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Enter York attended.
The favours' of these men: Were they not mine? York. Great duke of Lancaster, I come to thee So Judas did to Christ : but he, in twelve
Did they not sometime cry, all hail! to me? From plume-pluck'd Richard; who with willing Found truth in all but one ; I, in twelve thousand,
soul Adopts thee heir, and his high sceptre yields God save the king !-Will no man say, amen ? To the possession of thy royal hand:
Am I both priest and clerk? well then, amen. Ascend his throne, descending now from him, God save the king! although I be not he ; And long live Henry, of that name the fourth! And yet, amen, it heaven do think him me. Boling. In God's name, I'll ascend the regal To do what service am I sent for hither? throne.
York. To do that office, of thine own good will, Car. Marry, God forbid !
Which tired majesty did make thee offer, Worst in this royal presence may I speak, The resignation of iby state and crown Yet best beseeming me to speak the truth. To Henry Bolingbroke. Would God, that any in this noble presence K. Rich. Give me the crown:-Here, cousin, Were enough noble to be upright judge
seize the crown; Of noble Richard ; then true noblessi would
Here, on this side, my hand; on that side, thine. Learn him forbearance from so foul a wrong. Now is this golden crown like a deep well, What subject can give sentence on his king? That owest iwo buckets filling one another; And who sits here, that is not Richard's subject? The emptier ever dancing in the air, Thieves are not judg'd, but they are by to hear, The other down, unseen, and full of water : Although apparent guilt be seen in them: That bucket down, and full of tears, am I, And shall the figure of God's majesty,
Drinking my griefs, whilst you mount up on high. His captain, steward, deputy elect,
Boling. I thought you had been willing to resign. Anointed, crown'd, planted many years,
K. Rich. My crown, I am; but still my griess Be judy'd by subject and inferior breath,
are mine : And he himself not present? 0, forbid it, God,
You may my glories and my state depose, That, in a Christian climate, souls refin'd
But not my griefs; still am I king of those. Should show so heinous, black, obscene a deed! Boling. Part of your cares you give me with I speak to subjects, and a subject speaks,
your crown. Stirr'd up by heaven thus boldly for his king. K. Rich. Your cares set up, do not pluck my My lord of Hereford here, whom you call king,
cares down. Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford's king :
My care is—loss of care, by old care done ; And if you crown him, let me prophesy,
Your care is-gain of care, by new care won: The blood of English shall manure the ground, The cares I give, I have, though given away; And future ages groan for this soul act;
They tend the crown, yet still with me they stay. Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels, Boling. Are you contented to resign the crown ? And, in this seat of peace, tumultuous wars K. Rich. Ay, no; no, ay ;:--for I must nothing be, Shall kin with kin, and kind with kind confound; Therefore, no no, for I resign to thee. Disorder, horror, lear, and mutiny,
Now mark me how I will undo myself :-
I give this heavy weight from off my head,
With mine own tears I wash away my balm, That ever fell upon this cursed earth:
With mine own hands I give away my crown, Prevent, resist it, let it not be so,
With mine own tongue deny my sacred state, Lest child, child's children, cry against you-wo! With mine own breath release all duteous oaths : North. Well have you argu’d, sir; and, for your All pomp and majesty I do forswear; pains,
My manors, rents, revenues, I forego; of capital treason we arrest you here :
My acts, decrees, and statutes, I deny:
God keep all vows unbroke, are made to thee! May't please you, lords, to grant the commons' suit. Make me, that nothing have, with nothing griev'd; Boling. Fetch hither Richard, that in common And thou with all pleas'd, that hast all achiev'd ! view
Long may'st thou live in Richard's seat to sit, He may surrender : so we shall proceed And soon lie Richard in an earthly pit! Without suspicion.
God save king Henry, unking'd Richard says, York.
I will be his conduct.? [Exit. And send him many years of sunshine days !Boling. Lords, you that are here under our ar- What more remains ? rest,
No more, but that you read Procure your sureties for your days of answer :
Toffering a paper. Little are we beholden to your love, (To Carlisle. These accusations, and these grievous crimes, And little look'd for at your helping hands. Committed by your person, and your followers, Re-enter York, with King Richard, and officers Against the state and profit of this land; bearing the crown, Sc.
That, by confessing them, the souls of men K. Rich. Alack, why am I sent for to a king,
May deem that you are worthily depos'd. Before I have shook off the regal thoughts
K. Rich. Must I do so ? and must I ravel out Wherewith I reign'd ? I hardly yet have learn'd
My wear'd-up follies ? Gentle Northumberland, To insinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my knee :
Irthy 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, (1) Nobleness.
(2) Conductor. (3) Countenances. (4) Owns.
(5) Attend. (6) Oil of consecration.
Containing the deposing of a king,
The shadow of your face. And cracking the strong warrant of an oath, K. Rich.
Say that again. Mark'd with a blot, damn'd in the book of heaven: The shadow of my sorrow? Ha! let's see:Nay, all of you, that stand and look upon me, 'Tis very true, my grief lies all within ; Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait myselí,- And these external manners of lament Though some of you, with Pilate, wash your hands, Are merely shadows to the unseen grief, Showing an outward pity; yet you Pilates That swells with silence in the tortur’d soul ; Have here deliver'd me to my sour cross,
There lies the substance: and I thank thee, king, And water cannot wash away your sin.
For thy great bounty, that not only giv'st North. My lord, despatch; read o'er these arti- Me cause to wail, but teachest me the way cles.
How to lament the cause. I'll beg one boon, K. Rich. Mine eyes are full of tears, I cannot see: And then be gone, and trouble you no more. And yet salt water blinds them not so much, Shall I obtain it ? But they can see a sort' of traitors here.
Name it, fair cousin. Nay, if I turn mine eyes upon mysell,
K. Rich. Fair cousin ? Why, I am greater than I find myself a traitor with the rest :
a king : For I have given here my soul's consent, For, when I was a king, my flatterers To undeck the pompous body of a king;
Were then but subjects; being now a subject,
Boling. Yet ask.
Boling. You shall.
K. Rich. Whither you will, so I were from your That I have worn so many winters out,
sights. And know not now what name to call myself! Boling. Go, some of you, convey him to the O, that I were a mockery king of snow,
Tower. Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke,
K. Rich. O, good! Convey ?--Conveyers: are To melt myself away in water-drops ! Good king, great king-(and yet not greatly That rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall. good,)
(Exeunt K. Rich. some lords, and a guard. An if my word be sterling yet in England,
Boling: On Wednesday next, we solemnly set Let it command a mirror hither straight;
down That it may show me what a face I have,
Our coronation : lords, prepare yourselves. Since it is bankrupt of his majesty.
(Exeunt all but the Abbot, Bishop of Carlisle, Boling. Go some of you, and fetch a looking
and Aumerle. glass.
(Erit an altendant. Abbot. A woful pageant have we here beheld. North. Read o'er this paper, while the glass doth Car. The wo's to come; the children yet uncome.
born K. Rich. Fiend! thou torment'st me ere I come Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn. to hell.
Aum. You holy clergymen, is there no plot Boling. Urge it no more, my lord Northumber- To rid the realm of this pernicious blot? land.
Abbot. Before I freely speak my mind herein, North. The commons will not then be satisfied. You shall not only take the sacrament K. Rich. They shall be satisfied: I'll read To bury* mine intents, but to effect enough,
Whatever I shall happen to devise :When I do see the very book, indeed,
I see your brows are full of discontent,
Come home with me to supper ; I will lay
A plot, shall show us all a merry day. (Exeuni.
SCENE I.-London. A street leading to the That every day under his household roof
Tower. Enter Queen, and Ladies. Did keep ien thousand men ? Was this the face, That, like the sun, did make beholders wink? Queen. This way the king will come; this is the Was this the face, that fac'd so many follies,
way And was at last out-fac'd by Bolingbroke ? To Julius Cæsar's ill-erected tower, A brittle glory shineth in this face :
|To whose flint bosom my condemned lord As brittle as ihe glory is the face;
Is doom'd a prisoner by proud Bolingbroke:
Enter King Richard, and guards. Boling. The shadow of your sorrow hath de- But soft, but see, or rather do not see, stroy'd
My fair rose wither: Yet look up; behold;
That you in pity may dissolve to dew,
(4) Conceal. (5) Tower of London.
And wash him fresh again with true-love tears.- A two-fold marriage ; 'twixt my crown and me;
She came adorned hither like sweet May,
Queen. And must we be divided ? must we part? · From which awak'd, the truth of what we are K. Rich. Ay, hand from hand, my love, and Shows us but this: I am sworn brother, sweet,
heart from heart. To grim necessity; and he and I
Queen. Banish us both, and send the king with me. Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to France, North. That were some love, but little policy. And cloister thee in some religious house:
Queen. Then whither he goes, thither let me go. Our holy lives must win a new world's crown, K. Rich. So two, together
weeping, make one wo. Which our profane hours here have stricken down. Weep thou for me in France, I for thee here; Queen. What, is my Richard both in shape and Better far off, than-near, be ne'er the near's mind
Go, count thy way with sighs; I, mine with groans. Transform'd and weakened ? Hath Bolingbroke Queen. So longest way shall have the longest Depos'd thine intellect? hath he been in thy heart? The lion, dying, thrusteth forth his paw,
K. Rich. Twice for one step I'll groan, the way And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage
Since, wedding it, there is such length in grief.
[They kiss. I had been still a happy king of men.
Queen. Give me mine own again; 'twere no good Good sometime queen, prepare thee hence for part, France:
To take on me to keep, and kill thy heart. Think, I am dead; and that even here thou tak'st,
(Kiss again. As from my death-bed, my last living leave.
So, now I have mine own again, begone, In winter's tedious nights, sit by the fire
That I may strive to kill it with a groan. With good old folks ; and let them tell thee tales K. Rich. We make wo wanton with this fond of woful ages, long ago betid ::
delay : And, ere thou bid good night, to quit their grief, Once more, adieu ; the rest let sorrow say. (Exe. Tell thou the lamentable fall of me, And send the hearers weeping to their beds. SCENE II.—The same. A room in the Duke of For why, the senseless brands will sympathize York's palace. Enter York, and his Duchess. The heavy accent of thy moving tongue, And, in compassion, weep the fire out:
Duch. My lord, you told me, you would tell the And some will mourn in ashes, some coal-black,
rest, For the deposing of a rightful king.
When weeping made you break the story off,
Of our two cousins coming into London.
York. Where did I leave ?
At that sad stop, my lord, chang'd;
Where rude misgovern'd hands, from windows'tops, You must to Pomfret, not unto the Tower. Threw dust and rubbish on king Richard's head. And, madam, there is order ta'en for you ;
York. Then, as I said, the duke, great BolingWith all swist speed you must away to France.
broke,K. Rich. Northumberland, thou ladder where- Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed, withal
Which his aspiring rider seem'd to know,The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne,- With slow, but stately pace, kept on his course, The time shall not be many hours of age
While all tongues cried-God save thee, BolingMore than it is, ere foul sin, gathering head,
Through casements darted their desiring eyes
Jesu preserve thee! welcome, Bolingbroke!
And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along. North. My guilt be on my head, and there an end. Duch. Alas, poor Richard! where rides he the Take leave, and part; for you must part sorthwith.
while ? K. Rich. Doubly divorc d ?-Bad men, ye violate York. As, in a theatre, the eyes of men,
After a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage, (1) Picture of greatness. (2) Passed. (3) Be even with them.
(5) Never the nigher. 14 All. nallows, i. e. All-saints, Nov. 1.
(6' Tapestry hung from the windows
Are idly bent' on him that enters next,
Aum. Good mother, be content; it is no more Thinking his prattle to be tedious :
Than my poor lise must answer. Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes Duch,
Thy life answer! Did scowl on Richard; no man cried, God save him; No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home:
Re-enter servant, with boots. But dust was thrown upon his sacred head; York. Bring me my boots, I will unto the king. Which, with such gentle sorrow, he shook off, Duch. Strike him, Aumerle.-Poor boy, thou His face still combating with tears and smiles,
art amaz'd :* The badges of his grief and patience,
Hence, villain ; never more come in my sight.That had not God, for some strong purpose, steeld
(To the servant. The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted, York. Give me my boots, I say: And barbarism itself have pitied him.
Dich. Why, York, what wilt thou do? But heaven hath a hand in these events;
Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own? To whose high will we bound our calm contents.
Have we more sons ? or are we like to have ? To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now,
Is not my teemings date drunk up with time? Whose state and honour I for ayeč allow.
And wilt thou pluck my fair son from mine age, Enter Aumerle.
And rob me of a happy mother's name?
Is he not like thee? Is he not thine own? Duch. Here comes my son Aumerle.
York. Thou fond mad woman, York.
Aumerle that was ; Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy? But that is lost, for being Richard's friend,
A dozen of them here have ta’en the sacrament, And, madam, you must call him Rutland now:
And interchangeably set down their hands, I am in parliament pledge for his truth,
To kill the king at Oxford. And lasting fealty to the new-made king.
He shall be none; Duch. Welcome, my son : Who are the violets We'll keep him here: Then what is that to him? now,
York. Away, That strew the green lap of the new-come spring ? Fond woman!'were he twenty times my son,
Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not: I would appeach him. God knows, I had as lief be none, as one.
Hadst thou groan'd for him, York. Well, bear you well in this new spring of As I have done, thou’dst be more pitiful. time,
But now I know thy mind ; thou dost suspect, Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime. That I have been disloyal to thy bed, What news from Oxford ? 'hold those justs: and And that he is a bastard, not thy son: triumphs ?
Sweet York, sweet husband, be not of that mind :
Not like to me, or any of my kin,
And yet I love him.
York. Make way, unruly woman. (Exit. bosom?
Duch. After, Aumerle; mount thee upon his Yea, look'st thou pale? let me see the writing.
horse ; Aum. My lord, 'tis nothing.
Spur, post; and get before him to the king,
And beg his pardon ere he do accuse thee.
I'll not be long behind; though I be old, Aum. I do beseech your grace to pardon me; I doubt not but to ride as fast as York : It is a matter of small consequence,
And never will I rise up from the ground, Which for some reasons I would not have seen.
Till Bolingbroke have pardon'd thee: Away; York. Which for some reasons, sir, I mean to see.
(Ereunt. I fear, I fear, Dich. What should you sear?
SCENE III.-Windsor. A room in the castle. 'Tis nothing but some bond that he is enter'd into
Enter Boling broke as king; Percy, and other For gay apparel, 'gainst the triumph day.
lords. York. Bound to himself? what doth he with a bond That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool. - Boling. Can no man tell of my unthrifty son ? Boy, let me see the writing.
'Tis full three months, since I did see him last:Aum. I do beseech you, pardon me; I may not !r any plague hang over us, 'tis he. show it.
I would to God, my lords, he might be found : York. I will be satisfied ; let me see it, I say. Inquire at London, 'mongst the taverns there,
(Snatches il, and reads. For there, they say, he daily doth frequent, Treason! foul treason !-villain! traitor! slave! With unrestrained loose companions; Duch. What is the matter, my lord ?
Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes, York. Ho! who is within there? [Enter a ser- And beat our watch, and rob our passengers ; vant.] Saddle my horse.
While he, young, wanton, and effeminate boy, God for his mercy! what treachery is here ! Takes on the point of honour, to support Duch. Why, what is it, my lord?
So dissolute a crew, York. Give me my boots, I say; saddle my Percy. My lord, some two days since I saw the horse :
prince; Now by mine honour, by my life, my troth, And told him of these triumphs held at Oxford. I will appeach the villain.
[Erit servant. Boling. And what said the gallant? Drich.
What's the matter ? Percy. His answer was,-he would unto the York. Peace, foolish woman.
stews; Duch. I will not peace:-What is the matter, son? And from the common'st creature pluck a glove,
And wear it as a favour; and with that
(4) Perplexed, confouaded. (5) Breeding.
He would unhorse the lustiest challenger.
Duch. (Within.) What ho, my liege! for God's Boling. As dissolute, as desperate: yet, through sake let me in. both
Boling. What shrill-voic'd suppliant makes this I see some sparkles of a better hope,
eager cry? Which elder days may happily bring forth. Duch. A woman, and thine aunt, great king; But who comes here?
Speak with me, pity me, open the door;
A beggar begs, that never begg'd before.
Boling: Our scene is alter'd,-from a serious
thing, Our cousin, that he stares and looks so wildly?
And now chang'd to The Beggar and the King.' Aum. God save your grace. I do beseech your My dangerous cousin, let your mother in; majesty,
I know, she's come to pray for your soul sin. To have some conference with your grace alone. York. If thou do pardon, whosoever pray, Boling. Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here More sins, for this forgiveness, prosper may. alone.
[Exeunt Percy and lords. This fester'd joint cut off, the rest rests sound, What is the matter with our cousin now ?
|This, let alone, will all the rest confound. um. For ever may my knees grow to the earth,
Duch. O, king, believe not this hard-hearted Boling. Intended, or committed, was this fault?
man; If but the first, how heinous e'er it be,
Love, loving not itsell, none other can. To win thy after-love, I pardon thee.
York. Thou frantic woman, what dost thou Aum. Then give me leave that I may turn the key, Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear? That no man enter till my tale be done. Boling. Have thy desire. (Aum. locks the door.
Duch. Sweet York, be patient: Hear me, genYork. (Within.) My liege, beware; look to
Boling. Rise up, good aunt. Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there.
Not yet, 1 thee beseech: Boling: Villain, I'll make thee safe. (Drawing. For ever will I kneel upon my knees, Num. Stay thy revengeful hand;
And never see day that the happy sees, Thou hast no cause to fear.
Till thou give joy ; until thou bid me joy,, York. (Within.] Open the door, secure, fool. By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy, hardy king :
Aum. Unto my mother's prayers, I bend my Shall I, for love, speak treason to thy face?
(Kneels. Open the door, or 'I will break it open.
York. Against them both, my true joints bended
be. (Bolingbroke opens the door.
(Kneels. III may'st thou thrive, if thou grant any grace! Enter York.
Duch. Pleads he in earnest ? look upon his face; Boling. What is the matter, uncle ? speak; His eyes do drop no tears, his prayers are in jest; Recover breath; tell us how near is danger, His words come from his mouth, ours from our That we may arm us to encounter it.
breast : York. Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt He prays but faintly, and would be denied; know
We pray with heart, and soul, and all beside : The treason that my haste forbids me show. His weary joints would gladly rise, I know; Aum. Remember, as thou read'st, thy promise Our knees shall kneel till to the ground they grow : past :
His prayers are full of false hypocrisy; I do repent me; read not my name there, Ours, of true zeal and deep integrity. My heart is not confederate with my hand. Our prayers do out-pray his ; then let them have York. 'Twas, villain, ere thy hand did set it That'mercy, which true prayers ought to have. down.
Boling. Good aunt, stand up. I tore it from the traitor's bosom, king:
Nay, do not say—stand up; Fear, and not love, begets his penitence:
But, pardon, first; and afterwards, stand up. Forget to pity him, lest thy pity prove
An if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach, A serpent that will sting thee to the heart. Pardon--should be the first word of thy speech. Boling. Oheinous, strong, and bold conspi- I never long'd to hear a word till now; racy!-
Say-pardon, king; let pity teach thee how: loyal father of a treacherous son!
The word is short, but not so short as sweet ; Thou sheer,' immaculate, and silver fountain, No word like pardon, for kings' mouths so meet. From whence this stream through muddy passages,
York. Speak it in French, king; say, pardonnez "Iath held his current, and defil'd himself!
moy." Thy overflow of good converts to bad;
Duch. Dost thou teach pardon pardon to de ind thy abundant goodness shall excuse
stroy? This deadly blot in thy digressing' son.
Ah, my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord, York. So shall my virtue be his vice's bawd; That set'st the word itself against the word ! And he shall spend mine honour with his shame, Speak, pardon, as 'tis current in our land; 1s thrilless sons their scraping fathers' gold. The chopping French we do not understand. Mine honour lives when his dishonour dies, Thine eye begins to speak, set thy tongue there : Or my sham'd life in his dishonour lies :
Or, in thy piteous heart plant thou thine ear; Thou kill'st me in his life; giving him breath, That, hearing how our plaints and prayers do pierce, The traitor lives, the true man's put to death. Pity may move thee, pardon to rehearse.
Boling. Good aunt, stand up. (1) Transparent. (2) Transgressing. (3) An old ballad. (4) Do.
(5) Excuse me.