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KING RICHARD {Alone.]
Oh Fates,
always savage! Oh my bitter lot, equally evil when it rages and when
it is sparing! Mischievous Fortune greatly insults human affairs,
whirling everything on her swift wheel. Those whom at one moment she
places on the top, suddenly she tramples and kicks with her foot. Who
does not see that this powerful household is overthrown by a sudden
attack of tottering destiny?
First, my
only
son has died (oh
harsh Fates, my exceedingly gloomy lot!), who could have hoped to
inherit his
dead father’s glorious kingdom, like the little
bull-calf who accompanies the great herd, whose brow is scarcely
shaded by horns — suddenly he lifts aloft his neck and holds his
head erect, leading his father’s herd and governing it. O sweet
pledge, oh great ornament of the royal family, oh the death of your
England, oh, alas, your father’s empty hope! For you I
foolishly used to pray for Achilles’ martial glory and Nestor’s
years.
God despoiled you of the light.
Never will you happily wield the scepter with a powerful hand or give
laws to the English people and subjugate conquered nations. Never
will you overmaster retreating French backs or bring rebellious
Scotsmen within your rule. Unhappy boy, you will lie enclosed in your
tomb, without glory.
The Earl of
Richmond prepares a fearful war, collecting troops in the hope of
snatching my scepter. See how the common folk are baying for my
blood! And furthermore this exile, lurking within the confines of
Brittany, fans their anger, a far too persistent fellow. Madness arms
these agents of evil for my destruction. Some are desirous of helping
this upstart Richmond with soldiers, some to place strong garrisons
in their castles, some to hide away armed men in their homes. Some
hateful men are attempting to wheedle my subjects into mutiny. I have
wished to ignore this activity. As long as I could, I cheerfully
pretended not to perceive these furtive enterprises, plots,
treacheries, musters of soldiers, sense them though I could. But when
I learned that the Duke of Buckingham was the head of this madness
and the source of all this evil, I attempted either to best him in
open battle or to seduce him by friendly entreaties, lest he break
faith with me. In
the same spirit I wrote to the Duke, that in his good fortune he should
hasten
to Court. The Duke smelled out my trick and wove
pretexts for delay. He feigned a troubled gut. I commanded him to set
aside all delay. He refused to come to “the enemy of the
nation,” and this worst of Dukes is collecting soldiers and
stirring up an unspeakable war against me.
What am I to
do?
The man who was my best friend is seeking to depose me. He who once
greatly fawned on me now greatly loathes me. Ah, the impious crime,
the Duke, worthy of consignment to deepest Hell! But the common
people, like a whirlwind, are banding together and seeking their
sovereign’s death. They make up songs describing Richard alone
as the cause of evil.
Now what remains to be done? Whom can I consult? Nobody can undo that
which has been done. If the people hate me, I am a dead man. But my
popularity must be preserved. Let only this stain be removed by
which, alas, I have gained my criminal reputation, so that if any
evil befalls England I shall not be blamed. Now I shall be kindly,
humane, pious, and liberal to my subjects, and I shall purge my name
of impious crime.
Walls will rise up, to
the accompaniment of a hundred sacrifices, so that the populace, freed
from their
concerns, may turn to pious prayers. And I shall
pass laws that are useful for my country. Perhaps the people will
flock to my side, induced my false piety. The fickle crowd is moved
by heaps of gold and kindly words. [Enter a
messenger.]
MESS. I
bring
news that the Duke of Buckingham has fled and that his forces are
scattered.
RICH. What
was
the cause of this sudden rout?
MESS. After
he
had reviewed his enormous band of Welshmen,
he arrogantly began his march on the road which stretches through the
Forest of Dean, hastening
to cross the noble Severn in order to join forces with the Courtenays.
But while
the Duke was breathing threats with his horrid
crew — do the gods not look after us mortals? — when his soldiers
had caught sight of the river but had not yet touched its high banks,
a heavy downpour struck the land and a humid south wind sent down
many a cloudburst. Deep water flooded the fields.
Fish
were cast up into the unfamiliar air. Men sleeping in their beds became
lodged
in trees, in the middle of fields. They were amazed by
overturned buildings floating everywhere. A babe in his cradle
drifted through the fields, in the mountains beasts went a-swimming.
For ten days water covered the land. The soldiers were stymied, since
the flood scarcely permitted them to join with the Courtenays’ forces.
But the mob of Welshmen, serving the Duke against their will and having
no pay,
wretched without provisions, soon deserted. This
Welsh force could not be induced by threats or entreaties to remain
as participants in the war or to continue farther. The Duke, left as
an exposed prey for his enemies, unhappily made his escape.
RICH. This
fortunate news strikes my ears. Happy divinities uplift me, who was
previously reeling. Let soldiers block all the ports so that the Duke
cannot break out to foreign parts. He is seeking to find out what the
Earl of Richmond is preparing to do, and also whether he should
abandon his enterprise or persevere with his threats. As ruler, I
pledge my honor that the man who brings him to me as a captive will
receive a worthy prize.
If a bondsman, I shall manumit him; if
free, I shall pay him a thousand pounds. Let the fleet patrol the Sea
of Brittany
lest Richmond the exile attack England. [Exit
the messenger.] Dare crime, lest this evil grow worse. It is
right to vindicate with the sword what prayers cannot achieve.
Whatever partner in this crime comes into our hands, with his blood
he will atone for this criminal undertaking. [Enter another
messenger.]
MESS. The
captive Buckingham is in chains.
RICH. Let us
celebrate this happy day with pious prayers. Oh gods, kind to me,
albeit tardily! Tell me by what wiles he was taken.
MESS. When
the
Duke saw he was bereft of his Welsh soldiers,
he was immediately stupefied. Dumbfounded by such grave misfortune,
he all but despaired of his life, devoid of any plan, but nonetheless
he maintained his self-confidence. Shaking, he secretly fled to the
home of Bannister, a man whom the Duke had greatly favored in the
past and whom he had always amplified with dignities. He intended to
remain secretly in that hall until he had reorganized his forces and
his threat of war. Alternatively, he could flee over the Sea of
Brittany and join himself to Richmond as a companion.
But,
as if some god were hostile to the Duke, he could not avoid the evil in
store
for him. His retainer Bannister, either fearful for his
life or induced by your rewards, betrayed the Duke to Mitton, the
Sheriff of Shropshire. That man, accompanied by a band of soldiers,
hastened there and apprehended the Duke in a woods not far removed
from his servant’s hall, as he was brooding on his fate in
solitude. And, a loyal man, he now brings the captive to you. [Exit.]
RICH. If
sacred
faithfulness does not keep me on my throne, I shall attempt to secure
my kingdom with blood and shall govern savagely with a hard rule.
Now, therefore, let the Duke pay the highest penalty. Let a sad sword
strike off his noxious head, let the executioner make no delay in
punishing him. He who fears odium does not know how to rule. [Enter
Lord Stanley.] Lord
Stanley, your loyalty to me has not been in doubt. The Earl of Richmond
thirsts
for my honors,
your step-son has
promised himself my scepter. The Countess his mother seeks to give over
the scepter,
seized with a conquering hand, to her son.
Hasten to Lancaster. There you must immediately shut her up. Let none
of the woman’s servants have access to her.
The mother must send no letters to her son, lest in her madness she
create some calamity for her country, and, being a rebellious woman,
take the scepter away from me. But leave behind your honorable son,
Lord Strange, as hostage for your faith. The
boy will guarantee his father’s steadfastness. Nature has
endowed the female mind with cunning, filled their hearts with
tricks. But she has denied them strength, so that such a great evil
can nevertheless be overcome.
BUCKINGHAM [Alone.]
Oh the
elusive glory of alluring Fortune, oh the disastrous outcome of this
horrid war! Alas, alas, mankind is cheated by the Fates. Who can
pledge himself something so assured that a fearful day cannot destroy
it? I, whose name lately shone bright amongst the English, am now
wretchedly thrust down to the wan waters. Alas,
why are the Fates pleased to overthrow great spirits, who have been
ruined by
the radiance of the deceitful Court? Fortune’s
gifts are too seductive. The ocean does not heave with flooding
waters, the Euxine Sea is not so swollen with waters roiling up from
below, as greatly as Fortune sets in motion the downfall of great
men. Alas, Richard’s friendship is murderous and dire. Why
should I unhappily deplore those days when the gnashing boar got
himself a kingdom with his bloody tusk, relying on my advice? See,
now I am done in by his atrocious goring. Soil of my birth, great
glory, oh England, what ferocious fates await you now that the tyrant
has you under his yoke? Alas, in my misery I am being thrust down to
the waters of the Styx, a cruel axe awaits my neck.