The Tragedy of King Richard the Second

1.1.45Old John of Gaunt, time-honored Lancaster,

1.1.56Hast thou, according to thy oath and bond,

1.1.67Brought hither Henry Hereford, thy bold son,

1.1.78Here to make good the boist'rous late appeal,

1.1.89Which then our leisure would not let us hear,

1.1.910Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray?

I have, my liege.

Tell me, moreover, hast thou sounded him

1.1.1213If he appeal the Duke on ancient malice,

1.1.1314Or worthily, as a good subject should,

1.1.1415On some known ground of treachery in him?

As near as I could sift him on that argument,

1.1.1617On some apparent danger seen in him

1.1.1718Aimed at your highness; no inveterate malice.

Then call them to our presence.

Then call them to our presence. Face to face,

1.1.1920And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear

1.1.2021The accuser and the accusèd freely speak.

1.1.2122High-stomached are they both and full of ire,

1.1.2223In rage, deaf as the sea, hasty as fire.

Many years of happy days befall

1.1.2426My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege!

Each day still better other's happiness,

1.1.2628Until the heavens, envying earth's good hap,

1.1.2729Add an immortal title to your crown!

We thank you both. Yet one but flatters us,

1.1.2931As well appeareth by the cause you come,

1.1.3032Namely, to appeal each other of high treason. --

1.1.3133Cousin of Hereford, what dost thou object

1.1.3234Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray?

First -- heaven be the record to my speech! --

1.1.3436In the devotion of a subject's love,

1.1.3537Tend'ring the precious safety of my prince,

1.1.3638And free from other misbegotten hate,

1.1.3739Come I appellant to this princely presence. --

1.1.3840Now, Thomas Mowbray, do I turn to thee,

1.1.3941And mark my greeting well; for what I speak

1.1.4042My body shall make good upon this earth,

1.1.4143Or my divine soul answer it in heaven.

1.1.4244Thou art a traitor and a miscreant,

1.1.4345Too good to be so, and too bad to live,

1.1.4446Since the more fair and crystal is the sky,

1.1.4547The uglier seem the clouds that in it fly.

1.1.4648Once more, the more to aggravate the note,

1.1.4749With a foul traitor's name stuff I thy throat,

1.1.4850And wish -- so please my sovereign -- ere I move,

1.1.4951What my tongue speaks, my right-drawn sword may prove.

Let not my cold words here accuse my zeal.

1.1.5153'Tis not the trial of a woman's war,

1.1.5254The bitter clamor of two eager tongues,

1.1.5355Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain.

1.1.5456The blood is hot that must be cooled for this.

1.1.5557Yet can I not of such tame patience boast

1.1.5658As to be hushed and naught at all to say.

1.1.5759First, the fair reverence of your highness curbs me

1.1.5860From giving reins and spurs to my free speech,

1.1.5961Which else would post until it had returned

1.1.6062These terms of treason doubled down his throat.

1.1.6163Setting aside his high blood's royalty,

1.1.6264And let him be no kinsman to my liege,

1.1.6365I do defy him, and I spit at him,

1.1.6466Call him a slanderous coward and a villain;

1.1.6567Which to maintain, I would allow him odds

1.1.6668And meet him, were I tied to run afoot

1.1.6769Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps,

1.1.6870Or any other ground inhabitable,

1.1.6971Wherever Englishman durst set his foot.

1.1.7072Meantime, let this defend my loyalty:

1.1.7173By all my hopes, most falsely doth he lie.

1.1.7274Bolingbroke [Throwing down his gage] Pale trembling coward, there I throw my gage,

1.1.7375Disclaiming here the kindred of the King,

1.1.7476And lay aside my high blood's royalty,

1.1.7577Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to except.

1.1.7678If guilty dread have left thee so much strength

1.1.7779As to take up mine honor's pawn, then stoop.

1.1.7880By that and all the rites of knighthood else

1.1.7981Will I make good against thee, arm to arm,

1.1.8082What I have spoke or thou canst worse devise.

[Taking up the gage] I take it up; and by that sword I swear

1.1.8284Which gently laid my knighthood on my shoulder,

1.1.8385I'll answer thee in any fair degree

1.1.8486Or chivalrous design of knightly trial.

1.1.8587And when I mount, alive may I not light

1.1.8688If I be traitor or unjustly fight!

[To Bolingbroke] What doth our cousin lay to Mowbray's charge?

1.1.8890It must be great that can inherit us

1.1.8991So much as of a thought of ill in him.

Look what I speak, my life shall prove it true:

1.1.9193That Mowbray hath received eight thousand nobles

1.1.9294In name of lendings for your highness' soldiers,

1.1.9395The which he hath detained for lewd employments,

1.1.9496Like a false traitor and injurious villain.

1.1.9597Besides I say, and will in battle prove,

1.1.9698Or here or elsewhere to the furthest verge

1.1.9799That ever was surveyed by English eye,

1.1.98100That all the treasons for these eighteen years

1.1.99101Complotted and contrivèd in this land

1.1.100102Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and spring.

1.1.101103Further I say, and further will maintain

1.1.102104Upon his bad life to make all this good,

1.1.103105That he did plot the Duke of Gloucester's death,

1.1.104106Suggest his soon-believing adversaries,

1.1.105107And consequently, like a traitor coward,

1.1.106108Sluiced out his innocent soul through streams of blood;

1.1.107109Which blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries

1.1.108110Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth

1.1.109111To me for justice and rough chastisement.

1.1.110112And, by the glorious worth of my descent,

1.1.111113This arm shall do it, or this life be spent.

How high a pitch his resolution soars! --

1.1.113115Thomas of Norfolk, what say'st thou to this?

Oh, let my sovereign turn away his face

1.1.115117And bid his ears a little while be deaf,

1.1.116118Till I have told this slander of his blood

1.1.117119How God and good men hate so foul a liar!

Mowbray, impartial are our eyes and ears.

1.1.119121Were he my brother, nay, my kingdom's heir,

1.1.120122As he is but my father's brother's son,

1.1.121123Now by my scepter's awe I make a vow,

1.1.122124Such neighbor nearness to our sacred blood

1.1.123125Should nothing privilege him nor partialize

1.1.124126The unstooping firmness of my upright soul.

1.1.125127He is our subject, Mowbray; so art thou.

1.1.126128Free speech and fearless I to thee allow.

Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart

1.1.128130Through the false passage of thy throat, thou liest.

1.1.129131Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais

1.1.130132Disbursed I duly to his highness' soldiers;

1.1.131133The other part reserved I by consent,

1.1.132134For that my sovereign liege was in my debt

1.1.133135Upon remainder of a dear account

1.1.134136Since last I went to France to fetch his queen.

1.1.135137Now swallow down that lie! For Gloucester's death,

1.1.136138I slew him not, but to my own disgrace

1.1.137139Neglected my sworn duty in that case. --

1.1.138140For you, my noble lord of Lancaster,

1.1.139141The honorable father to my foe,

1.1.140142Once did I lay an ambush for your life,

1.1.141143A trespass that doth vex my grievèd soul;

1.1.142144But ere I last received the sacrament,

1.1.143145I did confess it, and exactly begged

1.1.144146Your grace's pardon, and I hope I had it. --

1.1.145147This is my fault. As for the rest appealed,

1.1.146148It issues from the rancor of a villain,

1.1.147149A recreant, and most degenerate traitor,

1.1.148150Which in myself I boldly will defend,

1.1.149151And interchangeably hurl down my gage

1.1.150152Upon this overweening traitor's foot,

1.1.151153To prove myself a loyal gentleman,

1.1.152154Even in the best blood chambered in his bosom;

1.1.153155In haste whereof most heartily I pray

1.1.154156Your highness to assign our trial day.

Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be ruled by me.

1.1.156158Let's purge this choler without letting blood.

1.1.157159This we prescribe, though no physician.

1.1.158160Deep malice makes too deep incision.

1.1.159161Forget, forgive; conclude and be agreed.

1.1.160162Our doctors say this is no month to bleed. --

1.1.161163Good uncle, let this end where it begun.

1.1.162164We'll calm the Duke of Norfolk, you your son.

To be a make-peace shall become my age. --

1.1.164166Throw down, my son, the Duke of Norfolk's gage.

And, Norfolk, throw down his.

And, Norfolk, throw down his. When, Harry, when?

1.1.167169Obedience bids I should not bid again.

Norfolk, throw down, we bid; there is no boot.

Myself I throw, dread sovereign, at thy foot.

1.1.170173My life thou shalt command, but not my shame.

1.1.171174The one my duty owes, but my fair name,

1.1.172175Despite of death that lives upon my grave,

1.1.173176To dark dishonor's use thou shalt not have.

1.1.174177I am disgraced, impeached, and baffled here,

1.1.175178Pierced to the soul with slander's venomed spear,

1.1.176179The which no balm can cure but his heart-blood

1.1.177180Which breathed this poison.

Which breathed this poison. Rage must be withstood.

1.1.179182Give me his gage. Lions make leopards tame.

Yea, but not change his spots. Take but my shame,

1.1.181184And I resign my gage. My dear dear lord,

1.1.182185The purest treasure mortal times afford

1.1.183186Is spotless reputation. That away,

1.1.184187Men are but gilded loam or painted clay.

1.1.185188A jewel in a ten-times-barred-up chest

1.1.186189Is a bold spirit in a loyal breast.

1.1.187190Mine honor is my life; both grow in one.

1.1.188191Take honor from me, and my life is done.

1.1.189192Then, dear my liege, mine honor let me try.

1.1.190193In that I live, and for that will I die.

[To Bolingbroke] Cousin, throw up your gage. Do you begin.

O God defend my soul from such deep sin!

1.1.193197Shall I seem crestfallen in my father's sight?

1.1.194198Or with pale beggar-fear impeach my height

1.1.195199Before this out-dared dastard? Ere my tongue

1.1.196200Shall wound my honor with such feeble wrong,

1.1.197201Or sound so base a parle, my teeth shall tear

1.1.198202The slavish motive of recanting fear

1.1.199203And spit it bleeding in his high disgrace,

1.1.200204Where shame doth harbor, even in Mowbray's face.

We were not born to sue, but to command;

1.1.202207Which since we cannot do to make you friends,

1.1.203208Be ready, as your lives shall answer it

1.1.204209At Coventry, upon Saint Lambert's day.

1.1.205210There shall your swords and lances arbitrate

1.1.206211The swelling difference of your settled hate.

1.1.207212Since we cannot atone you, we shall see

1.1.208213Justice design the victor's chivalry. --

1.1.209214Lord Marshal, command our officers-at-arms

215Be ready to direct these home alarms.

Alas, the part I had in Woodstock's blood

1.2.2219Doth more solicit me than your exclaims

1.2.3220To stir against the butchers of his life.

1.2.4221But since correction lieth in those hands

1.2.5222Which made the fault that we cannot correct,

1.2.6223Put we our quarrel to the will of heaven,

1.2.7224Who, when they see the hours ripe on earth,

1.2.8225Will rain hot vengeance on offenders' heads.

Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper spur?

1.2.10227Hath love in thy old blood no living fire?

1.2.11228Edward's seven sons, whereof thyself art one,

1.2.12229Were as seven vials of his sacred blood,

1.2.13230Or seven fair branches springing from one root.

1.2.14231Some of those seven are dried by nature's course,

1.2.15232Some of those branches by the Destinies cut;

1.2.16233But Thomas, my dear lord, my life, my Gloucester,

1.2.17234One vial full of Edward's sacred blood,

1.2.18235One flourishing branch of his most royal root,

1.2.19236Is cracked, and all the precious liquor spilt,

1.2.20237Is hacked down, and his summer leaves all faded

1.2.21238By envy's hand and murder's bloody ax.

1.2.22239Ah, Gaunt, his blood was thine! That bed, that womb,

1.2.23240That mettle, that self mold that fashioned thee

1.2.24241Made him a man; and though thou liv'st and breath'st,

1.2.25242Yet art thou slain in him. Thou dost consent

1.2.26243In some large measure to thy father's death

1.2.27244In that thou seest thy wretched brother die,

1.2.28245Who was the model of thy father's life.

1.2.29246Call it not patience, Gaunt. It is despair.

1.2.30247In suff'ring thus thy brother to be slaughtered,

1.2.31248Thou showest the naked pathway to thy life,

1.2.32249Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee.

1.2.33250That which in mean men we entitle patience

1.2.34251Is pale, cold cowardice in noble breasts.

1.2.35252What shall I say? To safeguard thine own life,

1.2.36253The best way is to venge my Gloucester's death.

God's is the quarrel; for God's substitute,

1.2.38255His deputy anointed in his sight,

1.2.39256Hath caused his death, the which if wrongfully

1.2.40257Let heaven revenge, for I may never lift

1.2.41258An angry arm against his minister.

Where then, alas, may I complain myself?

To God, the widow's champion and defense.

Why then I will. Farewell, old Gaunt.

1.2.45262Thou goest to Coventry, there to behold

1.2.46263Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight.

1.2.47264Oh, set my husband's wrongs on Hereford's spear,

1.2.48265That it may enter butcher Mowbray's breast!

1.2.49266Or if misfortune miss the first career,

1.2.50267Be Mowbray's sins so heavy in his bosom

1.2.51268That they may break his foaming courser's back

1.2.52269And throw the rider headlong in the lists,

1.2.53270A caitiff recreant to my cousin Hereford!

1.2.54271Farewell, old Gaunt. Thy sometime brother's wife,

1.2.55272With her companion, grief, must end her life.

Sister, farewell. I must to Coventry.

1.2.57274As much good stay with thee as go with me.

Yet one word more. Grief boundeth where it falls,

1.2.59276Not with the empty hollowness, but weight.

1.2.60277I take my leave before I have begun,

1.2.61278For sorrow ends not when it seemeth done.

1.2.62279Commend me to thy brother, Edmund York.

1.2.63280Lo, this is all. Nay, yet depart not so!

1.2.64281Though this be all, do not so quickly go.

1.2.65282I shall remember more. Bid him -- ah, what? --

1.2.66283With all good speed at Pleshy visit me,

1.2.67284Alack, and what shall good old York there see

1.2.68285But empty lodgings and unfurnished walls,

1.2.69286Unpeopled offices, untrodden stones?

1.2.70287And what hear there for welcome but my groans?

1.2.71288Therefore commend me; let him not come there

1.2.72289To seek out sorrow that dwells everywhere.

1.2.73290Desolate, desolate, will I hence and die.

291The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye.Exeunt.

My lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford armed?

Yea, at all points, and longs to enter in.

The Duke of Norfolk, sprightfully and bold,

1.3.4297Stays but the summons of the appellant's trumpet.

Why then, the champions are prepared, and stay

1.3.6299For nothing but his majesty's approach.

Marshal, demand of yonder champion

1.3.9304The cause of his arrival here in arms,

1.3.10305Ask him his name, and orderly proceed

1.3.11306To swear him in the justice of his cause.

[To Mowbray] In God's name and the King's, say who thou art

1.3.13308And why thou com'st thus knightly clad in arms,

1.3.14309Against what man thou com'st, and what thy quarrel.

1.3.15310Speak truly on thy knighthood and thy oath,

1.3.16311As so defend thee heaven and thy valor!

My name is Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,

1.3.18313Who hither come engagèd by my oath --

1.3.19314Which God defend a knight should violate! --

1.3.20315Both to defend my loyalty and truth

1.3.21316To God, my king, and my succeeding issue,

1.3.22317Against the Duke of Hereford that appeals me,

1.3.23318And by the grace of God and this mine arm

1.3.24319To prove him, in defending of myself,

1.3.25320A traitor to my God, my king, and me;

1.3.26321And as I truly fight, defend me heaven!

Marshal, ask yonder knight in arms

1.3.28324Both who he is and why he cometh hither

1.3.29325Thus plated in habiliments of war,

1.3.30326And formally, according to our law,

1.3.31327Depose him in the justice of his cause.

[To Bolingbroke] What is thy name? And wherefore com'st thou hither,

1.3.33329Before King Richard in his royal lists?

1.3.34330Against whom com'st thou? And what's thy quarrel?

1.3.35331Speak like a true knight, so defend thee heaven!

Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby

1.3.37333Am I, who ready here do stand in arms

1.3.38334To prove, by God's grace and my body's valor,

1.3.39335In lists, on Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,

1.3.40336That he is a traitor foul and dangerous

1.3.41337To God of heaven, King Richard, and to me.

1.3.42338And as I truly fight, defend me heaven!

On pain of death, no person be so bold

1.3.44340Or daring-hardy as to touch the lists,

1.3.45341Except the Marshal and such officers

1.3.46342Appointed to direct these fair designs.

[Standing] Lord Marshal, let me kiss my sovereign's hand

1.3.48344And bow my knee before his majesty;

1.3.49345For Mowbray and myself are like two men

1.3.50346That vow a long and weary pilgrimage.

1.3.51347Then let us take a ceremonious leave

1.3.52348And loving farewell of our several friends.

[To King Richard] The appellant in all duty greets your highness,

1.3.54350And craves to kiss your hand and take his leave.

We will descend and fold him in our arms.

1.3.56352Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause is right,

1.3.57353So be thy fortune in this royal fight.

1.3.58354Farewell, my blood, which if today thou shed,

1.3.59355Lament we may, but not revenge thee dead.

Oh, let no noble eye profane a tear

1.3.61357For me, if I be gored with Mowbray's spear.

1.3.62358As confident as is the falcon's flight

1.3.63359Against a bird do I with Mowbray fight. --

1.3.64360[To lord Marshal] My loving lord, I take my leave of you. --

1.3.65361[To Aumerle] Of you, my noble cousin, lord Aumerle;

1.3.66362Not sick, although I have to do with death,

1.3.67363But lusty, young, and cheerly drawing breath. --

1.3.68364Lo, as at English feasts, so I regreet

1.3.69365The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet.

1.3.70366[To Gaunt, kneeling] O thou, the earthly author of my blood,

1.3.71367Whose youthful spirit, in me regenerate,

1.3.72368Doth with a twofold vigor lift me up

1.3.73369To reach at victory above my head,

1.3.74370Add proof unto mine armor with thy prayers,

1.3.75371And with thy blessings steel my lance's point

1.3.76372That it may enter Mowbray's waxen coat

1.3.77373And furbish new the name of John o'Gaunt,

1.3.78374Even in the lusty havior of his son.

God in thy good cause make thee prosperous!

1.3.80376Be swift like lightning in the execution,

1.3.81377And let thy blows, doubly redoublèd,

1.3.82378Fall like amazing thunder on the casque

1.3.83379Of thy adverse pernicious enemy.

1.3.84380Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant, and live.

[Standing] Mine innocence and Saint George to thrive!

[Standing] However God or Fortune cast my lot,

1.3.87383There lives or dies, true to King Richard's throne,

1.3.88384A loyal, just, and upright gentleman.

1.3.89385Never did captive with a freer heart

1.3.90386Cast off his chains of bondage and embrace

1.3.91387His golden uncontrolled enfranchisement

1.3.92388More than my dancing soul doth celebrate

1.3.93389This feast of battle with mine adversary.

1.3.94390Most mighty liege, and my companion peers,

1.3.95391Take from my mouth the wish of happy years.

1.3.96392As gentle and as jocund as to jest

1.3.97393Go I to fight. Truth hath a quiet breast.

Farewell, my lord. Securely I espy

1.3.99395Virtue with valor couchèd in thine eye. --

1.3.100396Order the trial, Marshal, and begin.

Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby,

1.3.102398Receive thy lance; and God defend the right!

Strong as a tower in hope, I cry "Amen!"

[To the attendant] Go bear this lance to Thomas, Duke of Norfolk.

Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby

1.3.106402Stands here for God, his sovereign, and himself,

1.3.107403On pain to be found false and recreant,

1.3.108404To prove the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray,

1.3.109405A traitor to his God, his king, and him,

1.3.110406And dares him to set forward to the fight.

Here standeth Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,

1.3.112408On pain to be found false and recreant,

1.3.113409Both to defend himself, and to approve

1.3.114410Henry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby

1.3.115411To God, his sovereign, and to him disloyal,

1.3.116412Courageously, and with a free desire,

1.3.117413Attending but the signal to begin.

Sound trumpets, and set forward combatants.

1.3.119415Stay! The King hath thrown his warder down.

Let them lay by their helmets and their spears,

1.3.121417And both return back to their chairs again.

1.3.122418[To his council] Withdraw with us, and let the trumpets sound

1.3.123419While we return these dukes what we decree.

1.3.124421Draw near,

1.3.125422And list what with our council we have done.

1.3.126423For that our kingdom's earth should not be soiled

1.3.127424With that dear blood which it hath fosterèd:

1.3.128425And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect

1.3.129426Of civil wounds plowed up with neighbor's sword;

1.3.130426.1And for we think the eagle-wingèd pride

1.3.131426.2Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts,

1.3.132426.3With rival-hating envy, set on you

1.3.133426.4To wake our peace, which in our country's cradle

1.3.134426.5Draws the sweet infant breath of gentle sleep,

1.3.135427Which so roused up with boist'rous untuned drums,

1.3.136428With harsh-resounding trumpets' dreadful bray

1.3.137429And grating shock of wrathful iron arms,

1.3.138430Might from our quiet confines fright fair peace

1.3.139431And make us wade even in our kindred's blood:

1.3.140432Therefore we banish you our territories. --

1.3.141433You, cousin Hereford, upon pain of life,

1.3.142434Till twice five summers have enriched our fields,

1.3.143435Shall not regreet our fair dominions,

1.3.144436But tread the stranger paths of banishment.

Your will be done. This must my comfort be:

1.3.146438That sun that warms you here shall shine on me,

1.3.147439And those his golden beams to you here lent

1.3.148440Shall point on me and gild my banishment.

Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier doom,

1.3.150442Which I with some unwillingness pronounce:

1.3.151443The sly, slow hours shall not determinate

1.3.152444The dateless limit of thy dear exile.

1.3.153445The hopeless word of "never to return"

1.3.154446Breathe I against thee, upon pain of life.

A heavy sentence, my most sovereign liege,

1.3.156448And all unlooked-for from your highness' mouth.

1.3.157449A dearer merit, not so deep a maim

1.3.158450As to be cast forth in the common air,

1.3.159451Have I deservèd at your highness' hands.

1.3.160452The language I have learnt these forty years,

1.3.161453My native English, now I must forgo;

1.3.162454And now my tongue's use is to me no more

1.3.163455Than an unstringèd viol or a harp,

1.3.164456Or like a cunning instrument cased up,

1.3.165457Or, being open, put into his hands

1.3.166458That knows no touch to tune the harmony.

1.3.167459Within my mouth you have enjailed my tongue,

1.3.168460Doubly portcullised with my teeth and lips,

1.3.169461And dull unfeeling barren ignorance

1.3.170462Is made my jailer to attend on me.

1.3.171463I am too old to fawn upon a nurse,

1.3.172464Too far in years to be a pupil now.

1.3.173465What is thy sentence then but speechless death,

1.3.174466Which robs my tongue from breathing native breath?

It boots thee not to be compassionate.

1.3.176468After our sentence, plaining comes too late.

Then thus I turn me from my country's light,

1.3.178470To dwell in solemn shades of endless night.

[To Mowbray] Return again, and take an oath with thee.

1.3.180472[To Mowbray and Bolingbroke] Lay on our royal sword your banished hands.

1.3.181473Swear by the duty that you owe to God --

1.3.182474Our part therein we banish with yourselves --

1.3.183475To keep the oath that we administer:

1.3.184476You never shall, so help you truth and God,

1.3.185477Embrace each other's love in banishment,

1.3.186478Nor never look upon each other's face,

1.3.187479Nor never write, regreet, nor reconcile

1.3.188480This louring tempest of your home-bred hate,

1.3.189481Nor never by advisèd purpose meet

1.3.190482To plot, contrive, or complot any ill

1.3.191483'Gainst us, our state, our subjects, or our land.

I swear.

I swear. And I, to keep all this.

Norfolk, so far as to mine enemy:

1.3.195487By this time, had the King permitted us,

1.3.196488One of our souls had wandered in the air,

1.3.197489Banished this frail sepulcher of our flesh,

1.3.198490As now our flesh is banished from this land.

1.3.199491Confess thy treasons ere thou fly the realm.

1.3.200492Since thou hast far to go, bear not along

1.3.201493The clogging burden of a guilty soul.

No, Bolingbroke, if ever I were traitor,

1.3.203495My name be blotted from the book of life,

1.3.204496And I from heaven banished as from hence!

1.3.205497But what thou art, God, thou, and I do know;

1.3.206498And all too soon, I fear, the King shall rue. --

1.3.207499Farewell, my liege. Now no way can I stray;

500Save back to England, all the world's my way.

[To Gaunt] Uncle, even in the glasses of thine eyes

1.3.209502I see thy grievèd heart. Thy sad aspect

1.3.210503Hath from the number of his banished years

1.3.211504Plucked four away.[To Bolingbroke] Six frozen winters spent,

1.3.212505Return with welcome home from banishment.

How long a time lies in one little word!

1.3.214507Four lagging winters and four wanton springs

1.3.215508End in a word: such is the breath of kings.

I thank my liege that in regard of me

1.3.217510He shortens four years of my son's exile.

1.3.218511But little vantage shall I reap thereby,

1.3.219512For ere the six years that he hath to spend

1.3.220513Can change their moons and bring their times about,

1.3.221514My oil-dried lamp, and time-bewasted light

1.3.222515Shall be extinct with age and endless night.

1.3.223516My inch of taper will be burnt and done,

1.3.224517And blindfold death not let me see my son.

Why, uncle, thou hast many years to live.

But not a minute, King, that thou canst give.

1.3.227520Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow,

1.3.228521And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow.

1.3.229522Thou canst help time to furrow me with age,

1.3.230523But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage.

1.3.231524Thy word is current with him for my death,

1.3.232525But dead, thy kingdom cannot buy my breath.

Thy son is banished upon good advice,

1.3.234527Whereto thy tongue a party verdict gave.

1.3.235528Why at our justice seem'st thou then to lour?

Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour.

1.3.237530You urged me as a judge, but I had rather

1.3.238531You would have bid me argue like a father.

1.3.239531.1Oh, had it been a stranger, not my child,

1.3.240531.2To smooth his fault I should have been more mild.

1.3.241531.3A partial slander sought I to avoid,

1.3.242531.4And in the sentence my own life destroyed.

1.3.243532Alas, I looked when some of you should say

1.3.244533I was too strict to make mine own away;

1.3.245534But you gave leave to my unwilling tongue

1.3.246535Against my will to do myself this wrong.

[To Bolingbroke] Cousin, farewell. -- And, uncle, bid him so.

1.3.248537Six years we banish him, and he shall go.

[To Bolingbroke] Cousin, farewell. What presence must not know,

1.3.250540From where you do remain let paper show.[Exit.]

[To Bolingbroke] My lord, no leave take I, for I will ride,

1.3.252542As far as land will let me, by your side.

Oh, to what purpose dost thou hoard thy words,

1.3.254544That thou return'st no greeting to thy friends?

I have too few to take my leave of you,

1.3.256546When the tongue's office should be prodigal

1.3.257547To breathe the abundant dolor of the heart.

Thy grief is but thy absence for a time.

Joy absent, grief is present for that time.

What is six winters? They are quickly gone.

To men in joy; but grief makes one hour ten.

Call it a travel that thou tak'st for pleasure.

My heart will sigh when I miscall it so,

1.3.264554Which finds it an enforcèd pilgrimage.

The sullen passage of thy weary steps

1.3.266556Esteem as foil wherein thou art to set

1.3.267557The precious jewel of thy home return.

Nay, rather every tedious stride I make

1.3.269557.2Will but remember me what a deal of world

1.3.270557.3I wander from the jewels that I love.

1.3.271557.4Must I not serve a long apprenticehood

1.3.272557.5To foreign passages, and in the end,

1.3.273557.6Having my freedom, boast of nothing else

1.3.274557.7But that I was a journeyman to grief.

All places that the eye of heaven visits

1.3.276557.9Are to a wise man ports and happy havens.

1.3.277557.10Teach thy necessity to reason thus:

1.3.278557.11There is no virtue like necessity.

1.3.279557.12Think not the King did banish thee,

1.3.280557.13But thou the King. Woe doth the heavier sit,

1.3.281557.14Where it perceives it is but faintly borne.

1.3.282557.15Go, say I sent thee forth to purchase honor,

1.3.283557.16And not, the King exiled thee; or suppose

1.3.284557.17Devouring pestilence hangs in our air,

1.3.285557.18And thou art flying to a fresher clime.

1.3.286557.19Look what thy soul holds dear, imagine it

1.3.287557.20To lie that way thou goest, not whence thou com'st.

1.3.288557.21Suppose the singing birds musicians,

1.3.289557.22The grass whereon thou tread'st the presence strewed,

1.3.290557.23The flowers fair ladies, and thy steps no more

1.3.291557.24Than a delightful measure or a dance;

1.3.292557.25For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite

1.3.293557.26The man that mocks at it and sets it light.

Oh, who can hold a fire in his hand

1.3.295559By thinking on the frosty Caucasus?

1.3.296560Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite

1.3.297561By bare imagination of a feast?

1.3.298562Or wallow naked in December snow

1.3.299563By thinking on fantastic summer's heat?

1.3.300564Oh no, the apprehension of the good

1.3.301565Gives but the greater feeling to the worse.

1.3.302566Fell sorrow's tooth doth never rankle more

1.3.303567Than when he bites but lanceth not the sore.

Come, come, my son, I'll bring thee on thy way.

1.3.305569Had I thy youth and cause, I would not stay.

Then, England's ground, farewell! Sweet soil, adieu,

1.3.307571My mother and my nurse that bears me yet!

1.3.308572Where'er I wander, boast of this I can,

573Though banished, yet a trueborn Englishman.Exeunt [Gaunt and Bolingbroke, followed by lord Marshal].

We did observe. -- Cousin Aumerle,

1.4.3577How far brought you high Hereford on his way?

I brought high Hereford, if you call him so,

1.4.5579But to the next highway, and there I left him.

And say, what store of parting tears were shed?

Faith, none for me, except the northeast wind,

1.4.8582Which then blew bitterly against our faces,

1.4.9583Awaked the sleeping rheum, and so by chance

1.4.10584Did grace our hollow parting with a tear.

What said our cousin when you parted with him?

1.4.12.1"Farewell." --

And, for my heart disdainèd that my tongue

1.4.13587Should so profane the word, that taught me craft

1.4.14588To counterfeit oppression of such grief

1.4.15589That words seemed buried in my sorrow's grave.

1.4.16590Marry, would the word "farewell" have lengthened hours

1.4.17591And added years to his short banishment,

1.4.18592He should have had a volume of farewells;

1.4.19593But since it would not, he had none of me.

He is our cousin, cousin; but 'tis doubt,

1.4.21595When time shall call him home from banishment,

1.4.22596Whether our kinsman come to see his friends.

1.4.23597Ourself and Bushy, Bagot here, and Green

1.4.24598Observed his courtship to the common people.

1.4.25599How he did seem to dive into their hearts

1.4.26600With humble and familiar courtesy.

1.4.27601What reverence he did throw away on slaves,

1.4.28602Wooing poor craftsmen with the craft of smiles

1.4.29603And patient underbearing of his fortune,

1.4.30604As 'twere to banish their affects with him.

1.4.31605Off goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench.

1.4.32606A brace of draymen bid God speed him well,

1.4.33607And had the tribute of his supple knee

1.4.34608With "Thanks, my countrymen, my loving friends,"

1.4.35609As were our England in reversion his,

1.4.36610And he our subjects' next degree in hope.

Well, he is gone, and with him go these thoughts.

1.4.38612Now for the rebels which stand out in Ireland,

1.4.39613Expedient manage must be made, my liege,

1.4.40614Ere further leisure yield them further means

1.4.41615For their advantage and your highness' loss.

We will ourself in person to this war.

1.4.43617And, for our coffers, with too great a court

1.4.44618And liberal largess, are grown somewhat light,

1.4.45619We are enforced to farm our royal realm,

1.4.46620The revenue whereof shall furnish us

1.4.47621For our affairs in hand. If that come short,

1.4.48622Our substitutes at home shall have blank charters,

1.4.49623Whereto, when they shall know what men are rich,

1.4.50624They shall subscribe them for large sums of gold

1.4.51625And send them after to supply our wants;

1.4.52626For we will make for Ireland presently.

628Bushy, what news?

Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, my lord,

1.4.54630Suddenly taken, and hath sent post-haste

1.4.55631To entreat your majesty to visit him.

Where lies he?

At Ely house.

Now put it, God, in the physician's mind

1.4.59635To help him to his grave immediately!

1.4.60636The lining of his coffers shall make coats

1.4.61637To deck our soldiers for these Irish wars.

1.4.62638Come, gentlemen, let's all go visit him.

1.4.63639Pray God we may make haste and come too late!

Amen!

Will the King come, that I may breathe my last

2.1.2643In wholesome counsel to his unstaid youth?

Vex not yourself, nor strive not with your breath,

2.1.4645For all in vain comes counsel to his ear.

Oh, but they say the tongues of dying men

2.1.6647Enforce attention like deep harmony.

2.1.7648Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain,

2.1.8649For they breathe truth that breathe their words in pain.

2.1.9650He that no more must say is listened more

2.1.10651Than they whom youth and ease have taught to gloze,

2.1.11652More are men's ends marked than their lives before.

2.1.12653The setting sun, and music at the close,

2.1.13654As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last,

2.1.14655Writ in remembrance more than things long past.

2.1.15656Though Richard my life's counsel would not hear,

2.1.16657My death's sad tale may yet undeaf his ear.

No, it is stopped with other, flattering sounds,

2.1.18659As praises, of whose taste the wise are fond;

2.1.19660Lascivious meters, to whose venom sound

2.1.20661The open ear of youth doth always listen;

2.1.21662Report of fashions in proud Italy,

2.1.22663Whose manners still our tardy-apish nation

2.1.23664Limps after in base imitation.

2.1.24665Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity --

2.1.25666So it be new, there's no respect how vile --

2.1.26667That is not quickly buzzed into his ears?

2.1.27668Then all too late comes counsel to be heard,

2.1.28669Where will doth mutiny with wit's regard.

2.1.29670Direct not him whose way himself will choose.

2.1.30671'Tis breath thou lack'st, and that breath wilt thou lose.

Methinks I am a prophet new inspired,

2.1.32673And thus, expiring, do foretell of him.

2.1.33674His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last,

2.1.34675For violent fires soon burn out themselves;

2.1.35676Small show'rs last long, but sudden storms are short;

2.1.36677He tires betimes that spurs too fast betimes;

2.1.37678With eager feeding food doth choke the feeder;

2.1.38679Light vanity, insatiate cormorant,

2.1.39680Consuming means, soon preys upon itself.

2.1.40681This royal throne of kings, this sceptered isle,

2.1.41682This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,

2.1.42683This other Eden, demi-paradise,

2.1.43684This fortress built by nature for herself

2.1.44685Against infection and the hand of war,

2.1.45686This happy breed of men, this little world,

2.1.46687This precious stone set in the silver sea,

2.1.47688Which serves it in the office of a wall,

2.1.48689Or as a moat defensive to a house,

2.1.49690Against the envy of less happier lands,

2.1.50691This blessèd plot, this earth, this realm, this England,

2.1.51692This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings,

2.1.52693Feared by their breed and famous by their birth,

2.1.53694Renownèd for their deeds as far from home

2.1.54695For Christian service and true chivalry

2.1.55696As is the sepulcher in stubborn Jewry

2.1.56697Of the world's ransom, blessèd Mary's son,

2.1.57698This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land,

2.1.58699Dear for her reputation through the world,

2.1.59700Is now leased out -- I die pronouncing it --

2.1.60701Like to a tenement or pelting farm.

2.1.61702England, bound in with the triumphant sea,

2.1.62703Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege

2.1.63704Of wat'ry Neptune, is now bound in with shame,

2.1.64705With inky blots and rotten parchment bonds.

2.1.65706That England that was wont to conquer others

2.1.66707Hath made a shameful conquest of itself.

2.1.67708Ah, would the scandal vanish with my life,

2.1.68709How happy then were my ensuing death!

The King is come. Deal mildly with his youth,

2.1.70713For young hot colts, being raged, do rage the more.

How fares our noble uncle Lancaster?

What comfort, man? How is't with agèd Gaunt?

Oh, how that name befits my composition!

2.1.74717Old Gaunt indeed, and gaunt in being old.

2.1.75718Within me grief hath kept a tedious fast,

2.1.76719And who abstains from meat that is not gaunt?

2.1.77720For sleeping England long time have I watched;

2.1.78721Watching breeds leanness, leanness is all gaunt.

2.1.79722The pleasure that some fathers feed upon

2.1.80723Is my strict fast -- I mean, my children's looks --

2.1.81724And therein fasting, hast thou made me gaunt.

2.1.82725Gaunt am I for the grave, gaunt as a grave,

2.1.83726Whose hollow womb inherits naught but bones.

Can sick men play so nicely with their names?

No, misery makes sport to mock itself.

2.1.86729Since thou dost seek to kill my name in me,

2.1.87730I mock my name, great King, to flatter thee.

Should dying men flatter with those that live?

No, no, men living flatter those that die.

Thou, now a-dying, sayest thou flatterest me.

Oh, no, thou diest, though I the sicker be.

I am in health, I breathe, and see thee ill.

Now He that made me knows I see thee ill,

2.1.94737Ill in myself to see, and in thee, seeing ill.

2.1.95738Thy deathbed is no lesser than thy land,

2.1.96739Wherein thou liest in reputation sick;

2.1.97740And thou, too careless patient as thou art,

2.1.98741Commit'st thy anointed body to the cure

2.1.99742Of those physicians that first wounded thee.

2.1.100743A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown,

2.1.101744Whose compass is no bigger than thy head,

2.1.102745And yet, encagèd in so small a verge,

2.1.103746The waste is no whit lesser than thy land.

2.1.104747Oh, had thy grandsire, with a prophet's eye,

2.1.105748Seen how his son's son should destroy his sons,

2.1.106749From forth thy reach he would have laid thy shame,

2.1.107750Deposing thee before thou wert possessed,

2.1.108751Which art possessed now to depose thyself.

2.1.109752Why, cousin, wert thou regent of the world,

2.1.110753It were a shame to let this land by lease;

2.1.111754But, for thy world enjoying but this land,

2.1.112755Is it not more than shame to shame it so?

2.1.113756Landlord of England art thou now, not king.

2.1.114757Thy state of law is bondslave to the law,

2.1.115758And thou --

And thou -- A lunatic lean-witted fool,

2.1.117760Presuming on an ague's privilege,

2.1.118761Dar'st with thy frozen admonition

2.1.119762Make pale our cheek, chasing the royal blood

2.1.120763With fury from his native residence.

2.1.121764Now, by my seat's right royal majesty,

2.1.122765Wert thou not brother to great Edward's son,

2.1.123766This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head

2.1.124767Should run thy head from thy unreverent shoulders.

Oh, spare me not, my brother Edward's son,

2.1.126769For that I was his father Edward's son!

2.1.127770That blood already, like the pelican,

2.1.128771Hast thou tapped out and drunkenly caroused.

2.1.129772My brother Gloucester -- plain well-meaning soul,

2.1.130773Whom fair befall in heaven 'mongst happy souls --

2.1.131774May be a precedent and witness good

2.1.132775That thou respect'st not spilling Edward's blood.

2.1.133776Join with the present sickness that I have,

2.1.134777And thy unkindness be like crooked age,

2.1.135778To crop at once a too long withered flower.

2.1.136779Live in thy shame, but die not shame with thee!

2.1.137780These words hereafter thy tormentors be! --

2.1.138781Convey me to my bed, then to my grave.

2.1.139782Love they to live that love and honor have.

And let them die that age and sullens have,

2.1.141784For both hast thou, and both become the grave.

I do beseech your majesty, impute his words

2.1.143786To wayward sickliness and age in him.

2.1.144787He loves you, on my life, and holds you dear

2.1.145788As Harry, Duke of Hereford, were he here.

Right, you say true: As Hereford's love, so his;

2.1.147790As theirs, so mine; and all be as it is!

My liege, old Gaunt commends him to your majesty.

What says he?

What says he? Nay, nothing; all is said.

2.1.151796His tongue is now a stringless instrument;

2.1.152797Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent.

Be York the next that must be bankrupt so!

2.1.154799Though death be poor, it ends a mortal woe.

The ripest fruit first falls, and so doth he;

2.1.156801His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be.

2.1.157802So much for that. Now for our Irish wars:

2.1.158803We must supplant those rough rug-headed kerns,

2.1.159804Which live like venom where no venom else

2.1.160805But only they have privilege to live.

2.1.161806And for these great affairs do ask some charge,

2.1.162807Towards our assistance we do seize to us

2.1.163808The plate, coin, revenues, and movables

2.1.164809Whereof our uncle Gaunt did stand possessed.

How long shall I be patient? Ah, how long

2.1.166811Shall tender duty make me suffer wrong?

2.1.167812Not Gloucester's death, nor Hereford's banishment,

2.1.168813Nor Gaunt's rebukes, nor England's private wrongs,

2.1.169814Nor the prevention of poor Bolingbroke

2.1.170815About his marriage, nor my own disgrace,

2.1.171816Have ever made me sour my patient cheek,

2.1.172817Or bend one wrinkle on my sovereign's face.

2.1.173818I am the last of noble Edward's sons,

2.1.174819Of whom thy father, Prince of Wales, was first.

2.1.175820In war was never lion raged more fierce,

2.1.176821In peace was never gentle lamb more mild,

2.1.177822Than was that young and princely gentleman.

2.1.178823His face thou hast, for even so looked he,

2.1.179824Accomplished with the number of thy hours;

2.1.180825But when he frowned, it was against the French

2.1.181826And not against his friends. His noble hand

2.1.182827Did win what he did spend, and spent not that

2.1.183828Which his triumphant father's hand had won.

2.1.184829His hands were guilty of no kindred blood,

2.1.185830But bloody with the enemies of his kin.

2.1.186831Oh, Richard! York is too far gone with grief,

2.1.187832Or else he never would compare between.

Why, uncle, what's the matter?

Why, uncle, what's the matter? O my liege,

2.1.189Pardon me, if you please. If not, I, pleased

2.1.190836 Not to be pardoned, am content withal.

2.1.191837Seek you to seize and gripe into your hands

2.1.192838The royalties and rights of banished Hereford?

2.1.193839Is not Gaunt dead? And doth not Hereford live?

2.1.194840Was not Gaunt just? And is not Harry true?

2.1.195841Did not the one deserve to have an heir?

2.1.196842Is not his heir a well-deserving son?

2.1.197843Take Hereford's rights away, and take from time

2.1.198844His charters and his customary rights;

2.1.199845Let not tomorrow then ensue today;

2.1.200846Be not thyself! For how art thou a king

2.1.201847But by fair sequence and succession?

2.1.202848Now, afore God -- God forbid I say true! --

2.1.203849If you do wrongfully seize Hereford's rights,

2.1.204850Call in the letters patents that he hath

2.1.205851By his attorneys general to sue

2.1.206852His livery, and deny his offered homage,

2.1.207853You pluck a thousand dangers on your head,

2.1.208854You lose a thousand well-disposèd hearts,

2.1.209855And prick my tender patience to those thoughts

2.1.210856Which honor and allegiance cannot think.

Think what you will, we seize into our hands

2.1.212858His plate, his goods, his money, and his lands.

I'll not be by the while. My liege, farewell.

2.1.214860What will ensue hereof there's none can tell;

2.1.215861But by bad courses may be understood

862That their events can never fall out good.

Go, Bushy, to the Earl of Wiltshire straight.

2.1.217864Bid him repair to us to Ely House

2.1.218865To see this business. Tomorrow next

2.1.219866We will for Ireland, and 'tis time, I trow.

2.1.220867And we create, in absence of ourself,

2.1.221868Our uncle York, lord Governor of England;

2.1.222869For he is just and always loved us well. --

2.1.223870Come on, our queen. Tomorrow must we part.

2.1.224871Be merry, for our time of stay is short.

Well, lords, the Duke of Lancaster is dead.

And living too, for now his son is duke.

Barely in title, not in revenues.

Richly in both, if Justice had her right.

My heart is great, but it must break with silence

2.1.230878Ere't be disburdened with a liberal tongue.

Nay, speak thy mind, and let him ne'er speak more

2.1.232880That speaks thy words again to do thee harm!

[To Ross] Tends that thou wouldst speak to the Duke of Hereford?

2.1.234882If it be so, out with it boldly, man!

2.1.235883Quick is mine ear to hear of good towards him.

No good at all that I can do for him,

2.1.237885Unless you call it good to pity him,

2.1.238886Bereft and gelded of his patrimony.

Now, afore God, 'tis shame such wrongs are borne

2.1.240889In him, a royal prince, and many more,

2.1.241890Of noble blood in this declining land.

2.1.242891The King is not himself, but basely led

2.1.243892By flatterers; and what they will inform

2.1.244893Merely in hate, 'gainst any of us all,

2.1.245894That will the King severely prosecute

2.1.246895'Gainst us, our lives, our children, and our heirs.

The commons hath he pilled with grievous taxes,

2.1.248897And quite lost their hearts. The nobles hath he fined

2.1.249898For ancient quarrels, and quite lost their hearts.

And daily new exactions are devised,

2.1.251900As blanks, benevolences, and I wot not what.

2.1.252901But what, a God's name, doth become of this?

Wars hath not wasted it, for warred he hath not,

2.1.254903But basely yielded upon compromise

2.1.255904That which his noble ancestors achieved with blows.

2.1.256905More hath he spent in peace than they in wars.

The Earl of Wiltshire hath the realm in farm.

The King grown bankrupt like a broken man.

Reproach and dissolution hangeth over him.

He hath not money for these Irish wars,

2.1.261910His burdenous taxations notwithstanding,

2.1.262911But by the robbing of the banished Duke.

His noble kinsman. Most degenerate King!

2.1.264913But, lords, we hear this fearful tempest sing,

2.1.265914Yet seek no shelter to avoid the storm.

2.1.266915We see the wind sit sore upon our sails,

2.1.267916And yet we strike not, but securely perish.

We see the very wrack that we must suffer,

2.1.269918And unavoided is the danger now

2.1.270919For suffering so the causes of our wrack.

Not so. Even through the hollow eyes of death

2.1.272921I spy life peering; but I dare not say

2.1.273922How near the tidings of our comfort is.

Nay, let us share thy thoughts, as thou dost ours.

Be confident to speak, Northumberland.

2.1.276925We three are but thyself, and speaking so,

2.1.277926Thy words are but as thoughts. Therefore be bold.

Then thus: I have from Le Port Blanc,

2.1.279928A bay in Brittany, received intelligence

2.1.280929That Harry, Duke of Hereford, Rainold, lord Cobham,

2.1.280.1Thomas, son and heir to the Earl of Arundel,

2.1.281930That late broke from the Duke of Exeter,

2.1.282931His brother, Archbishop late of Canterbury,

2.1.283932Sir Thomas Erpingham, Sir John Ramston,

2.1.284933Sir John Norbery, Sir Robert Waterton, and Francis Coint.

2.1.285934All these well furnished by the Duke of Brittany

2.1.286935With eight tall ships, three thousand men of war,

2.1.287936Are making hither with all due expedience

2.1.288937And shortly mean to touch our northern shore.

2.1.289938Perhaps they had ere this, but that they stay

2.1.290939The first departing of the King for Ireland.

2.1.291940If then we shall shake off our slavish yoke,

2.1.292941Imp out our drooping country's broken wing,

2.1.293942Redeem from broking pawn the blemished crown,

2.1.294943Wipe off the dust that hides our scepter's gilt,

2.1.295944And make high majesty look like itself,

2.1.296945Away with me in post to Ravenspurgh.

2.1.297946But if you faint, as fearing to do so,

2.1.298947Stay and be secret, and myself will go.

To horse, to horse! Urge doubts to them that fear.

Hold out my horse, and I will first be there.

Madam, your majesty is too much sad.

2.2.2954You promised, when you parted with the King,

2.2.3955To lay aside life-harming heaviness

2.2.4956And entertain a cheerful disposition.

To please the King I did; to please myself

2.2.6958I cannot do it. Yet I know no cause

2.2.7959Why I should welcome such a guest as Grief,

2.2.8960Save bidding farewell to so sweet a guest

2.2.9961As my sweet Richard. Yet again, methinks

2.2.10962Some unborn sorrow ripe in Fortune's womb

2.2.11963Is coming towards me, and my inward soul

2.2.12964With nothing trembles. At something it grieves

2.2.13965More than with parting from my lord the King.

Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows

2.2.15967Which shows like grief itself, but is not so;

2.2.16968For Sorrow's eyes, glazèd with blinding tears,

2.2.17969Divides one thing entire to many objects,

2.2.18970Like perspectives, which rightly gazed upon

2.2.19971Show nothing but confusion; eyed awry,

2.2.20972Distinguish form. So your sweet Majesty,

2.2.21973Looking awry upon your lord's departure,

2.2.22974Find shapes of grief more than himself to wail,

2.2.23975Which, looked on as it is, is naught but shadows

2.2.24976Of what it is not. Then, thrice-gracious Queen,

2.2.25977More than your lord's departure weep not. More is not seen,

2.2.26978Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrow's eye,

2.2.27979Which for things true weeps things imaginary.

It may be so; but yet my inward soul

2.2.29981Persuades me it is otherwise. Howe'er it be,

2.2.30982I cannot but be sad -- so heavy sad

2.2.31983As thought, on thinking on no thought I think,

2.2.32984Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink.

'Tis nothing but conceit, my gracious lady.

'Tis nothing less. Conceit is still derived

2.2.35987From some forefather grief. Mine is not so,

2.2.36988For nothing hath begot my something grief --

2.2.37989Or something hath the nothing that I grieve.

2.2.38990'Tis in reversion that I do possess;

2.2.39991But what it is, that is not yet known. "What"

2.2.40992I cannot name. 'Tis nameless woe, I wot.

God save your majesty! -- And well met, gentlemen.

2.2.42995I hope the King is not yet shipped for Ireland.

Why hop'st thou so? 'Tis better hope he is;

2.2.44997For his designs crave haste, his haste good hope.

2.2.45998Then wherefore dost thou hope he is not shipped?

That he, our hope, might have retired his power

2.2.471000And driven into despair an enemy's hope,

2.2.481001Who strongly hath set footing in this land.

2.2.491002The banished Bolingbroke repeals himself,

2.2.501003And with uplifted arms is safe arrived

2.2.511005At Ravenspurgh.

At Ravenspurgh. Now God in heaven forbid!

Ah, madam, 'tis too true; and, that is worse,

2.2.531007The lord Northumberland, his son young Harry Percy,

2.2.541008The lords of Ross, Beaumont, and Willoughby,

2.2.551009With all their powerful friends, are fled to him.

Why have you not proclaimed Northumberland

2.2.571011And all the rest revolted faction traitors?

We have; whereupon the Earl of Worcester

2.2.591013Hath broken his staff, resigned his stewardship,

2.2.601014And all the Household servants fled with him

2.2.611015To Bolingbroke.

So, Green, thou art the midwife to my woe,

2.2.621016And Bolingbroke my sorrow's dismal heir.

2.2.631017Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy,

2.2.641018And I, a gasping new-delivered mother,

2.2.651019Have woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow joined.

Despair not, madam.

Despair not, madam. Who shall hinder me?

2.2.681022I will despair, and be at enmity

2.2.691023With cozening Hope. He is a flatterer,

2.2.701024A parasite, a keeper-back of Death,

2.2.711025Who gently would dissolve the bands of life,

2.2.721026Which false Hope lingers in extremity.

Here comes the Duke of York.

With signs of war about his agèd neck.

2.2.751030Oh, full of careful business are his looks! --

2.2.761031Uncle, for God's sake, speak comfortable words.

Should I do so, I should belie my thoughts.

2.2.781032Comfort's in heaven, and we are on the earth,

2.2.791033Where nothing lives but crosses, cares, and grief.

2.2.801034Your husband, he is gone to save far off,

2.2.811035Whilst others come to make him lose at home.

2.2.821036Here am I left to underprop his land,

2.2.831037Who, weak with age, cannot support myself.

2.2.841038Now comes the sick hour that his surfeit made;

2.2.851039Now shall he try his friends that flattered him.

My lord, your son was gone before I came.

He was? Why, so! Go all which way it will!

2.2.881043The nobles they are fled, the commons they are cold,

2.2.891044And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's side.

2.2.901045Sirrah, get thee to Pleshy, to my sister Gloucester;

2.2.911046Bid her send me presently a thousand pound.

2.2.921047Hold, take my ring.

My lord, I had forgot to tell your lordship:

2.2.941049Today, as I came by, I callèd there --

2.2.951050But I shall grieve you to report the rest.

What is't, knave?

An hour before I came, the Duchess died.

God for his mercy, what a tide of woes

2.2.991054Comes rushing on this woeful land at once!

2.2.1001055I know not what to do. I would to God,

2.2.1011056So my untruth had not provoked him to it,

2.2.1021057The King had cut off my head with my brother's.

2.2.1031058What, are there no posts dispatched for Ireland?

2.2.1041059How shall we do for money for these wars? --

2.2.1051060[To Queen] Come, sister -- cousin, I would say; pray pardon me. --

2.2.1061061[To Servingman] Go, fellow, get thee home. Provide some carts

2.2.1071062And bring away the armor that is there.[Exit Servingman.]

2.2.1081063[To Bushy, Bagot and Green] Gentlemen, will you go muster men?

2.2.1091064If I know how or which way to order these affairs

2.2.1101065Thus disorderly thrust into my hands,

2.2.1111066Never believe me. Both are my kinsmen.

2.2.1121067Th'one is my sovereign, whom both my oath

2.2.1131068And duty bids defend; th'other again

2.2.1141069Is my kinsman, whom the King hath wronged,

2.2.1151070Whom conscience and my kindred bids to right.

2.2.1161071Well, somewhat we must do. [To Queen.] Come, cousin,

2.2.1171072I'll dispose of you. -- Gentlemen, go muster up your men,

2.2.1181073And meet me presently at Berkeley Castle.

2.2.1191074I should to Pleshy too,

But time will not permit. All is uneven,

2.2.1201075 And everything is left at six and seven.

The wind sits fair for news to go for Ireland,

2.2.1221077But none returns. For us to levy power

2.2.1231078Proportionable to the enemy

Is all unpossible.

Besides, our nearness to the King in love

2.2.1251080Is near the hate of those love not the King.

And that is the wavering commons; for their love

2.2.1271082Lies in their purses, and whoso empties them

2.2.1281083By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate.

Wherein the King stands generally condemned.

If judgment lie in them, then so do we,

2.2.1311086Because we ever have been near the King.

Well, I will for refuge straight to Bristol Castle.

2.2.1331088The Earl of Wiltshire is already there.

Thither will I with you; for little office

2.2.1351090Will the hateful commons perform for us,

2.2.1361091Except like curs to tear us all to pieces. --

2.2.1371092[To Bagot] Will you go along with us?

No; I will to Ireland, to his majesty.

2.2.1391094Farewell. If heart's presages be not vain,

2.2.1401095We three here part that ne'er shall meet again.

That's as York thrives to beat back Bolingbroke.

Alas, poor Duke! The task he undertakes

2.2.1431098Is numb'ring sands and drinking oceans dry.

2.2.1441099Where one on his side fights, thousands will fly.

2.2.1451100Farewell at once, for once, for all, and ever.

Well, we may meet again.

Well, we may meet again. I fear me, never.

How far is it, my lord, to Berkeley now?

Believe me, noble lord,

2.3.31108I am a stranger here in Gloucestershire.

2.3.41109These high wild hills and rough uneven ways

2.3.51110Draws out our miles and makes them wearisome.

2.3.61111And yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar,

2.3.71112Making the hard way sweet and delectable.

2.3.81113But I bethink me what a weary way

2.3.91114From Ravenspurgh to Cotshall will be found

2.3.101115In Ross and Willoughby, wanting your company,

2.3.111116Which, I protest, hath very much beguiled

2.3.121117The tediousness and process of my travel.

2.3.131118But theirs is sweetened with the hope to have

2.3.141119The present benefit which I possess;

2.3.151120And hope to joy is little less in joy

2.3.161121Than hope enjoyed. By this the weary lords

2.3.171122Shall make their way seem short as mine hath done

2.3.181123By sight of what I have, your noble company.

Of much less value is my company

2.3.201125Than your good words. But who comes here?

It is my son, young Harry Percy,

2.3.221128Sent from my brother Worcester whencesoever. --

2.3.231129Harry, how fares your uncle?

I had thought, my lord, to have learned his health of you.

Why, is he not with the Queen?

No, my good lord. He hath forsook the court,

2.3.271134Broken his staff of office, and dispersed

2.3.281135The Household of the King.

What was his reason? He was not so resolved

2.3.301137When last we spake together.

Because your lordship was proclaimèd traitor,

2.3.321139But he, my lord, is gone to Ravenspurgh

2.3.331140To offer service to the Duke of Hereford,

2.3.341141And sent me over by Berkeley to discover

2.3.351142What power the Duke of York had levied there,

2.3.361143Then with directions to repair to Ravenspurgh.

Have you forgot the Duke of Hereford, boy?

No, my good lord, for that is not forgot

2.3.391146Which ne'er I did remember. To my knowledge,

2.3.401147I never in my life did look on him.

Then learn to know him now. This is the Duke.

[To Bolingbroke] My gracious lord, I tender you my service,

2.3.431151Such as it is, being tender, raw, and young,

2.3.441152Which elder days shall ripen and confirm

2.3.451153To more approvèd service and desert.

I thank thee, gentle Percy; and be sure

2.3.471155I count myself in nothing else so happy

2.3.481156As in a soul rememb'ring my good friends;

2.3.491157And as my fortune ripens with thy love,

2.3.501158It shall be still thy true love's recompense.

2.3.511159My heart this covenant makes; my hand thus seals it.

[To Percy] How far is it to Berkeley? And what stir

2.3.531161Keeps good old York there with his men of war?

There stands the castle by yon tuft of trees,

2.3.551163Manned with three hundred men, as I have heard;

2.3.561164And in it are the lords of York, Berkeley, and Seymour,

2.3.571165None else of name and noble estimate.

Here come the lords of Ross and Willoughby,

2.3.591168Bloody with spurring, fiery-red with haste.

Welcome, my lords. I wot your love pursues

2.3.611170A banished traitor. All my treasury

2.3.621171Is yet but unfelt thanks, which, more enriched,

2.3.631172Shall be your love and labor's recompense.

Your presence makes us rich, most noble lord.

And far surmounts our labor to attain it.

Evermore thank's the exchequer of the poor,

2.3.671176Which, till my infant fortune comes to years,

2.3.681177Stands for my bounty. But who comes here?

It is my lord of Berkeley, as I guess.

My lord of Hereford, my message is to you.

My lord, my answer is -- "to Lancaster,"

2.3.721182And I am come to seek that name in England,

2.3.731183And I must find that title in your tongue

2.3.741184Before I make reply to aught you say.

Mistake me not, my lord, 'tis not my meaning

2.3.761186To rase one title of your honor out.

2.3.771187To you, my lord, I come, what lord you will,

2.3.781188From the most gracious regent of this land,

2.3.791189The Duke of York, to know what pricks you on

2.3.801190To take advantage of the absent time

2.3.811191And fright our native peace with self-borne arms.

I shall not need transport my words by you.

2.3.831194Here comes his grace in person. -- My noble uncle!

Show me thy humble heart, and not thy knee,

2.3.851196Whose duty is deceivable and false.

[Standing] My gracious uncle --

Tut, tut!

2.3.87.1Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle.

2.3.881199I am no traitor's uncle, and that word "grace"

2.3.891200In an ungracious mouth is but profane.

2.3.901201Why have those banished and forbidden legs

2.3.911202Dared once to touch a dust of England's ground?

2.3.921203But then more "why": why have they dared to march

2.3.931204So many miles upon her peaceful bosom,

2.3.941205Frighting her pale-faced villages with war

2.3.951206And ostentation of despisèd arms?

2.3.961207Com'st thou because the anointed King is hence?

2.3.971208Why, foolish boy, the King is left behind,

2.3.981209And in my loyal bosom lies his power.

2.3.991210Were I but now the lord of such hot youth

2.3.1001211As when brave Gaunt, thy father, and myself

2.3.1011212Rescued the Black Prince, that young Mars of men,

2.3.1021213From forth the ranks of many thousand French,

2.3.1031214Oh, then, how quickly should this arm of mine,

2.3.1041215Now prisoner to the palsy, chastise thee

2.3.1051216And minister correction to thy fault!

My gracious uncle, let me know my fault.

2.3.1071218On what condition stands it and wherein?

Even in condition of the worst degree,

2.3.1091220In gross rebellion and detested treason.

2.3.1101221Thou art a banished man, and here art come,

2.3.1111222Before the expiration of thy time,

2.3.1121223In braving arms against thy sovereign.

As I was banished, I was banished Hereford;

2.3.1141225But as I come, I come for Lancaster.

2.3.1151226And, noble uncle, I beseech your grace

2.3.1161227Look on my wrongs with an indifferent eye.

2.3.1171228You are my father, for methinks in you

2.3.1181229I see old Gaunt alive. Oh, then, my father,

2.3.1191230Will you permit that I shall stand condemned

2.3.1201231A wandering vagabond, my rights and royalties

2.3.1211232Plucked from my arms perforce and given away

2.3.1221233To upstart unthrifts? Wherefore was I born?

2.3.1231234If that my cousin king be King in England,

2.3.1241235It must be granted I am Duke of Lancaster.

2.3.1251236You have a son, Aumerle, my noble cousin.

2.3.1261237Had you first died and he been thus trod down,

2.3.1271238He should have found his uncle Gaunt a father

2.3.1281239To rouse his wrongs and chase them to the bay.

2.3.1291240I am denied to sue my livery here,

2.3.1301241And yet my letters patents give me leave.

2.3.1311242My father's goods are all distrained and sold,

2.3.1321243And these, and all, are all amiss employed.

2.3.1331244What would you have me do? I am a subject,

2.3.1341245And I challenge law. Attorneys are denied me,

2.3.1351246And therefore personally I lay my claim

2.3.1361247To my inheritance of free descent.

[To York] The noble Duke hath been too much abused.

[To York] It stands your grace upon to do him right.

[To York] Base men by his endowments are made great.

My lords of England, let me tell you this:

2.3.1411252I have had feeling of my cousin's wrongs

2.3.1421253And labored all I could to do him right.

2.3.1431254But in this kind to come, in braving arms,

2.3.1441255Be his own carver, and cut out his way

2.3.1451256To find out right with wrong, it may not be.

2.3.1461257And you that do abet him in this kind

2.3.1471258Cherish rebellion and are rebels all.

The noble Duke hath sworn his coming is

2.3.1491260But for his own, and for the right of that

2.3.1501261We all have strongly sworn to give him aid.

2.3.1511262And let him never see joy that breaks that oath!

Well, well. I see the issue of these arms.

2.3.1531264I cannot mend it, I must needs confess,

2.3.1541265Because my power is weak and all ill-left;

2.3.1551266But if I could, by Him that gave me life,

2.3.1561267I would attach you all and make you stoop

2.3.1571268Unto the sovereign mercy of the King.

2.3.1581269But since I cannot, be it known unto you,

2.3.1591270I do remain as neuter. So fare you well --

2.3.1601271Unless you please to enter in the castle

2.3.1611272And there repose you for this night.

An offer, uncle, that we will accept.

2.3.1631274But we must win your grace to go with us

2.3.1641275To Bristol castle, which they say is held

2.3.1651276By Bushy, Bagot, and their complices,

2.3.1661277The caterpillars of the commonwealth,

2.3.1671278Which I have sworn to weed and pluck away.

It may be I will go with you; but yet I'll pause,

2.3.1691280For I am loath to break our country's laws.

2.3.1701281Nor friends nor foes, to me welcome you are.

1282Things past redress are now with me past care.

My lord of Salisbury, we have stayed ten days

2.4.21286And hardly kept our countrymen together,

2.4.31287And yet we hear no tidings from the King.

2.4.41288Therefore we will disperse ourselves. Farewell.

Stay yet another day, thou trusty Welshman.

2.4.61290The King reposeth all his confidence in thee.

'Tis thought the King is dead. We will not stay.

2.4.81292The bay trees in our country are all withered,

2.4.91293And meteors fright the fixèd stars of heaven;

2.4.101294The pale-faced moon looks bloody on the earth,

2.4.111295And lean-looked prophets whisper fearful change;

2.4.121296Rich men look sad, and ruffians dance and leap,

2.4.131297The one in fear to lose what they enjoy,

2.4.141298The other to enjoy by rage and war.

2.4.151299These signs forerun the death or fall of kings.

2.4.161300Farewell. Our countrymen are gone and fled,

2.4.171301As well assured Richard their king is dead.

Ah, Richard! With the eyes of heavy mind

2.4.191303I see thy glory like a shooting star

2.4.201304Fall to the base earth from the firmament.

2.4.211305Thy sun sets weeping in the lowly west,

2.4.221306Witnessing storms to come, woe, and unrest.

2.4.231307Thy friends are fled to wait upon thy foes,

2.4.241308And crossly to thy good all fortune goes.

Bring forth these men. --

3.1.31314Bushy and Green, I will not vex your souls,

3.1.41315Since presently your souls must part your bodies,

3.1.51316With too much urging your pernicious lives,

3.1.61317For 'twere no charity; yet to wash your blood

3.1.71318From off my hands, here in the view of men

3.1.81319I will unfold some causes of your deaths:

3.1.91320You have misled a prince, a royal king,

3.1.101321A happy gentleman in blood and lineaments,

3.1.111322By you unhappied and disfigured clean.

3.1.121323You have in manner with your sinful hours

3.1.131324Made a divorce betwixt his queen and him,

3.1.141325Broke the possession of a royal bed,

3.1.151326And stained the beauty of a fair queen's cheeks

3.1.161327With tears drawn from her eyes by your foul wrongs.

3.1.171328Myself, a prince by fortune of my birth,

3.1.181329Near to the King in blood, and near in love

3.1.191330Till you did make him misinterpret me,

3.1.201331Have stooped my neck under your injuries

3.1.211332And sighed my English breath in foreign clouds,

3.1.221333Eating the bitter bread of banishment,

3.1.231334Whilst you have fed upon my signories,

3.1.241335Disparked my parks and felled my forest woods,

3.1.251336From my own windows torn my household coat,

3.1.261337Rased out my imprese, leaving me no sign,

3.1.271338Save men's opinions and my living blood,

3.1.281339To show the world I am a gentleman.

3.1.291340This and much more, much more than twice all this,

3.1.301341Condemns you to the death. -- See them delivered over

3.1.311342To execution and the hand of death.

More welcome is the stroke of death to me

3.1.331344Than Bolingbroke to England. Lords, farewell.

My comfort is that heaven will take our souls

3.1.351346And plague injustice with the pains of hell.

My lord Northumberland, see them dispatched.

3.1.371348[To York] Uncle, you say the Queen is at your house.

3.1.381349For God's sake, fairly let her be entreated.

3.1.391350Tell her I send to her my kind commends.

3.1.401351Take special care my greetings be delivered.

A gentleman of mine I have dispatched

3.1.421353With letters of your love to her at large.

Thanks, gentle uncle. -- Come, lords, away,

3.1.441355To fight with Glendower and his complices.

1356A while to work, and after holiday.

Barkloughly Castle call they this at hand?

Yea, my lord. How brooks your grace the air

3.2.31363After your late tossing on the breaking seas?

Needs must I like it well. I weep for joy

3.2.51365To stand upon my kingdom once again.

3.2.61366Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand,

3.2.71367Though rebels wound thee with their horses' hoofs.

3.2.81368As a long-parted mother with her child

3.2.91369Plays fondly with her tears and smiles in meeting,

3.2.101370So weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth,

3.2.111371And do thee favors with my royal hands.

3.2.121372Feed not thy sovereign's foe, my gentle earth,

3.2.131373Nor with thy sweets comfort his ravenous sense,

3.2.141374But let thy spiders that suck up thy venom

3.2.151375And heavy-gaited toads, lie in their way,

3.2.161376Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet

3.2.171377Which with usurping steps do trample thee.

3.2.181378Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies,

3.2.191379And when they from thy bosom pluck a flower,

3.2.201380Guard it, I pray thee, with a lurking adder

3.2.211381Whose double tongue may with a mortal touch

3.2.221382Throw death upon thy sovereign's enemies.

3.2.231383Mock not my senseless conjuration, lords.

3.2.241384This earth shall have a feeling, and these stones

3.2.251385Prove armèd soldiers, ere her native king

3.2.261386Shall falter under foul rebellion's arms.

Fear not, my lord. That power that made you king

3.2.281388Hath power to keep you king in spite of all.

3.2.291388.1The means that heavens yield must be embraced

3.2.301388.2And not neglected; else heaven would,

3.2.311388.3And we will not. Heaven's offer we refuse,

3.2.321388.4The proffered means of succor and redress.

He means, my lord, that we are too remiss,

3.2.341390Whilst Bolingbroke, through our security,

3.2.351391Grows strong and great in substance and in power.

Discomfortable cousin! Know'st thou not

3.2.371393That when the searching eye of heaven is hid

3.2.381394Behind the globe that lights the lower world,

3.2.391395Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen

3.2.401396In murders and in outrage boldly here?

3.2.411397But when from under this terrestrial ball

3.2.421398He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines

3.2.431399And darts his light through every guilty hole,

3.2.441400Then murders, treasons, and detested sins,

3.2.451401The cloak of night being plucked from off their backs,

3.2.461402Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves?

3.2.471403So when this thief, this traitor, Bolingbroke,

3.2.481404Who all this while hath reveled in the night

3.2.491404.1Whilst we were wand'ring with the Antipodes,

3.2.501405Shall see us rising in our throne, the east,

3.2.511406His treasons will sit blushing in his face,

3.2.521407Not able to endure the sight of day,

3.2.531408But, self-affrighted, tremble at his sin.

3.2.541409Not all the water in the rough rude sea

3.2.551410Can wash the balm off from an anointed king.

3.2.561411The breath of worldly men cannot depose

3.2.571412The deputy elected by the lord.

3.2.581413For every man that Bolingbroke hath pressed

3.2.591414To lift shrewd steel against our golden crown,

3.2.601415God for his Richard hath in heavenly pay

3.2.611416A glorious angel. Then, if angels fight,

3.2.621417Weak men must fall, for heaven still guards the right.

Welcome, my lord. How far off lies your power?

Nor near nor farther off, my gracious lord,

3.2.651421Than this weak arm. Discomfort guides my tongue

3.2.661422And bids me speak of nothing but despair.

3.2.671423One day too late, I fear me, noble lord,

3.2.681424Hath clouded all thy happy days on earth.

3.2.691425Oh, call back yesterday, bid time return,

3.2.701426And thou shalt have twelve thousand fighting men!

3.2.711427Today, today, unhappy day too late,

3.2.721428O'erthrows thy joys, friends, fortune, and thy state;

3.2.731429For all the Welshmen, hearing thou wert dead,

3.2.741430Are gone to Bolingbroke, dispersed, and fled.

Comfort, my liege. Why looks your grace so pale?

But now the blood of twenty thousand men

3.2.771434Did triumph in my face, and they are fled;

3.2.781435And till so much blood thither come again,

3.2.791436Have I not reason to look pale and dead?

3.2.801437All souls that will be safe, fly from my side,

3.2.811438For time hath set a blot upon my pride.

Comfort, my liege. Remember who you are.

I had forgot myself. Am I not King?

3.2.841441Awake, thou coward majesty, thou sleepest!

3.2.851442Is not the King's name twenty thousand names?

3.2.861443Arm, arm, my name! A puny subject strikes

3.2.871444At thy great glory. Look not to the ground,

3.2.881445Ye favorites of a king. Are we not high?

3.2.891446High be our thoughts! I know my uncle York

3.2.901447Hath power enough to serve our turn. -- But who comes here?

More health and happiness betide my liege

3.2.921450Than can my care-tuned tongue deliver him.

Mine ear is open and my heart prepared.

3.2.941452The worst is worldly loss thou canst unfold.

3.2.951453Say, is my kingdom lost? Why, 'twas my care,

3.2.961454And what loss is it to be rid of care?

3.2.971455Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we?

3.2.981456Greater he shall not be. If he serve God,

3.2.991457We'll serve Him too, and be his fellow so.

3.2.1001458Revolt our subjects? That we cannot mend.

3.2.1011459They break their faith to God as well as us.

3.2.1021460Cry woe, destruction, ruin, and decay.

3.2.1031461The worst is death, and death will have his day.

Glad am I that your highness is so armed

3.2.1051463To bear the tidings of calamity.

3.2.1061464Like an unseasonable stormy day,

3.2.1071465Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores

3.2.1081466As if the world were all dissolved to tears,

3.2.1091467So high above his limits swells the rage

3.2.1101468Of Bolingbroke, covering your fearful land

3.2.1111469With hard bright steel, and hearts harder than steel.

3.2.1121470Whitebeards have armed their thin and hairless scalps

3.2.1131471Against thy majesty; boys with women's voices

3.2.1141472Strive to speak big, and clap their female joints

3.2.1151473In stiff unwieldy arms against thy crown.

3.2.1161474Thy very beadsmen learn to bend their bows

3.2.1171475Of double-fatal yew against thy state.

3.2.1181476Yea, distaff-women manage rusty bills

3.2.1191477Against thy seat. Both young and old rebel,

3.2.1201478And all goes worse than I have power to tell.

Too well, too well thou tell'st a tale so ill.

3.2.1221480Where is the Earl of Wiltshire? Where is Bagot?

3.2.1231481What is become of Bushy? Where is Green,

3.2.1241482That they have let the dangerous enemy

3.2.1251483Measure our confines with such peaceful steps?

3.2.1261484If we prevail, their heads shall pay for it!

3.2.1271485I warrant they have made peace with Bolingbroke.

Peace have they made with him indeed, my lord.

Oh villains, vipers, damned without redemption!

3.2.1301489Dogs easily won to fawn on any man!

3.2.1311490Snakes, in my heart-blood warmed, that sting my heart!

3.2.1321491Three Judases, each one thrice worse than Judas!

3.2.1331492Would they make peace? Terrible hell

3.2.1341493Make war upon their spotted souls for this!

Sweet love, I see, changing his property,

3.2.1361495Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate.

3.2.1371496Again uncurse their souls. Their peace is made

3.2.1381497With heads, and not with hands. Those whom you curse

3.2.1391498Have felt the worst of death's destroying wound

3.2.1401499And lie full low, graved in the hollow ground.

Is Bushy, Green, and the Earl of Wiltshire dead?

Ay, all of them at Bristol lost their heads.

Where is the Duke my father with his power?

No matter where. Of comfort no man speak!

3.2.1451505Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs,

3.2.1461506Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes

3.2.1471507Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth.

3.2.1481508Let's choose executors and talk of wills.

3.2.1491509And yet not so, for what can we bequeath

3.2.1501510Save our deposèd bodies to the ground?

3.2.1511511Our lands, our lives, and all are Bolingbroke's,

3.2.1521512And nothing can we call our own but death,

3.2.1531513And that small model of the barren earth

3.2.1541514Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.

3.2.1551515For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground

3.2.1561516And tell sad stories of the death of kings --

3.2.1571517How some have been deposed, some slain in war,

3.2.1581518Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed,

3.2.1591519Some poisoned by their wives, some sleeping killed --

3.2.1601520All murdered. For within the hollow crown

3.2.1611521That rounds the mortal temples of a king

3.2.1621522Keeps death his court; and there the antic sits,

3.2.1631523Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp,

3.2.1641524Allowing him a breath, a little scene,

3.2.1651525To monarchize, be feared, and kill with looks,

3.2.1661526Infusing him with self and vain conceit,

3.2.1671527As if this flesh which walls about our life

3.2.1681528Were brass impregnable; and humored thus,

3.2.1691529Comes at the last, and with a little pin

3.2.1701530Bores thorough his castle wall, and -- farewell, king!

3.2.1711531Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood

3.2.1721532With solemn reverence. Throw away respect,

3.2.1731533Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty,

3.2.1741534For you have but mistook me all this while.

3.2.1751535I live with bread like you, feel want,

3.2.1761536Taste grief, need friends. Subjected thus,

3.2.1771537How can you say to me I am a king?

My lord, wise men ne'er sit and wail their woes,

3.2.1791539But presently prevent the ways to wail.

3.2.1801540To fear the foe, since fear oppresseth strength,

3.2.1811541Gives in your weakness strength unto your foe,

3.2.1821541.1And so your follies fight against yourself.

3.2.1831542Fear, and be slain. No worse can come to fight;

3.2.1841543And fight and die is death destroying death,

3.2.1851544Where fearing dying pays death servile breath.

My father hath a power. Inquire of him,

3.2.1871546And learn to make a body of a limb.

Thou chid'st me well. -- Proud Bolingbroke, I come

3.2.1891548To change blows with thee for our day of doom. --

3.2.1901549This ague fit of fear is overblown.

3.2.1911550An easy task it is to win our own. --

3.2.1921551Say, Scroop, where lies our uncle with his power?

3.2.1931552Speak sweetly, man, although thy looks be sour.

Men judge by the complexion of the sky

3.2.1951554The state and inclination of the day;

3.2.1961555So may you by my dull and heavy eye.

3.2.1971556My tongue hath but a heavier tale to say.

3.2.1981557I play the torturer by small and small

3.2.1991558To lengthen out the worst that must be spoken.

3.2.2001559Your uncle York is joined with Bolingbroke,

3.2.2011560And all your northern castles yielded up,

3.2.2021561And all your southern gentlemen in arms

3.2.2031562Upon his party.

Upon his party. Thou hast said enough.

3.2.2051564[To Aumerle] Beshrew thee, cousin, which didst lead me forth

3.2.2061565Of that sweet way I was in to despair.

3.2.2071566What say you now? What comfort have we now?

3.2.2081567By heaven, I'll hate him everlastingly

3.2.2091568That bids me be of comfort any more.

3.2.2101569Go to Flint Castle. There I'll pine away.

3.2.2111570A king, woe's slave, shall kingly woe obey.

3.2.2121571That power I have, discharge, and let them go

3.2.2131572To ear the land that hath some hope to grow,

3.2.2141573For I have none. Let no man speak again

3.2.2151574To alter this, for counsel is but vain.

My liege, one word.

My liege, one word. He does me double wrong

3.2.2181577That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue.

3.2.2191578Discharge my followers. Let them hence away,

3.2.2201579From Richard's night to Bolingbroke's fair day.

So that by this intelligence we learn

3.3.21585The Welshmen are dispersed, and Salisbury

3.3.31586Is gone to meet the King, who lately landed

3.3.41587With some few private friends upon this coast.

The news is very fair and good, my lord:

3.3.61589Richard not far from hence hath hid his head.

It would beseem the lord Northumberland

3.3.81591To say "King Richard." Alack the heavy day

3.3.91592When such a sacred king should hide his head!

Your grace mistakes. Only to be brief,

3.3.111594Left I his title out.

Left I his title out. The time hath been,

3.3.121595.1Would you have been so brief with him, he would

3.3.131596 Have been so brief with you to shorten you,

3.3.141598For taking so the head, your whole head's length.

Mistake not, uncle, further than you should.

Take not, good cousin, further than you should,

3.3.171601Lest you mistake. The heavens are over our heads.

I know it, uncle, and oppose not myself

1603Against their will. But who comes here?

3.3.191605Welcome, Harry. What, will not this castle yield?

The castle royally is manned, my lord,

3.3.211607Against thy entrance.

Royally? Why, it contains no king.

Yes, my good lord,

3.3.241610It doth contain a king. King Richard lies

3.3.251611Within the limits of yon lime and stone,

3.3.261612And with him are the lord Aumerle, lord Salisbury,

3.3.271613Sir Stephen Scroop, besides a clergyman

3.3.281614Of holy reverence -- who, I cannot learn.

Oh, belike it is the Bishop of Carlisle.

[To Northumberland] Noble lord,

3.3.311617Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle;

3.3.321618Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parley

3.3.331619Into his ruined ears, and thus deliver:

3.3.341620Henry Bolingbroke

3.3.34.1On both his knees doth kiss King Richard's hand,

3.3.351621And sends allegiance and true faith of heart

3.3.361622To his most royal person, hither come

3.3.371623Even at his feet to lay my arms and power,

3.3.381624Provided that my banishment repealed

3.3.391625And lands restored again be freely granted.

3.3.401626If not, I'll use the advantage of my power,

3.3.411627And lay the summer's dust with showers of blood

3.3.421628Rained from the wounds of slaughtered Englishmen;

3.3.431629The which, how far off from the mind of Bolingbroke

3.3.441630It is such crimson tempest should bedrench

3.3.451631The fresh green lap of fair King Richard's land,

3.3.461632My stooping duty tenderly shall show.

3.3.471633Go signify as much while here we march

3.3.481634Upon the grassy carpet of this plain.

3.3.491635Let's march without the noise of threat'ning drum,

3.3.501636That from this castle's tottered battlements

3.3.511637Our fair appointments may be well perused.

3.3.521638Methinks King Richard and myself should meet

3.3.531639With no less terror than the elements

3.3.541640Of fire and water, when their thund'ring shock

3.3.551641At meeting tears the cloudy cheeks of heaven.

3.3.561642Be he the fire, I'll be the yielding water;

3.3.571643The rage be his, whilst on the earth I rain

3.3.581644My waters: on the earth, and not on him.

3.3.591645March on, and mark King Richard how he looks.

See, see, King Richard doth himself appear

3.3.611650As doth the blushing discontented sun

3.3.621651From out the fiery portal of the east

3.3.631652When he perceives the envious clouds are bent

3.3.641653To dim his glory and to stain the track

3.3.651654Of his bright passage to the occident.

Yet looks he like a king. Behold, his eye,

3.3.671656As bright as is the eagle's, lightens forth

3.3.681657Controlling majesty. Alack, alack for woe

3.3.691658That any harm should stain so fair a show!

[To Northumberland below] We are amazed, and thus long have we stood

3.3.711660To watch the fearful bending of thy knee,

3.3.721661Because we thought ourself thy lawful king.

3.3.731662And if we be, how dare thy joints forget

3.3.741663To pay their awful duty to our presence?

3.3.751664If we be not, show us the hand of God

3.3.761665That hath dismissed us from our stewardship;

3.3.771666For well we know no hand of blood and bone

3.3.781667Can gripe the sacred handle of our scepter,

3.3.791668Unless he do profane, steal, or usurp.

3.3.801669And though you think that all, as you have done,

3.3.811670Have torn their souls by turning them from us,

3.3.821671And we are barren and bereft of friends,

3.3.831672Yet know, my master, God omnipotent,

3.3.841673Is mustering in his clouds on our behalf

3.3.851674Armies of pestilence, and they shall strike

3.3.861675Your children yet unborn and unbegot,

3.3.871676That lift your vassal hands against my head

3.3.881677And threat the glory of my precious crown.

3.3.891678Tell Bolingbroke, for yon methinks he stands,

3.3.901679That every stride he makes upon my land

3.3.911680Is dangerous treason. He is come to open

3.3.921681The purple testament of bleeding war;

3.3.931682But ere the crown he looks for live in peace,

3.3.941683Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers' sons

3.3.951684Shall ill become the flower of England's face,

3.3.961685Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace

3.3.971686To scarlet indignation, and bedew

3.3.981687Her pasture's grass with faithful English blood.

The King of heaven forbid our lord the King

3.3.1001689Should so with civil and uncivil arms

3.3.1011690Be rushed upon! Thy thrice-noble cousin,

3.3.1021691Harry Bolingbroke, doth humbly kiss thy hand,

3.3.1031692And by the honorable tomb he swears

3.3.1041693That stands upon your royal grandsire's bones,

3.3.1051694And by the royalties of both your bloods,

3.3.1061695Currents that spring from one most gracious head,

3.3.1071696And by the buried hand of warlike Gaunt,

3.3.1081697And by the worth and honor of himself,

3.3.1091698Comprising all that may be sworn or said,

3.3.1101699His coming hither hath no further scope

3.3.1111700Than for his lineal royalties, and to beg

3.3.1121701Enfranchisement immediate on his knees;

3.3.1131702Which on thy royal party granted once,

3.3.1141703His glittering arms he will commend to rust,

3.3.1151704His barbèd steeds to stables, and his heart

3.3.1161705To faithful service of your majesty.

3.3.1171706This swears he, as he is a prince and just,

3.3.1181707And as I am a gentleman, I credit him.

Northumberland, say thus the King returns:

3.3.1201709His noble cousin is right welcome hither,

3.3.1211710And all the number of his fair demands

3.3.1221711Shall be accomplished without contradiction.

3.3.1231712With all the gracious utterance thou hast,

3.3.1241713Speak to his gentle hearing kind commends.

3.3.1251714[To Aumerle] We do debase ourselves, cousin, do we not,

3.3.1261715To look so poorly and to speak so fair?

3.3.1271716Shall we call back Northumberland and send

3.3.1281717Defiance to the traitor and so die?

No, good my lord, let's fight with gentle words,

3.3.1301719Till time lend friends, and friends their helpful swords.

O God, O God, that e'er this tongue of mine

3.3.1321721That laid the sentence of dread banishment

3.3.1331722On yon proud man should take it off again

3.3.1341723With words of sooth! O that I were as great

3.3.1351724As is my grief, or lesser than my name!

3.3.1361725Or that I could forget what I have been,

3.3.1371726Or not remember what I must be now!

3.3.1381727Swell'st thou, proud heart? I'll give thee scope to beat,

3.3.1391728Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me.

Northumberland comes back from Bolingbroke.

What must the King do now? Must he submit?

3.3.1421732The King shall do it. Must he be deposed?

3.3.1431733The King shall be contented. Must he lose

3.3.1441734The name of king? I' God's name, let it go.

3.3.1451735I'll give my jewels for a set of beads,

3.3.1461736My gorgeous palace for a hermitage,

3.3.1471737My gay apparel for an almsman's gown,

3.3.1481738My figured goblets for a dish of wood,

3.3.1491739My scepter for a palmer's walking-staff,

3.3.1501740My subjects for a pair of carvèd saints,

3.3.1511741And my large kingdom for a little grave,

3.3.1521742A little, little grave, an obscure grave;

3.3.1531743Or I'll be buried in the King's highway,

3.3.1541744Some way of common trade, where subjects' feet

3.3.1551745May hourly trample on their sovereign's head;

3.3.1561746For on my heart they tread now whilst I live,

3.3.1571747And, buried once, why not upon my head?

3.3.1581748Aumerle, thou weep'st, my tender-hearted cousin.

3.3.1591749We'll make foul weather with despisèd tears;

3.3.1601750Our sighs and they shall lodge the summer corn

3.3.1611751And make a dearth in this revolting land.

3.3.1621752Or shall we play the wantons with our woes

3.3.1631753And make some pretty match with shedding tears?

3.3.1641754As thus, to drop them still upon one place

3.3.1651755Till they have fretted us a pair of graves

3.3.1661756Within the earth; and therein laid -- there lies

3.3.1671757Two kinsmen digged their graves with weeping eyes.

3.3.1681758Would not this ill do well? Well, well, I see

3.3.1691759I talk but idly, and you laugh at me.

3.3.1701760Most mighty prince, my lord Northumberland,

3.3.1711761What says King Bolingbroke? Will his majesty

3.3.1721762Give Richard leave to live till Richard die?

3.3.1731763You make a leg, and Bolingbroke says "ay."

My lord, in the base court he doth attend

3.3.1751765To speak with you, may it please you to come down.

Down, down I come, like glist'ring Phaëton,

3.3.1771767Wanting the manage of unruly jades.

3.3.1781768In the base court? Base court, where kings grow base,

3.3.1791769To come at traitors' calls and do them grace.

3.3.1801770In the base court come down? Down court! Down King!

3.3.1811771For night owls shriek where mounting larks should sing.

What says his majesty?

Sorrow and grief of heart

3.3.1841774Makes him speak fondly like a frantic man,

3.3.1851775Yet he is come.

Stand all apart,

1777And show fair duty to his majesty.He kneels down.

3.3.1871778My gracious lord.

Fair cousin, you debase your princely knee

3.3.1891781To make the base earth proud with kissing it.

3.3.1901782Me rather had my heart might feel your love,

3.3.1911783Then my unpleased eye see your courtesy.

3.3.1921784Up cousin, up. Your heart is up, I know,

3.3.1931785Thus high at least [He points to his crown.] although your knee be low.

[standing] My gracious lord, I come but for mine own.

Your own is yours, and I am yours, and all.

So far be mine, my most redoubted lord,

3.3.1971791As my true service shall deserve your love.

Well you deserve. They well deserve to have

3.3.1991794That know the strong'st and surest way to get. --

3.3.2001795[To York] Uncle, give me your hands. Nay, dry your eyes.

3.3.2011796Tears show their love, but want their remedies. --

3.3.2021797[To Bolingbroke] Cousin, I am too young to be your father,

3.3.2031798Though you are old enough to be my heir.

3.3.2041799What you will have, I'll give, and willing, too;

3.3.2051800For do we must what force will have us do.

3.3.2061801Set on towards London, cousin, is it so?

Yea, my good lord.

Yea, my good lord. Then I must not say no.

What sport shall we devise here in this garden

3.4.21809To drive away the heavy thought of care?

Madam, we'll play at bowls.

'Twill make me think the world is full of rubs

3.4.51812And that my fortune runs against the bias.

Madam, we'll dance.

My legs can keep no measure in delight

3.4.81815When my poor heart no measure keeps in grief.

3.4.91816Therefore no dancing, girl. Some other sport.

Madam, we'll tell tales.

Of sorrow or of joy?

Of sorrow or of joy? Of either, madam.

Of neither, girl,

3.4.141821For if of joy, being altogether wanting,

3.4.151822It doth remember me the more of sorrow;

3.4.161823Or if of grief, being altogether had,

3.4.171824It adds more sorrow to my want of joy.

3.4.181825For what I have I need not to repeat,

3.4.191826And what I want it boots not to complain.

Madam, I'll sing.

Madam, I'll sing. 'Tis well that thou hast cause,

3.4.221829But thou shouldst please me better wouldst thou weep.

I could weep, madam, would it do you good.

And I could sing, would weeping do me good,

3.4.251832And never borrow any tear of thee.

3.4.261834But stay; here come the gardeners.

3.4.271835Let's step into the shadow of these trees.

3.4.281836My wretchedness unto a row of pins,

3.4.291837They will talk of state, for every one doth so

3.4.301838Against a change. Woe is forerun with woe.

3.4.311839Gardener[To one Man] Go, bind thou up young dangling apricots,

3.4.321840Which, like unruly children, make their sire

3.4.331841Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight.

3.4.341842Give some supportance to the bending twigs. --

3.4.351843[To other Man] Go thou, and like an executioner

3.4.361844Cut off the heads of too-fast-growing sprays

3.4.371845That look too lofty in our commonwealth.

3.4.381846All must be even in our government.

3.4.391847You thus employed, I will go root away

3.4.401848The noisome weeds which without profit suck

3.4.411849The soil's fertility from wholesome flowers.

Why should we, in the compass of a pale,

3.4.431851Keep law and form and due proportion,

3.4.441852Showing as in a model our firm estate,

3.4.451853When our sea-wallèd garden, the whole land,

3.4.461854Is full of weeds, her fairest flowers choked up,

3.4.471855Her fruit trees all unpruned, her hedges ruined,

3.4.481856Her knots disordered, and her wholesome herbs

3.4.491857Swarming with caterpillars?

Swarming with caterpillars? Hold thy peace,

3.4.511859He that hath suffered this disordered spring

3.4.521860Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf.

3.4.531861The weeds which his broad-spreading leaves did shelter,

3.4.541862That seemed in eating him to hold him up,

3.4.551863Are plucked up, root and all, by Bolingbroke --

3.4.561864I mean the Earl of Wiltshire, Bushy, Green.

What are they dead?

What are they dead? They are; and Bolingbroke

3.4.591867Hath seized the wasteful king. Oh, what pity is it

3.4.601868That he had not so trimmed and dressed his land

3.4.611869As we this garden! We at time of year

3.4.621870Do wound the bark, the skin of our fruit trees,

3.4.631871Lest, being over-proud in sap and blood,

3.4.641872With too much riches it confound itself.

3.4.651873Had he done so to great and growing men,

3.4.661874They might have lived to bear and he to taste

3.4.671875Their fruits of duty. Superfluous branches

3.4.681876We lop away, that bearing boughs may live.

3.4.691877Had he done so, himself had borne the crown,

3.4.701878Which waste of idle hours hath quite thrown down.

What, think you the King shall be deposed?

Depressed he is already, and deposed

3.4.731881'Tis doubt he will be. Letters came last night

3.4.741882To a dear friend of the good Duke of York's,

3.4.751883That tell black tidings.

Oh, I am pressed to death through want of speaking!

3.4.771885Thou old Adam's likeness, set to dress this garden,

3.4.781886How dares thy harsh rude tongue sound this unpleasing news?

3.4.791887What Eve, what serpent, hath suggested thee

3.4.801888To make a second fall of cursèd man?

3.4.811889Why dost thou say King Richard is deposed?

3.4.821890Dar'st thou, thou little better thing than earth,

3.4.831891Divine his downfall? Say, where, when, and how

3.4.841892Cam'st thou by this ill tidings? Speak, thou wretch?

Pardon me, madam. Little joy have I

3.4.861894To breathe this news, yet what I say is true.

3.4.871895King Richard, he is in the mighty hold

3.4.881896Of Bolingbroke. Their fortunes both are weighed.

3.4.891897In your lord's scale is nothing but himself

3.4.901898And some few vanities that make him light,

3.4.911899But in the balance of great Bolingbroke,

3.4.921900Besides himself, are all the English peers,

3.4.931901And with that odds he weighs King Richard down.

3.4.941902Post you to London and you will find it so.

3.4.951903I speak no more than everyone doth know.

Nimble mischance, that art so light of foot,

3.4.971905Doth not thy embassage belong to me,

3.4.981906And am I last that knows it? Oh, thou thinkest

3.4.991907To serve me last that I may longest keep

3.4.1001908Thy sorrow in my breast. -- Come, ladies, go

3.4.1011909To meet at London London's king in woe.

3.4.1021910What, was I born to this, that my sad look

3.4.1031911Should grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke? --

3.4.1041912Gard'ner, for telling me these news of woe,

1913Pray God the plants thou graft'st may never grow.

Poor Queen, so that thy state might be no worse,

3.4.1061915I would my skill were subject to thy curse.

3.4.1071916Here did she fall a tear. Here in this place

3.4.1081917I'll set a bank of rue, sour herb of grace.

3.4.1091918Rue even for ruth here shortly shall be seen,

3.4.1101919In the remembrance of a weeping queen.

Call forth Bagot. Enter [officers with] Bagot.

4.1.21925Now, Bagot, freely speak thy mind,

4.1.31926What thou dost know of noble Gloucester's death,

4.1.41927Who wrought it with the King, and who performed

4.1.51928The bloody office of his timeless end.

Then set before my face the lord Aumerle.

[To Aumerle] Cousin, stand forth, and look upon that man.

My lord Aumerle, I know your daring tongue

4.1.91932Scorns to unsay what once it hath delivered.

4.1.101933In that dead time when Gloucester's death was plotted,

4.1.111934I heard you say, "Is not my arm of length,

4.1.121935That reacheth from the restful English court

4.1.131936As far as Calais, to mine uncle's head?"

4.1.141937Amongst much other talk that very time

4.1.151938I heard you say that you had rather refuse

4.1.161939The offer of an hundred thousand crowns

4.1.171940Than Bolingbroke's return to England,

4.1.181941Adding withal how blest this land would be

4.1.18.1In this your cousin's death.

Princes and noble lords,

4.1.201943What answer shall I make to this base man?

4.1.211944Shall I so much dishonor my fair stars

4.1.221945On equal terms to give him chastisement?

4.1.231946Either I must, or have mine honor soiled

4.1.241947With the attainder of his slanderous lips.

4.1.251948There is my gage, the manual seal of death

4.1.261949That marks thee out for hell. I say thou liest,

4.1.271950And will maintain what thou hast said is false

4.1.281951In thy heart-blood, though being all too base

4.1.291952To stain the temper of my knightly sword.

Bagot, forbear. Thou shalt not take it up.

Excepting one, I would he were the best

4.1.321955In all this presence that hath moved me so.

If that thy valor stand on sympathy,

4.1.341957There is my gage, Aumerle, in gage to thine.

4.1.351958By that fair sun which shows me where thou stand'st,

4.1.361959I heard thee say, and vauntingly thou spak'st it,

4.1.371960That thou wert cause of noble Gloucester's death.

4.1.381961If thou deniest it twenty times, thou liest,

4.1.391962And I will turn thy falsehood to thy heart,

4.1.401963Where it was forgèd, with my rapier's point.

Thou dar'st not, coward, live to see that day.

Now, by my soul, I would it were this hour.

Fitzwater, thou art damned to hell for this.

Aumerle, thou liest! His honor is as true

4.1.451968In this appeal as thou art all unjust;

4.1.461969And that thou art so, there I throw my gage,

4.1.471970To prove it on thee to the extremest point

4.1.481971Of mortal breathing. Seize it if thou dar'st.

And if I do not, may my hands rot off

4.1.501973And never brandish more revengeful steel

4.1.511974Over the glittering helmet of my foe!

I task the earth to the like, forsworn Aumerle,

4.1.531974.2And spur thee on with full as many lies

4.1.541974.3As may be hollowed in thy treacherous ear

4.1.551974.4From sun to sun.[He throws down a gage.]

From sun to sun.[He throws down a gage.] There is my honor's pawn.

4.1.561974.5Engage it to the trial if thou dar'st.

Who sets me else? By heaven, I'll throw at all!

4.1.581974.7I have a thousand spirits in one breast

4.1.591974.8To answer twenty thousand such as you.

My lord Fitzwater, I do remember well

4.1.611976The very time Aumerle and you did talk.

'Tis very true. You were in presence then,

4.1.631980And you can witness with me this is true.

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

Surrey, thou liest.

Surrey, thou liest. Dishonorable boy,

4.1.66That lie shall lie so heavy on my sword

4.1.671986That it shall render vengeance and revenge

4.1.681987Till thou the lie-giver and that lie do lie

4.1.691988In earth as quiet as thy father's skull.

4.1.701989In proof whereof, there is my honor's pawn.

4.1.711990Engage it to the trial if thou dar'st.

[Taking up the gage] How fondly dost thou spur a forward horse!

4.1.731992If I dare eat, or drink, or breathe, or live,

4.1.741993I dare meet Surrey in a wilderness

4.1.751994And spit upon him whilst I say he lies,

4.1.761995And lies, and lies! [He throws down a gage.]

And lies, and lies! [He throws down a gage.] There is my bond of faith,

4.1.771996To tie thee to my strong correction.

4.1.781997As I intend to thrive in this new world,

4.1.791998Aumerle is guilty of my true appeal.

4.1.801999Besides, I heard the banished Norfolk say

4.1.812000That thou, Aumerle, didst send two of thy men

4.1.822001To execute the noble Duke at Calais.

Some honest Christian trust me with a gage.

4.1.842003That Norfolk lies, here do I throw down this,

4.1.852004If he may be repealed to try his honor.

These differences shall all rest under gage,

4.1.872006Till Norfolk be repealed. Repealed he shall be,

4.1.882007And though mine enemy, restored again

4.1.892008To all his lands and signories. When he is returned,

4.1.902009Against Aumerle we will enforce his trial.

That honorable day shall never be seen.

4.1.922011Many a time hath banished Norfolk fought

4.1.932012For Jesu Christ in glorious Christian field,

4.1.942013Streaming the ensign of the Christian cross

4.1.952014Against black pagans, Turks, and Saracens;

4.1.962015And, toiled with works of war, retired himself

4.1.972016To Italy, and there at Venice gave

4.1.982017His body to that pleasant country's earth,

4.1.992018And his pure soul unto his captain, Christ,

4.1.1002019Under whose colors he had fought so long.

Why, bishop, is Norfolk dead?

As surely as I live, my lord.

Sweet peace conduct his sweet soul to the bosom

4.1.1042023Of good old Abraham! Lords appellants,

4.1.1052024Your differences shall all rest under gage

2025Till we assign you to your days of trial.

Great Duke of Lancaster, I come to thee

4.1.1072028From plume-plucked Richard, who with willing soul

4.1.1082029Adopts thee heir, and his high scepter yields

4.1.1092030To the possession of thy royal hand.

4.1.1102031Ascend his throne, descending now from him,

4.1.1112032And long live Henry, fourth of that name!

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

Marry, God forbid!

4.1.1142035Worst in this royal presence may I speak,

4.1.1152036Yet best beseeming me to speak the truth.

4.1.1162037Would God that any in this noble presence

4.1.1172038Were enough noble to be upright judge

4.1.1182039Of noble Richard! Then true noblesse would

4.1.1192040Learn him forbearance from so foul a wrong.

4.1.1202041What subject can give sentence on his king?

4.1.1212042And who sits here that is not Richard's subject?

4.1.1222043Thieves are not judged but they are by to hear,

4.1.1232044Although apparent guilt be seen in them;

4.1.1242045And shall the figure of God's majesty,

4.1.1252046His captain, steward, deputy elect,

4.1.1262047Anointed, crowned, planted many years,

4.1.1272048Be judged by subject and inferior breath,

4.1.1282049And he himself not present? O forfend it, God,

4.1.1292050That in a Christian climate souls refined,

4.1.1302051Should show so heinous, black, obscene a deed!

4.1.1312052I speak to subjects and a subject speaks,

4.1.1322053Stirred up by God thus boldly for his king.

4.1.1332054My lord of Hereford here, whom you call king,

4.1.1342055Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford's king,

4.1.1352056And if you crown him, let me prophesy

4.1.1362057The blood of English shall manure the ground,

4.1.1372058And future ages groan for this foul act,

4.1.1382059Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels,

4.1.1392060And in this seat of peace, tumultuous wars

4.1.1402061Shall kin with kin and kind with kind confound.

4.1.1412062Disorder, horror, fear, and mutiny

4.1.1422063Shall here inhabit, and this land be called

4.1.1432064The field of Golgotha and dead men's skulls.

4.1.1442065Oh, if you raise this house against this house,

4.1.1452066It will the woefullest division prove

4.1.1462067That ever fell upon this cursèd earth.

4.1.1472068Prevent it, resist it, let it not be so,

4.1.1482069Lest child, child's children, cry against you, "Woe!"

Well have you argued, sir; and, for your pains

4.1.1502071Of capital treason, we arrest you here. --

4.1.1512072My lord of Westminster, be it your charge

4.1.1522073To keep him safely till his day of trial.

4.1.1532074May it please you, lords, to grant the commons' suit?

Fetch hither Richard, that in common view

4.1.1542076He may surrender. So we shall proceed

4.1.1552077Without suspicion.

Without suspicion. I will be his conduct.

Lords, you that here are under our arrest,

4.1.1582080Procure your sureties for your days of answer.

4.1.1592081Little are we beholding to your love,

4.1.1602082And little looked for at your helping hands.

Alack, why am I sent for to a king

4.1.1622085Before I have shook off the regal thoughts

4.1.1632086Wherewith I reigned? I hardly yet have learned

4.1.1642087To insinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my knee.

4.1.1652088Give Sorrow leave awhile to tutor me

4.1.1662089To this submission. Yet I well remember

4.1.1672090The favors of these men. Were they not mine?

4.1.1682091Did they not sometime cry, "All hail!" to me?

4.1.1692092So Judas did to Christ. But He in twelve,

4.1.1702093Found truth in all but one; I, in twelve thousand, none.

4.1.1712094God save the King! Will no man say "Amen"?

4.1.1722095Am I both priest, and clerk? Well then, Amen.

4.1.1732096God save the King, although I be not he.

4.1.1742097And yet Amen, if heaven do think him me.

4.1.1752098To do what service am I sent for hither?

To do that office of thine own good will,

4.1.1772100Which tired majesty did make thee offer:

4.1.1782101The resignation of thy state and crown

4.1.1792102To Henry Bolingbroke.

[To York] Give me the crown. [He takes the crown then hands it to Bolingbroke.] -- Here, cousin,

4.1.1812104 Seize the crown. Here, Cousin.

4.1.181.1On this side my hand, on that side thine.

4.1.1822105Now is this golden crown like a deep well,

4.1.1832106That owes two buckets, filling one another,

4.1.1842107The emptier ever dancing in the air,

4.1.1852108The other down, unseen, and full of water.

4.1.1862109That bucket down and full of tears am I,

4.1.1872110Drinking my griefs whilst you mount up on high.

I thought you had been willing to resign.

My crown I am, but still my griefs are mine.

4.1.1902113You may my glories and my state depose,

4.1.1912114But not my griefs; still am I king of those.

Part of your cares you give me with your crown.

Your cares set up do not pluck my cares down.

4.1.1942117My care is loss of care, by old care done;

4.1.1952118Your care is gain of care, by new care won.

4.1.1962119The cares I give, I have, though given away;

4.1.1972120They 'tend the crown, yet still with me they stay.

Are you contented to resign the crown?

Ay, no; no, ay; for I must nothing be.

4.1.2002123Therefore no "no," for I resign to thee.

4.1.2012124Now, mark me how I will undo myself:

4.1.2022125I give this heavy weight from off my head;

4.1.2032126And this unwieldy scepter from my hand;

4.1.2042127The pride of kingly sway from out my heart.

4.1.2052128With mine own tears I wash away my balm,

4.1.2062129With mine own hands I give away my crown,

4.1.2072130With mine own tongue deny my sacred state,

4.1.2082131With mine own breath release all duteous oaths.

4.1.2092132All pomp and majesty I do forswear.

4.1.2102133My manors, rents, revenues I forgo;

4.1.2112134My acts, decrees, and statutes I deny.

4.1.2122135God pardon all oaths that are broke to me.

4.1.2132136God keep all vows unbroke are made to thee.

4.1.2142137Make me, that nothing have, with nothing grieved,

4.1.2152138And thou with all pleased that hast all achieved.

4.1.2162139Long mayst thou live in Richard's seat to sit,

4.1.2172140And soon lie Richard in an earthy pit.

4.1.2182141God save King Henry, unkinged Richard says,

4.1.2192142And send him many years of sunshine days.

4.1.2202143What more remains?

What more remains? [Presenting a paper to King Richard] No more, but that you read

4.1.2222145These accusations and these grievous crimes

4.1.2232146Committed by your person and your followers

4.1.2242147Against the state and profit of this land;

4.1.2252148That, by confessing them, the souls of men

4.1.2262149May deem that you are worthily deposed.

Must I do so? And must I ravel out

4.1.2282151My weaved-up follies? Gentle Northumberland,

4.1.2292152If thy offences were upon record,

4.1.2302153Would it not shame thee in so fair a troop,

4.1.2312154To read a lecture of them? If thou wouldst,

4.1.2322155There shouldst thou find one heinous article,

4.1.2332156Containing the deposing of a king

4.1.2342157And cracking the strong warrant of an oath,

4.1.2352158Marked with a blot, damned in the book of heaven.

4.1.2362159Nay, all of you that stand and look upon me

4.1.2372160Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait myself,

4.1.2382161Though some of you, with Pilate, wash your hands,

4.1.2392162Showing an outward pity, yet you Pilates

4.1.2402163Have here delivered me to my sour cross,

4.1.2412164And water cannot wash away your sin.

My lord, dispatch. Reade o'er these articles.

Mine eyes are full of tears; I cannot see.

4.1.2442167And yet salt water blinds them not so much

4.1.2452168But they can see a sort of traitors here.

4.1.2462169Nay, if I turn mine eyes upon myself,

4.1.2472170I find myself a traitor with the rest,

4.1.2482171For I have given here my soul's consent

4.1.2492172T'undeck the pompous body of a king;

4.1.2502173Made Glory base and Sovereignty a slave,

4.1.2512174Proud majesty a subject, State a peasant.

My lord --

No lord of thine, thou haught insulting man,

4.1.2542177Nor no man's lord! I have no name, no title,

4.1.2552178No, not that name was given me at the font,

4.1.2562179But 'tis usurped. Alack the heavy day,

4.1.2572180That I have worn so many winters out

4.1.2582181And know not now what name to call myself.

4.1.2592182Oh, that I were a mockery king of snow

4.1.2602183Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke,

4.1.2612184To melt myself away in waterdrops. --

4.1.2622185Good King, great King, and yet not greatly good,

4.1.2632186An if my word be sterling yet in England,

4.1.2642187Let it command a mirror hither straight,

4.1.2652188That it may show me what a face I have

4.1.2662189Since it is bankrupt of his majesty.

Go, some of you, and fetch a looking-glass.

[To King Richard] Read o'er this paper while the glass doth come.

Fiend, thou torments me ere I come to hell!

Urge it no more, my lord Northumberland.

The commons will not then be satisfied.

They shall be satisfied. I'll read enough

4.1.2732196When I do see the very book indeed

4.1.2742197Where all my sins are writ, and that's myself.

4.1.2752199Give me that glass, and therein will I read.

4.1.2762200No deeper wrinkles yet? Hath Sorrow struck

4.1.2772201So many blows upon this face of mine

4.1.2782202And made no deeper wounds? Oh, flatt'ring glass,

4.1.2792203Like to my followers in prosperity,

4.1.2802204Thou dost beguile me. Was this face the face

4.1.2812205That every day under his Household roof

4.1.2822206Did keep ten thousand men? Was this the face

4.1.2832207That like the sun did make beholders wink?

4.1.2842208Is this the face which faced so many follies,

4.1.2852209That was at last outfaced by Bolingbroke?

4.1.2862210A brittle glory shineth in this face.

4.1.2872211As brittle as the glory is the face!

4.1.2882212For there it is, cracked in an hundred shivers.

4.1.2892213Mark, silent king, the moral of this sport:

4.1.2902214How soon my sorrow hath destroyed my face.

The shadow of your sorrow hath destroyed

4.1.2922216The shadow of your face.

The shadow of your face. Say that again.

4.1.2942218The shadow of my sorrow? Ha, let's see.

4.1.2952219'Tis very true. My grief lies all within;

4.1.2962220And these external manners of laments

4.1.2972221Are merely shadows to the unseen grief

4.1.2982222That swells with silence in the tortured soul.

4.1.2992223There lies the substance. And I thank thee, King,

4.1.3002224For thy great bounty that not only giv'st

4.1.3012225Me cause to wail, but teachest me the way

4.1.3022226How to lament the cause. I'll beg one boon,

4.1.3032227And then be gone and trouble you no more.

4.1.3042228Shall I obtain it?

Shall I obtain it? Name it, fair cousin.

"Fair Cousin"? I am greater than a king;

4.1.3072231For when I was a king, my flatterers

4.1.3082232Were then but subjects. Being now a subject,

4.1.3092233I have a king here to my flatterer.

4.1.3102234Being so great, I have no need to beg.

Yet ask.

And shall I have?

You shall.

Then give me leave to go.

Whither?

Whither you will, so I were from your sights.

Go, some of you, convey him to the Tower.

Oh, good! "Convey"? Conveyers are you all,

4.1.3192243That rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall.

On Wednesday next, we solemnly set down

2245Our coronation. Lords, prepare yourselves.

A woeful pageant have we here beheld.

The woe's to come. The children yet unborn

2248Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn.

You holy clergymen, is there no plot

2250To rid the realm of this pernicious blot?

My lord,

4.1.161.1Before I freely speak my mind herein,

2252You shall not only take the sacrament

2253To bury mine intents, but also to effect

2254Whatever I shall happen to devise.

2255I see your brows are full of discontent,

2256Your hearts of sorrow, and your eyes of tears.

2257Come home with me to supper. I'll lay

2258 A plot shall show us all a merry day.

This way the King will come. This is the way

5.1.22262To Julius Caesar's ill-erected tower,

5.1.32263To whose flint bosom my condemnèd lord

5.1.42264Is doomed a prisoner by proud Bolingbroke.

5.1.52265Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth

5.1.62266Have any resting for her true king's queen.

5.1.72268But soft, but see, or rather do not see

5.1.82269My fair rose wither. Yet look up, behold,

5.1.92270That you in pity may dissolve to dew

5.1.102271And wash him fresh again with true-love tears. --

5.1.112272Ah, thou, the model where old Troy did stand,

5.1.122273Thou map of honor, thou King Richard's tomb,

5.1.132274And not King Richard! Thou most beauteous inn,

5.1.142275Why should hard-favored grief be lodged in thee

5.1.152276When triumph is become an alehouse guest?

Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so,

5.1.172278To make my end too sudden. Learn, good soul,

5.1.182279To think our former state a happy dream,

5.1.192280From which awaked, the truth of what we are

5.1.202281Shows us but this. I am sworn brother, sweet,

5.1.212282To grim Necessity, and he and I

5.1.222283Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to France

5.1.232284And cloister thee in some religious house.

5.1.242285Our holy lives must win a new world's crown,

5.1.252286Which our profane hours here have thrown down.

What, is my Richard both in shape and mind

5.1.272288Transformed and weakened? Hath Bolingbroke

5.1.282289Deposed thine intellect? Hath he been in thy heart?

5.1.292290The lion dying thrusteth forth his paw