« PreviousContinue »
Yet looks he 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!
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!
K. Rich. We are amaz'd; and thus long have we Or that I could forget, what I have been! 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 scepter,
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 must'ring 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 thread the glory of my precious crown.
Tell Bolingbroke, (for yond, methinks, he is,)
That every stride, he makes upon my land,
Is dangerous treason. He is come to ope
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.
North. 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 thy 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.
K. Rich, Northumberland, say,
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.
Aum. Northumberland comes back from Boling-
K. Rich, What must the king do now? Must he
The king shall do it. Must he be depos'd?
The king shall be contented. Must he lose
The name of king? o'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 alms-man's gown;
My figur'd goblets, for a dish of wood;
My scepter, 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 highway,
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, Therein lies
Two kinsmen, digg'd their graves with weeping
Would not this ill do well?-Well, ́well, I see,
I talk bud idly, and you mock 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.
North. My lord, in the base court he doth attend
To speak with you; may't please you to come down?
K. Rich. Down, down, I come; like glistering
Wanting the manage of unruly jades.
[North. retires to Boling. 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
thus the king For night-owls shriek, where mounting larks should sing.
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 !—
We do debase ourself, 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?
Aum. No, good my lord; let's fight with gentle
Till time lend friends, and friends their helpful
K. Rich. O God! O God! that e'er this tongue of mine,
Boling. What says his majesty?
North. Sorrow and grief of heart
Makes him speak fondly, like a frantic man:
Yet he is come.
Enter King RICHARD, and his Attendants, below.
Boling. Stand all a part,
And show fair duty to his majesty!-
My gracious lord,-
K. Rich. 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,
Thus high at least, [touching his own head.] al-
though your knee be low.
Boling. My gracious lord, I come but for mine own.
K. Rich. Your own is yours and I am yours, and all. Boling. So far be mine, my most redoubted lord, As my true service shall deserve your love.
K. Rich. Well you deserve. They well deserve to have,
That know the strong'st and surest way to get.-
Uncle, give me your hand! 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?
Boling. Yea, my good lord.
K. Rich. Then I must not say, no. [Flourish. Exeunt. SCENE IV.-Langley. 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?
1 Lady. Madam, we'll play at bowls.
Queen. 'Twill make me think,
The world is full of rubs, and that my fortune
Runs 'gainst the bias.
1 Lady. Madam, we will 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! 1 Lady. Madam, we'll tell tales. Queen. Of sorrow, or of joy? 1 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.
1 Lady. Madam, I'll sing.
Queen. 'Tis well, that thou hast cause;
But thou should'st please me better, would'st thou weep.
1 Lady.I could weep, madam, would it do yon good. Queen. And I could weep,would weeping do me good, And never borrow any tear of thee. But stay, here come the gardeners : Let's step into the shadow of these trees!Enter a Gardener, and two Servants. My wretchedness unto a row of pins, They'll talk of state; for every one doth so Against a change. Woe is forerun with woe.
[Queen and Ladies retire.
Gard. Go, bind thou up yon' dangling 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 the commonwealth!
All must be even in our government. →
You thus employ'd, I will go root away
The noisome weeds, that without profit suck
The soil's fertility from wholesome flowers.
1 Serv. Why should we, in the compass of a pale,
Keep law, and form, and due proportion,
Showing, as in a model, our firm estate?
When our sea-walled garden, the whole land,
Is full of weeds, her fairest flowers chok'd up,
Her fruit-trees all unprun'd, her hedges ruin'd,
Her knots disorder'd, and her wholesome herbs
Swarming with caterpillars?
Gard. Hold thy peace!
He, that hath suffer'd this disorder'd spring,
Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf.
The weeds,that his broad-spreading leaves 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.
1 Serv. What, are they dead?
Gard. They are, and Bolingbroke
Hath seiz'd the wasteful king.-Oh! 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 with sap and blood,
With too much riches it confound itself.
Had he done so to great and growing men,
They might have lived to bear, and he to taste
Their fruits of duty. All superfluons branches
We lop away, that bearing boughs may live.
Had he done so, himself had borue the crown,
Which waste of idle hours hath quite thrown down.
1 Serv. What, think you then, the king shall be
Gard. Depress'd he is already; and depos'd,
'Tis doubt, he will be. Letters came last night
To a dear friend of the good duke of York's,
That tell black tidings.
Queen. O, I am press'd to death,
Through want of speaking! - Thou, old Adam's
likeness, [Coming from her concealment.
Set to dress this garden, how dares
Thy harsh-rude tongue sound this unpleasing news?
What Eve, what serpent, hath suggested thee
To make a second fall of cursed man?
Why dost thou say, king Richard is depos'd?
Dar'st thou, thou little better thing, than earth,
Divine his downfal? Say, where, when, and how,
Cam'st thou by these ill tidings? speak, thouwretch !
Gard. Pardon me, madam! little joy have I,
To breathe this news; yet, what I say, is true.
King Richard, he is in the mighty hold
Of Bolingbroke; their fortunes both are weigh'd.
In your lord's scale is nothing but himself,
And some few vanities, that make him light;
But in the balance of great Bolingbroke,
Besides himself, are all the English peers,
And with that odds he weighs king Richard down.
Post you to London, and you'll find it so;
I speak no more, than every one doth know.
Queen. Nimble mischance, that art so light of foot,
Doth not thy embassage belong to me,
And am I last, that knows it? O, thou think'st
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?-
Gardener, for telling me this news of woe,
shop of CARLISLE, Abbot of WESTMINSTER, and
Attendants. Officers behind, with BAGOT.
Boling. Call forth Bagot!-
Now, Bagot, freely speak thy mind,
What thou dost know of noble Gloster'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.
Boling.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 Gloster'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 my 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.
Aum. Princes, and noble lords,
What answer shall I make to this base man? -
Shall I so much dishonour my fair stars,
On equal terms to give him chastisement?
Either I must, or have mine honour soil'd
With the attainder of his sland'rous lips.—
There is my gage, the manual seal of death,
That marks thee out for hell: I say, thou liest,
And will maintain, what thou hast said is false,
In thy heart-blood, thou being all too base
To stain the temper of my knightly sword.
Boling. Bagot, forbear, thou shalt not take it up.
Aum. Excepting one, I would he were the best
In all this presence, that hath mov'd me so.
Fitz. If that thy valour stand on sympathies,
There is my gage, Aumerle, in gage to thine.
By that fair sun, that shows me where thou stand'st,
I heard thee say, and vauntingly thou spak'st it,
That thou wert cause of noble Gloster's death.
If thou deny'st it, twenty times thou liest,
And I will turn thy falsehood to thy heart,
Where it was forged, with my rapier's point.
Aum. Thou dar'st not, coward, live to see that day.
Fitz. Now, by my soul, I would, it were this hour.
Aum. Fitzwater, thou art damn'd to hell for this.
Percy. Aumerle, thou liest; his honour is as true,
In this appeal, as thou art all unjust.
And, that thou art so, there I throw my gage,
To prove it on thee, to the extremest point
Of mortal breathing. Seize it, if thou darʼst!
Aum. And if I do not, may my hands rot off,
And never brandish more revengeful steel
Over the glittering helmet of my foe!
Lord. I task the earth to the like, forsworn Aumerle:
And spur thee on with full as many lies,
As may be holla'd in thy treacherous ear
From sun to sun. There is my honour's pawn;
Engage it to the trial, if thou dar'st!
Aum. Who sets me else? by heaven, I'll throw at all.
I have a thousand spirits in one breast,
To answer twenty thousand such as you.
Surrey. My lord Fitzwater, I do remember well
The very time, Aumerle and you did talk.
Fitz. My lord, 'tis true: you were in presence then;
And you can witness with me, this is true.
Surrey. As false, by heaven, as heaven itself is true.
Fitz. Surrey, thou liest!
Surrey. Dishonourable boy!
That lie shall lye so heavy on my sword,
That it shall render vengeance and revenge,
Till thou the lie-giver, and that lie, do lye
In earth as quiet, as thy father's scull.
In proof whereof, there is my honour's pawn;
Engage it to the trial, if thou dar'st!
Fitz. How fondly dost thou spur a forward horse!
If I dare eat, or drink, or breathe, or live,
I dare meet Surrey in a wilderness,
And spit upon him, whilst I say, he lies,
And lies, and lies. There is my bond of faith,
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.
Aum. Some honest Christian trust me with a gage,
That Norfolk lies! here do I throw down this,
If he may be repueal'd to try his honour.
Boling. 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 land and signories; when he's return'd,
Against Aumerle we will enforce this trial.
Car. That honourable day shall ne'er 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.
Boling. Why, bishop, is Norfolk dead?
Car. As sure as I live, my lord.
Boling. Sweet peace conduct his sweet soul to the
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 thee
From plume-pluck'd Richard, who with willing soul
Adopts thee heir, and his high scepter yields
To the possession of thy royal hand.
Ascend his throne, descending now from him,
And long live Henry, of that name the fourth!
Boling. In God's name, I'll ascend the regal throne.
Car. 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 nobless 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, forbidit, God,
That, in a Christian climate, souls refin'd
Should show so heinous, black, obscene a deed!
I speak to subjects, and a 'subject speaks,
Stirr'd up by heaven thus boldly for his king.
My lord of Hereford here, whom you call king,
Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford's king:
And if you crown him, let me prophesy,—
The blood of English shall manure the ground,
And future ages groan for this foul act;
Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels,
And, in this seat of peace, tumultuous wars
Shall kin with kin, and kind with kind confound;
Disorder, horror, fear, and mutiny,
Shall here inhabit, and this land pe call'd
The field of Golgotha, and dead men's sculls.
O, if you rear this house against this house,
It will the woefullest division prove,
That ever fell upon this cursed earth.
Prevent, resist it, let it not be so,
Lest child, child's children, cry against you woe!
North. Well have you argu'd,sir; and, for your pains,
Of capital treason we arrest you here.
My lord of Westminster, be it your charge,
To keep him safely till his day of trial.-
May it please you, lords, to grant the commons' suit.
Boling. Fetch hither Richard, that in common view
He may surrender; so we shall proceed
York. I will be his conduct.
Boling. Lords, you that are here under our arrest,
Procure your sureties for your days of answer!
Little are we beholden to your love, [To Carlisle.
And little look'd for at your helping hands.
Re-enter YORK, with King RICHARD, and Officers
bearing the crown, etc.
K. Rich. 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 a while 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,
God save the king!- Will no man say amen?
Am I both priest and clerk? well then, amen!
God save the king! although I be not he;
And yet, amen, if heaven do think him me.
To do what service am I sent for hither?
York. To do that office, of thine own good will,
Which tired majesty did make thee offer:
The resignation of thy state and crown
To Henry Bolingbroke.
K. Rich. Give me the crown!- Here, cousin, seize
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:
The bucket down, and full of tears, am I,
Drinking my griefs, whilst you mount up on high.
Boling. I thought, you had been willing to resign.
K.Rich. My crown, I am; but still my griefs are mine.
You may my glories and my state depose,
But not my griefs; still am I king of those.
Boling. Part of your cares you give me with your
K. Rich. Your cares, set up, do not pluck my cares down.
My care is loss of care, by old care done;
Your care is gain of care, by new care won:
The cares I give, I have, though given away;
They tend the crown, yet still with me they stay.
Boling. Are you contented to resign the crown?
K. Rich. Ay, no ;· -nô, 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 scepter 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.
and majesty I do forswear;
My manors, rents, and revenues, I forego;
My acts, decrees, and statutes, I deny:
God pardon all oaths, that are broke to me!
God keep all vows unbroke, are made to thee!
Make me, that nothing have, with nothing griev'd;
And thou with all pleas'd, that hast all achiev'd!
Long may'st thou live in Richard's seat to sit,
And soon lie Richard in an earthy pit!
God save king Henry, unking'd Richard says,
And send him many years of sunshine days!
What more remains?
North.No more, but that you read [Offering a paper.
These accusations, and these grievous crimes,
Committed by your person, and your followers,
Against the state and profit of this land;
That, by confessing them, the souls of men
May deem, that you are worthily depos'd.
K. Rich. Must I do so? and must I ravel out
My weav'd-up follies? Gentle Northumberland,
If thy offences were upon record,
Would it not shame thee in so fair a troop,
To read a lecture of them? If thou would'st,
There should'st thou find one heinous article,
Containing the deposing of a king,
And cracking the strong warrant of an oath,
Mark'd with a blot, damn'd in the book of 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.
North. My lord, dispatch; read o'er these articles!
K. Rich. 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,
To undeck the pompous body of a king,
Make glory base and sovereignty a slave,
Proud majesty a subject, state a peasant.
North. My lord,
K. Rich. No lord of thine, thou haught, insulting
Nor no man's lord; I have no name, no title,
No, not that name was given me at the font,
But 'tis usurp'd. - Alack the heavy day,
That I have worn so many winters out,
And know not now, what name to call myself!
O, that I were a mockery king of snow,
Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke,
To melt myself away in water-drops!·
Good king,-great king,-(and yet not greatly good,)
An if my word be sterling yet in England,
Let it command a mirror hither straight;
That I may show me what a face I have,
Since it is bankrupt of his majesty.
Boling. Go some of you, and fetch a looking-glass!
(Exit an Attendant.
North. Read o'er this paper, while the glass doth
K. Rich. Fiend! thou torment'st me ere I come to
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?-0, flattering glass,
Like to my followers in prosperity,
Thou dost beguile me! Was this face the face,
That every day under his household roof
Did keep ten thousand men? Was this the face,
That, like the sun, did make beholders wink?
Was this the face, that fac'd so many follies,
And was at last out-fac'd by Bolingbroke?
A brittle glory shineth in this face:
As brittle as the glory is the face;
[Dashes the glass against the ground. For there it is, crack'd in a hundred shivers. Mark, silent king, the moral of this sport, How soon my sorrow hath destroy'd my face. Boling. The shadow of your sorrow hath destroy'd The shadow of your face.
K. Rich. Say that again!
The shadow of my sorrow? Ha! let's see:-
'Tis very true, my grief lies all within,
And these external manners of lament
Are merely shadows to the unseen grief,
That swells with silence in the tortur'd soul.
There lies the substance: and I thank thee, king,
For thy great bounty, that not only giv'st
Me cause to wail, but teachest me the way,
How to lament the cause. I'll beg one boon,
And then be gone, and trouble you no more.
Shall I obtain it?
Boling. Name it, fair cousin!
To whose flint bosom my condemned lord
Is doom'd a prisoner by proud Bolingbroke.
Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth
Have any resting for her true king's queen.
Enter King RICHARD, and Guards.
But soft, but see, or rather do not see,
My fair rose wither! Yet look up! behold,
That you in pity may dissolve to dew,
And wash him fresh again with true-love tears.
Ah, thou, the model, where old Troy did stand!
Thou map of honour! thou king Richard's tomb,
And not king Richard! thou most beauteous inn,
Why should hard-favour'd grief be lodg'd in thee,
When triumph is become an alehouse guest?
K.Rich. Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so,
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?
K. Rich. Fair cousin? Why, I am greater, than a king, K. Rich. A king of beasts, indeed; if aught but beasts,
Being so great, I have no need to beg.
K. Rich. And shall I have?
Boling. You shall.
K. Rich. Then give me leave to go!
K. Rich. Whither you will, so I were from your sights.
Boling. Go, some of you, convey him to the Tower! K. Rich. O, good! Convey?- Conveyers are you all, That rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall.
[Exeunt K. Richard, some Lords, and a Guard. Boling. On Wednesday next, we solemnly set down Our coronation: lords, prepare yourselves!
[Exeunt all but the Abbot, Bishop of Carlisle,
Abbot. A woeful pageant have we here beheld.
Car. The woes to come; the children yet unborn
Shall feel this day as sharp to them, as thorn.
Aum. You holy clergymen, is there no plot
To rid the realm of this pernicious blot?
Abbot. Before I freely speak my mind herein,
You shall not only take the sacrament,
To bury mine intents, but to effect
Whatever I shall happen to devise.
I see your brows are full of discontent,
Your hearts of sorrow, and your eyes of tears,
Come home with me to supper! I will lay
A plot, shall show us all a merry day.
АСТ SCENE I. London. A street leading to the Tower. Enter Queen, and Ladies. Queen. This way the king will come; this is the way To Julius Caesar's ill-erected tower,
I had been still a happy king of men.
Good sometime queen,prepare thee hence for France! 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
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-
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,
Being ne'er so little urg'd, another way
To pluck him headlong from the usurped throne.
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 divore'd? - Bad men, ye violate
A twofold marriage: 'twixt my crown and me,