But they can see a sort of traitors here. Nay, if I turn mine eyes upon myself, I find myself a traitor with the rest: For I have given here my soul's consent, To undeck the pompous body of a king; Make glory base; and sovereignty, a slave; Proud majesty, a subject; state, a peasant. North. My lord,-
K. Rich. No lord of thine, thou haught,2 insulting man,
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 his3 majesty.
Boling. Go some of you, and fetch a looking- glass. [Exit an Attendant. North. Read o'er this paper, while the glass doth
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 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. Re-enter Attendant, with a Glass. Give me that glass, and therein will I read.— No deeper wrinkles yet? Hath sorrow struck So many blows this face of mine, And made no deeper wounds ?-O, 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 ?4 Was this the face, That, like the sun, did make beholders wink:5 Was this the face, that fac'd so many follies, And was at last out-fac'd by Bolingbroke?
A brittle glory shineth in this face: As brittle as the glory is the face
[Dashes the Glass against 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.
K. Rich. Fair cousin! I am greater than a king : For, when I was a king, my
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 ask.
K. Rich. And shall I have? Boling. You shall.
K. Rich. Then give me leave to go. Boling. Whither?
K. Rich. Whither you will, so I were from you sights.
Boling. Go, some of you, convey him to the Tower.
K. Rich. O, good! Convey?-Conveyers are you all,
That rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall.
[Exeunt K. RICH. some Lords, and a Guard. Boling. On Wednesday next we solemnly set down
Our coronation: lords, prepare yourselves.
[Exeunt all but the Abbot, Bishop of Carlisle, and AUMERLE.
Abbot. A woful pageant have we here beheld. Car. The woe's to come: the children yet un'born
Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn.
Aum. You holy clergymen, is there no plot To rid the realm of this pernicious blot?
Abbot. Before I freely speak my mind herein, You shall not only take the sacrament. To bury mine intents, but also to effect 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; I will lay A plot, shall show us all a merry day.
SCENE I. London. A Street leading to the Tower. Enter Queen, and Ladies.
Queen. This way the king will come; this is the
To Julius Cæsar's ill-erected tower,9 To whose flint bosom my condemned lord Is doom'd a prisoner, by proud Bolingbroke: Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth Have any resting for her true king's queen.
Enter KING RICHARD, and Guards. But soft, but see, or rather do not see,
Boling. The shadow of your sorrow hath de- My fair rose wither: Yet look up; behold
The shadow of my sorrow? Ha! let's sce:- 'Tis very true, my grief lies all within ;6 And these external manners of lament Are merely shadows to the unseen grief, That swells with silence 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,
1 A sort is a set or company.
2 i. e. haughty.
S This is the last of the additional lines first printe in the quarto of 1609. In the first editions there is no personal appearance of King Richard.
9 By ill-erected is probably meant erected for evil purposes.
10 Model anciently signified, according to the dictiona ries, the platform or form of any thing. And map is used for picture resemblance. In the Rape of Lucrece Shakspeare calls sleep' the map of death.'
11 Inn does not probably here mean a house of public entertainment, but a dwelling or lodging generally. In which sense the word was anciently used
12 Sworn brother alludes to the fratres jurati, who in the age of adventure, bound themselves by mutu oaths to share fortunes together.
To grim necessity; and he and I Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to France, And cloister there 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 weakened? 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 even here thou tak'st, As from my death-bed, my last living leave. In winter's tedious nights, sit by the fire With good old folks, and let them tell thee tales Of woful ages, long ago betid:1
And, ere thou bid good night, to quit2 their grief, Tell them the lamentable fall3 of me, And send the hearers weeping to their beds. For why, the senseless brands will sympathize The heavy accent of thy moving tongue, And, in compassion, weep the fire out: And some will mourn in ashes, some coal-black, For the deposing of a rightful king.
Enter NORTHUMBERLAND, attended. North. My lord, the mind of Bolingbroke is chang'd;
You must to Pomfret, not unto the Tower.- And, madam, there is order ta'en for you:4 With all swift speed you must away to France. K. Rich. Northumberland, thou ladder where- withal
The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne,- The time shall not be many hours of age More than it is, ere foul sin, gathering head, Shall break into corruption: thou shalt think, Though he divide the realm, and give thee half, It is too little, helping him to all;
And he shall think, that thou, which know'st the way
To plant unrightful kings, wilt know again, Being ne'er so little urg'd, another way To pluck him headlong from the usurped throne. The love of wicked friends converts to fear That fear, to hate; and hate turns one, or both, To worthy danger, and deserved death. North. My guilt be on my head, and there an
Take leave, and part; for you must part forthwith. K. Rich. Doubly divorc'd?—Bad men, ye violate A twofold marriage; 'twixt my crown and me; And then, betwixt me and my married wife.- Let me unkiss the oath 'twixt thee and me; And yet not so, for with a kiss 'twas made.5 Part us, Northumberland: I towards the north, Where shivering cold and sickness pines the clime; My wife to France; from whence, set forth in pomp,
2 To requite their mournful stories.
8 The quarto of 1597 reads tale.
4 Thus in Othello:
'Honest Iago hath ta'en order for it.'
K. Rich. Twice for one step I'll groan, the way being short,
And piece the way out with a heavy heart. Come, come, in wooing sorrow let's be brief. Since, wedding it, there is such length in grief. One kiss shall stop our mouths, and dumbly part . Thus give I mine, and thus I take thy heart.
[They kiss. Queen. Give me mine own again; 'twere no good part,
To take on me to keep, and kill thy heart."
So now I have mine own again, begone, That I may strive to kill it with a groan.
K. Rich. We make woe wanton with this fond delay:
Once more, adieu; the rest let sorrow say. [Exeunt. SCENE II. The same. A Room in the Duke of York's Palace. Enter YORK, and his Duchess.10 Duch. My lord, you told me, you would tell the rest,
When weeping made you break the story off Of our two cousins coming into London. York. Where did I leave? Duch. At that sad stop, my lord, Where rude misgovern'd hands, from windows' tops, Threw dust and rubbish on King Richard's head. York. Then, as I said, the duke, great Boling broke,-
Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed, Which his aspiring rider seem'd to know,- With slow, but stately pace, kept on his course, While all tongues cried-God save thee, Boling- broke!
You would have thought the very windows spake, So many greedy looks of young and old Through casements darted their desiring eyes Upon his visage; and that all the walls, With painted imag'ry, had said at once,- Jesu preserve thee! welcome, Bolingbroke! Whilst he, from one side to the other turning, Bare-headed, lower than his proud steed's neck Bespake them thus,-I thank you, countrymen: And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along.
Duch. Alas, poor Richard! where rides he the while?
York. As in a theatre, the eyes of men,1 After a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage, Are idly bent on him that enters next, Thinking his prattle to be tedious:
Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes Did scowl on Richard; no man cried, God save him;
10 The first wife of Edward duke of York was Isabel. la, daughter of Peter the Cruel, king of Castile and Leon. He married her in 1372, and had by her the duke of Aumerle, and all his other children. In introducing her the poet has departed widely from history; for she
5 A kiss appears to have been an established circum- died in 1394, four or five years before the events related
stance in our ancient marriage ceremonies.
6 All Hallows, i. e. All Saints, Nov. 1. 7 The quartos give this speech to the king.
8 Never the nigher, i. e. it is better to be at a great distance than being near each other, to find that we are yet not likely to be peaceably and happily united.' 9 So in King Henry V Act ii. Sc. 2:- --the king hath kill'd his heart.'
in the present play. After her death York married Joan, daughter of John Holland, earl of Kent, who survived him about thirty-four years, and had three other husbands.
11 The painting of this description is so lively, and the words so moving, that I have scarce read any thing comparable to it in any other language.'-Dryden : Pref. to Troilus and Cressida.
No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home: But dust was thrown upon his sacred head; Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off,— His face still combating with tears and smiles, The badges of his grief and patience,-
'That had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted, And barbarism itself have pitied him. But heaven hath a hand in these events; To whose high will we bound our calm contents. To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now, Whose state and honour I for aye allow. Enter AUMERLE.
Duch. Here comes my son Aumerlo. York. Aumerle that was; But that is lost, for being Richard's friend; And, madam, you must call him Rutland1 now. I am in parliament pledge for his truth, And lasting fealty to the new-made king. Duch. Welcome, my son: Who are the violets
That strew the green lap of the new-come spring ?2 Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not; God knows, I had as lief be none as one.
York. Well, bear you well in this new spring of
Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime. What news from Oxford? hold those justs and triumphs?
Aum. For aught I know, my lord, they do. York. You will be there, I know.
Aum. If God prevent it not; I purpose so. York. What scal is that, that hangs without thy bosom 23
'ca, look'st thou pale? let me see the writing. Aum. My lord, 'tis nothing. York. No matter then who sees it; • will be satisfied, let me see the writing. Aum. I do beseech your grace to pardon me ; E. is a matter of small consequence, Which for some reasons I would not have seen.
York. Which for some reasons, sir, I mean to see. I fear, I fear,-
'Tis nothing but some bond that he is enter'd into For gay apparel, 'gainst the triumph day.
Duch. Strike him, Aumerle.-Poor boy, thou art amaz'd:
Hence, villain; never more come in my sight.- [To the Servant.
York. Give me my boots, I say. Duch. Why, York, what wilt thou do? Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own? Have we more sons? or are we like to have? Is not my teeming date drunk up with time? And wilt thou pluck my fair son from mine age, And rob me of a happy mother's name? Is he not like thee? is he not thine own? York. Thou fond mad woman,
Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy?
A dozen of them here have ta'en the sacrament, And interchangeably set down their hands, To kill the king at Öxford. Duch.
We'll keep him here: Then what is that to him? York. Away,
Fond woman! were he twenty times my sɔn, I would appeach him.
Hadst thou groan'd for him, As I have done, thou'dst be more pitiful. But now I know thy mind; thou dost suspect, That I have been disloyal to thy bed, And that he is a bastard, not thy son: He is as like thee as a man may be, Sweet York, sweet husband, be not of that mind Not like to me, or any of my kin, And yet I love him. York.
Make way, unruly woman. [Exit. Duch. After, Aumerle; mount thee upon his
SCENE III. Windsor. A Room in the Castle. Enter BOLINGBROKE as King; PERCY, and other Lords.
Boling. Can no man tell of my unthrifty sen?
York. Bound to himself? what doth he with a Tis full three months since I did see him last:
That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool.- Boy, let me see the writing.
Aum. I do beseech you, pardon me; I may not
If any plague hang over us, 'tis he.
I would to God, my lords, he might be found : Inquire at London, 'mongst the taverns there, For there, they say, he daily doth frequent, With unrestrained loose companions;
Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes, And beat our watch, and rob our passengers; While he, young, wanton, and effeminate boy, Ser-Takes on the point of honour, to support
York. I will be satisfied; let me see it, I say. [Snatches it, and reads. Treason! foul treason!-villain! traitor! slave! Duch. What is the matter, my lord? York. Ho! who is within there? [Enter a vant.] Saddle my horse.
God for his mercy! what treachery is here! Duch. Why, what is it, my lord?
York. Give me my boots, I say; saddle my horse :--
Now by mine honour, by my life, my troth, I will appeach the villain. [Exit Servant. What's the matter? York. Peace, foolish woman. Duch. I will not peace :-What is the matter, son? Aum. Good mother, be content; it is no more Than my poor life must answer. Duch.
Thy life answer? Re-enter Servant, with Boots. York. Bring me my boots, I will unto the king.
1 'The dukes of Aumerle, Surrey, and Exeter were deprived of their dukedoms by an act of Henry's first parliament, but were allowed to retain the earldoms of Rutland, Kent, and Huntingdon.-Helinshed. 2 So in Milton's Song on May Morning :- who from her green lap throws
The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose.'
Percy. My lord, some two days since I saw the prince;
And told him of these triumphs held at Oxford. Boling. And what said the gallant?
Percy. His answer was,--he would unto the
4 This is a very proper introduction to the future character of King Henry V. to his debaucheries in his youth, and his greatness in his raanhood, as the poet has described them. But it has been ably contended by Mr. Luders that the whole story of his dissipation was a fiction. At this period (i. e. 1400) he was but twelve
3 The seals of deeds were formely impressed on years old, being born in 1989. slips or labels of parchment appendant to them.
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