North. The king of heaven forbid, our lord, Or shall we play the wantons with our woes, And make some pretty match with shedding
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 rust,
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 returns;-
His noble cousin is right welcome hither;
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 AUMERLE.
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, good my lord; let's fight with gen-
tle words,
Till time lend friends, and friends their help-
ful swords.
K. Rich. O God! O God! that e'er this
tongue of mine,
That laid the sentence of dread banishment
On yon proud man, should take it off again
With words of sooth !+ O, that I were as great
As is my grief, or lesser than my name!
Or that I could forget what I have been!
Or not remember what I must be now!
Swell'st thou, proud heart? I'll give thee scope
Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me.
Aum. Northumberland comes back from Bo-
K. Rich. What must the king do now? Must
The king shall do it. Must he be depos'd?
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-man'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, [feet
Some way of common trade, where subjects'
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, thou weep'st; My tender-hearted
cousin!-
We'll make foul weather with despised tears;
Our sighs, and they, shall lodge the summer
And make a dearth in this revolting land.
As thus: To drop them still upon one place,
ave fretted us a pair of graves
Till the
Within the earth; and, therein laid,-There lies
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.
North. My lord, in the baset court he doth
[down'
attend
To speak with you; may't please you to come
K. Rich. Down, down, I come; like glister-
ing Phaeton,
Wanting the manage of unruly jades.
NORTH. retires to BOLING.
In the base court? Base court, where kings
To come at traitors' calls, and do them grace.
In the base court? Come down? Down, court!
down, king!
For night-owls shriek, where mounting larks
should sing.
[Exeunt, from above.
Boling. What says his majesty?
North. Sorrow and grief of heart
Makes him speak fondly,; like a frantic man:
Yet he is come.
Enter King RICHARD, and his Attendants,
below.
Boling. 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.
Boling. My gracious lord, I come but for
K. Rich. Your own is yours, and I am yours, and all.
Boling. So far be mine, my most redoubted
As my true service shall deserve your love.
K. Rich. Well you deserve :-They well de
[get.-
serve to have,
That know the strong'st and surest way to
Uncle, give me your hand: nay, dry your eyes;
Tears show their love, but want their reme-
dies.-
Cousin, I am too young to be your father,
Though you are old enough to be my heir.
What you will have, I'll give, and willing too;
For do we must, what force will have us do.
Set on towards London:-Cousin, is it so?
Boling. Yea, my good lord.
K. Rich. Then I must not say, no.
[Flourish. Exeunt.
SCENE IV.--Langley.-The Duke of YORK's
Garden.
Enter the QUEEN, and two LADIES.
Queen. What sport shall we devise here in
To drive away the heavy thought of care?
1 Lady. Madam, we'll play at bowls.
Queen. "Twill make me think,
Had he done so to great and growing men,
The world is full of rubs, and that my fortune They might have liv'd to bear, and he to taste Runs 'gainst the bias.*
1 Lady. Madam, we will dance.
Queen. My legs can keep no measure in de-
light,
[grief:
When my poor heart no measure keeps in
Therefore, no dancing, girl; some other sport.
1 Ludy. Madam, we'll tell tales.
Queen. Of sorrow, or of joy?
1 Ludy. Of either, madam.
Queen. Of neither, girl:
For if of joy, being altogether wanting,
It doth remember ine the more of sorrow;
Or if of grief, being altogether had,
It adds more sorrow to my want of joy:
For what I have, I need not to repeat;
And what I want, it boots not to complain.
1 Lady. Madam, I'll sing.
Queen. 'Tis well, that thou hast cause;
But thou should'st please me better, would'st
thou weep.
1 Lady. I could weep, madam, would it do you good.
Queen. And I could weep, would weeping
do me good,
And never borrow any tear of thee.
But stay, here come the gardeners:
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
Against a change: Woe is forerun with woe.
[QUEEN and LADIES retire.
Gard. Go, bind thou up yon' dangling apri-
cocks,
Which, like unruly children, make their sire
Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight;
Give some supportance to the bending twigs.
Go thou, and like an executioner,
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,t
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
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
That seem'd in eating him to hold him up,
Are pluck'd up, root and all, by Bolingbroke;
I mean, the earl of Wiltshire, Bushy, Green.
1 Serv. What, are they dead?
Gurd. They are; and Bolingbroke
Hath seiz'd the wasteful king.-Oh! What
pity is it,
[land,
That he had not so trimm'd and dress'd his
As we this garden! We at time of year
Do wound the bark, the skin of our fruit-trees;
Lest, being over-proud with sap and blood,
With too much riches it confound itself:
Their fruits of duty. All superfluous branches
We lop away, that bearing boughs may live:
Had he done so, himself had borne the crown,
Which waste of idle hours hath quite thrown
down.
1 Serv. What, think you then, the king shall
be depos'd;
Gard. Depress'd he is already; and depos'd, 'Tis doubt, he will be; Letters came last night
To a dear friend of the good duke of York's,
That tell black tidings.
Queen. O, I am press'd to death,
Through want of speaking!-Thou, old Adam's
likeness, [Coming from her concealment.
Set to dress this garden, how dares
Thy harsh-rude tongue sound this unpleasing
What Eve, what serpent hath suggested thee
To make a second fall of cursed man?
Why dost thou say, king Richard is depos'd?
Dar'st thou, thou little better thing than earth,
Divine his downfal? Say, where, when, and
how,
[wretch.
Cam'st thou by these ill tidings? speak, thou
Gard. Pardon me, madam: little joy have I,
To breathe this news; yet, what I say, is true.
King Richard, he is in the mighty hold
Of Bolingbroke; their fortunes both are
weigh'd:
In your lord's scale is nothing but himself,
And some few vanities that make him light;
But in the balance of great Bolingbroke,
Besides himself, are all the English peers,
And with that odds he weighs king Richard
down.
Post you to London, and you'll find it so;
I speak no more than every one doth know.
Queen. Nimble mischance, that art so light
of foot,
Doth not thy embassage belong to me,
And am I last that knows it? O, thou think'st
To serve me last, that I may longest keep
Thy sorrow in my breast.-Come, ladies, go,
To meet at London London's king in woe.-
What, was I born to this! that my sad look
Should grace the triumph of great Boling-
broke?-
Gardener, for telling me this news of woe,
I would, the plants thou graft'st, may never
grow. [Exeunt QUEEN and LADIES.
Gard. Poor queen! so that thy state might
be no worse,
I would, my skill were subject to thy curse.-
Here did she drop a tear; here, in this place,
I'll set a bank of rue, sour herb of grace:
Rue, even for ruth,+ here shortly shall be seen,
In the remembrance of a weeping queen.
SCENE I.-London.-Westminster Hall. The Lords spiritual on the right side of the Throne; the Lords temporal on the left; the Commons below. Enter BOLINGBROKE, AUMERLE, SURREY, NORTHUMBERLAND, PERCY, FITZWATER, another LORD, Bishop of CARLISLE, Abbot of WESTMINSTER, and Attendants. Officers behind, with BAGOT.
Boling. Call forth Bagot:-
Now, Bagot, freely speak thy mind;
A weight fixed on one side of the bowl which turns it What thou dost know of noble Gloster's death; from the straight line.
+ Profits. Inclosure. Figures planted in box.
Who wrought it with the king, and who perform'd
The bloody office of his timeless* end.
Bagot. Then set before my face the lord Aumerle.
Boling. Cousin, stand forth, and look upon that man.
Bagot. My lord Aumerle, I know your daring tongue
Scorns to unsay what once it hath deliver❜d. In that dead time when Gloster's death was
I heard you say,-Is not my arm of length,
That reacheth from the restful English court
As far as Calais, to my uncle's head?
Amongst much other talk, that very time,
I heard you say, that you had rather refuse
The offer of a hundred thousand crowns,
Than Bolingbroke's return to England;
Adding withal, how blest this land would be,
In this your cousin's death.
Aum. Princes, and noble lords,
What answer shall I make to this base man?
Shall I so much dishonour my fair stars,
On equal terms to give him chastisement?
Either I must or have mine honour soil'd
With the attainder of his sland'rous lips.-
There is my gage, the manual seal of death,
That marks thee out for hell: I say, thou liest,
And will maintain, what thou hast said, is
false,
In thy heart-blood, though being all too base
To stain the temper of my knightly sword.
Boling. Bagot, forbear, thou shalt not take
Aum. Excepting one, I would he were the best
In all this presence, that hath mov'd me so.
Fitz. If that thy valour stand on sympathies,
There is my gage, Aumerle, in gage to thine:
By that fair sun that shows me where thou
stand'st,
[it,
I heard thee say, and vauntingly thou spak'st
That thou wert cause of noble Gloster's death.
If thou deny'st it, twenty times thou liest;
And I will turn thy falsehood to thy heart,
Where it was forged, with my rapier's point.
Aum. Thou dar'st not, coward, live to see
that day.
Fitz. Now, by my soul, I would it were this hour.
Aum. Fitzwater, thou art damn'd to hell for this.
Percy. Aumerle, thou liest; his honour is as true,
In this appeal, as thou art all unjust;
And, that thou art so, there I throw my gage,
To prove it on thee to the extremest point
Of mortal breathing; seize it, if thou dar'st.
Aum. And ifl do not, may my hands rot off,
And never brandish more revengeful steel
Over the glittering helmet of my foe!
Lord. I take the earth to the like, forsworn
Aumerle;
And spur thee on with full as many lies
As may be holla'd in thy treacherous ear
From sun to sun: there is my honour's pawn;
Engage it to the trial, if thou dar'st.
Aum. Who sets me else? by heaven,
Fitz. My lord, 'tis true: you were in presence then;
And you can witness with me, this is true. Surrey. As false, by heaven, as heaven itself is true.
Fitz. Surrey, thou liest.
Surrey. 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,
I dare meet Surrey in a wilderness,
And spit upon him, whilst I say, he lies,
And lies, and lies: there is my bond of faith,
To 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,
That thou, Aumerle, didst send two of thy men
To execute the noble duke at Calais.
Aum. Some honest Christian trust me with a
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Many a time hath banish'd Norfolk fought
For Jesu Christ; in glorious Christian field
Streaming the ensign of the Christian cross,
Against black Pagans, Turks, and Saracens:
And, toil'd with works of war, retir'd himself
To Italy; and there, at Venice, gave
His body to that pleasant country's earth,
And his pure soul unto his captain Christ,
Under whose colours he had fought so long.
Boling. Why, bishop, is Norfolk dead?
Car. As sure as I live, my lord.
Boling. Sweet peace conduct his sweet soul
Of good old Abraham!-Lords appellants,
Your differences shall all rest under gage,
Till we assign you to your days of trial.
Enter YORK, attended.
York. Great duke of Lancaster, I come to thee
[soul From plume-pluck'd Richard; who with willing 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! Boling. In God's name, I'll ascend the regal
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, | Here, on this side, my hand; on that side,
Although apparent guilt be seen in them:
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 heaven 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 con-
Disorder, horror, fear, and mutiny, [found;
Shall here inhabit, and this land be call'd
The field of Golgotha, and dead men's sculls.
O, if you rear this house against this house,
It will the woefullest 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!
North. We'll 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
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And little look'd for at your helping hands. Re-enter YORK, with King RICHARD, and Officers bearing the Crown, &c.
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 a while to tutor me
To this submission. Yet I well remember
The favourst of these men: Were they not
mine?
Did they not sometime cry, all hail! to me?
So Judas did to Christ: but he, in twelve,
Found truth in all, but one; I, in twelve thou-
sand, none.
God save the king!-Will no man say, amen?
Am I both priest and clerk? well then, amen.
God save the king! although I be not he;
And yet, amen, if heaven do think him me.-
To do what service am I sent for hither?
York. To do that office, of thine own good
will,
Which tired majesty did make thee offer,-
The resignation of thy state and crown
To Henry Bolingbroke.
K. Rich. Give me the crown:-Here, cousin,
seize the crown;
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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 grief, whilst you mount up on
high.
Boling. I thought you had been willing to
resign.
K. Rich. My crown, I am; but still my griefs
are mine:
You may my glories and my state depose,
But not my griefs; still am I king of those.
Boling. Part of your cares you give me with
your crown.
K. Rich. Your cares set up, do not pluck my
cares down.
My care is-loss of care, by old care done;
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
Boling. Are you contented to resign the
K. Rich. Ay, no;-no, ay;-for I must no-
thing 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 unwieldy 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
All pomp and majesty I do forswear; [oaths:
My manors, rents, revenues, I forego;
My acts, decrees, and statutes, I deny:
God pardon all oaths, that are broke to me!
God keep all vows unbroke, are made to thee!
Make me, that nothing have, with nothing
griev'd;
[chiev'd!
And thou with all pleas'd, that hast all a-
Long may'st thou live in Richard's seat to sit,
And soon lie Richard in an earthly pit!
God save king Henry, unking'd Richard says,
And send hin many years of sunshine days!-
What more remains?
North. No more, but that you read
[Offering 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
May deem that you are worthily depos'd.
K. Rich. Must I do so? and must I ravel
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 would'st,
There should'st thou find one heinous article,-
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:-
Nay, all of you, that stand and look upon me, Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait my[hands,
Though some of you, with Pilate, wash your
Showing an outward pity; yet you Pilates
Have here deliver'd me to my sour cross,
And water cannot wash away your sin.
I'll beg one boon, North. My lord, despatch; read o'er these | Me cause to wail, but teachest me the way How to lament the cause. articles. And then be gone, and trouble you no more. Shall I obtain it?
K. Rich. Mine eyes are full of tears, I can
And yet salt water blinds them not so much,
But they can see a sort* of traitors here.
Nay, if I turn mine eyes upon myself,
I find myself a traitor with the rest:
For I have given here my soul's consent,
To undeck the pompous body of a king;
Make glory base; and sovereignty, a slave;
Proud majesty, a subject; state, a peasant.
North. My lord,-
K. Rich. No lord of thine, thou haught, in-
sulting man,
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!
Ó, 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.
Boling. Go some of you, and fetch a looking-
glass.
[Exit an Attendant.
North. Read o'er this paper, while the glass
K. Rich. Fiend! thou torment'st me ere I come to hell.
Boling. Urge it no more, my lord Northumberland.
North. The commons will not then be satisfied.
Boling. Name it, fair cousin.
K. Rich. Fair cousin? Why, I am greater
than a king:
For, when I was a king, my flatterers
Were then but subjects; being now a subject,
I have a king here to my flatterer.
Being so great, I have no need to beg.
Boling. Yet ask.
K. Rich. And shall I have?
Boling. You shall.
K. Rich. Then give me leave to go.
Boling. Whither?
K. Rich. Whither you will, so I were from
your sights.
Boling. Go, some of you, convey him to the
Tower.
K. Rich. O, good! Convey?—Conveyers*
are you all,
That rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall.
[Exeunt K. RICHARD, some Lords, and a
Guard.
Boling. On Wednesday next, we solemnly
set down
Our coronation: lords, prepare yourselves.
[Exeunt all but the ABBOT, Bishop of
CARLISLE, and AUMERLE.
Abbot. A woful pageant have we here be
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 here.
You shall not only take the sacrament
K. Rich. They shall be satisfied: I'll read To bury+ mine intents, but to effect
When I do see the very book indeed
Where all my sins are writ, and that's-my-
Re-enter Attendunt, with a Glass.
Give me that glass, and therein will I 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?
Was this the face, that fac'd so many follies,
And was at last out-fac'd by Bolingbroke?
A brittle glory shineth in this face:
As brittle as the glory is the face;
[Dashes the Glass against the ground. 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. Boling. The shadow of your sorrow hath [destroy'd The shadow of your face.
K. Rich. Say that again.
The shadow of my sorrow? Ha! let's see :-
'Tis very 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
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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.
SCENE 1.-London.-A Street leading to
the Tower.
Enter QUEEN, and LADIES.
Queen. This way the king will come; this is
To Julius Cæsar's ill-erected tower,t
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 maps of honour; thou king Richard's
tomb,
And not king Richard; thou most beauteous
[thee,
inn,
Why should hard-favour'd grief be lodg'd in
When triumph is become an ale-house guest?
*Jugglers, also robbers.
Tower of London.
+ Conceal.
Picture of greatness.
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