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  • Title: Richard II (Quarto 1, 1597)
  • Editor: Catherine Lisak

    • ISBN: 978-1-55058-436-3

    Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Catherine Lisak
    Peer Reviewed

    Richard II (Quarto 1, 1597)

    The Tragedie of
    2020Bull. Why B. is Norffolke dead?
    Carl. As surely as I liue my Lord.
    Bull. Sweet peace conduct his sweete soule to the bosome,
    Of good olde Abraham: Lords Appellants,
    Your differences shall all rest vnder gage,
    2025Till we assigne you to your daies of triall. Enter Yorke
    Yorke Great Duke of Lancaster I come to thee,
    From plume-pluckt Richard, who with willing soule,
    Adopts the heire, and his high scepter yeeldes,
    2030To the possession of thy royaIl hand:
    Ascend his throne, descending now from him,
    And long liue Henry fourth of that name.
    Bull. In Gods name Ile ascend the regall throne.
    Car. Mary God forbid.
    2035Worst in this royall presence may I speake.
    Yet best beseeming me to speake the truth,
    Would God that any in this noble presence,
    Were enough noble to be vpright iudge
    Of noble Richard. Then true noblesse would
    2040Learne him forbearance from so foule a wrong,
    What subiect can giue sentence on his King:
    And who sits here that is not Richards subiect?
    Theeues are not iudgd but they are by to heare,
    Although apparant guilt be seene in them,
    2045And shall the figure of Gods Maiesty,
    His Captaine, steward, deputy, elect,
    Annointed, crowned, planted, many yeares
    Be iudgd by subiect and infetiour breath,
    And he himselfe not present? Oh forfend it God,
    2050That in a Christian climate soules refinde,
    Should shew so heinous blacke obsceene a deed
    I speake to subiects and a subiect speakes,
    Stird vp by God thus boldly for his King,
    My Lord of Hereford here whom you call King,
    2055Is a foule traitour to proud Herefords King,
    And if you crowne him let me prophesie,
    The bloud of English shall manure the ground,
    And future ages groane for this foule act,
    Peace
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