and all that have miscarrièd…
By underhand, corrupted, foul injustice
If that your moody, discontented souls…
Do through the clouds behold this present hour,
Even for revenge mock my destruction.—
This is All Souls’ Day, fellow, is it not?..
Why, then, All Souls’ Day is my body’s doomsday.
That high All-seer which I dallied with…
Hath turned my feignèd prayer on my head
And given in earnest what I begged in jest.
Thus Margaret’s curse falls heavy on my neck…
“When he,” quoth she, “shall split thy heart with
sorrow,
Remember Margaret was a prophetess.”—
Come, lead me, officers, to the block of shame…
Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame.
Fellows in arms, and my most loving…
friends,
Bruised underneath the yoke of tyranny,
The wretched, bloody, and usurping boar…
That spoiled your summer fields and fruitful vines,
Swills your warm blood like wash, and makes his…
trough
In your embowelled bosoms
Every man’s conscience is a thousand…
men
To fight against this guilty homicide.
I doubt not but his friends will turn to us.
He hath no friends but what are friends for fear,
Which in his dearest need will fly from him.
True hope is swift, and flies with swallow’s wings;
Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings
My heart is ten times…
lighter than my looks.
Why, our battalia trebles that account…
Besides, the King’s name is a tower of strength
Which they upon the adverse faction want
Bid him bring his power
Before sunrising…
lest his son George fall
Into the blind cave of eternal night
Saddle white Surrey for the field tomorrow…
Look that my staves be sound and not too heavy
But on thy side I may not be too forward…
Lest, being seen, thy brother, tender George,
Be executed in his father’s sight.
[Ghost of Edward to Richard] Let me sit heavy on thy soul tomorrow…
Think how thou stabbed’st me in my prime of
youth
At Tewkesbury. Despair therefore, and die!
[Ghost of Henry VI to Richard] When I was mortal, my anointed body
By thee was punchèd full of…
deadly holes.
Think on the Tower and me. Despair and die!
Harry the Sixth bids thee despair and die
[Henry VI to Richmond] Virtuous and holy, be thou conqueror…
Harry, that prophesied thou shouldst be king,
Doth comfort thee in thy sleep. Live and flourish.
O coward concience,
how dost thou afflict me?
