I speak to Subjects, and a Subject fpeaks,
Stirr'd up by heav'n, 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 prophefie,
The blood of Englifh fhall manure the ground,
And future ages groan for this foul act.
Peace fhall go fleep with Turks and Infidels,
And in this feat 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 fculls.
Oh, if you rear this house against this house,
It will the wofulleft divifion prove,
That ever fell upon this curfed earth.
Prevent, refift it, let it not be fo,
Left children's children cry against you, woe.
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 fafely till his day of tryal.
* May't please you, lords, to grant the Commons' fuit? Boling. Fetch hither Richard, that in common view He may furrender: fo we shall proceed
Without fufpicion.
York. I will be his conduct.
Boling. Lords, you that here are under our Arreft, Procure your fureties for fureties for your days of answer: Little are we beholden to your love,
And little look'd for at your helping hands.
4 May't pleafe you, lords, &c.] This Scene, where Richard is introduced, from these words, mav't pleafe you, &c. to the fourth Scene of this A&t, is entirely added fince the firft Edition.
Enter King Richard, and York.
K. Rich. Alack, why am I fent for to a King, Before I have fhook off the regal thoughts. Wherewith I reign'd? I hardly yet have learn'd T' infinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my knee. Give forrow leave a-while, to tutor me. To this fubmiffion. Yet I well remember The favours of thefe men: were they not mine? Did they not, fometime cry, all hail! to me? So Judas did to Chrift: but he, in twelve, [none Found truth in all, but one; I, in twelve thousand, God fave the King!-will no man will no man fay, Amen ?
Am I both priest and clark? well then, Amen.
God fave the King, although I be not he:
And yet, Amen, if, heav'n do think him me.
To do what fervice, am I fent for hither?
York. To do that office of thine own good will,
Which tired Majefty did make thee offer:
The Refignation of thy State and Crown.
K. Rich, Give me the Crown.
Here, on this fide, my hand; on. that fide, thine.
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, unfeen and full of water;
That bucket down, and full of tears, am I
Drinking my griefs, whilft you mount up on high.
Boling. I thought you had been willing to refign.
K. Rich. My Crown, I am; but still my griefs are
You may my Glories, and my State depofe,
But not my griefs; ftill am I King of those. [Crown.
Boling. Part of
your cares you give me with your
K. Rich. Your cares fet up, do not pluck my cares:
My care, is lofs 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?
K. Rich. Ay, no ;-no, ay ;-for I muft Nothing be:
Therefore no No: for I refign to thee.
Now, mark me how I will undo my self;
I give this heavy weight from off my head;
And this unweildy Scepter from my hand;
The pride of kingly fway 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 tongue deny my facred State;
With mine own breath release all dutious oaths.
All pomp and Majefty I do forfwear:
My manors, rents, revenues, I forego;
My acts, decrees, and ftatutes I deny :
God pardon all oaths, that are broke to me!
God keep all vows unbroke, are made to thee!
Make me, that nothing have, with nothing griev❜d,
And thou with all pleas'd, that haft all achiev❜d!
Long may'ft thou live in Richard's Seat to fit,
And foon lye Richard in an earthy pit!
God fave King Henry, unking'd Richard fays,
And fend him many years of fun-fhine days!
What more remains ?
North. No more; but that you read
These accufations, and these grievous crimes
Committed by your perfon, and your followers,
Against the State and Profit of this Land:
That, by confefling them, the fouls of men
May deem that you are worthily depos'd.
K. Rich. Muft I do fo? and must I ravel out
My weav'd-up follies? Gentle Northumberland,
If thy offences were upon record,
Would it not fhame thee, in fo fair a troop,
To read a lecture of them? if thou would'ft,
There fhould'ft thou find one heinous article,
Containing the depofing of a King;
And cracking the ftrong warrant of an oath,
Mark'd with a blot, damn'd in the book of heav'n.
Nay, all of you, that stand and look upon me,
Whilft that my wretchedness doth bait my felf,
Though fome of you with Pilate wash your hands,
Shewing an outward pity; yet you Pilates
Have here deliver'd me to my fow'r Crofs,
And water cannot wash away your fin.
North. My lord, difpatch; read o'er these articles. K. Rich. Mine eyes are full of tears: I cannot fee: And yet falt-water blinds them not so much, 5 But they can see a Sort of traitors here. Nay, if I turn mine eyes upon my self, I find my self a traitor with the reft: For I have given here my foul's confent, T'undeck the pompous body of a King; Made Glory base; a Sovereign a flave; Proud Majefty, a fubject: State, a peasant. North. My lord
K. Rich. No lord of thine, thou haught-infulting
Nor no man's lord: I have no Name, no Title;
No, not that Name was giv'n me at the Font,
But 'tis ufurp'd. Alack, the heavy day,
That I have worn fo many winters out,
And know not now, what name to call my self!
Oh, that I were a mockery-King of fnow,
Standing before the Sun of Bolingbroke,
To melt my felf away in water-drops!
Good King, great King,-(and yet not greatly good,)
An if my word be fterling yet in England, [To Boling.
5 But they can fee a Sort Ji. e. a pack, a company.
Let it command a mirror hither straight,
That it may fhew me what a face I have,
Since it is bankrupt of his Majefty.
Boling. Go fome of you, and fetch a looking-glafs. North. Read o'er this paper, while the glass doth [hell. K. Rich. Fiend, thou torment'ft me, ere I come to Boling. Urge it no more, my lord Northumberland. North. The Commons will not then be fatisfy'd. K. Rich. They fhall be fatisfy'd: I'll read enough, When I do fee the very Book, indeed, Where all my fins are writ, and that's
Give me that Glafs, and therein will I read.
No deeper wrinkles yet? hath Sorrow ftruck
So many blows upon this face of mine,
And made no deeper wounds? oh, flatt'ring Glafs!
Like to my Followers in profperity,
Thou doft beguile me. Was this face, the face
That every day under his houfhold roof
Did keep ten thousand men? was this the face,
That, like the Sun, did make beholders wink?
Is this the face, which fac'd fo many follies,
That was at laft out-fac'd by Bolingbroke?
A brittle Glory fhineth in this face;
[Dafbes the Glafs against the Ground.
As brittle, as the glory, is the face;
For there it is, crackt in an hundred shivers.
Mark, filent King, the Moral of this fport;
How foon my forrow hath destroy'd my face.
Boling. The fhadow of your forrow hath destroy'd
The fhadow of your face.
K. Rich. Say That again.
The shadow of my forrow! ha, let's see; 'Tis very true, my grief lies all within ; And these external manners of laments
|