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.

[the crown;

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:
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 griefs; still am I king of those.

[down.

[crown.
Boling. Part of your cares you give me with your
K. Rich. Your cares set up, do not pluck my cares
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; no, ay ;-for I must nothing be;
Therefore, no, no, for I resign to thee.

Now mark me how I will undo myself:-
I give this heavy weight from off my head,
And this unwieldy sceptre from my hand,
The pride of kingly sway from out my heart;
With mine own tears I wash away my balm,
With mine own hands I give away my crown,
With mine own tongue deny my sacred state,
With mine own breath release all duteous oaths:
All pomp and majesty I do forswear;
My manors, rents, revenues, I 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 earthly 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 [Offers 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, 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, despatch; 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 man, Nor no man's lord; I have no name, no title,

No, not that name was given me at the font,

But 'tis usurp'd:-Alack the heavy day,

That I have worn so many winters out,

And know not now what name to call myself!
O, that I were a mockery king of snow,
Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke,
To melt myself away in water-drops!-

Good king, great king-(and yet not greatly good),
An if my word be sterling yet in England,
Let it command a mirror hither straight;
That it may show me what a face I have,
Since it is bankrupt of his majesty.

Boling. Go some of you, and fetch a looking-glass.
[Exit an Attendant.
North. Read o'er this paper, while the glass doth come.
K. Rich. Fiend! thou torment'st me ere I come to hell.
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 an 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 outfac'd by Bolingbroke?

A brittle glory shineth in this face: [upon the Ground.
As brittle as the glory is the face;
"Dashes the Glass

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: 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 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 Abb. Bish. of Carlisle, and Aum.
Abbot. A woful pageant bave 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:-
1 see your brows are full of discontent,

Your hearts of sorrow, and your eyes of tears ;
Come home with me to supper; I will lay
A plot, shall show us all a merry day.

[Exeunt.

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 Cæsar's ill-erected tower,

To whose flint bosom my condemned lord
Is doom'd a prisoner by proud Bolingbroke:
Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth
Have any resting for her true king's queen.

Enter KING RICHARD and 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;