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Yet best beseeming me to speak the truth.
Of capital treason we arrest you here:-
York. I will be his conduct. [Exit. 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.
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? So Judas did to Christ: but he, in twelve, Found truth in all, but one; I, in twelve thousand,
God save the king!-Will no man say amen? Am I both priest and clerk? well then, amen. God save the king! although I be not he; And yet, amen, if heaven do think him 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.
Boling. I thought you had been willing to resign. K. Rich. My crown I am; but still my griefs are You may my glories and my state depose, [mine: But not my griefs; still am I king of those.
Boling. Part of your cares you give me with your [down. K. Rich. Your cares, set up, do not pluck my cares My care is-loss of care, by old care done; Your care is gain of care, by new care won: The cares I give, I have, though given away; They tend the crown, yet still with me they stay.
Boling. Are you contented to resign the crown? K. Rich. Ay, no;-no, ay :-for I must nothing Therefore no no, for I resign to thee. [be; Now mark me how I will undo myself:I give this heavy weight from off my head, And this unwieldy sceptre from my hand, The pride of kingly sway from out my heart; With mine own tears I wash away my balm, With mine own hands I give away my crown, With mine own tongue deny my sacred state, With mine own breath release all duteous oaths: All pomp and majesty I do forswear; My manors, rents, and revenues, I forego; My acts, decrees, and statutes, I deny: God pardon all oaths, that are broke to me! God keep all vows unbroke, are made to thee! Make me, that nothing have, with nothing griev'd; And thou with all pleas'd, that hast all achiev'd! Long mayst thou live in Richard's seat to sit, And soon lie Richard in an earthy pit! God save king Henry, unking'd Richard says, And send him many years of sunshine days! What more remains? North.
[seize the crown;
K. Rich. Give me the crown-Here, cousin,
The other down, unseen, and full of water:
No more, but that you read (Offering a paper) These accusations, and these grievous crimes, Committed by your person, and your followers, Against the state and profit of this land; That, by confessing them, the souls of men May deem that you are worthily depos'd.
K. Rich. Must I do so? and must I ravel out
Mark'd with a blot, damn'd in the book of heaven:-
North. My lord, despatch; read o'er these articles. K. Rich. Mine eyes are full of tears, I cannot see: And yet salt water blinds them not so much, But they can see a sort of traitors here. Nay, if I turn mine eyes upon myself, I find myself a traitor with the rest: For I have given here my soul's consent, To undeck the pompous body of a king; Make glory base; and sovereignty, a slave; Proud majesty, a subject; state, a peasant.
North. My lord,
K. Rich. No lord of thine, thou haught, insulting Nor no man's lord; I have no name, no title,No, not that name was given me at the font,But 'tis usurp'd:-Alack the heavy day, That I have worn so many winters out, And know not now what name to call myself! O, that I were a mockery king of snow, Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke, To melt myself away in water-drops!Good king,-great king,-(and yet not greatly An if my word be sterling yet in England,
Drinking my griefs, whilst you mount up on high. Let it command a mirror hither straight;
That it may show me what a face I have,
Your hearts of sorrow, and your eyes of tears;
Give me that glass, and therein will I read.
(Dashes the glass against the ground)
Say that again. The shadow of my sorrow? Ha! let's see:'Tis very true, my grief lies all within; And these external manners of lament
Are merely shadows to the unseen grief,
Name it, fair cousin.
K. Rich. Fair cousin? Why, I am greater than a king:
For, when I was a king, my flatterers
Were then but subjects; being now a subject,
K. Rich. And shall I have?
Boling. You shall.
K. Rich. Then give me leave to go.
K. Rich. O, good! Convey?-Conveyers are That rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall.
[Exeunt K. Richard, some Lords, and a Guard. Boling. On Wednesday next, we solemnly set down
Our coronation: lords, prepare yourselves. [Exeunt all but the Abbot, Bishop of Carlisle, and Aumerle.
Abbot. A woeful pageant have we here beheld. Car. The woe's to come; the children yet unborn
Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn.
Aum. You holy clergymen, is there no plot To rid the realm of this pernicious blot?
Abbot. Before I freely speak my mind herein, You shall not only take the sacrament To bury mine intents, but to effect Whatever I shall happen to devise:I see your brows are full of discontent,
SCENE I.-London. A Street leading to the Tower. Enter QUEEN and Ladies.
Queen. This way the king will come; this is the To Julius Cæsar's ill-erected tower, [way To whose flint bosom my condemned lord Is doom'd a prisoner by proud Bolingbroke: Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth Have any resting for her true king's queen.
Enter King RICHARD, and Guards. But soft, but see, or rather do not see, My fair rose wither: Yet look up; behold; That you in pity may dissolve to dew, And wash him fresh again with true-love tears.Ah, thou, the model where old Troy did stand; Thou map of honour; thou king Richard's tomb, And not king Richard; thou most beauteous inn, Why should hard-favour'd grief be lodg'd in thee, When triumph is become an alehouse guest?
K. Rich. Join not with grief, fair woman, do
To make my end too sudden: learn, good soul,
Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to France,
K. Rich. A king of beasts, indeed; if aught but I had been still a happy king of men. [beasts, Good sometime queen, prepare thee hence for France:
Think, I am dead; and that even here thou tak'st,
With good old folks; and let them tell thee tales
And, ere thou bid good night, to quit their grief,
Enter NORTHUMBERLAND, attended. North. My lord, the mind of Bolingbroke is chang'd;
You must to Pomfret, not unto the Tower.-
The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne,-
And he shall think, that thou, which know'st the
North. My guilt be on my head, and there an end.
Take leave, and part; for you must part forth-
Weep thou for me in France, I for thee here;
(They kiss.) Queen. Give me mine own again; 'twere no good part, To take on me to keep, and kill thy heart. (Kiss again.) So, now I have mine own again, begone, That I may strive to kill it with a groan. [delay: K. Rich. We make woe wanton with this fond Once more, adieu; the rest let sorrow say.
[Exeunt. SCENE II.-The same. A Room in the Duke of York's Palace.
Enter YORK, and his DUCHESS.
Duch. My lord, you told me, you would tell the rest, When weeping made you break the story off Of our two cousins coming into London.
York. Where did I leave? Duch. At that sad stop, my lord, Where rude misgovern'd hands, from window's tops, Threw dust and rubbish on king Richard's head. York. Then, as I said, the duke, great Bolingbroke,Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed, Which his aspiring rider seem'd to know,With slow, but stately pace, kept on his course, While all tongues cried-God save thee, Boling
You would have thought the very window
Duch. Alas, poor Richard! where rides he the while?
York. As in a theatre, the eyes of men, After a well grac'd actor leaves the stage, Are idly bent on him that enters next, Thinking his prattle to be tedious: Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes Did scowl on Richard; no man cried, God save him;
No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home :
Duch. Here comes my son Aumerle. York. Aumerle that was; But that is lost, for being Richard's friend, And, madam, you must call him Rutland now; I am in parliament pledge for his truth, And lasting fealty to the new-made king.
Duch. Welcome, my son: Who are the violets
That strew the green lap of the new-come spring? Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care God knows, I had as lief be none, as one. [not: York. Well, bear you well in this new spring of time,
Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime. What news from Oxford? hold those justs and triumphs?
Aum. For aught I know, my lord, they do.
Yea, look'st thou pale? let me see the writing.
No matter then who sees it:
I will be satisfied, let me see the writing.
What should you fear? "Tis nothing but some bond that he is enter'd into For gay apparel, 'gainst the triumph day. York. Bound to himself? what doth he with a bond
That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool.—
[show it. Aum. I do beseech you, pardon me ; I may not York. I will be satisfied; let me see it, I say. (Snatches it, and reads.) Treason! foul treason!-villain! traitor! slave! Duch. What is the matter, my lord?
York. Ho! who is within there? (Enter a Servant.) Saddle my horse.
God for his mercy! what treachery is here!
York. Give me my boots, I say; saddle my horse:
For by mine honour, by my life, my troth,
Thy life answer!
Re-enter Servant, with boots.
York. Bring me my boots, I will unto the king. Duch. Strike him, Aumerle.-Poor boy, thou art amaz'd:
Hence, villain; never more come in my sight.(To the Servant.)
York. Give me my boots, I say. Duch. Why, York, what wilt thou do? Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own? Have we more sons? or are we like to have? Is not my teeming date drunk up with time? And wilt thou pluck my fair son from mine age, And rob me of a happy mother's name? Is he not like thee? is he not thine own?
York. Thou fond mad woman,
Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy?
Fond woman! were he twenty times my son,
Hadst thou groan'd for him,
Boling. Can no man tell of my unthrifty son? "Tis full three months, since I did see him last :If any plague hang over us, 'tis he.
I would to God, my lords, he might be found:
Percy. My lord, some two days since I saw the prince;
And told him of these triumphs held at Oxford.
Percy. His answer was, he would unto the stews;
And from the common'st creature pluck a glove,
Boling. As dissolute, as desperate: yet, through I see some sparkles of a better hope, Which elder days may happily bring forth. But who comes here!
Aum. God save your grace. I do beseech your To have some conference with your grace alone. majesty, Boling. Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here alone.[Exeunt Percy and Lords. What is the matter with our cousin now? Aum. For ever may my knees grow to the earth, (Kneels)
My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth,
Boling. Intended, or committed, was this fault?
Aum. Then give me leave, that I may turn the That no man enter till my tale be done.
Boling. Have thy desire. (Aumerle locks the door.) York. (Within.) My liege, beware; look to thyself;
Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there.
Thou hast no cause to fear.
York. (Within.) Open the door, secure, foolhardy king: Shall I, for love, speak treason to thy face? Open the door, or I will break it open. (Bolingbroke opens the door.)
Boling. What is the matter, uncle? speak; Recover breath; tell us how near is danger, That we may arm us to encounter it.
[know York. Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt The treason that my haste forbids me show. Aum. Remember, as thou read'st, thy promise past:
I do repent me; read not my name there,
I tore it from the traitor's bosom, king;
Boling. Oheinous, strong, and bold conspiracy!—
York. So shall my virtue be his vice's bawd; And he shall spend mine honour with his shame, As thriftless sons their scraping fathers' gold. Mine honour lives, when his dishonour dies, Or my sham'd life in his dishonour lies: Thou kill'st me in his life; giving him breath, The traitor lives, the true man's put to death. Duch. (Within.) What ho, my liege! for God's sake let me in.
Boling. What shrill-voic'd suppliant makes this eager cry?
Duch. A woman, and thine aunt, great king; 'tis I. Speak with me, pity me, open the door; A beggar begs, that never begg'd before.
Boling. Our scene is alter'd,-from a serious thing,
And now chang'd to The Beggar and the King.-
York. If thou do pardon, whosoever pray, More sins, for this forgiveness, prosper may. This fester'd joint cut off, the rest rests sound; This, let alone, with all the rest confound.
Duch. O king, believe not this hard-hearted man; Love, loving not itself, none other can.
York. Thou frantic woman, what dost thou make here?
Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear? Duch. Sweet York, be patient: Hear me, gentle liege. (Kneels.)
Boling. Rise up, good aunt. Duch. Not yet, I thee beseech: For ever will I kneel upon my knees, And never see day, that the happy sees, Till thou give joy; until thou bid me joy, By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy. Aum. Unto my mother's prayers, bend my knee. (Kneels.) York. Against them both, my true joints bended be. (Kneels.) Ill may'st thou thrive, if thou grant any grace! Duch. Pleads he in earnest? look upon his face; His eyes do drop no tears, his prayers are in jest; His words come from his mouth, ours from our breast:
He prays but faintly, and would be denied;
Duch. Dost thou teach pardon pardon to destroy? Ah, my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord, That sett'st the word itself against the word!Speak, pardon, as 'tis current in our land; The chopping French we do not understand. Thine eye begins to speak, set thy tongue there: Or, in thy piteous heart plant thou thine ear: That, hearing how our plaints and prayers do pierce, Pity may move thee, pardon to rehearse.
Boling. Good aunt, stand up. Duch. I do not sue to stand, Pardon is all the suit I have in hand.
Boling. I pardon him, as God shall pardon me. Duch. O happy vantage of a kneeling knee! Yet am I sick for fear: speak it again; Twice saying pardon, doth not pardon twain, But makes one pardon strong.
With all my heart
A god on earth thou art. Boling. But for our trusty brother-in-law,-and the abbot,
Boling. I pardon him. Duch.
With all the rest of that consorted crew,--
Enter EXTON, and a Servant.
Exton. Didst thou not mark the king, what words he spake? Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear? Was it not so?
SCENE V.-Pomfret. The Dungeon of the Castle. Enter King RICHARD.
K. Rich. I have been studying how I may compare
This prison where I live, unto the world:
As thus,-Come, little ones; and then again,-
Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears.