Richard II William Shakespeare Barbara A. Mowat Paul Werstine Edited for XML and encoded by Michael Poston Rebecca Niles Text released without textual notes Folger Shakespeare Library R2
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Distributed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License July, 2016 The Folger Shakespeare (formerly Folger Digital Texts) William Shakespeare The Tragedy of Richard II Barbara A. Mowat Paul Werstine New York Washington Square Press 2005 William Shakespeare The Tragedy of Richard II Barbara A. Mowat Paul Werstine New York Washington Square Press 1996 Adobe Digital Edition The most current version of the text

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 English French Italian Latin Spanish King Richard II male Richard’s friends Sir John Bushy male Sir John Bagot male Sir Henry Green male Richard’s Queen female

Queen’s Ladies-in-waiting

 John of Gaunt

Duke of Lancaster

 male Henry Bolingbroke

Duke of Hereford, son to John of Gaunt,and later King Henry IV

 male Duchess of Gloucester

widow to Thomas, Duke of Gloucester

 female Edmund, Duke of York male Duchess of York female Duke of Aumerle

Earl of Rutland, son to Duke and Duchess of York

 male

York’s Servingmen

 Thomas Mowbray

Duke of Norfolk

 male officials in trial by combat Lord Marshal male First Herald male Second Herald male supporters of King Richard Earl of Salisbury male Bishop of Carlisle male Sir Stephen Scroop male Lord Berkeley male Abbot of Westminster male Welsh Captain male supporters ofBolingbroke Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland male Lord Ross male Lord Willoughby male Harry Percy male

son of Northumberland,later known as “Hotspur”

 Lord Fitzwater male Duke of Surrey male Another Lord male Gardener male

Gardener’s Servingmen

 Groom of Richard’s stable male Keeper of prison at Pomfret Castle male Sir Pierce of Exton male

Servingmen to Exton

 Lords, Attendants, Officers, Soldiers, Servingmen, Exton’s Men Version 0.9.2.1 released. Minor correction to #FromTheDirector. Version 0.9.2 released Identified turnunders (verse lines split because they could not fit on the previous line in the print edition). Updated #p0001700, #p0002770, #p0003920, #p0005510, #p0006690, #p0007790, #p0011120, #p0023130, #p0023780, #p0030370, #p0031940, #p0036220, #p0037270, #p0047360, #p0057080, #p0062440, #p0070880, #p0103360, #p0105180, #p0110520, #p0112110, #p0115220, #p0117590, #p0122210, #p0171300, #p0174800, #p0174900, #p0199790, #p0203850, #p0209680, #p0241990, #p0243080, #p0245430, #p0269030, #p0272720, #p0288880, #p0297430, #p0320610, #p0368630, #p0380370, #p0410990, #p0426860, #p0427540, #p0431900, #p0433480, #p0438690, #p0441870, #p0459940. Combined "coal-black": #w0382210 #c0382220 #w0382230. Version 0.9.0 released.

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Until now, with the release of The Folger Shakespeare (formerly Folger Digital Texts), readers in search of a free online text of Shakespeare’s plays had to be content primarily with using the Moby™ Text, which reproduces a late-nineteenth century version of the plays. What is the difference? Many ordinary readers assume that there is a single text for the plays: what Shakespeare wrote. But Shakespeare’s plays were not published the way modern novels or plays are published today: as a single, authoritative text. In some cases, the plays have come down to us in multiple published versions, represented by various Quartos (Qq) and by the great collection put together by his colleagues in 1623, called the First Folio (F). There are, for example, three very different versions of Hamlet, two of King Lear, Henry V, Romeo and Juliet, and others. Editors choose which version to use as their base text, and then amend that text with words, lines or speech prefixes from the other versions that, in their judgment, make for a better or more accurate text.

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In Richard II, anger at a king’s arbitrary rule leads to his downfall—and sets in motion a decades-long struggle for the crown that continues in several more history plays.

Richard II begins as Richard’s cousin, Henry Bolingbroke, charges Thomas Mowbray with serious crimes, including the murder of the Duke of Gloucester. Bolingbroke’s father, John of Gaunt, privately blames the king for Gloucester’s death. At Richard’s command, Bolingbroke and Mowbray prepare for a trial by combat. The king halts the fight at the last minute, banishing both men from England.

When John of Gaunt dies, Richard seizes his possessions to help finance a war in Ireland, thus dispossessing Bolingbroke. Bolingbroke returns to England, quickly gathering support. By the time Richard returns from Ireland, many of his former allies have joined Bolingbroke. Richard abdicates, yielding the crown to Bolingbroke.

Richard is held at Pomfret Castle and Bolingbroke becomes King Henry IV. A murder plot against him is uncovered and stopped. Richard is murdered by a follower of Henry.

 ACT 1 Scene 1 Enter King Richard , John of Gaunt , with other Nobles and Attendants . KING RICHARD Old John of Gaunt , time-honored Lancaster , Hast thou , according to thy oath and band , Brought hither Henry Hereford , thy bold son , Here to make good the boist’rous late appeal , Which then our leisure would not let us hear , Against the Duke of Norfolk , Thomas Mowbray ? GAUNT I have , my liege . KING RICHARD Tell me , moreover , hast thou sounded him If he appeal the Duke on ancient malice , Or worthily , as a good subject should , On some known ground of treachery in him ? GAUNT As near as I could sift him on that argument , On some apparent danger seen in him Aimed at your Highness , no inveterate malice . KING RICHARD Then call them to our presence . An Attendant exits . Face to face , And frowning brow to brow , ourselves will hear ACT 1. SC. 1 The accuser and the accusèd freely speak . High stomached are they both and full of ire , In rage deaf as the sea , hasty as fire . Enter Bolingbroke and Mowbray . BOLINGBROKE Many years of happy days befall My gracious sovereign , my most loving liege . MOWBRAY Each day still better other’s happiness , Until the heavens , envying earth’s good hap , Add an immortal title to your crown . KING RICHARD We thank you both . Yet one but flatters us , As well appeareth by the cause you come : Namely , to appeal each other of high treason . Cousin of Hereford , what dost thou object Against the Duke of Norfolk , Thomas Mowbray ? BOLINGBROKE First — heaven be the record to my speech ! — In the devotion of a subject’s love , Tend’ring the precious safety of my prince , And free from other misbegotten hate , Come I appellant to this princely presence . — Now , Thomas Mowbray , do I turn to thee ; And mark my greeting well , for what I speak My body shall make good upon this earth Or my divine soul answer it in heaven . Thou art a traitor and a miscreant , Too good to be so , and too bad to live , Since the more fair and crystal is the sky , The uglier seem the clouds that in it fly . Once more , the more to aggravate the note , With a foul traitor’s name stuff I thy throat , And wish , so please my sovereign , ere I move , ACT 1. SC. 1 What my tongue speaks , my right-drawn sword may prove . MOWBRAY Let not my cold words here accuse my zeal . ’Tis not the trial of a woman’s war , The bitter clamor of two eager tongues , Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain . The blood is hot that must be cooled for this . Yet can I not of such tame patience boast As to be hushed and naught at all to say . First , the fair reverence of your Highness curbs me From giving reins and spurs to my free speech , Which else would post until it had returned These terms of treason doubled down his throat . Setting aside his high blood’s royalty , And let him be no kinsman to my liege , I do defy him , and I spit at him , Call him a slanderous coward and a villain , Which to maintain I would allow him odds And meet him , were I tied to run afoot Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps Or any other ground inhabitable Wherever Englishman durst set his foot . Meantime , let this defend my loyalty : By all my hopes , most falsely doth he lie . BOLINGBROKE , throwing down a gage Pale trembling coward , there I throw my gage , Disclaiming here the kindred of the King , And lay aside my high blood’s royalty , Which fear , not reverence , makes thee to except . If guilty dread have left thee so much strength As to take up mine honor’s pawn , then stoop . By that and all the rites of knighthood else Will I make good against thee , arm to arm , What I have spoke or thou canst worse devise . ACT 1. SC. 1 MOWBRAY , picking up the gage I take it up , and by that sword I swear Which gently laid my knighthood on my shoulder , I’ll answer thee in any fair degree Or chivalrous design of knightly trial ; And when I mount , alive may I not light If I be traitor or unjustly fight . KING RICHARD What doth our cousin lay to Mowbray’s charge ? It must be great that can inherit us So much as of a thought of ill in him . BOLINGBROKE Look what I speak , my life shall prove it true : That Mowbray hath received eight thousand nobles In name of lendings for your Highness’ soldiers , The which he hath detained for lewd employments , Like a false traitor and injurious villain . Besides I say , and will in battle prove , Or here or elsewhere to the furthest verge That ever was surveyed by English eye , That all the treasons for these eighteen years Complotted and contrivèd in this land Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and spring . Further I say , and further will maintain Upon his bad life to make all this good , That he did plot the Duke of Gloucester’s death , Suggest his soon-believing adversaries , And consequently , like a traitor coward , Sluiced out his innocent soul through streams of blood , Which blood , like sacrificing Abel’s , cries Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth To me for justice and rough chastisement . And , by the glorious worth of my descent , This arm shall do it , or this life be spent . ACT 1. SC. 1 KING RICHARD How high a pitch his resolution soars ! — Thomas of Norfolk , what sayst thou to this ? MOWBRAY O , let my sovereign turn away his face And bid his ears a little while be deaf , Till I have told this slander of his blood How God and good men hate so foul a liar . KING RICHARD Mowbray , impartial are our eyes and ears . Were he my brother , nay , my kingdom’s heir , As he is but my father’s brother’s son , Now by my scepter’s awe I make a vow : Such neighbor nearness to our sacred blood Should nothing privilege him nor partialize The unstooping firmness of my upright soul . He is our subject , Mowbray ; so art thou . Free speech and fearless I to thee allow . MOWBRAY Then , Bolingbroke , as low as to thy heart , Through the false passage of thy throat , thou liest . Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais Disbursed I duly to his Highness’ soldiers ; The other part reserved I by consent , For that my sovereign liege was in my debt Upon remainder of a dear account Since last I went to France to fetch his queen . Now swallow down that lie . For Gloucester’s death , I slew him not , but to my own disgrace Neglected my sworn duty in that case . — For you , my noble Lord of Lancaster , The honorable father to my foe , Once did I lay an ambush for your life , A trespass that doth vex my grievèd soul . But ere I last received the sacrament , I did confess it , and exactly begged ACT 1. SC. 1 Your Grace’s pardon , and I hope I had it . — This is my fault . As for the rest appealed , It issues from the rancor of a villain , A recreant , and most degenerate traitor , Which in myself I boldly will defend , And interchangeably hurl down my gage Upon this overweening traitor’s foot , He throws down a gage . To prove myself a loyal gentleman , Even in the best blood chambered in his bosom ; In haste whereof most heartily I pray Your Highness to assign our trial day . Bolingbroke picks up the gage . KING RICHARD Wrath-kindled gentlemen , be ruled by me . Let’s purge this choler without letting blood . This we prescribe , though no physician . Deep malice makes too deep incision . Forget , forgive ; conclude and be agreed . Our doctors say this is no month to bleed . — Good uncle , let this end where it begun ; We’ll calm the Duke of Norfolk , you your son . GAUNT To be a make-peace shall become my age . — Throw down , my son , the Duke of Norfolk’s gage . KING RICHARD And , Norfolk , throw down his . GAUNT When , Harry , when ? Obedience bids I should not bid again . KING RICHARD Norfolk , throw down , we bid ; there is no boot . MOWBRAY Myself I throw , dread sovereign , at thy foot . Mowbray kneels . My life thou shalt command , but not my shame . The one my duty owes , but my fair name , ACT 1. SC. 1 Despite of death that lives upon my grave , To dark dishonor’s use thou shalt not have . I am disgraced , impeached , and baffled here , Pierced to the soul with slander’s venomed spear , The which no balm can cure but his heart-blood Which breathed this poison . KING RICHARD Rage must be withstood . Give me his gage . Lions make leopards tame . MOWBRAY , standing Yea , but not change his spots . Take but my shame And I resign my gage . My dear dear lord , The purest treasure mortal times afford Is spotless reputation ; that away , Men are but gilded loam or painted clay . A jewel in a ten-times-barred-up chest Is a bold spirit in a loyal breast . Mine honor is my life ; both grow in one . Take honor from me , and my life is done . Then , dear my liege , mine honor let me try . In that I live , and for that will I die . KING RICHARD , to Bolingbroke Cousin , throw up your gage . Do you begin . BOLINGBROKE O , God defend my soul from such deep sin ! Shall I seem crestfallen in my father’s sight ? Or with pale beggar-fear impeach my height Before this out-dared dastard ? Ere my tongue Shall wound my honor with such feeble wrong , Or sound so base a parle , my teeth shall tear The slavish motive of recanting fear And spit it bleeding in his high disgrace , Where shame doth harbor , even in Mowbray’s face . KING RICHARD We were not born to sue , but to command , Which , since we cannot do , to make you friends , Be ready , as your lives shall answer it , ACT 1. SC. 2 At Coventry upon Saint Lambert’s day . There shall your swords and lances arbitrate The swelling difference of your settled hate . Since we cannot atone you , we shall see Justice design the victor’s chivalry . — Lord Marshal , command our officers-at-arms Be ready to direct these home alarms . They exit . Scene 2 Enter John of Gaunt with the Duchess of Gloucester . GAUNT Alas , the part I had in Woodstock’s blood Doth more solicit me than your exclaims To stir against the butchers of his life . But since correction lieth in those hands Which made the fault that we cannot correct , Put we our quarrel to the will of heaven , Who , when they see the hours ripe on Earth earth , Will rain hot vengeance on offenders’ heads . DUCHESS Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper spur ? Hath love in thy old blood no living fire ? Edward’s seven sons , whereof thyself art one , Were as seven vials of his sacred blood , Or seven fair branches springing from one root . Some of those seven are dried by nature’s course , Some of those branches by the Destinies cut . But Thomas , my dear lord , my life , my Gloucester , One vial full of Edward’s sacred blood , One flourishing branch of his most royal root , Is cracked , and all the precious liquor spilt , Is hacked down , and his summer leaves all faded , By envy’s hand and murder’s bloody ax . ACT 1. SC. 2 Ah , Gaunt , his blood was thine ! That bed , that womb , That metal , that self mold that fashioned thee Made him a man ; and though thou livest and breathest , Yet art thou slain in him . Thou dost consent In some large measure to thy father’s death In that thou seest thy wretched brother die , Who was the model of thy father’s life . Call it not patience , Gaunt . It is despair . In suff’ring thus thy brother to be slaughtered , Thou showest the naked pathway to thy life , Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee . That which in mean men we entitle patience Is pale , cold cowardice in noble breasts . What shall I say ? To safeguard thine own life , The best way is to venge my Gloucester’s death . GAUNT God’s is the quarrel ; for God’s substitute , His deputy anointed in His sight , Hath caused his death , the which if wrongfully Let heaven revenge , for I may never lift An angry arm against His minister . DUCHESS Where , then , alas , may I complain myself ? GAUNT To God , the widow’s champion and defense . DUCHESS Why then I will . Farewell , old Gaunt . Thou goest to Coventry , there to behold Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight . O , sit my husband’s wrongs on Hereford’s spear , That it may enter butcher Mowbray’s breast ! Or if misfortune miss the first career , Be Mowbray’s sins so heavy in his bosom ACT 1. SC. 3 That they may break his foaming courser’s back And throw the rider headlong in the lists , A caitiff recreant to my cousin Hereford ! Farewell , old Gaunt . Thy sometime brother’s wife With her companion , grief , must end her life . GAUNT Sister , farewell . I must to Coventry . As much good stay with thee as go with me . DUCHESS Yet one word more . Grief boundeth where it falls , Not with the empty hollowness , but weight . I take my leave before I have begun , For sorrow ends not when it seemeth done . Commend me to thy brother , Edmund York . Lo , this is all . Nay , yet depart not so ! Though this be all , do not so quickly go ; I shall remember more . Bid him — ah , what ? — With all good speed at Plashy visit me . Alack , and what shall good old York there see But empty lodgings and unfurnished walls , Unpeopled offices , untrodden stones ? And what hear there for welcome but my groans ? Therefore commend me ; let him not come there To seek out sorrow that dwells everywhere . Desolate , desolate , will I hence and die . The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye . They exit . Scene 3 Enter Lord Marshal and the Duke of Aumerle . MARSHAL My Lord Aumerle , is Harry Hereford armed ? AUMERLE Yea , at all points , and longs to enter in . ACT 1. SC. 3 MARSHAL The Duke of Norfolk , sprightfully and bold , Stays but the summons of the appellant’s trumpet . AUMERLE Why then , the champions are prepared , and stay For nothing but his Majesty’s approach . The trumpets sound and the King enters with his Nobles and Officers ; when they are set , enter Mowbray , the Duke of Norfolk in arms , defendant , with a Herald . KING RICHARD Marshal , demand of yonder champion The cause of his arrival here in arms , Ask him his name , and orderly proceed To swear him in the justice of his cause . MARSHAL , to Mowbray In God’s name and the King’s , say who thou art And why thou comest thus knightly clad in arms , Against what man thou com’st , and what thy quarrel . Speak truly on thy knighthood and thy oath , As so defend thee heaven and thy valor . MOWBRAY My name is Thomas Mowbray , Duke of Norfolk , Who hither come engagèd by my oath — Which God defend a knight should violate ! — Both to defend my loyalty and truth To God , my king , and my succeeding issue , Against the Duke of Hereford that appeals me , And by the grace of God and this mine arm To prove him , in defending of myself , A traitor to my God , my king , and me ; And as I truly fight , defend me heaven . The trumpets sound . Enter Bolingbroke , Duke of Hereford , appellant , in armor , with a Herald . KING RICHARD Marshal , ask yonder knight in arms ACT 1. SC. 3 Both who he is and why he cometh hither Thus plated in habiliments of war , And formally , according to our law , Depose him in the justice of his cause . MARSHAL , to Bolingbroke What is thy name ? And wherefore com’st thou hither , Before King Richard in his royal lists ? Against whom comest thou ? And what’s thy quarrel ? Speak like a true knight , so defend thee heaven . BOLINGBROKE Harry of Hereford , Lancaster , and Derby Am I , who ready here do stand in arms To prove , by God’s grace and my body’s valor , In lists , on Thomas Mowbray , Duke of Norfolk , That he is a traitor foul and dangerous To God of heaven , King Richard , and to me . And as I truly fight , defend me heaven . MARSHAL On pain of death , no person be so bold Or daring-hardy as to touch the lists , Except the Marshal and such officers Appointed to direct these fair designs . BOLINGBROKE Lord Marshal , let me kiss my sovereign’s hand And bow my knee before his Majesty ; For Mowbray and myself are like two men That vow a long and weary pilgrimage . Then let us take a ceremonious leave And loving farewell of our several friends . MARSHAL , to King Richard The appellant in all duty greets your Highness And craves to kiss your hand and take his leave . KING RICHARD , coming down We will descend and fold him in our arms . He embraces Bolingbroke . Cousin of Hereford , as thy cause is right , ACT 1. SC. 3 So be thy fortune in this royal fight . Farewell , my blood — which , if today thou shed , Lament we may , but not revenge thee dead . BOLINGBROKE O , let no noble eye profane a tear For me if I be gored with Mowbray’s spear . As confident as is the falcon’s flight Against a bird do I with Mowbray fight . My loving lord , I take my leave of you . — Of you , my noble cousin , Lord Aumerle ; Not sick , although I have to do with death , But lusty , young , and cheerly drawing breath . — Lo , as at English feasts , so I regreet The daintiest last , to make the end most sweet . O , thou the earthly author of my blood , Whose youthful spirit in me regenerate Doth with a twofold vigor lift me up To reach at victory above my head , Add proof unto mine armor with thy prayers , And with thy blessings steel my lance’s point That it may enter Mowbray’s waxen coat And furbish new the name of John o’ Gaunt , Even in the lusty havior of his son . GAUNT God in thy good cause make thee prosperous . Be swift like lightning in the execution , And let thy blows , doubly redoubled , Fall like amazing thunder on the casque Of thy adverse pernicious enemy . Rouse up thy youthful blood , be valiant , and live . BOLINGBROKE Mine innocence and Saint George to thrive ! MOWBRAY However God or fortune cast my lot , There lives or dies , true to King Richard’s throne , A loyal , just , and upright gentleman . ACT 1. SC. 3 Never did captive with a freer heart Cast off his chains of bondage and embrace His golden uncontrolled enfranchisement More than my dancing soul doth celebrate This feast of battle with mine adversary . Most mighty liege , and my companion peers , Take from my mouth the wish of happy years . As gentle and as jocund as to jest Go I to fight . Truth hath a quiet breast . KING RICHARD Farewell , my lord . Securely I espy Virtue with valor couchèd in thine eye . — Order the trial , marshal , and begin . MARSHAL Harry of Hereford , Lancaster , and Derby , Receive thy lance ; and God defend the right . He presents a lance to Bolingbroke . BOLINGBROKE Strong as a tower in hope , I cry Amen ! MARSHAL , to an Officer Go bear this lance to Thomas , Duke of Norfolk . An Officer presents a lance to Mowbray . FIRST HERALD Harry of Hereford , Lancaster , and Derby Stands here for God , his sovereign , and himself , On pain to be found false and recreant , To prove the Duke of Norfolk , Thomas Mowbray , A traitor to his God , his king , and him , And dares him to set forward to the fight . SECOND HERALD Here standeth Thomas Mowbray , Duke of Norfolk , On pain to be found false and recreant , Both to defend himself and to approve Henry of Hereford , Lancaster , and Derby To God , his sovereign , and to him disloyal , ACT 1. SC. 3 Courageously and with a free desire Attending but the signal to begin . MARSHAL Sound , trumpets , and set forward , combatants . Trumpets sound . Richard throws down his warder . Stay ! The King hath thrown his warder down . KING RICHARD Let them lay by their helmets and their spears , And both return back to their chairs again . To his council . Withdraw with us , and let the trumpets sound While we return these dukes what we decree . Trumpets sound while Richard consults with Gaunt and other Nobles . To Bolingbroke and Mowbray . Draw near , And list what with our council we have done . For that our kingdom’s earth should not be soiled With that dear blood which it hath fosterèd ; And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect Of civil wounds plowed up with neighbor’s sword ; And for we think the eagle-wingèd pride Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts , With rival-hating envy , set on you To wake our peace , which in our country’s cradle Draws the sweet infant breath of gentle sleep , Which , so roused up with boist’rous untuned drums , With harsh resounding trumpets’ dreadful bray , And grating shock of wrathful iron arms , Might from our quiet confines fright fair peace And make us wade even in our kindred’s blood : Therefore we banish you our territories . You , cousin Hereford , upon pain of life , Till twice five summers have enriched our fields , Shall not regreet our fair dominions , But tread the stranger paths of banishment . ACT 1. SC. 3 BOLINGBROKE Your will be done . This must my comfort be : That sun that warms you here shall shine on me , And those his golden beams to you here lent Shall point on me and gild my banishment . KING RICHARD Norfolk , for thee remains a heavier doom , Which I with some unwillingness pronounce : The sly , slow hours shall not determinate The dateless limit of thy dear exile . The hopeless word of never to return Breathe I against thee , upon pain of life . MOWBRAY A heavy sentence , my most sovereign liege , And all unlooked-for from your Highness’ mouth . A dearer merit , not so deep a maim As to be cast forth in the common air , Have I deservèd at your Highness’ hands . The language I have learnt these forty years , My native English , now I must forgo ; And now my tongue’s use is to me no more Than an unstringèd viol or a harp , Or like a cunning instrument cased up , Or , being open , put into his hands That knows no touch to tune the harmony . Within my mouth you have enjailed my tongue , Doubly portcullised with my teeth and lips , And dull unfeeling barren ignorance Is made my jailor to attend on me . I am too old to fawn upon a nurse , Too far in years to be a pupil now . What is thy sentence then but speechless death , Which robs my tongue from breathing native breath ? KING RICHARD It boots thee not to be compassionate . After our sentence plaining comes too late . ACT 1. SC. 3 MOWBRAY Then thus I turn me from my country’s light , To dwell in solemn shades of endless night . He begins to exit . KING RICHARD Return again , and take an oath with thee . To Mowbray and Bolingbroke . Lay on our royal sword your banished hands . They place their right hands on the hilts of Richard’s sword . Swear by the duty that you owe to God — Our part therein we banish with yourselves — To keep the oath that we administer : You never shall , so help you truth and God , Embrace each other’s love in banishment , Nor never look upon each other’s face , Nor never write , regreet , nor reconcile This louring tempest of your homebred hate , Nor never by advisèd purpose meet To plot , contrive , or complot any ill ’Gainst us , our state , our subjects , or our land . BOLINGBROKE I swear . MOWBRAY And I , to keep all this . They step back . BOLINGBROKE Norfolk , so far as to mine enemy : By this time , had the King permitted us , One of our souls had wandered in the air , Banished this frail sepulcher of our flesh , As now our flesh is banished from this land . Confess thy treasons ere thou fly the realm . Since thou hast far to go , bear not along The clogging burden of a guilty soul . MOWBRAY No , Bolingbroke ; if ever I were traitor , My name be blotted from the book of life , ACT 1. SC. 3 And I from heaven banished as from hence . But what thou art , God , thou , and I do know , And all too soon , I fear , the King shall rue . — Farewell , my liege . Now no way can I stray ; Save back to England , all the world’s my way . He exits . KING RICHARD , to Gaunt Uncle , even in the glasses of thine eyes I see thy grievèd heart . Thy sad aspect Hath from the number of his banished years Plucked four away . To Bolingbroke . Six frozen winters spent , Return with welcome home from banishment . BOLINGBROKE How long a time lies in one little word ! Four lagging winters and four wanton springs End in a word ; such is the breath of kings . GAUNT I thank my liege that in regard of me He shortens four years of my son’s exile . But little vantage shall I reap thereby ; For , ere the six years that he hath to spend Can change their moons and bring their times about , My oil-dried lamp and time-bewasted light Shall be extinct with age and endless night ; My inch of taper will be burnt and done , And blindfold death not let me see my son . KING RICHARD Why , uncle , thou hast many years to live . GAUNT But not a minute , king , that thou canst give . Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow , And pluck nights from me , but not lend a morrow . Thou canst help time to furrow me with age , But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage . ACT 1. SC. 3 Thy word is current with him for my death , But dead , thy kingdom cannot buy my breath . KING RICHARD Thy son is banished upon good advice , Whereto thy tongue a party verdict gave . Why at our justice seem’st thou then to lour ? GAUNT Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour . You urged me as a judge , but I had rather You would have bid me argue like a father . O , had it been a stranger , not my child , To smooth his fault I should have been more mild . A partial slander sought I to avoid , And in the sentence my own life destroyed . Alas , I looked when some of you should say I was too strict , to make mine own away . But you gave leave to my unwilling tongue Against my will to do myself this wrong . KING RICHARD , to Bolingbroke Cousin , farewell . — And , uncle , bid him so . Six years we banish him , and he shall go . Flourish . King Richard exits with his Attendants . AUMERLE , to Bolingbroke Cousin , farewell . What presence must not know , From where you do remain let paper show . MARSHAL , to Bolingbroke My lord , no leave take I , for I will ride , As far as land will let me , by your side . GAUNT , to Bolingbroke O , to what purpose dost thou hoard thy words , That thou returnest no greeting to thy friends ? BOLINGBROKE I have too few to take my leave of you , When the tongue’s office should be prodigal To breathe the abundant dolor of the heart . ACT 1. SC. 3 GAUNT Thy grief is but thy absence for a time . BOLINGBROKE Joy absent , grief is present for that time . GAUNT What is six winters ? They are quickly gone . BOLINGBROKE To men in joy ; but grief makes one hour ten . GAUNT Call it a travel that thou tak’st for pleasure . BOLINGBROKE My heart will sigh when I miscall it so , Which finds it an enforcèd pilgrimage . GAUNT The sullen passage of thy weary steps Esteem as foil wherein thou art to set The precious jewel of thy home return . BOLINGBROKE Nay , rather every tedious stride I make Will but remember me what a deal of world I wander from the jewels that I love . Must I not serve a long apprenticehood To foreign passages , and in the end , Having my freedom , boast of nothing else But that I was a journeyman to grief ? GAUNT All places that the eye of heaven visits Are to a wise man ports and happy havens . Teach thy necessity to reason thus : There is no virtue like necessity . Think not the King did banish thee , But thou the King . Woe doth the heavier sit Where it perceives it is but faintly borne . Go , say I sent thee forth to purchase honor , And not the King exiled thee ; or suppose Devouring pestilence hangs in our air And thou art flying to a fresher clime . ACT 1. SC. 4 Look what thy soul holds dear , imagine it To lie that way thou goest , not whence thou com’st . Suppose the singing birds musicians , The grass whereon thou tread’st the presence strewed , The flowers fair ladies , and thy steps no more Than a delightful measure or a dance ; For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite The man that mocks at it and sets it light . BOLINGBROKE O , who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the frosty Caucasus ? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite By bare imagination of a feast ? Or wallow naked in December snow By thinking on fantastic summer’s heat ? O no , the apprehension of the good Gives but the greater feeling to the worse . Fell sorrow’s tooth doth never rankle more Than when he bites but lanceth not the sore . GAUNT Come , come , my son , I’ll bring thee on thy way . Had I thy youth and cause , I would not stay . BOLINGBROKE Then , England’s ground , farewell ; sweet soil , adieu , My mother and my nurse that bears me yet . Where’er I wander , boast of this I can , Though banished , yet a trueborn Englishman . They exit . Scene 4 Enter the King with Green and Bagot , at one door , and the Lord Aumerle at another . KING RICHARD We did observe . — Cousin Aumerle , How far brought you high Hereford on his way ? ACT 1. SC. 4 AUMERLE I brought high Hereford , if you call him so , But to the next highway , and there I left him . KING RICHARD And say , what store of parting tears were shed ? AUMERLE Faith , none for me , except the northeast wind , Which then blew bitterly against our faces , Awaked the sleeping rheum and so by chance Did grace our hollow parting with a tear . KING RICHARD What said our cousin when you parted with him ? AUMERLE Farewell . And , for my heart disdainèd that my tongue Should so profane the word , that taught me craft To counterfeit oppression of such grief That words seemed buried in my sorrow’s grave . Marry , would the word farewell have lengthened hours And added years to his short banishment , He should have had a volume of farewells . But since it would not , he had none of me . KING RICHARD He is our cousin , cousin , but ’tis doubt , When time shall call him home from banishment , Whether our kinsman come to see his friends . Ourself and Bushy , Bagot here , and Green , Observed his courtship to the common people , How he did seem to dive into their hearts With humble and familiar courtesy , What reverence he did throw away on slaves , Wooing poor craftsmen with the craft of smiles And patient underbearing of his fortune , As ’twere to banish their affects with him . Off goes his bonnet to an oysterwench ; A brace of draymen bid God speed him well ACT 1. SC. 4 And had the tribute of his supple knee , With Thanks , my countrymen , my loving friends , As were our England in reversion his , And he our subjects’ next degree in hope . GREEN Well , he is gone , and with him go these thoughts . Now for the rebels which stand out in Ireland , Expedient manage must be made , my liege , Ere further leisure yield them further means For their advantage and your Highness’ loss . KING RICHARD We will ourself in person to this war . And , for our coffers , with too great a court And liberal largess , are grown somewhat light , We are enforced to farm our royal realm , The revenue whereof shall furnish us For our affairs in hand . If that come short , Our substitutes at home shall have blank charters , Whereto , when they shall know what men are rich , They shall subscribe them for large sums of gold And send them after to supply our wants , For we will make for Ireland presently . Enter Bushy . Bushy , what news ? BUSHY Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick , my lord , Suddenly taken , and hath sent posthaste To entreat your Majesty to visit him . KING RICHARD Where lies he ? BUSHY At Ely House . KING RICHARD Now put it , God , in the physician’s mind To help him to his grave immediately ! The lining of his coffers shall make coats ACT 1. SC. 4 To deck our soldiers for these Irish wars . Come , gentlemen , let’s all go visit him . Pray God we may make haste and come too late . ALL Amen ! They exit . ACT 2 Scene 1 Enter John of Gaunt sick , with the Duke of York , and Attendants . GAUNT Will the King come , that I may breathe my last In wholesome counsel to his unstaid youth ? YORK Vex not yourself , nor strive not with your breath , For all in vain comes counsel to his ear . GAUNT O , but they say the tongues of dying men Enforce attention like deep harmony . Where words are scarce , they are seldom spent in vain , For they breathe truth that breathe their words in pain . He that no more must say is listened more Than they whom youth and ease have taught to gloze . More are men’s ends marked than their lives before . The setting sun , and music at the close , As the last taste of sweets , is sweetest last , Writ in remembrance more than things long past . Though Richard my life’s counsel would not hear , My death’s sad tale may yet undeaf his ear . ACT 2. SC. 1 YORK No , it is stopped with other flattering sounds , As praises , of whose taste the wise are fond ; Lascivious meters , to whose venom sound The open ear of youth doth always listen ; Report of fashions in proud Italy , Whose manners still our tardy-apish nation Limps after in base imitation . Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity — So it be new , there’s no respect how vile — That is not quickly buzzed into his ears ? Then all too late comes counsel to be heard Where will doth mutiny with wit’s regard . Direct not him whose way himself will choose . ’Tis breath thou lack’st , and that breath wilt thou lose . GAUNT Methinks I am a prophet new inspired , And thus expiring do foretell of him : His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last , For violent fires soon burn out themselves ; Small showers last long , but sudden storms are short ; He tires betimes that spurs too fast betimes ; With eager feeding food doth choke the feeder ; Light vanity , insatiate cormorant , Consuming means , soon preys upon itself . This royal throne of kings , this sceptered isle , This earth of majesty , this seat of Mars , This other Eden , demi-paradise , This fortress built by Nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war , This happy breed of men , this little world , This precious stone set in the silver sea , Which serves it in the office of a wall , Or as a moat defensive to a house , ACT 2. SC. 1 Against the envy of less happier lands , This blessèd plot , this earth , this realm , this England , This nurse , this teeming womb of royal kings , Feared by their breed and famous by their birth , Renownèd for their deeds as far from home For Christian service and true chivalry As is the sepulcher in stubborn Jewry Of the world’s ransom , blessèd Mary’s son , This land of such dear souls , this dear dear land , Dear for her reputation through the world , Is now leased out — I die pronouncing it — Like to a tenement or pelting farm . England , bound in with the triumphant sea , Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege Of wat’ry Neptune , is now bound in with shame , With inky blots and rotten parchment bonds . That England that was wont to conquer others Hath made a shameful conquest of itself . Ah , would the scandal vanish with my life , How happy then were my ensuing death ! Enter King and Queen , Aumerle , Bushy , Green , Bagot , Ross , Willoughby , etc. YORK The King is come . Deal mildly with his youth , For young hot colts being reined do rage the more . QUEEN , to Gaunt How fares our noble uncle Lancaster ? KING RICHARD , to Gaunt What comfort , man ? How is ’t with agèd Gaunt ? GAUNT O , how that name befits my composition ! Old Gaunt indeed , and gaunt in being old . Within me grief hath kept a tedious fast , And who abstains from meat that is not gaunt ? ACT 2. SC. 1 For sleeping England long time have I watched ; Watching breeds leanness , leanness is all gaunt . The pleasure that some fathers feed upon Is my strict fast — I mean my children’s looks — And , therein fasting , hast thou made me gaunt . Gaunt am I for the grave , gaunt as a grave , Whose hollow womb inherits naught but bones . KING RICHARD Can sick men play so nicely with their names ? GAUNT No , misery makes sport to mock itself . Since thou dost seek to kill my name in me , I mock my name , great king , to flatter thee . KING RICHARD Should dying men flatter with those that live ? GAUNT No , no , men living flatter those that die . KING RICHARD Thou , now a-dying , sayest thou flatterest me . GAUNT O , no , thou diest , though I the sicker be . KING RICHARD I am in health , I breathe , and see thee ill . GAUNT Now He that made me knows I see thee ill , Ill in myself to see , and in thee , seeing ill . Thy deathbed is no lesser than thy land , Wherein thou liest in reputation sick ; And thou , too careless-patient as thou art , Commit’st thy anointed body to the cure Of those physicians that first wounded thee . A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown , Whose compass is no bigger than thy head , And yet encagèd in so small a verge , The waste is no whit lesser than thy land . ACT 2. SC. 1 O , had thy grandsire with a prophet’s eye Seen how his son’s son should destroy his sons , From forth thy reach he would have laid thy shame , Deposing thee before thou wert possessed , Which art possessed now to depose thyself . Why , cousin , wert thou regent of the world , It were a shame to let this land by lease ; But , for thy world enjoying but this land , Is it not more than shame to shame it so ? Landlord of England art thou now , not king . Thy state of law is bondslave to the law , And thou — KING RICHARD A lunatic lean-witted fool , Presuming on an ague’s privilege , Darest with thy frozen admonition Make pale our cheek , chasing the royal blood With fury from his native residence . Now , by my seat’s right royal majesty , Wert thou not brother to great Edward’s son , This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head Should run thy head from thy unreverent shoulders . GAUNT O , spare me not , my brother Edward’s son , For that I was his father Edward’s son ! That blood already , like the pelican , Hast thou tapped out and drunkenly caroused . My brother Gloucester — plain , well-meaning soul , Whom fair befall in heaven ’mongst happy souls — May be a precedent and witness good That thou respect’st not spilling Edward’s blood . Join with the present sickness that I have , And thy unkindness be like crooked age To crop at once a too-long withered flower . Live in thy shame , but die not shame with thee ! These words hereafter thy tormentors be ! — ACT 2. SC. 1 Convey me to my bed , then to my grave . Love they to live that love and honor have . He exits , carried off by Attendants . KING RICHARD And let them die that age and sullens have , For both hast thou , and both become the grave . YORK I do beseech your Majesty , impute his words To wayward sickliness and age in him . He loves you , on my life , and holds you dear As Harry , Duke of Hereford , were he here . KING RICHARD Right , you say true : as Hereford’s love , so his ; As theirs , so mine ; and all be as it is . Enter Northumberland . NORTHUMBERLAND My liege , old Gaunt commends him to your Majesty . KING RICHARD What says he ? NORTHUMBERLAND Nay , nothing ; all is said . His tongue is now a stringless instrument ; Words , life , and all , old Lancaster hath spent . YORK Be York the next that must be bankrupt so ! Though death be poor , it ends a mortal woe . KING RICHARD The ripest fruit first falls , and so doth he ; His time is spent , our pilgrimage must be . So much for that . Now for our Irish wars : We must supplant those rough rugheaded kern , Which live like venom where no venom else But only they have privilege to live . And , for these great affairs do ask some charge , Towards our assistance we do seize to us ACT 2. SC. 1 The plate , coin , revenues , and movables Whereof our uncle Gaunt did stand possessed . YORK How long shall I be patient ? Ah , how long Shall tender duty make me suffer wrong ? Not Gloucester’s death , nor Hereford’s banishment , Nor Gaunt’s rebukes , nor England’s private wrongs , Nor the prevention of poor Bolingbroke About his marriage , nor my own disgrace , Have ever made me sour my patient cheek Or bend one wrinkle on my sovereign’s face . I am the last of noble Edward’s sons , Of whom thy father , Prince of Wales , was first . In war was never lion raged more fierce , In peace was never gentle lamb more mild , Than was that young and princely gentleman . His face thou hast , for even so looked he , Accomplished with the number of thy hours ; But when he frowned , it 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 father’s hand had won . His hands were guilty of no kindred blood , But bloody with the enemies of his kin . O , Richard ! York is too far gone with grief , Or else he never would compare between . KING RICHARD Why , uncle , what’s the matter ? YORK O , my liege , Pardon me if you please . If not , I , pleased Not to be pardoned , am content withal . Seek you to seize and gripe into your hands The royalties and rights of banished Hereford ? Is not Gaunt dead ? And doth not Hereford live ? Was not Gaunt just ? And is not Harry true ? Did not the one deserve to have an heir ? ACT 2. SC. 1 Is not his heir a well-deserving son ? Take Hereford’s rights away , and take from time His charters and his customary rights ; Let not tomorrow then ensue today ; Be not thyself ; for how art thou a king But by fair sequence and succession ? Now afore God — God forbid I say true ! — If you do wrongfully seize Hereford’s rights , Call in the letters patents that he hath By his attorneys general to sue His livery , and deny his offered homage , You pluck a thousand dangers on your head , You lose a thousand well-disposèd hearts , And prick my tender patience to those thoughts Which honor and allegiance cannot think . KING RICHARD Think what you will , we seize into our hands His plate , his goods , his money , and his lands . YORK I’ll not be by the while . My liege , farewell . What will ensue hereof there’s none can tell ; But by bad courses may be understood That their events can never fall out good . He exits . KING RICHARD Go , Bushy , to the Earl of Wiltshire straight . Bid him repair to us to Ely House To see this business . Tomorrow next We will for Ireland , and ’tis time , I trow . And we create , in absence of ourself , Our uncle York Lord Governor of England , For he is just and always loved us well . — Come on , our queen . Tomorrow must we part . Be merry , for our time of stay is short . King and Queen exit with others ; Northumberland , Willoughby , and Ross remain . ACT 2. SC. 1 NORTHUMBERLAND Well , lords , the Duke of Lancaster is dead . ROSS And living too , for now his son is duke . WILLOUGHBY Barely in title , not in revenues . NORTHUMBERLAND Richly in both , if justice had her right . ROSS My heart is great , but it must break with silence Ere ’t be disburdened with a liberal tongue . NORTHUMBERLAND Nay , speak thy mind , and let him ne’er speak more That speaks thy words again to do thee harm ! WILLOUGHBY , to Ross Tends that thou wouldst speak to the Duke of Hereford ? If it be so , out with it boldly , man . Quick is mine ear to hear of good towards him . ROSS No good at all that I can do for him , Unless you call it good to pity him , Bereft and gelded of his patrimony . NORTHUMBERLAND Now , afore God , ’tis shame such wrongs are borne In him , a royal prince , and many more Of noble blood in this declining land . The King is not himself , but basely led By flatterers ; and what they will inform Merely in hate ’gainst any of us all , That will the King severely prosecute ’Gainst us , our lives , our children , and our heirs . ROSS The commons hath he pilled with grievous taxes , And quite lost their hearts . The nobles hath he fined For ancient quarrels , and quite lost their hearts . ACT 2. SC. 1 WILLOUGHBY And daily new exactions are devised , As blanks , benevolences , and I wot not what . But what i’ God’s name doth become of this ? NORTHUMBERLAND Wars hath not wasted it , for warred he hath not , But basely yielded upon compromise That which his noble ancestors achieved with blows . More hath he spent in peace than they in wars . ROSS The Earl of Wiltshire hath the realm in farm . WILLOUGHBY The King grown bankrupt like a broken man . NORTHUMBERLAND Reproach and dissolution hangeth over him . ROSS He hath not money for these Irish wars , His burdenous taxations notwithstanding , But by the robbing of the banished duke . NORTHUMBERLAND His noble kinsman . Most degenerate king ! But , lords , we hear this fearful tempest sing , Yet seek no shelter to avoid the storm ; We see the wind sit sore upon our sails , And yet we strike not , but securely perish . ROSS We see the very wrack that we must suffer , And unavoided is the danger now For suffering so the causes of our wrack . NORTHUMBERLAND Not so . Even through the hollow eyes of death I spy life peering ; but I dare not say How near the tidings of our comfort is . WILLOUGHBY Nay , let us share thy thoughts , as thou dost ours . ACT 2. SC. 1 ROSS Be confident to speak , Northumberland . We three are but thyself , and speaking so Thy words are but as thoughts . Therefore be bold . NORTHUMBERLAND Then thus : I have from Le Port Blanc , A bay in Brittany , received intelligence That Harry Duke of Hereford , Rainold Lord Cobham , That late broke from the Duke of Exeter , His brother , archbishop late of Canterbury , Sir Thomas Erpingham , Sir John Ramston , Sir John Norbery , Sir Robert Waterton , and Francis Coint — All these well furnished by the Duke of Brittany With eight tall ships , three thousand men of war , Are making hither with all due expedience And shortly mean to touch our northern shore . Perhaps they had ere this , but that they stay The first departing of the King for Ireland . If then we shall shake off our slavish yoke , Imp out our drooping country’s broken wing , Redeem from broking pawn the blemished crown , Wipe off the dust that hides our scepter’s gilt , And make high majesty look like itself , Away with me in post to Ravenspurgh . But if you faint , as fearing to do so , Stay and be secret , and myself will go . ROSS To horse , to horse ! Urge doubts to them that fear . WILLOUGHBY Hold out my horse , and I will first be there . They exit . ACT 2. SC. 2 Scene 2 Enter the Queen , Bushy , and Bagot . BUSHY Madam , your Majesty is too much sad . You promised , when you parted with the King , To lay aside life-harming heaviness And entertain a cheerful disposition . QUEEN To please the King I did ; to please myself I cannot do it . Yet I know no cause Why I should welcome such a guest as grief , Save bidding farewell to so sweet a guest As my sweet Richard . Yet again methinks Some unborn sorrow ripe in Fortune’s womb Is coming towards me , and my inward soul With nothing trembles . At some thing it grieves More than with parting from my lord the King . BUSHY Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows Which shows like grief itself but is not so ; For sorrow’s eyes , glazed with blinding tears , Divides one thing entire to many objects , Like perspectives , which rightly gazed upon Show nothing but confusion , eyed awry Distinguish form . So your sweet Majesty , Looking awry upon your lord’s departure , Find shapes of grief more than himself to wail , Which , looked on as it is , is naught but shadows Of what it is not . Then , thrice-gracious queen , More than your lord’s departure weep not . More is not seen , Or if it be , ’tis with false sorrow’s eye , Which for things true weeps things imaginary . QUEEN It may be so , but yet my inward soul Persuades me it is otherwise . Howe’er it be , ACT 2. SC. 2 I cannot but be sad — so heavy sad As thought , on thinking on no thought I think , Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink . BUSHY ’Tis nothing but conceit , my gracious lady . QUEEN ’Tis nothing less . Conceit is still derived From some forefather grief . Mine is not so , For nothing hath begot my something grief — Or something hath the nothing that I grieve . ’Tis in reversion that I do possess , But what it is that is not yet known what , I cannot name . ’Tis nameless woe , I wot . Enter Green . GREEN God save your Majesty ! — And well met , gentlemen . I hope the King is not yet shipped for Ireland . QUEEN Why hopest thou so ? ’Tis better hope he is , For his designs crave haste , his haste good hope . Then wherefore dost thou hope he is not shipped ? GREEN That he , our hope , might have retired his power And driven into despair an enemy’s hope , Who strongly hath set footing in this land . The banished Bolingbroke repeals himself And with uplifted arms is safe arrived At Ravenspurgh . QUEEN Now God in heaven forbid ! GREEN Ah , madam , ’tis too true . And that is worse , The Lord Northumberland , his son young Harry Percy , The Lords of Ross , Beaumont , and Willoughby , With all their powerful friends , are fled to him . ACT 2. SC. 2 BUSHY Why have you not proclaimed Northumberland And all the rest revolted faction traitors ? GREEN We have ; whereupon the Earl of Worcester Hath broken his staff , resigned his stewardship , And all the Household servants fled with him To Bolingbroke . QUEEN So , Green , thou art the midwife to my woe , And Bolingbroke my sorrow’s dismal heir . Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy , And I , a gasping new-delivered mother , Have woe to woe , sorrow to sorrow joined . BUSHY Despair not , madam . QUEEN Who shall hinder me ? I will despair , and be at enmity With cozening hope . He is a flatterer , A parasite , a keeper-back of death , Who gently would dissolve the bands of life Which false hope lingers in extremity . Enter York . GREEN Here comes the Duke of York . QUEEN With signs of war about his agèd neck . O , full of careful business are his looks ! — Uncle , for God’s sake speak comfortable words . YORK Should I do so , I should belie my thoughts . Comfort’s in heaven , and we are on the Earth earth , Where nothing lives but crosses , cares , and grief . Your husband , he is gone to save far off Whilst others come to make him lose at home . Here am I left to underprop his land , ACT 2. SC. 2 Who , weak with age , cannot support myself . Now comes the sick hour that his surfeit made ; Now shall he try his friends that flattered him . Enter a Servingman . SERVINGMAN My lord , your son was gone before I came . YORK He was ? Why , so go all which way it will . The nobles they are fled ; , the commons they are cold , And will , I fear , revolt on Hereford’s side . Sirrah , get thee to Plashy , to my sister Gloucester ; Bid her send me presently a thousand pound . Hold , take my ring . SERVINGMAN My lord , I had forgot to tell your Lordship : Today as I came by I callèd there — But I shall grieve you to report the rest . YORK What is ’t , knave ? SERVINGMAN An hour before I came , the Duchess died . YORK God for His mercy , what a tide of woes Comes rushing on this woeful land at once ! I know not what to do . I would to God , So my untruth had not provoked him to it , The King had cut off my head with my brother’s ! What , are there no posts dispatched for Ireland ? How shall we do for money for these wars ? — Come , sister — cousin I would say , pray pardon me . — Go , fellow , get thee home . Provide some carts And bring away the armor that is there . Servingman exits . Gentlemen , will you go muster men ? ACT 2. SC. 2 If I know how or which way to order these affairs Thus disorderly thrust into my hands , Never believe me . Both are my kinsmen . T’ one is my sovereign , whom both my oath And duty bids defend ; t’ other again Is my kinsman , whom the King hath wronged , Whom conscience and my kindred bids to right . Well , somewhat we must do . To Queen . Come , cousin , I’ll dispose of you . — Gentlemen , go muster up your men And meet me presently at Berkeley . I should to Plashy too , But time will not permit . All is uneven , And everything is left at six and seven . Duke of York and Queen exit . Bushy , Green , and Bagot remain . BUSHY The wind sits fair for news to go for Ireland , But none returns . For us to levy power Proportionable to the enemy Is all unpossible . GREEN Besides , our nearness to the King in love Is near the hate of those love not the King . BAGOT And that is the wavering commons , for their love Lies in their purses , and whoso empties them By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate . BUSHY Wherein the King stands generally condemned . BAGOT If judgment lie in them , then so do we , Because we ever have been near the King . GREEN Well , I will for refuge straight to Bristow Castle . The Earl of Wiltshire is already there . ACT 2. SC. 3 BUSHY Thither will I with you , for little office Will the hateful commons perform for us , Except like curs to tear us all to pieces . — Will you go along with us ? BAGOT No , I will to Ireland to his Majesty . Farewell . If heart’s presages be not vain , We three here part that ne’er shall meet again . BUSHY That’s as York thrives to beat back Bolingbroke . GREEN Alas , poor duke , the task he undertakes Is numb’ring sands and drinking oceans dry . Where one on his side fights , thousands will fly . Farewell at once , for once , for all , and ever . BUSHY Well , we may meet again . BAGOT I fear me , never . They exit . Scene 3 Enter Bolingbroke , Duke of Hereford , and Northumberland . BOLINGBROKE How far is it , my lord , to Berkeley now ? NORTHUMBERLAND Believe me , noble lord , I am a stranger here in Gloucestershire . These high wild hills and rough uneven ways Draws out our miles and makes them wearisome . And yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar , Making the hard way sweet and delectable . But I bethink me what a weary way From Ravenspurgh to Cotshall will be found ACT 2. SC. 3 In Ross and Willoughby , wanting your company , Which , I protest , hath very much beguiled The tediousness and process of my travel . But theirs is sweetened with the hope to have The present benefit which I possess , And hope to joy is little less in joy Than hope enjoyed . By this the weary lords Shall make their way seem short as mine hath done By sight of what I have , your noble company . BOLINGBROKE Of much less value is my company Than your good words . But who comes here ? Enter Harry Percy . NORTHUMBERLAND It is my son , young Harry Percy , Sent from my brother Worcester whencesoever . — Harry , how fares your uncle ? PERCY I had thought , my lord , to have learned his health of you . NORTHUMBERLAND Why , is he not with the Queen ? PERCY No , my good lord , he hath forsook the court , Broken his staff of office , and dispersed The Household of the King . NORTHUMBERLAND What was his reason ? He was not so resolved When last we spake together . PERCY Because your Lordship was proclaimèd traitor . But he , my lord , is gone to Ravenspurgh To offer service to the Duke of Hereford , And sent me over by Berkeley to discover What power the Duke of York had levied there , Then with directions to repair to Ravenspurgh . ACT 2. SC. 3 NORTHUMBERLAND Have you forgot the Duke of Hereford , boy ? PERCY No , my good lord , for that is not forgot Which ne’er I did remember . To my knowledge I never in my life did look on him . NORTHUMBERLAND Then learn to know him now . This is the Duke . PERCY , to Bolingbroke My gracious lord , I tender you my service , Such as it is , being tender , raw , and young , Which elder days shall ripen and confirm To more approvèd service and desert . BOLINGBROKE I thank thee , gentle Percy , and be sure I count myself in nothing else so happy As in a soul rememb’ring my good friends ; And as my fortune ripens with thy love , It shall be still thy true love’s recompense . My heart this covenant makes , my hand thus seals it . Gives Percy his hand . NORTHUMBERLAND , to Percy How far is it to Berkeley , and what stir Keeps good old York there with his men of war ? PERCY There stands the castle by yon tuft of trees , Manned with three hundred men , as I have heard , And in it are the Lords of York , Berkeley , and Seymour , None else of name and noble estimate . Enter Ross and Willoughby . NORTHUMBERLAND Here come the Lords of Ross and Willoughby , Bloody with spurring , fiery red with haste . ACT 2. SC. 3 BOLINGBROKE Welcome , my lords . I wot your love pursues A banished traitor . All my treasury Is yet but unfelt thanks , which , more enriched , Shall be your love and labor’s recompense . ROSS Your presence makes us rich , most noble lord . WILLOUGHBY And far surmounts our labor to attain it . BOLINGBROKE Evermore thank’s the exchequer of the poor , Which , till my infant fortune comes to years , Stands for my bounty . But who comes here ? Enter Berkeley . NORTHUMBERLAND It is my Lord of Berkeley , as I guess . BERKELEY , to Bolingbroke My Lord of Hereford , my message is to you . BOLINGBROKE My lord , my answer is — to Lancaster ; And I am come to seek that name in England . And I must find that title in your tongue Before I make reply to aught you say . BERKELEY Mistake me not , my lord , ’tis not my meaning To rase one title of your honor out . To you , my lord , I come , what lord you will , From the most gracious regent of this land , The Duke of York , to know what pricks you on To take advantage of the absent time , And fright our native peace with self-borne arms . Enter York . BOLINGBROKE I shall not need transport my words by you . ACT 2. SC. 3 Here comes his Grace in person . He kneels . My noble uncle . YORK Show me thy humble heart , and not thy knee , Whose duty is deceivable and false . BOLINGBROKE , standing My gracious uncle — YORK Tut , tut ! Grace me no grace , nor uncle me no uncle . I am no traitor’s uncle , and that word grace In an ungracious mouth is but profane . Why have those banished and forbidden legs Dared once to touch a dust of England’s ground ? But then , more why : why have they dared to march So many miles upon her peaceful bosom , Frighting her pale-faced villages with war And ostentation of despisèd arms ? Com’st thou because the anointed king is hence ? Why , foolish boy , the King is left behind And in my loyal bosom lies his power . Were I but now lord of such hot youth As when brave Gaunt thy father and myself Rescued the Black Prince , that young Mars of men , From forth the ranks of many thousand French , O , then , how quickly should this arm of mine , Now prisoner to the palsy , chastise thee And minister correction to thy fault ! BOLINGBROKE My gracious uncle , let me know my fault . On what condition stands it and wherein ? YORK Even in condition of the worst degree , In gross rebellion and detested treason . Thou art a banished man , and here art come , Before the expiration of thy time , In braving arms against thy sovereign . ACT 2. SC. 3 BOLINGBROKE As I was banished , I was banished Hereford , But as I come , I come for Lancaster . And , noble uncle , I beseech your Grace Look on my wrongs with an indifferent eye . You are my father , for methinks in you I see old Gaunt alive . O , then , my father , Will you permit that I shall stand condemned A wandering vagabond , my rights and royalties Plucked from my arms perforce and given away To upstart unthrifts ? Wherefore was I born ? If that my cousin king be king in England , It must be granted I am Duke of Lancaster . You have a son , Aumerle , my noble cousin . Had you first died and he been thus trod down , He should have found his uncle Gaunt a father To rouse his wrongs and chase them to the bay . I am denied to sue my livery here , And yet my letters patents give me leave . My father’s goods are all distrained and sold , And these , and all , are all amiss employed . What would you have me do ? I am a subject , And I challenge law . Attorneys are denied me , And therefore personally I lay my claim To my inheritance of free descent . NORTHUMBERLAND , to York The noble duke hath been too much abused . ROSS , to York It stands your Grace upon to do him right . WILLOUGHBY , to York Base men by his endowments are made great . YORK My lords of England , let me tell you this : I have had feeling of my cousin’s wrongs And labored all I could to do him right . But in this kind to come , in braving arms , ACT 2. SC. 3 Be his own carver , and cut out his way To find out right with wrong , it may not be . And you that do abet him in this kind Cherish rebellion and are rebels all . NORTHUMBERLAND The noble duke hath sworn his coming is But for his own , and for the right of that We all have strongly sworn to give him aid . And let him never see joy that breaks that oath . YORK Well , well . I see the issue of these arms . I cannot mend it , I must needs confess , Because my power is weak and all ill-left . But if I could , by Him that gave me life , I would attach you all and make you stoop Unto the sovereign mercy of the King . But since I cannot , be it known unto you I do remain as neuter . So fare you well — Unless you please to enter in the castle And there repose you for this night . BOLINGBROKE An offer , uncle , that we will accept . But we must win your Grace to go with us To Bristow Castle , which they say is held By Bushy , Bagot , and their complices , The caterpillars of the commonwealth , Which I have sworn to weed and pluck away . YORK It may be I will go with you ; but yet I’ll pause , For I am loath to break our country’s laws . Nor friends nor foes , to me welcome you are . Things past redress are now with me past care . They exit . ACT 2. SC. 4 Scene 4 Enter Earl of Salisbury and a Welsh Captain . WELSH CAPTAIN My Lord of Salisbury , we have stayed ten days And hardly kept our countrymen together , And yet we hear no tidings from the King . Therefore we will disperse ourselves . Farewell . SALISBURY Stay yet another day , thou trusty Welshman . The King reposeth all his confidence in thee . WELSH CAPTAIN ’Tis thought the King is dead . We will not stay . The bay trees in our country are all withered , And meteors fright the fixèd stars of heaven ; The pale-faced moon looks bloody on the Earth earth , And lean-looked prophets whisper fearful change ; Rich men look sad , and ruffians dance and leap , The one in fear to lose what they enjoy , The other to enjoy by rage and war . These signs forerun the death or fall of kings . Farewell . Our countrymen are gone and fled , As well assured Richard their king is dead . He exits . SALISBURY Ah , Richard ! With the eyes of heavy mind I see thy glory like a shooting star Fall to the base earth from the firmament . Thy sun sets weeping in the lowly west , Witnessing storms to come , woe , and unrest . Thy friends are fled to wait upon thy foes , And crossly to thy good all fortune goes . He exits . ACT 3 Scene 1 Enter Bolingbroke , Duke of Hereford , York , Northumberland , with other Lords , and Bushy and Green prisoners . BOLINGBROKE Bring forth these men . — Bushy and Green , I will not vex your souls , Since presently your souls must part your bodies , With too much urging your pernicious lives , For ’twere no charity ; yet to wash your blood From off my hands , here in the view of men I will unfold some causes of your deaths : You have misled a prince , a royal king , A happy gentleman in blood and lineaments By you unhappied and disfigured clean . You have in manner with your sinful hours Made a divorce betwixt his queen and him , Broke the possession of a royal bed , And stained the beauty of a fair queen’s cheeks With tears drawn from her eyes by your foul wrongs . Myself , a prince by fortune of my birth , Near to the King in blood , and near in love Till you did make him misinterpret me , Have stooped my neck under your injuries And sighed my English breath in foreign clouds , Eating the bitter bread of banishment , ACT 3. SC. 1 Whilst you have fed upon my seigniories , Disparked my parks and felled my forest woods , From my own windows torn my household coat , Rased out my imprese , leaving me no sign , Save men’s opinions and my living blood , To show the world I am a gentleman . This and much more , much more than twice all this , Condemns you to the death . — See them delivered over To execution and the hand of death . BUSHY More welcome is the stroke of death to me Than Bolingbroke to England . Lords , farewell . GREEN My comfort is that heaven will take our souls And plague injustice with the pains of hell . BOLINGBROKE My Lord Northumberland , see them dispatched . Northumberland exits with Bushy and Green . To York . Uncle , you say the Queen is at your house . For God’s sake , fairly let her be entreated . Tell her I send to her my kind commends . Take special care my greetings be delivered . YORK A gentleman of mine I have dispatched With letters of your love to her at large . BOLINGBROKE Thanks , gentle uncle . — Come , lords , away , To fight with Glendower and his complices . A while to work , and after holiday . They exit . ACT 3. SC. 2 Scene 2 Drums . Flourish and colors . Enter the King , Aumerle , Carlisle , and Soldiers . KING RICHARD Barkloughly Castle call they this at hand ? AUMERLE Yea , my lord . How brooks your Grace the air After your late tossing on the breaking seas ? KING RICHARD Needs must I like it well . I weep for joy To stand upon my kingdom once again . He kneels . Dear earth , I do salute thee with my hand , Though rebels wound thee with their horses’ hoofs . As a long-parted mother with her child Plays fondly with her tears and smiles in meeting , So , weeping , smiling , greet I thee , my earth , And do thee favors with my royal hands . Feed not thy sovereign’s foe , my gentle earth , Nor with thy sweets comfort his ravenous sense , But let thy spiders , that suck up thy venom , And heavy-gaited toads lie in their way , Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet Which with usurping steps do trample thee . Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies , And when they from thy bosom pluck a flower , Guard it , I pray thee , with a lurking adder , Whose double tongue may with a mortal touch Throw death upon thy sovereign’s enemies . Mock not my senseless conjuration , lords . This earth shall have a feeling , and these stones Prove armèd soldiers , ere her native king Shall falter under foul rebellion’s arms . CARLISLE Fear not , my lord . That power that made you king Hath power to keep you king in spite of all . ACT 3. SC. 2 The means that heavens yield must be embraced And not neglected . Else heaven would , And we will not — heaven’s offer we refuse , The proffered means of succor and redress . AUMERLE He means , my lord , that we are too remiss , Whilst Bolingbroke , through our security , Grows strong and great in substance and in power . KING RICHARD Discomfortable cousin , know’st thou not That when the searching eye of heaven is hid Behind the globe that lights the lower world , Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen In murders and in outrage boldly here ? But when from under this terrestrial ball He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines And darts his light through every guilty hole , Then murders , treasons , and detested sins , The cloak of night being plucked from off their backs , Stand bare and naked , trembling at themselves . So when this thief , this traitor Bolingbroke , Who all this while hath reveled in the night Whilst we were wand’ring with the Antipodes , Shall see us rising in our throne , the east , His treasons will sit blushing in his face , Not able to endure the sight of day , But self-affrighted , tremble at his sin . Not all the water in the rough rude sea Can wash the balm off from an anointed king . The breath of worldly men cannot depose The deputy elected by the Lord . For every man that Bolingbroke hath pressed To lift shrewd steel against our golden crown , God for His Richard hath in heavenly pay ACT 3. SC. 2 A glorious angel . Then , if angels fight , Weak men must fall , for heaven still guards the right . Enter Salisbury . Welcome , my lord . How far off lies your power ? SALISBURY Nor near nor farther off , my gracious lord , Than this weak arm . Discomfort guides my tongue And bids me speak of nothing but despair . One day too late , I fear me , noble lord , Hath clouded all thy happy days on earth . O , call back yesterday , bid time return , And thou shalt have twelve thousand fighting men . Today , today , unhappy day too late , Overthrows thy joys , friends , fortune , and thy state ; For all the Welshmen , hearing thou wert dead , . Are gone to Bolingbroke , dispersed , and fled . AUMERLE Comfort , my liege . Why looks your Grace so pale ? KING RICHARD But now the blood of twenty thousand men Did triumph in my face , and they are fled ; And till so much blood thither come again Have I not reason to look pale and dead ? All souls that will be safe , fly from my side , For time hath set a blot upon my pride . AUMERLE Comfort , my liege . Remember who you are . KING RICHARD I had forgot myself . Am I not king ? Awake , thou coward majesty , thou sleepest ! Is not the King’s name twenty thousand names ? Arm , arm , my name ! A puny subject strikes At thy great glory . Look not to the ground , You favorites of a king . Are we not high ? High be our thoughts . I know my Uncle York ACT 3. SC. 2 Hath power enough to serve our turn . — But who comes here ? Enter Scroop . SCROOP More health and happiness betide my liege Than can my care-tuned tongue deliver him . KING RICHARD Mine ear is open , and my heart prepared . The worst is worldly loss thou canst unfold . Say , is my kingdom lost ? Why , ’twas my care , And what loss is it to be rid of care ? Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we ? Greater he shall not be . If he serve God , We’ll serve Him too , and be his fellow so . Revolt our subjects ? That we cannot mend . They break their faith to God as well as us . Cry woe , destruction , ruin , and decay . The worst is death , and death will have his day . SCROOP Glad am I that your Highness is so armed To bear the tidings of calamity . Like an unseasonable stormy day Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores As if the world were all dissolved to tears , So high above his limits swells the rage Of Bolingbroke , covering your fearful land With hard bright steel and hearts harder than steel . Whitebeards have armed their thin and hairless scalps Against thy Majesty ; boys with women’s voices Strive to speak big , and clap their female joints In stiff unwieldy arms against thy crown ; Thy very beadsmen learn to bend their bows Of double-fatal yew against thy state . Yea , distaff women manage rusty bills ACT 3. SC. 2 Against thy seat . Both young and old rebel , And all goes worse than I have power to tell . KING RICHARD Too well , too well thou tell’st a tale so ill . Where is the Earl of Wiltshire ? Where is Bagot ? What is become of Bushy ? Where is Green , That they have let the dangerous enemy Measure our confines with such peaceful steps ? If we prevail , their heads shall pay for it ! I warrant they have made peace with Bolingbroke . SCROOP Peace have they made with him indeed , my lord . KING RICHARD O villains , vipers , damned without redemption ! Dogs easily won to fawn on any man ! Snakes in my heart blood warmed , that sting my heart ! Three Judases , each one thrice worse than Judas ! Would they make peace ? Terrible hell Make war upon their spotted souls for this ! SCROOP Sweet love , I see , changing his property , Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate . Again uncurse their souls . Their peace is made With heads and not with hands . Those whom you curse Have felt the worst of death’s destroying wound And lie full low , graved in the hollow ground . AUMERLE Is Bushy , Green , and the Earl of Wiltshire dead ? SCROOP Ay , all of them at Bristow lost their heads . AUMERLE Where is the Duke my father with his power ? KING RICHARD No matter where . Of comfort no man speak . ACT 3. SC. 2 Let’s talk of graves , of worms , and epitaphs , Make dust our paper , and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth . Let’s choose executors and talk of wills . And yet not so , for what can we bequeath Save our deposèd bodies to the ground ? Our lands , our lives , and all are Bolingbroke’s , And nothing can we call our own but death And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones . For God’s sake , let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings — How some have been deposed , some slain in war , Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed , Some poisoned by their wives , some sleeping killed , All murdered . For within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king Keeps Death his court , and there the antic sits , Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp , Allowing him a breath , a little scene , To monarchize , be feared , and kill with looks , Infusing him with self and vain conceit , As if this flesh which walls about our life Were brass impregnable ; and humored thus , Comes at the last and with a little pin Bores through his castle wall , and farewell , king ! Cover your heads , and mock not flesh and blood With solemn reverence . Throw away respect , Tradition , form , and ceremonious duty , For you have but mistook me all this while . I live with bread like you , feel want , Taste grief , need friends . Subjected thus , How can you say to me I am a king ? CARLISLE My lord , wise men ne’er sit and wail their woes , But presently prevent the ways to wail . ACT 3. SC. 2 To fear the foe , since fear oppresseth strength , Gives in your weakness strength unto your foe , And so your follies fight against yourself . Fear , and be slain — no worse can come to fight ; And fight and die is death destroying death , Where fearing dying pays death servile breath . AUMERLE My father hath a power . Inquire of him , And learn to make a body of a limb . KING RICHARD Thou chid’st me well . — Proud Bolingbroke , I come To change blows with thee for our day of doom . — This ague fit of fear is overblown . An easy task it is to win our own . — Say , Scroop , where lies our uncle with his power ? Speak sweetly , man , although thy looks be sour . SCROOP Men judge by the complexion of the sky The state and inclination of the day ; So may you by my dull and heavy eye . My tongue hath but a heavier tale to say . I play the torturer by small and small To lengthen out the worst that must be spoken . Your uncle York is joined with Bolingbroke , And all your northern castles yielded up , And all your southern gentlemen in arms Upon his party . KING RICHARD Thou hast said enough . To Aumerle . Beshrew thee , cousin , which didst lead me forth Of that sweet way I was in to despair . What say you now ? What comfort have we now ? By heaven , I’ll hate him everlastingly That bids me be of comfort anymore . Go to Flint Castle . There I’ll pine away ; A king , woe’s slave , shall kingly woe obey . ACT 3. SC. 3 That power I have , discharge , and let them go To ear the land that hath some hope to grow , For I have none . Let no man speak again To alter this , for counsel is but vain . AUMERLE My liege , one word . KING RICHARD He does me double wrong That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue . Discharge my followers . Let them hence away , From Richard’s night to Bolingbroke’s fair day . They exit . Scene 3 Enter with Drum and Colors Bolingbroke , York , Northumberland , with Soldiers and Attendants . BOLINGBROKE So that by this intelligence we learn The Welshmen are dispersed , and Salisbury Is gone to meet the King , who lately landed With some few private friends upon this coast . NORTHUMBERLAND The news is very fair and good , my lord : Richard not far from hence hath hid his head . YORK It would beseem the Lord Northumberland To say King Richard . Alack the heavy day When such a sacred king should hide his head ! NORTHUMBERLAND Your Grace mistakes ; only to be brief Left I his title out . YORK The time hath been , would you have been so brief with him , He would have been so brief to shorten you , ACT 3. SC. 3 For taking so the head , your whole head’s length . BOLINGBROKE Mistake not , uncle , further than you should . YORK Take not , good cousin , further than you should , Lest you mistake . The heavens are over our heads . BOLINGBROKE I know it , uncle , and oppose not myself Against their will . But who comes here ? Enter Percy . Welcome , Harry . What , will not this castle yield ? PERCY The castle royally is manned , my lord , Against thy entrance . BOLINGBROKE Royally ? Why , it contains no king . PERCY Yes , my good lord , It doth contain a king . King Richard lies Within the limits of yon lime and stone , And with him are the Lord Aumerle , Lord Salisbury , Sir Stephen Scroop , besides a clergyman Of holy reverence — who , I cannot learn . NORTHUMBERLAND O , belike it is the Bishop of Carlisle . BOLINGBROKE , to Northumberland Noble lord , Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle , Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parley Into his ruined ears , and thus deliver : Henry Bolingbroke On both his knees doth kiss King Richard’s hand , And sends allegiance and true faith of heart To his most royal person , hither come Even at his feet to lay my arms and power , Provided that my banishment repealed And lands restored again be freely granted . ACT 3. SC. 3 If not , I’ll use the advantage of my power And lay the summer’s dust with showers of blood Rained from the wounds of slaughtered Englishmen — The which how far off from the mind of Bolingbroke It is such crimson tempest should bedrench The fresh green lap of fair King Richard’s land , My stooping duty tenderly shall show . Go signify as much while here we march Upon the grassy carpet of this plain . Northumberland and Trumpets approach the battlements . Let’s march without the noise of threat’ning drum , That from this castle’s tottered battlements Our fair appointments may be well perused . Methinks King Richard and myself should meet With no less terror than the elements Of fire and water when their thund’ring shock At meeting tears the cloudy cheeks of heaven . Be he the fire , I’ll be the yielding water ; The rage be his , whilst on the earth I rain My waters — on the earth , and not on him . March on , and mark King Richard how he looks . Bolingbroke’s Soldiers march , the trumpets sound . Richard appeareth on the walls with Aumerle . See , see , King Richard doth himself appear As doth the blushing discontented sun From out the fiery portal of the east When he perceives the envious clouds are bent To dim his glory and to stain the track Of his bright passage to the occident . YORK Yet looks he like a king . Behold , his eye , As bright as is the eagle’s , lightens forth Controlling majesty . Alack , alack for woe That any harm should stain so fair a show ! ACT 3. SC. 3 KING RICHARD , to Northumberland , below We are amazed , and thus long have we stood To watch the fearful bending of thy knee , Because we thought ourself thy lawful king . An if we be , how dare thy joints forget To pay their awful duty to our presence ? If we be not , show us the hand of God That hath dismissed us from our stewardship , For well we know no hand of blood and bone Can gripe the sacred handle of our scepter , Unless he do profane , steal , or usurp . And though you think that all , as you have done , Have torn their souls by turning them from us , And we are barren and bereft of friends , Yet know , my master , God omnipotent , Is mustering in his clouds on our behalf Armies of pestilence , and they shall strike Your children yet unborn and unbegot , That lift your vassal hands against my head And threat the glory of my precious crown . Tell Bolingbroke — for yon methinks he stands — That every stride he makes upon my land Is dangerous treason . He is come to open The purple testament of bleeding war ; But ere the crown he looks for live in peace , Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers’ sons Shall ill become the flower of England’s face , Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace To scarlet indignation , and bedew Her pastures’ grass with faithful English blood . NORTHUMBERLAND The King of heaven forbid our lord the King Should so with civil and uncivil arms Be rushed upon ! Thy thrice-noble cousin , Harry Bolingbroke , doth humbly kiss thy hand , And by the honorable tomb he swears ACT 3. SC. 3 That stands upon your royal grandsire’s bones , And by the royalties of both your bloods , Currents that spring from one most gracious head , And by the buried hand of warlike Gaunt , And by the worth and honor of himself , Comprising all that may be sworn or said , His coming hither hath no further scope Than for his lineal royalties , and to beg Enfranchisement immediate on his knees ; Which on thy royal party granted once , His glittering arms he will commend to rust , His barbèd steeds to stables , and his heart To faithful service of your Majesty . This swears he , as he is a prince and just , And as I am a gentleman I credit him . KING RICHARD Northumberland , say thus the King returns : His noble cousin is right welcome hither , And all the number of his fair demands Shall be accomplished without contradiction . With all the gracious utterance thou hast , Speak to his gentle hearing kind commends . Northumberland returns to Bolingbroke . To Aumerle . We do debase ourselves , cousin , do we not , To look so poorly and to speak so fair ? Shall we call back Northumberland and send Defiance to the traitor and so die ? AUMERLE No , good my lord , let’s fight with gentle words , Till time lend friends , and friends their helpful swords . KING RICHARD O God , O God , that e’er this tongue of mine That laid the sentence of dread banishment On yon proud man should take it off again ACT 3. SC. 3 With words of sooth ! O , that I were as great As is my grief , or lesser than my name ! Or that I could forget what I have been , Or not remember what I must be now . Swell’st thou , proud heart ? I’ll give thee scope to beat , Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me . AUMERLE Northumberland comes back from Bolingbroke . KING RICHARD What must the King do now ? Must he submit ? The King shall do it . Must he be deposed ? The King shall be contented . Must he lose The name of king ? I’ God’s name , let it go . I’ll give my jewels for a set of beads , My gorgeous palace for a hermitage , My gay apparel for an almsman’s gown , My figured goblets for a dish of wood , My scepter for a palmer’s walking-staff , My subjects for a pair of carvèd saints , And my large kingdom for a little grave , A little , little grave , an obscure grave ; Or I’ll be buried in the King’s highway , Some way of common trade , where subjects’ feet May hourly trample on their sovereign’s head ; For on my heart they tread now whilst I live , And , buried once , why not upon my head ? Aumerle , thou weep’st , my tender-hearted cousin . We’ll make foul weather with despisèd tears ; Our sighs and they shall lodge the summer corn And make a dearth in this revolting land . Or shall we play the wantons with our woes And make some pretty match with shedding tears ? As thus , to drop them still upon one place Till they have fretted us a pair of graves Within the earth ; and therein laid — there lies ACT 3. SC. 3 Two kinsmen digged their graves with weeping eyes . Would not this ill do well ? Well , well , I see I talk but idly , and you laugh at me . Northumberland approaches the battlements . Most mighty prince , my Lord Northumberland , What says King Bolingbroke ? Will his Majesty Give Richard leave to live till Richard die ? You make a leg , and Bolingbroke says ay . NORTHUMBERLAND My lord , in the base court he doth attend To speak with you , may it please you to come down . KING RICHARD Down , down I come , like glist’ring Phaëton , Wanting the manage of unruly jades . In the base court — base court , where kings grow base , To come at traitors’ calls and do them grace . In the base court come down — down court , down king , For nightowls shriek where mounting larks should sing . Richard exits above and Northumberland returns to Bolingbroke . BOLINGBROKE What says his Majesty ? NORTHUMBERLAND Sorrow and grief of heart Makes him speak fondly like a frantic man , Yet he is come . Richard enters below . BOLINGBROKE Stand all apart , And show fair duty to his Majesty . He kneels down . My gracious lord . KING RICHARD Fair cousin , you debase your princely knee To make the base earth proud with kissing it . Me rather had my heart might feel your love ACT 3. SC. 4 Than my unpleased eye see your courtesy . Up , cousin , up . Your heart is up , I know , Thus high at least indicating his crown , although your knee be low . BOLINGBROKE , standing My gracious lord , I come but for mine own . KING RICHARD Your own is yours , and I am yours , and all . BOLINGBROKE So far be mine , my most redoubted lord , As my true service shall deserve your love . KING RICHARD Well you deserve . They well deserve to have That know the strong’st and surest way to get . — Uncle , give me your hands . Nay , dry your eyes . Tears show their love but want their remedies . — Cousin , I am too young to be your father , Though you are old enough to be my heir . What you will have I’ll give , and willing , too , For do we must what force will have us do . Set on towards London , cousin , is it so ? BOLINGBROKE Yea , my good lord . KING RICHARD Then I must not say no . They exit . Scene 4 Enter the Queen with her Ladies-in-waiting . QUEEN What sport shall we devise here in this garden To drive away the heavy thought of care ? LADY Madam , we’ll play at bowls . QUEEN ’Twill make me think the world is full of rubs And that my fortune runs against the bias . ACT 3. SC. 4 LADY Madam , we’ll dance . QUEEN My legs can keep no measure in delight When my poor heart no measure keeps in grief . Therefore no dancing , girl . Some other sport . LADY Madam , we’ll tell tales . QUEEN Of sorrow or of joy ? LADY Of either , madam . QUEEN Of neither , girl , For if of joy , being altogether wanting , It doth remember me the more of sorrow ; Or if of grief , being altogether had , It adds more sorrow to my want of joy . For what I have I need not to repeat , And what I want it boots not to complain . LADY Madam , I’ll sing . QUEEN ’Tis well that thou hast cause , But thou shouldst please me better wouldst thou weep . LADY I could weep , madam , would it do you good . QUEEN And I could sing , would weeping do me good , And never borrow any tear of thee . Enter a Gardener and two Servingmen . But stay , here come the gardeners . Let’s step into the shadow of these trees . My wretchedness unto a row of pins , They will talk of state , for everyone doth so Against a change . Woe is forerun with woe . Queen and Ladies step aside . GARDENER , to one Servingman Go , bind thou up young dangling apricokes ACT 3. SC. 4 Which , like unruly children , make their sire Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight . Give some supportance to the bending twigs . — Go thou , and like an executioner Cut off the heads of too-fast-growing sprays That look too lofty in our commonwealth . All must be even in our government . You thus employed , I will go root away The noisome weeds which without profit suck The soil’s fertility from wholesome flowers . MAN Why should we , in the compass of a pale , Keep law and form and due proportion , Showing as in a model our firm estate , When our sea-wallèd garden , the whole land , Is full of weeds , her fairest flowers choked up , Her fruit trees all unpruned , her hedges ruined , Her knots disordered , and her wholesome herbs Swarming with caterpillars ? GARDENER Hold thy peace . He that hath suffered this disordered spring Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf . The weeds which his broad-spreading leaves did shelter , That seemed in eating him to hold him up , Are plucked up , root and all , by Bolingbroke — I mean the Earl of Wiltshire , Bushy , Green . MAN What , are they dead ? GARDENER They are . And Bolingbroke Hath seized the wasteful king . O , what pity is it That he had not so trimmed and dressed his land As we this garden ! We at time of year Do wound the bark , the skin of our fruit trees , Lest , being overproud in sap and blood , With too much riches it confound itself . Had he done so to great and growing men , ACT 3. SC. 4 They might have lived to bear and he to taste Their fruits of duty . Superfluous branches We lop away , that bearing boughs may live . Had he done so , himself had borne the crown , Which waste of idle hours hath quite thrown down . MAN What , think you the King shall be deposed ? GARDENER Depressed he is already , and deposed ’Tis doubt he will be . Letters came last night To a dear friend of the good Duke of York’s That tell black tidings . QUEEN O , I am pressed to death through want of speaking ! Stepping forward . Thou old Adam’s likeness , set to dress this garden , How dares thy harsh rude tongue sound this unpleasing news ? What Eve , what serpent , hath suggested thee To make a second fall of cursèd man ? Why dost thou say King Richard is deposed ? Dar’st thou , thou little better thing than earth , Divine his downfall ? Say where , when , and how Cam’st thou by this ill tidings ? Speak , thou wretch ! GARDENER Pardon me , madam . Little joy have I To breathe this news , yet what I say is true . King Richard , he is in the mighty hold Of Bolingbroke . Their fortunes both are weighed . In your lord’s scale is nothing but himself And some few vanities that make him light , But in the balance of great Bolingbroke , Besides himself , are all the English peers , And with that odds he weighs King Richard down . Post you to London and you will find it so . I speak no more than everyone doth know . ACT 3. SC. 4 QUEEN Nimble mischance , that art so light of foot , Doth not thy embassage belong to me , And am I last that knows it ? O , thou thinkest To serve me last that I may longest keep Thy sorrow in my breast . Come , ladies , go To meet at London London’s king in woe . What , was I born to this , that my sad look Should grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke ? — Gard’ner , for telling me these news of woe , Pray God the plants thou graft’st may never grow . She exits with Ladies . GARDENER Poor queen , so that thy state might be no worse , I would my skill were subject to thy curse . Here did she fall a tear . Here in this place I’ll set a bank of rue , sour herb of grace . Rue even for ruth here shortly shall be seen In the remembrance of a weeping queen . They exit . ACT 4 Scene 1 Enter Bolingbroke with the Lords Aumerle , Northumberland , Harry Percy , Fitzwater , Surrey , the Bishop of Carlisle , the Abbot of Westminster , and another Lord , Herald , Officers to parliament . BOLINGBROKE Call forth Bagot . Enter Officers with Bagot . Now , Bagot , freely speak thy mind What thou dost know of noble Gloucester’s death , Who wrought it with the King , and who performed The bloody office of his timeless end . BAGOT Then set before my face the Lord Aumerle . BOLINGBROKE Cousin , stand forth , and look upon that man . Aumerle steps forward . BAGOT My Lord Aumerle , I know your daring tongue Scorns to unsay what once it hath delivered . In that dead time when Gloucester’s death was plotted , I heard you say Is not my arm of length , That reacheth from the restful English court As far as Calais , to mine uncle’s head ? Amongst much other talk that very time ACT 4. SC. 1 I heard you say that you had rather refuse The offer of an hundred thousand crowns Than Bolingbroke’s return to England , Adding withal how blest this land would be In this your cousin’s death . AUMERLE Princes and noble lords , What answer shall I make to this base man ? Shall I so much dishonor my fair stars On equal terms to give him chastisement ? Either I must , or have mine honor soiled With the attainder of his slanderous lips . He throws down a gage . There is my gage , the manual seal of death That marks thee out for hell . I say thou liest , And will maintain what thou hast said is false In thy heart-blood , though being all too base To stain the temper of my knightly sword . BOLINGBROKE Bagot , forbear . Thou shalt not take it up . AUMERLE Excepting one , I would he were the best In all this presence that hath moved me so . FITZWATER , throwing down a gage If that thy valor stand on sympathy , There is my gage , Aumerle , in gage to thine . By that fair sun which shows me where thou stand’st , I heard thee say , and vauntingly thou spak’st it , That thou wert cause of noble Gloucester’s death . If thou deniest it twenty times , thou liest , And I will turn thy falsehood to thy heart , Where it was forgèd , with my rapier’s point . AUMERLE , taking up the gage Thou dar’st not , coward , live to see that day . FITZWATER Now , by my soul , I would it were this hour . ACT 4. SC. 1 AUMERLE Fitzwater , thou art damned to hell for this . PERCY Aumerle , thou liest ! His honor is as true In this appeal as thou art all unjust ; And that thou art so , there I throw my gage , He throws down a gage . To prove it on thee to the extremest point Of mortal breathing . Seize it if thou dar’st . AUMERLE , taking up the gage An if I do not , may my hands rot off And never brandish more revengeful steel Over the glittering helmet of my foe ! ANOTHER LORD , throwing down a gage I task the earth to the like , forsworn Aumerle , And spur thee on with full as many lies As may be holloed in thy treacherous ear From sun to sun . There is my honor’s pawn . Engage it to the trial if thou darest . AUMERLE , taking up the gage Who sets me else ? By heaven , I’ll throw at all ! I have a thousand spirits in one breast To answer twenty thousand such as you . SURREY My Lord Fitzwater , I do remember well The very time Aumerle and you did talk . FITZWATER ’Tis very true . You were in presence then , And you can witness with me this is true . SURREY As false , by heaven , as heaven itself is true . FITZWATER Surrey , thou liest . SURREY Dishonorable boy , That lie shall lie so heavy on my sword That it shall render vengeance and revenge ACT 4. SC. 1 Till thou the lie-giver and that lie do lie In earth as quiet as thy father’s skull . He throws down a gage . In proof whereof , there is my honor’s pawn . Engage it to the trial if thou dar’st . FITZWATER , taking up the gage How fondly dost thou spur a forward horse ! If I dare eat or drink or breathe or live , I dare meet Surrey in a wilderness And spit upon him whilst I say he lies , And lies , and lies . There is my bond of faith To tie thee to my strong correction . He throws down a gage . As I intend to thrive in this new world , Aumerle is guilty of my true appeal . — Besides , I heard the banished Norfolk say That thou , Aumerle , didst send two of thy men To execute the noble duke at Calais . AUMERLE Some honest Christian trust me with a gage . A Lord hands him a gage . Aumerle throws it down . That Norfolk lies , here do I throw down this , If he may be repealed to try his honor . BOLINGBROKE These differences shall all rest under gage Till Norfolk be repealed . Repealed he shall be , And though mine enemy , restored again To all his lands and seigniories . When he is returned , Against Aumerle we will enforce his trial . CARLISLE That honorable day shall never be seen . Many a time hath banished Norfolk fought For Jesu Christ in glorious Christian field , Streaming the ensign of the Christian cross ACT 4. SC. 1 Against black pagans , Turks , and Saracens ; And , toiled with works of war , retired himself To Italy , and there at Venice gave His body to that pleasant country’s earth And his pure soul unto his captain , Christ , Under whose colors he had fought so long . BOLINGBROKE Why , bishop , is Norfolk dead ? CARLISLE As surely as I live , my lord . BOLINGBROKE Sweet peace conduct his sweet soul to the bosom Of good old Abraham ! Lords appellants , Your differences shall all rest under gage Till we assign you to your days of trial . Enter York . YORK Great Duke of Lancaster , I come to thee From plume-plucked Richard , who with willing soul Adopts thee heir , and his high scepter yields To the possession of thy royal hand . Ascend his throne , descending now from him , And long live Henry , fourth of that name ! BOLINGBROKE In God’s name , I’ll ascend the regal throne . CARLISLE Marry , God forbid ! Worst in this royal presence may I speak , Yet best beseeming me to speak the truth . Would God that any in this noble presence Were enough noble to be upright judge Of noble Richard ! Then true noblesse would Learn him forbearance from so foul a wrong . What subject can give sentence on his king ? And who sits here that is not Richard’s subject ? Thieves are not judged but they are by to hear , Although apparent guilt be seen in them ; And shall the figure of God’s majesty , ACT 4. SC. 1 His captain , steward , deputy elect , Anointed , crowned , planted many years , Be judged by subject and inferior breath , And he himself not present ? O , forfend it God That in a Christian climate souls refined Should show so heinous , black , obscene a deed ! I speak to subjects and a subject speaks , Stirred up by God thus boldly for his king . My Lord of Hereford here , whom you call king , Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford’s king , And if you crown him , let me prophesy The blood of English shall manure the ground And future ages groan for this foul act , Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels , And in this seat of peace tumultuous wars Shall kin with kin and kind with kind confound . Disorder , horror , fear , and mutiny Shall here inhabit , and this land be called The field of Golgotha and dead men’s skulls . O , if you raise this house against this house , It will the woefullest division prove That ever fell upon this cursèd earth ! Prevent it , resist it , let it not be so , Lest child , child’s children , cry against you woe ! NORTHUMBERLAND Well have you argued , sir , and , for your pains , Of capital treason we arrest you here . — My Lord of Westminster , be it your charge To keep him safely till his day of trial . May it please you , lords , to grant the commons’ suit ? BOLINGBROKE Fetch hither Richard , that in common view He may surrender . So we shall proceed Without suspicion . YORK I will be his conduct . He exits . ACT 4. SC. 1 BOLINGBROKE Lords , you that here are under our arrest , Procure your sureties for your days of answer . Little are we beholding to your love And little looked for at your helping hands . Enter Richard and York . KING RICHARD Alack , why am I sent for to a king Before I have shook off the regal thoughts Wherewith I reigned ? I hardly yet have learned To insinuate , flatter , bow , and bend my knee . Give sorrow leave awhile to tutor me To this submission . Yet I well remember The favors of these men . Were they not mine ? Did they not sometime cry All hail to me ? So Judas did to Christ , but He in twelve Found truth in all but one ; I , in twelve thousand , none . God save the King ! Will no man say amen ? Am I both priest and clerk ? Well , then , amen . God save the King , although I be not he , And yet amen , if heaven do think him me . To do what service am I sent for hither ? YORK To do that office of thine own goodwill Which tired majesty did make thee offer : The resignation of thy state and crown To Henry Bolingbroke . KING RICHARD Give me the crown . — Here , cousin , seize the crown . Here , cousin . On this side my hand , on that side thine . Now is this golden crown like a deep well That owes two buckets , filling one another , The emptier ever dancing in the air , ACT 4. SC. 1 The other down , unseen , and full of water . That bucket down and full of tears am I , Drinking my griefs , whilst you mount up on high . BOLINGBROKE I thought you had been willing to resign . KING RICHARD My crown I am , but still my griefs are mine . You may my glories and my state depose But not my griefs ; still am I king of those . BOLINGBROKE Part of your cares you give me with your crown . KING RICHARD Your cares set up do not pluck my cares down . My care is loss of care , by old care done ; Your care is gain of care , by new care won . The cares I give I have , though given away . They ’tend the crown , yet still with me they stay . BOLINGBROKE Are you contented to resign the crown ? KING RICHARD Ay , no ; no , ay ; for I must nothing be . Therefore no no , for I resign to thee . Now , mark me how I will undo myself . I give this heavy weight from off my head And this unwieldy scepter from my hand , The pride of kingly sway from out my heart . With mine own tears I wash away my balm , With mine own hands I give away my crown , With mine own tongue deny my sacred state , With mine own breath release all duteous oaths . All pomp and majesty I do forswear . My manors , rents , revenues I forgo ; My acts , decrees , and statutes I deny . God pardon all oaths that are broke to me . God keep all vows unbroke are made to thee . Make me , that nothing have , with nothing grieved , ACT 4. SC. 1 And thou with all pleased that hast all achieved . Long mayst thou live in Richard’s seat to sit , And soon lie Richard in an earthy pit . God save King Henry , unkinged Richard says , And send him many years of sunshine days . What more remains ? NORTHUMBERLAND , offering Richard a paper No more , but that you read These accusations and these grievous crimes Committed by your person and your followers Against the state and profit of this land ; That , by confessing them , the souls of men May deem that you are worthily deposed . KING RICHARD Must I do so ? And must I ravel out My weaved-up follies ? Gentle Northumberland , If thy offenses were upon record , Would it not shame thee in so fair a troop To read a lecture of them ? If thou wouldst , There shouldst thou find one heinous article Containing the deposing of a king And cracking the strong warrant of an oath , Marked with a blot , damned in the book of heaven . — Nay , all of you that stand and look upon me Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait myself , Though some of you , with Pilate , wash your hands , Showing an outward pity , yet you Pilates Have here delivered me to my sour cross , And water cannot wash away your sin . NORTHUMBERLAND My lord , dispatch . Read o’er these articles . KING RICHARD Mine eyes are full of tears ; I cannot see . And yet salt water blinds them not so much But they can see a sort of traitors here . ACT 4. SC. 1 Nay , if I turn mine eyes upon myself , I find myself a traitor with the rest , For I have given here my soul’s consent T’ undeck the pompous body of a king , Made glory base and sovereignty a slave , Proud majesty a subject , state a peasant . NORTHUMBERLAND My lord — KING RICHARD No lord of thine , thou haught insulting man , Nor no man’s lord . I have no name , no title , No , not that name was given me at the font , But ’tis usurped . Alack the heavy day , That I have worn so many winters out And know not now what name to call myself . O , that I were a mockery king of snow Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke , To melt myself away in water drops . — Good king , great king , and yet not greatly good , An if my word be sterling yet in England , Let it command a mirror hither straight , That it may show me what a face I have Since it is bankrupt of his majesty . BOLINGBROKE Go , some of you , and fetch a looking-glass . An Attendant exits . NORTHUMBERLAND Read o’er this paper while the glass doth come . KING RICHARD Fiend , thou torments me ere I come to hell ! BOLINGBROKE Urge it no more , my Lord Northumberland . NORTHUMBERLAND The commons will not then be satisfied . KING RICHARD They shall be satisfied . I’ll read enough ACT 4. SC. 1 When I do see the very book indeed Where all my sins are writ , and that’s myself . Enter one with a glass . Give me that glass , and therein will I read . He takes the mirror . No deeper wrinkles yet ? Hath sorrow struck So many blows upon this face of mine And made no deeper wounds ? O flatt’ring glass , Like to my followers in prosperity , Thou dost beguile me . Was this face the face That every day under his household Household roof Did keep ten thousand men ? Was this the face That like the sun did make beholders wink ? Is this the face which faced so many follies , That was at last outfaced by Bolingbroke ? A brittle glory shineth in this face . As brittle as the glory is the face , He breaks the mirror . For there it is , cracked in an hundred shivers . — Mark , silent king , the moral of this sport : How soon my sorrow hath destroyed my face . BOLINGBROKE The shadow of your sorrow hath destroyed The shadow of your face . KING RICHARD Say that again . The shadow of my sorrow ? Ha , let’s see . ’Tis very true . My grief lies all within ; And these external manners of laments Are merely shadows to the unseen grief That swells with silence in the tortured soul . There lies the substance . And I thank thee , king , For thy great bounty , that not only giv’st Me cause to wail but teachest me the way How to lament the cause . I’ll beg one boon , ACT 4. SC. 1 And then be gone and trouble you no more . Shall I obtain it ? BOLINGBROKE Name it , fair cousin . KING RICHARD Fair cousin ? I am greater than a king , For when I was a king , my flatterers Were then but subjects . Being now a subject , I have a king here to my flatterer . Being so great , I have no need to beg . BOLINGBROKE Yet ask . KING RICHARD And shall I have ? BOLINGBROKE You shall . KING RICHARD Then give me leave to go . BOLINGBROKE Whither ? KING RICHARD Whither you will , so I were from your sights . BOLINGBROKE Go , some of you , convey him to the Tower . KING RICHARD O , good ! Convey ? Conveyers are you all , That rise thus nimbly by a true king’s fall . Richard exits with Guards . BOLINGBROKE On Wednesday next , we solemnly set down Our coronation . Lords , prepare yourselves . They exit . The Abbot of Westminster , the Bishop of Carlisle , Aumerle remain . ABBOT A woeful pageant have we here beheld . CARLISLE The woe’s to come . The children yet unborn Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn . AUMERLE You holy clergymen , is there no plot To rid the realm of this pernicious blot ? ACT 4. SC. 1 ABBOT My lord , Before I freely speak my mind herein , You shall not only take the sacrament To bury mine intents , but also to effect Whatever I shall happen to devise . I see your brows are full of discontent , Your hearts of sorrow , and your eyes of tears . Come home with me to supper . I’ll lay A plot shall show us all a merry day . They exit . ACT 5 Scene 1 Enter the Queen with her Attendants . QUEEN This way the King will come . This is the way To Julius Caesar’s ill-erected tower , To whose flint bosom my condemnèd lord Is doomed a prisoner by proud Bolingbroke . Here let us rest , if this rebellious earth Have any resting for her true king’s queen . Enter Richard and Guard . But soft , but see — or rather do not see My fair rose wither ; yet look up , behold , That you in pity may dissolve to dew And wash him fresh again with true-love tears . — Ah , thou , the model where old Troy did stand , Thou map of honor , thou King Richard’s tomb , And not King Richard ! Thou most beauteous inn , Why should hard-favored 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 are ACT 5. SC. 1 Shows us but this : I am sworn brother , sweet , To grim necessity , and he and I Will keep a league till death . Hie thee to France And cloister thee in some religious house . Our holy lives must win a new world’s crown , Which our profane hours here have thrown down . QUEEN What , is my Richard both in shape and mind Transformed and weakened ? Hath Bolingbroke Deposed thine intellect ? Hath he been in thy heart ? The lion dying thrusteth forth his paw And wounds the earth , if nothing else , with rage To be o’er-powered ; 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 sometime queen , prepare thee hence for France . Think I am dead , and that even here thou takest , As from my deathbed , thy last living leave . In winter’s tedious nights sit by the fire With good old folks , and let them tell thee tales Of woeful ages long ago betid ; And , ere thou bid good night , to quite their griefs , Tell thou the lamentable tale of me , And send the hearers weeping to their beds . Forwhy the senseless brands will sympathize The heavy accent of thy moving tongue , And in compassion weep the fire out , And some will mourn in ashes , some coal-black coal black , For the deposing of a rightful king . Enter Northumberland . ACT 5. SC. 1 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 wherewithal The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne , The time shall not be many hours of age More than it is ere foul sin , gathering head , Shall break into corruption . Thou shalt think , Though he divide the realm and give thee half , It is too little , helping him to all . He shall think that thou , which knowest the way To plant unrightful kings , wilt know again , Being ne’er so little urged another way , To pluck him headlong from the usurped throne . The love of wicked men converts to fear , That fear to hate , and hate turns one or both To worthy danger and deservèd 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 violate A twofold marriage — twixt my crown and me , And then betwixt me and my married wife . To Queen . 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 adornèd hither like sweet May , Sent back like Hallowmas or short’st of day . ACT 5. SC. 1 QUEEN And must we be divided ? Must we part ? KING RICHARD Ay , hand from hand , my love , and heart from heart . QUEEN , to Northumberland 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 part To take on me to keep and kill thy heart . They kiss . So , now I have mine own again , begone , 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 . They exit . ACT 5. SC. 2 Scene 2 Enter Duke of York and the Duchess . DUCHESS My lord , you told me you would tell the rest , When weeping made you break the story off Of our two cousins coming into London . YORK Where did I leave ? DUCHESS At that sad stop , my lord , Where rude misgoverned hands from windows’ tops Threw 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 old Through casements darted their desiring eyes Upon his visage , and that all the walls With 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 theater the eyes of men , After a well-graced actor leaves the stage , Are idly bent on him that enters next , Thinking his prattle to be tedious , ACT 5. SC. 2 Even so , or with much more contempt , men’s eyes Did 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 steeled The hearts of men , they must perforce have melted , And barbarism itself have pitied him . But heaven hath a hand in these events , To whose high will we bound our calm contents . To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now , Whose state and honor I for aye allow . Enter Aumerle . 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 truth And lasting fealty to the new-made king . DUCHESS Welcome , my son . Who are the violets now That 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 . ACT 5. SC. 2 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 , lookst 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 into For gay apparel ’gainst the triumph day . YORK Bound to himself ? What doth he with a bond That 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 . He plucks it out of his bosom and reads it . YORK Treason ! Foul treason ! Villain , traitor , slave ! DUCHESS What is the matter , my lord ? YORK , calling offstage Ho , who is within there ? Saddle my horse ! — God for his mercy , what treachery is here ! DUCHESS Why , what is it , my lord ? ACT 5. SC. 2 YORK , calling offstage Give me my boots , I say ! Saddle my horse ! — Now by mine honor , by my life , by my troth , I will appeach the villain . 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 more Than my poor life must answer . DUCHESS Thy life answer ? YORK , calling offstage Bring me my boots ! — I will unto the King . His man enters with his boots . DUCHESS Strike him , Aumerle ! Poor boy , thou art amazed . — Hence , villain , never more come in my sight . YORK Give me my boots , I say . His man helps him on with his boots , then exits . 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 age And rob me of a happy mother’s name ? Is he not like thee ? Is he not thine own ? YORK Thou fond mad woman , Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy ? A dozen of them here have ta’en the sacrament And interchangeably set down their hands To kill the King at Oxford . DUCHESS He shall be none . We’ll keep him here . Then what is that to him ? ACT 5. SC. 3 YORK Away , fond woman ! Were he twenty times my son , I would appeach him . DUCHESS Hadst thou groaned for him as I have done , Thou wouldst be more pitiful . But now I know thy mind : thou dost suspect That I have been disloyal to thy bed , And that he is a bastard , not thy son . 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 ! He exits . 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 ground Till Bolingbroke have pardoned thee . Away , begone ! They exit . Scene 3 Enter the King with his Nobles . 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 frequent ACT 5. SC. 3 With unrestrainèd loose companions , Even such , they say , as stand in narrow lanes And beat our watch and rob our passengers , While he , young wanton and effeminate boy , Takes on the point of honor to support So 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 glove And wear it as a favor , and with that He would unhorse the lustiest challenger . KING HENRY As dissolute as desperate . Yet through both I see some sparks of better hope , which elder years May happily bring forth . But who comes here ? Enter Aumerle amazed . 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 Majesty To have some conference with your Grace alone . KING HENRY , to his Nobles Withdraw yourselves , and leave us here alone . The Nobles exit . What is the matter with our cousin now ? AUMERLE , kneeling Forever may my knees grow to the earth , My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth , Unless a pardon ere I rise or speak . ACT 5. SC. 3 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 , standing Then give me leave that I may turn the key That no man enter till my tale be done . KING HENRY Have thy desire . Aumerle locks the door . The Duke of York knocks at the door and crieth . YORK , within My liege , beware ! Look to thyself ! Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there . KING HENRY , to Aumerle Villain , I’ll make thee safe . He draws his sword . 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 Henry unlocks the door . Enter York . 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 , giving King Henry a paper Peruse this writing here , and thou shalt know The treason that my haste forbids me show . AUMERLE , to King Henry 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 . ACT 5. SC. 3 Fear , and not love , begets his penitence . Forget to pity him , lest thy pity prove A 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 fountain From whence this stream , through muddy passages , Hath held his current and defiled himself , Thy overflow of good converts to bad , And thy abundant goodness shall excuse This deadly blot in thy digressing son . YORK So shall my virtue be his vice’s bawd , And he shall spend mine honor with his shame , As thriftless sons their scraping fathers’ gold . Mine honor lives when his dishonor dies , Or my shamed life in his dishonor 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 thy 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 <w xml:id="w0427630" n="5.3.80">The</w> <c xml:id="c0427640" n="5.3.80"> </c> <w xml:id="w0427650" n="5.3.80">Beggar</w> <c xml:id="c0427660" n="5.3.80"> </c> <w xml:id="w0427670" n="5.3.80">and</w> <c xml:id="c0427680" n="5.3.80"> </c> <w xml:id="w0427690" n="5.3.80">the</w> <c xml:id="c0427700" n="5.3.80"> </c> <w xml:id="w0427710" n="5.3.80">King</w> <pc xml:id="p0427720" n="5.3.80">.</pc> — My dangerous cousin , let your mother in . I know she is come to pray for your foul sin . Aumerle opens the door . Duchess of York enters and kneels . ACT 5. SC. 3 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 . — Hear me , gentle liege . KING HENRY Rise up , good aunt . DUCHESS Not yet , I thee beseech . Forever will I walk upon my knees And never see day that the happy sees , Till thou give joy , until thou bid me joy By pardoning Rutland , my transgressing boy . AUMERLE , kneeling Unto my mother’s prayers I bend my knee . YORK , kneeling Against them both my true joints bended be . 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 . ACT 5. SC. 3 Our prayers do outpray his . Then let them have That 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 ! To King Henry . 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 . ACT 5. SC. 4 KING HENRY I pardon him with all my heart . DUCHESS A god on Earth earth thou art . They all stand . 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 powers To 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 , to Aumerle Come , my old son . I pray God make thee new . They exit . Scene 4 Enter Sir Pierce Exton and Servants . 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 ? SERVINGMAN These were his very words . EXTON Have I no friend ? quoth he . He spake it twice And urged it twice together , did he not ? SERVINGMAN He did . EXTON And speaking it , he wishtly looked on me , As who should say I would thou wert the man That 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 . They exit . ACT 5. SC. 5 Scene 5 Enter Richard alone . RICHARD I have been studying how I may compare This prison where I live unto the world , And for because the world is populous And 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 beget A generation of still-breeding thoughts , And these same thoughts people this little world , In humors like the people of this world , For no thought is contented . The better sort , As thoughts of things divine , are intermixed With scruples , and do set the word itself Against the word , as thus : Come , little ones , And then again , It is as hard to come as for a camel To thread the postern of a small needle’s eye . Thoughts tending to ambition , they do plot Unlikely wonders : how these vain weak nails May tear a passage through the flinty ribs Of this hard world , my ragged prison walls , And , for they cannot , die in their own pride . Thoughts tending to content flatter themselves That they are not the first of fortune’s slaves , Nor shall not be the last — like silly beggars Who , sitting in the stocks , refuge their shame That many have and others must sit there , And in this thought they find a kind of ease , Bearing their own misfortunes on the back Of such as have before endured the like . Thus play I in one person many people , And none contented . Sometimes am I king . ACT 5. SC. 5 Then treasons make me wish myself a beggar , And so I am ; then crushing penury Persuades me I was better when a king . Then am I kinged again , and by and by Think that I am unkinged by Bolingbroke , And straight am nothing . But whate’er I be , Nor I nor any man that but man is With nothing shall be pleased till he be eased With being nothing . ( The music plays . ) Music do I hear ? Ha , ha , keep time ! How sour sweet music is When time is broke and no proportion kept . So is it in the music of men’s lives . And here have I the daintiness of ear To check time broke in a disordered string ; But for the concord of my state and time Had 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 jar Their 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 is Are clamorous groans which strike upon my heart , Which is the bell . So sighs and tears and groans Show minutes , times , and hours . But my time Runs posting on in Bolingbroke’s proud joy , While I stand fooling here , his jack of 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 Richard Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world . Enter a Groom of the stable . ACT 5. SC. 5 GROOM Hail , royal prince ! RICHARD Thanks , noble peer . The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear . What art thou , and how comest thou hither , Where no man never comes but that sad dog That brings me food to make misfortune live ? GROOM I was a poor groom of thy stable , king , When thou wert king ; who , traveling towards York , With much ado at length have gotten leave To look upon my sometime royal master’s face . O , how it earned my heart when I beheld In 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 neck Of 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 . Enter one , the Keeper , to Richard with meat . ACT 5. SC. 5 KEEPER , to Groom Fellow , give place . Here is no longer stay . RICHARD , to Groom If thou love me , ’tis time thou wert away . GROOM What my tongue dares not , that my heart shall say . Groom exits . 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 , attacking the Keeper The devil take Henry of Lancaster , and thee ! Patience is stale , and I am weary of it . KEEPER Help , help , help ! The Murderers Exton and his men rush in . RICHARD How now , what means death in this rude assault ? Villain , thy own hand yields thy death’s instrument . Richard seizes a weapon from a Murderer and kills him with it . Go thou and fill another room in hell . He kills another Murderer . Here Exton strikes him down . That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire That staggers thus my person . Exton , thy fierce hand Hath 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 . He dies . ACT 5. SC. 6 EXTON As full of valor as of royal blood . Both have I spilled . O , would the deed were good ! For now the devil that told me I did well Says 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 . They exit with the bodies . Scene 6 Enter King Henry , with the Duke of York . KING HENRY Kind uncle York , the latest news we hear Is that the rebels have consumed with fire Our town of Ciceter in Gloucestershire , But whether they be ta’en or slain we hear not . Enter Northumberland . 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 sent The heads of Oxford , Salisbury , Blunt , and Kent . The manner of their taking may appear At large discoursèd in this paper here . He gives King Henry a paper . KING HENRY We thank thee , gentle Percy , for thy pains , And to thy worth will add right worthy gains . Enter Lord Fitzwater . FITZWATER My lord , I have from Oxford sent to London The heads of Brocas and Sir Bennet Seely , ACT 5. SC. 6 Two of the dangerous consorted traitors That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow . KING HENRY Thy pains , Fitzwater , shall not be forgot . Right noble is thy merit , well I wot . Enter Harry Percy with the Bishop 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 abide Thy 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 honor in thee have I seen . Enter Exton and Servingmen with the coffin . EXTON Great king , within this coffin I present Thy buried fear . Herein all breathless lies The mightiest of thy greatest enemies , Richard of Bourdeaux , by me hither brought . KING HENRY Exton , I thank thee not , for thou hast wrought A deed of slander with thy fatal hand Upon 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 murderèd . ACT 5. SC. 6 The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labor , But neither my good word nor princely favor . With Cain go wander through shades of night , And never show thy head by day nor light . Exton exits . Lords , I protest my soul is full of woe That 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 Land To wash this blood off from my guilty hand . Servingmen lift the coffin to carry it out . March sadly after . Grace my mournings here In weeping after this untimely bier . They exit , following the coffin . all or part of a full metrical line all or part of a prose speech a short line which cannot be joined with other lines to form a full metrical line, or which may not be definitively identified asverse or prose editorial emendation editorial emendations to the text from the Folio