'Tis very true, my grief lies all within ; 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, 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. [sights. K. Rich. Whither you will, so I were from your 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 Aum. You holy clergymen, is there no plot ACT V. [Exeunt. To grim necessity; and he and I Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to France K. Rich. A king of beasts, indeed; if aught but 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 wherewithal And he shall think, that thou, which know'st the way To pluck him headlong from the usurped throne. SCENE I.-London. A Street leading to the Tower. The love of wicked friends converts to fear; 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 und 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 Shews us but this: I am sworn brother, sweet, That fear, to hate; and hate turns one, or both, North. My guilt be on my head, and there an end. 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 woc. 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 And piece the way out with a heavy heart. [short, 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 doubly 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. [Kiss again. K. Rich. We make woe wanton with this fond delay: Once more, adieu; the rest let sorrow say. [Exeunt. SCENE II. The same. A Room in the Duke of York's Palace. Enter YORK and his DUCHESS. Duch. My lord, you told me you would tell the rest, When weeping made you break the story off Of our two cousins coming into London. York. Where did I leave? Duch. At that sad stop, my lord, Where rude misgovern'd hands, from windows' tops, Threw dust and rubbish on king Richard's head. York. Then, as I said, the duke, great Bolingbroke, Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed, Which his aspiring rider seem'd to know,With slow, but stately pace, kept on his course, While all tongues cried-God save thee, Bolingbroke! 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, Bare-headed, 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? Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes 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? dum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not: God knows, I had as hef be none, as one. York. Well, bear you well, in this new spring of time, Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime. [umphs? What news from Oxford? hold those justs and triAum. For aught I know, my lord, they do. York. You will be there, I know. Aum. If God prevent it not; I purpose so. York. What seal is that, that hangs without thy boYea, look'st thou pale? let me see the writing. [som? 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. [it. God for his mercy! what treachery is here! York. Give me my boots, I say; saddle my horse:- Duch. [Erit Servant. What's the matter? 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.- York. Give me my boots, I say. A dozen of them here have ta'en the sacrament, Duch. He shall be none; We'll keep him here: Then what is that to him? Fond woman! were he twenty times my son Duch. SCENE III.-Windsor. A Room in the Castle. I would to God, my lords, he might be found: Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes, 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? Percy. His answer was, he would unto the 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. Enter AUMERLE, hastily. Aum. 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, Boling. Intended, or committed, was this fault? 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 thyself; Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there. Boling. Villain, I'll make thee safe. Aum. Stay thy revengeful hand, Thou hast no cause to fear. [Drawing. York. [Within.] Open the door, secure, fool-hardy Shall I, for love, speak treason to thy face? [king: 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 shew. Aum. Remember, as thou read'st, thy promise past: I do repent ine; read not my name there, 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, 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; And thy abundant goodness shall excuse This deadly blot in thy digressing son. York. So shall my virtue be his vice's bawd; And now chang'd to The Beggar and the King.— Enter DUCHESS. Duch. O king, believe not this hard-hearted man, Love, loving not itself, none other can. York. Thou frantic woman, what dost thou make Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear? [here? Duch. Sweet York, be patient: Hear me, gentle [Kneels. liege. For ever will I kneel upon my knees, [Kneels. York. Against them both, my true joints bended be. [Kneels. Ill may'st thou thrive, if thou grant any grace! His He prays but faintly, and would be denied ; Duch. Nay, do not say—stand up; But pardon, first; and afterwards, stand up. An 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; Boling. I pardon him, as God shall pardon me. Boling. With all my heart I pardon him. new. SCENE IV. Enter EXTON and a Servant. Exton. Didst thou not mark the king, what words he spake? Serv. Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear? Exton. And speaking it, he wistfully look'd on me; SCENE V.-Pomfret. The Dungeon of the Castle. Enter KING RICHARD. K. Rich. I have been studying how I may compare As thus,-Come, little ones; and then again,— To'shread the postern of a needle's eye. Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot Is pointing still, in cleaning them from tears. Groom. Hail, royal prince! K. Rich. Groom. I was a poor groom of thy stable, king, This hand hath made him proud with clapping him. Keep. Fellow, give place; here is no longer stay. [To the Groom. K. Rich. If thou love me, 'tis time thou wert away. Groom. What my tongue dares not, that my heart shall say. [Exit. Keep. My lord, wilt please you to fall to? K. Rich. Taste of it first, as thou art wont to do. Keep. My lord, I dare not; sir Pierce of Exton, who Lately came from the king, commands the contrary: K. Rich. The devil take Henry of Lancaster, and Patience is stale, and I am weary of it. [thee! [Beats the Keeper. Keep. Help, help, help! Enter EXTON, and Servants, armed. K. Rich. How now? what means death in this rude assault? Villain, thy own hand yields thy death's instrument. [Snatching a weapon, and killing one. Go thou, and fill another room in hell. [He kills another, then ExTON strikes him down. That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire, That staggers thus my person.-Exton, thy fierce hand Hath with the king's blood stain'd the king's own land. Mount, mount, my soul! thy seat is up on high; Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here to die. [Dies. Exton. As full of valour, as of royal blood : Both have I spilt; O, would the deed were good! For now the devil, that told me-I did well, Says, that this deed is chronicled in hell. This dead king to the living king I'll bear ;— Take hence the rest, and give them burial here. [Ex. SCENE VI.-Windsor. A Room in the Castle. Flourish. Enter BOLINGBROKE and YORK, with Lords and Attendants. Boling. Kind uncle York, the latest news we hear Is that the rebels have consum'd with fire Our town of Cicester in Glostershire; But whether they be ta'en, or slain, we hear not. Enter NORTHUMBERLAND. Welcome, my lord? What is the news? North. First, to thy sacred state wish I all happiThe next news is,-I have to London sent [ness The heads of Salisbury, Spencer, Blunt, and Kent The manner of their taking may appear At large discoursed in this paper here. [Presenting a paper. Boling. We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains; And to thy worth will add right worthy gains. Enter FITZWater. The heads of Brocas, and sir Bennet Seely; Boling. Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be forgot; Right noble is thy merit, well I wot. Enter PERCY, with the BISHOP OF CARLISLE. With clog of conscience, and sour melancholy, Percy. The grand conspirator, abbot of Westminster, Hath yielded up his body to the grave; But here is Carlisle living, to abide Thy kingly doom, and sentence of his pride. Boling. Carlisle, this is your doom Choose out some secret place, some reverend room, More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life; So, as thou liv'st in peace, die free from strife: For though mine enemy thou hast ever been, High sparks of honour in thee have I seen. : Enter EXTON, with Attendants bearing a coffin. Exton. Great king, within this coffin I present Thy buried fear; herein all breathless lies The mightiest of thy greatest enemies, Richard of Bourdeaux, by me hither brought. Boling. Exton, I thank thee not; for thou hast A deed of slander, with thy fatal hand, [wrought Upon my head, and all this famous land. [deed. Exton. From your own mouth, my lord, did I this Boling. They love not poison that do poison need, Nor do I thee; though I did wish him dead, I hate the murderer, love him murdered. The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour, But neither my good word, nor princely favour: With Cain go wander through the shade of night, And never shew thy head by day nor light.Lords, I protest, my soul is full of woe, That blood should sprinkle me, to make me grow : Come, mourn with me for what I do lament, And put on sullen black, incontinent; I'll make a voyage to the Holy land, To wash this blood off from my guilty hand :March sadly after; grace my mournings here, In weeping after this untimely bier. [Exeunt. This play is extracted from the Chronicle of Holinshed, in which many passages may be found which Shakspeare has, with very little alteration, transplanted into his scenes; particularly a speech of the bishop of Carlisle, in defence of King Richard's unalienable right, and immunity from human jurisdiction. Jonson, who, in his Catiline and Sejanus, has inserted many speeches from the Roman historians, was perhaps induced to that practice by the example of Shakspeare, who had condescended sometimes to copy more ignoble writers. But Shakspeare had more of his own than Jonson; and, if he sometimes was willing to spare his fabour, shewed, by what he performed at other times, that his extracts were made by choice or idleness rather than necessity. This play is one of those which Shakspeare has apparently revised; but as success in works of invention is not always proportionate to labour, it is not finished at last with the happy force of some other of his tragedies, nor can be said much to affect the passions, or enlarge the understanding.-JOHNSON. The notion that Shakspeare revised this play, though it has long prevailed, appears to me extremely doubtful; or, to speak more plainly, I do not believe it.-MALONE. |