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A thought for this moment on
(III.i.) THE PRINCES' THEME (1:17)
Adapted from Richard III by William Shakespeare Written and performed by jd warrick
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ABOUT: In the late 80's I had this idea, and not a little bit of delusion, that I could take all 3600 lines of text in Shakespeare's Richard III (wiki) and turn them into something musical. It didn't matter that nobody before had managed such a monstrous task. I could do it. Sure. I even talked to a director about staging the show -- after having completed two songs (!). He was supportive, but wanted to hear back when I had more done (hey, Art, send me your phone number again, won't you?).
By the late 90's I had conceded it was unlikely that, at my current rate of composition, I would live long enough to get to the death of Clarence much less Richmond's arrival. So I decided to work on themes and motifs to support a staged production. Uh-huh. Someday. But I love the idea, and I love the play, so here is a track for Act III Scene I. Richard: So wise so young, they say, do never live long.This piece was written between January and September of 2002.
INSTRUMENT VOICING:Piano, Violin, Mercato, Velo Strings, Fretless Bass and two tracks of drums.
HARDWARE/SOFTWARE:Roland JV-35, Macintosh computer, my friend MasterTracks Pro, a DBX gate, an Aphex Aurel Exciter, Tascam board, BIAS Peak software, M-Audio SOLO firewire interface and Garage Band to get the track out of MasterTracks, iTunes to convert it from AIFF to MP3. And Dreamweaver and Photoshop CS2 to build this page. Many thanks to all those whose hard work on these items made it possible for me to share this with you.
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THE TRAGEDY OF RICHARD III ACT III
SCENE I. London. A street.
The trumpets sound. Enter the young PRINCE EDWARD, GLOUCESTER, BUCKINGHAM, CARDINAL, CATESBY, and others
Welcome, sweet prince, to London, to your chamber.
Welcome, dear cousin, my thoughts' sovereign
The weary way hath made you melancholy.
No, uncle; but our crosses on the way
Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy
I want more uncles here to welcome me.
Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of your years
Hath not yet dived into the world's deceit
Nor more can you distinguish of a man
Than of his outward show; which, God he knows,
Seldom or never jumpeth with the heart.
Those uncles which you want were dangerous;
Your grace attended to their sugar'd words,
But look'd not on the poison of their hearts :
God keep you from them, and from such false friends!
God keep me from false friends! but they were none.
My lord, the mayor of London comes to greet you.
Enter the Lord Mayor and his train
God bless your grace with health and happy days!
I thank you, good my lord; and thank you all.
I thought my mother, and my brother York,
Would long ere this have met us on the way
Fie, what a slug is Hastings, that he comes not
To tell us whether they will come or no!
And, in good time, here comes the sweating lord.
Welcome, my lord: what, will our mother come?
On what occasion, God he knows, not I,
The queen your mother, and your brother York,
Have taken sanctuary: the tender prince
Would fain have come with me to meet your grace,
But by his mother was perforce withheld.
Fie, what an indirect and peevish course
Is this of hers! Lord cardinal, will your grace
Persuade the queen to send the Duke of York
Unto his princely brother presently?
If she deny, Lord Hastings, go with him,
And from her jealous arms pluck him perforce.
My Lord of Buckingham, if my weak oratory
Can from his mother win the Duke of York,
Anon expect him here; but if she be obdurate
To mild entreaties, God in heaven forbid
We should infringe the holy privilege
Of blessed sanctuary! not for all this land
Would I be guilty of so deep a sin.
You are too senseless--obstinate, my lord,
Too ceremonious and traditional
Weigh it but with the grossness of this age,
You break not sanctuary in seizing him.
The benefit thereof is always granted
To those whose dealings have deserved the place,
And those who have the wit to claim the place:
This prince hath neither claim'd it nor deserved it;
And therefore, in mine opinion, cannot have it:
Then, taking him from thence that is not there,
You break no privilege nor charter there.
Oft have I heard of sanctuary men;
But sanctuary children ne'er till now.
My lord, you shall o'er-rule my mind for once.
Come on, Lord Hastings, will you go with me?
I go, my lord.
Good lords, make all the speedy haste you may.
Exeunt CARDINAL and HASTINGS
Say, uncle Gloucester, if our brother come,
Where shall we sojourn till our coronation?
Where it seems best unto your royal self.
If I may counsel you, some day or two
Your highness shall repose you at the Tower:
Then where you please, and shall be thought most fit
For your best health and recreation.
I do not like the Tower, of any place.
Did Julius Caesar build that place, my lord?
He did, my gracious lord, begin that place;
Which, since, succeeding ages have re-edified.
Is it upon record, or else reported
Successively from age to age, he built it?
Upon record, my gracious lord.
But say, my lord, it were not register'd,
Methinks the truth should live from age to age,
As 'twere retail'd to all posterity,
Even to the general all-ending day.
[Aside] So wise so young, they say, do never
What say you, uncle?
I say, without characters, fame lives long.
[Aside] Thus, like the formal vice, Iniquity,
I moralize two meanings in one word.
That Julius Caesar was a famous man;
With what his valour did enrich his wit,
His wit set down to make his valour live
Death makes no conquest of this conqueror;
For now he lives in fame, though not in life.
I'll tell you what, my cousin Buckingham,--
What, my gracious lord?
An if I live until I be a man,
I'll win our ancient right in France again,
Or die a soldier, as I lived a king.
[Aside] Short summers lightly have a forward spring.
Enter young YORK, HASTINGS, and the CARDINAL
Now, in good time, here comes the Duke of York.
Richard of York! how fares our loving brother?
Well, my dread lord; so must I call you now.
Ay, brother, to our grief, as it is yours:
Too late he died that might have kept that title,
Which by his death hath lost much majesty.
How fares our cousin, noble Lord of York?
I thank you, gentle uncle. O, my lord,
You said that idle weeds are fast in growth
The prince my brother hath outgrown me far.
He hath, my lord.
And therefore is he idle?
O, my fair cousin, I must not say so.
Then is he more beholding to you than I.
He may command me as my sovereign;
But you have power in me as in a kinsman.
I pray you, uncle, give me this dagger.
My dagger, little cousin? with all my heart.
A beggar, brother?
Of my kind uncle, that I know will give;
And being but a toy, which is no grief to give.
A greater gift than that I'll give my cousin.
A greater gift! O, that's the sword to it.
A gentle cousin, were it light enough.
O, then, I see, you will part but with light gifts;
In weightier things you'll say a beggar nay.
It is too heavy for your grace to wear.
I weigh it lightly, were it heavier.
What, would you have my weapon, little lord?
I would, that I might thank you as you call me.
My Lord of York will still be cross in talk:
Uncle, your grace knows how to bear with him.
You mean, to bear me, not to bear with me:
Uncle, my brother mocks both you and me;
Because that I am little, like an ape,
He thinks that you should bear me on your shoulders.
With what a sharp-provided wit he reasons!
To mitigate the scorn he gives his uncle,
He prettily and aptly taunts himself:
So cunning and so young is wonderful.
My lord, will't please you pass along?
Myself and my good cousin Buckingham
Will to your mother, to entreat of her
To meet you at the Tower and welcome you.
What, will you go unto the Tower, my lord?
My lord protector needs will have it so.
I shall not sleep in quiet at the Tower.
Why, what should you fear?
Marry, my uncle Clarence' angry ghost:
My grandam told me he was murdered there.
I fear no uncles dead.
Nor none that live, I hope.
An if they live, I hope I need not fear.
But come, my lord; and with a heavy heart,
Thinking on them, go I unto the Tower.
A Sennet. Exeunt all but GLOUCESTER, BUCKINGHAM and CATESBY
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