K. Rich. Needs must I like it well; I weep for joy,
To stand upon my kingdom once again.
Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand,
Though rebels wound thee with their horses' hoofs:
As a long-parted mother with her child
Plays fondly with her tears, and smiles in meeting;
So, weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth,
And do thee favour with my royal hands.
Feed not thy sovereign's foe, my gentle earth,
Nor with thy sweets comfort his rav'nous sense :
But let thy spiders, that suck up thy venom,
And heavy-gaited toads, lie in their way;
Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet,
Which with usurping steps do trample thee.
Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies :
And when they from thy bosom pluck a flower,
Guard it, pray thee, with a lurking adder,
Whose double tongue may with a mortal touch
Throw death upon thy sovereign's enemies.-
Mock not my senseless conjuration, lords;
This earth shall have a feeling, and these stones
Prove armed soldiers, ere her native king
Shall falter under foul rebellious arms. [you king,
Bishop. Fear not, my lord; that power that made
Hath power to keep you king, in spite of all.
The means that heaven yields must be embrac❜d,
And not neglected; else, if heaven would,
And we will not, heaven's offer we refuse;
The proffer'd means of succour and redress.
Aum. He means, my lord, that we are too remiss;
Whilst Bolingbroke, through our security,
Grows strong and great, in substance, and in friends.
K. Rich. Discomfortable cousin! know'st thou not,
That when the searching eye of heaven is hid
Behind the globe, and lights the lower world,
Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen,
In murders, and in outrage, bloody here;
But when, from under this terrestrial ball,
He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines,
And darts his light through every guilty hole,
Then murders, treasons, and detested sins,
The cloak of night being pluck'd from off their backs,
Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves?
So when this thief, this traitor, Bolingbroke,-
Who all this while hath revell'd in the night,
Whilst we were wand'ring with the antipodes,-
Shall see us rising in our throne the east,
His treasons will sit blushing in his face,
Not able to endure the sight of day;
But, self-affrighted, tremble at his sin.
Not all the water in the rough-rude sea
Can wash the balm from an anointed king:
The breath of worldly men cannot depose
The deputy elected by the Lord:

For every man that Bolingbroke hath press'd,
To lift shrewd steel against our golden crown,
God for his Richard hath in heavenly pay
A glorious angel: then, if angels fight,
Weak men must fall; for heaven still guards the right.

Enter Salisbury.

Welcome, my lord; How far off lies your power?
Sal. Nor near, nor further off, my gracious lord,
Than this weak arm: Discomfort guides my tongue,
And bids me speak of nothing but despair.
One day too late, I fear, my noble lord,
Hath clouded all thy happy days on earth:
O, call back yesterday, bid time return,
And thou shalt have twelve thousand fighting men!
To-day, to-day, unhappy day, too late,
O'erthrows thy joys, friends, fortnue, and thy state;
For all the Welshmen, hearing thou wert dead,
Are gone to Bolingbroke, dispers'd, and fled.
Aum. Comfort, my liege: why looks your grace so
pale ?
K. Rich. But now, the blood oftwenty thousand men
Did triumph in my face, and they are fled;
And, till so much blood thither come again,

Have I not reason to look pale and dead!
All souls that will be safe, fly from my side;
For time hath set a blot upon my pride.

Aum. Comfort, my liege; remember who you are. K. Rich. I had forgot myself: Am I not king? Awake, thou sluggard majesty thou sleep'st. Is not the king's name forty thousand names Arm, arm, my name! a puny subject strikes At thy great glory.-Look not to the ground, Ye favourites of a king; Are we not high? High be our thoughts: I know, my uncle York Hath power enough to serve our turn. But who Comes here?

Enter Scroop.

Scroop. More health and happiness betide my liege, Than can my care-tun'd tongue deliver him.

K. Rich. Mine ear is open, and my heart prepar'd; The worst is worldy loss, thou canst unfold. Say, is my kingdom lost? why, 'twas my care; And what loss is it, to be rid of care? Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we ? Greater he shall not be; if he serve God, We'll serve him too, and be his fellow so: Revolt our subjects? that we cannot mend; They break their faith to God, as well as us: Cry, woe, destruction, ruin, loss, decay; The worst is-death, and death will have his day. Scroop. Glad am I, that your highness is so arm'd, To bear the tidings of calamity.

Like an unseasonable stormy day,

Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores,
As if the world were all dissolv'd to tears;
So high above his limits swells the rage
Of Bolingbroke, covering your fearful land
With hard bright steel, and hearts harder than steel.
White beards have arm'd their thin and hairless scalps
Against thy majesty; boys, with women's voices,
Strive to speak big, and elap their female joints
In stiff unwieldy arms against thy crown.
Thy very beadsmen learn to bend their bows
Of double-fatal yew against thy state;
Yea, distaff-women manage rusty bills
Against thy seat: both young and old rebel,
And all goes worse than I have power to tell.

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

I warrant, they have made peace with Bolingbroke. Scroop. Peace have they made with him, indeed, [demption!

my lord.

K. Rich. O villains, vipers, damn'd without reDogs, easily won to fawn on any man! [heart! Snakes, in my heart-blood warm'd, that sting my Three Judases, each one thrice worse than Judas! Would they make peace, terrible hell make war Upon their spotted souls for this offence!

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

curse

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

dead?

Scroop. Yea, all of them at Bristol lost their heads. Aum. Where is the duke, my father, with his [speak :

power! K. Rich. No matter where; of comfort no man Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth. Let's choose executors, and talk of wills: And yet not so, for what can we bequeath, Save our deposed bodies to the ground? Our lands, our lives, and all are Bolingbroke's, And nothing can we call our own, but death; And that small model of the barren earth, Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. For heaven's sake, let us sit upon the ground, And tell sad stories of the death of kings How some have been depos'd, some slain in war; Some haunted by the ghosts they have depos'd; Some poison'd by their wives, some sleeping kill'd; All murder'd:-For within the hollow crown, That rounds the mortal temples of a king, Keeps death his conrt: and there the antic sits, Scoffing his state, and grinning at his pomp; Allowing him a breath, a little scene To monarchise, be fear'd, and kill with looks; Infusing him with self and vain conceit, As if this flesh, which walls about our life, Were brass impregnable; and, humour'd thus, Comes at the last, and with a little pin Bores through his castle wall, and-farewell king! Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood With solemn reverence; throw away respect, Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty, For you have but mistook me all this while : I live with bread like you, feel want, taste grief,

Need friends:-Subjected thus,
How can you say to me-I am a king?
Car. My lord, wise men ne'er wail their present
But presently prevent the ways to wail. [woes,
To fear the foe, since fear oppresseth strength,
Gives, in your weakness, strength unto your foe,
And so your follies fight against yourself.
Fear, and be slain; no worse can come, to fight:
And tight and die, is death destroying death;
Where fearing dying, pays death servile breath.

Aum. My father hath a power, inquire of him;
And learn to make a body of a limb.

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

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

An easy task it is, to win our own.

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

So may you by my dull and heavy eye,

My tongue hath but a heavier tale to say.
I play the torturer, by small and small,

To lengthen out the worst that must be spoken:-
Your uncle York hath join'd with Bolingbroke;
And all your northern castles yielded up,
And all your southern gentlemen in arms
Upon his party.

K. Rich.

Thou hast said enough.

Beshrew thee, cousin, which didst lead me forth

[To Aumerle.

Of that sweet way I was in to despair!
What say you now? What comfort have we now?
By heaven, I'll hate him everlastingly,
That bids me be of comfort any more.
Go to Flint castle; there I'll pine away;
A king, woe's slave, shall kingly woe obey.
That power I have, discharge; and let them go
To ear the land that hath some hope to grow,
For I have none :-Let no man speak again
To alter this, for counsel is but vain.
Aum. My liege, one word.
K. Rich.
He does me double wrong,
That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue.
Discharge my followers, let them hence :-Away,
From Richard's night, to Bolingbroke's fair day.
[Exeunt.

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

Left I his title out.
York.
The time hath been,
Would you have been so brief with him, he would
Have been so brief with you, to shorten you,
For taking so the head, your whole head's length.
Boling. Mistake not, uncle, further than you should.
York. Take not, good cousin, further than you
should,
Lest you mis-take: The heavens are o'er your head.
Boling. I know it, uncle; and oppose not
Myself against their will.-But who comes here?
Enter Percy.

Well, Harry; what, will not this castle yield?
Percy. The castle royally is mann'd, my lord,
Against thy entrance.

Boling. Royally!

Why, it contains no king?

Harry Bolingbroke

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

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

Of fire and water, when their thund'ring shock
At meeting tears the cloudy cheeks of heaven.
Be he the fire, I'll be the yielding water:
The rage be his, while on the earth I rain
My waters; on the earth, and not on him.
March on, and mark king Richard how he looks.
A Parle sounded, and answered by another Trumpet
within. Flourish. Enter, on the Walls, King
Richard, the Bishop of Carlisle, Aumerle, Scroop,
and Salisbury.

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

K. Rich. We are amaz'd; and thus long have we
stood
To watch the fearful bending of thy knee. [To North.
Because we thought ourself thy lawful king:
And if we be, how dare thy joints forget
To pay their awful duty to our presence ?
If we be not, show us the hand of God
That hath dismiss'd us from our stewardship;
For well we know, no hand of blood and bone
Can gripe the sacred handle of our sceptre,
Unless he do profane, steal, or usurp.
And though you think, that all, as you have done,
Have torn their souls, by turning them from us,
And we are barren, and bereft of friends;-
Yet know, my master, God omnipotent,
Is mast'ring in his clouds, on our behalf,
Armies of pestilence; and they shall strike
Your children yet unborn, and unbegot,
And threat the glory of my precious crown.
That lift your vassal hands against my head,
Tell Bolingbroke (for yond', methinks, he is),
That every stride he makes upon my land,
Is dangerous treason: He is come to ope
The purple testament of bleeding war;
But ere the crown he looks for live in peace,
Shall ill become the flower of England's face;
Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers' sons
Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace
To scarlet indignation, and bedew
Her pastures' grass with faithful English blood.
North. The king of heaven forbid, our lord the king
Should so with civil and uncivil arms

Be rush'd upon! Thy thrice-noble cousin,
Harry Bolingbroke, doth humbly kiss thy hand;
And by the honourable tomb he swears,
That stands upon thy royal grandsire's bones;
And by the royalties of both your bloods,
Currents that spring from one most gracious head:
And by the buried hand of warlike Gaunt;
And by the worth and honour of himself,
Comprising all that may be sworn, or said,-
His coming hither hath no further scope,
Than for his lineal royalties, and to beg
Enfranchisement immediate on his knees:
Which on thy royal party granted once,
His glittering arms he will commend to rust,
His barbed steeds to stables, and his heart
To faithful service of your majesty.

This swears he, as he is a prince, is just;
And, as I am a gentleman, I credit him.

K. Rich. Northumberland, say, thus the king re-
His noble cousin is right welcome hither; [turns ;-
And all the number of his fair demands
Shall be accomplish'd without contradiction:
With all the gracious utterance thou hast,
Speak to his gentle hearing kind commends.-

We do debase ourself, consin, do we not, [To Aum.
To look so poorly, and to speak so fair?
Shall we call back Northumberland, and send
Defiance to the traitor, and so die?"

Aum. No, good my lord; let's fight with gentle
words,
[swords.
Till time lend friends, and friends their helpful
K. Rich. O God! O God! that e'er this tongue of
That laid the sentence of dread banishment [mine,
On yon proud man, should take it off again
With words of sooth !-0, that I were as great
As is my grief, or lesser than my name!
Or that I could forget what I have been !
Or not remember what I must be now!
Swell'st thou, proud heart? I'll give thee scope to beat,
Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me.
Aum. Northumberland comes back from Boling-
[submit?

broke.

K. Rich. What must the king do now? Must he The king shall do it. Must he be depos'd? The king shall be contented: Must he lose The name of king? o'God's name, let it go: I'll give my jewels, for a set of beads; My gorgeous palace, for a hermitage; My gay apparel, for an alms-man's gown; My figur'd goblets, for a dish of wood; My sceptre, for a palmer's walking-staff; My subjects, for a pair of carved saints; And my large kingdom, for a little grave, A little, little grave, obscure grave:Or I'll be buried in the king's highway, Some way of common trade, where subjects' feet. May hourly trample on their sovereign's head: For on my heart they tread, now whilst I live; And, buried once, why not upon my head ? Aumerle, thou weep'st; My tender-hearted cousin! We'll make foul weather with despised tears; Our sighs, and they, shall lodge the summer corn, And make a dearth in this revolting land. Or shall we play the wantons with our woes, And make some pretty match with shedding tears? As thus-To drop them still upon one place, Till they have fretted us a pair of graves Within the earth; and, therein laid,-There lies Two kinsmen, digg'd their graves with weeping eyes? Would not this ill do well!-Well, well, I see I talk but idly, and you mock at me.-Most mighty prince, my lord Northumberland, What says king Bolingbroke? will his majesty Give Richard leave to live till Richard die? You make a leg, and Bolingbroke says-ay. North. My lord, in the base court he doth attend t To speak with you; may't please you to come down? K. Rich. Down, down, I come; like glistering [Phaeton, Wanting the manage of unruly jades.. [North. retires to Boling. In the base court? Base court, where kings grow base, To come at traitors' calls, and do them grace. [king! In the base court? Come down? Down, court! down For night-owls shriek, where mounting larks should sing [Exeunt from above. Boling. What says his majesty! North. Sorrow and grief of heart Makes him speak fondly, like a frantic man: Yet he is come.

Enter King Richard, and his Attendants below.

Boling. Stand all apart,

And show fair duty to his majesty.

My gracious lord,

[Kneeling.

K. Rich, Fair cousin, you debase your princely knee, To make the base earth proud with kissing it: Me rather had, my heart might feel your love, Than my unpleas'd eye see your courtesy. Up, cousin, up; your heart is up, I know, Thus high at least [ Touching his own Head, although your knee be low.

Boling. My gracious lord, I come but for mine own. K. Rich. Your own is yours, and I am yours, and all. Boling. So far be mine, my most redoubted lord, As my true service shall deserve your love. [have, K. Rich. Well you deserve :-They well deserve to That know the strong'st and surest way to get.

Of sorrow, or of joy!

good.

Queen. And I could weep, would weeping do me And never borrow any tear of thee. But stay, here come the gardeners: Let's step into the shadow of these trees.Enter a Gardener and two Servants. My wretchedness unto a row of pins, They'll talk of state; for every one doth so Against a change: Woe is forerun with woe.

[Queen and Ladies retire. Gard. Go, bind thou up yon dangling apricocks, Which, like unruly children, make their sire Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight: Give some supportance to the bending twigs.Go thou, and, like an executioner, Cut off the heads of too-fast-growing sprays, That look too lofty in our commonwealth: All must be even in our government. You thus employ'd, I will go root away The noisome weeds, that without profit suck The soil's fertility from wholesome flowers.

2 Serv. Why, should we, in the compass of a pale, Keep law, and form, and due proportion, Showing, as in a model, our firm estate? When our sea-walled garden, the whole land, Is full of weeds; her fairest flowers chok'd up, Her fruit-trees all unprun'd, her hedges ruin'd, Her knots disorder'd, and her wholesome herbs Swarming with caterpillars? Gard. Hold thy peace: He that hath suffer'd this disorder'd spring, Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf: The weeds, that his broad-spreading leaves did shelter, That seem'd, in eating him, to hold him up, Are pluck'd up, root and all, by Bolingbroke, I mean, the earl of Wiltshire, Bushy, Green. 1 Serv. What, are they dead? Gard. They are; and Bolingbroke Hath seiz'd the wasteful king.-Oh! What pity is it, That he had not so trimm'd and dress'd his land, As we this garden! We, at time of year, Do wound the bark, the skin of our fruit-trees; Lest, being over-proud with sap and blood, With too much riches it confound itself: Had he done so to great and growing men, They might have liv'd to bear, and he to taste, Their fruits of duty. All superfluous branches We lop away, that bearing boughs may live: Had he done so, himself had borne the crown, Which waste of idle hours hath quite thrown down. 1 Serv. What think you then, the king shall be

depos'd?

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

Queen. O, I am press'd to death, Through want of speaking!-Thou, old Adam's like[Coming from her Concealment.

ness,

Set to dress this garden, how dares
Thy harsh-rude tongne sound this unpleasing news?
What Eve, what serpent, hath suggested thee
To make a second fall of cursed man?
Why dost thou say, king Richard is depos'd?
Dar'st thou, thon little better thing than earth,
Divine his downfal? Say, where, when, and how,
Cam'st thou by these ill-tidings? speak, thou wretch.
Gard. Pardon me, madam: little joy have I,
To breathe this news; yet, what I say, is true.
King Richard, he is in the mighty hold

Of Bolingbroke; their fortunes both are weigh'd:
In your lord's scale is nothing but himself,
And some few vanities that make him light;
But in the balance of great Bolingbroke,
Besides himself, are all the English peers,

And with that odds he weighs king Richard down.
Post you to London, and you'll find it so;

I speak no more than every one doth know.
Queen. Nimble mischance, that art so light of foot,
Doth not thy embassage belong to me,
And am I last that knows it? O, thou think'st
To serve me last, that I may longest keep
Thy sorrow in my breast.-Come, ladies, go,
To meet at London, London's king in woe.--
What, was I born to this! that my sad look
Should grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke?—
Gardener, for telling me this news of woe,
I would, the plants thou graft'st, may never grow.
[Exeunt Queen and Ladies.
Gard. Poor queen! so that thy state might be no
worse,

I would my skill were subject to thy curse.-
Here did she drop a tear; here, in this place,
I'll set a bank of rue, sour herb of grace;
Rae, even for ruth, here shortly shall be seen,
In the remembrance of a weeping queen. [Exeunt.

ACT IV.

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

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

Lord. I take the earth to the like, forsworn AuAnd spur thee on with full as many lies [merle;

As may be holla'd in thy treacherous ear
From sun to sun: there is my honour's pawn;
Engage it to the trial, if thou dar'st.

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

I have a thousand spirits in one breast,

Call:

To answer twenty thousand such as you.
Surry. My lord Fitzwater, I do remember well

The very time Aumerle and you did talk.

Fitz. My lord, 'tis true: you were in presence then; And you can witness with me, this is true. Surry. As false, by heaven, as heaven itself is true. Fitz. Surry, thou liest.

Surry.

Dishonourable boy!
That lie shall lie so heavy on my sword,
That it shall render vengeance and revenge,
Till thou the lie-giver, and that lie, do lie
In earth as quiet as thy father's scull.
In proof whereof, there is my honour's pawn;
Engage it to the trial, if thou darʼst.

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

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

Boling. Call forth Bagot:

Now, Bagot, freely speak thy mind;

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

Bagot. Then set before my face the lord Aumerle. Boling Cousin, stand forth, and look upon that man. Bagol. My lord Aumerle, I know your daring tongue Scorns to unsay what once it hath deliver'd. In that dead time when Gloster's death was plotted, I heard you say,-Is not my arm of length, That reacheth from the restful English court As far as Calais, to my uncle's head? Amongst much other talk, that very time, I heard you say, that you had rather refuse The offer of an hundred thousand crowns, Than Bolingbroke's return to England; Adding withal, how blest this land would be, In this your cousin's death. Aum. Princes, and noble lords, What answer shall I make to this base man? Shall I so much dishonour my fair stars, On equal terms to give him chastisement? Either I must, or have mine honour soil'd With the attainder of his sland'rous lips. There is my gage, the manual seal of death, That marks thee out for hell: I say, thou liest, And will maintain, what thou hast said, is false, In thy heart-blood, though being all too base To stain the temper of my knightly sword.

Boling. Bagot, forbear, thou shalt not take it up. Aum. Excepting one, I would he were the best In all this presence, that hath mov'd me so.

Fitz. If that thy valour stand on sympathies, There is my gage, Aumerle, in gage to thine : By that fair sun that shows me where thou stand'st,

To all his land and signories; when he's return'd, Against Aumerle we will enforce his trial.

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

[bosom

Boling. Sweet peace conduct his sweet soul to the Of good old Abraham!-Lords appellants, Your differences shall all rest under gage, Till we assign you to your days of trial.

Enter York, attended.

York. Great duke of Lancaster, I come to thee From plume-pluck'd Richard; who with willing soul Adopts thee heir, and his high sceptre yields To the possession of thy royal hand: Ascend his throne, descending now from him,And long live Henry, that name the fourth!

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

Worst in this royal presence may I speak,
Yet best beseeming me to speak the truth.
Would God, that any in this noble presence
Were enough noble to be upright judge
Of noble Richard; then true nobless would
Learn him forbearance from so foul a wrong.
What subject can give sentence on his king?
And who sits here, that is not Richard's subject?
Thieves are not judg'd, but they are by to hear,

Although apparent guilt be seen in them:
And shall the figure of God's majesty,
His captain, steward, deputy elect,
Anointed, crowned, planted many years,
Be judg'd, by subject and inferior breath,
And he himself not present? O, forbid it, God,
That, in a Christian climate, souls refin'd
Should show so heinous, black, obscene a deed!
I speak to subjects, and a subject speaks,
Stirr'd up by heaven thus boldly for his king.
My lord of Hereford here, whom you call king,
Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford's king;
And if you crown him, let me prophesy,-
The blood of English shall manure the ground,
And future ages groan for this foul act;
Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels,
And, in this seat of peace, tumultuous wars
Shall kin with kin, and kind with kind confound;
Disorder, horror, fear, and mutiny,

Shall here inhabit, and this land be call'd
The field of Golgotha, and dead men's sculls.
O, if you rear this house against this house,
It will the wofullest division prove,
That ever fell upon this cursed earth:
Prevent, resist it, let it not be so,

Lest child, child's children, cry against you-woe!
North. Well have you argu'd, sir; and, for your
Of capital treason we arrest you here:- [pains,
My lord of Westminster, be it your charge
To keep him safely till his day of trial.--
May't please you, lords, to grant the commons' suit?
Boling. Fetch hither Richard, that in common view
He may surrender; so we shall proceed
Without suspicion.

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

Re-enter York, with King Richard, and Officers bearing the Crown, &c.

K. Rich. Alack, why am I sent for to a king,
Before I have shook off the regal thoughts
Wherewith I reign'd? I hardly yet have learn'd
To insinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my knee:-
Give sorrow leave awhile to tutor me
To this submission. Yet I well remember
The favours of these men: Were they not mine?
Did they not sometime cry, all hail to me?
So Judas did to Christ: but he, in twelve [none.
Found truth in all but one; I, in twelve thousand,
God save the king!-Will no man say, amen?
Am I both priest and clerk ? well then, amen.
God save the king! although I be not he;
And yet, amen, heaven do think him me.-

To do what service am I sent for hither?
York. To do that office, of thine own good will,
Which tired majesty did make thee offer,
The resignation of thy state and crown
To Henry Bolingbroke.

[the crown;

K. Rich. Give me the crown :-Here, cousin, seize Here, on this side, my hand; on that side, thine. Now is this golden crown like a deep well, That owes two buckets filling one another; The emptier ever dancing in the air, The other down, unseen, and full of water: That bucket down, and full of tears, am 1, Drinking my griefs, whilst you mount up on high. Boling, I thought you had been willing to resign. K. Rich. My crown I am; but still my griefs are You may my glories and my state depose, [mine; But not my griefs; still am I king of those. [crown. Boling. Part of your cares you give me with your K. Rich. Your cares set up, do not pluck my cares My care is loss of care, by old care done; [down. Your care is-gain of care, by new care won: The cares I give, I have, though given away; They tend the crown, yet still with me they stay. Boling. Are you contented to resign the crown? K. Rich. Ay, no; no, ay;-for I must nothing be; Therefore, no, no, for I resign to thee. Now mark me how I will undo myself:I give this heavy weight from off my head, And this unwieldy sceptre from my hand, The pride of kingly sway from out my heart; With mine own tears I wash away my balm, With mine own hands I give away my crown, With mine own tongue deny my sacred state, With mine own breath release all duteous oaths: All pomp and majesty I do forswear;

My manors, rents, revenues, I forego;

My acts, decrees, and statutes, I deny :
God pardon all oaths, that are broke to me!
God keep all vows unbroke, are made to thee!
Make me, that nothing have, with nothing griev'd;
And thou with all pleas'd, that hast all achiev'd!
Long mayst thou live in Richard's seat to sit,
And soon lie Richard in an earthly pit!
God save king Henry, unking'd Richard says,
And send him many years of sunshine days!-
What more remains?

North. No more, but that you read [Offers a Paper.
These accusations, and these grievous crimes,
Committed by your person, and your followers,
Against the state and profit of this land;
That, by confessing them, the souls of men
May deem that you are worthily depos'd.

K. Rich. Must I do so? and must I ravel out
My weav'd-np follies? Gentle Northumberland,
If thy offences were upon record,

Would it not shame thee, in so fair a troop,
To read a lecture of them? If thou wouldst,
There shouldst thou find one heinous article,-
Containing the deposing of a king,

And cracking the strong warrant of an oath,-
Mark'd with a blot, damn'd in the book of heaven :-
Nay, all of you, that stand and look upon me,
Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait myself,-
Though some of you, with Pilate, wash your hands,
Showing an outward pity; yet you Pilates
Have here deliver'd me to my sour cross,
And water cannot wash away your sin.

North. My lord, despatch; read o'er these articles.
K. Rich. Mine eyes are full of tears, I cannot see:
And yet salt water blinds them not so much,
But they can see a sort of traitors here.
Nay, if I turn mine eyes upon myself,
I find myself a traitor with the rest :
For I have given here my soul's consent,
To undeck the pompous body of a king;
Make glory base; and sovereignty, a slave;
Proud majesty, a subject; state, a peasant.
North. My lord,-

[man,

K. Rich. No lord of thine, thou haught, insulting Nor no man's lord; I have no name, no title,No, not that name was given me at the font,But 'tis usurp'd:-Alack the heavy day, That I have worn so many winters out, And know not now what name to call myself! O, that I were a mockery king of snow, Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke, To melt myself away in water-drops!Good king,-great king-(and yet not greatly good), An if my word be sterling yet in England, Let it command a mirror hither straight; That it may show me what a face I have, Since it is bankrupt of his majesty. Boling. Go some of you, and fetch a looking-glass. [Exit an Attendant. North. Read o'er this paper, while the glass doth Chell. K. Rich. Fiend! thou torment'st me ere I come to Boling. Urge it no more, my lord Northumberland. North. The commons will not then be satisfied. K. Rich. They shall be satisfied: I'll read enough, When I do see the very book, indeed, Where all my sins are writ, and that's-myself,

come.

Re-enter an Attendant, with a Glass. Give me that glass, and therein will I read.No deeper wrinkles yet? Hath sorrow struck So many blows upon this face of mine, And made no deeper wounds ?-0, flattering glass, Like to my followers in prosperity, Thou dost beguile me! Was this face the face, That every day under his household roof Did keep ten thousand men? Was this the face, That, like the sun, did make beholders wink? Was this the face, that fac'd so many follies, And was at last outfac'd by Bolingbroke? A brittle glory shineth in this face: As brittle as the glory is the face:

[Dashes the Glass upon the Ground. For there it is, crack'd in a hundred shivers.Mark, silent king, the moral of this sport,How soon my sorrow hath destroy'd my face. Boling. The shadow of your sorrow hath destroy'd The shadow of your face.

K. Rich.

Say that again. The shadow of my sorrow? Ha! let's see :'Tis very true, my grief lies all within;