text stringlengths 1 3.08k |
|---|
HENRY BOLINGBROKE: Name it, fair cousin. |
KING RICHARD II: '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. |
HENRY BOLINGBROKE: Yet ask. |
KING RICHARD II: And shall I have? |
HENRY BOLINGBROKE: You shall. |
KING RICHARD II: Then give me leave to go. |
HENRY BOLINGBROKE: Whither? |
KING RICHARD II: Whither you will, so I were from your sights. |
HENRY BOLINGBROKE: Go, some of you convey him to the Tower. |
KING RICHARD II: O, good! convey? conveyers are you all, That rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall. |
HENRY BOLINGBROKE: On Wednesday next we solemnly set down Our coronation: lords, prepare yourselves. |
Abbot: A woeful pageant have we here beheld. |
BISHOP OF CARLISLE: The woe's to come; the children yet unborn. Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn. |
DUKE OF AUMERLE: You holy clergymen, is there no plot To rid the realm of this pernicious blot? |
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; and I'll lay A plot shall show us al... |
QUEEN: This way the king will come; this is the way To Julius Caesar'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. But soft, but see, or rather do not see, My fair rose wither:... |
KING RICHARD II: 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 sworn brother, sweet, To grim Necessity, and he and I Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to France A... |
QUEEN: What, is my Richard both in shape and mind Transform'd and weaken'd? 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'erpower'd; and wilt thou, pupil-like, Take thy correction mildly, kiss the rod... |
KING RICHARD II: 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 death-bed, thy last living leave. In winter's tedious nights sit by the fire With good old folks and let th... |
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 II: 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 Shalt break into corruption: thou shalt think, Though he divide the realm and give thee half, It is too little, helping him to all; And... |
NORTHUMBERLAND: My guilt be on my head, and there an end. Take leave and part; for you must part forthwith. |
KING RICHARD II: Doubly divorced! Bad men, you violate A twofold marriage, 'twixt my crown and me, And then betwixt me and my married wife. Let me unkiss the oath 'twixt thee and me; And yet not so, for with a kiss 'twas made. Part us, Northumberland; I toward the north, Where shivering cold and sickness pines the clim... |
QUEEN: And must we be divided? must we part? |
KING RICHARD II: Ay, hand from hand, my love, and heart from heart. |
QUEEN: Banish us both and send the king with me. |
NORTHUMBERLAND: That were some love but little policy. |
QUEEN: Then whither he goes, thither let me go. |
KING RICHARD II: 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 II: 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. |
QUEEN: Give me mine own again; 'twere no good part To take on me to keep and kill thy heart. So, now I have mine own again, be gone, That I might strive to kill it with a groan. |
KING RICHARD II: We make woe wanton with this fond delay: Once more, adieu; the rest let sorrow say. |
DUCHESS OF YORK: 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. |
DUKE OF YORK: Where did I leave? |
DUCHESS OF YORK: At that sad stop, my lord, Where rude misgovern'd hands from windows' tops Threw dust and rubbish on King Richard's head. |
DUKE OF YORK: Then, as I said, the duke, great Bolingbroke, Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed Which his aspiring rider seem'd 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 o... |
DUCHESS OF YORK: Alack, poor Richard! where rode he the whilst? |
DUKE OF YORK: As in a theatre, 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; 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... |
DUCHESS OF YORK: Here comes my son Aumerle. |
DUKE OF 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 OF YORK: Welcome, my son: who are the violets now That strew the green lap of the new come spring? |
DUKE OF AUMERLE: Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not: God knows I had as lief be none as one. |
DUKE OF YORK: Well, bear you well in this new spring of time, Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime. What news from Oxford? hold those justs and triumphs? |
DUKE OF AUMERLE: For aught I know, my lord, they do. |
DUKE OF YORK: You will be there, I know. |
DUKE OF AUMERLE: If God prevent not, I purpose so. |
DUKE OF YORK: What seal is that, that hangs without thy bosom? Yea, look'st thou pale? let me see the writing. |
DUKE OF AUMERLE: My lord, 'tis nothing. |
DUKE OF YORK: No matter, then, who see it; I will be satisfied; let me see the writing. |
DUKE OF 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. |
DUKE OF YORK: Which for some reasons, sir, I mean to see. I fear, I fear,-- |
DUCHESS OF YORK: What should you fear? 'Tis nothing but some bond, that he is enter'd into For gay apparel 'gainst the triumph day. |
DUKE OF 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. |
DUKE OF AUMERLE: I do beseech you, pardon me; I may not show it. |
DUKE OF YORK: I will be satisfied; let me see it, I say. Treason! foul treason! Villain! traitor! slave! |
DUCHESS OF YORK: What is the matter, my lord? |
DUKE OF YORK: Ho! who is within there? Saddle my horse. God for his mercy, what treachery is here! |
DUCHESS OF YORK: Why, what is it, my lord? |
DUKE OF YORK: Give me my boots, I say; saddle my horse. Now, by mine honour, by my life, by my troth, I will appeach the villain. |
DUCHESS OF YORK: What is the matter? |
DUKE OF YORK: Peace, foolish woman. |
DUCHESS OF YORK: I will not peace. What is the matter, Aumerle. |
DUKE OF AUMERLE: Good mother, be content; it is no more Than my poor life must answer. |
DUCHESS OF YORK: Thy life answer! |
DUKE OF YORK: Bring me my boots: I will unto the king. |
DUCHESS OF YORK: Strike him, Aumerle. Poor boy, thou art amazed. Hence, villain! never more come in my sight. |
DUKE OF YORK: Give me my boots, I say. |
DUCHESS OF YORK: 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? |
DUKE OF 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 OF YORK: He shall be none; We'll keep him here: then what is that to him? |
DUKE OF YORK: Away, fond woman! were he twenty times my son, I would appeach him. |
DUCHESS OF YORK: Hadst thou groan'd 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 ... |
DUKE OF YORK: Make way, unruly woman! |
DUCHESS OF YORK: 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 pardon'd thee. Away, be gone! |
HENRY BOLINGBROKE: 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, With unrestrained loose companions, Eve... |
HENRY PERCY: My lord, some two days since I saw the prince, And told him of those triumphs held at Oxford. |
HENRY BOLINGBROKE: And what said the gallant? |
HENRY PERCY: His answer was, he would unto the stews, And from the common'st creature pluck a glove, And wear it as a favour; and with that He would unhorse the lustiest challenger. |
HENRY BOLINGBROKE: 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? |
DUKE OF AUMERLE: Where is the king? |
HENRY BOLINGBROKE: What means our cousin, that he stares and looks So wildly? |
DUKE OF AUMERLE: God save your grace! I do beseech your majesty, To have some conference with your grace alone. |
HENRY BOLINGBROKE: Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here alone. What is the matter with our cousin now? |
DUKE OF AUMERLE: For ever may my knees grow to the earth, My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth Unless a pardon ere I rise or speak. |
HENRY BOLINGBROKE: Intended or committed was this fault? If on the first, how heinous e'er it be, To win thy after-love I pardon thee. |
DUKE OF AUMERLE: Then give me leave that I may turn the key, That no man enter till my tale be done. |
HENRY BOLINGBROKE: Have thy desire. |
DUKE OF YORK: |
HENRY BOLINGBROKE: Villain, I'll make thee safe. |
DUKE OF AUMERLE: Stay thy revengeful hand; thou hast no cause to fear. |
DUKE OF YORK: |
HENRY BOLINGBROKE: What is the matter, uncle? speak; Recover breath; tell us how near is danger, That we may arm us to encounter it. |
DUKE OF YORK: Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt know The treason that my haste forbids me show. |
DUKE OF AUMERLE: Remember, as thou read'st, thy promise pass'd: I do repent me; read not my name there My heart is not confederate with my hand. |
DUKE OF YORK: It was, villain, ere thy hand did set it down. I tore it from the traitor's bosom, king; Fear, and not love, begets his penitence: Forget to pity him, lest thy pity prove A serpent that will sting thee to the heart. |
HENRY BOLINGBROKE: O heinous, strong and bold conspiracy! O loyal father of a treacherous son! Thou sheer, immaculate and silver fountain, From when 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... |
DUKE OF YORK: So shall my virtue be his vice's bawd; And he shall spend mine honour with his shame, As thriftless sons their scraping fathers' gold. Mine honour lives when his dishonour dies, Or my shamed life in his dishonour lies: Thou kill'st me in his life; giving him breath, The traitor lives, the true man's put t... |
DUCHESS OF YORK: |
HENRY BOLINGBROKE: What shrill-voiced suppliant makes this eager cry? |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.