Colley Cibber’s adaptation (1700) of Richard III, incorporating the death of Henry VI, shortening and adapting the play, and making the central role (played by Cibber) even more dominant than it had originally been, held the stage with great success until the late nineteenth century. Since then, Shakespeare’s text has been restored (though usually abbreviated—next to Hamlet, this is Shakespeare’s longest play), and the role of Richard has continued to present a rewarding challenge to leading actors.

THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY

The Tragedy of King Richard the Third

1.1 Enter Richard Duke of Gloucester

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

Now is the winter of our discontent

Made glorious summer by this son of York;

And all the clouds that loured upon our house

In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.

Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths,

Our bruised arms hung up for monuments,

Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,

Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.

Grim-visaged war hath smoothed his wrinkled front,

And now—instead of mounting barbed steeds

To fright the souls of fearful adversaries—

He capers nimbly in a lady’s chamber

To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.

But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks

Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass,

I that am rudely stamped and want love’s majesty

To strut before a wanton ambling nymph,

I that am curtailed of this fair proportion,

Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,

Deformed, unfinished, sent before my time

Into this breathing world scarce half made up—

And that so lamely and unfashionable

That dogs bark at me as I halt by them—

Why, I in this weak piping time of peace

Have no delight to pass away the time,

Unless to spy my shadow in the sun

And descant on mine own deformity.

And therefore since I cannot prove a lover

To entertain these fair well-spoken days,

I am determined to prove a villain

And hate the idle pleasures of these days.

Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,

By drunken prophecies, libels and dreams

To set my brother Clarence and the King

In deadly hate the one against the other.

And if King Edward be as true and just

As I am subtle false and treacherous,

This day should Clarence closely be mewed up

About a prophecy which says that ‘G’

Of Edward’s heirs the murderer shall be.

Enter George Duke of Clarence, guarded, and Sir Robert Brackenbury

Dive, thoughts, down to my soul: here Clarence comes.

Brother, good day. What means this armèd guard

That waits upon your grace?

CLARENCE

His majesty,

Tend’ring my person’s safety, hath appointed

This conduct to convey me to the Tower.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

Upon what cause?

CLARENCE

Because my name is George.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours.

He should for that commit your godfathers.

Belike his majesty hath some intent

That you should be new-christened in the Tower.

But what’s the matter, Clarence? May I know?

CLARENCE

Yea, Richard, when I know—for I protest

As yet I do not. But as I can learn

He hearkens after prophecies and dreams,

And from the cross-row plucks the letter ‘G’

And says a wizard told him that by ‘G’

His issue disinherited should be.

And for my name of George begins with ‘G’,

It follows in his thought that I am he.

These, as I learn, and suchlike toys as these,

Hath moved his highness to commit me now.

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

Why, this it is when men are ruled by women.

‘Tis not the King that sends you to the Tower;

My Lady Gray, his wife—Clarence, ’tis she

That tempts him to this harsh extremity.

Was it not she, and that good man of worship

Anthony Woodeville her brother there,

That made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower,

From whence this present day he is delivered?

We are not safe, Clarence; we are not safe.

CLARENCE

By heaven, I think there is no man secure

But the Queen’s kindred, and night-walking heralds

That trudge betwixt the King and Mrs Shore.

Heard ye not what an humble suppliant

Lord Hastings was for his delivery?

RICHARD GLOUCESTER

Humbly complaining to her deity

Got my Lord Chamberlain his liberty.

I’ll tell you what: I think it is our way,

If we will keep in favour with the King,

To be her men and wear her livery.

The jealous, o’erworn widow and herself,

Since that our brother dubbed them gentlewomen,

Are mighty gossips in our monarchy.

BRACKENBURY

I beseech your graces both to pardon me.

His majesty hath straitly given in charge

That no man shall have private conference,

Of what degree soever, with your brother.