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Here, on this side, my hand; on that side, thine.
Now is this golden crown like a deep well,
That owes two buckets filling one another;
The emptier ever dancing in the air,
The other down, unseen, and full of water:
That bucket down, and full of tears, am I,
Drinking my griefs, whilst you mount up on high.
Boling. I thought you had been willing to resign.
K. Rich. My crown, I am; but still my griefs
are mine:

You may my glories and my state depose,
But not my grief; still am I king of those.
Boling. Part of your cares you give me with your

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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 scepter from my hand,
The pride of kingly sway from out my heart;
With mine own tears I wash away my balm 6,
With mine own hands I give away my crown,
With mine own tongue deny my sacred state,
With mine own breath release all duteous oaths:
All pomp and majesty I do forswear;
My manors, rents, revenues, I forego;
My acts, decrees, and statutes, I deny :
God pardon all oaths, that are broke to me!
God keep all vows unbroke, are made to thee!
Make me, that nothing have, with nothing griev'd;
And thou with all pleas'd, that hast all achiev'd!
Long mayst thou live in Richard's seat to sit,
And soon lie Richard in an earthy pit!
God save king Henry, unking'd Richard says,
And send him many years of sunshine days! -
What more remains?

North.

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No more, but that you read [Offering a Paper. These accusations, and these grievous crimes, Committed by your person, and your followers, Against the state and profit of this land; That, by confessing them, the souls of men May deem that you are worthily depos'd.

K. Rich. Must I do so? and must I ravel out My weav'd up follies? Gentle Northumberland, If thy offences were upon record, Would it not shame thee in so fair a troop, To read a lecture of them? If thou 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, mark'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 are showing outward pity,
Have here deliver'd me to my sour cross,
And water cannot wash away your sin.

North. My lord, despatch: read o'er these arti:'es.

K. Rich. Mine eyes are full of tears, I cannot see: And yet salt water blinds them not so much,

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K. Rich. Fiend! thou torment'st me. Boling. Urge it no more, my lord Northumberland. North. The commons will not then be satisfied. K. Rich. They shall be satisfied: I'll read enough, When I do see the very book indeed Where all my sins are writ, and that's myself. Re-enter Attendant, with a Glass. Give me that glass, and therein will I read. No deeper wrinkles yet? Hath sorrow struck So many blows upon this face of mine, And made no deeper wounds? — O, flattering glass, Like to my followers in prosperity,

Thou dost beguile me! Was this face the face,
That every day under his household roof
Did keep ten thousand men? Was this the face,
That, like the sun, did make beholders wink ?
Was this the face, that fac'd so many follies,
And was at last out-fac'd by Bolingbroke?
A brittle glory shineth in this face :
As brittle as the glory is the face;

[Dasheth the Glass against the ground. For there it is, crack'd in a hundred shivers. — Mark, silent king, the moral of this sport, How soon my sorrow hath destroy'd my face. Boling. The shadow of your sorrow hath destroy'd The shadow of your face.

K. Rich. Say that again. The shadow of my sorrow? Ha! let's see: 'Tis very true, my grief lies all within; And these external manners of lament Are merely shadows to the unseen grief, That swells with silence in the tortur'd soul; There lies the substance: and I thank thee, king, For thy great bounty, that not only giv'st Me cause to wail, but teachest me the way How to lament the cause. I'll beg one boon, And then be gone, and trouble you no more. Shall I obtain it? Boling Name it, fair cousin. K. Rich. Fair cousin? Why, I am greater than a king:

7 Pack.

For, when I was a king, my flatterers
Were then but subjects; being now a subject,
I have a king here to my flatterer.
Being so great, I have no need to beg.
Boling. Yet ask.

K. Rich. And shall I have?

Boling. You shall.

K. Rich. Then give me leave to go.
Boling. Whither?

K. Rich. Whither you will, so I were from your sights.

Boling. Go, some of you, convey him to the Tower. K. Rich. O, good! Convey? - Conveyers 8 are you all,

That rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall.

Boling. On Wednesday next, we solemnly set down Our coronation: lords, prepare yourselves.

[Exeunt all but the ABBOT, Bishop of
CARLISLE, and AUMERLE.

Abbot. A woeful pageant have we here beheld.
Car. The woe's to come; the children yet unborn
Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn.
Aum. You holy clergymen, is there no plot
To rid the realm of this pernicious blot ?

Abbot. Before I freely speak my mind herein,
You shall not only take the sacrament
To bury mine intents, but to effect
Whatever I shall happen to devise:

I see your brows are full of discontent,
Your hearts of sorrow, and your eyes of tears;
[Exeunt KING RICHARD, Some Lords, and Come home with me to supper; I will lay
A plot, shall show us all a merry day.

a Guard.

[Exeunt

ACT V.

SCENE I.-London. A Street leading to the Tower. | Think, I am dead; and that even here thou tak'st,

Enter QUEEN, and Ladies.

Queen. This way the king will come; this is the way
To Julius Cæsar's ill-erected tower 9,
To whose flint bosom my condemned lord
Is doom'd a prisoner, by proud Bolingbroke:
Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth
Have any resting for her true king's queen.

Enter KING RICHARD, and Guards.
But soft, but see, or rather do not see,
My fair rose wither: Yet look up; behold;
That you in pity may dissolve to dew,
And wash him fresh again with true-love tears.
Ah, thou, the model where old Troy did stand;
Thou map of honour; thou king Richard's tomb,
And not king Richard; thou most beauteous inn,
Why should hard-favour'd grief be lodg'd in thee,
When triumph is become an ale-house guest?

K. Rich. Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so,
To make my end too sudden: learn, good soul,
To think our former state a happy dream;
From which awak'd, the truth of what we are
Shows us but this: I am sworn brother, sweet,
To grim necessity; and he and I
Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to France,
And cloister thee in some religious house:
Our holy lives must win a new world's crown,
Which our profane hours here have stricken down.
Queen. What, is my Richard both in shape and

mind

Transform'd, and weaken'd? Hath Bolingbroke
Depos'd thine intellect? hath he been in thy heart?
The lion, dying, thrusteth forth his paw,
And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage,
To be o'erpower'd; and wilt thou, pupil-like,
Take thy correction mildly? kiss the rod,
And fawn on rage with base humility,
Which art a lion, and a king of beasts?

As from my death-bed, my last living leave.
In winter's tedious nights, sit by the fire,
With good old folks; and let them tell thee tales
Of woeful ages, long ago betid:

And, ere thou bid good night, to quit their grief,
Tell thou the lamentable fall of me,

And send the hearers weeping to their beds.
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.
North. My lord, the mind of Bolingbroke is
chang'd;

You must to Pomfret, not unto the Tower.
And, madam, there is order ta'en for you;
With all swift speed you must away to France.
K. Rich. Northumberland, thou ladder where-
withal

The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne,
The time shall not be many hours of age
More than it is, ere foul sin, gathering head,
Shall break into corruption: thou shalt think,
Though he divide the realm, and give thee half,
It is too little, helping him to all;
And he shall think, that thou, which know'st the way
To plant unrightful kings, wilt know again,
To pluck him headlong from the usurped throne.
Being ne'er so little urg'd, another way

The love of wicked friends converts to fear;

That fear, to hate; and hate turns one, or both,
To worthy danger, and deserved death.

North. My guilt be on my head, and there an end.
Take leave, and part; for you must part forthwith.
K. Rich. Doubly divorc'd? - Bad men, ye violate
A two-fold marriage; 'twixt my crown and me;
And then, betwixt me and my married wife.

K. Rich. A king of beasts, indeed! if aught but Let me unkiss the oath 'twixt thee and me;

beasts,

I had been still a happy king of men.

And yet not so, for with a kiss 'twas made.
Part us, Northumberland; I towards the north,

Good sometime queen, prepare thee hence for Where shivering cold and sickness pines the clime; My wife to France; from whence, set forth in pomp,

France:

Jugglers, also robbers,

9 Tower of London.

1 Requite, repay.

She came adorned hither like sweet May,
Sent back like Hallowmas 2, or short'st of day.
Queen. And must we be divided? must we part?
K. Rich. Ay, hand from hand, my love, and heart
from heart.

Queen. Banish us both, and send the king with me.
North. That were some love, but little policy.
Queen. Then whither he goes, thither let me go.
K. Rich. So two, together weeping, make one woe.
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.

K. Rich. Twice for one step I'll groan, the way
being short,

And piece the way out with a heavy heart.
Come, come, in wooing sorrow, let's be brief,
Since, wedding it, there is such length in grief.
One kiss shall stop our mouths, and dumbly part;
Thus give I mine, and thus I take thy heart.

[They kiss. Queen. Give me mine own again; 'twere no good part,

To take on me to keep and kill thy heart.

So, now I have mine own again, begone,
That I may strive to kill it with a groan.

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.

Enter AUMERle.

Duch. Here comes my son Aumerle.
York.
Aumerle that was;
But that is lost, for being Richard's friend,
And, madam, you must call him Rutland now:
I am in parliament pledge for his truth,
And lasting fealty to the new-made king.

Duch. Welcome, my son: Who are the violets now,
That strew the green lap of the new-come spring?
Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not:
Heaven knows, I had as lief be none, as one.

York. Well, bear you well in this new spring of time,

[Kiss again. Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime, What news from Oxford? hold those justs and

K. Rich. We make woe wanton with this fond delay:

Once more adieu; the rest let sorrow say.

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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 imag'ry, had said at once, —
Jesu preserve thee! welcome, Bolingbroke:
Whilst he, from 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.
Duch. Alas, poor Richard! where rides he the

while?

York. As, in a theatre, the eyes of men,
After a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage,
Are idly bent on him that enters next,
Thinking his prattle to be tedious:

Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes
Did scowl on Richard; no man cried, God save him!
No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home :

2 Allhallows, i. e. All-saints, Nov. 1.

triumphs?

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Yea, look'st thou pale? let me see the writing.
Aum. My lord, 'tis nothing.
York.

No matter then who sees it:
I will be satisfied, let me see the writing.
Aum. 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,

Duch.

What should you fear?
'Tis nothing but some bond that he is enter'd 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.

Aum. I do beseech you, pardon me; I may not
show it.

York. I will be satisfied; let me see it, I say.
[Snatches it, and reads.
foul treason! villain! traitor! slave!
Duch. What is the matter, my lord?

Treason

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Re-enter Servant, with Boots.
York. Bring me my boots, I will unto the king.
Duch. Strike him, Aumerle. — Poor boy, thou

art amaz'd:

Hence, villain; never more come in my sight.
[To the Servant.
York. Give me my boots, I say.
Duch. 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?
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.

Duch.

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.

Duch.

Hadst thou groan'd for him,
As I have done, thou'dst be more pitiful.
York. Make way, unruly woman. [Exit.
Duch. 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:
Begone.

SCENE III.

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[Exeunt.

Windsor. A Room in the Castle.

Aum. God save your grace. I do beseech your
majesty,

To have some conference with your grace alone.
Boling. Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here
alone. - [Exeunt PERCY and Lords.
What is the matter with our cousin now?
Aum. 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.

Boling. Intended, or committed, was this fault
If but the first, how heinous e'er it be,
To win thy after-love, I pardon thee.
Aum. Then give me leave that I may turn the key,
That no man enter till my tale be done.
Boling. Have thy desire.

[AUMERLE locks the door. York. [Within.] My liege, beware; look to thy

self;

Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there.

Boling. Villain, I'll make thee safe. [Drawing.
Aum. Stay thy revengeful hand;

Thou hast no cause to fear.

York. [Within.] Open the door, secure, fool-
hardy king:

Shall I, for love, speak treason in thy face?
Open the door, or I will break it open.

[BOLINGBROKE opens the door. Enter YORK.

Boling. 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.
Aum. Remember, as thou read'st, thy promise past:

Enter BOLINGBROKE, as King; PERCY, and other I do repent me; read not my name there,

Lords.

Boling. Can no man tell of my unthrifty son?
'Tis full three months since I did see him last:-
If any plague hang over us, 'tis he.

I would to heaven, 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;
While 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 these triumphs held at Oxford.
Boling. And what said the gallant?

My heart is not confederate with my hand.

York. 'Twas, 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.
Boling. O heinous, strong, and bold conspiracy!—
O loyal father of a treacherous son!

Thou sheer 4, 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;
This deadly plot in thy digressing son,
And thy abundant goodness shall excuse

York. So shall he spend mine honour with his
shame,

As thriftless sons their scraping fathers' gold.

Percy. His answer was, he would unto the Mine honour lives when his dishonour dies,

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.
Boling. As dissolute, as desperate! yet through
both

I see some sparkles of a better hope,
Which elder days may happily bring forth.
But who comes here?

Enter AUMERLE hastily.
Where is the king?
What means
Our cousin, that he stares and looks so wildly?

Aum. Boling.

Or my sham'd life in his dishonour lies;
Thou kill'st me in his life; giving him breath,
The traitor lives, the true man's put to death.
Duch. [Within.] What ho, my liege! for Hea-
ven's sake let me in.

Boling. What shrill-voic'd suppliant makes this
eager cry?

Duch. A woman, and thine aunt, great king; tis I.
Speak with me, pity me, open the door;

A beggar begs, that never begg'd before.
Boling. My dangerous cousin, let your mother in ;
I know she's come to pray for your foul sin.
• Transparent.

SCENE IV.

York. If thou do pardon, whosoever pray, More sins, for this forgiveness, prosper may. This fester'd joint cut off, the rest rests sound; This, let alone, will all the rest confound.

Enter DUCHESS.

Duch. O king, believe not this hard-hearted man. York. Thou frantick woman, what dost thou make here?

Duch. Sweet York, be patient: Hear me, gentle [Kneels.

liege.

Boling. Rise up, good aunt.

Duch.

Not yet, I thee beseech :
For ever will I kneel upon my knees,
And never see day that the happy sees,
Till thou give joy; until thou bid me joy,
By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy.
Aum. 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!
Duch. 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 shall kneel till to the ground they grow:
His prayers are full of false hypocrisy ;
Ours, of true zeal and deep integrity.
Our prayers do out-pray his; then let them have
That mercy which true prayers ought to have.
Boling. Good aunt, stand up.
Duch.

Nay, do not say - stand up;
But, pardon, first; and afterwards stand up.
And 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. —
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.
Boling. Good aunt, stand up.
Duch.

Pardon is all the suit I have in hand.

Boling. I pardon him, as God shall pardon me.
Duch. O happy vantage of a kneeling knee!

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Exton. And, speaking it, he wistfully 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 V. - Pomfret. The Castle.

Enter KING RICHARD.
K. Rich. I have been studying how I may compare
This prison, where I live, unto the world:
And, for because the world is populous,
And here is not a creature but myself,

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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 misfortune on the back
Of such as have before endur'd the like.
Thus play I, in one person, many people,
I do not sue to stand, And none contented: Sometimes am I king;
Then treason makes me wish myself a beggar;
And so I am: Then crushing penury
Persuades me I was better when a king;
Then am I king'd again: and, by-and-by,
Think that I ain unking'd by Bolingbroke,
And straight am nothing: -but whate'er I am,
Nor I, nor any man, but that but man is,
With nothing shall be pleas'd till he be eas'd
With being nothing. - Musick do I hear? [Musick.
Ha, ha! keep time: How sour sweet musick is,
When time is broke, and no proportion kept!
So is it in the musick 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

Yet am I sick for fear: speak it again;
Twice saying pardon, doth not pardon twain,
But makes one pardon strong.
Boling.

I pardon him.

With all my heart

Duch.
A god on earth thou art.
Boling. But for our trusty brother-in-law,-and
the abbot,

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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, too, adieu :
Your mother well hath pray'd, and prove you true.
Duch. Come, my old son;- I pray heaven make
thee new.
[Exeunt.

watch,

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