Act IVScene I
Westminster Hall
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 Gloucester’s death,Who wrought it with the King, and who performedThe 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 tongueScorns to unsay what once it hath delivered.In that dead time when Gloucester’s death was plotted,I heard you say “Is not my arm of length,That reacheth from the restful English CourtAs far as Calais, to mine uncle’s head?”Amongst much other talk that very timeI heard you say that you had rather refuseThe offer of an hundred thousand crownsThan Bolingbroke’s return to England,Adding withal, how blest this land would beIn this your cousin’s death.
Aumerle
Princes and noble lords,What answer shall I make to this base man?Shall I so much dishonour my fair starsOn equal terms to give him chastisement?Either I must, or have mine honour soiledWith the attainder of his slanderous lips.There is my gage, the manual seal of deathThat marks thee out for hell. I say thou liest,And will maintain what thou hast said is falseIn thy heart-blood, though being all too baseTo stain the temper of my knightly sword.
Bolingbroke
Bagot, forbear. Thou shalt not take it up.
Aumerle
Excepting one, I would he were the bestIn all this presence that hath moved 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 stand’st,I heard thee say, and vauntingly thou spak’st it,That thou wert cause of noble Gloucester’s death.If thou deniest it twenty times, thou liest!And I will turn thy falsehood to thy heart,Where it was forged, with my rapier’s point.
Aumerle
Thou dar’st 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 trueIn this appeal as thou art an unjust;And that thou art so, there I throw my gage,To prove it on thee to the extremest pointOf mortal breathing. Seize it if thou dar’st.
Aumerle
And if I do not, may my hands rot offAnd never brandish more revengeful steelOver the glittering helmet of my foe!
Another Lord
I task the earth to the like, forsworn Aumerle,And spur thee on with full as many liesAs may be holloaed in thy treacherous earFrom sun to sun. There is my honour’s pawn.Engage it to the trial if thou dar’st.
Aumerle
Who sets me else? By heaven, I’ll throw at all.I have a thousand spirits in one breastTo answer twenty thousand such as you.
Surrey
My Lord Fitzwater, I do remember wellThe 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 swordThat it shall render vengeance and revengeTill thou the lie-giver and that lie do lieIn earth as quiet as thy father’s skull.In proof whereof, there is my honour’s pawn.Engage it to the trial if thou dar’st.
Fitzwater
How fondly dost thou spur a forward horse!If I dare eat, or drink, or breathe, or live,I dare meet Surrey in a wildernessAnd spit upon him, whilst I say he lies,And lies, and lies. There is my bond of faithTo 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 sayThat thou, Aumerle, didst send two of thy menTo 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 gageTill Norfolk be repealed. Repealed he shall be,And, though mine enemy, restored againTo all his lands and signories. When he is returned,Against Aumerle we will enforce his trial.
Carlisle
That honourable day shall ne’er be seen.Many a time hath banished Norfolk foughtFor Jesu Christ in glorious Christian field,Streaming the ensign of the Christian crossAgainst black pagans, Turks, and Saracens;And, toiled with works of war, retired himselfTo Italy, and there at Venice gaveHis body to that pleasant country’s earthAnd 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 bosomOf good old Abraham! Lords appellants,Your differences shall all rest under gageTill we assign you to your days of trial.
Enter York, attended.
York
Great Duke of Lancaster, I come to theeFrom plume-plucked Richard, who with willing soulAdopts thee heir, and his high sceptre yieldsTo the possession of thy royal hand.Ascend his throne, descending now from him,And long live Henry, of that name the fourth!
Bolingbroke
In God’s name, I’ll ascend the regal throne.
Carlisle
Marry, God forbid!Worst in this royal presence may I speak,Yet best beseeming me to speak the truth.Would God that any in this noble presenceWere enough noble to be upright judgeOf noble Richard! Then true noblesse wouldLearn him forbearance from so foul a wrong.What subject can give sentence on his king?And who sits here that is not Richard’s subject?Thieves are not judged but they are by to hear,Although apparent guilt be seen in them;And shall the figure of God’s majesty,His captain, steward, deputy elect,Anointed, crowned, planted many years,Be judged by subject and inferior breath,And he himself not present? O, forfend it, God,That in a Christian climate souls refinedShould show so heinous, black, obscene a deed!I speak to subjects, and a subject speaks,Stirred up by God, thus boldly for his king.My Lord of Hereford here, whom you call king,Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford’s king.And if you crown him, let me prophesyThe blood of English shall manure the groundAnd future ages groan for this foul act.Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels,And in this seat of peace tumultuous warsShall kin with kin and kind with kind confound.Disorder, horror, fear, and mutinyShall here inhabit, and this land be calledThe field of Golgotha and dead men’s skulls.O, if you raise this house against this house,It will the woefullest division proveThat ever fell upon this cursed earth.Prevent it, resist it, let it not be so,Lest child, child’s children, cry against you, “woe!”
Northumberland
Well have you argued, sir; and, for your pains,Of capital treason we arrest you here.My Lord of Westminster, be it your chargeTo 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 viewHe may surrender. So we shall proceedWithout suspicion.
York
I will be his conduct.
Exit.
Bolingbroke
Lords, you that here are under our arrest,Procure your sureties for your days of answer.Little are we beholding to your love,And little looked for at your helping hands.
Enter York with King Richard and Officers bearing the Crown, &c.
King Richard
Alack, why am I sent for to a kingBefore I have shook off the regal thoughtsWherewith I reigned? I hardly yet have learnedTo insinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my knee.Give sorrow leave awhile to tutor meTo this submission. Yet I well rememberThe 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 in all but one; I, in twelve thousand, none.God save the King! Will no man say, “Amen”?Am I both priest and clerk? Well then, amen.God save the King, although I be not he,And yet, Amen, if heaven do think him me.To do what service am I sent for hither?
York
To do that office of thine own good willWhich tired majesty did make thee offer:The resignation of thy state and crownTo 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 wellThat owes two buckets, filling one another,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 state depose,But not my griefs; still am I king of those.
Bolingbroke
Part of your cares you give me with your crown.
King Richard
Your cares set up do not pluck my cares down.My care is loss of care, by old care done;Your care is gain of care, by new care won.The cares I give I have, though given away;They ’tend the crown, yet still with me they stay.
Bolingbroke
Are you contented to resign the crown?
King Richard
Ay, no; no, ay; for I must nothing be.Therefore no “no”, for I resign to thee.Now mark me how I will undo myself:I give this heavy weight from off my head,And this unwieldy 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 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 Richard’s seat to sit,And soon lie Richard in an earthly pit!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 readThese accusations, and these grievous crimesCommitted by your person and your followersAgainst the state and profit of this land;That, by confessing them, the souls of menMay deem that you are worthily deposed.
King Richard
Must I do so? And must I ravel outMy weaved-up follies? Gentle Northumberland,If thy offences were upon record,Would it not shame thee in so fair a troopTo read a lecture of them? If thou wouldst,There shouldst thou find one heinous articleContaining the deposing of a kingAnd cracking the strong warrant of an oath,Marked with a blot, damned in the book of heaven.Nay, all of you that stand and look upon meWhilst that my wretchedness doth bait myself,Though some of you, with Pilate, wash your hands,Showing an outward pity, yet you PilatesHave here delivered me to my sour cross,And water cannot wash away your sin.
Northumberland
My lord, dispatch. Read o’er these articles.
King Richard
Mine eyes are full of tears; I cannot see:And yet salt water blinds them not so muchBut 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 consentT’ undeck the pompous body of a king,Made glory base and sovereignty a slave,Proud majesty a subject, state a peasant.
Northumberland
My lord—
King Richard
No lord of thine, thou haught insulting man,Nor no man’s lord! I have no name, no title,No, not that name was given me at the font,But ’tis usurped. Alack the heavy day!That I have worn so many winters outAnd know not now what name to call myself.O, that I were a mockery king of snow,Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke,To melt myself away in water-drops!Good king, great king, and yet not greatly good,An if my word be sterling yet in England,Let it command a mirror hither straight,That it may show me what a face I have,Since it is bankrupt of his majesty.
Bolingbroke
Go, some of you, and fetch a looking-glass.
Exit an Attendant.
Northumberland
Read o’er this paper while the glass doth come.
King Richard
Fiend, thou torments me ere I come to hell!
Bolingbroke
Urge it no more, my Lord Northumberland.
Northumberland
The commons will not then be satisfied.
King Richard
They shall be satisfied. I’ll read enoughWhen I do see the very book indeedWhere all my sins are writ, and that’s myself.
Re-enter Attendant with glass.
Give me that glass, and therein will I read.No deeper wrinkles yet? Hath sorrow struckSo many blows upon this face of mineAnd made no deeper wounds? O flatt’ring glass,Like to my followers in prosperity,Thou dost beguile me. Was this face the faceThat every day under his household roofDid keep ten thousand men? Was this the faceThat like the sun did make beholders wink?Is this the face which faced so many follies,That was at last outfaced by Bolingbroke?A brittle glory shineth in this face.As brittle as the glory is the face!
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 shadow of your sorrow hath destroyedThe shadow of your face.
King Richard
Say that again.The shadow of my sorrow? Ha, let’s see.’Tis very true, my grief lies all within;And these external manner of lamentsAre merely shadows to the unseen griefThat swells with silence in the tortured soul.There lies the substance. And I thank thee, king,For thy great bounty, that not only giv’stMe cause to wail, but teachest me the wayHow to lament the cause. I’ll 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 a king, my flatterersWere then but subjects. Being now a subject,I have a king here to my flatterer.Being so great, I have no need to beg.
Bolingbroke
Yet ask.
King Richard
And shall I have?
Bolingbroke
You shall.
King Richard
Then give me leave to go.
Bolingbroke
Whither?
King Richard
Whither you will, so I were from your sights.
Bolingbroke
Go, some of you, convey him to the Tower.
King Richard
O, good! “Convey”? Conveyers are you all,That rise thus nimbly by a true king’s fall.
Exeunt King Richard and Guard.
Bolingbroke
On Wednesday next we solemnly set downOur coronation. Lords, prepare yourselves.
Exeunt all but the Bishop of Carlisle, the Abbot of Westminster and Aumerle.
Abbot
A woeful pageant have we here beheld.
Carlisle
The woe’s to come. The children yet unbornShall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn.
Aumerle
You holy clergymen, is there no plotTo rid the realm of this pernicious blot?
Abbot
My lord,Before I freely speak my mind herein,You shall not only take the sacramentTo bury mine intents, but also to effectWhatever 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 layA plot shall show us all a merry day.
Exeunt.