ACT VSCENE I. London. A street leading to the Tower.Enter theQueenand ladies.QUEEN.This way the King will come. This is the wayTo Julius Caesar’s ill-erected tower,To whose flint bosom my condemned lordIs doomed a prisoner by proud Bolingbroke.Here let us rest, if this rebellious earthHave any resting for her true king’s queen.EnterKing Richardand Guard.But soft, but see, or rather do not seeMy fair rose wither; yet look up, behold,That you in pity may dissolve to dewAnd wash him fresh again with true-love tears.Ah, thou, the model where old Troy did stand,Thou map of honour, thou King Richard’s tomb,And not King Richard! Thou most beauteous inn,Why should hard-favoured grief be lodged in thee,When triumph is become an alehouse guest?KING RICHARD.Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so,To make my end too sudden. Learn, good soul,To think our former state a happy dream,From which awaked, the truth of what we areShows us but this. I am sworn brother, sweet,To grim Necessity, and he and IWill keep a league till death. Hie thee to France,And cloister thee in some religious house.Our holy lives must win a new world’s crown,Which our profane hours here have thrown down.QUEEN.What, is my Richard both in shape and mindTransformed and weakened! Hath BolingbrokeDeposed thine intellect? Hath he been in thy heart?The lion dying thrusteth forth his pawAnd wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rageTo be o’erpowered; and wilt thou, pupil-like,Take the correction mildly, kiss the rod,And fawn on rage with base humility,Which art a lion and the king of beasts?KING RICHARD.A king of beasts, indeed! If aught but beasts,I had been still a happy king of men.Good sometimes queen, prepare thee hence for France.Think I am dead, and that even here thou tak’st,As from my death-bed, thy last living leave.In winter’s tedious nights sit by the fireWith good old folks, and let them tell thee talesOf woeful ages long ago betid;And ere thou bid good night, to quit their griefs,Tell thou the lamentable tale of me,And send the hearers weeping to their beds.For why, the senseless brands will sympathizeThe heavy accent of thy moving tongue,And in compassion weep the fire out;And some will mourn in ashes, some coal-black,For the deposing of a rightful king.EnterNorthumberland,attended.NORTHUMBERLAND.My lord, the mind of Bolingbroke is changed.You must to Pomfret, not unto the Tower.And, madam, there is order ta’en for you:With all swift speed you must away to France.KING RICHARD.Northumberland, thou ladder wherewithalThe mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne,The time shall not be many hours of ageMore than it is ere foul sin, gathering head,Shall break into corruption. Thou shalt think,Though he divide the realm and give thee halfIt is too little, helping him to all.And he shall think that thou, which knowst the wayTo plant unrightful kings, wilt know again,Being ne’er so little urged, another wayTo pluck him headlong from the usurped throne.The love of wicked men converts to fear,That fear to hate, and hate turns one or bothTo worthy danger and deserved death.NORTHUMBERLAND.My guilt be on my head, and there an end.Take leave and part, for you must part forthwith.KING RICHARD.Doubly divorced! Bad men, you violateA twofold marriage, ’twixt my crown and me,And then betwixt me and my married wife.Let me unkiss the oath ’twixt thee and me;And yet not so, for with a kiss ’twas made.Part us, Northumberland: I towards the north,Where shivering cold and sickness pines the clime;My wife to France, from whence set forth in pomp,She came adorned hither like sweet May,Sent back like Hallowmas or short’st of day.QUEEN.And must we be divided? Must we part?KING RICHARD.Ay, hand from hand, my love, and heart from heart.QUEEN.Banish us both, and send the King with me.NORTHUMBERLAND.That were some love, but little policy.QUEEN.Then whither he goes, thither let me go.KING RICHARD.So two, together weeping, make one woe.Weep thou for me in France, I for thee here;Better far off than near, be ne’er the near.Go, count thy way with sighs, I mine with groans.QUEEN.So longest way shall have the longest moans.KING RICHARD.Twice for one step I’ll groan, the way being short,And piece the way out with a heavy heart.Come, come, in wooing sorrow let’s be brief,Since, wedding it, there is such length in grief.One kiss shall stop our mouths, and dumbly part;Thus give I mine, and thus take I thy heart.[They kiss.]QUEEN.Give me mine own again; ’twere no good partTo take on me to keep and kill thy heart.[They kiss again.]So, now I have mine own again, be gone,That I may strive to kill it with a groan.KING RICHARD.We make woe wanton with this fond delay:Once more, adieu. The rest let sorrow say.[Exeunt.]SCENE II. The same. A room in the Duke of York’s palace.EnterYorkand hisDuchess.DUCHESS.My Lord, you told me you would tell the rest,When weeping made you break the story offOf our two cousins’ coming into London.YORK.Where did I leave?DUCHESS.At that sad stop, my lord,Where rude misgoverned hands from windows’ topsThrew dust and rubbish on King Richard’s head.YORK.Then, as I said, the Duke, great Bolingbroke,Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed,Which his aspiring rider seemed to know,With slow but stately pace kept on his course,Whilst all tongues cried “God save thee, Bolingbroke!”You would have thought the very windows spake,So many greedy looks of young and oldThrough casements darted their desiring eyesUpon his visage, and that all the wallsWith painted imagery had said at once“Jesu preserve thee! Welcome, Bolingbroke!”Whilst he, from the one side to the other turning,Bareheaded, lower than his proud steed’s neck,Bespake them thus, “I thank you, countrymen.”And thus still doing, thus he passed along.DUCHESS.Alack, poor Richard! Where rode he the whilst?YORK.As in a theatre the eyes of menAfter a well-graced actor leaves the stage,Are idly bent on him that enters next,Thinking his prattle to be tedious,Even so, or with much more contempt, men’s eyesDid scowl on gentle Richard. No man cried “God save him!”No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home,But dust was thrown upon his sacred head,Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off,His face still combating with tears and smiles,The badges of his grief and patience,That had not God for some strong purpose, steeledThe hearts of men, they must perforce have melted,And barbarism itself have pitied him.But heaven hath a hand in these events,To whose high will we bound our calm contents.To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now,Whose state and honour I for aye allow.EnterAumerle.DUCHESS.Here comes my son Aumerle.YORK.Aumerle that was;But that is lost for being Richard’s friend,And, madam, you must call him Rutland now.I am in Parliament pledge for his truthAnd lasting fealty to the new-made king.DUCHESS.Welcome, my son. Who are the violets nowThat strew the green lap of the new-come spring?AUMERLE.Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not.God knows I had as lief be none as one.YORK.Well, bear you well in this new spring of time,Lest you be cropped before you come to prime.What news from Oxford? Do these jousts and triumphs hold?AUMERLE.For aught I know, my lord, they do.YORK.You will be there, I know.AUMERLE.If God prevent not, I purpose so.YORK.What seal is that that hangs without thy bosom?Yea, look’st thou pale? Let me see the writing.AUMERLE.My lord, ’tis nothing.YORK.No matter, then, who see it.I will be satisfied. Let me see the writing.AUMERLE.I do beseech your Grace to pardon me.It is a matter of small consequence,Which for some reasons I would not have seen.YORK.Which for some reasons, sir, I mean to see.I fear, I fear—DUCHESS.What should you fear?’Tis nothing but some bond that he is entered intoFor gay apparel ’gainst the triumph day.YORK.Bound to himself? What doth he with a bondThat he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool.Boy, let me see the writing.AUMERLE.I do beseech you, pardon me. I may not show it.YORK.I will be satisfied. Let me see it, I say.[Snatches it and reads it.]Treason, foul treason! Villain! traitor! slave!DUCHESS.What is the matter, my lord?YORK.Ho! who is within there?Enter aServant.Saddle my horse.God for his mercy, what treachery is here!DUCHESS.Why, what is it, my lord?YORK.Give me my boots, I say. Saddle my horse.Now, by mine honour, by my life, my troth,I will appeach the villain.[ExitServant.]DUCHESS.What is the matter?YORK.Peace, foolish woman.DUCHESS.I will not peace. What is the matter, Aumerle?AUMERLE.Good mother, be content. It is no moreThan my poor life must answer.DUCHESS.Thy life answer?YORK.Bring me my boots. I will unto the King.Re-enterServantwith boots.DUCHESS.Strike him, Aumerle! Poor boy, thou art amazed.[To Servant.]Hence, villain! Never more come in my sight.[ExitServant.]YORK.Give me my boots, I say.DUCHESS.Why, York, what wilt thou do?Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own?Have we more sons? Or are we like to have?Is not my teeming date drunk up with time?And wilt thou pluck my fair son from mine ageAnd rob me of a happy mother’s name?Is he not like thee? Is he not thine own?YORK.Thou fond mad woman,Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy?A dozen of them here have ta’en the sacramentAnd interchangeably set down their handsTo kill the King at Oxford.DUCHESS.He shall be none;We’ll keep him here. Then what is that to him?YORK.Away, fond woman! Were he twenty times my son,I would appeach him.DUCHESS.Hadst thou groaned for himAs I have done, thou wouldst be more pitiful.But now I know thy mind: thou dost suspectThat I have been disloyal to thy bedAnd that he is a bastard, not thy son.Sweet York, sweet husband, be not of that mind.He is as like thee as a man may be,Not like to me, or any of my kin,And yet I love him.YORK.Make way, unruly woman![Exit.]DUCHESS.After, Aumerle! Mount thee upon his horse!Spur post, and get before him to the King,And beg thy pardon ere he do accuse thee.I’ll not be long behind. Though I be old,I doubt not but to ride as fast as York.And never will I rise up from the groundTill Bolingbroke have pardoned thee. Away, be gone![Exeunt.]SCENE III. Windsor. A room in the Castle.Enter Bolingbroke asKing,Harry Percyand other Lords.KING HENRY.Can no man tell me of my unthrifty son?’Tis full three months since I did see him last.If any plague hang over us, ’tis he.I would to God, my lords, he might be found.Inquire at London, ’mongst the taverns there,For there, they say, he daily doth frequentWith unrestrained loose companions,Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanesAnd beat our watch and rob our passengers,While he, young wanton and effeminate boy,Takes on the point of honour to supportSo dissolute a crew.PERCY.My lord, some two days since I saw the Prince,And told him of those triumphs held at Oxford.KING HENRY.And what said the gallant?PERCY.His answer was he would unto the stews,And from the common’st creature pluck a gloveAnd wear it as a favour, and with thatHe would unhorse the lustiest challenger.KING HENRY.As dissolute as desperate! Yet through bothI see some sparks of better hope, which elder yearsMay happily bring forth. But who comes here?EnterAumerle.AUMERLE.Where is the King?KING HENRY.What means our cousin that he stares and looks so wildly?AUMERLE.God save your Grace! I do beseech your majestyTo have some conference with your Grace alone.KING HENRY.Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here alone.[ExeuntHarry PercyandLords.]What is the matter with our cousin now?AUMERLE.[Kneels.] For ever may my knees grow to the earth,My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth,Unless a pardon ere I rise or speak.KING HENRY.Intended or committed was this fault?If on the first, how heinous e’er it be,To win thy after-love I pardon thee.AUMERLE.Then give me leave that I may turn the key,That no man enter till my tale be done.KING HENRY.Have thy desire.[Aumerlelocks the door.]YORK.[Within.] My liege, beware! Look to thyself!Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there.KING HENRY.[Drawing.] Villain, I’ll make thee safe.AUMERLE.Stay thy revengeful hand. Thou hast no cause to fear.YORK.[Within.] Open the door, secure, foolhardy king!Shall I for love speak treason to thy face?Open the door, or I will break it open.[King Henryunlocks the door; and afterwards, relocks it.]EnterYork.KING HENRY.What is the matter, uncle? Speak!Recover breath. Tell us how near is danger,That we may arm us to encounter it.YORK.Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt knowThe treason that my haste forbids me show.AUMERLE.Remember, as thou read’st, thy promise passed.I do repent me. Read not my name there;My heart is not confederate with my hand.YORK.It was, villain, ere thy hand did set it down.I tore it from the traitor’s bosom, king.Fear, and not love, begets his penitence.Forget to pity him, lest thy pity proveA serpent that will sting thee to the heart.KING HENRY.O heinous, strong, and bold conspiracy!O loyal father of a treacherous son!Thou sheer, immaculate, and silver fountainFrom whence this stream through muddy passagesHath held his current and defiled himself!Thy overflow of good converts to bad,And thy abundant goodness shall excuseThis deadly blot in thy digressing son.YORK.So shall my virtue be his vice’s bawd,And he shall spend mine honour with his shame,As thriftless sons their scraping fathers’ gold.Mine honour lives when his dishonour dies,Or my shamed life in his dishonour lies.Thou kill’st me in his life: giving him breath,The traitor lives, the true man’s put to death.DUCHESS.[Within.] What ho, my liege! For God’s sake, let me in!KING HENRY.What shrill-voiced suppliant makes this eager cry?DUCHESS.[Within.] A woman, and thine aunt, great king, ’tis I.Speak with me, pity me, open the door!A beggar begs that never begged before.KING HENRY.Our scene is altered from a serious thing,And now changed to “The Beggar and the King.”My dangerous cousin, let your mother in.I know she’s come to pray for your foul sin.EnterDuchess.YORK.If thou do pardon whosoever pray,More sins for this forgiveness prosper may.This festered joint cut off, the rest rest sound;This let alone will all the rest confound.DUCHESS.O King, believe not this hard-hearted man.Love loving not itself none other can.YORK.Thou frantic woman, what dost thou make here?Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear?DUCHESS.Sweet York, be patient. [Kneels.] Hear me, gentle liege.KING HENRY.Rise up, good aunt.DUCHESS.Not yet, I thee beseech.For ever will I walk upon my kneesAnd never see day that the happy sees,Till thou give joy, until thou bid me joyBy pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy.AUMERLE.Unto my mother’s prayers I bend my knee.[Kneels.]YORK.Against them both, my true joints bended be.[Kneels.]Ill mayst thou thrive if thou grant any grace!DUCHESS.Pleads he in earnest? Look upon his face.His eyes do drop no tears, his prayers are in jest;His words come from his mouth, ours from our breast.He prays but faintly and would be denied;We pray with heart and soul and all beside:His weary joints would gladly rise, I know;Our knees still kneel till to the ground they grow.His prayers are full of false hypocrisy;Ours of true zeal and deep integrity.Our prayers do outpray his; then let them haveThat mercy which true prayer ought to have.KING HENRY.Good aunt, stand up.DUCHESS.Nay, do not say “stand up”.Say “pardon” first, and afterwards “stand up”.An if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach,“Pardon” should be the first word of thy speech.I never longed to hear a word till now.Say “pardon,” king; let pity teach thee how.The word is short, but not so short as sweet;No word like “pardon” for kings’ mouths so meet.YORK.Speak it in French, King, say “pardonne moy.”DUCHESS.Dost thou teach pardon pardon to destroy?Ah! my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord,That sets the word itself against the word!Speak “pardon” as ’tis current in our land;The chopping French we do not understand.Thine eye begins to speak, set thy tongue there,Or in thy piteous heart plant thou thine ear,That, hearing how our plaints and prayers do pierce,Pity may move thee “pardon” to rehearse.KING HENRY.Good aunt, stand up.DUCHESS.I do not sue to stand.Pardon is all the suit I have in hand.KING HENRY.I pardon him, as God shall pardon me.DUCHESS.O, happy vantage of a kneeling knee!Yet am I sick for fear. Speak it again,Twice saying “pardon” doth not pardon twain,But makes one pardon strong.KING HENRY.With all my heartI pardon him.DUCHESS.A god on earth thou art.KING HENRY.But for our trusty brother-in-law and the Abbot,With all the rest of that consorted crew,Destruction straight shall dog them at the heels.Good uncle, help to order several powersTo Oxford, or where’er these traitors are;They shall not live within this world, I swear,But I will have them, if I once know where.Uncle, farewell, and cousin, adieu.Your mother well hath prayed, and prove you true.DUCHESS.Come, my old son. I pray God make thee new.[Exeunt.]SCENE IV. Another room in the Castle.EnterExtonand aServant.EXTON.Didst thou not mark the King, what words he spake:“Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear?”Was it not so?SERVANT.These were his very words.EXTON.“Have I no friend?” quoth he. He spake it twiceAnd urged it twice together, did he not?SERVANT.He did.EXTON.And speaking it, he wishtly looked on me,As who should say “I would thou wert the manThat would divorce this terror from my heart”,Meaning the king at Pomfret. Come, let’s go.I am the King’s friend, and will rid his foe.[Exeunt.]SCENE V. Pomfret. The dungeon of the Castle.EnterRichard.RICHARD.I have been studying how I may compareThis prison where I live unto the world;And for because the world is populousAnd here is not a creature but myself,I cannot do it. Yet I’ll hammer it out.My brain I’ll prove the female to my soul,My soul the father, and these two begetA generation of still-breeding thoughts,And these same thoughts people this little world,In humours like the people of this world,For no thought is contented. The better sort,As thoughts of things divine, are intermixedWith scruples, and do set the word itselfAgainst the word, as thus: “Come, little ones”;And then again:“It is as hard to come as for a camelTo thread the postern of a needle’s eye.”Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plotUnlikely wonders: how these vain weak nailsMay tear a passage through the flinty ribsOf this hard world, my ragged prison walls,And, for they cannot, die in their own pride.Thoughts tending to content flatter themselvesThat they are not the first of fortune’s slaves,Nor shall not be the last, like silly beggarsWho sitting in the stocks refuge their shameThat many have and others must sit there;And in this thought they find a kind of ease,Bearing their own misfortunes on the backOf such as have before endured the like.Thus play I in one person many people,And none contented. Sometimes am I king;Then treasons make me wish myself a beggar,And so I am. Then crushing penuryPersuades me I was better when a king;Then am I kinged again, and by and byThink that I am unkinged by Bolingbroke,And straight am nothing. But whate’er I be,Nor I nor any man that but man isWith nothing shall be pleased till he be easedWith being nothing.Music do I hear? [Music.]Ha, ha! keep time! How sour sweet music isWhen time is broke and no proportion kept!So is it in the music of men’s lives.And here have I the daintiness of earTo check time broke in a disordered string;But for the concord of my state and timeHad not an ear to hear my true time broke.I wasted time, and now doth time waste me;For now hath time made me his numb’ring clock.My thoughts are minutes, and with sighs they jarTheir watches on unto mine eyes, the outward watch,Whereto my finger, like a dial’s point,Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears.Now, sir, the sound that tells what hour it isAre clamorous groans which strike upon my heart,Which is the bell. So sighs and tears and groansShow minutes, times, and hours. But my timeRuns posting on in Bolingbroke’s proud joy,While I stand fooling here, his Jack o’ the clock.This music mads me! Let it sound no more;For though it have holp madmen to their wits,In me it seems it will make wise men mad.Yet blessing on his heart that gives it me,For ’tis a sign of love; and love to RichardIs a strange brooch in this all-hating world.Enter aGroomof the stable.GROOM.Hail, royal Prince!RICHARD.Thanks, noble peer.The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear.What art thou, and how comest thou hitherWhere no man never comes but that sad dogThat brings me food to make misfortune live?GROOM.I was a poor groom of thy stable, king,When thou wert king; who, travelling towards York,With much ado at length have gotten leaveTo look upon my sometimes royal master’s face.O, how it erned my heart when I beheldIn London streets, that coronation day,When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary,That horse that thou so often hast bestrid,That horse that I so carefully have dressed.RICHARD.Rode he on Barbary? Tell me, gentle friend,How went he under him?GROOM.So proudly as if he disdained the ground.RICHARD.So proud that Bolingbroke was on his back!That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand;This hand hath made him proud with clapping him.Would he not stumble? Would he not fall down,Since pride must have a fall, and break the neckOf that proud man that did usurp his back?Forgiveness, horse! Why do I rail on thee,Since thou, created to be awed by man,Wast born to bear? I was not made a horse,And yet I bear a burden like an ass,Spurred, galled and tired by jauncing Bolingbroke.EnterKeeperwith a dish.KEEPER. [To the Groom.]Fellow, give place. Here is no longer stay.RICHARD.If thou love me, ’tis time thou wert away.GROOM.My tongue dares not, that my heart shall say.[Exit.]KEEPER.My lord, will’t please you to fall to?RICHARD.Taste of it first as thou art wont to do.KEEPER.My lord, I dare not. Sir Pierce of Exton,Who lately came from the King, commands the contrary.RICHARD.The devil take Henry of Lancaster and thee!Patience is stale, and I am weary of it.[Strikes the Keeper.]KEEPER.Help, help, help!EnterExtonand Servants, armed.RICHARD.How now! What means death in this rude assault?Villain, thy own hand yields thy death’s instrument.[Snatching a weapon and killing one.]Go thou and fill another room in hell.[He kills another, thenExtonstrikes him down.]That hand shall burn in never-quenching fireThat staggers thus my person. Exton, thy fierce handHath with the King’s blood stained the King’s own land.Mount, mount, my soul! Thy seat is up on high,Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here to die.[Dies.]EXTON.As full of valour as of royal blood!Both have I spilled. O, would the deed were good!For now the devil that told me I did wellSays that this deed is chronicled in hell.This dead king to the living king I’ll bear.Take hence the rest, and give them burial here.[Exeunt.]SCENE VI. Windsor. An Apartment in the Castle.Flourish. EnterKing HenryandYorkwith Lords and Attendants.KING HENRY.Kind uncle York, the latest news we hearIs that the rebels have consumed with fireOur town of Cicester in Gloucestershire,But whether they be ta’en or slain we hear not.EnterNorthumberland.Welcome, my lord. What is the news?NORTHUMBERLAND.First, to thy sacred state wish I all happiness.The next news is: I have to London sentThe heads of Salisbury, Spencer, Blunt, and Kent.The manner of their taking may appearAt large discoursed in this paper here.KING HENRY.We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains,And to thy worth will add right worthy gains.EnterFitzwater.FITZWATER.My lord, I have from Oxford sent to LondonThe heads of Brocas and Sir Bennet Seely,Two of the dangerous consorted traitorsThat sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow.KING HENRY.Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be forgot.Right noble is thy merit, well I wot.EnterHarry Percywith theBishop of Carlisle.PERCY.The grand conspirator, Abbot of Westminster,With clog of conscience and sour melancholy,Hath yielded up his body to the grave.But here is Carlisle living, to abideThy kingly doom and sentence of his pride.KING HENRY.Carlisle, this is your doom:Choose out some secret place, some reverend room,More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life.So as thou liv’st in peace, die free from strife;For though mine enemy thou hast ever been,High sparks of honour in thee have I seen.EnterExtonwith attendants, bearing a coffin.EXTON.Great king, within this coffin I presentThy buried fear. Herein all breathless liesThe mightiest of thy greatest enemies,Richard of Bordeaux, by me hither brought.KING HENRY.Exton, I thank thee not, for thou hast wroughtA deed of slander with thy fatal handUpon my head and all this famous land.EXTON.From your own mouth, my lord, did I this deed.KING HENRY.They love not poison that do poison need,Nor do I thee. Though I did wish him dead,I hate the murderer, love him murdered.The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour,But neither my good word nor princely favour.With Cain go wander thorough shades of night,And never show thy head by day nor light.Lords, I protest my soul is full of woeThat blood should sprinkle me to make me grow.Come, mourn with me for what I do lament,And put on sullen black incontinent.I’ll make a voyage to the Holy LandTo wash this blood off from my guilty hand.March sadly after; grace my mournings hereIn weeping after this untimely bier.[Exeunt.]
Enter theQueenand ladies.
QUEEN.This way the King will come. This is the wayTo Julius Caesar’s ill-erected tower,To whose flint bosom my condemned lordIs doomed a prisoner by proud Bolingbroke.Here let us rest, if this rebellious earthHave any resting for her true king’s queen.
EnterKing Richardand Guard.
But soft, but see, or rather do not seeMy fair rose wither; yet look up, behold,That you in pity may dissolve to dewAnd wash him fresh again with true-love tears.Ah, thou, the model where old Troy did stand,Thou map of honour, thou King Richard’s tomb,And not King Richard! Thou most beauteous inn,Why should hard-favoured grief be lodged in thee,When triumph is become an alehouse guest?
KING RICHARD.Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so,To make my end too sudden. Learn, good soul,To think our former state a happy dream,From which awaked, the truth of what we areShows us but this. I am sworn brother, sweet,To grim Necessity, and he and IWill keep a league till death. Hie thee to France,And cloister thee in some religious house.Our holy lives must win a new world’s crown,Which our profane hours here have thrown down.
QUEEN.What, is my Richard both in shape and mindTransformed and weakened! Hath BolingbrokeDeposed thine intellect? Hath he been in thy heart?The lion dying thrusteth forth his pawAnd wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rageTo be o’erpowered; and wilt thou, pupil-like,Take the correction mildly, kiss the rod,And fawn on rage with base humility,Which art a lion and the king of beasts?
KING RICHARD.A king of beasts, indeed! If aught but beasts,I had been still a happy king of men.Good sometimes queen, prepare thee hence for France.Think I am dead, and that even here thou tak’st,As from my death-bed, thy last living leave.In winter’s tedious nights sit by the fireWith good old folks, and let them tell thee talesOf woeful ages long ago betid;And ere thou bid good night, to quit their griefs,Tell thou the lamentable tale of me,And send the hearers weeping to their beds.For why, the senseless brands will sympathizeThe heavy accent of thy moving tongue,And in compassion weep the fire out;And some will mourn in ashes, some coal-black,For the deposing of a rightful king.
EnterNorthumberland,attended.
NORTHUMBERLAND.My lord, the mind of Bolingbroke is changed.You must to Pomfret, not unto the Tower.And, madam, there is order ta’en for you:With all swift speed you must away to France.
KING RICHARD.Northumberland, thou ladder wherewithalThe mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne,The time shall not be many hours of ageMore than it is ere foul sin, gathering head,Shall break into corruption. Thou shalt think,Though he divide the realm and give thee halfIt is too little, helping him to all.And he shall think that thou, which knowst the wayTo plant unrightful kings, wilt know again,Being ne’er so little urged, another wayTo pluck him headlong from the usurped throne.The love of wicked men converts to fear,That fear to hate, and hate turns one or bothTo worthy danger and deserved death.
NORTHUMBERLAND.My guilt be on my head, and there an end.Take leave and part, for you must part forthwith.
KING RICHARD.Doubly divorced! Bad men, you violateA twofold marriage, ’twixt my crown and me,And then betwixt me and my married wife.Let me unkiss the oath ’twixt thee and me;And yet not so, for with a kiss ’twas made.Part us, Northumberland: I towards the north,Where shivering cold and sickness pines the clime;My wife to France, from whence set forth in pomp,She came adorned hither like sweet May,Sent back like Hallowmas or short’st of day.
QUEEN.And must we be divided? Must we part?
KING RICHARD.Ay, hand from hand, my love, and heart from heart.
QUEEN.Banish us both, and send the King with me.
NORTHUMBERLAND.That were some love, but little policy.
QUEEN.Then whither he goes, thither let me go.
KING RICHARD.So two, together weeping, make one woe.Weep thou for me in France, I for thee here;Better far off than near, be ne’er the near.Go, count thy way with sighs, I mine with groans.
QUEEN.So longest way shall have the longest moans.
KING RICHARD.Twice for one step I’ll groan, the way being short,And piece the way out with a heavy heart.Come, come, in wooing sorrow let’s be brief,Since, wedding it, there is such length in grief.One kiss shall stop our mouths, and dumbly part;Thus give I mine, and thus take I thy heart.
[They kiss.]
QUEEN.Give me mine own again; ’twere no good partTo take on me to keep and kill thy heart.
[They kiss again.]
So, now I have mine own again, be gone,That I may strive to kill it with a groan.
KING RICHARD.We make woe wanton with this fond delay:Once more, adieu. The rest let sorrow say.
[Exeunt.]
EnterYorkand hisDuchess.
DUCHESS.My Lord, you told me you would tell the rest,When weeping made you break the story offOf our two cousins’ coming into London.
YORK.Where did I leave?
DUCHESS.At that sad stop, my lord,Where rude misgoverned hands from windows’ topsThrew dust and rubbish on King Richard’s head.
YORK.Then, as I said, the Duke, great Bolingbroke,Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed,Which his aspiring rider seemed to know,With slow but stately pace kept on his course,Whilst all tongues cried “God save thee, Bolingbroke!”You would have thought the very windows spake,So many greedy looks of young and oldThrough casements darted their desiring eyesUpon his visage, and that all the wallsWith painted imagery had said at once“Jesu preserve thee! Welcome, Bolingbroke!”Whilst he, from the one side to the other turning,Bareheaded, lower than his proud steed’s neck,Bespake them thus, “I thank you, countrymen.”And thus still doing, thus he passed along.
DUCHESS.Alack, poor Richard! Where rode he the whilst?
YORK.As in a theatre the eyes of menAfter a well-graced actor leaves the stage,Are idly bent on him that enters next,Thinking his prattle to be tedious,Even so, or with much more contempt, men’s eyesDid scowl on gentle Richard. No man cried “God save him!”No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home,But dust was thrown upon his sacred head,Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off,His face still combating with tears and smiles,The badges of his grief and patience,That had not God for some strong purpose, steeledThe hearts of men, they must perforce have melted,And barbarism itself have pitied him.But heaven hath a hand in these events,To whose high will we bound our calm contents.To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now,Whose state and honour I for aye allow.
EnterAumerle.
DUCHESS.Here comes my son Aumerle.
YORK.Aumerle that was;But that is lost for being Richard’s friend,And, madam, you must call him Rutland now.I am in Parliament pledge for his truthAnd lasting fealty to the new-made king.
DUCHESS.Welcome, my son. Who are the violets nowThat strew the green lap of the new-come spring?
AUMERLE.Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not.God knows I had as lief be none as one.
YORK.Well, bear you well in this new spring of time,Lest you be cropped before you come to prime.What news from Oxford? Do these jousts and triumphs hold?
AUMERLE.For aught I know, my lord, they do.
YORK.You will be there, I know.
AUMERLE.If God prevent not, I purpose so.
YORK.What seal is that that hangs without thy bosom?Yea, look’st thou pale? Let me see the writing.
AUMERLE.My lord, ’tis nothing.
YORK.No matter, then, who see it.I will be satisfied. Let me see the writing.
AUMERLE.I do beseech your Grace to pardon me.It is a matter of small consequence,Which for some reasons I would not have seen.
YORK.Which for some reasons, sir, I mean to see.I fear, I fear—
DUCHESS.What should you fear?’Tis nothing but some bond that he is entered intoFor gay apparel ’gainst the triumph day.
YORK.Bound to himself? What doth he with a bondThat he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool.Boy, let me see the writing.
AUMERLE.I do beseech you, pardon me. I may not show it.
YORK.I will be satisfied. Let me see it, I say.
[Snatches it and reads it.]
Treason, foul treason! Villain! traitor! slave!
DUCHESS.What is the matter, my lord?
YORK.Ho! who is within there?
Enter aServant.
Saddle my horse.God for his mercy, what treachery is here!
DUCHESS.Why, what is it, my lord?
YORK.Give me my boots, I say. Saddle my horse.Now, by mine honour, by my life, my troth,I will appeach the villain.
[ExitServant.]
DUCHESS.What is the matter?
YORK.Peace, foolish woman.
DUCHESS.I will not peace. What is the matter, Aumerle?
AUMERLE.Good mother, be content. It is no moreThan my poor life must answer.
DUCHESS.Thy life answer?
YORK.Bring me my boots. I will unto the King.
Re-enterServantwith boots.
DUCHESS.Strike him, Aumerle! Poor boy, thou art amazed.[To Servant.]Hence, villain! Never more come in my sight.
[ExitServant.]
YORK.Give me my boots, I say.
DUCHESS.Why, York, what wilt thou do?Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own?Have we more sons? Or are we like to have?Is not my teeming date drunk up with time?And wilt thou pluck my fair son from mine ageAnd rob me of a happy mother’s name?Is he not like thee? Is he not thine own?
YORK.Thou fond mad woman,Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy?A dozen of them here have ta’en the sacramentAnd interchangeably set down their handsTo kill the King at Oxford.
DUCHESS.He shall be none;We’ll keep him here. Then what is that to him?
YORK.Away, fond woman! Were he twenty times my son,I would appeach him.
DUCHESS.Hadst thou groaned for himAs I have done, thou wouldst be more pitiful.But now I know thy mind: thou dost suspectThat I have been disloyal to thy bedAnd that he is a bastard, not thy son.Sweet York, sweet husband, be not of that mind.He is as like thee as a man may be,Not like to me, or any of my kin,And yet I love him.
YORK.Make way, unruly woman!
[Exit.]
DUCHESS.After, Aumerle! Mount thee upon his horse!Spur post, and get before him to the King,And beg thy pardon ere he do accuse thee.I’ll not be long behind. Though I be old,I doubt not but to ride as fast as York.And never will I rise up from the groundTill Bolingbroke have pardoned thee. Away, be gone!
[Exeunt.]
Enter Bolingbroke asKing,Harry Percyand other Lords.
KING HENRY.Can no man tell me of my unthrifty son?’Tis full three months since I did see him last.If any plague hang over us, ’tis he.I would to God, my lords, he might be found.Inquire at London, ’mongst the taverns there,For there, they say, he daily doth frequentWith unrestrained loose companions,Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanesAnd beat our watch and rob our passengers,While he, young wanton and effeminate boy,Takes on the point of honour to supportSo dissolute a crew.
PERCY.My lord, some two days since I saw the Prince,And told him of those triumphs held at Oxford.
KING HENRY.And what said the gallant?
PERCY.His answer was he would unto the stews,And from the common’st creature pluck a gloveAnd wear it as a favour, and with thatHe would unhorse the lustiest challenger.
KING HENRY.As dissolute as desperate! Yet through bothI see some sparks of better hope, which elder yearsMay happily bring forth. But who comes here?
EnterAumerle.
AUMERLE.Where is the King?
KING HENRY.What means our cousin that he stares and looks so wildly?
AUMERLE.God save your Grace! I do beseech your majestyTo have some conference with your Grace alone.
KING HENRY.Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here alone.
[ExeuntHarry PercyandLords.]
What is the matter with our cousin now?
AUMERLE.[Kneels.] For ever may my knees grow to the earth,My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth,Unless a pardon ere I rise or speak.
KING HENRY.Intended or committed was this fault?If on the first, how heinous e’er it be,To win thy after-love I pardon thee.
AUMERLE.Then give me leave that I may turn the key,That no man enter till my tale be done.
KING HENRY.Have thy desire.
[Aumerlelocks the door.]
YORK.[Within.] My liege, beware! Look to thyself!Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there.
KING HENRY.[Drawing.] Villain, I’ll make thee safe.
AUMERLE.Stay thy revengeful hand. Thou hast no cause to fear.
YORK.[Within.] Open the door, secure, foolhardy king!Shall I for love speak treason to thy face?Open the door, or I will break it open.
[King Henryunlocks the door; and afterwards, relocks it.]
EnterYork.
KING HENRY.What is the matter, uncle? Speak!Recover breath. Tell us how near is danger,That we may arm us to encounter it.
YORK.Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt knowThe treason that my haste forbids me show.
AUMERLE.Remember, as thou read’st, thy promise passed.I do repent me. Read not my name there;My heart is not confederate with my hand.
YORK.It was, villain, ere thy hand did set it down.I tore it from the traitor’s bosom, king.Fear, and not love, begets his penitence.Forget to pity him, lest thy pity proveA serpent that will sting thee to the heart.
KING HENRY.O heinous, strong, and bold conspiracy!O loyal father of a treacherous son!Thou sheer, immaculate, and silver fountainFrom whence this stream through muddy passagesHath held his current and defiled himself!Thy overflow of good converts to bad,And thy abundant goodness shall excuseThis deadly blot in thy digressing son.
YORK.So shall my virtue be his vice’s bawd,And he shall spend mine honour with his shame,As thriftless sons their scraping fathers’ gold.Mine honour lives when his dishonour dies,Or my shamed life in his dishonour lies.Thou kill’st me in his life: giving him breath,The traitor lives, the true man’s put to death.
DUCHESS.[Within.] What ho, my liege! For God’s sake, let me in!
KING HENRY.What shrill-voiced suppliant makes this eager cry?
DUCHESS.[Within.] A woman, and thine aunt, great king, ’tis I.Speak with me, pity me, open the door!A beggar begs that never begged before.
KING HENRY.Our scene is altered from a serious thing,And now changed to “The Beggar and the King.”My dangerous cousin, let your mother in.I know she’s come to pray for your foul sin.
EnterDuchess.
YORK.If thou do pardon whosoever pray,More sins for this forgiveness prosper may.This festered joint cut off, the rest rest sound;This let alone will all the rest confound.
DUCHESS.O King, believe not this hard-hearted man.Love loving not itself none other can.
YORK.Thou frantic woman, what dost thou make here?Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear?
DUCHESS.Sweet York, be patient. [Kneels.] Hear me, gentle liege.
KING HENRY.Rise up, good aunt.
DUCHESS.Not yet, I thee beseech.For ever will I walk upon my kneesAnd never see day that the happy sees,Till thou give joy, until thou bid me joyBy pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy.
AUMERLE.Unto my mother’s prayers I bend my knee.
[Kneels.]
YORK.Against them both, my true joints bended be.
[Kneels.]
Ill mayst thou thrive if thou grant any grace!
DUCHESS.Pleads he in earnest? Look upon his face.His eyes do drop no tears, his prayers are in jest;His words come from his mouth, ours from our breast.He prays but faintly and would be denied;We pray with heart and soul and all beside:His weary joints would gladly rise, I know;Our knees still kneel till to the ground they grow.His prayers are full of false hypocrisy;Ours of true zeal and deep integrity.Our prayers do outpray his; then let them haveThat mercy which true prayer ought to have.
KING HENRY.Good aunt, stand up.
DUCHESS.Nay, do not say “stand up”.Say “pardon” first, and afterwards “stand up”.An if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach,“Pardon” should be the first word of thy speech.I never longed to hear a word till now.Say “pardon,” king; let pity teach thee how.The word is short, but not so short as sweet;No word like “pardon” for kings’ mouths so meet.
YORK.Speak it in French, King, say “pardonne moy.”
DUCHESS.Dost thou teach pardon pardon to destroy?Ah! my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord,That sets the word itself against the word!Speak “pardon” as ’tis current in our land;The chopping French we do not understand.Thine eye begins to speak, set thy tongue there,Or in thy piteous heart plant thou thine ear,That, hearing how our plaints and prayers do pierce,Pity may move thee “pardon” to rehearse.
KING HENRY.Good aunt, stand up.
DUCHESS.I do not sue to stand.Pardon is all the suit I have in hand.
KING HENRY.I pardon him, as God shall pardon me.
DUCHESS.O, happy vantage of a kneeling knee!Yet am I sick for fear. Speak it again,Twice saying “pardon” doth not pardon twain,But makes one pardon strong.
KING HENRY.With all my heartI pardon him.
DUCHESS.A god on earth thou art.
KING HENRY.But for our trusty brother-in-law and the Abbot,With all the rest of that consorted crew,Destruction straight shall dog them at the heels.Good uncle, help to order several powersTo Oxford, or where’er these traitors are;They shall not live within this world, I swear,But I will have them, if I once know where.Uncle, farewell, and cousin, adieu.Your mother well hath prayed, and prove you true.
DUCHESS.Come, my old son. I pray God make thee new.
[Exeunt.]
EnterExtonand aServant.
EXTON.Didst thou not mark the King, what words he spake:“Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear?”Was it not so?
SERVANT.These were his very words.
EXTON.“Have I no friend?” quoth he. He spake it twiceAnd urged it twice together, did he not?
SERVANT.He did.
EXTON.And speaking it, he wishtly looked on me,As who should say “I would thou wert the manThat would divorce this terror from my heart”,Meaning the king at Pomfret. Come, let’s go.I am the King’s friend, and will rid his foe.
[Exeunt.]
EnterRichard.
RICHARD.I have been studying how I may compareThis prison where I live unto the world;And for because the world is populousAnd here is not a creature but myself,I cannot do it. Yet I’ll hammer it out.My brain I’ll prove the female to my soul,My soul the father, and these two begetA generation of still-breeding thoughts,And these same thoughts people this little world,In humours like the people of this world,For no thought is contented. The better sort,As thoughts of things divine, are intermixedWith scruples, and do set the word itselfAgainst the word, as thus: “Come, little ones”;And then again:“It is as hard to come as for a camelTo thread the postern of a needle’s eye.”Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plotUnlikely wonders: how these vain weak nailsMay tear a passage through the flinty ribsOf this hard world, my ragged prison walls,And, for they cannot, die in their own pride.Thoughts tending to content flatter themselvesThat they are not the first of fortune’s slaves,Nor shall not be the last, like silly beggarsWho sitting in the stocks refuge their shameThat many have and others must sit there;And in this thought they find a kind of ease,Bearing their own misfortunes on the backOf such as have before endured the like.Thus play I in one person many people,And none contented. Sometimes am I king;Then treasons make me wish myself a beggar,And so I am. Then crushing penuryPersuades me I was better when a king;Then am I kinged again, and by and byThink that I am unkinged by Bolingbroke,And straight am nothing. But whate’er I be,Nor I nor any man that but man isWith nothing shall be pleased till he be easedWith being nothing.Music do I hear? [Music.]Ha, ha! keep time! How sour sweet music isWhen time is broke and no proportion kept!So is it in the music of men’s lives.And here have I the daintiness of earTo check time broke in a disordered string;But for the concord of my state and timeHad not an ear to hear my true time broke.I wasted time, and now doth time waste me;For now hath time made me his numb’ring clock.My thoughts are minutes, and with sighs they jarTheir watches on unto mine eyes, the outward watch,Whereto my finger, like a dial’s point,Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears.Now, sir, the sound that tells what hour it isAre clamorous groans which strike upon my heart,Which is the bell. So sighs and tears and groansShow minutes, times, and hours. But my timeRuns posting on in Bolingbroke’s proud joy,While I stand fooling here, his Jack o’ the clock.This music mads me! Let it sound no more;For though it have holp madmen to their wits,In me it seems it will make wise men mad.Yet blessing on his heart that gives it me,For ’tis a sign of love; and love to RichardIs a strange brooch in this all-hating world.
Enter aGroomof the stable.
GROOM.Hail, royal Prince!
RICHARD.Thanks, noble peer.The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear.What art thou, and how comest thou hitherWhere no man never comes but that sad dogThat brings me food to make misfortune live?
GROOM.I was a poor groom of thy stable, king,When thou wert king; who, travelling towards York,With much ado at length have gotten leaveTo look upon my sometimes royal master’s face.O, how it erned my heart when I beheldIn London streets, that coronation day,When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary,That horse that thou so often hast bestrid,That horse that I so carefully have dressed.
RICHARD.Rode he on Barbary? Tell me, gentle friend,How went he under him?
GROOM.So proudly as if he disdained the ground.
RICHARD.So proud that Bolingbroke was on his back!That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand;This hand hath made him proud with clapping him.Would he not stumble? Would he not fall down,Since pride must have a fall, and break the neckOf that proud man that did usurp his back?Forgiveness, horse! Why do I rail on thee,Since thou, created to be awed by man,Wast born to bear? I was not made a horse,And yet I bear a burden like an ass,Spurred, galled and tired by jauncing Bolingbroke.
EnterKeeperwith a dish.
KEEPER. [To the Groom.]Fellow, give place. Here is no longer stay.
RICHARD.If thou love me, ’tis time thou wert away.
GROOM.My tongue dares not, that my heart shall say.
[Exit.]
KEEPER.My lord, will’t please you to fall to?
RICHARD.Taste of it first as thou art wont to do.
KEEPER.My lord, I dare not. Sir Pierce of Exton,Who lately came from the King, commands the contrary.
RICHARD.The devil take Henry of Lancaster and thee!Patience is stale, and I am weary of it.
[Strikes the Keeper.]
KEEPER.Help, help, help!
EnterExtonand Servants, armed.
RICHARD.How now! What means death in this rude assault?Villain, thy own hand yields thy death’s instrument.
[Snatching a weapon and killing one.]
Go thou and fill another room in hell.
[He kills another, thenExtonstrikes him down.]
That hand shall burn in never-quenching fireThat staggers thus my person. Exton, thy fierce handHath with the King’s blood stained the King’s own land.Mount, mount, my soul! Thy seat is up on high,Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here to die.
[Dies.]
EXTON.As full of valour as of royal blood!Both have I spilled. O, would the deed were good!For now the devil that told me I did wellSays that this deed is chronicled in hell.This dead king to the living king I’ll bear.Take hence the rest, and give them burial here.
[Exeunt.]
Flourish. EnterKing HenryandYorkwith Lords and Attendants.
KING HENRY.Kind uncle York, the latest news we hearIs that the rebels have consumed with fireOur town of Cicester in Gloucestershire,But whether they be ta’en or slain we hear not.
EnterNorthumberland.
Welcome, my lord. What is the news?
NORTHUMBERLAND.First, to thy sacred state wish I all happiness.The next news is: I have to London sentThe heads of Salisbury, Spencer, Blunt, and Kent.The manner of their taking may appearAt large discoursed in this paper here.
KING HENRY.We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains,And to thy worth will add right worthy gains.
EnterFitzwater.
FITZWATER.My lord, I have from Oxford sent to LondonThe heads of Brocas and Sir Bennet Seely,Two of the dangerous consorted traitorsThat sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow.
KING HENRY.Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be forgot.Right noble is thy merit, well I wot.
EnterHarry Percywith theBishop of Carlisle.
PERCY.The grand conspirator, Abbot of Westminster,With clog of conscience and sour melancholy,Hath yielded up his body to the grave.But here is Carlisle living, to abideThy kingly doom and sentence of his pride.
KING HENRY.Carlisle, this is your doom:Choose out some secret place, some reverend room,More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life.So as thou liv’st in peace, die free from strife;For though mine enemy thou hast ever been,High sparks of honour in thee have I seen.
EnterExtonwith attendants, bearing a coffin.
EXTON.Great king, within this coffin I presentThy buried fear. Herein all breathless liesThe mightiest of thy greatest enemies,Richard of Bordeaux, by me hither brought.
KING HENRY.Exton, I thank thee not, for thou hast wroughtA deed of slander with thy fatal handUpon my head and all this famous land.
EXTON.From your own mouth, my lord, did I this deed.
KING HENRY.They love not poison that do poison need,Nor do I thee. Though I did wish him dead,I hate the murderer, love him murdered.The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour,But neither my good word nor princely favour.With Cain go wander thorough shades of night,And never show thy head by day nor light.Lords, I protest my soul is full of woeThat blood should sprinkle me to make me grow.Come, mourn with me for what I do lament,And put on sullen black incontinent.I’ll make a voyage to the Holy LandTo wash this blood off from my guilty hand.March sadly after; grace my mournings hereIn weeping after this untimely bier.
[Exeunt.]