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The life and death of King Richard the Second
Actus PrimusScaena Prima.
Enter King RichardIohn of Gauntwith other Nobles and
King Richard. Old Iohn of Gaunttime-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 NorfolkeThomas Mowbray?
Gaunt. I haue my Liege
King. Tell me moreouerhast 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 Highnesseno inueterate malice
Kin. Then call them to our presence face to face
And frowning brow to browour selues will heare
Th' accuserand the accusedfreely speake;
High stomack'd are they bothand full of ire
In ragedeafe as the sea; hastie as fire.
Enter Bullingbrooke and Mowbray.
Bul. Many yeares of happy dayes befall
My gracious Soueraignemy 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 bothyet one but flatters vs
As well appeareth by the cause you come
Namelyto appeale each other of high treason.
Coosin of Herefordwhat dost thou obiect
Against the Duke of NorfolkeThomas Mowbray?
Bul. Firstheauen 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 Traitorand a Miscreant;
Too good to be soand too bad to liue
Since the more faire and christall is the skie
The vglier seeme the cloudes that in it flye:
Once morethe 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 speaksmy 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 hushtand 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 postvntill it had return'd
These tearmes of treasondoubly downe his throat.
Setting aside his high bloods royalty
And let him be no Kinsman to my Liege
I do defie himand I spit at him
Call him a slanderous Cowardand a Villaine:
Which to maintaineI would allow him oddes
And meete himwere 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 timelet this defend my loyaltie
By all my hopes most falsely doth he lie
Bul. Pale trembling Cowardthere I throw my gage
Disclaiming heere the kindred of a King
And lay aside my high bloods Royalty
Which fearenot reuerence makes thee to except.
If guilty dread hath left thee so much strength
As to take vp mine Honors pawnethen stoope.
By thatand all the rites of Knight-hood else
Will I make good against thee arme to arme
What I haue spokenor thou canst deuise
Mow. I take it vpand 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 mountaliue may I not light
If I be Traitoror 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 saidmy 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 Traitorand iniurious Villaine.
Besides I sayand will in battaile proue
Or heereor elsewhere to the furthest Verge
That euer was suruey'd by English eye
That all the Treasons for these eighteene yeeres
Complottedand contriued in this Land
Fetch'd from false Mowbray their first head and spring.
Further I sayand further will maintaine
Vpon his bad lifeto make all this good.
That he did plot the Duke of Glousters death
Suggest his soone beleeuing aduersaries
And consequentlylike a Traitor Coward
Sluc'd out his innocent soule through streames of blood:
Which bloodlike sacrificing Abels cries
(Euen from the toonglesse cauernes of the earth)
To me for iusticeand rough chasticement:
And by the glorious worth of my discent
This arme shall do itor this life be spent
King. How high a pitch his resolution soares:
Thomas of Norfolkewhat 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 Godand good menhate so foule a lyar
King. Mowbrayimpartiall are our eyes and eares
Were he my brothernay our kingdomes heyre
As he is but my fathers brothers sonne;
Now by my Scepters aweI make a vow
Such neighbour-neerenesse to our sacred blood
Should nothing priuiledge himnor partialize
The vn-stooping firmenesse of my vpright soule.
He is our subiect (Mowbray) so art thou
Free speechand fearelesseI to thee allow
Mow. Then Bullingbrookeas 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 itand exactly begg'd
Your Graces pardonand I hope I had it.
This is my fault: as for the rest appeal'd
It issues from the rancour of a Villaine
A recreantand 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 whereofmost 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 prescribethough no Physition
Deepe malice makes too deepe incision.
Forgetforgiueconcludeand be agreed
Our Doctors sayThis is no time to bleed.
Good Vncklelet this end where it begun
Wee'l calme the Duke of Norfolke; youyour son
Gaunt. To be a make-peace shall become my age
Throw downe (my sonne) the Duke of Norfolkes gage
King. And Norfolkethrow downe his
Gaunt. When Harrie when? Obedience bids
Obedience bids I should not bid agen
King. Norfolkethrow downewe bidde; there is
Mow. My selfe I throw (dread Soueraigne) at thy foot.
My life thou shalt commandbut not my shame
The one my dutie owesbut my faire name
Despight of deaththat liues vpon my graue
To darke dishonours vsethou shalt not haue.
I am disgrac'dimpeach'dand baffel'd heere
Pierc'd to the soule with slanders venom'd speare:
The which no balme can curebut his heart blood
Which breath'd this poyson
King. Rage must be withstood:
Giue me his gage: Lyons make Leopards tame
Mo. Yeabut not change his spots: take but my shame
And I resigne my gage. My deeredeere Lord
The purest treasure mortall times afford
Is spotlesse reputation: that away
Men are but gilded loameor painted clay.
A Iewell in a ten times barr'd vp Chest
Is a bold spiritin a loyall brest.
Mine Honor is my life; both grow in one:
Take Honor from meand my life is done.
Then (deere my Liege) mine Honor let me trie
In that I liue; and for that will I die
King. Coosinthrow 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 harboureuen in Mowbrayes face.
King. We were not borne to suebut to command
Which since we cannot do to make you friends
Be readie(as your liues shall answer it)
At Couentreevpon S[aint]. Lamberts day:
There shall your swords and Lances arbitrate
The swelling difference of your setled hate:
Since we cannot attone youyou shall see
Iustice designe the Victors Chiualrie.
Lord Marshallcommand our Officers at Armes
Be readie to direct these home Alarmes.
Enter Gauntand Dutchesse of Gloucester.
Gaunt. Alasthe 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 Thomasmy deere Lordmy lifemy Glouster
One Violl full of Edwards Sacred blood
One flourishing branch of his most Royall roote
Is crack'dand all the precious liquor spilt;
Is hackt downeand his summer leafes all vaded
By Enuies handand Murders bloody Axe.
Ah Gaunt! His blood was thinethat bedthat wombe
That mettlethat selfe-mould that fashion'd thee
Made him a man: and though thou liu'stand 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 sayto 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 deaththe 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 heauenthe widdowes Champion to defence
Dut. Why then I will: farewell old Gaunt.
Thou go'st to Couentriethere to behold
Our Cosine Herfordand 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 Gauntthy sometimes brothers wife
With her companion Greefemust end her life
Gau. Sister farewell: I must to Couentree
As much good stay with theeas go with mee
Dut. Yet one word more: Greefe boundeth where it falls
Not with the emptie hollownesbut weight:
I take my leauebefore I haue begun
For sorrow ends notwhen it seemeth done.
Commend me to my brother Edmund Yorke.
Loethis is all: nayyet depart not so
Though this be alldo not so quickly go
I shall remember more. Bid himOhwhat?
With all good speed at Plashie visit mee.
Alackeand what shall good old Yorke there see
But empty lodgingsand vnfurnish'd walles
Vn-peopel'd Officesvntroden stones?
And what heare there for welcomebut my grones?
Therefore commend melet him not come there
To seeke out sorrowthat dwels euery where:
Desolatedesolate will I henceand dye
The last leaue of theetakes my weeping eye.
Enter Marshalland Aumerle.
Mar. My L[ord]. Aumerleis Harry Herford arm'd
Aum. Yeaat all pointsand longs to enter in
Mar. The Duke of Norfolkesprightfully and bold
Stayes but the summons of the Appealants Trumpet
Au. Why then the Championsare prepar'dand stay
For nothing but his Maiesties approach.
Enter KingGauntBushyBagotGreene& others: Then
Mowbray in Armor
Rich. Marshalldemand of yonder Champion
The cause of his arriuall heere in Armes
Aske him his nameand orderly proceed
To sweare him in the iustice of his cause
Mar. In Gods nameand the Kings say who y art
And why thou com'st thus knightly clad in Armes?
Against what man thou com'stand what's thy quarrell
Speake truly on thy knighthoodand thine oath
As so defend thee heauenand thy valour
Mow. My name is Tho[mas]. MowbrayDuke of Norfolk
Who hither comes engaged by my oath
(Which heauen defend a knight should violate)
Both to defend my loyalty and truth
To Godmy Kingand his succeeding issue
Against the Duke of Herfordthat appeales me:
And by the grace of Godand this mine arme
To proue him (in defending of my selfe)
A Traitor to my Godmy Kingand me
And as I truly fightdefend me heauen.
Tucket. Enter Herefordand Harold.
Rich. Marshall: Aske yonder Knight in Armes
Both who he isand 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 Knightso defend thee heauen
Bul. Harry of HerfordLancasterand Derbie
Am I: who ready heere do stand in Armes
To proue by heauens graceand my bodies valour
In Listson Thomas Mowbray Duke of Norfolke
That he's a Traitor fouleand dangerous
To God of heauenKing Richardand to me
And as I truly fightdefend me heauen
Mar. On paine of deathno person be so bold
Or daring hardie as to touch the Listes
Except the Marshalland such Officers
Appointed to direct these faire designes
Bul. Lord Marshalllet 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 handand take his leaue
Rich. We will descendand fold him in our armes.
Cosin of Herfordas thy cause is iust
So be thy fortune in this Royall fight:
Farewellmy bloodwhich if to day thou shead
Lament we maybut not reuenge thee dead
Bull. Oh let no noble eye prophane a teare
For meif I be gor'd with Mowbrayes speare:
As confidentas is the Falcons flight
Against a birddo I with Mowbray fight.
My louing LordI take my leaue of you
Of you (my Noble Cosin) Lord Aumerle;
Not sickealthough I haue to do with death
But lustieyongand cheerely drawing breath.
Loeas at English Feastsso I regreete
The daintiest lastto 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 bloodbe valiantand liue
Bul. Mine innocenceand S[aint]. George to thriue
Mow. How euer heauen or fortune cast my lot
There liuesor diestrue to Kings Richards Throne
A loyalliustand vpright Gentleman:
Neuer did Captiue with a freer heart
Cast off his chaines of bondageand embrace
His golden vncontroul'd enfranchisement
More then my dancing soule doth celebrate
This Feast of Battellwith mine Aduersarie.
Most mighty Liegeand my companion Peeres
Take from my mouththe wish of happy yeares
As gentleand as iocondas to iest
Go I to fight: Truthhath a quiet brest
Rich. Farewellmy Lordsecurely I espy
Vertue with Valourcouched in thine eye:
Order the triall Marshalland begin
Mar. Harrie of HerfordLancasterand Derby
Receiue thy Launceand heauen defend thy right
Bul. Strong as a towre in hopeI cry Amen
Mar. Go beare this Lance to Thomas D[uke]. of Norfolke
1.Har. Harry of HerfordLancasterand Derbie
Stands heere for Godhis Soueraigneand himselfe
On paine to be found falseand recreant
To proue the Duke of NorfolkeThomas Mowbray
A Traitor to his Godhis Kingand 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 himselfeand to approue
Henry of HerfordLancasterand Derby
To Godhis Soueraigneand to him disloyall:
Couragiouslyand with a free desire
Attending but the signall to begin.
A charge sounded
Mar. Sound Trumpetsand set forward Combatants:
Staythe 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 vsand 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:
Thereforewe banish you our Territories.
You Cosin Herfordvpon 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 heereshall shine on me:
And those his golden beames to you heere lent
Shall point on meand 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 wordof Neuer to returne
Breath I against theevpon paine of life
Mow. A heauy sentencemy most Soueraigne Liege
And all vnlook'd for from your Highnesse mouth:
A deerer meritnot 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 Vyallor a Harpe
Or like a cunning Instrument cas'd vp
Or being openput 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 dullvnfeelingbarren 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 thenbut speechlesse death
Which robs my tongue from breathing natiue breath?
Rich. It boots thee not to be compassionate
After our sentenceplaining comes too late
Mow. Then thus I turne me from my countries light
To dwell in solemne shades of endlesse night
Ric. Returne againeand take an oath with thee
Lay on our Royall swordyour 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 Truthand Heauen)
Embrace each others loue in banishment
Nor euer looke vpon each others face
Nor euer writeregreeteor reconcile
This lowring tempest of your home-bred hate
Nor euer by aduised purpose meete
To plotcontriueor complot any ill
'Gainst Vsour Stateour Subiectsor our Land
Bull. I sweare
Mow. And Ito keepe all this
Bul. Norfolkeso fareas 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 Treasonsere thou flye this Realme
Since thou hast farre to gobeare 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'das from hence:
But what thou artheauenthouand 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 Englandall the worlds my way.
Rich. Vncleeuen 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 homefrom banishment
Bul. How long a time lyes in one little word:
Foure lagging Wintersand foure wanton springs
End in a wordsuch is the breath of Kings
Gaunt. I thanke my Liegethat 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 Moonesand bring their times about
My oyle-dride Lampeand time-bewasted light
Shall be extinct with ageand endlesse night:
My inch of Taperwill be burntand done
And blindfold deathnot let me see my sonne
Rich. Why Vnclethou 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 mebut 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 himfor my death
But deadthy 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 tastproue in digestion sowre:
You vrg'd me as a Iudgebut I had rather
You would haue bid me argue like a Father.
AlasI 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 willto do my selfe this wrong
Rich. Cosine farewell: and Vncle bid him so:
Six yeares we banish himand he shall go.
Au. Cosine farewell: what presence must not know
From where you do remainelet paper show
Mar. My Lordno leaue take Ifor I will ride
As farre as land will let meby 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 absentgreefe is present for that time
Gau. What is sixe Wintersthey are quickely gone?
Bul. To men in ioybut greefe makes one houre ten
Gau. Call it a trauell that thou tak'st for pleasure
Bul. My heart will sighwhen I miscall it so
Which findes it an inforced Pilgrimage
Gau. The sullen passage of thy weary steppes
Esteeme a soylewherein 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 nothe apprehension of the good
Giues but the greater feeling to the worse:
Fell sorrowes toothdoth euer ranckle more
Then when it bitesbut lanceth not the sore
Gau. Comecome (my son) Ile bring thee on thy way
Had I thy youthand causeI would not stay
Bul. Then Englands ground farewell: sweet soil adieu
My Motherand my Nursewhich beares me yet:
Where ere I wanderboast of this I can
Though banish'dyet a true-borne Englishman.
Enter KingAumerleGreeneand 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 wayand there I left him
Rich. And saywhat 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 rhewmeand 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 wordthat taught me craft
To counterfeit oppression of such greefe
That word seem'd buried in my sorrowes graue.
Marrywould the word Farwellhaue lengthen'd houres
And added yeeres to his short banishment
He should haue had a volume of Farwels
But since it would nothe 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 selfeand Bushy: heere Bagot and Greene
Obseru'd his Courtship to the common people:
How he did seeme to diue into their hearts
With humbleand familiar courtesie
What reuerence he did throw away on slaues;
Wooing poore Craftes-menwith 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 Countrimenmy louing friends
As were our England in reuersion his
And he our subiects next degree in hope
Gr. Wellhe is gone& with him go these thoughts:
Now for the Rebelswhich stand out in Ireland
Expedient manage must be made my Liege
Ere further leysureyeeld them further meanes
For their aduantageand your Highnesse losse
Ric. We will our selfe in person to this warre
And for our Cofferswith too great a Court
And liberall Largesseare 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:
Wheretowhen 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.
Bu. Old Iohn of Gaunt is verie sicke my Lord
Sodainly takenand 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 Gentlemenlet's all go visit him:
Pray heauen we may make hastand come too late.
Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.
Enter Gauntsicke with Yorke.
Gau. Will the King comethat I may breath my last
In wholsome counsell to his vnstaid youth?
Yor. Vex not your selfenor 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 scarsethey are seldome spent in vaine
For they breath truththat breath their words in paine.
He that no more must sayis listen'd more
Then they whom youth and ease haue taught to glose
More are mens ends marktthen their liues before
The setting Sunand Musicke in the close
As the last taste of sweetesis sweetest last
Writ in remembrancemore then things long past;
Though Richard my liues counsell would not heare
My deaths sad talemay yet vndeafe his eare
Yor. Noit is stopt with other flatt'ring sounds
As praises of his state: then there are found
Lasciuious Meetersto 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 newthere'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 himwhose way himselfe will choose
Tis breath thou lackstand that breath wilt thou loose
Gaunt. Me thinkes I am a Prophet new inspir'd
And thus expiringdo foretell of him
His rash fierce blaze of Ryot cannot last
For violent fires soone burne out themselues
Small showres last longbut sodaine stormes are short
He tyres betimesthat spurs too fast betimes;
With eager feedingfood doth choake the feeder:
Light vanityinsatiate cormorant
Consuming meanes soone preyes vpon it selfe.
This royall Throne of Kingsthis sceptred Isle
This earth of Maiestythis seate of Mars
This other Edendemy paradise
This Fortresse built by Nature for her selfe
Against infectionand the hand of warre:
This happy breed of menthis little world
This precious stoneset 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 plotthis earththis Realmethis England
This Nursethis teeming wombe of Royall Kings
Fear'd by their breedand famous for their birth
Renowned for their deedsas farre from home
For Christian seruiceand true Chiualrie
As is the sepulcher in stubborne Iury
Of the Worlds ransomeblessed Maries Sonne.
This Land of such deere soulesthis 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 Neptuneis now bound in with shame
With Inky blottesand rotten Parchment bonds.
That Englandthat 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?
Yor. The King is comedeale mildly with his youth
For young hot Coltsbeing rag'ddo 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 indeedand gaunt in being old:
Within me greefe hath kept a tedious fast
And who abstaynes from meatethat is not gaunt?
For sleeping England long time haue I watcht
Watching breeds leannesseleannesse is all gaunt.
The pleasure that some Fathers feede vpon
Is my strict fastI meane my Childrens lookes
And therein fastinghast thou made me gaunt:
Gaunt am I for the grauegaunt as a graue
Whose hollow wombe inherits naught but bones
Ric. Can sicke men play so nicely with their names?
Gau. Nomisery 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. Nonomen liuing flatter those that dye
Rich. Thou now a dyingsayst thou flatter'st me
Gau. Oh nothou dyestthough I the sicker be
Rich. I am in healthI breathI see thee ill
Gau. Now he that made meknowes I see thee ill:
Ill in my selfe to seeand in theeseeing 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 Physitiansthat 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 sonneshould 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 shameto shame it so?
Landlord of England art thouand not King:
Thy state of Lawis bondslaue to the law
Rich. And thoua lunaticke leane-witted foole
Presuming on an Agues priuiledge
Dar'st with thy frozen admonition
Make pale our cheekechasing the Royall blood
With furyfrom 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 notmy brothers Edwards sonne
For that I was his Father Edwards sonne:
That blood already (like the Pellican)
Thou hast tapt outand drunkenly carows'd.
My brother Gloucesterplaine well meaning soule
(Whom faire befall in heauen 'mongst happy soules)
May be a presidentand 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 shamebut dye not shame with thee
These words heereafterthy tormentors bee.
Conuey me to my bedthen to my graue
Loue they to liuethat loue and honor haue.
Rich. And let them dyethat age and sullens haue
For both hast thouand both become the graue
Yor. I do beseech your Maiestie impute his words
To wayward sicklinesseand age in him:
He loues you on my lifeand holds you deere
As Harry Duke of Herfordwere he heere
Rich. Rightyou say true: as Herfords loueso his;
As theirsso mine: and all be as it is.
Nor. My Liegeolde Gaunt commends him to your
Rich. What sayes he?
Nor. Nay nothingall is said:
His tongue is now a stringlesse instrument
Wordslifeand allold Lancaster hath spent
Yor. Be Yorke the nextthat must be bankrupt so
Though death be pooreit ends a mortall wo
Rich. The ripest fruit first falsand so doth he
His time is spentour pilgrimage must be:
So much for that. Now for our Irish warres
We must supplant those rough rug-headed Kernes
Which liue like venomwhere no venom else
But onely theyhaue priuiledge to liue.
And for these great affayres do aske some charge
Towards our assistancewe do seize to vs
The platecoinereuennewesand 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 deathnor Herfords banishment
Nor Gauntes rebukesnor Englands priuate wrongs
Nor the preuention of poore Bullingbrooke
About his marriagenor 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 peacewas neuer gentle Lambe more milde
Then was that yong and Princely Gentleman
His face thou hastfor euen so look'd he
Accomplish'd with the number of thy howers:
But when he frown'dit 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 RichardYorke is too farre gone with greefe
Or else he neuer would compare betweene
Rich. Why Vncle
What's the matter?
Yor. Oh my Liegepardon me if you pleaseif not
I pleas'd not to be pardon'dam content with all:
Seeke you to seizeand 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 awayand take from time
His Chartersand 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 GodGod forbid I say true
If you do wrongfully seize Herfords right
Call in his Letters Patents that he hath
By his Atturneyes generallto sue
His Liuerieand 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 platehis goodshis moneyand his lands
Yor. Ile not be by the while: My Liege farewell
What will ensue heereofthere's none can tell.
But by bad courses may be vnderstood
That their euents can neuer fall out good.
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 Irelandand 'tis timeI trow:
And we create in absence of our selfe
Our Vncle YorkeLord Gouernor of England:
For he is iustand alwayes lou'd vs well.
Come on our Queeneto morrow must we part
Be merryfor our time of stay is short.
Manet North. Willoughby& Ross.
Nor. Well Lordsthe Duke of Lancaster is dead
Ross. And liuing toofor now his sonne is Duke
Wil. Barely in titlenot in reuennew
Nor. Richly in bothif 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 soout 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
In him a royall Princeand many moe
Of noble blood in this declining Land;
The King is not himselfebut basely led
By Flatterersand what they will informe
Meerely in hate 'gainst any of vs all
That will the King seuerely prosecute
'Gainst vsour liuesour childrenand our heires
Ros. The Commons hath he pil'd with greeuous taxes
And quite lost their hearts: the Nobles hath he finde
For ancient quarrelsand quite lost their hearts
Wil. And daily new exactions are deuis'd
As blankesbeneuolencesand I wot not what:
But what o' Gods name doth become of this?
Nor. Wars hath not wasted itfor war'd he hath not.
But basely yeelded vpon comprimize
That which his Ancestors atchieu'd with blowes:
More hath he spent in peacethen they in warres
Ros. The Earle of Wiltshire hath the realme in Farme
Wil. The Kings growne bankrupt like a broken man
Nor. Reproachand 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 Kinsmanmost degenerate King:
But Lordswe 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 notbut 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 thoughtsas thou dost ours
Ros. Be confident to speake Northumberland
We threeare but thy selfeand speaking so
Thy words are but as thoughtstherefore be bold
Nor. Then thus: I haue from Port le Blan
A Bay in Britainereceiu'd intelligence
That Harry Duke of HerfordRainald Lord Cobham
That late broke from the Duke of Exeter
His brother Archbishoplate of Canterbury
Sir Thomas ErpinghamSir Iohn Rainston
Sir Iohn Norberie& Sir Robert Waterton& Francis Quoint
All these well furnish'd by the Duke of Britaine
With eight tall shipsthree thousand men of warre
Are making hither with all due expedience
And shortly meane to touch our Northerne shore:
Perhaps they had ere thisbut 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 faintas fearing to do so
Stayand be secretand my selfe will go
Ros. To horseto horsevrge doubts to them y feare
Wil. Hold out my horseand I will first be there.
Enter QueeneBushyand Bagot.
Bush. Madamyour 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 KingI 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 sorrowripe in fortunes wombe
Is comming towards meand my inward soule
With nothing tremblesat 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 selfebut is not so:
For sorrowes eyeglazed with blinding teares
Diuides one thing intireto many obiects
Like perspectiueswhich rightly gaz'd vpon
Shew nothing but confusioney'd awry
Distinguish forme: so your sweet Maiestie
Looking awry vpon your Lords departure
Finde shapes of greefemore then himselfe to waile
Which look'd on as it isis naught but shadowes
Of what it is not: then thrice-gracious Queene
More then your Lords departure weep notmore's not seene;
Or if it be'tis with false sorrowes eie
Which for things trueweepe 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 greefemine is not so
For nothing hath begot my something greefe
Or somethinghath the nothing that I greeue
'Tis in reuersion that I do possesse
But what it isthat is not yet knownewhat
I cannot name'tis namelesse woe I wot.
Gree. Heauen saue your Maiestyand 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 hasthis hast good hope
Then wherefore dost thou hope he is not shipt?
Gre. That he our hopemight 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
Qu. Now God in heauen forbid
Gr. O Madam 'tis too true: and that is worse
The L[ord]. Northumberlandhis yong sonne Henrie Percie
The Lords of RosseBeaumondand Willoughby
With all their powrefull friends are fled to him
Bush. Why haue you not proclaim'd Northumberland
And the rest of the reuolted factionTraitors?
Gre. We haue: whereupon the Earle of Worcester
Hath broke his stafferesign'd his Stewardship
And al the houshold seruants fled with him to Bullinbrook
Qu. So Greenethou 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 woesorrow to sorrow ioyn'd
Bush. Dispaire not Madam
Qu. Who shall hinder me?
I will dispaireand be at enmitie
With couzening hope; he is a Flatterer
A Parasitea keeper backe of death
Who gently would dissolue the bands of life
Which false hopes linger in extremity.
Gre. Heere comes the Duke of Yorke
Qu. With signes of warre about his aged necke
Oh full of carefull businesse are his lookes:
Vnclefor heauens sake speake comfortable words:
Yor. Comfort's in heauenand we are on the earth
Where nothing liues but crossescare 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 agecannot 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 Lordyour sonne was gone before I came
Yor. He was: why so: go all which way it will:
The Nobles they are fledthe Commons they are cold
And will I feare reuolt on Herfords side.
Sirraget thee to Plashie to my sister Gloster
Bid her send me presently a thousand pound
Holdtake my Ring
Ser. My LordI had forgot
To tell your Lordshipto day I came byand call'd there
But I shall greeue you to report the rest
Yor. What is't knaue?
Ser. An houre before I camethe Dutchesse di'de
Yor. Heau'n for his mercywhat 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.
Whatare there postes dispatcht for Ireland?
How shall we do for money for these warres?
Come sister (Cozen I would say) pray pardon me.
Go fellowget thee homeprouide some Carts
And bring away the Armour that is there.
Gentlemenwill you muster men?
If I know howor which way to order these affaires
Thus disorderly thrust into my hands
Neuer beleeue me. Both are my kinsmen
Th' one is my Soueraignewhom both my oath
And dutie bids defend: th' other againe
Is my kinsmanwhom the King hath wrong'd
Whom conscienceand my kindred bids to right:
Wellsomewhat we must do: Come Cozen
Ile dispose of you. Gentlemengo muster vp your men
And meet me presently at Barkley Castle:
I should to Plashy too: but time will not permit
All is vneuenand euery thing is left at six and seuen.
Bush. The winde sits faire for newes to go to Ireland
But none returnes: For vs to leuy power
Proportionable to th' enemyis 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 Commonsfor their loue
Lies in their pursesand 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 themthen 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 youfor little office
Will the hatefull Commons performe for vs
Except like Curresto teare vs all in peeces:
Will you go along with vs?
Bag. NoI will to Ireland to his Maiestie:
Farewellif hearts presages be not vaine
We three here partthat neu'r shall meete againe
Bu. That's as Yorke thriues to beate back Bullinbroke
Gr. Alas poore Dukethe taske he vndertakes
Is numbring sandsand drinking Oceans drie
Where one on his side fightsthousands will flye
Bush. Farewell at oncefor oncefor alland euer.
Wellwe may meete againe
Bag. I feare me neuer.
Enter the Duke of Herefordand 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 hillesand rough vneeuen waies
Drawes out our milesand makes them wearisome.
And yet our faire discourse hath beene as sugar
Making the hard way sweet and delectable:
But I bethinke mewhat a wearie way
From Rauenspurgh to Cottshold will be found
In Rosse and Willoughbywanting your companie
Which I protest hath very much beguild
The tediousnesseand processe of my trauell:
But theirs is sweetned with the hope to haue
The present benefit that I possesse;
And hope to ioyis little lesse in ioy
Then hope enioy'd: By thisthe wearie Lords
Shall make their way seeme shortas mine hath done
By sight of what I haueyour 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 Sonneyoung Harry Percie
Sent from my Brother Worcester: Whence soeuer.
Harryhow fares your Vnckle?
Percie. I had thoughtmy Lordto haue learn'd his
health of you
North. Whyis he not with the Queene?
Percie. Nomy good Lordhe hath forsook the Court
Broken his Staffe of Officeand disperst
The Household of the King
North. What was his reason?
He was not so resolu'dwhen we last spake together
Percie. Because your Lordship was proclaimed Traitor.
But heemy Lordis gone to Rauenspurgh
To offer seruice to the Duke of Hereford
And sent me ouer by Barkelyto 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. Nomy 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
Percie. My gracious LordI tender you my seruice
Such as it isbeing tenderrawand young
Which elder dayes shall ripenand confirme
To more approued seruiceand desert
Bull. I thanke thee gentle Percieand 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 makesmy Hand thus seales it
North. How farre is it to Barkely? and what stirre
Keepes good old Yorke therewith his Men of Warre?
Percie. There stands the Castleby yond tuft of Trees
Mann'd with three hundred menas I haue heard
And in it are the Lords of YorkeBarkelyand Seymor
None else of Nameand noble estimate.
Enter Rosse and Willoughby.
North. Here come the Lords of Rosse and Willoughby
Bloody with spurringfierie red with haste
Bull. Welcome my LordsI wot your loue pursues
A banisht Traytor; all my Treasurie
Is yet but vnfelt thankeswhich more enrich'd
Shall be your loueand labours recompence
Ross. Your presence makes vs richmost Noble Lord
Willo. And farre surmounts our labour to attaine it
Bull. Euermore thankesth' Exchequer of the poore
Which till my infant-fortune comes to yeeres
Stands for my Bountie: but who comes here?
North. It is my Lord of Barkelyas I ghesse
Bark. My Lord of Herefordmy Message is to you
Bull. My Lordmy 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 notmy Lord'tis not my meaning
To raze one Title of your Honor out.
To youmy LordI come (what Lord you will)
From the most glorious of this Land
The Duke of Yorketo know what pricks you on
To take aduantage of the absent time
And fright our Natiue Peace with selfe-borne Armes.
Bull. I shall not need transport my words by you
Here comes his Grace in Person. My Noble Vnckle
York. Shew me thy humble heartand not thy knee
Whose dutie is deceiuableand false
Bull. My gracious Vnckle
York. TuttutGrace me no Gracenor Vnckle me
I am no Traytors Vnckle; and that word Grace
In an vngracious mouthis but prophane.
Why haue these banish'dand forbidden Legges
Dar'd once to touch a Dust of Englands Ground?
But more then whywhy 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 Boythe 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 Gauntthy Fatherand my selfe
Rescued the Black Princethat yong Mars of men
From forth the Rankes of many thousand French:
Oh thenhow quickly should this Arme of mine
Now Prisoner to the Palsiechastise thee
And minister correction to thy Fault
Bull. My gracious Vncklelet me know my Fault
On what Condition stands itand wherein?
York. Euen in Condition of the worst degree
In grosse Rebellionand detested Treason:
Thou art a banish'd manand here art come
Before th' expiration of thy time
In brauing Armes against thy Soueraigne
Bull. As I was banish'dI was banish'd Hereford
But as I comeI come for Lancaster.
And Noble VnckleI beseech your Grace
Looke on my Wrongs with an indifferent eye:
You are my Fatherfor me thinkes in you
I see old Gaunt aliue. Oh then my Father
Will you permitthat I shall stand condemn'd
A wandring Vagabond; my Rights and Royalties
Pluckt from my armes perforceand giuen away
To vpstart Vnthrifts? Wherefore was I borne?
If that my Cousin Kingbe King of England
It must be grauntedI am Duke of Lancaster.
You haue a SonneAumerlemy Noble Kinsman
Had you first diedand he beene thus trod downe
He should haue found his Vnckle Gaunt a Father
To rowze his Wrongsand 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 distrayndand sold
And theseand allare 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 vponto doe him right
Willo. Base men by his endowments are made great
York. My Lords of Englandlet 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 kindto come in brauing Armes
Be his owne Caruerand cut out his way
To find out Right with Wrongsit may not be;
And you that doe abett him in this kind
Cherish Rebellionand 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 Ioythat breakes that Oath
York. WellwellI see the issue of these Armes
I cannot mend itI must needes confesse
Because my power is weakeand all ill left:
But if I couldby him that gaue me life
I would attach you alland make you stoope
Vnto the Soueraigne Mercy of the King.
But since I cannotbe 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 Vncklethat wee will accept:
But wee must winne your Grace to goe with vs
To Bristow Castlewhich they say is held
By BushieBagotand their Complices
The Caterpillers of the Commonwealth
Which I haue sworne to weedand 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 Friendsnor Foesto me welcome you are
Things past redresseare now with me past care.
Enter Salisburyand a Captaine.
Capt. My Lord of Salisburywe 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 daythou trustie Welchman
The King reposeth all his confidence in thee
Capt. 'Tis thought the King is deadwe 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 sadand Ruffians dance and leape
The one in feareto loose what they enioy
The other to enioy by Rageand Warre:
These signes fore-run the death of Kings.
Farewellour Countreymen are gone and fled
As well assur'd Richard their King is dead.
Sal. Ah Richardwith eyes of heauie mind
I see thy Glorylike a shooting Starre
Fall to the base Earthfrom the Firmament:
Thy Sunne sets weeping in the lowly West
Witnessing Stormes to comeWoeand Vnrest:
Thy Friends are fledto wait vpon thy Foes
And crossely to thy goodall fortune goes.
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
with Bushie and Greene Prisoners.
Bull. Bring forth these men:
Bushie and GreeneI 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 handshere in the view of men
I will vnfold some causes of your deaths.
You haue mis-led a Princea Royall King
A happie Gentleman in Bloodand Lineaments
By you vnhappiedand 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 eyeswith your foule wrongs.
My selfe a Princeby fortune of my birth
Neere to the King in bloodand 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 Parkesand fell'd my Forrest Woods;
From mine owne Windowes torne my Household Coat
Raz'd out my Impresseleauing me no signe
Saue mens opinionsand my liuing blood
To shew the World I am a Gentleman.
Thisand much moremuch more then twice all this
Condemnes you to the death: see them deliuered ouer
To executionand the hand of death
Bushie. More welcome is the stroake of death to me
Then Bullingbrooke to England
Greene. My comfort isthat Heauen will take our soules
And plague Iniustice with the paines of Hell
Bull. My Lord Northumberlandsee them dispatch'd:
Vnckleyou 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 loueto her at large
Bull. Thankes gentle Vnckle: come Lords away
To fight with Glendoureand his Complices;
A while to workeand after holliday.
Drums: Flourishand Colours. Enter RichardAumerleCarlile
Rich. Barkloughly Castle call you this at hand?
Au. Yeamy 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 EarthI 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 tearesand smiles in meeting;
So weepingsmilinggreet I thee my Earth
And doe thee fauor with my Royall hands.
Feed not thy Soueraignes Foemy gentle Earth
Nor with thy Sweetescomfort his rauenous sence:
But let thy Spidersthat 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 ConiurationLords;
This Earth shall haue a feelingand these Stones
Proue armed Souldiersere her Natiue King
Shall falter vnder foule Rebellious Armes
Car. Feare not my Lordthat Power that made you King
Hath power to keepe you Kingin spight of all
Aum. He meanesmy Lordthat we are too remisse
Whilest Bullingbrooke through our securitie
Growes strong and greatin substance and in friends
Rich. Discomfortable Cousinknowest thou not
That when the searching Eye of Heauen is hid
Behind the Globethat 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 MurthersTreasonsand detested sinnes
(The Cloake of Night being pluckt from off their backs)
Stand bare and nakedtrembling at themselues.
So when this Theefethis Traytor Bullingbrooke
Who all this while hath reuell'd in the Night
Shall see vs rising in our Thronethe East
His Treasons will sit blushing in his face
Not able to endure the sight of Day;
But selfe-affrightedtremble 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 fallfor Heauen still guards the right.
Welcome my Lordhow farre off lyes your Power?
Salisb. Nor neerenor farther offmy gracious Lord
Then this weake arme; discomfort guides my tongue
And bids me speake of nothing but despaire:
One day too lateI feare (my Noble Lord)
Hath clouded all thy happie dayes on Earth:
Oh call backe Yesterdaybid Time returne
And thou shalt haue twelue thousand fighting men:
To dayto dayvnhappie day too late
Orethrowes thy IoyesFriendsFortuneand thy State;
For all the Welchmen hearing thou wert dead
Are gone to Bullingbrookedisperstand fled
Aum. Comfort my Liegewhy lookes your Grace so
Rich. But now the blood of twentie thousand men
Did triumph in my faceand they are fled
And till so much blood thither come againe
Haue I not reason to looke paleand dead?
All Soules that will be safeflye from my side
For Time hath set a blot vpon my pride
Aum. Comfort my Liegeremember who you are
Rich. I had forgot my selfe. Am I not King?
Awake thou sluggard Maiestiethou sleepest:
Is not the Kings Name fortie thousand Names?
Armearme 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?
Scroope. More health and happinesse betide my Liege
Then can my care-tun'd tongue deliuer him
Rich. Mine eare is openand my heart prepar'd:
The worst is worldly lossethou canst vnfold:
SayIs 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 tooand be his Fellow so.
Reuolt our Subiects? That we cannot mend
They breake their Faith to Godas well as vs:
The worst is Deathand Death will haue his day
Scroope. Glad am Ithat 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 highaboue his Limitsswells the Rage
Of Bullingbrookecouering your fearefull Land
With hard bright Steeleand hearts harder then Steele:
White Beares haue arm'd their thin and hairelesse Scalps
Against thy Maiestieand Boyes with Womens Voyces
Striue to speake biggeand 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 welltoo 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 preuailetheir heads shall pay for it.
I warrant they haue made peace with Bullingbrooke
Scroope. Peace haue they made with him indeede (my
Rich. Oh VillainsVipersdamn'd without redemption
Doggeseasily woon to fawne on any man
Snakes in my heart blood warm'dthat sting my heart
Three Iudasseseach 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 sowrestand most deadly hate:
Againe vncurse their Soules; their peace is made
With Headsand not with Hands: those whom you curse
Haue felt the worst of Deaths destroying hand
And lye full lowgrau'd in the hollow ground
Aum. Is BushieGreeneand the Earle of Wiltshire
Scroope. Yeaall 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 Grauesof Wormesand Epitaphs
Make Dust our Paperand with Raynie eyes
Write Sorrow on the Bosome of the Earth.
Let's chuse Executorsand talke of Wills:
And yet not so; for what can we bequeath
Saue our deposed bodies to the ground?
Our Landsour Liuesand all are Bullingbrookes
And nothing can we call our ownebut Death
And that small Modell of the barren Earth
Which serues as Pasteand 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'dsome slaine in warre
Some haunted by the Ghosts they haue depos'd
Some poyson'd by their Wiuessome sleeping kill'd
All murther'd. For within the hollow Crowne
That rounds the mortall Temples of a King
Keepes Death his Courtand there the Antique sits
Scoffing his Stateand grinning at his Pompe
Allowing him a breatha little Scene
To Monarchizebe fear'dand kill with lookes
Infusing him with selfe and vaine conceit
As if this Fleshwhich walls about our Life
Were Brasse impregnable: and humor'd thus
Comes at the lastand with a little Pinne
Bores through his Castle Wallsand farwell King.
Couer your headsand mock not flesh and blood
With solemne Reuerence: throw away Respect
TraditionFormeand Ceremonious dutie
For you haue but mistooke me all this while:
I liue with Bread like youfeele Want
Taste Griefeneed Friends: subiected thus
How can you say to meI am a King?
Carl. My Lordwise men ne're waile their present woes
But presently preuent the wayes to waile:
To feare the Foesince feare oppresseth strength
Giues in your weakenessestrength vnto your Foe;
Feareand be slaineno worse can come to sight
And fight and dieis death destroying death
Where fearingdyingpayes death seruile breath
Aum. My Father hath a Powerenquire 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 theefor our day of Doome:
This ague fit of feare is ouer-blowne
An easie taske it is to winne our owne.
Say Scroopewhere lyes our Vnckle with his Power?
Speake sweetly manalthough 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 Torturerby small and small
To lengthen out the worstthat 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 Cousinwhich didst lead me forth
Of that sweet way I was into 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 Castlethere Ile pine away
A KingWoes slaueshall Kingly Woe obey:
That Power I hauedischargeand let 'em goe
To eare the Landthat hath some hope to grow
For I haue none. Let no man speake againe
To alter thisfor counsaile is but vaine
Aum. My Liegeone 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 Nightto Bullingbrookes faire Day.
Enter with Drum and ColoursBullingbrookeYorke
Bull. So that by this intelligence we learne
The Welchmen are dispers'dand Salisbury
Is gone to meet the Kingwho lately landed
With some few priuate friendsvpon this Coast
North. The newes is very faire and goodmy Lord
Richardnot farre from hencehath 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 himhe would
Haue beene so briefe with youto shorten you
For taking so the Headyour 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?
Welcome Harry: whatwill not this Castle yeeld?
Per. The Castle royally is mann'dmy Lord
Against thy entrance
Bull. Royally? Whyit 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 himthe Lord AumerleLord Salisbury
Sir Stephen Scroopebesides a Clergie man
Of holy reuerence; whoI cannot learne
North. Ohbelike 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 Earesand thus deliuer:
Henry Bullingbrooke vpon his knees doth kisse
King Richards handand sends allegeance
And true faith of heart to his Royall Person: hither come
Euen at his feetto lay my Armes and Power
Prouidedthat my Banishment repeal'd
And Lands restor'd againebe freely graunted:
If notIle 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 whichhow farre off from the mind of Bullingbrooke
It issuch Crimson Tempest should bedrench
The fresh greene Lap of faire King Richards Land
My stooping dutie tenderly shall shew.
Goe signifie as muchwhile 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 Waterwhen their thundring smoake
At meeting teares the cloudie Cheekes of Heauen:
Be he the fireIle be the yeelding Water;
The Rage be hiswhile on the Earth I raine
My Waters on the Earthand not on him.
March onand marke King Richard how he lookes.
Parle withoutand answere within: then a Flourish. Enter on the
SeeseeKing 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 gloryand 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: alackalackfor woe
That any harme should staine so faire a shew
Rich. Wee are amaz'dand thus long haue we stood
To watch the fearefull bending of thy knee
Because we thought our selfe thy lawfull King:
And if we behow dare thy ioynts forget
To pay their awfull dutie to our presence?
If we be notshew vs the Hand of God
That hath dismiss'd vs from our Stewardship
For well wee knowno Hand of Blood and Bone
Can gripe the sacred Handle of our Scepter
Vnlesse he doe prophanestealeor vsurpe.
And though you thinkethat allas you haue done
Haue torne their Soulesby turning them from vs
And we are barrenand bereft of Friends:
Yet knowmy MasterGod Omnipotent
Is mustring in his Cloudson our behalfe
Armies of Pestilenceand they shall strike
Your Children yet vnborneand vnbegot
That lift your Vassall Hands against my Head
And threat the Glory of my precious Crowne.
Tell Bullingbrookefor 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 forliue 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 Indignationand 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 Bullingbrookedoth 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 sworneor said
His comming hither hath no further scope
Then for his Lineall Royaltiesand 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 Stablesand his heart
To faithfull seruice of your Maiestie:
This sweares heas he is a Princeis iust
And as I am a GentlemanI credit him
Rich. Northumberlandsay 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 poorelyand to speake so faire?
Shall we call back Northumberlandand send
Defiance to the Traytorand so die?
Aum. Nogood my Lordlet's fight with gentle words
Till time lend friendsand friends their helpeful Swords
Rich. Oh Godoh Godthat ere this tongue of mine
That layd the Sentence of dread Banishment
On yond prowd manshould take it off againe
With words of sooth: Oh that I were as great
As is my Griefeor 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 Pallacefor a Hermitage
My gay Apparrellfor an Almes-mans Gowne
My figur'd Gobletsfor a Dish of Wood
My Scepterfor a Palmers walking Staffe
My Subiectsfor a payre of carued Saints
And my large Kingdomefor a little Graue
A little little Grauean obscure Graue.
Or Ile be buryed in the Kings high-way
Some way of common Tradewhere Subiects feet
May howrely trample on their Soueraignes Head:
For on my heart they tread nowwhilest I liue;
And buryed oncewhy not vpon my Head?
Aumerlethou weep'st (my tender-hearted Cousin)
Wee'le make foule Weather with despised Teares:
Our sighesand theyshall 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 Matchwith 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'dthere lyes
Two Kinsmendigg'd their Graues with weeping Eyes?
Would not this illdoe well? WellwellI see
I talke but idlyand you mock at mee.
Most mightie Princemy Lord Northumberland
What sayes King Bullingbrooke? Will his Maiestie
Giue Richard leaue to liuetill Richard die?
You make a Leggeand Bullingbrooke sayes I
North. My Lordin the base Court he doth attend
To speake with youmay it please you to come downe
Rich. Downedowne I comelike glist'ring Phaeton
Wanting the manage of vnruly Iades.
In the base Court? base Courtwhere Kings grow base
To come at Traytors Callsand doe them Grace.
In the base Court come down: down Courtdown King
For night-Owls shrikewhere mou[n]ting Larks should sing
Bull. What sayes his Maiestie?
North. Sorrowand griefe of heart
Makes him speake fondlylike 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 hadmy Heart might feele your Loue
Then my vnpleas'd Eye see your Courtesie.
Vp Cousinvpyour Heart is vpI know
Thus high at leastalthough your Knee be low
Bull. My gracious LordI come but for mine
Rich. Your owne is yoursand I am yoursand
Bull. So farre be minemy 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'stand surest way to get.
Vnckle giue me your Hand: naydrie your Eyes
Teares shew their Louebut want their Remedies.
CousinI am too young to be your Father
Though you are old enough to be my Heire.
What you will haueIle giueand willing to
For doe we mustwhat force will haue vs doe.
Set on towards London:
Cousinis it so?
Bull. Yeamy good Lord
Rich. Then I must not sayno.
Enter the Queeneand two Ladies
Qu. What sport shall we deuise here in this Garden
To driue away the heauie thought of Care?
La. Madamewee'le play at Bowles
Qu. 'Twill make me thinke the World is full of Rubs
And that my fortune runnes against the Byas
La. Madamewee'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. Madamewee'le tell Tales
Qu. Of Sorrowor of Griefe?
La. Of eytherMadame
Qu. Of neytherGirle.
For if of Ioybeing altogether wanting
It doth remember me the more of Sorrow:
Or if of Griefebeing altogether had
It addes more Sorrow to my want of Ioy:
For what I haueI need not to repeat;
And what I wantit bootes not to complaine
La. MadameIle sing
Qu. 'Tis well that thou hast cause:
But thou should'st please me betterwould'st thou weepe
La. I could weepeMadamewould it doe you good
Qu. And I could singwould weeping doe me good
And neuer borrow any Teare of thee.
Enter a Gardinerand two Seruants.
But stayhere comes the Gardiners
Let's step into the shadow of these Trees.
My wretchednessevnto 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 Childrenmake their Syre
Stoupe with oppression of their prodigall weight:
Giue some supportance to the bending twigges.
Goe thouand like an Executioner
Cut off the heads of too fast growing sprayes
That looke too loftie in our Common-wealth:
All must be euenin our Gouernment.
You thus imploy'dI will goe root away
The noysome Weedesthat without profit sucke
The Soyles fertilitie from wholesome flowers
Ser. Why should wein the compasse of a Pale
Keepe Law and Formeand due Proportion
Shewing as in a Modell our firme Estate?
When our Sea-walled Gardenthe whole Land
Is full of Weedesher fairest Flowers choakt vp
Her Fruit-trees all vnpruin'dher Hedges ruin'd
Her Knots disorder'dand 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'din eating himto hold him vp
Are pull'd vpRoot and allby Bullingbrooke:
I meanethe Earle of WiltshireBushieGreene
Ser. What are they dead?
Gard. They are
And Bullingbrooke hath seiz'd the wastefull King.
Ohwhat pitty is itthat he had not so trim'd
And drest his Landas we this Gardenat time of yeare
And wound the Barkethe skin of our Fruit-trees
Least being ouer-proud with Sap and Blood
With too much riches it confound it selfe?
Had he done soto great and growing men
They might haue liu'd to beareand he to taste
Their fruites of dutie. Superfluous branches
We lop awaythat bearing boughes may liue:
Had he done sohimselfe had borne the Crowne
Which waste and idle houreshath quite thrown downe
Ser. What thinke you the King shall be depos'd?
Gar. Deprest he is alreadyand 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 likenesseset 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 sayKing Richard is depos'd
Dar'st thouthou little better thing then earth
Diuine his downfall? Saywherewhenand 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 sayis true;
King Richardhe is in the mighty hold
Of Bullingbrooketheir Fortunes both are weigh'd:
In your Lords Scaleis nothing but himselfe
And some few Vanitiesthat make him light:
But in the Ballance of great Bullingbrooke
Besides himselfeare all the English Peeres
And with that oddes he weighes King Richard downe.
Poste you to Londonand you'l finde it so
I speake no morethen euery one doth know
Qu. Nimble mischancethat 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 lastthat I may longest keepe
Thy sorrow in my breast. Come Ladies goe
To meet at LondonLondons King in woe.
What was I borne to this: that my sad looke
Should grace the Triumph of great Bullingbrooke.
Gard'nerfor telling me this newes of woe
I would the Plants thou graft'stmay neuer grow.
G. Poore Queenso that thy State might be no worse
I would my skill were subiect to thy curse:
Heere did she drop a teareheere in this place
Ile set a Banke of Rewsowre Herbe of Grace:
Rueeu'n for ruthheere shortly shall be seene
In the remembrance of a Weeping Queene.
Actus Quartus. Scoena Prima.
Enter as to the ParliamentBullingbrookeAumerle
PercieFitzWaterSurreyCarlileAbbot of Westminster. Herauld
Bullingbrooke. Call forth Bagot.
Now Bagotfreely speake thy minde
What thou do'st know of Noble Glousters death:
Who wrought it with the Kingand who perform'd
The bloody Office of his Timelesse end
Bag. Then set before my facethe Lord Aumerle
Bul. Cosinstand forthand looke vpon that man
Bag. My Lord AumerleI know your daring tongue
Scornes to vnsaywhat it hath once deliuer'd.
In that dead timewhen Glousters death was plotted
I heard you sayIs not my arme of length
That reacheth from the restfull English Court
As farre as Callisto my Vnkles head.
Amongst much other talkethat very time
I heard you saythat you had rather refuse
The offer of an hundred thousand Crownes
Then Bullingbrookes returne to England; adding withall
How blest this Land would bein this your Cosins death
Aum. Princesand 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 mustor haue mine honor soyl'd
With th' Attaindor of his sland'rous Lippes.
There is my Gagethe manuall Seale of death
That markes thee out for Hell. Thou lyest
And will maintaine what thou hast saidis false
In thy heart bloodthough being all too base
To staine the temper of my Knightly sword
Bul. Bagot forbearethou shalt not take it vp
Aum. Excepting oneI would he were the best
In all this presencethat hath mou'd me so
Fitz. If that thy valour stand on sympathize:
There is my GageAumerlein Gage to thine:
By that faire Sunnethat 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 ittwenty 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 SouleI would it were this houre
Aum. Fitzwater thou art damn'd to hell for this
Per. Aumerlethou lye'st: his Honor is as true
In this Appealeas thou art all vniust:
And that thou art sothere I throw my Gage
To proue it on theeto th' extreamest point
Of mortall breathing. Seize itif thou dar'st
Aum. And if I do notmay my hands rot off
And neuer brandish more reuengefull Steele
Ouer the glittering Helmet of my Foe
Surrey. My Lord Fitzwater:
I do remember wellthe very time
Aumerleand you did talke
Fitz. My Lord
'Tis very true: You were in presence then
And you can witnesse with methis is true
Surrey. As falseby heauen
As Heauen it selfe is true
Fitz. Surreythou Lyest
Surrey. Dishonourable Boy;
That Lyeshall lie so heauy on my Sword
That it shall render Vengeanceand Reuenge
Till thou the Lye-giuerand that Lyedoe lye
In earth as quietas thy Fathers Scull.
In proofe whereofthere is mine Honors pawne
Engage it to the Triallif thou dar'st
Fitzw. How fondly do'st thou spurre a forward Horse?
If I dare eateor drinkeor breatheor liue
I dare meete Surrey in a Wildernesse
And spit vpon himwhilest I say he Lyes
And Lyesand 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.
BesidesI 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'dto 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 Christin glorious Christian field
Streaming the Ensigne of the Christian Crosse
Against black PagansTurkesand Saracens:
And toyl'd with workes of Warreretyr'd himselfe
To Italyand 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 Bishopis Norfolke dead?
Carl. As sure as I liuemy Lord
Bull. Sweet peace conduct his sweet Soule
To the Bosome of good old Abraham.
Lords Appealantsyour differe[n]ces shal all rest vnder gage
Till we assigne you to your dayes of Tryall.
Yorke. Great Duke of LancasterI come to thee
From plume-pluckt Richardwho with willing Soule
Adopts thee Heireand his high Scepter yeelds
To the possession of thy Royall Hand.
Ascend his Thronedescending now from him
And long liue Henryof that Name the Fourth
Bull. In Gods NameIle ascend the Regall Throne
Carl. MaryHeauen forbid.
Worst in this Royall Presence may I speake
Yet best beseeming me to speake the truth.
Would Godthat any in this Noble Presence
Were enough Nobleto 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 herethat is not Richards Subiect?
Theeues are not iudg'dbut they are by to heare
Although apparant guilt be seene in them:
And shall the figure of Gods Maiestie
His CaptaineStewardDeputie elect
AnoyntedCrown'dplanted many yeeres
Be iudg'd by subiectand inferior breathe
And he himselfe not present? Ohforbid itGod
That in a Christian ClimateSoules refin'de
Should shew so heynousblackobscene a deed.
I speake to Subiectsand a Subiect speakes
Stirr'd vp by Heauenthus boldly for his King
My Lord of Hereford herewhom you call King
Is a foule Traytor to prowd Herefords King.
And if you Crowne himlet 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 Peacetumultuous Warres
Shall Kinne with Kinneand Kinde with Kinde confound.
Shall here inhabiteand this Land be call'd
The field of Golgothaand dead mens Sculls.
Ohif you reare this Houseagainst this House
It will the wofullest Diuision proue
That euer fell vpon this cursed Earth.
Preuent itresist itand let it not be so
Least ChildChilds Children cry against youWoe
North. Well haue you argu'd Sir: and for your paines
Of Capitall Treason we arrest you here.
My Lord of Westminsterbe it your charge
To keepe him safelytill his day of Tryall.
May it please youLordsto grant the Commons Suit?
Bull. Fetch hither Richardthat in common view
He may surrender: so we shall proceede
Yorke. I will be his Conduct.
Bull. Lordsyou 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. Alackwhy 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 insinuateflatterboweand bend my Knee.
Giue Sorrow leaue a whileto tuture me
To this submission. Yet I well remember
The fauors of these men: were they not mine?
Did they not sometime cryAll hayle to me?
So Iudas did to Christ: but he in twelue
Found truth in allbut one; Iin twelue thousandnone.
God saue the King: will no man sayAmen?
Am I both Priestand Clarke? well thenAmen.
God saue the Kingalthough I be not hee:
And yet Amenif Heauen doe thinke him mee.
To doe what seruiceam 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 Cousinseize y Crown:
Here Cousinon this side my Handon that side thine.
Now is this Golden Crowne like a deepe Well
That owes two Bucketsfilling one another
The emptier euer dancing in the ayre
The other downevnseeneand full of Water:
That Bucket downeand full of Teares am I
Drinking my Griefeswhil'st you mount vp on high
Bull. I thought you had been willing to resigne
Rich. My Crowne I ambut 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 vpdo not pluck my Cares downe.
My Careis losse of Careby old Care done
Your Careis gaine of Careby new Care wonne:
The Cares I giueI hauethough giuen away
They 'tend the Crowneyet still with me they stay:
Bull. Are you contented to resigne the Crowne?
Rich. Ino; noI: for I must nothing bee:
Therefore nonofor I resigne to thee.
Nowmarke 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 ManorsRentsReuenuesI forgoe;
My ActsDecreesand 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 hauewith nothing grieu'd
And thou with all pleas'dthat 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 Henryvn-King'd Richard sayes
And send him many yeeres of Sunne-shine dayes.
What more remaines?
North. No more: but that you reade
These Accusationsand these grieuous Crymes
Committed by your Personand your followers
Against the Stateand Profit of this Land:
That by confessing themthe Soules of men
May deemethat 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 theein 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 Blotdamn'd in the Booke of Heauen.
Nayall of youthat stand and looke vpon me
Whil'st that my wretchednesse doth bait my selfe
Though some of youwith Pilatewash 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 dispatchreade o're these Articles
Rich. Mine Eyes are full of TearesI cannot see:
And yet salt-Water blindes them not so much
But they can see a sort of Traytors here.
Nayif 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 Soueraigntiea Slaue;
Prowd Maiestiea Subiect; Statea Pesant
North. My Lord
Rich. No Lord of thinethou haught-insulting man;
Nonor no mans Lord: I haue no Nameno Title;
Nonot 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 nowwhat Name to call my selfe.
Ohthat I were a MockerieKing of Snow
Standing before the Sunne of Bullingbrooke
To melt my selfe away in Water-drops.
Good Kinggreat Kingand 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 youand fetch a Looking-Glasse
North. Read o're this Paperwhile y Glasse doth come
Rich. Fiendthou torments meere I come to Hell
Bull. Vrge it no moremy 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 writand that's my selfe.
Enter one with a Glasse.
Giue me that Glasseand 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 Facethe Face
That euery dayvnder his House-hold Roofe
Did keepe ten thousand men? Was this the Face
That like the Sunnedid make beholders winke?
Is this the Facewhich 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 Gloryis the Face
For there it iscrackt in an hundred shiuers.
Marke silent Kingthe 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: halet's see
'Tis very truemy Griefe lyes all within
And these externall manner of Laments
Are meerely shadowesto the vnseene Griefe
That swells with silence in the tortur'd Soule.
There lyes the substance: and I thanke thee King
For thy great bountiethat not onely giu'st
Me cause to waylebut teachest me the way
How to lament the cause. Ile begge one Boone
And then be goneand trouble you no more.
Shall I obtaine it?
Bull. Name itfaire Cousin
Rich. Faire Cousin? I am greater then a King:
For when I was a Kingmy flatterers
Were then but subiects; being now a subiect
I haue a King here to my flatterer:
Being so greatI haue no neede to begge
Bull. Yet aske
Rich. And shall I haue?
Bull. You shall
Rich. Then giue me leaue to goe
Rich. Whither you willso I were from your sights
Bull. Goe some of youconuey him to the Tower
Rich. Oh good: conuey: Conueyers are you all
That rise thus nimbly by a true Kings fall
Bull. On Wednesday nextwe solemnly set downe
Our Coronation: Lordsprepare your selues.
Abbot. A wofull Pageant haue we here beheld
Carl. The Woes to comethe Children yet vnborne
Shall feele this day as sharpe to them as Thorne
Aum. You holy Clergie-menis 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 intentsbut also to effect
What euer I shall happen to deuise.
I see your Browes are full of Discontent
Your Heart of Sorrowand your Eyes of Teares.
Come home with me to SupperIle lay a Plot
Shall shew vs all a merry day.
Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
Enter Queeneand Ladies.
Qu. This way the King will come: this is the way
To Iulius Cęsars ill-erected Tower:
To whose flint Bosomemy condemned Lord
Is doom'd a Prisonerby prowd Bullingbrooke.
Here let vs restif this rebellious Earth
Haue any resting for her true Kings Queene.
Enter Richardand Guard.
But softbut seeor 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 thouthe Modell where old Troy did stand
Thou Mappe of Honorthou 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 griefefaire Womando not so
To make my end too sudden: learne good Soule
To thinke our former State a happie Dreame
From which awak'dthe 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. Whatis my Richard both in shape and minde
Transform'dand weaken'd? Hath Bullingbrooke
Depos'd thine Intellect? hath he beene in thy Heart?
The Lyon dyingthrusteth forth his Paw
And wounds the Earthif nothing elsewith rage
To be o're-powr'd: and wilt thouPupill-like
Take thy Correction mildlykisse the Rodde
And fawne on Rage with base Humilitie
Which art a Lyonand 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 deadand that euen here thou tak'st
As from my Death-bedmy last liuing leaue.
In Winters tedious Nights sit by the fire
With good old folkesand let them tell thee Tales
Of wofull Ageslong agoe betide:
And ere thou bid good-nightto 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 compassionweepe the fire out:
And some will mourne in ashessome coale-black
For the deposing of a rightfull King.
North. My Lordthe mind of Bullingbrooke is chang'd.
You must to Pomfretnot vnto the Tower.
And Madamethere is order ta'ne for you:
With all swift speedyou must away to France
Rich. Northumberlandthou Ladder wherewithall
The mounting Bullingbrooke ascends my Throne
The time shall not be many houres of age
More then it isere foule sinnegathering head
Shall breake into corruption: thou shalt thinke
Though he diuide the Realmeand giue thee halfe
It is too littlehelping him to all:
He shall thinkethat thou which know'st the way
To plant vnrightfull Kingswilt 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 Feareto Hate; and Hate turnes oneor both
To worthie Dangerand deserued Death
North. My guilt be on my Headand there an end:
Take leaueand partfor you must part forthwith
Rich. Doubly diuorc'd? (bad men) ye violate
A two-fold Marriage; 'twixt my Crowneand me.
And then betwixt meand my marryed Wife.
Let me vn-kisse the Oath 'twixt theeand me;
And yet not sofor with a Kisse 'twas made.
Part vsNorthumberland: Itowards the North
Where shiuering Cold and Sicknesse pines the Clyme:
My Queene to France: from whenceset forth in pompe
She came adorned hither like sweet May;
Sent back like Hollowmasor short'st of day
Qu. And must we be diuided? must we part?
Rich. Ihand from hand (my Loue) and heart fro[m] heart
Qu. Banish vs bothand send the King with me
North. That were some Louebut little Pollicy
Qu. Then whither he goesthither let me goe
Rich. So two together weepingmake one Woe.
Weepe thou for me in France; Ifor thee heere:
Better farre offthen neerebe ne're the neere.
Goecount thy Way with Sighes; Imine with Groanes
Qu. So longest Way shall haue the longest Moanes
Rich. Twice for one step Ile groaney Way being short
And peece the Way out with a heauie heart.
Comecomein wooing Sorrow let's be briefe
Since wedding itthere is such length in Griefe:
One Kisse shall stop our mouthesand dumbely part;
Thus giue I mineand thus take I thy heart
Qu. Giue me mine owne againe: 'twere no good part
To take on me to keepeand kill thy heart.
Sonow I haue mine owne againebe gone
That I may striue to kill it with a groane
Rich. We make Woe wanton with this fond delay:
Once more adieu; the restlet Sorrow say.
Enter Yorkeand his Duchesse.
Duch. My Lordyou 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 stoppemy Lord
Where rude mis-gouern'd handsfrom Windowes tops
Threw dust and rubbish on King Richards head
Yorke. Thenas I saidthe Dukegreat Bullingbrooke
Mounted vpon a hot and fierie Steed
Which his aspiring Rider seem'd to know
With slowbut stately pacekept on his course:
While all tongues crideGod 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 theewelcom Bullingbrooke.
Whil'st hefrom one side to the other turning
Bare-headedlower then his proud Steeds necke
Bespake them thus: I thanke you Countrimen:
And thus still doingthus he past along
Dutch. Alas poore Richardwhere rides he the whilst?
Yorke. As in a Theaterthe 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 soor with much more contemptmens eyes
Did scowle on Richard: no man crideGod 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 menthey 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 Bullingbrookeare we sworne Subiects now
Whose Stateand HonorI for aye allow.
Dut. Heere comes my sonne Aumerle
Yor. Aumerle that was
But that is lostfor being Richards Friend.
And Madamyou 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. MadamI know notnor I greatly care not
God knowesI had as liefe be noneas one
Yorke. Wellbeare 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 Lordthey do
Yorke. You will be there I know
Aum. If God preuent notI purpose so
Yor. What Seale is that that hangs without thy bosom?
Yealook'st thou pale? Let me see the Writing
Aum. My Lord'tis nothing
Yorke. No matter then who sees it
I will be satisfiedlet 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 sirI meane to see:
I feareI feare
Dut. What should you feare?
'Tis nothing but some bondthat he is enter'd into
For gay apparrellagainst the Triumph
Yorke. Bound to himselfe? What doth he with a Bond
That he is bound to? Wifethou art a foole.
Boylet me see the Writing
Aum. I do beseech you pardon meI may not shew it
Yor. I will be satisfied: let me see it I say.
Dut. What's the mattermy Lord?
Yorke. Hoawho's within there? Saddle my horse.
Heauen for his mercy: what treachery is heere?
Dut. Whywhat is't my Lord?
Yorke. Giue me my bootsI say: Saddle my horse:
Now by my Honormy lifemy 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 contentit is no more
Then my poore life must answer
Dut. Thy life answer?
Enter Seruant with Boots.
Yor. Bring me my BootsI will vnto the King
Dut. Strike him Aumerle. Poore boyy art amaz'd
Hence Villaineneuer more come in my sight
Yor. Giue me my BootsI say
Dut. Why Yorkewhat 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
SonI 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 Bastardnot thy Sonne:
Sweet Yorkesweet husbandbe not of that minde:
He is as like theeas a man may bee
Not like to menor any of my Kin
And yet I loue him
Yorke. Make wayvnruly Woman.
Dut. After Aumerle. Mount thee vpon his horse
Spurre postand get before him to the King
And begge thy pardonere 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.
Enter BullingbrookePercieand 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 Watchand beate our passengers
Which heyong wantonand effeminate Boy
Takes on the point of Honorto support
So dissolute a crew
Per. My Lordsome 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 fauourand with that
He would vnhorse the lustiest Challenger
Bul. As dissolute as desp'rateyet through both
I see some sparkes of better hope: which elder dayes
May happily bring forth. But who comes heere?
Aum. Where is the King?
Bul. What meanes our Cosinthat 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 seluesand 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 Pardonere I riseor speake
Bul. Intendedor committed was this fault?
If on the firsthow heynous ere it bee
To win thy after loueI pardon thee
Aum. Then giue me leauethat I may turne the key
That no man entertill my tale be done
Bul. Haue thy desire.
Yor. My Liege bewarelooke to thy selfe
Thou hast a Traitor in thy presence there
Bul. VillaineIle make thee safe
Aum. Stay thy reuengefull handthou hast no cause
Yorke. Open the dooresecure foole-hardy King:
Shall I for loue speake treason to thy face?
Open the dooreor I will breake it open.
Bul. What is the matter (Vnkle) speakrecouer breath
Tell vs how neere is danger
That we may arme vs to encounter it
Yor. Peruse this writing heereand thou shalt know
The reason that my haste forbids me show
Aum. Remember as thou read'stthy promise past:
I do repent mereade 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 bosomeKing.
Feareand not Louebegets his penitence;
Forget to pitty himleast thy pitty proue
A Serpentthat will sting thee to the heart
Bul. Oh heinousstrongand bold Conspiracie
O loyall Father of a treacherous Sonne:
Thou sheereimmaculateand siluer fountaine
From whence this streamethrough muddy passages
Hath had his currentand defil'd himselfe.
Thy ouerflow of goodconuerts to bad
And thy abundant goodnesse shall excuse
This deadly blotin thy digressing sonne
Yorke. So shall my Vertue be his Vices bawd
And he shall spend mine Honourwith his Shame;
As thriftlesse Sonnestheir scraping Fathers Gold.
Mine honor liueswhen his dishonor dies
Or my sham'd lifein his dishonor lies:
Thou kill'st me in his lifegiuing him breath
The Traitor liuesthe true man's put to death.
Dut. What hoa (my Liege) for heauens sake let me in
Bul. What shrill-voic'd Suppliantmakes this eager cry?
Dut. A womanand thine Aunt (great King) 'tis I.
Speake with mepitty meopen the dore
A Begger begsthat neuer begg'd before
Bul. Our Scene is alter'd from a serious thing
And now chang'd to the Beggerand the King.
My dangerous Cosinlet your Mother in
I know she's cometo pray for your foule sin
Yorke. If thou do pardonwhosoeuer pray
More sinnes for this forgiuenesseprosper may.
This fester'd ioynt cut offthe rest rests sound
This let alonewill all the rest confound.
Dut. O Kingbeleeue not this hard-hearted man
Louelouing not it selfenone other can
Yor. Thou franticke womanwhat dost y make here
Shall thy old duggesonce more a Traitor reare?
Dut. Sweet Yorke be patientheare me gentle Liege
Bul. Rise vp good Aunt
Dut. Not yetI thee beseech.
For euer will I kneele vpon my knees
And neuer see daythat the happy sees
Till thou giue ioy: vntill thou bid me ioy
By pardoning Rutlandmy transgressing Boy
Aum. Vnto my mothers prayresI bend my knee
Yorke. Against them bothmy 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 mouthours from our brest.
He prayes but faintlyand would be denide
We pray with heartand souleand all beside:
His weary ioynts would gladly riseI know
Our knees shall kneeletill to the ground they grow:
His prayers are full of false hypocrisie
Ours of true zealeand deepe integritie:
Our prayers do out-pray histhen let them haue
That mercywhich true prayers ought to haue
Bul. Good Aunt stand vp
Dut. Naydo not say stand vp.
But Pardon firstand afterwards stand vp.
And if I were thy Nursethy 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 Pardonfor Kings mouth's so meet
Yorke. Speake it in French (King) say Pardon'ne moy
Dut. Dost thou teach pardonPardon to destroy?
Ah my sowre husbandmy hard-hearted Lord
That set's the word it selfeagainst the word.
Speake Pardonas 'tis currant in our Land
The chopping French we do not vnderstand.
Thine eye begins to speakeset thy tongue there
Or in thy pitteous heartplant thou thine eare
That hearing how our plaints and prayres do pearce
Pitty may moue theePardon to rehearse
Bul. Good Auntstand vp
Dut. I do not sue to stand
Pardon is all the suite I haue in hand
Bul. I pardon himas heauen shall pardon mee
Dut. O happy vantage of a kneeling knee?
Yet am I sicke for feare: Speake it againe
Twice saying Pardondoth 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-Lawthe 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 Oxfordor where ere these Traitors are:
They shall not liue within this world I sweare
But I will haue themif I once know where.
Vnckle farewelland Cosin adieu:
Your mother well hath praidand proue you true
Dut. Come my old sonI pray heauen make thee new.
Enter Exton and Seruants.
Ext. Didst thou not marke the King what words hee
Haue I no friend will rid me of this liuing feare:
Was it not so?
Ser. Those were his very words.
Haue I no Friend? (quoth he:) he spake it twice
And vrg'd it twice togetherdid he not?
Ser. He did.
And speaking ithe wistly look'd on me
As who should sayI would thou wer't the man
That would diuorce this terror from my heart
Meaning the King at Pomfret: Comelet's goe;
I am the Kings Friendand will rid his Foe.
Rich. I haue bin studyinghow to compare
This Prison where I liuevnto the World:
And for because the world is populous
And heere is not a Creaturebut my selfe
I cannot do it: yet Ile hammer't out.
My BraineIle proue the Female to my Soule
My Soulethe Father: and these two beget
A generation of still breeding Thoughts;
And these same Thoughtspeople this Little World
In humorslike the people of this world
For no thought is contented. The better sort
As thoughts of things Diuineare intermixt
With scruplesand do set the Faith it selfe
Against the Faith: as thus: Come litle ones: & then again
It is as hard to comeas for a Camell
To thred the posterne of a Needles eye.
Thoughts tending to Ambitionthey do plot
Vnlikely wonders; how these vaine weake nailes
May teare a passage through the Flinty ribbes
Of this hard worldmy ragged prison walles:
And for they cannotdye in their owne pride.
Thoughts tending to Contentflatter themselues
That they are not the first of Fortunes slaues
Nor shall not be the last. Like silly Beggars
Who sitting in the Stockesrefuge their shame
That many haueand others must sit there;
And in this Thoughtthey 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 Prisonmany 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 meI 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
Nor Inor any manthat but man is
With nothing shall be pleas'dtill he be eas'd
With being nothing. Musicke do I heare?
Haha? keepe time: How sowre sweet Musicke is
When Time is brokeand 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 Timeand now doth Time waste me:
For now hath Time made me his numbring clocke;
My Thoughtsare minutes; and with Sighes they iarre
Their watches on vnto mine eyesthe outward Watch
Whereto my fingerlike a Dialls point
Is pointing stillin cleansing them from teares.
Now sirthe sound that tels what houre it is
Are clamorous groanesthat strike vpon my heart
Which is the bell: so Sighesand Tearesand Grones
Shew MinutesHouresand Times: but my Time
Runs poasting onin Bullingbrookes proud ioy
While I stand fooling heerehis iacke o'th' Clocke.
This Musicke mads melet it sound no more
For though it haue holpe madmen to their wits
In me it seemesit will make wise-men mad:
Yet blessing on his heart that giues it me;
For 'tis a signe of loueand loue to Richard
Is a strange Broochin this all-hating world.
Groo. Haile Royall Prince
Rich. Thankes Noble Peere
The cheapest of vsis ten groates too deere.
What art thou? And how com'st thou hither?
Where no man euer comesbut that sad dogge
That brings me foodto make misfortune liue?
Groo. I was a poore Groome of thy Stable (King)
When thou wer't King: who trauelling towards Yorke
With much adooat length haue gotten leaue
To looke vpon my (sometimes Royall) masters face.
O how it yern'd my heartwhen I beheld
In London streetsthat Coronation day
When Bullingbrooke rode on Roane Barbary
That horsethat thou so often hast bestrid
That horsethat I so carefully haue drest
Rich. Rode he on Barbary? Tell me gentle Friend
How went he vnder him?
Groo. So proudlyas if he had disdain'd the ground
Rich. So proudthat 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 manthat 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'dand tyrd by iauncing Bullingbrooke.
Enter Keeper with a Dish.
Keep. Fellowgiue placeheere is no longer stay
Rich. If thou loue me'tis time thou wer't away
Groo. What my tongue dares notthat my heart shall
Keep. My Lordwilt please you to fall too?
Rich. Taste of it firstas thou wer't wont to doo
Keep. My Lord I dare not: Sir Pierce of Exton
Who lately came from th' Kingcommands the contrary
Rich. The diuell take Henrie of Lancasterand thee;
Patience is staleand I am weary of it
Enter Exton and Seruants.
Ri. How now? what meanes Death in this rude assalt?
Villainethine 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. Extonthy fierce hand
Hath with the Kings bloodstain'd the Kings own land.
Mountmount my soulethy seate is vp on high
Whil'st my grosse flesh sinkes downwardheere to dye
Exton. As full of Valoras of Royall blood
Both haue I spilt: Oh would the deed were good.
For now the diuellthat told me I did well
Sayesthat this deede is chronicled in hell.
This dead King to the liuing King Ile beare
Take hence the restand giue them buriall heere.
Flourish. Enter BullingbrookeYorkewith other Lords &
Bul. Kinde Vnkle Yorkethe 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 slainewe heare not.
Welcome my Lord: What is the newes?
Nor. First to thy Sacred Statewish I all happinesse:
The next newes isI haue to London sent
The heads of SalsburySpencerBluntand 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.
Fitz. My LordI haue from Oxford sent to London
The heads of Broccasand Sir Bennet Seely
Two of the dangerous consorted Traitors
That sought at Oxfordthy dire ouerthrow
Bul. Thy paines Fitzwaters shall not be forgot
Right Noble is thy meritwell I wot.
Enter Percy and Carlile.
Per. The grand ConspiratorAbbot of Westminster
With clog of Conscienceand sowre Melancholly
Hath yeelded vp his body to the graue:
But heere is Carlileliuing to abide
Thy Kingly doomeand sentence of his pride
Bul. Carlilethis is your doome:
Choose out some secret placesome reuerend roome
More then thou hastand with it ioy thy life:
So as thou liu'st in peacedye free from strife:
For though mine enemythou hast euer beene
High sparkes of Honor in thee haue I seene.
Enter Exton with a Coffin.
Exton. Great Kingwithin this Coffin I present
Thy buried feare. Heerein all breathlesse lies
The mightiest of thy greatest enemies
Richard of Burdeauxby me hither brought
Bul. ExtonI thanke thee notfor thou hast wrought
A deede of Slaughterwith thy fatall hand
Vpon my headand all this famous Land.
From your owne mouth my Lorddid I this deed
Bul. They loue not poysonthat do poyson neede
Nor do I thee: though I did wish him dead
I hate the Murthererloue him murthered.
The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour
But neither my good wordnor Princely fauour.
With Caine go wander through the shade of night
And neuer shew thy head by daynor light.
LordsI protest my soule is full of woe
That blood should sprinkle meto make me grow.
Come mourne with mefor 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 aftergrace my mourning heere
In weeping after this vntimely Beere.
FINIS. The life and death of King Richard the Second.