Richard III (West End edition) (NHB Classic Plays)

William Shakespeare

• Editore: Nick Hern Books
• Anno: 2014
• ISBN:
  9781780014890
• Argomento: Literature
• Categoria: Drama

In the aftermath of civil war, Richard, Duke of Gloucester, resolves to claw his way to political power at any cost. A master of manipulation, subtle wit and beguiling charm, he orchestrates his unlawful ascent by spinning a ruthless web of deceit and betrayal.

His staunch ambition has horrifying consequences when, finding himself utterly alone and steeped in dread, he is forced to answer for his bloody deeds.

This official tie-in edition of Richard III was published alongside director Jamie Lloyd's new production for his Trafalgar Transformed season at the Trafalgar Studios, London, in 2014. It starred BAFTA Award-winning Martin Freeman as Richard III and Gina McKee as Queen Elizabeth.

This volume includes the version of Shakespeare's text performed in the production, as well as additional material including an exclusive rehearsal diary and an interview with the director.

'brash, bloody, exciting' chilling stuff, delivered with the speed and creeping horror of a thriller' ingeniously disturbing' Financial Times

'ingenious, exciting and alive' snares the attention from the off' The Times

ACT ONE

Scene One

RICHARD, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER.

Now is the winter of our discontent

Made glorious summer by this sun of York;

And all the clouds that lour’d 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 smooth’d 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 stamp’d, and want love’s majesty

To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;

I, that am curtail’d of this fair proportion,

Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,

Deformed, unfinish’d, 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 mew’d 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.

Enter DUKE OF CLARENCE, guarded.

Brother, good day; what means this armed guard

That waits upon your grace?

CLARENCE.

His Majesty

Tendering my person’s safety, hath appointed

This conduct to convey me to the Tower.

RICHARD.

Upon what cause?

CLARENCE.

Because my name is George.

RICHARD.

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

He should, for that, commit your godfathers.

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 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.

RICHARD.

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

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

Elizabeth, his wife, Clarence, ’tis she

That tempers him to this extremity,

That made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower,

From whence this present day he is deliver’d.

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

Enter CATESBY.

CATESBY.

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 his brother.

CLARENCE.

We know thy charge, Catesby, and will obey.

RICHARD.

We are the Queen’s abjects, and must obey.

Brother, farewell: I will unto the King;

And whatsoever you will employ me in,

Were it to call King Edward’s woman ‘sister’,

I will perform it to enfranchise you.

Meantime, this deep disgrace in brotherhood

Touches me deeper than you can imagine.

CLARENCE.

I know it pleaseth neither of us well.

RICHARD.

Well, your imprisonment shall not be long;

Meantime, have patience.

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