy devotion and right Christian zeal.
Two pillars of virtue for a Christian king, To keep him from falling into vanity: And look, a prayer book in his hand, True marks to show a holy man. Famous Plantagenet, most gracious prince, Lend your ears to our request; And forgive us for interrupting Your devotion and true Christian zeal.
My lord, there needs no such apology: I rather do beseech you pardon me, Who, earnest in the service of my God, Neglect the visitation of my friends. But, leaving this, what is your grace’s pleasure?
My lord, no apology is needed: I ask your pardon instead, For, earnest in serving God, I’ve neglected the visit of my friends. But, leaving that aside, what is your request?
Even that, I hope, which pleaseth God above, And all good men of this ungovern’d isle.
Even that, I hope, which pleases God above, And all good men of this untamed land.
I do suspect I have done some offence That seems disgracious in the city’s eyes, And that you come to reprehend my ignorance.
I suspect I’ve done something wrong That has upset the people in the city, And that you’ve come to reprimand me.
You have, my lord: would it might please your grace, At our entreaties, to amend that fault!
You have, my lord: I hope it pleases you, To fix that mistake at our request!
Else wherefore breathe I in a Christian land?
Then why am I breathing in a Christian land?
Then know, it is your fault that you resign The supreme seat, the throne majestical, The scepter’d office of your ancestors, Your state of fortune and your due of birth, The lineal glory of your royal house, To the corruption of a blemished stock: Whilst, in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts, Which here we waken to our country’s good, This noble isle doth want her proper limbs; Her face defaced with scars of infamy, Her royal stock graft with ignoble plants, And almost shoulder’d in the swallowing gulf Of blind forgetfulness and dark oblivion. Which to recure, we heartily solicit Your gracious self to take on you the charge And kingly government of this your land, Not as protector, steward, substitute, Or lowly factor for another’s gain; But as successively from blood to blood, Your right of birth, your empery, your own. For this, consorted with the citizens, Your very worshipful and loving friends, And by their vehement instigation, In this just suit come I to move your grace.
Then know, it’s your fault that you step down From the supreme seat, the majestic throne, The scepter’d office of your ancestors, Your state, fortune, and your rightful birth, The glorious legacy of your royal house, To the corruption of a tainted stock: While, in the softness of your sleepy thoughts, Which we now wake for our country’s good, This noble land lacks its proper strength; Its face marred with shame and disgrace, Its royal lineage mixed with low-born plants, And almost consumed in the vast sea Of forgetfulness and dark oblivion. To fix this, we sincerely ask You to take on the charge And royal rule of this land, Not as protector, steward, or agent, But as a true successor, from blood to blood, With your rightful inheritance, your empire, your own. For this, with the citizens’ support, Your very loyal and loving friends, And their strong encouragement, I come to ask your grace.
I know not whether to depart in silence, Or bitterly to speak in your reproof. Best fitteth my degree or your condition If not to answer, you might haply think Tongue-tied ambition, not replying, yielded To bear the golden yoke of sovereignty, Which fondly you would here impose on me; If to reprove you for this suit of yours, So season’d with your faithful love to me. Then, on the other side, I cheque’d my friends. Therefore, to speak, and to avoid the first, And then, in speaking, not to incur the last, Definitively thus I answer you. Your love deserves my thanks; but my desert Unmeritable shuns your high request. First if all obstacles were cut away, And that my path were even to the crown, As my ripe revenue and due by birth Yet so much is my poverty of spirit, So mighty and so many my defects, As I had rather hide me from my greatness, Being a bark to brook no mighty sea, Than in my greatness covet to be hid, And in the vapour of my glory smother’d. But, God be thank’d, there’s no need of me, And much I need to help you, if need were; The royal tree hath left us royal fruit, Which, mellow’d by the stealing hours of time, Will well become the seat of majesty, And make, no doubt, us happy by his reign. On him I lay what you would lay on me, The right and fortune of his happy stars; Which God defend that I should wring from him!
I don’t know whether to stay silent, Or to speak bitterly in rebuke. What fits my rank or your position If I don’t respond, you might think I’m too proud to speak, submitting To the golden yoke of kingship, Which foolishly you’d impose on me; Or if I rebuke you for your request, Seasoned with your loyal love to me. Then, on the other hand, I’d upset my friends. Therefore, to speak, and avoid the first, And then, in speaking, not to incur the last, I answer you this way. Your love deserves my thanks, but my worth Isn’t enough to answer your great request. First, if all obstacles were cleared away, And my path straight to the crown, As my rightful inheritance and birthright Yet still, my spirit is too weak, So many flaws in me, I’d rather hide from greatness, Like a boat unable to survive a great sea, Than desire greatness and be smothered By my own glory. But thank God, I’m not needed, Though much I’d help if needed; The royal tree has left us royal fruit, Which, ripened by the passage of time, Will fit the throne well, And make us happy in his reign. On him, I place what you would place on me, The right and fortune of his bright future; God forbid I should take that from him!
My lord, this argues conscience in your grace; But the respects thereof are nice and trivial, All circumstances well considered. You say that Edward is your brother’s son: So say we too, but not by Edward’s wife; For first he was contract to Lady Lucy-- Your mother lives a witness to that vow-- And afterward by substitute betroth’d To Bona, sister to the King of France. These both put by a poor petitioner, A care-crazed mother of a many children, A beauty-waning and distressed widow, Even in the afternoon of her best days, Made prize and purchase of his lustful eye, Seduced the pitch and height of all his thoughts To base declension and loathed bigamy By her, in his unlawful bed, he got This Edward, whom our manners term the prince. More bitterly could I expostulate, Save that, for reverence to some alive, I give a sparing limit to my tongue. Then, good my lord, take to your royal self This proffer’d benefit of dignity; If non to bless us and the land withal, Yet to draw forth your noble ancestry From the corruption of abusing times, Unto a lineal true-derived course.
My lord, this shows conscience in you; But the reasons behind it are trivial, All things considered. You say that Edward is your brother’s son: We say so too, but not by Edward’s wife; For first, he was betrothed to Lady Lucy-- Your mother lives to witness that vow-- And later, he was betrothed To Bona, sister of the King of France. These both cast aside for a poor petitioner, A mother overwhelmed with children, A fading and distressed widow, In the late years of her prime, Captured by his lustful eye, Lowering all his thoughts To base betrayal and hated bigamy, With her, in his unlawful bed, he fathered This Edward, whom we call the prince. I could speak more bitterly, But for the sake of some who are still alive, I limit my words. So, good my lord, take this offer Of dignity for yourself; If not to bless us and the land, Then to restore your noble ancestry From the corruption of these times, To a rightful and honorable course.
Do, good my lord, your citizens entreat you.
Please, my lord, the citizens are asking you.
Refuse not, mighty lord, this proffer’d love.
Don’t turn down, great lord, this offer of love.
O, make them joyful, grant their lawful suit!
Oh, make them happy, grant their rightful request!
Alas, why would you heap these cares on me? I am unfit for state and majesty; I do beseech you, take it not amiss; I cannot nor I will not yield to you.
Oh, why are you giving me all these worries? I’m not suited for power and greatness; I beg you, don’t take offense; I can’t and I won’t agree to this.
If you refuse it,--as, in love and zeal, Loath to depose the child, Your brother’s son; As well we know your tenderness of heart And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse, Which we have noted in you to your kin, And egally indeed to all estates,-- Yet whether you accept our suit or no, Your brother’s son shall never reign our king; But we will plant some other in the throne, To the disgrace and downfall of your house: And in this resolution here we leave you.-- Come, citizens: ’zounds! I’ll entreat no more.
If you refuse,--since, out of love and loyalty, Reluctant to remove the child, your brother’s son; As we know your tender heart And gentle, kind, soft remorse, Which we’ve seen in you with your family, And truly with all people,-- But whether you accept our request or not, Your brother’s son will never be our king; We’ll put someone else on the throne, To bring disgrace and ruin to your house: And in this decision, we leave you now.-- Come, citizens: damn it! I won’t ask again.
O, do not swear, my lord of Buckingham.
Oh, don’t swear, my lord Buckingham.
Call them again, my lord, and accept their suit.
Call them back, my lord, and agree to their request.
Do, good my lord, lest all the land do rue it.
Please, my lord, or the whole country will regret it.
Would you enforce me to a world of care? Well, call them again. I am not made of stone, But penetrable to your. kind entreats, Albeit against my conscience and my soul.
Are you trying to push me into a world of worry? Fine, call them back. I’m not made of stone, But I can be moved by your kind requests, Even if it goes against my conscience and soul.
Cousin of Buckingham, and you sage, grave men, Since you will buckle fortune on my back, To bear her burthen, whether I will or no, I must have patience to endure the load: But if black scandal or foul-faced reproach Attend the sequel of your imposition, Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me From all the impure blots and stains thereof; For God he knows, and you may partly see, How far I am from the desire thereof.
Cousin Buckingham, and you wise, serious men, Since you want to put fortune on my shoulders, To carry her weight, whether I like it or not, I must have patience to bear this burden: But if slander or shameful blame Follows from what you’ve forced on me, Your coercion will free me From all the dirty stains and marks of it; For God knows, and you can partly see, How far I am from wanting this.
God bless your grace! we see it, and will say it.
God bless you, your grace! We see it, and we’ll say it.
In saying so, you shall but say the truth.
In saying that, you’ll only speak the truth.
Then I salute you with this kingly title: Long live Richard, England’s royal king!
Then I greet you with this royal title: Long live Richard, England’s rightful king!
Amen.
Amen.
To-morrow will it please you to be crown’d?
Will it please you to be crowned tomorrow?
Even when you please, since you will have it so.
Whenever you want, since you insist on it.
To-morrow, then, we will attend your grace: And so most joyfully we take our leave.
Then tomorrow, we will be there to attend Your Grace: And so, we happily take our leave.
Come, let us to our holy task again. Farewell, good cousin; farewell, gentle friends.
Come, let’s get back to our sacred duty. Goodbye, good cousin; goodbye, dear friends.