of Aumerle and Surrey, Northumberland, Percy, Fitzwater, another Lord, Bishop of Carlisle, Abbot of Westminster, &c. Officers behind, with Bagot, and People in Attendance.

Bol.
Call Bagot forth ^note:— [Officers set him to the Bar.
Now, Bagot, freely speak ^note
What thou dost know of noble Gloster's death;
Who wrought it with the king, and who perform'd
The bloody office of his timeless end.

Bag.
Then set before my face the lord Aumerle.

Bol.
Cousin, stand forth, and look upon that man.

Bag.
My lord Aumerle, I know, your daring tongue
Scorns to unsay what once it hath ^note deliver'd.
In that dead time when Gloster's death was plotted,
I heard you say,—Is not my arm of length,
That reacheth from the restful English court
As far as Calais, to my uncle's ^note head?
Amongst much other talk, that very time
I heard you say too, you ^note had rather refuse
The offer of an hundred thousand crowns,
Than to have Bolingbroke ^note return to England:
Adding withal, how blest this land would be
In this your cousin's death.

Aum.
Princes, and noble lords,
What answer shall I make to this base man?
Shall I so much dishonour my fair stars,
On equal terms to give him ^note chastisement?
Either I must, or have mine honour soil'd ^note
With the attainder ^note of his sland'rous lips.—
There is my † gage, the manual seal of death,
That marks thee out for hell: I say ^note, thou ly'st;

And will maintain, what thou hast said, is false,
In thy heart ^note-blood, though being all too base
To stain the temper of my knightly sword.

Bol.
Bagot, forbear, [seeing him stoop.] thou shalt not take it up.

Aum.
Excepting one, I would he were the best
In all this presence, that hath mov'd me so.

Fit.
If that thy valour stand on sympathies ^note,
There is † my gage, Aumerle, in gage to thine:
By that fair sun which shews ^note me where thou stand'st,
I heard thee say, and vauntingly thou spak'st it,
That thou wert cause of noble Gloster's death.
If thou deny'st it, twenty times thou ly'st;
And I will turn thy falshood to thy heart,
Where it was forged, with my rapier's point.

Aum.
Thou dar'st not, coward, live to ^note see that day ^note.

Fit.
Now, by my soul, I would it were this hour.

Aum.
Fitzwater, thou art damn'd to hell for this.

Per.
Aumerle, thou ly'st; his honour is as true
In this appeal, as thou art all unjust:
And, that thou art so, there † I throw my gage,
To prove it on thee to the extreamest point
Of mortal breathing; seize it, if thou dar'st.

Aum.
And if ^note I do not, may my hands rot off,
And never brandish more revengeful steel
Over the glittering helmet of my foe!

Lor.
I task thee ^note14Q0595 to ^note the like, forsworn Aumerle;
And spur thee on with full as many lies
As may ^note be hollow'd in thy treacherous ear
From sun to sun ^note: there is † my honour's pawn;
Engage it to the trial, if thou dar'st.

Aum.
Who sets me else? by heaven, I'll throw at all: ^note

I have a thousand spirits in one breast,
To answer twenty thousand such as you.

Sur.
My lord Fitzwater, I remember ^note well
The very time Aumerle and you did talk.

Fit.
'Tis ^note very true: you were in presence then;
And you can witness with me, this is true.

Sur.
As false, by heaven, as heaven itself is true.

Fit.
Surrey, thou ly'st.

Sur.
Dishonourable boy,
That lie shall lye so heavy on my sword,
That it shall render vengeance and revenge,
'Till thou the lie-giver, and that lie, do lye
In earth as quiet as thy father's scull.
In proof whereof, there † is my honour's ^note pawn;
Engage it to the trial, if thou dar'st.

Fit.
How fondly dost thou spur a forward horse?
If I dare eat, or drink, or breath, or live,—
I dare meet Surrey in a wilderness,
And spit upon him, whilst I say, he lies,
And lies, and lies: there is † my ^note bond ^note of faith,
To tie thee to my strong correction.—
As I intend ^note to thrive in this new world,
Aumerle is guilty of my true appeal:
Besides, I heard the banish'd Norfolk say,
That thou, Aumerle, didst send two of thy men
To execute the noble duke at Calais.

Aum.
Some honest christian trust me with a gage,
That Norfolk lies: here do I throw down † this, [taking one from a Stander-by.
If he may be repeal'd to try his honour.

Bol.
These differences shall all rest under gage,
'Till Norfolk be repeal'd: repeal'd he shall be,

And, though mine enemy, restor'd again
To all his signories ^note; when he's return'd,
Against Aumerle we will enforce his trial.

Car.
That honourable day shall ne'er be seen.
Many a time hath banish'd Norfolk fought
For Jesu ^note Christ; in glorious christian field
Streaming the ensign of the christian cross,
Against black pagans, Turks, and Saracens:
And, toil'd with works of war, retir'd himself
To Italy; and there, at Venice, gave
His body to that pleasant ^note country's earth,
And his pure soul unto his captain Christ,
Under whose colours he had fought so long.

Bol.
Is Norfolk dead?14Q0596

Car.
Sure ^note as I live, my lord.

Bol.
Sweet peace conduct his sweet soul to the bosom
Of good old Abraham!—My lords appellants
Your differences shall all rest under gage,
'Till we assign you to your days of trial. Enter York, attended.

Yor.
Great duke of Lancaster, I come to thee
From plume-pluck'd Richard; who with willing soul
Adopts thee heir ^note, and his high scepter yields
To the possession of thy royal hand:
Ascend his throne, descending now from him,—
And long live Henry, of that name the fourth ^note!

Bol.
In God's name, I'll ascend the regal throne.

Car.
Marry, God forbid ^note!—
Worst in this royal presence may I ^note speak,
Yet best beseeming me to speak the truth.
Would God, that ^note any in this noble presence
Were enough noble to be upright judge

Of noble Richard; then true noblesse ^note would
Learn him forbearance from so foul a wrong.
What subject can give sentence on his king?
And who sits here ^note, that is not Richard's subject?
Thieves are not judg'd, but they are by to hear,
Although apparent guilt be seen in them:
And shall the figure of God's majesty,
His captain, steward, deputy elect,
Anointed, crowned, planted ^note many years,
Be judg'd by subject ^note and inferior breath,
And he himself not present? o, forbid ^note it, ^note
That, in a christian climate, souls refin'd
Should shew so heinous, black, obscene a deed!
I speak to subjects, and a subject speaks,
Stir'd up by heaven thus ^note boldly for his king.
My lord of Hereford here, whom you call king,
Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford's king:
And if you crown him, let me prophesy,—
The blood of English shall manure the ground,
And future ages groan for this ^note foul act;
Peace shall go sleep ^note with Turks and infidels,
And, in this seat of peace, tumultuous wars
Shall kin with kin, and kind with kind confound;
Disorder, horror, fear, and mutiny,
Shall here inhabit, and this land be call'd
The field of Golgotha and dead men's sculls.
O, if you rear this ^note house against this house,
It will the wofullest division prove,
That ever fell upon this cursed earth:
Prevent, resist it, ^note let ^note it not be so,
Lest child, child's children, cry against you—woe!

Nor.
Well have you argu'd, sir; and, for your pains,

Of capital treason we arrest you here:—
My lord of Westminster, be it your charge
To keep him safely 'till his day of trial.— [Officers give Carlisle to the Abbot.
May't please you, lords,14Q0597 to grant the commons' suit? ^note

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

Yor.
I will be his conduct. [Exeunt York, and Others.

Bol.
Lords, you that here are ^note under our arrest,
Procure your sureties for your days of answer:—
Little are we beholding to your love, [to Car.
And little look'd ^note for at your helping hands. Re-enter York, with Richard, and Officers bearing the Regalia.

Ric.
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; ^note
Give sorrow leave a while to tutor me ^note
To this submission. Yet I well remember ^note
The favours of these men: Were they not mine?
Did they not sometime ^note cry, all hail! to me?
So Judas did to Christ: but he, in twelve,
Found truth in all, but one; I, in twelve thousand, none.
God save the king! Will no man say, amen?
Am I both priest and clerk? well then, amen.
God save the king! although I be not he;
And yet, amen, if heaven do think him me.—
To do what service, am I sent for hither?

Yor.
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 ^note Bolingbroke.

Ric.
Give me the crown:—Here, cousin, ^note seize the crown;
Here, on ^note this side, my hand; on that side, thine. ^note
Now is this golden crown like a deep well,
That owes two buckets filling one another;
The emptier ever dancing in the air,
The other down, unseen, and full of water:
That bucket down, and full of tears, am I,
Drinking my griefs ^note, whilst you mount up on high.

Bol.
I thought, you had been willing to resign.

Ric.
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.

Ric.
Your cares set up, do not pluck my cares down.
My care is—loss of care, by old care done;
Your care is—gain of care, by new care won:
The cares I give, I have, though given away;
They tend the crown, yet still with me they stay.

Bol.
Are you contented to resign the crown?

Ric.
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 &dagger2; from off my head,
And this unwieldy scepter &dagger2; from my hand,
The pride of kingly sway from out my heart;
With mine own tears I wash away my balm ^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 ^note:
All pomp and majesty I do forswear;

My manors, rents, revenues, I forego;
My acts, decrees, and statutes, I deny:
God pardon all oaths, that are broke to me!
God keep all vows unbroke, are made to ^note thee!
Make me, that nothing have, with nothing griev'd;
And thou with all pleas'd, that hast all atchiev'd!
Long may'st thou live in Richard's seat to sit,
And soon lye Richard in an earthy ^note pit!
God save king Henry ^note, unking'd Richard says,
And send him many years of sun-shine ^note days!—
What more remains?

Nor.
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.

Ric.
Must I do so? and must I ravel out
My weav'd up follies ^note? 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 would'st,
There should'st thou find one heinous article,—
Containing the deposing of a king,
And cracking the strong warrant of an oath,—
Mark'd with a blot, damn'd in the book of heaven:—
Nay, all ^note of you, that stand and look upon me,
Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait ^note myself.— ^note
Though some of you, with Pilate, wash your hands,
Shewing an outward pity; yet you Pilates
Have here deliver'd ^note me to my sour cross,
And water cannot wash away your sin.

Nor.
My lord, dispatch; read o'er these articles.

Ric.
Mine eyes are full of tears, I cannot see:
And yet salt-water blinds them not so much,
But they can see a sort of traitors here.
Nay, if I turn mine eyes upon myself,
I find myself a traitor with the rest:
For I have given here my soul's consent,
To undeck the pompous body of a king;
Make ^note glory base; a sovereign ^note, a slave;
Proud majesty, a subject; state, a peasant.

Nor.
My lord,—

Ric.
No lord of thine, thou haut insulting man,
Nor no ^note man's lord; I have no name, no title,—
No, not that name was given me at the font,—
But 'tis usurp'd:—Alack the heavy day,
That I have worn so many winters out,
And know not now what name to call myself!
O, that I were a mockery king of snow,
Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke,
To melt myself away in water-drops!—
Good king, great king, (and yet not greatly good)
An if my word be sterling yet in England,
Let it command a mirror hither straight;
That it may shew me what a face I have,
Since it is bankrupt of his ^note majesty.

Bol.
Go some of you, and fetch a looking-glass. [Exit an Attendant.

Nor.
Read o'er this paper, while the glass doth come.

Ric.
Fiend, thou torment'st ^note me ere I come to hell.

Bol.
Urge it no more, my lord Northumberland.

Nor.
The commons will not then be satisfy'd.

Ric.
They shall be satisfy'd; I'll read enough,

When I do see the very book indeed
Where all my sins are writ, and that's—myself.— Re-enter Attendant, with a Glass.
Give me that glass ^note, and therein will I read ^note.—
No deeper wrinkles yet? hath sorrow struck ^note
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 ^note!—Was this face the face,
That every day under his houshold roof
Did feed ten ^note thousand men? Was this the face,
That, like the sun, did make beholders wink? ^note
Was this ^note the face, that fac'd so many follies,
And was ^note at last out-fac'd by Bolingbroke?
A brittle glory shineth in this face:
As brittle as the glory, is the face;
For there it is, [dashing the Glass to the Ground.] 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.

Ric.
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 ^note lament ^note
Are meerly shadows to the unseen grief,
That swells with silence in the tortur'd soul;
There lies the substance ^note: and I thank thee, king,
For thy great bounty ^note, 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 ^note?

Bol.
Name it, my fair cousin.

Ric.
Fair cousin?—I ^note 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.

Ric.
And shall I have? ^note

Bol.
You shall.

Ric.
Then ^note give me leave to go.

Bol.
Whither?

Ric.
Whither you will, so I were from your sights.

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

Ric.
O, good! Convey? Conveyers are you all,
That rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall. [Exeunt Ric. some Lords, and a Guard.

Bol.
On wednesday next ^note, we solemnly set down
Our coronation: lords, prepare yourselves. [Exeunt All but Aum. Car. and the Abbot.

Abb.
A woful pageant have we here beheld.

Car.
The woe's to come; the children yet unborn
Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn.

Aum.
You holy clergymen, is there no plot
To rid the realm of this pernicious blot?

Abb.
Before ^note I freely speak my mind herein,
You shall not only take the sacrament
To bury mine intents ^note, but to ^note effect
Whatever I shall happen to devise:—
I see, your brows are full of discontent,
Your hearts ^note of sorrow, and your eyes of tears;

Come home with me to supper, and I'll lay
A plot, shall shew us all a merry day. [Exeunt. 14Q0598 SCENE II. The same. Street leading to the Tower. Enter Queen, and Ladies.

Que.
This way the king will come; this is the way
To Julius Cæsar's ill-erected tower,
To whose flint bosom my condemned lord
Is doom'd a prisoner by proud Bolingbroke:
Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth
Have any resting for her true king's queen. Enter Richard, and Guard.
But soft, but see, or rather do not see,
My fair rose wither: Yet look up; behold;
That you in pity may dissolve to dew,
And wash him fresh again with true-love tears.—
Ah, thou, the model where old Troy did stand;
Thou map of honour; thou king Richard's tomb,
And not king Richard; thou most beauteous inn,
Why should hard-favour'd grief be lodg'd in thee,
When triumph is become an ale-house guest?

Ric.
Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so,
To make my end too sudden: learn, good soul,
To think our former state a happy dream;
From which awak'd, the truth of what we are
Shews us but this: I am sworn brother, sweet,
To grim necessity; and he and I
Will keep a league 'till death. Hie ^note thee to France,
And cloister thee in some religious house:
Our holy lives must win a new world's crown,
Which our prophane hours here have stricken down ^note.

Que.
What, is my Richard both in shape and mind

Transform'd, and weaken'd? Hath proud Bolingbroke
Depos'd thine intellect? hath he been in thy heart?
The lion, dying, thrusteth forth his paw,
And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage
To be o'er-power'd; And wilt thou, pupil-like,
Take thy correction ^note mildly? kiss the rod?
And fawn on rage with base humility,
Which art a lion, and a king ^note of beasts ^note?

Ric.
A king of beasts ^note, indeed; if aught but beasts,
I had been still a happy king of men.
Good sometime ^note queen, prepare thee hence for France:
Think, I am dead; and that even here thou tak'st,
As from my death-bed, my last ^note living leave.
In winters' tedious nights, sit by the fire
With good old folks; and let them tell thee tales ^note
Of woful ages, long ago betid ^note:
And, ere thou bid good night ^note, to quit ^note their grief ^note,
Tell thou the lamentable fall of ^note me,
And send the hearers weeping to their beds.
For why, the senseless brands will sympathize ^note
The heavy accent of thy ^note moving tongue,
And, in compassion, weep the fire out:
And some will mourn in ashes, some coal-black,
For the deposing of a rightful king. Enter Northumberland, and Others.

Nor.
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.

Ric.
Northumberland, thou ladder wherewithal
The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne,—
The time shall not be many hours of age

More than it is, ere foul sin, gathering head,
Shall break into corruption: thou shalt think,
Though he divide the realm, and give thee half,
It is too little, helping him to all;
And 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.
The love of wicked friends converts ^note to fear;
That fear, to hate; and hate turns one, or both,
To worthy danger, and deserved death.

Nor. ^note
My guilt be on my head, and there an end.
Take leave, and part; for you must part forthwith.

Ric.
Doubly divorc'd?—Bad men, ye violate ^note
A two-fold marriage; 'twixt ^note my crown and me;
And then, betwixt me, and my marry'd wife.—
Let me unkiss the oath 'twixt ^note thee and me;
And yet not so, for with a kiss 'twas made.—
Part us, Northumberland; I towards the north,
Where shivering cold and sickness pines the clime:
My wife to ^note France; from whence, set forth in pomp,
She came adorned hither like sweet May,
Sent back like hollowmas, or short'st of day.

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

Ric.
Ay, hand from hand, my love, and heart from heart.

Que.
Banish us both, and send the king with me.

Nor.
That were ^note some love, but little policy.

Que.
Then whither he goes, thither let me go.

Ric.
So two, together weeping, make one woe.
Weep thou ^note for me in France, I for thee here;
Better far off, than—near, be ne'er the near'.

Go, count thy way with sighs; I, mine with groans.

Que.
So longest way shall have the longest moans.

Ric.
Twice for one step I'll groan, the way being short,
And piece the way out with a heavy heart.
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 ^note part;—
Thus † give I mine, and thus † take I thy heart.

Que.
Give me mine own ^note again; 'twere no good part,
To take on me to keep, and kill thy heart.
So, † now I have mine own again, be gone,
That I may strive to kill it with a groan.

Ric.
We make woe wanton with this fond delay:
Once more, adieu; the rest let sorrow say. [Exeunt.

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