Richard III William Shakespeare (good english books to read .txt) đ
- Author: William Shakespeare
Book online «Richard III William Shakespeare (good english books to read .txt) đ». Author William Shakespeare
So, I am satisfied. Give me a bowl of wine:
I have not that alacrity of spirit,
Nor cheer of mind, that I was wont to have.
Set it down. Is ink and paper ready?
Bid my guard watch; leave me.
Ratcliff, about the mid of night come to my tent
And help to arm me. Leave me, I say. Exeunt Ratcliff and the other Attendants.
All comfort that the dark night can afford
Be to thy person, noble father-in-law!
Tell me, how fares our loving mother?
I, by attorney, bless thee from thy mother,
Who prays continually for Richmondâs good:
So much for that. The silent hours steal on,
And flaky darkness breaks within the east.
In briefâ âfor so the season bids us beâ â
Prepare thy battle early in the morning,
And put thy fortune to the arbitrement
Of bloody strokes and mortal-staring war.
I, as I mayâ âthat which I would I cannotâ â
With best advantage will deceive the time,
And aid thee in this doubtful shock of arms:
But on thy side I may not be too forward,
Lest, being seen, thy brother, tender George,
Be executed in his fatherâs sight.
Farewell: the leisure and the fearful time
Cuts off the ceremonious vows of love
And ample interchange of sweet discourse,
Which so long sunderâd friends should dwell upon:
God give us leisure for these rites of love!
Once more, adieu: be valiant, and speed well!
Good lords, conduct him to his regiment:
Iâll strive, with troubled thoughts, to take a nap,
Lest leaden slumber peise me down to-morrow,
When I should mount with wings of victory:
Once more, good night, kind lords and gentlemen. Exeunt all but Richmond.
O Thou, whose captain I account myself,
Look on my forces with a gracious eye;
Put in their hands thy bruising irons of wrath,
That they may crush down with a heavy fall
The usurping helmets of our adversaries!
Make us thy ministers of chastisement,
That we may praise thee in the victory!
To thee I do commend my watchful soul,
Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes:
Sleeping and waking, O, defend me still! Sleeps.
To Richard. Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow!
Think, how thou stabâdst me in my prime of youth
At Tewksbury: despair, therefore, and die!
To Richmond. Be cheerful, Richmond; for the wronged souls
Of butcherâd princes fight in thy behalf:
King Henryâs issue, Richmond, comforts thee.
To Richard. When I was mortal, my anointed body
By thee was punched full of deadly holes:
Think on the Tower and me: despair, and die!
Harry the Sixth bids thee despair and die!
To Richmond. Virtuous and holy, be thou conqueror!
Harry, that prophesied thou shouldst be king,
Doth comfort thee in thy sleep: live, and flourish!
To Richard. Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow!
I, that was washâd to death with fulsome wine,
Poor Clarence, by thy guile betrayed to death!
To-morrow in the battle think on me,
And fall thy edgeless sword: despair, and die!â â
To Richmond. Thou offspring of the house of Lancaster,
The wronged heirs of York do pray for thee:
Good angels guard thy battle! live, and flourish!
To Richard. Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow,
Rivers, that died at Pomfret! despair, and die!
To Richard. Think upon Vaughan, and, with guilty fear,
Let fall thy lance: despair, and die!
To Richmond. Awake, and think our wrongs in Richardâs bosom
Will conquer him! awake, and win the day!
To Richard. Bloody and guilty, guiltily awake,
And in a bloody battle end thy days!
Think on Lord Hastings: despair, and die!
To Richmond. Quiet untroubled soul, awake, awake!
Arm, fight, and conquer, for fair Englandâs sake!
To Richard. Dream on thy cousins smotherâd in the Tower:
Let us be lead within thy bosom, Richard,
And weigh thee down to ruin, shame, and death!
Thy nephewsâ souls bid thee despair and die!
To Richmond. Sleep, Richmond, sleep in peace, and wake in joy;
Good angels guard thee from the boarâs annoy!
Live, and beget a happy race of kings!
Edwardâs unhappy sons do bid thee flourish.
To Richard. Richard, thy wife, that wretched Anne thy wife,
That never slept a quiet hour with thee,
Now fills thy sleep with perturbations:
To-morrow in the battle think on me,
And fall thy edgeless sword: despair, and die!
To Richmond. Thou quiet soul, sleep thou a quiet sleep;
Dream of success and happy victory!
Thy adversaryâs wife doth pray for thee.
To Richard. The last was I that helpâd thee to the crown;
The last was I that felt thy tyranny:
O, in the battle think on Buckingham,
And die in terror of thy guiltiness!
Dream on, dream on, of bloody deeds and death:
Fainting, despair; despairing, yield thy breath!
To Richmond. I died for hope ere I could lend thee aid:
But cheer thy heart, and be thou not dismayâd:
God and good angel fight on Richmondâs side;
And Richard falls in height of all his pride. The Ghosts vanish. King Richard starts out of his dream.
Give me another horse: bind up my wounds.
Have mercy, Jesu!â âSoft! I did but dream.
O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me!
The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight.
Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh.
What do I fear? myself? thereâs none else by:
Richard loves Richard; that is, I am I.
Is there a murderer here? No. Yes, I am:
Then fly. What,
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