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FOR __ COMPLETE SHAKESPEARE **** +["Small Print" V.12.08.93] + +<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM +SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS +PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY +WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE +DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS +PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED +COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY +SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.>> + + + + + +1596 + +KING RICHARD THE SECOND + +by William Shakespeare + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + KING RICHARD THE SECOND + JOHN OF GAUNT, Duke of Lancaster - uncle to the King + EDMUND LANGLEY, Duke of York - uncle to the King + HENRY, surnamed BOLINGBROKE, Duke of Hereford, son of + John of Gaunt, afterwards King Henry IV + DUKE OF AUMERLE, son of the Duke of York + THOMAS MOWBRAY, Duke of Norfolk + DUKE OF SURREY + EARL OF SALISBURY + EARL BERKELEY + BUSHY - favourites of King Richard + BAGOT - " " " " + GREEN - " " " " + EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND + HENRY PERCY, surnamed HOTSPUR, his son + LORD Ross LORD WILLOUGHBY + LORD FITZWATER BISHOP OF CARLISLE + ABBOT OF WESTMINSTER LORD MARSHAL + SIR STEPHEN SCROOP SIR PIERCE OF EXTON + CAPTAIN of a band of Welshmen TWO GARDENERS + + QUEEN to King Richard + DUCHESS OF YORK + DUCHESS OF GLOUCESTER, widow of Thomas of Woodstock, + Duke of Gloucester + LADY attending on the Queen + + Lords, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, Keeper, Messenger, + Groom, and other Attendants + + + + +<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM +SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS +PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY +WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE +DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS +PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED +COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY +SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.>> + + + +SCENE: +England and Wales + + +ACT 1 SCENE 1 +London. The palace + +[Enter RICHARD, JOHN OF GAUNT, with other NOBLES and attendants] + + KING RICHARD. Old John of Gaunt, time-honoured Lancaster, + Hast thou, according to thy oath and band, + Brought hither Henry Hereford, thy bold son, + Here to make good the boist'rous late appeal, + Which then our leisure would not let us hear, + Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray? + GAUNT. I have, my liege. + KING RICHARD. 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. + KING RICHARD. 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. + + [Enter BOLINGBROKE and MOWBRAY] + + BOLINGBROKE. Many years of happy days befall + My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege! + MOWBRAY. Each day still better other's happiness + Until the heavens, envying earth's good hap, + Add an immortal title to your crown! + KING RICHARD. We thank you both; yet one but flatters us, + As well appeareth 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? + BOLINGBROKE. First-heaven be the record to my speech! + In the devotion of a subject's love, + Tend'ring 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, + What my tongue speaks, my right drawn sword may prove. + MOWBRAY. 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 his throat. + 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; + Which to maintain, I would allow him odds + And meet him, were I tied to run afoot + Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps, + Or any other ground inhabitable + Where ever Englishman durst set his foot. + Meantime let this defend my loyalty- + By all my hopes, most falsely doth he lie + BOLINGBROKE. Pale trembling coward, there I throw my gage, + Disclaiming here the kindred of the King; + And lay aside my high blood's royalty, + Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to except. + If guilty dread have 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 worst devise. + MOWBRAY. 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 unjustly fight! + KING RICHARD. What doth our cousin lay to Mowbray's charge? + It must be great that can inherit us + So much as of a thought of ill in him. + BOLINGBROKE. Look what I speak, my life shall prove it true- + That Mowbray hath receiv'd eight thousand nobles + In name of lendings for your Highness' soldiers, + The which he hath detain'd for lewd employments + 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 + Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and spring. + Further I say, and further will maintain + Upon his bad life to make all this good, + That he did plot the Duke of Gloucester's death, + Suggest his soon-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. + KING RICHARD. How high a pitch his resolution soars! + Thomas of Norfolk, what say'st thou to this? + MOWBRAY. 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. + KING RICHARD. 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. + MOWBRAY. 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 his 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 Gloucester's death- + I slew him not, but to my own disgrace + Neglected my sworn duty in that case. + For you, my noble Lord of Lancaster, + 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 in the best blood chamber'd in his bosom. + In haste whereof, most heartily I pray + Your Highness to assign our trial day. + KING RICHARD. Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be rul'd by me; + Let's purge this choler without letting blood- + This we prescribe, though no physician; + Deep malice makes too deep incision. + Forget, forgive; conclude and be agreed: + Our doctors say this is no month 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. + KING RICHARD. And, Norfolk, throw down his. + GAUNT. When, Harry, when? + Obedience bids I should not bid again. + KING RICHARD. Norfolk, throw down; we bid. + There is no boot. + MOWBRAY. 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 + To dark dishonour's use thou shalt not have. + I am disgrac'd, impeach'd, and baffl'd 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. + KING RICHARD. Rage must be withstood: + Give me his gage-lions make leopards tame. + MOWBRAY. Yea, but not change his spots. Take but my shame, + 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-times 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. + KING RICHARD. Cousin, throw up your gage; do you begin. + BOLINGBROKE. O, God defend my soul from such deep 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 my 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 shame doth harbour, even in Mowbray's face. + [Exit GAUNT] + KING RICHARD. 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 can not atone you, we shall see + Justice design the victor's chivalry. + Lord Marshal, command our officers-at-arms + Be ready to direct these home alarms. [Exeunt] + + + + +SCENE 2 +London. The DUKE OF LANCASTER'S palace + +[Enter JOHN OF GAUNT with the DUCHESS OF GLOUCESTER] + + GAUNT. Alas, the part I had in Woodstock's blood + Doth more solicit me than your exclaims + To 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; + Who, when they see the hours ripe on earth, + Will rain hot vengeance on offenders' heads. + DUCHESS. 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 vials 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 Gloucester, + One vial full of Edward's sacred blood, + One flourishing branch of his most royal root, + Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt; + Is hack'd down, and his summer leaves all faded, + By envy's hand and murder's bloody axe. + Ah, Gaunt, his blood was thine! That bed, that womb, + That mettle, that self mould, that fashion'd thee, + Made him a man; and though thou livest and breathest, + Yet art thou slain in him. Thou dost consent + In some large measure to thy father's death + In 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 suff'ring thus thy brother to be slaught'red, + Thou showest the naked pathway to thy life, + 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 venge my Gloucester's death. + GAUNT. God's is the quarrel; for God's substitute, + His deputy anointed in His sight, + Hath caus'd his death; the which if wrongfully, + Let heaven revenge; for I may never lift + An angry arm against His minister. + DUCHESS. Where then, alas, may I complain myself? + GAUNT. To God, the widow's champion and defence. + DUCHESS. Why then, I will. Farewell, old Gaunt. + Thou goest 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 the first career, + Be Mowbray's sins so heavy in his bosom + That they may break his foaming courser's back + And throw the rider headlong in the lists, + A caitiff recreant to my cousin Hereford! + Farewell, old Gaunt; thy sometimes 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! + DUCHESS. Yet one word more- grief boundeth where it falls, + Not with the empty hollowness, but weight. + I take my leave before I have begun, + For sorrow ends not when it seemeth done. + Commend me to thy 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- ah, what?- + With all good speed at Plashy visit me. + Alack, and what shall good old York there see + But empty lodgings and unfurnish'd walls, + Unpeopled offices, untrodden stones? + And what hear there for welcome but my groans? + Therefore commend me; let him not come there + To seek out sorrow that dwells every where. + Desolate, desolate, will I hence and die; + The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye. [Exeunt] + + + + +SCENE 3 +The lists at Coventry + +[Enter the LORD MARSHAL and the DUKE OF AUMERLE] + + MARSHAL. My Lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford arm'd? + AUMERLE. Yea, at all points; and longs to enter in. + MARSHAL. The Duke of Norfolk, spightfully and bold, + Stays but the summons of the appelant's trumpet. + AUMERLE. Why then, the champions are prepar'd, and stay + For nothing but his Majesty's approach. + + [The trumpets sound, and the KING enters with his nobles, + GAUNT, BUSHY, BAGOT, GREEN, and others. When they are set, + enter MOWBRAY, Duke of Norfolk, in arms, defendant, and + a HERALD] + + KING RICHARD. Marshal, demand of yonder champion + The cause of his arrival here in arms; + Ask him his name; and orderly proceed + To swear him in the justice of his cause. + MARSHAL. In God's name and the King's, say who thou art, + And why thou comest thus knightly clad in arms; + Against what man thou com'st, and what thy quarrel. + Speak truly on thy knighthood and thy oath; + As so defend thee heaven and thy valour! + MOWBRAY. My name is Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk; + Who hither come engaged by my oath- + Which God defend a knight should violate!- + Both to defend my loyalty and truth + To God, my King, and my succeeding issue, + Against the Duke of Hereford that appeals me; + And, by the grace of God and this mine arm, + To prove him, in defending of myself, + A traitor to my God, my King, and me. + And as I truly fight, defend me heaven! + + [The trumpets sound. Enter BOLINGBROKE, Duke of Hereford, + appellant, in armour, and a HERALD] + + KING RICHARD. Marshal, ask yonder knight in arms, + Both who he is and why he cometh hither + Thus plated in habiliments of war; + And formally, according to our law, + Depose him in the justice of his cause. + MARSHAL. What is thy name? and wherefore com'st thou hither + Before King Richard in his royal lists? + Against whom comest thou? and what's thy quarrel? + Speak like a true knight, so defend thee heaven! + BOLINGBROKE. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, + Am I; who ready here do stand in arms + To prove, by God's grace and my body's valour, + In lists on Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, + That he is a traitor, foul and dangerous, + To God of heaven, King Richard, and to me. + And as I truly fight, defend me heaven! + MARSHAL. On pain of death, no person be so bold + Or daring-hardy as to touch the lists, + Except the Marshal and such officers + Appointed to direct these fair designs. + BOLINGBROKE. Lord Marshal, let me kiss my sovereign's hand, + And bow my knee before his Majesty; + For Mowbray and myself are like two men + That vow a long and weary pilgrimage. + Then let us take a ceremonious leave + And loving farewell of our several friends. + MARSHAL. The appellant in all duty greets your Highness, + And craves to kiss your hand and take his leave. + KING RICHARD. We will descend and fold him in our arms. + Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause is right, + So be thy fortune in this royal fight! + Farewell, my blood; which if to-day thou shed, + Lament we may, but not revenge thee dead. + BOLINGBROKE. O, let no noble eye profane a tear + For me, if I be gor'd with Mowbray's spear. + As confident as is the falcon's flight + Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight. + My loving lord, I take my leave of you; + Of you, my noble cousin, Lord Aumerle; + Not sick, although I have to do with death, + But lusty, young, and cheerly drawing breath. + Lo, as at English feasts, so I regreet + The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet. + O thou, the earthly author of my blood, + Whose youthful spirit, in me regenerate, + Doth with a twofold vigour lift me up + To reach at victory above my head, + Add proof unto mine armour with thy prayers, + And with thy blessings steel my lance's point, + That it may enter Mowbray's waxen coat + And furbish new the name of John o' Gaunt, + Even in the lusty haviour of his son. + GAUNT. God in thy good cause make thee prosperous! + Be swift like lightning in the execution, + And let thy blows, doubly redoubled, + Fall like amazing thunder on the casque + Of thy adverse pernicious enemy. + Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant, and live. + BOLINGBROKE. Mine innocence and Saint George to thrive! + MOWBRAY. However God or fortune cast my lot, + There lives or dies, true to King Richard's throne, + A loyal, just, and upright gentleman. + Never did captive with a freer heart + Cast off his chains of bondage, and embrace + His golden uncontroll'd enfranchisement, + More than my dancing soul doth celebrate + This feast of battle with mine adversary. + Most mighty liege, and my companion peers, + Take from my mouth the wish of happy years. + As gentle and as jocund as to jest + Go I to fight: truth hath a quiet breast. + KING RICHARD. Farewell, my lord, securely I espy + Virtue with valour couched in thine eye. + Order the trial, Marshal, and begin. + MARSHAL. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, + Receive thy lance; and God defend the right! + BOLINGBROKE. Strong as a tower in hope, I cry amen. + MARSHAL. [To an officer] Go bear this lance to Thomas, + Duke of Norfolk. + FIRST HERALD. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, + Stands here for God, his sovereign, and himself, + On pain to be found false and recreant, + To prove the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray, + A traitor to his God, his King, and him; + And dares him to set forward to the fight. + SECOND HERALD. Here standeth Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, + On pain to be found false and recreant, + Both to defend himself, and to approve + Henry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, + To God, his sovereign, and to him disloyal, + Courageously and with a free desire + Attending but the signal to begin. + MARSHAL. Sound trumpets; and set forward, combatants. + [A charge sounded] + Stay, the King hath thrown his warder down. + KING RICHARD. Let them lay by their helmets and their spears, + And both return back to their chairs again. + Withdraw with us; and let the trumpets sound + While we return these dukes what we decree. + + [A long flourish, while the KING consults his Council] + + Draw near, + And list what with our council we have done. + For that our kingdom's earth should not be soil'd + With that dear blood which it hath fostered; + And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect + Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbours' sword; + And for we think the eagle-winged pride + Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts, + With rival-hating envy, set on you + To wake our peace, which in our country's cradle + Draws the sweet infant breath of gentle sleep; + Which so rous'd up with boist'rous untun'd drums, + With harsh-resounding trumpets' dreadful bray, + And grating shock of wrathful iron arms, + Might from our quiet confines fright fair peace + And make us wade even in our kindred's blood- + Therefore we banish you our territories. + You, cousin Hereford, upon pain of life, + Till twice five summers have enrich'd our fields + Shall not regreet our fair dominions, + But tread the stranger paths of banishment. + BOLINGBROKE. Your will be done. This must my comfort be- + That sun that warms you here shall shine on me, + And those his golden beams to you here lent + Shall point on me and gild my banishment. + KING RICHARD. Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier doom, + Which I with some unwillingness pronounce: + The sly slow hours shall not determinate + The dateless limit of thy dear exile; + The hopeless word of 'never to return' + Breathe I against thee, upon pain of life. + MOWBRAY. A heavy sentence, my most sovereign liege, + And all unlook'd for from your Highness' mouth. + A dearer merit, not so deep a maim + As to be cast forth in the common air, + Have I deserved at your Highness' hands. + The language I have learnt these forty years, + My native English, now I must forgo; + And now my tongue's use is to me no more + Than an unstringed viol or a harp; + Or like a cunning instrument cas'd up + Or, being open, put into his hands + That knows no touch to tune the harmony. + Within my mouth you have engaol'd my tongue, + Doubly portcullis'd with my teeth and lips; + And dull, unfeeling, barren ignorance + Is made my gaoler to attend on me. + I am too old to fawn upon a nurse, + Too far in years to be a pupil now. + What is thy sentence, then, but speechless death, + Which robs my tongue from breathing native breath? + KING RICHARD. It boots thee not to be compassionate; + After our sentence plaining comes too late. + MOWBRAY. Then thus I turn me from my countrv's light, + To dwell in solemn shades of endless night. + KING RICHARD. Return again, and take an oath with thee. + Lay on our royal sword your banish'd hands; + Swear by the duty that you owe to God, + Our part therein we banish with yourselves, + To keep the oath that we administer: + You never shall, so help you truth and God, + Embrace each other's love in banishment; + Nor never look upon each other's face; + Nor never write, regreet, nor reconcile + This louring tempest of your home-bred hate; + Nor never by advised purpose meet + To plot, contrive, or complot any ill, + 'Gainst us, our state, our subjects, or our land. + BOLINGBROKE. I swear. + MOWBRAY. And I, to keep all this. + BOLINGBROKE. Norfolk, so far as to mine enemy. + By this time, had the King permitted us, + One of our souls had wand'red in the air, + Banish'd this frail sepulchre of our flesh, + As now our flesh is banish'd from this land- + Confess thy treasons ere thou fly the realm; + Since thou hast far to go, bear not along + The clogging burden of a guilty soul. + MOWBRAY. No, Bolingbroke; if ever I were traitor, + My name be blotted from the book of life, + And I from heaven banish'd as from hence! + But what thou art, God, thou, and I, do know; + And all too soon, I fear, the King shall rue. + Farewell, my liege. Now no way can I stray: + Save back to England, an the world's my way. [Exit] + KING RICHARD. Uncle, even in the glasses of thine eyes + I see thy grieved heart. Thy sad aspect + Hath from the number of his banish'd years + Pluck'd four away. [To BOLINGBROKE] Six frozen winters spent, + Return with welcome home from banishment. + BOLINGBROKE. How long a time lies in one little word! + Four lagging winters and four wanton springs + End in a word: such is the breath of Kings. + GAUNT. I thank my liege that in regard of me + He shortens four years of my son's exile; + But little vantage shall I reap thereby, + For ere the six years that he hath to spend + Can change their moons and bring their times about, + My oil-dried lamp and time-bewasted light + Shall be extinct with age and endless night; + My inch of taper will be burnt and done, + And blindfold death not let me see my son. + KING RICHARD. Why, uncle, thou hast many years to live. + GAUNT. But not a minute, King, that thou canst give: + Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow + And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow; + Thou can'st help time to furrow me with age, + But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage; + Thy word is current with him for my death, + But dead, thy kingdom cannot buy my breath. + KING RICHARD. Thy son is banish'd upon good advice, + Whereto thy tongue a party-verdict gave. + Why at our justice seem'st thou then to lour? + GAUNT. Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour. + You urg'd me as a judge; but I had rather + You would have bid me argue like a father. + O, had it been a stranger, not my child, + To smooth his fault I should have been more mild. + A partial slander sought I to avoid, + And in the sentence my own life destroy'd. + Alas, I look'd when some of you should say + I was too strict to make mine own away; + But you gave leave to my unwilling tongue + Against my will to do myself this wrong. + KING RICHARD. Cousin, farewell; and, uncle, bid him so. + Six years we banish him, and he shall go. + [Flourish. Exit KING with train] + AUMERLE. Cousin, farewell; what presence must not know, + From where you do remain let paper show. + MARSHAL. My lord, no leave take I, for I will ride + As far as land will let me by your side. + GAUNT. O, to what purpose dost thou hoard thy words, + That thou returnest no greeting to thy friends? + BOLINGBROKE. I have too few to take my leave of you, + When the tongue's office should be prodigal + To breathe the abundant dolour of the heart. + GAUNT. Thy grief is but thy absence for a time. + BOLINGBROKE. Joy absent, grief is present for that time. + GAUNT. What is six winters? They are quickly gone. + BOLINGBROKE. To men in joy; but grief makes one hour ten. + GAUNT. Call it a travel that thou tak'st for pleasure. + BOLINGBROKE. My heart will sigh when I miscall it so, + Which finds it an enforced pilgrimage. + GAUNT. The sullen passage of thy weary steps + Esteem as foil wherein thou art to set + The precious jewel of thy home return. + BOLINGBROKE. Nay, rather, every tedious stride I make + Will but remember me what a deal of world + I wander from the jewels that I love. + Must I not serve a long apprenticehood + To foreign passages; and in the end, + Having my freedom, boast of nothing else + But that I was a journeyman to grief? + GAUNT. All places that the eye of heaven visits + Are to a wise man ports and happy havens. + Teach thy necessity to reason thus: + There is no virtue like necessity. + Think not the King did banish thee, + But thou the King. Woe doth the heavier sit + Where it perceives it is but faintly home. + Go, say I sent thee forth to purchase honour, + And not the King exil'd thee; or suppose + Devouring pestilence hangs in our air + And thou art flying to a fresher clime. + Look what thy soul holds dear, imagine it + To lie that way thou goest, not whence thou com'st. + Suppose the singing birds musicians, + The grass whereon thou tread'st the presence strew'd, + The flowers fair ladies, and thy steps no more + Than a delightful measure or a dance; + For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite + The man that mocks at it and sets it light. + BOLINGBROKE. O, who can hold a fire in his hand + By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? + Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite + By bare imagination of a feast? + Or wallow naked in December snow + By thinking on fantastic summer's heat? + O, no! the apprehension of the good + Gives but the greater feeling to the worse. + Fell sorrow's tooth doth never rankle more + Than when he bites, but lanceth not the sore. + GAUNT. Come, come, my son, I'll bring thee on thy way. + Had I thy youtli and cause, I would not stay. + BOLINGBROKE. Then, England's ground, farewell; sweet soil, +adieu; + My mother, and my nurse, that bears me yet! + Where'er I wander, boast of this I can: + Though banish'd, yet a trueborn English man. [Exeunt] + + + + +SCENE 4 +London. The court + +[Enter the KING, with BAGOT and GREEN, at one door; +and the DUKE OF AUMERLE at another] + + KING RICHARD. We did observe. Cousin Aumerle, + How far brought you high Hereford on his way? + AUMERLE. I brought high Hereford, if you call him so, + But to the next high way, and there I left him. + KING RICHARD. And say, what store of parting tears were shed? + AUMERLE. Faith, none for me; except the north-east wind, + Which then blew bitterly against our faces, + Awak'd the sleeping rheum, and so by chance + Did grace our hollow parting with a tear. + KING RICHARD. What said our cousin when you parted with him? + AUMERLE. 'Farewell.' + And, for my heart disdained that my tongue + Should so profane the word, that taught me craft + To counterfeit oppression of such grief + That words seem'd buried in my sorrow's grave. + Marry, would the word 'farewell' have length'ned hours + And added years to his short banishment, + He should have had a volume of farewells; + But since it would not, he had none of me. + KING RICHARD. He is our cousin, cousin; but 'tis doubt, + When time shall call him home from banishment, + Whether our kinsman come to see his friends. + Ourself, and Bushy, Bagot here, and Green, + Observ'd his courtship to the common people; + How he did seem to dive into their hearts + With humble and familiar courtesy; + What reverence he did throw away on slaves, + Wooing poor craftsmen with the craft of smiles + And patient underbearing of his fortune, + As 'twere to banish their affects with him. + Off goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench; + A brace of draymen bid God speed him well + And had the tribute of his supple knee, + With 'Thanks, my countrymen, my loving friends'; + As were our England in reversion his, + And he our subjects' next degree in hope. + GREEN. Well, he is gone; and with him go these thoughts! + Now for the rebels which stand out in Ireland, + Expedient manage must be made, my liege, + Ere further leisure yicld them further means + For their advantage and your Highness' loss. + KING RICHARD. We will ourself in person to this war; + And, for our coffers, with too great a court + And liberal largess, are grown somewhat light, + We are enforc'd to farm our royal realm; + The revenue whereof shall furnish us + For our affairs in hand. If that come short, + Our substitutes at home shall have blank charters; + Whereto, when they shall know what men are rich, + They shall subscribe them for large sums of gold, + And send them after to supply our wants; + For we will make for Ireland presently. + + [Enter BUSHY] + + Bushy, what news? + BUSHY. Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, my lord, + Suddenly taken; and hath sent poste-haste + To entreat your Majesty to visit him. + KING RICHARD. Where lies he? + BUSHY. At Ely House. + KING RICHARD. Now put it, God, in the physician's mind + To help him to his grave immediately! + The lining of his coffers shall make coats + To deck our soldiers for these Irish wars. + Come, gentlemen, let's all go visit him. + Pray God we may make haste, and come too late! + ALL. Amen. [Exeunt] + + + + +<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM +SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS +PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY +WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE +DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS +PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED +COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY +SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.>> + + + +ACT 2 SCENE 1 +London. Ely House + +[Enter JOHN OF GAUNT, sick, with the DUKE OF YORK, etc.] + + GAUNT. Will the King come, that I may breathe my last + In wholesome counsel to his unstaid youth? + YORK. Vex not yourself, nor strive not with your breath; + For all in vain comes counsel to his ear. + GAUNT. O, but they say the tongues of dying men + Enforce attention like deep harmony. + Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain; + For they breathe truth that breathe their words -in pain. + He that no more must say is listen'd more + Than they whom youth and ease have taught to glose; + More are men's ends mark'd than their lives before. + The setting sun, and music at the close, + As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last, + Writ in remembrance more than things long past. + Though Richard my life's counsel would not hear, + My death's sad tale may yet undeaf his ear. + YORK. No; it is stopp'd with other flattering sounds, + As praises, of whose taste the wise are fond, + Lascivious metres, to whose venom sound + The open ear of youth doth always listen; + Report of fashions in proud Italy, + Whose manners still our tardy apish nation + Limps after in base imitation. + Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity- + So it be new, there's no respect how vile- + That is not quickly buzz'd into his ears? + Then all too late comes counsel to be heard + Where will doth mutiny with wit's regard. + Direct not him whose way himself will choose. + 'Tis breath thou lack'st, and that breath wilt thou lose. + GAUNT. Methinks I am a prophet new inspir'd, + And thus expiring do foretell of him: + His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last, + For violent fires soon burn out themselves; + Small showers last long, but sudden storms are short; + He tires betimes that spurs too fast betimes; + With eager feeding food doth choke the feeder; + Light vanity, insatiate cormorant, + Consuming means, soon preys upon itself. + This royal throne of kings, this scept'red isle, + This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, + This other Eden, demi-paradise, + This fortress built by Nature for herself + Against infection and the hand of war, + This happy breed of men, this little world, + This precious stone set in the silver sea, + Which serves it in the office of a wall, + Or as a moat defensive to a house, + Against the envy of less happier lands; + This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England, + This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, + Fear'd by their breed, and famous by their birth, + Renowned for their deeds as far from home, + For Christian service and true chivalry, + As is the sepulchre in stubborn Jewry + Of the world's ransom, blessed Mary's Son; + This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land, + Dear for her reputation through the world, + Is now leas'd out-I die pronouncing it- + Like to a tenement or pelting farm. + England, bound in with the triumphant sea, + Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege + Of wat'ry Neptune, is now bound in with shame, + With inky blots and rotten parchment bonds; + That England, that was wont to conquer others, + Hath made a shameful conquest of itself. + Ah, would the scandal vanish with my life, + How happy then were my ensuing death! + + [Enter KING and QUEEN, AUMERLE, BUSHY, GREEN, BAGOT, + Ross, and WILLOUGHBY] + + YORK. The King is come; deal mildly with his youth, + For young hot colts being rag'd do rage the more. + QUEEN. How fares our noble uncle Lancaster? + KING RICHARD. What comfort, man? How is't with aged Gaunt? + GAUNT. O, how that name befits my composition! + Old Gaunt, indeed; and gaunt in being old. + Within me grief hath kept a tedious fast; + And who abstains from meat that is not gaunt? + For sleeping England long time have I watch'd; + Watching breeds leanness, leanness is an gaunt. + The pleasure that some fathers feed upon + Is my strict fast-I mean my children's looks; + And therein fasting, hast thou made me gaunt. + Gaunt am I for the grave, gaunt as a grave, + Whose hollow womb inherits nought but bones. + KING RICHARD. Can sick men play so nicely with their names? + GAUNT. No, misery makes sport to mock itself: + Since thou dost seek to kill my name in me, + I mock my name, great king, to flatter thee. + KING RICHARD. Should dying men flatter with those that live? + GAUNT. No, no; men living flatter those that die. + KING RICHARD. Thou, now a-dying, sayest thou flatterest me. + GAUNT. O, no! thou diest, though I the sicker be. + KING RICHARD. I am in health, I breathe, and see thee ill. + GAUNT. Now He that made me knows I see thee ill; + Ill in myself to see, and in thee seeing ill. + Thy death-bed is no lesser than thy land + Wherein thou liest in reputation sick; + And thou, too careless patient as thou art, + Commit'st thy anointed body to the cure + Of those physicians that first wounded thee: + A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown, + Whose compass is no bigger than thy head; + And yet, incaged in so small a verge, + The waste is no whit lesser than thy land. + O, had thy grandsire with a prophet's eye + Seen how his son's son should destroy his sons, + From forth thy reach he would have laid thy shame, + Deposing thee before thou wert possess'd, + Which art possess'd now to depose thyself. + Why, cousin, wert thou regent of the world, + It were a shame to let this land by lease; + But for thy world enjoying but this land, + Is it not more than shame to shame it so? + Landlord of England art thou now, not King. + Thy state of law is bondslave to the law; + And thou- + KING RICHARD. A lunatic lean-witted fool, + Presuming on an ague's privilege, + Darest with thy frozen admonition + Make pale our cheek, chasing the royal blood + With fury from his native residence. + Now by my seat's right royal majesty, + Wert thou not brother to great Edward's son, + This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head + Should run thy head from thy unreverent shoulders. + GAUNT. O, Spare me not, my brother Edward's son, + For that I was his father Edward's son; + That blood already, like the pelican, + Hast thou tapp'd out, and drunkenly carous'd. + My brother Gloucester, plain well-meaning soul- + Whom fair befall in heaven 'mongst happy souls!- + May be a precedent and witness good + That thou respect'st not spilling Edward's blood. + Join with the present sickness that I have; + And thy unkindness be like crooked age, + To crop at once a too long withered flower. + Live in thy shame, but die not shame with thee! + These words hereafter thy tormentors be! + Convey me to my bed, then to my grave. + Love they to live that love and honour have. + [Exit, borne out by his attendants] + KING RICHARD. And let them die that age and sullens have; + For both hast thou, and both become the grave. + YORK. I do beseech your Majesty impute his words + To wayward sickliness and age in him. + He loves you, on my life, and holds you dear + As Harry Duke of Hereford, were he here. + KING RICHARD. Right, you say true: as Hereford's love, so his; + As theirs, so mine; and all be as it is. + + [Enter NORTHUMBERLAND] + + NORTHUMBERLAND. My liege, old Gaunt commends him to your +Majesty. + KING RICHARD. What says he? + NORTHUMBERLAND. Nay, nothing; all is said. + His tongue is now a stringless instrument; + Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent. + YORK. Be York the next that must be bankrupt so! + Though death be poor, it ends a mortal woe. + KING RICHARD. The ripest fruit first falls, and so doth he; + His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be. + So much for that. Now for our Irish wars. + We must supplant those rough rug-headed kerns, + Which live like venom where no venom else + But only they have privilege to live. + And for these great affairs do ask some charge, + Towards our assistance we do seize to us + The plate, coin, revenues, and moveables, + Whereof our uncle Gaunt did stand possess'd. + YORK. How long shall I be patient? Ah, how long + Shall tender duty make me suffer wrong? + Not Gloucester's death, nor Hereford's banishment, + Nor Gaunt's rebukes, nor England's private wrongs, + Nor the prevention of poor Bolingbroke + About his marriage, nor my own disgrace, + Have ever made me sour my patient cheek + Or bend one wrinkle on my sovereign's face. + I am the last of noble Edward's sons, + Of whom thy father, Prince of Wales, was first. + In war was never lion rag'd more fierce, + In peace was never gentle lamb more mild, + Than was that young and princely gentleman. + His face thou hast, for even so look'd he, + Accomplish'd with the number of thy hours; + But when he frown'd, it was against the French + And not against his friends. His noble hand + Did win what he did spend, and spent not that + Which his triumphant father's hand had won. + His hands were guilty of no kindred blood, + But bloody with the enemies of his kin. + O Richard! York is too far gone with grief, + Or else he never would compare between- + KING RICHARD. Why, uncle, what's the matter? + YORK. O my liege, + Pardon me, if you please; if not, I, pleas'd + Not to be pardoned, am content withal. + Seek you to seize and gripe into your hands + The royalties and rights of banish'd Hereford? + Is not Gaunt dead? and doth not Hereford live? + Was not Gaunt just? and is not Harry true? + Did not the one deserve to have an heir? + Is not his heir a well-deserving son? + Take Hereford's rights away, and take from Time + His charters and his customary rights; + Let not to-morrow then ensue to-day; + Be not thyself-for how art thou a king + But by fair sequence and succession? + Now, afore God-God forbid I say true!- + If you do wrongfully seize Hereford's rights, + Call in the letters patents that he hath + By his attorneys-general to sue + His livery, and deny his off'red homage, + You pluck a thousand dangers on your head, + You lose a thousand well-disposed hearts, + And prick my tender patience to those thoughts + Which honour and allegiance cannot think. + KING RICHARD. Think what you will, we seize into our hands + His plate, his goods, his money, and his lands. + YORK. I'll not be by the while. My liege, farewell. + What will ensue hereof there's none can tell; + But by bad courses may be understood + That their events can never fall out good. [Exit] + KING RICHARD. Go, Bushy, to the Earl of Wiltshire straight; + Bid him repair to us to Ely House + To see this business. To-morrow next + We will for Ireland; and 'tis time, I trow. + And we create, in absence of ourself, + Our Uncle York Lord Governor of England; + For he is just, and always lov'd us well. + Come on, our queen; to-morrow must we part; + Be merry, for our time of stay is short. + [Flourish. Exeunt KING, QUEEN, BUSHY, AUMERLE, + GREEN, and BAGOT] + NORTHUMBERLAND. Well, lords, the Duke of Lancaster is dead. + Ross. And living too; for now his son is Duke. + WILLOUGHBY. Barely in title, not in revenues. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Richly in both, if justice had her right. + ROSS. My heart is great; but it must break with silence, + Ere't be disburdened with a liberal tongue. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Nay, speak thy mind; and let him ne'er speak +more + That speaks thy words again to do thee harm! + WILLOUGHBY. Tends that thou wouldst speak to the Duke of +Hereford? + If it be so, out with it boldly, man; + Quick is mine ear to hear of good towards him. + ROSS. No good at all that I can do for him; + Unless you call it good to pity him, + Bereft and gelded of his patrimony. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Now, afore God, 'tis shame such wrongs are +borne + In him, a royal prince, and many moe + Of noble blood in this declining land. + The King is not himself, but basely led + By flatterers; and what they will inform, + Merely in hate, 'gainst any of us an, + That will the King severely prosecute + 'Gainst us, our lives, our children, and our heirs. + ROSS. The commons hath he pill'd with grievous taxes; + And quite lost their hearts; the nobles hath he find + For ancient quarrels and quite lost their hearts. + WILLOUGHBY. And daily new exactions are devis'd, + As blanks, benevolences, and I wot not what; + But what, a God's name, doth become of this? + NORTHUMBERLAND. Wars hath not wasted it, for warr'd he hath +not, + But basely yielded upon compromise + That which his noble ancestors achiev'd with blows. + More hath he spent in peace than they in wars. + ROSS. The Earl of Wiltshire hath the realm in farm. + WILLOUGHBY. The King's grown bankrupt like a broken man. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Reproach and dissolution hangeth over him. + ROSS. He hath not money for these Irish wars, + His burdenous taxations notwithstanding, + But by the robbing of the banish'd Duke. + NORTHUMBERLAND. His noble kinsman-most degenerate king! + But, lords, we hear this fearful tempest sing, + Yet seek no shelter to avoid the storm; + We see the wind sit sore upon our sails, + And yet we strike not, but securely perish. + ROSS. We see the very wreck that we must suffer; + And unavoided is the danger now + For suffering so the causes of our wreck. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Not so; even through the hollow eyes of death + I spy life peering; but I dare not say + How near the tidings of our comfort is. + WILLOUGHBY. Nay, let us share thy thoughts as thou dost ours. + ROSS. Be confident to speak, Northumberland. + We three are but thyself, and, speaking so, + Thy words are but as thoughts; therefore be bold. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Then thus: I have from Le Port Blanc, a bay + In Brittany, receiv'd intelligence + That Harry Duke of Hereford, Rainold Lord Cobham, + That late broke from the Duke of Exeter, + His brother, Archbishop late of Canterbury, + Sir Thomas Erpingham, Sir John Ramston, + Sir John Norbery, Sir Robert Waterton, and Francis Quoint- + All these, well furnish'd by the Duke of Britaine, + 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 sceptre's gilt, + And make high majesty look like itself, + Away with me in post to Ravenspurgh; + But if you faint, as fearing to do so, + Stay and be secret, and myself will go. + ROSS. To horse, to horse! Urge doubts to them that fear. + WILLOUGHBY. Hold out my horse, and I will first be there. + [Exeunt] + + + + +SCENE 2 +Windsor Castle + +[Enter QUEEN, BUSHY, and BAGOT] + + BUSHY. Madam, your Majesty is too much sad. + You promis'd, when you parted with the King, + To lay aside life-harming heaviness + And entertain a cheerful disposition. + QUEEN. To please the King, I did; to please myself + I 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, + Is coming towards me, and my inward soul + With nothing trembles. At some thing it grieves + More than with parting from my lord the King. + BUSHY. Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows, + Which shows like grief itself, but is not so; + 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, + Find shapes of grief more than himself to wail; + Which, look'd on as it is, is nought but shadows + Of what it is not. Then, thrice-gracious Queen, + More than your lord's departure weep not-more is not seen; + Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrow's eye, + 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, on thinking, on no thought I think- + Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink. + BUSHY. 'Tis nothing but conceit, my gracious lady. + QUEEN. 'Tis nothing less: conceit is still deriv'd + From some forefather grief; mine is not so, + For nothing hath begot my something grief, + Or something hath the nothing that I 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, gentlemen. + I hope the King is not yet shipp'd for Ireland. + QUEEN. Why hopest thou so? 'Tis 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 power + And driven into despair an enemy's hope + Who strongly hath set footing in this land. + The banish'd Bolingbroke repeals himself, + And with uplifted arms is safe arriv'd + At Ravenspurgh. + QUEEN. Now God in heaven forbid! + GREEN. Ah, madam, 'tis too true; and that is worse, + The Lord Northumberland, his son young Henry Percy, + The Lords of Ross, Beaumond, and Willoughby, + With all their powerful friends, are fled to him. + BUSHY. Why have you not proclaim'd Northumberland + And all the rest revolted faction traitors? + GREEN. We have; whereupon the Earl of Worcester + Hath broken 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. + QUEEN. Who shall hinder me? + I will despair, and be at enmity + With cozening 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 God's sake, speak comfortable words. + YORK. Should I do so, I should belie my thoughts. + Comfort's in heaven; and we are on the earth, + Where nothing lives but crosses, cares, 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 SERVINGMAN] + + SERVINGMAN. My lord, your son was gone before I came. + YORK. He was-why so go all which way it will! + The nobles they are fled, the commons they are cold + And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's side. + Sirrah, get thee to Plashy, to my sister Gloucester; + Bid her send me presently a thousand pound. + Hold, take my ring. + SERVINGMAN. 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't, knave? + SERVINGMAN. An hour before I came, the Duchess died. + YORK. God for his mercy! what a tide of woes + 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 no posts dispatch'd for Ireland? + How shall we do for money for these wars? + Come, sister-cousin, I would say-pray, pardon me. + Go, fellow, get thee home, provide some carts, + And bring away the armour that is there. + [Exit SERVINGMAN] + Gentlemen, will you go muster men? + If I know how or which way to order these affairs + Thus disorderly thrust into my hands, + Never believe me. Both are my kinsmen. + T'one is my sovereign, whom both my oath + And duty bids defend; t'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. Gentlemen, go muster up your men + And meet me presently at Berkeley. + I should to Plashy too, + But time will not permit. All is uneven, + And everything 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 unpossible. + GREEN. Besides, our nearness to the King in love + Is near the hate of those love not the King. + BAGOT. And that is the wavering commons; for their love + 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. + BAGOT. If judgment lie in them, then so do we, + Because we ever have been near the King. + GREEN. Well, I will for refuge straight to Bristow Castle. + The Earl of Wiltshire is already there. + BUSHY. Thither will I with you; for little office + Will the hateful commons perform for us, + Except Eke curs to tear us all to pieces. + Will you go along with us? + BAGOT. No; I will to Ireland to his Majesty. + Farewell. If heart's presages be not vain, + We three here part that ne'er shall meet again. + BUSHY. That's as York thrives to beat back Bolingbroke. + 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. + Farewell at once-for once, for all, and ever. + BUSHY. Well, we may meet again. + BAGOT. I fear me, never. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 3 +Gloucestershire + +[Enter BOLINGBROKE and NORTHUMBERLAND, forces] + + BOLINGBROKE. How far is it, my lord, to Berkeley now? + NORTHUMBERLAND. Believe me, noble lord, + I am a stranger here in Gloucestershire. + These high wild hills and rough uneven ways + Draws out our miles, and makes them wearisome; + And yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar, + Making the hard way sweet and delectable. + But I bethink me what a weary way + From Ravenspurgh to Cotswold will be found + In Ross and Willoughby, wanting your company, + Which, I protest, hath very much beguil'd + The tediousness and process of my travel. + But theirs is sweet'ned with the hope to have + The present benefit which I possess; + And hope to joy is little less in joy + Than hope enjoy'd. By this the weary lords + Shall make their way seem short, as mine hath done + By sight of what I have, your noble company. + BOLINGBROKE. Of much less value is my company + Than your good words. But who comes here? + + [Enter HARRY PERCY] + + NORTHUMBERLAND. It is my son, young Harry Percy, + Sent from my brother Worcester, whencesoever. + Harry, how fares your uncle? + PERCY. I had thought, my lord, to have learn'd his health of +you. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Why, is he not with the Queen? + PERCY. No, my good lord; he hath forsook the court, + Broken his staff of office, and dispers'd + The household of the King. + NORTHUMBERLAND. What was his reason? + He was not so resolv'd when last we spake together. + PERCY. Because your lordship was proclaimed traitor. + But he, my lord, is gone to Ravenspurgh, + To offer service to the Duke of Hereford; + And sent me over by Berkeley, to discover + What power the Duke of York had levied there; + Then with directions to repair to Ravenspurgh. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Have you forgot the Duke of Hereford, boy? + PERCY. No, my good lord; for that is not forgot + Which ne'er I did remember; to my knowledge, + I never in my life did look on him. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Then learn to know him now; this is the Duke. + PERCY. 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. + BOLINGBROKE. 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. + My heart this covenant makes, my hand thus seals it. + NORTHUMBERLAND. How far is it to Berkeley? And what stir + Keeps good old York there with his men of war? + PERCY. There stands the castle, by yon tuft of trees, + Mann'd with three hundred men, as I have heard; + And in it are the Lords of York, Berkeley, and Seymour- + None else of name and noble estimate. + + [Enter Ross and WILLOUGHBY] + + NORTHUMBERLAND. Here come the Lords of Ross and Willoughby, + Bloody with spurring, fiery-red with haste. + BOLINGBROKE. 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. + WILLOUGHBY. And far surmounts our labour to attain it. + BOLINGBROKE. Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the poor; + Which, till my infant fortune comes to years, + Stands for my bounty. But who comes here? + + [Enter BERKELEY] + + NORTHUMBERLAND. It is my Lord of Berkeley, as I guess. + BERKELEY. My Lord of Hereford, my message is to you. + BOLINGBROKE. My lord, my answer is-'to Lancaster'; + And I 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. + BERKELEY. Mistake me not, my lord; 'tis not my meaning + To raze one title of your honour out. + To you, my lord, I come-what lord you will- + From the most gracious regent of this land, + The Duke of York, to know what pricks you on + To take advantage of the absent time, + And fright our native peace with self-borne arms. + + [Enter YORK, attended] + + BOLINGBROKE. I shall not need transport my words by you; + Here comes his Grace in person. My noble uncle! + [Kneels] + YORK. Show me thy humble heart, and not thy knee, + Whose duty is deceivable and false. + BOLINGBROKE. My gracious uncle!- + YORK. Tut, tut! + Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle. + I am no traitor's uncle; and that word 'grace' + In an ungracious mouth is but profane. + Why have those banish'd and forbidden legs + Dar'd once to touch a dust 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 lord of such hot youth + As when brave Gaunt, thy father, and myself + Rescued 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 the + And minister correction to thy fault! + BOLINGBROKE 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. + BOLINGBROKE. As I was banish'd, I was banish'd Hereford; + But as I come, I 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, my father, + Will you permit that I shall stand condemn'd + A wandering vagabond; my rights and royalties + Pluck'd from my arms perforce, and given away + To upstart unthrifts? Wherefore was I born? + If that my cousin king be King in England, + It must be granted I am Duke of Lancaster. + You have a son, Aumerle, my noble cousin; + Had you first died, and he been thus trod down, + He should have found his uncle Gaunt a father + To rouse his wrongs and chase them to the bay. + I am denied to sue my livery here, + And yet my letters patents give me leave. + My father's goods are all distrain'd and sold; + And these and all are all amiss employ'd. + What would you have me do? I am a subject, + And I challenge law-attorneys are denied me; + And therefore personally I lay my claim + To my inheritance of free descent. + NORTHUMBERLAND. The noble Duke hath been too much abused. + ROSS. It stands your Grace upon to do him right. + WILLOUGHBY. Base men by his endowments are made great. + YORK. My lords of England, let me tell you this: + I have had feeling of my cousin's wrongs, + And labour'd all I could to do him right; + But 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; + And you that do abet him in this kind + Cherish rebellion, and are rebels all. + NORTHUMBERLAND. The noble 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; + And let him never see joy that breaks that oath! + YORK. Well, well, I see the issue of these arms. + I cannot mend it, I must needs confess, + Because my power is weak and all ill left; + But if I could, by Him that gave me life, + I would attach you all and make you stoop + Unto the sovereign mercy of the King; + But since I cannot, be it known unto 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. + BOLINGBROKE. An offer, uncle, that we will accept. + But we must win your Grace to go with us + To Bristow Castle, which they say is held + By Bushy, Bagot, and their complices, + The caterpillars of the commonwealth, + Which I have sworn to weed and pluck away. + YORK. It may be I will go with you; but yet I'll pause, + For I am loath to break our country's laws. + Nor friends nor foes, to me welcome you are. + Things past redress are now with me past care. [Exeunt] + + + + +SCENE 4 +A camp in Wales + +[Enter EARL OF SALISBURY and a WELSH CAPTAIN] + + CAPTAIN. My Lord of Salisbury, we have stay'd ten days + And hardly kept our countrymen together, + And yet we hear no tidings from the King; + Therefore we will disperse ourselves. Farewell. + SALISBURY. Stay yet another day, thou trusty Welshman; + The King reposeth all his confidence in thee. + CAPTAIN. 'Tis thought the King is dead; we will not stay. + The bay trees in our country are all wither'd, + 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 ruffians 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 fled, + As well assur'd Richard their King is dead. [Exit +] + SALISBURY. Ah, Richard, with the eyes of heavy mind, + I see thy glory like a shooting star + Fall to the base earth from the firmament! + The sun sets weeping in the lowly west, + Witnessing storms to come, woe, and unrest; + Thy friends are fled, to wait upon thy foes; + And crossly to thy good all fortune goes. [Exit] + + + + +<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM +SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS +PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY +WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE +DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS +PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED +COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY +SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.>> + + + +ACT 3 SCENE 1 +BOLINGBROKE'S camp at Bristol + +[Enter BOLINGBROKE, YORK, NORTHUMBERLAND, PERCY, ROSS, +WILLOUGHBY, +BUSHY and GREEN, prisoners] + + BOLINGBROKE. Bring forth these men. + Bushy and Green, I will not vex your souls- + Since presently your souls must part your bodies- + With too much urging your pernicious lives, + For 'twere no charity; yet, to wash your blood + From off my hands, here in the view of men + I will unfold some causes of your deaths: + You have misled a prince, a royal king, + A happy gentleman in blood and lineaments, + By you unhappied and disfigured clean; + You have in manner with your sinful hours + Made a divorce betwixt his queen and him; + Broke the possession of a royal bed, + And stain'd the beauty of a fair queen's cheeks + With tears drawn from her eyes by your foul wrongs; + Myself-a prince by fortune of my birth, + Near to the King in blood, and near in love + Till you did make him misinterpret me- + Have stoop'd my neck under your injuries + And sigh'd my English breath in foreign clouds, + Eating the bitter bread of banishment, + Whilst you have fed upon my signories, + Dispark'd my parks and fell'd my forest woods, + From my own windows torn my household coat, + Raz'd out my imprese, 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 delivered over + To execution and the hand of death. + BUSHY. More welcome is the stroke of death to me + Than Bolingbroke to England. Lords, farewell. + GREEN. My comfort is that heaven will take our souls, + And plague injustice with the pains of hell. + BOLINGBROKE. My Lord Northumberland, see them dispatch'd. + [Exeunt NORTHUMBERLAND, and others, with the prisoners] + Uncle, you say the Queen is at your house; + For God'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 dispatch'd + With letters of your love to her at large. + BOLINGBROKE. Thanks, gentle uncle. Come, lords, away, + To fight with Glendower and his complices. + Awhile to work, and after holiday. [Exeunt] + + + + +SCENE 2 +The coast of Wales. A castle in view + +[Drums. Flourish and colours. Enter the KING, the BISHOP OF +CARLISLE, +AUMERLE, and soldiers] + + KING RICHARD. Barkloughly Castle call they this at hand? + AUMERLE. Yea, my lord. How brooks your Grace the air + After your late tossing on the breaking seas? + KING RICHARD. 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. + As 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 favours with my royal hands. + Feed not thy sovereign's foe, my gentle earth, + Nor with thy sweets comfort his ravenous 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; + Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies; + And when they from thy bosom pluck a flower, + Guard it, I pray thee, with a lurking adder, + Whose double tongue 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 + Shall falter under foul rebellion's arms. + CARLISLE. Fear not, my lord; that Power that made you king + 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 proffered means of succour and redress. + AUMERLE. He means, my lord, that we are too remiss; + Whilst Bolingbroke, through our security, + Grows strong and great in substance and in power. + KING RICHARD. Discomfortable cousin! know'st thou not + That when the searching eye of heaven is hid, + Behind the globe, that lights the lower world, + Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen + In murders and in outrage boldly 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, + 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 off from an anointed king; + The breath of worldly men cannot depose + The deputy elected by the Lord. + For every man that Bolingbroke hath press'd + To lift shrewd steel against our golden crown, + God for his Richard hath in heavenly 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? + SALISBURY. Nor near nor farther off, my gracious lord, + Than this weak arm. Discomfort guides my tongue, + And bids me speak of nothing but despair. + One day too late, I fear me, 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. + AUMERLE. Comfort, my liege, why looks your Grace so pale? + KING RICHARD. But now the blood of twenty thousand men + Did triumph in my face, and they are fled; + And, till so much blood thither come again, + Have I not reason to look pale and dead? + All souls that will be safe, fly from my side; + For time hath set a blot upon my pride. + AUMERLE. Comfort, my liege; remember who you are. + KING RICHARD. I had forgot myself; am I not King? + Awake, thou coward majesty! thou sleepest. + Is not the King's name twenty 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? + High be our thoughts. I know my uncle York + Hath power enough to serve our turn. But who comes here? + + [Enter SCROOP] + + SCROOP. More health and happiness betide my liege + Than can my care-tun'd tongue deliver him. + KING RICHARD. Mine ear is open and my heart prepar'd. + The worst is worldly loss thou canst unfold. + Say, is my kingdom lost? Why, 'twas my care, + And what loss is it to be rid of care? + 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. + Cry woe, destruction, ruin, and decay- + The worst is death, and death will have his day. + SCROOP. 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 land + With hard bright steel and hearts harder than steel. + White-beards have arm'd their 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. + KING RICHARD. Too well, too well thou tell'st a tale so ill. + Where is the Earl of Wiltshire? Where is Bagot? + What is become of Bushy? Where is Green? + 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. + SCROOP. Peace have they made with him indeed, my lord. + KING RICHARD. O villains, vipers, damn'd without redemption! + Dogs, easily won to fawn on any man! + Snakes, in my heart-blood warm'd, that sting my heart! + Three Judases, each one thrice worse than Judas! + Would they make peace? Terrible hell make war + Upon their spotted souls for this offence! + SCROOP. 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 you curse + Have felt the worst of death's destroying wound + And lie full low, grav'd in the hollow ground. + AUMERLE. Is Bushy, Green, and the Earl of Wiltshire dead? + SCROOP. Ay, all of them at Bristow lost their heads. + AUMERLE. Where is the Duke my father with his power? + KING RICHARD. 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 + Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth. + Let's choose executors and talk of wills; + And yet not so-for what can we bequeath + Save our deposed bodies to the ground? + Our lands, our lives, and all, are Bolingbroke's. + And nothing can we can our own but death + And that small model of the barren earth + Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. + For God'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 monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with looks; + 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 your heads, 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, need friends: subjected thus, + How can you say to me I am a king? + CARLISLE. My lord, wise men ne'er sit and wail their woes, + But presently prevent the ways to wail. + To fear the foe, since fear oppresseth strength, + Gives, in your weakness, strength unto your foe, + And so your follies fight against yourself. + Fear and be slain-no worse can come to fight; + And fight and die is death destroying death, + Where fearing dying pays death servile breath. + AUMERLE. My father hath a power; inquire of him, + And learn to make a body of a limb. + KING RICHARD. Thou chid'st me well. Proud Bolingbroke, I come + 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. + SCROOP. Men judge by the complexion of the sky + The state in 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 worst that must be spoken: + Your uncle York is join'd with Bolingbroke; + And all your northern castles yielded up, + And all your southern gentlemen in arms + Upon his party. + KING RICHARD. Thou hast said enough. + [To AUMERLE] Beshrew thee, cousin, which didst lead me +forth + 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, shall kingly woe obey. + That power I have, discharge; and let them go + To ear the land that hath some hope to grow, + For I have none. Let no man speak again + To alter this, for counsel is but vain. + AUMERLE. My liege, one word. + KING RICHARD. He does me double wrong + That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue. + Discharge my followers; let them hence away, + From Richard's night to Bolingbroke's fair day. [Exeunt] + + + + +SCENE 3 +Wales. Before Flint Castle + +[Enter, with drum and colours, BOLINGBROKE, YORK, NORTHUMBERLAND, +and forces] + + BOLINGBROKE. So that by this intelligence we learn + The Welshmen are dispers'd; and Salisbury + Is gone to meet the King, who lately landed + With some few private friends upon this coast. + NORTHUMBERLAND. 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! + NORTHUMBERLAND. Your Grace mistakes; only to be brief, + Left I his title 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. + BOLINGBROKE. Mistake not, uncle, further than you should. + YORK. Take not, good cousin, further than you should, + Lest you mistake. The heavens are over our heads. + BOLINGBROKE. I know it, uncle; and oppose not myself + Against their will. But who comes here? + + [Enter PERCY] + + Welcome, Harry. What, will not this castle yield? + PERCY. The castle royally is mann'd, my lord, + Against thy entrance. + BOLINGBROKE. Royally! + Why, it contains no king? + PERCY. Yes, my good lord, + It doth contain a king; King Richard lies + Within the limits of yon lime and stone; + And with him are the Lord Aumerle, Lord Salisbury, + Sir Stephen Scroop, besides a clergyman + Of holy reverence; who, I cannot learn. + NORTHUMBERLAND. O, belike it is the Bishop of Carlisle. + BOLINGBROKE. [To NORTHUMBERLAND] Noble lord, + Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle; + Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parley + Into his ruin'd ears, and thus deliver: + Henry 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 banishment 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 slaughtered Englishmen; + The which how far off from the mind of Bolingbroke + It is such crimson tempest 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. + [NORTHUMBERLAND advances to the Castle, with a +trumpet] + Let's march without the noise of threat'ning drum, + That from this castle's tottered 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, whilst on the earth I rain + My waters-on the earth, and not on him. + March on, and mark King Richard how he looks. + + [Parle without, and answer within; then a flourish. + Enter on the walls, the KING, the BISHOP OF CARLISLE, + AUMERLE, SCROOP, and SALISBURY] + + See, see, King Richard doth himself appear, + As doth the blushing discontented sun + 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. + YORK. Yet he looks like a king. Behold, his eye, + As bright as is the eagle's, lightens forth + Controlling majesty. Alack, alack, for woe, + That any harm should stain so fair a show! + KING RICHARD. [To NORTHUMBERLAND] We are amaz'd; and thus long + have we stood + To watch the fearful bending of thy knee, + 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, + Have torn their souls by turning them from us, + And we are barren and bereft of friends, + Yet know-my master, God omnipotent, + Is mustering in his clouds on our behalf + Armies of pestilence; and they shall strike + Your children yet unborn and unbegot, + That lift your vassal hands against my head + And threat the glory of my precious crown. + Tell Bolingbroke, for yon methinks he stands, + That every stride he makes upon my land + Is dangerous treason; he is come to open + The purple testament of bleeding war; + But ere the crown he looks for live in peace, + Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers' sons + 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. + NORTHUMBERLAND. 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 your 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. + KING RICHARD. 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. + [To AUMERLE] We do debase ourselves, cousin, do we not, + To look so poorly and to speak so fair? + Shall we call back Northumberland, and send + Defiance to the traitor, and so die? + AUMERLE. No, good my lord; let's fight with gentle words + Till time lend friends, and friends their helpful swords. + KING RICHARD. 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 to beat, + Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me. + AUMERLE. Northumberland comes back from Bolingbroke. + KING RICHARD. What must the King do now? Must he submit? + The King shall do it. Must he be depos'd? + The King shall be contented. Must he lose + The name of king? A 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 almsman'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 high way, + 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, thou 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. + 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 + 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 laugh 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. + NORTHUMBERLAND. My lord, in the base court he doth attend + To speak with you; may it please you to come down? + KING RICHARD. Down, down I come, like glist'ring Phaethon, + Wanting the manage of unruly jades. + In the base court? Base court, where kings grow base, + 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] + BOLINGBROKE. What says his Majesty? + NORTHUMBERLAND. Sorrow and grief of heart + Makes him speak fondly, like a frantic man; + Yet he is come. + + [Enter the KING, and his attendants, below] + + BOLINGBROKE. Stand all apart, + And show fair duty to his Majesty. [He kneels down] + My gracious lord- + KING RICHARD. 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, + [Touching his own head] Thus high at least, although your + knee be low. + BOLINGBROKE. My gracious lord, I come but for mine own. + KING RICHARD. Your own is yours, and I am yours, and all. + BOLINGBROKE. So far be mine, my most redoubted lord, + As my true service shall deserve your love. + KING RICHARD. Well you deserve. They well deserve to have + That know the strong'st and surest way to get. + Uncle, give me your hands; nay, dry your eyes: + Tears show their love, but want their remedies. + 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? + BOLINGBROKE. Yea, my good lord. + KING RICHARD. Then I must not say no. [Flourish. Exeunt] + + + + +SCENE 4 +The DUKE OF YORK's garden + +[Enter the QUEEN and two LADIES] + + QUEEN. What sport shall we devise here in this garden + To drive away the heavy thought of care? + LADY. Madam, we'll play at bowls. + QUEEN. 'Twill make me think the world is full of rubs + And that my fortune runs against the bias. + LADY. Madam, we'll dance. + QUEEN. My legs can keep no measure in delight, + When my poor heart no measure keeps in grief; + Therefore no dancing, girl; some other sport. + LADY. Madam, we'll tell tales. + QUEEN. Of sorrow or of joy? + LADY. 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. + LADY. Madam, I'll sing. + QUEEN. 'Tis well' that thou hast cause; + But thou shouldst please me better wouldst thou weep. + LADY. I could weep, madam, would it do you good. + QUEEN. And I could sing, would weeping do me good, + And never borrow any tear of thee. + + [Enter a GARDENER and two SERVANTS] + + But stay, here come the gardeners. + Let's step into the shadow of these trees. + My wretchedness unto a row of pins, + They will talk of state, for every one doth so + Against a change: woe is forerun with woe. + [QUEEN and LADIES retire] + GARDENER. Go, bind thou up yon dangling apricocks, + 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 which without profit suck + The soil's fertility from wholesome flowers. + SERVANT. 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 disordered, and her wholesome herbs + Swarming with caterpillars? + GARDENER. Hold thy peace. + He that hath suffer'd this disorder'd spring + Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf; + The weeds which 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- + I mean the Earl of Wiltshire, Bushy, Green. + SERVANT. What, are they dead? + GARDENER. They are; and Bolingbroke + Hath seiz'd the wasteful King. O, what pity is it + That he had not so trimm'd and dress'd his land + As we this garden! We at time of year + Do wound the bark, the skin of our fruit trees, + Lest, being over-proud in sap and blood, + With too much riches it confound itself; + Had he done so to great and growing men, + They might have liv'd to bear, and he to taste + Their fruits of duty. Superfluous branches + We lop away, that bearing boughs may live; + Had he done so, himself had home the crown, + Which waste of idle hours hath quite thrown down. + SERVANT. What, think you the King shall be deposed? + GARDENER. 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! + [Coming forward] + Thou, old Adam's likeness, 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 downfall? Say, where, when, and how, + Cam'st thou by this ill tidings? Speak, thou wretch. + GARDENER. 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 will 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 thinkest + 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 Bolingbroke? + Gard'ner, for telling me these news of woe, + Pray God the plants thou graft'st may never grow! + [Exeunt QUEEN and LADIES] + GARDENER. Poor Queen, so that thy state might be no worse, + I would my skill were subject to thy curse. + Here did she fall 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. [Exeunt] + + + + +<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM +SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS +PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY +WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE +DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS +PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED +COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY +SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.>> + + + +ACT 4 SCENE 1 +Westminster Hall + +[Enter, as to the Parliament, BOLINGBROKE, AUMERLE, +NORTHUMBERLAND, PERCY, +FITZWATER, SURREY, the BISHOP OF CARLISLE, the ABBOT OF +WESTMINSTER, +and others; HERALD, OFFICERS, and BAGOT] + + BOLINGBROKE. Call forth Bagot. + Now, Bagot, freely speak thy mind- + What thou dost know of noble Gloucester's death; + 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. + BOLINGBROKE. 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 Gloucester's death was plotted + I heard you say 'Is not my arm of length, + That reacheth from the restful English Court + As far as Calais, to mine uncle's head?' + Amongst much other talk that very time + I heard you say that you had rather refuse + The offer of an hundred thousand crowns + Than Bolingbroke's return to England; + Adding withal, how blest this land would be + In this your cousin's death. + AUMERLE. 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 slanderous 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, through being all too base + To stain the temper of my knightly sword. + BOLINGBROKE. Bagot, forbear; thou shalt not take it up. + AUMERLE. Excepting one, I would he were the best + In all this presence that hath mov'd me so. + FITZWATER. If that thy valour stand on sympathy, + There is my gage, Aumerle, in gage to thine. + By that fair sun which shows me where thou stand'st, + I heard thee say, and vauntingly thou spak'st it, + That thou wert cause of noble Gloucester's death. + If thou deniest it twenty times, thou liest; + And I will turn thy falsehood to thy heart, + Where it was forged, with my rapier's point. + AUMERLE. Thou dar'st not, coward, live to see that day. + FITZWATER. Now, by my soul, I would it were this hour. + AUMERLE. Fitzwater, thou art damn'd to hell for this. + PERCY. Aumerle, thou liest; his honour is as true + In this appeal as thou art an 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. + AUMERLE. An if I do not, may my hands rot off + And never brandish more revengeful steel + Over the glittering helmet of my foe! + ANOTHER LORD. I task the earth to the like, forsworn Aumerle; + And spur thee on with full as many lies + As may be halloa'd in thy treacherous ear + From sun to sun. There is my honour's pawn; + Engage it to the trial, if thou darest. + AUMERLE. 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. + FITZWATER. 'Tis very 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. + FITZWATER. 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 skull. + In proof whereof, there is my honour's pawn; + Engage it to the trial, if thou dar'st. + FITZWATER. 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. + AUMERLE. Some honest Christian trust me with a gage + That Norfolk lies. Here do I throw down this, + If he may be repeal'd to try his honour. + BOLINGBROKE. These differences shall all rest under gage + Till Norfolk be repeal'd-repeal'd he shall be + And, though mine enemy, restor'd again + To all his lands and signories. When he is return'd, + Against Aumerle we will enforce his trial. + CARLISLE. That honourable day shall never be seen. + 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. + BOLINGBROKE. Why, Bishop, is Norfolk dead? + CARLISLE. As surely as I live, my lord. + BOLINGBROKE. Sweet peace conduct his sweet soul to the bosom + 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 the + From plume-pluck'd Richard, who with willing soul + 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, fourth of that name! + BOLINGBROKE. In God's name, I'll ascend the regal throne. + CARLISLE. 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 noblesse 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; + 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, forfend 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 God, 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 skulls. + O, if you raise this house against this house, + It will the woefullest division prove + That ever fell upon this cursed earth. + Prevent it, resist it, let it not be so, + Lest child, child's children, cry against you woe. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Well have you argued, 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 it please you, lords, to grant the commons' suit? + BOLINGBROKE. Fetch hither Richard, that in common view + He may surrender; so we shall proceed + Without suspicion. + YORK. I will be his conduct. [Exit] + BOLINGBROKE. Lords, you that here are under our arrest, + Procure your sureties for your days of answer. + Little are we beholding to your love, + And little look'd for at your helping hands. + + [Re-enter YORK, with KING RICHARD, and OFFICERS + bearing the regalia] + + KING RICHARD. 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. Yet I well remember + The favours 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 thousand, 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. + KING RICHARD. Give me the crown. Here, cousin, seize the crown. + Here, cousin, + On this side my hand, and 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. + BOLINGBROKE. I thought you had been willing to resign. + KING RICHARD. 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. + BOLINGBROKE. Part of your cares you give me with your crown. + KING RICHARD. 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 stay. + BOLINGBROKE. Are you contented to resign the crown? + KING RICHARD. 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 oaths; + All pomp and majesty I do forswear; + My manors, rents, revenues, I forgo; + 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 an achiev'd. + Long mayst 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? + NORTHUMBERLAND. No more; but that you read + 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. + KING RICHARD. 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, + 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 myself, + Though some of you, with Pilate, wash your hands, + Showing an outward pity-yet you Pilates + Have here deliver'd me to my sour cross, + And water cannot wash away your sin. + NORTHUMBERLAND. My lord, dispatch; read o'er these + articles. + KING RICHARD. 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. + 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 + T'undeck the pompous body of a king; + Made glory base, and sovereignty a slave, + Proud majesty a subject, state a peasant. + NORTHUMBERLAND. My lord- + KING RICHARD. No lord of thine, thou haught insulting 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! + 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, + And 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. + BOLINGBROKE. Go some of you and fetch a looking-glass. + [Exit an attendant] + NORTHUMBERLAND. Read o'er this paper while the glass doth come. + KING RICHARD. Fiend, thou torments me ere I come to hell. + BOLINGBROKE. Urge it no more, my Lord Northumberland. + NORTHUMBERLAND. The Commons will not, then, be satisfied. + KING RICHARD. 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. + + [Re-enter attendant with 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 flatt'ring 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? + Is this the face which fac'd so many follies + That 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. + BOLINGBROKE. The shadow of your sorrow hath destroy'd + The shadow of your face. + KING RICHARD. Say that again. + The shadow of my sorrow? Ha! let's see. + 'Tis very true: my grief lies all within; + And these external manner of laments + 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? + BOLINGBROKE. Name it, fair cousin. + KING RICHARD. Fair cousin! 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. + BOLINGBROKE. Yet ask. + KING RICHARD. And shall I have? + BOLINGBROKE. You shall. + KING RICHARD. Then give me leave to go. + BOLINGBROKE. Whither? + KING RICHARD. Whither you will, so I were from your sights. + BOLINGBROKE. Go, some of you convey him to the Tower. + KING RICHARD. O, good! Convey! Conveyers are you all, + That rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall. + [Exeunt KING RICHARD, some Lords and a Guard] + BOLINGBROKE. On Wednesday next we solemnly set down + Our coronation. Lords, prepare yourselves. + [Exeunt all but the ABBOT OF WESTMINSTER, the + BISHOP OF CARLISLE, and AUMERLE] + ABBOT. A woeful pageant have we here beheld. + CARLISLE. The woe's to come; the children yet unborn + Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn. + AUMERLE. You holy clergymen, is there no plot + To rid the realm of this pernicious blot? + ABBOT. My lord, + Before I freely speak my mind herein, + You shall not only take the sacrament + To bury mine intents, but also 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] + + + + +<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM +SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS +PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY +WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE +DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS +PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED +COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY +SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.>> + + + +ACT 5 SCENE 1 +London. A street leading to the Tower + +[Enter the QUEEN, with her attendants] + + 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 Guard] + + 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? + KING RICHARD. 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 + 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 thrown down. + QUEEN. What, is my Richard both in shape and mind + Transform'd and weak'ned? 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'erpow'r'd; and wilt thou, pupil-like, + Take the correction mildly, kiss the rod, + And fawn on rage with base humility, + Which art a lion and the king of beasts? + KING RICHARD. A king of beasts, indeed! If aught but beasts, + I had been still a happy king of men. + Good sometimes queen, prepare thee hence for France. + Think I am dead, and that even here thou takest, + As from my death-bed, thy last living leave. + In winter's tedious nights sit by the fire + With good old folks, and let them tell thee tales + Of woeful ages long ago betid; + And ere thou bid good night, to quit their griefs + Tell thou the lamentable tale 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-black, + For the deposing of a rightful king. + + [Enter NORTHUMBERLAND attended] + + NORTHUMBERLAND. 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. + KING RICHARD. 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 knowest 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 men converts to fear; + That fear to hate; and hate turns one or both + To worthy danger and deserved death. + NORTHUMBERLAND. My guilt be on my head, and there an end. + Take leave, and part; for you must part forthwith. + KING RICHARD. Doubly divorc'd! Bad men, you violate + A twofold 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 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? + KING RICHARD. Ay, hand from hand, my love, and heart from +heart. + QUEEN. Banish us both, and send the King with me. + NORTHUMBERLAND. That were some love, but little policy. + QUEEN. Then whither he goes thither let me go. + KING RICHARD. So two, together weeping, make one woe. + Weep thou for me in France, I for thee here; + Better far off than near, be ne'er the near. + Go, count thy way with sighs; I mine with groans. + QUEEN. So longest way shall have the longest moans. + KING RICHARD. 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 take I thy heart. + QUEEN. Give me mine own again; 'twere no good part + To take on me to keep and kill thy heart. + So, now I have mine own again, be gone. + That I may strive to kill it with a groan. + KING RICHARD. We make woe wanton with this fond delay. + Once more, adieu; the rest let sorrow say. [Exeunt] + + + + +SCENE 2 +The DUKE OF YORK's palace + +[Enter the DUKE OF YORK and the DUCHESS] + + DUCHESS. My Lord, you told me you would tell the rest, + When weeping made you break the story off, + Of our two cousins' coming into London. + YORK. Where did I leave? + DUCHESS. At that sad stop, my lord, + Where rude misgoverned hands from windows' tops + Threw dust and rubbish on King Richard's head. + YORK. Then, as I said, the Duke, great Bolingbroke, + Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed + Which his aspiring rider seem'd to know, + With slow but stately pace kept on his course, + Whilst all tongues cried 'God save thee, Bolingbroke!' + You would have thought the very windows spake, + So many greedy looks of young and old + Through casements darted their desiring eyes + Upon his visage; and that all the walls + With painted imagery had said at once + 'Jesu preserve thee! Welcome, Bolingbroke!' + Whilst he, from the one side to the other turning, + Bareheaded, lower than his proud steed's neck, + Bespake them thus, 'I thank you, countrymen.' + And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along. + DUCHESS. Alack, poor Richard! where rode he the whilst? + 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 gentle 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, + Whose state and honour I for aye allow. + DUCHESS. Here comes my son Aumerle. + YORK. Aumerle that was + But that is lost for being Richard's friend, + And madam, you must call him Rudand now. + I am in Parliament pledge for his truth + And lasting fealty to the new-made king. + + [Enter AUMERLE] + + DUCHESS. Welcome, my son. Who are the violets now + That strew the green lap of the new come spring? + AUMERLE. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not. + God knows I had as lief be none as one. + YORK. Well, bear you well in this new spring of time, + Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime. + What news from Oxford? Do these justs and triumphs hold? + AUMERLE. For aught I know, my lord, they do. + YORK. You will be there, I know. + AUMERLE. If God prevent not, I purpose so. + YORK. What seal is that that without thy bosom? + Yea, look'st thou pale? Let me see the writing. + AUMERLE. My lord, 'tis nothing. + YORK. No matter, then, who see it. + I will be satisfied; let me see the writing. + AUMERLE. I do beseech your Grace to pardon me; + It is a matter of small consequence + Which for some reasons I would not have seen. + YORK. Which for some reasons, sir, I mean to see. + I fear, I fear- + DUCHESS. What should you fear? + 'Tis nothing but some bond that he is ent'red into + For gay apparel 'gainst the triumph-day. + YORK. Bound to himself! What doth he with a bond + That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool. + Boy, let me see the writing. + AUMERLE. I do beseech you, pardon me; I may not show it. + YORK. I will be satisfied; let me see it, I say. + [He plucks it out of his bosom, and reads it] + Treason, foul treason! Villain! traitor! slave! + DUCHESS. What is the matter, my lord? + YORK. Ho! who is within there? + + [Enter a servant] + + Saddle my horse. + God for his mercy, what treachery is here! + DUCHESS. Why, York, what is it, my lord? + YORK. Give me my boots, I say; saddle my horse. + [Exit servant] + Now, by mine honour, by my life, my troth, + I will appeach the villain. + DUCHESS. What is the matter? + YORK. Peace, foolish woman. + DUCHESS. I will not peace. What is the matter, Aumerle? + AUMERLE. Good mother, be content; it is no more + Than my poor life must answer. + DUCHESS. Thy life answer! + YORK. Bring me my boots. I will unto the King. + + [His man enters with his boots] + + DUCHESS. Strike him, Aumerle. Poor boy, thou art amaz'd. + Hence, villain! never more come in my sight. + YORK. Give me my boots, I say. + DUCHESS. Why, York, what wilt thou do? + Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own? + Have we more sons? or are we like to have? + Is not my teeming date drunk up with time? + And wilt thou pluck my fair son from mine age + And rob me of a happy mother's name? + Is he not like thee? Is he not thine own? + YORK. Thou fond mad woman, + Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy? + A dozen of them here have ta'en the sacrament, + And interchangeably set down their hands + To kill the King at Oxford. + DUCHESS. He shall be none; + We'll keep him here. Then what is that to him? + YORK. Away, fond woman! were he twenty times my son + I would appeach him. + DUCHESS. Hadst thou groan'd for him + As I have done, thou wouldst be more pitiful. + But now I know thy mind: thou dost suspect + That I have been disloyal to thy bed + And that he is a bastard, not thy son. + Sweet York, sweet husband, be not of that mind. + He is as like thee as a man may be + Not like to me, or any of my kin, + And yet I love him. + YORK. Make way, unruly woman! [Exit] + DUCHESS. After, Aumerle! Mount thee upon his horse; + Spur post, and get before him to the King, + And beg thy pardon ere he do accuse thee. + I'll not be long behind; though I be old, + I doubt not but to ride as fast as York; + And never will I rise up from the ground + Till Bolingbroke have pardon'd thee. Away, be gone. + [Exeunt] + + + + +SCENE 3 +Windsor Castle + +[Enter BOLINGBROKE as King, PERCY, and other LORDS] + + BOLINGBROKE. Can no man tell me of my unthrifty son? + 'Tis full three months since I did see him last. + If any plague hang over us, 'tis he. + I would to God, my lords, he might be found. + Inquire at London, 'mongst the taverns there, + For there, they say, he daily doth frequent + With unrestrained loose companions, + Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes + And beat our watch and rob our passengers, + Which he, young wanton and effeminate boy, + Takes on the point of honour to support + So dissolute a crew. + PERCY. My lord, some two days since I saw the Prince, + And told him of those triumphs held at Oxford. + BOLINGBROKE. And what said the gallant? + PERCY. His answer was, he would unto the stews, + And from the common'st creature pluck a glove + And wear it as a favour; and with that + He would unhorse the lustiest challenger. + BOLINGBROKE. As dissolute as desperate; yet through both + I see some sparks of better hope, which elder years + May happily bring forth. But who comes here? + + [Enter AUMERLE amazed] + + AUMERLE. Where is the King? + BOLINGBROKE. What means our cousin that he stares and looks + So wildly? + AUMERLE. God save your Grace! I do beseech your Majesty, + To have some conference with your Grace alone. + BOLINGBROKE. Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here alone. + [Exeunt PERCY and LORDS] + What is the matter with our cousin now? + AUMERLE. For ever may my knees grow to the earth, + [Kneels] + My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth, + Unless a pardon ere I rise or speak. + BOLINGBROKE. Intended or committed was this fault? + If on the first, how heinous e'er it be, + To win thy after-love I pardon thee. + AUMERLE. Then give me leave that I may turn the key, + That no man enter till my tale be done. + BOLINGBROKE. Have thy desire. + [The DUKE OF YORK knocks at the door and crieth] + YORK. [Within] My liege, beware; look to thyself; + Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there. + BOLINGBROKE. [Drawing] Villain, I'll make thee safe. + AUMERLE. Stay thy revengeful hand; thou hast no cause to fear. + YORK. [Within] Open the door, secure, foolhardy King. + Shall I, for love, speak treason to thy face? + Open the door, or I will break it open. + + [Enter YORK] + + BOLINGBROKE. What is the matter, uncle? Speak; + Recover breath; tell us how near is danger, + That we may arm us to encounter it. + YORK. Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt know + The treason that my haste forbids me show. + AUMERLE. Remember, as thou read'st, thy promise pass'd. + I do repent me; read not my name there; + My heart is not confederate with my hand. + YORK. It was, villain, ere thy hand did set it down. + I tore it from the traitor's bosom, King; + Fear, and not love, begets his penitence. + Forget to pity him, lest thy pity prove + A serpent that will sting thee to the heart. + BOLINGBROKE. O heinous, 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. + DUCHESS. [Within] What ho, my liege, for God's sake, let me in. + BOLINGBROKE. What shrill-voic'd suppliant makes this eager cry? + DUCHESS. [Within] 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. + BOLINGBROKE. Our scene is alt'red from a serious thing, + And now chang'd to 'The Beggar and the King.' + My dangerous cousin, let your mother in. + I know she is come to pray for your foul sin. + YORK. If thou do pardon whosoever pray, + More sins for this forgiveness prosper may. + This fest'red joint cut off, the rest rest sound; + This let alone will all the rest confound. + + [Enter DUCHESS] + + DUCHESS. O King, believe not this hard-hearted man! + Love loving not itself, none other can. + YORK. Thou frantic woman, what dost thou make here? + Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear? + DUCHESS. Sweet York, be patient. Hear me, gentle liege. + [Kneels] + BOLINGBROKE. Rise up, good aunt. + DUCHESS. Not yet, I thee beseech. + For ever will I walk upon my knees, + And never see day that the happy sees + Till thou give joy; until thou bid me joy + By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy. + AUMERLE. Unto my mother's prayers I bend my knee. + [Kneels] + YORK. Against them both, my true joints bended be. + [Kneels] + Ill mayst thou thrive, if thou grant any grace! + DUCHESS. Pleads he in earnest? Look upon his face; + His eyes 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 denied; + We pray with heart and soul, and all beside. + His weary joints would gladly rise, I know; + Our knees still 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 have + That mercy which true prayer ought to have. + BOLINGBROKE. Good aunt, stand up. + DUCHESS. Nay, do not say 'stand up'; + Say '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; + 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. + YORK. Speak it in French, King, say 'pardonne moy.' + DUCHESS. Dost thou teach pardon pardon to destroy? + Ah, my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord, + That sets the word itself against the word! + 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, + Pity may move thee 'pardon' to rehearse. + BOLINGBROKE. Good aunt, stand up. + DUCHESS. I do not sue to stand; + Pardon is all the suit I have in hand. + BOLINGBROKE. I pardon him, as God shall pardon me. + DUCHESS. O happy vantage of a kneeling knee! + Yet am I sick for fear. Speak it again. + Twice saying 'pardon' doth not pardon twain, + But makes one pardon strong. + BOLINGBROKE. With all my heart + I pardon him. + DUCHESS. A god on earth thou art. + BOLINGBROKE. But for our trusty brother-in-law 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, I swear, + But I will have them, if I once know where. + Uncle, farewell; and, cousin, adieu; + Your mother well hath pray'd, and prove you true. + DUCHESS. Come, my old son; I pray God make thee new. + [Exeunt] + + + + +SCENE 4 +Windsor Castle + +[Enter SIR PIERCE OF EXTON and a servant] + + EXTON. Didst thou not mark the King, what words he spake? + 'Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear?' + Was it not so? + SERVANT. These were his very words. + EXTON. 'Have I no friend?' quoth he. He spake it twice + And urg'd it twice together, did he not? + SERVANT. He did. + EXTON. And, speaking it, he wishtly look'd on me, + As who should say 'I 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 5 +Pomfret Castle. The dungeon of the Castle + +[Enter KING RICHARD] + + KING RICHARD. 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 myself, + I cannot do it. Yet I'll hammer it out. + My 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, + 'It is as hard to come as for a camel + To thread the postern of a small needle's eye.' + Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot + Unlikely 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 beggars + Who, sitting in the stocks, refuge their shame, + That many have and others must sit there; + And in this thought they find a kind of ease, + Bearing their own misfortunes 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 treasons make 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 + Think that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke, + And straight am nothing. But whate'er I be, + Nor I, nor any man that but man is, + With nothing shall be pleas'd till he be eas'd + With being nothing. [The music plays] + Music do I hear? + 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. + I wasted time, and now doth time waste me; + For now hath time made me his numb'ring clock: + My thoughts are minutes; and with sighs they jar + Their watches on unto 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 which 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 of the clock. + This music mads me. Let it sound no more; + For though it have holp 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 a GROOM of the stable] + + GROOM. Hail, royal Prince! + KING RICHARD. 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? + GROOM. 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 royal master's face. + O, how it ern'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! + KING RICHARD. Rode he on Barbary? Tell me, gentle friend, + How went he under him? + GROOM. So proudly as if he disdain'd the ground. + KING RICHARD. So proud that Bolingbroke was on his back! + That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand; + This hand hath made him proud with clapping him. + Would he not stumble? would he not fall down, + Since pride must have a fall, and break the neck + Of 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 I bear a burden like an ass, + Spurr'd, gall'd, and tir'd, by jauncing Bolingbroke. + + [Enter KEEPER with meat] + + KEEPER. Fellow, give place; here is no longer stay. + KING RICHARD. If thou love me, 'tis time thou wert away. + GROOM. My tongue dares not, that my heart shall say. [Exit] + KEEPER. My lord, will't please you to fall to? + KING RICHARD. Taste of it first as thou art wont to do. + KEEPER. My lord, I dare not. Sir Pierce of Exton, + Who lately came from the King, commands the contrary. + KING RICHARD. The devil take Henry of Lancaster and thee! + Patience is stale, and I am weary of it. + [Beats the KEEPER] + KEEPER. Help, help, help! + [The murderers, EXTON and servants, rush in, armed] + KING RICHARD. How now! What means death in this rude assault? + Villain, thy own hand yields thy death's instrument. + [Snatching a weapon and killing one] + Go thou and fill another room in hell. + [He kills another, then EXTON strikes him down] + That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire + That staggers thus my person. Exton, thy fierce hand + Hath with the King's blood stain'd the King's own land. + Mount, mount, my soul! thy seat is up on high; + Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here to die. + [Dies] + EXTON. As full of valour as of royal blood. + Both have I spill'd. 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 King I'll bear. + Take hence the rest, and give them burial here. [Exeunt] + + + + +SCENE 6 +Windsor Castle + +[Flourish. Enter BOLINGBROKE, the DUKE OF YORK, With other LORDS +and attendants] + + BOLINGBROKE. Kind uncle York, the latest news we hear + Is that the rebels have consum'd with fire + Our town of Ciceter in Gloucestershire; + But whether they be ta'en or slain we hear not. + + [Enter NORTHUMBERLAND] + + Welcome, my lord. What is the news? + NORTHUMBERLAND. 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. + BOLINGBROKE. We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains; + And to thy worth will add right worthy gains. + + [Enter FITZWATER] + + FITZWATER. 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. + BOLINGBROKE. Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be forgot; + Right noble is thy merit, well I wot. + + [Enter PERCY, With the BISHOP OF CARLISLE] + + PERCY. The grand conspirator, Abbot of Westminster, + With clog of conscience and sour melancholy, + Hath yielded up his body to the grave; + But here is Carlisle living, to abide + Thy kingly doom, and sentence of his pride. + BOLINGBROKE. 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] + + EXTON. Great King, within this coffin I present + Thy buried fear. Herein all breathless lies + The mightiest of thy greatest enemies, + Richard of Bordeaux, by me hither brought. + BOLINGBROKE. 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. + EXTON. From your own mouth, my lord, did I this deed. + BOLINGBROKE. 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 thorough shades 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] + +THE END + + + + + +<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM +SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS +PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY +WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE +DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS +PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED +COMMERCIALLY. 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