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shop of Carlisle, Abbot of WESTMINSTER, and In proof whereof, there is my honour's pawn;
Attendants. Officers behind, with Bacot. Engage it to the trial, if thou dar'st!
Fitz. How fondly dost thou spur a forward horse ! Now, Bagot, freely speak thy mind,
If Idare eat, or drink, or breathe, or live, What thou dost know of noble Gloster's death, I dare meet Surrey in a wilderness, Who wrought it with the king, and who perform’d And spit upon him, whilst I say,
he lies, The bloody office of his timeless end !
And lies, and lies. There is my bond of faith, Bagot. Then set before my face the lord Aamerle. To tie thee to my strong correction.Boling.Cousin, stand forth, and look upon that man! As I intend to thrive in this new world, Bugot. My lord Aumerle, I know, your daring tongue Aumerle is guilty of my true appeal. Scorns to unsay what once it hath deliver'd. Besides, I heard the banish'd Norfolk say, In that dead time, when Gloster's death was plotted, That thou, Aumerle, didst send two of thy men, I heard you say: Is not my arm of length,
To execute the noble duke at Calais. That reacheth from the restful English court Aum. Some honest Christian trust me with a gage, As far as Calais, to my uncle's head?
That Norfolk lies! here do I throw down this, Amongst much other talk, that very time,
If he may be repueal'd to try his honour. I heard you say, that you had rather refuse Boling. These differences shall all rest under gage, The offer of an hundred thousand crowns, Till Norfolk be repeal'd: repeal'd he shall be, Than Bolingbroke's return to England ;
And, though mine enemy, restor'd again Adding withal, how blest this land would be, To all his land and signories; when he's return'd, In this your cousin's death.
Against Aumerle we will enforce this trial. Aum. Princes, and noble lords,
Car. That honourable day shall ne'er be seen.What answer shall I make to this base man? - Many a time hath banish'd Norfolk fought Shall I so much dishonour my fair stars,
For Jesu Christ, in glorious Christian field On equal terms to give him chastisement ? Streaming the ensign of the Christian cross, Either I must, or have mine honour soil'd
Against black Pagans, Turks, and Saracens, With the attainder of his sland'rous lips.
And, toil'd with works of war, retir'd himself There is my gage, the manual seal of death, To Italy, and there, at Venice, gave That marks thee out for hell: I say, thou liest, His body to that pleasant country's earth, And will maintain, what thou hast said is false, And his pure soul unto his captain Christ, In thy heart-blood, thou being all too base Under whose colours he had fought so long. To stain the temper of my knightly sword.
Boling. Why, bishop, is Norfolk dead? Boling. Bagot, forbear, thou shalt not take it up. Car. As sure as I live, my lord.
Aum. Excepting one, I would he were the best Boling. Sweet peace conduct his sweet soul to the
Enter York, attended.
Worst in this royal presence may, I speak,
Aum. And if I do not, may my hands rot off, Of noble Richard ! then true nobless would
Learn him forbearance from so foul a wrong.
What subject can give sentence on his king? Lord. I task the earth to the like, forsworn Aumerle: And who sits here that is not Richard's subject? And spur thee on with full as many lies,
Thieves are not judg’d, but they are by to hear, As may be holla'd in thy treacherous ear
Although apparent guilt be seen in them.
His captain, steward, deputy elect,
Be judg'a by subject and inferior breath,
And he himself not present? O, forbid it, God, Surrey. My lord Fitzwater, I do remember well That, in a Christian climate, souls refin'd The very time, Aumerle and you did talk. Should show so heinous, black, obscene a deed ! Fits. My lord, 'tis true: you were in presence then ; I speak to subjects, and a subject speaks, And you can witness with me, this is true. Stirr'd up by heaven thus boldly for his king. Surrey. As false, by heaven, as heaven itself is true. My lord of Hereford here, whom you call king, Fitz. Surrey, thou liest!
Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford's king : Surrey. Dishonourable boy!
And if you crown him, let me prophesy, That lie shall lye so heavy on my sword,
The blood of English shall manure the ground, That it shall render vengeance and revenge, And future ages groan for this foul act; Till thou the lie-giver, and that lie, do lye Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels, In earth as quiet, as thy father's scull.
And, in this seat of peace, tumultuous wars
Shall kin with kin, and kind with kind confound; 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.
My acts, decrees, and statutes, I deny:
God pardon all oaths, that are broke to me! Prevent, resist it, let it not be so,
God keep all vows unbroke, are made to thee! Lest child, child's children, cry against you woe! Make me, that nothing have, with nothing griev'd;
North. Well have you argu'd, sir; and, for your pains, And thou with all pleas'd, that hast all achiev'd!, of capital treason we arrest you here. –
Long may'st thou live in Richard's seat to sit, My lord of Westminster, be it your charge,
And soon lie Richard in an earthy pit! To keep him safely till his day of trial.
God save king Henry, unking'd Richard says,
Boling. Fetch hither Richard, that in common view What more remains ?
North.No more, but that you read (Offering a paper. Without suspicion.
These accusations, and these grievous crimes,
[Exit. Committed by your person, and your followers,
K. Rich. Must I do so? and must I ravel out Re-enter York, with King Richakd, and Officers My weav'd-up follies ? Gentle Northumberland, bearing the crown, etc.
If thy ofl'ences were upon record,
To read a lecture of them? If thou would'st,
And cracking the strong warrant of an oath,
Mark'd with a blot, damn'd in the book of heaven: The favours of these men : were they not mine? Nay, all of you, that stand and look upon me, Did they not sometime cry, All hail! to me? Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait myself, So Judas did to Christ: but he, in twelve,
Though some of you, with Pilate, wash your hands, Found truth in all, but one; I, in twelve thousand, Showing an outward pity; yet you Pilates
Have here deliver'd me to my sour cross, God save the king!- Will no man say amen? And water cannot wash away your sin. Am I both priest and clerk ? well then, ameu! North. My lord, dispatch ; read o'er these articles ! God save the king! although I be not he;
K. Rich. Mine eyes are full of tears, I cannot see: And yet, amen, if heaven do think him me.
And yet salt water blinds them not so much, To do what service am I sent for hither?
But they can see a sort of traitors here. York. To do that office, of thine own good will, Nay, if I turn mine eyes upon myself, Which tired majesty did make thee offer:
I find myself a traitor with the rest; The resignation of thy state and crown
For I have given here my soul's consent, To Henry Bolingbroke.
To undeck the pompous body of a king, K. Rich. Give me the crown ! - Here, cousin, seize Make glory base and sovereignty a slave, the crown!
Proud majesty a subject, state a peasant.
K. Rich. No lord of thine, thou haught, insulting That owes two buckets filling one another;
man, The emptier ever dancing in the air,
Nor no man's lord; I have no name, no title, The other down, unseen, and full of water:
No, not that name was given me at the font, The bucket down, and full of tears, am I,
But'tis usurp'd. — Alack the heavy day,
K.Rich. My crown, I am; but still my griefs are mine. O, that I were a mockery king of snow,
Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke,
To melt myself away in water-drops! Boling. Part of your cares you give me with your Good king, - great king,—(and yet not greatly good)
An if my word besterling yet in England, K. Rich. Your cares, set up, do not plack my cares Letit command a mirror hither straight; down.
That I may show me what a face I have, My care is loss of care, by old care done;
Since it is bankrupt of his majesty, Your careis gain of care, hy new care won:
Boling. Go some of you, and fetch a looking-glass! The cares I give, I have, though given away;
(Exit an Attendunt. They tend the crown, yet still with me they stay. North. Read o'er this paper, while the glass doth Boling. Are you contented to resign the crown?
come! K. Rich. Ay, no ; — nó, ay:- for I must nothing be; K. Rich. Fiend! thou torment'st me ere I come to Therefore no no, for I resign to thee.
hell. Now mark me, how I will undo myself!
Boling. Urge it no more, my lord Northumberland! I give this heavy weight from off my head,
North. The commons will not then be satisfied. And this unwieldy scepter from my hand,
K. Rich. They shall be satisfied; I'll read enough, The pride of kingly sway from out my heart.
When I do see the very book indeed,
Re-enter Attendant, with a glass. To whose flint bosom my condemned lord Give me that glass, and therein will I read.
Is doom'd a prisoner by proud Bolingbroke. No deeper wrinkles yet ? Hath sorrow struck
Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth So many blows upon this face of mine,
Have any resting for her true king's queen. And made no deeper wounds ? — 0, flattering glass,
Enter King Richard, and Guards. Like to my followers in prosperity,
But soft, but see, or rather do not see,
That you in pity may dissolve to dew,
Thou map of honour! thou king Richard's tomb, And was at last out-fac'd by Bolingbroke?
And not king Richard! thou most beauteous inn, A brittle glory shineth in this face:
Why should hard-favour'd grief be lodg'd in thee, As brittle as the glory is the face;
When triumph is become an alehouse guest? (Dashes the glass against the ground. K.Rich. Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so, For there it is, crack'd in a hundred shivers. - To make my end too sudden! Learn, good soul, Mark, silent king, the moral of this sport,
To think our former state a happy dream, How soon my sorrow hath destroy'd my face.
From which awak'd, the truth of what we are Boling. The shadow of your sorrow hath destroy'd Shows us but this: I am sworn brother, sweet, The shadow of your face.
To grim necessity; and he and I K. Rich. Say that again!
Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to France, The shadow of my sorrow? Ha! let's see:
And cloister thee in some religious house! ”Tis very true, my grief lies all within,
Our holy lives must win a new world's erown, And these external manners of lament
Which our profane hours here have stricken down. Are merely shadows to the unseen grief,
Queen. What, is my Richard both in shape and mind That swells with silence in the tortur'd soul.
Transform'd, and weaken'd ? Hath Bolingbroke There lies the substance: and I thank thee, king, Depos'd thine intellect? hath he been in thy heart? For thy great bounty, that not only giv'st
The lion, dying, thrusteth forth his paw, Me cause to wail, but teachest me the way,
And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage How to lament the cause. I'll beg one boon,
To be,o'erpower'd ; and wilt thou, pupil-like, And then be gone, and trouble you no more.
Take thy correction mildly? kiss the rod, Shall I obtain it?
And fawn on rage with base humility, Boling. Name it, fair cousin !
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; ifaught but beasts, For, when I was a king, my flatterers
I had been still a happy king of men. Were then but subjects; being now a subject, Good sometime queen, prepare thee hence for France! I have a king here to my flatterer,
Think, I am dead, and that even here thou tak'st, Being so great, I have no need to beg.
As from my death-bed, my last living leave ! Boling. Yet ask.
In winter's tedious nights sit by the fire K. Rich. And shall I have?
With good old folks, and let them tell thee tales Boling. You shall.
Of woeful ages, long ago betid: K. Rich. Then give me leave to go!
And, ere thou bid good night, to quit their grief, Boling. Whither?
Tell thon the lamentable fall of me,
For why, the senseless brands will sympathize
And some will mourn in ashes, some coal-black,
North. My lord, the mind of Bolingbroke is chang'd: [Exeunt all but the Abbot, Bishop of Curlisle, You must to Pomfret, not unto the Tower. – and Aumerle.
And, madam, there is order ta’en for you; Abbot. A woeful pageant have we here beheld. With all swift speed you must away to France. Car. The woes to come; the children yet unborn K. Rich. Northumberland, thou ladder, whereShall feel this day as sharp to them, as thorn.
withal Aum. You holy clergymen, is there no plot The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne, To rid the realm of this pernicious blot?
The time shall not be many hours of age Abbot. Before I freely speak my mind herein, More than it is, ere foul sin, gathering head, You shall not only take the sacrament,
Shall break into corruption : thou shalt think, To bury mive intents, but to effect
Though he divide the realm, and give thee hall, Whatever I shall happen to devise.
It is too little, helping him to all; I see your brows are full of discontent,
And he shall think, that thou, which know'st the way Your hearts of sorrow, and your eyes of tears. To plant unrightful kings, wilt kuow again, Come home with me to supper! I will lay
Being ne'er so little urg'd, another way
The love of wicked friends converts to fear;
That fear, to hate; and hate turns one, or both,
To worthy danger, and deserved death. SCENE I. - London. A street leading to the Tower. North. My guilt be on my head, and there an end. Enter Queen, and Ladies.
Take leave, and part! for you must part forthwith. Queen. This way the king will come; this is the way K. Rich. Doubly divorc'd ? - Bad men, ye violate To Julius Caesar's ill-erected tower,
A twofold marriage: 'twixt my crown and me,
And then, betwixt me and my married wife. — | That had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd Let me unkiss the oath'twixt thee and me!
The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted, And yet not so, for with a kiss 'twas made. — And barbarism itself have pitied him. Partus, Northumberland! I towards the north, But heaven hath a hand in these events ; Where shivering cold and sickness pines the clime; To whose high will we bound our calm contents. My wife to France; from whence, set forth in pomp, To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now, She came adorned hither, like sweet May,
Whose state and honour I for aye allow.
But that is lust, for being Richard's friend,
Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not: Go, count thy way with sighs, I mine with groans. God knows, I had as lief benone, as one. Queen. So longest way shall have the longest moans. York. Well, bear you well in this new spring of time, K. Rich. Twice for one steep I'll groan, the way be- Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime. ing short,
What news from Oxford ? hold those jästs and And piece the way out with a heavy heart.
( They kiss. bosom?
York. No matter then who sees it.
I will be satisfied, let me see the writing!
Which for some reasons I would not have seen.
A room in the Duke of York. Which for some reasons, sir, I mean to see.
I fear, I fear,
Duch. What should you fear?
York. Bound to himself? what doth he with a bond, York. Where did I leave?
That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool. – Duch. At that sad stop, my lord,
Boy, let me see the writing! Where rude misgovern'a hands, from window's tops, Aum. I do beseech you, pardon me!I may not showit. Threw dust and rubbish on king Richard's head. York. I will be satisfied; let me see it, I say. York. Then, as I said, the duke, great Boling
(Snatc!es it, and reads. broke,
Treason! foul treason !- villain! traitor! slave! Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed,
Duch. What is the matter, my lord ? Which his aspiring rider seem'd to know,
York. Ho! who is within there? (Enter a Servant.] With slow, but stately pace, kept on his course,
Saddle my horse! While all tongues cried: God save thee , Boling- God for his mercy! what treachery is here! broke!
Duch. Why, what is it, my lord ? You would have thought the very windows spake, York. Give me my boots, 1 say! saddle my horse! So many greedy looks of young and old
For by mine honour, by my life, my troth, Through casements darted their desiring eyes I will impeach the villain !
[Exit Servant. Upon his visage; and that all the walls,
Duch. What's the matter? With painted imag’ry, had said at once:
York. Peace, foolish woman! Jesu preserve thee! welcome, Bolingbroke!
Duch. I will not peace! - What is the matter, son? Whilst he, from one side to the otherturning,
Aum. Good mother, be content: it is no more
Re-enter Servant, with boots.
Duch. Strike him, Aumerle ! - Poor boy, thou art After a well grac'd actor leaves the stage,
amaz’d: Areidly bent on him that enters next,
Hence, villain; never more come in my sight! Thinking his prattle to be tedious:
[To the Servant. Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes York. Give me my boots, I say. Did scowl on Richard; no man cried, God save him! Duch. Why, York, what wilt thou do? Nojoyful tongue gave him his welcome home: Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own? But dust was thrown upon his sacred head,
Have we more sons? or are we like to have? Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off, Is not my teeming date drunk up with time? His face still combating with tears and smiles, And wilt thou pluck my fair son from mine age, The badges of his grief and patience,
And rob me of a happy mother's name?
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! [Aumerle locks the door. And interchangeably set down their hands,
York. [Within.) My liege, beware! look to thyself! To kill the king at Oxford.
Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there. Duch. He shall be none;
Boling. Villain, I'll make thee safe. [Drawing We'll keep him here. Then what is that to him? Aum. Stay thy revengeful hand! York. Away,
Thou hast no cause to fear. Fond woman! were he twenty times my son,
York. (Within.] Open the door, secure, fool-hardy I would appeach him.
king! Duch. Hadst thou groan'd for him,
Shall I, for love, speak treason to thy face? As I have done, thou’dst be more pitiful.
Open the door, or I will break it open. But now I know thy mind : thou dost suspect,
(Bolingbroke opens the door. That I have been disloyal to thy bed,
Enter York. And that he is a bastard, not thy son.
Boling. Whatis 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 And yet I love him. York. Make way, unruly woman!
The treason, that my haste forbids me show. Duch. After, Aumerle! mount thee upon his horse, I do repent me. Read not my name there!
Aum. Remember, as thou read'st, thy promise past! Spur, post, and get before him to the king, And beg thy pardon, ere he do accuse thee!
My heart is not confederate with my hand. I'll not be long behind; though I be old,
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 !SCENE III. – Windsor. Aroom in the castle.
O loyal father of a treacherous son !
Thou sheer, immaculate, and silver fountáin, Enter BOLINGBROKE as King; Percy, and other From whence this stream, through muddy passages, Lords.
Hath held his current, and defil'd himself! Boling. Can no man tell of my unthrifty son ? 'Tis full three months, since I did see him last.
Thy orerflow of good converts to bad, If any plague hang over us, 'tis he.
And thy abundant goodness shall excuse I would to God, my lords, he might be found.
This deadly blot in thy digressing son.
York. Soʻshall my virtue be his vice's bawd,
And he shall spend mine honour with his shame,
As thriftless sons their scraping fathers' gold. •
Mine honour lives, when his dishonour dies,
Ormy sham'd life in his dishonvur lies.
Thou kill'st me in his life; giving him breath, Takes on the point of honour, to support
The traitor lives, the true man's put to death. So dissolute a crew.
Duch. (Within.] What ho, my liege! for God's sake
let me in! Percy. My lord, some two days since I saw the Boling. What shrill-voic’d suppliant makes this
prince, And told him of these triumphs held at Oxford.
eager cry? Boling. And what said the gallant?
Duch. A woman, and thine aunt, great king; 'tis I. Percy. His answer was, he would unto the stews;
Speak with me, pity me, open the door! And from the common’st creature pluck a glove,
A beggar begs, that never begg'd before. And wear it as a favour; and with that
Boling. Our scene is alter'd, from a serious thing, He would unhorse the lastiest challenger.
And now chang’d to The Beggar and the King: Boling. As dissolute, as desperate! yet, through both My dangerous cousin, let your mother in! I see some sparkles of a better hope,
I know, she's come to pray for your foul sin. Which elder days may happily bring forth.
York. If thou do pardon, whosoever pray, But who comes here?
More sins, for this forgiveness, prosper may;
This fester'd joint cut off, the rest rests sound;
This, let alone, will all the rest confound.
Enter Duchess. Our cousin, that he stares and looks so wildly?
Duch. O king, believe not this hard-hearted man! Aum. God save your grace! I do beseech your ma- Love, loving not itself, none other can. jesty,
York. Thou frantic woman, what dost thou make To have some conference with your grace alone.
here? Boling. Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here Shall thy old dogs once more a traitor rear? alone!
[Exeunt Percy and Lords. Duch. Sweet York, be patient! Hear me,gentle liege! What is the matter with our cousin now?
[Kneels. Aum. For ever may my knees grow to the earth, Boling. Rise up, good aunt !
[Kneels. Duch. Not yet, I thee beseech. My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth, For ever will I kneel upon my knees, Unless a pardon, ere I rise, or speak.
And never see day, that the happy sees, Boling. Intended, or committed, was this fault? Till thou give joy, until thou bid me joy, If but the first, how heinous ere it be,
By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy.