Richard III Act IV, Scene iv King Richard
(This text is featured in our interview with Drew Cortese)
Click here to open a scanned version.
Click here to open up the modern version.
Click here to open the Drew Cortese cut.
306 Looke what is done, cannot be now amended:
307 Men shall deale vnaduisedly sometimes,
308 Which after-houres giues leysure to repent.
309 If I did take the Kingdome from your Sonnes,
310 To make amends, Ile giue it to your daughter:
311 If I haue kill’d the issue of your wombe,
312 To quicken your encrease, I will beget
313 Mine yssue of your blood, vpon your Daughter:
314 A Grandams name is little lesse in loue,
315 Then is the doting Title of a Mother;
316 They are as Children but one steppe below,
317 Euen of your mettall, of your very blood:
318 Of all one paine, saue for a night of groanes
319 Endur’d of her, for whom you bid like sorrow.
320 Your Children were vexation to your youth,
321 But mine shall be a comfort to your Age,
322 The losse you haue, is but a Sonne being King,
323 And by that losse, your Daughter is made Queene.
324 I cannot make you what amends I would,
325 Therefore accept such kindnesse as I can.
326 Dorset your Sonne, that with a fearfull soule
327 Leads discontented steppes in Forraine soyle,
328 This faire Alliance, quickly shall call home
329 To high Promotions, and great Dignity.
330 The King that calles your beauteous Daughter Wife,
331 Familiarly shall call thy Dorset, Brother:
332 Againe shall you be Mother to a King:
333 And all the Ruines of distressefull Times,
334 Repayr’d with double Riches of Content.
335 What? we haue many goodly dayes to see:
336 The liquid drops of Teares that you haue shed,
337 Shall come againe, transform’d to Orient Pearle,
338 Aduantaging their Loue, with interest
339 Often-times double gaine of happinesse.
340 Go then (my Mother) to thy Daughter go,
341 Make bold her bashfull yeares, with your experience,
342 Prepare her eares to heare a Woers Tale.
343 Put in her tender heart, th’aspiring Flame
344 Of Golden Soueraignty: Acquaint the Princesse
345 With the sweet silent houres of Marriage ioyes:
346 And when this Arme of mine hath chastised
347 The petty Rebell, dull-brain’d Buckingham,
348 Bound with Triumphant Garlands will I come,
349 And leade thy daughter to a Conquerors bed:
350 To whom I will retaile my Conquest wonne,
351 And she shalbe sole Victoresse, Cæsars Cæsar.
Interestingly, in the Folio this scene is Act 4, Scene 3. In modern versions it is Act 4, Scene 4.