Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2018 with funding from Getty Research Institute https://archive.org/details/kingrichardiitraOOshak KING RICHARD II. A TRAGEDY, IN FIVE ACTS. BY WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE. -- CORRECTLY GIVEN, FROM THE TEXT OF JOHN SON & STEE YENS. ^Remarks. Fenchurch Street! SOLD BY T. HUGHES, 35, LUDGATE STREET; J. BYSH, 52, PATERNOSTER ROW; J. CUM MING, DUBLIN; J.SUTHER- LAND, EDINBURGH; itc.kc. I REMARKS. This tragedy, after a neglect of many years, lias been lately revived with effect. Dr. Johnson observes, that it is extracted from Holinshed, in which author many passages may be found that Shakspeare has, with very little alteration, trans¬ planted into his scenes; particularly, a speech of the Bishop of Carlisle, in defence of King Richard’s unalienable right and immunity from human jurisdiction. This play is one of those which Shakspeare has apparently revised; but as success in works of invention is not always proportionate to labour, it is not finished at last with the happy force of some other of his tragedies, nor can be said much to affect the passions, or enlarge the under¬ standing. Johnson, I DRAMATIS PERSONAS. King Richard IT. Edmund of Langley, Duke of York ; ) Uncles to the John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster; J King. Henry, surnamed Bolingbroke, Duke of Hereford, Son to John of Gaunt; afterwards King Henry IV. Duke of Aumerle, Son to the Duke of York. Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk. Duke of Surry. Earl of Salisbury. Earl Berkley. Bushy, I Bagot, > Creatures to King Richard. Green, ) Earl of Northumberland ; Henry Percy, his Son. Lord Ross. Lord Willoughby. Lord Fitzwater. Bishop of Carlisle. Abbot of Westminster. Lord Marshal; and another Lord. Sir Pierce of Exton. Sir Stephen Scroop. Captain of a Band of Welchmen. Queen to King Richard. Duchess of Gloster. Duchess of York. Lady attending on the Queen. Lords, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, two Gardeners, Keeper, Messenger, Groom, and other Attendants. SCENE.—Dispersedly in England and Wales. KING RICHARD II. ACT THE FIRST. SCENE I.- LONDON. A ROOM IN THE PALACE. Enter King Richard, attended; John of Gaunt, Sfc. K. Rich. Old John of Gaunt, time-honour’d Lan, Hast thou, according to thy oatli and band, [caster- Brought hither Henry Hereford, thy bold son ; Here to make good the boisterous late appeal, Which then our leisure would not let us hear, Against the duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray ? Gaunt. 1 have, my liege. K. Rich. Tell me, moreover, hast thou sounded him. If he appeal the duke on ancient malice; Or worthily, as a good subject should, On some known ground of treachery in him ? Gaunt. As near as I could sift him on that argument,— On some apparent danger seen in him, Aim’d at your highness; no inveterate malice. K.Rich. Then call them to our presence; face to face. And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear The accuser, and the accused, freely speak:— High-stomach’d are they both, and full of ire. In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire. Re-enter Attendants, with Bolingbroke and Norfolk. Bol. May many years of happy days befal My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege! Nor. Each day still better other’s happiness; Until the heavens, envying earth’s good hap, Add an immortal title to your crown ! K. Rich.We thank you both: yet one but flatters us, 8 KING RICHARD 1J. ACT I. As well appearetli by the cause you come; Namely, to appeal each other of high treason.— Cousin of Hereford, what dost thou object Against the duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray? Bol. First, (heaven be the record of my speech !) In the devotion of a subject’s love, Tendering the precious safety of my prince. And free from other misbegotten hate, Come I appellant to this princely presence.— Now, Thomas Mowbray, do I turn to thee, And mark my greeting well; for what I speak. My body shall make good upon this earth, Or my divine soul answer it in heaven. Thou art a traitor, and a miscreant; Too good to be so, and too bad to live ; Since, the more fair and crystal is the sky, The uglier seem the clouds that in it fly. Once more, the more to aggravate the note, With a foul traitor’s name stuff I thy throat; And wish (so please my sovereign), ere I move, [prove. What my tongue speaks, my right-drawn sword may Nor. Let not my cold words here accuse my zeal: ’Tis not the trial of a woman’s war, The bitter clamour of two eager tongues, Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain : The blood is hot, that must be cool’d for this. Yet can I not of such tame patience boast. As to be hush’d, and nought at all to say : First, the fair reverence of your highness curbs me From giving reins and spurs to my free speech ; Which else would post, until it had return’d These terms of treason doubled down his4hroat. Setting aside his high blood’s royalty. And let him be no kinsman to my liege, I do defy him, and I spit at him ; Call him—a slanderous coward, and a villain : I SCENE I. KING RICHARD II. 9 ' Which to maintain, I would allow him odds; And meet him, were I tied to run a-foot Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps, Or any other ground inhabitable Where ever Englishman durst set his foot. Mean time, let this defeud my loyalty,— By all my hopes, most falsely doth be lie. Bol. Pale trembling coward, there I throw my gage, Disclaiming here the kindred of a king; And lay aside my high blood’s royalty, Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to except: If guilty dread hath left thee so much strength. As to take up mine honour’s pawn, then stoop ; By that, and all the rites of knighthood else. Will I make good against thee, arm to arm, What I have spoke, or thou canst worse devise. Nor. I take it up; and, by that sword I swear, Which gently laid my knighthood on my shoulder, I’ll answer thee in any fair degree, Or chivalrous design of knightly trial: ; And, when I mount, alive may I not light. If I be traitor, or unjusly fight! [charge ? K. Rich. What doth our cousin lay to Mowbray’s It must be great, that can inherit us So much as of a thought of ill in him. [true;— Bol. Look, what I speak my life shall prove it ! That Mowbray hath receiv’d eight thousand nobles. In name of lendings for your highness’ soldiers ; I The which he hath detain’d for lewd employments, j Like a false traitor, and injurious villain. Besides I say, and will in battle prove,— Or here, or elsewhere, to the furthest verge That ever was survey’d by English eye,— That all the treasons, for these eighteen years ! Complotted and contrived in this land, i Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and spring. 10 KING RICHARD II. ACT I. Farther I say,—and farther will maintain Upon his bad life, to make all this good,— That he did plot the duke of Gloster’s death ; Suggesthissoon-believing adversaries; And, consequently, like a traitor coward. Sluic’d out his innocent soul through streams of blood: Which blood, like sacrificing Abel’s, cries, Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth. To me, for justice, and rough chastisement; And by the glorious worth of my descent. This arm shall do it, or this life be spent. K. Rich. How high a pitch his resolution soars !— Thomas of Norfolk, what say’st thou to this ? Nor. O, let my sovereign turn away his face. And bid his ears a little while be deaf, Till I have told this slander of his blood, How God, and good men, hate so foul a liar. K. Rich. Mowbray, impartial are our eyes and ears: Were he my brother, nay, my kingdom’s heir (As he is but my father’s brother’s son), Now by my sceptre’s awe I make a vow, Such neighbour nearness to our sacred blood Should nothing privilege him, nor partialize The unstooping firmness of my upright soul; He is our subject, Mowbray, so art thou ; Free speech, and fearless, I to thee allow. Nor. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart. Through the false passage of thy throat, thou liest! Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais, Disburs’d I duly to bis highness’ soldiers: The other part reserv’d I by consent; For that my sovereign liege was in my debt, Upon remainder of a dear account, Since last I went to France to fetch his queen : Now swallow down that lie.-For Gloster’s death,— I slew him not; but, to my own disgrace, SCENE I. KING RICHARD II. 11 Neglected ray sworn duty in that case.— For you, my noble lord of Lancaster, I The honourable father to my foe. Once did I lay an ambush for your life, A trespass that doth vex my grieved soul : But, ere I last receiv’d the sacrament, I did confess it; and exactly begg’d Your grace’s pardon, and, I hope, I had it. ! This is my fault: As for the rest appeal’d. It issues from the rancour of a villain, A recreant and most degenerate traitor : Which in myself I boldly will defend ; And interchangeably hurl down my gage Upon this overweening traitor’s foot. To prove myself a loyal gentleman Even iu the best blood chamber’d in his bosom : In haste whereof, most heartily I pray ) Your highness to assign our trial day. K. Rich . Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be rul’d by me ; Let’s purge this choler without letting blood : This we prescribe, though no physician ; :l Deep malice makes too deep incision : Forget, forgive; conclude, and be agreed; Our doctors say, this is no time to bleed.— Good uncle, let this end where it begun ; We’ll calm the duke of Norfolk, you your son. Gaunt. To be a make-peace shall become my age ; Throw down, my son, the duke of Norfolk’s gage. K. Rich. And, Norfolk, throw down his. Gaunt. W’hen, Harry ? when ? Obedience bids, I should not bid again. [boot. K. Rich. Norfolk, throw down ; we bid ; thereis no Nor. Myself I throw, dread sovereign, at thy foot : My life thou shalt command, but not my shame : ■ The one my duty owes ; but my fair name (Despite of death, that lives upon my grave). 12 KING RICHARD II. ACT I. To dark dishonour’s use thou shalt not have. I am disgrac’d, impeach’d, and baffled here ; Pierc’d to the soul with slander’s venom’d spear ; The which no balm can cure, but his heart-blood Which breath’d this poison. K. Rich. Rage must be withstood : Give me his gage:—Lions make leopards tame.fshame. Nor. Yea, but not change their spots: take but my And I resign my gage. My dear, dear lord, The purest treasure mortal times afford. Is—spotless reputation ; that away. Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay. A jewel in a ten-tiraes-barr’d-up chest Is—a bold spirit in a loyal breast. Mine honour is my life; both grow in one; Take honour from me, and my life is done: Then, dear my liege, mine honour let me try ; In that I live, and for that will I die. [gin. K.Rich. Cousin,throw down your gage; do you be- Bol. O God, defend my soul from such foul sin ! Shall I seem crest-fallen in my father’s sight ? Or with pale beggar-fear impeach my height Before this outdar’d dastard ! Ere ray tongue Shall wound my honour with such feeble wrong, Or sound so base a parle, my teeth shall tear The slavish motive of recanting fear ; And spit it, bleeding in his high disgrace, Where shamedoth harbour,even in Mowbray’s face.[ ct. K. Rich. We were not born to sue, but to command: Which since we cannot do to make you friends. Be ready, as your lives shall answer it, At Coventry, upon saint Lambert’s day; There shall your swords and lances arbitrate The swelling difference of your settled hate ; Since we cannot atone you, we shall see Justice design the victor's chivalry.— iCENE II. KING RICHARD II. 13 Marshal, command our officers at arms Be ready to direct these home-alarms. [exeunt. SCENE II. THE SAME, AT THE DUKE OF LANCASTER’S. Enter Gaunt and Duchess of Gloster. Gaunt. Alas ! the part I had in Gloster’s blood I Doth more solicit me, than your exclaims, hTo stir against the butchers of his life. But since correction lieth in those hands. Which made the fault that we cannot correct, Put we our quarrel to the will of heaven ; i Who, when he sees the hours ripe on earth, Will rain hot vengeance on offenders’ heads. Duch , Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper spur ? Hath love in thy old blood no living fire ? Edward’s seven sons, whereof thyself art one. Were as seven phials of his sacred blood. Or seven fair branches springing from one root: Some of those seven are dried by nature’s course, Some of those branches by the destinies cut: But Thomas, my dear lord, my life, my Gloster,— One phial full of Edward’s sacred blood, iOne flourishing branch of his most royal root,— ; Is crack’d, and all the precious liquor spilt; Is back’d down, and his summer leaves all faded, Jly envy’s hand, and murder’s bloody axe. Ah, Gaunt! his blood was thine; that bed, that womb, jThat mettle, that self-mould, that fashion’d thee, Made him a man: and though thou liv’st, and breath’st. Yet art thou slain in him : thou dost consent In some large measure to thy father’s death, lln that thou seest thy wretched brother die, ?Who was the model of thy father’s life. Call it not patience, Gaunt, it is despair : In suffering thus thy brother to be slaughter’d, Thou show’st the naked pathway to thy life,, 14 KING RICHARD II. ACT I Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee : That which in mean men we entitle—patience, Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts. What shall I say ? to safeguard thine own life. The best way is—to ’veuge my Gloster’s death. Gaunt. Heaven’s is the quarrel 5 for heaven’s sub His deputy anointed in his sight, [stitute Hath caus’d his death : the which if wrongfully, Let heaven revenge ; for I may never lift An angry arm against his minister. Buck. Where then, alas ! may I complain myself? Gaunt. To heaven, the widow’s champion and de fence. Duch. Why then, I will. Farewell, old Gaunt. Thou go’st to Coventry, there to behold Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight: O, sit my husband’s wrongs on Hereford’s spear. That it may enter butcher Mowbray’s breast! Or, if misfortune miss thd first career. Be Mowbray’s sins so heavy in bis bosom, That they may break his foaming courser’s back. And throw the rider headlong in the lists, A caitiff recreaut to my cousin Hereford ! Farewell, old Gaunt; thy sometime brother’s wife. With her companion grief must end her life. Gaunt. Sister, farewell; I must to Coventry : As much good stay with thee, as go with me i Duch. Yet one word more ;—grief boundeth when Not with the empty hollowness, but weight: [it falls I take my leave before I have begun; For sorrow ends not when it seemeth done. Commend me to my brother, Edmund York. Lo, this is all: Nay, yet depart not so : Though this be all, do not so quickly go; I shall remember more. Bid him—O, what ?— With all good speed at Flashy visit me. iJsCENE III. KING RICHARD II. 15 lAlack, and what shall good old York there see. But empty lodgings and unfurnish’d walls, Unpeopled offices, untrodden stories ? And what cheer there for welcome, but my groans ? Therefore commend me ; let him not come there, I'jjTo seek out sorrow that dwells everywhere : t (Desolate, desolate, will I hence, and die; . The last leave of thee takesmy weeping eye. [exeunt. I SCENE III. GOSFORI) GREEN, NEAR COVENTRY. | Lists set out, and a throne. Heralds, wan'd he hath But basely yielded upon compromise, f n ot t hat which his ancestors achiev’d with blows : L More hath he spent in peace, than they in wars. ™ e . e . ar \ of Wiltshire hath the realm in farm. I he king s grown bankrupt, like a broken man. J\or. Reproach and dissolution hangeth over him. Ross. He hath not money for these Irish wars, tiis burdenous taxations notwithstanding, int by the robbing of the banish’d duke. or. His noble kinsman : most degenerate king! But, lords, we hear this fearful tempest sing, ret seek no shelter to avoid the storm : I'Ve see the wind sit sore upon our sails, ind yet we strike not, but securely perish. Ross. We see the very wreck that we must suffer v 34 KING RICHARD II. act ir. And uuavoided is the danger now, For suffering so the causes of our wreck. [death. Nor. Not so; even through the hollow eyes of 1 spy life peering ; but I dare not say How near the tidings of our comfort is. [ours. Wil. Nay, let us share thy thoughts, as thou dost Ross. Be confident to speak, Northumberland : We three are but thyself ; and, speaking so, Thy words are but as thoughts ; therefore, be bold. Nor. Then thus :—I have from Port le Blanc, a bay In Britany, received intelligence, That Harry Hereford, Reginold lord Cobham [The son of Richard, earl of Arundel], That late broke from the duke of Exeter, His brother, archbishop late of Canterbury, Sir Thomas Erpingbam, sir John Ramston, Sir John Norbery, sir Robert Waterton, and Francis' Quoint,—— All these well furnish’d by the duke of Bretagne, With eight tall ships, three thousand men of war, Are making hither with all due expedience, And shortly mean to touch our northern shore : Perhaps, they had ere this ; but that they stay The first departing of the king for Ireland. If then we shall shake off our slavish yoke, Imp out our drooping country’s broken wing. Redeem from broking pawn the blemish’d crown, Wipe off the dust that hides our scepter’s gilt, And make high majesty look like itself, Away with me, in post to Ravenspurg : But if you faint, as fearing to do so, Stay, and be secret, and myself will go. [fear I Ross. To horse, to horse! urge doubts to them tha I Wil. Hold out my horse, and I will first be there 1 [er cun SCJLNB ir. king RICHARD II. 35 SCENE II.—-THE SAME. A ROOM IN THE PALACE. Lnter Queen, Bushy, and Bagot. Bushy. Madam, your majesty is too much sad : You promis d, when you parted with the kin? Io Jay aside life-harming heaviness. And entertain a cheerful disposition. Queen ..To please the king, I did ; to please myself, 1 cannot do it; yet I know no cause Why I should welcome such a guest as grief. Save bidding farewell to so sweet a guest As my sweet Richard : yet, again, methinks. Some unborn sorrow, ripe in fortune’s womb, Js coming towards me, and my inward soul With nothing trembles : at something it grieves. More than with parting from my lord the king. .Bus/ii/ Each substance of a grief hath twenty sha- Which show like grief itself, but are not so : fdows For sorrow’s eye, glazed with blinding tears, Divides one thing entire to many objects ; Like perspectives, which, rightly gaz’d upon, Show nothing but confusion ; ey’d awry. Distinguish form : so your sweet majesty. Looking awry upon your lord’s departure, Finds shapes of grief, more than himself, to wail ; JJ i, • Iook ’ d on as it is, is nought but shadows Of what it is not. Then, thrice-gracions Queen, More than your lord’s departure weep not j more’s not Or if it be, tis will, false sorrow’s eye, [seen ; Which, for things true, weeps things imaginary. Queen. It may be so ; but yet my inward soul .Persuades me, it is otherwise. Howe’er it be I cannot but be sad ; so heavy sad, As —though, in thinking, on no thought I think,— Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink. Bushy. Tis nothing but conceit, my gracions lady. (»lueen. 1 is nothing less ; conceit is still deriv'd 36 KING RICHARD II. ACT II. From some forefather grief; mine is not so ; For nothing hath begot my something grief : Or something hath the nothing that 1 grieve : *Tis in reversion that I do possess; But what it is, that is not yet known; what I cannot name : ’tis nameless woe, I wot. Enter Green. Green. God save your majesty !—and well met, gen- I hope the king is not } r et shipp’d for Ireland, [tlemen Queen. Why hop’st thou so? His better hope, he is; For his designs crave haste, his haste good hope : Then wherefore dost thou hope, he is not shipp’d ? Green. That he, our hope, might have retir’d his And driven into despair an enemy’s hope, [power. Who strongly hath set footing in this land : The banish’d Bolingbroke repeals himself, And with uplifted arms is safe arriv’d At Ravenspurg. Queen. Now God in heaven forbid ! Green. O, madam, His too true : and that is worse. The lordNorthumberland, his young son Henry Percy, The lords, Ross, Reaumond, and Willoughby, With all their powerful friends, are fled to him. Bushy. Why have you not proclaim’d Northum- Aud all the rest of the revolting faction, [berland, Traitors ? Green. We have : whereon the earl of Worcester Hath broke his staff, resign’d his stewardship, And all the household servants fled with him To Bolingbroke. Queen. So, Green, thou art the midwife to my woe, And Bolingbroke my sorrow’s dismal heir: Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy ; And I, a gasping new-deliver’d mother. Have woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow join’d. Bushy. Despair not, madam. SCENE II. KING RICHARD H. 37 Queen. Who shall hinder me ? I will despair, and be at enmity With eozening hope; he is a flatterer, A parasite, a keeper-back of death. Who gently would dissolve the bands of life Which false hope lingers in extremity. Enter York. Green. Here comes the duke of York. Queen. With signs of war about his aged neck ; O, full of careful business are his looks!- Uncle, For heaven’s sake, speak comfortable words. York. Should I do so, l should belie my thoughts: Comfort’s in heaven; and we are on the earth, Where nothing lives but crosses, care, and grief. * Your husband he is gone to save far off, Whilst others come to make him lose at home: Here am I left to underprop his land; Who, weak with age, cannot support myself:-* Now comes the sick hour that his surfeit made; Now shall he try his friends that flatter’d him. Enter a Servant. Ser. My lord, your son was gone before I came. York. He was ?—-Why, so !~go all which way it The nobles they are fled, the commons cold, [will !— And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford’s side.- Sirrah, Get thee to Plashy, to my sister Gloster ; I Bid her send me presently a thousand pound :— Hold, take ray ring. Ser. My lord, I had forgot to tell your lordship : To-day, as I came by, I called there;— But I shall grieve you to report the rest. York. What is it, knave ? Ser. An hour before I came, the duchess died. York. God for bis mercy ! what a tide of woes §8 KING RICHARD II. ACT II. Comes rushing on this woeful land at once ! I know not what to do : I would to God (So my untruth had not provok’d him to it), The king had cut off my head with my brother’s.— What, are there posts despatch’d for Ireland ?— How shall we do for money for these wars?— Come, sister,—cousin, I wouldsay: pray,pardon me.— Go, fellow [to the Servant], get thee home, provide some carts. And bring away the armour that is there.— [ex. Ser. Gentlemen, will you go muster men ? if I know How, or which way, to order these affairs, Thus thrust disorderly into my hands, Never believe me. Roth are my kinsmen The one’s my sovereign, whom both my oath And duty bids defend ; the other again Is my kinsman, whom the king hath wrong’d ; Whom conscience and my kindred bids to right. Well, somewhat we must do.—Come, cousin, I’ll Dispose of you :—go, muster up your men, And meet ine presently at Berkley-castle. I should to Plashy too ;- But time will not permit:—All is uneven. And every thing is left at six and seven. [exeunt York and Queen. Bushy. The wind sits fair for news to go to Ireland, But none returns. For us to levy power, Proportionable to the enemy, Is all impossible. Green. Besides, our nearness to the king in love, Is near the hate of those love not the king. [love Bag. And that’s the wavering commons : for their Lies in their purses ; and whoso empties them, By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate. Bushy .Wherein the king stands generally condemn’d. Bag. If judgment lie in them, then so do we, SC K N E HI. RING RICHARD II. S9 j Because we ever have been near the king. Green. Well, I’ll for refuge straight to Bristol-castle ; The earl of Wiltshire is already there. Bushy. Thither will I with you : for little office The hateful commons will perform for us ; Except, like curs, to tear us all to pieces.— Will you go along with us l Bag. No ; I’ll to Ireland to his majesty. Farewell: if hearts’ presages be not vain. We three here part, that ne’er shall meet again, [broke. Bushy. That’s as York thrives, to beat back Boling- Green. Alas, poor duke ! the task he undertakes Is—numb’ring sands, and drinking oceans dry ; Where one on his side fights, thousands will fly. Bushy. Farewell at once ; for once, for all, and ever. Green. Well, we may meet again. Bag. I fear me, never. [exeunt. SCENE III.-THE WILDS IN GLOSTER8HlRE. Enter Bolingbroke and Northumberland, ivith Forces. Bol. How far is it, my lord, to Berkley now ? Nor. Believe me, noble lord, I am a stranger here in Glostershire. These high wild hills, and rough uneven ways. Draw out our miles, and make them wearisome : And yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar. Making the hard way sweet and delectable. But, 1 bethink me, what a weary way From Ravenspurg to Colswold, will be found In Ross and Willoughby, wanting your company ; Which, 1 protest, hath very much beguil’d The tediousness and process of my travel: But theirs is sweeten’d with the hope to have i The present benefit which I possess : And hope to joy, is little less in joy. Than hope enjoy’d ; by this the weary lords 40 KINC RICHARD 11. ACT II I Shall make their way seem short; as mine bath don© By sight of what I have, your noble company. Bol. Of much less value is my company, Than your good words. But who comes here ? Enter Harry Percy. Nor. It is my son, young Harry Percy, Sent from my brother Worcester, whencesoever.— Harry, how fares your uncle ? [health of you. Per. I had thought, my lord, to have 1 earn’d his ; Nat. Why, is he not with the queen ? Per. No, my good lord; he hath forsook the court. Broken his staff of office, and dispers’d The household of the king. Nor. What was his reason ? He was not so resolv’d, when last we spake together. Per. Because your lordship was proclaimed traitor. But he, my lord, is gone to Ravenspurg, To offer service to the duke of Hereford ; And sent me o’er by Berkley, to discover What power the duke of York bad levied there ; Then with direction to repair to Ravenspurg. Nor. Have you forgot the duke of Hereford, boy ? Per. No, ray good lord ^for that is not forgot, Which ne’er 1 did remember : to my knowledge, 1 never in my life did look on him Nor. Then learn to know him now ; this is the duke. Per. My gracious lord, I tender you my service, Such as it is, being tender, raw, and young ; Which elder days shall ripen, and confirm To more approved service and desert. Bol. I thank thee, gentle Percy ; and be sure, I count myself in nothing else so happy. As in a soul rememb’ring my good friends; And, as my fortune ripens with thy love, It shall be still thy true love’s recompense : Mv heart this covenant makes, my hand thus seals it. scene hi. KING RICHARD II. 41 Nor. How far is it to Berkley ? And what stir Keeps good old York there, with his men of war? Per. There stands the castle, by yon tuft of trees, Mann’d with three hundred men, as 1 have heard t And in it are the lords of York, Berkley, and Seymour; None else of name, and noble estimate. Enter Ross and Willoughby. i Nor. Here come the lords oPfeoss and Willoughby, Bloody with spurring, fiery-red with baste. Bol. Welcome, my lords: I wot, your love pursues A banish’d traitor ; all my treasury Is yet but unfelt thanks, which, more enrich’d, Shall be your love and labour’s recompense. Ross. Your presence makes us rich, most noble lord. Wil. And far surmounts our labour to attain it. Bol. Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the poor j Which, till my infant fortune comes to years, Stands for my bounty. But who comes here ? Enter Berkley. Nor. It is my lord of Berkley, as I guess. ! Berk. My lord of Hereford, my message is to you. i Bol. My lord, my answer is—to Lancaster; And 1 am come to seek that name in England : And I must find that title in your tongue. Before I make reply to aught you say. Berk. Mistake me not, my lord ; ’tis not my mean- To raze one title of your honour out:— [ing, To you, my lord, I come (what lord you will), Prom the most glorious regent of this land, iTbe duke of York ; to kuow, what pricks you on To take advantage of the absent time. And fright our native peace with self-born arms. Enter York, attended. 1 Bol. I shall not need transport my words by you ; Here comes his grace in person.—My noble uncle ! I York. Show me thy humble heart, and not thy knee, 42 KING RICHARD LI. ACT If Whose duty is deceiveable and false. Bol. My gracious uncle !— York. Tut, tut ! Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle: I am no traitor’s uncle ; and the word—grace, In an ungracious mouth, is but profane. Why have those banish’d and forbidden legs Dar’d once to touch jtfdust of England’s ground ? But then more why;-why have they dar’d to march So many miles upon her peaceful bosom ; Frighting her pale-fac’d villages with war, And ostentation of despised arms ? Com’st thou because the anointed king is hence ? Why, foolish boy, the king is left behind, And in my loyal bosom lies his power. Were I but now the lord of such hot youth. As when brave Gaunt, thy father, and myself, Rescu’d the Black Prince, that young Mars of men, From forth the ranks of many thousand French ; O, then, how quickly should this arm of mine. Now prisoner to the palsy, chastise thee. And minister correction to thy fault! Bol. My gracious uncle, let me know my fault; On what condition stands it, and wherein ? York. Even in condition of the worst degree,— In gross rebellion, and detested treason : Thou art a banish’d man, and here art come, Before the expiration of thy time, In braving arms against thy sovereign. Bol. As I was banish’d, I was banish’d Hereford; But as I come, l come for Lancaster. And, noble uncle, I beseech your grace. Look on my wrongs with an indifferent eye : You are my father, for, methinks, in you I see old Gaunt alive $ O then, ray father ! Will you permit that I shall stand condemn’d 1 * EN E III. KING RICHARD II. 13 wand’ring vagabond : my rights and royalties luck’d from my arms perforce, and given away o upstart unthrifts ? Wherefore was I born ? f that my cousin king be king of England, l must be granted, I am duke of Lancaster, fou have a son, Aumerle, my uoble kinsman ; lad you first died, and he been thus trod down, ie should have found his uncle Gaunt a father, ’o rouse his wrongs, and chase them to the bay. t am denied to sue my livery here, Mid yet my letters-patent give me leave: ly father’s goods are all distrain’d, and sold; aid these, and all, are all amiss employ’d. »Vhat would you have me do ? I am a subject, Vnd challenge law: Attornies are denied me ; Ind therefore personally I lay my claim iTo iny inheritance of free descent. Nor. The noble duke hath been too much abus’d. Ross. It stands your grace upon, to do him right. Wil. Base men by his endowments are made great. York. My lords of England, let me tell you this,— . have had feeling of my cousin’s wrongs, \.nd labour’d all I could to do him right. ; 3ut in this kind to come, in braving arms, Be his own carver, and cut out his way, To find out right with wrong,—it may not be ; \.nd you, that do abet him in this kind, pherish rebellion, and are rebels all. Nor. The uoble duke hath sworn, his coming is But for his own : and, for the right of that. We all have strongly sworn to give him aid ; Vnd let him ne’er see joy that breaks that oath. York. Well, well, I see the issue of these arms ; r . cannot mend it, 1 must needs confess, fJecause my power is weak, and all ill left: iRut, if I could, by him that gave ine life, 44 KING RICHARD I!. ACT I 1 ; Which I have sworn to weed, and pluck away, [pause York. It may be, I will go with you: — but yet I'll For I am loth to break our country’s laws. Nor friends, nor foes, to me welcome you are : Things past redress, are now with me past care, [exit i SCENE IV. A CAMP IN WALES. Enter Salisbury and a Captain. Capt. My lord of Salisbury, we have staid ten days. And hardly kept our countrymen together, And yet we hear no tidings from the king : Therefore we will disperse ourselves; farewell. Sal. Stay yet another day, thou trusty Welshman ; The king reposeth all his confidence In thee. Capt. ’Tis thought, the king is dead ; we will not The bay-trees in our country are all wither’d, [stay. And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven ; The pale-fac’d moon looks bloody on the earth. And lean-look’d prophets whisper fearful change ; Rich men look sad, and ruflians dance and leap,— The one, in fear to lose what they enjoy. The other, to enjoy by rage and war : These signs forerun the death or fall of kings.— Farewell; our countrymen are gone and tied, I would attach you all, and make you sloop Unto the sovereign mercy of the king ; Rut, since I cannot, be it known to you, I do remain as neuter. So, fare you well Unless you please to enter in the castle, And there repose you for this night, Bol. An offer, uncle, that we will accept. But we must win your grace, to go with us To Bristol-castle; which, they say, is held By Bushy, Bagot, and their complices. The caterpillars of the commonwealth, ENE r. KING RICHARD II. 45 11 s well assur’d, Richard their king is dead. [exit. Sal. All, Richard ! with the eyes of heavy mind, j see thy glory, like a shooting star, 'all to the base earth from the firmament! 'hy son sets weeping in the lowly west, Witnessing storms to come, woe, and unrest: ’hy friends are tied, to wait upon thy foes ; ■nd crossly to thy good all fortune goes. [exit. ACT THE THIRD. SCENE 1 . BOLINGBROKE’.S CAMP AT BRISTOL. B, i Winter Bolingb. York, Northumb. Percy, Willoughby , l Ross: Officers, ivith Bushy and Green, prisoners. i| Bol. Bring forth these men.— washy and Green, I will not vex your souls Since presently your souls must part jour bodies), Vith too much urging your pernicious lives, ''or ’twere no charity : yet to wash your blood [i'rom off my hands, here, in the view of men, will unfold some causes of your death. {ou have misled a prince, a royal king, L happy gentleman in blood and lineaments, ly you unhappied and disfigur’d clean, fou have, in manner, with your sinful houre. dade a divorce betwixt his queen and him ; Iroke the possession of a royal bed, tnd stain’d the beauty of a fair queen’s cheeks iVilli tears drawn from her eyes by your foul wrongs. Myself—a prince, by fortune of my birth ; *Iear to the king in blood ; and near in love. Pill you did make him misinterpret me,- dave stoop’d my neck under your injuries, \nd sigh’d my English breath in foreign clouds. Sating the bitter bread of banishment: 46 KING RICHARD II. ACT III Whilst you have fed upon my signories, Dispark’d my parks, and fell’d my forest woods ; From my own windows lorn my household eoat, Raz’d out my impress, leaving me no sign,— Save men’s opinions, and my living blood,— To show the world I am a gentleman. This, and much more, much more than twice all this. Condemns you to the death:—See them deliver’* To execution and the hand of death. [ove Bushy. More welcome is the stroke of death to me Than Bolingbroke to England.—Lords, farewell. Green. My comfort is,—that heaven will take on: souls, And plague injustice with the pains of hell. Bol. My lord Northumberland, see them des patch’d. [exit North, with Prisoners Uncle, you say, the queen is at your house ; For heaven’s sake, fairly let her be entreated : Tell her, I send to her my kind commends; Take special care my greetings be delivered. York, A gentleman of mine I have despatch’d W’ith letters of your love to her at large. Bot. Thanks, gentle uncle.—Come, lords, away ; To fight with Glendower and his complices; Awhile to work, and, after, holiday. [exeunt SCENE 11. COAST OF WALES. CASTLE IN VIEW. Flourish: Drums and trumpets. Enter King Richard Bishop of Carlisle, Aumerle, and Soldiers. K. Rich. Barkloughly-castle call you this at hand? Aum. Yea, my lord : How brooks your grace tin After late tossing on the breaking seas? [air K. Rich. Needs must I like it well; I weep for joy To stand upon my kingdom once again.- Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand, Though rebels wound thee with their horses’ hoofs: JCENE JI. RING RICHARD II. 47 a long-parted mother "with her child Plays fondly with her tears, and smiles in meeting; So, weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth, And do thee favour with my royal hands. Feed not thy sovereign’s foe, my gentle earth, Nor with thy sweets comfort his rav’noas sense: But let thy spiders, that suck up thy venom, And heavy-gaited toads, lie in their way ; Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet, Which with usurping steps do trample thee. BYield stinging nettles to mine enemies : And when they from thy bosom pluck a flower. Guard it, 1 pray thee, with a lurking adder, Whose double longue may with a mortal touch Throw death upon thy sovereign’s enemies.— Mock not my senseless conjuration, lords; This earth shall have a feeling, and these stones Prove armed soldiers, ere her native king I Shall falter under foul rebellious arms. [king, Bish. Fear not, my lord ; that power that made you , Hath power to keep you king, in spite of all. The means that heaven yields must be embrac’d. And not neglected ; else, if heaven would. And we will not, heaven’s offer we refuse ; The proffer’d means of succour and redress. Aum. He means, my lord, that we are too remiss ; Whilst Bolingbroke, through our security, Grows strong and great, in substance,and in friends. K. Rich. Discomfortable cousin ! know’sl thou not. That when the searching eye of heaven is hid Behind the globe, and lights the lower world. Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen. In murders, and in outrage, bloody here ; But when, from under this terrestrial ball, He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines, And darts his light through every guilty hole, 48 KING RICHARD II. ACT I!I. Then murders, treasons, and detested sins, The cloak of night being pluck'd from off their backs, Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves? So when this thief, this traitor, Bolingbroke,— Who all this while hath revell’d in the night. Whilst we were wand’ring with the antipodes,— Shall see us rising in our throne the east, His treasons will sit blushing in his face. Not able to endure the sight of day ; But, self-affrighted, tremble at his sin. Not all the water in the rough-rude sea Can wash the balm from an anointed king: The breath of worldly men caunot depose The deputy elected by the Lord : For every mail that Bolingbroke hath press’d To lift shrewd steel against our golden crown, God for his Richard hath in heavelily pay A glorious angel: then, if angels fight, Weak men must fall; for heaven still guards the right. Enter Salisbury. Welcome, my lord ; How far off lies your power ? Sal. Nor near, nor further off, my gracious lord, Than this weak arm : Discomfort guides my tongue. And bids me speak of nothing but despair. One day too late, 1 fear, my noble lord. Hath clouded all thy happy days on earth : O, call back yesterday, bid time return, And thou shalt have twelve thousand fighting men ! To-day, to-day, unhappy day, too late, O’erthrows thy joys, friends, fortune, and thy state ; For all the Welshmen, hearing thou wert dead, Are gone to Bolingbroke, dispers’d, and fled, [pale ? Aum. Comfort, my liege: why looks your grace so K. Rich. But now, the blood of twenty thousand men Did triumph in my face, and they are fled ; SCENE II. KING RICHARD II. 49 And, till so much blood thither come again, Have 1 not reason to look pale and dead ? All souls that will be safe, % from my side; For time hath set a blot upon my pride. Aum. Comfort, my liege ; remember who you are. K. Rich. I had forgot myself: Am I not king ? Awake, thou sluggard majesty! thou sleep’st. Is not the king’s name forty thousand names ? Arm, arm, my name ! a puny subject strikes At thy great glory.—Look not to the ground, Ye favourites of a king; are we not high ? i High be our thoughts: I know, my uncle York Hath power enough to serve our turn. But who Comes here ? Enter Scroop. Scr. More health and happiness betide my liege, Than can my care-tun’d longue deliver him. K. Rich. Mine ear is open, and my heart prepar’d; The worst is worldly loss, thou canst unfold, i Say, is my kingdom lost ? why, ’twas my care ; ! And what loss is it, to be rid of care ? i Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we ? Greater he shall not be ; if he serve God, We’ll serve him too, and be his fellow so: Revolt our subjects ? that we cannot mend ; They break their faith to God, as well as us : iCry, woe, destruction, ruin, loss, decay ; The worst is—death, and death will have bis day. | Scr. Glad am I, that your highness is so arm’d. To bear the tidings of calamity. Like an unseasonable stormy day. Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores. As if the world were all dissolv’d to tears: So high above his limits swells the rage 'Of Bolingbroke, covering your fearful laud With hard bright steel, and hearts harder than steel. £ 50 KING RICHARD II. ACT III. White beards have arm’d th eir thin and hairless scalps Against thy majesty; boys, with women’s voices. Strive to speak big, and clap their female joints In stiff unwieldy arms against thy crown : Thy very beadsmen learn to bend their bows Of double-fatal yew against thy state ; Yea, distaff-women manage rusty bills Against thy seat: both young and old rebel. And all goes worse than I have power to tell. K.Rich. Too well, too well, thou tell’st atale so ill. Where is the earl of Wiltshire ? where is Bagot ? What is become of Bushy ? where is Green P That they have let the dangerous enemy Measure our confines with such peaceful steps ? If we prevail, their heads shall pay for it. I warrant, they have made peace with Bolingbroke. Scr. Peace have they made with him, indeed, my lord !— [tion ! K. Rich. O villains, vipers, damn’d without redemp- Dogs, easily won to fawn on any man! Snakes, in my heart-blood warm’d, that sting my heart! Three Judasses, each one thrice worse than Judas ! Would they make peace, terrible hell make war Upon their spotted souls for this offence ! Scr. Sweet love, I see, changing his property. Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate :— Again uncurse their souls; their peace is made With heads, and not with hands: those whom yon curse Have felt the worst of death’s destroying wound. And lie full low, grav’d in the hollow ground, [dead ? Aum. Is Bushy, Green, and the earl of Wiltshire, Scr. Yea, all of them at Bristol lost their heads. Aum.Where is the duke, my father, with his power? K. Rich. No matter where; of comfort no man speak. Let’s talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs ; Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes SCENE II. 51 KING RICHARD II. Write sorrow on the bosom of tjie earth. Let’s choose executors, and talk of wills : And yet not so,—vfor what can we bequeath, Save our depose^,bodies to the ground ? Our lands, our litres, and all, are Bolingbroke’s, And nothing can we call our own, but death ; And that small model of the barren earth, Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. For heaven’s sake, let us sit upon the ground. And tell sad stories of the death of kings :— How some have been depos’d, some slain in war; Some haunted by the ghosts they have depos’d ; Some poison’d by their wives, some sleeping kill’d; All murder’d For within the hollow crown, That rounds the mortal temples of a king, Keeps Death his court: and there the antic sits, Scoffing his state, and grinning at his pomp ; Allowing him a breath, a little scene To mouarchise, be fear’d, and kill with looks j Infusing him with self and vain conceit,— As if this flesh, which walls about our life, Were brass impregnable ; and, humour’d thus. Comes at the last, and with a little pin Bores through his castle wall, and—farewell, king ! Cover } r onr beads, and mock not flesh and blood With solemn reverence ; throw away respect, Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty', For you have but mistook me all this while: I live with bread like you, feel want, taste grief, I Need friends :—Subjected thus, i How can you say to me—I am a king? Car. My lord, wise men ne’er wail their present woei 1 But presently prevent the ways to wail. 'I To fear the foe, since fear oppresseth strength, 1 Gives, in your weakness, strength unto your foe, I And so your follies fight against yourself. 52 KING RICHARD II. ACT III. Fear, and be slain; no worse can come, to fight: And fight and die, is death destroying death; Where fearing dying, pays deafh servile breath. Aum. My father hath a power, inquire of him ; And learn to make a body of a limb. [I come K.RichiThou chid’st me well:—Proud Bolingbroke, To change blows with thee for our day of doom. This ague-fit of fear is over-blown; An easy'task it is, to win our own.- Say, Scroop, where lies our uncle with his power? Speak sweetly, man, although thy looks be sour. Scr. Men judge by the complexion of the sky The state and inclination of the day: So may you by my dull and heavy eye, My tongue hath but a heavier tale to say. I play the torturer, by small and small, To lengthen out the w'orst that must be spoken :— Your uncle York hath join'd with Bolingbroke; And all your northern castles yielded up. And all your southern gentlemen in arms Upon his party. K. Rick. Thou hast said enough.- Beshrew thee, cousin, which didst lead me forth [to Au. Of that sweet way I was in to despair! What say you now ? What comfort have we now ? By heaven. I’ll hate him everlastingly. That bids me be of comfort any more. Go, to Flint-castle; there I’ll pine away : A king, woe’s slave, shq.ll kingly woe obey. That power I have, dist$|irge ; and let them go To ear the land that hat|f some hope to grow, For I have none :—Let no man speak again To alter this, for counsel is but vain. Aum. My liege, one word. K. Rich . He does me double wrong, That wounds me with the flatterica of his tongue. SCENE III. KING RICHARD 11. 53 Discharge my followers, let them hence :— Away, From Richard’s night, to Bolingbroke’s fair day. [er. SCENE III. WALES. BEFORE FLINT-CASTLE. Enter, with drum and colours, Bolingbroke and Forces; York, Northumberland, and others. Bol. So that by this intelligence we learn. The Weshmen are dispers’d; and Salisbury Is gone to meet the king, who lately landed, With some few private friends, upon this coast. Nor. The news is very fair and good, my lord ; Richard, not far from hence, hath hid his head. York. It would beseem the lord Northumberland, To say—King Richard :—Alack the heavy day, When such a sacred king should hide his head ! Nor. Your grace mistakes me ; only to be brief, Left I his tille out. York. The time hath been, Would you have been so brief with him, he would Have been so brief with you, to shorten you, For taking so the head, your whole head’s length. Bol. Mistake not, uncle, further than you should. York .Take not,good cousin, further than you should, Lest you mis-take : the heavens are o’er your head. Bol. I know it, unche ; and oppose not Myself against their will.—But who comes here ? Enter Percy. Well, Harry ; what, will not this castle yield ? Per. The castle royally is rnami’d, my lord, Against thy entrance. Bol. Royally! Why, it contains no king ? Per. Yes, my good lord, It doth coutaip a king : King Richard lies. Within the limits of yon lime and stone: And with him are the lord Aumerle, lord Salisbury, 54 KING RICHARD If. ACT ill. Sir Stephen Scroop; besides a clergyman Of holy reverence, who, I cannot learn. Nor. Belike, it is the bishop of Carlisle. Bol. Noble lord, [to Northumberland. Go to the rude ribs of that antient castle ; Throngh brazen trumpet send the breath of parle Into his rain’d ears, and thus deliver. Harry Bolingbroke ' On both his knees, doth kiss king Richard’s hand ; And sends allegiance, and true faith of heart,. To his most royal person : hither come Even at his feet to lay my arms and power ; Provided that, my banishrneut repeal’d, And lands restor’d again, be freely granted : If not, I’ll use the advantage of my power, And lay the summer’s dust with showers of blood, Rain’d from the wounds of slaughter’d Englishmen : The which, how far offfrom the mind of Bolingbroke It is, sueh crimson tempests should bedrench The fresh green lap of fair king Richard’s land, My stooping duty tenderly shall show. Go, signify as much ; while here we march Upon the grassy carpet of this plain.— [Nor. advances to the castle, with a trumpet. Let’s march without the noise of threat’ning drum, That from the castle’s totter’d battlements Our fair appointments may be well perus’d. Methinks, king Richard and myself should meet With no less terror than the elements Of fire and water, when their thund’ring shock At meeting tears the cloudy cheeks of heaven. Be he the fire, I’ll be the yielding water: The rage be his, while on the earth l rain My waters ; on the earth, and not on him. March on, and mark king Richard how he looks. Flourish. Enter, on the walls, King Richard, the SCENE III. KING RICHARD II. 55 Bishop of Carlisle, Aumerle, Scroop, and Salisbury. York. See, see, king Richard doth himself appear, As doth the blushing discontented sun I From out the fiery portal of the east; When he perceives the envious clouds are bent To dim his glory, and to stain the track Of his bright passage to the Occident. Yet looks he like a king; behold, his eye, As bright as the eagle’s, lightens forth Controlling majesty ; alack, alack, for woe. That any harm should stain so fair a show! K.Rich. We are amaz’d; and thuslonghave we stood To watch the fearful bending of thy knee, [to North. Because we thought ourself thy lawful king : And if we be, how dare thy joints forget To pay their awful duty to our presence ? If we be not, show us the hand of God That hath dismiss’d us from our stewardship ; For well we know, no hand of blood and bone Can gripe the sacred handle of our sceptre, Unless he do profane, steal, or usurp. And though you think, that all, as you have done, I Have torn their souls, by turning them from us. And we are barren, and bereft of friends ;-- Yet know,—my master, God omnipotent, ; Is must’ring in his clouds, on our behalf. Armies of pestilence ; and they shall strike j Your children yet unborn, and unbegot, 1 That lift your vassal hands against my head. And threat the glory of my precious crown. |i Tell Bolingbroke (for yond’, methinks, he is), That every stride he makes upon my land, ;; Is dangerous treason : he is come to ope The purple testament of bleeding war; But ere the crown he looks for live in peace, J Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers’ sons 56 KING RICHARD II. ACT III. Shall ill become the flower of England’s face ; Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace To scarlet indignation, and bedew Her pastures’ grass with faithful English blood. Nor. The king of heaven forbid, our lord the king Should so with civil and uncivil arms Be rush’d upon ! Thy thrice-noble cousin, Harry Bolingbroke, doth humbly kiss thy hand ; And by the honourable tomb he swears. That stands upon thy royal grandsire’s bones ; And by the royalties of both your bloods. Currents that spring from one most gracious head ; And by the buried hand of warlike Gaunt; And by the worth and honour of himself. Comprising all that may be sworn or said,— His coming hither hath no further scope, Than for his lineal royalties, and to beg Enfranchisement immediate on his knees : Which on thy royal party granted once. His glittering arms he will commend to rusl, His barbed steeds to stables, and his heart To faithful service of your majesty. This swears he, as he is a prince, is just; And, as I am a gentleman, I credit him. K. Rich. Northumberland, say,—thus the king re* His noble cousin is right welcome hither; [turns ;— And all the number of his fair demands Shall be accomplish’d without contradiction : With all the gracious utterance thou hast, Speak to his gentle hearing kind commends.— We do debase ourself, cousin, do we not, [to Aum. To look so poorly, and to speak so fair ? Shall we call back Northumberland, and send Defiance to the traitor, and so die ? Aum. No, my good lord ; let’s fight with gentle words, Till time lend friends, and friends their helpful swords. SCENE III. KING RICHARD II. 57 K. Rich. O God ! O God ! that ere this tongue of That laid the sentence of dread banishment [mine, On yon proud man, should lake it off again With words of sooth ! O, that I were as great As is my grief, or lesser than my name ! Dr that I could forget what 1 have been ! br not remember what I must be now ! Swell’st thou, proud heart ? I’ll give thee scope to beat, Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me. Aum. Northumberland comes back from Bolingbroke. K. Rich. What must the king do now ? Must he sub- The king shall do it. Must he be depos’d ? [mit? The king shall be contented : must he lose The name of king ? o’God’s name, let it go : I’ll give my jewels, for a set of beads ; My gorgeous palace, for a hermitage; My gay apparel, for an alms-mau’s gown ; | My figur’d goblets, for a dish of wood ; My sceptre, for a palmer’s walking staff; My subjects, for a pair of carved saints ; And my large kingdom, for a little grave, A little, little grave, an obscure grave Or I’ll be buried in the king’s highway, I Some way of common trade, where subjects’ feet May hourly trample on their sovereign’s head : For on my heart they tread, now whilst I live ; And, buried once, why not upon my head ?— Aumerle„ihou weep’st; my tender-hearted cousin !—• We’ll make foul weather with despised tears ; Our sighs, and they, shall lodge the summer corn, And make a dearth in this revolting land, i Or shall we play the wantons with our woes, And make some pretty match with shedding tears ? As thus :—To drop them still upon one place. Till they have fretted us a pair of graves Within the earth ; and, therein laid,— There lies 58 KING RICHARD II. ACT III Two kinsmen , digg'd their graves with weeping eyes ? Would not this ill do well ?—Well, well, I see I talk but idly, and you mock at me.-— Most mighty prince, my lord Northumberland, What says king Bolingbroke ? will his majesty Give Richard leave to live till Richard die ? You make a leg, and Bolingbroke says—ay. Nor. My lord, in the base court he doth attend To speak, with you ; may’t please you to come down ? K. Rich. Down, down, I come; like glistering Pha- Wanting the manage of unruly jades. [eton, [JVor. retires to Bol. In the base court? Base court, where kings grow base, To come at traitors’ calls, and do them grace, [king! ; In the base court? Comedown? Down, court! down For night-owls shriek, where mounting larks should) sing. [exeuntfrom above BoL What says his majesty ? Nor. Sorrow and grief of heart Makes him speak fondly, like a frantic man : Yet he is come. Enter King Richard, and his Attendants, below. Bol. Stand all apart, And show fair duty to his majesty.- My gracious lord,— [ kneeling. K. Rich. Fair cousin, you debase your princely knee. To make the base earth proud with kissing it: Me rather had,, my heart might feel your love. Than my unpleas’d eye see your courtesy. Up, cousin, up; your heart is up, I know, Thus high at least [touching his own head ] although your knee be low. Bol. My gracious lord, I come but for mine own. K. Rich. Your own is yours, and I am yours, and all. Bol. So far be mine, my most redoubted lord. As my true service shall deserve your love. SNE IV. KING RICHARD II. 59 K. Rich. Well you deserve.—They well deserve lo iat know the strong’st and surest way to got. [have, ncle, give me your hand : nay, dry your eyes; ears show their love, but want their remedies.— ousin, I am too young to be your father, hough you are old enough to be my heir. ,7hat you will have, I’ll give, and willing too; or do we must, what force will have us do.— fet on towards London. Cousin, is it so ? Bol. Yea, my good lord. IC. Rich. Then!mustnotsay,no. [flourish; exeunt. JF.NE IV. LANGLEY. THE DUKE OF YORK’S GARDEN. Enter the Queen, and two Ladies. Queen. What sport shall we devise here in this gar- o drive away the heavy thought of caro ; J [den, 1 Lady. Madam, we’ll play at bowls. Queen. ’Twill make me think 'he world is full of rubs, and that my fortune Luos ’gainst the bias. 1 Lady. Madam, we will dance. Queen. My legs can keep no measure in delight, Vhen my poor heart no measure keeps in grief: 'herefore, no dancing, girl; some other sport. 1 Lady. Madam, we’ll tell tales. Queen. Of sorrow, or of joy ? 1 Lady. Of either, madam. I Queen. Of neither, girl. lor if of joy, being altogether wanting, t doth remember me the more of sorrow ; >r if of grief, being altogether had, t adds more sorrow to my want of joy: or what l have, I need not to repeat; nd what I want, it boots not to complain. 1 Lady. Madam, I’ll sing. I Queen. ’Tis well, that thou hast cause; GO KING RICHARD II. act ii ] But tliou sliould’st please me better, would’stthou weep 1 Lady. I could weep, madam, would it do you good Queen. And I could weep, would weeping do m« And never borrow any tear of thee. [good ^ But stay, here comes the gardeners : j- Let’s step into the shadow of these trees.— Enter a Gardener and two Servants. ^ My wretchedness unto a row of pins, They’ll talk of state ; for every one doth so L Against a change. Woe is forerun with woe. L [Queen and Ladies retire L Gard. Go, bind you up yon dangling aprioocks, | Which, like unruly children, make their sire Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight: Give some supportanoe to the bending twigs.— Go thou, and, like an sxecutioner. Cut off the heads of too-fast-growing sprays, That look too lofty in our commonwealth : All must be even in our government.-■— You thus employ’d, I will go root away The noisome weeds, that without profit suck The soil’s fertility from wholesome flowers. 1 Serv. Why should we, in the compass of a pale, Keep law, and form, and due proportion, Showing, as in a model, our firm estate ? When our sea-walled garden, the whole land. Is full of weeds ; her fairest flowers chok’d up, Her fruit-trees all unprun’d, her hedges ruin’d, Her knots disorder’d, and her wholesome herbs Swarming with caterpillars ? Gard. Hold thy peace :— He that hath suffer’d this disorder’d spring, Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf: The weeds, that his broad-spreading leaves did shelter That seem’d, in eating him, to hold him up. Are pluck’d up, root and all, by Bolingbroke ; CENE IV. KING RICHARD II. 61 mean, the earl of Wiltshire, Bushy, Green. 1 Serv. What, are they dead ? Gard. They are ; and Bolingbroke lath seiz’d the wasteful king.—Oh ! What pity is it, 'hat he had not so trimm’d and dress’d his land, .s we this garden ! We, at time of year, )o wound the bark, the skin of our fruit-trees; stain the temper of my knightly sword. Bol. Bagot, forbear, thou shall not take it up. Aum. Excepting one, 1 would he were the best n all this presence, that hath mov’d me so. Fitz. If that thy valour stand on sympathies, pPhere is my gage, Aumerle, in gage to thine : [By that fair sun that shows me where thou stand’st, l heard thee say, and vauntingly thou speak’st it, rhat thou wert cause of noble Gloster’s death. If thou deny’st it, twenty times thou liest; And I will turn tby‘falsehood to thy heart, KING RICHARD II. Where it was forged, with my rapier’s point. ^ Aum. Thou dar’st not, coward, live to see that day. ^ Fits. Now, by my soul, I would it were this hour, jij Aum. Fitzwater, thou art damn’d to hell for this. j Per. Aumerle, thou liest; his honour is as true, j In this appeal, as thou art all unjust: j And, that thou art so, there l throw my gage, jr To prove it on thee, to the extremest point r Of mortal breathing; seize it, if thou dar’st. Aum. And if I do not, may my hands rot off, r And never brandish more revengeful steel Over the glittering helmet of my foe ! Lord. I take the earth to the like, forsworn Aumerle; i And spur thee on with full as many lies As may be holla’d in thy treacherous ear I From sun to sun: there is my honour’s pawn ; Engage if to the trial, if thou dar’st. Aum. Who sets me else? by heaven, I’ll throw at all: I have a thousand spirits in one breast. To answer twenty thousand such as you. Sur. My lord Fitzwater, I do remember well The very time Aumerle and you did talk. Fitz. My lord, ’tis true: you were in presence then;« And you can witness with me, this is true. Sur. As false, by heaven, as heaven itself is true. Fitz. Surry, thou liest. Sur. Dishonourable boy ! That lie shall lie so heavy on my sword. That it shall render vengeance and revenge, Till thou the lie-giver, and that lie, do lie In earth as quiet as thy father’s scull. In proof whereof, there is my honour’s pawn ; Engage it to the trial, if thou dar’st. Fitz. How fondly dost thou spur a forward horse! If I dare eat, or drink, or breathe, or live, 1 dare meet Surry in a wilderness, SCENE I. RING RICHARD II. G5 And spit upon him, whilst I say, he lies, And lies, and lies : there is my bond of faith, I'o tie thee to my strong correction.— As I intend to thrive in this new world, Aumerle is guilty of my true appeal: Besides, I heard the banish’d Norfolk say, riiat thou, Aumerle, didst send two of thy men ro execute the noble duke at Calais. I Aum. Some honest Christian trust me with a gage fhat Norfolk lies: here do I throw down this, ;’f he may be repeal’d to try his honour. Bol. These differences shall all rest under gage, fill Norfolk be repeal’d : repeal’d he shall be, And, though mine enemy, restor’d again To all his land and signories; when he’s return’d, Against Aumerle we will enforce his trial. Car. That honourable day shall ne’er be seen. Wany a time hath banish’d Norfolk fought i 'or Jesu Christ; in glorious Christian field dreaming the ensign of the Christian cross, igainst black Pagans, Turks, and Saracens: ind, toil’d with works of war, retir’d himself fo Italy ; and there, at Venice, gave ilis body to that pleasant country’s earth, md his pure soul unto his captain, Christ; Jnder whose colours he had fought so long. Bol. Why, bishop, is Norfolk dead ? Car. As sure as I live, my lord. Bol. Sweet peace conduct his sweet soul to the bo- If good old Abraham ! Lords appellants, [som four differences shall all rest under gage, 'ill we assign you to your days of trial. Enter York, attended. York. Great duke of Lancaster, I come to thee rom plume-pluck’d Richard ; who with willing soul F 66 KING RICHARD II, ACT IV. Adopts thee heir, and his high sceptre yields To the possession of thy royal hand : Ascend his throne, descending now from him,— And long live Henry, of that name the fourth ! Bol. In God’s name, I’ll ascend the regal throne. Car. Marry, God forbid !— Worst in this royal presence may I speak. Yet best beseeming me to speak the truth. Would God, that any in this noble presence Were enough noble to be upright judge Of noble Richard ; then true nobless would Learn him forbearance from so foul a wrong. What subject can give sentence on his king ? And who sits here, that is not Richard’s subject ? Thieves are not judg’d, but they are by to hear. Although apparent guilt be seen in them s And shall the figure of God’s majesty. His captain, steward, deputy elect. Anointed, crowned, planted many years, Be judg’d, by subject and inferior breath, And he himself not present ? O, forbid it, God, That, in a Christian climate, souls refin’d Should show so heinous, black, obscene, a deed! I speak to subjects, and a subject speaks, Stirr’d up by Leaven thus boldly for his king. My lord of Hereford here, whom you call king. Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford’s king; And if you crown him, let me prophesy,— The blood of English shall manure the ground. And future ages groan for this foul act; Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels. And, in this seat of peace, tumultuous wars Shall kin with kin, and kind with kind confound; Disorder, horror, fear, and mutiny, Shall here inhabit, and this land be call’d The field of Golgotha, and dead men’s sculls. SCENE I. KING RICHARD II. 07 O, if yon rear this house against this house. It will the wofullest division prove. That ever fell upon this cursed earth : Prevent, resist it, let it not be so, Lest child, child’s children, cry against you—woe! Nor. Well have you argu’d, sir; and, for your pains, Of capital treason we arrest you here :— My lord of Westminster, be it your charge To keep him safely till his day of trial.— May’t please you, lords, to grant the common’s suit ? Bol. Fetch hither Richard, that in common view ;He may surrender; so we shall proceed I Without suspicion. | York. I will be his conduct. [exit. Bol. Lords, you that are here under our arrest, I Procure your sureties for your days of answer : 1 Little are we beholden to your love, [to Carlisle. And little look’d for at your helping hands. ^Re-enter York, with King Richard, and Officers bearing the crown, 8fc. K. Rich. Alack, why am I sent for to a king, Before I have shook off the regal thoughts Wherewith I reign’d ? I hardly yet have learn’d To insinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my knee :— :Give sorrow leave awhile to tutor me To this submission. Vet I well remember IThe favours of these men : Were they not mine ? pid they not sometime cry, all hail! to me ? So Judas did to Christ: but he, in twelve [none. Found truth in all but one; I, in twelve thousand, God save the king !—Will, no man say, amen ? km I both priest and clerk ? well then, amen. God save the king! although I be not he; \nd yet, amen, if heaven do think him me.— To do what service am I sent for hither? I York. To that office, of thine own good will. 68 KING RICHARD II. ACT. IV. Which tired majesty did make thee offer,- The resignation of thy state and crown To Henry Bolingbroke. [the crown ; K Rich. Give me the crown :—Here, cousin, seize Here, on this side, my hand; on that side, thine. Now is this golden crown like a deep well. That owes two buckets filling one another ; The emptier ever dancing in the air, The other down, unseen, and full of water : That bucket down, and full of tears, am I, Drinking my griefs, whilst you mount up on high. Bol. 1 thought you had been willing to resign. K. Rich. My crown, I am , but still my griefs are You may my glories and my state depose, [mine; But not my griefs; still am I king of those. [crown. Bol. Part of your cares you give me with your K. Rich. Your cares set up, do not pluck my cares My care is—loss of care, by old care done ; [down. Your care is—gain of care, by new care won : The cares I give, I have, though given away ; They tend the crown, yet still with me they stay. Bol. Are you contented to resign the crown ? K. Rich. Ay, no ; no, ay ;—for l must nothing be ; Therefore, no, no, for I resign to thee. Now mark me how I will undo myself:— I give this heavy weight from off my head. And this unweildy sceptre from my hand, The pride of kingly sway from out my heart; With mine own tears I wash away my balm, With mine own hands I give away my crown. With mine own tongue deny my sacred state, With mine own breath release all duteous oaths : All pomp and majesty I do forswear: My manors, rents, revenues, I forego ; My acts, decrees, and statutes, I deny : God pardon all oaths, that are broke to me! I SCENE I. KING RICHARD II. C9 God keep all vows unbroke, are made to thee! Make me, that nothing have, with nothing griev’d; And thou with all pleas’d, that hast all achiev’d ! Long may’st thou live in Richard’s seat to sit. And soon lie Richard in an earthly pit! i.| God save king Henry, unking’d Richard says. And send him many years of sunshine days !— | What more remains? Nor. No more, but that you read [ offers a paper. These accusations, and these grievous crimes. Committed by your person, and your followers, , Against the state and profit of this land : That, by confessing them, the souls of men Maj r deem that you are worthily depos’d. K. Rich. Must I do so ? and must I ravel out My weav’d-up follies ? Gentle Northumberland, If thy offences were upon record, : Would it not shame thee, in so fair a troop. To read a lecture of them ? If thou wouldst, There shouldst thou find one heinous article,— II Containing the deposing of a king, And cracking the strong warrant of an oath,— Mark’d with a blot, damn’d in the book of heaven i j Nay, all of you, that stand and look upon me, : Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait myself,— Though some of you, with Pilate, wash your hands. Showing an outward pity ; yet you Pilates Have here delivdlr’d me to my sour cross. And water cannot wash away your sin. Nor. My lord, despatch ; read o’er these articles. K. Rich. Mine eyes are full of tears, I cannot see : And yet salt water blinds them not so much, But they can see a sort of traitors here, i Nay, if I turn mine eyes upon myself, I find myself a traitor with the rest: ! j For I have given here my soul’s consent. 70 KING RICHARD II. ACT IV. To undeck the pompous body of a king ; Blake glory base ; and sovereignty, a slave; Proud majesty, a subject; state, a peasant. Nor. My lord,- [man, K. Rich. No lord of thine, thou haught, insulting Nor no man’s lord ; I have no name, no title,—. No, not that name was given me at the font,— But ’tis usurp’d:—Alack the heavy day. That I have worn so many winters out. And know not now what name to call myself! O, that I were a mockery king of snow. Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke, To melt myself away in water-drops !— Good king,—great king—(and yet not greatly good), An if my word be sterling yet in England, Let it command a mirror hither straight; That it may show me what a face I have, Since it is bankrupt of his majesty. [ exit an Attendant. Bol. Go some of you and fetch a looking-glass. Nor. Read o’er this paper, while the glass doth come. K. Rich. Fiend! thou torment’stme ere I come to hell. Bol. Urge it no more, my lord Northumberland. Nor. The commons will not then be satisfied. K. Rich. They shall be satisfied : Ill read enough. When I do see the very book, indeed. Where all my sins are writ, and that’s—myself. Re-enter Attendant, with a glass. Give me that glass, and therein will T read.— No deeper wrinkles yet? Hath sorrow struck So many blows upon this face of mine. And made no deeper wounds ?—O, flattering glass. Like to my followers in prosperity. Thou dost beguile me ! Was this face the face. That every day under his household roof Did keep ten thousand men ? Was this the face, That, like the sun, did make beholders wink ? SCENE I. KING RICHARD II. 71 Was this the face, that fac’d so many follies, And was at last outfac’d by Bolingbroke ? | A brittle glory shineth in this face: [ upon the ground. As brittle as the glory is the face; [ dashes the glass For there it is, crack’d in a hundred shivers,— Mark, silent king, the moral of this sport,— ! How soon my sorrow hath destroy’d my face. Bol. The shadow of your sorrow hath destroy’d 1 The shadow of your face. K. Rich. Say that again. ;The shadow of my sorrow ? Ha ! let’s see :— ’Tisvery true, my grief lies all within; And these external manners of lament Are merely shadows to the unseen grief. That swells with silence in the tortur’d soul; There lies the substance : and I thank thee, king, For thy great bounty, that not only giv’st Me cause to wail, but teachest me the way How to lament the cause. I’ll beg one boon, I And then be gone, and trouble you no more, i Shall I obtain it ? j Bol. Name it, fair cousin. [king : K. Rich. '*Fair cousin? Why, I am greater than a j For, when I was a king, my flatterers I Were then but subjects; being now a subject, I have a king here to my flatterer. Bol. Yet ask. K. Rich. And shall I have ? Bol. You shall. K. Rich. Then give me leave to go. Bol. Whither? K. Rich. W hither you will, so I were from your sights. Bol. Go, some of you, convey him to the Tower. K. Rich. O, good ! Convey ?—Conveyers are you all, I That rise thus nimbly by a true king’s fall. [exeunt K. Richard , some Lords, and a Guard. 72 KING RICHARD II. ACT V. Bol. On Wednesday next, we solemnly set down Onr coronation : lords, prepare yourselves. [exeunt all but Abb. Bish. of Carlisle , and Aum. Abbot. A woful pageant have we here beheld. Car. The woe’s to come ; the children yet unborn Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn. Aum. You holy clergymen, is there no plot To rid the realm of this pernicious blot ? Abbot. Before I freely speak my mind herein, You shall not only take the sacrament To bury mine intents, but to effect Whatever I shall happen to devise :— I see your brows are full of discontent, Your hearts of sorrow, and your eyes of tears; Come home with me to supper; I will lay A plot, shall show us all a merry day. [ exeunt. - ^ - ACT THE FIFTH. SCENE I. LONDON. A STREET LEADING TO THE TOWER. Enter Queen and Ladies, v- Queen. This way the king will come; this is the way To Julius Caesar’s ill-erected tower, To whose flint bosom my condemned lord Is doom’d a prisoner by proud Bolingbroke : Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth Have any resting for her true king’s queen. Enter King Richard and Guards. But soft, but see, or rather do not see, My fair rose wither : Yet look up; behold ; That you in pity may dissolve to dew, And wash him fresh again with true-love tears.— Ah, thou, the model where old Troy did stand ; Thou map of honour; thou king Richard’s tomb. SCENE I. KING RICHARD II. 73 Sind not King Richard ; tlion most beauteous inn. Why should hard-favour’d grief be lodg’d in thee, When triumph is become an ale-house guest ? K. Rich. Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so. To make my end too sudden : learn, good soul, I’o think our former state a happy dream ; ?rom which awak’d, the truth of what we are shows us but this: I am sworn brother, sweet. To grim necessity; and he and I Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to France, And cloister thee in some religious house : Our holy lives must win a new world’s crown, Which our profane hours here have stricken down. Queen. What, is my Richard both in shape and mind [Transform'd, and weaken’d ? Hath Bolingbroke Depos’d thine intellect ? hath he been in thy heart ? The lion, dying, thrusteth forth his paw. And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage To be o’erpowered ; and wilt thou, pupil-like, Take thy correction mildly ? kiss the rod ; And fawn on rage with base humility, Which art a lion, and a king of beasts? K. Rich. A king of beasts, indeed ; if aught but I had been still a happy king of men. [beasts, Good sometime queeu, prepare thee hence for France : Think, I am dead ; and that even here thou tak’st. As from my death-bed, my last living leave. In winter’s tedious nights, sit by the fire With good old folks ; and let them tell thee tales Of wol'ul ages long ago betid: And, ere thou bid good night, to quit their grief, Tell thou the lamentable fall of me, And send the hearers weeping to their beds. iFor why, the senseless brands will sympathize The heavy accent of thy moving tongue. And, in compassion, weep the fire out: 74 KING RICHARD II. ACT V. ! And some will mourn in ashes, some coal-black. For the deposing of a rightful king. Enter Northumberland, attended. Nor. My lord, the mind of Bolingbroke is chang’d • You must to Pomfret, not unto the Tower.- And, madam, there is order ta’en for you ; With all swift speed you must away to France. K. Rich. Northumberland, thou ladder wherewithal The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne,— The time shall not be many hours of age More than it is, ere foul sin, gathering head. Shall break into corruption : thou shalt think. Though he divide the realm and give thee half. It is too little, helping him to all; And he shall think, that thou, which know’st the way To plant unrightful kings, wilt know again. Being ne’er so little urg’d, another way To pluck him headlong from the usurped throne. The love of wicked friends converts to fear; That fear, to hate; and hate tnrns one, or both, To worthy danger, and deserved death. Nor. My guilt be on my head, and there an end. Take leave, and part; for you must part forthwith. K. Rich. Doubly divorc’d ?—Bad men, ye violate A two-fold marriage; ’twixt my crown and me ; And then, betwixt me and my married wife.— .Let me unkiss the oath ’twixt thee and me ; And yet not so, for with a kiss ’twas made.— Part ns, Northumberland ? I towards the north, Where shivering cold and sickness pines the clime ; My wife to France ; from whence, set forth in pomp, She came adorned hither like sweet May, Sent back like Hallowmas, or short’st of day. Queen. And must we be divided ? must we part ? K . Rich. Ay, hand from hand, my love, and heart from heart. KING RICHARD II. 75 Queen. Banish us both, and send the king with ine. \Nor. That were some love, but little policy. Queen. Then whither he goes, thither let me go. K. Rich. So two, together weeping, make one woe. r eep thou for me in France, I for thee here; ;tter far off, than—near, be ne’er the near’. i), count thy way with sighs; I, mine with groans. Queen. So longest way shall have the longest moans. K. Rich. Twice for one step I’ll groan, the way being tid piece the way out with a heavy heart. [short, ome, come, in wooing sorrow let’s be brief, nee, wedding it, there is such length in grief, ne kiss shall stop our mouths, and dumbly part; bus give I mine, and thus I take thy heart, [they kiss. Queen , Givememine own again; ’twereno good part, o take on me to keep, and kill thy heart, [kiss again. a, now I have mine own again, begone, hat I may strive to kill it with a groan. K.Rich. We make woe wanton with this fond delay: !nce more, adieu : the rest let sorrow say. [exeunt. I'ENEIl. A ROOM IN THE DUKE OF YORK’S PALACE. Enter York and his Duchess. Duch. My lord, you told me, you would tell the rest, hen weeping made you break the story off, f our two cousins coming into London. York. Where did I leave ? Duch. At that sad step, iny lord, Vhere rude misgovern’d hands, from windows’ lops, ’brew dust and rubbish on king Richard’s head. I York. Then, as I said, the duke, great Boling- [dounted upon a hot and fiery steed, [broke,— ijVhich his aspiring rider seem’d to know,— SVith slow, but stately pace, kept on his course, fVbile all tongues cried—God save thee, Bolingbroke ! ;fou would have thought the very windows spake, io many greedy looks of young and old 76 KING RICHARD II. ACT $ Through casements darted their desiring eyes Upon his visage ; and that all the walls. With painted imag’ry, had said at once,— Jesu preserve thee! welcome, Bolingbroke ! Whilst he, from one side to the other turning, Bare-headed, lower than his proud steed’s neck, Bespake them thus :—I thank you, countrymen: And thus still doing, thus he pass’d along. Duch. Alas, poor Richard! where rides he the while York. As, in a theatre, the eyes of men, After a well-grac’d actor leaves the stage. Are idly bent on him that enters next, Thinking his prattle to be tedious : Even so, or with much more contempt, men’s eyes Did scowl on Richard : no man cried, God save him; No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home : But dust was thrown upon his sacred head ; Which, with such gentle sorrow he shook off,— His face still combating with tears and smiles, The badges of his grief and patience,— That had not God, for some strong purpose, steel’d The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted. And barbarism itself have pitied him. But heaven hath a hand in these events ; To whose high will we bound our calm contents. To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now, W hose state and honour 1 for aye allow. Enter Aumerle. Duch. Here comes my son Aumerle. York. Aumerle that was ; But that is lost, for being Richard’s friend, And, madam, you must call him Rutland now : I am -in parliament pledge for his truth And lasting fealty to the new-made king. Duch. Welcome, my son : Who are the violets now That strew the green lap of the new-come spring ? CENE II. KING RICHARD II. 77 Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not s Jod knows, I had as lief be none, as one. York. Well, bear yon well in this new spring of _ revengeful hand; Thou hast no cause to fear. ^v Y u ! C ‘r^ W !' thin ^ ° pen the do6r > secure, fool-hardy Mini! I, for love, speak treason to thy face? fkino-: Open the door, or I will break it open. [Bolingbroke opens the door . Enter York. Bol. What is the matter, uncle? speak; R cover breath ; tell us how near is danger, That we may arm us to encounter it. York. Peruse this writing here, and thou shall I he treason that my haste forbids me show. fknow Aum. Remember, as thou read’st, thy promise past. 1 do repent me ; read not my name there. My heart is not confederate'with my hand SCENE III. KING RICHARD II. 81 York. ’Twas, villain, ere thy hand did set it down._ I tore it from the traitor’s bosom, king s Fear, and not love, begefcvhis penitence : Forget to pity him, lest thy pity prove A serpent that will sting thee to the heart. Bol. O heinons, strong, and bold conspiracy !— O loyal father of a treacherous son! Thou sheer, immaculate, and silver fountain, From whence this stream, through muddy passages. Hath held his current, and defil’d himself! Thy overflow of good converts to bad; And thy abundant goodness shall excuse This deadly blot in thy digressing son. York. So shall my virtue be his vice’s bawd ; And he shall spend mine honour with his shame. As thriftless sons their scraping fathers’ gold. Mine honour lives, when his dishonour dies, Or my sham’d life in his dishonour lies : Thou kill’st me in his life; giving him breath. The traitor lives, the true man’s put to death. | Duch. [ within ] What, ho, my liege ! for God’s sake let me in. £ cr y ? Bol. What shrill-voic’d suppliant makes this eager Duch. A woman, and thine aunt> great king; ’tis I. Speak with me, pity me, open the door ; A beggar begs, that never begg’d before. Bol. Our scene is alter’d,—from a serious thing. And now chang’d to The Beggar and the King. My dangerous cousin, let your mother in; I know, she’s come to pray for your foul sin. York. If thou do pardon, whosoever pray. More sins, for this forgiveness, prosper may. This fester’d joint cut off, the rest rests sound; 1 This, let alone, will all the rest confound. G 82 KING RIGHARD II. Enter Duchess. Duch. 0 king, believe not this hard-hearted man ; Love, loving not itself, none other can. York. Thou frantic woman, what dost thou make Shall thy old dogs once more a traitor rear . (here . Duch. Sweet York, be patient: hear ™ e . gentle liege. L me Bol. Rise up, good aunt. Duch. Not yet, I thee beseech: For ever will I kneel upon my knees, And never see day that the happy sees, Till thou give joy; until thou bid me joy, Bv pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy. Aum. Unto my mother’s prayers, I bend my^knee. York. Against them both, my true joints bended 111 may’s ^ "thou thrive, if thou grant any grace ! Duch. Pleads he in earnest ? loek upon his face , His eves do drop no tears, his prayers are in jest; His words come from his mouth, ours from our breast, He prays but faintly, and would be deniedl; We pray with heart, and soul, and all beside : His weary joints ivould gladly rise, I know ; Our knees shall kneel till to the ground they grow: His prayers are full of false hypocrisy; Ours, of true zeal and deep integrity. Our prayers do out-pray his; then let them havu That mercy, which true prayers oughtto have. Bol. Good aunt, stand up. Duch. Nay, do not say— stand up ; But, pardon, first; and afterwards, stand up. An if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach, Pardon— should be the first word of thy speech. I never long’d to hear a word till now ; I SCENE III. 83 KING IlICHARD II. Say—pardon, king; let pity teach thee how : The word is short, but not so short as sweet ; No word like, pardon, for kings’ mouths so meet. Yoi'k. Speak it in French, king; say, pardonnez n . i [stroy? Duck. Dost thou teach pardon, pardon to de- Ab, my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord. That set’st the word itself against the word f_ Speak, pardon, as ’tis current in our land ; The chopping French we do not understand. Thine eye begins to speak, set thy tongue there: Or, in thy piteous heart plant thou thine ear ; That, hearing how our plaints and prayers do pierce, Fity may move thee, pardon to rehearse. Bol. Good annt, stand up. Duck. I do not sue to stand. Pardon is all the suit 1 have in hand. Bol. I pardon him, as God shall pardon me. Buch. O happy ’vantage of a kneeling knee ! Ye t am I sick for fear : speak it again: Twice saying pardon, doth not pardon twain, But makes one pardon strong. Bol. With all my heart I pardon him. Buch. A god on earth thou art. Bol. But for our trusty brother-in-la to,—and the abbot, With all the rest of that consorted crew,_ Destruction straight shall dog them at the heels. Good uncle, help to order several powers To Oxford, or where’er these traitors are : They shall not live within this world, l swear. But I will have them, if I once know where. Uncle, farewell,—and cousin too, adieu : Your mother well hath pray’d, and prove you true. 84 KING RICHARD II. Duch. Come, my old son;—I pray God make thee new. [exeunt. SCENE IV. Enter Exton and a Servant. Ext. Didst thoa not mark the king, what words he spake ? Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear ? Was it not so ? Ser. Those were his very words. . . Ext. Have I no friend ? quoth he: he spake it twice. And urg’d it twice together; did he not ? Ser. He did. . „ „ . ,,, Ext. And, speaking it, he wistfully look d on me; As who should say,—1 would, thou wert the man That would divorce this terror from my heart; Meaning, the king at Pomfret. Come, let s go ; I am the king’s friend, and will rid his foe. [exeunt. SCENE V. POMFRET. dungeon of the castle. Enter King Richard. K Rich. I have been studying how I may compare This prison, where I live, unto the world: And, for because the world is populous, And here is not a creature but myselt, I cannot do it;-Yet I’ll hammer it out. Mv brain I’ll prove the female to my soul; MY soul, the father: and these two beget A generation of still-breeding thoughts. And these same thoughts people this little world, In humours, like the people of this world, _ For no thought is contented. The better sort. As thoughts of things divine, are intermix d With scruples, and do set the word itself Against the word : . As thus,— Come, little ones; and then again,— scene V. KING RICHARD II. 8 { It is as hard to come, as for a camel To thread the postern of a needle’s eye. Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot Lnhkely wonders : how these vain weak nails May tear a passage through the flinty ribs Of this hard world, my ragged prison walls: And, for they cannot, die in their own pride. Thoughts tending to content, flatter themselves — That they are not the first of fortune’s slaves, ’ Nor shall not be the last; like silly bego-ars. Who, sitting m the stocks, refuge their shame,— I hat many have, and others must sit there • And in this thought they find a kind of ease. Rearing their own misfortune on the back Of such as have before endur’d the like. Thus play I, in one person, many people, And none contented: sometimes am I king; Then treason makes me wish myself a beggar, And so I am : then crushing penury Persuades me I was better when a king ; Then am I king’d again; and, by-and-by. Hunk that I am unking’d by Bolingbroke, And straight am nothingbut, whate’er I am. Nor I, nor any man, that but man is, With nothing shall be pleas’d, till he be eas’d. With being nothing. Music do I hear ? [music. Ha, ha! keep time how sour sweet music is, When time is broke, and no proportion kept! So is it in the music of men’s lives. And here have I the daintiness of ear, To check time broke in a disorder’d string; But, for the concord of my state and time, * Had not an ear to hear my true time broke. 1 wasted time, and now doth time waste me. Tor now hath time made me his numb’ring dock : My thoughts are minutes; and, with sighs, they jar 86 KING RICHARD II. ACT V- Their watches on to mine eyes, the outward watch, Whereto my finger, like a dial’s point. Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears. Now, sir, the sound, that tells what hour it is. Are clamorous groans, that strike upon my heart. Which is the bell; so sighs, and tears, and groans. Show minutes, times, and hours:—but my time Runs posting on in Bolingbroke’s proud joy, While I stand fooling here, his Jack o’the clock. This music mads me, let it sound no more; For, though it have holpe madmen to their wits. In me, it seems, it will make wise men mad. Yet blessing on his heart that gives it me! For ’tis a sign of love; and love to Richard Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world. Enter Groom. Gro. Hail, royal prince! K. Rich. Thanks, noble peer ; The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear. What art thou ? and how comest thou hither. Where no man never comes, but that sad dog That brings me food, to make misfortune live? Gro. I was a poor groom of thy stable, king, When thou wert king; who, travelling towards York, With much ado, at length have gotten leave To look upon my sometimes master’s face. O, how it yearn’d my heart, when I beheld. In London streets, that coronation day, When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary ! That horse, that thou so often hast bestrid ; That horse, that I so carefully have dress’d ! K.Rich. Rode he on Barbary? Tell me, gentle friend. How went he under him ? Gro. So proudly, as if he disdain’d the ground. K. Rich. So proud that Bolingbroke was on his back! That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand; SCENE V. KING RICHARD II. 87 This hand hath made him proud with clapping him. Weald he not stumble? Would he not fall down (Since pride must have a fall), and break the neck Ut that proud man that did usurp his back ? forgiveness, horse! why do I rail on thee, Since thou, created to be aw’d by man, Wast born to bear? I was not made a horse; And yet 1 bear a burden like an ass, Spur-gall’d, and tir’d, by jauncing JBolingbroke. Enter Keeper, with a dish. Keep. Fellow, give plaee; here is no longer stay. . . [*° the Groom. K. Rich. If thou love me, ’tis time thou wert away. Gro. What my tongue dares not, that my heart shall say. J Keep. My lord, will’t please you to fall to ? L A. Rich Taste of it first, as thou art wont to do. Keep. My lord, I dare not; sir Pierce of Exton, who LateJy came from the king, commands the contrary. A. Rich. The devil take Henry of Lancaster and thee ! I atience is stale, and I am weary of it. u i , . , [beats the Keeper . Keep. Help, help, help! r Enter Exton and Servants, armed. A. Rich. How now ? what means death in this rude assault ? Villain, thy own hand yields thy death’s instrument. , [snatching a weapon, and killing one. ro thou, and fill another room in hell. ,, t . I> hills another; then Exton strikes him down. i hat hand shall burn in never-quenching fire, hat staggers thus my person.— Exton, thy fierce hand |ath with the king’s blood stain’d the king’s own laud, lount, mount, my soul.» thy seat is up on high ; v mist my gross flesh sinks downward, here to die. [dies. 88 KING RICHARD II. ACT V. Ext. As full of valour, as of royal blood : Both have I spilt; O, would the deed were good ! For now the devil, that told me—I did well. Says, that this deed is chronicled in hell. This dead king to the living kipg I’ll bear ;— Take hence the rest, and give them burial here. [exeunt. SCENE VI. WINDSOR. ROOM IN THE CASTLE. Flourish. Enter Bolinghroke and York, with Lords and Attendants. Bol. Kind uncle York, the latest news we hear Is—that the rebels have consum’d with fire Our town of Ci’cester in Glostershire; But whether they be ta’en, or slain, we hear not. Enter Northumberland. Welcome, my lord : what is the news ? Nor. First, to thy sacred state wish I all happiness. The next news is,—I have to London sent The heads of Salisbury, Spencer, Blunt, and Kent: The manner of their taking may appear At large discoursed in this paper here. [presenting a paper. Bol. We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains; And to thy worth will add right worthy gains. Enter Fitzwater. Fitz. My lord, I have from Oxford sent to London The heads of Brocas, and sir Bennet Seely ; Two of the dangerous consorted traitors, That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow. Bol. Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be forgot; Right noble is thy merit, well I wot. Enter Percy, with the Bishop of Carlisle. Per. The grand conspirator, abbot of Westminster, With clog of conscience, and sour melancholy. Hath yielded up his body to the grave; 89 cenevi. KING RICHARD II. at here is Carlisle living, to abide iby kingly doom, and sentence of his pride. Bol. Carlisle, this is your doom — Choose out some secret place, some reverend room. More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life; So, as thou liv’st in peace, die free from strife: For though mine enemy thou hast ever been, High sparks of honour in thee have I seen. Enter Exton, with Attendants bearing a coffin. ! Ext. Great king, within this coffin J present Thy buried fear: herein all breathless lies ^fhe mightiest of thy greatest enemies, 'Richard of Bourdeaux, by me hither brought. J Bol. Exton, I thank thee not; for thou hast wrought A deed of slander, with thy fatal hand, Upon my head, and all this famous land. [deed. Ext. From your own mouth, my lord, did I this Bol. They love not poison, that do poison need. Nor do I thee; though I did wish him dead, I hate the murderer, love him murdered. The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour. But neither my good word, nor princely favour : [With Cain go wander through the shade of night. And never show thy head by day nor light.- Lords, I protest, my soul is full of woe. That blood should sprinkle me, to make me grow : Come, mourn with me for what I do lament, And put on sullen black incontinent; I’ll make a voyage to the Holy Land, To wash this blood off from my guilty hand: March sadly after ; grace my mournings here. In weeping after this untimely bier. [exeunt. i THE END. Maurice, Fenchurck Street.