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diff --git a/2250-0.txt b/2250-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..64fb254 --- /dev/null +++ b/2250-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3545 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 2250 *** + + +Executive Director's Notes: + +In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all +the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have +been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they +are presented herein: + + Barnardo. Who's there? + Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold +your selfe + + Bar. Long liue the King + + * * * * * + +As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words +or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the +original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling +to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions +that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u, +above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming +Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . . + +The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a +time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in +place of some "w"'s, etc. This was a common practice of the day, +as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend +more on a wider selection of characters than they had to. + +You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I +have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an +extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a +very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare. My father read an +assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University +in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the +purpose. To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available +. . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes, +that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a +variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous +for signing his name with several different spellings. + +So, please take this into account when reading the comments below +made by our volunteer who prepared this file: you may see errors +that are "not" errors. . . . + +So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors, +here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's The first +Part of Henry the Sixt. + +Michael S. Hart +Project Gutenberg +Executive Director + + * * * * * + +Scanner's Notes: + +What this is and isn't. This was taken from a copy of +Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can come in +ASCII to the printed text. + +The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the +conjoined ae have been changed to ae. I have left the spelling, +punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the printed +text. I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put +together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of +the Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified +spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded +abbreviations as I have come across them. Everything within +brackets [] is what I have added. So if you don't like that you +can delete everything within the brackets if you want a purer +Shakespeare. + +Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are +textual differences between various copies of the first folio. So +there may be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) +between this and other first folio editions. This is due to the +printer's habit of setting the type and running off a number of +copies and then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type +and then continuing the printing run. The proof run wasn't thrown +away but incorporated into the printed copies. This is just the +way it is. The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 +different First Folio editions' best pages. + +David Reed + +===================================================================== + + + + +The life and death of King Richard the Second + + +Actus Primus, Scaena Prima. + +Enter King Richard, Iohn of Gaunt, with other Nobles and +Attendants. + + King Richard. Old Iohn of Gaunt, time-honoured Lancaster, +Hast thou according to thy oath and band +Brought hither Henry Herford thy bold son: +Heere to make good y boistrous late appeale, +Which then our leysure would not let vs heare, +Against the Duke of Norfolke, Thomas Mowbray? + Gaunt. I haue my Liege + + King. Tell me moreouer, hast thou sounded him, +If he appeale the Duke on ancient malice, +Or worthily as a good subiect should +On some knowne ground of treacherie in him + + Gaunt. As neere as I could sift him on that argument, +On some apparant danger seene in him, +Aym'd at your Highnesse, no inueterate malice + + Kin. Then call them to our presence face to face, +And frowning brow to brow, our selues will heare +Th' accuser, and the accused, freely speake; +High stomack'd are they both, and full of ire, +In rage, deafe as the sea; hastie as fire. +Enter Bullingbrooke and Mowbray. + + Bul. Many yeares of happy dayes befall +My gracious Soueraigne, my most louing Liege + + Mow. Each day still better others happinesse, +Vntill the heauens enuying earths good hap, +Adde an immortall title to your Crowne + + King. We thanke you both, yet one but flatters vs, +As well appeareth by the cause you come, +Namely, to appeale each other of high treason. +Coosin of Hereford, what dost thou obiect +Against the Duke of Norfolke, Thomas Mowbray? + Bul. First, heauen be the record to my speech, +In the deuotion of a subiects loue, +Tendering the precious safetie of my Prince, +And free from other misbegotten hate, +Come I appealant to this Princely presence. +Now Thomas Mowbray do I turne to thee, +And marke my greeting well: for what I speake, +My body shall make good vpon this earth, +Or my diuine soule answer it in heauen. +Thou art a Traitor, and a Miscreant; +Too good to be so, and too bad to liue, +Since the more faire and christall is the skie, +The vglier seeme the cloudes that in it flye: +Once more, the more to aggrauate the note, +With a foule Traitors name stuffe I thy throte, +And wish (so please my Soueraigne) ere I moue, +What my tong speaks, my right drawn sword may proue + Mow. Let not my cold words heere accuse my zeale: +'Tis not the triall of a Womans warre, +The bitter clamour of two eager tongues, +Can arbitrate this cause betwixt vs twaine: +The blood is hot that must be cool'd for this. +Yet can I not of such tame patience boast, +As to be husht, and nought at all to say. +First the faire reuerence of your Highnesse curbes mee, +From giuing reines and spurres to my free speech, +Which else would post, vntill it had return'd +These tearmes of treason, doubly downe his throat. +Setting aside his high bloods royalty, +And let him be no Kinsman to my Liege, +I do defie him, and I spit at him, +Call him a slanderous Coward, and a Villaine: +Which to maintaine, I would allow him oddes, +And meete him, were I tide to runne afoote, +Euen to the frozen ridges of the Alpes, +Or any other ground inhabitable, +Where euer Englishman durst set his foote. +Meane time, let this defend my loyaltie, +By all my hopes most falsely doth he lie + + Bul. Pale trembling Coward, there I throw my gage, +Disclaiming heere the kindred of a King, +And lay aside my high bloods Royalty, +Which feare, not reuerence makes thee to except. +If guilty dread hath left thee so much strength, +As to take vp mine Honors pawne, then stoope. +By that, and all the rites of Knight-hood else, +Will I make good against thee arme to arme, +What I haue spoken, or thou canst deuise + + Mow. I take it vp, and by that sword I sweare, +Which gently laid my Knight-hood on my shoulder, +Ile answer thee in any faire degree, +Or Chiualrous designe of knightly triall: +And when I mount, aliue may I not light, +If I be Traitor, or vniustly fight + + King. What doth our Cosin lay to Mowbraies charge? +It must be great that can inherite vs, +So much as of a thought of ill in him + + Bul. Looke what I said, my life shall proue it true, +That Mowbray hath receiu'd eight thousand Nobles, +In name of lendings for your Highnesse Soldiers, +The which he hath detain'd for lewd employments, +Like a false Traitor, and iniurious Villaine. +Besides I say, and will in battaile proue, +Or heere, or elsewhere to the furthest Verge +That euer was suruey'd by English eye, +That all the Treasons for these eighteene yeeres +Complotted, and contriued in this Land, +Fetch'd from false Mowbray their first head and spring. +Further I say, and further will maintaine +Vpon his bad life, to make all this good. +That he did plot the Duke of Glousters death, +Suggest his soone beleeuing aduersaries, +And consequently, like a Traitor Coward, +Sluc'd out his innocent soule through streames of blood: +Which blood, like sacrificing Abels cries, +(Euen from the toonglesse cauernes of the earth) +To me for iustice, and rough chasticement: +And by the glorious worth of my discent, +This arme shall do it, or this life be spent + + King. How high a pitch his resolution soares: +Thomas of Norfolke, what sayest thou to this? + Mow. Oh let my Soueraigne turne away his face, +And bid his eares a little while be deafe, +Till I haue told this slander of his blood, +How God, and good men, hate so foule a lyar + + King. Mowbray, impartiall are our eyes and eares, +Were he my brother, nay our kingdomes heyre, +As he is but my fathers brothers sonne; +Now by my Scepters awe, I make a vow, +Such neighbour-neerenesse to our sacred blood, +Should nothing priuiledge him, nor partialize +The vn-stooping firmenesse of my vpright soule. +He is our subiect (Mowbray) so art thou, +Free speech, and fearelesse, I to thee allow + + Mow. Then Bullingbrooke, as low as to thy heart, +Through the false passage of thy throat; thou lyest: +Three parts of that receipt I had for Callice, +Disburst I to his Highnesse souldiers; +The other part reseru'd I by consent, +For that my Soueraigne Liege was in my debt, +Vpon remainder of a deere Accompt, +Since last I went to France to fetch his Queene: +Now swallow downe that Lye. For Glousters death, +I slew him not; but (to mine owne disgrace) +Neglected my sworne duty in that case: +For you my noble Lord of Lancaster, +The honourable Father to my foe, +Once I did lay an ambush for your life, +A trespasse that doth vex my greeued soule: +But ere I last receiu'd the Sacrament, +I did confesse it, and exactly begg'd +Your Graces pardon, and I hope I had it. +This is my fault: as for the rest appeal'd, +It issues from the rancour of a Villaine, +A recreant, and most degenerate Traitor, +Which in my selfe I boldly will defend, +And interchangeably hurle downe my gage +Vpon this ouer-weening Traitors foote, +To proue my selfe a loyall Gentleman, +Euen in the best blood chamber'd in his bosome. +In hast whereof, most heartily I pray +Your Highnesse to assigne our Triall day + + King. Wrath-kindled Gentlemen be rul'd by me: +Let's purge this choller without letting blood: +This we prescribe, though no Physition, +Deepe malice makes too deepe incision. +Forget, forgiue, conclude, and be agreed, +Our Doctors say, This is no time to bleed. +Good Vnckle, let this end where it begun, +Wee'l calme the Duke of Norfolke; you, your son + + Gaunt. To be a make-peace shall become my age, +Throw downe (my sonne) the Duke of Norfolkes gage + + King. And Norfolke, throw downe his + + Gaunt. When Harrie when? Obedience bids, +Obedience bids I should not bid agen + + King. Norfolke, throw downe, we bidde; there is +no boote + + Mow. My selfe I throw (dread Soueraigne) at thy foot. +My life thou shalt command, but not my shame, +The one my dutie owes, but my faire name +Despight of death, that liues vpon my graue +To darke dishonours vse, thou shalt not haue. +I am disgrac'd, impeach'd, and baffel'd heere, +Pierc'd to the soule with slanders venom'd speare: +The which no balme can cure, but his heart blood +Which breath'd this poyson + + King. Rage must be withstood: +Giue me his gage: Lyons make Leopards tame + + Mo. Yea, but not change his spots: take but my shame, +And I resigne my gage. My deere, deere Lord, +The purest treasure mortall times afford +Is spotlesse reputation: that away, +Men are but gilded loame, or painted clay. +A Iewell in a ten times barr'd vp Chest, +Is a bold spirit, in a loyall brest. +Mine Honor is my life; both grow in one: +Take Honor from me, and my life is done. +Then (deere my Liege) mine Honor let me trie, +In that I liue; and for that will I die + + King. Coosin, throw downe your gage, +Do you begin + + Bul. Oh heauen defend my soule from such foule sin. +Shall I seeme Crest-falne in my fathers sight, +Or with pale beggar-feare impeach my hight +Before this out-dar'd dastard? Ere my toong, +Shall wound mine honor with such feeble wrong; +Or sound so base a parle: my teeth shall teare +The slauish motiue of recanting feare, +And spit it bleeding in his high disgrace, +Where shame doth harbour, euen in Mowbrayes face. + +Exit Gaunt. + + King. We were not borne to sue, but to command, +Which since we cannot do to make you friends, +Be readie, (as your liues shall answer it) +At Couentree, vpon S[aint]. Lamberts day: +There shall your swords and Lances arbitrate +The swelling difference of your setled hate: +Since we cannot attone you, you shall see +Iustice designe the Victors Chiualrie. +Lord Marshall, command our Officers at Armes, +Be readie to direct these home Alarmes. + +Exeunt. + + +Scaena Secunda. + +Enter Gaunt, and Dutchesse of Gloucester. + + Gaunt. Alas, the part I had in Glousters blood, +Doth more solicite me then your exclaimes, +To stirre against the Butchers of his life. +But since correction lyeth in those hands +Which made the fault that we cannot correct, +Put we our quarrell to the will of heauen, +Who when they see the houres ripe on earth, +Will raigne hot vengeance on offenders heads + + Dut. Findes brotherhood in thee no sharper spurre? +Hath loue in thy old blood no liuing fire? +Edwards seuen sonnes (whereof thy selfe art one) +Were as seuen violles of his Sacred blood, +Or seuen faire branches springing from one roote: +Some of those seuen are dride by natures course, +Some of those branches by the destinies cut: +But Thomas, my deere Lord, my life, my Glouster, +One Violl full of Edwards Sacred blood, +One flourishing branch of his most Royall roote +Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt; +Is hackt downe, and his summer leafes all vaded +By Enuies hand, and Murders bloody Axe. +Ah Gaunt! His blood was thine, that bed, that wombe, +That mettle, that selfe-mould that fashion'd thee, +Made him a man: and though thou liu'st, and breath'st, +Yet art thou slaine in him: thou dost consent +In some large measure to thy Fathers death, +In that thou seest thy wretched brother dye, +Who was the modell of thy Fathers life. +Call it not patience (Gaunt) it is dispaire, +In suffring thus thy brother to be slaughter'd, +Thou shew'st the naked pathway to thy life, +Teaching sterne murther how to butcher thee: +That which in meane men we intitle patience +Is pale cold cowardice in noble brests: +What shall I say, to safegard thine owne life, +The best way is to venge my Glousters death + + Gaunt. Heauens is the quarrell: for heauens substitute +His Deputy annointed in his sight, +Hath caus'd his death, the which if wrongfully +Let heauen reuenge: for I may neuer lift +An angry arme against his Minister + + Dut. Where then (alas may I) complaint my selfe? + Gau. To heauen, the widdowes Champion to defence + Dut. Why then I will: farewell old Gaunt. +Thou go'st to Couentrie, there to behold +Our Cosine Herford, and fell Mowbray fight: +O sit my husbands wrongs on Herfords speare, +That it may enter butcher Mowbrayes brest: +Or if misfortune misse the first carreere, +Be Mowbrayes sinnes so heauy in his bosome, +That they may breake his foaming Coursers backe, +And throw the Rider headlong in the Lists, +A Caytiffe recreant to my Cosine Herford: +Farewell old Gaunt, thy sometimes brothers wife +With her companion Greefe, must end her life + + Gau. Sister farewell: I must to Couentree, +As much good stay with thee, as go with mee + + Dut. Yet one word more: Greefe boundeth where it falls, +Not with the emptie hollownes, but weight: +I take my leaue, before I haue begun, +For sorrow ends not, when it seemeth done. +Commend me to my brother Edmund Yorke. +Loe, this is all: nay, yet depart not so, +Though this be all, do not so quickly go, +I shall remember more. Bid him, Oh, what? +With all good speed at Plashie visit mee. +Alacke, and what shall good old Yorke there see +But empty lodgings, and vnfurnish'd walles, +Vn-peopel'd Offices, vntroden stones? +And what heare there for welcome, but my grones? +Therefore commend me, let him not come there, +To seeke out sorrow, that dwels euery where: +Desolate, desolate will I hence, and dye, +The last leaue of thee, takes my weeping eye. + +Exeunt. + +Scena Tertia. + +Enter Marshall, and Aumerle. + + Mar. My L[ord]. Aumerle, is Harry Herford arm'd + + Aum. Yea, at all points, and longs to enter in + + Mar. The Duke of Norfolke, sprightfully and bold, +Stayes but the summons of the Appealants Trumpet + + Au. Why then the Champions, are prepar'd, and stay +For nothing but his Maiesties approach. + +Flourish. + +Enter King, Gaunt, Bushy, Bagot, Greene, & others: Then +Mowbray in Armor, +and Harrold. + + Rich. Marshall, demand of yonder Champion +The cause of his arriuall heere in Armes, +Aske him his name, and orderly proceed +To sweare him in the iustice of his cause + + Mar. In Gods name, and the Kings say who y art, +And why thou com'st thus knightly clad in Armes? +Against what man thou com'st, and what's thy quarrell, +Speake truly on thy knighthood, and thine oath, +As so defend thee heauen, and thy valour + + Mow. My name is Tho[mas]. Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, +Who hither comes engaged by my oath +(Which heauen defend a knight should violate) +Both to defend my loyalty and truth, +To God, my King, and his succeeding issue, +Against the Duke of Herford, that appeales me: +And by the grace of God, and this mine arme, +To proue him (in defending of my selfe) +A Traitor to my God, my King, and me, +And as I truly fight, defend me heauen. + +Tucket. Enter Hereford, and Harold. + + Rich. Marshall: Aske yonder Knight in Armes, +Both who he is, and why he commeth hither, +Thus placed in habiliments of warre: +And formerly according to our Law +Depose him in the iustice of his cause + + Mar. What is thy name? and wherfore comst y hither +Before King Richard in his Royall Lists? +Against whom com'st thou? and what's thy quarrell? +Speake like a true Knight, so defend thee heauen + + Bul. Harry of Herford, Lancaster, and Derbie, +Am I: who ready heere do stand in Armes, +To proue by heauens grace, and my bodies valour, +In Lists, on Thomas Mowbray Duke of Norfolke, +That he's a Traitor foule, and dangerous, +To God of heauen, King Richard, and to me, +And as I truly fight, defend me heauen + + Mar. On paine of death, no person be so bold, +Or daring hardie as to touch the Listes, +Except the Marshall, and such Officers +Appointed to direct these faire designes + + Bul. Lord Marshall, let me kisse my Soueraigns hand, +And bow my knee before his Maiestie: +For Mowbray and my selfe are like two men, +That vow a long and weary pilgrimage, +Then let vs take a ceremonious leaue +And louing farwell of our seuerall friends + + Mar. The Appealant in all duty greets your Highnes, +And craues to kisse your hand, and take his leaue + + Rich. We will descend, and fold him in our armes. +Cosin of Herford, as thy cause is iust, +So be thy fortune in this Royall fight: +Farewell, my blood, which if to day thou shead, +Lament we may, but not reuenge thee dead + + Bull. Oh let no noble eye prophane a teare +For me, if I be gor'd with Mowbrayes speare: +As confident, as is the Falcons flight +Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight. +My louing Lord, I take my leaue of you, +Of you (my Noble Cosin) Lord Aumerle; +Not sicke, although I haue to do with death, +But lustie, yong, and cheerely drawing breath. +Loe, as at English Feasts, so I regreete +The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet. +Oh thou the earthy author of my blood, +Whose youthfull spirit in me regenerate, +Doth with a two-fold rigor lift mee vp +To reach at victory aboue my head, +Adde proofe vnto mine Armour with thy prayres, +And with thy blessings steele my Lances point, +That it may enter Mowbrayes waxen Coate, +And furnish new the name of Iohn a Gaunt, +Euen in the lusty hauiour of his sonne + + Gaunt. Heauen in thy good cause make thee prosp'rous +Be swift like lightning in the execution, +And let thy blowes doubly redoubled, +Fall like amazing thunder on the Caske +Of thy amaz'd pernicious enemy. +Rouze vp thy youthfull blood, be valiant, and liue + + Bul. Mine innocence, and S[aint]. George to thriue + + Mow. How euer heauen or fortune cast my lot, +There liues, or dies, true to Kings Richards Throne, +A loyall, iust, and vpright Gentleman: +Neuer did Captiue with a freer heart, +Cast off his chaines of bondage, and embrace +His golden vncontroul'd enfranchisement, +More then my dancing soule doth celebrate +This Feast of Battell, with mine Aduersarie. +Most mighty Liege, and my companion Peeres, +Take from my mouth, the wish of happy yeares, +As gentle, and as iocond, as to iest, +Go I to fight: Truth, hath a quiet brest + + Rich. Farewell, my Lord, securely I espy +Vertue with Valour, couched in thine eye: +Order the triall Marshall, and begin + + Mar. Harrie of Herford, Lancaster, and Derby, +Receiue thy Launce, and heauen defend thy right + + Bul. Strong as a towre in hope, I cry Amen + + Mar. Go beare this Lance to Thomas D[uke]. of Norfolke + + 1.Har. Harry of Herford, Lancaster, and Derbie, +Stands heere for God, his Soueraigne, and himselfe, +On paine to be found false, and recreant, +To proue the Duke of Norfolke, Thomas Mowbray, +A Traitor to his God, his King, and him, +And dares him to set forwards to the fight + + 2.Har. Here standeth Tho[mas]: Mowbray Duke of Norfolk +On paine to be found false and recreant, +Both to defend himselfe, and to approue +Henry of Herford, Lancaster, and Derby, +To God, his Soueraigne, and to him disloyall: +Couragiously, and with a free desire +Attending but the signall to begin. + +A charge sounded + + Mar. Sound Trumpets, and set forward Combatants: +Stay, the King hath throwne his Warder downe + + Rich. Let them lay by their Helmets & their Speares, +And both returne backe to their Chaires againe: +Withdraw with vs, and let the Trumpets sound, +While we returne these Dukes what we decree. + +A long Flourish. + +Draw neere and list +What with our Councell we haue done. +For that our kingdomes earth should not be soyld +With that deere blood which it hath fostered, +And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect +Of ciuill wounds plowgh'd vp with neighbors swords, +Which so rouz'd vp with boystrous vntun'd drummes, +With harsh resounding Trumpets dreadfull bray, +And grating shocke of wrathfull yron Armes, +Might from our quiet Confines fright faire peace, +And make vs wade euen in our kindreds blood: +Therefore, we banish you our Territories. +You Cosin Herford, vpon paine of death, +Till twice fiue Summers haue enrich'd our fields, +Shall not regreet our faire dominions, +But treade the stranger pathes of banishment + + Bul. Your will be done: This must my comfort be, +That Sun that warmes you heere, shall shine on me: +And those his golden beames to you heere lent, +Shall point on me, and gild my banishment + + Rich. Norfolke: for thee remaines a heauier dombe, +Which I with some vnwillingnesse pronounce, +The slye slow houres shall not determinate +The datelesse limit of thy deere exile: +The hopelesse word, of Neuer to returne, +Breath I against thee, vpon paine of life + + Mow. A heauy sentence, my most Soueraigne Liege, +And all vnlook'd for from your Highnesse mouth: +A deerer merit, not so deepe a maime, +As to be cast forth in the common ayre +Haue I deserued at your Highnesse hands. +The Language I haue learn'd these forty yeares +(My natiue English) now I must forgo, +And now my tongues vse is to me no more, +Then an vnstringed Vyall, or a Harpe, +Or like a cunning Instrument cas'd vp, +Or being open, put into his hands +That knowes no touch to tune the harmony. +Within my mouth you haue engaol'd my tongue, +Doubly percullist with my teeth and lippes, +And dull, vnfeeling, barren ignorance, +Is made my Gaoler to attend on me: +I am too old to fawne vpon a Nurse, +Too farre in yeeres to be a pupill now: +What is thy sentence then, but speechlesse death, +Which robs my tongue from breathing natiue breath? + Rich. It boots thee not to be compassionate, +After our sentence, plaining comes too late + + Mow. Then thus I turne me from my countries light +To dwell in solemne shades of endlesse night + + Ric. Returne againe, and take an oath with thee, +Lay on our Royall sword, your banisht hands; +Sweare by the duty that you owe to heauen +(Our part therein we banish with your selues) +To keepe the Oath that we administer: +You neuer shall (so helpe you Truth, and Heauen) +Embrace each others loue in banishment, +Nor euer looke vpon each others face, +Nor euer write, regreete, or reconcile +This lowring tempest of your home-bred hate, +Nor euer by aduised purpose meete, +To plot, contriue, or complot any ill, +'Gainst Vs, our State, our Subiects, or our Land + + Bull. I sweare + + Mow. And I, to keepe all this + + Bul. Norfolke, so fare, as to mine enemie, +By this time (had the King permitted vs) +One of our soules had wandred in the ayre, +Banish'd this fraile sepulchre of our flesh, +As now our flesh is banish'd from this Land. +Confesse thy Treasons, ere thou flye this Realme, +Since thou hast farre to go, beare not along +The clogging burthen of a guilty soule + + Mow. No Bullingbroke: If euer I were Traitor, +My name be blotted from the booke of Life, +And I from heauen banish'd, as from hence: +But what thou art, heauen, thou, and I do know, +And all too soone (I feare) the King shall rue. +Farewell (my Liege) now no way can I stray, +Saue backe to England, all the worlds my way. +Enter. + + Rich. Vncle, euen in the glasses of thine eyes +I see thy greeued heart: thy sad aspect, +Hath from the number of his banish'd yeares +Pluck'd foure away: Six frozen Winters spent, +Returne with welcome home, from banishment + + Bul. How long a time lyes in one little word: +Foure lagging Winters, and foure wanton springs +End in a word, such is the breath of Kings + + Gaunt. I thanke my Liege, that in regard of me +He shortens foure yeares of my sonnes exile: +But little vantage shall I reape thereby. +For ere the sixe yeares that he hath to spend +Can change their Moones, and bring their times about, +My oyle-dride Lampe, and time-bewasted light +Shall be extinct with age, and endlesse night: +My inch of Taper, will be burnt, and done, +And blindfold death, not let me see my sonne + + Rich. Why Vncle, thou hast many yeeres to liue + + Gaunt. But not a minute (King) that thou canst giue; +Shorten my dayes thou canst with sudden sorow, +And plucke nights from me, but not lend a morrow: +Thou canst helpe time to furrow me with age, +But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage: +Thy word is currant with him, for my death, +But dead, thy kingdome cannot buy my breath + + Ric. Thy sonne is banish'd vpon good aduice, +Whereto thy tongue a party-verdict gaue, +Why at our Iustice seem'st thou then to lowre? + Gau. Things sweet to tast, proue in digestion sowre: +You vrg'd me as a Iudge, but I had rather +You would haue bid me argue like a Father. +Alas, I look'd when some of you should say, +I was too strict to make mine owne away: +But you gaue leaue to my vnwilling tong, +Against my will, to do my selfe this wrong + + Rich. Cosine farewell: and Vncle bid him so: +Six yeares we banish him, and he shall go. +Enter. + +Flourish. + + Au. Cosine farewell: what presence must not know +From where you do remaine, let paper show + + Mar. My Lord, no leaue take I, for I will ride +As farre as land will let me, by your side + + Gaunt. Oh to what purpose dost thou hord thy words, +That thou returnst no greeting to thy friends? + Bull. I haue too few to take my leaue of you, +When the tongues office should be prodigall, +To breath th' abundant dolour of the heart + + Gau. Thy greefe is but thy absence for a time + + Bull. Ioy absent, greefe is present for that time + + Gau. What is sixe Winters, they are quickely gone? + Bul. To men in ioy, but greefe makes one houre ten + + Gau. Call it a trauell that thou tak'st for pleasure + + Bul. My heart will sigh, when I miscall it so, +Which findes it an inforced Pilgrimage + + Gau. The sullen passage of thy weary steppes +Esteeme a soyle, wherein thou art to set +The precious Iewell of thy home returne + + Bul. Oh who can hold a fire in his hand +By thinking on the frostie Caucasus? +Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite, +By bare imagination of a Feast? +Or Wallow naked in December snow +By thinking on fantasticke summers heate? +Oh no, the apprehension of the good +Giues but the greater feeling to the worse: +Fell sorrowes tooth, doth euer ranckle more +Then when it bites, but lanceth not the sore + + Gau. Come, come (my son) Ile bring thee on thy way +Had I thy youth, and cause, I would not stay + + Bul. Then Englands ground farewell: sweet soil adieu, +My Mother, and my Nurse, which beares me yet: +Where ere I wander, boast of this I can, +Though banish'd, yet a true-borne Englishman. + +Scoena Quarta. + +Enter King, Aumerle, Greene, and Bagot. + + Rich. We did obserue. Cosine Aumerle, +How far brought you high Herford on his way? + Aum. I brought high Herford (if you call him so) +But to the next high way, and there I left him + + Rich. And say, what store of parting tears were shed? + Aum. Faith none for me: except the Northeast wind +Which then grew bitterly against our face, +Awak'd the sleepie rhewme, and so by chance +Did grace our hollow parting with a teare + + Rich. What said our Cosin when you parted with him? + Au. Farewell: and for my hart disdained y my tongue +Should so prophane the word, that taught me craft +To counterfeit oppression of such greefe, +That word seem'd buried in my sorrowes graue. +Marry, would the word Farwell, haue lengthen'd houres, +And added yeeres to his short banishment, +He should haue had a volume of Farwels, +But since it would not, he had none of me + + Rich. He is our Cosin (Cosin) but 'tis doubt, +When time shall call him home from banishment, +Whether our kinsman come to see his friends, +Our selfe, and Bushy: heere Bagot and Greene +Obseru'd his Courtship to the common people: +How he did seeme to diue into their hearts, +With humble, and familiar courtesie, +What reuerence he did throw away on slaues; +Wooing poore Craftes-men, with the craft of soules, +And patient vnder-bearing of his Fortune, +As 'twere to banish their affects with him. +Off goes his bonnet to an Oyster-wench, +A brace of Dray-men bid God speed him well, +And had the tribute of his supple knee, +With thankes my Countrimen, my louing friends, +As were our England in reuersion his, +And he our subiects next degree in hope + + Gr. Well, he is gone, & with him go these thoughts: +Now for the Rebels, which stand out in Ireland, +Expedient manage must be made my Liege +Ere further leysure, yeeld them further meanes +For their aduantage, and your Highnesse losse + + Ric. We will our selfe in person to this warre, +And for our Coffers, with too great a Court, +And liberall Largesse, are growne somewhat light, +We are inforc'd to farme our royall Realme, +The Reuennew whereof shall furnish vs +For our affayres in hand: if that come short +Our Substitutes at home shall haue Blanke-charters: +Whereto, when they shall know what men are rich, +They shall subscribe them for large summes of Gold, +And send them after to supply our wants: +For we will make for Ireland presently. +Enter Bushy. + +Bushy, what newes? + Bu. Old Iohn of Gaunt is verie sicke my Lord, +Sodainly taken, and hath sent post haste +To entreat your Maiesty to visit him + + Ric. Where lyes he? + Bu. At Ely house + + Ric. Now put it (heauen) in his Physitians minde, +To helpe him to his graue immediately: +The lining of his coffers shall make Coates +To decke our souldiers for these Irish warres. +Come Gentlemen, let's all go visit him: +Pray heauen we may make hast, and come too late. +Enter. + + +Actus Secundus. Scena Prima. + +Enter Gaunt, sicke with Yorke. + + Gau. Will the King come, that I may breath my last +In wholsome counsell to his vnstaid youth? + Yor. Vex not your selfe, nor striue not with your breth, +For all in vaine comes counsell to his eare + + Gau. Oh but (they say) the tongues of dying men +Inforce attention like deepe harmony; +Where words are scarse, they are seldome spent in vaine, +For they breath truth, that breath their words in paine. +He that no more must say, is listen'd more, +Then they whom youth and ease haue taught to glose, +More are mens ends markt, then their liues before, +The setting Sun, and Musicke in the close +As the last taste of sweetes, is sweetest last, +Writ in remembrance, more then things long past; +Though Richard my liues counsell would not heare, +My deaths sad tale, may yet vndeafe his eare + + Yor. No, it is stopt with other flatt'ring sounds +As praises of his state: then there are found +Lasciuious Meeters, to whose venom sound +The open eare of youth doth alwayes listen. +Report of fashions in proud Italy, +Whose manners still our tardie apish Nation +Limpes after in base imitation. +Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity, +So it be new, there's no respect how vile, +That is not quickly buz'd into his eares? +That all too late comes counsell to be heard, +Where will doth mutiny with wits regard: +Direct not him, whose way himselfe will choose, +Tis breath thou lackst, and that breath wilt thou loose + + Gaunt. Me thinkes I am a Prophet new inspir'd, +And thus expiring, do foretell of him, +His rash fierce blaze of Ryot cannot last, +For violent fires soone burne out themselues, +Small showres last long, but sodaine stormes are short, +He tyres betimes, that spurs too fast betimes; +With eager feeding, food doth choake the feeder: +Light vanity, insatiate cormorant, +Consuming meanes soone preyes vpon it selfe. +This royall Throne of Kings, this sceptred Isle, +This earth of Maiesty, this seate of Mars, +This other Eden, demy paradise, +This Fortresse built by Nature for her selfe, +Against infection, and the hand of warre: +This happy breed of men, this little world, +This precious stone, set in the siluer sea, +Which serues it in the office of a wall, +Or as a Moate defensiue to a house, +Against the enuy of lesse happier Lands, +This blessed plot, this earth, this Realme, this England, +This Nurse, this teeming wombe of Royall Kings, +Fear'd by their breed, and famous for their birth, +Renowned for their deeds, as farre from home, +For Christian seruice, and true Chiualrie, +As is the sepulcher in stubborne Iury +Of the Worlds ransome, blessed Maries Sonne. +This Land of such deere soules, this deere-deere Land, +Deere for her reputation through the world, +Is now Leas'd out (I dye pronouncing it) +Like to a Tenement or pelting Farme. +England bound in with the triumphant sea, +Whose rocky shore beates backe the enuious siedge +Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame, +With Inky blottes, and rotten Parchment bonds. +That England, that was wont to conquer others, +Hath made a shamefull conquest of it selfe. +Ah! would the scandall vanish with my life, +How happy then were my ensuing death? +Enter King, Queene, Aumerle, Bushy, Greene, Bagot, Ros, and +Willoughby. + + Yor. The King is come, deale mildly with his youth, +For young hot Colts, being rag'd, do rage the more + + Qu. How fares our noble Vncle Lancaster? + Ri. What comfort man? How ist with aged Gaunt? + Ga. Oh how that name befits my composition: +Old Gaunt indeed, and gaunt in being old: +Within me greefe hath kept a tedious fast, +And who abstaynes from meate, that is not gaunt? +For sleeping England long time haue I watcht, +Watching breeds leannesse, leannesse is all gaunt. +The pleasure that some Fathers feede vpon, +Is my strict fast, I meane my Childrens lookes, +And therein fasting, hast thou made me gaunt: +Gaunt am I for the graue, gaunt as a graue, +Whose hollow wombe inherits naught but bones + + Ric. Can sicke men play so nicely with their names? + Gau. No, misery makes sport to mocke it selfe: +Since thou dost seeke to kill my name in mee, +I mocke my name (great King) to flatter thee + + Ric. Should dying men flatter those that liue? + Gau. No, no, men liuing flatter those that dye + + Rich. Thou now a dying, sayst thou flatter'st me + + Gau. Oh no, thou dyest, though I the sicker be + + Rich. I am in health, I breath, I see thee ill + + Gau. Now he that made me, knowes I see thee ill: +Ill in my selfe to see, and in thee, seeing ill, +Thy death-bed is no lesser then the Land, +Wherein thou lyest in reputation sicke, +And thou too care-lesse patient as thou art, +Commit'st thy 'anointed body to the cure +Of those Physitians, that first wounded thee. +A thousand flatterers sit within thy Crowne, +Whose compasse is no bigger then thy head, +And yet incaged in so small a Verge, +The waste is no whit lesser then thy Land: +Oh had thy Grandsire with a Prophets eye, +Seene how his sonnes sonne, should destroy his sonnes, +From forth thy reach he would haue laid thy shame, +Deposing thee before thou wert possest, +Which art possest now to depose thy selfe. +Why (Cosine) were thou Regent of the world, +It were a shame to let his Land by lease: +But for thy world enioying but this Land, +Is it not more then shame, to shame it so? +Landlord of England art thou, and not King: +Thy state of Law, is bondslaue to the law, +And- + Rich. And thou, a lunaticke leane-witted foole, +Presuming on an Agues priuiledge, +Dar'st with thy frozen admonition +Make pale our cheeke, chasing the Royall blood +With fury, from his natiue residence? +Now by my Seates right Royall Maiestie, +Wer't thou not Brother to great Edwards sonne, +This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head, +Should run thy head from thy vnreuerent shoulders + + Gau. Oh spare me not, my brothers Edwards sonne, +For that I was his Father Edwards sonne: +That blood already (like the Pellican) +Thou hast tapt out, and drunkenly carows'd. +My brother Gloucester, plaine well meaning soule +(Whom faire befall in heauen 'mongst happy soules) +May be a president, and witnesse good, +That thou respect'st not spilling Edwards blood: +Ioyne with the present sicknesse that I haue, +And thy vnkindnesse be like crooked age, +To crop at once a too-long wither'd flowre. +Liue in thy shame, but dye not shame with thee, +These words heereafter, thy tormentors bee. +Conuey me to my bed, then to my graue, +Loue they to liue, that loue and honor haue. + +Exit + + Rich. And let them dye, that age and sullens haue, +For both hast thou, and both become the graue + + Yor. I do beseech your Maiestie impute his words +To wayward sicklinesse, and age in him: +He loues you on my life, and holds you deere +As Harry Duke of Herford, were he heere + + Rich. Right, you say true: as Herfords loue, so his; +As theirs, so mine: and all be as it is. +Enter Northumberland. + + Nor. My Liege, olde Gaunt commends him to your +Maiestie + + Rich. What sayes he? + Nor. Nay nothing, all is said: +His tongue is now a stringlesse instrument, +Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent + + Yor. Be Yorke the next, that must be bankrupt so, +Though death be poore, it ends a mortall wo + + Rich. The ripest fruit first fals, and so doth he, +His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be: +So much for that. Now for our Irish warres, +We must supplant those rough rug-headed Kernes, +Which liue like venom, where no venom else +But onely they, haue priuiledge to liue. +And for these great affayres do aske some charge +Towards our assistance, we do seize to vs +The plate, coine, reuennewes, and moueables, +Whereof our Vncle Gaunt did stand possest + + Yor. How long shall I be patient? Oh how long +Shall tender dutie make me suffer wrong? +Not Glousters death, nor Herfords banishment, +Nor Gauntes rebukes, nor Englands priuate wrongs, +Nor the preuention of poore Bullingbrooke, +About his marriage, nor my owne disgrace +Haue euer made me sowre my patient cheeke, +Or bend one wrinckle on my Soueraignes face: +I am the last of noble Edwards sonnes, +Of whom thy Father Prince of Wales was first, +In warre was neuer Lyon rag'd more fierce: +In peace, was neuer gentle Lambe more milde, +Then was that yong and Princely Gentleman, +His face thou hast, for euen so look'd he +Accomplish'd with the number of thy howers: +But when he frown'd, it was against the French, +And not against his friends: his noble hand +Did win what he did spend: and spent not that +Which his triumphant fathers hand had won: +His hands were guilty of no kindreds blood, +But bloody with the enemies of his kinne: +Oh Richard, Yorke is too farre gone with greefe, +Or else he neuer would compare betweene + + Rich. Why Vncle, +What's the matter? + Yor. Oh my Liege, pardon me if you please, if not +I pleas'd not to be pardon'd, am content with all: +Seeke you to seize, and gripe into your hands +The Royalties and Rights of banish'd Herford? +Is not Gaunt dead? and doth not Herford liue? +Was not Gaunt iust? and is not Harry true? +Did not the one deserue to haue an heyre? +Is not his heyre a well-deseruing sonne? +Take Herfords rights away, and take from time +His Charters, and his customarie rights: +Let not to morrow then insue to day, +Be not thy selfe. For how art thou a King +But by faire sequence and succession? +Now afore God, God forbid I say true, +If you do wrongfully seize Herfords right, +Call in his Letters Patents that he hath +By his Atturneyes generall, to sue +His Liuerie, and denie his offer'd homage, +You plucke a thousand dangers on your head, +You loose a thousand well-disposed hearts, +And pricke my tender patience to those thoughts +Which honor and allegeance cannot thinke + + Ric. Thinke what you will: we seise into our hands, +His plate, his goods, his money, and his lands + + Yor. Ile not be by the while: My Liege farewell, +What will ensue heereof, there's none can tell. +But by bad courses may be vnderstood, +That their euents can neuer fall out good. +Enter. + + Rich. Go Bushie to the Earle of Wiltshire streight, +Bid him repaire to vs to Ely house, +To see this businesse: to morrow next +We will for Ireland, and 'tis time, I trow: +And we create in absence of our selfe +Our Vncle Yorke, Lord Gouernor of England: +For he is iust, and alwayes lou'd vs well. +Come on our Queene, to morrow must we part, +Be merry, for our time of stay is short. + +Flourish. + +Manet North. Willoughby, & Ross. + + Nor. Well Lords, the Duke of Lancaster is dead + + Ross. And liuing too, for now his sonne is Duke + + Wil. Barely in title, not in reuennew + + Nor. Richly in both, if iustice had her right + + Ross. My heart is great: but it must break with silence, +Er't be disburthen'd with a liberall tongue + + Nor. Nay speake thy mind: & let him ne'r speak more +That speakes thy words againe to do thee harme + + Wil. Tends that thou'dst speake to th' Du[ke]. of Hereford, +If it be so, out with it boldly man, +Quicke is mine eare to heare of good towards him + + Ross. No good at all that I can do for him, +Vnlesse you call it good to pitie him, +Bereft and gelded of his patrimonie + + Nor. Now afore heauen, 'tis shame such wrongs are +borne. +In him a royall Prince, and many moe +Of noble blood in this declining Land; +The King is not himselfe, but basely led +By Flatterers, and what they will informe +Meerely in hate 'gainst any of vs all, +That will the King seuerely prosecute +'Gainst vs, our liues, our children, and our heires + + Ros. The Commons hath he pil'd with greeuous taxes +And quite lost their hearts: the Nobles hath he finde +For ancient quarrels, and quite lost their hearts + + Wil. And daily new exactions are deuis'd, +As blankes, beneuolences, and I wot not what: +But what o' Gods name doth become of this? + Nor. Wars hath not wasted it, for war'd he hath not. +But basely yeelded vpon comprimize, +That which his Ancestors atchieu'd with blowes: +More hath he spent in peace, then they in warres + + Ros. The Earle of Wiltshire hath the realme in Farme + + Wil. The Kings growne bankrupt like a broken man + + Nor. Reproach, and dissolution hangeth ouer him + + Ros. He hath not monie for these Irish warres: +(His burthenous taxations notwithstanding) +But by the robbing of the banish'd Duke + + Nor. His noble Kinsman, most degenerate King: +But Lords, we heare this fearefull tempest sing, +Yet seeke no shelter to auoid the storme: +We see the winde sit sore vpon our sailes, +And yet we strike not, but securely perish + + Ros. We see the very wracke that we must suffer, +And vnauoyded is the danger now +For suffering so the causes of our wracke + + Nor. Not so: euen through the hollow eyes of death, +I spie life peering: but I dare not say +How neere the tidings of our comfort is + + Wil. Nay let vs share thy thoughts, as thou dost ours + Ros. Be confident to speake Northumberland, +We three, are but thy selfe, and speaking so, +Thy words are but as thoughts, therefore be bold + + Nor. Then thus: I haue from Port le Blan +A Bay in Britaine, receiu'd intelligence, +That Harry Duke of Herford, Rainald Lord Cobham, +That late broke from the Duke of Exeter, +His brother Archbishop, late of Canterbury, +Sir Thomas Erpingham, Sir Iohn Rainston, +Sir Iohn Norberie, & Sir Robert Waterton, & Francis Quoint, +All these well furnish'd by the Duke of Britaine, +With eight tall ships, three thousand men of warre +Are making hither with all due expedience, +And shortly meane to touch our Northerne shore: +Perhaps they had ere this, but that they stay +The first departing of the King for Ireland. +If then we shall shake off our slauish yoake, +Impe out our drooping Countries broken wing, +Redeeme from broaking pawne the blemish'd Crowne, +Wipe off the dust that hides our Scepters gilt, +And make high Maiestie looke like it selfe, +Away with me in poste to Rauenspurgh, +But if you faint, as fearing to do so, +Stay, and be secret, and my selfe will go + + Ros. To horse, to horse, vrge doubts to them y feare + + Wil. Hold out my horse, and I will first be there. + +Exeunt. + + +Scena Secunda. + +Enter Queene, Bushy, and Bagot. + + Bush. Madam, your Maiesty is too much sad, +You promis'd when you parted with the King, +To lay aside selfe-harming heauinesse, +And entertaine a cheerefull disposition + + Qu. To please the King, I did: to please my selfe +I cannot do it: yet I know no cause +Why I should welcome such a guest as greefe, +Saue bidding farewell to so sweet a guest +As my sweet Richard; yet againe me thinkes, +Some vnborne sorrow, ripe in fortunes wombe +Is comming towards me, and my inward soule +With nothing trembles, at something it greeues, +More then with parting from my Lord the King + + Bush. Each substance of a greefe hath twenty shadows +Which shewes like greefe it selfe, but is not so: +For sorrowes eye, glazed with blinding teares, +Diuides one thing intire, to many obiects, +Like perspectiues, which rightly gaz'd vpon +Shew nothing but confusion, ey'd awry, +Distinguish forme: so your sweet Maiestie +Looking awry vpon your Lords departure, +Finde shapes of greefe, more then himselfe to waile, +Which look'd on as it is, is naught but shadowes +Of what it is not: then thrice-gracious Queene, +More then your Lords departure weep not, more's not seene; +Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrowes eie, +Which for things true, weepe things imaginary + + Qu. It may be so: but yet my inward soule +Perswades me it is otherwise: how ere it be, +I cannot but be sad: so heauy sad, +As though on thinking on no thought I thinke, +Makes me with heauy nothing faint and shrinke + + Bush. 'Tis nothing but conceit (my gracious Lady.) + Qu. 'Tis nothing lesse: conceit is still deriu'd +From some fore-father greefe, mine is not so, +For nothing hath begot my something greefe, +Or something, hath the nothing that I greeue, +'Tis in reuersion that I do possesse, +But what it is, that is not yet knowne, what +I cannot name, 'tis namelesse woe I wot. +Enter Greene. + + Gree. Heauen saue your Maiesty, and wel met Gentlemen: +I hope the King is not yet shipt for Ireland + + Qu. Why hop'st thou so? Tis better hope he is: +For his designes craue hast, his hast good hope, +Then wherefore dost thou hope he is not shipt? + Gre. That he our hope, might haue retyr'd his power, +and driuen into dispaire an enemies hope, +Who strongly hath set footing in this Land. +The banish'd Bullingbrooke repeales himselfe, +And with vp-lifted Armes is safe arriu'd +At Rauenspurg + + Qu. Now God in heauen forbid + + Gr. O Madam 'tis too true: and that is worse, +The L[ord]. Northumberland, his yong sonne Henrie Percie, +The Lords of Rosse, Beaumond, and Willoughby, +With all their powrefull friends are fled to him + + Bush. Why haue you not proclaim'd Northumberland +And the rest of the reuolted faction, Traitors? + Gre. We haue: whereupon the Earle of Worcester +Hath broke his staffe, resign'd his Stewardship, +And al the houshold seruants fled with him to Bullinbrook + Qu. So Greene, thou art the midwife of my woe, +And Bullinbrooke my sorrowes dismall heyre: +Now hath my soule brought forth her prodegie, +And I a gasping new deliuered mother, +Haue woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow ioyn'd + + Bush. Dispaire not Madam + + Qu. Who shall hinder me? +I will dispaire, and be at enmitie +With couzening hope; he is a Flatterer, +A Parasite, a keeper backe of death, +Who gently would dissolue the bands of life, +Which false hopes linger in extremity. +Enter Yorke. + + Gre. Heere comes the Duke of Yorke + + Qu. With signes of warre about his aged necke, +Oh full of carefull businesse are his lookes: +Vncle, for heauens sake speake comfortable words: + Yor. Comfort's in heauen, and we are on the earth, +Where nothing liues but crosses, care and greefe: +Your husband he is gone to saue farre off, +Whilst others come to make him loose at home: +Heere am I left to vnder-prop his Land, +Who weake with age, cannot support my selfe: +Now comes the sicke houre that his surfet made, +Now shall he try his friends that flattered him. +Enter a seruant. + + Ser. My Lord, your sonne was gone before I came + + Yor. He was: why so: go all which way it will: +The Nobles they are fled, the Commons they are cold, +And will I feare reuolt on Herfords side. +Sirra, get thee to Plashie to my sister Gloster, +Bid her send me presently a thousand pound, +Hold, take my Ring + + Ser. My Lord, I had forgot +To tell your Lordship, to day I came by, and call'd there, +But I shall greeue you to report the rest + + Yor. What is't knaue? + Ser. An houre before I came, the Dutchesse di'de + + Yor. Heau'n for his mercy, what a tide of woes +Come rushing on this wofull Land at once? +I know not what to do: I would to heauen +(So my vntruth had not prouok'd him to it) +The King had cut off my head with my brothers. +What, are there postes dispatcht for Ireland? +How shall we do for money for these warres? +Come sister (Cozen I would say) pray pardon me. +Go fellow, get thee home, prouide some Carts, +And bring away the Armour that is there. +Gentlemen, will you muster men? +If I know how, or which way to order these affaires +Thus disorderly thrust into my hands, +Neuer beleeue me. Both are my kinsmen, +Th' one is my Soueraigne, whom both my oath +And dutie bids defend: th' other againe +Is my kinsman, whom the King hath wrong'd, +Whom conscience, and my kindred bids to right: +Well, somewhat we must do: Come Cozen, +Ile dispose of you. Gentlemen, go muster vp your men, +And meet me presently at Barkley Castle: +I should to Plashy too: but time will not permit, +All is vneuen, and euery thing is left at six and seuen. + +Exit + + Bush. The winde sits faire for newes to go to Ireland, +But none returnes: For vs to leuy power +Proportionable to th' enemy, is all impossible + + Gr. Besides our neerenesse to the King in loue, +Is neere the hate of those loue not the King + + Ba. And that's the wauering Commons, for their loue +Lies in their purses, and who so empties them, +By so much fils their hearts with deadly hate + + Bush. Wherein the king stands generally condemn'd + Bag. If iudgement lye in them, then so do we, +Because we haue beene euer neere the King + + Gr. Well: I will for refuge straight to Bristoll Castle, +The Earle of Wiltshire is alreadie there + + Bush. Thither will I with you, for little office +Will the hatefull Commons performe for vs, +Except like Curres, to teare vs all in peeces: +Will you go along with vs? + Bag. No, I will to Ireland to his Maiestie: +Farewell, if hearts presages be not vaine, +We three here part, that neu'r shall meete againe + + Bu. That's as Yorke thriues to beate back Bullinbroke + Gr. Alas poore Duke, the taske he vndertakes +Is numbring sands, and drinking Oceans drie, +Where one on his side fights, thousands will flye + + Bush. Farewell at once, for once, for all, and euer. +Well, we may meete againe + + Bag. I feare me neuer. +Enter. + + +Scaena Tertia. + +Enter the Duke of Hereford, and Northumberland. + + Bul. How farre is it my Lord to Berkley now? + Nor. Beleeue me noble Lord, +I am a stranger heere in Gloustershire, +These high wilde hilles, and rough vneeuen waies, +Drawes out our miles, and makes them wearisome. +And yet our faire discourse hath beene as sugar, +Making the hard way sweet and delectable: +But I bethinke me, what a wearie way +From Rauenspurgh to Cottshold will be found, +In Rosse and Willoughby, wanting your companie, +Which I protest hath very much beguild +The tediousnesse, and processe of my trauell: +But theirs is sweetned with the hope to haue +The present benefit that I possesse; +And hope to ioy, is little lesse in ioy, +Then hope enioy'd: By this, the wearie Lords +Shall make their way seeme short, as mine hath done, +By sight of what I haue, your Noble Companie + + Bull. Of much lesse value is my Companie, +Then your good words: but who comes here? + +Enter H[arry]. Percie. + + North. It is my Sonne, young Harry Percie, +Sent from my Brother Worcester: Whence soeuer. +Harry, how fares your Vnckle? + Percie. I had thought, my Lord, to haue learn'd his +health of you + + North. Why, is he not with the Queene? + Percie. No, my good Lord, he hath forsook the Court, +Broken his Staffe of Office, and disperst +The Household of the King + + North. What was his reason? +He was not so resolu'd, when we last spake together + + Percie. Because your Lordship was proclaimed Traitor. +But hee, my Lord, is gone to Rauenspurgh, +To offer seruice to the Duke of Hereford, +And sent me ouer by Barkely, to discouer +What power the Duke of Yorke had leuied there, +Then with direction to repaire to Rauenspurgh + + North. Haue you forgot the Duke of Hereford (Boy.) + Percie. No, my good Lord; for that is not forgot +Which ne're I did remember: to my knowledge, +I neuer in my life did looke on him + + North. Then learne to know him now: this is the +Duke + + Percie. My gracious Lord, I tender you my seruice, +Such as it is, being tender, raw, and young, +Which elder dayes shall ripen, and confirme +To more approued seruice, and desert + + Bull. I thanke thee gentle Percie, and be sure +I count my selfe in nothing else so happy, +As in a Soule remembring my good Friends: +And as my Fortune ripens with thy Loue, +It shall be still thy true Loues recompence, +My Heart this Couenant makes, my Hand thus seales it + + North. How farre is it to Barkely? and what stirre +Keepes good old Yorke there, with his Men of Warre? + Percie. There stands the Castle, by yond tuft of Trees, +Mann'd with three hundred men, as I haue heard, +And in it are the Lords of Yorke, Barkely, and Seymor, +None else of Name, and noble estimate. +Enter Rosse and Willoughby. + + North. Here come the Lords of Rosse and Willoughby, +Bloody with spurring, fierie red with haste + + Bull. Welcome my Lords, I wot your loue pursues +A banisht Traytor; all my Treasurie +Is yet but vnfelt thankes, which more enrich'd, +Shall be your loue, and labours recompence + + Ross. Your presence makes vs rich, most Noble Lord + + Willo. And farre surmounts our labour to attaine it + + Bull. Euermore thankes, th' Exchequer of the poore, +Which till my infant-fortune comes to yeeres, +Stands for my Bountie: but who comes here? +Enter Barkely. + + North. It is my Lord of Barkely, as I ghesse + + Bark. My Lord of Hereford, my Message is to you + + Bull. My Lord, my Answere is to Lancaster, +And I am come to seeke that Name in England, +And I must finde that Title in your Tongue, +Before I make reply to aught you say + + Bark. Mistake me not, my Lord, 'tis not my meaning +To raze one Title of your Honor out. +To you, my Lord, I come (what Lord you will) +From the most glorious of this Land, +The Duke of Yorke, to know what pricks you on +To take aduantage of the absent time, +And fright our Natiue Peace with selfe-borne Armes. +Enter Yorke. + + Bull. I shall not need transport my words by you, +Here comes his Grace in Person. My Noble Vnckle + + York. Shew me thy humble heart, and not thy knee, +Whose dutie is deceiuable, and false + + Bull. My gracious Vnckle + + York. Tut, tut, Grace me no Grace, nor Vnckle me, +I am no Traytors Vnckle; and that word Grace, +In an vngracious mouth, is but prophane. +Why haue these banish'd, and forbidden Legges, +Dar'd once to touch a Dust of Englands Ground? +But more then why, why haue they dar'd to march +So many miles vpon her peacefull Bosome, +Frighting her pale-fac'd Villages with Warre, +And ostentation of despised Armes? +Com'st thou because th' anoynted King is hence? +Why foolish Boy, the King is left behind, +And in my loyall Bosome lyes his power. +Were I but now the Lord of such hot youth, +As when braue Gaunt, thy Father, and my selfe +Rescued the Black Prince, that yong Mars of men, +From forth the Rankes of many thousand French: +Oh then, how quickly should this Arme of mine, +Now Prisoner to the Palsie, chastise thee, +And minister correction to thy Fault + + Bull. My gracious Vnckle, let me know my Fault, +On what Condition stands it, and wherein? + York. Euen in Condition of the worst degree, +In grosse Rebellion, and detested Treason: +Thou art a banish'd man, and here art come +Before th' expiration of thy time, +In brauing Armes against thy Soueraigne + + Bull. As I was banish'd, I was banish'd Hereford, +But as I come, I come for Lancaster. +And Noble Vnckle, I beseech your Grace +Looke on my Wrongs with an indifferent eye: +You are my Father, for me thinkes in you +I see old Gaunt aliue. Oh then my Father, +Will you permit, that I shall stand condemn'd +A wandring Vagabond; my Rights and Royalties +Pluckt from my armes perforce, and giuen away +To vpstart Vnthrifts? Wherefore was I borne? +If that my Cousin King, be King of England, +It must be graunted, I am Duke of Lancaster. +You haue a Sonne, Aumerle, my Noble Kinsman, +Had you first died, and he beene thus trod downe, +He should haue found his Vnckle Gaunt a Father, +To rowze his Wrongs, and chase them to the bay. +I am denyde to sue my Liuerie here, +And yet my Letters Patents giue me leaue: +My Fathers goods are all distraynd, and sold, +And these, and all, are all amisse imployd. +What would you haue me doe? I am a Subiect, +And challenge Law: Attorneyes are deny'd me; +And therefore personally I lay my claime +To my Inheritance of free Discent + + North. The Noble Duke hath been too much abus'd + + Ross. It stands your Grace vpon, to doe him right + + Willo. Base men by his endowments are made great + + York. My Lords of England, let me tell you this, +I haue had feeling of my Cosens Wrongs, +And labour'd all I could to doe him right: +But in this kind, to come in brauing Armes, +Be his owne Caruer, and cut out his way, +To find out Right with Wrongs, it may not be; +And you that doe abett him in this kind, +Cherish Rebellion, and are Rebels all + + North. The Noble Duke hath sworne his comming is +But for his owne; and for the right of that, +Wee all haue strongly sworne to giue him ayd, +And let him neu'r see Ioy, that breakes that Oath + + York. Well, well, I see the issue of these Armes, +I cannot mend it, I must needes confesse, +Because my power is weake, and all ill left: +But if I could, by him that gaue me life, +I would attach you all, and make you stoope +Vnto the Soueraigne Mercy of the King. +But since I cannot, be it knowne to you, +I doe remaine as Neuter. So fare you well, +Vnlesse you please to enter in the Castle, +And there repose you for this Night + + Bull. An offer Vnckle, that wee will accept: +But wee must winne your Grace to goe with vs +To Bristow Castle, which they say is held +By Bushie, Bagot, and their Complices, +The Caterpillers of the Commonwealth, +Which I haue sworne to weed, and plucke away + + York. It may be I will go with you: but yet Ile pawse, +For I am loth to breake our Countries Lawes: +Nor Friends, nor Foes, to me welcome you are, +Things past redresse, are now with me past care. + +Exeunt. + + +Scoena Quarta. + +Enter Salisbury, and a Captaine. + + Capt. My Lord of Salisbury, we haue stayd ten dayes, +And hardly kept our Countreymen together, +And yet we heare no tidings from the King; +Therefore we will disperse our selues: farewell + + Sal. Stay yet another day, thou trustie Welchman, +The King reposeth all his confidence in thee + + Capt. 'Tis thought the King is dead, we will not stay; +The Bay-trees in our Countrey all are wither'd, +And Meteors fright the fixed Starres of Heauen; +The pale-fac'd Moone lookes bloody on the Earth, +And leane-look'd Prophets whisper fearefull change; +Rich men looke sad, and Ruffians dance and leape, +The one in feare, to loose what they enioy, +The other to enioy by Rage, and Warre: +These signes fore-run the death of Kings. +Farewell, our Countreymen are gone and fled, +As well assur'd Richard their King is dead. +Enter. + + Sal. Ah Richard, with eyes of heauie mind, +I see thy Glory, like a shooting Starre, +Fall to the base Earth, from the Firmament: +Thy Sunne sets weeping in the lowly West, +Witnessing Stormes to come, Woe, and Vnrest: +Thy Friends are fled, to wait vpon thy Foes, +And crossely to thy good, all fortune goes. +Enter. + + +Actus Tertius. Scena Prima. + +Enter Bullingbrooke, Yorke, Northumberland, Rosse, Percie, +Willoughby, +with Bushie and Greene Prisoners. + + Bull. Bring forth these men: +Bushie and Greene, I will not vex your soules, +(Since presently your soules must part your bodies) +With too much vrging your pernitious liues, +For 'twere no Charitie: yet to wash your blood +From off my hands, here in the view of men, +I will vnfold some causes of your deaths. +You haue mis-led a Prince, a Royall King, +A happie Gentleman in Blood, and Lineaments, +By you vnhappied, and disfigur'd cleane: +You haue in manner with your sinfull houres +Made a Diuorce betwixt his Queene and him, +Broke the possession of a Royall Bed, +And stayn'd the beautie of a faire Queenes Cheekes, +With teares drawn fro[m] her eyes, with your foule wrongs. +My selfe a Prince, by fortune of my birth, +Neere to the King in blood, and neere in loue, +Till you did make him mis-interprete me, +Haue stoopt my neck vnder your iniuries, +And sigh'd my English breath in forraine Clouds, +Eating the bitter bread of banishment; +While you haue fed vpon my Seignories, +Dis-park'd my Parkes, and fell'd my Forrest Woods; +From mine owne Windowes torne my Household Coat, +Raz'd out my Impresse, leauing me no signe, +Saue mens opinions, and my liuing blood, +To shew the World I am a Gentleman. +This, and much more, much more then twice all this, +Condemnes you to the death: see them deliuered ouer +To execution, and the hand of death + + Bushie. More welcome is the stroake of death to me, +Then Bullingbrooke to England + + Greene. My comfort is, that Heauen will take our soules, +And plague Iniustice with the paines of Hell + + Bull. My Lord Northumberland, see them dispatch'd: +Vnckle, you say the Queene is at your House, +For Heauens sake fairely let her be entreated, +Tell her I send to her my kind commends; +Take speciall care my Greetings be deliuer'd + + York. A Gentleman of mine I haue dispatch'd +With Letters of your loue, to her at large + + Bull. Thankes gentle Vnckle: come Lords away, +To fight with Glendoure, and his Complices; +A while to worke, and after holliday. + +Exeunt. + + +Scena Secunda. + +Drums: Flourish, and Colours. Enter Richard, Aumerle, Carlile, +and +Souldiers. + + Rich. Barkloughly Castle call you this at hand? + Au. Yea, my Lord: how brooks your Grace the ayre, +After your late tossing on the breaking Seas? + Rich. Needs must I like it well: I weepe for ioy +To stand vpon my Kingdome once againe. +Deere Earth, I doe salute thee with my hand, +Though Rebels wound thee with their Horses hoofes: +As a long parted Mother with her Child, +Playes fondly with her teares, and smiles in meeting; +So weeping, smiling, greet I thee my Earth, +And doe thee fauor with my Royall hands. +Feed not thy Soueraignes Foe, my gentle Earth, +Nor with thy Sweetes, comfort his rauenous sence: +But let thy Spiders, that suck vp thy Venome, +And heauie-gated Toades lye in their way, +Doing annoyance to the trecherous feete, +Which with vsurping steps doe trample thee. +Yeeld stinging Nettles to mine Enemies; +And when they from thy Bosome pluck a Flower, +Guard it I prethee with a lurking Adder, +Whose double tongue may with a mortall touch +Throw death vpon thy Soueraignes Enemies. +Mock not my sencelesse Coniuration, Lords; +This Earth shall haue a feeling, and these Stones +Proue armed Souldiers, ere her Natiue King +Shall falter vnder foule Rebellious Armes + + Car. Feare not my Lord, that Power that made you King +Hath power to keepe you King, in spight of all + + Aum. He meanes, my Lord, that we are too remisse, +Whilest Bullingbrooke through our securitie, +Growes strong and great, in substance and in friends + + Rich. Discomfortable Cousin, knowest thou not, +That when the searching Eye of Heauen is hid +Behind the Globe, that lights the lower World, +Then Theeues and Robbers raunge abroad vnseene, +In Murthers and in Out-rage bloody here: +But when from vnder this Terrestriall Ball +He fires the prowd tops of the Easterne Pines, +And darts his Lightning through eu'ry guiltie hole, +Then Murthers, Treasons, and detested sinnes +(The Cloake of Night being pluckt from off their backs) +Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselues. +So when this Theefe, this Traytor Bullingbrooke, +Who all this while hath reuell'd in the Night, +Shall see vs rising in our Throne, the East, +His Treasons will sit blushing in his face, +Not able to endure the sight of Day; +But selfe-affrighted, tremble at his sinne. +Not all the Water in the rough rude Sea +Can wash the Balme from an anoynted King; +The breath of worldly men cannot depose +The Deputie elected by the Lord: +For euery man that Bullingbrooke hath prest, +To lift shrewd Steele against our Golden Crowne, +Heauen for his Richard hath in heauenly pay +A glorious Angell: then if Angels fight, +Weake men must fall, for Heauen still guards the right. +Enter Salisbury. + +Welcome my Lord, how farre off lyes your Power? + Salisb. Nor neere, nor farther off, my gracious Lord, +Then this weake arme; discomfort guides my tongue, +And bids me speake of nothing but despaire: +One day too late, I feare (my Noble Lord) +Hath clouded all thy happie dayes on Earth: +Oh call backe Yesterday, bid Time returne, +And thou shalt haue twelue thousand fighting men: +To day, to day, vnhappie day too late +Orethrowes thy Ioyes, Friends, Fortune, and thy State; +For all the Welchmen hearing thou wert dead, +Are gone to Bullingbrooke, disperst, and fled + + Aum. Comfort my Liege, why lookes your Grace so +pale? + Rich. But now the blood of twentie thousand men +Did triumph in my face, and they are fled, +And till so much blood thither come againe, +Haue I not reason to looke pale, and dead? +All Soules that will be safe, flye from my side, +For Time hath set a blot vpon my pride + + Aum. Comfort my Liege, remember who you are + + Rich. I had forgot my selfe. Am I not King? +Awake thou sluggard Maiestie, thou sleepest: +Is not the Kings Name fortie thousand Names? +Arme, arme my Name: a punie subiect strikes +At thy great glory. Looke not to the ground, +Ye Fauorites of a King: are wee not high? +High be our thoughts: I know my Vnckle Yorke +Hath Power enough to serue our turne. +But who comes here? +Enter Scroope. + + Scroope. More health and happinesse betide my Liege, +Then can my care-tun'd tongue deliuer him + + Rich. Mine eare is open, and my heart prepar'd: +The worst is worldly losse, thou canst vnfold: +Say, Is my Kingdome lost? why 'twas my Care: +And what losse is it to be rid of Care? +Striues Bullingbrooke to be as Great as wee? +Greater he shall not be: If hee serue God, +Wee'l serue him too, and be his Fellow so. +Reuolt our Subiects? That we cannot mend, +They breake their Faith to God, as well as vs: +Cry Woe, Destruction, Ruine, Losse, Decay, +The worst is Death, and Death will haue his day + + Scroope. Glad am I, that your Highnesse is so arm'd +To beare the tidings of Calamitie. +Like an vnseasonable stormie day, +Which make the Siluer Riuers drowne their Shores, +As if the World were all dissolu'd to teares: +So high, aboue his Limits, swells the Rage +Of Bullingbrooke, couering your fearefull Land +With hard bright Steele, and hearts harder then Steele: +White Beares haue arm'd their thin and hairelesse Scalps +Against thy Maiestie, and Boyes with Womens Voyces, +Striue to speake bigge, and clap their female ioints +In stiffe vnwieldie Armes: against thy Crowne +Thy very Beads-men learne to bend their Bowes +Of double fatall Eugh: against thy State +Yea Distaffe-Women manage rustie Bills: +Against thy Seat both young and old rebell, +And all goes worse then I haue power to tell + + Rich. Too well, too well thou tell'st a Tale so ill. +Where is the Earle of Wiltshire? where is Bagot? +What is become of Bushie? where is Greene? +That they haue let the dangerous Enemie +Measure our Confines with such peacefull steps? +If we preuaile, their heads shall pay for it. +I warrant they haue made peace with Bullingbrooke + + Scroope. Peace haue they made with him indeede (my +Lord.) + Rich. Oh Villains, Vipers, damn'd without redemption, +Dogges, easily woon to fawne on any man, +Snakes in my heart blood warm'd, that sting my heart, +Three Iudasses, each one thrice worse then Iudas, +Would they make peace? terrible Hell make warre +Vpon their spotted Soules for this Offence + + Scroope. Sweet Loue (I see) changing his propertie, +Turnes to the sowrest, and most deadly hate: +Againe vncurse their Soules; their peace is made +With Heads, and not with Hands: those whom you curse +Haue felt the worst of Deaths destroying hand, +And lye full low, grau'd in the hollow ground + + Aum. Is Bushie, Greene, and the Earle of Wiltshire +dead? + Scroope. Yea, all of them at Bristow lost their heads + + Aum. Where is the Duke my Father with his Power? + Rich. No matter where; of comfort no man speake: +Let's talke of Graues, of Wormes, and Epitaphs, +Make Dust our Paper, and with Raynie eyes +Write Sorrow on the Bosome of the Earth. +Let's chuse Executors, and talke of Wills: +And yet not so; for what can we bequeath, +Saue our deposed bodies to the ground? +Our Lands, our Liues, and all are Bullingbrookes, +And nothing can we call our owne, but Death, +And that small Modell of the barren Earth, +Which serues as Paste, and Couer to our Bones: +For Heauens sake let vs sit vpon the ground, +And tell sad stories of the death of Kings: +How some haue been depos'd, some slaine in warre, +Some haunted by the Ghosts they haue depos'd, +Some poyson'd by their Wiues, some sleeping kill'd, +All murther'd. For within the hollow Crowne +That rounds the mortall Temples of a King, +Keepes Death his Court, and there the Antique sits +Scoffing his State, and grinning at his Pompe, +Allowing him a breath, a little Scene, +To Monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with lookes, +Infusing him with selfe and vaine conceit, +As if this Flesh, which walls about our Life, +Were Brasse impregnable: and humor'd thus, +Comes at the last, and with a little Pinne +Bores through his Castle Walls, and farwell King. +Couer your heads, and mock not flesh and blood +With solemne Reuerence: throw away Respect, +Tradition, Forme, and Ceremonious dutie, +For you haue but mistooke me all this while: +I liue with Bread like you, feele Want, +Taste Griefe, need Friends: subiected thus, +How can you say to me, I am a King? + Carl. My Lord, wise men ne're waile their present woes, +But presently preuent the wayes to waile: +To feare the Foe, since feare oppresseth strength, +Giues in your weakenesse, strength vnto your Foe; +Feare, and be slaine, no worse can come to sight, +And fight and die, is death destroying death, +Where fearing, dying, payes death seruile breath + + Aum. My Father hath a Power, enquire of him; +And learne to make a Body of a Limbe + + Rich. Thou chid'st me well: proud Bullingbrooke I come +To change Blowes with thee, for our day of Doome: +This ague fit of feare is ouer-blowne, +An easie taske it is to winne our owne. +Say Scroope, where lyes our Vnckle with his Power? +Speake sweetly man, although thy lookes be sowre + + Scroope. Men iudge by the complexion of the Skie +The state and inclination of the day; +So may you by my dull and heauie Eye: +My Tongue hath but a heauier Tale to say: +I play the Torturer, by small and small +To lengthen out the worst, that must be spoken. +Your Vnckle Yorke is ioyn'd with Bullingbrooke, +And all your Northerne Castles yeelded vp, +And all your Southerne Gentlemen in Armes +Vpon his Faction + + Rich. Thou hast said enough. +Beshrew thee Cousin, which didst lead me forth +Of that sweet way I was in, to despaire: +What say you now? What comfort haue we now? +By Heauen Ile hate him euerlastingly, +That bids me be of comfort any more. +Goe to Flint Castle, there Ile pine away, +A King, Woes slaue, shall Kingly Woe obey: +That Power I haue, discharge, and let 'em goe +To eare the Land, that hath some hope to grow, +For I haue none. Let no man speake againe +To alter this, for counsaile is but vaine + + Aum. My Liege, one word + + Rich. He does me double wrong, +That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue. +Discharge my followers: let them hence away, +From Richards Night, to Bullingbrookes faire Day. + +Exeunt. + + +Scaena Tertia. + +Enter with Drum and Colours, Bullingbrooke, Yorke, +Northumberland, +Attendants. + + Bull. So that by this intelligence we learne +The Welchmen are dispers'd, and Salisbury +Is gone to meet the King, who lately landed +With some few priuate friends, vpon this Coast + + North. The newes is very faire and good, my Lord, +Richard, not farre from hence, hath hid his head + + York. It would beseeme the Lord Northumberland, +To say King Richard: alack the heauie day, +When such a sacred King should hide his head + + North. Your Grace mistakes: onely to be briefe, +Left I his Title out + + York. The time hath beene, +Would you haue beene so briefe with him, he would +Haue beene so briefe with you, to shorten you, +For taking so the Head, your whole heads length + + Bull. Mistake not (Vnckle) farther then you should + + York. Take not (good Cousin) farther then you should. +Least you mistake the Heauens are ore your head + + Bull. I know it (Vnckle) and oppose not my selfe +Against their will. But who comes here? +Enter Percie. + +Welcome Harry: what, will not this Castle yeeld? + Per. The Castle royally is mann'd, my Lord, +Against thy entrance + + Bull. Royally? Why, it containes no King? + Per. Yes (my good Lord) +It doth containe a King: King Richard lyes +Within the limits of yond Lime and Stone, +And with him, the Lord Aumerle, Lord Salisbury, +Sir Stephen Scroope, besides a Clergie man +Of holy reuerence; who, I cannot learne + + North. Oh, belike it is the Bishop of Carlile + + Bull. Noble Lord, +Goe to the rude Ribs of that ancient Castle, +Through Brazen Trumpet send the breath of Parle +Into his ruin'd Eares, and thus deliuer: +Henry Bullingbrooke vpon his knees doth kisse +King Richards hand, and sends allegeance +And true faith of heart to his Royall Person: hither come +Euen at his feet, to lay my Armes and Power, +Prouided, that my Banishment repeal'd, +And Lands restor'd againe, be freely graunted: +If not, Ile vse th 'aduantage of my Power, +And lay the Summers dust with showers of blood, +Rayn'd from the wounds of slaughter'd Englishmen; +The which, how farre off from the mind of Bullingbrooke +It is, such Crimson Tempest should bedrench +The fresh greene Lap of faire King Richards Land, +My stooping dutie tenderly shall shew. +Goe signifie as much, while here we march +Vpon the Grassie Carpet of this Plaine: +Let's march without the noyse of threatning Drum, +That from this Castles tatter'd Battlements +Our faire Appointments may be well perus'd. +Me thinkes King Richard and my selfe should meet +With no lesse terror then the Elements +Of Fire and Water, when their thundring smoake +At meeting teares the cloudie Cheekes of Heauen: +Be he the fire, Ile be the yeelding Water; +The Rage be his, while on the Earth I raine +My Waters on the Earth, and not on him. +March on, and marke King Richard how he lookes. + +Parle without, and answere within: then a Flourish. Enter on the +Walls, +Richard, Carlile, Aumerle, Scroop, Salisbury. + +See, see, King Richard doth himselfe appeare +As doth the blushing discontented Sunne, +From out the fierie Portall of the East, +When he perceiues the enuious Clouds are bent +To dimme his glory, and to staine the tract +Of his bright passage to the Occident + + York. Yet lookes he like a King: behold his Eye +(As bright as is the Eagles) lightens forth +Controlling Maiestie: alack, alack, for woe, +That any harme should staine so faire a shew + + Rich. Wee are amaz'd, and thus long haue we stood +To watch the fearefull bending of thy knee, +Because we thought our selfe thy lawfull King: +And if we be, how dare thy ioynts forget +To pay their awfull dutie to our presence? +If we be not, shew vs the Hand of God, +That hath dismiss'd vs from our Stewardship, +For well wee know, no Hand of Blood and Bone +Can gripe the sacred Handle of our Scepter, +Vnlesse he doe prophane, steale, or vsurpe. +And though you thinke, that all, as you haue done, +Haue torne their Soules, by turning them from vs, +And we are barren, and bereft of Friends: +Yet know, my Master, God Omnipotent, +Is mustring in his Clouds, on our behalfe, +Armies of Pestilence, and they shall strike +Your Children yet vnborne, and vnbegot, +That lift your Vassall Hands against my Head, +And threat the Glory of my precious Crowne. +Tell Bullingbrooke, for yond me thinkes he is, +That euery stride he makes vpon my Land, +Is dangerous Treason: He is come to ope +The purple Testament of bleeding Warre; +But ere the Crowne he lookes for, liue in peace, +Ten thousand bloody crownes of Mothers Sonnes +Shall ill become the flower of Englands face, +Change the complexion of her Maid-pale Peace +To Scarlet Indignation, and bedew +Her Pastors Grasse with faithfull English Blood + + North. The King of Heauen forbid our Lord the King +Should so with ciuill and vnciuill Armes +Be rush'd vpon: Thy thrice-noble Cousin, +Harry Bullingbrooke, doth humbly kisse thy hand, +And by the Honorable Tombe he sweares, +That stands vpon your Royall Grandsires 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 Honor of himselfe, +Comprising all that may be sworne, or said, +His comming hither hath no further scope, +Then for his Lineall Royalties, and to begge +Infranchisement immediate on his knees: +Which on thy Royall partie graunted once, +His glittering Armes he will commend to Rust, +His barbed Steedes to Stables, and his heart +To faithfull seruice of your Maiestie: +This sweares he, as he is a Prince, is iust, +And as I am a Gentleman, I credit him + + Rich. Northumberland, say thus: The King returnes, +His Noble Cousin is right welcome hither, +And all the number of his faire demands +Shall be accomplish'd without contradiction: +With all the gracious vtterance thou hast, +Speake to his gentle hearing kind commends. +We doe debase our selfe (Cousin) doe we not, +To looke so poorely, and to speake so faire? +Shall we call back Northumberland, and send +Defiance to the Traytor, and so die? + Aum. No, good my Lord, let's fight with gentle words, +Till time lend friends, and friends their helpeful Swords + + Rich. Oh God, oh God, that ere this tongue of mine, +That layd the Sentence of dread Banishment +On yond prowd man, should take it off againe +With words of sooth: Oh that I were as great +As is my Griefe, or lesser then my Name, +Or that I could forget what I haue beene, +Or not remember what I must be now: +Swell'st thou prowd heart? Ile giue thee scope to beat, +Since Foes haue scope to beat both thee and me + + Aum. Northumberland comes backe from Bullingbrooke + + Rich. What must the King doe now? must he submit? +The King shall doe it: Must he be depos'd? +The King shall be contented: Must he loose +The Name of King? o' Gods Name let it goe. +Ile giue my Iewels for a sett of Beades, +My gorgeous Pallace, for a Hermitage, +My gay Apparrell, for an Almes-mans Gowne, +My figur'd Goblets, for a Dish of Wood, +My Scepter, for a Palmers walking Staffe, +My Subiects, for a payre of carued Saints, +And my large Kingdome, for a little Graue, +A little little Graue, an obscure Graue. +Or Ile be buryed in the Kings high-way, +Some way of common Trade, where Subiects feet +May howrely trample on their Soueraignes Head: +For on my heart they tread now, whilest I liue; +And buryed once, why not vpon my Head? +Aumerle, thou weep'st (my tender-hearted Cousin) +Wee'le make foule Weather with despised Teares: +Our sighes, and they, shall lodge the Summer Corne, +And make a Dearth in this reuolting Land. +Or shall we play the Wantons with our Woes, +And make some prettie Match, with shedding Teares? +As thus: to drop them still vpon one place, +Till they haue fretted vs a payre of Graues, +Within the Earth: and therein lay'd, there lyes +Two Kinsmen, digg'd their Graues with weeping Eyes? +Would not this ill, doe well? Well, well, I see +I talke but idly, and you mock at mee. +Most mightie Prince, my Lord Northumberland, +What sayes King Bullingbrooke? Will his Maiestie +Giue Richard leaue to liue, till Richard die? +You make a Legge, and Bullingbrooke sayes I + + North. My Lord, in the base Court he doth attend +To speake with you, may it please you to come downe + + Rich. Downe, downe I come, like glist'ring Phaeton, +Wanting the manage of vnruly Iades. +In the base Court? base Court, where Kings grow base, +To come at Traytors Calls, and doe them Grace. +In the base Court come down: down Court, down King, +For night-Owls shrike, where mou[n]ting Larks should sing + + Bull. What sayes his Maiestie? + North. Sorrow, and griefe of heart +Makes him speake fondly, like a frantick man: +Yet he is come + + Bull. Stand all apart, +And shew faire dutie to his Maiestie. +My gracious Lord + + Rich. Faire Cousin, +You debase your Princely Knee, +To make the base Earth prowd with kissing it. +Me rather had, my Heart might feele your Loue, +Then my vnpleas'd Eye see your Courtesie. +Vp Cousin, vp, your Heart is vp, I know, +Thus high at least, although your Knee be low + + Bull. My gracious Lord, I come but for mine +owne + + Rich. Your owne is yours, and I am yours, and +all + + Bull. So farre be mine, my most redoubted Lord, +As my true seruice shall deserue your loue + + Rich. Well you deseru'd: +They well deserue to haue, +That know the strong'st, and surest way to get. +Vnckle giue me your Hand: nay, drie your Eyes, +Teares shew their Loue, but want their Remedies. +Cousin, I am too young to be your Father, +Though you are old enough to be my Heire. +What you will haue, Ile giue, and willing to, +For doe we must, what force will haue vs doe. +Set on towards London: +Cousin, is it so? + Bull. Yea, my good Lord + + Rich. Then I must not say, no. + +Flourish. + + +Exeunt. + + +Scena Quarta. + +Enter the Queene, and two Ladies + + Qu. What sport shall we deuise here in this Garden, +To driue away the heauie thought of Care? + La. Madame, wee'le play at Bowles + + Qu. 'Twill make me thinke the World is full of Rubs, +And that my fortune runnes against the Byas + + La. Madame, wee'le Dance + + Qu. My Legges can keepe no measure in Delight, +When my poore Heart no measure keepes in Griefe. +Therefore no Dancing (Girle) some other sport + + La. Madame, wee'le tell Tales + + Qu. Of Sorrow, or of Griefe? + La. Of eyther, Madame + + Qu. Of neyther, Girle. +For if of Ioy, being altogether wanting, +It doth remember me the more of Sorrow: +Or if of Griefe, being altogether had, +It addes more Sorrow to my want of Ioy: +For what I haue, I need not to repeat; +And what I want, it bootes not to complaine + + La. Madame, Ile sing + + Qu. 'Tis well that thou hast cause: +But thou should'st please me better, would'st thou weepe + + La. I could weepe, Madame, would it doe you good + + Qu. And I could sing, would weeping doe me good, +And neuer borrow any Teare of thee. +Enter a Gardiner, and two Seruants. + +But stay, here comes the Gardiners, +Let's step into the shadow of these Trees. +My wretchednesse, vnto a Rowe of Pinnes, +They'le talke of State: for euery one doth so, +Against a Change; Woe is fore-runne with Woe + + Gard. Goe binde thou vp yond dangling Apricocks, +Which like vnruly Children, make their Syre +Stoupe with oppression of their prodigall weight: +Giue some supportance to the bending twigges. +Goe thou, and like an Executioner +Cut off the heads of too fast growing sprayes, +That looke too loftie in our Common-wealth: +All must be euen, in our Gouernment. +You thus imploy'd, I will goe root away +The noysome Weedes, that without profit sucke +The Soyles fertilitie from wholesome flowers + + Ser. Why should we, in the compasse of a Pale, +Keepe Law and Forme, and due Proportion, +Shewing as in a Modell our firme Estate? +When our Sea-walled Garden, the whole Land, +Is full of Weedes, her fairest Flowers choakt vp, +Her Fruit-trees all vnpruin'd, her Hedges ruin'd, +Her Knots disorder'd, and her wholesome Hearbes +Swarming with Caterpillers + + Gard. Hold thy peace. +He that hath suffer'd this disorder'd Spring, +Hath now himselfe met with the Fall of Leafe. +The Weeds that his broad-spreading Leaues did shelter, +That seem'd, in eating him, to hold him vp, +Are pull'd vp, Root and all, by Bullingbrooke: +I meane, the Earle of Wiltshire, Bushie, Greene + + Ser. What are they dead? + Gard. They are, +And Bullingbrooke hath seiz'd the wastefull King. +Oh, what pitty is it, that he had not so trim'd +And drest his Land, as we this Garden, at time of yeare, +And wound the Barke, the skin of our Fruit-trees, +Least being ouer-proud with Sap and Blood, +With too much riches it confound it selfe? +Had he done so, to great and growing men, +They might haue liu'd to beare, and he to taste +Their fruites of dutie. Superfluous branches +We lop away, that bearing boughes may liue: +Had he done so, himselfe had borne the Crowne, +Which waste and idle houres, hath quite thrown downe + + Ser. What thinke you the King shall be depos'd? + Gar. Deprest he is already, and depos'd +'Tis doubted he will be. Letters came last night +To a deere Friend of the Duke of Yorkes, +That tell blacke tydings + + Qu. Oh I am prest to death through want of speaking: +Thou old Adams likenesse, set to dresse this Garden: +How dares thy harsh rude tongue sound this vnpleasing newes +What Eue? what Serpent hath suggested thee, +To make a second fall of cursed man? +Why do'st thou say, King Richard is depos'd, +Dar'st thou, thou little better thing then earth, +Diuine his downfall? Say, where, when, and how +Cam'st thou by this ill-tydings? Speake thou wretch + + Gard. Pardon me Madam. Little ioy haue I +To breath these newes; yet what I say, is true; +King Richard, he is in the mighty hold +Of Bullingbrooke, their Fortunes both are weigh'd: +In your Lords Scale, is nothing but himselfe, +And some few Vanities, that make him light: +But in the Ballance of great Bullingbrooke, +Besides himselfe, are all the English Peeres, +And with that oddes he weighes King Richard downe. +Poste you to London, and you'l finde it so, +I speake no more, then euery one doth know + + Qu. Nimble mischance, that art so light of foote, +Doth not thy Embassage belong to me? +And am I last that knowes it? Oh thou think'st +To serue me last, that I may longest keepe +Thy sorrow in my breast. Come Ladies goe, +To meet at London, Londons King in woe. +What was I borne to this: that my sad looke, +Should grace the Triumph of great Bullingbrooke. +Gard'ner, for telling me this newes of woe, +I would the Plants thou graft'st, may neuer grow. +Enter. + + G. Poore Queen, so that thy State might be no worse, +I would my skill were subiect to thy curse: +Heere did she drop a teare, heere in this place +Ile set a Banke of Rew, sowre Herbe of Grace: +Rue, eu'n for ruth, heere shortly shall be seene, +In the remembrance of a Weeping Queene. +Enter. + + +Actus Quartus. Scoena Prima. + +Enter as to the Parliament, Bullingbrooke, Aumerle, +Northumberland, +Percie, FitzWater, Surrey, Carlile, Abbot of Westminster. Herauld, +Officers, and Bagot. + + Bullingbrooke. Call forth Bagot. +Now Bagot, freely speake thy minde, +What thou do'st know of Noble Glousters death: +Who wrought it with the King, and who perform'd +The bloody Office of his Timelesse end + + Bag. Then set before my face, the Lord Aumerle + + Bul. Cosin, stand forth, and looke vpon that man + + Bag. My Lord Aumerle, I know your daring tongue +Scornes to vnsay, what it hath once deliuer'd. +In that dead time, when Glousters death was plotted, +I heard you say, Is not my arme of length, +That reacheth from the restfull English Court +As farre as Callis, to my Vnkles head. +Amongst much other talke, that very time, +I heard you say, that you had rather refuse +The offer of an hundred thousand Crownes, +Then Bullingbrookes returne to England; adding withall, +How blest this Land would be, in this your Cosins death + + Aum. Princes, and Noble Lords: +What answer shall I make to this base man? +Shall I so much dishonor my faire Starres, +On equall termes to giue him chasticement? +Either I must, or haue mine honor soyl'd +With th' Attaindor of his sland'rous Lippes. +There is my Gage, the manuall Seale of death +That markes thee out for Hell. Thou lyest, +And will maintaine what thou hast said, is false, +In thy heart blood, though being all too base +To staine the temper of my Knightly sword + + Bul. Bagot forbeare, thou shalt not take it vp + + Aum. Excepting one, I would he were the best +In all this presence, that hath mou'd me so + + Fitz. If that thy valour stand on sympathize: +There is my Gage, Aumerle, in Gage to thine: +By that faire Sunne, that shewes me where thou stand'st, +I heard thee say (and vauntingly thou spak'st it) +That thou wer't cause of Noble Glousters death. +If thou deniest it, twenty times thou lyest, +And I will turne thy falshood to thy hart, +Where it was forged with my Rapiers point + + Aum. Thou dar'st not (Coward) liue to see the day + + Fitz. Now by my Soule, I would it were this houre + + Aum. Fitzwater thou art damn'd to hell for this + + Per. Aumerle, thou lye'st: his Honor is as true +In this Appeale, as thou art all vniust: +And that thou art so, there I throw my Gage +To proue it on thee, to th' extreamest point +Of mortall breathing. Seize it, if thou dar'st + + Aum. And if I do not, may my hands rot off, +And neuer brandish more reuengefull Steele, +Ouer the glittering Helmet of my Foe + + Surrey. My Lord Fitzwater: +I do remember well, the very time +Aumerle, and you did talke + + Fitz. My Lord, +'Tis very true: You were in presence then, +And you can witnesse with me, this is true + + Surrey. As false, by heauen, +As Heauen it selfe is true + + Fitz. Surrey, thou Lyest + + Surrey. Dishonourable Boy; +That Lye, shall lie so heauy on my Sword, +That it shall render Vengeance, and Reuenge, +Till thou the Lye-giuer, and that Lye, doe lye +In earth as quiet, as thy Fathers Scull. +In proofe whereof, there is mine Honors pawne, +Engage it to the Triall, if thou dar'st + + Fitzw. How fondly do'st thou spurre a forward Horse? +If I dare eate, or drinke, or breathe, or liue, +I dare meete Surrey in a Wildernesse, +And spit vpon him, whilest I say he Lyes, +And Lyes, and Lyes: there is my Bond of Faith, +To tye thee to my strong Correction. +As I intend to thriue in this new World, +Aumerle is guiltie of my true Appeale. +Besides, I heard the banish'd Norfolke say, +That thou Aumerle didst send two of thy men, +To execute the Noble Duke at Callis + + Aum. Some honest Christian trust me with a Gage, +That Norfolke lyes: here doe I throw downe this, +If he may be repeal'd, to trie his Honor + + Bull. These differences shall all rest vnder Gage, +Till Norfolke be repeal'd: repeal'd he shall be; +And (though mine Enemie) restor'd againe +To all his Lands and Seignories: when hee's return'd, +Against Aumerle we will enforce his Tryall + + Carl. That honorable day shall ne're be seene. +Many a time hath banish'd Norfolke fought +For Iesu Christ, in glorious Christian field +Streaming the Ensigne of the Christian Crosse, +Against black Pagans, Turkes, and Saracens: +And toyl'd with workes of Warre, retyr'd himselfe +To Italy, and there at Venice gaue +His Body to that pleasant Countries Earth, +And his pure Soule vnto his Captaine Christ, +Vnder whose Colours he had fought so long + + Bull. Why Bishop, is Norfolke dead? + Carl. As sure as I liue, my Lord + + Bull. Sweet peace conduct his sweet Soule +To the Bosome of good old Abraham. +Lords Appealants, your differe[n]ces shal all rest vnder gage, +Till we assigne you to your dayes of Tryall. +Enter Yorke. + + Yorke. Great Duke of Lancaster, I come to thee +From plume-pluckt Richard, who with willing Soule +Adopts thee Heire, and his high Scepter yeelds +To the possession of thy Royall Hand. +Ascend his Throne, descending now from him, +And long liue Henry, of that Name the Fourth + + Bull. In Gods Name, Ile ascend the Regall Throne + + Carl. Mary, Heauen forbid. +Worst 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 Noblenesse would +Learne 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 iudg'd, but they are by to heare, +Although apparant guilt be seene in them: +And shall the figure of Gods Maiestie, +His Captaine, Steward, Deputie elect, +Anoynted, Crown'd, planted many yeeres, +Be iudg'd by subiect, and inferior breathe, +And he himselfe not present? Oh, forbid it, God, +That in a Christian Climate, Soules refin'de +Should shew so heynous, black, obscene a deed. +I speake to Subiects, and a Subiect speakes, +Stirr'd vp by Heauen, thus boldly for his King +My Lord of Hereford here, whom you call King, +Is a foule Traytor to prowd Herefords King. +And if you Crowne him, let me prophecie, +The blood of English shall manure the ground, +And future Ages groane for his foule Act. +Peace shall goe sleepe with Turkes and Infidels, +And in this Seat of Peace, tumultuous Warres +Shall Kinne with Kinne, and Kinde with Kinde confound. +Disorder, Horror, Feare, and Mutinie +Shall here inhabite, and this Land be call'd +The field of Golgotha, and dead mens Sculls. +Oh, if you reare this House, against this House +It will the wofullest Diuision proue, +That euer fell vpon this cursed Earth. +Preuent it, resist it, and let it not be so, +Least Child, Childs Children cry against you, Woe + + North. Well haue you argu'd Sir: and for your paines, +Of Capitall Treason we arrest you here. +My Lord of Westminster, be it your charge, +To keepe him safely, till his day of Tryall. +May it please you, Lords, to grant the Commons Suit? + Bull. Fetch hither Richard, that in common view +He may surrender: so we shall proceede +Without suspition + + Yorke. I will be his Conduct. +Enter. + + Bull. Lords, you that here are vnder our Arrest, +Procure your Sureties for your Dayes of Answer: +Little are we beholding to your Loue, +And little look'd for at your helping Hands. +Enter Richard and Yorke. + + Rich. Alack, why am I sent for to a King, +Before I haue shooke off the Regall thoughts +Wherewith I reign'd? I hardly yet haue learn'd +To insinuate, flatter, bowe, and bend my Knee. +Giue Sorrow leaue a while, to tuture me +To this submission. Yet I well remember +The fauors of these men: were they not mine? +Did they not sometime cry, All hayle to me? +So Iudas did to Christ: but he in twelue, +Found truth in all, but one; I, in twelue thousand, none. +God saue the King: will no man say, Amen? +Am I both Priest, and Clarke? well then, Amen. +God saue the King, although I be not hee: +And yet Amen, if Heauen doe thinke him mee. +To doe what seruice, am I sent for hither? + Yorke. To doe that office of thine owne good will, +Which tyred Maiestie did make thee offer: +The Resignation of thy State and Crowne +To Henry Bullingbrooke + + Rich. Giue me the Crown. Here Cousin, seize y Crown: +Here Cousin, on this side my Hand, on that side thine. +Now is this Golden Crowne like a deepe Well, +That owes two Buckets, filling one another, +The emptier euer dancing in the ayre, +The other downe, vnseene, and full of Water: +That Bucket downe, and full of Teares am I, +Drinking my Griefes, whil'st you mount vp on high + + Bull. I thought you had been willing to resigne + + Rich. My Crowne I am, but still my Griefes are mine: +You may my Glories and my State depose, +But not my Griefes; still am I King of those + + Bull. Part of your Cares you giue me with your Crowne + + Rich. Your Cares set vp, do not pluck my Cares downe. +My Care, is losse of Care, by old Care done, +Your Care, is gaine of Care, by new Care wonne: +The Cares I giue, I haue, though giuen away, +They 'tend the Crowne, yet still with me they stay: + Bull. Are you contented to resigne the Crowne? + Rich. I, no; no, I: for I must nothing bee: +Therefore no, no, for I resigne to thee. +Now, marke me how I will vndoe my selfe. +I giue this heauie Weight from off my Head, +And this vnwieldie Scepter from my Hand, +The pride of Kingly sway from out my Heart. +With mine owne Teares I wash away my Balme, +With mine owne Hands I giue away my Crowne, +With mine owne Tongue denie my Sacred State, +With mine owne Breath release all dutious Oathes; +All Pompe and Maiestie I doe forsweare: +My Manors, Rents, Reuenues, I forgoe; +My Acts, Decrees, and Statutes I denie: +God pardon all Oathes that are broke to mee, +God keepe all Vowes vnbroke are made to thee. +Make me that nothing haue, with nothing grieu'd, +And thou with all pleas'd, that hast all atchieu'd. +Long may'st thou liue in Richards Seat to sit, +And soone lye Richard in an Earthie Pit. +God saue King Henry, vn-King'd Richard sayes, +And send him many yeeres of Sunne-shine dayes. +What more remaines? + North. No more: but that you reade +These Accusations, and these grieuous Crymes, +Committed by your Person, and your followers, +Against the State, and Profit of this Land: +That by confessing them, the Soules of men +May deeme, that you are worthily depos'd + + Rich. Must I doe so? and must I rauell out +My weau'd-vp follyes? Gentle Northumberland, +If thy Offences were vpon Record, +Would it not shame thee, in so faire a troupe, +To reade a Lecture of them? If thou would'st, +There should'st thou finde one heynous Article, +Contayning the deposing of a King, +And cracking the strong Warrant of an Oath, +Mark'd with a Blot, damn'd in the Booke of Heauen. +Nay, all of you, that stand and looke vpon me, +Whil'st that my wretchednesse doth bait my selfe, +Though some of you, with Pilate, wash your hands, +Shewing an outward pittie: yet you Pilates +Haue here deliuer'd me to my sowre Crosse, +And Water cannot wash away your sinne + + North. My Lord dispatch, reade o're these Articles + + Rich. Mine Eyes are full of Teares, I cannot see: +And yet salt-Water blindes them not so much, +But they can see a sort of Traytors here. +Nay, if I turne mine Eyes vpon my selfe, +I finde my selfe a Traytor with the rest: +For I haue giuen here my Soules consent, +T' vndeck the pompous Body of a King; +Made Glory base; a Soueraigntie, a Slaue; +Prowd Maiestie, a Subiect; State, a Pesant + + North. My Lord + + Rich. No Lord of thine, thou haught-insulting man; +No, nor no mans Lord: I haue no Name, no Title; +No, not that Name was giuen me at the Font, +But 'tis vsurpt: alack the heauie day, +That I haue worne so many Winters out, +And know not now, what Name to call my selfe. +Oh, that I were a Mockerie, King of Snow, +Standing before the Sunne of Bullingbrooke, +To melt my selfe away in Water-drops. +Good King, great King, and yet not greatly good, +And if my word be Sterling yet in England, +Let it command a Mirror hither straight, +That it may shew me what a Face I haue, +Since it is Bankrupt of his Maiestie + + Bull. Goe some of you, and fetch a Looking-Glasse + + North. Read o're this Paper, while y Glasse doth come + + Rich. Fiend, thou torments me, ere I come to Hell + + Bull. Vrge it no more, my Lord Northumberland + + North. The Commons will not then be satisfy'd + + Rich. They shall be satisfy'd: Ile reade enough, +When I doe see the very Booke indeede, +Where all my sinnes are writ, and that's my selfe. +Enter one with a Glasse. + +Giue me that Glasse, and therein will I reade. +No deeper wrinckles yet? hath Sorrow strucke +So many Blowes vpon this Face of mine, +And made no deeper Wounds? Oh flatt'ring Glasse, +Like to my followers in prosperitie, +Thou do'st beguile me. Was this Face, the Face +That euery day, vnder his House-hold Roofe, +Did keepe ten thousand men? Was this the Face, +That like the Sunne, did make beholders winke? +Is this the Face, which fac'd so many follyes, +That was at last out-fac'd by Bullingbrooke? +A brittle Glory shineth in this Face, +As brittle as the Glory, is the Face, +For there it is, crackt in an hundred shiuers. +Marke silent King, the Morall of this sport, +How soone my Sorrow hath destroy'd my Face + + Bull. The shadow of your Sorrow hath destroy'd +The shadow of your Face + + Rich. Say that againe. +The shadow of my Sorrow: ha, let's see, +'Tis very true, my Griefe lyes all within, +And these externall manner of Laments, +Are meerely shadowes, to the vnseene Griefe, +That swells with silence in the tortur'd Soule. +There lyes the substance: and I thanke thee King +For thy great bountie, that not onely giu'st +Me cause to wayle, but teachest me the way +How to lament the cause. Ile begge one Boone, +And then be gone, and trouble you no more. +Shall I obtaine it? + Bull. Name it, faire Cousin + + Rich. Faire Cousin? I am greater then a King: +For when I was a King, my flatterers +Were then but subiects; being now a subiect, +I haue a King here to my flatterer: +Being so great, I haue no neede to begge + + Bull. Yet aske + + Rich. And shall I haue? + Bull. You shall + + Rich. Then giue me leaue to goe + + Bull. Whither? + Rich. Whither you will, so I were from your sights + + Bull. Goe some of you, conuey him to the Tower + + Rich. Oh good: conuey: Conueyers are you all, +That rise thus nimbly by a true Kings fall + + Bull. On Wednesday next, we solemnly set downe +Our Coronation: Lords, prepare your selues. + +Exeunt. + + Abbot. A wofull Pageant haue we here beheld + + Carl. The Woes to come, the Children yet vnborne, +Shall feele this day as sharpe to them as Thorne + + Aum. You holy Clergie-men, is there no Plot +To rid the Realme of this pernicious Blot + + Abbot. Before I freely speake my minde herein, +You shall not onely take the Sacrament, +To bury mine intents, but also to effect +What euer I shall happen to deuise. +I see your Browes are full of Discontent, +Your Heart of Sorrow, and your Eyes of Teares. +Come home with me to Supper, Ile lay a Plot +Shall shew vs all a merry day. + +Exeunt. + + +Actus Quintus. Scena Prima. + +Enter Queene, and Ladies. + + Qu. This way the King will come: this is the way +To Iulius Cæsars ill-erected Tower: +To whose flint Bosome, my condemned Lord +Is doom'd a Prisoner, by prowd Bullingbrooke. +Here let vs rest, if this rebellious Earth +Haue any resting for her true Kings Queene. +Enter Richard, and Guard. + +But soft, but see, or rather doe not see, +My faire Rose wither: yet looke vp; behold, +That you in pittie may dissolue to dew, +And wash him fresh againe with true-loue Teares. +Ah thou, the Modell where old Troy did stand, +Thou Mappe of Honor, thou King Richards Tombe, +And not King Richard: thou most beauteous Inne, +Why should hard-fauor'd Griefe be lodg'd in thee, +When Triumph is become an Ale-house Guest + + Rich. Ioyne not with griefe, faire Woman, do not so, +To make my end too sudden: learne good Soule, +To thinke our former State a happie Dreame, +From which awak'd, the truth of what we are, +Shewes vs but this. I am sworne Brother (Sweet) +To grim Necessitie; and hee and I +Will keepe a League till Death. High thee to France, +And Cloyster thee in some Religious House: +Our holy liues must winne a new Worlds Crowne, +Which our prophane houres here haue stricken downe + + Qu. What, is my Richard both in shape and minde +Transform'd, and weaken'd? Hath Bullingbrooke +Depos'd thine Intellect? hath he beene in thy Heart? +The Lyon dying, thrusteth forth his Paw, +And wounds the Earth, if nothing else, with rage +To be o're-powr'd: and wilt thou, Pupill-like, +Take thy Correction mildly, kisse the Rodde, +And fawne on Rage with base Humilitie, +Which art a Lyon, and a King of Beasts? + Rich. A King of Beasts indeed: if aught but Beasts, +I had beene still a happy King of Men. +Good (sometime Queene) prepare thee hence for France: +Thinke I am dead, and that euen here thou tak'st, +As from my Death-bed, my last liuing leaue. +In Winters tedious Nights sit by the fire +With good old folkes, and let them tell thee Tales +Of wofull Ages, long agoe betide: +And ere thou bid good-night, to quit their griefe, +Tell thou the lamentable fall of me, +And send the hearers weeping to their Beds: +For why? the sencelesse Brands will sympathize +The heauie accent of thy mouing Tongue, +And in compassion, weepe the fire out: +And some will mourne in ashes, some coale-black, +For the deposing of a rightfull King. +Enter Northumberland. + + North. My Lord, the mind of Bullingbrooke is chang'd. +You must to Pomfret, not vnto the Tower. +And Madame, there is order ta'ne for you: +With all swift speed, you must away to France + + Rich. Northumberland, thou Ladder wherewithall +The mounting Bullingbrooke ascends my Throne, +The time shall not be many houres of age, +More then it is, ere foule sinne, gathering head, +Shall breake into corruption: thou shalt thinke, +Though he diuide the Realme, and giue thee halfe, +It is too little, helping him to all: +He shall thinke, that thou which know'st the way +To plant vnrightfull Kings, wilt know againe, +Being ne're so little vrg'd another way, +To pluck him headlong from the vsurped Throne. +The Loue of wicked friends conuerts to Feare; +That Feare, to Hate; and Hate turnes one, or both, +To worthie Danger, and deserued Death + + North. My guilt be on my Head, and there an end: +Take leaue, and part, for you must part forthwith + + Rich. Doubly diuorc'd? (bad men) ye violate +A two-fold Marriage; 'twixt my Crowne, and me. +And then betwixt me, and my marryed Wife. +Let me vn-kisse the Oath 'twixt thee, and me; +And yet not so, for with a Kisse 'twas made. +Part vs, Northumberland: I, towards the North, +Where shiuering Cold and Sicknesse pines the Clyme: +My Queene to France: from whence, set forth in pompe, +She came adorned hither like sweet May; +Sent back like Hollowmas, or short'st of day + + Qu. And must we be diuided? must we part? + Rich. I, hand from hand (my Loue) and heart fro[m] heart + + Qu. Banish vs both, and send the King with me + + North. That were some Loue, but little Pollicy + + Qu. Then whither he goes, thither let me goe + + Rich. So two together weeping, make one Woe. +Weepe thou for me in France; I, for thee heere: +Better farre off, then neere, be ne're the neere. +Goe, count thy Way with Sighes; I, mine with Groanes + + Qu. So longest Way shall haue the longest Moanes + + Rich. Twice for one step Ile groane, y Way being short, +And peece the Way out with a heauie heart. +Come, come, in wooing Sorrow let's be briefe, +Since wedding it, there is such length in Griefe: +One Kisse shall stop our mouthes, and dumbely part; +Thus giue I mine, and thus take I thy heart + + Qu. Giue me mine owne againe: 'twere no good part, +To take on me to keepe, and kill thy heart. +So, now I haue mine owne againe, be gone, +That I may striue to kill it with a groane + + Rich. We make Woe wanton with this fond delay: +Once more adieu; the rest, let Sorrow say. + +Exeunt. + + +Scoena Secunda. + +Enter Yorke, and his Duchesse. + + Duch. My Lord, you told me you would tell the rest, +When weeping made you breake the story off, +Of our two Cousins comming into London + + Yorke. Where did I leaue? + Duch. At that sad stoppe, my Lord, +Where rude mis-gouern'd hands, from Windowes tops, +Threw dust and rubbish on King Richards head + + Yorke. Then, as I said, the Duke, great Bullingbrooke, +Mounted vpon a hot and fierie Steed, +Which his aspiring Rider seem'd to know, +With slow, but stately pace, kept on his course: +While all tongues cride, God saue thee Bullingbrooke. +You would haue thought the very windowes spake, +So many greedy lookes of yong and old, +Through Casements darted their desiring eyes +Vpon his visage: and that all the walles, +With painted Imagery had said at once, +Iesu preserue thee, welcom Bullingbrooke. +Whil'st he, from one side to the other turning, +Bare-headed, lower then his proud Steeds necke, +Bespake them thus: I thanke you Countrimen: +And thus still doing, thus he past along + + Dutch. Alas poore Richard, where rides he the whilst? + Yorke. As in a Theater, the eyes of men +After a well grac'd Actor leaues the Stage, +Are idlely bent on him that enters next, +Thinking his prattle to be tedious: +Euen so, or with much more contempt, mens eyes +Did scowle on Richard: no man cride, God saue him: +No ioyfull tongue gaue him his welcome home, +But dust was throwne vpon his Sacred head, +Which with such gentle sorrow he shooke off, +His face still combating with teares and smiles +(The badges of his greefe and patience) +That had not God (for some strong purpose) steel'd +The hearts of men, they must perforce haue melted, +And Barbarisme it selfe haue pittied him. +But heauen hath a hand in these euents, +To whose high will we bound our calme contents. +To Bullingbrooke, are we sworne Subiects now, +Whose State, and Honor, I for aye allow. +Enter Aumerle + + Dut. Heere comes my sonne Aumerle + + Yor. Aumerle that was, +But that is lost, for being Richards Friend. +And Madam, you must call him Rutland now: +I am in Parliament pledge for his truth, +And lasting fealtie to the new-made King + + Dut. Welcome my sonne: who are the Violets now, +That strew the greene lap of the new-come Spring? + Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not, +God knowes, I had as liefe be none, as one + + Yorke. Well, beare you well in this new-spring of time +Least you be cropt before you come to prime. +What newes from Oxford? Hold those Iusts & Triumphs? + Aum. For ought I know my Lord, they do + + Yorke. You will be there I know + + Aum. If God preuent not, I purpose so + + Yor. What Seale is that that hangs without thy bosom? +Yea, look'st thou pale? Let me see the Writing + + Aum. My Lord, 'tis nothing + + Yorke. No matter then who sees it, +I will be satisfied, let me see the Writing + + Aum. I do beseech your Grace to pardon me, +It is a matter of small consequence, +Which for some reasons I would not haue seene + + Yorke. Which for some reasons sir, I meane to see: +I feare, I feare + + Dut. What should you feare? +'Tis nothing but some bond, that he is enter'd into +For gay apparrell, against the Triumph + + Yorke. Bound to himselfe? What doth he with a Bond +That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a foole. +Boy, let me see the Writing + + Aum. I do beseech you pardon me, I may not shew it + + Yor. I will be satisfied: let me see it I say. + +Snatches it + +Treason, foule Treason, Villaine, Traitor, Slaue + + Dut. What's the matter, my Lord? + Yorke. Hoa, who's within there? Saddle my horse. +Heauen for his mercy: what treachery is heere? + Dut. Why, what is't my Lord? + Yorke. Giue me my boots, I say: Saddle my horse: +Now by my Honor, my life, my troth, +I will appeach the Villaine + + Dut. What is the matter? + Yorke. Peace foolish Woman + + Dut. I will not peace. What is the matter Sonne? + Aum. Good Mother be content, it is no more +Then my poore life must answer + + Dut. Thy life answer? +Enter Seruant with Boots. + + Yor. Bring me my Boots, I will vnto the King + + Dut. Strike him Aumerle. Poore boy, y art amaz'd, +Hence Villaine, neuer more come in my sight + + Yor. Giue me my Boots, I say + + Dut. Why Yorke, what wilt thou do? +Wilt thou not hide the Trespasse of thine owne? +Haue we more Sonnes? Or are we like to haue? +Is not my teeming date drunke vp with time? +And wilt thou plucke my faire Sonne from mine Age, +And rob me of a happy Mothers name? +Is he not like thee? Is he not thine owne? + Yor. Thou fond mad woman: +Wilt thou conceale this darke Conspiracy? +A dozen of them heere haue tane the Sacrament, +And interchangeably set downe their hands +To kill the King at Oxford + + Dut. He shall be none: +Wee'l keepe him heere: then what is that to him? + Yor. Away fond woman: were hee twenty times my +Son, I would appeach him + + Dut. Hadst thou groan'd for him as I haue done, +Thou wouldest be more pittifull: +But now I know thy minde; thou do'st suspect +That I haue bene disloyall to thy bed, +And that he is a Bastard, not thy Sonne: +Sweet Yorke, sweet husband, be not of that minde: +He is as like thee, as a man may bee, +Not like to me, nor any of my Kin, +And yet I loue him + + Yorke. Make way, vnruly Woman. + +Exit + + Dut. After Aumerle. Mount thee vpon his horse, +Spurre post, and get before him to the King, +And begge thy pardon, ere he do accuse thee, +Ile not be long behind: though I be old, +I doubt not but to ride as fast as Yorke: +And neuer will I rise vp from the ground, +Till Bullingbrooke haue pardon'd thee: Away be gone. + +Exit + + +Scoena Tertia. + +Enter Bullingbrooke, Percie, and other Lords. + + Bul. Can no man tell of my vnthriftie Sonne? +'Tis full three monthes since I did see him last. +If any plague hang ouer vs, 'tis he, +I would to heauen (my Lords) he might be found: +Enquire at London, 'mongst the Tauernes there: +For there (they say) he dayly doth frequent, +With vnrestrained loose Companions, +Euen such (they say) as stand in narrow Lanes, +And rob our Watch, and beate our passengers, +Which he, yong wanton, and effeminate Boy +Takes on the point of Honor, to support +So dissolute a crew + + Per. My Lord, some two dayes since I saw the Prince, +And told him of these Triumphes held at Oxford + + Bul. And what said the Gallant? + Per. His answer was: he would vnto the Stewes, +And from the common'st creature plucke a Gloue +And weare it as a fauour, and with that +He would vnhorse the lustiest Challenger + + Bul. As dissolute as desp'rate, yet through both, +I see some sparkes of better hope: which elder dayes +May happily bring forth. But who comes heere? +Enter Aumerle. + + Aum. Where is the King? + Bul. What meanes our Cosin, that hee stares +And lookes so wildely? + Aum. God saue your Grace. I do beseech your Maiesty +To haue some conference with your Grace alone + + Bul. Withdraw your selues, and leaue vs here alone: +What is the matter with our Cosin now? + Aum. For euer may my knees grow to the earth, +My tongue cleaue to my roofe within my mouth, +Vnlesse a Pardon, ere I rise, or speake + + Bul. Intended, or committed was this fault? +If on the first, how heynous ere it bee, +To win thy after loue, I pardon thee + + Aum. Then giue me leaue, that I may turne the key, +That no man enter, till my tale be done + + Bul. Haue thy desire. + +Yorke within. + + Yor. My Liege beware, looke to thy selfe, +Thou hast a Traitor in thy presence there + + Bul. Villaine, Ile make thee safe + + Aum. Stay thy reuengefull hand, thou hast no cause +to feare + + Yorke. Open the doore, secure foole-hardy King: +Shall I for loue speake treason to thy face? +Open the doore, or I will breake it open. +Enter Yorke. + + Bul. What is the matter (Vnkle) speak, recouer breath, +Tell vs how neere is danger, +That we may arme vs to encounter it + + Yor. Peruse this writing heere, and thou shalt know +The reason that my haste forbids me show + + Aum. Remember as thou read'st, thy promise past: +I do repent me, reade not my name there, +My heart is not confederate with my hand + + Yor. It was (villaine) ere thy hand did set it downe. +I tore it from the Traitors bosome, King. +Feare, and not Loue, begets his penitence; +Forget to pitty him, least thy pitty proue +A Serpent, that will sting thee to the heart + + Bul. Oh heinous, strong, and bold Conspiracie, +O loyall Father of a treacherous Sonne: +Thou sheere, immaculate, and siluer fountaine, +From whence this streame, through muddy passages +Hath had his current, and defil'd himselfe. +Thy ouerflow of good, conuerts to bad, +And thy abundant goodnesse shall excuse +This deadly blot, in thy digressing sonne + + Yorke. So shall my Vertue be his Vices bawd, +And he shall spend mine Honour, with his Shame; +As thriftlesse Sonnes, their scraping Fathers Gold. +Mine honor liues, when his dishonor dies, +Or my sham'd life, in his dishonor lies: +Thou kill'st me in his life, giuing him breath, +The Traitor liues, the true man's put to death. + +Dutchesse within. + + Dut. What hoa (my Liege) for heauens sake let me in + + Bul. What shrill-voic'd Suppliant, makes this eager cry? + Dut. A woman, and thine Aunt (great King) 'tis I. +Speake with me, pitty me, open the dore, +A Begger begs, that neuer begg'd before + + Bul. Our Scene is alter'd from a serious thing, +And now chang'd to the Begger, and the King. +My dangerous Cosin, let your Mother in, +I know she's come, to pray for your foule sin + + Yorke. If thou do pardon, whosoeuer pray, +More sinnes for this forgiuenesse, prosper may. +This fester'd ioynt cut off, the rest rests sound, +This let alone, will all the rest confound. +Enter Dutchesse. + + Dut. O King, beleeue not this hard-hearted man, +Loue, louing not it selfe, none other can + + Yor. Thou franticke woman, what dost y make here, +Shall thy old dugges, once more a Traitor reare? + Dut. Sweet Yorke be patient, heare me gentle Liege + + Bul. Rise vp good Aunt + + Dut. Not yet, I thee beseech. +For euer will I kneele vpon my knees, +And neuer see day, that the happy sees, +Till thou giue ioy: vntill thou bid me ioy, +By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing Boy + + Aum. Vnto my mothers prayres, I bend my knee + + Yorke. Against them both, my true ioynts bended be + + Dut. Pleades he in earnest? Looke vpon his Face, +His eyes do drop no teares: his prayres are in iest: +His words come from his mouth, ours from our brest. +He prayes but faintly, and would be denide, +We pray with heart, and soule, and all beside: +His weary ioynts would gladly rise, I know, +Our knees shall kneele, till to the ground they grow: +His prayers are full of false hypocrisie, +Ours of true zeale, and deepe integritie: +Our prayers do out-pray his, then let them haue +That mercy, which true prayers ought to haue + + Bul. Good Aunt stand vp + + Dut. Nay, do not say stand vp. +But Pardon first, and afterwards stand vp. +And if I were thy Nurse, thy tongue to teach, +Pardon should be the first word of thy speach. +I neuer long'd to heare a word till now: +Say Pardon (King,) let pitty teach thee how. +The word is short: but not so short as sweet, +No word like Pardon, for Kings mouth's so meet + + Yorke. Speake it in French (King) say Pardon'ne moy + + Dut. Dost thou teach pardon, Pardon to destroy? +Ah my sowre husband, my hard-hearted Lord, +That set's the word it selfe, against the word. +Speake Pardon, as 'tis currant in our Land, +The chopping French we do not vnderstand. +Thine eye begins to speake, set thy tongue there, +Or in thy pitteous heart, plant thou thine eare, +That hearing how our plaints and prayres do pearce, +Pitty may moue thee, Pardon to rehearse + + Bul. Good Aunt, stand vp + + Dut. I do not sue to stand, +Pardon is all the suite I haue in hand + + Bul. I pardon him, as heauen shall pardon mee + + Dut. O happy vantage of a kneeling knee? +Yet am I sicke for feare: Speake it againe, +Twice saying Pardon, doth not pardon twaine, +But makes one pardon strong + + Bul. I pardon him with all my hart + + Dut. A God on earth thou art + + Bul. But for our trusty brother-in-Law, the Abbot, +With all the rest of that consorted crew, +Destruction straight shall dogge them at the heeles: +Good Vnckle helpe to order seuerall powres +To Oxford, or where ere these Traitors are: +They shall not liue within this world I sweare, +But I will haue them, if I once know where. +Vnckle farewell, and Cosin adieu: +Your mother well hath praid, and proue you true + + Dut. Come my old son, I pray heauen make thee new. + +Exeunt. + +Enter Exton and Seruants. + + Ext. Didst thou not marke the King what words hee +spake? +Haue I no friend will rid me of this liuing feare: +Was it not so? + Ser. Those were his very words. + +Ex. + +Haue I no Friend? (quoth he:) he spake it twice, +And vrg'd it twice together, did he not? + Ser. He did. + +Ex. + +And speaking it, he wistly look'd on me, +As who should say, I would thou wer't the man +That would diuorce this terror from my heart, +Meaning the King at Pomfret: Come, let's goe; +I am the Kings Friend, and will rid his Foe. +Enter. + + + +Scaena Quarta. + +Enter Richard. + + Rich. I haue bin studying, how to compare +This Prison where I liue, vnto the World: +And for because the world is populous, +And heere is not a Creature, but my selfe, +I cannot do it: yet Ile hammer't out. +My Braine, Ile proue the Female to my Soule, +My Soule, the Father: and these two beget +A generation of still breeding Thoughts; +And these same Thoughts, people this Little World +In humors, like the people of this world, +For no thought is contented. The better sort, +As thoughts of things Diuine, are intermixt +With scruples, and do set the Faith it selfe +Against the Faith: as thus: Come litle ones: & then again, +It is as hard to come, as for a Camell +To thred the posterne of a Needles eye. +Thoughts tending to Ambition, they do plot +Vnlikely wonders; how these vaine weake nailes +May teare a passage through the Flinty ribbes +Of this hard world, my ragged prison walles: +And for they cannot, dye in their owne pride. +Thoughts tending to Content, flatter themselues, +That they are not the first of Fortunes slaues, +Nor shall not be the last. Like silly Beggars, +Who sitting in the Stockes, refuge their shame +That many haue, and others must sit there; +And in this Thought, they finde a kind of ease, +Bearing their owne misfortune on the backe +Of such as haue before indur'd the like. +Thus play I in one Prison, many people, +And none contented. Sometimes am I King; +Then Treason makes me wish my selfe a Beggar, +And so I am. Then crushing penurie, +Perswades me, I was better when a King: +Then am I king'd againe: and by and by, +Thinke that I am vn-king'd by Bullingbrooke, +And straight am nothing. But what ere I am, + +Musick + +Nor I, nor any man, that but man is, +With nothing shall be pleas'd, till he be eas'd +With being nothing. Musicke do I heare? +Ha, ha? keepe time: How sowre sweet Musicke is, +When Time is broke, and no Proportion kept? +So is it in the Musicke of mens liues: +And heere haue I the daintinesse of eare, +To heare time broke in a disorder'd string: +But for the Concord of my State and Time, +Had not an eare to heare my true Time broke. +I wasted Time, and now doth Time waste me: +For now hath Time made me his numbring clocke; +My Thoughts, are minutes; and with Sighes they iarre, +Their watches on vnto mine eyes, the outward Watch, +Whereto my finger, like a Dialls point, +Is pointing still, in cleansing them from teares. +Now sir, the sound that tels what houre it is, +Are clamorous groanes, that strike vpon my heart, +Which is the bell: so Sighes, and Teares, and Grones, +Shew Minutes, Houres, and Times: but my Time +Runs poasting on, in Bullingbrookes proud ioy, +While I stand fooling heere, his iacke o'th' Clocke. +This Musicke mads me, let it sound no more, +For though it haue holpe madmen to their wits, +In me it seemes, it will make wise-men mad: +Yet blessing on his heart that giues it me; +For 'tis a signe of loue, and loue to Richard, +Is a strange Brooch, in this all-hating world. +Enter Groome. + + Groo. Haile Royall Prince + + Rich. Thankes Noble Peere, +The cheapest of vs, is ten groates too deere. +What art thou? And how com'st thou hither? +Where no man euer comes, but that sad dogge +That brings me food, to make misfortune liue? + Groo. I was a poore Groome of thy Stable (King) +When thou wer't King: who trauelling towards Yorke, +With much adoo, at length haue gotten leaue +To looke vpon my (sometimes Royall) masters face. +O how it yern'd my heart, when I beheld +In London streets, that Coronation day, +When Bullingbrooke rode on Roane Barbary, +That horse, that thou so often hast bestrid, +That horse, that I so carefully haue drest + + Rich. Rode he on Barbary? Tell me gentle Friend, +How went he vnder him? + Groo. So proudly, as if he had disdain'd the ground + + Rich. So proud, that Bullingbrooke was on his backe; +That Iade hath eate bread from my Royall hand. +This hand hath made him proud with clapping him. +Would he not stumble? Would he not fall downe +(Since Pride must haue a fall) and breake the necke +Of that proud man, that did vsurpe his backe? +Forgiuenesse horse: Why do I raile on thee, +Since thou created to be aw'd by man +Was't borne to beare? I was not made a horse, +And yet I beare a burthen like an Asse, +Spur-gall'd, and tyrd by iauncing Bullingbrooke. +Enter Keeper with a Dish. + + Keep. Fellow, giue place, heere is no longer stay + + Rich. If thou loue me, 'tis time thou wer't away + + Groo. What my tongue dares not, that my heart shall +say. +Enter. + + Keep. My Lord, wilt please you to fall too? + Rich. Taste of it first, as thou wer't wont to doo + + Keep. My Lord I dare not: Sir Pierce of Exton, +Who lately came from th' King, commands the contrary + + Rich. The diuell take Henrie of Lancaster, and thee; +Patience is stale, and I am weary of it + + Keep. Helpe, helpe, helpe. +Enter Exton and Seruants. + + Ri. How now? what meanes Death in this rude assalt? +Villaine, thine owne hand yeelds thy deaths instrument, +Go thou and fill another roome in hell. + +Exton strikes him downe. + +That hand shall burne in neuer-quenching fire, +That staggers thus my person. Exton, thy fierce hand, +Hath with the Kings blood, stain'd the Kings own land. +Mount, mount my soule, thy seate is vp on high, +Whil'st my grosse flesh sinkes downward, heere to dye + + Exton. As full of Valor, as of Royall blood, +Both haue I spilt: Oh would the deed were good. +For now the diuell, that told me I did well, +Sayes, that this deede is chronicled in hell. +This dead King to the liuing King Ile beare, +Take hence the rest, and giue them buriall heere. +Enter. + + +Scoena Quinta. + +Flourish. Enter Bullingbrooke, Yorke, with other Lords & +attendants. + + Bul. Kinde Vnkle Yorke, the latest newes we heare, +Is that the Rebels haue consum'd with fire +Our Towne of Cicester in Gloucestershire, +But whether they be tane or slaine, we heare not. +Enter Northumberland. + +Welcome my Lord: What is the newes? + Nor. First to thy Sacred State, wish I all happinesse: +The next newes is, I haue to London sent +The heads of Salsbury, Spencer, Blunt, and Kent: +The manner of their taking may appeare +At large discoursed in this paper heere + + Bul. We thank thee gentle Percy for thy paines, +And to thy worth will adde right worthy gaines. +Enter Fitzwaters. + + Fitz. My Lord, I haue from Oxford sent to London, +The heads of Broccas, and Sir Bennet Seely, +Two of the dangerous consorted Traitors, +That sought at Oxford, thy dire ouerthrow + + Bul. Thy paines Fitzwaters shall not be forgot, +Right Noble is thy merit, well I wot. +Enter Percy and Carlile. + + Per. The grand Conspirator, Abbot of Westminster, +With clog of Conscience, and sowre Melancholly, +Hath yeelded vp his body to the graue: +But heere is Carlile, liuing to abide +Thy Kingly doome, and sentence of his pride + + Bul. Carlile, this is your doome: +Choose out some secret place, some reuerend roome +More then thou hast, and with it ioy thy life: +So as thou liu'st in peace, dye free from strife: +For though mine enemy, thou hast euer beene, +High sparkes of Honor in thee haue I seene. +Enter Exton with a Coffin. + + Exton. Great King, within this Coffin I present +Thy buried feare. Heerein all breathlesse lies +The mightiest of thy greatest enemies +Richard of Burdeaux, by me hither brought + + Bul. Exton, I thanke thee not, for thou hast wrought +A deede of Slaughter, with thy fatall hand, +Vpon my head, and all this famous Land. + +Ex. + +From your owne mouth my Lord, did I this deed + + Bul. They loue not poyson, that do poyson neede, +Nor do I thee: though I did wish him dead, +I hate the Murtherer, loue him murthered. +The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour, +But neither my good word, nor Princely fauour. +With Caine go wander through the shade of night, +And neuer shew thy head by day, nor light. +Lords, I protest my soule is full of woe, +That blood should sprinkle me, to make me grow. +Come mourne with me, for that I do lament, +And put on sullen Blacke incontinent: +Ile make a voyage to the Holy-land, +To wash this blood off from my guilty hand. +March sadly after, grace my mourning heere, +In weeping after this vntimely Beere. + +Exeunt. + +FINIS. The life and death of King Richard the Second. + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 2250 *** |