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shop of Carlisle, Abbot of Westminster, and 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,
And lies, and lies. There is my bond of faith,
To execute the noble duke at Calais. That reacheth from the restful English court
Aum. Some honest Christian trust me with a gage, As far as Calais, to my uncle's head?
That Norfolk lies! here do I throw down this, Amongst much other talk, that very time,
If he may be repueal’d to try his honour. I heard you say, that you had rather refuse Boling. These differences shall all rest under gage, The offer of an hundred thousand crowns,
Till Norfolk be repeal’d: repeal'd he shall be, Than Bolingbroke's return to England ;
And, though mine enemy, restor'd again
Against Aumerle we will enforce this trial.
Car. That honourable day shall ne'er be seen.-
For Jesu Christ, in glorious Christian field On equal terms to give him chastisement ? Streaming the ensign of the Christian cross, Either I must, or have mine honour soil'd
Against black Pagans, Turks, and Saracens, With the attainder of his sland'rous lips.
And, toil'd with works of war, retir'd himself There is my gage, the manual seal of death, To Italy, and there, at Venice, gave That marks thee out for hell: I say, thou liest, His body to that pleasant country's earth, And will maintain, what thou hast said is false, And his pure soul unto his captain Christ, In thy heart-blood, thou being all too base
Under whose colours he had fought so long. To stain the temper of my knightly sword.
Boling. Why, bishop, is Norfolk dead? Boling. Bagot, forbear, thou shalt not take it up. Car. As sure as I live, my lord.
Aum. Excepting one, I would he were the best Boling. Sweet peace conduct his sweet soul to the In all this presence, that hath mov'd me so.
bosom Fitz. If that thy valour stand on sympathies,
Of good old Abraham! Lords appellants,
Enter York, attended.
Worst in this royal presence may I speak,
Aum. And if I do not, may my hands rot oft, Of noble Richard! then true nobless would
What subject can give sentence on his king ? Lord. I task the earth to the like, forsworn Aumerle: And who sits here that is not Richard's subject? And spur thee on with full as many lies,
Thieves are not judg’d, but they are hy to hear, As may be holla'd in thy treacherous ear
Although apparent guilt be seen in them.
His captain, steward, deputy elect,
Be judg'd by subject and inferior breath,
And he himself not present? o, forbidit, God,
very time, Aumerle and you did talk. Should show so heinous, black, obscene a deed!
call king, Fitz. Surrey, thou liest !
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; Till thou the lie-giver, and that lie, do lye
Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels, In earth as quiet, as thy father's scull.
And, in this seat of peace, tumultuous wars
Shall kin with kin, and kind with kind confound; 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.
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!
North. Well have you argu'd, sir; and, for your pains, And thou with all pleas'd, that hast all achiev'd!,
Long may'st thou live in Richard's seat to sit,
God save king Henry, unking'd Richard says,
Boling. Fetch hither Richard, that in common view What more remains ?
North.No more, but that you read [Offering a paper.
These accusations, and these grievous crimes,
(Exit. Committed by your person, and your followers,
K. Rich. Must I do so? and must I ravel ont Re-enter York, with King Richard, and Officers My weav'd-up follies ? Gentle Northumberland, bearing the crown, etc.
Ifihy offences were upon record, K. Rich. Alack, why am I sent for to a king,
Would it not shame thee in so fair a troop, Before I have shook off the regal thoughts,
To read a lecture of them? If thou would'st, Wherewith I reign'd? I hardly yet have learn'd There should'st thou find one heinous article, To insinuate, flatter, bow, and bend
knee: Containing the deposing of a king, Give sorrow leave a while to tutor me
And cracking the strong warrant of an oath,
Mark'd with a blot, damn’d in the book of heaven:
Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait myself, —
Though some of you, with Pilate, wash your hands, Found truth in all, but one; I, in twelve thousand, Showing an outward pity; yet you Pilates
Have here deliver'd me to my sour cross, God save the king! — Will no man say amen?
And water cannot wash away your sin. Am I both priest and clerk? well then, amen!
North. My lord, dispatch; read o'er these articles !
K. Rich. Mine eyes are full of tears, I cannot see:
But they can see a sort of traitors here.
I find myself a traitor with the rest; The resignation of thy state and crown
For I have given here my soul's consent, To Henry Bolingbroke.
To undeck the pompous body of a king, K. Rich. Give me the crown!- Here, cousin, seize Make glory base and sovereignty a slave, the crown!
Proud majesty a subject, state a peasant.
K. Rich. No lord of thine, thou haught, insulting
man, The emptier ever dancing in the air,
Nor no man's lord; I have no name, no title, The other down, unseen, and full of water:
No, not that name was given me at the font,
But'tis usurp’d. — Alack the heavy day,
Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke,
To melt myself away in water-drops !
An if my word be sterling yet in England, K. Rich. Your cares, set up, do not pluck my cares Let it command a mirror hither straight; down.
That I may show me what a face I have, My care is loss of care, by old care done;
Since it is bankrupt of his majesty,
Boling. Go some of you, and fetch a looking-glass!
come! K. Rich. Ay, no ;- no, ay :--- - for I must nothing be; K. Rich. Fiend! thou torment'st me ere I come to Therefore no no, for I resign to thee.
hell. Now mark me, how I will undo myself!
Boling. Urge it no more, mylord Northumberland! I give this heavy weight from off my head,
North. The commons will not then be satisfied. And this unwieldy scepter from my hand,
K. Rich, They shall be satished; I'll read enough, The pride of kingly sway from out my heart.
When I do see the very book indeed, With mine own tears I wash away my balm,
Where all my sins are writ, and that's-myself.
(Exit an attendant.
Re-enter Attendant, with a glass. To whose flint bosom my.condemned lord Give me that glass, and therein will I read.
Is doom'd a prisoner by proud Bolingbroke. No deeper wriukles yet ? Hath sorrow struck
Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth So many blows upon this face of mine,
Have any resting for her true king's queen. And made no deeper wounds? – 0, flattering glass,
Inter King RICHARD, and Guards. Like to my followers in prosperity,
But soft, but see, or rather do not see, Thou dost beguile me! Was this face the face, My fair rose wither! Yet look up! behold, That every day under his household roof
That you in pity may dissolve to dew, Did keep ten thousand men? Was this the face, And wash him fresh again with true-love tears. – That, like the sun, did make beholders wink? Ah, thou, the mode), where old Troy did stand! Was this the face, that fac'd so many follies,
Thou map of honour! thou king Richard's tomb, And was at last out-fac'd by Bolingbroke?
And not king Richard! thou most beauteous in, A brittle glory shineth in this face:
Why should hard-favour'd grief be lodg’d in thee, As brittle as the glory is the face;
When triumph is become an alehouse guest? [Đashes the glass against the ground. K.Rich. Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so, For there it is, crack'd in a hundred shivers.
To make my end too sudden! Learn, good soul,
To think our former state a happy dream,
To grim necessity; and he and I
Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to France, The shadow of my sorrow? Ha! let's see:
And cloister thee in some religious house! 'Tis very true, my grieflies all within,
Our holy lives must win a new world's crown, And these external manners of lament
Which our profane hours here have stricken down. Are merely shadows to the unseen grief,
Queen. What, is my Richard both in shape and mind That swells with silence in the tortur'd soul.
Transforsi'd, and weaken'd ? Hath Bolingbroke There lies the substance: and I thank thee, king, Depos'd thine intellect? hath he been in thy heart? For thy great bounty, that not only giv’st
Thelion, dying, thrusteth forth his paw, Me cause to wail, but teachest me the way,
Aud wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage How to lament the cause. I'll beg one boon,
To be o’erpower'd ; and wilt thou, pupil-like, And then be gone, and trouble you no more.
Take thy correction mildly? kiss the rod, Shall I obtain it?
And fawn on rage with base humility, Boling. Name it, fair cousin !
Which art a lion, and a king of beasts? K. Rich. l'air cousin? Why, I am greater, than a king. K. Rich. A king of beasts, indeed ; ifaught but beasts, For, when I was a king, my flatterers
Thad been still a happy king of men. Were then but subjects; being now a subject, Good sometime queen, prepare thee hence for France! Uave a king here to my flatterer.
Think, I am dead, and that even here thou tak'st, Being so great, I have no need to beg.
As from my death-bed, my last living leave! Boling. Yet ask.
In winter's tedious nights sit by the fire K. Rich. And shall I have?
With good old folks, and let them tell thee tales Boling. You shall.
Of woeful ages, long ago betid: K. Rich. Then give me leave to go!
And, ere thon bid good night, to quit their grief, Boling. Whither?
Tell thon thelamentable fall of me,
l'or why, the senseless brands will sympathize
And some will mourn in ashes, some coal-black,
North. My lord, the mind of Bolingbroke is chang’d: (Exeunt all but the Ibbot, Bishop of Carlisle, You must to Pomfret, vot unto the Tower. and Aumerle.
And, madam, there is order ta'en for you;. Abbot. A woeful pageant have we here beheld. With all swilt speed you must away to France. Cur. The woes to come; the children yet unborn K. Rich. Northumberland, thou ladder, whereShall feel this day as sharp to them, as thorn.
withal Aum. You holy clergymen, is there no plot The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne, To rid the realm of this pernicious blot?
The time shall not be many hours of age Abbot. Before I freely speak my mind herein, More than it is, ere foul sin, gathering head, You sha!l not only take the sacrament,
Shall break into corruption : thou shalt think, To bury mive intents, but to effect
Though he divide the realm, and give thee half, Whatever I shall happen to devise.
It is too little, helping him to all; I see your brows are full of discontent,
And he shall think, that thou, which !now'st the way Your hearts of sorrow, and your eyes of tears, Come home with me to supper! I will lay
To plant unrightful kings, wilt know again,
Being ne'er so little urg'd, another way A plot, shall show us all a merry day.
[Exeunt. To pluck him headlong from the usurped throne.
The love of wicked friends converts to fear ;
That fear, to hate; and hate turns one, or both,
To worthy danger, and deserved death. SCENE I. - London. A street leading to the Tower. North. My guilt be on my head, and there an end. Enter Queen, and Ladies.
Take leave, and part! for you must part forthwith. Queen. This way the king will come; this is the way To Julius Caesar's ill-erected tower,
K. Rich. Doubly divorc'd ? - Bad men, ye violate A twofold marriage: 'twixt my crown and me,
And then, betwixt me and my married wife.
| That had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd Let me unkiss the oath'twixt thee and me!
The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted,
And barbarism itself have pitied him.
Whose state and honour I for aye allow.
But that is lost, for being Richard's friend,
What news from Oxford ? hold those justs and
triumphs ? Come, come, in wooing sorrow let's be brief,
Aum. For aught I know, my lord, they do.
York. You will be there, I know.
( They kiss.
York. No matter then who sees it.
I will be satisfied, let me see the writing!
Which for some reasons I would not have seen.
A room in the Duke of York. Which for some reasons, sir, I mean to see.
I fear, I fear,
Duch. What should you fear?
York. Bound to himself? what doth he with a bond,
That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool. –
Boy, let me see the writing!
Treason ! foul treason !- villain! traitor! slave!
Duch. What is the matter, my lord ? Which his aspiring rider seem’d to know,
York. Ho! who is within there? [Enter a Servant.] With slow, but stately pace, kept on his course,
Saddle my horse! While all tongues cried: God save thee, Boling- God for his mercy! what treachery is here! broke!
Duch. Why, what is it, my
For by mine honour, by my life, my troth,
Duch. What's the matter?
York. Peace, foolish woman! Jesu preserve thee! welcome, Bolingbroke!
Duch. lwill not peace! — What is the matter, son?
Aum. Good mother, be content: it is no more
Re-enter Servant, with boots.
York. Bring me my boots ! I will unto the king.
Duch. Strike him, Aumerle ! - Poor boy, thou art After a well grac'd actor leaves the stage,
amaz'd :Are idly bent on him that enters next,
Hence, villain; never more come in my sight!
York. Give me my boots, I say:
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,
(Snatches it, and reads.
[To the Servant.
Is he not like thee? is he not thine own?
To win thy after-love, I pardon thee. York. Thou fond mad woman,
Aun. Then give me leave, that I may turn the key,
That no man enter, till my tale be done!
York. (Within.j My liege, beware! look to thyself!
Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there.
Boling. Villain, I'll make thee safe. [Drawing.
Thou hast no cause to fear.
York. [Within.] Open the door, secure, fool-hardy I would appeach him.
king! Duch. Hadst thou groan'd for him,
Shall I, for love, speak treason to thy face? As I have done, thou’dst be more pitiful.
Open the door, or I will break it open. But now I know thy mind : thou dost suspect,
[Bolingbroke opens the door. That I have been disloyal to thy bed,
Enter Yonk. And that he is a bastard, not thy son.
Boling. Whatis the matter, uncle? speak!
Recover breath! tellus, how near is danger,
That we may arm us to encounter it.
York. Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt know
| The treason, that my haste forbids me show. Duch. After, Aumerle! mount thee upon' his horse, I do repent me. Read not my name there!
Aum. Remember, as thou read’st, thy promise past! Spur, post, and get before him to the king,
My heart is not confederate with
hand. And beg thy pardon, ere he do accuse thee! I'll not be long behind; though I be old,
York. 'Twas, villain, ere thy hand did set it down.
I tereit from the traitor's bosom, king; I doubt not but to ride as fast as York:
Fear, and not love, begets his penitence; And never will I rise up from the ground,
Forget to pity him! lest thy pity prove Till Bolingbroke have pardon'd thee. Away;
serpent, that will sting thee to the heart.
O loyal father of a treacherous son!
Thou sheer, immaculate, and silver fountain, Enter BOLINGBROKE as King; Percy, and other From whence this stream, through muddy passages, Lords.
Vath held his current, and defil'd himself! Boling. Can no man tell of my unthrifty son? 'Tis full three months, since I did see him last.
Thy overflow of good converts to bad,
And thy abundant goodness shall excuse If any plague hang over us, 'tis le.
This deadly blot in thy digressing son.
York. So'shall my virtue be his vice's bawd,
And he shall spend mine honour with his shame,
As thriftless sous their scraping fathers' gold.
Mine honour lives, when his dishonour dies, Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes,
Or And beat our watch, and rob our passengers;
sham'd life in his dishonvur 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 mein! Percy: My lord, some two days since I saw the
Boling. What shrill-voic'd suppliant makes this prince, And told him of these triumphs held at Oxford.
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.–
I know, she's come to pray for your foul sin.
York. If thou do pardon, whosoever pray, Which elder days may happily bring forth.
More sins, for this forgiveness, prosper may,
This fester'd joint cut off, the rest rests sound;
This, let alone, will all the rest confound.
York. Thou frantic woman, what dost thou make
here? Boling. Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear? alone!
[ Exeunt Percy and Lords. Duch. Sweet York, be patient! Hear me,gentle liege! What is the matter with our cousin now?
[Kneels. Aum. For ever may my knees grow to the earth, Boling. Rise up, good aunt !
[Kneels. Duch. Not yet, I thee beseech. My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth, For ever will I kneel upon my knees, Unless a pardon, ere I rise, or speak.
And never see day, that the happy sees, Boling. Intended, or committed, was this fault? Till thou give joy, until thou bid me joy, If but the first, how heinous ere it be,
By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy.