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Here, on this side, my hand; on that side, thine. But they can see a sort 7 of traitors here.
Nay, if I turn mine eyes upon myself,
For I have given here my soul's consent, The other down, unseen, and full of water :
To undeck the pompous body of a king; That bucket down, and full of tears, am I,
Make glory base; and sovereignty, a slave; Drinking my griefs, whilst you mount up on high. Proud majesty, a subject; state, a peasant.
Boling. I thought you had been willing to resign. North. My lord, K. Rich. My crown, I am; but still my griefs K. Rich. No lord of thine, thou haught, insulte are mine:
ing man, You may my glories and my state depose,
Nor no man's lord; I have no name, no title, But not my griet; still am I king of those. No, not that name was given me at the font, Boling. Part of your cares you give me with your But 'tis usurp'd: Alack the heavy day,
That I have worn so many winters out, K. Rich. Your cares set up do not pluck my And know not now what name to call myself ! cares down.
0, that I were a mockery king of snow, My care is — loss of care, by old care done; Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke, Your care is — gain of care, by new care won: To melt myself away in water-drops ! The cares I give, I have, though given away;
great king, - (and yet not greatly They tend the crown, yet still with me they stay
good,) Boling. Are you contented to resign the crown ? An if my word be sterling yet in England K. Rich. Ay, no;—no, ay; — For I must nothing Let it command a mirror hither straight; be;
That it may show me what a face I have, Therefore no no, for I resign to thee.
Since it is bankrupt of his majesty. Now mark me how I will undo myself:
Boling. Go, some of you, and fetch a lookingI give this heavy weight from off my head,
[Erit an Attendant. And this unwieldy scepter from my hand,
North. Read o'er this paper, while the glass doth The pride of kingly sway from out my heart ; With mine own tears I wash away my balmo,
K. Rich. Fiend! thou torment'st me. With mine own hands I give away my crown, Boling. Urge it no more, my lord Northumberland. With mine own tongue deny my sacred state,
North. The commons will not then be satisfied. With mine own breath release all duteous oaths : k’. Rich. They shall be satisfied: I'll read enough, All poinp and majesty I do forswear;
When I do see the very book indeed My manors, rents, revenues, I forego;
Where all my sins are writ, and that's myself. My acts, decrees, and statutes, I deny:
Re-enter Attendant, with a Glass. God pardon all oaths, that are broke to me!
Give me that glass, and therein will I read. God keep all vows unbroke, are made to thee!
No deeper wrinkles yet ? Hath sorrow struck Make that nothing have, with nothing griev'd;
So many blows upon this face of mine, And thou with all pleas'd, that hast all achiev'd !
And made no deeper wounds ? – 0, flattering glass, Long mayst thou live in Richard's seat to sit,
Like to my followers in prosperity, And soon lie Richard in an earthy pit!
Thou dost beguile me! Was this face the face, God save king Henry, unking'd Richard says, And send him many years of sunshine days!
That every day under his household roof
Did keep ten thousand men ? Was this the face, What more remains ?
That, like the sun, did make beholders wink? North.
No more, but that
Was this the face, that fac'd so many follies,
[Offering a Paper. And was at last out-fac'd by Bolingbroke? These accusations, and these grievous crimes,
A brittle glory shineth in this face : Committed by your person, and your followers,
As brittle as the glory is the face ; Against the state and profit of this land ;
(Dasheth the Glass against the ground. That, by confessing them, the souls of men
For there it is, crack'd in a hundred shivers. May deem that you are worthily depos'd.
Mark, silent king, the moral of this sport, K. Rich. Must I do so? and must I ravel out
How soon my sorrow hath destroy'd my face. My weav'd up follies ? Gentle Northumberland,
Boling. The shadow of your sorrow bath destroy'd If thy offences were upon record,
The shadow of your face. Would it not shame thee in so fair a troop,
Say that again. To read a lecture of them? If thou wouldst,
The shadow of my sorrow? Ha! let's see : There shouldst thou find one heinous article,
"Tis very true, my grief lies all within ; Containing the deposing of a king,
And these external manners of lament And cracking the strong warrant of an oath,
Are merely shadows to the unseen grief, Mark'd with a blot, mark'd in the book of heaven;
That swells with silence in the tortur'd soul ; Nay, all of you, that stand and look upon me, There lies the substance: and I thank thee, king, Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait myself,
For thy great bounty, that not only giv'st Though some of you are showing outward pity,
Me cause to wail, but teachest me the way Have here deliver'd me to my sour cross,
How to lament the cause. I'll beg one boon, And water cannot wash away your sin.
And then be gone, and trouble you no more. North. My lord, despatch : read o'er these ar
Shall I obtain it? ti:'es.
Name it, fair cousin. K. Rich. Mine eyes are full of tears, I cannot see:
K. Rich. Fair cousin ? Why, I am greater than And yet salt water blinds them not so much,
a king: 6 Oil of consecration.
For, when I was a king, my flatterers
Boling. On Wednesday next, we solemnly set down Were then but subjects; being now a subject, Our coronation : lords, prepare yourselves. I have a king here to my flatterer.
[Ereunt all but the ABBOT, BISHOP OF Being so great, I have no need to beg.
CARLISLE, and AUMERLE. Boling. Yet ask.
Abbot. A woeful pageant have we here beheld. K. Rich. And shall I have ?
Car. The woe's to come; the children yet unborn Boling. You shall.
Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn. K. Rich. Then give me leave to go.
Aum. You holy clergymen, is there no plot Boling. Whither?
To rid the realm of this pernicious blot ? K. Rich. Whither you will, so I were from your Abbot. Before I freely speak my mind herein, sights.
You shall not only take the sacrament
I see your brows are full of discontent,
[Exeunt King Richard, some Lords, and come home with me to supper; I will lay
TA plot, shall show us all a merry day. (Exeunt
SCENE I.-London. A Street leading to the Tower. | Think, I am dead; and that even here thou tak’st,
As from my death-bed, my last living leave.
In winter's tedious nights, sit by the fire,
Of woeful ages, long ago betid: To whose flint bosom my condemned lord
And, ere thou bid good night, to quit I their grief, Is doom'd a prisoner, by proud Bolingbroke:
Tell thou the lamentable fall of me, Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth
And send the hearers weeping to their beds. Have any resting for her true king's queen.
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, My fair rose wither: Yet look up; behold;
For the deposing of a rightful king.
Enter NORTHUMBERLAND, attended.
North. My lord, the mind of Bolingbroke is Thou map of honour; thou king Richard's tomb,
chang'd; And not king Richard; thou most beauteous inn,
You must to Pomfret, not unto the Tower. Why should hard-favour'd grief be lodg'd in thee,
And, madam, there is order ta’en for you ; When triumph is become an ale-house guest ?
With all swift speed you must away to France. K. Rich. Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so,
K. Rich. Northumberland, thou ladder where
withal To make my end too sudden : learn, good soul, To think our former state a happy dream;
The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne, From which awak'd, the truth of what we are
The time shall not be many hours of age Shows us but this: I am sworn brother, sweet,
More than it is, ere foul sin, gathering head, To grim necessity; and he and I
Shall break into corruption : thou shalt think, Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to France, It is too little, helping him to all;
Though he divide the realm, and give thee half, And cloister thee in some religious house: Our holy lives must win a new world's crown,
And he shall think, that thou, which know'st the way Which our profane hours here have stricken down.
To plant unrightful kings, wilt know again, Queen. What, is my Richard both in shape and Being ne’er so little urg'd, another way mind
*To pluck him headlong from the usurped throne, Transform'd, and weaken'd? Hath Bolingbroke
The love of wicked friends converts to fear; Depos'd thine intellect? hath he been in thy heart? That fear, to hate ; and hate turns one, or both, The liun, dying, thrusteth forth his paw,
To worthy danger, and deserved death. And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage
North. My guilt be on my head, and there an end. To be o'erpower'd; and wilt thou, pupil-like,
Take leave, and part; for you must part forthwith. Take thy correction mildly? kiss the rod,
K. Rich. Doubly divorc'd ? - Bad men, ye violate And fawn on rage with base humility,
A two-fold marriage; 'twixt my crown and me; Which art a lion, and a king of beasts?
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,
And yet not so, for with a kiss 'twas made. I had been still a happy king of men.
Part us, Northumberland; I towards the north, Good sometime queen, prepare thee hence for Where shivering cold and sickness pines the clime; France :
My wife to France; from whence, set forth in pomp, 8 Jugglers, also robbers. 9 Tower of London,
1 Requite, repay.
She came adorned hither like sweet May,
But dust was thrown upon his sacred head ; Sent back like Hallowmas?, or short'st of day. Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off,
Queen. And must we be divided ? must we part? His face still combating with tears and smiles, K. Rich. Ay, hand from hand, my love, and heart | The badges of his grief and patience, – froin heart.
That, had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd Quren. Banish us both, and send the king with me. The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted, North. That were some love, but little policy. And barbarism itself have pitied him. Queen. Then whither he goes, thither let me go. But heaven hath a hand in these events;
K. Rich. So two, together eping, make one woe. To whose high will we bound our calm contents. Weep thou for me in France, I for thee here; To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now, Better far off, than near, be ne'er the near'. Whose state and honour I for aye allow. Go, count thy way with sighs; I, mine with groans. Queen. So longest way shall have the longest
Duch. Ilere comes my son Aumerle. K. Rich. Twice for one step I'll groan, the way York.
Aumerle that was; being short,
But that is lost, for being Richard's friend, And piece the way out with a heavy heart.
And, madam, you must call him Rutland now : Come, come, in wooing sorrow, let's be brief,
I am in parliament pledge for his truth, Since, wedding it, there is such length in grief.
And lasting fealty to the new-made king. One kiss shall stop our mouths, and dumbly part; Duch. Welcome, my son: Who are the violets now, Thus give I mine, and thus I take thy heart. That strew the green lap of the new-come spring ?
[ They kiss.
Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not: Queen. Give me mine own again ; 'twere no good Heaven knows, I had as lief be none, as one. part,
York. Well, bear you well in this new spring of To take on me to keep and kill thy heart.
[Kiss again. Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime, So, now I have mine own again, begone,
What news from Oxford ? hold those justs S and That I may strive to kill it with a groan.
triumphs? K. Rich. We make woe wanton with this fond
Aum. For aught I know, my lord, they do. delay :
York. You will be there, I know. Once more adieu ; the rest let sorrow say.
Aum. I purpuse so.
[Ereunt. York. What seal is that, that hangs without thy SCENE II. The same. A Room in the Duke
bosom? of York's Palace.
Yea, look’st thou pale? let me see the writing. Enter York, and his DUCHESS.
Aum. My lord, 'tis nothing. Duch. My lord, you told me, you would tell the York.
No inatter then who sees it : rest,
I will be satisfied, let me see the writing. When weeping made you break the story off,
Aum. I do beseech your grace to pardon me; Of our two cousins coming into London.
It is a matter of small consequence, York. Where did I leave ?
Which for some reasons I would not have seen. Duch. At that sad stop, my lord,
York. Which for some reasons, sir, I mean to see. Where rude misgovern'd hands, from windows' tops, I fear, I fear, Threw dust and rubbish on king Richard's head. Duch.
What should you fear ? York. Then, as I said, the duke, great Boling- 'Tis nothing but some bond that he is enter'd into broke,
For gay apparel, 'gainst the triumph day. Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed,
York. Bound to hiinself? what doth he with a bond Which his aspiring rider seem'd to know,
That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool. With slow, but stately pace, kept on his course, Boy, let me see the writing. While all tongues cried God save thee, Boling- Aum. I do beseech you, pardon me; I may not broke!
show it. You would have thought the very windows spake,
York. I will be satisfied ; let me see it, I say. So many greedy looks of young and old
(Snatches it, and rears. Through casements darted their desiring eyes Treason' foul treason! villain! traitor! slave ! Upon his visage; and that all the walls,
Duch. What is the matter, my lord ? With painted imag'ry, had said at once,
York. Ho! who is within there? (Enter a Servant. Jesu preserve thee! welcome, Bolingbroke:
Saddle my horse. Whilst he, from one side to the other turning, Ileaven for his mercy! what treachery is here! Bareheaded, lower than his proud steed's neck, Duch. Why, what is it, my lord ? Bespake them thus, - I thank you, countrymen :
York. Give me my boots, I say; saddle my And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along.
horse : Duch. Alas, poor Richard ! where rides he the Now by mine honour, by my life, my troth, while ?
I will appeach the villain.
Eril Servari: York. As, in a theatre, the eyes of men,
What's the matter? After a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage,
York. Peace, foolish woman. Are idly bent on him that enters next,
Duch. I will not peace :
What is the mat'er, Thinking bis prattle to be tedious : Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes Aum. Good mother, be content; it is no more Did scowl on Richard; no man cried, God save him! Than my poor life must answer. No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home : Duch.
Thy life answer! 2 Allhallows, i. e. All-saints, Nov. 1.
3 Tilts and tournaments.
Re-enler Servant, with Bools.
Aum. God save your grace. I do beseech your York. Bring me my boots, I will unto the king.
majesty, Duch. Strike bim, Aumerle. — Poor boy, thou To have some conference with your grace alone. art amaz'd:
Boling. Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here Hence, villain ; never more come in my sight.
alone. - (Exeunt Percy and Lords.
[To the Servant. | What is the matter with our cousin now? York. Give me my boots, I say.
Aum. For ever may my knees grow to the earth, Duch. Why, York, what wilt thou do?
[K'neels. Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own?
My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth, Have we more sons ? or are we like to have? Unless a pardon, ere I rise, or speak. And wilt thou pluck my fair son from mine age,
Boling. Intended, or committed, was this fault And rob me of a happy mother's name?
If but the first, how heinous e'er it be, Is he not like thee? is he not thine own?
To win thy after-love, I pardon thee. York. Thou fond mad woman,
Aum. Then give me leave that I may turn the key, Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy?
That no man enter till my tale be done. A dozen of them here have ta’en the sacrament,
Boling. Have thy desire. And interchangeably set down their hands,
[AUMERLE locks the door. 'To kill the king at Oxford.
York. [Within.] My liege, beware ; look to thyDuch.
He shall be none; We'll keep him here : Then what is that to him?
Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there. York. Away,
Boling. Villain, I'll make thee safe. [Drawing. Fond woman! were he twenty times my son,
Aum. Stay thy revengeful hand; I would appeach him.
Thou hast no cause to fear. Duch.
Hadst thou groan'd for him, York. [Within.] Open the door, secure, foolAs I have done, thou’dst be more pitiful.
hardy king : York. Make way, unruly woman.
(Exil. Shall I, for love, speak treason in thy face? Duch. After, Aumerle; mount thee upon his horse; Open the door, or I will break it open. Spur, post; and get before him to the king,
(BOLINGBROKE opens the door. And beg thy pardon ere he do accuse thee.
Enter YORK. I'll not be long bebind; though I be old,
Boling. What is the matter, uncle ? speak ? I doubt not but to ride as fast as York :
Recover breath; tell us how near is danger, And never will I rise up from the ground,
That we may arm us to encounter it. Till Bolingbroke have pardon'd thee: Away:
York. Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt Begone.
The treason that my haste forbids me show, SCENE III. - Windsor. A Room in the Castle.
Aum. Remember, as thou read’st, thy promise past: Enter BOLINGBROKE, as hing; Percy, and other I do repent me; read not my name there, Lords.
My heart is not confederate with my hand. Boling. Can no man tell of my unthrifty son ?
York. 'Twas, villain, ere thy hand did set it 'Tis full three months since I did see him last:
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!Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes,
O loyal father of a treacherous son! And beat our watch, and rob our passengers ;
Thou sheer 4, immaculate, and silver fountain,
From whence this stream through muddy passages, While he, young, wanton, and effeminate boy, Takes on the point of honour, to support
Hath held his current, and defild himself ! So dissolute a crew.
Thy overflow of good converts to bad; Percy. My lord, some two days since I saw the This deadly plot in thy digressing son,
And thy abundant goodness shall excuse prince ; And told him of these triumphs held at Oxford.
York. So shall he spend mine honour with his
shame, Boling. And what said the gallant? Percy. His answer was, — he would unto the Mine honour lives when his dishonour dies,
As thriftless sons their scraping fathers' gold. stews; And from the common'st creature pluck a glove,
Or my sham'd life in his dishonour lies; And wear it as a favour; and with that
Thou kill'st me in his life; giving him breath, He would unhorse the lustiest challenger.
The traitor lives, the true man's put to death. Boling. As dissolute, as desperate ! yet through
Duch. [Within.) What ho, my liege! for Hea
ven's sake let me in. both I see some sparkles of a better hope,
Boling. What shrill-voic'd suppliant makes this Which elder days may happily bring forth.
eager cry? But wino comes here?
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 coine to pray for your foul sin. Boling
What means Our cousin, that he stares and looks so wildly?
York. If thou do pardon, whosoever pray,
Enter Exton and a Servant.
Erlon. Didst thou not mark the king, what words
he spake? Enter Duchess.
Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear?
Was it not so? Duch. O king, believe not this hard-hearted man.
Those were his York. Thou frantick woman, what dost thou make
Exton. Have I no friend? quoth he: he spake Duch. Sweet York, be patient: Hear me, gentle
it twice, liege.
And urg'd it twice together; did he not ?
Serv. He did.
Exton. And, speaking it, he wistfully look'don me; For ever will I kneel upon my knees,
As who should say, — I would, thou wert the man And never see day that the happy sees,
That would divorce this terror from my heart; Till thou give joy; until thou bid me joy,
Meaning, the king at Pomfret. Come, let's go ; By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy.
I am the king's friend, and will rid his foe. (Exeunt. Aum. Unto my mother's prayers, I bend my knee. SCENE V. - Pomfret. The Castle.
(Kneels. York. Against them both, my true joints bended
Enter King RICHARD. be.
K. Rich. I have been studying how I may compare Ill mayst thou thrive, if thou grant any grace ! This prison, where I live, unto the world :
Duch. Pleads he in earnest ? look upon his face; And, for because the world is populous,
And here is not a creature but myself, His words come from his mouth, ours from our I cannot do it; — Yet I'll hammer it out. breast :
My brain I'll prove the female to my soul; He prays but faintly, and would be denied ; My soul, the father : and these two beget We pray with heart, and soul, and all beside : A generation of still-breeding thoughts, His weary joints would gladly rise, I know; And these same thoughts people this little world; Our knees shall kneel till to the ground they grow: In humours, like the people of this world; His prayers are full of false hypocrisy;
For no thought is contented. The better sort, Ours, of true zeal and deep integrity.
As thoughts of things divine, — are intermix'd Our prayers do out-pray his; then let them have With scruples, and do set the word itseif That mercy which true prayers ought to have. Against the word: Boling. Good aunt, sta .d up.
Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot Duch.
Nay, (lo not say - stand up; Unlikely wonders : how these vain weak nails But, pardon, first; and afterwards stand up. May tear a passage through the finty ribs And if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach,
Of this hard world, my ragged prison walls ; Pardon — should be the first word of thy speech. And, for they cannot, die in their own pride. I never long'd to hear a word till now ;
Thoughts tending to content, flatter themselves, – Say – pardon, king ; let pity teach thee how: That they are not the first of fortune's slaves, The word is short, but not so short as sweet ;
Nor shall not be the last; like silly beggars, No word like, pardon, for kings' mouths so meet. Who, sitting in the stocks, refuge their shame, Thine eye begins to speak, set thy tongue there : That many have, and others must sit there : Or, in thy piteous heart plant thou thine ear ; And in this thought they find a kind of ease, That, hearing how our plaints and prayers do pierce, Bearing their own misfortune on the back Pity may move thee, pardon to rehearse.
Of such as have before endur'd the like. Boling. Good aunt, stand up.
Thus play I, in one person, many people, Duch.
I do not sue to stand, And none contented : Sometimes am I king; Pardon is all the suit I have in hand.
Then treason makes me wish myself a beggar ; Boling. I pardon him, as God shall pardon me. And so I am : Then crushing penury
Duch. O happy vantage of a kneeling knee ! Persuades me I was better when a king; Yet am I sick for fear : speak it again ;
Then am I king'd again : and, by-and-by, Twice saying pardon, doth not pardon twain, Think that I ain unking'd by Bolingbroke, But makes one pardon strong.
And straight am nothing: — but whate'er I am, Boling.
With all my heart Nor I, nor any man, but that but man is, I pardon him.
With nothing shall be pleas'd till he be easid Duch. A god on earth thou art.
With being nothing. — Musick do I hear? [Musick. Boling. But for our trusty brother-in-law,—and Ha, ha! keep time: How sour sweet musick is, the abbot,
When time is broke, and no proportion kept ! With all the rest of that consorted crew,
So is it in the musick of men's lives. Destruction straight shall dog them at the heels. And here have I the daintiness of ear, Good uncle help to order several powers
To check time broke in a disorder'd string; To Oxford, or where'er these traitors are :
But, for the concord of my state and time, They shall not live within this world, I swear, Had not an ear to hear my true time broke. But I will have them, if I once know where. I wasted time, and now doth time waste me. Uncle, farewell, — and cousin, too, adieu :
For now hath time made me his numb’ring clock : Your mother well hath pray'd, and prove you tije. My thoughts are minutes; and, with sighs, they jar Duch. Come, my old son;- I pray heaven make their watches on unto 'mine eyes, the outward thee new.