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K. Rich. Too well, too well, thou tell'st a tale so ill. Where is the earl of Wiltshire? where is Bagot? What is become of Bushy? where is Green? That they have let the dangerous enemy Measure our confines with such peaceful steps? If we prevail, their heads shall pay for it.

I warrant, they have made peace with Bolingbroke. Scroop. Peace have they made with him, indeed, my lord.

K. Rich. O villains, vipers, lost without redemption! Dogs, easily won to fawn on any man! Snakes, in my heart-blood warm'd, that sting my heart!

Scroop. Sweet love, I see changing his property, Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate: Again uncurse their souls; their peace is made With heads, and not with hands: those whom you

curse

Have felt the worst of death's destroying wound,
And lie full low, grav'd in the hollow ground.
Aum. Is Bushy, Green, and the earl of Wiltshire
dead?

Scroop. Yea, all of them at Bristol lost their heads.
Aum. Where is the duke my father with his power?
K. Rich. No matter where; of comfort no man
speak:

Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs;
Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes
Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth.
Let's choose executors, and talk of wills:
And yet not so, — for what can we bequeath,
Save our deposed bodies to the ground?
Our lands, our lives, and all are Bolingbroke's,
And nothing can we call our own, but death;
And that small model of the barren earth,
Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
For heaven's sake, let us sit upon the ground,
And tell sad stories of the death of kings:
How some have been depos'd, some slain in war;
Some haunted by the ghosts they have depos'd;
Some poison'd by their wives, some sleeping kill'd;
All murder'd: For within the hollow crown,
That rounds the mortal temples of a king,
Keeps death his court; and there the antick sits,
Scoffing his state, and grinning at his pomp;
Allowing bin a breath, a little scene
To monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with looks;
Infusing him with self and vain conceit,
As if this flesh, which walls about our life,
Were brass impregnable; and humour'd thus,
Comes at the last, and with a little pin
Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king!
Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood
With solemn reverence; throw away respect,
Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty,
For you have but mistook me all this while :
I live with bread like you, feel want, taste grief,
Need friends: - Subjected thus,

How can you say to me— - I am a king?

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

To change blows with thee for our day of doom.
This ague-fit of fear is overblown;

An easy task it is to win our own.

Say, Scroop, where lies our uncle with his power? Speak sweetly, man, although thy looks be sour. Scroop. Men judge by the complexion of the sky The state and inclination of the day:

So may you by my dull and heavy eye,

My tongue hath but a heavier tale to say. play the torturer, by small and small, To lengthen out the worst that must be spoken : — Your uncle York hath join'd with Bolingbroke; And all your northern castles yielded up, And all your southern gentlemen in arms Upon his party.

Thou hast said enough.

K. Rich. Beshrew thee, cousin, which did lead me forth. [To AUMERLE. Of that sweet way I was in to despair! What say you now? what comfort have we now? By heaven, I'll hate him everlastingly, That bids me be of comfort any more. Go, to Flint castle; there I'll pine away; A king, woe's slave, shall kingly woe obey. That power I have, discharge; and let them go To ear the land that hath some hope to grow, For I have none: Let no man speak again To alter this, for counsel is but vain. Aum. My liege, one word.

K. Rich.

He does me double wrong That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue. Discharge my followers, let them hence; - Away, From Richard's night, to Bolingbroke's fair day. [Exeunt.

SCENE III. — Wales. Before Flint Castle. Enter, with Drum and Colours, BOLINGBROKE and Forces; YORK, NORTHUMBERLAND, and others.

Boling. So that by this intelligence we learn, The Welshmen are dispers'd; and Salisbury Is gone to meet the king, who lately landed, With some few private friends upon this coast. North. The news is very fair and good, my lord: Richard, not far from hence, hath hid his head. York. It would beseem the lord Northumberland, To say king Richard: Alack the heavy day, When such a sacred king should hide his head ! North. Your grace mistakes me; only to be brief, Left I his title out.

York. The time hath been, Would you have been so brief with him he would Have been so brief with you, to shorten you, For taking so the head, your whole head's length. Boling. Mistake not, uncle, farther than you

should.

York. Take not, good cousin, further than you should,

Car. My lord, wise men ne'er wail their present Lest you mistake: The heavens are o'er your head.

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Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle;
Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parle
Into his ruin'd ears, and thus deliver.
Harry Bolingbroke

On both his knees doth kiss king Richard's hand;
And sends allegiance, and true faith of heart,
To his most royal person: hither come
Even at his feet to lay my arms and power;
Provided that, my banishment repeal'd,
And lands restor'd again, be freely granted:
If not, I'll use the advantage of my power,
And lay the summer's dust with showers of blood,
Rain'd from the wounds of slaughter'd Englishmen:
The which, how far off from the mind of Bolingbroke
It is, such crimson tempest should bedrench
The fresh green lap of fair king Richard's land,
My stooping duty tenderly shall show.
Go, signify as much; while here we march
Upon the grassy carpet of this plain. ·

[NORTHUMBERLAND advances to the
Castle with a Trumpet.

Let's march without the noise of threat'ning drum,
That from the castle's totter'd battlements
Our fair appointments may be well perus'd.
Methinks, king Richard and myself should meet
With no less terror than the elements

Of fire and water, when their thund'ring shock
At meeting tears the cloudy cheeks of heaven.
Be he the fire, I'll be the yielding water:
The rage be his, while on the earth I rain
My waters; on the earth, and not on him.
March on, and mark king Richard how he looks.

A Parle sounded, and answered by another Trumpet
within. Flourish. Enter on the Walls KING
RICHARD, the BISHOP OF CARLISLE, AUMERLE,
SCROOP, and SALISBURY.

York. See, see, king Richard doth himself appear, As doth the blushing discontented sun From out the fiery portal of the east; When he perceives the envious clouds are bent To dim his glory, and to stain the track Of his bright passage to the occident. Yet looks he like a king; behold, his eye, As bright as is the eagle's, lightens forth, Controlling majesty; Alack, alack, for woe, That any harm should stain so fair a show!

K. Rich. We are amaz'd; and thus long have we stood

To watch the fearful bending of thy knee,
[To NORTHUMBERLAND.
Because we thought ourself thy lawful king:
And if we be, how dare thy joints forget
To pay their awful duty to our presence?
If we be not, show us the hand of God
That hath dismiss'd us from our stewardship;
For well we know, no hand of blood and bone
Can gripe the sacred handle of our scepter,
Unless he do profane, steal, or usurp.
And though you think, that all, as you have done,
Have torn their souls, by turning them from us,
And we are barren, and bereft of friends;

Yet know, my master, God omnipotent,
Is must'ring in his clouds, on our behalf,
Armies of pestilence; and they shall strike
Your children yet unborn, and unbegot,
That lift your vassal hands against my head,
And threat the glory of my precious crown.
Tell Bolingbroke, (for yond', methinks, he is,)
That every stride he makes upon my land,
Is dangerous treason: He is come to ope
The purple testament of bleeding war;
But ere the crown he looks for live in peace,
Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers' sons
Shall ill become the flower of England's face;
Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace
To scarlet indignation, and bedew

Her pasture's grass with faithful English blood.
North. The king of heaven forbid, our lord the king
Should so with civil and uncivil arms
Be rush'd upon; Thy thrice-noble cousin,
Harry Bolingbroke, doth humbly kiss thy hand;
And by the honourable tomb he swears,
That stands upon thy royal grandsire's bones;
And by the royalties of both your bloods,
Currents that spring from one most gracious head;
And by the buried hand of warlike Gaunt;
And by the worth and honour of himself,
Comprising all that may be sworn or said,
His coming hither hath no further scope,
Than for his lineal royalties, and to beg
Enfranchisement immediate on his knees:
Which on thy royal party granted once,
His glittering arms he will commend to rust,
His barbed steeds to stables, and his heart
To faithful service of your majesty.
This swears he, as he is a prince, is just ;
And, as I am a gentleman, I credit him.
K. Rich. Northumberland, say, - thus the king

returns

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The name of king? o'God's name, let it go:
I'll give my jewels for a set of beads;
My gorgeous palace, for a hermitage;
My gay apparel, for an alms-man's gown;
My figur'd goblets for a dish of wood;
My scepter, for a palmer's walking-staff;
My subjects, for a pair of carved saints;
And my large kingdom, for a little grave,
A little, little grave, an obscure grave:
Or I'll be buried in the king's highway,
Some way of common trade where subjects' feet
May hourly trample on their sovereign's head:
For on my heart they tread, now whilst I live;
And, buried once, why not upon my head?.
Aumerle, thou weep'st; My tender-hearted cousin!—
We'll make foul weather with despised tears;
Our sighs, and they, shall lodge the summer corn,
And make a dearth in this revolting land.
Or shall we play the wantons with our woes,
And make some pretty match with shedding tears;
As thus: To drop them still upon one place,
Till they have fretted us a pair of graves
Within the earth; and therein laid, -

There lies

Two kinsmen, digg'd their graves with weeping eyes?
Would not this ill do well?- Well, well, I see
I talk but idly, and you mock at me.
Most mighty prince, my lord Northumberland,
What says king Bolingbroke? will his majesty
Give Richard leave to live till Richard die?
You make a leg ', and Bolingbroke says —ay.
North. My lord, in the base court he doth attend,
To speak with you; may't please you to come down?
K. Rich. Down, down, I come; like glistering
Phaeton,

Wanting the manage of unruly jades.
[NORTH. retires to BOLING.
In the base court? Base court, where kings grow base,
To come at traitors' calls, and do them grace.
In the base court? Come down? Down, court!
down, king!

For night-owls shriek, where mounting larks should
sing.
[Exeunt, from above.
Boling. What says his majesty?
North.
Sorrow and grief of heart
Makes him speak fondly, like a frantick man :
Yet he is come.

Enter KING RICHARD, and his Attendants, below.

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To make the base earth proud with kissing it:
Me rather had, my heart might feel your love,
Than my unpleas'd eye see your courtesy.
Up, cousin, up: your heart is up, I know,

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Enter the QUEEN, and two Ladies.

Queen. What sport shall we devise here in this garden,

To drive away the heavy thought of care? 1 Lady. Madam, well play at bowls. Queen.

'Twill make me think, The world is full of rubs, and that my fortune Runs 'gainst the bias.

I Lady. Madam, we will dance. Queen. My legs can keep no measure in delight, When my poor heart no measure keeps in grief: Therefore, no dancing, girl; some other sport.

1 Lady. Madam, we'll tell tales. Queen.

1 Lady. Of either, madam. Queen.

Of sorrow, or of joy?

Of neither, girl :

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

'Tis well that thou hast cause; But thou shouldst please me better, wouldst thou weep.

1 Lady. I could weep, madam, would it do you

good.

Queen. And I could weep, would weeping do me good,

And never borrow any tear of thee.
But stay, here come the gardeners :
Let's step into the shadow of these trees.

Enter a Gardener, and two Servants.

My wretchedness unto a row of pins,
They'll talk of state; for every one doth so
Against a change: Woe is forerun with woe.
[QUEEN and Ladies retire.
Gard. Go, bind thou up yon' dangling apricocks,
Which, like unruly children, make their sire
Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight:
Give some supportance to the bending twigs. -
Go thou, and like an executioner,

Cut off the heads of too-fast-growing sprays,
That look too lofty in our commonwealth :

Thus high at least, [Touching his own head.] al- All must be even in our government,

though your knee be low.

Boling. My gracious lord, I come but for mine own. K. Rich. Your own is yours, and I am yours, and all. Boling. So far be mine, my most redoubted lord, As my true service shall deserve your love. K. Rich. Well you deserve : - They well deserve

to have,

That know the strong'st and surest way to get. Uncle, give me your hand: nay, dry your eyes; Tears show their love, but want their remedies. Cousin, I am too young to be your father,

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You thus employ'd, I will go root away
The noisome weeds, that without profit suck
The soil's fertility from wholesome flowers.

Keep law, and form, and due proportion,
1 Serv. Why should we, in the compass of a pale,
Showing, as in a model, our firm estate?
When our sea-walled garden, the whole land,
Is full of weeds; her fairest flowers chok'd up,
Her fruit-trees all unprun'd, her hedges ruin'd,
Her knots disorder'd, and her wholesome herbs
Swarming with caterpillars?

3 Figures planted in a box.

Gard.

Hold thy peace: He that hath suffer'd this disorder'd spring, Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf:

Why dost thou say, king Richard is depos'd? Dar'st thou, thou little better thing than earth, Divine his downfal? Say, where, when and how,

The weeds, that his broad-spreading leaves did Cam'st thou by these ill tidings? speak, thou wretch.

shelter,

That seem'd in eating him to hold him up,
Are pluck'd up, root and all, by Bolingbroke ;
I mean the earl of Wiltshire, Bushy, Green.
1 Serv. What, are they dead?
Gard.

They are; and Bolingbroke Hath seiz'd the wasteful king. -Oh! What pity is it,

That he had not so trimm'd and dress'd his land,
As we this garden! We at time of year
Do wound the bark, the skin of our fruit-trees;
Lest, being over-proud with sap and blood,
With too much riches it confound itself:
Had he done so to great and growing men,
They might have liv'd to bear, and he to taste
Their fruits of duty. All superfluous branches
We lop away, that bearing boughs may live:
Had he done so, himself had borne the crown,
Which waste of idle hours hath quite thrown down.
1 Serv. What, think you then, the king shall be
depos'd?

Gard. Depress'd he is already; and depos'd,
'Tis doubt, he will be: Letters came last night
To a dear friend of the good duke of York's,
That tell black tidings.

Queen. O, I am press'd to death, Through want of speaking! - Thou, old Adam's likeness, [Coming from her concealment. Set to dress this garden, how dares Thy harsh-rude tongue sound this unpleasing news?

Gard. Pardon me, madam: little joy have I, To breathe this news; yet, what I say, is true. King Richard, he is in the mighty hold Of Bolingbroke; their fortunes both are weigh'd : In your lord's scale is nothing but himself, And some few vanities that make him light; But in the balance of great Bolingbroke, Besides himself, are all the English peers, And with that odds he weighs king Richard down. Post you to London, and you'll find it so ; I speak no more than every man doth know. Queen. Nimble mischance, that art so light of foot, Doth not thy embassage belong to me, And am I last that knows it? O, thou think'st To serve me last, that I may longest keep Thy sorrow in my breast. Come, ladies, go, To meet at London London's king in woe. — What, was I born to this! that my sad look Should grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke? Gardener, for telling me this news of woe, I would the plants thou graft'st may never grow. [Exeunt QUEEN and Ladies. Gard. Poor queen! so that thy state might be no

worse,

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ACT IV.

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The Lords Spiritual on the right side of the Throne; the Lords Temporal on the left; the Commons below. Enter BOLINGBROKE, AUMERLE, SURREY, NORTHUMBERLAND, PERCY, FITZWATER, another Lord, BISHOP OF CARLISLE, ABBOT OF WESTMINSTER, and Attendants. Officers behind, with BAGOT.

Boling. Call forth Bagot :

Now, Bagot, freely speak thy mind;

What thou dost know of noble Gloster's death; Who wrought it with the king, and who perform'd The bloody office of his timeless end?

Bagot. Then set before my face the lord Aumerle. Boling. Cousin, stand forth, and look upon that

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Aum.

Princes, and noble lords

What answer shall I make to this base man?

Shall I so much dishonour my fair stars,
On equal terms to give him chastisement?
Either I must, or have mine honour soil'd
With the attainder of his sland'rous lips.
There is my gage, the manual seal of death,
That marks thee out for hell: I say, thou liest,
And will maintain, what thou hast said, is false,
In thy heart-blood, though being all too base
To stain the temper of my knightly sword.
Boling. Bagot, forbear, thou shalt not take it up
Aum. Excepting one, I would he were the best
In all this presence, that hath mov'd me so.

Fitz. If that thy valour stand on sympathies,
There is my gage, Aumerle, in gage to thine:
By that fair sun that shows me where thou stand'st,
I heard thee say, and vauntingly thou spak'st it,
That thou wert cause of noble Gloster's death.
If thou deny'st it, twenty times thou liest;
And I will turn thy falsehood to thy heart,
Where it was forged, with my rapier's point.
Aum. Thou dar'st not, coward, live to see that day.
Fitz. Now, by my soul, I would it were this hour.
Aum. Fitzwater, thou art doom'd to hell for this.
Percy. Aumerle, thou liest; his honour is as true,
In this appeal, as thou art all unjust:
And, that thou art so, there I throw my gage,
To prove it on thee to the extremest point
Of mortal breathing; seize it, if thou dar'st.

Aum. And if I do not, may my hands rot off, And never brandish more revengeful steel Over the glittering helmet of my foe!

Boling. In God's name, I'll ascend the regal throne. Car. Marry, God forbid !

Worst in this royal presence may I speak,

Lord. I take the earth to the like, forsworn Au- Yet best beseeming me to speak the truth.

merle ;

And spur thee on with full as many lies
As may be holla'd in thy treacherous ear
From sun to sun: there is my honour's pawn;
Engage it to the trial, if thou dar'st.

Aum. Who sets me else? by heaven, I'll throw at all:

I have a thousand spirits in one breast,
To answer twenty thousand such as you.
Surrey. My lord Fitzwater, I do remember well
The very time Aumerle and you did talk.
Fitz. My lord, 'tis true: you were in presence then;
And you can witness with me, this is true.
Surrey. As false, by heaven, as heaven itself is true.
Fitz. Surrey, thou liest.
Surrey.

Dishonourable boy!
That lie shall lie so heavy on my sword,
That it shall render vengeance and revenge,
Till thou the lie-giver, and that lie, do lie
In earth as quiet as thy father's skull.

In proof whereof, there is my honour's pawn;
Engage it to the trial, if thou dar'st.

Fitz. How fondly dost thou spur a forward horse!
If I dare eat, or drink, or breathe, or live,
I dare meet Surrey in a wilderness,
And spit upon him, whilst I say, he lies,
And lies, and lies: there is my bond of faith,
To tie thee to my strong correction. ·
As I intend to thrive in this new world,
Aumerle is guilty of my true appeal:
Besides, I heard the banish'd Norfolk say,
That thou, Aumerle, didst send two of thy men
To execute the noble duke at Calais.

Aum. Some honest Christian trust me with a gage, That Norfolk lies: here do I throw down this, If he may be repeal'd to try his honour.

Boling. These differences shall all rest under gage, Till Norfolk be repeal'd: repeal'd he shall be, And, though mine enemy, restor❜d again To all his land and signories; when he's return'd, Against Aumerle we will enforce his trial.

Car. That honourable day shall ne'er be seen. — Many a time hath banish'd Norfolk fought For Jesu Christ; in glorious Christian field Streaming the ensign of the Christian cross, Against black Pagans, Turks, and Saracens : And, toil'd with works of war, retir'd himself To Italy; and there at Venice, gave His body to that pleasant country's earth, And his pure soul unto his captain Christ, Under whose colours he had fought so long. Boling. Why, bishop, is Norfolk dead? Car. As sure as I live, my lord.

Boling. Sweet peace conduct his sweet soul to the bosom

Of good old Abraham!. Lords appellants,
Your differences shall all rest under gage,
Till we assign you to your days of trial.

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Would God, that any in this noble presence
Were enough noble to be upright judge
Of noble Richard; then true nobless would
Learn him forbearance from so foul a wrong,
What subject can give sentence on his king?
And who sits here, that is not Richard's subject?
Thieves are not judg'd, but they are by to hear,
Although apparent guilt be seen in them;
And shall the figure of God's majesty,
His captain, steward, deputy elect,
Anointed, crowned, planted many years,
Be judg'd by subject and inferior breath,
And he himself not present? O, forbid it, God,
That, in a Christian climate, souls refin'd
Should show so heinous, black, obscene a deed '
I speak to subjects, and a subject speaks,
Stirr'd up by heaven thus boldly for his king.
My lord of Hereford here, whom you call king,
Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford's king:
And if you crown him, let me prophesy, -
The blood of English shall manure the ground,
And future ages groan for this foul act;
Peace shall go sleep with Turks and Infidels,
And, in this seat of peace, tumultuous wars
Shall kin with kin, and kind with kind confound;
Disorder, horror, fear, and mutiny,

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Shall here inhabit, and this land be call'd
The field of Golgotha, and dead men's skulls.
O, if thou rear this house against this house,
It will the woefullest division prove,
That ever fell upon this cursed earth:
Prevent, resist it, let it not be so,
Lest child, child's children, cry, against you-woe!
North. Well have you argu'd, sir; and, for your
pains,

Of capital treason we arrest you here:
My lord of Westminster, be it your charge
To keep him safely till his day of trial.
May't please you, lords, to grant the commons' suit.
Boling. Fetch hither Richard, that in common view
He may surrender; so we shall proceed
Without suspicion.

[Ert.

York. I will be his conduct. Boling. Lords, you that are here under our arrest, Procure your sureties for your days of answer: — Little are we beholden to your love, [To CARLIsle. And little look'd for at your helping hands.

Re-enter YORK, with KING RICHARD, and Officers bearing the Crown, &c.

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K. Rich. Alack, why am I sent for to a king, Before I have shook off the regal thoughts Wherewith I reign'd? I hardly yet have learn'd To insinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my knee: Give sorrow leave a while to tutor me To this submission. Yet I well remember The favours of these men: Were they not mine? Did they not sometime cry, all hail! to me?To do what service am I sent for hither? York. To do that office, of thine own good will, Which tired majesty did make thee offer, The resignation of thy state and crown To Henry Bolingbroke.

K. Rich. Give me the crown: seize the crown;

4 Countenances.

Here, cousin,

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