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Richard II (Folio 1, 1623)

Author: William Shakespeare
Editor: Catherine Lisak
Peer Reviewed
The life and death of King Richard
the Second.
1
Actus Primus, Scæna Prima.
Enter King Richard, Iohn of Gaunt, with other Nobles
and Attendants.
King Richard.
5OLd Iohn of Gaunt, time honoured Lancaster,
Hast thou according to thy oath and band
Brought hither Henry Herford thy bold son:
Heere to make good ye boistrous late appeale,
Which then our leysure would not let vs heare,
10Against the Duke of Norfolke, Thomas Mowbray?
Gaunt. I haue my Liege.
King. Tell me moreouer, hast thou sounded him,
If he appeale the Duke on ancient malice,
Or worthily as a good subiect should
15On some knowne ground of treacherie in him.
Gaunt. As neere as I could sift him on that argument,
On some apparant danger seene in him,
Aym'd at your Highnesse, no inueterate malice.
Kin. Then call them to our presence face to face,
20And frowning brow to brow, our selues will heare
Th'accuser, and the accused, freely speake;
High stomackd are they both, and full of ire,
In rage, deafe as the sea; hastie as fire.
Enter Bullingbrooke and Mowbray.
25Bul. Many yeares of happy dayes befall
My gracious Soueraigne, my most louing Liege.
Mow. Each day still better others happinesse,
Vntill the heauens enuying earths good hap,
Adde an immortall title to your Crowne.
30King. We thanke you both, yet one but flatters vs,
As well appeareth by the cause you come,
Namely, to appeale each other of high treason.
Coosin of Hereford, what dost thou obiect
Against the Duke of Norfolke, Thomas Mowbray?
35Bul. First, heauen be the record to my speech,
In the deuotion of a subiects loue,
Tendering the precious safetie of my Prince,
And free from other misbegotten hate,
Come I appealant to rhis Princely presence.
40Now Thomas Mowbray do I turne to thee,
And marke my greeting well: for what I speake,
My body shall make good vpon this earth,
Or my diuine soule answer it in heauen.
Thou art a Traitor, and a Miscreant;
45Too good to be so, and too bad to liue,
Since the more faire and christall is the skie,
The vglier seeme the cloudes that in it flye:
Once more, the more to aggrauate the note,
With a foule Traitors name stuffe I thy throte,
50And wish (so please my Soueraigne) ere I moue,
What my tong speaks, my right drawn sword may proue
Mow. Let not my cold words heere accuse my zeale:
'Tis not the triall of a Womans warre,
The bitter clamour of two eager tongues,
55Can arbitrate this cause betwixt vs twaine:
The blood is hot that must be cooI'dfor this.
Yet can I not of such tame patience boast,
As to be husht, and nought at all to say.
First the faire reuerence of your Highnesse curbes mee,
60From giuing reines and spurres to my free speech,
Which else would post, vntill it had return'd
These tearmes of treason, doubly downe his throat.
Setting aside his high bloods royalty,
And let him be no Kinsman to my Liege,
65I do defie him, and I spit at him,
Call him a slanderous Coward, and a Villaine:
Which to maintaine, I would allow him oddes,
And meete him, were I tide to runne afoote,
Euen to the frozen ridges of the Alpes,
70Or any other ground inhabitable,
Where euer Englishman durst set his foote.
Meane time, let this defend my loyaltie,
By all my hopes most falsely doth he lie.
Bul. Pale trembling Coward, there I throw my gage,
75Disclaiming heere the kindred of a King,
And lay aside my high bloods Royalty,
Which feare, not reuerence makes thee to except.
If guilty dread hath left thee so much strength,
As to take vp mine Honors pawne, then stoope.
80By that, and all the rites of Knight-hood else,
Will I make good against thee arme to arme,
What I haue spoken, or thou canst deuise.
Mow. I take it vp, and by that sword I sweare,
Which gently laid my Knight-hood on my shoulder,
85lIe answer thee in any faire degree,
Or Chiualrous designe of knightly triall:
And when I mount, aliue may I not light,
If I be Traitor, or vniustly fight.
King. What doth our Cosin lay to Mowbraies charge?
90It must be great that can inherite vs,
So much as of a thought of ill in him.
Bul. Looke what I said, my life shall proue it true,
That Mowbray hath receiu'd eight thousandNobles,
In name of lendings for your Highnesse Soldiers,
95The which he hath detain'd for lewd employments,
Like a false Traitor, and iniurious Villaine.
Besides I say, and will in battaile proue,
Or heere, or elsewhere to the furthest Verge
That euer was suruey'd by English eye,
100That all the Treasons for these eighteene yeeres
Complotted, and contriued in this Land,
Fetch'd from false Mowbray their first head and spring.
Further I say, and further will maintaine
Vpon his bad life, to make all this good.
105That he did plot the Duke of Glousters death,
Suggest his soone beleeuing aduersaries,
And consequently, like a Traitor Coward,
Sluc'd out his innocent soule through streames of blood:
Which blood, like sacrificing Abels cries,
110(Euen from the toonglesse cauernes of the earth)
To me for iustice, and rough chasticement:
And by the glorious worth of my discent,
This arme shall do it, or this life be spent.
King. How high a pitch his resolution soares:
115Thomas of Norfolke, what sayest thou to this?
Mow. Oh let my Soueraigne turne away his face,
And bid his eares a little while be deafe,
Till I haue told this slander of his blood,
How God, and good men, hate so foule a lyar.
120King. Mowbray, impartiall are our eyes and eares,
Were he my brother, nay our kingdomes heyre,
As he is but my fathers brothers sonne;
Now by my Scepters awe, I make a vow,
Such neighbour-neerenesse to our sacred blood,
125Should nothing priuiledge him, nor partialize
The vn-stooping firmenesse of my vpright soule.
He is our subiect ( Mowbray) so art thou,
Free speech, and fearelesse, I to thee allow.
Mow. Then Bullingbrooke, as low as to thy heart.
130Through the false passage of thy throat; thou lyest:
Threc parts of that receipt I had for Callice,
Disburst I to his Highnesse souldiers;
The other part reseru'd I by consent,
For that my Soueraigne Liege was in my debt,
135Vpon remainder of a deere Accompt,
Since last I went to France to fetch his Queene:
Now swallow downe that Lye. For Glousters death,
I slew him not; but (to mine owne disgrace)
Neglected my sworne duty in that case:
140For you my noble Lord of Lancaster,
The honourable Father to my foe,
Once I did lay an ambush for your life,
A trespasse that doth vex my greeued soule:
But ere I last receiu'd the Sacrament,
145I did confesse it, and exactly begg'd
Your Graces pardon, and I hope I had it.
This is my fault: as for the rest appeal'd,
It issues from the rancour of a Villaine,
A recreant, and most degenerate Traitor,
150Which in my selfe I boldly will defend,
And interchangeably hurle downe my gage
Vpon this ouer-weening Traitors foote,
To proue my selfe a loyall Gentleman,
Euen in the best blood chamber'd in his bosome.
155In hast whereof, most heartily I pray
Your Highnesse to assigne our Triall day.
King. Wrath-kindled Gentlemen be rul'd by me:
Let's purge this choller without letting blood:
This we prescribe, though no Physition,
160Deepe malice makes too deepe incision.
Forget, forgiue, conclude, and be agreed,
Our Doctors say, This is no time to bleed.
Good Vnckle, let this end where it begun,
Wee'l calme the Duke of Norfolke; you, your son.
165Gaunt. To be a make-peace shall become my age,
Throw downe (my sonne) the Duke of Norfolkes gage.
And Norfolke, throw downe his.
Gaunt. When Harrie when? Obedience bids,
Obedience bids I should not bid agen.
170King. Norfolke, throw downe, we bidde; there is
no boote.
Mow. My selfe I throw (dread Soueraigne) at thy foot.
My life thou shalt command, but not my shame,
The one my dutie owes, but my faire name
175Despight of death, that liues vpon my graue
To darke dishonours vse, thou shalt not haue.
I am disgrac'd, impeach'd, and baffel'd heere,
Pierc'd to the soule with slanders venom'd speare:
The which no balme can cure, but his heart blood
180Which breath'd this poyson.
King. Rage must be withstood:
Giue me his gage: Lyons make Leopards tame.
Mo, Yea, but not change his spots: take but my shame,
And I resigne my gage. My deere, deere Lord,
185The purest treasure mortall times afford
Is spotlesse reputation: that away,
Men are but gilded loame, or painted clay.
A Iewell in a ten times barr'd vp Chest,
Is a bold spirit, in a loyall brest.
190Mine Honor is my life; both grow in one:
Take Honor from me, and my life is done.
Then (deere my Liege) mine Honor let me trie,
In that I liue; and for that will I die.
King. Coosin, throw downe your gage,
195Do you begin.
Bul. Oh heauen defend my soule from such foule sin.
Shall I seeme Crest-falne in my fathers sight,
Or with pale beggar-feare impeach my hight
Before this out-dar'd dastard? Ere my toong,
200Shall wound mine honor with such feeble wrong;
Or sound so base a parle: my teeth shall teare
The slauish motiue of recanting feare,
And spit it bleeding in his high disgrace,
Where shame doth harbour, euen in Mowbrayes face.
205
Exit Gaunt.
King. We were not borne to sue, but to command,
Which since we cannot do to make you friends,
Be readie, (as your liues shall answer it)
At Couentree, vpon S. Lamberts day:
210There shall your swords and Lances arbitrate
The swelling difference of your setled hate:
Since we cannot attone you, you shall see
Iustice designe the Victors Chiualrie.
Lord Marshall, command our Officers at Armes,
215Be readie to direct these home Alarmes.
Exeunt.
Scæna Secunda.
Enter Gaunt, and Dutchesse of Gloucester.
Gaunt. Alas, the part I had in Glousters blood,
Doth more solicite me then your exclaimes,
220To stirre against the Butchers of his life.
But since correction lyeth in those hands
Which made the fault that we cannot correct,
Put we our quarrell to the will of heauen,
Who when they see the houres ripe on earth,
225Will raigne hot vengeance on offenders heads.
Dut. Findes brotherhood in thee no sharper spurre?
Hath loue in thy old blood no liuing fire?
Edwards seuen sonnes (whereof thy selfe art one)
Were as seuen violles of his Sacred blood,
230Or seuen faire branches springing from one roote:
Some of those seuen are dride by natures course,
Some of those branches by the destinies cut:
But Thomas, my deere Lord, my life, my Glouster,
One Violl full of Edwards Sacred blood,
235One flourishing branch of his most Royall roote
Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt;
Is hackt downe, and his summer leafes all vaded
By Enuies hand, and Murders bloody Axe.
Ah Gaunt! His blood was thine, that bed, that wombe,
240That mettle, that selfe-mould that fashion'd thee,
Made him a man: and though thou liu'st, and breath'st,
Yet art thou slaine in him: thou dost consent
In some large measure to thy Fathers death,
In that thou seest thy wretched brother dye,
245Who was the modell of thy Fathers life.
Call it not patience ( Gaunt) it is dispaire,
In suffring thus thy brother to be slaughter'd,
Thou shew'st the naked pathway to thy life,
Teaching sterne murther how to butcher thee:
250That which in meane men we intitle patience
Is pale cold cowardice in noble brests:
What shall I say, to safegard thine owne life,
The best way is to venge my Glousters death.
Gaunt. Heauens is the quarrell: for heauens substitute
255His Deputy annointed in his sight,
Hath caus'd his death, the which if wrongfully
Let heauen reuenge: for I may neuer lift
An angry arme against his Minister.
Dut. Where then (alas may I) complaint my selfe? ?
260Gau. To heauen, the widdowes Champion to defence
Dut. Why then I will: farewell old Gaunt.
Thou go'st to Couentrie, there to behold
Our Cosine Herford, and fell Mowbray fight:
O sit my husbands wrongs on Herfords speare,
265That it may enter butcher Mowbrayes brest:
Or if misfortune misse the first carreere,
Be Mowbrayes sinnes so heauy in his bosome,
That they may breake his foaming Coursers backe,
And throw the Rider headlong in the Lists,
270A Caytiffe recreant to my Cosine Herford:
Farewell old Gaunt, thy sometimes brothers wife
With her companion Greefe, must end her life.
Gau. Sister farewell: I must to Couentree,
As much good stay with thee, as go with mee.
275Dut. Yet one wotd more: Greefe boundeth where it
Not with the emptie hollownes, but weight:
I take my leaue, before I haue begun,
For sorrow ends not, when it seemeth done.
Commend me to my brother Edmund Yorke.
280Loe, this is all: nay, yet depart not so,
Though this be all, do not so quickly go,
I shall remember more. Bid him, Oh, what?
With all good speed at Plashie visit mee.
Alacke, and what shall good old Yorke there see
285But empty lodgings, and vnfurnish'd walles,
Vn-peopel'd Offices, vntroden stones?
And what heare there for welcome, but my grones?
Therefore commend me, let him not come there,
To seeke out sorrow, that dwels euery where:
290Desolate, desolate will I hence, and dye,
The last leaue of thee, takes my weeping eye.
Exeunt
Scena Tertia.
Enter Marshall, and Aumerle.
Mar. My L. Aumerle, is Harry Herford arm'd.
295Aum. Yea, at all points, and longs to enter in.
Mar. The Duke of Norfolke, sprightfully and bold,
Stayes but the summons of the Appealants Trumpet.
Au. Why then the Champions, are prepar'd, and stay
For nothing but his Maiesties approach.
Flourish.
300
Enter King, Gaunt, Bushy, Bagot, Greene, &
others: Then Mowbray in Ar-
mor, and Harrold.
Rich. Marshall, demand of yonder Champion
The cause of his arriuall heere in Armes,
305Aske him his name, and orderly proceed
To sweare him in the iustice of his cause.
Mar. In Gods name, and the Kings, say who yu art,
And why thou com'st thus knightly clad in Armes?
Against what man thou com'st, and what's thy quarrell,
310Speake truly on thy knighthood, and thine oath,
As so defend thee heauen, and thy valour.
Mow. My name is Tho. Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,
Who hither comes engaged by my oath
(Which heauen defend a knight should violate)
315Both to defend my loyalty and truth,
To God, my King, and his succeeding issue,
Against the Duke of Herford, that appeales me:
And by the grace of God, and this mine arme,
To proue him (in defending of my selfe)
320A Traitor to my God, my King, and me,
And as I truly fight, defend me heauen.
Tucket.
Enter Hereford, and Harold.
Rich. Marshall: Aske yonder Knight in Armes,
Both who he is, and why he commeth hither,
325Thus placed in habiliments of warre:
And formerly according to our Law
Depose him in the iustice of his cause.
Mar. What is thy name? and wherfore comst yu hither
Before King Richard in his Royall Lists?
330Against whom com'st thou? and what's thy quarrell?
Speake like a true Knight, so defend thee heauen.
Bul. Harry of Herford, Lancaster, and Derbie,
Am I: who ready heere do stand in Armes,
To proue by heauens grace, and my bodies valour,
335In Lists, on Thomas Mowbray Duke of Norfolke,
That he's a Traitor foule, and dangerous,
To God of heauen, King Richard, and to me,
And as I truly fight, defend me heauen.
Mar. On paine of death, no person be so bold,
340Or daring hardie as to touch the Listes,
Except the Marshall, and such Officers
Appointed to direct these faire designes.
Bul. Lord Marshall, let me kisse my Soueraigns hand,
And bow my knee before his Maiestie:
345For Mowbray and my selfe are like two men,
That vow a long and weary pilgrimage,
Then let vs take a ceremonious leaue
And louing farwell of our seuerall friends.
Mar. The Appealant in all duty greets your Highnes,
350And craues to kisse your hand, and take his leaue.
Rich. We will descend, and fold him in our armes.
Cosin of Herford, as thy cause is iust,
So be thy fortune in this Royall fight:
Farewell, my blood, which if to day thou shead,
355Lament we may, but not reuenge thee dead.
Bull. Oh let no noble eye prophane a teare
For me, if I be gor'd with Mowbrayes speare:
As confident, as is the Falcons flight
Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight.
360My louing Lord, I take my leaue of you,
Of you (my Noble Cosin) Lord Aumerle;
Not sicke, although I haue to do with death,
But lustie, yong, and cheerely drawing breath.
Loe, as at English Feasts, so I regreete
365The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet.
Oh thou the earthy author of my blood,
Whose youthfull spirit in me regenerate,
Doth with a two-fold rigor lift mee vp
To reach at victory aboue my head,
370Adde proofe vnto mine Armour with thy prayres,
And with thy blessings steele my Lances point,
That it may enter Mowbrayes waxen Coate,
And furnish new the name of Iohn a Gaunt,
Euen in the lusty hauiour of his sonne.
375Gaunt. Heauen in thy good cause make thee prosp'rous
Be swift like lightning in the execution,
And let thy blowes doubly redoubled,
Fall like amazing thunder on the Caske
Of thy amaz'd pernicious enemy.
380Rouze vp thy youthfull blood, be valiant, and liue.
Bul. Mine innocence, and S. George to thriue.
Mow. How euer heauen or fortune cast my lot,
There liues, or dies, true to Kings Richards Throne,
A loyall, iust, and vpright Gentleman:
385Neuer did Captiue with a freer heart,
Cast off his chaines of bondage, and embrace
His golden vncontroul'd enfranchisement,
More then my dancing soule doth celebrate
This Feast of Battell, with mine Aduersarie
390Most mighty Liege, and my companion Peeres,
Take from my mouth, the wish of happy yeares,
As gentle, and as iocond, as to iest,
Go I to fight: Truth, hath a quiet brest.
Rich. Farewell, my Lord, securely I espy
395Vertue with Valour, couched in thine eye:
Order the triall Marshall, and begin.
Mar. Harrie of Herford, Lancaster, and Derby,
Receiue thy Launce, and heauen defend thy right.
Bul. Strong as a towre in hope, I cry Amen.
400Mar. Go beare this Lance to Thomas D. of Norfolke.
1. Har. Harry of Herford, Lancaster, and Derbie,
Stands heere for God, his Soueraigne, and himselfe,
On paine to be found false, and recreant,
To proue the Duke of Norfolke, Thomas Mowbray,
405A Traitor to his God, his King, and him,
And dares him to set forwards to the fight.
2. Har. Here standeth Tho: Mowbray Duke of Norfolk
On paine to be found false and recreant,
Both to defend himselfe, and to approue
410Henry of Herford, Lancaster, and Derby,
To God, his Soueraigne, and to him disloyall:
Couragiously, and with a free desire
Attending but the signall to begin.
A charge sounded
Mar. Sound Trumpets, and set forward Combatants:
415Stay, the King hath throwne his Warder downe.
Rich. Let them lay by their Helmets & their Speares,
And both returne backe to their Chaires againe:
Withdraw with vs, and let the Trumpets sound,
While we returne these Dukes what we decree.
420
A long Flourish.
Draw neere and list
What with our Councell we haue done.
For that our kingdomes earth should not be soyld
With that deere blood which it hath fostered,
425And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect
Of ciuill wounds plowgh'd vp with neighbors swords,
Which so rouz'd vp with boystrous vntun'd drummes,
With harsh resounding Trumpets dreadfull bray,
And grating shocke of wrathfull yron Armes,
430Might from our quiet Confines fright faire peace,
And make vs wade euen in our kindreds blood:
Therefore, we banish you our Territories.
You Cosin Herford, vpon paine of death,
Till twice fiue Summers haue enrich'd our fields,
435Shall not regreet our faire dominions,
But treade the stranger pathes of banishment.
Bul. Your will be done: This must my comfort be,
That Sun that warmes you heere, shall shine on me:
And those his golden beames to you heere lent,
440Shall point on me, and gild my banishment.
Rich. Norfolke: for thee remaines a heauier dombe,
Which I with some vnwillingnesse pronounce,
The slye slow houres shall not determinate
The datelesse limit of thy deere exile:
445The hopelesse word, of Neuer to returne,
Breath I against thee, vpon paine of life.
Mow. A heauy sentence, my most Soueraigne Liege,
And all vnlook'd for from your Highnesse mouth:
A deerer merit, not so deepe a maime,
450As to be cast forth in the common ayre
Haue I deserued at your Highnesse hands.
The Language I haue learn'd these forty yeares
(My natiue English) now I must forgo,
And now my tongues vse is to me no more,
455Then an vnstringed Vyall, or a Harpe,
Or like a cunning Instrument cas'd vp,
Or being open, put into his hands
That knowes no touch to tune the harmony.
Within my mouth you haue engaol'd my tongue,
460Doubly percullist with my teeth and lippes,
And dull, vnfeeling, barren ignorance,
Is made my Gaoler to attend on me:
I am too old to fawne vpon a Nurse,
Too farre in yeeres to be a pupill now:
465What is thy sentence then, but speechlesse death,
Which robs my tongue from breathing natiue breath?
Rich, It boots thee not to be compassionate,
After our sentence, plaining comes too late.
Mow. Then thus I turne me from my countries light
470To dwell in solemne shades of endlesse night.
Ric. Returne againe, and take an oath with thee,
Lay on our Royall sword, your banisht hands;
Sweare by the duty that you owe to heauen
(Our part therein we banish with your selues)
475To keepe the Oath that we administer:
You ueuer shall (so helpe you Truth, and Heauen)
Embrace each others loue in banishment,
Nor euer looke vpon each others face,
Nor euer write, regreete, or reconcile
480This lowring tempest of your home-bred hate,
Nor euer by aduised purpose meete,
To plot, contriue, or complot any ill,
'Gainst Vs, our State, our Subiects, or our Land.
Bull. I sweare.
485Mow. And I, to keepe all this.
Bul. Norfolke, so fare, as to mine enemie,
By this time (had the King permitted vs)
One of our soules had wandred in the ayre,
Banish'd this fraile sepulchre of our flesh,
490As now our flesh is banish'd from this Land.
Confesse thy Treasons, ere thou flye this Realme,
Since thou hast farre to go, beare not along
The clogging burthen of a guilty soule.
Mow. No Bullingbroke: If euer I were Traitor,
495My name be blotted from the booke of Life,
And I from heauen banish'd, as from hence:
But what thou art, heauen, thou, and I do know,
And all too soone (I feare) the King shall rue.
Farewell (my Liege) now no way can I stray,
500Saue backe to England, all the worlds my way.
Exit.
Rich. Vncle, euen in the glasses of thine eyes
I see thy greeued heart: thy sad aspect,
Hath from the number of his banish'd yeares
Pluck'd foure away: Six frozen Winters spent,
505Returne with welcome home, from banishment.
Bul. How long a time lyes in one little word:
Foure lagging Winters, and foure wanton springs
End in a word, such is the breath of Kings.
Gaunt. I thanke my Liege, that in regard of me
510He shortens foure yeares of my sonnes exile:
But little vantage shall I reape thereby.
For ere the sixe yeares that he hath to spend
Can change their Moones, and bring their times about,
My oyle-dride Lampe, and time-bewasted light
515Shall be extinct with age, and endlesse night:
My inch of Taper, will be burnt, and done,
And blindfold death, not let me see my sonne.
Rich. Why Vncle, thou hast many yeeres to Iiue.
Gaunt. But not a minute (King) that thou canst giue;
520Shorten my dayes thou canst with sudden sorow,
And plucke nights from me, but not lend a morrow:
Thou canst helpe time to furrow me with age,
But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage:
Thy word is currant with him, for my death,
525But dead, thy kingdome cannot buy my breath.
Ric. Thy sonne is banish'd vpon good aduice,
Whereto thy tongue a party-verdict gaue,
Why at our Iustice seem'st thou then to lowre?
Gau. Things sweet to tast, proue in digestion sowre:
530You vrg'd me as a Iudge, but I had rather
You would haue bid me argue like a Father.
Alas, I look'd when some of you should say,
I was too strict to make mine owne away:
But you gaue leaue to my vnwilling tong,
535Against my will, to do my selfe this wrong.
Rich, Cosine farewell: and Vncle bid him so:
Six yeares we banish him, and he shall go.
Exit.
Flourish.
Au. Cosine farewell: what presence must not know
540From where you do remaine, let paper show.
Mar. My Lord, no leaue take I, for I will ride
As farre as land will let me, by your side.
Gaunt. Oh to what purpose dost thou hord thy words,
That thou teturnst no greeting to thy friends?
545Bnll. I haue too few to take my leaue of you,
When the tongues office should be prodigall,
To breath th' abundant dolour of the heart.
Gau. Thy greefe is but thy absence for a time.
Bull. Ioy absent, greefe is present for that time.
550Gau. What is sixe Winters, they are quickely gone?
Bul. To men in ioy, but greefe makes one houre ten.
Gau. Call it a trauell that thou tak'st for pleasure.
Bul. My heart will sigh, when I miscall it so,
Which findes it an inforced Pilgrimage.
555Gau. The sullen passage of thy weary steppes
Esteeme a soyle, wherein thou art to set
The precious Iewell of thy home returne.
Bul. Oh who can hold a fire in his hand
By thinking on the frostie Caucasus?
560Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite,
by bare imagination of a Feast?
Or Wallow naked in December snow
by thinking on fantasticke summers heate?
Oh no, the apprehension of the good
565Giues but the greater feeling to the worse:
Fell sorrowes tooth, doth euer ranckle more
Then when it bites, but lanceth not the sore.
Gau. Come, come (my son) Ile bring thee on thy way
Had I thy youth, and cause, I would not stay.
570Bul. Then Englands ground farewell: sweet soil adieu,
My Mother, and my Nurse, which beares me yet:
Where ere I wander, boast of this I can,
Though banish'd, yet a true-borne Englishman.
Scœna Quarta.
575
Enter King, Aumerle, Greene, and Bagot.
Rich. We did obserue. Cosine Anmerle,
How far brought you high Herford on his way?
Aum. I brought high Herford (if you call him so)
but to the next high way, and there I left him.
580Rich. And say, what store of parting tears were shed?
Aum. Faith none for me: except the Northeast wind
Which then grew bitterly against our face,
Awak'd the sleepie rhewme, and so by chance
Did grace our hollow parting with a teare.
585Rich. What said our Cosin when you parted with him?
Au. Farewell: and for my hart disdained yt my tongue
Should so prophane the word, that taught me craft
To counterfeit oppression of such greefe,
That word seem'd buried in my sorrowes graue.
590Marry, would the word Farwell, haue lengthen'd houres,
And added yeeres to his short banishment,
He should haue had a voIume of Farwels,
but since it would not, he had none of me.
Rich. He is our Cosin (Cosin) but 'tis doubt,
595When time shall call him home from banishment,
Whether our kinsman come to see his friends,
Our selfe, and Bushy: heere Bagot and Greene
Obseru'd his Courtship to the common people:
How he did seeme to diue into their hearts,
600With humble, and familiat courtesie,
What reuerence he did throw away on slaues;
Wooing poore Craftes-men, with the craft of soules,
And patient vnder-bearing of his Fortune,
As 'twere to banish their affects with him.
605Off goes his bonnet to an Oyster-wench,
A brace of Dray-men bid God speed him well,
And had the tribute of his supple knee,
With thankes my Countrimen, my louing friends,
As were our England in reuersion his,
610And he our subiects next degree in hope.
Gr. Well, he is gone, & with him go these thoughts:
Now for the Rebels, which stand out in Ireland,
Expedient manage must be made my Liege
Ere further leysure, yeeld them further meanes
615For their aduantage, and your Highnesse losse.
Ric. We will our selfe in person to this warre,
And for our Coffers, with too great a Court,
And liberall Largesse, are growne somewhat light,
We are inforc'd to farme our royall Realme,
620The Reuennew whereof shall furnish vs
For our affayres in hand: if that come short
Our Substitutes at home shall haue Blanke-charters:
Whereto, when they shall know what men are rich,
They shall subscribe them for large summes of Gold,
625And send them after to supply our wants:
For we will make for Ireland presently.
Enter Bushy.
Bushy, what newes?
Bu. Old Iohn of Gaunt is verie sicke my Lord,
630Sodainly taken, and hath sent post haste
To entreat your Maiesty to visit him.
Ric. Where lyes he?
Bu. At Ely house.
Ric. Now put it (heauen) in his Physitians minde,
635To helpe him to his graue immediately:
The lining of his coffers shall make Coates
To decke our souldiers for these Irish warres.
Come Gentlemen, let's all go visit him:
Pray heauen we may make hast, and come too late.
Exit.
640
Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.
Enter Gaunt, sicke with Yorke.
Gau. Will the King come, that I may breath my last
In wholsome counsell to his vnstaid youth?
Yor. Vex not your selfe, nor striue not with your breth
645For all in vaine comes counsell to his eare.
Gau. Oh but (they say) the tongues of dying men
Inforce attention like deepe harmony;
Where words are scarse, they are seldome spent in vaine,
For they breath truth, that breath their words in paine.
650He that no more must say, is listen'd more,
Then they whom youth and ease haue taught to glose,
More are mens ends markt, then their liues before,
The setting Sun, and Musicke in the close
As the last taste of sweetes, is sweetest last,
655Writ in remembrance, more then things long past;
Though Richard my liues counsell would not heare,
My deaths sad tale, may yet vndeafe his eare.
Yor. No, it is stopt with other flatt'ring sounds
As praises of his state: then there are sound
660Lasciuious Meeters, to whose venom sound
The open eare of youth doth alwayes listen.
Report of fashions in proud Italy,
Whose manners still our tardie apish Nation
Limpes after in base imitation.
665Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity,
So it be new, there's no respect how vile,
That is not quickly buz'd into his eares?
That all too late comes counsell to be heard,
Where will doth mutiny with wits regard:
670Direct not him, whose way himselfe will choose,
Tis breath thou lackst, and that breath wilt thou loose.
Gaunt. Me thinkes I am a Prophet new inspir'd,
And thus expiring, do foretell of him,
His rash fierce blaze of Ryot cannot last,
675For violent fires soone burne out themselues,
Small showres last long, but sodaine stormes are short,
He tyres betimes, that spurs too fast betimes;
With eager feeding, food doth choake the feeder:
Light vanity, insatiate cormorant,
680Consuming meanes soone preyes vpon it selfe.
This royall Throne of Kings, this sceptred Isle,
This earth of Maiesty, this seate of Mars,
This other Eden, demy paradise,
This Fortresse built by Nature for her selfe,
685Against infection, and the hand of warre:
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone, set in the siluer sea,
Which serues it in the office of a wall,
Or as a Moate defensiue to a house,
690Against the enuy of lesse happier Lands,
This blessed plot, this earth, this Realme, this England,
This Nurse, this teeming wombe of Royall Kings,
Fear'd by their breed, and famous for their birth,
Renowned for their deeds, as farre from home,
695For Christian seruice, and true Chiualrie,
As is the sepulcher in stubborne Iury
Of the Worlds ransome, blessed Maries Sonne.
This Land of such deere soules, this deere-deere Land,
Deere for her reputation through the world,
700Is now Leas'd out (I dye pronouncing it)
Like to a Tenement or pelting Farme.
England bound in with the triumphant sea,
Whose rocky shore beates backe the enuious siedge
Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame,
705With Inky blottes, and rotten Parchment bonds.
That England, that was wont to conquer others,
Hath made a shamefull conquest of it selfe.
Ah! would the scandall vanish with my life,
How happy then were my ensuing death?
710
Enter King, Queene, Aumerle, Bushy, Greene,
Bagot, Ros, and Willoughby.
Yor. The King is come, deale mildly with his youth,
For young hot Colts, being rag'd, do rage the more.
Qu. How fares our noble Vncle Lancaster?
715Ri. What comfort man? How ist with aged Gaunt?
Ga. Oh how that name befits my composition:
Old Gaunt indeed, and gaunt in being old:
Within me greefe hath kept a tedious fast,
And who abstaynes from meate, that is not gaunt?
720For sleeping England long time haue I watcht,
Watching breeds leannesse, leannesse is all gaunt.
The pleasure that some Fathers feede vpon,
Is my strict fast, I meane my Childrens lookes,
And therein fasting, hast thou made me gaunt:
725Gaunt am I for the graue, gaunt as a graue,
Whose hollow wombe inherits naught but bones.
Ric. Can sicke men pIay so nicely with their names?
Gau. No, misery makes sport to mocke it selfe:
Since thou dost seeke to kill my name in mec,
730I mocke my name (great King) to flatter thee.
Ric. Should dying men flatter those that liue?
Gau. No, no, men liuing flatter those that dye.
Rich. Thou now a dying, sayst thou flatter'st me.
Gau. Oh no, thou dyest, though I the sicker be.
735Rich. I am in health, I breath, I see thee ill.
Gau. Now he that made me, knowes I see thee ill:
Ill in my selfe to see, and in thee, seeing ill,
Thy death-bed is no lesser then the Land,
Wherein thou lyest in reputation sicke,
740And thou too care-lesse patient as thou art,
Commit'st thy'anointed body to the cure
Of those Physitians, that first wounded thee.
A thousand flatterers sit within thy Crowne,
Whose compasse is no bigger then thy head,
745And yet incaged in so small a Verge,
The waste is no whit lesser then thy Land:
Oh had thy Grandsire with a Prophets eye,
Seene how his sonnes sonne, should destroy his sonnes,
From forth thy reach he would haue laid thy shame,
750Deposing thee before thou wert possest,
Which art possest now to depose thy selfe.
Why (Cosine) were thou Regent of the world,
It were a shame to let his Land by lease:
But for thy world enioying but this Land,
755Is it not more then shame, to shame it so?
Landlord of England art thou, and not King:
Thy state of Law, is bondslaue to the law,
And---
Rich. And thou, a lunaticke leane-witted foole,
760Presuming on an Agues priuiledge,
Dar'st with thy frozen admonition
Make pale our cheeke, chafing the Royall blood
With fury, from his natiue residence?
Now by my Seates right Royall Maiestie,
765Wer't thou not Brother to great Edwards sonne,
This tongue that runs soroundly in thy head,
Should run thy head from thy vnreuerent shoulders.
Gau. Oh spare me not, my brothers Edwards sonne,
For that I was his Father Edwards sonne:
770That blood aIready (like the Pellican)
Thou hast tapt out, and drunkenly carows'd.
My brother Gloucester, plaine well meaning soule
(Whom faire befall in heauen 'mongst happy soules)
May be a president, and witnesse good,
775That thou respect'st not spilling Edwards blood:
Ioyne with the present sicknesse that I haue,
And thy vnkindnesse be like crooked age,
To crop at once a too-long wither'd flowre.
Liue in thy shame, but dye not shame with thee,
780These words heereafter, thy tormentors bee.
Conuey me to my bed, then to my graue,
Loue they to liue, that loue and honor haue.
Exit
Rich. And let them dye, that age and sullens haue,
For both hast thou, and both become the graue.
785Yor. I do beseech your Maiestie impute his words
To wayward sicklinesse, and age in him:
He loues you on my life, and holds you deere
As Harry Duke of Herford, were he heere.
Rich. Right, you say true: as Herfords loue, so his;
790As theirs, so mine: and all be as it is.
Enter Northumberland.
Nor. My Liege, olde Gaunt commends him to your
Maiestie.
Rich. What sayes he?
795Nor. Nay nothing, all is said:
His tongue is now a stringlesse instrument,
Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent.
Yor. Be Yorke the next, that must be bankrupt so,
Though death be poore, it ends a mortall wo.
800Rich. The ripest fruit first fals, and so doth he,
His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be:
So much for that. Now for our Irish warres,
We must supplant those rough rug-headed Kernes,
Which liue like venom, where no venom else
805But onely they, haue priuiledge to liue.
And for these great affayres do aske some charge
Towards our assistance, we do seize to vs
The plate, coine, reuennewes, and moueables,
Whereof our Vncle Gaunt did stand possest.
810Yor. How long shall I be patient? Oh how long
Shall tender dutie make me suffer wrong?
Not Glousters death, nor Herfords banishment,
Nor Gauntes rebukes, nor Englands priuate wrongs,
Nor the preuention of poore Bullingbrooke,
815About his marriage, nor my owne disgrace
Haue euer made me sowre my patient cheeke,
Or bend one wrinckle on my Soueraignes face:
I am the last of noble Edwards sonnes,
Of whom thy Father Prince of Wales was first,
820In warre was neuer Lyon rag'd more fierce:
In peace, was neuer gentle Lambe more milde,
Then was that yong and Princely Gentleman,
His face thou hast, for euen so look'd he
Accomplish'd with the number of thy howers:
825But when he frown'd, it was against the French,
And not against his friends: his noble hand
Did win what he did spend: and spent not that
Which his triumphant fathers hand had won:
His hands were guilty of no kindreds blood,
830But bloody with the enemies of his kinne:
Oh Richard, Yorke is too farre gone with greefe,
Or else he neuer would compare betweene.
Rich. Why Vncle,
What's the matter?
835Yor. Oh my Liege, pardon me if you please, if not
I pleas'd not to be pardon'd, am content with all:
Seeke you to seize, and gripe into your hands
The Royalties and Rights of banish'd Herford?
Is not Gaunt dead? and doth not Herford liue?
840Was not Gaunt iust? and is not Harry true?
Did not the one deserue to haue an heyre?
Is not his heyre a well-deseruing sonne?
Take Herfords rights away, and take from time
His Charters, and his customarie rights:
845Let not to morrow then insue to day,
Be not thy selfe. For how art thou a King
But by faire sequence and succession?
Now afore God, God forbid I say true,
If you do wrongfully seize Herfords right,
850Call in his Letters Patents that he hath
By his Atrurneyes generall, to sue
His Liuerie, and denie his offer'd homage,
You plucke a thousand dangers on your head,
You loose a thousand well-disposed hearts,
855And pricke my tender patience to those thoughts
Which honor and allegeance cannot thinke.
Ric. Thinke what you will: we seise into our hands,
His plate, his goods, his money, and his lands.
Yor. Ile not be by the while: My Liege farewell,
860What will ensue heereof, there's none can tell.
But by bad courses may be vnderstood,
That their euents can neuer fall out good.
Exit.
Rich. Go Bushie to the Earle of Wiltshire streight,
Bid him repaire to vs to Ely house,
865To see this businesse: to morrow next
We will for Ireland, and 'tis time, I trow:
And we create in absence of our selfe
Our Vncle Yorke, Lord Gouernor of England:
For he is iust, and alwayes lou'd vs well.
870Come on our Queene, to morrow must we part,
Be merry, for our time of stay is short.
Flourish.
Manet North. Willoughby, & Ross.
Nor. Well Lords, the Duke of Lancaster is dead.
Ross. And liuing too, for now his sonne is Duke .
875Wil. Barely in title, not in reuennew.
Nor. Richly in both, if iustice had her right.
Ross. My heart is great: but it must break with silence,
Er't be disburthen'd with a liberall tongue.
Nor. Nay speake thy mind: & let him ne'r speak more
880That speakes thy words againe to do thee harme.
Wil. Tends that thou'dst speake to th'Du. of Hereford,
If it be so, out with it boldly man,
Quicke is mine eare to heare of good towards him.
Ross. No good at all that I can do for him,
885Vnlesse you call it good to pitie him,
Bereft and gelded of his patrimonie.
Nor. Now afore heauen, 'tis shame such wrongs are
borne,
In him a royall Prince, and many moe
890Of noble blood in this declining Land;
The King is not himselfe, but basely led
By Flatterers, and what they will informe
Meerely in hate 'gainst any of vs all,
That will the King seuerely prosecute
895'Gainst vs, our liues, our children, and our heires.
Ros. The Commons hath he pil'd with greeuous taxes
And quite lost their hearts: the Nobles hath he finde
For ancient quarrels, and quite lost their hearts.
Wil. And daily new exactions are deuis'd,
900As blankes, beneuolences, and I wot not what:
But what o'Gods name doth become of this?
Nor. Wars hath not wasted it, for war'd he hath not.
But basely yeelded vpon comprimize,
That which his Ancestors atchieu'd with blowes:
905More hath he spent in peace, then they in warres.
Ros. The Earle of Wiltshire hath the realme in Farme.
Wil. The Kings growne bankrupt like a broken man.
Nor. Reproach, and dissolution hangeth ouer him.
Ros. He hath not monie for these Irish warres:
910(His burthenous taxations notwithstanding)
But by the robbing of the banish'd Duke.
Nor. His noble Kinsman, most degenerate King:
But Lords, we heare this fearefull tempest sing,
Yet seeke no shelter to auoid the storme:
915We see the winde sit sore vpon our salles,
And yet we strike not, but securely perish.
Ros. We see the very wracke that we must suffer,
And vnauoyded is the danger now
For suffering so the causes of our wracke.
920Nor. Not so: euen through the hollow eyes of death,
I spie life peering: but I dare not say
How neere the tidings of our comfort is.
Wil. Nay let vs share thy thoughts, as thou dost ours
Ros. Be confident to speake Northumberland,
925We three, are but thy selfe, and speaking so,
Thy words are but as thoughts, therefore be bold.
Nor. Then thus: I haue from Port le Blan
A Bay in Britaine, receiu'd intelligence,
That Harry Duke of Herford, Rainald Lord Cobham,
930That late broke from the Duke of Exeter,
His brother Archbishop, late of Canterbury,
Sir Thomas Erpingham, Sir Iohn Rainston,
Sir Iohn Norberie, Sir Robert Waterton, & Francis Quoint,
All these well furnish'd by the Duke of Britaine,
935With eight tall ships, three thousand men of warre
Are making hither with all due expedience,
And shortly meane to touch our Northerne shore:
Perhaps they had ere this, but that they stay
The first departing of the King for Ireland.
940If then we shall shake off our slauish yoake,
Impe out our drooping Countries broken wing,
Redeeme from broaking pawne the blemish'd Crowne,
Wipe off the dust that hides our Scepters gilt,
And make high Maiestie looke like it selfe,
945Away with me in poste to Rauenspurgh,
But if you faint, as fearing to do so,
Stay, and be secret, and my selfe will go.
Ros. To horse, to horse, vrge doubts to them yt feare.
Wil. Hold out my horse, and I will first be there.
950
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Queene, Bushy, and Bagot.
Bush. Madam, your Maiesty is too much sad,
You promis'd when you parted with the King,
955To lay aside selfe-harming heauinesse,
And entertaine a cheerefull disposition.
Qu. To please the King, I did: to please my selfe
I cannot do it: yet I know no cause
Why I should welcome such a guest as greefe,
960Saue bidding farewell to so sweet a guest
As my sweet Richard; yet againe me thinkes,
Some vnborne sorrow, ripe in fortunes wombe
Is comming towards me, and my inward soule
With nothing trembles, at something it greeues,
965More then with parting from my Lord the King.
Bush. Each substance of a greefe hath twenty shadows
Which shewes like greefe it selfe, but is not so:
For sorrowes eye, glazed with blinding teares,
Diuides one thing intire, to many obiects,
970Like perspectiues, which rightly gaz'd vpon
Shew nothing but confusion, ey'd awry,
Distinguish forme: so your sweet Maiestie
Looking awry vpon your Lords departure,
Finde shapes of greefe, more then himselfe to waile,
975Which look'd on as it is, is naught bur shadowes
Of what it is not: then thrice-gracious Queene,
More then your Lords departure weep not, more's not
Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrowes eie,
Which for things true, weepe things imaginary.
980Qu. It may be so: but yet my inward soule
Perswades me it is otherwise: how ere it be,
I cannot but be sad: so heauy sad,
As though on thinking on no thought I thinke,
Makes me with heauy nothing faint and shrinke.
985Bush. 'Tis nothing but conceit (my gracious Lady.)
Qu. 'Tis nothing lesse: conceit is still deriu'd
From some fore-father greefe, mine is not so,
For nothing hath begot my something greefe,
Or something, hath the nothing that I greeue,
990'Tis in reuersion that I do possesse,
But what it is, that is not yet knowne, what
I cannot name, 'tis namelesse woe I wot.
Enter Greene.
Gree. Heauen saue your Maiesty, and wel met Gentle-
995I hope the King is not yet shipt for Ireland.
Qu Why hop'st thou so? Tis better hope he is:
For his designes craue hast, his hast good hope,
Then wherefore dost thou hope he is not shipt?
Gre. That he our hope, might haue retyr'd his power,
1000and driuen into dispaire an enemies hope,
Who strongly hath set footing in this Land.
The banish'd Bullingbrooke repeales himselfe,
And with vp-lifted Armes is safe arriu'd
At Rauenspurg.
1005Qu. Now God in heauen forbid.
Gr. O Madam 'tis too true: and that is worse,
The L.Northumberland, his yong sonne Henrie Percie,
The Lords of Rosse, Beaumond, and Willoughby,
With all their powrefull friends are fled to him.
1010Bush. Why haue you not proclaim'd Northumberland
And the rest of the reuolted faction, Traitors?
Gre. We haue: whereupon the Earle of Worcester
Hath broke his staffe, resign'd his Stewardship,
And al the houshold seruants fled with him to Bullinbrook
1015Qu. So Greene, thou art the midwife of my woe,
And Bullinbrooke my sorrowes dismall heyre:
Now hath my soule brought forth her prodegie,
And I a gasping new deliuered mother,
Haue woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow ioyn'd.
1020Bush. Dispaire not Madam.
Qu. Who shall hinder me?
I will dispaire, and be at enmitie
With couzening hope; he is a Flatterer,
A Parasite, a keeper backe of death,
1025Who gently would dissolue the bands of life,
Which false hopes linger in extremity.
Enter Yorke
Gre. Heere comes the Duke of Yorke.
Qu. With signes of warre about his aged necke,
1030Oh full of carefull businesse are his lookes:
Vncle, for heauens sake speake comfortable words:
Yor. Comfort's in heauen, and we are on the earth,
Where nothing liues but crosses, care and greefe:
Your husband he is gone to saue farre off,
1035Whilst others come to make him loose at home:
Heere am I left to vnder-prop his Land,
Who weake with age, cannot support my selfe:
Now comes the sicke houre that his surfet made,
Now shall he try his friends that flattered him.
1040
Enter a seruant.
Ser. My Lord, your sonne was gone before I came.
Yor. He was: why so: go all which way it will:
The Nobles they are fled, the Commons they are cold,
And will I feare reuolt on Herfords side.
1045Sirra, get thee to Plashie to my sister Gloster,
Bid her send me presently a thousand pound,
Hold, take my Ring.
Ser. My Lord, I had forgot
To tell your Lordship, to day I came by, and call'd there,
1050But I shall greeue you to report the rest.
Yor. What is`t knaue?
Ser. An houre before I came, the Dutchesse di'de.
Yor. Heau'n for his mercy, what a tide of woes
Come rushing on this wofull Land at once?
1055I know not what to do: I would to heauen
(So my vntruth had not prouok'd him to it)
The King had cut off my head with my brothers.
What, are there postes dispatcht for Ireland?
How shall we do for money for these warres?
1060Come sister (Cozen I would say) pray pardon me.
Go fellow, get thee home, poouide some Carts,
And bring away the Armour that is there.
Gentlemen, will you muster men?
If I know how, or which way to order these affaires
1065Thus disorderly thrust into my hands,
Neuer beleeue me. Both are my kinsmen,
Th'one is my Soueraigne, whom both my oath
And dutie bids defend: th'other againe
Is my kinsman, whom the King hath wrong'd,
1070Whom conscience, and my kindred bids to right:
Well, somewhat we must do: Come Cozen,
Ile dispose of you. Gentlemen, go muster vp your men,
And meet me presently at Barkley Castle:
I should to Plashy too: but time will not permit,
1075All is vneuen, and euery thing is left at six and seuen.
Exit
Bush. The winde sits faire for newes to go to Ireland,
But none returnes: For vs to leuy power
Proportionable to th'enemy, is all impossible.
Gr. Besides our neerenesse to the King in loue,
1080Is neere the hate of those loue not the King.
BaAnd that's the wauering Commons, for theirloue
Lies in their purses, and who so empties them,
By so much fils their hearts with deadly hate.
Bush. Wherein the king stands generally condemn'd
1085Bag. If iudgement lye in them, then so do we,
Because we haue beene euer neere the King.
Gr. Well: I will for refuge straight to Bristoll Castle,
The Earle of Wiltshire is alreadie there.
Bush. Thither will I with you, for little office
1090Will the hatefull Commons performe for vs,
Except like Curres, to teare vs all in peeces:
Will you go along with vs?
Bag. No, I will to Ireland to his Maiestie:
Farewell, if hearts presages be not vaine,
1095We three here part, that neu'r shall meete againe.
Bu. That's as Yorke thriues to beate back Bullinbroke
Gr. Alas poore Duke, the taske he vndertakes
Is numbring sands, and drinking Oceans drie,
Where one on his side fights, thousands will flye.
1100Bush. Farewell at once, for once, for all, and euer.
Well, we may meete againe.
Bag. I feare me neuer.
Exit.
Scæna Tertia.
Enter the Duke of Hereford, and Northum-
1105berland.
Bul. How farre is it my Lord to Berkley now?
Nor. Beleeue me noble Lord,
I am a stranger heere in Gloustershire,
These high wilde hilles, and rough vneeuen waies,
1110Drawes out our miles, and makes them wearisome.
And yet our faire discourse hath beene as sugar,
Making the hard way sweet and delectable:
But I bethinke me, what a wearie way
From Rauenspurgh to Cottshold will be found,
1115In Rosse and Willoughby, wanting your companie,
Which I protest hath very much beguild
The tediousnesse, and processe of my trauell:
But theirs is sweetned with the hope to haue
The present benefit that I possesse;
1120And hope to ioy, is little lesse in ioy,
Then hope enioy'd: By this, the wearie Lords
Shall make their way seeme short, as mine hath done,
By sight of what I haue, your Noble Companie.
Bull. Of much lesse value is my Companie,
1125Then your good words: but who comes here?
Enter H. Percie.
North. It is my Sonne, young Harry Percie,
Sent from my Brother Worcester: Whence soeuer.
Harry, how fares your Vnckle?
1130Percie. I had thought, my Lord, to haue learn'd his
health of you.
North. Why, is he not with the Queene?
Percie. No, my good Lord, he hath forsook the Court,
Broken his Staffe of Office, and disperst
1135The Household of the King.
North. What was his reason?
He was not so resolu'd, when we last spake together.
Percie. Because your Lordship was proclaimed Traitor.
But hee, my Lord, is gone to Rauenspurgh,
1140To offer seruice to the Duke of Hereford,
And sent me ouer by Barkely, to discouer
What power the Duke of Yorke had leuied there,
Then with direction to repaire to Rauenspurgh.
North. Haue you forgot the Duke of Hereford (Boy.)
1145Percie. No, my good Lord; for that is not forgot
Which ne're I did remember: to my knowledge,
I neuer in my life did looke on him.
North. Then learne to know him now: this is the
Duke.
1150Percie. My gracious Lord, I tender you my seruice,
Such as it is, being tender, raw, and young,
Which elder dayes shall ripen, and confirme
To more approued seruice, and desert.
Bull. I thanke thee gentle Percie, and be sure
1155I count my selfe in nothing else so happy,
As in a Soule remembring my good Friends:
And as my Fortune ripens with thy Loue,
It shall be still thy true Loues recompence,
My Heart this Couenant makes, my Hand thus seales it.
1160North. How farre is it to Barkely? and what stirre
Keepes good old Yorke there, with his Men of Warre?
Percie. There stands the Castle, by yond tuft of Trees,
Mann'd with three hundred men, as I haue heard,
And in it are the Lords of Yorke, Barkely, and Seymor,
1165None else of Name, and noble estimate.
Enter Rosse and Willoughby.
North. Here come the Lords of Rosse and Willoughby,
Bloody with spurring, fierie red with haste.
Bull. Welcome my Lords, I wot your loue pursues
1170A banisht Traytor; all my Treasurie
Is yet but vnfelt thankes, which more enrich'd,
Shall be your loue, and labours recompence.
Ross. Your presence makes vs rich, most Noble Lord.
Willo. And farre surmounts our labour to attaine it.
1175Bull. Euermore thankes, th'Exchequer of the poore,
Which till my infant-fortune comes to yeeres,
Stands for my Bountie: but who comes here?
Enter Barkely.
North. It is my Lord of Barkely, as I ghesse.
1180Bark. My Lord of Hereford, my Message is to you.
Bull. My Lord, my Answere is to Lancaster,
And I am come to seeke that Name in England,
And I must finde that Title in your Tongue,
Before I make reply to aught you say.
1185Bark. Mistake me not, my Lord, 'tis not my meaning
To raze one Title of your Honor out.
To you, my Lord, I come (what Lord you will)
From the most glorious of this Land,
The Duke of Yorke, to know what pricks you on
1190To take aduantage of the absent time,
And fright our Natiue Peace with selfe-borne Armes.
Enter Yorke.
Bull. I shall not need transport my words by you,
Here comes his Grace in Person. My Noble Vnckle.
1195York. Shew me thy humble heart, and not thy knee,
Whose dutie is deceiuable, and false.
Bull. My gracious Vnckle.
York. Tut, tut, Grace me no Grace, nor Vnckle me,
I am no Traytors Vnckle; and that word Grace,
1200In an vngracious mouth, is but prophane.
Why haue these banish'd, and forbidden Legges,
Dar'd once to touch a Dust of Englands Ground?
But more then why, why haue they dar'd to march
So many miles vpon her peacefull Bosome,
1205Frighting her pale-fac'd Villages with Warre,
And ostentation of despised Armes?
Com'st thou because th'anoynted King is hence?
Why foolish Boy, the King is left behind,
And in my loyall Bosome lyes his power.
1210Were I but now the Lord of such hot youth,
As when braue Gaunt, thy Father, and my selfe
Rescued the Black Prince, that yong Mars of men,
From forth the Rankes of many thousand French:
Oh then, how quickly should this Arme of mine,
1215Now Prisoner to the Palsie, chastise thee,
And minister correction to thy Fault.
Bull. My gracious Vnckle, let me know my Fault,
On what Condition stands it, and wherein?
York. Euen in Condition of the worst degree,
1220In grosse Rebellion, and detested Treason:
Thou art a banish'd man, and here art come
Before th'expiration of thy time,
In brauing Atmes against thy Soueraigne.
Bull. As I was banish'd, I was banish'd Hereford,
1225But as I come, I come for Lancaster.
And Noble Vnckle, I beseech your Grace
Looke on my Wrongs with an indifferent eye:
You are my Father, for me thinkes in you
I see old Gaunt aliue. Oh then my Father,
1230Will you permit, that I shall stand condemn'd
A wandring Vagabond; my Rights and Royalties
Pluckt from my armes perforce, and giuen away
To vpstart Vnthrifts? Wherefore was I borne?
If that my Cousin King, be King of England,
1235It must be graunted, I am Duke of Lancaster.
You haue a Sonne, Aumerle, my Noble Kinsman,
Had you first died, and he beene thus trod downe,
He should haue found his Vnckle Gaunt a Father,
To rowze his Wrongs, and chase them to the bay.
1240I am denyde to sue my Liucrie here,
And yet my Letters Patents giue me leaue:
My Fathers goods are all distraynd, and sold,
And these, and all, are all amisse imployd.
What would you haue me doe? I am a Subiect,
1245And challenge Law: Attorneyes are deny'd me;
And therefore personally I lay my claime
To my Inheritance of free Discent.
North. The Noble Duke hath been too much abus'd.
Ross. It stands your Grace vpon, to doe him right.
1250Willo. Base men by his endowments are made great.
York. My Lords of England, let me tell you this,
I haue had feeling of my Cosens Wrongs,
And labour'd all I could to doe him right:
But in this kind, to come in brauing Armes,
1255Be his owne Caruer, and cut out his way,
To find out Right with Wrongs, it may not be;
And you that doe abett him in this kind,
Cherish Rebellion, and are Rebels all.
North. The Noble Duke hath sworne his comming is
1260But for his owne; and for the right of that,
Wee all haue strongly sworne to giue him ayd,
And let him neu'r see Ioy, that breakes that Oath.
York. Well, well, I see the issue of these Armes,
I cannot mend it, I must needes confesse,
1265Because my power is weake, and all ill left:
But if I could, by him that gaue me life,
I would attach you all, and make you stoope
Vnto the Soueraigne Mercy of the King.
But since I cannot, be it knowne to you,
1270I doe remaine as Neuter. So fare you well,
Vnlesse you please to enter in the Castle,
And there repose you for this Night.
Bull. An offer Vnckle, that wee will accept:
But wee must winne your Grace to goe with vs
1275To Bristow Castle, which they say is held
By Bushie, Bagot, and their Complices,
The Caterpillers of the Commonwealth,
Which I haue sworne to weed, and plucke away.
York. It may be I will go with you: but yet Ile pawse,
1280For I am loth to breake our Countries Lawes:
Nor Friends, nor Foes, to me welcome you are,
Things past redresse, are now with me past care.
Exeunt.
Scœna Quarta.
Enter Salisbury, and a Captaine.
1285Capt. My Lord of Salisbury, we haue stayd ten dayes,
And hardly kept our Countreymen together,
And yet we heare no tidings from the King;
Therefore we will disperse our selues: farewell.
Sal. Stay yet another day, thou trustie Welchman,
1290The King reposeth all his confidence in thee.
Capt. 'Tis thought the King is dead, we will not stay;
The Bay-trees in our Countrey all are wither'd,
And Meteors fright the fixed Starres of Heauen;
The pale-fac'd Moone lookes bloody on the Earth,
1295And leane-look'd Prophets whisper fearefull change;
Rich men looke sad, and Ruffians dance and leape,
The one in feare, to loose what they enioy,
The other to enioy by Rage, and Warre:
These signes fore-run the death of Kings.
1300Farewell, our Countreymen are gone and fled,
As well assur'd Richard their King is dead.
Exit.
Sal. Ah Richard, with eyes of heauie mind,
I see thy Glory, like a shooting Starre,
Fall to the base Earth, from the Firmament:
1305Thy Sunne sets weeping in the lowly West,
Witnessing Stormes to come, Woe, and Vnrest:
Thy Friends are fled, to wait vpon thy Foes,
And crossely to thy good, all fortune goes.
Exit.
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
1310
Enter Bullingbrooke, Yorke, Northumberland,
Rosse, Percie, Willoughby, with Bushie
and Greene Prisoners.
Bull. Bring forth these men:
Bushie and Greene, I will not vex your soules,
1315(Since presently your soules must part your bodies)
With too much vrging your pernitious liues,
For 'twere no Charitie: yet to wash your blood
From off my hands, here in the view of men,
I will vnfold some causes of your deaths.
1320You haue mis-led a Prince, a Royall King,
A happie Gentleman in Blood, and Lineaments,
By you vnhappied, and disfigur'd cleane:
You haue in manner with your sinfull houres
Made a Diuorce betwixt his Queene and him,
1325Broke the possession of a Royall Bed,
And stayn'd the beautie of a faire Queenes Cheekes,
With teares drawn frõ her eyes, with your foule wrongs.
My selfe a Prince, by fortune of my birth,
Neere to the King in blood, and neere in loue,
1330Till you did make him mis-interprete me,
Haue stoopt my neck vnder your iniuries,
And sigh'd my English breath in forraine Clouds,
Eating the bitter bread of banishment;
While you haue fed vpon my Seignories,
1335Dis-park'd my Parkes, and fell'd my Forrest Woods;
From mine owne Windowes torne my Household Coat,
Raz'd out my Impresse, leauing me no signe,
Saue mens opinions, and my liuing blood,915
To shew the World I am a Gentleman.
1340This, and much more, much more then twice all this,
Condemnes you to the death: see them deliuered ouer
To execution, and the hand of death.
Bushie. More welcome is the stroake of death to me,
Then Bullingbrooke to England.
1345Greene. My comfort is, that Heauen will take our soules,
And plague Iniustice with the paines of Hell.
Bull. My Lord Northumberland, see them dispatch'd:
Vnckle, you say the Queene is at your House,
For Heauens sake fairely let her be entreated,
1350Tell her I send to her my kind commends;
Take speciall care my Greetings be deliuer'd.
York. A Gentleman of mine I haue dispatch'd
With Letters of your loue, to her at large.
Bull. Thankes gentle Vnckle: come Lords away,
1355To fight with Glendoure, and his Complices;
A while to worke, and after holliday.
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Drums:
Flourish, and Colours.
1360
Enter Richard, Aumerle, Carlile, and Souldiers.
Rich. Barkloughly Castle call you this at hand?
Au. Yea, my Lord: how brooks your Grace the ayre,
After your late tossing on the breaking Seas?
Rich. Needs must I like it well: I weepe for ioy
1365To stand vpon my Kingdome once againe.
Deere Earth, I doe salute thee with my hand,
Though Rebels wound thee with their Horses hoofes:
As a long parted Mother with her Child,
Playes fondly with her teares, and smiles in meeting;
1370So weeping, smiling, greet I thee my Earth,
And doe thee fauor with my Royall hands.
Feed not thy Soueraignes Foe, my gentle Earth,
Nor with thy Sweetes, comfort his rauenous sence:
But let thy Spiders, that suck vp thy Venome,
1375And heauie-gated Toades lye in their way,
Doing annoyance to the trecherous feete,
Which with vsurping steps doe trample thee.
Yeeld stinging Nettles to mine Enemies;
And when they from thy Bosome pluck a Flower,
1380Guard it I prethee with a lurking Adder,
Whose double tongue may with a mortall touch
Throw death vpon thy Soueraignes Enemies.
Mock not my sencelesse Coniuration, Lords;
This Earth shall haue a feeling, and these Stones
1385Proue armed Souldiers, ere her Natiue King
Shall falter vnder foule Rebellious Armes.
Car. Feare not my Lord, that Power that made you King
Hath power to keepe you King, in spight of all.
Aum. He meanes, my Lord, that we are too remisse,
1390Whilest Bullingbrooke through our securitie,
Growes strong and great, in substance and in friends.
Rich. Discomfortable Cousin, knowest thou not,
That when the searching Eye of Heauen is hid
Behind the Globe, that lights the lower World,
1395Then Theeues and Robbers raunge abroad vnseene,
In Murthers and in Out-rage bloody here:
But when from vnder this Terrestriall Ball
He fires the prowd tops of the Easterne Pines,
And darts his Lightning through eu'ry guiltie hole,
1400Then Murthers, Treasons, and detested sinnes
(The Cloake of Night being pluckt from off their backs)
Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselues.
So when this Theefe, this Traytor Bullingbrooke,
Who all this while hath reuell'd in the Night,
1405Shall see vs rising in our Throne, the East,
His Treasons will sit blushing in his face,
Not able to endure the sight of Day;
But selfe-affrighted, tremble at his sinne.
Not all the Water in the rough rude Sea
1410Can wash the Balme from an anoynted King;
The breath of worldly men cannot depose
The Deputie elected by the Lord:
For euery man that Bullingbrooke hath prest,
To lift shrewd Steele against our Golden Crowne,
1415Heauen for his Richard hath in heauenly pay
A glorious Angell: then if Angels fight,
Weake men must fall, for Heauen still guards the right.
Enter Salisbury.
Welcome my Lord, how farre off lyes your Power?
1420Salisb. Nor neere, nor farther off, my gracious Lord,
Then this weake arme; discomfort guides my tongue,
And bids me speake of nothing but despaire:
One day too late, I feare (my Noble Lord)
Hath clouded all thy happie dayes on Earth:
1425Oh call backe Yesterday, bid Time returne,
And thou shalt haue twelue thousand fighting men:
To day, to day, vnhappie day too late
Orethrowes thy Ioyes, Friends, Fortune, and thy State;
For all the Welchmen hearing thou wert dead,
1430Are gone to Bullingbrooke, disperst, and fled.
Aum. Comfort my Liege, why lookes your Grace so
pale?
Rich. But now the blood of twentie thousand men
Did triumph in my face, and they are fled,
1435And till so much blood thither come againe,
Haue I not reason to looke pale, and dead?
All Soules that will be safe, flye from my side,
For Time hath set a blot vpon my pride.
Aum. Comfort my Liege, remember who you are.
1440Rich. I had forgot my selfe. Am I not King?
Awake thou sluggard Maiestie, thou sleepest:
Is not the Kings Name fortie thousand Names?
Arme, arme my Name: a punie subiect strikes
At thy great glory. Looke not to the ground,
1445Ye Fauorites of a King: are wee not high?
High be our thoughts: I know my Vnckle Yorke
Hath Power enough to serue our turne.
But who comes here?
Enter Scroope.
Scroope. More health and happinesse betide my Liege,
1450Then can my care-tun'd tongue deliuer him.
Rich. Mine eare is open, and my heart prepar'd:
The worst is worldly losse, thou canst vnfold:
Say, Is my Kingdome lost? why 'twas my Care:
And what losse is it to be rid of Care?
1455Striues Bullingbrooke to be as Great as wee?
Greater he shall not be: If hee serue God,
Wee'l serue him too, and be his Fellow so.
Reuolt our Subiects? That we cannot mend,
They breake their Faith to God, as well as vs:
1460Cry Woe, Destruction, Ruine, Losse, Decay,
The worst is Death, and Death will haue his day.
Scroope. Glad am I, that your Highnesse is so arm'd
To beare the tidings of Calamitie.
Like an vnseasonable stormie day,
1465Which make the Siluer Riuers drowne their Shores,
As if the World were all dissolu'd to teares:
So high, aboue his Limits, swells the Rage
Of Bullingbrooke, couering your fearefull Land
With hard bright Steele, and hearts harder then Steele:
1470White Beares haue arm'd their thin and hairelesse Scalps
Against thy Maiestie, and Boyes with Womens Voyces,
Striue to speake bigge, and clap their female ioints
In stiffe vnwieldie Armes: against thy Crowne
Thy very Beads-men learne to bend their Bowes
1475Of double fatall Eugh: against thy State
Yea Distaffe-Women manage rustie Bills:
Against thy Seat both young and old rebell,
And all goes worse then I haue power to tell.
Rich. Too well, too well thou tell'st a Tale so ill.
1480Where is the Earle of Wiltshire? where is Bagot?
What is become of Bushie? where is Greene?
That they haue let the dangerous Enemie
Measure our Confines with such peacefull steps?
If we preuaile, their heads shall pay for it.
1485I warrant they haue made peace with Bullingbrooke.
Scroope. Peace haue they made with him indeede (my
Lord.)
Rich. Oh Villains, Vipers, damn'd without redemption,
Dogges, easily woon to fawne on any man,
1490Snakes in my heart blood warm'd, that sting my heart,
Three Iudasses, each one thrice worse then Iudas,
Would they make peace? terrible Hell make warre
Vpon their spotted Soules for this Offence.
Scroope. Sweet Loue (I see) changing his propertie,
1495Turnes to the sowrest, and most deadly hate:
Againe vncurse their Soules; their peace is made
With Heads, and not with Hands: those whom you curse
Haue felt the worst of Deaths destroying hand,
And lye full low, grau'd in the hollow ground.
1500Aum. Is Bushie, Greene, and the Earle of Wiltshire
dead?
Scroope. Yea, all of them at Bristow lost their heads.
Aum. Where is the Duke my Father with his Power?
Rich. No matter where; of comfort no man speake:
1505Let's talke of Graues, of Wormes, and Epitaphs,
Make Dust our Paper, and with Raynie eyes
Write Sorrow on the Bosome of the Earth.
Let's chuse Executors, and talke of Wills:
And yet not so; for what can we bequeath,
1510Saue our deposed bodies to the ground?
Our Lands, our Liues, and all are Bullingbrookes,
And nothing can we call our owne, but Death,
And that small Modell of the barren Earth,
Which serues as Paste, and Couer to our Bones:
1515For Heauens sake let vs sit vpon the ground,
And tell sad stories of the death of Kings:
How some haue been depos'd, some slaine in warre,
Some haunted by the Ghosts they haue depos'd,
Some poyson'd by their Wiues, some sleeping kill'd,
1520All murther'd. For within the hollow Crowne
That rounds the mortall Temples of a King,
Keepes Death his Court, and there the Antique sits
Scoffing his State, and grinning at his Pompe,
Allowing him a breath, a little Scene,
1525To Monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with lookes,
Infusing him with selfe and vaine conceit,
As if this Flesh, which walls about our Life,
Were Brasse impregnable: and humor'd thus,
Comes at the last, and with a little Pinne
1530Bores through his Castle Walls, and farwell King.
Couer your heads, and mock not flesh and blood
With solemne Reuerence: throw away Respect,
Tradition, Forme, and Ceremonious dutie,
For you haue but mistooke me all this while:
1535I liue with Bread like you, feele Want,
Taste Griefe, need Friends: subiected thus,
How can you say to me, I am a King?
Carl. My Lord, wise men ne're waile their present woes,
But presently preuent the wayes to waile:
1540To feare the Foe, since feare oppresseth strength,
Giues in your weakenesse, strength vnto your Foe;
Feare, and be slaine, no worse can come to fight,
And fight and die, is death destroying death,
Where fearing, dying, payes death seruile breath.
1545Aum. My Father hath a Power, enquire of him,
And learne to make a Body of a Limbe.
Rich. Thou chid'st me well: proud Bullingbrooke I come
To change Blowes with thee, for our day of Doome:
This ague fit of feare is ouer-blowne,
1550An easie taske it is to winne our owne.
Say Scroope, where lyes our Vnckle with his Power?
Speake sweetly man, although thy lookes be sowre.
Scroope. Men iudge by the complexion of the Skie
The state and inclination of the day;
1555So may you by my dull and heauie Eye:
My Tongue hath but a heauier Tale to say:
I play the Torturer, by small and small
To lengthen out the worst, that must be spoken.
Your Vnckle Yorke is ioyn'd with Bullingbrooke,
1560And all your Northerne Castles yeelded vp,
And all your Southerne Gentlemen in Armes
Vpon his Faction.
Rich. Thou hast said enough.
Beshrew thee Cousin, which didst lead me forth
1565Of that sweet way I was in, to despaire:
What say you now? What comfort haue we now?
By Heauen Ile hate him euerlastingly,
That bids me be of comfort any more.
Goe to Flint Castle, there Ile pine away,
1570A King, Woes slaue, shall Kingly Woe obey:
That Power I haue, discharge, and let 'em goe
To eare the Land, that hath some hope to grow,
For I haue none. Let no man speake againe
To alter this, for counsaile is but vaine.
1575Aum. My Liege, one word.
Rich. He does me double wrong,
That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue.
Discharge my followers: let them hence away,
From Richards Night, to Bullingbrookes faire Day.
1580
Exeunt.
Scæna Tertia.
Enter with Drum and Colours, Bullingbrooke,
Yorke, Northumberland, Attendants.
Bull. So that by this intelligence we learne
1585The Welchmen are dispers'd, and Salisbury
Is gone to meet the King, who lately landed
With some few priuate friends, vpon this Coast.
North. The newes is very faire and good, my Lord,
Richard, not farre from hence, hath hid his head.
1590York. It would beseeme the Lord Northumberland,
To say King Richard: alack the heauie day,
When such a sacred King should hide his head.
North. Your Grace mistakes: onely to be briefe,
Left I his Title out.
1595York. The time hath beene,
Would you haue beene so briefe with him, he would
Haue beene so briefe with you, to shorten you,
For taking so the Head, your whole heads length.
Bull. Mistake not (Vnckle) farther then you should.
1600York. Take not (good Cousin) farther then you should.
Least you mistake the Heauens are ore your head.
Bull. I know it (Vnckle) and oppose not my selfe
Against their will. But who comes here?
Enter Percie.
1605Welcome Harry: what, will not this Castle yield?
Per. The Castle royally is mann'd, my Lord,
Against thy entrance.
Bull. Royally? Why, it containes no King?
Per. Yes (my good Lord)
1610It doth containe a King: King Richard lyes
Within the limits of yond Lime and Stone,
And with him, the Lord Aumerle, Lord Salisbury,
Sir Stephen Scroope, besides a Clergie man
Of holy reuerence; who, I cannot learne.
1615North. Oh, belike it is the Bishop of Carlile.
Bull. Noble Lord,
Goe to the rude Ribs of that ancient Castle,
Through Brazen Trumpet send the breath of Parle
Into his ruin'd Eares, and thus deliuer:
1620Henry Bullingbrooke vpon his knees doth kisse
King Richards hand, and sends allegeance
And true faith of heart to his Royall Person: hither come
Euen at his feet, to lay my Armes and Power,
Prouided, that my Banishment repeal'd,
1625And Lands restor'd againe, be freely graunted:
If not, Ile vse th'aduantage of my Power,
And lay the Summers dust with showers of blood,
Rayn'd from the wounds of slaughter'd Englishmen;
The which, how farre off from the mind of Bullingbrooke
1630It is, such Crimson Tempest should bedrench
The fresh grcene Lap of faire King Richards Land,
My stooping dutie tenderly shall shew.
Goe signifie as much, while here we march
Vpon the Grassie Carpet of this Plaine:
1635Let's march without the noyse of threatning Drum,
That from this Castles tatter'd Battlements
Our faire Appointments may be well perus'd.
Me thinkes King Richard and my selfe should meet
With no lesse terror then the Elements
1640Of Fire and Water, when their thundring smoake
At meeting teares the cloudie Cheekes of Heauen:
Be he the fire, Ile be the yeelding Water;
The Rage be his, while on the Earth I raine
My Waters on the Earth, and not on him.
1645March on, and marke King Richard how he lookes.
Parle without, and answere within: then a Flourish.
Enter on the Walls, Richard, Carlile, Aumerle, Scroop,
Salisbury.
See, see, King Richard doth himselfe appeare
1650As doth the blushing discontented Sunne,
From out the fierie Portall of the East,
When he perceiues the enuious Clouds are bent
To dimme his glory, and to staine the tract
Of his bright passage to the Occident.
1655York. Yet lookes he like a King: behold his Eye
(As bright as is the Eagles) lightens forth
Controlling Maiestie: alack, alack, for woe,
That any harme should staine so faire a shew.
Rich. Wee are amaz'd, and thus long haue we stood
1660To watch the fearefull bending of thy knee,
Because we thought our selfe thy lawfull King:
And if we be, how dare thy ioynts forget
To pay their awfull dutie to our presence?
If we be not, shew vs the Hand of God,
1665That hath dismiss'd vs from our Stewardship,
For well wee know, no Hand of Blood and Bone
Can gripe the sacred Handle of our Scepter,
Vnlesse he doe prophane, steale, or vsurpe.
And though you thinke, that all, as you haue done,
1670Haue torne their Soules, by turning them from vs,
And we are barren, and bereft of Friends:
Yet know, my Master, God Omnipotent,
Is mustring in his Clouds, on our behalfe,
Armies of Pestilence, and they shall strike
1675Your Children yet vnborne, and vnbegot,
That lift your Vassall Hands against my Head,
And threat the Glory of my precious Crowne.
Tell Bullingbrooke, for yond me thinkes he is,
That euery stride he makes vpon my Land,
1680Is dangerous Treason: He is come to ope
The purple Testament of bleeding Warre;
But ere the Crowne he lookes for, liue in peace,
Ten thousand bloody crownes of Mothers Sonnes
Shall ill become the flower of Englands face,
1685Change the complexion of her Maid-pale Peace
To Scarlet Indignation, and bedew
Her Pastors Grasse with faithfull English Blood.
North. The King of Heauen forbid our Lord the King
Should so with ciuill and vnciuill Armes
1690Be rush'd vpon: Thy thrice-noble Cousin,
Harry Bullingbrooke, doth humbly kisse thy hand,
And by the Honorable Tombe he sweares,
That stands vpon your Royall Grandsires Bones,
And by the Royalties of both your Bloods,
1695(Currents that spring from one most gracious Head)
And by the buried Hand of Warlike Gaunt,
And by the Worth and Honor of himselfe,
Comprising all that may be sworne, or said,
His comming hither hath no further scope,
1700Then for his Lineall Royalties, and to begge
Infranchisement immediate on his knees:
Which on thy Royall partie graunted once,
His glittering Armes he will commend to'Rust,
His barbed Steedes to Stables, and his heart
1705To faithfull seruice of your Maiestie:
This sweares he, as he is a Prince, is iust,
And as I am a Gentleman, I credit him.
Rich. Northumberland, say thus: The King returnes,
His Noble Cousin is right welcome hither,
1710And all the number of his faire demands
Shall be accomplish'd without contradiction:
With all the gracious vtterance thou hast,
Speake to his gentle hearing kind commends.
We doe debase our selfe (Cousin) doe we not,
1715To looke so poorely, and to speake so faire?
Shall we call back Northumberland, and send
Defiance to the Traytor, and so die?
Aum. No, good my Lord, let's fight with gentle words,
Till time lend friends, and friends their helpeful Swords.
1720Rich. Oh God, oh God, that ere this tongue of mine,
That layd the Sentence of dread Banishment
On yond prowd man, should take it off againe
With words of sooth: Oh that I were as great
As is my Griefe, or lesser then my Name,
1725Or that I could forget what I haue beene,
Or not remember what I must be now:
Swell'st thou prowd heart? Ile giue thee scope to beat,
Since Foes haue scope to beat both thee and me.
Aum. Northumberland comes backe from Bulling-
1730brooke.
Rich. What must the King doe now? must he submit?
The King shall doe it: Must he be depos'd?
The King shall be contented: Must he loose
The Name of King? o' Gods Name let it goe.
1735Ile giue my Iewels for a sett of Beades,
My gorgeous Pallace, for a Hermitage,
My gay Apparrell, for an Almes-mans Gowne,
My figur'd Goblets, for a Dish of Wood,
My Scepter, for a Palmers walking Staffe,
1740My Subiects, for a payre of carued Saints,
And my large Kingdome, for a little Graue,
A little little Graue, an obscure Graue.
Or Ile be buryed in the Kings high-way,
Some way of common Trade, where Subiects feet
1745May howrely trample on their Soueraignes Head:
For on my heart they tread now, whilest I liue;
And buryed once, why not vpon my Head?
Aumerle, thou weep'st (my tender-hearted Cousin)
Wee'le make foule Weather with despised Teares:
1750Our sighes, and they, shall lodge the Summer Corne,
And make a Dearth in this reuolting Land.
Or shall we play the Wantons with our Woes,
And make some prettie Match, with shedding Teares?
As thus: to drop them still vpon one place,
1755Till they haue fretted vs a payre of Graues,
Within the Earth: and therein lay'd, there lyes
Two Kinsmen, digg'd their Graues with weeping Eyes?
Would not this ill, doe well? Well, well, I see
I talke but idly, and you mock at mee.
1760Most mightie Prince, my Lord Northumberland,
What sayes King Bullingbrooke? Will his Maiestie
Giue Richard leaue to liue, till Richard die?
You make a Legge, and Bullingbrooke sayes I.
North. My Lord, in the base Court he doth attend
1765To speake with you, may it please you to come downe.
Rich. Downe, downe I come, like glist'ring Phaeton,
Wanting the manage of vnruly Iades.
In the base Court? base Court, where Kings grow base,
To come at Traytors Calls, and doe them Grace.
1770In the base Court come down: down Court, down King,
For night-Owls shrike, where moũting Larks should sing.
Bull. What sayes his Maiestie?
North. Sorrow, and griefe of heart
Makes him speake fondly, like a frantick man:
1775Yet he is come.
Bull. Stand all apart,
And shew faire dutie to his Maiestie.
My gracious Lord.
Rich. Faire Cousin,
1780You debase your Princely Knee,
To make the base Earth prowd with kissing it.
Me rather had, my Heart might feele your Loue,
Then my vnpleas'd Eye see your Courtesie.
Vp Cousin, vp, your Heart is vp, I know,
1785Thus high at least, although your Knee be low.
Bull. My gracious Lord, I come but for mine
owne.
Rich. Your owne is yours, and I am yours, and
all.
1790Bull. So farre be mine, my most redoubted Lord,
As my true seruice shall deserue your loue.
Rich. Well you deseru'd:
They well deserue to haue,
That know the strong'st, and surest way to get.
1795Vnckle giue me your Hand: nay, drie your Eyes,
Teares shew their Loue, but want their Remedies.
Cousin, I am too young to be your Father,
Though you are old enough to be my Heire.
What you will haue, Ile giue, and willing to,
1800For doe we must, what force will haue vs doe.
Set on towards London:
Cousin, is it so?
Bull. Yea, my good Lord.
Rich. Then I must not say, no.
1805
Flourish.
Exeunt.
Scena Quarta.
Enter the Queene, and two Ladies.
Qu. What sport shall we deuise here in this Garden,
To driue away the heauie thought of Care?
1810La. Madame, wee'le play at Bowles.
Qu. 'Twill make me thinke the World is full of Rubs,
And that my fortune runnes against the Byas.
La. Madame, wee'le Dance.
Qu. My Legges can keepe no measure in Delight,
1815When my poore Heart no measure keepes in Griefe.
Therefore no Dancing (Girle) some other sport.
La. Madame, wee'le tell Tales.
Qu. Of Sorrow, or of Griefe?
La. Of eyther, Madame.
1820Qu. Of neyther, Girle.
For if of Ioy, being altogether wanting,
It doth remember me the more of Sorrow:
Or if of Griefe, being altogether had,
It addes more Sorrow to my want of Ioy:
1825For what I haue, I need not to repeat;
And what I want, it bootes not to complaine.
La. Madame, Ile sing.
Qu. 'Tis well that thou hast cause:
But thou should'st please me better, would'st thou weepe.
1830La. I could weepe, Madame, would it doe you good.
Qu. And I could sing, would weeping doe me good,
And neuer borrow any Teare of thee.
Enter a Gardiner, and two Seruants.
But stay, here comes the Gardiners,
1835Let's step into the shadow of these Trees.
My wretchednesse, vnto a Rowe of Pinnes,
They'le talke of State: for euery one doth so,
Against a Change; Woe is fore-runne with Woe.
Gard. Goe binde thou vp yond dangling Apricocks,
1840Which like vnruly Children, make their Syre
Stoupe with oppression of their prodigall weight:
Giue some supportance to the bending twigges.
Goe thou, and like an Executioner
Cut off the heads of too fast growing sprayes,
1845That looke too loftie in our Common-wealth:
All must be euen, in our Gouernment.
You thus imploy'd, I will goe root away
The noysome Weedes, that without profit sucke
The Soyles fertilitie from wholesome flowers.
1850Ser. Why should we, in the compasse of a Pale,
Keepe Law and Forme, and due Proportion,
Shewing as in a Modell our firme Estate?
When our Sea-walled Garden, the whole Land,
Is full of Weedes, her fairest Flowers choakt vp,
1855Her Fruit-trees all vnpruin'd, her Hedges ruin'd,
Her Knots disorder'd, and her wholesome Hearbes
Swarming with Caterpillers.
Gard. Hold thy peace.
He that hath suffer'd this disorder'd Spring,
1860Hath now himselfe met with the Fall of Leafe.
The Weeds that his broad-spreading Leaues did shelter,
That seem'd, in eating him, to hold him vp,
Are pull'd vp, Root and all, by Bullingbrooke:
I meane, the Earle of Wiltshire, Bushie, Greene.
1865Ser. What are they dead?
Gard. They are,
And Bullingbrooke hath seiz'd the wastefull King.
Oh, what pitty is it, that he had not so trim'd
Aad drest his Land, as we this Garden, at time of yeare,
1870And wound the Barke, the skin of our Fruit-trees,
Least being ouer-proud with Sap and Blood,
With too much riches it confound it selfe?
Had he done so, to great and growing men,
They might haue liu'd to beare, and he to taste
1875Their fruites of dutie. Superfluous branches
We lop away, that bearing boughes may liue:
Had he done so, himselfe had borne the Crowne,
Which waste and idle houres, hath quite thrown downe.
Ser. What thinke you the King shall be depos'd?
1880Gar. Deprest he is already, and depos'd
'Tis doubted he will be. Letters came last night
To a deere Friend of the Duke of Yorkes,
That tell blacke tydings.
Qu: Oh I am prest to death through want of speaking:
1885Thou old Adams likenesse, set to dresse this Garden:
How dares thy harsh rude tongue sound this vnpleasing
What Eue? what Serpent hath suggested thee,
To make a second fall of cursed man?
Why do'st thou say, King Richard is depos'd,
1890Dar'st thou, thou little better thing then earth,
Diuine his downfall? Say, where, when, and how
Cam'st thou by this ill-tydings? Speake thou wretch.
Gard. Pardon me Madam. Little ioy haue I
To breath these newes; yet what I say, is true;
1895King Richard, he is in the mighty hold
Of Bullingbrooke, their Fortunes both are weigh'd:
In your Lords Scale, is nothing but himselfe,
And some few Vanities, that make him light:
But in the Ballance of great Bullingbrooke,
1900Besides himselfe, are all the English Peeres,
And with that oddes he weighes King Richard downe.
Poste you to London, and you'l finde it so,
I speake no more, then euery one doth know.
Qu. Nimble mischance, that art so light of foote,
1905Doth not thy Embassage belong to me?
And am I last that knowes it? Oh thou think'st
To serue me last, that I may longest keepe
Thy sorrow in my breast. Come Ladies goe,
To meet at London, Londons King in woe.
1910What was I borne to this: that my sad looke,
Should grace the Triumph of great Bullingbrooke.
Gard'ner, for telling me this newes of woe,
I would the Plants thou graft'st, may neuer grow.
Exit.
G Poore Queen, so that thy State might be no worse,
1915I would my skill were subiect to thy curse:
Heere did she drop a teare, heere in this place
Ile set a Banke of Rew, sowre Herbe of Grace:
Rue, eu'n for ruth, heere shortly shall be seene,
In the remembrance of a Weeping Queene.
Exit.
1920
Actus Quartus. Scœna Prima.
Enter as to the Parliament, Bullingbrooke, Aumerle, Nor-
thumberland, Percie, Fitz-Water, Surrey, Carlile, Abbot
of Westminster. Herauld, Officers, and Bagot.
Bullingbrooke. Call forth Bagot.
1925Now Bagot, freely speake thy minde,
What thou do'st know of Noble Glousters death:
Who wrought it with the King, and who perform'd
The bloody Office of his Timelesse end.
Bag. Then set before my face, the Lord Aumerle.
1930Bul. Cosin, stand forth, and looke vpon that man.
Bag. My Lord Aumerle, I know your daring tongue
Scornes to vnsay, what it hath once deliuer'd.
In that dead time, when Glousters death was plotted,
I heard you say, Is not my arme of length,
1935That reacheth from the restfull English Court
As farre as Callis, to my Vnkles head.
Amongst much other talke, that very time,
I heard you say, that you had rather refuse
The offer of an hundred thousand Crownes,
1940Then Bullingbrookes returne to England; adding withall,
How blest this Land would be, in this your Cosins death.
Aum. Princes, and Noble Lords:
What answer shall I make to this base man?
Shall I so much dishonor my faire Starres,
1945On equall termes to giue him chasticement?
Either I must, or haue mine honor soyl'd
With th'Attaindor of his sland'rous Lippes.
There is my Gage, the manuall Seale of death
That markes thee out for Hell. Thou lyest,
1950And will maintaine what thou hast said, is false,
In thy heart blood, though being all too base
To staine the temper of my Knightly sword.
Bul. Bagot forbeare, thou shalt not take it vp.
Aum. Excepting one, I would he were the best
1955In all this presence, that hath mou'd me so.
Fitz. If that thy valour stand on sympathize:
There is my Gage, Aumerle, in Gage to thine:
By that faire Sunne, that shewes me where thou stand'st,
I heard thee say (and vauntingly thou spak'st it)
1960That thou wer't cause of Noble Glousters death.
If thou deniest it, twenty times thou lyest,
And I will turne thy falshood to thy hart,
Where it was forged with my Rapiers point.
Aum. Thou dar'st not (Coward) liue to see the day.
1965Fitz. Now by my Soule, I would it were this houre.
Aum. Fitzwater thou art damn'd to hell for this.
Per. Aumerle, thou lye'st: his Honor is astrue
In this Appeale, as thou art all vniust:
And that thou art so, there I throw my Gage
1970To proue it on thee, to th'extreamest point
Of mortall breathing. Seize it, if thou dar'st.
Aum. And if I do not, may my hands rot off,
And neuer brandish more reuengefull Steele,
Ouer the glittering Helmet of my Foe.
1975Surrey. My Lord Fitz-water:
I do remember well, the very time
Aumerle, and you did talke.
Fitz. My Lord,
'Tis very true: You were in presence then,
1980And you can witnesse with me, this is true.
Surrey. As false, by heauen,
As Heauen it selfe is true.
Fitz. Surrey, thou Lyest.
Surrey. Dishonourable Boy;
1985That Lye, shall lie so heauy on my Sword,
That it shall render Vengeance, and Reuenge,
Till thou the Lye-giuer, and that Lye, doe lye
In earth as quiet, as thy Fathers Scull.
In proofe whereof, there is mine Honors pawne,
1990Engage it to the Triall, if thou dar'st.
Fitzw. How fondly do'st thou spurre a forward Horse?
If I dare eate, or drinke, or breathe, or liue,
I dare meete Surrey in a Wildernesse,
And spit vpon him, whilest I say he Lyes,
1995And Lyes, and Lyes: there is my Bond of Faith,
To tye thee to my strong Correction.
As I intend to thriue in this new World,
Aumerle is guiltie of my true Appeale.
Besides, I heard the banish'd Norfolke say,
2000That thou Aumerle didst send two of thy men,
To execute the Noble Duke at Callis.
Aum. Some honest Christian trust me with a Gage,
That Norfolke lyes: here doe I throw downe this,
If he may be repeal'd, to trie his Honor.
2005Bull. These differences shall all rest vnder Gage,
Till Norfolke be repeal'd: repeal'd he shall be;
And (though mine Enemie) restor'd againe
To all his Lands and Seignories: when hee's return'd,
Against Aumerle we will enforce his Tryall.
2010Carl. That honorable day shall ne're be seene.
Many a time hath banish'd Norfolke fought
For Iesu Christ, in glorious Christian field
Streaming the Ensigne of the Christian Crosse,
Against black Pagans, Turkes, and Saracens:
2015And toyl'd with workes of Warre, retyr'd himselfe
To Italy, and there at Venice gaue
His Body to that pleasant Countries Earth,
And his pure Soule vnto his Captaine Christ,
Vnder whose Colours he had fought so long.
2020Bull. Why Bishop, is Norfolke dead?
Carl. As sure as I liue, my Lord.
Bull. Sweet peace conduct his sweet Soule
To the Bosome of good old Abraham.
Lords Appealants, your differẽces shal all rest vnder gage,
2025Till we assigne you to your dayes of Tryall.
Enter Yorke.
Yorke. Great Duke of Lancaster, I come to thee
From plume-pluckt Richard, who with willing Soule
Adopts thee Heire, and his high Scepter yeelds
2030To the possession of thy Royall Hand.
Ascend his Throne, descending now from him,
And long liue Henry, of that Name the Fourth.
Bull. In Gods Name, Ile ascend the Regall Throne.
Carl. Mary, Heauen forbid.
2035Worst in this Royall Presence may I speake,
Yet best beseeming me to speake the truth.
Would God, that any in this Noble Presence
Were enough Noble, to be vpright Iudge
Of Noble Richard: then true Noblenesse would
2040Learne him forbearance from so foule a Wrong.
What Subiect can giue Sentence on his King?
And who sits here, that is not Richards Subiect?
Theeues are not iudg'd, but they are by to heare,
Although apparant guilt be seene in them:
2045And shall the figure of Gods Maiestie,
His Captaine, Steward, Deputie elect,
Anoynted, Crown'd, planted many yeeres,
Be iudg'd by subiect, and inferior breathe,
And he himselfe not present? Oh, forbid it, God,
2050That in a Christian Climate, Soules refin'de
Should shew so heynous, black, obscene a deed.
I speake to Subiects, and a Subiect speakes,
Stirr'd vp by Heauen, thus boldly for his King.
My Lord of Hereford here, whom you call King,
2055Is a foule Traytor to prowd Herefords King.
And if you Crowne him, let me prophecie,
The blood of English shall manure the ground,
And future Ages groane for his foule Act.
Peace shall goe sleepe with Turkes and Infidels,
2060And in this Seat of Peace, tumultuous Warres
Shall Kinne with Kinne, and Kinde with Kinde confound.
Disorder, Horror, Feare, and Mutinie
Shall here inhabite, and this Land be call'd
The field of Golgotha, and dead mens Sculls.
2065Oh, if you reare this House, against this House
It will the wofullest Diuision proue,
That euer fell vpon this cursed Earth.
Preuent it, resist it, and let it not be so,
Least Child, Childs Children cry against you, Woe.
2070North. Well haue you argu'd Sir: and for your paines,
Of Capitall Treason we arrest you here.
My Lord of Westminster, be it your charge,
To keepe him safely, till his day of Tryall.
May it please you, Lords, to grant the Commons Suit?
2075Bull. Fetch hither Richard, that in common view
He may surrender: so we shall proceede
Without suspition.
Yorke. I will be his Conduct.
Exit.
Bull. Lords, you that here are vnder our Arrest,
2080Procure your Sureties for your Dayes of Answer:
Little are we beholding to your Loue,
And little look'd for at your helping Hands.
Enter Richard and Yorke.
Rich. Alack, why am I sent for to a King,
2085Before I haue shooke off the Regall thoughts
Wherewith I reign'd? I hardly yet haue learn'd
To insinuate, flatter, bowe, and bend my Knee.
Giue Sorrow leaue a while, to tuture me
To this submission. Yet I well remember
2090The fauors of these men: were they not mine?
Did they not sometime cry, All hayle to me?
So Iudas did to Christ: but he in twelue,
Found truth in all, but one; I, in twelue thousand, none.
God saue the King: will no man say, Amen?
2095Am I both Priest, and Clarke? well then, Amen.
God saue the King, although I be not hee:
And yet Amen, if Heauen doe thinke him mee.
To doe what seruice, am I sent for hither?
Yorke. To doe that office of thine owne good will,
2100Which tyred Maiestie did make thee offer:
The Resignation of thy State and Crowne
To Henry Bullingbrooke.
Rich. Giue me the Crown. Here Cousin, seize ye Crown:
Here Cousin, on this side my Hand, on that side thine.
2105Now is this Golden Crowne like a deepe Well,
That owes two Buckets, filling one another,
The emptier euer dancing in the ayre,
The other downe, vnseene, and full of Water:
That Bucket downe, and full of Teares am I,
2110Drinking my Griefes, whil'st you mount vp on high.
Bull. I thought you had been willing to resigne.
Rich. My Crowne I am, but still my Griefes are mine:
You may my Glories and my State depose,
But not my Griefes; still am I King of those.
2115Bull. Part of your Cares you giue me with your Crowne.
Rich. Your Cares set vp, do not pluck my Cares downe.
My Care, is losse of Care, by old Care done,
Your Care, is gaine of Care, by new Care wonne:
The Cares I giue, I haue, though giuen away,
2120They 'tend the Crowne, yet still with me they stay:
Bull. Are you contented to resigne the Crowne?
Rich. I, no; no, I: for I must nothing bee:
Therefore no, no, for I resigne to thee.
Now, marke me how I will vndoe my selfe.
2125I giue this heauie Weight from off my Head,
And this vnwieldie Scepter from my Hand,
The pride of Kingly sway from out my Heart.
With mine owne Teares I wash away my Balme,
With mine owne Hands I giue away my Crowne,
2130With mine owne Tongue denie my Sacred State,
With mine owne Breath release all dutious Oathes;
All Pompe and Maiestie I doe forsweare:
My Manors, Rents, Reuenues, I forgoe;
My Acts, Decrees, and Statutes I denie:
2135God pardon all Oathes that are broke to mee,
God keepe all Vowes vnbroke are made to thee.
Make me, that nothing haue, with nothing grieu'd,
And thou with all pleas'd, that hast all atchieu'd.
Long may'st thou liue in Richards Seat to sit,
2140And soone lye Richard in an Earthie Pit.
God saue King Henry, vn-King'd Richard sayes,
And send him many yeeres of Sunne-shine dayes.
What more remaines?
North. No more: but that you reade
2145These Accusations, and these grieuous Crymes,
Committed by your Person, and your followers,
Against the State, and Profit of this Land:
That by confessing them, the Soules of men
May deeme, that you are worthily depos'd.
2150Rich. Must I doe so? and must I rauell out
My weau'd-vp follyes? Gentle Northumberland,
If thy Offences were vpon Record,
Would it not shame thee, in so faire a troupe,
To reade a Lecture of them? If thou would'st,
2155There should'st thou finde one heynous Article,
Contayning the deposing of a King,
And cracking the strong Warrant of an Oath,
Mark'd with a Blot, damn'd in the Booke of Heauen.
Nay, all of you, that stand and looke vpon me,
2160Whil'st that my wretchednesse doth bait my selfe,
Though some of you, with Pilate, wash your hands,
Shewing an outward pittie: yet you Pilates
Haue here deliuer'd me to my sowre Crosse,
And Water cannot wash away your sinne.
2165North. My Lord dispatch, reade o're these Articles.
Rich. Mine Eyes are full of Teares, I cannot see:
And yet salt-Water blindes them not so much,
But they can see a sort of Traytors here.
Nay, if I turne mine Eyes vpon my selfe,
2170I finde my selfe a Traytor with the rest:
For I haue giuen here my Soules consent,
T'vndeck the pompous Body of a King;
Made Glory base; a Soueraigntie, a Slaue;
Prowd Maiestie, a Subiect; State, a Pesant.
2175North. My Lord.
Rich. No Lord of thine, thou haught-insulting man;
No, nor no mans Lord: I haue no Name, no Title;
No, not that Name was giuen me at the Font,
But 'tis vsurpt: alack the heauie day,
2180That I haue worne so many Winters out,
And know not now, what Name to call my selfe.
Oh, that I were a Mockerie, King of Snow,
Standing before the Sunne of Bullingbrooke,
To melt my selfe away in Water-drops.
2185Good King, great King, and yet not greatly good,
And if my word be Sterling yet in England,
Let it command a Mirror hither straight,
That it may shew me what a Face I haue,
Since it is Bankrupt of his Maiestie.
2190Bull. Goe some of you, and fetch a Looking-Glasse.
North. Read o're this Paper, while ye Glasse doth come.
Rich. Fiend, thou torments me, ere I come to Hell.
Bull. Vrge it no more, my Lord Northumberland.
North. The Commons will not then be satisfy'd.
2195Rich. They shall be satisfy'd: Ile reade enough,
When I doe see the very Booke indeede,
Where all my sinnes are writ, and that's my selfe.
Enter one with a Glasse.
Giue me that Glasse, and therein will I reade.
2200No deeper wrinckles yet? hath Sorrow strucke
So many Blowes vpon this Face of mine,
And made no deeper Wounds? Oh flatt'ring Glasse,
Like to my followers in prosperitie,
Thou do'st beguile me. Was this Face, the Face
2205That euery day, vnder his House-hold Roofe,
Did keepe ten thousand men? Was this the Face,
That like the Sunne, did make beholders winke?
Is this the Face, which fac'd so many follyes,
That was at last out-fac'd by Bullingbrooke?
2210A brittle Glory shineth in this Face,
As brittle as the Glory, is the Face,
For there it is, crackt in an hundred shiuers.
Marke silent King, the Morall of this sport,
How soone my Sorrow hath destroy'd my Face.
2215Bull. The shadow of your Sorrow hath destroy'd
The shadow of your Face.
Rich. Say that againe.
The shadow of my Sorrow: ha, let's see,
'Tis very true, my Griefe lyes all within,
2220And these externall manner of Laments,
Are meerely shadowes, to the vnseene Griefe,
That swells with silence in the tortur'd Soule.
There lyes the substance: and I thanke thee King
For thy great bountie, that not onely giu'st
2225Me cause to wayle, but teachest me the way
How to lament the cause. Ile begge one Boone,
And then be gone, and trouble you no more.
Shall I obtaine it?
Bull. Name it, faire Cousin.
2230Rich. Faire Cousin? I am greater then a King:
For when I was a King, my flatterers
Were then but subiects; being now a subiect,
I haue a King here to my flatterer:
Being so great, I haue no neede to begge.
2235Bull. Yet aske.
Rich. And shall I haue?
Bull. You shall.
Rich. Then giue me leaue to goe.
Bull. Whither?
2240Rich. Whither you will, so I were from your sights.
Bull. Goe some of you, conuey him to the Tower.
Rich. Oh good: conuey: Conueyers are you all,
That rise thus nimbly by a true Kings fall.
Bull. On Wednesday next, we solemnly set downe
2245Our Coronation: Lords, prepare your selues.
Exeunt.
Abbot. A wofull Pageant haue we here beheld.
Carl. The Woes to come, the Children yet vnborne,
Shall feele this day as sharpe to them as Thorne.
Aum. You holy Clergie-men, is there no Plot
2250To rid the Realme of this pernicious Blot.
Abbot. Before I freely speake my minde herein,
You shall not onely take the Sacrament,
To bury mine intents, but also to effect
What euer I shall happen to deuise.
2255I see your Browes are full of Discontent,
Your Heart of Sorrow, and your Eyes of Teares.
Come home with me to Supper, Ile lay a Plot
Shall shew vs all a merry day.
Exeunt.
Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
2260
Enter Queene, and Ladies.
Qu. This way the King will come: this is the way
To Iulius Cæsars ill-erected Tower:
To whose flint Bosome, my condemned Lord
Is doom'd a Prisoner, by prowd Bullingbrooke.
2265Here let vs rest, if this rebellious Earth
Haue any resting for her true Kings Queene.
Enter Richard, and Guard.
But soft, but see, or rather doe not see,
My faire Rose wither: yet looke vp; behold,
2270That you in pittie may dissolue to dew,
And wash him fresh againe with true-loue Teares.
Ah thou, the Modell where old Troy did stand,
Thou Mappe of Honor, thou King Richards Tombe,
And not King Richard: thou most beauteous Inne,
2275Why should hard-fauor'd Griefe be lodg'd in thee,
When Triumph is become an Ale-house Guest.
Rich. Ioyne not with griefe, faire Woman, do not so,
To make my end too sudden: learne good Soule,
To thinke our former State a happie Dreame,
2280From which awak'd, the truth of what we are,
Shewes vs but this. I am sworne Brother (Sweet)
To grim Necessitie; and hee and I
Will keepe a League till Death. High thee to France,
And Cloyster thee in some Religious House:
2285Our holy liues must winne a new Worlds Crowne,
Which our prophane houres here haue stricken downe.
Qu. What, is my Richard both in shape and minde
Transform'd, and weaken'd? Hath Bullingbrooke
Depos'd thine Intellect? hath he beene in thy Heart?
2290The Lyon dying, thrusteth forth his Paw,
And wounds the Earth, if nothing else, with rage
To be o're-powr'd: and wilt thou, Pupill-like,
Take thy Correction mildly, kisse the Rodde,
And fawne on Rage with base Humilitie,
2295Which art a Lyon, and a King of Beasts?
Rich. A King of Beasts indeed: if aught but Beasts,
I had beene still a happy King of Men.
Good (sometime Queene) prepare thee hence for France:
Thinke I am dead, and that euen here thou tak'st,
2300As from my Death-bed, my last liuing leaue.
In Winters tedious Nights sit by the fire
With good old folkes, and let them tell thee Tales
Of wofull Ages, long agoe betide:
And ere thou bid good-night, to quit their griefe,
2305Tell thou the lamentable fall of me,
And send the hearers weeping to their Beds:
For why? the sencelesse Brands will sympathize
The heauie accent of thy mouing Tongue,
And in compassion, weepe the fire out:
2310And some will mourne in ashes, some coale-black,
For the deposing of a rightfulll King.
Enter Northumberland.
North. My Lord, the mind of Bullingbrooke is chang'd.
You must to Pomfret, not vnto the Tower.
2315And Madame, there is order ta'ne for you:
With all swift speed, you must away to France.
Rich. Northumberland, thou Ladder wherewithall
The mounting Bullingbrooke ascends my Throne,
The time shall not be many houres of age,
2320More then it is, ere foule sinne, gathering head,
Shall breake into corruption: thou shalt thinke,
Though he diuide the Realme, and giue thee halfe,
It is too little, helping him to all:
He shall thinke, that thou which know'st the way
2325To plant vnrightfull Kings, wilt know againe,
Being ne're so little vrg'd another way,
To pluck him headlong from the vsurped Throne.
The Loue of wicked friends conuerts to Feare;
That Feare, to Hate; and Hate turnes one, or both,
2330To worthie Danger, and deserued Death.
North. My guilt be on my Head, and there an end:
Take leaue, and part, for you must part forthwith.
Rich. Doubly diuorc'd? (bad men) ye violate
A two-fold Marriage; 'twixt my Crowne, and me,
2335And then betwixt me, and my marryed Wife.
Let me vn-kisse the Oath 'twixt thee, and me;
And yet not so, for with a Kisse 'twas made.
Part vs, Northumberland: I, towards the North,
Where shiuering Cold and Sicknesse pines the Clyme:
2340My Queene to France: from whence, set forth in pompe,
She came adorned hither like sweet May;
Sent back like Hollowmas, or short'st of day.
Qu. And must we be diuided? must we part?
Rich. I, hand from hand (my Loue) and heart frō heart.
2345Qu. Banish vs both, and send the King with me.
North. That were some Loue, but little Pollicy.
Qu. Then whither he goes, thither let me goe.
Rich. So two together weeping, make one Woe.
Weepe thou for me in France; I, for thee heere:
2350Better farre off, then neere, be ne're the neere.
Goe, count thy Way with Sighes; I, mine with Groanes.
Qu. So longest Way shall haue the longest Moanes.
Rich. Twice for one step Ile groane, ye Way being short,
And peece the Way out with a heauie heart.
2355Come, come, in wooing Sorrow let's be briefe,
Since wedding it, there is such length in Griefe:
One Kisse shall stop our mouthes, and dumbely part;
Thus giue I mine, and thus take I thy heart.
Qu. Giue me mine owne againe: 'twere no good part,
2360To take on me to keepe, and kill thy heart.
So, now I haue mine owne againe, be gone,
That I may striue to kill it with a groane.
Rich. We make Woe wanton with this fond delay:
Once more adieu; the rest, let Sorrow say.
Exeunt.
2365
Scœna Secunda.
Enter Yorke, and his Duchesse.
Duch. My Lord, you told me you would tell the rest,
When weeping made you breake the story off,
Of our two Cousins comming into London.
2370Yorke. Where did I leaue?
Duch. At that sad stoppe, my Lord,
Where rude mis-gouern'd hands, from Windowes tops,
Threw dust and rubbish on King Richards head.
Yorke. Then, as I said, the Duke, great Bullingbrooke,
2375Mounted vpon a hot and fierie Steed,
Which his aspiring Rider seem'd to know,
With slow, but stately pace, kept on his course:
While all tongues cride, God saue thee Bullingbrooke.
You would haue thought the very windowes spake,
2380So many greedy lookes of yong and old,
Through Casements darted their desiring eyes
Vpon his visage: and that all the walles,
With painted Imagery had said at once,
Iesu preserue thee, welcom Bullingbrooke.
2385Whil'st he, from one side to the other turning,
Bare-headed, lower then his proud Steeds necke,
Bespake them thus: I thanke you Countrimen:
And thus still doing, thus he past along.
Dutch. Alas poore Richard, where rides he the whilst?
2390Yorke. As in a Theater, the eyes of men
After a well grac'd Actor leaues the Stage,
Areidlely bent on him that enters next,
Thinking his prattle to be tedious:
Euen so, or with much more contempt, mens eyes
2395Did scowle on Richard: no man cride, God saue him:
No ioyfull tongue gaue him his welcome home,
But dust was throwne vpon his Sacred head,
Which with such gentle sorrow he shooke off,
His face still combating with teares and smiles
2400(The badges of his greefe and patience)
That had not God (for some strong purpose) steel'd
The hearts of men, they must perforce haue melted,
And Barbarisme it selfe haue pittied him.
But heauen hath a hand in these euents,
2405To whose high will we bound our calme contents.
To Bullingbrooke, are we sworne Subiects now,
Whose State, and Honor, I for aye allow.
Enter Aumerle.
Dut. Heere comes my sonne Aumerle.
2410Yor. Aumerle that was,
But that is lost, for being Richards Friend.
And Madam, you must call him Rutland now:
I am in Parliament pledge for his truth,
And lasting fealtie to the new-made King.
2415Dut. Welcome my sonne: who are the Violets now,
That strew the greene lap of the new-come Spring?
Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not,
God knowes, I had as liefe be none, as one.
Yorke. Well, beare you well in this new-spring of time
2420Least you be cropt before you come to prime.
What newes from Oxford? Hold those Iusts & Triumphs?
Aum. For ought I know my Lord, they do.
Yorke. You will be there I know.
Aum. If God preuent not, I purpose so.
2425Yor. What Seale is that that hangs without thy bosom?
Yea, look'st thou pale? Let me see the Writing.
Aum. My Lord, 'tis nothing.
Yorke. No matter then who sees it,
I will be satisfied, let me see the Writing.
2430Aum. I do beseech your Grace to pardon me,
It is a matter of small consequence,
Which for some reasons I would not haue seene.
Yorke. Which for some reasons sir, I meane to see:
I feare, I feare.
2435Dut. What should you feare?
'Tis nothing but some bond, that he is enter'd into
For gay apparrell, against the Triumph.
Yorke. Bound to himselfe? What doth he with a Bond
That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a foole.
2440Boy, let me see the Writing.
Aum. I do beseech you pardon me, I may not shew it.
Yor. I will be satisfied: let me see it I say.
Snatches it
Treason, foule Treason, Villaine, Traitor, Slaue.
Dut. What's the matter, my Lord?
2445Yorke. Hoa, who's within there? Saddle my horse.
Heauen for his mercy: what treachery is heere?
Dut. Why, what is't my Lord?
Yorke. Giue me my boots, I say: Saddle my horse:
Now by my Honor, my life, my troth,
2450I will appeach the Villaine.
Dut. What is the matter?
Yorke. Peace foolish Woman.
Dut. I will not peace. What is the matter Sonne?
Aum. Good Mother be content, it is no more
2455Then my poore life must answer.
Dut. Thy life answer?
Enter Seruant with Boots.
Yor. Bring me my Boots, I will vnto the King.
Dut. Strike him Aumerle. Poore boy, yu art amaz'd,
2460Hence Villaine, neuer more come in my sight.
Yor. Giue me my Boots, I say.
Dut. Why Yorke, what wilt thou do?
Wilt thou not hide the Trespasse of thine owne?
Haue we more Sonnes? Or are we like to haue?
2465Is not my teeming date drunke vp with time?
And wilt thou plucke my faire Sonne from mine Age,
And rob me of a happy Mothers name?
Is he not like thee? Is he not thine owne?
Yor. Thou fond mad woman:
2470Wilt thou conceale this darke Conspiracy?
A dozen of them heere haue tane the Sacrament,
And interchangeably set downe their hands
To kill the King at Oxford.
Dut. He shall be none:
2475Wee'l keepe him heere: then what is that to him?
Yor. Away fond woman: were hee twenty times my
Son, I would appeach him.
Dut. Hadst thou groan'd for him as I haue done,
Thou wouldest be more pittifull:
2480But now I know thy minde; thou do'st suspect
That I haue bene disloyall to thy bed,
And that he is a Bastard, not thy Sonne:
Sweet Yorke, sweet husband, be not of that minde:
He is as like thee, as a man may bee,
2485Not like to me, nor any of my Kin,
And yet I loue him.
Yorke. Make way, vnruly Woman.
Exit
Dut. After Aumerle. Mount thee vpon his horse,
Spurre post, and get before him to the King,
2490And begge thy pardon, ere he do accuse thee,
Ile not be long behind: though I be old,
I doubt not but to ride as fast as Yorke:
And neuer will I rise vp from the ground,
Till Bullingbrooke haue pardon'd thee: Away be gone.
Exit
2495
Scœna Tertia.
Enter Bullingbrooke, Percie, and other Lords.
Bul. Can no man tell of my vnthriftie Sonne?
'Tis full three monthes since I did see him last.
If any plague hang ouer vs, 'tis he,
2500I would to heauen (my Lords) he might be found:
Enquire at London, 'mongst the Tauernes there:
For there (they say) he dayly doth frequent,
With vnrestrained loose Companions,
Euen such (they say) as stand in narrow Lanes,
2505And rob our Watch, and beate our passengers,
Which he, yong wanton, and effeminate Boy
Takes on the point of Honor, to support
So dissolute a crew.
Per. My Lord, some two dayes since I saw the Prince,
2510And told him of these Triumphes held at Oxford.
Bul. And what said the Gallant?
Per. His answer was: he would vnto the Stewes,
And from the common'st creature plucke a Gloue
And weare it as a fauour, and with that
2515He would vnhorse the lustiest Challenger.
Bul. As dissolute as desp'rate, yet through both,
I see some sparkes of better hope: which elder dayes
May happily bring forth. But who comes heere?
Enter Aumerle.
2520Aum. Where is the King?
Bul. What meanes our Cosin, that hee stares
And lookes so wildely?
Aum. God saue your Grace. I do beseech your Maiesty
To haue some conference with your Grace alone.
2525Bul. Withdraw your selues, and leaue vs here alone:
What is the matter with our Cosin now?
Aum. For euer may my knees grow to the earth,
My tongue cleaue to my roofe within my mouth,
Vnlesse a Pardon, ere I rise, or speake.
2530Bul. Intended, or committed was this fault?
If on the first, how heynous ere it bee,
To win thy after loue, I pardon thee.
Aum. Then giue me leaue, that I may turne the key,
That no man enter, till my tale be done.
2535Bul. Haue thy desire.
Yorke withiu.
Yor. My Liege beware, looke to thy selfe,
Thou hast a Traitor in thy presence there.
Bul. Villaine, Ile make thee safe.
Aum. Stay thy reuengefull hand, thou hast no cause
2540to feare.
Yorke. Open the doore, secure foole-hardy King:
Shall I for loue speake treason to thy face?
Open the doore, or I will breake it open.
Enter Yorke.
2545Bul. What is the matter (Vnkle) speak, recouer breath,
Tell vs how neere is danger,
That we may arme vs to encounter it.
Yor. Peruse this writing heere, and thou shalt know
The reason that my haste forbids me show.
2550Aum. Remember as thou read'st, thy promise past:
I do repent me, reade not my name there,
My heart is not confederate with my hand.
Yor. It was (villaine) ere thy hand did set it downe.
I tore it from the Traitors bosome, King.
2555Feare, and not Loue, begets his penitence;
Forget to pitty him, least thy pitty proue
A Serpent, that will sting thee to the heart.
Bul. Oh heinous, strong, and bold Conspiracie,
O loyall Father of a treacherous Sonne:
2560Thou sheere, immaculate, and siluer fountaine,
From whence this streame, through muddy passages
Hath had his current, and defil'd himselfe.
Thy ouerflow of good, conuerts to bad,
And thy abundant goodnesse shall excuse
2565This deadly blot, in thy digressing sonne.
Yorke. So shall my Vertue be his Vices bawd,
And he shall spend mine Honour, with his Shame;
As thriftlesse Sonnes, their scraping Fathers Gold.
Mine honor liues, when his dishonor dies,
2570Or my sham'd life, in his dishonor lies:
Thou kill'st me in his life, giuing him breath,
The Traitor liues, the true man's put to death.
Dutchesse within.
Dut. What hoa (my Liege) for heauens sake let me in.
2575Bul. What shrill-voic'd Suppliant, makes this eager cry?
Dut. A woman, and thine Aunt (great King) 'tis I.
Speake with me, pitty me, open the dore,
A Begger begs, that neuer begg'd before.
Bul. Our Scene is alter'd from a serious thing,
2580And now chang'd to the Begger, and the King.
My dangerous Cosin, let your Mother in,
I know she's come, to pray for your foule sin.
Yorke. If thou do pardon, whosoeuer pray,
More sinnes for this forgiuenesse, prosper may.
2585This fester'd ioynt cut off, the rest rests sound,
This let alone, will all the rest confound.
Enter Dutchesse.
Dut. O King, beleeue not this hard-hearted man,
Loue, louing not it selfe, none other can.
2590Yor. Thou franticke woman, what dost yu make here,
Shall thy old dugges, once more a Traitor reare?
Dut. Sweet Yorke be patient, heare me gentle Liege.
Bul. Rise vp good Aunt.
Dut. Not yet, I thee beseech.
2595For euer will I kneele vpon my knees,
And neuer see day, that the happy sees,
Till thou giue ioy: vntill thou bid me ioy,
By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing Boy.
Aum. Vnto my mothers prayres, I bend my knee.
2600Yorke. Against them both, my true ioynts bended be.
Dut. Pleades he in earnest? Looke vpon his Face,
His eyes do drop no teares: his prayres are in iest:
His words come from his mouth, ours from our brest.
He prayes but faintly, and would be denide,
2605We pray with heart, and soule, and all beside:
His weary ioynts would gladly rise, I know,
Our knees shall kneele, till to the ground they grow:
His prayers are full of false hypocrisie,
Ours of true zeale, and deepe integritie:
2610Our prayers do out-pray his, then let them haue
That mercy, which true prayers ought to haue.
Bul. Good Aunt stand vp.
Dut. Nay, do not say stand vp.
But Pardon first, and afterwards stand vp.
2615And if I were thy Nurse, thy tongue to teach,
Pardon should be the first word of thy speach.
I neuer long'd to heare a word till now:
Say Pardon (King,) let pitty teach thee how.
The word is short: but not so short as sweet,
2620No word like Pardon, for Kings mouth's so meet.
Yorke. Speake it in French (King) say Pardon'ne moy.
Dut. Dost thou teach pardon, Pardon to destroy?
Ah my sowre husband, my hard-hearted Lord,
That set's the word it selfe, against the word.
2625Speake Pardon, as 'tis currant in our Land,
The chopping French we do not vnderstand.
Thine eye begins to speake, set thy tongue there,
Or in thy pitteous heart, plant thou thine eare,
That hearing how our plaints and prayres do pearce,
2630Pitty may moue thee, Pardon to rehearse.
Bul. Good Aunt, stand vp.
Dut. I do not sue to stand,
Pardon is all the suite I haue in hand.
Bul. I pardon him, as heauen shall pardon mee.
2635Dut. O happy vantage of a kneeling knee:
Yet am I sicke for feare: Speake it againe,
Twice saying Pardon, doth not pardon twaine,
But makes one pardon strong.
Bul. I pardon him with all my hart.
2640Dut. A God on earth thou art.
Bul. But for our trusty brother-in-Law, the Abbot,
With all the rest of that consorted crew,
Destruction straight shall dogge them at the heeles:
Good Vnckle helpe to order seuerall powres
2645To Oxford, or where ere these Traitors are:
They shall not liue within this world I sweare,
But I will haue them, if I once know where.
Vnckle farewell, and Cosin adieu:
Your mother well hath praid, and proue you true.
2650Dut. Come my old son, I pray heauen make thee new.
Exeunt.
Enter Exton and Seruants.
Ext. Didst thou not marke the King what words hee
spake?
2655Haue I no friend will rid me of this liuing feare:
Was it not so?
Ser. Those were his very words.
Ex. Haue I no Friend? (quoth he:) he spake it twice,
And vrg'd it twice together, did he not?
2660Ser. He did.
Ex. And speaking it, he wistly look'd on me,
As who should say, I would thou wer't the man
That would diuorce this terror from my heart,
Meaning the King at Pomfret: Come, let's goe;
2665I am the Kings Friend, and will rid his Foe.
Exit.
Scæna Quarta.
Enter Richard.
Rich. I haue bin studying, how to compare
This Prison where I liue, vnto the World:
2670And for because the world is populous,
And heere is not a Creature, but my selfe,
I cannot do it: yet Ile hammer't out.
My Braine, Ile proue the Female to my Soule,
My Soule, the Father: and these two beget
2675A generation of still breeding Thoughts;
And these same Thoughts, people this Little World
In humors, like the people of this world,
For no thought is contented. The better sort,
As thoughts of things Diuine, are intermixt
2680With scruples, and do set the Faith it selfe
Against the Faith: as thus: Come litle ones: & then again,
It is as hard to come, as for a Camell
To thred the posterne of a Needles eye.
Thoughts tending to Ambition, they do plot
2685Vnlikely wonders; how these vaine weake nailes
May teare a passage through the Flinty ribbes
Of this hard world, my ragged prison walles:
And for they cannot, dye in their owne pride.
Thoughts tending to Content, flatter themselues,
2690That they are not the first of Fortunes slaues,
Nor shall not be the last. Like silly Beggars,
Who sitting in the Stockes, refuge their shame
That many haue, and others must sit there;
And in this Thought, they finde a kind of ease,
2695Bearing their owne misfortune on the backe
Of such as haue before indur'd the like.
Thus play I in one Prison, many people,
And none contented. Sometimes am I King;
Then Treason makes me wish my selfe a Beggar,
2700And so I am. Then crushing penurie,
Perswades me, I was better when a King:
Then am I king'd againe: and by and by,
Thinke that I am vn-king'd by Bullingbrooke,
And straight am nothing. But what ere I am,
Musick
2705Nor I, nor any man, that but man is,
With nothing shall be pleas'd, till he be eas'd
With being nothing. Musicke do I heare?
Ha, ha? keepe time: How sowre sweet Musicke is,
When Time is broke, and no Proportion kept?
2710So is it in the Musicke of mens liues:
And heere haue I the daintinesse of eare,
To heare time broke in a disorder'd string:
But for the Concord of my State and Time,
Had not an eare to heare my true Time broke.
2715I wasted Time, and now doth Time waste me:
For now hath Time made me his numbring clocke;
My Thoughts, are minutes; and with Sighes they iarre,
Their watches on vnto mine eyes, the outward Watch,
Whereto my finger, like a Dialls point,
2720Is pointing still, in cleansing them from teares.
Now sir, the sound that tels what houre it is,
Are clamorous groanes, that strike vpon my heart,
Which is the bell: so Sighes, and Teares, and Grones,
Shew Minutes, Houres, and Times: but my Time
2725Runs poasting on, in Bullingbrookes proud ioy,
While I stand fooling heere, his iacke o'th' Clocke.
This Musicke mads me, let it sound no more,
For though it haue holpe madmen to their wits,
In me it seemes, it will make wise-men mad:
2730Yet blessing on his heart that giues it me;
For 'tis a signe of loue, and loue to Richard,
Is a strange Brooch, in this all-hating world.
Enter Groome.
Groo. Haile Royall Prince.
2735Rich. Thankes Noble Peere,
The cheapest of vs, is ten groates too deere.
What art thou? And how com'st thou hither?
Where no man euer comes, but that sad dogge
That brings me food, to make misfortune liue?
2740Groo. I was a poore Groome of thy Stable (King)
When thou wer't King: who trauelling towards Yorke,
With much adoo, at length haue gotten leaue
To looke vpon my (sometimes Royall) masters face.
O how it yern'd my heart, when I beheld
2745In London streets, that Coronation day,
When Bullingbrooke rode on Roane Barbary,
That horse, that thou so often hast bestrid,
That horse, that I so carefully haue drest.
Rich. Rode he on Barbary? Tell me gentle Friend,
2750How went he vnder him?
Groo. So proudly, as if he had disdain'd the ground.
Rich. So proud, that Bullingbrooke was on his backe;
That Iade hath eate bread from my Royall hand.
This hand hath made him proud with clapping him.
2755Would he not stumble? Would he not fall downe
(Since Pride must haue a fall) and breake the necke
Of that proud man, that did vsurpe his backe?
Forgiuenesse horse: Why do I raile on thee,
Since thou created to be aw'd by man
2760Was't borne to beare? I was not made a horse,
And yet I beare a burthen like an Asse,
Spur-gall'd, and tyrd by iauncing Bullingbrooke.
Enter Keeper with a Dish.
Keep. Fellow, giue place, heere is no longer stay.
2765Rich. If thou loue me, 'tis time thou wer't away.
Groo. What my tongue dares not, that my heart shall
say.
Exit.
Keep. My Lord, wilt please you to fall too?
Rich. Taste of it first, as thou wer't wont to doo.
2770Keep. My Lord I dare not: Sir Pierce of Exton,
Who lately came from th' King, commands the contrary.
Rich. The diuell take Henrie of Lancaster, and thee;
Patience is stale, and I am weary of it.
Keep. Helpe, helpe, helpe.
2775
Enter Exton and Seruants.
Ri. How now? what meanes Death in this rude assalt?
Villaine, thine owne hand yeelds thy deaths instrument,
Go thou and fill another roome in hell.
Exton strikes him downe.
2780That hand shall burne in neuer-quenching fire,
That staggers thus my person. Exton, thy fierce hand,
Hath with the Kings blood, stain'd the Kings own land.
Mount, mount my soule, thy seate is vp on high,
Whil'st my grosse flesh sinkes downward, heere to dye.
2785Exton. As full of Valor, as of Royall blood,
Both haue I spilt: Oh would the deed were good.
For now the diuell, that told me I did well,
Sayes, that this deede is chronicled in hell.
This dead King to the liuing King Ile beare,
2790Take hence the rest, and giue them buriall heere.
Exit.
Scœna Quinta.
Flourish. Enter Bullingbrooke, Yorke, with
other Lords & attendants.
Bul. Kinde Vnkle Yorke, the latest newes we heare,
2795Is that the Rebels haue consum'd with fire
Our Towne of Ciceter in Gloucestershire,
But whether they be tane or slaine, we heare not.
Enter Northumberland.
Welcome my Lord: What is the newes?
2800Nor. First to thy Sacred State, wish I all happinesse:
The next newes is, I haue to London sent
The heads of Salsbury, Spencer, Blunt, and Kent:
The manner of their taking may appeare
At large discoursed in this paper heere.
2805Bul. We thank thee gentle Percy for thy paines,
And to thy worth will adde right worthy gaines.
Enter Fitz-waters.
Fitz. My Lord, I haue from Oxford sent to London,
The heads of Broccas, and Sir Bennet Seely,
2810Two of the dangerous consorted Traitors,
That sought at Oxford, thy dire ouerthrow.
Bul. Thy paines Fitzwaters shall not be forgot,
Right Noble is thy merit, well I wot.
Enter Percy and Carlile.
2815Per. The grand Conspirator, Abbot of Westminster,
With clog of Conscience, and sowre Melancholly,
Hath yeelded vp his body to the graue:
But heere is Carlile, liuing to abide
Thy Kingly doome, and sentence of his pride.
2820Bul. Carlile, this is your doome:
Choose out some secret place, some reuerend roome
More then thou hast, and with it ioy thy life:
So as thou liu'st in peace, dye free from strife:
For though mine enemy, thou hast euer beene,
2825High sparkes of Honor in thee haue I seene.
Enter Exton with a Coffin.
Exton. Great King, within this Coffin I present
Thy buried feare. Heerein all breathlesse lies
The mightiest of thy greatest enemies
2830Richard of Burdeaux, by me hither brought.
Bul. Exton, I thanke thee not, for thou hast wrought
A deede of Slaughter, with thy fatall hand,
Vpon my head, and all this famous Land.
Ex. From your owne mouth my Lord, did I this deed.
2835Bul. They loue not poyson, that do poyson neede,
Nor do I thee: though I did wish him dead,
I hate the Murtherer, loue him murthered.
The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour,
But neither my good word, nor Princely fauour.
2840With Caine go wander through the shade of night,
And neuer shew thy head by day, nor light.
Lords, I protest my soule is full of woe,
That blood should sprinkle me, to make me grow.
Come mourne with me, for that I do lament,
2845And put on sullen Blacke incontinent:
Ile make a voyage to the Holy-land,
To wash this blood off from my guilty hand.
March sadly after, grace my mourning heere,
In weeping after this vntimely Beere.
Exeunt.
2850
FINIS.