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Charles Kean [1857], Shakespeare's play of King Richard II. Arranged for representation at the Princess's Theatre, with historical and explanatory notes, by Charles Kean. As first performed on Thursday, March 12, 1857 (Printed by John K. Chapman and Co. [etc.], London) [word count] [S34800].

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King Richard II ^note Introductory matter

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
[Voice 1], [Lord Marshal], [Voices], [Voice 2], [King at Arms], [Voice 3], [Lady 1], [Lady 2], [Gardener], [Servant 1], [Servant]

King Richard II [King Richard the Second] Mr. CHARLES KEAN

Edmund of Langley, Duke of York (Uncle to the King) Mr. COOPER.

John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, (Uncle to the King) Mr. WALTER LACY.

Henry, surnamed Bolingbroke [Henry Bolingbroke], (Duke of Hereford, Son to John of Gaunt afterwards King Henry IV.) Mr. RYDER.

Duke of Aumerle, (Son to the Duke of York) Mr. BRAZIER.

Mowbray [Thomas Mowbray], (Duke of Norfolk) Mr. J. F. CATHCART.

Duke of Surrey, Mr. RAYMOND.

Earl of Salisbury, Mr. EVERETT.

Lord Berkley [Earl Berkeley], Mr. COLLET.

Sir John Bushy, (Creature to King Richard) Mr. ROLLESTON.

Sir William Bagot, (Creature to King Richard) Mr. WARREN.

Sir Thomas Green, (Creature to King Richard) Mr. BARSBY.

Earl of Northumberland, Mr. H. MELLON.

Henry Percy, (his Son) Miss BUFTON.

Lord Ross, Mr. TERRY.

Lord Willoughby, Mr. F. COOKE.

Lord Fitzwater, Mr. WILSON.

Bishop of Carlisle, Mr. BUTLER.

Sir Pierce of Exton, Mr. PAULO.

Sir Stephen Scroop, Mr. GRAHAM.

Two Gardeners, Messrs. MEADOWS & MORRIS.

Keeper of the Prison Mr. COLLIER.

Groom Mr. CORMACK.

Queen to King Richard, Mrs. CHARLES KEAN

Duchess of Gloster [Duchess of Gloucester], Mrs. TERNAN.

Duchess of York, Miss DESBOROUGH.

Ladies attending on the Queen, Miss DALY. Miss J. LOVELL.

Boy (in the Episode) Miss KATE TERRY.

Lords, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, Keeper, and Attendants.
SCENE—Dispersedly in ENGLAND and WALES.

-- --

The Scenery under the Direction of Mr. GRIEVE, and Painted by Mr. GRIEVE, Mr. W. GORDON, Mr. F. LLOYDS, Mr. CUTHBERT, Mr. DAYES, Mr. MORRIS, And numerous Assistants. The Music under the direction of Mr. J. L. HATTON. The Dances and Action, by Mr. OSCAR BYRN. The Decorations & Appointments by Mr. E. W. BRADWELL. The Dresses by Mrs. and Miss HOGGINS. The Machinery by Mr. G. HODSON. Perruquier, Mr. ASPLIN, of No. 13, New Bond Street. ^note

-- v --

PREFACE.

The two latest Shakespearean revivals at this theatre, namely, The Winter's Tale and Midsummer Night's Dream, afforded opportunities of illustrating the manners, costumes, and architecture of ancient Greece, as once co-existent in the cities of Syracuse and Athens.

Quitting the far-famed regions of classical antiquity, I now return to the homestead of history, and offer to the public one of those exciting dramas drawn from our own annals, in which our national poet has depicted the fierce and turbulent passions of our ancestors, and thus immortalised events of the deepest interest to every English mind. Nearly two centuries and a half divide us from Shakespeare; yet he still lives to the world, with “his fame unparalleled,” equally unapproachable and imperishable. His historical plays present retrospective truth, encircled by a halo of poetic genius; and nowhere has he more conspicuously combined accurate statement of fact with beauty of language than in the tragedy of King Richard the Second. The action extends over little more than the two closing years of that unhappy monarch's reign—those brief but eventful years which teach so terrible a lesson, exhibiting as they do the strength and weakness of humanity, the elevation of one king upon the ruin of another, the gorgeous pageantry of royal

-- vi --

state contrasted with the dungeon and the assassin's stroke. Although the infirmities and irresolution of Richard's character are drawn with unsparing fidelity, yet England's weak and erring king breathes his sorrow in words so sweetly touching, that the heart responds to the poet's mighty influence, and throbs with sympathy for woe, although produced by wrong, pitying the ill-fated, and pardoning the ill-deserving monarch. To show the importance of the period to the progress of civilization, it may be remarked that the same historical page which is blotted with the recital of “murders, treasons, and detested sins,” preserves the memory of two illustrious men, whose light was undimmed by the dark clouds that obscured the political horizon, and whose names will ever remain associated with the advancement of literature and reform.

Geoffrey Chaucer, known as the father of English poetry, whose elegant taste refined and smoothed our native tongue, imbibed the same atmosphere that was impregnated with the perjury and faithlessness of conflicting parties, and indited his ever-memorable “Canterbury Tales,” not long before the throne of England was yielded to the younger branch of the Plantagenets.

John Wickliffe, “the morning star of the Reformation,” made himself heard amidst the angry roar of contending passions, and in the hearts of fiery and seditious men sowed the seed, which, after a growth

-- vii --

of one hundred and fifty years, was destined to expand into the standard religion of our country.

In the present stage representation I have endeavoured to produce a true portraiture of mediæval history. The Lists at Coventry—the Fleet at Milford Haven—the Castles of Pembroke and Flint— the Garden, where “Old Adam's likeness” startles the Queen with his “unpleasing news”—the Great Hall at Westminster, rebuilt by Richard, in his pride of kingly sway, and afterwards selected as the place where unkinged Richard was constrained “with his own hands to give away his crown”—the Royal Chambers and the Royal Prison—are all either actually restored, or represented in conformity with contemporaneous authorities.

Between the third and fourth acts I have ventured to introduce the triumphal entry into London of the “mounting” Bolingbroke, followed by the deposed and captive King, “in grief and patience;” thus embodying in action what Shakespeare has so beautifully described in the speech of York to his Duchess, towards the close of the play.

The few sentences intervening amidst the clamorous acclamations of the mob in this historical Episode are selected from the Chronicles which relate to the circumstances of that remarkable event; and are added with the view of reviving, as far as possible, a scene that actually occurred in London upwards of four hundred and fifty years since. The

-- viii --

entire tableau may be considered as an historical picture, in which the creations of the painter's art are endowed with animated reality.

An increasing taste for recreation, wherein instruction is blended with amusement, has for some time been conspicuous in the English public; and surely an attempt to render dramatic representations conducive to the diffusion of knowledge—to surround the glowing imagery of the great Poet with accompaniments true to the time of which he writes—realizing the scenes and actions which he describes—exhibiting men as they once lived —can scarcely detract from the enduring influence of his genius. Repeated success justifies the conviction that I am acting in accordance with the general feeling. When plays, which formerly commanded but occasional repetition, are enabled, by no derogatory means, to attract audiences for successive months, I cannot be wrong in presuming that the course I have adopted is supported by the irresistible force of public opinion, expressed in the suffrages of an overwhelming majority.

The music throughout the piece, including the overture and entr' actes, has been composed and adapted by Mr. J. L. Hatton, in accordance with the character of the period. The tune which accompanies the dance of Itinerant Fools, introduced in the Episode, for the purpose of amusing the expectant multitude, is adapted from an air said to

-- ix --

be as old as the reign of Edward II., and is now published in a work by W. Chappell, Esq., F.S.A., entitled “Popular Music of the Olden Time.” The dance of Fools preceded that of “the Morris,” and from this the latter is conjectured to have taken its origin. Strutt remarks that a vestige of the Fool's Dance is preserved in a manuscript written and illuminated in the reign of Edward III., the dancers being equipped in the dresses appropriated to the Fools. The Morris Dance, which afterwards became so popular, is supposed to have been derived from the Fool's Dance; and thence are traced the bells which characterised the Morris dancers. The ancient popular Welsh air of “Sweet Richard,” introduced in the overture, and again in the entr' actes preceding the third act and episode, is supposed to be the production of some contemporary bard, and served to keep alive the feeling of regret for King Richard's fate.

The Privy Council Chamber, the restoration of the Welsh Castles, the Traitor's Gate at the Tower, and St. George's Hall at Windsor, have been painted (by Mr. Grieve and assistants) under the authority of Anthony Salvin, Esq., F.S.A. To Henry Shaw, Esq., F.S.A., I am indebted for much zealous assistance, besides supplying the necessary drawings, and superintending the preparations for the combat at Coventry, the bed room of the dying John of Gaunt, and many of the accessories introduced into other

-- x --

scenes. The garden at Langley, the interior of the Duke of Lancaster's Palace, the streets of old London, Westminster Hall, and the dungeon at Pomfret, have been sanctioned by George Godwin, Esq., F.S.A.; while Thomas Willement, Esq., F.S.A., and Sir Bernard Burke, Ulster, have afforded me the information requisite for the heraldic adornments. I am also indebted to G. Scharf, Esq., jun., F.S.A., for many valuable suggestions.

The French metrical history of the deposition of King Richard II., written by a contemporary, and preserved in the British Museum, affords undoubted evidence of the costume of the period in its illuminated pages; and the knowledge of my valued friend, Colonel Hamilton Smith, in this branch, has been freely imparted in aid of my present undertaking.

In addition to these authorities, several manuscripts and books in the British Museum, together with the works of Strutt, Meyrick, Fairholt, and Shaw have been consulted.

By the preceding statement I guarantee the truthfulness and fidelity of the entire picture; while I also gratefully acknowledge the assistance that has been so liberally afforded to me by men eminent for their antiquarian knowledge, and whose conviction of the usefulness of my efforts is a gratifying encouragement to adhere to the plan of illustration I have hitherto adopted.

CHARLES KEAN.

-- 11 --

KING RICHARD II. ACT I. Scene I. —LONDON—PRIVY COUNCIL CHAMBER IN THE PALACE OF WESTMINSTER. The walls and roof are decorated with the badges and cognizances of Richard II.¹ ^note

King Richard,² ^note (A)8Q0118 attended by his Privy Council; John of Gaunt,(B)8Q0119 and other Nobles. The Chancellor³ ^note and Constable⁴ ^note sitting at the foot of the Throne.

K. Rich.
Old John of Gaunt, time-honour'd Lancaster,
Hast thou, according to thy oath and bond,
Brought hither Henry Hereford thy bold son;
Here to make good the boisterous late appeal,

-- 12 --

Which then our leisure would not let us hear,
Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray?

Gau.
I have, my liege.

K. Rich.
Tell me, moreover, hast thou sounded him,
If he appeal the duke on ancient malice;
Or worthily as a good subject should,
On some known ground of treachery in him?

Gau.
As near as I could sift him on that argument,—
On some apparent danger seen in him,
Aim'd at your highness; no inveterate malice.

K. Rich.
Then call them to our presence; face to face, [Exeunt attendants.
And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear
The accuser and the accused, freely speak:—
High-stomach'd are they both, and full of ire,
In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire. Re-enter Attendants, with Bolingbroke(C)8Q0120 and Norfolk.

Bol.
Full many years of happy days befal
My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege!

Nor.
Each day still better other's happiness;
Until the heavens, envying earth's good hap,
Add an immortal title to your crown!

K. Rich.
We thank you both: yet one but flatters us,
As well appeareth by the cause you come;⁵ ^note
Namely, to appeal⁶ ^note each other of high treason.—
Cousin of Hereford, what dost thou object
Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray?

Bol.
First (heaven be the record to my speech!)
In the devotion of a subject's love,
And free from wrath or misbegotten hate,
Come I appellant to this princely presence.—
Now, Thomas Mowbray, do I turn to thee,
And mark my greeting well; for what I speak,
My body shall make good upon this earth.
Thou art a traitor, and a miscreant;

-- 13 --

Too good to be so, and too bad to live.
And wish (so please my sovereign), ere I move,
What my tongue speaks, my right-drawn⁷ ^note sword may prove.

Nor.
Let not my cold words here accuse my zeal:
First, the fair reverence of your highness curbs me
From giving rein and spur to my free speech;
Which else would post, until it had return'd
These terms of treason doubled down his throat.
Setting aside his high blood's royalty,
And let him be no kinsman to my liege,
I do defy him, and I spit at him;
Call him—a slanderous coward, and a villain:
Which to maintain, I would allow him odds.

Bol.
Pale trembling coward, there I throw my gage,
Disclaiming here the kindred of a king.
If guilty dread hath left thee so much strength,
As to take up mine honour's pawn, then stoop;
By that, and all the rites of knighthood else,
Will I make good against thee, arm to arm,
What I have spoke, or thou canst worse devise.

Nor.
I take it up; and, by that sword I swear,
Which gently laid my knighthood on my shoulder,
I'll answer thee in any fair degree,
Or chivalrous design of knightly trial.

K. Rich.
What doth our cousin lay to Mowbray's charge?

Bol.
Look, what I speak my life shall prove it true;—
That Mowbray hath receiv'd eight thousand nobles,
In name of lendings for your highness' soldiers;
The which he hath detain'd for lew'd⁸ ^note employments,
Like a false traitor, and injurious villain.
Besides I say, and will in battle prove,
That all the treasons, for these eighteen years,
Complotted and contrived in this land,
Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and spring.
Further I say,—and further will maintain—
That he did plot the Duke of Gloster's death.(D)8Q0121

-- 14 --

And, by the glorious worth of my descent,
This arm shall do it, or this life be spent.

Nor.
Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart,
Through the false passage of thy throat, thou liest!
Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais,
Disburs'd I duly to his highness' soldiers:
The other part reserv'd I by consent;
For that my sovereign liege was in my debt,
Upon remainder of a clear account,
Since last I went to France to fetch his queen:
For Gloster's death, I slew him not.
As for the rest appeal'd,⁹ ^note
It issues from the rancour of a villain,
A recreant and most degenerate traitor:
Which in myself I boldly will defend;
And interchangeably hurl down my gage
Upon this overweening¹⁰ ^note traitor's foot,
To prove myself a loyal gentleman
Even in the best blood chamber'd in his bosom:
In haste whereof, most heartily I pray
Your highness to assign our trial day.

K. Rich.
Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be rul'd by me;
Let's purge this choler without letting blood.
Forget, forgive; conclude, and be agreed.
Good uncle, let this end where it begun;
We'll calm the Duke of Norfolk, you your son.

Gau.
To be a make-peace shall become my age:—
Throw down, my son, the Duke of Norfolk's gage.

K. Rich.
And, Norfolk, throw down his.

Nor.
Myself I throw, dread sovereign, at thy foot:
My life thou shalt command, but not my shame.
I am disgrac'd, impeach'd, and baffled here;
Pierc'd to the soul with slander's venom'd spear;
The purest treasure mortal times afford,
Is—spotless reputation; that away,
Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay.
Mine honour is my life; both grow in one;
Take honour from me, and my life is done:

-- 15 --

Then, dear my liege, mine honour let me try;
In that I live, and for that will I die.

K. Rich.
Cousin, throw down your gage; do you begin.

Bol.
Heaven defend my soul from such foul sin!
Shall I seem crest-fallen in my father's sight?
Or with pale beggar-fear impeach my height
Before this outdar'd dastard? Ere my tongue
Should wound mine honour with such feeble wrong,
Or sound so base a parle, my teeth shall tear
The slavish motive of recanting fear;
And spit it bleeding in his high disgrace,
Where shame doth harbour, even in Mowbray's face.

K. Rich.
We were not born to sue, but to command:
Which since we cannot do to make you friends,
Be ready, as your lives shall answer it,
At Coventry, upon St. Lambert's day:
There shall your swords and lances arbitrate
The swelling difference of your settled hate.
Marshal, command our officers at arms
Be ready to direct these home-alarms.(E)8Q0122 [Flourish of Trumpets. Scene II. —A ROOM IN THE DUKE OF LANCASTER'S PALACE,(F)8Q0123 Enter Gaunt,¹¹ ^note and Duchess of Gloster.(G)8Q0124

Gau.
Alas! the part¹² ^note I had in Gloster's blood
Doth more solicit me than your exclaims,
To stir against the butchers of his life.
But since correction lieth in those hands,
Which made the fault that we cannot correct,
Put we our quarrel to the will of heaven;

-- 16 --

Who, when he sees the hours ripe on earth,
Will rain not vengeance on offender's heads.

Duch.
Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper spur?
Hath love in thy old blood no living fire?
Edward's seven sons,(H)8Q0125 whereof thyself art one,
Were as seven phials of his sacred blood,
Or seven fair branches springing from one root;
Some of those seven are dried by nature's course,
Some of those branches by the destinies cut:
But Thomas, my dear Lord, my life, my Gloster,—
One phial full of Edward's sacred blood,
One flourishing branch of his most royal root,
Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt;
Is hack'd down, and his summer leaves all faded,
By envy's hand, and murder's bloody axe.
Ah, Gaunt! his blood was thine;
That mettle, that self mould, that fashion'd thee,
Made him a man; and though thou liv'st and breath'st,
Yet art thou slain in him: thou dost consent¹³ ^note
In some large measure to thy father's death,
In that thou seest thy wretched brother die,
Who was the model of thy father's life.
Call it not patience, Gaunt, it is despair:
In suffering thus thy brother to be slaughter'd,
Thou show'st the naked pathway to thy life,
Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee:
That which in mean men we entitle—patience,
Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts.
What shall I say? to safeguard thine own life,
The best way is—to 'venge my Gloster's death.

Gau.
Heaven's is the quarrel; for heaven's substitute,
His deputy anointed in his sight,
Hath caus'd his death: the which if wrongfully,
Let heaven revenge; for I may never lift
An angry arm against his minister.

Duch.
Where then, alas! may I complain myself?¹⁴ ^note

-- 17 --

Gau.
To heaven, the widow's champion to defence.

Duch.
Why, then, I will. Farewell: farewell old Gaunt.
Thou go'st to Coventry, there to behold
Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight.
O, sit my husband's wrongs on Hereford's spear,
That it may enter butcher Mowbray's breast!
Or, if misfortune miss the first career,
Be Mowbray's sins so heavy in his bosom,
That they may break his foaming courser's back,
And throw the rider headlong in the lists,
A caitiff¹⁵ ^note recreant¹⁶ ^note to my cousin Hereford!
Farewell, old Gaunt; thy sometime brother's wife,
With her companion grief must end her life.

Gau.
Sister, farewell: I must to Coventry:
As much good stay with thee, as go with me!

Duch.
I take my leave before I have begun;
For sorrow ends not when it seemeth done.
Commend me to my brother, Edmund York;
Bid him with speed at Plashy¹⁷ ^note visit me.
Alack, and what shall good old York there see,
But empty lodgings and unfurnish'd walls,¹⁸ ^note
Unpeopled offices,¹⁹ ^note untrodden stones?
And what cheer there for welcome, but my groans?
Therefore commend me; let him not come there,
To seek out sorrow that dwells every where:
Desolate, desperate, will I hence, and die;
The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye. [Exeunt.

-- 18 --

Scene III. —GOSFORD GREEN, NEAR COVENTRY. Lists set out. King Richard seated on his Throne;²⁰ ^note Gaunt, and several Noblemen with him. The Lord Marshal(I)8Q0126 and Aumerle(K)8Q0127, Heralds, Pages, Soldiers, &c., attending. Chairs placed on opposite sides for the Combatants. (Flourish of Trumpets.)

Mar.
My lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford arm'd?

Aum.
Yea, at all points; and longs to enter in.

Mar.
The Duke of Norfolk, sprightfully and bold,
Stays but the summons of the appellant's trumpet.

Aum.
Why, then, the champion's are prepar'd, and stay
For nothing but his majesty's command. A Trumpet is sounded, answered by another Trumpet within. Then enter Norfolk, in armour, preceded by a Herald.

K. Rich.
Marshal, demand of yonder champion
The cause of his arrival here in arms:
Ask him his name; and orderly proceed
To swear him in the justice of his cause.

Mar.
In Heaven's name, and the King's, say who thou art,
And why thou com'st, thus knightly clad in arms?
Speak truly, on thy knighthood, and thy oath;
And so defend thee heaven, and thy valour!

Nor.
My name is Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk;
Who hither come engaged by my oath,
Both to defend my loyalty and truth,
Against the Duke of Hereford that appeals me;
And, as I truly fight, defend me heaven! [He takes his seat.

-- 19 --

Trumpet sounds. Enter Bolingbroke, in armour; preceded by a Herald.

K. Rich.
Marshal, demand of yonder knight in arms,
Both who he is, and why he cometh hither
Thus plated in habiliments of war;
And formally according to our law
Depose him in the justice of his cause.

Mar.
What is thy name? And wherefore com'st thou hither,
Before King Richard, in his royal lists?
Speak like a true knight, so defend thee heaven!

Bol.
Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby,
Am I; who ready here do stand in arms,
To prove, by heaven's grace, and my body's valour,
In lists, on Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,
That he's a traitor, foul and dangerous,
And, as I truly fight, defend me heaven! [He takes his seat.

King-at-arms.
On pain of death, no person be so bold,
Or daring-hardy, as to touch the lists,
Except the Marshal, and such officers
Appointed to direct these fair designs.

Bol.
Lord Marshal, let me kiss my sovereign's hand,
And bow my knee before his majesty:
For Mowbray, and myself, are like two men
That vow a long and weary pilgrimage;
Then let us take a ceremonious leave,
And loving farewell, of our several friends.

Mar.
The appellant in all duty greets your highness,
And craves to kiss your hand, and take his leave.

K. Rich.
We will descend, and fold him in our arms. [Flourish of Trumpets. Bolingbroke rises, and kneels to the King.
Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause is right,
So be thy fortune in this royal fight!

Bol.
As confident, as is the falcon's flight
Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight—
My loving lord, [To Lord Marshal] I take my leave of you;
Of you, my noble cousin, Lord Aumerle:—
O thou, the earthly author of my blood,— [To Gaunt.
Add proof unto mine armour with thy prayers;
And with thy blessings steel my lance's point.

-- 20 --

Gau.
Heaven in thy good cause make thee prosperous!
Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant, and live.

Bol.
Mine innocency, and St. George to thrive! [He takes his seat.

Nor. (kneeling to the King.)
However heaven or fortune cast my lot,
There lives or dies, true to King Richard's throne,
A loyal, just and upright gentleman:
Most mighty liege,—and my companion peers,—
Take from my mouth the wish of happy years;
As gentle and as jocund, as to jest,²¹ ^note
Go I to fight; Truth hath a quiet breast.

K. Rich.
Farewell, my lord: securely I espy
Virtue with valour couched in thine eye.—
Order the trial, Marshal, and begin. [Flourish of Trumpets—The King and the Lords return to their seats, and the Combatants mount their horses.

Mar.
Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby,
Receive thy lance; heaven defend the right!

Bol.
Strong as a tower in hope, I cry—amen.

Mar.
Go bear this lance [To an Officer.] To Thomas, Duke of Norfolk.

1 Her.
Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby,
Stands here,
On pain to be found false and recreant,
To prove the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray,
A traitor to heaven, his king, and him,
And dares him to set forward to the fight.

2 Her.
Here standeth Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,
Both to defend himself, and to approve
Henry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby,
To heaven, his sovereign, and to him, disloyal.

Mar.
Sound, trumpets; and set forward, combatants. [A Charge sounded.
Stay, the king hath thrown his warder²² ^note down.

-- 21 --

K. Rich.
Let them lay by their helmets and their spears,
And both return back to their chairs again.—
Withdraw with us:—and let the trumpets sound,
While we return these dukes what we decree.— [A long flourish—Combatants dismount, and resume their chairs.
Draw near, [To the Combatants]
And list, what with our council we have done.
For that our kingdom's earth should not be soil'd
With that dear blood which it hath fostered;²³ ^note
And for our eyes do hate the dire aspéct
Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbours' swords;
Therefore, we banish you our territories:—
You, couzin Hereford, upon pain of death,
Till twice five summers have enrich'd our fields,
Shall not regreet our fair dominions,
But tread the stranger paths of banishment.

Bol.
Your will be done: This must my comfort be,—
That sun, that warms you here, shall shine on me;
And those his golden beams, to you here lent,
Shall point on me, and gild my banishment.

K. Rich.
Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier doom,
Which I with some unwillingness pronounce:
The hopeless word of—never to return
Breathe I against thee, upon pain of life.(L)8Q0128

Nor.
A heavy sentence, my most sovereign liege,
And all unlook'd for from your highness' mouth:
The language I have learn'd these forty years,
My native English, now I must forego:
And now my tongue's use is to me no more,
Than an unstringed viol or a harp.
What is thy sentence then, but speechless death,
Which robs my tongue from breathing native breath?
Then thus I turn me from my country's light,
To dwell in solemn shades of endless night. [Retiring.

K. Rich.
Return again, and take an oath with thee.
Lay on our royal sword your banish'd hands;
Swear by the duty that you owe to heaven,
To keep the oath that we administer:—

-- 22 --

You never shall (so help you truth and heaven!)
Embrace each other's love in banishment;
Nor never write, regreet, nor reconcile
This lowering tempest of your home-bred hate;
Nor never by advised²⁴ ^note purpose meet,
To plot, contrive, or complot any ill,
'Gainst us, our state, our subjects, or our land.

Bol.
I swear.

Nor.
And I, to keep all this.
If ever I were traitor,
My name be blotted from the book of life,
And I from heaven banish'd, as from hence!
But what thou art, heaven, thou, and I do know;
And all too soon, I fear, the king shall rue.
Farewell, my liege.—Now no way can I stray;
Save back to England, all the world's my way.(M)8Q0129 [Exit.

K. Rich.
Uncle, even in the glasses of thine eyes
I see thy grieved heart: thy sad aspéct
Hath from the number of his banish'd years
Pluck'd four away;—Six frozen winters spent,
Return [to Bolingbroke] with welcome home from banishment.

Bol.
How long a time lies in one little word!
Four lagging winters, and four wanton springs,
End in a word; such is the breath of kings.

Gau.
I thank my liege, that, in regard of me,
He shortens four years of my son's exile:
But little vantage shall I reap thereby;
For, ere the six years, that he hath to spend,
Can change their moons, and bring their times about,
My oil-dried lamp, and time-bewasted light,
Shall be extinct with age, and endless night.

K. Rich.
Thy son is banish'd upon good advice,²⁵ ^note
Why at our justice seem'st thou then to lower?
Cousin, farewell:—and, uncle, bid him so;
Six years we banish him, and he shall go. [Flourish. Exeunt King Richard and Train.

-- 23 --

Aum.
Cousin, farewell: what presence must not know,
From where you do remain, let paper show.

Mar.
My lord, no leave take I; for I will ride,
As far as land will let me, by your side.

Gau.
O, to what purpose dost thou hoard thy words,
That thou return'st no greeting to thy friends?

Bol.
I have too few to take my leave of you,
When the tongue's office should be prodigal
To breathe the abundant dolour²⁶ ^note of the heart.

Gau.
What is six winters?—They are quickly gone.
Call it a travel that thou tak'st for pleasure.

Bol.
My heart will sigh, when I miscall it so,
Which finds it an enforced pilgrimage.

Gau.
All places that the eye of heaven visits,
Are to a wise man ports and happy havens:
Teach thy necessity to reason thus;
There is no virtue like necessity.
Think not, the king did banish thee;
But thou the king: Woe doth the heavier sit,
Where it perceives it is but faintly borne.
For gnarling²⁷ ^note sorrow has less power to bite
The man that mocks at it, and sets it light.

Bol.
O, who can hold a fire in his hand,
By thinking on the frosty Caucasus?
Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite,
By bare imagination of a feast?
Or wallow naked in December snow,
By thinking on fantastic summer's heat?
O, no! the apprehension of the good,
Gives but the greater feeling to the worse.

Gau.
Come, come, my son, I'll bring thee on thy way.

Bol.
Then, England's ground, farewell; sweet soil, adieu;
My mother, and my nurse, that bears me yet:
Wheree'er I wander, boast of this I can,—
Though banish'd, yet a trueborn Englishman.(N)8Q0130 [Exeunt. END OF ACT FIRST.

-- 24 --

HISTORICAL NOTES TO ACT FIRST. ^note

^note ^note ^note ^note

-- 25 --

^note ^note ^note

-- 26 --

^note ^note ^note ^note ^note

-- 27 --

-- 28 --

-- 29 --

-- 30 --

ACT II. Scene I. —A ROOM IN ELY HOUSE.¹ ^note

Gaunt, ill in Bed;(A)8Q0131 the Duke of York,(B)8Q0132 the Earl of Northumberland, and Others standing by him.

Gau.
Will the King come? that I may breathe my last
In wholesome counsel to his unstaied youth.

York.
Vex not yourself, nor strive not with your breath;
For all in vain comes counsel to his ear.

Gau.
O, but they say, the tongues of dying men
Enforce attention, like deep harmony.
Though Richard my life's counsel would not hear,
My death's sad tale may yet undeaf his ear.

York.
No; it is stopp'd with other flattering sounds.
Then all too late comes counsel to be heard.

Gau.
Methinks, I am a prophet new inspired;
And thus, expiring, do foretell of him:
His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last;
For violent fires soon burn out themselves.

-- 31 --

Light vanity, insatiate cormorant,
Consuming means, soon preys upon itself.
This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle,
This fortress, built by nature for herself,
Against infection, and the hand of war:
This happy breed of men, this little world;
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England,
Dear for her reputation through the world,
Is now leas'd out (I die pronouncing it),
Like to a tenement, or pelting² ^note farm.
This dear, dear land, is now bound in with shame,
With inky blots,³ ^note and rotten parchment bonds.⁴ ^note
O, would the scandal vanish with my life,
How happy then were my ensuing death! [Distant Trumpets.

York.
The king is come: deal mildly with his youth Enter King Richard, Bushy, Green, Bagot, Ross(C)8Q0133, and Willoughby.(D)8Q0134

K. Rich.
How fares our noble uncle, Lancaster?
What comfort, man? How is't with aged Gaunt?

Gau.
Ill in myself, and in thee seeing ill.
A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown,
Whose compass is no bigger than thy head;
O, had thy grandsire, with a prophet's eye,
Seen how his son's son should destroy his sons,
From forth thy reach he would have laid thy shame;
Deposing thee before thou wert possess'd.
Landlord of England art thou now, not king:
Thy state of law is bondslave to the law;
And thou—

K. Rich.
&wblank;s lunatic lean-witted fool,
Presuming on an ague's privilege,
Dar'st with thy frozen admonition

-- 32 --

Make pale our cheek; chasing the royal blood,
With fury, from his native residence?
Now by my seat's right royal majesty,
Wert thou not brother to great Edward's son,
This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head,
Should run thy head from thy unreverend shoulders.

Gau.
O, spare me not, my brother Edward's son,
For that I was his father Edward's son.
Join with the present sickness that I have;
And thy unkindness be like crooked age,
To crop at once a too-long wither'd flower.
Live in thy shame, but die not shame with thee!—
These words hereafter thy tormentors be!— [Faints.

York.
'Beseech your majesty, impute his words
To wayward sickliness and age in him:
He loves you, on my life, and holds you dear
As Harry, Duke of Hereford, were he here. [Gaunt dies.

King R.
Right; you say true: as Hereford's love, so his:
As theirs, so mine; and all be as it is.

North.
My liege, old Guant commends him to your majesty.

K. Rich.
What says he now?

North.
Nay nothing; all is said:
His tongue is now a stringless instrument;
Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent.

K. Rich.
The ripest fruit first falls, and so doth he;
His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be:
So much for that.—Now for our Irish wars:(E)8Q0135
We must supplant those rough rug-headed kerns;⁵ ^note
And for these great affairs do ask some charge,
Towards our assistance, we do seize to us
The plate, coin, revenues, and moveables,
Whereof our uncle Gaunt did stand possess'd.

York.
O, my liege,
Pardon me, if you please; if not, I pleas'd
Not to be pardon'd, am content withal.
Seek you to seize, and gripe into your hands,
The royalties and rights of banish'd Hereford?
Is not Gaunt dead? and doth not Hereford live?

-- 33 --

If you do wrongfully seize Hereford's rights,
You pluck a thousand dangers on your head,
You lose a thousand well-disposed hearts,
And prick my tender patience to those thoughts
Which honour and allegiance cannot think.

K. Rich.
Think what you will; we seize into our hands
His plate, his goods, his money. and his lands.(F)8Q0136

York.
I'll not be by, the while: My liege, farewell:
What will ensue hereof, there's none can tell. [Exit York

K. Rich.
Go, Bushy,⁶ ^note to the Earl of Wiltshire straight;
Bid him repair to us to Ely House,
To see this business: To morrow next
We will for Ireland; and 'tis time, I trow;
And we create, in absence of ourself,
Our uncle York, lord governor of England,(G)8Q0137
For he is just, and always lov'd us well.—
Come on, my lords: to-morrow must we part;
Be merry, for our time of stay is short. [Exeunt King, Green, Bushy, and Bagot.

North.
Now, afore heaven, 'tis shame such wrongs are borne,
The king is not himself, but basely led
By flatterers; and what they will inform,
Merely in hate, 'gainst any of us all,
That will the king severely prosecute
'Gainst us, our wives, our children, and our heirs.

Wil.
The king's grown bankrupt, like a broken man.

North.
Reproach and dissolution hangeth over him.

Ross.
He hath not money for these Irish wars,
His burdenous taxations notwithstanding,
But by the robbing of the banish'd duke.

North.
His noble kinsman: most degenerate king!
But, even through the hollow eyes of death,
I spy life peering; but I dare not say
How near the tidings of our comfort is.

Wil.
Nay, let us share thy thoughts, as thou dost ours.

Ross.
Be confident to speak, Northumberland:

-- 34 --

We three are but thyself; and speaking so,
Thy words are but our thoughts; therefore, be bold.

North.
Then thus:—I have from Port le Blanc, a bay
In Britanny, receiv'd intelligence,
That Harry of Hereford,
Well furnished by the Duke of Bretagne,
Is making hither with all due expedience,⁷ ^note
And shortly means to touch our northern shore:(H)8Q0138
If then we shall shake off our slavish yoke,
Away, with me, in post to Ravenspurg:
But if you faint, as fearing to do so,
Stay, and be secret, and myself will go.

Ross.
To horse! to horse! urge doubts to them that fear.

Wil.
Hold out my horse, and I will first be there. [Exeunt. Scene II. —ENTRANCE TO ST. STEPHEN'S CHAPEL—(Restored). Enter Queen,(I)8Q0139 Bushy, and Bagot.

Bus.
Madam, your majesty is too much sad:
You promis'd, when you parted with the king,
To lay aside life harming heaviness,
And entertain a cheerful disposition.

Queen.
To please the king, I did; to please myself,
I cannot do it; yet I know no cause
Why I should welcome such a guest as grief,
Save bidding farewell to so sweet a guest
As my sweet Richard: Yet, again, methinks,
Some unborn sorrow, ripe in fortune's womb,
Is coming towards me; and my inward soul
With nothing trembles: yet at something grieves,
More than with parting from my lord the king.

Bus.
Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows,
Which show like grief itself, but are not so:

-- 35 --

Then, thrice-gracious queen,
More than your lord's departure weep not; more's not seen:
Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrow's eye,
Which, for things true, weeps things imaginary.

Queen.
It may be so; but yet my inward soul
Persuades me it is otherwise: Howe'er it be,
I cannot but be sad; so heavy sad,
As,—though, unthinking, on no thought I think,—
Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink. Enter Green.

Gre.
God save your majesty!—and well met, gentlemen.
I hope the king is not yet shipp'd for Ireland.

Queen.
Why hop'st thou so? 'tis better hope, he is;
For his designs crave haste, his haste good hope;
Then wherefore dost thou hope, he is not shipp'd?

Gre.
The banish'd Bolingbroke repeals himself,
And with uplifted arms is safe arrived
At Ravenspurg.(K)8Q0140

Queen.
Now gracious heaven forbid!

Gre.
O, madam, 'tis too true: and that is worse,—
The lord Northumberland, his young son Henry Percy,
The lords of Ross, Beaumond, and Willoughby,
With all their powerful friends, are fled to him.

Queen.
Why have you not proclaim'd Northumberland,
And all the rest of the revolting faction,
Traitors?

Gre.
We have: whereon the Earl of Worcester
Hath broke his staff, resign'd his stewardship,
And all the household servants fled with him
To Bolingbroke.

Queen.
So, Green, thou art the midwife to my woe,
And Bolingbroke my sorrow's dismal heir:
Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy.

Bus.
Despair not, madam.

Queen.
Who shall hinder me?
I will despair, and be at enmity
With cozening hope; he is a flatterer,
A parasite, a keeper back of death,
Who gently would dissolve the bands of life,
Which false hope lingers in extremity.

-- 36 --

Enter York.

Gre.
Here comes the Duke of York.

Queen.
Uncle,
For heaven's sake, speak comfortable words.

York.
Comfort's in heaven; and we are on the earth,
Where nothing lives but crosses, care, and grief.
Your husband he is gone to save far off.
Whilst others come to make him lose at home:
Here am I left to underprop his land;
Who, weak with age, cannot support myself:—
Heaven for his mercy! what a tide of woes
Comes rushing on this woeful land at once!
Gentlemen, will you go muster men? if I know
How, or which way, to order these affairs,
Thus thrust disorderly into my hands,
Never believe me. Both are my kinsmen;—
The one's my sovereign, whom both my oath
And duty bids defend; the other again,
Is my near kinsman, whom the king hath wrong'd;
Whom conscience and my kindred bids to right.
Well, somewhat we must do.—Come, cousin, I'll
Dispose of you:—Go, muster up your men,
And meet me presently at Berkley Castle.(L)8Q0141
I know not what to do: all is uneven,
And every thing is left at six and seven. [Exeunt. Scene III. THE WILDS IN GLOUCESTERSHIRE. Enter Bolingbroke⁸ ^note and Northumberland with Forces. (March.)

Bol.
How far is it, my lord, to Berkley now?

-- 37 --

North.
I am a stranger here in Gloucestershire.
These high wild hills, and rough uneven ways,
Draw out our miles, and make them wearisome;
Yet your fair discourse hath much beguil'd
The tediousness and process of my travel.

Bol.
Who comes here? Enter Harry Percy.(M)8Q0142

North.
It is my son, young Harry Percy,
Sent from my brother Worcester.
Harry, how fares your uncle?

Per.
I had thought, my lord, to have learned his health of you.

North.
Why, is he not with the queen?

Per.
No, my good lord; he hath foorsook the court,
Broken his staff of office, and dispers'd
The household of the king.

North.
What was his reason?
He was not so resolv'd, when last we spake together.

Per.
Because your lordship was proclaimed traitor.
But he, my lord, is gone to Ravenspurg,
To offer service to the Duke of Hereford;
And sent me o'er by Berkley, to discover
What power the Duke of York had levied there;
Then with direction to repair to Ravenspurg.

North.
Have you forgot the Duke of Hereford, boy?

Per.
No, my good lord; for that is not forgot,
Which ne'er I did remember: to my knowledge,
I never in my life did look on him.

North.
Then learn to know him now: this is the duke.

Per.
My gracious lord, I tender you my service,
Such as it is, being tender, raw, and young;
Which elder days shall ripen, and confirm
To more approved service and desert.

Bol.
I thank thee, gentle Percy; and be sure,
I count myself in nothing else so happy,
As in a soul rememb'ring my good friends.

North.
How far is it to Berkley? And what stir
Keeps good old York there, with his men of war?

Per.
There stands the castle, by yon tuft of trees,
Mann'd with three hundred men, as I have heard:

-- 38 --

And in it are the lords of York, Berkley, and Seymour:
None else of name, and noble estimate. Enter the Lords of Ross and Willoughby.

North.
Here comes the lords of Ross and Willoughby.

Bol.
Welcome, my lords: I wot⁹ ^note your love pursues
A banish'd traitor; all my treasury
Is yet but unfelt thanks, which, more enrich'd
Shall be your love and labour's recompense.

Ross.
Your presence makes us rich, most noble lord.

Wil.
And far surmounts our labour to attain it.

Bol.
Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the poor,
Which, till my infant fortune comes to years,
Stands for my bounty. But who comes here? Enter Lord Berkley, attended.

North.
It is my lord of Berkley, as I guess.

Ber.
My lord of Hereford, my message is to you.

Bol.
My lord, my answer is—to Lancaster:
And I am come to seek that name in England:
And I must find that title in your tongue,
Before I make reply to aught you say.

Ber.
Mistake me not, my lord; 'tis not my meaning,
To raze one title of your honour out:—
To you, my lord, I come, (what lord you will,)
From the most glorious regent of this land,
The Duke of York; to know, what pricks you on
To take advantage of the absent time,¹⁰ ^note
And fright our native peace with self-born arms. Enter York, attended.(N)8Q0143

Bol.
I shall not need transport my words by you;
Here comes his grace in person.—Noble uncle! [Kneels.

York.
Show me thy humble heart, and not thy knee,
Whose duty is deceivable and false.

Bol.
My gracious uncle!—

York.
I am no traitor's uncle; and that word—grace,

-- 39 --

In an ungracious mouth, is but profane.
Why have those banish'd and forbidden legs
Dar'd once to touch a dust of England's ground?
But more than this,—Why have they dared to march
So many miles upon her peaceful bosom;
Frighting her pale-fac'd villages with war?
Thou art a banish'd man, and here art come,
Before the expiration of thy time,
In braving arms against thy sovereign.

Bol.
As I was banish'd, I was banish'd Hereford;
But as I come, I come for Lancaster.
And, noble uncle, I beseech your grace,
Look on my wrongs with an indifferent eye:¹¹ ^note
You are my father, for, methinks, in you
I see old Gaunt alive; O, then, my father!
Will you permit that I shall stand condemn'd
A wand'ring vagabond; my rights and royalties
Pluck'd from my arms perforce, and given away
To upstart unthrifts? Wherefore was I born?
If that my cousin king be King of England,
It must be granted, I am Duke of Lancaster.
I am denied to use my livery here,
And yet my letters-patent give me leave:
My father's goods are all distrain'd, and sold;
What would you have me do? I am a subject,
And challenge law; Attornies are denied me;
And therefore, personally I lay my claim
To my inheritance of free descent.

North.
The noble duke hath been too much abus'd.

Ross.
It stands your grace upon to do him right.¹² ^note

York.
My lords of England, let me tell you this,—
I have had feeling of my cousin's wrongs,
And labour'd all I could to do him right:
But in this kind to come, in braving arms,
To find out right with wrong,—it may not be;
And you that do abet him in this kind,
Cherish rebellion, and are rebels all.

-- 40 --

North.
The noble duke hath sworn, his coming is
But for his own: and, for the right of that,
We all have strongly sworn to give him aid;
And let him ne'er see joy, that breaks that oath.

York.
Well, well, I see the issue of these arms;
I cannot mend it, I must needs confess,
Because my power is weak, and all ill left:
But, since I cannot, be it known to you,
I do remain as neuter. So, fare you well;
Unless you please to enter in the castle,
And there repose you for this night.

Bol.
An offer, uncle, that we will accept.
But we must win your grace, to go with us
To Bristol Castle, which, they say, is held
By Bushy, Bagot, and their complices,
The caterpillars of the commonwealth,
Which I have sworn to weed, and pluck away.(O)8Q0144

York.
It may be, I will go with you; but yet I'll pause;
For I am loath to break our country's laws.
Nor friends, nor foes, to me welcome you are:
Things past redress, are now with me past care. [Exeunt. (March repeated.) END OF ACT SECOND.

-- 41 --

HISTORICAL NOTES TO ACT SECOND. ^note ^note ^note ^note ^note

-- 42 --

^note ^note ^note

-- 43 --

^note

-- 44 --

^note ^note ^note ^note

-- 45 --

^note

-- 46 --

ACT III. Scene I. —MILFORD HARBOUR, IN WALES, WITH PEMBROKE CASTLE (Restored).—RICHARD'S FLEET AT ANCHOR.¹ ^note Flourish of Trumpets. Enter King Richard,² ^note Bishop of Carlisle,(A)8Q0145 Aumerle, and Soldiers.

K. Rich.
Pembroke Castle call you this at hand?(B)8Q0146

Aum.
Yea, my good lord:—How brooks your grace the air,
After late tossing on the breaking seas?

K. Rich.
Needs must I like it well; I weep for joy,
To stand upon my kingdom once again.—
Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand,
Though rebels wound thee with their horses' hoofs:
As a long parted mother with her child
Plays fondly with her tears, and smiles in weeping;
So, weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth.
Feed not thy sovereign's foe, my gentle earth,
But let thy spiders, that suck up thy venom,
And heavy-gaited toads, lie in their way;
Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet,
Which with usurping steps do trample thee.
Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies:
And when they from thy bosom pluck a flower,
Guard it, I pray thee, with a lurking adder;

-- 47 --

Whose double tongue may with a mortal touch
Throw death upon thy sovereign's enemies.—
Mock not my senseless conjuration, lords;
This earth shall have a feeling, and these stones
Prove armed soldiers, ere her native king
Shall falter under fowl rebellious arms.

Car.
Fear not, my lord; that Power that made you king
Hath power to keep you king, in spite of all.
The means that heaven yields must be embrac'd,
The proffer'd means of succour and redress.

Aum.
He means, my lord, that we are too remiss;
Whilst Bolingbroke, through our security,
Grows strong and great, in substance, and in friends.

K. Rich.
Discomfortable cousin! know'st thou not,
That when the searching eye of heaven is hid
Behind the globe, and lights the lower world,
Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen,
In murders, and in outrage, bloody here;
But when, from under this terrestrial ball,
He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines,
And darts his light through every guilty hole,
Then murders, treasons, and detested sins,
The cloak of night being pluck'd from off their backs,
Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves?
So when this thief, this traitor, Bolingbroke,—
Who all this while hath revell'd in the night,
Shall see us rising in our throne the east,
His treasons will sit blushing in his face,
Not able to endure the sight of day,
But, self-affrighted, tremble at his sin;
Not all the water in the rough rude sea
Can wash the balm from an anointed king:
For every man that Bolingbroke hath press'd,
To lift sharp steel against our golden crown,
God for his Richard hath in heavenly pay
A glorious angel: then, if angels fight,
Weak men must fall, for heaven still guards the right. Enter Salisbury.(C)8Q0147
Welcome, my lord; How far off lies your power?³ ^note

-- 48 --

Sal.
Nor near, nor further off, my gracious lord,
Than this weak arm: discomfort guides my tongue,
And bids me speak of nothing but despair.
One day too late, I fear, my noble lord,
Hath clouded all thy happy days on earth:
O, call back yesterday, bid time return,
And thou shalt have twelve thousand fighting men!
To-day, to-day, unhappy day, too late,
O'erthrows thy joys, friends, fortune, and thy state;
For all the Welshmen, hearing thou wert dead,
Are gone to Bolingbroke, dispers'd and fled.

Aum.
Comfort, my liege: why looks your grace so pale?

K. Rich.
But now, the blood of twenty thousand men
Did triumph in my face, and they are fled;
And, till so much blood thither come again,
Have I not reason to look pale and dead?

Aum.
Comfort, my liege; remember who you are.

K. Rich.
I had forgot myself. Am I not king?
Awake, thou sluggard majesty! thou sleep'st.
Is not the king's name forty thousand names?
Arm, arm, my name! a puny subject strikes
At thy great glory.—Look not to the ground,
Ye favourites of a king. Are we not high?
High be our thoughts: I know, my uncle York
Hath power enough to serve our turn. But who
Comes here? Enter Scroop.

Scr.
More health and happiness betide my liege,
Than can my care-tun'd tongue deliver him.

K. Rich.
Mine ear is open, and my heart prepar'd;
The worst is worldly loss, thou canst unfold.
Say, is my kingdom lost? why, 'twas my care;
And what loss is it, to be rid of care?
Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we?
Greater he shall not be; if he serve Heav'n,
We'll serve Heaven too, and be his fellow so:
Revolt our subjects? that we cannot mend;
They break their faith to heaven, as well as us;
Cry, woe, destruction, ruin, loss, decay;
The worst is—death, and death will have his day.

-- 49 --

Scr.
Glad am I, that your highness is so arm'd
To bear the tidings of calamity.
Like an unseasonable stormy day,
Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores,
As if the world were all dissolv'd to tears;
So high above his limits swells the rage
Of Bolingbroke, covering your fearful land
With hard bright steel, and hearts harder than steel,
White beards have arm'd their thin and hairless scalps
Against thy majesty; boys, with women's voices,
Strive to speak big, and clap their feeble joints
In stiff unwieldy arms against thy crown:
Thy very beadsmen learn to bend their bows
Against thy state; both young and old rebel,
And all goes worse than I have power to tell.

K. Rich.
Too well, too well, thou tell'st a tale so ill.
Where is the Earl of Wiltshire? where is Bagot?
What is become of Bushy? where is Green?
That they have let the dangerous enemy
Measure our confines with such peaceful steps?
If we prevail, their heads shall pay for it.
I warrant, they have made peace with Bolingbroke.

Scr.
Peace have they made with him, indeed, my lord.

K. Rich.
O villains, vipers, damn'd without redemption!
Dogs, easily won to fawn on any man!
Snakes, in my heart-blood warm'd, that sting my heart!
Would they make peace? terrible hell make war
Upon their spotted souls for this offence!

Scr.
Again uncurse their souls; their peace is made
With heads, and not with hands: those whom you curse
Have felt the worst of death's destroying wound,
And lie full low, grav'd in the hollow ground.

Aum.
Is Bushy, Green, and the Earl of Wiltshire, dead?

Scr.
Yea, all of them at Bristol lost their heads.

Aum.
Where is the duke my father with his power?

K. Rich.
No matter where; of comfort no man speak:
Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs:
Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes
Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth.
Let's choose executors, and talk of wills:
And yet not so,—for what can we bequeath,

-- 50 --

Save our deposed bodies to the ground?
Our lands, our lives, and all are Bolingbroke's,
And nothing can we call our own, but death;
And that small model of the barren earth,⁴ ^note
Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
For heaven's sake, let us sit upon the ground,
And tell sad stories of the death of kings:—
How some have been depos'd, some slain in war,
Some poison'd by their wives, some sleeping kill'd;
All murder'd:—For within the hollow crown,
That rounds the mortal temples of a king,
Keeps death his court: and there the antick sits,⁵ ^note
Scoffing his state, and grinning at his pomp;
Allowing him a breath, a little scene
To monarchise, be fear'd, and kill with looks;
Infusing him with self and vain conceit,—
As if this flesh, which walls about our life,
Were brass impregnable; and, humour'd thus,
Comes at the last, and with a little pin
Bores through his castle wall, and—farewell king!
Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood
With solemn reverence; throw away respect,
Tradition,⁶ ^note form, and ceremonious duty,
For you have but mistook me all this while:
I live with bread like you, feel want, taste grief,
Need friends:—Subjécted thus,
How can you say to me—I am a king?

Car.
My lord, wise men ne'er wail their present woes,
But presently prevent the ways to wail.

Aum.
My father hath a power, enquire of him;
And learn to make a body of a limb.

K. Rich.
Thou chid'st me well:—Proud Bolingbroke, I come

-- 51 --

To change blows with thee for our day of doom.
This ague-fit of fear is over blown.
Say, Scroop, where lies our uncle with his power?

Scr.
I play the torturer, by small and small,
To lengthen out the worst that must be spoken:—
Your uncle York hath join'd with Bolingbroke;
And all your northern castles yielded up,
And all your southern gentlemen in arms
Upon his party.⁷ ^note

K. Rich.
Thou hast said enough.—
Beshrew thee, cousin, which didst lead me forth. [To Aumerle.
Of that sweet way I was in to despair!
What say you now? What comfort have we now?
By heaven, I'll hate him everlastingly,
That bids me be of comfort⁸ ^note
any more.
Go to Flint Castle; there I'll pine away;
A king, woe's slave, shall kingly woe obey.

Aum.
My liege, one word.

K. Rich.
He does me double wrong,
That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue.
Discharge my followers, let them hence:—Away,
From Richard's night, to Bolingbroke's fair day. [Exeunt. Scene II. —WALES, IN THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF FLINT CASTLE. Flourish of Trumpets. Enter Bolingbroke, York, Northumberland,(D)8Q0148 and Others.

Bol.
So that by this intelligence we learn,
The Welshmen are dispersed; and Salisbury

-- 52 --

Is gone to meet the king, who lately landed,
With some few private friends, upon this coast.

North.
The news is very fair and good, my lord;
Richard, not far from hence, hath hid his head.

York.
It would beseem the Lord Northumberland,
To say—King Richard:—Alack the heavy day,
When such a sacred king should hide his head.

North.
Your grace mistakes me: only to be brief,
Left I his title out.

York.
The time hath been,—

Bol.
Mistake not, uncle, further than you should.

York.
Take not, good cousin, further than you should,
Lest you mis-take: The heavens are o'er your head.

Bol.
I know it, uncle; and oppose not
Myself against their will.—But who comes here? Enter Percy.
Well, Harry; what, will not this castle yield?

Per.
The castle royally is manned, my lord,
Against thy entrance.

Bol.
Royally!
Why it contains no king?

Per.
Yes, my good lord,
It doth contain a king; King Richard lies
Within the limits of yon lime and stone:
And with him are the Lord Aumerle, Lord Salisbury,
Sir Stephen Scroop, besides a clergyman
Of holy reverence, who, I cannot learn.

North.
Belike, it is the Bishop of Carlisle.

Bol.
Noble lord, [To North.
Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle;
Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parle
Into his ruin'd ears, and thus deliver.
Harry Bolingbroke
On both his knees doth kiss King Richard's hand;
And sends allegiance, and true faith of heart,
To his most royal person: hither come
Even at his feet to lay my arms and power;
Provided that, my banishment repeal'd,
And lands restor'd again, be freely granted:
If not, I'll use the advantage of my power,

-- 53 --

And lay the summer's dust with showers of blood,
Rain'd from the wounds of slaughter'd Englishmen;
The which, how far off from the mind of Bolingbroke
It is, such crimson tempest should bedrench
The fresh green lap of fair King Richard's land,
My stooping duty tenderly shall show.
Go, signify as much; while here we march
Upon the grassy carpet of this plain. [Exeunt Northumberland and others towards the castle.
Let's march without the noise of threat'ning war,
That from the castle's totter'd battlements
Our fair appointments may be well perus'd.
March on, and mark King Richard how he looks. [Exeunt Bolingbroke, York, &c., &c. Scene III. —FLINT CASTLE (Restored.) Enter Northumberland, attended. A parle sounded, and answered by another Trumpet within. Enter on the walls King Richard,(E)8Q0149) the Bishop of Carlisle, Aumerle, Scroop, and Salisbury.

North.
See, see, King Richard doth himself appear,
As doth the blushing discontented sun,
From out the fiery portal of the east;
When he perceives the envious clouds are bent
To dim his glory, and to stain the track
Of his bright passage to the occident.

K. Rich.
We are amaz'd; and thus long have we stood
To watch the fearful bending of thy knee, [To Northumberland.
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 heaven
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 sceptre,

-- 54 --

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, the omnipotent,
Is must'ring in his clouds, in our behalf,
Armies of pestilence; and they shall strike
Your children yet unborn, and unbegot,
That lift your vassal hands against my head,
And threat 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:⁹ ^note
But ere the crown he looks for live in peace,
Ten thousand bloody crowns of mother's sons
Shall ill become the flower of England's face;¹⁰ ^note
Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace
To scarlet indignation, and bedew
Her pasture's grass with faithful English blood.

North.
Harry Bolingbroke, doth humbly kiss thy hand;
And by the honourable tomb he swears,
That stands upon thy royal grandsire's bones;
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.

K. Rich.
Northumberland say,—thus the king returns;—
His noble cousin is right welcome hither;
And all the number of his fair demands

-- 55 --

Shall be accomplish'd without contradiction:
With all the gracious utterance thou hast,
Speak to his gentle hearing kind commends. [Exeunt Northumberland and Suit. Enter King Richard and his Attendants below, Sir Stephen Scroop bearing the sword before the King.¹¹ ^note
We do debase ourself, cousin, do we not, [To Aumerle.
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, my good lord; let's fight with gentle words.

K. Rich.
O God! O God! that ere this tongue of mine,
That laid the sentence of dread banishment
On yon proud man, should take it off again
With words of sooth!¹² ^note O, that I were as great
As is my grief, or lesser than my name!
Or that I could forget what I have been!
Or not remember what I must be now!

Aum.
Northumberland comes back from Bolingbroke.

K. Rich.
What must the king do now? Must he submit?
The king shall do it. Must he be deposed?
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 sceptre, for a palmer's walking-staff;
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,¹³ ^note where subject's feet
May hourly trample on their sovereign's head:
For on my heart they tread, now whilst I live;

-- 56 --

And, buried once, why not upon my head?—
I talk but idly, and you mock at me. Re-enter Northumberland.
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,¹⁴ ^note and Bolingbroke says—ay.

North.
My lord, he doth attend
To speak with you. Enter Bolingbroke, attended(F)8Q0150.

Bol.
Stand all apart,
And show fair duty to his majesty.—
My gracious lord,— [Kneeling.

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.] although your knee be low.

Bol.
My gracious lord, I come but for mine own.

K. Rich.
Your own is yours, and I am yours, and all.

Bol.
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?

Bol.
Yea, my good lord.

K. Rich.
Then I must not say, no. [Flourish. Exeunt. END OF ACT THIRD.

-- 57 --

HISTORICAL NOTES TO ACT THIRD. ^note ^note ^note

-- 58 --

^note ^note

-- 59 --

^note

-- 60 --

8Q0151

HISTORICAL EPISODE.(A)

London.—The fronts of the houses adorned with tapestry and hangings, as on occasions of public rejoicing. A vast concourse of people occupying the streets, in expectation of the arrival of Bolingbroke, Duke of Lancaster, and the deposed and captive King Richard the Second. The incidental amusements of the crowd are taken from “Strutt's Sports and Pastimes of the English,” including the DANCE OF ITINERANT FOOLS. The Dance Tune is supposed to be as old as the Reign of Edward the Second. TRUMPET MARCH—ENTER PROCESSION. CITY TRUMPETERS. CITY BANNER.¹ ^note

BANNER OF ST. PAUL.² ^note GUARDS. CITY MACE BEARER. LORD MAYOR'S BANNER. CITY SWORD BEARER. SHERIFF OF LONDON. LORD MAYOR.³ ^note SHERIFF OF LONDON.

-- 61 --

ALDERMEN. BANNER OF THE MERCER'S COMPANY. CAPTAIN AND COMPANY OF THE MERCERS—(ARMED). BANNER OF THE GROCER'S COMPANY.⁴ ^note CAPTAIN AND COMPANY OF THE GROCERS—(ARMED). BANNER OF THE FISHMONGER'S COMPANY. CAPTAIN AND COMPANY OF THE FISHMONGERS—(ARMED). BANNER OF THE GOLDSMITH'S COMPANY. CAPTAIN AND COMPANY OF THE GOLDSMITHS—(ARMED). BANNER OF THE LINEN ARMOURERS' COMPANY.⁵ ^note CAPTAIN AND COMPANY OF THE LINEN ARMOURERS—(ARMED). BANNER OF THE SADDLER'S COMPANY. CAPTAIN AND COMPANY OF THE SADDLERS—(ARMED). BANNER OF THE BAKER'S COMPANY. CAPTAIN AND COMPANY OF THE BAKERS—(ARMED). ROYAL BANNERS. NOBLEMEN IN CIVIL COSTUME. MINSTRELS.⁶ ^note

-- 62 --

DUKE OF LANCASTER'S BANNER. GIRLS, WITH FLOWERS.
GUARDS.

KNIGHT IN ARMOUR. KNIGHT IN ARMOUR.

KNIGHT IN ARMOUR. BOLINGBROKE⁷ ^note ON HORSEBACK. KNIGHT IN ARMOUR.

KNIGHT IN ARMOUR. KNIGHT IN ARMOUR.

KNIGHT IN ARMOUR. KNIGHT IN ARMOUR.

KNIGHT IN ARMOUR. KING RICHARD ON HORSEBACK. KNIGHT IN ARMOUR.

KNIGHT IN ARMOUR. KNIGHT IN ARMOUR.

GUARDS. CAPTAIN, AND BAND OF CITY ARCHERS. The Duke of Lancaster is received with shouts of enthusiasm.

Bolingbroke.

“Thanks, my countrymen and loving friends, I thank you, countrymen.”

Voice from the crowd.

“Long live Henry, the noble Duke of Lancaster!”

Shouts.

Another voice.

“Welcome, long wished for Duke of Lancaster, may all joy and prosperity attend you!”

Shouts.

Another voice.

“Such a lord deserves to be king!”

Shouts repeated.

Bolingbroke.

“My lords, and friends, here is King Richard, I deliver him into your custody, and beg you to do with him what you wish.”

Different voices.

“God save thee, Bolingbroke! Heaven preserve thee! Welcome, Bolingbroke!”

-- 63 --

General shouting of “Long live the Duke of Lancaster!” [Flourish of Trumpets and other instruments, the ringing of bells, &c., &c. KING RICHARD⁸ ^note IS RECEIVED IN SILENCE. An open space is kept round him that all may see him, and a boy comes forward, pointing with his finger, and saying, “Behold King Richard, who has done so much good to the kingdom of England!” MURMURS FROM THE MOB.

Voice from the mob.

“Now are we well avenged on him who has governed us so ill!”

Exclamations.

“To the Tower with him! to the Tower with him!”⁹ ^note

An old Soldier, who has fought under the banner of Edward the Black Prince, at Cressy and Poictiers, accompanied by his grandson, endeavours to pay homage to the son of his former commander, but is prevented by the mob, and treated with contempt. The procession passes on, and the DROP FALLS.

-- 64 --

HISTORICAL NOTE TO THE EPISODE. ^note

-- 65 --

ACT IV. Scene I. —LANGLEY.¹ ^note THE DUKE OF YORK'S GARDEN. Garden of the fourteenth century, adapted from the MS. of the Roman d'Alexandre, Bodleian Library.² ^note 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.
Madame, we'll play at bowls.

Queen.
'Twill make me think
The world is full of rubs, and that my fortune
Runs 'gainst the bias.³ ^note

2 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;

-- 66 --

For what I have, I need not to repeat,
And what I want, it boots not⁴ ^note to complain.

1 Lady.
Madam, I'll sing.

Queen.
'Tis well, that thou hast cause;
But thou should'st please me better should'st thou weep.

1 Lady.
I could weep, madam, would it do you 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.⁵ ^note [Queen and Ladies retire.

Gar.
Go, bind thou up yon dangling apricots,⁶ ^note
Which, like unruly children, make their sire
Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight;
You thus employed, I will go root away
The noisome weeds, that without profit suck
The soil's fertility from wholesome flowers.

1 Ser.
Why should we, in the compass of a pale,⁷ ^note
Keep law, and form, and due proportion,
When the whole land is full of weeds?

Gar.
Hold thy peace:—
He 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,

-- 67 --

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 Ser.
What, are they dead?

Gar.
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! Superfluous branches
We lop away, that bearing boughs may live:
Had he done so, himself had borne the crown,
Which waste of idle hours hath quite thrown down.

1 Ser.
What, think you then, the king shall be depos'd?

Gar.
Depress'd he is already; and depos'd,
'Tis doubt⁸ ^note 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 deposed?
Dar'st thou, thou little better thing than earth,
Divine his downfall? Say, where, when, and how,
Cam'st thou by these ill tidings? speak, thou wretch.

Gar.
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,
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, thou art so light of foot.
Doth not thy embassage belong to me,

-- 68 --

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,
I would, the plants thou graft'st may never grow. [Exeunt Queen and Ladies.

Gar.
Poor queen! so that thy state might be no worse,
I would my skill were subject to thy curse.—
Here did she drop a tear; here, in this place,
I'll set a bank of rue, sour herb of grace:
Rue, even for ruth,⁹ ^note here shortly shall be seen,
In the remembrance of a weeping queen. [Exeunt. Scene II. —LONDON. WESTMINSTER HALL. Galleries erected for the Spectators. The Throne at one end. The Lords spiritual and temporal, with the Commons assembled. Sir Thomas Percy, Earl of Worcester, bearing a white rod in his hand. Flourish of Trumpets. 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 sceptre yields
To the possession of thy royal hand:
Ascend his throne, descending now from him,—
And long live Henry, of that name the fourth!

Bol.
In Heaven's name, I'll ascend the regal throne. [Bolingbroke is led to the Throne by the Archbishops of Canterbury and York, amidst the applause of the Spectators.¹⁰ ^note

-- 69 --

Fetch hither Richard, that in common view
He may surrender; so we shall proceed
Without suspicion.

York.
I will be his conduct.¹¹ ^note [Exit. Re-enter York, with King Richard,¹² ^note guarded, and Officers bearing the Crown, &c.

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 awhile to tutor me
To this submission. Yet I well remember
The favours of these men:¹³ ^note Were they not mine?
Did they not sometime cry “all hail” to me?
To do what service am I sent for thither?

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 the crown;(A)8Q0152
Here, on this side, my hand; on that side, thine.
Now is this golden crown like a deep well,
That owns 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.

Bol.
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.

Bol.
Part of your cares you give me with your crown.

K. Rich.
Your cares set up, do not pluck my cares down.

-- 70 --

The cares I give, I have, though given away;
They tend¹⁴ ^note the crown, yet still with me they stay.

Bol.
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 unwieldly sceptre from my hand,
The pride of kingly sway from out my heart;
With mine own tears I wash away my balm,¹⁵ ^note
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;
Heav'n pardon all oaths, that are broke to me!
Heav'n keep all vows unbroke, are made to thee!
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.¹⁶ ^note

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,¹⁷ ^note
There shouldst thou find one heinous article,—
Containing the deposing of a king,

-- 71 --

And cracking the strong warrant of an oath,—
Mark'd with a blot, damn'd in the book of heaven.

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 sort¹⁸ ^note 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,¹⁹ ^note 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 usurped;—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.

Bol.
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.

Bol.
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.

-- 72 --

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?—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 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.

Bol.
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?

Bol.
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.

Bol.
Yet ask.

K. Rich.
And shall I have?

-- 73 --

Bol.
You shall.

K. Rich.
Then give me leave to go.

Bol.
Whither?

K. Rich.
Whither you will, so I were from your sight.

Bol.
Go, some of you, convey him to the Tower.

K. Rich.
O, good! Convey?—Conveyers are you all,²⁰ ^note
That rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall. [Exeunt King Richard, some Lords, and a Guard.

Bol.
On Wednesday next, we solemnly set down
Our coronation: lords, prepare yourselves. [Flourish of Trumpets. END OF ACT FOURTH.

-- 74 --

HISTORICAL NOTES TO ACT FOURTH. ^note

-- 75 --

-- 76 --

-- 77 --

ACT V. Scene I. —LONDON. THE TRAITOR'S GATE OF THE TOWER.¹ ^note Enter Queen, and Ladies.(A)8Q0153

Queen.
This way the king will come; 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.—
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.

K. Rich.
Join not with grief,² ^note 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.

Queen.
What, is my Richard, both in shape and mind,
Transform'd, and weaken'd? Hath this Bolingbroke
Depos'd thine intellect? Hath he been in thy heart?
The lion, dying, thrusteth forth his paw,

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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.
A king of beasts, indeed; if aught but beasts,
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:³ ^note
And, ere thou bid good night, to quit their grief,⁴ ^note
Tell thou the lamentable fall of me,
And send the hearers weeping to their beds. 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(B)8Q0154.

K. Rich.
Northumberland, thou ladder wherewithal
The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne,—
The time shall not be many hours of age
More than it is,
Ere 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.(C)8Q0155

North.
My guilt be on my head, and there an end.
Take leave, and part; for you must part forthwith.

K. Rich.
Doubly divorc'd?—Bad men, ye violate
A twofold marriage; 'twixt my crown and me;
And then, betwixt me and my married wife.—
Let me unkiss the oath betwixt thee and me;
And yet not so, for with a kiss 'twas made.

Queen.
And must we be divided? must we part?

-- 79 --

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 woe.
Weep thou for me in France, I for thee here;
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 dumbly part;
Thus give I mine, and thus I take thy heart. [They kiss.

Queen.
Give me my own again; 'twere no good part,
To take upon me to keep, and kill thy heart. [Kiss again.
So, now I have mine own again, begone,
That I may strive to kill it with a groan.

K. Rich.
We make woe wanton with this fond delay:
Once more, adieu; the rest let sorrow say. [Exeunt. Scene II. —A ROOM IN THE DUKE OF YORK'S PALACE. Enter York and his Duchess.

Duc.
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?

Duc.
At that sad stop, my lord,
Where rude misgovern'd hands, from window 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,

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With painted imag'ry, had said at once,⁵ ^note—
Heaven 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.

Duc.
Alas, poor Richard! where rides he the while?

York.
As in a theatre, the eyes of men,
After a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage,
Are idly bent on him that enters next,
Thinking his prattle to be tedious,
Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes
Did scowl on Richard; no man cried, God save him;
No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home:
But dust was thrown upon his sacred head;
Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off,—
His face still combating with tears and smiles,
The badges of his grief and patience,—
That had not heaven, for some strong purpose steel'd
The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted,
And barbarism itself have pitied him.
But heaven hath a hand in these events;
To whose high will we bound our calm contents.
To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now,
Whose state and honour I for aye⁶ ^note allow. [Exeunt. Scene III. —POMFRET. THE DUNGEON OF THE CASTLE.(D)8Q0156 Exton and Two Attendants.

Ext.
Didst thou not mark the king, what words he spake?
Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear?
Was it not so?

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Ser.
Those were his very words.

Ext.
Have I no friend? quoth he: he spake it twice,
And urged it twice together; did he not?

Ser.
He did.

Ext.
And, speaking it, he wistfully look'd on me;
As who should say,—I would, thou wert the man
That would divorce this terror from my heart;
Meaning, the king at Pomfret. Come, let's go;
I am the king's friend, and will rid his foe. [Exeunt. Enter King Richard.

K. Rich.
I have been studying how I may compare
This prison, where I live, unto the world:
And, for because the world is populous,
And here is not a creature but myself,
I cannot do it;—Yet I'll hammer it out.
My brain I'll prove the female to my soul;
My soul, the father: and these two beget
A generation of still-breeding thoughts,
And these same thoughts people this little world;⁷ ^note
Thus play I, in one person, many people,
And none contented: sometimes am I king;
Then treason makes me wish myself a beggar,
And so I am: Then crushing penury
Persuades me I was better when a king;
Then am I king'd again; and, by-and-by,
Think that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke,
And straight am nothing. Enter Groom.

Groom.
Hail! royal prince.

K. Rich.
Thanks, noble peer;
What art thou? and how comest thou hither,
Where no man ever comes, but that sad dog,⁸ ^note
That brings me food, to make misfortune live?

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Groom.
I was a poor groom of thy stable, king(E)8Q0157,
When thou wert king, who travelling towards York,
With much ado, at length have gotten leave
To look upon my sometime master's face.⁹ ^note
O, how it yearn'd my heart, when I beheld,
In London streets, that coronation day.
When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary!(F)8Q0158
That horse, that thou so often hast bestrid;
That horse, that I so carefully have dress'd!

K. Rich.
Rode he on Barbary? Tell me, gentle friend,
How went he under him?

Groom.
So proudly, as if he disdain'd the ground.

K. Rich.
So proud that Bolingbroke was on his back!
That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand;
This hand hath made him proud with clapping him.
Would he not stumble?—would he not fall down
(Since pride must have a fall), and break the neck
Of that proud man that did usurp his back?
Forgiveness, horse, why do I rail on thee,
Since thou, created to be aw'd by man,
Wast born to bear? I was not made a horse;
And yet I bear a burden like an ass,
Spur-gall'd, and tir'd, by jauncing Bolingbroke.¹⁰ ^note Enter Keeper, with a dish.

Keep. [to the Groom]
Fellow, give place; here is no longer stay.

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, will't 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 thee!
Patience is stale, and I am weary of it. [Seizes a knife from the table, and strikes at the Keeper.

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Keep.
Help! help! help! Enter Exton, and Eight Attendants, 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 four of them. Then Exton strikes him down.
That hand shall burn in never quenching fire,
That staggers thus my person.—
Mount, mount, my soul! thy seat is up on high;
Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward here to die.(G)8Q0159 [Dies. The Scene is closed in by a Curtain, which, after a short pause, is withdrawn, and discovers Scene IV. —ST. GEORGE'S HALL, WINDSOR CASTLE. Flourish. Bolingbroke,¹¹ ^note as King, accompanied by his four sons,¹² ^note

York, Lords, and Attendants.

Bol.
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 happiness.
The next news is,—I have to London sent

-- 84 --

The heads of Salisbury, Spencer,¹³ ^note Blunt,¹⁴ ^note and Kent:¹⁵ ^note
The manner of their taking may appear
At large discoursed in this paper here. [Presenting a paper.

Bol.
We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains,
And to thy worth will add right worthy gains. Enter Fitzwater.

Fitz.
My lord, I have from Oxford sent to London
The heads of Brocas, and Sir Bennet Seely;
Two of the dangerous consorted traitors,
That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow.(H)8Q0160

Bol.
Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be forgot;
Right noble is thy merit well I wot. Enter Exton, with Attendants bearing a bier.

Ext.
Great king, beneath this covering I present
Thy buried fear; behold where breathless lies
The mightiest of thy greatest enemies,
Richard of Bordeaux, by me hither brought.

Bol.
Exton, I thank thee not: for thou hast wrought
A deed of slander, with thy fatal hand,
Upon my head, and upon all this land.

Ext.
From your own mouth, my lord, did I this deed.

Bol.
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 show thy head by day nor light.—
Lords, 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. END OF ACT FIFTH.

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HISTORICAL NOTES TO ACT FIFTH. ^note ^note ^note ^note ^note ^note

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^note

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^note Volume back matter JOHN K. CHAPMAN AND CO., PRINTERS, 5, SHOE LANE, AND PETERBOROUGH COURT, FLEET STREET.

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