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Ross. It stands your grace upon, to do him right. |(Since presently your souls must part your bodies,)
York. My lords of England, let me tell you this : 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 death. But in this kind to come, in braving arms,
You have misled a prince, a royal king,
A happy gentleman in blood and lineaments,
You have, in manner, with your sinful hours,
Made a divorce betwixt his queen and him,
And stain'd the beauty of a fair queen's cheeks
With tears drawn from her eyes by your foul wrongs. And let him ne'er see joy, that breaks that oath. Myself, a prince, by fortune of my birth,
York. Well, well, I see the issue of these arms; 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, But, if I could, by him that gave me life,
And sigh'd my English breath in foreign clouds, I would attach you all, and make you stoop
Eating the bitter bread of banishment : Unto the sovereign mercy of the king.
Whilst you have fed upon my signories, But, since I cannot, be it known to you,
Dispark'd my parks, and felld my forest woods, I do remain as neuter. So, fare you well,
From my own windows torn my household coat, Unless you please to enter in the castle,
Raz’d out my impress, leaving me no sign,
Save men's opinions, and my living blood,
This, and much more, much more, than twice all this, To Bristol castle, which, they say, is held
Condemns you to the death.--See them deliver'd over By Bushy, Bagot, and their complices,
To execution and the hand of death! The caterpillars of the commonwealth,
Bushy. More welcome is the stroke of death to me, Which I have sworn to weed, and pluck away. Than Bolingbroke to England. - Lords, farewell! York. It may be, I will go with you :- but yet I'll Green. My comfort is, that heaven will take our pause;
souls, For I am loath to break our country's laws.
And plague injustice with the pains of hell. Nor friends, nor foes, to me welcome you are: Boling. My lord Northumberland, see them disThings, past redress, are now with me past care.
(Exeunt. [Exeunt Northumberland and others, with
For heaven's sake, fairly let her be entreated!
Take special care my greetings be deliver'd ! And yet we hear no tidings from the king;
York. A gentleman of mine l have dispatch'd Therefore we will disperse ourselves : farewell ! With letters of your love to her at large. Sal. Stay yet another day, thou trusty Welshman! Boling. Thanks, gentle uncle! - Come, lords, away, The king reposeth all his confidence
To fight with Glendower and his complices ! In thee.
Awhile to work, and, after, holiday! (Exeunt. Cup. 'Tis thonght, the king is dead; we will not stay. SCENE II. — The coast of Wales. A castle in view. The bay-trees in our country are all wither'd, Flourish : drums and trumpets. Enter King RICHARD, And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven,
Bishop of Carlisle, AUMERlF, und Soldiers. The pale-facd moon looks bloody on the earth, K. Rich. Barkloughly castle call you this at hand ? And lean-look'd prophets whisper fearful change; Aum. Yea, my lord. How brooks your grace the air, Rich men look sad, and ruffians dance and leap, - After late tossing on the breaking seas? The one, in fear to lose, what they enjoy,
K. Rich. Needs must Ilikeit well; I weep for joy, The other, to enjoy by rage and war.
To stand upon my kingdom once again. — These signs forerun the death or fall of kings. Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand, Farewell! our countrymen are gone and fled, Though rebels wound thee with their horses' hoofs. As well assur'd, Richard their king is dead. (Exit. As a long parted mother with her child
Sal. Ah, Richard ! with the eyes of heavy mind, Plays fondly with her tears, and smiles in meeting, I see thy glory, like a shooting star,
So, weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth, Fall to the base earth from the firmament!
And do thee favour with my royal hands. Thy sun sets weeping in the lowly west,
Feed not thy sovereign's foe, my gentle earth, Witnessing storms to come, woe, and unrest. Nor with thy sweets comfort his rav’nous sense! Thy friends are fled, to wait upon thy foes,
But let thy spiders, that suck up thy venom, And crossly to thy good all fortune goes. (Exit. And heavy-gaited toads, lie in their way,
Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet,
Which with usurping steps do trample thee!
And when they from thy bosom pluck a flower,
Throw death upon thy sovereign's enemies. —
Mock pot my senseless conjuration, lords ! Bushy and Green, I will not vex your souls
This earth shall have a feeling, and these stones
Prove armed soldiers, ere her native king
Than can my care-tun'd tongue deliver him. Shall falter under foul rebellion's arms.
K. Rich. Mine ear is open, and my heart preparid: Bishop. Fear not, my lord! That Power, that made The worst is worldly loss, thou canst unfold. you king,
Say, is my kingdom lost? why, 'twas my care ;
And what loss is it, to be rid of care?
Greater he shall not be; if he serve God,
We'll serve him too, and be his fellow so: The proffer'd means of succour and redress.
Revolt our subjects ? that we cannot mend; Aun. He means, my lord, that we are too remiss, They break their faith to God, as well as us, Whilst Boling broke, through our security,
Cry woe, destruction, ruin, loss, decay:
K. Rich. Discomfortable cousin! know'st thou not, Scroop. Glad am I, that your highness is so arin'd
As if the world were all dissolv'd to tears,
So high above his limits swells the rage He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines,
of Bolingbroke, covering your fearfulland And darts his light through every guilty hole, With hard bright steel, and hearts harder than steel. Then murders, treasons, and detested sins,
White beards have arm’d their thin and hairless The cloak of night being pluck'd from off their backs, scalps Stand bare and
naked, trembling at themselves ? Against thy majesty; boys with women's voices So when this thief, this traitor, Bolingbroke,
Strive to speak big, and clap their female joints Who all this while hath revell’d in the night, In stiff unwieldy arms against thy crown: Whilst we were wand'ring with the antipodes, Thy very beadsmen learn to bend their bows Shall see us rising in our throne the east,
or double-fatal yew against thy state; His treason will sit blushing in his face,
Yea, distaff-women manage rusty bills Not able to endure the sight of day,
Against thy seat; both young and old rebel, But, self-affrighted, tremble at his sin.
And all goes worse, than I have power to tell. Not all the water in the rough rude sea
K. Rich. Too well, too well, thou tell’st a tale so ill. Can wash the balm from an anointed king;
Where is the earl of Wiltshire? Where is Bagot? The breath of worldly men cannot depose
What is become of Bushy? Where is Green?
That they have let the dangerons enemy
I warrant, they have made peace with Bolingbroke. A glorious angel; then, if angels fight,
Scroop: Peace have they made with him, indeed, Weak men must fall; for heaven still guards the right. Enter SalisBORY.
K. Rich. O villains, vipers, damn’d without redemWelcome, my lord !- How far off lies your power? ption !
Sal. Nor near, nor further off, my gracious lord, Dogs, easily won to fawn on any man!
Snakes in my heart-blood warm’d,that sting my hear And bids me speak of nothing but despair.
Three Judasses, each one thrice worse, than Judas! One day too late, I fear, my noble lord,
Would they make peace? terrible hell make war Hath clouded all thy happy days on earth!
Upon their spotted souls for this offence! 0, call back yesterday, bid timereturn,
Scroop. Sweet love, I see, changing his property, And thou shalt have twelve thousand fighting men! Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate. — To-day, to-day, unhappy day, too late,
Again uncurse their souls! their peace is made O’erthrows thy joys, friends, fortune, and thy state; With heads, and not with hands: those, whom you For all the Welhsmen, hearing thou wert dead,
curse, Are gone to Bolingbroke, dispers’d, and fled. Have felt the worst of death's destroying wonnd,
Aum. Comfort, my liege! why looks your grace so And lie full low, grav'd in the hollow ground. pale?
Aum. Is Bushy, Green, and the earl of Wiltshire, K. Rich. But now, the blood of twenty thousand dead?
Scroop. Yea, all of them at Bristol lost their heads. Did triumph in my face, and they are fled;
Aum. Where is the duke my father with his power? And, till so much blood thither come again,
K. Rich. No matter where; of comfort no man Have not I reason to look pale and dead ? All souls, that will be safe, fly from my side;
Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs, For time hath set a blot npon my pride.
Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes Aum. Comfort, my liege, remember who you are! Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth! K. Rich. I had forgot myself: am I not king ? Let's choose executors, and talk of wills : Awake, thou sluggard majesty! thou sleep’st. And yet not so--for what can we bequeath, Is not the king's name forty thousand names? Save our deposed bodies to the ground? Arm, arm, my name! a puny subject strikes Our lapds, our lives, and all are Bolingbroke's, At thy great glory.-Look not to the ground, And nothing can we call our own, but death, Ye favourites of a king! Are we not high?
And that small model of the barren earth,
And tell sad stories of the death of kings:
How some have been depos’d, some slain in war, Scroop. More health and happiness betide my liege, Some haunted by the ghosts, they have depos'd,
some poison’d by their wives, some sleeping kill'd, With some few private friends, upon this coast. All murder'd; - for within the hollow crown, North. The news is very fair and good, my lord ; That rounds the mortal temple of a king,
Richard, not far from hence, hath hid his head. Keeps Death his court and there the antic sits, York. It would beseem the lord Northumberland, Scoiling his state, and grinning at his pomp, To say: king Richard. — Alack the heavy day, Allowing him a breath, a little scene
When such a sacred king should hide his head! To monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with looks; North. Your grace mistakes me; only to be brief, Infusing him with self and vain conceit,
Left I his title out. As if this flesh, which walls about our life,
York. The time hath been, Were brass impregnable; and, humour'd thus, Would you have been so brief with him, he would Comes at the last, and with a little pin
Have been so brief with you, to shorten you, .Bores through his castle wall, and farewell, king! For taking so the head, your whole head's length. Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood Boling. Mistake not, uncle, further than you should ! With solemn reverence; throw away respect, York. Take not;good cousin, further than you should, Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty !
Lest you mis-take! The heavens are o'er your head. For you have but mistook me all this while: Boling. I know it, uncle, and oppose not I live with bread like you, feel want, taste grief, Myself against their will.—But who comes here? Need friends :- subjected thus,
Enter PERCY. How can you say to me — I am a king?
Well, Harry; what, will not this castle yield ? Cur. My lord, wise men ne'er wail their present Percy. The castle royally is mann'd, my lord, woes,
Against thy entrance.
It doth contain a king: king Richard lies
Aum. My father hath a power, enquire of him, Of holy reverence; who, I cannot learn.
North. Belike, it is the bishop of Carlisle.
[To North. broke, I come
Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle, To change blows with thee for our day of doom. Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parle This agne-fit of fear is over-blown;
Into his ruin'd ears, and thus deliver: An easy task it is, to win our own.
Harry Bolingbroke Say, Scroop, where lies our uncle with his power ? On both his knees doth kiss king Richard's hand, Speak sweetly, man, although thy looks be sour! And sends allegiance, and true faith of heart Scroop. Men judge by the complexion of the sky to his most royal person : hither come The state and inclination of the day:
Even at his feet to lay my arms and power, So may you by my dull and heavy eye,
Provided that, my banishment repeal’d, My tongue hath but a heavier tale to say.
And lands restor'd again, be freely granted. I play the torturer, by small and small,
If not, I'll use the advantage of my power, To lenghten out the worst, that must be spoken : And lay the summer's dust with showers of blood, Your uncle York hath join'd with Bolingbroke, Rain’d from the wounds of slaughter'd Englishmen: And all your northern castles yielded up,
The which how far off from the mind of Bolingbroke And all your southern gentlemen in arms
It is, such crimson tempest should bedrench Upon his party.
The fresh green lap of fair king Richard's land, K. Rich. Thou hast said enough. —
My stooping duty tenderly shall show. Beshrew thee, cousin, which didst lead me forth Go, siguify as much, while here we march
[To Aumerle. Upon the grassy carpet of this plain.Of that sweet way, I was in to despair!
(Northumberland advances to the castle with What say you now? What comfort have we now?
a trumpet. By heaven, l'll hate him everlastingly,
Let's march without the noise of threat’ning drum, That bids me be of comfort any more.
That from the castle's totter'd battlements Go, to Flint castle! there I'll pine away:
Our fair appointments may be well perus’d. A king, woe's slave, shall kingly woe obey. Methinks, king Richard and myself should meet That power, I have, discharge ; and let them go With no less terror than the elements, To ear the land, that hath some hope to grow; Of fire and water, when their thund'ring shock For I have none -- Let no man speak again At meeting tears the cloudy cheeks of heaven. To alter this; for counsel is but vain.
Be he the fire, I'll be the yielding water: Aum. My liege, one word!
rage be his, while on the earth I rain K. Rich. He does me double wrong,
My waters; on the earth, and not on him. That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue. March on, and mark king Richard, how he looks. Discharge my followers, let them hence ! - Away! A parle sounded, and answered by another trumpet From Richard's night, to Bolingbroke's fair day. within. Flourish. Enter on the walls King Ri
(Exeunt. CHARD, the Bishop of CARLISLE, AUMERLE, SCROOP, and
SALISBURY. SCENEIII. Wales. Before Flint Castle. York. See, see, king Richard doth himself appear, Enter, with drum and colours, BolingBROKE and For- As doth the blushing discontented sun
ces; York, NORTHUMBERLAND, and Others. From out the fiery portal of the east, Boling. So that by this intelligence we learn, When he perceives, the envious clouds are bent The Welshmen are dispers’d, and Salisbury To dim his glory, and to stain the track Is gone to meet the king, who lately landed, of his bright passage to the occident.
Yet looks he like a king; behold, his eye,
That laid the sentence of dread banishment As bright as is the eagle's, lightens forth
On yon proud man, should take it off again Controlling majesty! Alack, alack, for woe, With words of sooth! O, that I were as great, That any harm should stain so fair a show!
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
Or not remember, what I must be now! To watch the fearful bending of thy knee. Swell'st thou,proud heart? I'll give thee scope to beat,
[To Northumberland. Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me. Because we thought ourself thy lawful king: Aum. Northumberland comes back from BolingAnd if we be, how dare thy joints forget
broke. To pay their awful duty to our presence?
K. Rich, What must the king do now? Must he If we be not, show us the hand of God,
I'll give my jewels, for a set of beads;
My scepter, for a palmer's walking-staff; Is must'ring in his clouds, o our behalf,
My subjects, for a pair of carved saints ; Armies of pestilence; and they shall strike And my large kingdom, for a little grave, Your children yet unborn, and unbegot,
A little little grave, an obscure grave: That lift your vassal hands against my head, Or I'll be buried in the king's highway, And thread the glory of my precious crown. Some way of common trade, where subjects' feet Tell Boling broke, ( for yond, methinks, he is,) May hourly trample on their sovereign's head: That every stride, he makes upon my land, For on my heart they tread, now whilst I live; Is dangerous treason. He is come to ope
And, buried once, why not upon my head? — The purple testament of bleeding war;
Anmerle, thou weep’st, my tender-hearted cousin !But ere the crown, he looks for, live in peace, We'll make foul weather with despised tears ; Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers' sons Our sighs, and they, shall lodge the summer corn, Shall ill become the flower of England's face, And make a dearth in this revolting land. Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace Or shall we play the wantons with our woes, To scarlet indignation, and bedew
And make some pretty match with shedding tears? Her pastures' grass with faithful English blood. As thus: to drop them still upon one place,
North. The king of heaven forbid, our lord the king Till they have fretted us a pair of graves
Within the earth, and, therein laid, Therein lies Be rush'd upon! Thy thrice-noble cousin,
Two kinsmen, digg'd their graves with weeping Harry Bolingbroke, doth hambly kiss thy hand, eyes? And by the honourable tomb he swears,
Would not this ill do well ? — Well,'well, I see, That stands upon thy royal grandsire's bones, I talk bud idly, and you mock at me. – And by the royalties of both your bloods, Most mighty prince, my lord Northumberland, Currents, that spring from one most gracious head, What says king Bolingbroke? will his majesty And by the buried hand of warlike Gaunt, Give Richard leave to live, till Richard die? And by the worth and honour of himself,
You make a leg, and Bolingbroke says -ay. Comprising all, that may be sworn or said:
North. My lord, in the base court he doth attend His coming hither hath no further scope,
To speak with you; may't please you to come down ? Than for his lineal royalties, and to beg
K. Rich. Down, down, I come; like glistering Enfranchisement immediate on his knees.
Phaeton, Which on thy royal patty granted once,
Wanting the manage of unruly jades. His glittering arms he will commend to rust,
(North. retires to Boling. His barbed steeds to stables, and his heart In the base court? Base court, where kings grow base, To faithful service of your majesty..
To come at traitors' calls, and do them grace. This swears he, as he is a prince, is just :
In the base court? Come down? Down court! down And, as I am a gentleman, I credit him.
king! K. Rich, Northumberland, say, - thus the king For night-owls shriek, where monnting larks should returns:
[Exeunt, from above. His noble cousin is right welcome hither,
Boling. What says his majesty ?
North. Sorrow and grief of heart
Yet he is come.
(To Aumerle. And show fair duty to his majesty!-To look so poorly, and to speak so fair?
My gracious lord,
(Kneeling Shall we call back Northumberland, and send K. Rich. Fair cousin, you debase your princely knee, Defiance to the traitor, and so die?
To make the base earth proud with kissing it: Aum. No, good my lord ; let's fight with gentle Me rather had, my heart might feel your love, words,
Than my unpleas’d eye see your courtesy. Till time lend friends, and friends their helpful Up, cousin, up; your heart is up, I know, swords.
Thus high at least, (touching his own head. ) alK. Rich. O God! 0 God! that e'er this tongue of though your knee be low. mine,
Boling. My gracious lord, I come but for mine own.
K. Rich. Your own is yours and I am yours, and all. Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf.
, by Bolingbroke; to have,
I mean, the earl of Wiltshire, Bushy, Green. That know the strong'st and surest way to get. 1 Serv. What, are they dead ? Uncle, give me your hand! nay, dry your eyes, Gard. They are, and Bolingbroke Tears show their love, but want their remedies.- Hath seiz'd the wasteful king.-Oh! What pity is it, Cousin, I am too young to be your father, That he had not so trimm'd and dress'd his land, Though you are old enough to be my heir. As we this garden! We at time of year What you will have, I'll give, and willing too; Do wound the bark, the skin of our fruit-trees, For do we must, what force will have us do.- Lest, being over-proud with sap and blood, Set on towards London. - Cousin, is it so? With too much riches it confound itself. Boling. Yea, my good lord.
Had he done so to great and growing men, K. Rich. Then I must not say, no. · [Flourish. Exeunt. They might have lived to bear, and he to taste SCENE IV.-Langley. The Duke of York's Garden. Their fruits of duty. All superfluons branches
Enter the Queen, and two Ladies. We lop away, that bearing boughs may live. Queen. What sport shall we devise here in this Had he done so, himself had borne the crown, garden,
Which waste of idle hours hath quite thrown down. To drive away the heavy thought of care?
1 Serv. What, think you then, the king shall be 1 Lady. Madam, we'll play at bowls.
depos'd? Queen. 'Twill make me think,
Gard. Depress'd he is already; and depos'd, The world is full of rubs, and that my fortune "Tis doubt, he will be. Letters came last night Runs 'gainst the bias.
To a dear friend of the good duke of York's, 1 Lady. Madam, we will dance.
That tell black tidings. Queen. My legs can keep no measure in delight, Queen. 0, I am press'd to death, When my poor heart no measure keeps in grief: Through want of speaking! – Thou, old Adam's Therefore, no dancing, girl ; some other sport!
likeness, (Coming from her concealment. 1 Lady. Madam, we'll tell tales.
Set to dress this garden, how dares Queen. Of sorrow, or of joy?
Thy harsh-rude tongue sound this unpleasing news? 1 Lady. Of either, madam.
What Eve, what serpent, hath suggested thee Queen. Of neither, girl!
To make a second fall of cursed man? For if of joy, being altogether wanting,
Why dost thou say, king Richard is depos’d? It doth remember me the more of sorrow;
Dar'st thou, thou little better thing, than earth, Or if of grief, being altogether had,
Divine his downfal ? Say, where, when, and how, It adds more sorrow to my want of joy.
Cam'st thon by these ill tidings? speak, thou wretch ! For what I have, I need not to repeat,
Gard. Pardon me, madam ! little joy have I, And what I want, it boots not to complain. To breathe this news; yet, what I say, is true. 1 Lady. Madam, I'll sing.
King Richard, he is in the mighty hold Queen. 'Tis well, that thou hast cause;
Of Bolingbroke; their fortunes both are weigh'd. But thou should'st please me better, would'st thou In your lord's scale is nothing but himself, weep.
And some few vanities, that make him light; 1 Lady. I could weep, madam, would it do yon good. But in the balance of great Bolingbroke, Queen.And I could weep,would weeping do me good, Besides himself, are all the English peers, And never borrow any tear of thee.
And with that odds he weighs king Richard down. But stay, here come the gardeners :
Post you to London, and you'll find it so; Let's step into the shadow of these trees! I speak no more, than every one doth know.
Enter a Gardener, and two Servants. Queen. Nimble mischance, that art so light of foot, My wretchedness unto a row of pins,
Doth not thy embassage belong to me, They'll talk of state ; for every one doth so And am I last, that knows it? 0, thou think'st Against a change. Woe is forerun with woe. To serve me last, that I may longest keep
(Queen and Ladies retire. Thy sorrow in my breast.-Come, ladies, go, Gard. Go, bind thou up yon' dangling apricocks, To meet at London London's king in woel Which, like unruly children, make their sire What, was I born to this ? that my sad look Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight! Should grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke?Give some supportance to the bending twigs ! Gardener, for telling me this news of woe, Go thou; and like an executioner,
I would, the plants thou graft'st, may never grow. Cut off the heads of too-fast-growing sprays,
(Exeunt Queen and Ladies. That look too lofty in the commonwealth!
Gard. Poor queen! so that thy state might be vo All must be even in our government. —
worse, You thus employ'd, I will go root away
I would, my skill were subject to thy curse. The noisome weeds, that without profit suck Here did she drop a tear; here, in this place, The soil's fertility from wholesome flowers. I'll set a bank of rue, sour herb of grace :
1 Serv. Why should we, in the compass of a pale, Rue, even for ruth, here shortly shall be seen, ķeep law, and form, and due proportion,
Sa the remembrance of a weeping queen. (Exeunt. 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,
Аст Ir. Her fruit-trees all unprun'd, her hedges ruin'd, SCENE I. - London. Westminster Hall. Her knots disorder'd, and her wholesome herbs The Lords spiritual on the right side of the throne ; Swarming with caterpillars?
the Lords temporal on the left; the Commons below. Gard. Hold thy peace!
Enter BOLINGBROKE, AUMERLE, SURREY, NOTHUMBERHe, that hath suffer'd this disorder'd spring, LAND, Percy, FITZWATER, another Lord, Bi