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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 facred 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 atchiev'd! *
What more remains ?
North. No more; but that you
These accusations, and these grievous crimes
Committed by your person, and your followers,
Against the state and profit of this land;
That, by confefling them, the souls of men
May deem that you are worthily depos’d.
K. Rich. Must I do fo? and muft I ravel out
My wear'd-up follies ? Gentle Northumberland,
If thy offences were upon record,
Would it not shame thee, in fo fair a troop,
To read a lecture of them? if thou would st,
There should'st thou find one heinous article,
Containing the depofing of a King;
And cracking the strong warrant of an oath,
Mark'd with a blot, damn'd in the book of Heav'n.
Nay, all of you that stand and look upon me,
Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait myself,
Boling. Are you contented to resign the crown?
K. Ricb. Ay, no;—no, ay;--for I must nothing be:
Therefore no no : for i rehgn to thee.
Now, mark me, &c.
that halt all atchiev'd !
long may'st thou live in Richard's seat to sit,
And foon lie Richard in an earthly pit !
God save King Henry, unking'd Richard says,
And send him many years of fun thine days !
What more, 8 C,
Though some of you w.th Jilate wash your hands,
Shewing an outward pity; yet you Pilates
Have here deliver'd me to my sour cross, ..
And water, cannot wash away your fin.
North. My Lord, dispatch ; read o'er these articles.
K, Rich. Mine eyes are full of tears: I cannot fee':
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,
T' undeck the pompous body of a King,
Made glory base, a sovereign a flave,
Proud majesty a subject, state a peafant.
North. My Lord
K. Rich. No Lord of thine, thou haught-infulting
Nor no man's lord. I have no name, no titleysvil
No, not that name was given me at the font, 1 HA
But 'tis usurp’d, Alack, the heavy day,
That I have worn so many winters out, dit bril
And know not now what name to call myfelf!
Oh, that I were a mockery king of snow,
Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke,
To melt myself away in water-drops ! !
And if my word be Sterling yet in England, [To Bolin,
Let it command a mirror hither straight,
That it may flew me what a face I have,
Since it is bankrupt of his Majesty.
Boling. Go fome of you, and fetch a looking-glass,
North. Reado’er this paper while the glass doth come!
K. Rich. Fiend, thou torment'st me ere I come to hell.
Boling. Urge it no more, my Lord Northumberland,
North, The Commons will not then be fatisfy'd.
K. Rich. They shall be fatisfy'd : I'll read enough
When I do see the very book, indeed,
Where all my fins are writ, and that's myself,
* 1. e, a pack, a company. +
in water drops ! Good King-great King, --(and yet not greatly good), And if my word, &c,
Enter one with a gladio griworia
Give me that glass, and therein will I read 130 19H
No deeper wrinkles yet ! hath Sorrow struck to the boA
So many blows upon this face of mine, via inter
And made no deeper wounds? Oh, flatt'ring glass !
Like to my followers in prosperity,
Thou dost beguile me. Was this face the face,
Țhet every day, under his houshold roof
Did keep ten thousand men ! was this the face,
That, like the sun, did make behollers wink? *
How soon my forrow hath destroy'd my face.
Boling. The shadow of your forrow hath destroy'd.
The shadow of your face.
Kr Rich. Say that again.
The shadow of my forrow ! ha, let's see ;
'Tis very true, my grief lies all within ;
And thefenexternal manners of laments
Are merely shadows to the unseen grief,
That swells with filence in the tortur'd soul.
There lies the substance and I thank thee, King,
For thy great bounty, that not only giv'st
Me cause to wail, but teachest me the way
How to lament the cause. I'll beg one boon ;
And then be gone, and trouble you no more,
Shall I obtain it?
Boling. Name it, fair cousin.
K. Rich. Fair coufin ! I am greater than a King;
For when I was a King, my flatterers
Were then but subjects; being now a subject,
I have a King here to my flatterer.
Being so great, I have no need to beg.
Boling. Yet alk,
Is this the face which facç't so many follies,
That was at last our face'd by Bolingbroke?
A brittle glory thineth in this face ;
[Dashes the glass vgsinf the ground,
As brittle as the glory is the face;
For there it is, ciack'd in an hundred shivers.
Mark, Glent King, the moral of ihis sport;
How soon my sorrow, &t.
K. Rich. And shall I have ?
Boling. You shall.
K. Rich. Then give me leave to go.
K. Rich. Whither you will, so I were from your sight.
Boling. Go some of you, convey him to the Tower. *
On Wednesday next we folemnly fet down
Our coronation : Lords, prepare yourselves.
Ex. all but Abbot, Bishop of Carlisle and Aumerle.
Abbot. A woeful pageant have we here beheld.
Carl. The woe's to come; the children yet unborn Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn.
Aum. You holy clergymen, is there no plot, To rid the realm of this pernicious blot ?
Abbot. Before I freely speak my mind herein, You shall not only take the facrament, To bury mine intents, but to affect Whatever I shall happen to devise. I see your brows are full of discontent, Your hearts of sorrow, and your eyes of tears. Come home with me to supper, and I'll lay A plot shall shew us all a merry day. [Exeunt.
A ftreet in London.
Enter Queen and Ladies.
HIS way the King will come : this is the way
To Julius Cæsar's ill erected tow'r ;
To whose flint bofom my condemned Lord
Is doom'd a prisoner, by proud Bolingbroke.
Here let us reft, if this rebellious earth
Have any resting for her true King's Queen.
convey him to the tower. K. Rich. Oh, good ! convey : conveyers are you all, Tha. rise thus nimbly by a true King's fall,
Boling. On Wedne!day, &c.
Enter King Richard and guards.
But soft, but fee, or rather do not fee,
My fair rose wither ; yet look up ; behold,
That you in pity may diffolve to dew,
And wash him fresh again with true love tears.
O thou, the model where old Troy did stand,
[T. K. Rich. Thou map of honour, thou King Richard's tomb, And not King Richard; thou most beauteous inn, Why should hard-favour'd Grief be lodg'd in thee, When triumph is become an ale-house gueit ?
K. Rich. Join not with Grief, fair woman, do not fo. To make my end too sudden : learn, good soul, To think our former state a happy dream, From which awak'd, the truth of what we are, Shews us but this. I am sworn brother, sweet, To grim Neceflity; and he and I Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to France, And cloister thee in some religious house. Our holy lives must win a new world's crown Which our profane hours here have stricken down.
Queen. What, is my Richard both in shape and mind Transform'd and weak? hath Bolingbroke depos'd Thine intellect! hath he been in thy heart ? The lion, dying, thrusteth forth his paw, And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage To be o'erpower'd: and wilt thou pupil-like, Take thy correction mildly, kiss the rod, And fawn on rage with base humility, Which art a lion, and a King of beasts?
K. Rich. A King of beasts indeed; if aught but beasts, I had been still a happy King of men. Good sometime* Queen, prepare thee hence for France; Think I am dead ; and that ev'n here thou tak'st, As from my death-bed, my last living leave " In winter's tedious nights fit by the fire “ With good old folks, and let them tell thee tales "Of woeful ages, long ago betid: " And ere thou bid good night, to quit their grief,