RICHARD

Oh Vld John of Gaunt time honoured Lancaster, Hast thou according to thy oath and band Brought hither Henry Herford thy bold son, Here to make good the boistro ate appeal, Which then our leisure would not let us hear Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Moubray? Tell me moreover hast thou sounded him, If he appeal the Duke on ancient malice, Or worth y as a good subject should On some known ground of treachery in him. Then call them to our presence face to face, And frowning brow to brow our selves will hear. The accuser and the accused freely speak: High stomackt are they both and full of ire, In rage, deaf as the sea, hasty as fire. We that nke you both, yet one but flatters us, As well appears by the cause you come; Namely to appeal each other of high treason: Cousin of , what dost thou object Against the Duke of Norfolk Thomas Mowbray? What does our ccusin lay to Mowbray's charge? It must be great that can inherit us, So much as of a thought of ill in him. How high a pitch his resolution soars, Thomas of No folk sai to thou to this? Mowbray impartial are our eyes and ears, Were he my brother, nay, my kingdoms heir, As he is but my father's brother's son, Now by sceptres awe I make a vow, Such neighbour 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, F ee speech and fearless I to thee allow. Wrath kindled gentleman be ruled by , Lets 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, Weel calm the Duke of Norfolk, you your son. And Norfolk throw down his. Norfolk throw down we bid, there is no boot. Rage ust be withstood, Give me his gage; Lions make Leopards tame. Cousin, throw up your gage, do you begin. 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, At Coventry upon saint Lamberes 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, Victo Lord Marshal, command our Be ready to direct these home alarms. Let them lay by their helmets, and their spears, And both return back to their chairs again, Withdraw with us, and let the trumpets found, While we return these dukes what we decree. Draw near and list What with our counsel we have done: For that our kingdoms earth shou worser not be soiled With that deer blood which it hath ostered: And for our eyes do hate the aspect Of civil wounds plowed up with neighbours sword, And for we think the Eagle-winged pride Of skie-aspiring and ambitious thoughts, With rival-hating set on you To wake our peace, which in our Countries read e Draws the sweet infant reath of gentle sleep Which so ro zde up with boisterous vntunde drums, With harsh resounding trumpets dreadful bray, And grating shock of wrathfully on arms, Might from our Queen et confines f ight fair Peace, And make us wade even in our kindreds blood; Therefore we banish you our territories: You cousin Hereford upon pain of life, Till twice five summer's have enriched our fields, Shall not regreet our fair dominions But tread the stranger paths of banishment. Return again, and take and oath with thee, Lay on our royal sword your banished hands, Swear by the duty that y'owe to God, (Our partly therein we banish with your selves,) To keep the oath that we administer: You never shall, so help you truth and God, Embrace each others love in banishment, Nor never look upon each others face, Nor never write, regreet, nor reconcile This lowering tempest of your homebred hate, Nor never by advised purpose meet, To plot, contrive, or complot any ill, Gainst us, our state, our subjects, or our land. Uncle, even in the glasses of thine eyes, I see thy grieved heart: thy sad aspect Hath from the number of his banished years Plucked four away, six frozen winter's spent, Return with welcome home from banishment. Why Uncle thou hast many years to live. Thy son is banished upon good advise, Whereto thy tonge a party verdict gave, Why at our justice seemest thou then to lower? Cousin farewell, and Uncle, bid him so, Six years we banish him and he shall go. He is our Cozens Cousin, but 'tis doubt, When time shall call him home from banishment, Whither our kinsman come to see his friends. Our self and Bushy, 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 under-bearing of his fortune, As it to ba is their affects with him, Off goes his bonnet to and oysterwench, A brace of draimen bid, God speed him well, 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. We will our self 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 would e blank charters, Whereto, when they shall know what men are rich, They shall subscribe them for large sum of gold, And send them after to supply our wants, For we will make for Ireland presently. Thou now a dying sayest thou flatterest me. I am in health, I breathe, and see thee ill. A lunatic lean-witted fool, Presuming on and agues priu ledge, Darest with thy frozen admonition Make pale our cheek, chasing the royal blood With urie from his native residence. Now by my seats right royal majesty, Wertenberg thou not brother to great Edwards son, This tonge that runs so roundly in thy head, Should run thy head from thy unreverent shoulders. Down, down I come, Like glistering Phaeton: 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 nightowles shriek where mounting larks should sing. 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, Then my unpleased eye see your courtesy: Up cousin up, your heart is up I know, Thus high at least, although your knee be low. Your own is yours, and I am yours and all. Well you deserve: they well deserve to have, That know the strongest and surest way to get Uncle give me your hands, ay dry your eyes, Tears show their love, but want their remedies. Cousin I am to young to be your Father Though you are old enough to be my heir, What you will have, I'll give, and willing to, For do we must, what force will have us do: Set on towards London, Cousin is it so? Then I must not say no. a King of beasts indeed, if aught but beasts, I had been 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 death bed thy last living leave; In winter's tedious nights fit by the fire, with good old folks, and let them tell the tales, Of woeful ages long ago be tidde: 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: For why, the senseless brands will sympathise The heavy accent of thy moving tonge, And in compassion weep the fire out, And some will mourn in ashes, some coal black, For the deposing of a rightful King. And what said the gallant? Withdraw your selves, and leave us here alone. What is the matter with our cousin now? Have thy desire. Villain I'll make thee safe. Oh heinous, strong, and bold conspiracy; Oh loyal Father, of a treacherous Son, Thou shear immaculate and filuer Fountain, From whence this st eame, through muddy passages Hath held his current, and defiled himself, Thy overflow of good, converts to bade: And thy abundant goodness, shall excuse, This deadly blot in thy digressing son. They love not poison that do poison need, Nor do I thee; though I did wish him dead, I hate the murderer, love him murdered: The gilded of conscience take thou for thy labour, But neither my good word, nor Princely favour; With Cain go wander through shades of night, And never show thy head by day nor light. Lords, I protest my soul is full of woe, That blood should sprincle 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 holly land, To wash this blood off from my guilty hand: March sadly after, grace my mournings here, In weeping after this untimely Beer. Marshal demand of yooder Champion, The cause of his arrival here in arms, A ke him his name, and orderly proceed To swear him in the I stice of his cause. Marshal ask yonder Knight in arms, Both who he is, and why he comes hither, Thus plated in habiliments of war, And formally according to our law, Depose him in the justice of his cause. We will descend and fold him in our arms, Cousin of Herford, as thy cause is right, So be thy fortune in this royal fight: Farewell my blood, which if to day thou shed, Lament we may, but not revenge the dead. Farewell (my Lord) securely I espy, Virtue with Val ur couched in thine eye, Order the trial Martial, and begin. Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier doom, Which I with some unwillingness pronounce, The she slow hours shall not determinate The dateless limit of thy deer exile, The hopeless word of never to return, Breathe I against thee, upon pain of life. It boots thee not to be compassionate, After our sentence plaining comes too late. We did observe. Cousin Aumerle. How far brought you high Hereford, on his way? And say, what store of parting tears were shed? What said our cousin when you parted with him? Where lies he? Now put it (God) in the Physicians mind, To help him to his graven immedia lie The li king of his coffers shall make coats To deck our soldiers for these Irish wars. Come gentlemen, lets all go visit him, Pray God we may make haste and come too late, What comfort man? how st with aged Gaunt? Can sick men play so nicely with their names? Should dying men flatter with those that live? And let them die that age and sullens have, For both hast thou, and both become the graven. Right, you say true, as Herefords love, so his As theirs, so mine, and all be as it is. What says he? The ripest fruit first falls, and so does 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: The plate, coin, reue es, and moveables Whereof our Uncle Gaunt did stand possessed. Why Uncle whats the matter? Think what you will, we cease into our hands His plate, his goods, his money and his lands. Go Bushy to the Earl of Wiltshire straight. Bid him repair to us to Ely house, To see this but nes: to morrow next We will for Ireland, and 'tis time I trow, And we create in absence of our self, Our Uncle York Lord governor of England; For he is joust, and always loved us well: Come on our Queen, to morrow must we partly, Be merry, for our time of stay is short. Barkloughly castle call they this at hand? Needs must I Like it well, I weep for joy To stand upon my kingdom once again: Dear earth I do salute thee with my hand, Though rebels wound thee with their horses hoofes: 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 favours with my royal hands; Feed not thy Sovereigns foe, my gentle earth, Nor with thy sweets comfort his ravenous sense, But let thy Spiders that suck up thy venom, And heavy-gated 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 enemies, Mock not my sencel S conjuration Lords, This earth shall have a feeling, and these stones, Prove armed soldiers ere her native King, Shall falter under foul rebellions arms. Discomfortable Cousin knowest 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 bouldy here, But when from under this terrestrial ball, He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines, And darts his light through every guilty hold, Then murders, treasons and detested sins, The cloak of night being plucked from off their backs, Stand bore and naked trembling at themselves? So when this thief, this traitor Bulling brook, Who all this while hath reueld in the night, While we were wandering with the Antipodes Shall see us rising in our throne the east, His treasons will fit blushing in his face, Not able to endure the ight of day, But self affrighted tremble at his sin, Not all the water in the rough rude sea, Can wash the balm off from and anointed King, The breath of worldly men cannot depose, The deputy elected by the Lord, For every man that Bullingbrook hath pressed, To lift shrewd steel against our golden crown, God for his Ric: hath in heavenly pay, A glorious Angel; then I A gels fight, Weak men must all, for heaven still guards the right. W lcome my Lo: how far off lies your power? But now the blood of 20000. 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, side, For time hath set a blot upon my ride. I had forgotten my sell e, am I not King? Awake thou coward Majesty thou sleepest. Is not the Kings name twenty thousand names? Arm arm, my name a p nigh subject-strikes, At thy great glory, look not to the ground, You favourites of a King, are we not high? High be our thoughts, I know my Uncle York, Hath power e ough to serve our turn: but who comes here? Mine ear is open, and my heart prepared, The worst is worldly lose thou canst unfold, Say, is my kingdom lost? why it my care, And what! lose is it to be rid of care? Strives Bullingbrook to be as great as we, Greater he shall not be, if he serve God, Weel serve him to, 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, Too well too well thou tellest a tale so ill, Where is the Earl of Wilts ire? 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 Bulling. 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 Iudasses, each one thrice worse then Judas, Would they make peace? terrible hell, Make war upon their spotted souls for this. No matter where of comfort no man speak: talk of graves, of worms, and Epitaphs Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes, Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth. Lets choose executors and talk of wills: And yet not so for what can we bequeathe, Save our deposed bodies to the ground? Our lands, our lives, and all are Bullingbrookes. And nothing can we call our own, but death: And that small odle of the barren earth, Which serves as past, and cover to our bones, For Gods sake let us fit upon the ground, And tell sad sto ies of the death of Kings, How some have been depo worser, some slain in war, ome 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 antique S S, cof ng his state and grin king at his pomp, Allowing him a b eath, a little scene, To monarchise be fea worser, and kill with looks, nfusing him with self and vain conceit, S if this flesh which walls about ourlife, ere brass impregnable: and humord thus, Comes at the last, and with a little pi Boars thor his Castle wall, and farewell King; Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood, With solemn reverence, throw a way respect, Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty, For you have but mistook me all this while: I live with bred Like you, feel want, Taste grief, need friends, subjected thus, How can you say to me, I am a King? Thou chidst me well, proud Bullingbrook, I come To change blows with thee for our day of doom: This ague fit of fear I overblown, And 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. Thou hast said enough: Beshre y thee cou in which didst lead me forth. Of that sweet way I was in to disp I What say you now? what comfort have we By heaven I'll hate him everlastingly; That bids me be of comfort any more. Go to Flint Castle, there I'll pine away, A King woes slave shall kingly woe obey: 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 altar this, for counsel is but vain. He does me double wrong, That wounds me with the flatteries of his tonge. Discharge my followers, let them hence away, From Richard's night, to Bullingbrookes fair day. We are amazed, and thus long have we stood, To watch the fearful bending of thy knee, Because we'thought ou self thy lawful King: And 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 Scep r 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 pestilenc , 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 Bullingbrook, for yond me thinks he stands, That every stride he makes upon my land, Is dangerous to eason: he is come to open The purple testament of bl eding war: But ere the crown he looks for, live in peace, Ten thousand bloody crowns of mother's sons, Shall ill become the flower of England's face, Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace, To scarlet indignation and bedew Her Pastor's grass with faithful English blood. 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. We do debase our selves, 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? O God o God that ere this ong of mine That aid the sentence of dread banishment On yond proved man should take it off again 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! Swellst thou (proud heart) I'll give thee scope to beat, Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me. 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? a Gods name let it go: I'll give my jewels for a set of Beads: My gorgeous palace for a hermitage: My gay apparel for and almesmans gown: My figure goblets for a dish of wood: My sceptre for a Palmer's walking staff: My subjects for a pair of carved Saints, And my large kingdom for a little graven, A little little graven, and obscure graven, Or I'll be buried in the Kings High way, Some way of common trade, where subjects feet May hourly trample on their sovereigns head; For on my heart they tread now while I live: And buried once, why not upon my head? Aumerle thou weepest (my tender-hearted cousin) Weel make fowl weather with despised 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 Two kinsmen dug their graves with weeping eyes Would not this ill do well? well well I see, I talk but idly, and you laugh at me. Most mighty Prince my Lord Northumberland, What says king Bullingbroke, will his majesty Give Richard leave to live till Richard die, You make a leg and Bullingbroke says I. Northumberland, thou ladder wherewithal The mounting Bullingbrook 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 never so little vrgde another way, To pluck him headlong from the usurped throne The love of wicked men conue ts to fear, That fear to hate; and hate turns one or both To worthy danger and deserved death. Doubly iuorst (bade men) you violate A twofold marriage betwixt my crown and me, And then betwixt me and my married wife. Let me unkiss the oath betwixt thee and me: And yet not so, for with a kiss was made Partly us Northumberland, I towards the north, Where shivering cold and sickness pines the climb: My wife to France, from whence set forth in pomp She came adorned hither Like sweet Ma e, Sent back Like Hollowmas or shortest of day. I hand from hand (my love) and heart from heart. That were some love, but little policy. So two together weeping make one woe, Weep thou for me in France, I for thee here, Better far off than near be never the near, Go c unt thy way with sighs, I mine with groans. 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 lets be brief, Since wedding it, there is such length in grief; One kiss shall stop our mouths, and dumbly partly, Thus give I mine, and thus take I thy heart. We make woe wanton with this found delay, Once more adue, the rest let sorrow say. Intended, or committed, was this fault? If on the first, how heinous ere it be To win thy after love, I pardon thee. What is the matter uncle, speak, recover breath, Tell us, how near is danger, That we may arm us to encounter it? Our scene is altered from a serious thing, And now change to the Beggar and the King: My dangerous cousin, let your mother in, I know she is come to pray for your foul sin. I pardon him as God shall pardon me. Kind uncle York, the latest news we hear , Is that the rebels have consumed with fire Our town of Ciceter in Gloucestershire, But whither they be taken oh slain we hear not. Welcome my Lord, what is the news? We thank thee gentle P cy for thy pains, And to thy Worth will add right worthy gains. Thy pains Fitz. shall nor be forgotten, Right noble is thy merit well I wot. Carleil, this is your doom; Choose out some secret place, some reverent room More than thou baste, and with it joy thy life: So as thou livest in peace, die free from strife, For though mine enemy thou hast ever been, High sparks of honour in thee have I seen. 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. 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 Shows us but this: I am swo ne brother (sweet) To grim necessity, and he and I, Will keep a league till death. High thee to France, And cloister thee in some religious house, Our holy lives must win a new world's crown, Which ou profane hours here have thrown down. I have been studying how I may compare This prison where I live, unto the world: And forbecause the world is populous, And here is not a creature but my self, 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 humours 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 it self Against the word, as thus: Come little ones, & then again It is as hard to come, as for a Camel To thread the postern of a small needles eye: Thoughts tending to ambition they do plot, Unlikely wonders: how these vain weak nails May tear a passage thorough 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 itting in the stocks refuge their shame, That many have, and others must set there. And in this thought they find a kind of ease, Bearing their own misfortunes on the back Of such as have before endure the Like. Thus play I in one pe son many people, And none contented; sometime am I King, Then treasons make me wish my self 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 Bullingbrook, And strait am nothing. But what ere I be, Nor I, nor any man, that but man is, With nothing shall be pleased, till he be eased, With being nothing. Music do I hear, Would would 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 and ear to hear my true time broke, I wasted time, and now does time waste me: For now hath time made me his numbering clock; My thoughts are minutes, and with sighs they jar, Their watches on unto mine eyes the outward watch Whereto my finger Like a dialles point, Is pointing still, in cleansing them om tears. Now the found 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 Bullingbrokes proud joy, While I stand fooling here his Jack of the clock. This music maddes me, let it found no more, For though it have help mad men to their wits, In me it seems it will make wise men mad: Yet bless king on his heart that gives it me, For 'tis asigne of love: and love to Richard, Is a strange brooch in this al-hating world. Thanks noble pear: The cheapest of us is ten grotes too deer. What art thou, and how comest thou ither, Where no man never comes, but that sad dog, That brings me food to make misfortune live. Road he on Barbary, tell me gentle friend, How went he under him? If thou love me, 'tis time thou Wertenberg away. Taste of it first as thou art wont to do. The devil take Henry of Lancaster, and thee. Patience is stale, and I am weary of it. How now, what means Death in this rude assault? Villain, thy own hand yields thy death's instrument Go thou and fill another room in hell. That hand shall burn in never quenching fire. That staggers thus my person: Exton, thy fierce hand Hath with the kings blood stained the kings own land. Mount mount my soul, thy seat is up on high, While my gross flesh sinks downward here to die, So proud that Bullingbroke was on his back: That Jade hath eat bred from my royal hand, This hand hath made him proud with clapping him: Would he not stumble, would he not fallen down Since pride must have a fall; and break the neck, Of that prond 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 and ass, Spurrde, galed, and tirde by iauncing Bullingbrook.