Or not remember what I must be now!
Swell'ft thou, proud heart? I'll give thee fcope to beat,
Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me.

Aum. Northumberland comes back from Bolingbroke. K. Rich. What muft the King do now? muft he fubmit?

go.

The King shall do it: must he be depos'd?
The King fhall be contented: must he lose
The name of King? o' God's name, let it
I'll give my jewels for a fet of beads;
My gorgeous palace, for a hermitage;
My gay apparel, for an alms-man's gown;
My figur'd goblets, for a difh of wood;
My fcepter, for a palmer's walking staff;
My fubjects, for a pair of carved faints;
And my large Kingdom, for a little Grave;
A little, little Grave; an obscure Grave.
Or I'll be bury'd in the King's high way :

3 Some way of common Tread, where Subjects' feet
May hourly trample on their Sovereign's head:
For on my heart they tread now, whilft I live;
And, bury'd once, why not upon my head?
Aumerle, thou weep'ft; (my tender-hearted coufin!)
We'll make foul weather with despised tears;
Our fighs, and they, fhall lodge the fummer corn,
And make a dearth in this revolting Land.
Or fhall we play the Wantons with our woes,
And make fome pretty match, with fhedding tears?
As thus, to drop them ftill upon one place,
Till they have fretted us a pair of Graves
Within the earth; and therein laid, there lies
Two kinfmen, digg'd their Graves with weeping eyes?
Would not this ill do well? well, well, I fee
I talk but idly, and you mock at me.
Moft mighty Prince, my lord Northumberland,
What fays King Bolingbroke? will his Majesty

3 Same way of common Trade, I fuppofe it fhould be, Tread.

Give

Give Richard leave to live, till Richard die?
You make a leg, and Bolingbroke says, ay.

North. My lord, in the base court he doth attend To speak with you, may't please you to come down. K. Rich. Down, down I come; like glift'ring Phaeton, Wanting the manage of unruly jades.

In the base court? bafe court, where Kings grow base, To come at traitors' Calls, and do them grace.

In the base court come down? down,court; down,King; For Night-owls fhriek, where mounting Larks fhould fing.

Boling. What fays his Majesty?

North. Sorrow, and Grief of Heart,

Makes him speak fondly, like a frantick Man ;

Yet is he come.

Boling. Stand all apart,

And fhew fair duty to his Majefty.

My gracious lord

[Kneel.

K. Rich, Fair coufin, you debase your princely knee, To make the base earth proud with kiffing it. Me rather had, my heart might feel your love, Than my unpleas'd eye fee your courtefie. Up, coufin, up; your heart is up, I know, Thus high at least, although your knee be low. Boling. My gracious lord, I come but for mine own. K. Rich. Your own is yours, and I am yours, and all. Boling. So far be mine, my moft redoubted lord, As my true fervice fhall deferve your love.

K. Rich. Well you deferve: they well deferve to have, That know the ftrong'st and fureft way to get. Uncle, give me your hand; nay, dry your eyes; Tears fhew their love, but want their remedies. Coufin, 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 muft, what force will have us do. Set on towards London. Coufin, is it so?

Boling.

Boling. Yea, my good lord.

K. Rich. Then I muft not fay, no. [Flourish. Exeunt.

A Garden, in the Queen's Court.

Enter Queen and two Ladies.

HAT sport shall we devife here in this

Queen. WHgarden,

To drive away the heavy thought of care?
Lady. Madam, we'll play at bowls.

[rubs,

Queen. 'Twill make me think, the world is full of

And that my fortune runs against the bias.

Lady. Madam, we'll dance.

Queen. My legs can keep no measure in delight,

When my poor heart no measure keeps in grief.
Therefore no dancing, girl; fome other sport.
Lady. Madam, we'll tell tales.
Queen. Of forrow, or of joy?
Lady. Of either, Madam.

Queen. Of neither, girl.

For if of joy, being altogether wanting,
It doth remember me the more of forrow:
Or if of grief, being altogether had,
It adds more forrow to my want of joy.
For what I have, I need not to repeat:
And what I want, it boots not to complain.
Lady. Madam, I'll fing.

Queen. 'Tis well, that thou haft caufe:

weep.

But thou fhould'ft please me better, would'st thou
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 Gardiners.

Let's ftep into the shadow of these trees;

My Wretchedness unto a row of pins,

Enter

Enter a Gardiner, and two Servants.

They'll talk of State; for every one doth fo,
4 Against a Change; woe is fore-run with mocks.

[Queen and Ladies retire.

Gard. Go, bind thou up yond dangling Apricocks,
Which, like unruly children, make their Sire
Stoop with oppreffion of their prodigal weight:
Give fome fupportance to the bending twigs.
Go thou, and, like an executioner,

Cut off the heads of too-faft-growing fprays,
That look too lofty in our Common-wealth:
All must be even in our Governinent.
You thus imploy'd, I will go root away
The noifom weeds, that without profit fuck
The foil's fertility from wholfom flowers.
Serv. Why fhould we, in the compafs of a pale,
Keep law, and form, and due proportion,
Shewing, as in a model, a firm ftate?
When our Sea-walled garden, (the whole Land,)
Is full of weeds, her faireft flowers choak'd up,
Her fruit-trees all unprun'd, her hedges ruin'd,
Her knots diforder'd, and her wholefome herbs
Swarming with Caterpillars?

Gard. Hold thy peace.

He, that hath fuffer'd this disorder'd Spring,

4 Against a Change; woe is fore-run with woE.] But what was there, in the Gardiners' talking of State, for matter of fo much woe? Befides, this is intended for a Sentence, but proves a very fimple one. I fuppofe Shakespear wrote,

woe is fore run with MOCKS, which has fome meaning in it; and fignifies, that, when great Men are on the decline, their inferiors take advantage of their condition, and treat them without ceremony. And this we find to be the cafe in the following fcene. But the Editors were seeking for a rhime. Tho' had they not been fo impatient they would have found it gingled to what followed, tho' it did not to what went before.

5 -OUR firm fate?] How could he fay ours when he immediately fubjoins, that it was infirm? We should read

A firm flate.

Hath

Hath now himself met with the Fall of leaf:

The weeds, that his broad-fpreading leaves did fhelter,
(That seem❜d, in eating him, to hold him up ;)
Are pull'd up, root and all, by Bolingbroke,
I mean, the Earl of Wiltshire, Busby, Green.
Ser. What, are they dead?

Gard. They are,

And Bolingbroke hath feiz'd the wasteful King.
What pity is't, that he had not fo trimm'd
And dreft his Land, as we this Garden dress,
And wound the bark, the skin, of our fruit-trees;
Left, being over proud with fap and blood,
With too much riches it confound it felf;
Had he done fo to great and growing men,
They might have liv'd to bear, and he to tafte
Their fruits of duty. All fuperfluous branches
We lop away, that bearing boughs may live:
Had he done fo, himself had born the Crown,
Which waste and idle hours have quite thrown down.
Serv. What, think you then, the King fhall be
depos'd?

Gard. Depreft he is already, and depos'd,
'Tis doubted, he will be. Letters last night
Came to a dear friend of the Duke of York,
That tell black tidings.

[fpeaking:

Queen. Oh, I am preft to death, through want of Thou Adam's likeness, set to dress this garden, How dares thy tongue found this unpleafing news? What Eve, what Serpent hath fuggested thee, To make a fecond Fall of curfed man? Why doft thou fay, King Richard is depos'd? Dar'ft thou, (thou little better Thing than earth,) Divine his downfal? fay, where, when, and how Cam'ft thou by thefe ill tidings? fpeak, thou wretch. Gard. Pardon me, Madam. Little joy have I To breathe thefe news; yet, what I fay, is true; King Richard, he is in the mighty hold

Of