The Happy Prince (1888)


By Oscar Wilde

High above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy Prince. He was gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyes he had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on his sword-hilt.
He was very much admired indeed. "He is as beautiful as a weathercock," remarked one of the Town Councillors who wished to gain a reputation for having artistic tastes; "only not quite so useful," he added, fearing lest people should think him unpractical, which he really was not. "Why can't you be like the Happy Prince?" asked a sensible mother of her little boy who was crying for the moon. "The Happy Prince never dreams of crying for anything." "I am glad there is some one in the world who is quite happy," muttered a disappointed man as he gazed at the wonderful statue.
"He looks just like an angel," said the Charity Children as they came out of the cathedral in their bright scarlet cloaks and their clean white pinafores.
"How do you know?" said the Mathematical Master, "you have never seen one."
"Ah! but we have, in our dreams," answered the children; and the Mathematical Master frowned and looked very severe, for he did not approve of children dreaming.
One night there flew over the city a little Swallow. His friends had gone away to Egypt six weeks before, but he had stayed behind, for he was in love with the most beautiful Reed. He had met her early in the spring as he was flying down the river after a big yellow moth, and had been so attracted by her slender waist that he had stopped to talk to her.
"Shall I love you?" said the Swallow, who liked to come to the point at once, and the Reed made him a low bow. So he flew round and round her; touching the water with his wings, and making silver ripples. This was his courtship, and it lasted all through the summer.
"It is a ridiculous attachment," twittered the other Swallows; "she has no money, and far too many relations"; and indeed the river was quite full of Reeds. Then, when the autumn came they all flew away.
After they had gone he felt lonely, and began to tire of his lady- love. "She has no conversation," he said, "and 1 am afraid that she is a coquette, for she is always flirting with the wind." And certainly, whenever the wind blew, the Reed made the most graceful curtseys. "I admit that she is domestic," he continued, "but I love travelling, and my wife, consequently, should love travelling also."
"Will you come away with me?" he said finally to her; but the Reed shook her head, she was so attached to her home.
"You have been trifling with me," he cried. "I am off to the Pyramids. Good-bye!" and he flew away.
All day long he flew, and at night-time he arrived at the city. "Where shall I put up?" he said; "I hope the town has made preparations."
Then he saw the statue on the tall column.
"I will put up there," he cried; "it is a fine position, with plenty of fresh air." So he alighted just between the feet of the Happy Prince.
"I have a golden bedroom," he said softly to himself as he looked round, and he prepared to go to sleep; but just as he was putting his head under his wing a large drop of water fell on him. "What a curious thing!" he cried; "there is not a single cloud in the sky, the stars are quite clear and bright, and yet it is raining. The climate in the north of Europe is really dreadful. The Reed used to like the rain, but that was merely her selfishness."
Then another drop felt.
"What is the use of a statue if it cannot keep the rain off?" he said; "I must look for a good chimney-pot," and he determined to fly away.
But before he had opened his wings, a third drop fell, and he looked up, and saw - Ah! what did he see?
The eyes of the Happy Prince were filled with tears, and tears were running down his golden cheeks. His face was so beautiful in the moonlight that the little Swallow was filled with pity.
"Who are you?" he said. "I am the Happy Prince."
"Why are you weeping then?" asked the Swallow; "you have quite drenched me."
"When I was alive and had a human heart," answered the statue, "I did not know what tears were, for I lived in the Palace of Sans-Souci, where sorrow is not allowed to enter. In the daytime I played with my companions in the garden, and in the evening I led the dance in the Great Hall. Round the garden ran a very lofty wall, but I never cared to ask what lay beyond it, everything about me was so beautiful. My courtiers called me the Happy Prince, and happy indeed I was, if pleasure be happiness. So I lived, and so I died. And now that I am dead they have set me up here so high that I can see all the ugliness and all the misery of my city, and though my heart is made of lead yet I cannot chose but weep."
"What! is he not solid gold?" said the Swallow to himself. He was too polite to make any personal remarks out loud.
"Far away," continued the statue in a love musical voice, "far away in a little street there is a poor house. One of the windows is open, and through it I can see a woman seated at a table. Her face is thin and worn, and she has coarse, red hands, all pricked by the needle, for she is a seamstress. She is embroidering passion-flowers on a satin gown for the loveliest of the Queen's maids-of-honour to wear at the next Court-ball. In a bed in the corner of the room her little boy is lying ill. He has a fever, and is asking for oranges. His mother has nothing to give him but river water, so he is crying. Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, will you not bring her the ruby out of my sword-hilt? My feet are fastened to this pedestal and I cannot move."
"I am waited for in Egypt," said the Swallow. "My friends are flying up and down the Nile, and talking to the large lotus-flowers. Soon they will go to sleep in the tomb of the great King. The King is there himself in his painted coffin. He is wrapped in yellow linen, and embalmed with spices. Round his neck is a chain of pale green jade, and his hands are like withered leaves."
"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "will you not stay with me for one night, and be my messenger? The boy is so thirsty, and the mother so sad."
"I don't think I like boys," answered the Swallow. "Last summer, when I was staying on the river, there were two rude boys, the miller's sons, who were always throwing stones at me. They never hit me, of course; we swallows fly far too well for that, and besides, I come of a family famous for its agility; but still, it was a mark of disrespect."
But the Happy Prince looked so sad that the little Swallow was sorry. "It is very cold here," he said; "but I will stay with you for one night, and be your messenger."
"Thank you, little Swallow," said the Prince.
So the Swallow picked out the great ruby from the Prince's sword, and flew away with it in his beak over the roofs of the town.
He passed by the cathedral tower, where the white marble angels were sculptured. He passed by the palace and heard the sound of dancing. A beautiful girl came out on the balcony with her lover. "How wonderful the stars are," he said to her, "and how wonderful is the power of love!"
"I hope my dress will be ready in time for the State-ball," she answered; "I have ordered passion-flowers to be embroidered on it; but the seamstresses are so lazy."
He passed over the river, and saw the lanterns hanging to the masts of the ships. He passed over the Ghetto, and save the old Jews bargaining with each other, and weighing out money in copper scales.
At last he came to the poor house and looked in. The boy was tossing feverishly on his bed, and the mother had fallen asleep, she was so tired. In he hopped, and laid the great ruby on the table beside the woman's thimble. Then he flew gently round the bed, fanning the boy's forehead with his wings. "How cool I feel," said the boy, "I must be getting better"; and he sank into a delicious slumber.
Then the Swallow flew back to the Happy Prince, and told him what he had done. "It is curious," he remarked, "but I feel quite warm now, although it is so cold."
"That is because you have done a good action," said the Prince. And the little Swallow began to think, and then he fell asleep. Thinking always made him sleepy.
When day broke he flew down to the river and had a bath. "What a remarkable phenomenon," said the Professor of Ornithology as he was passing over the bridge. "A swallow in winter!" And he wrote a long letter about it to the local newspaper. Every one quoted it, it was full of so many words that they could not understand.
"To-night I go to Egypt," said the Swallow, and he was in high spirits at the prospect. He visited all the public monuments, and sat a long time on top of the church steeple. Wherever he went the Sparrows chirruped, and said to each other, "What a distinguished stranger!" so he enjoyed himself very much.
When the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince. "Have you any commissions for Egypt?" he cried; "I am just starting."
"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "will you not stay with me one night longer?"
"I am waited for in Egypt," answered the Swallow. "To-morrow my friends will fly up to the Second Cataract. The river-horse couches there among the bulrushes, and on a great granite throne sits the God Memnon. All night long he watches the stars, and when the morning star shines he utters one cry of joy, and then he is silent. At noon the yellow lions come down to the water's edge to drink. They have eyes like green beryls, and their roar is louder than the roar of the cataract.
"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "far away across the city I see a young man in a garret. He is leaning over a desk covered with papers, and in a tumbler by his side there is a bunch of withered violets. His hair is brown and crisp, and his lips are red as a pomegranate, and he has large and dreamy eyes. He is trying to finish a play for the Director of the Theatre, but he is too cold to write any more. There is no fire in the grate, and hunger has made him faint."
"I will wait with you one night longer," said the Swallow, who really had a good heart. "Shall I take him another ruby?"
"Alas! I have no ruby now," said the Prince; "my eyes are all that I have left. They are made of rare sapphires, which were brought out of India a thousand years ago. Pluck out one of them and take it to him. He will sell it to the jeweller, and buy food and firewood, and finish his play."
"Dear Prince," said the Swallow, "I cannot do that"; and he began to weep.
"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "do as I command you."
So the Swallow plucked out the Prince's eye, and flew away to the student's garret. It was easy enough to get in, as there was a hole in the roof. Through this he darted, and came into the room. The young man had his head buried in his hands, so he did not hear the flutter of the bird's wings, and when he looked up he found the beautiful sapphire lying on the withered violets.
"I am beginning to be appreciated," he cried; "this is from some great admirer. Now I can finish my play," and he looked quite happy.
The next day the Swallow flew down to the harbour. He sat on the mast of a large vessel and watched the sailors hauling big chests out of the hold with ropes. "Heave a-hoy!" they shouted as each chest came up. "I am going to Egypt"! cried the Swallow, but nobody minded, and when the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince.
"I am come to bid you good-bye," he cried.
"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "will you not stay with me one night longer?"
"It is winter," answered the Swallow, "and the chill snow will soon be here. In Egypt the sun is warm on the green palm-trees, and the crocodiles lie in the mud and look lazily about them. My companions are budding a nest in the Temple of Baalbec, and the pink and white doves are watching them, and cooing to each other. Dear Prince, I must leave you, but I will never forget you, and next spring I will bring you back two beautiful jewels in place of those you have given away. The ruby shall be redder than a red rose, and the sapphire shall be as blue as the great sea."
"In the square below," said the Happy Prince, "there stands a little match-girl. She has let her matches fall in the gutter, and they are all spoiled. Her father will beat her if she does not bring home some money, and she is crying. She has no shoes or stockings, and her little head is bare.
Pluck out my other eye, and give it to her, and her father will not beat her."
"I will stay with you one night longer," said the Swallow, "but I cannot pluck out your eye. You would be quite blind then."
"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "do as I command you."
So he plucked out the Prince's other eye, and darted down with it. He swooped past the match-girl, and slipped the jewel into the palm of her hand. "What a lovely bit of glass," cried the little girl; and she ran home, laughing.
Then the Swallow came back to the Prince. "You are blind now," he said, "so I will stay with you always."
"No, little Swallow," said the poor Prince, "you must go away to Egypt."
"I will stay with you always," said the Swallow, and he slept at the Prince's feet.
All the next day he sat on the Prince's shoulder, and told him stories of what he had seen in strange lands. He told him of the red ibises, who stand in long rows on the banks of the Nile, and catch gold-fish in their beaks; of the Sphinx, who is as old as the world itself, and lives in the desert, and knows everything; of the merchants, who walk slowly by the side of their camels, and carry amber beads in their hands; of the King of the Mountains of the Moon, who is as black as ebony, and worships a large crystal; of the great green snake that sleeps in a palm-tree, and has twenty priests to feed it with honey-cakes; and of the pygmies who sail over a big lake on large flat leaves, and are always at war with the butterflies.
"Dear little Swallow," said the Prince, "you tell me of marvellous things, but more marvellous than anything is the suffering of men and of women. There is no Mystery so great as Misery. Fly over my city, little Swallow, and tell me what you see there."
So the Swallow flew over the great city, and saw the rich making merry in their beautiful houses, while the beggars were sitting at the gates. He flew into dark lanes, and saw the white faces of starving children looking out listlessly at the black streets. Under the archway of a bridge two little boys were lying in one another's arms to try and keep themselves warm. "How hungry we are!" they said. "You must not lie here," shouted the Watchman, and they wandered out into the rain.
Then he flew back and told the Prince what he had seen.
"I am covered with fine gold," said the Prince, "you must take it off, leaf by leaf, and give it to my poor; the living always think that gold can make them happy."
Leaf after leaf of the fine gold the Swallow picked off, till the Happy Prince looked quite dull and grey. Leaf after leaf of the fine gold he brought to the poor, and the children's faces grew rosier, and they laughed and played games in the street. "We have bread now!" they cried.
Then the snow came, and after the snow came the frost. The streets looked as if they were made of silver, they were so bright and glistening; long icicles like crystal daggers hung down from the eaves of the houses, everybody went about in furs, and the little boys wore scarlet taps and skated on the ice.
The poor little Swallow grew colder and colder, but he would not leave the Prince, he loved him too well. He picked up crumbs outside the baker's door when the baker was not looking and tried to keep himself warm by flapping his wings.
But at last he knew that he was going to die. He had just strength to fly up to the Prince's shoulder once more. "Good-bye, dear Prince!" he murmured, "will you let me kiss your hand?"
"I am glad that you are going to Egypt at last, little Swallow," said the Prince, "you have stayed too long here; but you must kiss me on the lips, for I love you."
"It is not to Egypt that I am going," said the Swallow. "I am going to the House of Death. Death is the brother of Sleep, is he not?"
And he kissed the Happy Prince on the lips, and fell down dead at his feet.
At that moment a curious crack sounded inside the statue, as if something had broken. The fact is that the leaden heart had snapped right in two. It certainly was a dreadfully hard frost.
Early the next morning the Mayor was walking in the square below in company with the Town Councillors. As they passed the column he looked up at the statue: "Dear me! how shabby the Happy Prince looks!" he said.
"How shabby indeed!" cried the Town Councillors, who always agreed with the Mayor; and they went up to look at it.
"The ruby has fallen out of his sword, his eyes are gone, and he is golden no longer," said the Mayor in fact, "he is little better than a beggar!"
"Little better than a beggar," said the Town Councillors.
"And here is actually a dead bird at his feet!" continued the Mayor. "We must really issue a proclamation that birds are not to be allowed to die here." And the Town Clerk made a note of the suggestion.
So they pulled down the statue of the Happy Prince. "As he is no longer beautiful he is no longer useful," said the Art Professor at the University.
Then they melted the statue in a furnace, and the Mayor held a meeting of the Corporation to decide what was to be done with the metal. "We must have another statue, of course," he said, "and it shall be a statue of myself."
"Of myself," said each of the Town Councillors, and they quarrelled. When I last heard of them they were quarrelling still.
"What a strange thing!" said the overseer of the workmen at the foundry. "This broken lead heart will not melt in the furnace. We must throw it away." So they threw it on a dust-heap where the dead Swallow was also lying.
"Bring me the two most precious things in the city," said God to one of His Angels; and the Angel brought Him the leaden heart and the dead bird.
"You have rightly chosen," said God, "for in my garden of Paradise this little bird shall sing for evermore, and in my city of gold the Happy Prince shall praise me."

Analysis: Comment and answer the following questions:

  1. What are the fairy tale elements of this text?
  2. The people of the city:
    • a. Find references to politicians and scholars in the text. How are they presented?
      b. Who are the people that receive the gifts from the Prince? How do they respond to the gifts and
          how is this relevant?
      c. How are the politicians and scholars presented compared to the people receiving the gifts?
  3. The Prince:
    • a. Comment on how the Prince experienced life when he was alive compared to now that he is dead.
      b. Comment on the outside and inside of the Happy Prince. How does he appear and what is below the
           surface? What is the significance of this?
  4. The Reed and the Swallow:
    • a. How is the Reed presented? What values and qualities does it have?
      b. How is the Swallow presented in comparison to the Reed?
      c. Why doesn’t the relationship between the Reed and the Swallow work out?
  5. The Prince and the Swallow:
    • a. Where does the Swallow choose to sleep when it comes to city? And how does the Swallow
          describe it?
      b. Comment on the conversation between the Swallow and the Prince when the Swallow is first
          about to leave.
      c. Comment on what the Swallow picking the leaves off of the Prince.
      d. Why does the Swallow choose to stay with the Prince? And what are the consequences?
  6. How does this text fit into a queer context?

Research and discussion: Answer and discuss the following questions with a partner:

  1. Who was Oscar Wilde? You may have to use the Internet.
  2. Would you say that a queer reading of The Happy Prince is a resistant reading? Why or why not?


Glossary:

columnsøjle
gildedforgyldt
sword-hiltsværdfæste
weathercockvejrhane
the town councillorsbyrådet
charity childrenalmissebørn
scarletskarlagenrøde / højrøde
cloakskapper
pinaforesærmeløse overkjoler
frownedrynkede panden
severealvorlig
swallowsvale
reedsiv
ripplesringe i vandet
courtshipkurmageri / parringsleg
twitteredkvidrede
coquettekokette / nedsættende ord om kvinde som bruger sin seksualitet til at få mænds opmærksomhed
(made) curtseysnejede
domestichuslig / en hjemmefødning
triflingleget
preparationsforberedelser
alighteddalede ned
merelyblot
determinedbesluttede sig for
drenchedgennemblødt
Sans-SouciSanssouci, Frederik den Stores sommerpalads i Potsdam, Tyskland
courtiersbejlere
leadbly
coarsegrov
embroideringat brodere
maids-of-honourhofdamer
court-ballhofbal
pedestalpiedestal / sokkel
wrapped inpakket ind i
linenlinned
embalmedbalsameret
withered leavesvisnede blade
agilityadræthed / behændighed
beaknæb
ghettoghetto / historisk den bydel hvor jøderne boede
tossingat vende sig i sengen
thimblefingerbøl
fanningat vifte
ornithologyornitologi / videnskab der beskæftiger sig med fugle
prospectfremtidsudsigt
sparrowsspurve
chirrupedkvidrede
commissionsprovisioner
Second CataractNilens Anden Katarakt / Lavvandet strækning af Nilen som markerer grænsen mellem Egypten og Sudan
bulrushesdunhamre / planter der vokser i vådområder
Memnongræsk sagnkonge som blev givet udødelighed af Zeus, og hvis følgere blev forvandlet til fugle
berylsgrønne ædelsten
garretmeget småt loftsværelse
crisplet krøllet
pomegranategranatæble
playteaterstykke
grateildkurv / kurv formet af metalrist til brug i ildsteder
jewelerjuveler
flutterflagren
admirerbeundrer
haulingat slæbe
BaalbecBaalbek, oldtidsby i Libanon kendt for sine romerske tempelruiner og for sin status som Solens By
cooingat kurre
gutterrendestenen
spoiledødelagte
dartedpilede / bevægede sig hurtigt
red ibisesrøde ibiser / røde storkefugle
the SphinxSfinksen / kæmpestatue af løveagtigt fabeldyr i Egypten kendt for at fortælle gåder
ebonyibenholt
pygmiespygmæer / vestafrikansk stamme kendt for deres lave statur
miseryelendighed
listlesslysløvt
watchmanvægter / byvagt
rosiermere rosenrøde
glisteningglinsende
iciclesistapper
daggersdaggerter / knivvåben
proclamationproclamation / offentlig erklæring
meltedsmeltede
furnacesmelteovn
quarreledskændtes
foundrystøberi
dust-heapskraldebunke
preciousværdifulde / kostbare



Richard III (1592)

By William Shakespeare
Extract from Act I, Scene I

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 bruisèd 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 barbèd 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 see 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 determinèd 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.
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul. Here Clarence comes.

Research: Answer the following questions. You may need to use the Internet:

  1. Which of Shakespeare’s three genres does this play belong to?
  2. In what period of British history does it take place?
  3. What is Tudor Myth and what does it have to do with this text?
  4. What motivation would Shakespeare have to portray Richard the way he does?

Analysis: Answer the following questions:

  1. What is the current situation of England described in the text?
  2. How does Richard feel about the current situation? Why?
  3. If you look at this soliloquy as a queer allegory…
    • a. … what makes Richard queer?
      b. … what form does Richard’s self-acceptance take?
  4. Is this a resistant reading?

Glossary:

discontentufred / utilfredshed
Yorkgren af den britiske kongefamilie Plantagenet
louredskulede / kiggede truende
wreathskranse
armsvåben
alarumsalarmer
grim-visagedmed strengt ansigt
lasciviouspirrende
looking glassspejl
to strutat spankulere
wantonkåd
amblingat slentre
curtailedindskrænket
dissemblingvildledende
descantsnakke langvarigt og dybdegående
inductionsindledninger
libelsinjurier / bagvaskelser
ClarenceGeorge Plantagenet, 1449-1478, hertug af Clarence, af familien York, bror til Richard og Edward IV
King EdwardEdward IV, 1442-1483, Konge af England (1461-1470, 1471-1483), af familien York, bror til Richard og Clarence
heirsarvinger



Richard III (1592)

By William Shakespeare
Act I, Scene II

Enter the corse of Henry the Sixth, on a bier, with halberds to guard it, Lady ANNE being the mourner, accompanied by gentlemen

ANNE

Set down, set down your honorable load,
If honor may be shrouded in a hearse,
Whilst I awhile obsequiously lament
Th' untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster.

They set down the bier

Poor key-cold figure of a holy king,
Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster,
Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood,
Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost
To hear the lamentations of poor Anne,
Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughtered son,
Stabbed by the selfsame hand that made these wounds.
Lo, in these windows that let forth thy life
I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes.
O, cursèd be the hand that made these holes;
Cursèd the heart that had the heart to do it;
Cursèd the blood that let this blood from hence.
More direful hap betide that hated wretch
That makes us wretched by the death of thee
Than I can wish to wolves, to spiders, toads,
Or any creeping venomed thing that lives.
If ever he have child, abortive be it,
Prodigious, and untimely brought to light,
Whose ugly and unnatural aspect
May fright the hopeful mother at the view,
And that be heir to his unhappiness.

If ever he have wife, let her be made
More miserable by the death of him
Than I am made by my poor lord and thee.—
Come now towards Chertsey with your holy load,
Taken from Paul’s to be interrèd there.

They take up the bier

And still, as you are weary of this weight,
Rest you, whiles I lament King Henry’s corse.

Enter RICHARD, Duke of Gloucester

RICHARD

Stay, you that bear the corse, and set it down.

ANNE

What black magician conjures up this fiend
To stop devoted charitable deeds?

RICHARD

Villains, set down the corse or, by Saint Paul,
I’ll make a corse of him that disobeys.

GENTLEMAN

My lord, stand back and let the coffin pass.

RICHARD

Unmannered dog, stand thou when I command!—
Advance thy halberd higher than my breast,
Or by Saint Paul I’ll strike thee to my foot
And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness.

They set down the bier

ANNE

(to gentlemen and halberds)
What, do you tremble? Are you all afraid?
Alas, I blame you not, for you are mortal,
And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil.—
Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell.
Thou hadst but power over his mortal body;
His soul thou canst not have. Therefore begone.

RICHARD

Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst.

ANNE

Foul devil, for God’s sake, hence, and trouble us not,
For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell,
Filled it with cursing cries and deep exclaims.
If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds,
Behold this pattern of thy butcheries.

She points to the corse

O, gentlemen, see, see dead Henry’s wounds
Open their congealed mouths and bleed afresh!—
Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity,
For ’tis thy presence that exhales this blood
From cold and empty veins where no blood dwells.
Thy deeds, inhuman and unnatural,
Provokes this deluge most unnatural.—
O God, which this blood mad’st, revenge his death!
O earth, which this blood drink’st revenge his death!
Either heaven with lightning strike the murderer dead,
Or earth gape open wide and eat him quick,
As thou dost swallow up this good king’s blood,
Which his hell-governed arm hath butcherèd!

RICHARD

Lady, you know no rules of charity,
Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses.

ANNE

Villain, thou know’st not law of God nor man.
No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity.

RICHARD

But I know none, and therefore am no beast.

ANNE

O, wonderful, when devils tell the truth!

RICHARD

More wonderful, when angels are so angry.
Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman,
Of these supposèd crimes to give me leave
By circumstance but to acquit myself.

ANNE

Vouchsafe, defused infection of a man,
Of these known evils but to give me leave
By circumstance to curse thy cursèd self.

RICHARD

Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have
Some patient leisure to excuse myself.

ANNE

Fouler than heart can think thee, thou canst make
No excuse current but to hang thyself.

RICHARD

By such despair I should accuse myself.

ANNE

And by despairing shalt thou stand excused
For doing worthy vengeance on thyself
That didst unworthy slaughter upon others.

RICHARD

Say that I slew them not.

ANNE

Then say they were not slain.
But dead they are, and devilish slave, by thee.

RICHARD

I did not kill your husband.

ANNE

Why then, he is alive.

RICHARD

Nay, he is dead, and slain by Edward’s hands.

ANNE

In thy foul throat thou liest. Queen Margaret saw
Thy murd'rous falchion smoking in his blood,
The which thou once didst bend against her breast,
But that thy brothers beat aside the point.

RICHARD

I was provokèd by her sland'rous tongue,
That laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders.

ANNE

Thou wast provokèd by thy bloody mind,
That never dream’st on aught but butcheries.
Didst thou not kill this king?

RICHARD

I grant you.

ANNE

Dost grant me, hedgehog? Then, God grant me too
Thou mayst be damnèd for that wicked deed.
O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous.

RICHARD

The better for the King of heaven that hath him.

ANNE

He is in heaven, where thou shalt never come.

RICHARD

Let him thank me, that holp to send him thither,
For he was fitter for that place than earth.

ANNE

And thou unfit for any place but hell.

RICHARD

Yes, one place else, if you will hear me name it.

ANNE

Some dungeon.

RICHARD

Your bedchamber.

ANNE

Ill rest betide the chamber where thou liest!

RICHARD

So will it, madam till I lie with you.

ANNE

I hope so.

RICHARD

   I know so. But, gentle Lady Anne,
To leave this keen encounter of our wits
And fall something into a slower method—
Is not the causer of the timeless deaths
Of these Plantagenets, Henry and Edward,
As blameful as the executioner?

ANNE

Thou wast the cause and most accursed effect.

RICHARD

Your beauty was the cause of that effect—
Your beauty, that did haunt me in my sleep
To undertake the death of all the world,
So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom.

ANNE

If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide,
These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks.

RICHARD

These eyes could never endure that beauty’s wrack.
You should not blemish it, if I stood by.
As all the world is cheerèd by the sun,
So I by that. It is my day, my life.

ANNE

Black night o'ershade thy day, and death thy life.

RICHARD

Curse not thyself, fair creature; thou art both.

ANNE

I would I were, to be revenged on thee.

RICHARD

It is a quarrel most unnatural
To be revenged on him that loveth thee.

ANNE

It is a quarrel just and reasonable
To be revenged on him that killed my husband.

RICHARD

He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband
Did it to help thee to a better husband.

ANNE

His better doth not breathe upon the earth.

RICHARD

He lives that loves thee better than he could.

ANNE

Name him.

RICHARD

   Plantagenet.

ANNE

      Why, that was he.

RICHARD

The selfsame name, but one of better nature.

ANNE

Where is he?

RICHARD

   Here.

She spitteth at him

Why dost thou spit at me?

ANNE

Would it were mortal poison for thy sake.

RICHARD

Never came poison from so sweet a place.

ANNE

Never hung poison on a fouler toad.
Out of my sight! Thou dost infect mine eyes.

RICHARD

Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine.

ANNE

Would they were basilisks to strike thee dead.

RICHARD

I would they were, that I might die at once,
For now they kill me with a living death.
Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears,
Shamed their aspect with store of childish drops.
These eyes, which never shed remorseful tear—
No, when my father York and Edward wept
To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made
When black-faced Clifford shook his sword at him;
Nor when thy warlike father, like a child,
Told the sad story of my father’s death
And twenty times made pause to sob and weep,
That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks
Like trees bedashed with rain—in that sad time,
My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear;
And what these sorrows could not thence exhale
Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping.
I never sued to friend, nor enemy;
My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing word.
But now thy beauty is proposed my fee,
My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak.

She looks scornfully at him

Teach not thy lip such scorn, for it were made
For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.
If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive,
Lo, here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword,
Which if thou please to hide in this true breast
And let the soul forth that adoreth thee,
I lay it naked to the deadly stroke
And humbly beg the death upon my knee.

He kneels and lays his breast open; she offers at it with his sword

Nay, do not pause; for I did kill King Henry—
But ’twas thy beauty that provokèd me.
Nay, now dispatch; ’twas I that stabbed young Edward—
But ’twas thy heavenly face that set me on.

She falls the sword

Take up the sword again, or take up me.

ANNE

Arise, dissembler. Though I wish thy death, I will not be the executioner.

RICHARD

(rising) Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it.

ANNE

I have already.

RICHARD

      That was in thy rage.
Speak it again and, even with the word,
This hand, which for thy love did kill thy love,
Shall for thy love kill a far truer love.
To both their deaths shalt thou be accessory.

ANNE

I would I knew thy heart.

RICHARD

'Tis figured in my tongue.

ANNE

I fear me both are false.

RICHARD

Then never man was man true.

ANNE

Well, well, put up your sword.

RICHARD

Say then my peace is made.

ANNE

That shall you know hereafter.

RICHARD

But shall I live in hope?

ANNE

All men I hope live so.

RICHARD

Vouchsafe to wear this ring.

ANNE

To take is not to give.

He places the ring on her finger

RICHARD

Look, how this ring encompasseth finger;
Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart.
Wear both of them, for both of them are thine.
And if thy poor devoted servant may
But beg one favor at thy gracious hand,
Thou dost confirm his happiness forever.

ANNE

What is it?

RICHARD

That it would please you leave these sad designs
To him that hath more cause to be a mourner,
And presently repair to Crosby House,
Where, after I have solemnly interred
At Chertsey monast'ry this noble king
And wet his grave with my repentant tears,
I will with all expedient duty see you.
For divers unknown reasons, I beseech you,
Grant me this boon.

ANNE

With all my heart, and much it joys me too
To see you are become so penitent.—
Tressel and Berkeley, go along with me.

RICHARD

Bid me farewell.

ANNE

'Tis more than you deserve;
But since you teach me how to flatter you,
Imagine I have said “farewell” already.

Exeunt Lady ANNE and two others

RICHARD

Sirs, take up the corse.

GENTLEMAN

Towards Chertsey, noble lord?

RICHARD

No, to Whitefriars. There attend my coming.

Exeunt all but RICHARD

Was ever woman in this humor wooed?
Was ever woman in this humor won?
I’ll have her, but I will not keep her long.
What, I that killed her husband and his father,
To take her in her heart’s extremest hate,
With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes,
The bleeding witness of my hatred by,
Having God, her conscience, and these bars against me,
And I no friends to back my suit at all
But the plain devil and dissembling looks?
And yet to win her, all the world to nothing!
Ha!
Hath she forgot already that brave prince,
Edward, her lord, whom I some three months since
Stabbed in my angry mood at Tewkesbury?
A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman,
Framed in the prodigality of nature,
Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal,
The spacious world cannot again afford.

And will she yet abase her eyes on me,
That cropped the golden prime of this sweet prince
And made her widow to a woeful bed?
On me, whose all not equals Edward’s moiety?
On me, that halts and am misshapen thus?
My dukedom to a beggarly denier,
I do mistake my person all this while!
Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot,
Myself to be a marv'lous proper man.
I’ll be at charges for a looking glass
And entertain a score or two of tailors
To study fashions to adorn my body.
Since I am crept in favor with myself,
I will maintain it with some little cost.
But first I’ll turn yon fellow in his grave
And then return lamenting to my love.
Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass,
That I may see my shadow as I pass.

Exit

Analysis: Answer the following questions:

  1. How is King Henry VI portrayed in this scene? Why is that?
  2. There are a lot of allusions to Heaven and Hell in this scene. How are they used?
  3. Divide the seduction of Lady Anne up into sequences. Where do you see the turning points?
  4. Anne and Richard’s motives, pt. 1:
    • a. What are Anne’s motives for entering marriage with Richard?
      b. What are Richard’s motives for entering marriage with Anne?
  5. Anne and Richard’s motives, pt. 2:
    • a. What are Anne’s motives for entering marriage with Richard in a queer reading of the text?
      b. What are Richard’s motives for entering marriage with Anne in a queer reading of the text?

Glossary:

corselig / kadaver
Henry the SixthHenrik VI, 1421-1471, Konge af England (1422-1461, 1470-1471), af familien Lancaster, far til Edward af Westminster, gift med Margaret d’Anjou
bierligbåre
mourneren person som sørger
obsequiouslyunderdanigt
lamentsynger klagesang
Lancastergren af den britiske kongefamilie Plantagenet
remnantrest
EdwardEdward af Westminster, 1453-1471, Prins af Wales, af familien Lancaster, søn af Kong Henrik VI og Margaret d’Anjou
invocatepåkalder
pourhælder
cursed beforbandet være
more direful hap betidemå en værre skæbne ramme
wretchstakkel
prodigiousildevarslende
Chertseyklosteret Chertsey Abbey i det sydlige England
PaulSt. Pauls katedral i London
conjureshidkalder
fienddjævel
spurnforagtelse
avauntvig bort / gå væk
heinousfrygtelige
butcheriesnedslagtninger / blodige mord
congealedstørknede
delugesyndflod
gape open wideåbn på vid gab
vouchsafesig god for
acquitfrikende
defuseduafsluttede
leisurefritid
Queen MargaretMargaret d’Anjou, 1430-1482, Dronning af England (1445-1461, 1470-1471), mor til Edward af Westminster, gift med Kong Henrik VI
falchionsabel
sland’rousløgnagtige
hedgehogpindsvin
virtuousdydig
dungeonfangehul
Plantagenetsmedlemmer af kongefamilien Plantagenet
executionerbøddel
blemishskamplet
revengedhævnet
quarrelskænderi
basilisksbasilisker / slangeagtige fabeldyr som kan forvandle deres ofre til sten ved at kigge på dem
piteousynkelige
RutlandEdmund, 1443-1460, Jarl af Rutland, bror til Richard, Edward og Clarence
CliffordJohn Clifford, 1435-1461, Baron af Clifford
bedashedbesprøjtet
scornfullyhånligt
dispatchsig det videre
dissemblerfalske menneske
accessorymedskyldig
encompassethomfatter / omslutter
enclosethomgiver
Crosby HouseCrosby Hall, et af Richards hjem i London
solemnlyalvorligt
interredbegravet
penitentangrende
Tressel and BerkeleyLady Annes vagter
Whitefriarskloster i London
humorsindstilstand
wooedforført
Tewkesburyslagmark hvor York-familien vandt over Lancaster-familien, og Edward af Westminster blev dræbt i 1471
prodigalityødselhed
abasefornedre
moietymindre del
dukedomhertugdømme
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