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 good will,
Which tired majesty did make thee offer,-
The resignation of thy state and crown
To Henry Bolingbroke.

[seize the crown; K. Rich. Give me the crown:-Here, cousin, Here, 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, The other down, uuseen, and full of water: The bucket down, and full of tears, am I, Drinking my griefs, whilst you mount up on high. Boling. I thought you had been willing to resign. K. Rich. My crown I am; but still my griefs are You may my glories and my state depose, [mine: But not my griefs; still am I king of those.

crown.

[be;

Boling. Part of your cares you give me with your [down. K. Rich. Your cares, set up, do not pluck my cares 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. Boling. Are you contented to resign the crown? K. Rich. Ay, no;-no, ay:-for I must nothing 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 sceptre from my hand," The pride of kingly sway from out my heart; With mine own tears I wash away my balm, With mine own hands I give away my crown, With mine own tongue deny my sacred state, With mine own breath release all duteous oaths: All pomp and majesty I do forswear; My manors, rents, and revenues, I forego; My acts, decrees, and statutes, I deny: God pardon all oaths, that are broke to me! God keep all vows unbroke, are made to thee! Make me, that nothing have, with nothing griev'd; And thou with all pleas'd, that hast all achiev'd! Long may'st thou live in Richard's seat to sit, And soon lie Richard in an earthly pit! God save king Henry, unking'd Richard says, And send him many years of sunshine days! What more remains? North.

No more, but that you read
(Offering a paper.)
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 depos'd.

K. Rich. Must I do so? and must I ravel out
My weav'd-up follies? Gentle Northumberland,
If thy offences 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,-

And cracking the strong warrant of an oath.-
Mark'd with a blot, damn'd 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 deliver'd me to my sour cross,
And water cannot wash away your sin.

North. My lord, despatch; read o'er these articles
K. Rich. 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.
Nay, if I turn mine eyes upon myself,
I find myself a traitor with the rest:
For I have given here my soul's consent,
To undeck the pompous body of a king;
Make glory base; and sovereignty, a slave;
Proud majesty, a subject; state, a peasant.
North. My lord,-

[man,

[good.)

K. Rich. No lord of thine, thou haught, insulting Nor no man's lord; I have no name, no title,No, not that name was given me at the font,But 'tis usurp'd:-Alack the heavy day, That I have worn so many winters out, And know not now what name to call myself! O, that I were a mockery king of snow, Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke, To melt myself away in water-drops!— Good king,-great king,-(and yet not greatly 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. Boling. Go some of you, and fetch a looking glass. [Exit an Attendant. North. Read o'er this paper, while the glass doth (to bell K. Rich. Fiend! thou torment'st me ere I come Boling. Urge it no more, my lord Northumberland. North. The commons will not then be satisfied. K. Rich. They shall be satisfied; I'll read enough, When I do see the very book indeed Where all my sins are writ, and that's—myself.

come.

Re-enter Attendant, with a glass. Give me that glass, and therein will I readNo deeper wrinkles yet? Hath sorrow struck So many blows upon this face of mine, And made no deeper wounds?-O, flattering glass, Like to my followers in prosperity, Thou dost beguile me! Was this face the face That every day under his household roof Did keep ten thousand men? Was this the face, That, like the sun, did make beholders wink? Was this the face, that fac'd so many follies, And was at last out-fac'd by Bolingbroke? A brittle glory shineth in this face: As brittle as the glory is the face:

(Dashes the glass against the ground. For there it is, crack'd in a hundred shivers.— Mark, silent king, the moral of this sport,How soon my sorrow hath destroy'd my face. Boling. The shadow of your sorrow hath destroy'd The shadow of your face.

K. Rich. 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 lament Are merely shadows to the unseen grief, That swells with silence in the tortur'd soul, There lies the substance: and I thank thee, king, For thy great bounty, that not only giv'st Me cause to wail, but teachest me the way How to lament the cause. I'll beg one boon, And then be gone, and trouble you no more. Shall I obtain it? Boling. Name it, fair cousin. K. Rich. Fair cousin? Why, I am greater thas a king:

Abbot. A woeful pageant have we here beheld. Car. The woe's to come; the children yet unborn

Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn.

Aum. You holy clergymen, is there no plot To rid the realm of this pernicious blot?

Abbot. Before I freely speak my mind herein, You shall not only take the sacrament To bury mine intents, but to effect Whatever I shall happen to devise:— I see your brows are full of discontent, Your hearts of sorrow, and your eyes of tears; Come home with me to supper; I will lay A plot, shall show us all a merry day.

ACT V.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I.-London. A Street leading to the Tower. Enter QUEEN and Ladies.

{way

Queen. This way the king will come; this is the To Julius Cæsar's ill-erected tower, To whose flint bosom my condemned lord Is doom'd a prisoner by proud Bolingbroke: Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth Have any resting for her true king's queen.

Enter King RICHARD, and Guards. But soft, but see, or rather do not see, 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 honour; thou king Richard's tomb, And not king Richard; thou most beauteous inn, Why should hard-favour'd grief be lodg'd in thee, When triumph is become an alehouse guest?

K. Rich. 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 awak'd, the truth of what we are
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 stricken down.
Queen. What, is my Richard both in shape and
mind

Transform'd, and weaken'd? Hath Bolingbroke
Depos'd thine intellect? Hath he been in thy heart?
The lion, dying, thrusteth forth his paw,
And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage
To be o'erpower'd; and wilt thon, pupil-like,
Take thy correction mildly? kiss the rod;
And fawn on rage with base humility,
Which art a lion, and a king of beasts?

K. Rich. A king of beasts, indeed; if aught but I had been still a happy king of men.

[beasts,

Good sometime queen, prepare thee hence for France:

Think, I am dead; and that even here thou tak'st,
As from my death bed, my last living leave.

In winter's tedious nights sit by the fire
With good old folks; and let them tell thee tales
Of woeful ages, long ago betid:

And, ere thou bid good night, to quit their grief,
Tell thou the lamentable fall of me,
And send the hearers weeping to their beds.
For why, the senseless brands will sympathize
The heavy accent of thy moving tongue,
And, in compassion, weep the fire out:
And some will mourn in ashes, some coal-black,
For the deposing of a rightful king.

Enter NORTHUMBERLAND, attended.

North. My lord, the mind of Bolingbroke is chang'd; You must to Pomfret, not unto the Tower.And, madam, there is order ta'en for you; With all swift speed you must away to France. K. Rich. 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;

[way

And he shall think, that thou, which know'st the
To plant unrightful kings, wilt know again,
Being ne'er so little urg'd, another way
To pluck him headlong from the usurp'd throne.
The love of wicked friends converts to fear;
That fear, to hate; and hate turns one, or both,
To worthy danger, and deserved death.

North. My guilt be on my head, and there an end. Take leave, and part; for you must part forthwith

K. Rich. Donbly divorc'd?-Bad men, ye violate A twofold marriage; 'twixt my crown and me; And then, betwixt me and my married wife.Let me uukiss the oath 'twixt thee and me; And yet not so, for with a kiss 'twas made.Part us, Northumberland; I towards the north, Where shivering cold and sickness pines the clime My wife to France; from whence, set forth in pomp, She came adorned hither like sweet May, Sent back like Hallowmas, or short'st of day. Queen. And must we be divided? must we part? K. Rich. Ay, hand from hand, my love, and heart from neart. [me.

Queen. Banish us both, and send the king with North. That were some love, but little policy. Queen. Then whither he goes, thither let me go. K. Rich. So two, together weeping, make one

woe.

moans.

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
[being short,
K. Rich. Twice for one step I'll groan, the way
And piece the way out with a heavy heart.
Come, come, in wooing sorrow let's be brief.
Since, wedding it, there is such length in grief,
One kiss shall stop our mouths, and dumbly part;
Thus give I mine, and thus I take thy heart.

(They kiss.)

Queen. Give me mine own again; 'twere no good part,

To take on me to keep, and kill thy heart.

(Kiss again.)

So, now I have mine own again, begone,
That I may strive to kill it with a groan. [delay;
K. Rich. We make woe wanton with this fond
Once more, adieu; the rest let sorrow say.

(Exeant

A hat addon, my ort. Xare desgovernd hands, from windows'

bond

mke

York. As in a theatre, the eyes of men. After a well grac i actor leaves the stage, Amedly sent in um that enters next, Tunking as prattle to be tedious :

Even so, or with much more contempt, men s eyes Did scowl sa Richard; no man cried, God save him.

No joyful tongue gave him his welcome hume:
But dust was thrown upon his sacred head:
Which with mch gentle sorrow he shook off. —
His face stul combating with tears and smiles,
The hadges of his grief and patience.—

That had not God, for some strong purpose strel”. I
The hearts of men, they must perforce have meited,
And barbaram tself have pitted hum.

But heaven nata a hand in these events;

To whose aigh will we bound our caim contents. To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now, Whose state and honour I for aye ailow.

Enter ACMERLE

Duch. Here comes my son Aamerie. York. Amerie that was; But that is lost, for being Richard's friend, Aad madam, you must call him Ratiand now; I am in partiament pledge for nis trith, Aard lasting feaity to the new-made king. Duch. Welcome, my son: Who are the violets

now,

That strew the green lap of the new-come spring Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not: God knows, I had as lief be none, as one.

York. Well, bear you weil in this new spring of time,

Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime. What news from Oxford: hoid those justs and triumphs?

Aum. For anant I know, my lord, they do.
York. You will be there, I know.
Aum. If God prevent it not; I purpose so.
York. What seal is that, that hangs without thy
bosom?

Yea, look at thon pale? let me see the writing.
Aum. My lord, 'tis nothing.
York.

No matter then who sees it:
I will be satisfied, let me see the writing.
Aum. I do beseech your grace to pardon me;
It is a matter of small consequence,
Which for some reasons I would not have seen.

Duch. What is the matter, my lord?

York. Ho! who is within there? (Enter a Servant.) Saddle my horse.

God for ins mercy! what treachery is here!
Duch. Why, what is it, my lord?

Yt. Give me my boots, I say; saddle my

horse:

For by mine honour, by my life, my troth,
I will impeach the villain.

[Exit Servant.
Duch
What's the matter?
York. Peace, foolish woman.

[son?

Duch. I will not peace:-What is the matter, Aum. Good mother, be content; it is no more Than my poor life must answer. Duch

Thy life answer! Re-enter Servant, with boots.

art amaz'd :—

Yrt. Bring me my boots. I will unto the king.
Duch. Strike him, Aumerle.-Pour boy, thou
Hence, villain; never more come in my sight.-
(To the Servant.)

York. Give me my boots, I say.
Duch. Why, York, what wilt thou do?
Wit 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 call the king at Oxford.

As I have done, thon'dst be more pitiful.
But now I know thy mind: thou dost suspect,
That I have been disloyal to thy bed,
And that he is a bastard, not thy son:
Sweet York, sweet husband, be not of that mind:
He is as like thee as a man may be,
Not like to me, or any of my kin,
And yet I love him.
York.

Make way, unruly woman. [Exit Duch. After, Aumerle; mount thee upon his horse:

Spar, 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 pardon'd thee: Away;
Begone.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III-Windsor. A Room in the Castle.
Enter BOLINGBROKE as King; PERCY, and other
Lords.

Boling. Can no man tell of my unthrifty son? Tis full three months, since I did see him last:If any plague hang over us, 'tis he