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 delight, [grief: When my poor heart no measure keeps in Therefore, no dancing, girl; some other sport. 1 Lady. 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 me 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-
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,+
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:
A weight fixed on one side of the bowl which turns it from the straight line.
+ Profits. Inclosure. Figures planted in box.
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 news?
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
Who wrought it with the king, and who per
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 dar. ing 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;
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 itsel 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,
Adding withal, how blest this land would be, To tie thee to my strong correction.
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 it up.
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 if I 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 thon 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. Surrey. My lord Fitzwater, I do remember well
The very time Aumerle and you did talk.
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
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
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, riis captain, steward, deputy elect, Anointed, crowned, planted many years, Re 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 youwoe!
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 suit.
Boling. Fetch hither Richard, that in common view
He may surrender; so we shall proceed Without suspicion.
York. I will be his conduct.* [Exit. Boling. Lords, you that are here under our arrest, Procure your sureties for your days of anLittle are we beholden to your love, [To CAR
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;
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 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 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 him 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 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 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
North. My lord, despatch; read o'er these | Me cause to wail, but teachest me the way articles.
K. Rich. Mine eyes are full of tears, I can- not see:
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 doth come.
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.
How to lament the cause. I'll beg one bora, And then be gone, and trouble you no more. Shall I obtain it?
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- held.
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 [in,
K. Rich. They shall be satisfied: I'll read To buryt 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 Like to my followers in prosperity, [glass, Thou dost beguile me! Was this face the face, That every day under his household roof Did keep ten thousand men? Was this the
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 The shadow of your face. [destroy'd
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
SCENE 1.-London.-A Street leading to the Tower.
Enter QUEEN, and LADIES.
Queen. This way the king will come; this is the way
To Julius Cæsar'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
K. Rich. Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so,
To make my end too sudden: learn, good soul, To think our former state a happy dream; From 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 [France, Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to 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 [broke Transform'd, and weakened? Hath Boling- Depos'd thine intellect? hath he been in thy
The lion, dying, thrusteth forth his paw, And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage
To be o'erpower'd; 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 beasts,
I had been still a happy king of men. Good sometime queen, prepare thee hence for France: [tak'st, Think, I am dead; and that even here thou 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 Of woful ages, long ago betid:* [tales And, ere thou bid good night, to quit their Tell thou the lamentable fall of me, And send the hearers weeping to their beds. For why, the senseless brands will sympathize The heavy accent of thy moving tongue, And, in compassion, weep the fire out: And some will mourn in ashes, some coal- For the deposing of a rightful king.
K. Rich. Twice for one step I'll groan, the way being short,
And piece the way out with a heavy heart. Come, come, in wooing sorrow let's be brief, Since, wedding it, there is such length in grief. One kiss shall stop our mouths, and dumbly part;
Thus give I mine, and thus I take thy heart. [They kiss. Queen. Give me mine own again; 'twere no good part,
To take on me to keep, and kill thy heart. [Kiss again.
So, now I have my own again, begone, That I may strive to kill it with a groan. K. Rich. We make woe wanton with this fond delay:
[black, Once more, adieu; the rest let sorrow say.
Enter NORTHUMBERLAND, attended.
North. My lord, the mind of Bolingbroke is SCENE 11.-The same.-A Room in the Duke
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
of YORK's Palace.
Enter YORK, and his DUCHESS.
Duch. My lord, you told me, you would tell
When weeping made you break the story off Of our two cousins coming into London. York. Where did I leave? Duch. At that sad stop, my lord, Where rude misgovern'd hands, from win. dow's tops, [head. Threw dust and rubbish on King Richard's York. Then, as I said, the duke, great Bol-
Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed, Which his aspiring rider seem'd to know,- With slow, but stately pace, kept on his course, While all tongues cried-God save thee, Bol [spake, You would have thought the very windows So many greedy looks of young and old 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,
All-hallows, i. e. All-saints, Nov 1. + Never the nigher.
1 Tapestry hung trom the windows
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