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twg_000000024900 | The noisome weeds which without profit suck The soils fertility from wholesome flowers. SERVANT. 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-walled garden, the whole land, Is full of weeds, her fairest flowers choked up, Her fruit trees all unpruned, her | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024901 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024902 | Earl of Wiltshire, Bushy, Green. SERVANT. 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 over-proud in sap and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024903 | blood, With too much riches it confound itself. Had he done so to great and growing men, 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 home the crown, Which waste of idle hours hath quite thrown down. SERVANT. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024904 | 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 Yorks That tell black tidings. QUEEN. O, I am pressed to death through want of speaking! [_Coming forward._] Thou, old Adams likeness, set to dress this garden, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024905 | How dares thy harsh rude tongue sound this unpleasing news? What Eve, what serpent, hath suggested thee To make a second fall of cursed man? Why dost thou say King Richard is deposed? Darst thou, thou little better thing than earth, Divine his downfall? Say, where, when, and how, Camst thou by this ill tidings? Speak, thou wretch! GARDENER. Pardon | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024906 | 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 lords 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024907 | 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. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024908 | may longest keep Thy sorrow in my breast. Come, ladies, go To meet at London Londons king in woe. What, was I born to this, that my sad look Should grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke? Gardner, for telling me these news of woe, Pray God the plants thou graftst may never grow! [_Exeunt Queen and Ladies._] GARDENER. Poor Queen, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024909 | 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 Ill 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. [_Exeunt._] ACT IV SCENE I. Westminster Hall. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024910 | The Lords spiritual on the right side of the throne; the Lords temporal on the left; the Commons below. Enter Bolingbroke, Aumerle, Surrey, Northumberland, Harry Percy, Fitzwater, another Lord, the Bishop of Carlisle, the Abbot of Westminster and attendants. BOLINGBROKE. Call forth Bagot. Enter Officers with Bagot. Now, Bagot, freely speak thy mind, What thou dost know of noble Gloucesters | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024911 | 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. BAGOT. My Lord Aumerle, I know your daring tongue Scorns to unsay what once it hath delivered. In that dead time when Gloucesters death was | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024912 | plotted, I heard you say Is not my arm of length, That reacheth from the restful English Court As far as Calais, to mine uncles head? Amongst much other talk that very time I heard you say that you had rather refuse The offer of an hundred thousand crowns Than Bolingbrokes return to England, Adding withal, how blest this land | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024913 | would be In this your cousins death. AUMERLE. Princes and noble lords, What answer shall I make to this base man? Shall I so much dishonour my fair stars On equal terms to give him chastisement? Either I must, or have mine honour soiled With the attainder of his slanderous lips. There is my gage, the manual seal of death | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024914 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024915 | me so. FITZWATER. If that thy valour stand on sympathy, There is my gage, Aumerle, in gage to thine. By that fair sun which shows me where thou standst, I heard thee say, and vauntingly thou spakst it, That thou wert cause of noble Gloucesters death. If thou deniest it twenty times, thou liest! And I will turn thy falsehood | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024916 | to thy heart, Where it was forged, with my rapiers point. AUMERLE. Thou darst not, coward, live to see that day. FITZWATER. Now, by my soul, I would it were this hour. AUMERLE. Fitzwater, thou art damned to hell for this. HARRY PERCY. Aumerle, thou liest. His honour is as true In this appeal as thou art an unjust; And | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024917 | that thou art so, there I throw my gage, To prove it on thee to the extremest point Of mortal breathing. Seize it if thou darst. AUMERLE. And if I do not, may my hands rot off And never brandish more revengeful steel Over the glittering helmet of my foe! ANOTHER LORD. I task the earth to the like, forsworn | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024918 | Aumerle, And spur thee on with full as many lies As may be holloaed in thy treacherous ear From sun to sun. There is my honours pawn. Engage it to the trial if thou darst. AUMERLE. Who sets me else? By heaven, Ill throw at all. I have a thousand spirits in one breast To answer twenty thousand such as | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024919 | 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. Dishonourable boy! That lie shall lie so heavy on my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024920 | sword That it shall render vengeance and revenge Till thou the lie-giver and that lie do lie In earth as quiet as thy fathers skull. In proof whereof, there is my honours pawn. Engage it to the trial if thou darst. FITZWATER. How fondly dost thou spur a forward horse! If I dare eat, or drink, or breathe, or live, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024921 | 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. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024922 | send two of thy men To execute the noble duke at Calais. AUMERLE. Some honest Christian trust me with a gage. That Norfolk lies, here do I throw down this, If he may be repealed to try his honour. BOLINGBROKE. These differences shall all rest under gage Till Norfolk be repealed. Repealed he shall be, And, though mine enemy, restored | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024923 | again To all his lands and signories. When he is returned, Against Aumerle we will enforce his trial. CARLISLE. That honourable day shall neer be seen. Many a time hath banished Norfolk fought For Jesu Christ in glorious Christian field, Streaming the ensign of the Christian cross Against black pagans, Turks, and Saracens; And, toiled with works of war, retired | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024924 | himself To Italy, and there at Venice gave His body to that pleasant countrys earth And his pure soul unto his captain, Christ, Under whose colours 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024925 | appellants, Your differences shall all rest under gage Till we assign you to your days of trial. Enter York, attended. YORK. Great Duke of Lancaster, I come to thee From plume-plucked Richard, who with willing soul Adopts thee heir, and his high sceptre yields To the possession of thy royal hand. Ascend his throne, descending now from him, And long | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024926 | live Henry, of that name the fourth! BOLINGBROKE. In Gods name, Ill 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024927 | forbearance from so foul a wrong. What subject can give sentence on his king? And who sits here that is not Richards subject? Thieves are not judged but they are by to hear, Although apparent guilt be seen in them; And shall the figure of Gods majesty, His captain, steward, deputy elect, Anointed, crowned, planted many years, Be judged by | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024928 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024929 | Herefords 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024930 | this land be called The field of Golgotha and dead mens skulls. O, if you raise this house against this house, It will the woefullest division prove That ever fell upon this cursed earth. Prevent it, resist it, let it not be so, Lest child, childs children, cry against you, woe! NORTHUMBERLAND. Well have you argued, sir; and, for your | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024931 | 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. [_Exit._] BOLINGBROKE. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024932 | 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 York with King Richard and Officers bearing the Crown, &c. KING RICHARD. Alack, why am I sent for to a king Before I have shook off the regal | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024933 | 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 favours 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024934 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024935 | thine own good will 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, and on that side thine. Now is this golden crown like a deep well That owes two buckets, filling one another, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024936 | The emptier ever dancing in the air, 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024937 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024938 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024939 | 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, revenues, I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024940 | 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, And thou with all pleased that hast all achieved. Long mayst thou live in Richards seat to sit, And soon lie Richard in an earthly pit! | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024941 | God save King Henry, unkinged Richard says, And send him many years of sunshine days! What more remains? NORTHUMBERLAND. [_Offering 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024942 | you are worthily deposed. KING RICHARD. Must I do so? And must I ravel out My weaved-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 Containing the deposing of a king And cracking | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024943 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024944 | wash away your sin. NORTHUMBERLAND. My lord, dispatch. Read oer 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. Nay, if I turn mine eyes upon myself, I find myself a traitor with the rest; For I have | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024945 | given here my souls 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 mans lord! I have no name, no title, No, not that name was given me at the font, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024946 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024947 | 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. [_Exit an Attendant._] NORTHUMBERLAND. Read oer this paper while the glass doth come. KING RICHARD. Fiend, thou torments me ere I come to hell! | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024948 | BOLINGBROKE. Urge it no more, my Lord Northumberland. NORTHUMBERLAND. The commons will not then be satisfied. KING RICHARD. They shall be satisfied. Ill read enough When I do see the very ndeed Where all my sins are writ, and thats myself. Re-enter Attendant with glass. Give me that glass, and therein will I read. No deeper wrinkles yet? Hath sorrow | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024949 | struck So many blows upon this face of mine And made no deeper wounds? O flattring 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? Is this the face | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024950 | 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! [_Dashes the glass against the ground._] 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024951 | shadow of your sorrow hath destroyed The shadow of your face. KING RICHARD. Say that again. The shadow of my sorrow? Ha, lets see. Tis very true, my grief lies all within; And these external manner of laments Are merely shadows to the unseen grief That swells with silence in the tortured soul. There lies the substance. And I thank | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024952 | thee, king, For thy great bounty, that not only givst Me cause to wail, but teachest me the way How to lament the cause. Ill beg one boon, 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024953 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024954 | 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 kings fall. [_Exeunt King Richard and Guard._] BOLINGBROKE. On Wednesday next we solemnly set down Our coronation. Lords, prepare yourselves. [_Exeunt all but the Bishop of Carlisle, the Abbot of Westminster and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024955 | Aumerle._] ABBOT. A woeful pageant have we here beheld. CARLISLE. The woes 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? ABBOT. My lord, Before I freely speak my mind herein, You shall not only take the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024956 | 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 will lay A plot shall show us all a merry day. [_Exeunt._] ACT V SCENE I. London. A street leading to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024957 | the Tower. Enter the Queen and ladies. QUEEN. This way the King will come. This is the way To Julius Caesars ill-erected tower, To whose flint bosom my condemned lord Is doomed a prisoner by proud Bolingbroke. Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth Have any resting for her true kings queen. Enter King Richard and Guard. But soft, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024958 | 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 Richards tomb, And not King Richard! Thou most beauteous inn, Why should hard-favoured grief | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024959 | 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 Shows us but this. I am sworn brother, sweet, To grim Necessity, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024960 | 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 worlds 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024961 | thy heart? The lion dying thrusteth forth his paw And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage To be oerpowered; 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024962 | had been still a happy king of men. Good sometimes queen, prepare thee hence for France. Think I am dead, and that even here thou takst, As from my death-bed, thy last living leave. In winters tedious nights sit by the fire With good old folks, and let them tell thee tales Of woeful ages long ago betid; And ere | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024963 | thou bid good night, to quit their griefs, Tell thou the lamentable tale of me, And send the hearers weeping to their beds. For why, the senseless brands will 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024964 | Northumberland, attended. NORTHUMBERLAND. My lord, the mind of Bolingbroke is changed. You must to Pomfret, not unto the Tower. And, madam, there is order taen 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024965 | 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. And he shall think that thou, which knowst the way To plant unrightful kings, wilt know again, Being neer so little urged, another way To pluck him headlong from the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024966 | usurped throne. The love of wicked men converts to fear, That fear to hate, and hate turns one or both To worthy danger and deserved death. NORTHUMBERLAND. My guilt be on my head, and there an end. Take leave and part, for you must part forthwith. KING RICHARD. Doubly divorced! Bad men, you violate A twofold marriage, twixt my crown | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024967 | and me, And then betwixt me and my married wife. Let me unkiss the oath twixt thee and me; And yet not so, for with a kiss twas made. Part us, Northumberland: I towards the north, Where shivering cold and sickness pines the clime; My wife to France, from whence set forth in pomp, She came adorned hither like sweet | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024968 | May, Sent back like Hallowmas or shortst of day. QUEEN. And must we be divided? Must we part? KING RICHARD. Ay, hand from hand, my love, and heart from heart. QUEEN. Banish us both, and send the King with me. NORTHUMBERLAND. That were some love, but little policy. QUEEN. Then whither he goes, thither let me go. KING RICHARD. So | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024969 | two, together weeping, make one woe. Weep thou for me in France, I for thee here; Better far off than near, be neer 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 Ill groan, the way being short, And piece the way | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024970 | 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 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024971 | kill thy heart. [_They kiss again._] So, now I have mine own again, be gone, That I may strive to kill it with a groan. KING RICHARD. We make woe wanton with this fond delay: Once more, adieu. The rest let sorrow say. [_Exeunt._] SCENE II. The same. A room in the Duke of Yorks palace. Enter York and his | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024972 | 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 Richards head. YORK. Then, as I said, the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024973 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024974 | 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 steeds 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024975 | 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, mens 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024976 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024977 | high will we bound our calm contents. To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now, Whose state and honour I for aye allow. Enter Aumerle. DUCHESS. Here comes my son Aumerle. YORK. Aumerle that was; But that is lost for being Richards friend, And, madam, you must call him Rutland now. I am in Parliament pledge for his truth And lasting | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024978 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024979 | come to prime. What news from Oxford? Do these jousts and triumphs hold? AUMERLE. For aught I know, my lord, they do. YORK. You will be there, I know. AUMERLE. If God prevent not, I purpose so. YORK. What seal is that that hangs without thy bosom? Yea, lookst thou pale? Let me see the writing. AUMERLE. My lord, tis | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024980 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024981 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024982 | satisfied. Let me see it, I say. [_Snatches it and reads it._] Treason, foul treason! Villain! traitor! slave! DUCHESS. What is the matter, my lord? YORK. Ho! who is within there? Enter a Servant. Saddle my horse. God for his mercy, what treachery is here! DUCHESS. Why, what is it, my lord? YORK. Give me my boots, I say. Saddle | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024983 | my horse. Now, by mine honour, by my life, my troth, I will appeach the villain. [_Exit Servant._] 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. Bring me my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024984 | boots. I will unto the King. Re-enter Servant with boots. DUCHESS. Strike him, Aumerle! Poor boy, thou art amazed. [_To Servant_.] Hence, villain! Never more come in my sight. [_Exit Servant._] YORK. Give me my boots, I say. DUCHESS. Why, York, what wilt thou do? Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own? Have we more sons? Or are | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024985 | 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 mothers 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 taen the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024986 | sacrament And interchangeably set down their hands To kill the King at Oxford. DUCHESS. He shall be none; Well keep him here. Then what is that to him? YORK. Away, fond woman! Were he twenty times my son, I would appeach him. DUCHESS. Hadst thou groaned for him As I have done, thou wouldst be more pitiful. But now I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024987 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024988 | woman! [_Exit._] DUCHESS. After, Aumerle! Mount thee upon his horse! Spur post, and get before him to the King, And beg thy pardon ere he do accuse thee. Ill 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024989 | thee. Away, be gone! [_Exeunt._] SCENE III. Windsor. A room in the Castle. Enter Bolingbroke as King, Harry Percy and other Lords. KING HENRY. Can no man tell me of my unthrifty son? Tis full three months since I did see him last. If any plague hang over us, tis he. I would to God, my lords, he might be | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024990 | found. Inquire at London, mongst the taverns there, For there, they say, he daily doth frequent With unrestrained 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 honour to support So dissolute a crew. PERCY. My lord, some | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024991 | 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 commonst creature pluck a glove And wear it as a favour, and with that He would unhorse the lustiest challenger. KING HENRY. As dissolute as | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024992 | desperate! Yet through both I see some sparks of better hope, which elder years May happily bring forth. But who comes here? Enter Aumerle. 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024993 | KING HENRY. Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here alone. [_Exeunt Harry Percy and Lords._] What is the matter with our cousin now? AUMERLE. [_Kneels_.] For ever may my knees grow to the earth, My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth, Unless a pardon ere I rise or speak. KING HENRY. Intended or committed was this fault? If on | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024994 | the first, how heinous eer it be, To win thy after-love I pardon thee. AUMERLE. Then give me leave that I may turn the key, That no man enter till my tale be done. KING HENRY. Have thy desire. [_Aumerle locks the door._] YORK. [_Within_.] My liege, beware! Look to thyself! Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there. KING | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024995 | HENRY. [_Drawing_.] Villain, Ill make thee safe. AUMERLE. Stay thy revengeful hand. Thou hast no cause to fear. YORK. [_Within_.] Open the door, secure, foolhardy king! Shall I for love speak treason to thy face? Open the door, or I will break it open. [_King Henry unlocks the door; and afterwards, relocks it._] Enter York. KING HENRY. What is the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024996 | matter, uncle? Speak! Recover breath. Tell us how near is danger, That we may arm us to encounter it. YORK. Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt know The treason that my haste forbids me show. AUMERLE. Remember, as thou readst, thy promise passed. I do repent me. Read not my name there; My heart is not confederate with my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024997 | hand. YORK. It was, villain, ere thy hand did set it down. I tore it from the traitors 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. KING HENRY. O heinous, strong, and bold conspiracy! O loyal father of a treacherous son! Thou | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024998 | 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 vices bawd, And he shall spend mine honour with his shame, As thriftless sons | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024999 | their scraping fathers gold. Mine honour lives when his dishonour dies, Or my shamed life in his dishonour lies. Thou killst me in his life: giving him breath, The traitor lives, the true mans put to death. DUCHESS. [_Within_.] What ho, my liege! For Gods sake, let me in! KING HENRY. What shrill-voiced suppliant makes this eager cry? DUCHESS. [_Within_.] | 60 | gutenberg |
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