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 wo.-
What, was I born to this! that my sad look
Should grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke?-In this appeal, as thou art all unjust:
Gardener, for telling me this news of wo,
I would, the plants thou graft'st, may never grow.
[Exeunt Queen and Ladies.
Gard. Poor queen! so that thy state might be
no worse,

Fitz. Now, by my soul, I would it were this hour.
Aum. Fitzwater, thou art damn'd to hell for
this.

Percy. Aumerle, thou liest; his honour is as true,

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,' here shortly shall be seen,
In the remembrance of a weeping queen.

ACT IV.

And, that thou art so, there I throw my gage,
To prove it on thee, to the extremest point
Of mortal breathing; seize it, if thou dar'st.
Aum. And if I do not, may my hands rot off,
And never brandish more revengeful steel
Over the glittering helmet of my foe!

Lord. I take the earth to the like, forsworn
Aumerle;

And spur thee on with full as many lies
[Exe. As may be holla'd in thy treacherous ear
From sun to sun: there is my honour's pawn;
Engage it to the trial, if thou dar'st.

SCENE I.-London. Westminster Hall. The lords spiritual on the right side of the throne; the lords temporal on the left; the commons below. Enter Bolingbroke, Aumerle, Surrey, Northumberland, Percy, Fitzwater, another lord, Bishop!

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

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

The very time Aumerle and you did talk.
Surrey. My lord Fitzwater, I do remember well

Fitz. My lord, 'tis true: you were in presence
then;

of Carlisle, Abbot of Westminster, and attendants. And you can witness with me, this is true. Officers behind, with Bagot.

Boling. Call forth Bagot :

Now, Bagot, freely speak thy mind;
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.
Bagot. Then set before my face the lord Aumerle.
Boling. Cousin, stand forth, and look upon that

Scorns to unsay what once it hath deliver'd.

Princes, and noble lords,

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 head?
Amongst much other talk, that very time,
I heard you say, that you had rather refuse
The offer of a hundred thousand crowns,
Than Bolingbroke's return to England;
Adding withal, how blest this land would be,
In this your cousin's death.
Aum.
What answer shall I make to this base man?
Shall I so much dishonour my fair stars,
On equal terms to give him chastisement?
Either I must, or have mine honour soil'd
With the attainder of his sland'rous lips.-
There is my gage, the manual seal of death,
That marks thee out for hell: I say, thou liest,
And will maintain, what thou hast said, is false,
In thy heart-blood, though being all too base
To stain the temper of my knightly sword.
Boling. Bagot, forbear, 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.

Fitz. If that thy valour stand on sympathies,
There is my gage, Aumerle, in gage to thine:
By that fair sun that shows 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 liest;
And I will turn thy falsehood to thy heart,
Where it was forged, with my rapier's point.
Aum. Thou dar'st not, coward, live to see that
day.

(1) Pity. (2) Untimely.

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

Fitz. Surrey, thou liest.
Surrey.

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

Fitz. How fondly dost thou spur a forward horse!
If I dare eat, or drink, or breathe, or live,
And spit upon him, whilst I say, he lies,
I dare meet Surrey in a wilderness,
And lies, and lies: there is my bond of faith,
To tie thee to my strong correction.-
As I intend 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,

If he may be repeal'd to try his honour.

Boling. These differences shall all rest under

gage,

Till Norfolk be repeal'd: repealed he shall be,
And, though mine enemy, restor❜d again
To all his land and signories; 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 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 country's earth,
And his pure soul unto his captain, Christ;
Under whose colours he had fought so long.
Boling. Why, bishop, is Norfolk dead?"
Car. As sure as I live, my lord.
Boling. Sweet peace conduct his sweet soul to
the bosom

Of good old Abraham!-Lords appellants,
Your differences shall all rest under gage,
Till we assign you to your days of trial.

378

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

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

Of noble Richard; then true nobless would
Learn him forbearance from so foul a wrong.
What subject can give sentence on his king?
And who sits here, 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, crown'd, planted many years,
be judg'd by subject and inferior breath,
And he himself not present? O, forbid it, God,
That, in a Christian climate, souls refin'd'
Should show so heinous, black, obscene a deed!
I'speak to subjects, and a subject speaks,
Stirr'd up by heaven thus 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 foul act;
Peace shall go sleep 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 house against this house,
It will the wofullest division prove,
That ever fell upon this cursed earth:
Prevent, resist it, let it not be so,

Lest child, child's children, cry against you-wo!
North. 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.-
May't please you, lords, to grant the commons' suit.
Boling. Fetch hither Richard, that in common
view

He may surrender: so we shall proceed
Without suspicion.
York.
I will be his conduct. [Exit.
Boling. Lords, you that are here under our ar-
rest,

Procure your sureties for your days of answer :-
Little are we beholden to your love, [To Carlisle.
And little look'd for at your helping hands.
Re-enter York, with King Richard, 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 a while to tutor me

To this submission. Yet I well remember

Act IV.

The favours' of these men: Were they not mine?
So Judas did to Christ: but he, in twelve
Did they not sometime cry, all hail! to me?
Found truth in all but one; 1, 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;
To do what service am I sent for hither?
And yet, amen, if heaven do think him me.-

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;

Here, on this side, my hand; on that side, thine.
Now is this golden crown like a deep well,
The emptier ever dancing in the air,
That owes two buckets filling one another;

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.
Boling. 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.
Boling. Part of your cares you give me with

your crown.

K. Rich. 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.

Boling. Are you contented to resign the crown?
Therefore, no no, for I resign to thee.
K. Rich. Ay, no; no, ay;-for I must nothing be;
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,
With mine own hands I give away my crown,
With mine own breath release all duteous oaths:
With mine own tongue deny my sacred state,
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!
Make me, that nothing have, with nothing griev'd;
God keep all vows unbroke, are made to thee!
And thou with all pleas'd, that hast all achiev'd!
Long may'st thou live in Richard's seat to sit,
And soon lie Richard in an earthly pit!
And send him many years of sunshine days!—
God save king Henry, unking'd Richard says,
What more remains?
North.
These accusations, and these grievous crimes,
No more, but that you read
[Offering a paper.
Against the state and profit of this land;
Committed by your person, and your followers,
That, by confessing them, the souls of men
May deem that you are worthily depos'd.

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 would'st,
There should'st thou find one heinous article,-

The shadow of your face.
K. Rich.

Say that again.

Containing the deposing of a king,
And cracking the strong warrant of an oath,-
Mark'd with a blot, dami'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,
Whilst that my wretchedness dɔth bait myself,-
Though some of you, with Pilate, wash your hands,
Showing an outward pity; yet you Pilates
Have here deliver'd me to my sour cross,
And water cannot wash away your sin.

North. My lord, despatch; read o'er these arti

cles.

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 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 glory base; and sovereignty, a slave;
Proud majesty, a subject; state, a peasant.
North. My lord,-

K. Rich. No lord of thine, thou haught, insult-
ing man,

Nor no 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 show me what a face I have,
Since it is bankrupt of his majesty.

Boling. 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.

Boling. Urge it no more, my lord Northumberland.

'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?

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?
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,

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, 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.
Boling. The shadow of your sorrow hath de-
stroy'd

(1) Pack. (2) Haughty.
(3) Jugglers, also robbers.

Whatever I shall happen to devise:-
I see your brows are full of discontent,
Your hearts of sorrow, and your eyes of tears;
Come home with me to supper; I will lay
A plot, shall show us all a merry day.

ACT V.

[Exeunt,

K. Rich. 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 part;

K. Rich. A king of beasts, indeed; if aught but Thus give I mine, and thus I take thy heart.

Are idly bent' on him that enters next,
Thinking his prattle to be tedious:

KING RICHARD II.

Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes
Did scowl on Richard; no man cried, God save him;
No joyful tougue 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 God, 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 aye allow.
Enter Aumerle.

Duch. Here comes my son Aumerle.
York.
But that is lost, for being Richard's friend,
Aumerle that was;
And, madam, you must call him Rutland now:
I am in parliament pledge for his truth,
And lasting fealty to the new-made king.

Duch. Welcome, my son: Who are the violets

now,

That strew the green lap of the new-come spring?
Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not:
God knows, I had as lief be none, as one.
York. Well, bear you well in this new spring of
time,

Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime.
What news from Oxford? hold those justs'
triumphs?

Aum. For aught I know, my lord, they do.
York. You will be there, I know.

and

Aum. If God prevent it not; I purpose so.
York. What seal is that, that hangs without thy

bosom?

Yea, look'st thou pale? let me see the writing.
Jum. My lord, 'tis nothing.
York.

No matter then who sees it:
I will be satisfied, let me see the writing.
Aum. I do beseech your grace to pardon me;
It is a matter of small consequence,
Which for some reasons I would not have seen.
York. Which for some reasons, sir, I mean to see.
I fear, I fear,--

Duch.
What should you fear?
'Tis nothing but some bond that he is enter'd into
For gay apparel, 'gainst the triumph day.

York. Bound to himself? what doth he with a bond
That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool.-
Boy, let me see the writing.

Aum. I do beseech you, pardon me; I may not

show it.

381

Aum. Good mother, be content; it is no more
Than my poor life must answer.
Duch.

Thy life answer!
Re-enter servant, with boots.

York. Bring me my boots, I will unto the king.
Duch. Strike him, Aumerle.-Poor boy, thou
art amaz'd:*

Hence, villain; never more come in my sight.-
[To the servant.

York. Give me my boots, I say.
Have we more sons? or are we like to have?
Duch. Why, York, what wilt thou do?
Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own?
Is not my teeming date drunk up with time?
And wilt thou pluck my fair son from mine age,
And rob me of a happy mother's name?
Is he not like thee? Is he not thine own?
York. Thou fond mad woman,
Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy?
A dozen of them here have ta'en the sacrament,
And interchangeably set down their hands,
We'll keep him here: Then what is that to him?
To kill the king at Oxford.
He shall be none;
Fond woman! 'were he twenty times my son,
York. Away,
As I have done, thou'dst be more pitiful.
would appeach him.
Duch.
Hadst thou groan'd for him,
And that he is a bastard, not thy son:
But now I know thy mind; thou dost suspect,
That I have been disloyal to thy bed,

Duch.

Sweet York, sweet husband, be not of that mind:
He is as like thee as a man may be,

Not like to me, or any of my kin,

And yet I love him.
York. Make way, unruly woman. [Exit,
Duch. After, Aumerle; mount thee upon his

horse;

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,
I doubt not but to ride as fast as York:
Begone.
And never will I rise up from the ground,
Till Bolingbroke have pardon'd thee: Away;
[Exeunt.

SCENE III-Windsor. A room in the castle.
Enter Bolingbroke as king; Percy, and other
lords,

Boling. Can no man tell of my unthrifty son?
If any plague hang over us, 'tis he.
'Tis full three months, since I did see him last:-

I would to God, my lords, he might be found:
With unrestrained loose companions;
For there, they say, he daily doth frequent,
Inquire at London, 'mongst the taverns there,
ser-And beat our watch, and rob our passengers;
Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes,
While he, young, wanton, and effeminate boy,
Takes on the point of honour, to support
So dissolute a crew,

York. I will be satisfied; let me see it, I say.
Treason! foul treason!-villain! traitor! slave!
[Snatches it, and reads.
Duch. What is the matter, my lord?
York. Ho! who is within there? [Enter a
vant.] Saddle my horse.
God for his mercy! what treachery is here!
Duch. Why, what is it, my lord?

York. Give me my boots, I say; saddle my
horse:-

Now by mine honour, by my life, my troth,
I will appeach the villain.

Duch.

[Exit servant. What's the matter?

York, Peace, foolish woman,
Duch. I will not peace:-What is the matter, son?

(1) Carelessly turned.
(3) Tilts and tournaments.

(2) Ever.

Percy. My lord, some two days since I saw the
prince;

And told him of these triumphs held at Oxford.
Boling, And what said the gallant?

Percy. His answer was,-he would unto the

stews;

And from the common'st creature pluck a glove,
And wear it as a favour; and with that