Little are we beholden to your love, (To Carlisle.) | Containing the deposing of a king, And little look'd for at your helping hands. Re-enter YORK, with King RICHARD, and Officers K. Rich. Alack, why am I sent for to a king, none. God save the king!-Will no man say amen? York. To do that office, of thine own good will, [seize the crown; K. Rich. Give me the crown:-Here, cousin, 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, uuseen, and full of water: The bucket down, and full of tears, am I, Drinking my griefs, 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 You may my glories and my state depose, [mine: But not my griefs; still am I king of those. crown. [be; Boling. Part of your cares you give me with your [down. K. Rich. Your cares, set up, do not pluck my cares 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 stay. Boling. Are you contented to resign the crown? K. Rich. Ay, no;-no, ay:-for I must nothing 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 oaths: All pomp and majesty I do forswear; My manors, rents, and 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; 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! 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 K. Rich. Must I do so? and must I ravel out And cracking the strong warrant of an oath.- North. My lord, despatch; read o'er these articles [man, [good.) 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 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 (to bell K. Rich. Fiend! thou torment'st me ere I come Boling. Urge it no more, my lord Northumberland. North. The commons will not then be satisfied. K. Rich. They shall be satisfied; I'll read enough, When I do see the very book indeed Where all my sins are writ, and that's—myself. come. Re-enter Attendant, with a glass. Give me that glass, and therein will I readNo 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 Me cause to wail, but teachest me the way How to lament the cause. I'll beg one boon, 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 thas a king: Abbot. A woeful 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. ACT V. [Exeunt. SCENE I.-London. A Street leading to the Tower. Enter QUEEN and Ladies. {way Queen. This way the king will come; this is the 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 tears.Ah, thou, the model where old Troy did stand; Thou map of honour; thou king Richard's tomb, And not king Richard; thou most beauteous inn, Why should hard-favour'd grief be lodg'd in thee, When triumph is become an alehouse guest? K. Rich. Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so, Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to France, Transform'd, and weaken'd? Hath Bolingbroke K. Rich. A king of beasts, indeed; if aught but I had been still a happy king of men. [beasts, Good sometime queen, prepare thee hence for France: Think, I am dead; and that even here thou tak'st, In winter's tedious nights sit by the fire And, ere thou bid good night, to quit their grief, Enter NORTHUMBERLAND, attended. North. 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, [way And he shall think, that thou, which know'st the North. My guilt be on my head, and there an end. Take leave, and part; for you must part forthwith K. Rich. Donbly divorc'd?-Bad men, ye violate A twofold marriage; 'twixt my crown and me; And then, betwixt me and my married wife.Let me uukiss the oath 'twixt thee and me; And yet not so, for with a kiss 'twas made.Part us, 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 neart. [me. Queen. Banish us both, and send the king with North. 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. moans. Weep thou for me in France, I for thee here; (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 mine own again, begone, (Exeant A hat addon, my ort. Xare desgovernd hands, from windows' bond That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool to.- sen, as i said, the toke, great Boling Treason! foul treason!-villain! traitor! slave. mke York. As in a theatre, the eyes of men. After a well grac i actor leaves the stage, Amedly sent in um that enters next, Tunking as prattle to be tedious : Even so, or with much more contempt, men s eyes Did scowl sa Richard; no man cried, God save him. No joyful tongue gave him his welcome hume: That had not God, for some strong purpose strel”. I But heaven nata a hand in these events; To whose aigh will we bound our caim contents. To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now, Whose state and honour I for aye ailow. Enter ACMERLE Duch. Here comes my son Aamerie. York. Amerie that was; But that is lost, for being Richard's friend, Aad madam, you must call him Ratiand now; I am in partiament pledge for nis trith, Aard lasting feaity to the new-made king. Duch. Welcome, my son: Who are the violets now, That strew the green lap of the new-come spring Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not: God knows, I had as lief be none, as one. York. Well, bear you weil in this new spring of time, Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime. What news from Oxford: hoid those justs and triumphs? Aum. For anant I know, my lord, they do. Yea, look at thon pale? let me see the writing. No matter then who sees it: Duch. What is the matter, my lord? York. Ho! who is within there? (Enter a Servant.) Saddle my horse. God for ins mercy! what treachery is here! Yt. Give me my boots, I say; saddle my horse: For by mine honour, by my life, my troth, [Exit Servant. [son? Duch. I will not peace:-What is the matter, Aum. Good mother, be content; it is no more Than my poor life must answer. Duch Thy life answer! Re-enter Servant, with boots. art amaz'd :— Yrt. Bring me my boots. I will unto the king. York. Give me my boots, I say. As I have done, thon'dst be more pitiful. Make way, unruly woman. [Exit Duch. After, Aumerle; mount thee upon his horse: Spar, post; and get before him to the king, Boling. Can no man tell of my unthrifty son? Tis full three months, since I did see him last:If any plague hang over us, 'tis he |