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EDITED  BY 

WILLIAM   ALLAN   NEILSON 

AND 

ASHLEY   HORACE   THORNDIKE 


J 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK    •    BOSTON   •    CHICAGO 
DALLAS   •    SAN    FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  Limited 

LONDON   •    BOMBAY    •    CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  Ltd. 

TORONTO 


the  plays  and  poems.  It  is  under  the  general  editorship  of  William 
ALLA>f  Neilson,  Ph.D.,  of  Harvard  University,  and  Ashlet  Horace 
Thobndike,  Ph.D.,  L.H.D.,  of  Columbia  University.  The  following 
volumes,  each  under  the  special  editorship  of  an  American  scholar, 
are  now  ready  or  in  preparation. 

Already  Published 

Romeo  and  Juliet  —  The  General  Editob8. 

A  Midsummer-Night's  Dream  —  John  W.  Gtjnliffe,  D.Lit.,  Profes- 
sor of  English,  University  of  Wisconsin. 

Macbeth  —  Arthttk  C.  L.  Bbowm,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  English,  North- 
western University. 

Henry  IV,  Part  I  —  Frank  W.  Chandler,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  Eng- 
lish and  Comparative  Literature,  University  of  Cincinnati. 

Troilus  and  Cressida  —  John  S.  P.  Tatlock,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  Eng- 
lish, University  of  Michigaa. 

Henry  V — Lewis  F.  Mott,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  English,  College  of  the 
City  of  New  York. 

The  Merchant  of  Venice  — Harry  M.  Atbes,  Ph.D.,  Assistant  Pro- 
fessor of  English,  Columbia  University. 

As  You  Like  It  —  Martha  H.  Shackford,  Ph.D.,  Associate  Professor 
of  English  Literature,  Wellesley  College. 

Coriolanus  —  Stu.art  P.  Sherman,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  English,  Uni- 
versity of  Illinois. 

Henry  VI,  Part  I  —  Louise  Pound,  Ph.D.,  Assistant  Prof esaor  of  Eng- 
lish, University  of  Nebraska. 

Henry  VIII  —  Charles  G.  Dunlap,  Litt.D.,  Professor  of  English  Lit- 
erature, University  of  Kansas. 

Comedy  of  Errors  — Frederick  Morgan  Padelford,  Ph.D.,  Pro- 
fessor of  English,  University  of  Washington. 

King  John  —  Henry  M.  Belden,  PLD.,  Professor  of  English,  Uni- 
versity of  Missouri. 

King  Lear  —  Vibqinia  C.  Gilderslezve,  Ph.D.,  Dean  of  Barnard 
College. 

Much  Ado  about  Wothing  —  William  W,  Lawrence,  Ph.D.,  Associate 
Professor  of  English,  Columbia  LTniversity. 

Love's  Labour's  Lost  —  James  F.  Royster,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  Eng- 
lish, University  of  North  Carolina. 

Henry  IV,  Part  II  —  Elizabeth  Deerinq  Hanscom,  Ph.D.,  Pro- 
fessor of  English,  Smith  College. 

Richard  III  —  George  B.  Churchill,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  English, 
Amherst  College. 


The  Winter's  Tale  — Laura  J.  Wylib,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  English, 
Vasaar  College. 

Othello  —  Thomas  M.  Parrott,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  English,  Prince- 
ton University. 

The  Two  Gentleman  of  Verona  —  Martin  W.  Sampson,  A.M.,  Gold- 
win  Smith  Pioffissor  of  English  Literature,  Cornell  University. 

All's  Well  that  Ends  Well  — John  L.  Lowes,  Ph.D.,  Profeesorof  Eng- 
lish, Washington  University,  St.  Louis. 

Richard  II  —  Hardin  Cbaig,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  English,  University 
of  Minnesota. 

In  Preparation 

The  Tempest  —  Herbert  E.  Greene,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  English, 
Johns  Hopkins  University. 

Henry  VI,  Part  II  —  Charles  H.  Barnwell,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of 
English,  University  of  Alabama. 

Henry  VI,  Part  III  —  Robert  Adqer  Law,  Ph.D.,  Adjunct  Professor 
of  English,  the  University  of  Texas. 

Measure  for  Measure  —  Edoab  C.  Mobrib,  A.M.,  Professor  of  Eng- 
lish, Syracuse  University. 

Venus  and  Adonis,  and  Lucrece  —  Carleton  Bbown,  Ph.D.,  Pro- 
fessor of  English,  Brj'n  Mawr  College. 

The  Sonnets  —  Raymond  M.  Alden,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  English, 
University  of  Illinois. 

Merry  Wives  of  Windsor  —  Fred  P.  Emert,  A.M.,  Professor  of  Rhet- 
oric and  Oratory,  Dartmouth  College. 

Antony  and  Cleopatra  —  George  Wtllts  Benedict,  Ph.D.,  Associate 
Professor  of  English,  Brown  University. 

Twelfth  Night — Walter  Morris  Hart,  Ph.D.,  Associate  Professor 
of  English,  University  of  California. 

Titus  Andronicus  —  Elmer  E.  Stoll,  Ph.D.,  Assistant  Professor  of 
English,  Western  Reserve  University. 

Cymbeline  —  Will  D.  Howe,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  English,  Indiana 
University. 

Hamlet  —  Georoe  Pierce  Baker,  A.B..  Professor  of  Dramatic  Lit- 
erature, Harvard  University. 

Julius  Cesar  —  Robert  M.  Lovett,  A.B.,  Professor  of  English, 
University  of  Chicago. 

Pericles  —  C.  Alphonso  Smith,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  English,  Univer- 
sity of  Virginia. 

The  Taming  of  the  Shrew  —  Frederick  Tuppeb,  Jr.,  Ph.D.,  Pro- 
fcs-sor  of  English,  University  of  Vermont. 

Timon  of  Athens  —  Robert  Huntinodon  Fletcher,  Ph.D.,  Pro- 
fessor of  English  Literature,  Grinnell  College,  Iowa. 


RICHARD    II    RIDING   OUT    OF    LONDON 
TO   THE   WAR    IN    IRELAND 


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gintrotiuctton 


Text.  —  Andrew  Wise  entered  for  publication  in  the 
Stationers'  Register  on  August  29,  1597,  his  copy  of 
*•  The  Tragedye  of  Richard  the  Second."  An  edition 
(Qi)  was  issued  that  year,  with  the  following  title- 
page:  "  The  Tragedie  of  King  Richard  the  Second.  As  it 
hath  beene  publikely  acted  by  the  right  Honourable  the 
Lorde  Chamberlaine  his  Servants.  London  Printed  by 
Valentine  Simmes  for  Andrew  Wise,  and  are  to  be  sold 
at  his  shop  in  Paulas  church  yard  at  the  signe  of  the 
Angel.  1597."  Copies  of  this  edition  are  found  in  two 
different  states,  corrected  and  uncorrected.  In  1598 
a  second  quarto  (Q2),  with  the  addition  to  the  title-page  of 
the  words:  "By  William  Shakespeare,"  was  reprinted 
from  Qi  and  issued  by  the  same  printer  and  publisher  as 
before.  There  is  in  1608  a  third  quarto  edition  (Q3) 
reprinted  substantially  from  Q2,  but  including  for  the 
first  time  the  deposition  scene  (IV.  i.  154-318).  Some 
copies  have,  except  for  publisher  and  date,  the  same  title- 
page  as  that  of  Q2;  others  have  this  title-page:  "  Tfte 
Tragedie  of  King  Richard  the  Second:  With  new  additions 
of  the  Parliament  Sceane,  and  the  deposing  of  King 
Richard,  As  it  hath  been  lately  acted  by  the  Kinges 
Majesties  seruantes,  at  the  Globe.  By  William  Shake- 
speare. At  London,  Printed  by  W.  W.  for  Mathew  Law, 
and  are  to  be  sold  at  his  shop  in  Paules  Church-yard, 
at  the  signe  of  the  Foxe.  1608."  A  fourth  quarto  (Q4), 
a  mere  reprint  of  Q3,  came  out  in  1615.     The  version  in 

vii 


viii  ^Introduction 

the  First  Folio  (Fi),  published  in  1623,  was  apparently  set 
up  from  a  copy  of  Qt,  but  corrected  from  a  better  text, 
at  any  rate  as  regards  the  Parliament  scene.  In  the  First 
Folio  the  play  is  called  "The  Ufe  and  death  of  King 
Richard  the  Second."  A  fifth  quarto,  based  upon  Fi, 
came  out  in  1634.  The  present  text  is  based  upon  Qi, 
except  the  deposition  scene,  which  is  based  upon  Fi. 

Date.  —  The  earliest  definite  date  for  Richard  n  is  its 
publication  in  1597.  Knight  pointed  out  certain  resem- 
blances to  Daniel's  Civil  Wars  (see  Grosart  ed.,  I.  60-70; 
n.  62-94,  III,  note,  112;  in.  57;  64-69,  79),  four  books 
of  which  came  out  in  1595,  but  were  entered  in  the  Sta- 
tioners' Register  in  October,  1594.  Two  of  the  parallels 
cited  by  Knight  (I.  60  and  III.  78-79)  do  not  occur  in 
the  edition  of  1595,  but  are  introduced  in  later  editions; 
but  nevertheless,  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  the  poem 
and  the  play  are  closely  related,  and  that,  if  either  poet 
borrowed  from  the  other,  Shakespeare,  and  not  Daniel, 
in  spite  of  his  reputation  as  a  plagiarist,  is  the  borrower. 
Richard  II  bears  the  same  relationship  to  the  Civil  Wars 
that  1  and  2  Henry  IV  do ;  the  resemblances  are  of  pre- 
cisely the  same  sort,  and  they  are  quite  as  close  and  as 
numerous.  There  are  a  number  of  points  on  which  the 
series  of  plays  and  Daniel's  poem  differ  from  any  known 
source  and  resemble  each  other.  In  general  they  cover 
the  same  ground,  and  both  give  prominence  to  the  idea  of 
Nemesis  which  followed  the  usurpation  of  Bolingbroke. 
The  principal  cases  are:  in  Richard  11,  the  Queen,  who 
was  a  child  of  eleven,  is  introduced  as  a  grown  woman; 
Bolingbroke  engages  in  a  courtship  of  the  common  people ; 


3|ntroDuctton  ix 

Bolingbroke  and  Richard  ride  into  London  together,  the 
former  in  triumph,  the  latter  in  humiliation;  the  Queen 
has  an  interview  with  Richard  after  his  return  to  London ; 
the  manner  in  which  Exton  received  his  hint  to  murder 
Richard;  the  strain  in  which  the  King  soliloquizes  just 
before  he  is  murdered.  In  1  and  2  Henry  IV,  Hotspur 
is  represented  as  a  young  man  pitted  against  the  Prince, 
who  is  apparently  of  the  same  age  (this  is  also  the  case 
in  Richard  U) ;  he  engages  in  combat  with  the  Prince  at 
Shrewsbtiry;  the  Prince  rescues  his  father  from  the 
Douglas;  Glendower  is  absent  from  the  battle;  in  the 
last  interview  between  the  Prince  and  his  father,  Henry 
laments  his  inability  to  make  a  crusade  and  the  manner 
in  which  he  has  achieved  the  crown ;  he  advises  the  Prince 
to  busy  the  minds  of  his  subjects  with  a  great  enterprise. 
Daniel  and  Shakespeare  may  both  have  been  following 
some  source  as  yet  imknown ;  but,  in  at  least  one  instance, 
Daniel  apologizes  for  the  liberty  he  has  taken  (see 
Epistle  Dedicatorie  in  1609  ed.)  in  making  the  yoimg 
Queen  older  than  she  was,  an  addition  characteristic  of 
Daniel.  There  are  comparatively  few  close  verbal  re- 
semblances: but  it  looks  as  if  Shakespeare  had  a  general 
knowledge  of  Daniel's  Civil  Wars;  and  if  so,  that  Richard 
n,  as  well  as  1  and  2  Henry  IV,  is  later  than  1595.  It 
should  also  be  said  in  this  connection  that  Richard  //points 
strongly  forward  in  many  of  its  scenes  to  the  later  plays  of 
the  series,  and  is  in  perfect  harmony  with  them  in  its  imder- 
lying  ideas. 

Richard  U,  like  Twelfth  Night,  has  a  disproportionately 
large  amount  of  rh3rme  for  the  time  at  which  it  is  usually 


X  31ntroDuction 

dated,  and  this  would  be  still  greater  if  we  assigned  the 
play  to  1595-1596;  but  rhjrme  is  a  conscious  element  in 
composition;  it  may  have  been  due  to  reaction  or  to  some 
passing  literary  influence.  The  other  metrical  tests  offer 
no  obstacles  to  so  late  an  assignment;  but  are,  in  fact, 
confirmatory.  It  is  to  be  noted  that  rhyme  militates 
against  the  speech-ending  test,  and  that,  though  Richard  n 
is  not  high  in  feminine  endings  (11  per  cent),  it  has  a  full 
number  of  feminine  mid-line  syllables.  It  is  also  true 
that  Richard  n  has  a  great  many  verbal  conceits,  puns, 
epigrams,  and  rhetorical  figures,  things  characteristic  of 
Shakespeare's  early  work.  This  kind  of  language  is, 
however,  put  mainly  into  the  mouths  of  Richard  and  of 
Gatmt,  as  if  with  the  conscious  purpose  of  characteriza- 
tion. 

Source.  —  Shakespeare's  principal  source  for  Richard  n 
is  Holinshed's  Chronicles,  which  he  often  follows  with 
surprising  fidelity.  A  few  small  details  may  be  derived 
from  Hall's  Chronicle.  The  account  of  Mowbray's 
death  may  come  from  Stow's  Annals.  Matters  for  which 
there  is  no  known  source,  besides  the  things  mentioned 
above  in  connection  with  Daniel's  Civil  Wars,  are  the  women 
characters;  the  deathbed  scene  of  Gaimt  (II.  i.) ;  the  parts 
of  the  gardener  and  his  servant  (III.  iv),  and  the  groom 
(V.  v).  The  principal  divergences  from  Holinshed  in 
the  main  story  are  changes  in  time  and  place.  Thus,  in 
the  third  act,  all  of  the  events  attending  the  capture  of 
Richard  are  made  to  take  place  at  Flint  Castle,  the  sur- 
render of  which  is  retarded;  and,  in  the  fourth  act,  the 
events   of   three   different   meetings   of    Parliament   are 


^IntroDuctton  xi 

combined  into  one.  The  character  of  Richard  Shakespeare 
has  built  up  from  the  events  of  that  monarch's  lavish, 
corrupt  reign  and  from  his  deeds.  He  has  transformed 
Gaimt  from  a  turbulent,  selfish  politician  into  the  type  and 
pattern  of  ancient  and  venerable  patriotism.  Aumerle 
has  been  aligned  with  the  party  of  Richard.  Shakespeare 
has  made  Mowbray  a  sympathetic  figure  by  the  story  of  his 
later  career.  In  York  he  has  developed,  from  Holinshed's 
**  verelie  a  man  of  gentle  nature,"  a  character  of  consider- 
able complexity  and  interest.  He  has  shielded  Boling- 
broke,  and  made  the  manner  of  his  usurpation  less  hateful ; 
partly,  by  making  him  a  man  of  impersonal  and  patriotic 
ends,  and,  partly,  by  ignoring  his  trickery  and  softening 
his  treatment  of  Richard  and  others  of  his  enemies. 

Political  Significance  of  the  Play,  —  The  subject  of  the 
deposition  of  Richard  H  had  political  significance  in 
the  later  years  of  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth  because 
of  a  movement  to  depose  the  Queen  herself.  In  1599 
Sir  John  Hayward  gave  offense  by  publishing  his  History 
of  the  First  Part  of  the  Life  and  Reign  of  King  Henry  IV, 
and  was  censured  and  imprisoned  by  the  Star  Chamber. 
William  Lambard,  quoted  by  John  Nichols  {Progresses  of 
Queen  Elizabeth,  IH.  552),  says  that  shortly  before  her 
death  the  Queen  was  looking  over  a  volume  of  his  Pan- 
decta  Rotulorum,  and  "  So  her  Majestie  fell  upon  the 
reign  of  Richard  II,  saying,  *  I  am  Richard  II,  know  ye 
not  that  ?  '  W.  L.  ^  Such  a  wicked  imagination  was  deter- 
mined and  attempted  by  a  most  unkind  Gent.,  the  most 
adorned  creature  [apparently  Essex]  that  ever  your  Maj- 
estie made.'     Her  Majestie.     *  He  that  will  forget  God, 


xii  31ntroDuftion 

will  also  forget  his  benefactors;  this  tragedy  was  played 
40  times  in  the  open  streets  and  houses.'  "  A  play  on 
the  subject  figured  in  the  trial  of  Essex  in  February,  1600. 
From  the  examination  of  Augustine  Phillips,  an  actor  in 
the  Lord  Chamberlain's  Company,  it  appears  that  some  of 
Essex's  party  hired  the  company  to  present  "  the  play 
of  the  deposyng  and  kyllyng  of  Kyng  Rychard  the  second  " 
for  the  purpose,  so  it  was  charged,  of  inciting  the  people 
to  rebellion.  Phillips  and  his  fellows  held  "  the  play  of 
Kyng  Rychard  to  be  so  old  &  so  long  out  of  vse  as  that 
they  shold  have  small  or  no  Company  at  yt " ;  but,  in 
consideration  of  "  xls.  more  then  their  ord5Tiary  for  3rt," 
they  played  it  on  the  eve  of  Essex's  rebellion.  According 
to  Sir  Gelly  Meyricke,  also  examined  on  the  subject, 
the  play  was  "  of  KjTig  Harry  iiijth  and  the  kyllyng  of 
kyng  Rychard  the  second  played  by  the  Lord  Chamberlen's 
players,"  and  at  the  Globe.  (Domestic  State  Papers, 
Elizabeth,  cclxxviii.  78  and  85.)  Camden  (Annals) 
recounts  the  charge  guod  exoletam  tragoediam  de  tragica 
abdicatione  Regis  Ricardi  Secundi  in  publico  theatro  coram 
conjurationis  participibus  data  pecunia  agi  curasset.  There 
is  no  reason  to  doubt  that  this  was  Shakespeare's 
Richard  II.  It  had  already  a  political  significance,  as 
witnessed  by  the  omission  from  the  two  quartos  issued 
during  the  lifetime  of  Queen  Elizabeth  of  the  abdication 
scene  in  the  fourth  act.  Essex  and  Southampton  prob- 
ably had  this  in  mind  when  the  play  was  called  for.  The 
fact  that  it  is  spoken  of  as  an  old  play  has  no  significance, 
for  plays  were  very  quickly  antiquated  on  the  Elizabethan 
stage.  Shakespeare's  company  retained  a  copy  of  the 
play,  as  is  indicated  by  its  use  in  the  preparation  of  Fi. 


flntroOuction  xiii 

It  is  on  precisely  the  subject  described,  and  the  argument, 
urged  by  the  Clarendon  Press  editors,  that  it  is  ill  adapted 
to  the  end  of  raising  a  revolt,  because  it  attracts  sympathy 
for  Richard,  and  that  the  conspirators  disavowed  any 
attempt  upon  the  life  of  their  sovereign,  can  be  answered 
by  saying  that  we  are  expressly  told  that  it  was  a  play  of 
the  killing  of  King  Richard,  and  that  the  use  of  any  play, 
and  of  this  play  in  particular,  is  singularly  in  keeping  with 
that  sentimental  and  impractical  rebellion. 

Relations  to  Contemporary  Drama,  —  There  are  two  other 
plays  preserved  which  deal  with  the  reign  of  Richard 
n:  The  Life  and  Death  of  Jack  Straw  (1593,  Dodsley, 
vol.  V),  which  has  to  do  with  the  peasant  insurrection  of 
1381 ;  and  a  Chronicle  (1591.  A  Tragedy  of  King  Rich- 
ard n,  Sh.  Jahrbuch,  XXXV),  which  begins  with  Richard's 
marriage  to  Anne  of  Bohemia  and  ends  with  the  murder 
of  Gloucester.  Dr.  Simon  Forman  saw  a  play,  now  lost, 
at  the  Globe  on  April  30,  161 1,  which  seems,  from  his 
accovmt,  to  have  dealt  with  the  events  of  the  whole  of 
Richard  II's  reign.  A  play  called  "  perce  of  extone," 
by  Wilson,  Dekker,  Drayton,  and  Chettle,  is  mentioned  by 
Henslowe.i 

A  remarkably  close  parallelism  exists  between  Shake- 
speare's Richard  II  and  Marlowe's  Edward  II,  but  it  arises 
mainly  from  the  subjects  themselves.  In  both  plays  there 
isaweak  king  misusing  his  governmental  office,  misled 
by  favorites,  blind  jo^JiislmpenSmg  doom_and  arrogant 
untilThat  doom  falls  upon  him ;  then  greatly  wronged  and 

1  Henslowe's  Diary,  ed.  W.  W.  Greg,  London,  I.  85. 


XIV  JlntroDuftiott 

appealing  strongly  to  our  sympathies.  The  Dramatis 
PersoncB  correspond  closely;  there  are  many  situations 
which  inevitably  resemble  each  other;  and  Shakespeare 
recalls  Marlowe  in  a  considerable  nimiber  of  individual 
passages.  But  the  differences  are  more  significant  than 
the  resemblances  are,  and  it  is  probable  that  Shakespeare 
was  forced  into  a  different  and  a  new  manner  of  treatment 
by  the  very  similarity  of  his  subject  to  that  of  Marlowe 
and  by  his  very  familiarity  with  Marlowe's  great  play. 
Edward  II  is  a  tragedy  of  incident  and  situation,  in  which 
Nemesis  follows  guilt  and  error;  it  is  like  Richard  III 
in  its  dramatic  type.  Richard  II  is  a  tragedy  of  character. 
Richard  does  not  struggle,  as  Edward  does,  to  prevent 
his  overthrow;  his  character  dooms  him,  prevents  him 
from  struggling.  Richard  II  is  thus,  it  may  be  because 
of  the  existence  of  Marlowe's  Edward  Z7,  the  first  Shake- 
spearean tragedy  of  the  type  of  Hamlet  and  King  Lear. 

Style.  —  There  are  two  styles  in  the  blank  verse  of 
Richard  II,  a  plain  style  and  a  rhetorical  style ;  and  the 
two  are  used  to  offset  each  other.  I^hard,  Gaunt, 
Mfiwbray,  and  the  Queen  almost  always  speak  on  the 
higher  level;  and  other  characters,  when  they  are  under 
stress  of  great  emotion,  as  when  York  and  his  Duchess 
discuss  the  fall  of  Richard,  or  are  tmder  the  immedi- 
ate influence  of  Richard  or  Gavmt,  occasionally  rise  to  a 
level  of  declamation.  Bolingbroke,  Northumberland,  and 
others  of  their  party  are  made  to  speak  more  directly 
and  simply,  with  the  manifest  purpose  of  contrasting  them 
as  practical  men  with  the  more  sentimental  and  less  prac- 
tical Gaunt,  Richard,  and  Richard's  party.     Not  only  are 


31ntro0uction  xv 

the  styles  contrasted  as  between  the  two  sets  of  speakers, 
but  also  in  the  speeches  of  the  King  himself ;  for  the  normal 
level  of  prosaic  life  is  marked  off  by  his  lapses  into  the 
plain  style ;  as  when  he  says,  "  Now  mark  me,  how  I  will 
undo  myself  "  (IV.  i.  203),  or  "I  had  forgot  myself ;  am  I  not 
a  king?  (III.  ii.  83),  and  then  laxmches  forth  into  rhapsodical 
utterance.  The  styles  are  related  to  each  other  almost 
as  poetry  and  prose  are  in  the  later  plays.  The  use  of 
the  plainer,  more  conversational  style  is  significant. 
It  is  comparatively  new  in  Shakespeare ;  whereas,  the 
rhetorical  style  of  blank  verse  is  like  the  style  of  Marlowe 
and  is  the  prevailing  though  not  the  only  form  in  Richard 
in  and  the  three  parts  of  Henry  VI.  The  new  style  shows 
already  a  tendency  to  absorb  the  action,  and  is  not  improb- 
ably to  be  regarded  as  the  beginning  of  the  free  blank 
verse  of  the  later  plays,  in  which  Shakespearean  dialogue 
approximates  the  language  of  real  life. 

The  more  ornate  style,  however,  is  not  to  be  entirely 
identified  with  Marlowesque  rhetoric.  In  the  speeches 
of  Richard  especially  it  is  marked  by  an  elaborateness, 
even  delicacy,  of  fancy,  which  tends  to  run  into  wire- 
drawn conceits  rather  than  into  bombast  and  rant.  We 
have  here  not  merely  a  stage  in  the  development  towards 
realism  of  Shakespeare's  verse  and  diction,  but  a  use  of 
style  in  the  service  of  characterization;  for  the  peculiar 
appeal  made  to  our  sympathy  by  the  figure  of  this  helpless 
King  depends  to  no  small  extent  on  the  impression  we 
receive  of  an  imagination  constantly  beguiling  its  possessor 
into  picturesque  bypaths,  v/hen  the  necessity  of  the  Situa- 
tion calls  for  a  prosaic  recognition  of  actual  conditions. 


xvi  iflntroDuftion 

Stage  History.  —  The  statement  on  the  title-page  of 
Q3,  "As  it  hath  been  lately  acted  by  the  Kinges  Majesties 
seruantes  at  the  Globe,"  points  to  a  revival  of  Richard  II 
in  the  early  part  of  the  reign  of  King  James  I.  There 
are  references,  which  it  is  impossible  to  verify,  in  the 
journal  of  Captain  William  Keeling  (See  Narratives  of 
Voyages  towards  the  North-West.  Hakluyt  Society, 
1849)  to  performances  of  Hamlet  and  Richard  H  on  board 
his  ship  **  Dragon "  off  the  coast  of  Sierra  Leone  on 
September  30,  1607.  The  issue  of  the  later  Qq  indicates 
for  Richard  II  a  certain  degree  of  popularity  in  the  early 
seventeenth  century.  Nahvun  Tate  adapted  the  play  as 
The  Sicilian  Usurper  in  1681,  when  it  again  gave  offense 
because  of  the  political  bearing  of  its  subject.  A  version 
by  Theobald  was  acted  in  1718  and  in  1738,  and,  on  the 
latter  occasion,  it  again  gave  political  offense,  this  time 
because  it  was  regarded  as  an  attack  upon  Walpole's 
foreign  policy.  In  more  or  less  modified  stage  versions, 
the  play  was  acted  in  the  late  eighteenth  century  and 
repeatedly  in  the  nineteenth  century.  Macready,  Edmimd 
Kean,  Charles  Kean  (in  very  elaborate  fashion),  Junius 
Booth,  Edmimd  Booth,  Beerbohm  Tree,  and  others 
played  it  in  England  and  America ;  in  Germany  it  has  been 
still  more  popular  and  successful. 

Interpretation.  —  Richard  H  lacks  the  objective  qual- 
ities which  have  made  Richard  III  popular ;  and  it  contains 
no  realistic  depictions  of  common  life,  such  as  form  one 
of  the  principal  charms  of  Henry  IV  and  Henry  V.  It  was 
evidently  written  as  a  tragedy,  and  not  as  a  chronicle 
play;    and  comic  matter   is,  probably  intentionally,  ex- 


31ntroDuction  xvii 

eluded  from  it.  The  theme  of  the  play  is  embodied  in  the 
character  of  Richard.  His  enjo3raient  of  his  own  emotions, 
his  refusal  to  see  any  world  but  a  world  of  ideas,  his 
increasing  intellectual  activity  and  constantly  decreasing 
power  of  action  make  him  a  remarkably  interesting  ex- 
ample of  the  sentimentalist.  His  idea  of  what  is  real^ 
and  not  reality  itself,  defeats  him ;  he  rejects,  with  char- 
acteristic manifestations  of  cruelty,  all  attempts  to  make 
him  live  in  the  world  of  fact;  and  yet,  in  spite  of  all,  he 
is  so  eloquent,  so  sincere,  so  personally  attractive,  so  . 
spiritually  covu-ageous  in  his  adherence  to  his  failing  doc-  / 
trine  of  divine  vicarship,  so  surely  possessed  of  a  nobler  I 
nature,  though  it  manifests  itself  only  in  the  last  moment  of 
his  life,  that  his  character  is  deeply  tragic.  Coleridge  has 
found  in  York  an  admirably  drawn  character ;  and  the  pic- 
ture of  Bolingbroke,  with  his  keen,  impersonal  intellec- 
tuality, has  never  received  the  recognition  that  it  deserves 
as  a  masterpiece  of  character  portrayal.  Bolingbroke  is  as 
efficient  as  Richard  is  inefficient.  With  his  feet  solidly 
planted  on  fact,  he  advances  towards  his  object  with 
remorseless  steadiness  and  patience,  quietly  sarcastic, 
a  good  judge  of  men,  subtly  playing  upon  the  feelings  of 
others  to  achieve  his  purpose,  a  treasonous  purpose; 
and  yet,  withal,  he  is  the  man  of  the  time,  just  and  master- 
ful, needed  by  his  country  in  the  crisis  where  she  stood. 
Shakespeare  does  not  pronounce  judgment  upon  the  moral 
issue  between  Bolingbroke  and  his  King.  Richard's  fall 
was  inevitable,  England  demanded  it;  and  yet  Shake- 
speare does  not  exculpate  Bolingbroke  from  treason  and 
regicide. 


tirije  tD^rageti^  of 

!S(c]^arD  t])t  Second 


[DRAMATIS  PERSON/E 

King  Richard  II. 

John  of  Gaunt,  duke  of  Lancaster,   1  ancles  to  the  King. 

Edmund  of  Lanoley,  duke  of  York,  f 

Henry,  surnaraed   Bomnqbroke,   duke  of   Hereford,  aon  to  John  of 

Gaunt;  afterwards  Kino  Henry  IV. 
Duke  of  Aumerle,  aon  to  the  duke  of  York. 
Thomas  Mowbray,  duke  of  Norfolk. 
Duke  of  Surrey. 
Earl  of  Salisbury 
Lord  Berkeley. 
Bushy,  1 

Bagot,  [  servants  to  King  Richard. 
Green,  J 

Earl  of  Northumberland. 
Henry  Percy,  sumamed  Hotspub,  his  son. 
Lord  Ross. 
Lord  Willoughby. 
Lord  Fitzwater. 
Bishop  of  Carlisle. 
Abbot  of  Westminster. 
Lord  Marshal. 
Sir  Stephen  Scroop. 
Sir  Pierce  of  Exton. 
Captain  of  a  band  of  Welshmen. 
Two  Gardeners. 

Queen  to  King  Richard. 
Duchess  of  York. 
Duchess  of  Gloucester. 
Lady  attending  on  the  Queen. 

Lords,  Heralds,  Officers,  Soldiers,  Keeper,  Messenger,  Groom,  and  other 

Attendanta. 
Scene:  England  and  Wales.] 


tE^lje  tE^rageD^  of 


ACT   FIRST 
Scene  I 

[London.    King  Richard's  palace.] 

Enter  King  Richard,  John  of  Gaunt,  with  other  Nobles 
and  Attendants, 

K.   Rich.  Old  John  of  Gaunt,  time-honoured  Lancaster, 
Hast  thou,  according  to  thy  oath  and  band, 
Brought  hither  Henry  Hereford  thy  bold  son, 
Here  to  make  good  the  boist'rous  late  appeal. 
Which  then  our  leisure  would  not  let  us  hear,        5 
Against  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  Thomas  Mowbray  ? 

Gaunt.    I  have,  my  liege. 

K.  Rich.   Tell  me,  moreover,  hast  thou  sounded  him 
If  he  appeal  the  Duke  on  ancient  malice, 
Or  worthily,  as  a  good  subject  should,  10 

On  some  known  ground  of  treachery  in  him  ? 

3 


4  KtcliarD  t\)t  fecconD  Act  i 

Gaunt.   As  near  as  I  could  sift  him  on  that  argument, 
On  some  apparent  danger  seen  in  him 
Aim'd  at  your  Highness,  no  inveterate  malice. 

K.  Rich.   Then  call  them  to  our  presence. 

[Exeunt  some  Attendants^     Face  to  face,  15 
And  frowning  brow  to  brow,  ourselves  will  hear 
The  accuser  and  the  accused  freely  speak. 
High-stomach'd  are  they  both,  and  full  of  ire. 
In  rage  deaf  as  the  sea,  hasty  as  fire. 

Enter  Bolingbroke  and  Mowbray  [with  Attendants]. 

Boling.   Many  years  of  happy  days  befall  20 

My  gracious  sovereign,  my  most  loving  liege  ! 

Mow.   Each  day  still  better  other's  happiness. 
Until  the  heavens,  envying  earth's  good  hap. 
Add  an  immortal  title  to  your  crown  ! 

K.  Rich.    We  thank   you  both ;    yet  one  but  flatters 
us,  25 

As  well  appeareth  by  the  cause  you  come. 
Namely,  to  appeal  each  other  of  high  treason. 
Cousin  of  Hereford,  what  dost  thou  object 
Against  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  Thomas  Mowbray  ? 

Boling.    First,  heaven  be  the  record  to  my  speech  !     30 
In  the  devotion  of  a  subject's  love, 
Tend'ring  the  precious  safety  of  my  prince. 
And  free  from  other  misbegotten  hate. 
Come  I  appellant  to  this  princely  presence. 


Sc.  I  Hic^arD  t\)t  ^econD  5 

Now,  Thomas  Mowbray,  do  I  turn  to  thee,         35 
And  mark  my  greeting  well ;  for  what  I  speak 
My  body  shall  make  good  upon  this  earth. 
Or  my  divine  soul  answer  it  in  heaven. 
Thou  art  a  traitor  and  a  miscreant, 
Too  good  to  be  so,  and  too  bad  to  live,  40 

Since  the  more  fair  and  crystal  is  the  sky. 
The  uglier  seem  the  clouds  that  in  it  fly. 
Once  more,  the  more  to  aggravate  the  note. 
With  a  foul  traitor's  name  stuff  I  thy  throat ; 
And  wish,  so  please  my  sovereign,  ere  I  move,     45 
What  my  tongue  speaks  my  right  drawn  sword 
maj'  prove. 
Mow.   Let  not  my  cold  words  here  accuse  my  zeal. 
'Tis  not  the  trial  of  a  woman's  war. 
The  bitter  clamour  of  two  eager  tongues, 
Can  arbitrate  this  cause  betwixt  us  twain  ;  50 

The  blood  is  hot  that  must  be  cool'd  for  this. 
Yet  can  I  not  of  such  tame  patience  boast 
As  to  be  hush'd  and  nought  at  all  to  say. 
First,  the  fair  reverence  of  your  Highness  curbs  me 
From  giving  reins  and  spurs  to  my  free  speech,  55 
\Miich  else  would  post  until  it  had  return'd 
These  terms  of  treason  doubled  dowTi  his  throat. 
Setting  aside  his  high  blood's  royalty. 
And  let  him  be  no  kinsman  to  my  liege, 
I  do  defy  him,  and  I  spit  at  him  ;  60 

Call  him  a  slanderous  coward  and  a  villain ; 


6  Hic^arD  t\)t  ^cconn  Act  i 

^^^lich  to  maintain  I  would  allow  him  odds. 

And  meet  him,  were  I  tied  to  run  afoot 

Even  to  tiie  frozen  ridges  of  the  Alps, 

Or  any  other  ground  inhabitable  65 

Where  ever  Englishman  durst  set  his  foot. 

Meantime  let  this  defend  my  loyalty  : 

By  all  my  hopes,  most  falsely  doth  he  lie. 

Boling.    Pale  trembling  coward,  there  I  throw  my  gage, 
Disclaiming  here  the  kindred  of  the  King,  70 

And  lay  aside  my  high  blood's  royalty, 
WTiich  fear,  not  reverence,  makes  thee  to  except. 
If  guilty  dread  have  left  thee  so  much  strength 
As  to  take  up  mine  honour's  pawn,  then  stoop. 
By  that  and  all  the  rites  of  knighthood  else,         75 
Will  I  make  good  against  thee,  arm  to  arm. 
What  I  have  spoke,  or  thou  canst  worse  devise. 

Mow.    I  take  it  up  ;  and  by  that  sword  I  swear, 

^Vhich  gently  laid  my  knighthood  on  my  shoulder. 
I'll  answer  thee  in  any  fair  degree,  80 

Or  chivalrous  design  of  knightly  trial ; 
And  when  I  mount,  alive  maj'  I  not  light, 
If  I  be  traitor  or  unjustly  fight ! 

K.  Rich.   ^\Tiat   doth    our   cousin    lay   to   Mowbray's 
charge  ? 
It  must  be  great  that  can  inherit  us  85 

So  much  as  of  a  thought  of  ill  in  him. 

Boling.   Look,  what  I  speak,  my  life  shall  prove  it 
true: 


Sc.  I  Hictiaru  t\)t  Second  7 

That  Mowbray  hath  receiv'd  eight  thousand  nobles 
In  name  of  lendings  for  your  Highness'  soldiers, 
The   which    he    hath  detain'd  for    lewd    employ- 
ments, 90 
Like  a  false  traitor  and  injurious  villain. 
Besides  I  say,  and  will  in  battle  prove. 
Or  here  or  elsewhere  to  the  furthest  verge 
That  ever  was  surveyed  by  English  eye. 
That  all  the  treasons  for  these  eighteen  years      95 
Complotted  and  contrived  in  this  land 
Fetch  from   false   Mowbray  their  first  head  and 

spring. 
Further  I  say,  and  further  will  maintain 
Upon  his  bad  life  to  make  all  this  good. 
That    he    did    plot    the    Duke    of    Gloucester's 
death,  100 

Suggest  his  soon-believing  adversaries. 
And  consequently,  like  a  traitor  coward, 
Sluic'd  out  his  innocent  soul  through  streams  of 

blood ; 
Which  blood,  like  sacrificing  Abel's,  cries. 
Even  from  the  tongueless  caverns  of  the  earth,  105 
To  me  for  justice  and  rough  chastisement ; 
And,  by  the  glorious  worth  of  my  descent. 
This  arm  shall  do  it,  or  this  life  be  spent. 
K.  Rich.   How_liigh_a  £itch  his  resolution  soars  ! 

Thomas  of  Norfolk,  what  say'st  thou  to  this  ?  110 
Mow.   O,  let  my  sovereign  turn  away  his  face 


8  Hic^arD  t\)c  fe>cconD  Act  i 

And  bid  his  ears  a  little  while  be  deaf, 
Till  I  have  told  this  slander  of  his  blood 
How  God  and  good  men  hate  so  foul  a  liar. 

K.  Rich.   Mowbray,  impartial  are  our  eyes  and  ears.  115 
Were  he  my  brother,  nay,  my  kingdom's  heir, 
As  he  is  but  my  father's  brother's  son. 
Now,  by  my  sceptre's  awe,  I  make  a  vow, 
Such  neighbour  nearness  to  our  sacred  blood 
Should  nothing  privilege  him,  nor  partialize        120 
The  unstooping  firmness  of  my  upright  soul. 
He  is  our  subject,  Mowbray ;  so  art  thou. 
Free  speech  and  fearless  I  to  thee  allow. 

Mmc.   Then,  Bolingbroke,  as  low  as  to  thy  heart. 

Through   the  false   passage   of   thy   throat,   thou 
liest.  125 

Three  parts  of  that  receipt  I  had  for  Calais 
Disburs'd  I  duly  to  his  Higlmess'  soldiers  ; 
The  other  part  reserv'd  I  by  consent, 
For  that  my  sovereign  liege  was  in  my  debt 
Upon  remainder  of  a  dear  account,  130 

Since  last  I  went  to  France  to  fetch  his  queen. 
Now  swallow  down  that  lie.    For  Gloucester's  death 
I  slew  him  not ;  but  to  my  own  disgrace 
Neglected  my  sworn  duty  in  that  case. 
For  you,  my  noble  Lord  of  Lancaster,  135 

The  honourable  father  to  my  foe, 
Once  did  I  lay  an  ambush  for  your  life, 
A  trespass  that  doth  vex  my  grieved  soul ; 


Sc.  I  HtcljarD  tl^e  ^econo  n 

But  ere  I  last  receiv'd  the  sacrament 

I  did  confess  it,  and  exactly  begg'd  140 

Your  Grace's  pardon  ;  and  I  hope  I  had  it. 

This  is  my  fault.     As  for  the  rest  appeal'd, 

It  issues  from  the  rancour  of  a  villain, 

A  recreant  and  most  degenerate  traitor  ; 

Which  in  myself  I  boldly  will  defend  ;  145 

And  interchangeably  hurl  down  my  gage 

Upon  this  overweening  traitor's  foot, 

To  prove  myself  a  loyal  gentleman 

Even  in  the  best  blood  chamber'd  in  his  bosom. 

In  haste  whereof,  most  heartily  I  pray  150 

Your  Highness  to  assign  our  trial  day. 
K.  Rich.   Wrath-kindled  gentlemen,  be  rul'd  by  me ; 

Let's  purge  this  choler  without  letting  blood. 

This  we  prescribe,  though  no  physician ; 

Deep  malice  makes  too  deep  incision.  155 

Forget,  forgive  ;  conclude  and  be  agreed  ; 

Our  doctors  say  this  is  no  month  to  bleed. 

Good  uncle,  let  this  end  where  it  begun  ; 

We'll  calm  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  you  your  son. 
Gaunt.   To  be  a  make-peace  shall  become  my  age.     160 

Throw  down,  my  son,  the  Duke  of  Norfolk's  gage. 
K.  Rich.   And,  Norfolk,  throw  down  his. 
Gaunt.  When,  Harry,  when  ! 

Obedience  bids  I  should  not  bid  again. 
K.  Rich.   Norfolk,  throw  down,  we  bid ;    there  is  no 
boot. 


s  EirliarD  t^t  ^cconD  Acti 

Mow.   Myself  I  throw,  dread  sovereign,  at  thy  foot ;  165 
My  life  thou  shalt  command,  but  not  my  shame. 
The  one  my  duty  owes  ;   but  my  fair  name, 
Despite  of  death  that  lives  upon  my  grave. 
To  dark  dishonour's  use  thou  shalt  not  have. 
I  am  disgrac'd,  impeach'd,  and  baffl'd  here,        170 
Pierc'd  to  the  soul  with  slander's  venom'd  spear, 
The  which  no  balm  can  cure  but  his  heart-blood 
"\Miich  breath'd  this  poison. 

K.  Rich.  Rage  must  be  withstood  ; 

Give  me  his  gage.     Lions  make  leopards  tame. 

Mow.   Yea,  but  not  change  his  spots.     Take  but  my 
shame,  175 

And  I  resign  my  gage.     My  dear  dear  lord, 
The  purest  treasure  mortal  times  afford 
Is  spotless  reputation  ;  that  away. 
Men  are  but  gilded  loam  or  painted  clay. 
A  jewel  in  a  ten-times-barr'd-up  chest  180 

Is  a  bold  spirit  in  a  loyal  breast. 
Mine  honour  is  my  life  ;  both  grow  in  one  ; 
Take  honour  from  me,  and  my  life  is  done. 
Then,  dear  my  liege,  mine  honour  let  me  try ; 
In  that  I  live,  and  for  that  will  I  die.  185 

K.  Rich.    Cousin,  throw  up  your  gage.     Do  you  begin. 

Boling.   O,  God  defend  my  soul  from  such  deep  sin  ! 
Shall  I  seem  crest-fallen  in  my  father's  sight. 
Or  with  pale  beggar-fear  impeach  my  height       189 
Before  this  out-dar'd  dastard  ?    Ere  my  tongue 


sc.  II  Kic^arD  t^e  ^tconn  n 

Shall  wound  my  honour  with  such  feeble  wrong, 
Or  sound  ^  base  a  parle,  my  teeth  shall  tear 
The  slavish  motive  of  recanting  fear. 
And  spit  it  bleeding  in  his  high  disgrace,  194 

Where  shame  doth  harbour,  even  in  Mowbray's 
face.  Exit  Gaunt. 

K.  Rich.   We  were  not  born  to  sue,  but  to  command ; 
Wliich  since  we  cannot  do  to  make  you  friends. 
Be  ready,  as  your  hves  shall  answer  it. 
At  Coventry,  upon  Saint  Lambert's  day  ; 
There  shall  your  swords  and  lances  arbitrate      200 
The  swelling  difference  of  your  settled  hate. 
Since  we  cannot  atone  you,  we  shall  see 
Justice  design  the  victor's  chivalry. 
Lord  Marshal,  command  our  officers  at  arms 
Be  ready,  to  direct  these  home  alarms.  205 

Exeunt. 

5CENE  II 

[London.     The  Duke  of  Lancaster's  palace.] 

Enter  John  of  Gaunt  with  the  Duchess  of  Gloucester. 

Gaunt.   Alas,  the  part  I  had  in  Woodstock's  blood 
Doth  more  solicit  me  than  your  exclaims. 
To  stir  against  the  butchers  of  his  life  ! 
But  since  correction  lieth  in  those  hands 
Which  made  the  fault  that  we  cannot  correct,       5 
Put  we  our  quarrel  to  the  will  of  Heaven  ; 


■l 


la  KicliarD  tJie  ^cconD  Act  i 

Who,  when  they  see  the  hours  ripe  on  earth. 
Will  rain  hot  vengeance  on  offend^s'  heads. 
Duch.   Finds  brotherhood  in  thee  no  sharper  spur  ? 

Hath  love  in  thy  old  blood  no  living  fire  ?  10 

Edward's  seven  sons,  whereof  thyself  art  one, 

Were  as  seven  vials  of  his  sacred  blood. 

Or  seven  fair  branches  springing  from  one  root. 

Some  of  those  seven  are  dried  by  nature's  course. 

Some  of  those_^canches-by.  the^Destinies  cut ;      15 

But  Thomas,  my  dear  lord,  my  life,  my  Gloucester, 

One  vial  full  of  Edward's  sacred  blood. 

One  flourishing  branch  of  his  most  royal  root, 

Is  crack'd,  and  all  the  precious  liquor  spilt. 

Is  hack'd  down,  and  his  summer  leaves  all  faded,  20 

By  Envy's  hand  and  Murder's  bloody  axe. 

Ah,  Gaunt,  his  blood  was  thine  !    That  bed,  that 

womb, 
That  mettle,  that  self-mould,  that  fashion'd  thee 
Made  him  a  man ;    and  though  thou  liv'st  and 

breath'st. 
Yet  art  thou  slain  in  him.     Thou  dost  consent    25 
In  some  large  measure  to  thy  father's  death, 
In  that  thou  seest  thy  wretched  brother  die, 
\Mio  was  the  model  of  thy  father's  life. 
Call  it  not  patience.  Gaunt ;  it  is  despair. 
In  suffering  thus  thy  brother  to  be  slaught'red,   30 
Thou  show'st  the  naked  pathway  to  thy  life. 
Teaching  stern  Murder  how  to  butcher  thee. 


sc.  II  HtcliarD  t\)t  ^rcono  '^ 

That  which  in  mean  men  we  intitle  patience 

Is  pale  cold  cowardice  in  noble  breasts. 

What  shall  I  say  ?     To  safeguard  thine  own  bi^,  35 

The  best  way  is  to  venge  my  Gloucester's  dea'-P* 

Gaunt.   God's  is  the  quarrel ;   for  God's  substitute, 
His  deputy  anointed  in  His  sight, 
Hath  caus'd  his  death  ;   the  which  if  wrongfully. 
Let  Heaven  revenge ;  for  I  may  never  lift  40 

An  angry  arm  against  His  minister. 

Duch.   Where  then,  alas,  may  I  complain  myself  ? 

Gaunt.   To  God,  the  widow's  champion  and  defence. 

Dueh.   Why,  then,  I  will.     Farewell,  old  Gaunt ! 

Thou  go'st  to  Coventry,  there  to  behold  45 

Our  cousin  Hereford  and  fell  Mowbray  fight. 
O,  sit  my  husband's  wrongs  on  Hereford's  spear. 
That  it  may  enter  butcher  Mowbray's  breast ! 
Or,  if  misfortune  miss  the  first  career. 
Be  Mowbray's  sins  so  heavy  in  his  bosom,  50 

That  they  may  break  his  foaming  courser's  back. 
And  throw  the  rider  headlong  in  the  lists, 
A  caitiff  recreant  to  my  cousin  Hereford  ! 
Farewell,  old  Gaunt !     Thy  sometimes  brother's 

wife 
With  her  companion  grief  must  end  her  life.         55 

Gaunt.   Sister,  farewell ;  I  must  to  Coventry. 

As  much  good  stay  with  thee  as  go  with  me  ! 

Duch.   Yet  one  word  more ;    grief  boundeth  where  it 
falls. 


'4  HicljarD  t\)c  ^ccono  Act  i 

Not  v.ith  the  empty  hollowness,  but  weight. 
I  U'i.ke  my  leave  before  I  have  begun,  GO 

?  or  sorrow  ends  not  when  it  seemeth  done. 
f  Commend  me  to  thy  brother,  Edmund  York. 
Lo,  this  is  all :  —  nay,  yet  depart  not  so  ; 
Though  this  be  all,  do  not  so  quickly  go ; 
I  shall  remember  more.     Bid  him  —  ah,  what  .'*  — 
With  all  good  speed  at  Plashy  visit  me.  66 

Alack,  and  what  shall  good  old  York  there  see 
But  empty  lodgings  and  unfurnish'd  walls, 
Unpeopled  offices,  untrodden  stones  ? 
And    what    hear    there     for    welcome     but    my 
groans  ?  70 

Therefore  commend  me  ;  let  him  not  come  there. 
To  seek  out  sorrow  that  dwells  everjTvhere. 
Desolate,  desolate,  will  I  hence  and  die. 
The  last  leave  of  thee  takes  my  weeping  eye. 

Exeunt. 

Scene  III 

[The  lists  at  Coventry.] 

Enter  the  Lord  Marshal  and  the  Duke  of  Aumerle. 

Mar.   My  Lord  Aumerle,  is  Harry  Hereford  arni'd  ? 
Aum.   Yea,  at  all  points  ;   and  longs  to  enter  in. 
Mar.   The  Duke  of  Norfolk,  sprightfully  and  bold. 
Stays     but     the     summons    of     the     appellant's 
trumpet. 


sc.  Ill  Ktcljaro  tlje  §)econO  15 

Aum.  Why,  then,  the  champions  are  prepar'd,  and  stay  5 
For  nothing  but  his  Majesty's  approach. 

The  trumpets  sound,  and  the  King  enters  with  his  nobles. 
Gaunt,  Bushy,  Bagot,  Green,  and  others.  When 
they  are  set,  enter  Mowbray  in  arms,  defendant,  with 
a  Herald. 

K.  Rich.   Marshal,  demand  of  yonder  champion 
The  cause  of  his  arrival  here  in  arms. 
Ask  him  his  name,  and  orderly  proceed 
To  swear  him  in  the  justice  of  his  cause.  10 

Mar.  In  God's  name  and  the  King's,  say  who  thou  art 
And  why  thou  com'st  thus  knightly  clad  in  arms. 
Against  what  man  thou   com'st,   and  what   thy 

quarrel. 
Speak  truly,  on  thy  knighthood  and  thj^  oath ; 
And  so  defend  thee  Heaven  and  thy  valour  !        15 

Mow.   Mj'  name  is  Thomas  Mowbray,  Duke  of  Nor- 
folk; 
Who  hither  come  engaged  by  my  oath  — 
Which  God  defend  a  knight  should  violate  !  — 
Both  to  defend  my  loyalty  and  truth 
To  God,  my  King,  and  my  succeeding  issue,        20 
Against  the  Duke  of  Hereford  that  appeals  me  ; 
And,  by  the  grace  of  God  and  this  mine  arm. 
To  prove  him,  in  defending  of  myself, 
A  traitor  to  my  God,  my  King,  and  me  : 
And  as  I  truly  fight,  defend  me  Heaven  !  25 


mw 


i6  Hic^aiD  t\)t  ^cconD  Act  I 

The  trumpets  sound.     Enter  Bolinghroke,  appellant, 
in  armour,  with  a  Herald. 

K.  Rich.   Marshal,  ask  yonder  knight  in  arms, 
Both  who  he  is  and  why  he  cometh  hither 
Thus  plated  in  habiliments  of  war, 
And  formally,  according  to  our  law, 
Depose  him  in  the  justice  of  his  cause.  80 

Mar.   What  is  thy  name  ?  and  wherefore  com'st  thou 
hither, 
Before  King  Richard  in  his  royal  lists  ? 
Against    whom    comest    thou  ?     and    what's    thy 

quarrel  ? 
Speak  like  a  true  knight,  so  defend  thee  Heaven  ! 

Baling.   Harry  of  Hereford,  Lancaster,  and  Derby     35 
Am  I ;  who  ready  here  do  stand  in  arms. 
To  prove,  by  God's  grace  and  my  body's  valour. 
In  lists,  on  Thomas  Mowbray,  Duke  of  Norfolk, 
That  he's  a  traitor,  foul  and  dangerous. 
To  God  of  heaven,  King  Richard,  and  to  me ;     40 
And  as  I  truly  fight,  defend  me  Heaven  ! 

Mar.   On  pain  of  death,  no  person  be  so  bold 
Or  daring-hardy  as  to  touch  the  lists. 
Except  the  Marshal  and  such  oflScers 
Appointed  to  direct  these  fair  designs.  45 

Baling.   Lord    Marshal,   let    me    kiss    my   sovereign's 
hand. 
And  bow  my  knee  before  his  Majesty  ; 


sc.  Ill  HicljarD  t\)t  ^econD  17 

For  Mowbray  and  myself  are  like  two  men 
That  vow  a  long  and  weary  pilgrimage. 
Then  let  us  take  a  ceremonious  leave  50 

And  loving  farewell  of  our  several  friends. 

Mar.   The  appellant  in  all  duty  greets  your  Highness, 
And  craves  to  kiss  your  hand  and  take  his  leave. 

K.  Rich.   We  will  descend  and  fold  him  in  our  arms. 
Cousin  of  Hereford,  as  thy  cause  is  right,  55 

So  be  thy  fortune  in  this  royal  fight ! 
Farewell,  my  blood  ;  which  if  to-day  thou  shed, 
Lament  we  may,  but  not  revenge  thee  dead. 

Boling.   O,  let  no  noble  eye  profane  a  tear 

For  me,  if  I  be  gor'd  with  Mowbray's  spear,        60 
As  confident  as  is  the  falcon's  flight 
Against  a  bird,  do  I  with  Mowbray  fight. 
My  loving  lord,  I  take  my  leave  of  you  ; 
Of  you,  my  noble  cousin.  Lord  Aumerle ; 
Not  sick,  although  I  have  to  do  with  death,         65 
But  lusty,  young,  and  cheerly  drawing  breath. 
Lo,  as  at  English  feasts,  so  I  regreet 
The  daintiest  last,  to  make  the  end  most  sweet : 
O  thou,  the  earthly  author  of  my  blood. 
Whose  youthful  spirit,  in  me  regenerate,  70 

Doth  with  a  twofold  vigour  lift  me  up 
To  reach  at  victory  above  my  head. 
Add  proof  unto  mine  armour  with  thy  prayers  ; 
And  with  thy  blessings  steel  my  lance's  point. 
That  it  may  enter  Mowbray's  waxen  coat,  75 

c 


i8  Hicl;aiD  tl)c  ^cconD  Act  i 

And  furbish  new  the  name  of  John  o'  Gaunt, 
Even  in  the  histy  haviour  of  his  son. 

Gaunt.    God  in  ihy  good  cause  make  thee  prosperous  ! 
Be  swift  hke  lightning  in  the  execution  ; 
And  let  thy  blows,  doubly  redoubled,  80 

Fall  like  amazing  thunder  on  the  casque 
Of  thy  adverse  pernicious  enemy. 
Rouse   up   thy   youthful  blood,   be  valiant,   and 
live. 

Boling.   Mine  innocency  and  Saint  George  to  thrive ! 

Mow.   However  God  or  Fortune  cast  my  lot,  85 

There  lives  or  dies,  true  to  King  Richard's  throne, 
A  loyal,  just,  and  upright  gentleman. 
Never  did  captive  with  a  freer  heart 
Cast  off  his  chains  of  bondage  and  embrace 
His  golden  uncontroU'd  enfranchisement,  90 

More  than  my  dancing  soul  doth  celebrate 
This  feast  of  battle  with  mine  adversary. 
Most  mighty  liege,  and  my  companion  peers. 
Take  from  my  mouth  the  wish  of  happy  years. 
As  gentle  and  as  jocund  as  to  jest  95 

Go  I  to  fight ;  ^tniiliJjatk^. quiet  breast. 

K.  Rich.  Farewell,  my  lord  ;  securely  I  espy 
Virtue  with  valour  couched  in  thine  eye. 
Order  the  trial,  Marshal,  and  begin. 

Mar.   Harry  of  Hereford,  Lancaster,  and  Derby,     100 
Receive  thy  lance  ;  and  God  defend  the  right ! 

Boling.   Strong  as  a  tower  in  hope,  I  cry  amen. 


sc.  Ill  EtctjarD  t^e  ^cconD  19 

Mar.   [To  an  officer.]   Go  bear  this  lance  to  Thomas, 

Duke  of  Norfolk. 
1.  Her.   Harry  of  Hereford,  Lancaster,  and  Derby 

Stands   here   for   God,   his   sovereign,   and   him- 
self, i05 
On  pain  to  be  foimd  false  and  recreant. 
To  prove  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  Thomas  Mowbray, 
A  traitor  to  his  God,  his  king,  and  him  ; 
And  dares  him  to  set  forward  to  the  fight. 
S.  Her.   Here   standeth  Thomas  Mowbray,  Duke  of 
Norfolk,  110 
On  pain  to  be  found  false  and  recreant, 
Both  to  defend  himself  and  to  approve 
Henry  of  Hereford,  Lancaster,  and  Derby, 
To  God,  his  sovereign,  and  to  him  disloyal ; 
Courageously  and  with  a  free  desire  115 
Attending  but  the  signal  to  begin. 
Mar.   Sound,  trumpets  ;  and  set  forward,  combatants. 

A  charge  sounded. 
Stay  !  The  King  hath  thrown  his  warder  down. 
K.  Rich.  Let  them  lay  by  their  helmets  and  their 
spears. 
And  both  return  back  to  their  chairs  again.  120 
Withdraw  with  us  ;  and  let  the  trumpets  sound 
While  we  return  these  dukes  what  we  decree. 

A  long  flourish. 

Draw  near 

And  list  what  with  our  council  we  have  done. 


20  HtcliarD  t\)t  ^econD  Act  i 

For    that    our   kingdom's    earth    should    not   be 
soU'd  125 

With  that  dear  blood  which  it  hath  fostered  ; 
And  for  our  eyes  do  hate  the  dire  aspect 
Of   civil    wounds   plough'd    up   with    neighbours' 

sword ; 
And  for  we  think  the  eagle-winged  pride 
Of  sky -aspiring  and  ambitious  thoughts,  130 

With  rival-hating  envj%  set  on  you 
To  wake  our  peace,  which  in  our  country's  cradle 
Draws  the  sweet  infant  breath  of  gentle  sleep  ; 
^\^lich,  so  rous'd  up  with  boist'rous  untun'd  drums. 
With  harsh-resounding  trumpets'  dreadful  bray,  135 
And  grating  shock  of  wrathful  iron  arms. 
Might  from  our  quiet  confines  fright  fair  peace 
And  make  us  wade  even  in  our  kindred's  blood ; 
Therefore,  we  banish  you  our  territories. 
You,  cousin  Hereford,  upon  pain  of  life,  140 

Till  twice  five  summers  have  enrich'd  our  fields 
Shall  not  regrcet  our  fair  dominions. 
But  tread  the  stranger  paths  of  banishment. 
Baling.   Your  will  be  done.     This  must  my  comfort  be. 
That  sun   that   warms   you   here   shall   shine  on 
me ;  145 

And  those  his  golden  beams  to  you  here  lent 
Shall  point  on  me  and  gild  my  banishment. 
K.  Rich.   Norfolk,  for  thee  remains  a  heavier  doom. 
Which  I  with  some  unwiUingness  pronounce. 


Sc.  HI  Hicl)arD  t^e  ^econD  31 

The  sly,  slow  hours  shall  not  determinate  150 

The  dateless  limit  of  thy  dear  exile ; 
The  hopeless  word  of  "never  to  return" 
Breathe  I  against  thee,  upon  pain  of  life. 

Mow.   A  heavy  sentence,  my  most  sovereign  liege. 

And     all     unlook'd     for     from     your     Highness' 
mouth.  155 

A  dearer  merit,  not  so  deep  a  maim 
As  to  be  cast  forth  in  the  common  air, 
Have  I  deserved  at  your  Highness'  hands. 
The  language  I  have  learn'd  these  forty  years. 
My  native  English,  now  I  must  forgo  ;  160 

And  now  my  tongue's  use  is  to  me  no  more 
Than  an  unstringed  viol  or  a  harp. 
Or  like  a  cunning  instrument  cas'd  up, 
Or,  being  open,  put  into  his  hands 
That  knows  no  touch  to  tune  the  harmony.        166 
Within  my  mouth  you  have  engaol'd  my  tongue, 
Doubly  portcullis'd  with  my  teeth  and  lips ; 
And  dull  unfeeling  barren  ignorance 
Is  made  my  gaoler  to  attend  on  me. 
I  am  too  old  to  fawn  upon  a  nurse,  170 

Too  far  in  years  to  be  a  pupil  now. 
What  is  thy  sentence  then  but  speechless  death, 
Which   robs   my   tongue   from   breathing   native 
breath  ? 

K.  Rich.    It  boots  thee  not  to  be  compassionate. 

After  our  sentence  plaining  comes  too  late.         175 


aa  HicljarD  t^e  ^cconD  Act  I 


i 


Mow.   Then  thus  I  turn  me  from  my  country's  light, 
To  dwell  in  solemn  shades  of  endless  night. 

K.  Rich.   Return  again,  and  take  an  oath  with  thee. 

Lay  on  our  royal  sword  your  banish'd  hands  ;  5 

Swear  by  the  duty  that  you  owe  to  God  —        180  i 

Our  part  therein  we  banish  with  yourselves  — 

To  keep  the  oath  that  we  administer : 

You  never  shall,  so  help  you  truth  and  God  ! 

Embrace  each  other's  love  in  banishment ;  ^ 

Nor  never  look  upon  each  other's  face ;  185  i 

Nor  never  write,  regreet,  nor  reconcile 

This  louring  tempest  of  your  home-bred  hate  ; 

Nor  never  by  advised  purpose  meet  j 

To  plot,  contrive,  or  complot  any  ill  ] 

'Gainst  us,  our  state,  our  subjects,  or  our  land.  190  ] 

Boling.    I  swear.  j 

Mow.   And  I,  to  keep  all  this.  1 

Boling.  Norfolk,  so  far  as  to  mine  enemy :  — 
By  this  time,  had  the  King  permitted  us. 
One  of  our  souls  had  wand'red  in  the  air,  195 

Banish'd  this  frail  sepulchre  of  our  flesh. 
As  now  our  flesh  is  banish'd  from  this  land  ; 
Confess  thy  treasons  ere  thou  fly  the  realm ; 
Since  thou  hast  far  to  go,  bear  not  along 
The  clogging  burden  of  a  guilty  soul.  200 

Mow.  No,  Bolingbroke  ;  if  ever  I  were  traitor, 
My  name  be  blotted  from  the  book  of  life. 
And  I  from  heaven  banish'd  as  from  hence  ! 


1 


Sc.  Ill  Htcl)arD  tlie  Second  23 

But  what  thou  art,  God,  thou,  and  I  do  know  ; 
And  .aiLiQ£LaQon^,I_  fear,,  the  King  shall  rue."      205 
Farewell,  my  liege.     Now  no  way  can  I  stray ; 
Save  back  to  England,  all  the  world's  my  way. 

Exit. 

K.  Rich.   Uncle,  even  in  the  glasses  of  thine  eyes 
I  see  thy  grieved  heart.     Thy  sad  aspect 
Hath  from  the  number  of  his  banish'd  years      210 
Pluck'd    four    away.     [To    Boling.]    Six    frozen 

winters  spent. 
Return  with  welcome  home  from  banishment. 

Boling.   How  long  a  time  lies  in  one  little  word  ! 
Four  lagging  winters  and  four  wanton  springs 
End  in  a  word  :   such  is  the  breath  of  kings.       215 

Gaunt.    I  thank  my  liege,  that  in  regard  of  me 
He  shortens  four  years  of  my  son's  exUe  ; 
But  little  vantage  shall  I  reap  thereby. 
For,  ere  the  six  years  that  he  hath  to  spend 
Can  change  their  moons  and  bring  their  times 

about,  220 

My  oil-dri'd  lamp  and  time-bewasted  light 
Shall  be  extinct  with  age  and  endless  night ; 
My  inch  of  taper  will  be  burnt  and  done. 
And  blindfold  death  not  let  me  see  my  son. 

K.  Rich.    Why,  uncle,  thou  hast  many  years  to  live.  225 

Gaunt.  .Biit_not  a  minute,  King,  that  thou  canst  give. 
Shorten  my  days  thou  canst  with  sullen  sorrow. 
And  pluck  nights  from  me,  but  not  lend  a  morrow. 


24  Htc^acD  t^ie  S)cconD  Act  i 

Thou  canst  help  Time  to  furrow  me  with  age, 
But  stop  no  wrinkle  in  his  pilgrimage.  230 

Thy  word  is  current  with  him  for  my  death. 
But  dead,  thy  kingdom  cannot  buy  my  breath, 

K.  Rick.   Thy  son  is  banish 'd  upon  good  advice, 
Whereto  thy  tongue  a  party-verdict  gave. 
Why  at  our  justice  seem'st  thou  then  to  lour  ?  235 

Gaunt.   Things    sweet    to    taste    prove    in    digestion 
sour. 
You  urg'd  me  as  a  judge ;  but  I  had  rather 
You  would  have  bid  me  argue  like  a  father. 
O,  had  it  been  a  stranger,  not  my  child, 
To   smooth   his   fault    I   should   have  been  more 
mild.  240 

A  partial  slander  sought  I  to  avoid. 
And  in  the  sentence  my  own  life  destroy'd. 
Alas,  I  look'd  when  some  of  you  should  say 
I  was  too  strict  to  make  mine  own  away  ; 
But  you  gave  leave  to  my  unwilling  tongue        245 
Against  my  will  to  do  myself  this  wrong. 

K.  Rich.   Cousin,  farewell ;   and,  uncle,  bid  him  so. 
Six  years  we  banish  him,  and  he  shall  go. 

Flourish.     Exeunt  [King  Richard  and  train], 

Aum.   Cousin,    farewell !     What    presence    must    not 
know. 
From  where  you  do  remain  let  paper  show.        250 

Mar.   My  lord,  no  leave  take  I;    for  I  will  ride, 
As  far  as  land  will  let  me,  by  your  side. 


sc.  Ill  ^jKitljarD  tl)e  ^econo  25 

Gaunt.   O,  to  what  purpose  dost  thou  hoard  thy  words. 
That  thou  return'st  no  greeting  to  thy  friends  ? 

Baling.    I  have  too  few  to  take  my  leave  of  you       255 
When  the  tongue's  office  should  be  prodigal 
To  breathe  the  abundant  dolour  of  the  heart. 

Gaunt.   Thy  grief  is  but  thy  absence  for  a  time. 

Boling.   Joy  absent,  grief  is  present  for  that  time. 

Gaunt.   What     is     six    winters  ?     They    are     quickly 
gone.  260 

Boling.   To  men  in  joy  ;   but  grief  makes  one  hour  ten. 

Gaunt.   Call  it  a  travel  that  thou  tak'st  for  pleasure. 

Boling.   My  heart  will  sigh  when  I  miscall  it  so, 
WTiich  finds  it  an  inforced  pilgrimage. 

Gaunt.   The  sullen  passage  of  thy  weary  steps  265 

Esteem  as  foil  wherein  thou  art  to  set 
The  precious  jewel  of  thy  home  return. 

Boling.   Nay,  rather,  every  tedious  stride  I  make 
Will  but  remember  me  what  a  deal  of  world 
I  wander  from  the  jewels  that  I  love.  270 

Must  I  not  serve  a  long  apprenticehood 
To  foreign  passages,  and  in  the  end, 
Having  my  freedom,  boast  of  nothing  else 
But  that  I  was  a  journejTiian  to  grief  ? 

Gaunt.   All  places  that  the  eye  of  heaven  visits  275 

Are  to  a  wise  man  ports  and  happy  havens. 
Teach  thy  necessity  to  reason  thus  ; 
There  is  no  virtue  like  necessity. 
Think  not  the  King  did  banish  thee, 


a6  Uicljarti  tljf  ^econD  Act  i 

But  thou  the  King.     Woe  doth  the  heavier  sit  280 

Where  it  perceives  it  is  but  faintly  borne. 

Go,  say  I  sent  thee  forth  to  purchase  honour 

And  not  the  King  exil'd  thee  ;   or  suppose 

Devouring  pestilence  hangs  in  our  air 

And  thou  art  flying  to  a  fresher  clime.  285 

Look,  what  thy  soul  holds  dear,  imagine  it 

To  lie  that  way  thou  goest,  not  whence  thou  com'st. 

Suppose  the  singing  birds  musicians, 

The   grass   whereon   thou   tread'st   the   presence 

strew'd, 
The  flowers  fair  ladies,  and  thy  steps  no  more    290 
Than  a  delightful  measure  or  a  dance  ; 
For  gnarling  sorrow  hath  less  power  to  bite 
The  man  that  mocks  at  it  and  sets  it  light. 

Boling.   0,  who  can  hold  a  fire  in  his  hand 

By  thinking  on  the  frosty  Caucasus  ?  295 

Or  cloy  the  hungry  edge  of  appetite 

By  bare  imagination  of  a  feast  ? 

Or  wallow  naked  in  December  snow 

By  thinking  on  fantastic  summer's  heat  ? 

O,  no  !   the  apprehension  of  the  good  SOO 

Gives  but  the  greater  feeling  to  the  worse. 

Fell  Sorrow's  tooth  doth  never  rankle  more 

Than  when  he  bites,  but  lanceth  not  the  sore. 

Gaunt.    Come,  come,  my  son,   I'll  bring  thee  on  thy 
way  ; 
Had  I  thy  youth  and  cause,  I  would  not  stay.  305 


Sc.  IV  Uicl)arD  tlje  ^econu  27 

Bnling.   Then,  England's  ground,  farewell ;   sweet  soil, 
adieu ; 
My  mother,  and  my  nurse,  that  bears  me  yet ! 
Where'er  I  wander,  boast  of  this  I  can, 
Though  banish'd,  yet  a  trueborn  Englishman. 

Exeunt. 

Scene  IV 

[The  Court] 

Enter  the  King,  with  Bagot  and  Green  at  one  door;  a^  I 
the  Duke  of  Aumerle  at  another. 

K.  Rich.   We  did  observe.     Cousin  Aumerle, 

How  far  brought  you  high  Hereford  on  his  way  ? 

Aum.    I  brought  high  Hereford,  if  you  call  him  so. 
But  to  the  next  highway,  and  there  I  left  him. 

K.  Rich.   And  say,  what  store  of  parting  tears  were 
shed  ?  5 

Aum.   Faith,  none  for  me  ;   except  the  northeast  wind. 
Which  then  blew  bitterly  against  our  faces, 
Awak'd  the  sleeping  rheum,  and  so  by  chance 
Did  grace  our  hollow  parting  with  a  tear. 

K.  Rich.    What  said  our  cousin  when  you  parted  with 
him  ?  10 

Aum.   "Farewell!" 

And,  for  my  heart  disdained  that  my  tongue 
Should  so  profane  the  word,  that  taught  me  craft 
To  counterfeit  oppression  of  such  grief 


a8  KicljarD  tljf  ^ccono  Act  i 

That  words  scem'd  buried  in  my  sorrow's  grave.  15 
Marry,  would  the  word  "farewell"  have  length'ned 

hours 
And  added  years  to  his  short  banishment, 
He  should  have  had  a  volume  of  farewells ; 
But  since  it  would  not,  he  had  none  of  me. 

K.  Hich.   He  is  our  cousin,  cousin  ;   but  'tis  doubt,     20 
When  time  shall  call  him  home  from  banishment, 
Whether  our  kinsman  come  to  see  his  friends. 
Ourself  and  Bushy,  [Bagot  here  and  Green] 
Observ'd  his  courtship  to  the  common  people ; 
How  he  did  seem  to  dive  into  their  hearts  25 

With  humble  and  familiar  courtesy. 
What  reverence  he  did  throw  away  on  slaves. 
Wooing  poor  craftsmen  with  the  craft  of  smiles 
And  patient  underbearing  of  his  fortune. 
As  'twere  to  banish  their  affects  with  him.  30 

Oflf  goes  his  bonnet  to  an  oyster-wench  ; 
A  brace  of  draymen  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,  35 

And  he  our  subjects'  next  degree  in  hope. 

Green.   Well,    he    is    gone ;    and    with    him    go    these 
thoughts. 
Now  for  the  rebels  which  stand  out  in  Ireland, 
Expedient  manage  must  be  made,  my  liege, 


Sc.  IV  HictjarD  tlje  ^ecouD  29 

Ere  further  leisure  yield  them  further  means        40 
For  their  advantage  and  your  Highness'  loss. 
K.  Rich.   We  will  ourself  in  person  to  this  war ; 
And,  for  our  coffers,  with  too  great  a  court 
And  liberal  largess,  are  grown  somewhat  light, 
We  are  inforc'd  to  farm  our  royal  realm  ;  45 

The  revenue  whereof  shall  furnish  us 
For  our  affairs  in  hand.     If  that  come  short, 
Our  substitutes  at  home  shall  have  blank  charters ; 
Whereto,  when  they  shall  know  what  men  are  rich. 
They  shall  subscribe  them  for  large  sums  of  gold  50 
And  send  them  after  to  supply  our  wants ; 
For  we  will  make  for  Ireland  presently. 

Enter  Bushy. 

[Bushy,  what  news  ?] 

Bushy.   Old  John  of  Gaunt  is  grievous  sick,  my  lord. 
Suddenly  taken  ;  and  hath  sent  post  haste  55 

To  entreat  your  Majesty  to  visit  him. 

K.  Rich.   Where  lies  he  ? 

Bushy.   At  Ely  House. 

K.  Rich.   Now  put  it,  God,  in  the  physician's  mind 

To  help  him  to  his  grave  immediately  !  60 

The  lining  of  his  coffers  shall  make  coats 
To  deck  our  soldiers  for  these  Irish  wars. 
Come,  gentlemen,  let's  all  go  visit  him. 
Pray  God  we  may  make  haste,  and  come  too  late  ! 
All.]     Amen.  Exeunt. 


ACT   SECOND 

Scene  I 

[London.     Ely  House.] 

Enter  John  of  Gaunt,  sick,  with  the  Duke  of  York,  etc. 

Gaunt.   Will  the  King  come,  that  I  may  breathe  my 
last 
In  wholesome  counsel  to  his  unstaid  youth  ? 
York.   Vex   not   yourself,   nor   strive   not   wij^'  your 
breath ; 
For  all  in  vain  comes  counsel  to  his  ear. 
Gaunt.   0,  but  they  say  .tlie-tongues  of  dying  men    5 
Enforce  attention  like  deep  harmony. 
^\^lere  words  are  scarce,  they  are  seldom  spent  in 

vain. 
For  they.-hteathe  truth  that  breathe  their  words 

^in  pain. 
He  that  no  more  must  saj'  is  listen'd  more 

Than  they  whom  youth  and  ease  have  taught  to 
glose.  10 

More  are  men's  ends  mark'd  than  their  lives  be- 
fore. 
The  setting  sun,  and  music  at  the  close. 
As  the  last  taste  of  sweets,  is  sweetest  last, 

30 


Sc.  I  HictiarD  t\)t  ^econD  31 

Writ  in  remembrance  more  than  things  long  past. 
Though    Richard    my    life's    counsel    would    not 
hear,  15 

My  death's  sad  tale  may  yet  undeaf  his  ear. 

York.   No  ;  it  is  stopp'd  with  other  flattering  sounds, 
As  praises,  of  whose  taste  the  wise  are  found, 
Lascivious  metres,  to  whose  venom  sound 
The  open  ear  of  youth  doth  always  listen  ;  20 

Report  of  fashions  in  proud  Italy, 
Whose  manners  still  our  tardy,  apish  nation 
Limps  after  in  base  imitation. 
Where  doth  the  world  thrust  forth  a  vanity  — 
So  it  be  new,  there's  no  respect  how  vile  —  25 

That  is  not  quickly  buzz'd  into  his  ears  ? 
Then  all  too  late  comes  counsel  to  be  heard 
Where  will  doth  mutiny  with  wit's  regard. 
Direct  not  him  whose  way  himself  will  choose  ; 
'Tis  breath  thou  lack'st,  and  that  breath  wilt  thou 
lose.  30 

Gaunt.   Methinks  I  am  a  prophet  new  inspir'd 
And  thus  expiring  do  foretell  of  him  : 
His  rash  fierce  blaze  of  riot  cannot  last. 
For  violent  fires  soon  burn  out  themselves  ; 
Small  showers  last  long,  but  sudden  storms  are 
short ;  35 

He  tires  betimes  that  spurs  too  fast  betimes  ; 
With  eager  feeding  food  doth  choke  the  feeder ; 
Light  vanity,  insatiate  cormorant, 


32  HicljarD  t\)t  ^econD  Act  ii 

Consuming  means,  soon  preys  upon  itself. 

This  royal  throne  of  kings,  this  scept'red  isle,      40 

This  earth  of  majesty,  this  seat  of  Mars, 

This  other  Eden,  demi-paradise, 

This  fortress  built  by  Nature  for  herself 

Against  infection  and  the  hand  of  war. 

This  happy  breed  of  men,  this  little  world,  45 

This  precious  stone  set  in  the  silver  sea. 

Which  serves  it  in  the  office  of  a  wall 

Or  as  a  moat  defensive  to  a  house 

Against  the  envy  of  less  happier  lands, 

This  blessed  plot,  this  earth,  this  realm,  this  Eng- 

land,  50 

This  nurse,  this  teeming  womb  of  royal  kings, 

Fear'd  by  their  breed  and  famous  by  their  birth, 

Renowned  for  their  deeds  as  far  from  home, 

For  Christian  service  and  true  chivalry. 

As  is  the  sepulchre  in  stubborn  Jewry,  55 

Of  the  world's  ransom,  blessed  Mary's  Son, 

This  land  of  such  dear  souls,  this  dear  dear  land. 

Dear  for  her  reputation  through  the  world. 

Is  now  leas'd  out,  I  die  pronouncing  it. 

Like  to  a  tenement  or  pelting  farm.  60 

England,  bound  in  with  the  triumphant  sea. 

Whose  rocky  shore  beats  back  the  envious  siege 

Of  watery  Neptune,  is  now  bound  in  with  shame. 

With  inky  blots  and  rotten  parchment  bonds. 

That  England,  that  was  wont  to  conquer  others,  65 


sc.  I  l^icljarD  t\)t  ^econD  33 

Hatb-made  a  sJiameful  conquest  of  itself. 
Ah,  would  the  scandal  vanish  with  my  life. 
How  happy  then  were  my  ensuing  death  ! 

Enter  King  Richard  and  Queen,  Aumerle,  Bushy,  Green, 
Bagot,  Ross,  and  Willoughhy. 

York.   The  King  is  come.     Deal  mildly  with  his  youth  ; 
For  young  hot  colts  being  rag'd  do  rage  the  more. 

Queen.   How  fares  our  noble  uncle  Lancaster.'  71 

K.  Rich.    Wliat  comfort,  man .'     How  is't  with  aged 
Gaunt  "^ 

Gaunt.   O,  how  that  name  befits  my  composition  ! 
Old  Gaunt  indeed,  and  gaunt  in  being  old. 
Within  me  Grief  hath  kept  a  tedious  fast ;  75 

And  who  abstains  from  meat  that  is  not  gaunt  ? 
For  sleeping  England  long  time  have  I  watch'd  ; 
Watching  breeds  leanness,  leanness  is  all  gaunt. 
The  pleasure  that  some  fathers  feed  upon. 
Is  my  strict  fast ;  I  mean,  my  children's  looks  ;  80 
And  therein  fasting,  hast  thou  made  me  gaunt. 
Gaunt  am  I  for  the  grave,  gaunt  as  a  grave. 
Whose  hollow  womb  inherits  nought  but  bones. 

K.  Rich.   Can  sick  men  play  so  nicely  with  their  names  Y 

Gaunt.   No,  misery  makes  sport  to  mock  itself.  85 

Since  thou  dost  seek  to  kill  my  name  in  me, 
I  mock  my  name,  great  King,  to  flatter  thee. 

K.  Rich.    Should  dying  men  flatter  with  those  that  live  ? 

Gaunt.   No,  no,  men  living  flatter  those  that  die. 


34  HicljarD  t\)t  ^cconD  Act  ii 

K.  Rich.   Thou,  now  a-dj'ing,  say'st  thou  flatter'st  me. 

Gaunt.   0,  no  !  thou  ciiest,  though  I  the  sicker  be,      91 

K.  Rich.    I  am  in  health,  I  breathe,  and  see  thee  ill. 

Gaunt.   Now  He  that  made  me  knows  I  see  thee  ill ; 
111  in  myself  to  see,  and  in  thee  seeing  ill. 
Thy  death-bed  is  no  lesser  than  thy  land  95 

Wherein  thou  liest  in  reputation  sick ; 
And  thou,  too  careless  patient  as  thou  art, 
Commit'st  thy  anointed  body  to  the  cure 
Of  those  physicians  that  first  wounded  thee. 
A  thousand  flatterers  sit  within  thy  crown,         100 
Whose  compass  is  no  bigger  than  thy  head  ; 
And  yet,  incaged  in  so  small  a  verge. 
The  waste  is  no  whit  lesser  than  thy  land. 
O,  had  thy  grandsire  with  a  prophet's  eye 
Seen  how  his  son's  son  should  destroy  his  sons. 
From  forth  thy  reach  he  would  have  laid  thy 
shame,  106 

Deposing  thee  before  thou  wert  possess'd. 
Which  art  possess'd  now  to  depose  thyself. 
Why,  cousin,  wert  thou  regent  of  the  world. 
It  were  a  shame  to  let  this  land  by  lease ;  110 

But  for  thy  world  enjoying  but  this  land. 
Is  it  not  more  than  shame  to  shame  it  so  ? 
Landlord  of  England  art  thou  now,  not  king. 
Thy  state  of  law  is  bondslave  to  the  law, 
And  thou  — 

K.  Rich.  A  lunatic  lean-witted  fool,  115 


sc.  I  laicliarD  t^e  Second  35 

Presuming  on  an  ague's  privilege, 
Dar'st  with  thy  frozen  admonition 
Make  pale  our  cheek,  chasing  the  royal  blood 
With  fury  from  his  native  residence. 
Now,  by  my  seat's  right  royal  majesty,  120 

Wert  thou  not  brother  to  great  Edward's  son. 
This  tongue  that  runs  so  roundly  in  thy  head 
Should  run  thy  head  from  thy  imreverent  shoul- 
ders. 

Gaunt.   0,  spare  me  not,  my  brother  Edward's  son. 

For  that  I  was  his  father  Edward's  son.  125 

That  blood  already,  Uke  the  pelican. 
Hast  thou  tapp'd  out  and  drunkenly  carous'd. 
My  brother  Gloucester,  plain  well-meaning  soul. 
Whom  fair  befall  in  heaven  'mongst  happy  souls  ! 
May  be  a  precedent  and  witness  good  130 

That  thou  respect 'st  not  spilling  Edward's  blood. 
Join  with  the  present  sickness  that  I  have. 
And  thy  unkindness  be  like  crooked  age. 
To  crop  at  once  a  too  long  wither 'd  flower. 
Live  in  thy  shame,  but  die  not  shame  with  thee  ! 
These  words  hereafter  thy  tormentors  be  !  136 

Convey  me  to  my  bed,  then  to  my  grave  ; 
Love  they  to  live  that  love  and  honour  have. 

Exit  [borne  off  by  his  Attendants]. 

K.  Rich.   And  let  them  die  that  age  and  suUens  have  ; 
For  both  hast  thou,  and  both  become  the  grave. 

York.   I  do  beseech  your  Majesty,  impute  his  words  141 


36  HicljarD  t\)c  S>cconD  Act  ii 

To  wayward  sickliness  and  age  in  him. 
He  loves  you,  on  my  life,  and  holds  you  dear 
As  Harry  Duke  of  Hereford,  were  he  here. 
K.  Rick.   Right,  you  say  true.     As  Hereford's  love,  so 
his ;  145 

As  theirs,  so  mine ;  and  all  be  as  it  is. 

Enter  Northumberland. 

North.   My  liege,  old  Gaunt  commends  him  to  your 
Majesty. 

K.  Rich.   What  saj's  he  ? 

North.  Nay,  nothing  ;  all  is  said. 

His  tongue  is  now  a  stringless  instrument ; 
Words,  life,  and  all,  old  Lancaster  hath  spent.   150 

York.   Be  York  the  next  that  must  be  bankrupt  so  ! 
Though  death  be  poor,  it  ends  a  mortal  woe. 

K.  Rich.   The  ripest  fruit  first  falls,  and  so  doth  he ; 
His  time  is  spent,  our  pilgrimage  must  be. 
So  much  for  that.     Now  for  our  Irish  wars.        155 
We  must  supplant  those  rough  rug-headed  kerns, 
^Miich  live  like  venom  where  no  ven6m  else 
But  only  they  have  privilege  to  live. 
And  for  these  great  affairs  do  ask  some  charge. 
Towards  our  assistance  we  do  seize  to  \is  160 

The  plate,  coin,  revenues,  and  moveables, 
^Miereof  our  uncle  Gaunt  did  stand  possess'd. 

York.    How  long  shall  I  be  patient  ?     Ah,  how  long 
Shall  tender  duty  make  me  suffer  wrong  ? 


sc  1  l^icljarD  tlje  ^rcono  37 

Not  Gloucester's  death,   nor  Hereford's  banish- 
ment, 165 
Not    Gaunt's    rebukes,    nor    England's    private 

wrongs, 
Nor  the  prevention  of  poor  Bolingbroke 
About  his  marriage,  nor  my  own  disgrace. 
Have  ever  made  me  sour  my  patient  cheek. 
Or  bend  one  wrinkle  on  my  sovereign's  face.      170 
I  am  the  last  of  noble  Edward's  sons,  . 
Of  whom  thy  father.  Prince  of  Wales,  was  first. 
In  war  was  never  lion  rag'd  more  fierce. 
In  peace  was  never  gentle  lamb  more  mild. 
Than  was  that  young  and  princely  gentleman.  175 
His  face  thou  hast,  for  even  so  look'd  he, 
Accomplish'd  with  the  number  of  thy  hours  ; 
But  when  he  frown'd,  it  was  against  the  French 
And  not  against  his  friends.     His  noble  hand 
Did  win  what  he  did  spend  and  spent  not  that  180 
Which  his  triumphant  father's  hand  had  won. 
His  hands  were  guilty  of  no  kindred  blood, 
But  bloody  with  the  enemies  of  his  kin. 
O  Richard  !     York  is  too  far  gone  with  grief. 
Or  else  he  never  would  compare  between.  185 

K.  Rich.   Why,  uncle,  what's  the  matter  "^ 
York.  O  my  liege. 

Pardon  me,  if  you  please  ;   if  not,  I,  pleas'd 
Not  to  be  pardon'd,  am  content  withal. 
Seek  you  to  seize  and  gripe  into  your  hands 


38  HicljarD  t^c  ^tconn  Act  ii 

The  royalties  and  rights  of  banish'd  Hereford  ?  190 
Is  not  Gaunt  dead,  and  doth  not  Hereford  live  ? 
Was  not  Gaunt  just,  and  is  not  Harry  true  ? 
Did  not  tlie  one  deserve  to  have  an  heir  ? 
Is  not  his  heir  a  well-deserving  son  ? 
Take    Hereford's    rights    away,    and    take    from 
Time  195 

His  charters  and  his  customary  rights ; 
Let  not  to-morrow  then  ensue  to-day  ; 
Be  not  thyself  ;   for  how  art  thou  a  king 
But  by  fair  sequence  and  succession  ? 
Now,  afore  God  —  God  forbid  I  say  true  !  —     200 
If  you  do  wrongfully  seize  Hereford's  rights, 
Call  in  the  letters  patents  that  he  hath 
By  his  attorneys  general  to  sue 
His  livery,  and  deny  his  off'red  homage. 
You  pluck  a  thousand  dangers  on  your  head,     205 
You  lose  a  thousand  well-disposed  hearts 
And  prick  my  tender  patience  to  those  thoughts 
Which  honour  and  allegiance  cannot  think. 

K.  Rich.   Think  what  you  will,  we  seize  into  our  hands 
His  plate,  his  goods,  his  money,  and  his  lands.  210 

York.    I'll  not  be  by  the  while.     My  liege,  farewell ! 
What  will  ensue  hereof,  there's  none  can  tell ; 
But  by  bad  courses  may  be  understood 
That  their  events  can  never  fall  out  good. 

Exit. 

K.  Rich.   Go,  Bushy,  to  the  Earl  of  Wiltshire  straight, 


Sc.  I  JitcljarD  t\)c  ^econD  39 

Bid  him  repair  to  us  to  Ely  House  216 

To  see  this  business.     To-morrow  next 

We  will  for  Ireland  ;   and  'tis  time,  I  trow  : 

And  we  create,  in  absence  of  ourself. 

Our  uncle  York  lord  governor  of  England  ;         220 

For  he  is  just  and  always  lov'd  us  well. 

Come  on,  our  queen  ;   to-morrow  must  we  part. 

Be  merry,  for  our  time  of  stay  is  short. 

Flourish.     Exeunt    King,     Queen,     Aumerle, 
Bushy,  Green,  and  Bagot. 
North.   Well,  lords,  the  Duke  of  Lancaster  is  dead. 
Ross.   And  living  too  ;   for  now  his  son  is  duke.         225 
Willo.    Barely  in  title,  not  in  revenues. 
North.    Richly  in  both,  if  Justice  had  her  right. 
Ross.   My  heart  is  great ;  but  it  must  break  with  silence. 

Ere  't  be  disburden'd  with  a  liberal  tongue. 
North.   Nay,    speak    thy    mind ;     and    let    him    ne'er 
speak  more  230 

That  speaks  thy  words  again  to  do  thee  harm  ! 
Willo.   Tends  that  thou  wouldst  speak  to  the  Duke 
of  Hereford  ? 

If  it  be  so,  out  with  it  boldly,  man  ; 

Quick  is  mine  ear  to  hear  of  good  towards  him. 
Ross.   No  good  at  all  that  I  can  do  for  him  ;  235 

Unless  you  call  it  good  to  pity  him, 

Bereft  and  gelded  of  his  patrimony. 
North.   Now,  afore  God,  'tis  shame  such  wrongs  are 
borne 


40  KicljarD  t\)t  ^rconD  ^vct  ii 

In  him,  a  royal  prince,  and  many  moe 

Of  noble  blood  in  this  declining  land.  240 

The  King  is  not  himself,  but  basely  led 

By  flatterers  ;   and  what  they  will  inform, 

Merely  in  hate,  'gainst  any  of  us  all, 

That  will  the  King  severely  prosecute 

'Gainst  us,  our  lives,  our  children,  and  our  heirs.  245 

Ross.   The  commons  hath  he  pill'd  with  grievous  taxes, 
And  quite  lost  their  hearts  ;    the  nobles  hath  he 

fined 
For  ancient  quarrels,  and  quite  lost  their  hearts, 

Willo.   And  daily  new  exactions  are  devis'd, 

As  blanks,  benevolences,  and  I  wot  not  what.    250 
But  what,  o'  God's  name,  doth  become  of  this .'' 

North.    Wars  hath  not  wasted  it,  for  warr'd  he  hath  not. 
But  basely  yielded  upon  compromise 
That   which   his   noble   ancestors   achiev'd   with 

blows. 
More  hath  he  spent  in  peace  than  they  in  wars.  255 

Ross.   The  Earl  of  Wiltshire  hath  the  realm  in  farm. 

Willo.   The  King's  grown  bankrupt,  like  a  broken  man. 

North.   Reproach  and  dissolution  hangeth  over  him. 

Ross.   He  hath  not  money  for  these  Irish  wars, 

His  burdenous  taxations  notwithstanding,  260 

But  by  the  robbing  of  the  banish'd  Duke. 

North.    His  noble  kinsman  :    most  degenerate  king  ! 
But,  lords,  we  hear  this  fearful  tempest  sing, 
Yet  seek  no  shelter  to  avoid  the  storm  ; 


Sc.  I  HtctiarD  t\)t  ^econD  41 

We  see  the  wind  sit  sore  upon  our  sails,  265 

And  yet  we  strike  not,  but  securely  perish. 

Ross.   We  see  the  very  wreck  that  we  must  suflFer  ; 
And  unavoided  is  the  danger  now. 
For  suffering  so  the  causes  of  our  wreck. 

North.   Not  so  ;   even  through  the  hollow  eyes  of  death 
I  spy  life  peering  ;   but  I  dare  not  say  271 

How  near  the  tidings  of  our  comfort  is. 

Willo.   Nay,  let  us  share  thy  thoughts,  as  thou  dost 
ours. 

Ross.   Be  confident  to  speak,  Northumberland. 

We  three  are  but  thyself  ;  and,  speaking  so,       275 
Thy  words  are  but  as  thoughts  ;     therefore,   be 
bold. 

North.   Then  thus  :   I  have  from  Le  Port  Blanc,  a  bay 
In  Brittany,  received  intelligence 
That   Harry   Duke    of   Hereford,    Rainold    Lord 

Cobham, 
[The  son  and  heir  of  the  Earl  of  Arundel,]  280 

That  late  broke  from  the  Duke  of  Exeter, 
His  brother,  Archbishop  late  of  Canterbury, 
Sir  Thomas  Erpingham,  Sir  John  Ramston, 
Sir  John  Norbery,  Sir  Robert  Waterton,  and  Fran- 
cis Coines, 
All  these  well  furnish'd  by  the  Duke  of  Bretagne  285 
With  eight  tall  ships,  three  thousand  men  of  war. 
Are  making  hither  with  all  due  expedience 
And  shortly  mean  to  touch  our  northern  shore. 


43  UtfljaiD  t\)t  ^econo  Act  ii 

Perhaps  they  had  ere  this,  but  that  they  stay 
Tlie  first  departing  of  the  King  for  Ireland.        290 
If  then  we  shall  shake  off  our  slavish  yoke, 
Imp  out  our  drooping  country's  broken  wing. 
Redeem  from  broking  pawn  the  blemish'd  crown, 
Wipe  off  the  dust  that  hides  our  sceptre's  gilt, 
And  make  high  majesty  look  like  itself,  295 

Away  with  me  in  post  to  Ravenspurgh  ; 
But  if  you  faint,  as  fearing  to  do  so. 
Stay  and  be  secret,  and  myself  will  go. 

Ross.   To  horse,  to  horse  !    urge  doubts  to  them  that 
fear. 

Willo.   Hold  out  my  horse,  and  I  will  first  be  there.  300 

Exeunt. 

t 

Scene  II 

[Windsor  Castle.] 

Enter  Queen,  Bushy,  and  Bagot. 

Bushy.   Madam,  your  Majestj'  is  too  much  sad. 
You  promis'd,  when  you  parted  with  the  King, 
To  lay  aside  life-harming  heaviness 
And  entertain  a  cheerful  disposition. 

Queen.   To  please  the  King  I  did  ;    to  please  myself   5 
I  cannot  do  it ;  yet  I  know  no  cause 
Why  I  should  welcome  such  a  guest  as  Grief, 
Save  bidding  farewell  to  so  sweet  a  guest 


Sc.  II  l^icliarD  c^e  ^econo  43 

As  my  sweet  Richard.     Yet  again,  methinks, 
Some  unborn  sorrow,  ripe  in  fortune's  womb,       10 
Is  coming  towards  me,  and  my  inward  soul 
With  nothing  trembles.     At  something  it  grieves, 
More  than  with  parting  from  my  lord  the  King. 

Bushy.   Each  substance  of  a  grief  hath  twenty  shadows. 
Which  shows  like  grief  itself,  but  is  not  so  ;  15 

For  sorrow's  eyes,  glazed  with  biinding  tears. 
Divides  one  thing  entire  to  many  objects. 
Like  perspectives,  which  rightly  gaz'd  upon 
Show  nothing  but  confusion,  ey'd  awry 
Distinguish  form  ;   so  your  sweet  Majesty,  20 

Looking  awry  upon  your  lord's  departure. 
Find  shapes  of  grief,  more  than  himself,  to  wail ; 
Which,  look'd  on  as  it  is,  is  nought  but  shadows 
Of  what  it  is  not.     Then,  thrice-gracious  Queen, 
More  than  your  lord's  departure  weep  not.     More 
's  not  seen  ;  iS 

Or  if  it  be,  'tis  with  false  sorrow's  eye, 
Which  for  things  true  weeps  things  imaginary. 

Queen.    It  may  be  so  ;   but  yet  my  inward  soul 
Persuades  me  it  is  otherwise.     Howe'er  it  be, 
I  cannot  but  be  sad  ;   so  heavy  sad  30    % 

As,  though  on  thinking  on  no  thought  I  think. 
Makes  me  with  heavy  nothing  faint  and  shrink. 

Bushy.    'Tis  nothing  but  conceit,  my  gracious  lady. 

Queen.    'Tis  nothing  less  :   conceit  is  still  deriv'd 

From  some  forefather  grief  ;   mine  is  not  so,         35 


44  Kic^arD  tljf  ^ffonD  Act  II 

For  nothing  hath  begot  my  something  grief. 

Or  something  hath  the  nothing  that  I  grieve. 

'Tis  in  reversion  that  I  do  possess  ; 

But  what  it  is,  that  is  not  yet  known ;  what, 

I  cannot  name  ;   'tis  nameless  woe,  I  wot.  40 

Enter  Green. 

Green.   God  save  your  Majesty  !  and  well  met,  gentle- 
men, 

I  hope  the  King  is  not  yet  shipp'd  for  Ireland. 
Queen.    Why  hop'st  thou  so  ?     'Tis  better  hope  he  is  ; 

For  his  designs  crave  haste,  his  haste  good  hope. 

Then  wherefore  dost  thou  hope  he  is  not  shipp'd .' 
Green.   That  he,  our  hope,  might  have  retir'd  his  power. 

And  driven  into  despair  an  enemy's  hope. 

Who  strongly  hath  set  footing  in  this  land. 

The  banish'd  Bolingbroke  rep)eals  himself. 

And  with  uplifted  arms  is  safe  arriv'd  50 

At  Ravenspurgh. 
Queen.  Now  God  in  heaven  forbid  ! 

Green.   Ah,  madam,  'tis  too  true ;   and,  that  is  worse. 

The  Lord  Northumberland,  his  son  young  Henry 
Percy, 

The  Lords  of  Ross.  Beaumond,  and  Willoughby, 

With  all  their  powerful  friends,  are  fled  to  him.   53 
Bushy.    Why  have  you  not  proclaim'd  Northumber- 
land 

And  all  the  rest  revolted  faction  traitors .' 


Sc.  II  UirtiarD  t^e  feeconD  45 

Green.   We  have  ;  whereupon  the  Earl  of  Worcester 
Hath  broken  his  staff,  resigned  his  stewardship. 
And  all  the  household  servants  fled  with  him       60 
To  Bolingbroke. 

Queen.   So,  Green,  thou  art  the  midwife  to  my  woe. 
And  Bolingbroke  my  sorrow's  dismal  heir. 
Now  hath  my  soul  brought  forth  her  prodigy. 
And  I,  a  gasping  new-deliver'd  mother,  65 

Have  woe  to  woe,  sorrow  to  sorrow  join'd. 

Bushy.   Despair  not,  madam. 

Queen.  Who  shall  hinder  me  .' 

I  will  despair,  and  be  at  enmity 
With  cozening  hope.     He  is  a  flatterer, 
A  parasite,  a  keeper  back  of  death,  70 

WTio  gently  would  dissolve  the  bands  of  life. 
Which  false  hope  lingers  in  extremity. 

Enter  York. 

Green.   Here  comes  the  Duke  of  York. 

Queen.   With  signs  of  war  about  his  aged  neck. 

O,  full  of  careful  business  are  his  looks  !  75 

Uncle,  for  God's  sake,  speak  comfortable  words. 

Yorh.   Should  I  do  so,  I  should  belie  my  thoughts. 
Comfort's  in  heaven ;   and  we  are  on  the  earth. 
Where  nothing  lives  but  crosses,  cares,  and  grief. 
Your  husband,  he  is  gone  to  save  far  off,  80 

Whilst  others  come  to  make  him  lose  at  home. 
Here  am  I  left  to  underprop  his  land. 


46  IJtcljarD  t\)t  ^CCOUD  Act  II 

Who,  weak  with  age,  cannot  support  myself. 
Now  comes  the  sick  hour  that  his  surfeit  made ; 
Now  shall  he  try  his  friends  that  flatter'd  him.    85 

Enter  a  Servant. 

Serv,   My  lord,  your  son  was  gone  before  I  came. 
York.   He  was  ?     Why,  so  !   go  all  which  way  it  will ! 

The  nobles  they  are  fled  ;    the  commons  they  are 
cold. 

And  will,  I  fear,  revolt  on  Hereford's  side. 

Sirrah,  get  thee  to  Plashy,  to  my  sister  Glouces- 
ter ;  90 

Bid  her  send  me  presently  a  thousand  pound. 

Hold,  take  my  ring. 
Serv.   My  lord,  I  had  forgot  to  tell  your  lordship. 

To-day,  as  I  came  by,  I  called  there,  — 

But  I  shall  grieve  you  to  report  the  rest.  95 

York.   What  is't.  knave  .' 

Serv.   An  hour  before  I  came,  the  Duchess  died. 
York.    God  for  his  mercy  !   what  a  tide  of  woes 

Comes  rushing  on  this  woeful  land  at  once  ! 

I  know  not  what  to  do.     I  would  to  God,  100 

So  my  untruth  had  not  provok'd  him  to  it, 

The  King  had  cut  off  my  head  with  my  brother's. 

What,  are  there  no  posts  dispatch'd  for  Ireland .' 

How  shall  we  do  for  money  for  these  wars  ? 

Come,    sister,  —  cousin,     I    would    say,  —  pray, 
pardon  me.  105 


i 


Sc.  II  Uicl)arD  tlje  ^econD  47 

Go,  fellow,  get  thee  home,  provide  some  carts 
And  bring  away  the  armour  that  is  there. 

[Exit  Servant.] 
Gentlemen,  will  you  go  muster  men  ? 
If  I  know  how  or  which  way  to  order  these  affairs 
Thus  disorderly  thrust  into  my  hands,  110 

Never  beheve  me.     Both  are  my  kinsmen  : 
T'  one  is  my  sovereign,  whom  both  my  oath 
And  duty  bids  defend  ;   t'  other  again 
Is  my  kinsman,  whom  the  King  hath  wrong'd, 
Whom  conscience  and  my  kindred  bids  to  right.  115 
Well,  somewhat  we  must  do.     Come,  cousin,  I'll 
Dispose  of  you. 

Gentlemen,  go,  muster  up  your  men, 
And  meet  me  presently  at  Berkeley. 
I  should  to  Flashy  too,  120 

But  time  will  not  permit.     All  is  uneven. 
And  everything  is  left  at  six  and  seven. 

Exeunt  York  and  Queen. 

Bushy.   The  wind  sits  fair  for  news  to  go  for  Ireland, 
But  none  returns.     For  us  to  levy  power 
Froportionable  to  the  enemy  125 

Is  all  unpossible. 

Green.   Besides,  our  nearness  to  the  King  in  love 
Is  near  the  hate  of  those  love  not  the  King. 

Bagot.   And  that's  the  wavering  commons,  for  their  love 
Lies  in  their  purses  ;   and  whoso  empties  them 
By  so  much  fills  their  hearts  with  deadly  hate.  131 


48  UicljaiD  tl)C  ^CfOnD  Act  II 

Bushy.   Wherein  the  King  stands  generally  condemn'd. 
Bagot.    If  judgement  lie  in  them,  then  so  do  we, 

Because  we  ever  have  been  near  the  King, 
Green.   Well,    I    will    for    refuge    straight    to    Bristol 
castle :  135 

The  Earl  of  Wiltshire  is  already  there. 
Bushy.   Thither  will  I  with  you  ;   for  little  office 

The  hateful  commons  will  perform  for  us. 

Except  like  curs  to  tear  us  all  to  pieces. 

Will  you  go  along  with  us .''  140 

Bagot.   No  ;   I  will  to  Ireland  to  his  Majesty. 

Farewell !     If  heart's  presages  be  not  vain, 

We  three  here  part  that  ne'er  shall  meet  again. 
Bushy.  That's  as  York  thrives  to  bea  t  back  Bolingbroke. 
Green.   Alas,  poor  duke  !    the  task  he  undertakes    145 

Is  numb'ring  sands  and  drinking  oceans  dry. 

Where  one  on  his  side  fights,  thousands  will  fly. 

Farewell  at  once,  for  once,  for  all,  and  ever. 
Bushy.   Well,  we  may  meet  again. 
Bagot.  I  fear  me,  never. 

Exeunt. 

Scene  III 

[Wilds  in  Gloucestershire.] 

Enter   Bolingbroke   and   Northumberland    [loith  forces]. 

Boling.   How  far  is  it,  my  lord,  to  Berkeley  now  ? 
North.   Believe  me,  noble  lord. 


sc.  Ill  Htcljari)  t^ie  Second  49 

I  am  a  stranger  here  in  Gloucestershire. 
These  high  wild  hills  and  rough  uneven  ways 
Draws  out  our  miles,  and  makes  them  wearisome  ; 
And  yet  your  fair  discourse  hath  been  as  sugar,    6 
Making  the  hard  way  sweet  and  delectable. 
But  I  bethink  me  what  a  weary  way 
From  Ravenspurgh  to  Cotswold  will  be  found 
In    Ross    and    Willoughby,    wanting    your    com- 
pany, 10 
Which,  I  protest,  hath  very  much  beguil'd 
The  tediousness  and  process  of  my  travel. 
But  theirs  is  sweet'ned  with  the  hope  to  have 
The  present  benefit  which  I  possess  ; 
And  hope  to  joy  is  little  less  in  joy                        15 
Than  hope  enjoy 'd.     By  this  the  weary  lords 
Shall  make  their  way  seem  short,  as   mine  hath 

done 
By  sight  of  what  I  have,  your  noble  company. 
Boling.   Of  much  less  value  is  my  company 

Than  your  good  words.     But  who  comes  here  ? 

Enter  Henry  Percy. 

North.    It  is  my  son,  young  Harry  Percy,  21 

Sent  from  my  brother  Worcester,  whencesoever. 
Harry,  how  fares  your  uncle  ? 

Percy.    I  had  thought,  my  lord,  to  have  learn 'd  his 
health  of  you. 

North.   Why,  is  he  not  with  the  Queen  ?  25 


so  Hicl)arD  t\)t  ^rrono  Act  ii 

Percy.   No,  my  good  lord  ;   he  hath  forsook  the  court, 
Broken  his  staff  of  oflBce,  and  dispers'd 
The  household  of  the  King. 

North.  What  was  his  reason  ? 

He  was  not  so  resolv'd  when  last  we  spake  together. 

Percy.   Because  your  lordship  was  proclaimed  traitor. 
But  he,  my  lord,  is  gone  to  Ravenspurgh  31 

To  offer  service  to  the  Duke  of  Hereford, 
And  sent  me  over  by  Berkeley,  to  discover 
What  power  the  Duke  of  York  had  levied  there  ; 
Then  with  directions  to  repair  to  Ravenspurgh.  35 

North.   Have  you  forgot  the  Duke  of  Hereford,  boy  ? 

Percy.   No,  my  good  lord,  for  that  is  not  forgot 

Which  ne'er  I  did  remember.     To  my  knowledge, 
I  never  in  my  life  did  look  on  him. 

North.   Then   learn  to  know   liim  now ;     this  is  the 
Duke.  40 

Percy.   My  gracious  lord,  I  tender  you  my  service. 
Such  .as  it  is,  being  tender,  raw,  and  young ; 
Which  elder  days  shall  ripen  and  confirm 
To  more  approved  service  and  desert. 

Baling.    I  thank  thee,  gentle  Percy  ;  and  be  sure       45 
I  count  myself  in  nothing  else  so  happy 
As  in  a  soul  rememb'ring  my  good  friends ; 
And,  as  my  fortune  ripens  with  thy  love, 
It  shall  be  still  thy  true  love's  recompense. 
My  heart  this  covenant  makes,  my  hand    thus 
seals  it.  £0 


Sc.  Ill  Kul)arD  t^ie  ^econD  5" 

North.  How  far  is  it  to  Berkeley  ?  and  what  stir 

Keeps  good  old  York  there  with  his  men  of  war  ? 
Percy.   There  stands  the  castle,  by  yon  tuft  of  trees, 
Mann'd    with    three    hundred    men,    as    I    have 

heard ; 
And  in  it  are  the  Lords  of  York,  Berkeley,  and 
Seymour ;  56 

None  else  of  name  and  noble  estimate. 

Enter  Ross  and  Willoughhy. 

North.   Here  come  the  Lords  of  Ross  and  Willoughby, 
Bloody  with  spurring,  fiery-red  with  haste. 

Boling.   Welcome,  my  lords.     I  wot  your  love  pursues 
A  banish'd  traitor.     All  my  treasury  60 

Is  yet  but  unfelt  thanks,  which  more  enrich'd 
Shall  be  your  love  and  labour's  recompense. 

Ross.   Your  presence  makes  us  rich,  most  noble  lord.  *. 

Willo.   And  far  surmounts  our  labour  to  attain  it. 

Boling.   Evermore  thanks,  the  exchequer  of  the  poor,  65 
Which,  till  my  infant  fortune  comes  to  years, 
Stands  for  my  bounty.     But  who  comes  here  ? 

Enter  Berkeley. 

North.   It  is  my  Lord  of  Berkeley,  as  I  guess. 
Berk.   My  Lord  of  Hereford,  my  message  is  to  you. 
Boling.   My  lord,  my  answer  is  —  to  Lancaster  ;        70 
And  I  am  come  to  seek  that  name  in  England  ; 


52  UicbarD  t\)t  ^fcono  Act  ii 

And  I  must  find  that  title  in  your  tongue. 
Before  I  make  reply  to  aught  you  say. 
Berk.   Mistake  me  not,  my  lord  ;    'tis  not  my  meaning 
To  raze  one  title  of  your  honour  out.  75 

To  you,  my  lord,  I  come,  what  lord  you  will, 
From  the  most  gracious  regent  of  this  land. 
The  Duke  of  York,  to  know  what  pricks  you  on 
To  take  advantage  of  the  absent  time 
And    fright    our    native    peace    with    self-borne 
arms.  80 

Enter  York  [attended]. 

Baling.    I  shall  not  need  transport  my  words  by  you  ; 

Here    comes    his    Grace    in    person.     My   noble 

uncle !  [Kneeh.] 

York.   Show  me  thy  humble  heart,  and  not  thy  knee, 

Whose  duty  is  deceiveable  and  false. 
Baling.   My  gracious  uncle  —  85 

York.   Tut,  tut ! 

Grace  me  no  grace,  nor  uncle  me  no  uncle. 

I  am  no  traitor's  uncle  ;   and  that  word  "grace" 

In  an  ungracious  mouth  is  but  profane. 

Why  have  those  banish'd  and  forbidden  legs        90 

Dar'd  once  to  touch  a  dust  of  England's  ground  ? 

But  then  more  "why.''"     Why  have  they  dar'd 
to  march 

So  many  miles  upon  her  peaceful  bosom. 

Frighting  her  pale-fac'd  villages  with  war 


Sc.  in  laicljarD  tl)e  ^econD  53 

And  ostentation  of  despised  arms  ?  95 

Com'st  thou  because  the  anointed  King  is  hence  ? 
Why,  fooHsh  boy,  the  King  is  left  behind, 
And  in  my  loyal  bosom  lies  his  power. 
Were  I  but  now  the  lord  of  such  hot  youth 
As  when  brave  Gaunt,  thy  father,  and  myself 
Rescued  the  Black  Prince,  that  young  Mars  of 
men,  101 

From  forth  the  ranks  of  many  thousand  French, 
O,  then  how  quickly  should  this  arm  of  mine. 
Now  prisoner  to  the  palsy,  chastise  thee 
And  minister  correction  to  thy  fault !  105 

Boling.   My  gracious  uncle,  let  me  know  my  fault. 
On  what  condition  stands  it  and  wherein  ? 

York.   Even  in  condition  of  the  worst  degree. 
In  gross  rebellion  and  detested  treason. 
Thou  art  a  banish'd  man,  and  here  art  come      110 
Before  the  expiration  of  thy  time, 
In  braving  arms  against  thy  sovereign. 

Boling.   As  I  was  banish'd,  I  was  banish'd  Hereford ; 
But  as  I  come,  I  come  for  Lancaster. 
And,  noble  uncle,  I  beseech  your  Grace  115 

Look  on  my  wrongs  with  an  indifferent  eye. 
You  are  my  father,  for  methinks  in  you 
I  see  old  Gaunt  alive.     O,  then,  my  father. 
Will  you  permit  that  I  shall  stand  condemn'd 
A  wandering   vagabond ;     my  rights   and   royal- 
ties 120 


54  HicljarD  t!)c  ^econD  Act  ii 

Pluck'd  from  my  arms  perforce,  and  given  away 
To  upstart  unthrifts  ?     Wherefore  was  I  born  ? 
If  that  my  cousin  king  be  King  of  England, 
It  must  be  granted  I  am  Duke  of  Lancaster. 
You  have  a  son,  Aumerle,  my  noble  cousin  ;       125 
Had    you    first    died,   and    he    been    thus    trod 

down, 
He  should  have  found  his  uncle  Gaunt  a  father 
To  rouse  his  wrongs  and  chase  them  to  the  bay. 
I  am  deni'd  to  sue  my  livery  here. 
And  yet  my  letters  patents  give  me  leave.  130 

My  father's  goods  are  all  distrain'd  and  sold, 
And  these  and  all  are  all  amiss  employ'd. 
What  would  you  have  me  do  ?   I  am  a  subject, 
And  I  challenge  law.     Attorneys  are  denied  me  ; 
And  therefore  personally  I  lay  my  claim  135 

To  my  inheritance  of  free  descent. 

North.   The  noble  Duke  hath  been  too  much  abus'd. 

Ross.    It  stands  your  Grace  upon  to  do  him  right. 

Willo.   Base  men  by  his  endowments  are  made  great. 

York.   My  lords  of  England,  let  me  tell  you  this  :    140 
I  have  had  feeling  of  my  cousin's  wrongs 
And  labour'd  all  I  could  to  do  him  right ; 
But  in  this  kind  to  come,  in  braving  arms. 
Be  his  own  carver  and  cut  out  his  way. 
To  find  out  right  with  wrong,  it  may  not  be ;     145 
And  you  that  do  abet  him  in  this  kind 
Cherish  rebellion  and  are  rebels  all. 


E-g^J 


sc.  Ill  l^ic^aro  tlje  ^econD  55 

NoHh.   The  noble  Duke  hath  sworn  his  coming  is 
But  for  his  own  ;   and  for  the  right  of  that 
We  all  have  strongly  sworn  to  give  him  aid  ;      150 
And    let    him  ne'er  see    joy  that    breaks    that 
oath  ! 

York.   Well,  well,  I  see  the  issue  of  these  arms. 
I  cannot  mend  it,  I  must  needs  confess, 
Because  my  power  is  weak  and  all  ill  left ; 
But  if  I  could,  by  Him  that  gave  me  life,  155 

I  would  attach  you  all  and  make  you  stoop 
Unto  the  sovereign  mercy  of  the  King  ; 
But  since  I  cannot,  be  it  known  to  you 
I  do  remain  as  neuter.     So,  fare  you  well ; 
Unless  you  please  to  enter  in  the  castle  160 

And  there  repose  you  for  this  night. 

Boling.   An  offer,  uncle,  that  we  will  accept. 
But  we  must  win  your  Grace  to  go  with  us 
To  Bristol  castle,  which  they  say  is  held 
By  Bushy,  Bagot,  and  their  complices,  165 

The  caterpillars  of  the  commonwealth. 
Which  I  have  sworn  to  weed  and  pluck  away. 

Yorh.    It  may  be   I  will  go  with  you ;  but  yet  I'll 
pause, 
For  I  am  loath  to  break  our  country's  laws. 
Nor  friends  nor  foes,  to  me  welcome  you  are.     170 
Things  past  redress  are  now  with  me  past  care. 

Exeunt. 


56  HicljaiD  t\)t  §)CCOnD  Act  II 

Scene  IV 
[A  camp  in  Wales.] 
Enter  Salisbury  and  a  Welsh  Captain. 

Cap.   My  Lord  of  Salisbury,  we  have  stay'd  ten  days. 
And  hardly  kept  our  countrymen  together, 
And  3'et  we  hear  no  tidings  from  the  King  ; 
Therefore  we  will  disperse  ourselves.     Farewell ! 

Sal.   Stay  yet  another  day,  thou  trusty  Welshman.    5 
The  King  reposeth  all  his  confidence  in  thee. 

Cap.    'Tis  thought  the  King  is  dead  ;   we  will  not  stay. 
The  bay-trees  in  our  country  are  all  wither'd 
And  meteors  fright  the  fixed  stars  of  heaven  ; 
The  pale-fac'd  moon  looks  bloody  on  the  earth   10 
And  lean-look'd  prophets  whisper  fearful  change  ; 
Rich  men  look  sad  and  ruflSans  dance  and  leap. 
The  one  in  fear  to  lose  what  they  enjoy. 
The  other  to  enjoy  by  rage  and  war. 
These  signs  forerun  the  death  or  fall  of  kings.      15 
Farewell !     Our  countrymen  are  gone  and  fled, 
As  well  assur'd  Richard  their  king  is  dead.      Exit. 

Sal.   Ah,  Richard,  with  th&-eyes.QLheavy  mind 
I  see  thy  glory  like  a  shooting  star 
Fall  to  the  base  earth  from  the  firmament.  20 

Thy  sun  sets  wcej>ing  in  the  lowly  west, 
Witnessing  storms  to  come,  woe,  and  unrest. 
Thy  friends  are  fled  to  wait  upon  thy  foes. 
And  crossly  to  thy  good  all  fortune  goes.  Exit. 


ACT  THIRD 
Scene  I 

[Bristol.     Before  the  castle.] 

Enter  Bolingbroke,  York,  Northumberland,  R^ss,  Percy, 
Willoughby,  with  Bushy  and  Green,  prisoners. 

Baling.   Bring  forth  these  men. 

Bushy  and  Green,  I  will  not  vex  your  souls  — 
Since  presently  your  souls  must  part  your  bodies  — 
With  too  much  urging  your  pernicious  lives  ; 
For  'twere  no  charity  ;  yet,  to  wash  your  blood     5 
From  oflf  my  hands,  here  in  the  view  of  men 
I  will  unfold  some  causes  of  your  deaths. 
You  have  misled  a  prince,  a  royal  king, 
A  happy  gentleman  in  blood  and  lineaments. 
By  you  unhappied  and  disfigur'd  clean.  10 

You  have  in  manner  with  your  sinful  hours 
Made  a  divorce  betwixt  his  queen  and  him. 
Broke  the  possession  of  a  royal  bed 
And  stain'd  the  beauty  of  a  fair  queen's  cheeks 
With  tears  drawn   from  her  eyes  by  your   foul 
wrongs.  1^ 

Myself,  a  prince  by  fortune  of  my  birth, 
Near  to  the  King  in  blood,  and  near  in  love 
Till  you  did  make  him  misinterpret  me, 

57 


58  HirljarD  t^e  ^rconD  Act  iii 

Have  stoop'd  my  neck  under  your  injuries, 

And  sigh'd  my  English  breath  in  foreign  clouds,  20 

Eating  the  bitter  bread  of  banishment ; 

Whilst  you  have  fed  upon  my  signories, 

Dispark'd  my  parks,  and  fell'd  my  forest  woods. 

From  my  own  windows  torn  my  household  coat, 

Raz'd  out  my  impress,  leaving  me  no  sign,  25 

Save  men's  opinions  and  my  living  blood, 

To  show  the  world  I  am  a  gentleman. 

This  and  much  more,  much  more  than  twice  all 

this, 
Condemns  you  to  the  death.     See  them  delivered 

over 
To  execution  and  the  hand  of  death.  30 

Bushy.   More  welcome  is  the  stroke  of  death  to  me 
Than  Bolingbroke  to  England.     Lords,  farewell ! 

Green.   My  comfort  is  that  heaven  will  take  our  souls 
And  plague  injustice  with  the  pains  of  hell. 

Baling.    My    Lord    Northumberland,    see    them    dis- 
patch'd.  35 

[Exeunt  Northumberland  and  others,  with  the 
prisoners.] 
Uncle,  you  say  the  Queen  is  at  your  house ; 
For  God's  sake,  fairly  let  her  be  entreated  ; 
Tell  her  I  send  to  her  my  kind  commends. 
Take  special  care  my  greetings  be  deliver'd. 

York.   A  gentleman  of  mine  I  have  dispatch 'd  40 

With  letters  of  your  love  to  her  at  large. 


sc.  II  Kicljart)  t^t  ^econu  59 

Boling.   Thanks,  gentle  uncle.     Come,  lords,  away. 
To  fight  with  Glendower  and  his  complices. 
Awhile  to  work,  and  after  hohday.  Exeunt. 

SCENE  II 

[The  coast  of  Wales.     A  castle  in  view.] 

Drums:    flourish   and   colours.     Enter   King   Richard, 
the  Bishop  of  Carlisle,  Aumerle,  and  Soldiers. 

K.  Rich.   Barkloughly  castle  call  they  this  at  hand  ? 
Aum.   Yea,  my  lord.     How  brooks  your  Grace  the  air, 

After  your  late  tossing  on  the  breaking  seas  ? 
K.  Rich.   Needs  must  I  like  it  well ;   I  weep  for  joy 
To  stand  upon  my  kingdom  once  again.  5 

rDear  earth,  I  do  salute  thee  with  my  hand. 
\  Though  rebels  wound  thee  with  their  horses'  hoofs. 
J  As  a  long-parted  mother  with  her  child 
j  Plays  fondly  with  her  tears  and  smiles  in  meeting, 
I  So,  weeping,  smiling,  greet  I  thee,  my  earth,        10 
VAnd  do  thee  favours  with  my  royal  hands. 
fFeed  not  thy  sovereign's  foe,  my  gentle  earth, 
'Nor  with  thy  sweets  comfort  his  ravenous  sense  ; 
jBut  let  thy  spiders,  that  suck  up  thy  venom, 
And  heavy-gaited  toads  lie  in  their  way,  15 

'vDoing  annoyance  to  the  treacherous  feet 
Which  with  usurping  steps  do  trample  thee. 
Yield  stinging  nettles  to  mine  enemies  ; 


6o  KicljarD  t\)t  ^cconO  Act  in 

And  when  they  from  thy  bosom  pluck  a  flower. 
Guard  it,  I  pray  thee,  with  a  lurking  adder  20 

Whose  double  tongue  may  with  a  mortal  touch 
Throw  death  upon  thy  sovereign's  enemies. 
Mock  not  my  senseless  conjuration,  lords. 
This  earth  shall  have  a  feeling,  and  these  stones 
Prove  armed  soldiers,  ere  her  native  king  25 

Shall  falter  under  foul  rebellion's  arms. 

Car.   Fear  not,  my  lord  ;    that  Power  that  made  you 
king 
Hath  power  to  keep  you  king  in  spite  of  all. 
The  means  that  heavens  yield  must  be  embrac'd. 
And  not  neglected  ;   else,  if  heaven  would  30 

And  we  will  not,  heaven's  offer  we  refuse. 
The  proffer'd  means  of  succour  and  redress. 

Amn.   He  means,  my  lord,  that  we  are  too  reniisa.; 
Whilst  Bolingbroke,  through  our  security, 
Grows    strong    and    great    in    substance    and    in 
power.  35 

K.  Rich.   Discomfortabh  cousin  !   know'st  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,  boldly  here ;  40 

But  when  from  under  this  terrestrial  ball 
He  fires  the  proud  tops  of  the  eastern  pines 
And  darts  his  light  through  every  guilty  hole, 
Then  murders,  treasons,  and  detested  sins, 


sc.  II  KicljaiU  t\)t  ^econo  6i 

The  cloak  of  night  being  pluck'd  from  off  their 
backs,  45 

Stand  bare  and  naked,  trembling  at  themselves  ? 
i'So  when  this  thief,  this  traitor,  Bolingbroke, 
Who  all  this  while  hath  revell'd  m  the  night. 
Whilst  we  were  wand 'ring  with  the  antipodes. 
Shall  see  us  rising  in  our  throne,  the  east,  50 

His  treasons  will  sit  blushing  in  his  face. 
Not  able  to  endure  the  sight  of  day. 
But,  self -affrighted,  tremble  at  his  sin. 
"^Not  all  the  water  in  the  rough  rude  sea 
Can  wash  the  balm  off  from  an  anointed  king  ;    ^5 
The  breath  of  worldly  men  cannot  depose 
The  deputy  elected  by  the  Lord. 
For  every  man  that  Bolingbroke  hath  press'd 
To  lift  shrewd  steel  against  our  golden  crown, 
God  for  his  Richard  hath  in  heavenly  pay  60 

A  glorious  angel ;   then,  if  angels  fight. 
Weak  _men  must  fall,  for  Heaven  still  guards  the 
right. 

Enter  Salisbury. 

Welcome,    my    lord.      How     far    off    lies    your 

power  ? 
Sal.   Nor  near  nor  farther  off,  my  gracious  lord. 

Than    this    weak    arm.     Discomfort    guides    my 

tongue  65 

And  bids  me  speak  of  nothing  but  despair. 


62  Kic^arD  t\)t  ^cconD  Act  iii 

One  day  too  late,  I  fear  me,  noble  lord, 
Hath  clouded  all  thy  happy  days  on  earth. 
O,  call  back  yesterday,  bid  time  return, 
And   thou   shalt  have  twelve  thousand  fighting 
men !  70 

To-day,  to-day,  unhappy  day,  too  late, 
O'erthrows  thy  joys,   friends,   fortune,   and   thy 

state ; 
For  all  the  Welshmen,  hearing  thou  wert  dead,  ^ 
Are  gone  to  Bolingbroke,  dispers'd,  and  fled. 

Aum.   Comfort,  my  hege ;    why  looks  your  Grace  so 
pale  ?  75 

K.  Rich.   But  now  the  blood  of  twenty  thousand  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  fly  from  my  side,  80 

For  time  hath  set  a  blot  upon  my  pride. 

Aum.   Comfort,  my  liege  ;    remember  who  you  are. 

K.  Rich.    I  had  forgot  myself  ;   am  I  not  King  ? 
\wake,  thou  coward  majesty  !   thou  sleepest. 
Is  not  the  King's  name  twenty  tliousand  names  ?  85 
Arm,  arm,  my  name  !  a  puny  subject  strikes 
At  thy  great  glory.     Look  not  to  the  ground, 
Ye  favourites  of  a  king  ;   are  we  not  high  ? 
High  be  our  thoughts.     I  know  my  uncle  York 
Hath  power  enough  to  serve  our  turn.     But  who 
comes  here  ?  t  90 


'^'^HA, 


sc.  II  KicljarD  t^t  ^econD  63 

Enter  Scroop. 

Scroop.   More  health  and  happiness  betide  my  Hege 
Than  can  my  care-tun'd  tongue  dehver  him  ! 

K.  Rich.   Mine  ear  is  open  and  my  heart  prepar'd. 
The  worst  is  worldly  loss  thou  canst  unfold. 
Say,  is  my  kingdom  lost  ?     Why,  'twas  my  care ; 
And  what  loss  is  it  to  be  rid  of  care  ?  96 

Strives  Bolingbroke  to  be  as  great  as  we  ? 
Greater  he  shall  not  be  ;    if  he  serve  God, 
We'll  serve  Him  too  and  be  his  fellow  so. 
Revolt  our  subjects  ?     That  we  cannot  mend  ;  100 
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. 

Scroop.   Glad  am  I  that  your  Highness  is  so  arm'd 

To  bear  the  tidings  of  calamity.  105 

Like  an  unseasonable  stormy  day. 

Which  makes  the  silver  rivers  drown  their  shores. 

As  if  the  world  were  all  dissolv'd  to  tears, 

So  high  above  his  limits  swells  the  rage 

Of  Bohngbroke,  covering  your  fearful  lanr' 

Willi  hard  bright  steel  and  hearts  ha 

steel. 
White-beards  have  "rm'd  their  thin 

scalps 
Against  thy  majes 
Strive  to  speak  bi/ 


64  lakljarD  t\)t  fe)cconD  Act  iii 

In  stiff  unwieldy  arms  against  thy  crown  ;  115 

Thy  very  beadsmen  learn  to  bend  their  bows 
Of  double-fatal  yew  against  thy  state ; 
Yea,  distaff-women  manage  rusty  bills 
Against  thy  seat :   both  young  and  old  rebel. 
And  all  goes  worse  than  I  have  power  to  tell.     120 
K.  Rich.   Too  well,  too  well  thou  tell'st  a  tale  so  ill. 

Where  is  the  Earl  of  Wiltshire  ?     Where  is  Bagot  ? 
What  is  become  of  Bushy  ?     ^^^lere  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.  126 

I  warrant  they  have  made  peace  with  Bolingbroke. 
Scroop.   Peace  have  they  made  with  him  indeed,  my 

lord. 
K.  Rich.  O  villains,  vipers,  damn'd  without  redemp- 
tion ! 
Dogs,  easily  won  to  fawn  on  any  man  !  130 

Snakes,  in  my  heart-blood  warm'd,  that  sting  my 

heart ! 
"hree  Judases,  each  one  thrice  worse  than  Judas  ! 
lid  they  make  peace  ?     Terrible  hell  make  war 
their  spotted  souls  for  this  offence  ! 

H  love,  I  see,  changing  his  property,      1^ 
the  sourest  .ind  most  deadly  hate. 
^"—  their  peace  is  made 

hands.     Those  whom 


Sc.  II  Uiti)m  tl)c  ^ecoHD  65 

Have  felt  the  worst  of  death's  destroying  wound 
And  he  full  low,  grav'd  in  the  hollow  ground 
Aunt.    Is   Bushy,   Green,   and   the  Earl   of   Wiltshire 
dead  ?  ^^^ 

Scroop.   Ay,  all  of  them  at  Bristol  lost  their  heads. 
Aum.   Where  is  the  Duke  my  father  with  his  power  ? 
K.Rtch.   ^o  matter  where;   of  comfort  no  man  speak, 
l^t  s  talk  of  graves,  of  worms,  and  epitaphs  ;     145 
Make  dust  our  paper  and  with  rainy  eyes 
Write  sorrow  on  the  bosom  of  the  earth. 
Let's  choose  executors  and  talk  of  wills  ; 
And  yet  not  so ;   for  what  can  we  bequeath 
Save  our  deposed  bodies  to  the  ground  ?  150 

Our  lands,  our  lives,  and  all  are  BoHngbroke's. 
And  nothing  can  we  call  our  own  but  death, 
And  that  small  model  of  the  barren  earth 
Which  serves  as  paste  and  cover  to  our  bones. 
For  God's  sake,  let  us  sit  upon  the  ground  155 

And  tell  sad  stories  of  the  death  of  kings  • 
How  some  have  been  depos'd  ;   some  slain  in  war  • 
Some  haunted  by  the  ghosts  they  have  depos'd  • 
Some   poison 'd   by   their   wives;     some   sleeping 
kill'd;  ^ 

All  murder'd  :  for  within  the  hollow  crown         160 
That  rounds  the  mortal  temples  of  a  king 
Keeps  Death  his  court,  and  there  the  antic  sits. 
Scoffing  his  state  and  grinning  at  his  pomp, 
Allowing  him  a  breath,  a  little  scene. 


^> 


66  HifljarD  tlie  ^econD  Act  iii 

To  monarcliize,  be  fear'd,  and  kill  with  looks,    165 
Infusing  him  with  self  and  vain  conceit. 
As"  if  this  flesh  whiclTwalls  about  our  life 
Were  brass  impregnable  ;   and  humour'd  thus 
Comes  at  the  last  and  with  a  little  pin 
Bores    through    his    castle    wall,     and  —  farewell 
king !  170 

Cover  your  heads,  and  mock  not  flesh  and  blood 
With  solemn  reverence.     Throw  away  respect, 
Tradition,  form,  and  ceremonious  duty  ; 
For  you  have  but  mistook  me  all  this  while. 
I  live  with  bread  like  you,  feel  want,  175 

Taste  grief,  need  friends  :  subjected  thus, 
How  can  you  say  to  me  I  am  a  king  ? 

Car.  My  lord,  wise  men  ne'er  sit  and  wail  their  woes. 
But  presently  prevent  the  ways  to  wail. 
To  fear  the  foe,  since  fear  oppresseth  strength,  180 
Gives  in  your  weakness  strength  unto  your  foe, 
And  so  your  follies  fight  against  yourself. 
Fear,  and  be  slain  ;   no  worse  can  come  to  fight ; 
And  fight  and  die  is  death  destroying  death, 
^Vhere  fearing  dying  pays  death  servile  breath. 

Aum.   My  father  hath  a  power  ;   inquire  of  him,       186 
And  learn  to  make  a  body  of  a  limb. 

K.  Rich.   Thou  chid'st  me  well.     Proud  Bolingbroke, 
I  come 
To  change  blows  with  thee  for  our  day  of  doom. 
This  ague  fit  of  fear  is  over-blown ;  190 


sc.  II  HicljarD  t^e  Second  67 

An  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. 

Scroop.   Men  judge  by  the  complexion  of  the  sky 

The  state  and  inclination  of  the  day  ;  195 

So  may  you  by  my  dull  and  heavy  eye, 

My  tongue  hath  but  a  heavier  tale  to  say. 
I  play  the  torturer  by  small  and  small 
To  lengthen  out  the  worst  that  must  be  spoken. 
Your  uncle  York  is  join'd  with  Bolingbroke,      200 
And  all  your  northern  castles  yielded  up. 
And  all  your  southern  gentlemen  in  arms 
Upon  his  party. 

K.  Rich.  Thou  hast  said  enough. 

[To  Aumerle.]    Beshrew  thee,  cousin,  which  didst  lead 
me  forth 
Of  that  sweet  way  I  was  in  to  despair  !  205 

What   say   you  now .?    What    comfort   have  we 

now  ? 
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,  woe's  slave,  shall  kingly  woe  obey.         210 
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  alter  this,  for  counsel  is  but  vain. 

Aurn.  My  liege,  one  word. 


68  laicljarD  t^c  S>econD  Act  in 

K.  Rich.  H^jdocs  me  double  wrong 

That     wounds    me    with    the    flatteries    of    his 
tongue.  216 

Discharge  my  followers  ;   let  them  hence  away, 
From  Richard's  night  to  Bolingbroke's  fair  day. 

[Exeunt.] 

Scene  hi 

[Wales.     Before  Flint  Castle.] 

Enter,  with  drum  and  colours,  Bolinghroke,  York,  North- 
umberland, Attendants  [and  forces]. 

Doling.   So  that  by  this  intelligence  we  learn 
The  Welshmen  are  dispers'd,  and  Salisbury 
Is  gone  to  meet  the  King,  who  lately  landed 
With  some  few  private  friends  upon  this  coast. 

North.   The  news  is  very  fair  and  good,  my  lord.  5 

Richard  not  far  from  hence  hath  hid  his  head. 

York.    It  would  beseem  the  Lord  Northumberland 
To  say  King  Richard.     Alack  the  heavy  day 
When  such  a  sacred  king  should  hide  his  head  ! 

North.   Your  Grace  mistakes  ;   only  to  be  brief  10 

Left  I  his  title  out. 

York.  The  time  hath  been. 

Would  you  have  been  so  brief  with  him,  he  would 
Have  been  so  brief  with  you,  to  shorten  you. 
For  taking  so  the  head,  your  whole  head's  length. 

Baling.   Mistake  not,  uncle,  further  than  you  should.  15 


Sc.  Ill  KicljarD  tlje  ^cconD  69 

York.   Take  not,  good  cousin,  further  than  you  should.'T 
Lest  you  mistake  the  heavens  are  o'er  our  heads .j 

Boling.    I  know  it,  uncle,  and  oppose  not  myself 
Against  their  will.     But  who  comes  here  ? 

Enter  Percy. 

Welcome,    Harry.     What,    will    not    this    castle 
yield  ?  20 

Percy.   The  castle  royally  is  mann'd,  my  lord. 
Against  thy  entrance. 

Boling.   Royally  ! 

Why,  it  contains  no  king  ? 

Percy.  Yes,  my  good  lord. 

It  doth  contain  a  king.     King  Richard  lies       25 
Within  the  limits  of  yon  lime  and  stone  ; 
And  with  him  are  the  Lord  Aumerle,  Lord  Salis- 
bury, 
Sir  Stephen  Scroop,  besides  a  clergyman 
Of  holy  reverence  ;   who,  I  cannot  learn. 

North.   O,  belike  it  is  the  Bishop  of  Carlisle.  30 

Boling.   Noble  lords. 

Go  to  the  rude  ribs  of  that  ancient  castle  ; 
Through  brazen  trumpet  send  the  breath  of  parley 
Into  his  ruin'd  ears,  and  thus  deliver  : 
Henry  Bolingbroke  35 

On  both  his  knees  doth  kiss  King  Richard's  hand 
And  sends  allegiance  and  true  faith  of  heart 


70  UicljarD  t\)c  ^cconD  Act  iii 

To  his  most  royal  person,  hither  come 
Even  at  his  feet  to  lay  my  arras  and  power, 
Provided  that  my  banishment  repeal'd  40 

And  lands  restor'd  again  be  freely  granted. 
If  not,  I'll  use  the  advantage  of  my  power 
And  lay  the  summer's  dust  with  showers  of  blood 
Rain'd  from  the  wounds  of  slaughter'd  English- 
men ; 
The  which,  how  far  oflf  from  the  mind  of  Boling- 
broke  45 

It  is,  such  crimson  tempest  should  bedrench 
The  fresh  green  lap  of  fair  King  Richard's  land, 
My  stooping  duty  tenderly  shall  show. 
Go,  signify  as  much,  while  here  we  march 
Upon  the  grassy  carpet  of  this  plain.  50 

Let's    march    without    the    noise    of    threat'ning 

drum, 
That  from  this  castle's  tatter'd  battlements 
Our  fair  appointments  may  be  well  perus'd. 
Methinks  King  Richard  and  myself  should  meet 
With  no  less  terror  than  the  elements  55 

Of  fire  and  water,  when  their  thund'ring  shock 
At  meeting  tears  the  cloudy  cheeks  of  heaven. 
Be  he  the  fire,  I'll  be  the  yielding  water  ; 
The  rage  be  his,  whilst  on  the  earth  I  rain 
My  waters  ;   on  the  earth,  and  not  on  him.  60 

March    on,    and    mark    King    Richard    how    he 
looks. 


Sc.  Ill  Hictiarli  t\)t  ^econD  ?« 

Parle  witkoid,  and  anstcer  within :  then  a  flourish. 
Enter  on  the  walls.  King  Richard,  the  Bishop  of 
Carlisle,  Aumerle,  Scroop,  and  Salisbury. 

See,  see,  King  Richard  doth  himself  appear, 

As  doth  the  blushing  discontented  sun 

From  out  the  fiery  portal  of  the  east. 

When  he  perceives  the  envious  clouds  are  bent   65 

To  dim  his  glory  and  to  stain  the  track 

Of  his  bright  passage  to  the  Occident. 

York.   Yet  looks  he  like  a  king  !     Behold,  his  eye. 
As  bright  as  is  the  eagle's,  lightens  forth 
Controlling  majesty.     Alack,  alack,  for  woe,        70 
That  any  harm  should  stain  so  fair  a  show  ! 

K.  Rich.   We  are  amaz'd  ;  and  thus  long  have  we  stood 

[To  North.] 
To  watch  the  fearful  bending  of  thy  knee. 
Because  we  thought  ourself  thy  lawful  king  ; 
And  if  we  be,  how  dare  thy  joints  forget  75 

To  pay  their  awful  duty  to  our  presence  .'* 
If  we  be  not,  show  us  the  hand  of  God 
That  hath  dismiss'd  us  from  our  stewardship  ; 
For  well  we  know,  no  hand  of  blood  and  bone 
Can  gripe  the  sacred  handle  of  our  sceptre,  80 

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, 


/ 


72  HictjarD  tl)e  ^cconD  Act  iii 

Yet  know,  my  master,  God  omnipotent,  85 

Is  mustering  in  his  clouds  on  our  behalf 
Armies  of  pestilence  ;   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.         90 
Tell  Bolingbroke  —  for  yon  methinks  he  stands  — 
That  every  stride  he  makes  upon  my  land 
Is  dangerous  treason.     He  is  come  to  open 
The  purple  testament  of  bleeding  war  ; 
But  ere  the  crown  he  looks  for  live  in  peace,        95 
Ten  thousand  bloodj^  crowns  of  mothers'  sons 
Shall  ill  become  the  flower  of  England's  face. 
Change  the  complexion  of  her  maid-pale  peace 
To  scarlet  indignation,  and  bedew 
Her  pastures'  grass  with  faithful  English  blood. 
North.   The  King  of  heaven  forbid  our  lord  the  King  101 
Should  so  with  civil  and  uncivil  arms 
Be  rush'd  upon  !     Thy  thrice  noble  cousin 
Harry  Bolingbroke  doth  humbly  kiss  thy  hand  ; 
And  by  the  honourable  tomb  he  swears,  105 

That  stands  upon  your  royal  grandsire's  bones, 
And  by  the  royalties  of  both  your  bloods. 
Currents  that  spring  from  one  most  gracious  head. 
And  by  the  buried  hand  of  warlike  Gaunt, 
And  by  the  worth  and  honour  of  himself,  110 

Comprising  all  that  may  be  sworn  or  said, 
His  coming  hither  hath  no  further  scope 


sc.  Ill  UtcljarD  t\)t  ^econD  73 

Than  for  his  lineal  royalties,  and  to  beg 
Enfranchisement  immediate  on  his  knees  ; 
^Vhich  on  thy  royal  party  granted  once,  115 

His  glittering  arms  he  will  commend  to  rust. 
His  barbed  steeds  to  stables,  and  his  heart 
To  faithful  service  of  your  Majesty. 
This  swears  he,  as  he  is  a  prince,  is  just ; 
And,  as  I  am  a  gentleman,  I  credit  him.  120 

K.  Rich.   Northumberland,  say  thus  the  King  returns  : 
His  noble  cousin  is  right  welcome  hither  ; 
And  all  the  number  of  his  fair  demands 
Shall  be  accomplish'd  without  contradiction. 
With  all  the  gracious  utterance  thou  hast  125 

Speak  to  his  gentle  hearing  kind  commends. 

[Northumberland  withdraws  to  Boiingbrokc] 

[To  Aumerle.]   We  do  debase  ourselves,  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  .'*  130 

Aum.   No,  good  my  lord  ;   let's  fight  with  gentle  words 
Till  time  lend  friends,  and  friends  their  helpful 
swords. 

K.  Rich.   O  God,  0  God  !  that  e'er  this  tongue  of  mine. 
That  laid  the  sentence  of  dread  banishment 
On  yon  proud  man,  should  take  it  off  again        135 
With  words  of  sooth  !     O  that  I  were  as  great 
As  is  my  grief,  or  lesser  than  my  name  ! 


74  HicljarD  tl)C  ^tCOUD  Act  in 

Or  that  I  could  forget  what  I  have  been, 
Or  not  remember  what  I  must  be  now  ! 
Swell'st  thou,  proud  heart?     I'll  give  thee  scope 
to  beat,  140 

Since  foes  have  scope  to  beat  both  thee  and  me. 

Aum.   Northumberland  comes  back  from  Bolingbroke. 

K.  Rich.   What  must  the  King  do  now  ?     Must  he 
submit  ? 
The  King  shall  do  it.     Must  he  be  depos'd  ? 
The  King  shall  be  contented.     Must  he  lose      145 
The  name  of  king  ?     O'  God's  name,  let  it  go. 
I'll  give  my  jewels  for  a  set  of  beads, 
My  gorgeous  palace  for  a  hermitage, 
My  gay  apparel  for  an  almsman's  gown. 
My  figur'd  goblets  for  a  dish  of  wood,  150 

My  sceptre  for  a  palmer's  walking-staff. 
My  subjects  for  a  pair  of  carved  saints. 
And  my  large  kingdom  for  a  little  grave, 
A  little  little  grave,  an  obscure  grave  ; 
Or  I'll  be  buried  in  the  King's  highway,  155 

Some    way    of   common    trade,    where   subjects' 

feet 
May  hourly  trample  on  their  sovereign's  head  ; 
For  on  my  heart  they  tread  now  whilst  I  live, 
And  buried  once,  why  not  upon  my  head  ? 
Aumerle,  thou  weep'st,  my  tender-hearted  cousin  ! 
We'll  make  foul  weather  with  despised  tears.      161 
Our  sighs  and  they  shall  lodge  the  summer  corn, 


sc.  Ill  Kicl)arD  t\)t  ^ttonn  75 

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,         166 
Till  they  have  fretted  us  a  pair  of  graves 
Within  the  earth  ;    and,  therein  laid,  —  there  lies 
Two  kinsmen  digg'd  their  graves  with  weeping 

eyes. 
Would  not  this  ill  do  well  ?     Well,  well,  I  see    170 
I  talk  but  idly,  and  you  laugh  at  me. 
Most  mighty  prince,  my  Lord  Northumberland, 
What  says  King  Bolingbroke  ?     Will  his  Majesty 
Give  Richard  leave  to  live  till  Richard  die  .'' 
You  make  a  leg,  and  Bolingbroke  saj's  ay.  175 

North.   My  lord,  in  the  base  court  he  doth  attend 

To  speak  with  you,  may  it  please  you  to  come 

down. 
K.  Rich.   Down,  down  I  come ;    like  glist'ring  Phae- 

thon. 
Wanting  the  manage  of  unruly  jades. 
In  the  base  court  ?    Base  court,  where  kings  grow 

base,  180 

To  come  at  traitors'  calls  and  do  them  grace. 
In  the  base  court  ?     Come  down  ?     Down,  court ! 
.  down,  king  ! 

Vs_    For  night-owls  shriek  where  mounting  larks  should 

sing.  [Exeunt  from  above.] 

Boling.   What  says  his  Majesty  .'' 


76  Hict)arD  t\)t  ^ecotiD  Act  iii 

North.  Sorrow  and  grief  of  heart 

Makes  him  speak  fondly,  hke  a  frantic  man  ;     185 
Yet  he  is  come. 

[Enter  King  Richard  and  his  Attendants  hclow.] 

Boling.   Stand  all  apart, 

And  show  fair  duty  to  his  Majesty. 

He  kneels  down. 

My  gracious  lord,  — 
K.  Rich.   Fair  cousin,  you  debase  your  princely  knee  190 

To  make  the  base  earth  proud  with  kissing  it. 

Me  rather  had  my  heart  might  feel  your  love 

Than  my  unpleas'd  eye  see  your  courtesy. 

Up,  cousin,  up  ;   your  heart  is  up,  I  know. 

Thus  high  at  least  [touching  his  own  head],  although 
your  knee  be  low.  195 

Boling.   My  gracious  lord,  I  come  but  for  mine  own. 
K.  Rich.   Your  own  is  yours,  and  I  am  yours,  and  all. 
Boling.   So  far  be  mine,  my  most  redoubted  lord, 

As  my  true  service  shall  deserve  your  love. 
K.  Rich.   Well    you    deserve ;     they    well    deserve    to 
have,  200 

That  know  the  strong'st  and  surest  way  to  get. 

Uncle,  give  me  your  hands  :    nay,  dry  your  eyes ; 

Tears  show  their  love,  but  want  their  renjedies. 

Cousin,  I  am  too  young  to  be  your  father. 

Though  you  are  old  enough  to  be  my  heir.  205 

What  you  will  have,  I'll  give,  and  willing  too ; 


Sc.  IV  HicljarD  t^ie  ^ccouD  77 

For  do  we  must  what  force  will  have  us  do. 

Set  on  towards  London,  cousin,  is  it  so  ? 
Baling.   Yea,  my  good  lord. 

K.  Rich.  Then  I  must  not  say  no. 

Flourish.    Exeunt. 


Scene  IV 
[Langley.     The  Duke  of  York's  garden.] 

Enter  the  Queen  and  two  Ladies. 

Queen.   What  sport  shall  we  devise  here  in  this  garden 
To  drive  away  the  heavy  thought  of  care  ? 

Lady.   Madam,  we'll  play  at  bowls. 

Queen.    'Twill  make  me  think  the  world  is  full  of  rubs. 
And  that  my  fortune  runs  against  the  bias.  5 

Lady.   Madam,  we'll  dance. 

Queen.   My  legs  can  keep  no  measure  in  delight, 

When  my  poor  heart  no  measure  keeps  in  grief ; 
Therefore,  no  dancing,  girl ;  some  other  sport. 

Lady.   Madam,  we'll  tell  tales.  10 

Queen.   Of  sorrow  or  of  joy  ? 

Lady.  Of  either,  madam. 

Queen.   Of  neither,  girl ; 

For  if  of  joy,  being  altogether  wanting. 

It  doth  remember  me  the  more  of  sorrow  ; 

Or  if  of  grief,  being  altogether  had,  15 

It  adds  more  sorrow  to  my  want  of  joy  ; 


78  Uic^arD  t\)t  ^ecouD  Act  III 

For  what  I  have  I  need  not  to  repeat, 

And  what  I  want  it  boots  not  to  complain. 
Lady.   Madam,  I'll  sing. 
Queen.  'Tis  well  that  thou  hast  cause  ; 

But  thou  shouldst  please  me  better,  wouldst  thou 
weep.  20 

Lady.    I  could  weep,  madam,  would  it  do  you  good. 
Queen.   And  I  could  sing,  would  weeping  do  me  good. 

And  never  borrow  any  tear  of  thee. 

Enter  a  Gardener  and  two  Servants. 

But  stay,  here  come  the  gardeners. 

Let's  step  into  the  shadow  of  these  trees.  25 

My  wretchedness  unto  a  row  of  pins. 

They  '11  talk  of  state  ;   for  every  one  doth  so 

Against  a  change ;   woe  is  forerun  with  woe. 

[Queen  and  Ladies  retire.] 
Gard.   Go,  bind  thou  up  yon  dangling  apricocks. 

Which,  like  unruly  children,  make  their  sire         30 

Stoop  with  oppression  of  their  prodigal  weight ; 

Give  some  supportance  to  the  bending  twigs. 

Go  thou,  and  like  an  executioner. 

Cut  off  the  heads  of  too  fast  growing  sprays. 

That  look  too  lofty  in  our  commonwealth  ;  85 

All  must  be  even  in  our  government. 

You  thus  employ 'd,  I  will  go  root  away 

The  noisome  weeds,  which  without  profit  suck 

The  soil's  fertility  from  wholesome  flowers. 


sc.  IV  Hicl)arD  t\)t  ^econD  79 

Serv.   Why  should  we  in  the  compass  of  a  pale        40 
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  chok'd  up. 
Her  fruit-trees  all  unprun'd,  her  hedges  ruin'd,   45 
Her  knots  disorder 'd  and  her  wholesome  herbs 
Swarming  with  caterpillars  ? 

Gard.  Hold  thy  peace. 

He  that  hath  suffer'd  this  disorder'd  spring 
Hath  now  himself  met  with  the  fall  of  leaf. 
The  weeds  which  his  broad-spreading  leaves  did 
shelter,  50 

That  seem'd  in  eating  him  to  hold  him  up. 
Are  pluck'd  up  root  and  all  by  Bolingbroke, 
I  mean  the  Earl  of  Wiltshire,  Bushy,  Green. 

Serv.   What,  are  they  dead  ? 

Gard.  They  are  ;  and  Bolingbroke 

Hath  seiz'd   the  wasteful  King.     O,   what   pity 
is  it  55 

That  he  had  not  so  trimm'd  and  dress'd  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  blood. 
With  too  much  riches  it  confound  itself  ;  60 

Had  he  done  so  to  great  and  growing  men. 
They  might  have  liv'd  to  bear  and  he  to  taste 
Their  fruits  of  duty.     Superfluous  branches 


8o  -KicljarD  t\)e  §>rconD  Act  ill 

We  lop  away,  that  bearing  boughs  may  live ; 

Had  he  done  so,  himself  had  borne  the  crown,  65 

Which  waste  of  idle  hours  hath  quite  thrown  down. 
Serv.   What,  think  you  the  King  shall  be  depos'd  ? 
Gard.   Depress'd  he  is  already,  and  depos'd 

'Tis  doubt  he  will  be.     Letters  came  last  night 

To  a  dear  friend  of  the  good  Duke  of  York's,      70 

That  tell  black  tidings. 
Queen.   O,   I  am  press 'd  to  death  through  want  of 
speaking!  [Coming  forward.] 

Thou,  old  Adam's  likeness,  set  to  dress  this  gar- 
den. 

How  dares  thy  harsh  rude  tongue  sound  this  un- 
pleasing  news  ? 

What  Eve,  what  serpent,  hath  suggested  thee     75 

To  make  a  second  fall  of  cursed  man  ? 

Why  dost  thou  say  King  Richard  is  depos'd  ? 

Dar'st  thou,  thou  little  better  thing  than  earth. 

Divine   his   downfall .''     Say,    where,    when,    and 
how, 

Cam'st  thou   by   this    ill   tidings  ?    Speak,   thou 
wretch.  80 

Gard.   Pardon  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  weigh'd. 

In  your  lord's  scale  is  nothing  but  himself,  85 

And  some  few  vanities  that  make  him  Ught ; 


sc.  IV  Ktctiard  tlje  ^ecouD  V 

But  in  the  balance  of  great  Bolingbroke, 
Besides  himself,  are  all  the  English  peers, 
And  with  that  odds  he  weighs  King  Richard  down. 
Post  you  to  London,  and  you'll  find  it  so ;  90 

I  speak  no  more  than  every  one  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  think'st 
To  serve  me  last,  that  I  may  longest  keep  95 

Thy  sorrow  in  my  breast.     Come,  ladies,  go. 
To  meet  at  London  London's  king  in  woe. 
What,  was  I  born  to  this,  that  my  sad  look 
Should  grace  the  triumph  of  great  Bolingbroke  ? 
Gardener,  for  telling  me  these  news  of  woe,        100 
Pray  God  the  plants  thou  graft'st  may  never  grow. 

Exeunt  [Queen  and  Ladies]. 

Gard.   Poor  queen  !  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 
I'll  set  a  bank  of  rue,  sour  herb  of  grace.  105 

Rue,  even  for  ruth,  here  shortly  shall  be  seen, 
In  the  remembrance  of  a  weeping  queen. 

Exeunt. 


X 


ACT   FOURTH 

Scene  I 

[London.     Westminster  HaU.] 

Enter  as  to  the  Parliament  Bolingbroke,  Aumerle,  North- 
umberland, Percy,  Fitzwater,  Surrey,  the  Bishop  of 
Carlisle,  the  Abbot  of  Westminster  [ajid  another 
Lord],  Herald,  and  Officers. 

Boling.   Call  forth  Bagot. 

Enter  Bagot. 

Now,  Bagot,  freely  speak  thy  mind  ; 
What  thou  dost  know  of  noble  Gloucester's  death, 
Who  wrought  it  with   the  King,   and   who  per- 
form'd 
The  bloody  office  of  his  timeless  end.  5 

Bagot.   Then  set  before  my  face  the  Lord  Aumerle. 
Boling.   Cousin,  stand  forth,  and  look  upon  that  man. 
Bagot.   My  Lord  Aumerle,  I  know  your  daring  tongue 
Scorns  to  unsay  what  once  it  hath  deliver'd. 
In  that  dead  time  when  Gloucester's  death  was 
plotted,  10 

I  heard  you  say,  "Is  not  my  arm  of  length. 
That  reacheth  from  the  restful  English  court 

83 


sc.  I  KtcliarD  tl)e  ^econo  83 

As  far  as  Calais,  to  mine  uncle's  head  ?  " 
Amongst  much  other  talk,  that  very  time, 
I  heard  you  say  that  you  had  rather  refuse  15 

The  offer  of  an  hundred  thousand  crowns 
Than  Bolingbroke's  return  to  England  ; 
Adding  withal,  how  blest  this  land  would  be 
In  this  your  cousin's  death. 

Aum.  Princes  and  noble  lords, 

What  answer  shall  I  make  to  this  base  man  ?       20 
Shall  I  so  much  dishonour  my  fair  stars. 
On  equal  terms  to  give  him  chastisement  ? 
Either  I  must,  or  have  mine  honour  soil'd 
With  the  attainder  of  his  sland'rous  lips. 
There  is  my  gage,  the  manual  seal  of  death,         25 
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. 

Boling.    Bagot,  forbear  ;   thou  shalt  not  take  it  up.     30 

Aum.   Excepting  one,  I  would  he  were  the  best 
In  all  this  presence  that  hath  mov'd  me  so. 

Fitz.    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,  35 

I  heard  thee  say,  and  vauntingly  thou  spak'st  it. 
That  thou  wert  cause  of  noble  Gloucester's  death. 
If  thou  deny'st  it  twenty  times,  thou  liest ; 


84  Kicl)arD  t\)t  ^ccontj  Act  iv 

And  I  will  turn  thy  falsehood  to  thy  heart, 
Where  it  was  forged,  with  my  rapier's  point.        40 

Aum.   Thou  dar'st  not,  coward,  live  to  see  that  day. 

Fitz.   Now,  by  my  soul,  I  would  it  were  this  hour. 

Aum.   Fitzwater,  thou  art  damn'd  to  hell  for  this. 

Percy.   Aumerle,  thou  liest ;   his  honour  is  as  true 

In  this  appeal  as  thou  art  all  unjust ;  45 

And  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  dar'st. 

Aum.   An  if  I  do  not,  may  my  hands  rot  off 

And  never  brandish  more  revengeful  steel  50 

Over  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  lies 
As  may  be  holloa'd  in  thy  treacherous  ear 
From  sun  to  sun.     There  is  my  honour's  pawn  ; 
Engage  it  to  the  trial,  if  thou  dar'st.  56 

Aum.   Who  sets  me  else  .'*     By  heaven,  I'll  throw  at 
all! 
I  have  a  thousand  spirits  in  one  breast. 
To  answer  twenty  thousand  such  as  you. 

Surrey.   My  Lord  Fitzwater,  I  do  remember  well     60 
The  very  time  Aumerle  and  you  did  talk. 

Fitz.    '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. 


Sc.  I  KicljarD  t\)t  ^econD  85 

Fitz.    Surrey,  thou  liest.  65 

Surrey.  Dishonourable  boy ! 

That  lie  shall  he  so  heavy  on  my  sword, 
That  it  shall  render  vengeance  and  revenge 
Till  thou  the  lie-giver  and  that  Ue  do  lie 
In  earth  as  quiet  as  thy  father's  skull ; 
In  proof  whereof,  there  is  my  honour's  pawn  ;     70 
Engage  it  to  the  trial,  if  thou  dar'st. 

Fitz.   How  fondly  dost  thou  spur  a  forward  horse  ! 
If  I  dare  eat,  or  drink,  or  breathe,  or  live, 
I  dare  meet  Surrey  in  a  wilderness. 
And  spit  upon  him,  whilst  I  say  he  lies,  75 

And  hes,  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  banish'd  Norfolk  say  80 

That  thou,  Aumerle,  didst  send  two  of  thy  men 
To  execute  the  noble  Duke  at  Calais. 

Aum.  Some  honest  Christian  trust  me  with  a  gage. 
That  Norfolk  lies.  Here  do  I  throw  down  this. 
If  he  may  be  repeal'd,  to  try  his  honour.  85 

Boling.   These  differences  shall  all  rest  under  gage 
Till  Norfolk  be  repeal'd.     Repeal'd  he  shall  be. 
And,  though  mine  enemy,  restor'd  again 
To  all  his  lands  and  signories.     When  he's  re- 

turn'd. 
Against  Aumerle  we  will  enforce  his  trial.  90 


86  HirljarD  tl)c  ^rconD  Act  iv 

Car.   That  honourable  day  shall  ne'er  be  seen. 
Many  a  time  hath  banish 'd  Norfolk  fought 
For  Jesu  Christ  in  glorious  Christian  field, 
Streaming  the  ensign  of  the  Christian  cross 
Against  black  pagans,  Turks,  and  Saracens ;        95 
And,  toil'd  with  works  of  war,  retir'd  himself 
To  Italy  ;  and  there  at  Venice  gave 
His  body  to  that  pleasant  country's  earth, 
And  his  pure  soul  unto  his  captain  Christ, 
Under  whose  colours  he  had  fought  so  long.       100 

Baling.    \Miy,  Bishop,  is  Norfolk  dead  ? 

Car.   As  surely  as  I  live,  my  lord. 

Baling.   Sweet  Peace  conduct  his  sweet  soul  to  the 
bosom 
Of  good  old  Abraham  !     Lords  appellants. 
Your  differences  shall  all  rest  under  gage  105 

Till  we  assign  you  to  your  days  of  trial. 

Enter  York  [attended]. 

York.   Great  Duke  of  Lancaster,  I  come  to  thee 

From  plume-pluck'd  Richard ;    who  with  willing 

soul 
Adopts  thee  heir,  and  his  high  sceptre  yields 
To  the  possession  of  thy  royal  hand.  110 

Ascend  his  throne,  descending  now  from  him ; 
And  long  live  Henry,  fourth  of  that  name  ! 

Baling.    In  God's  name,  I'll  ascend  the  regal  throne. 

Car.   Marrv,  God  forbid  ! 


sc.  I  Hicl^arD  t\)t  ^econD  87 

Worst  in  this  royal  presence  may  I  speak,  115 

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  forbearance  from  so  foul  a  wrong.     120 

What  subject  can  give  sentence  on  his  king  ? 

And  who  sits  here  that  is  not  Richard's  subject .'' 

Thieves  are  not  judg'd  but  they  are  by  to  hear. 

Although  apparent  guilt  be  seen  in  them ; 

And  shall  the  figure  of  God's  majesty,  125 

His  captain,  steward,  deputy  elect, 

Anointed,  crowned,  planted  many  years, 

Be  judg'd  by  subject  and  inferior  breath. 

And  he  himself  not  present .''     O,  forfend  it,  God, 

That  in  a  Christian  climate  souls  refin'd  130 

Should  show  so  heinous,  black,  obscene  a  deed  ! 

I  speak  to  subjects,  and  a  subject  speaks, 

Stirr'd  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 ;        135 

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  140 

Shall  kin  with  kin  and  kind  with  kind  confound. 

Disorder,  horror,  fear,  and  mutiny 


88  UtcliarD  t\)t  ^econD  Act  iv 

Shall  here  inhabit,  and  this  land  be  call'd 

The  field  of  Golgotha  and  dead  men's  skulls. 

O,  if  you  raise  this  house  against  this  house,       145 

It  will  the  woefullest  division  prove 

That  ever  fell  upon  this  cursed  earth. 

Prevent  it,  resist  it,  let  it  not  be  so. 

Lest  child,  child's  children,  cry  against  you  "woe  !" 
North.   Well  have  you  argued,  sir  ;  and,  for  your  pains. 

Of  capital  treason  we  arrest  you  here.  151 

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? 
Boling.   Fetch  hither  Richard,  that  in  common  view  155 

He  may  surrender  ;  so  we  shall  proceed 

Without  suspicion. 
York.  I  will  be  his  conduct. 

Exit. 
Boling.   Lords,  you  that  here  are  under  our  arrest. 

Procure  your  sureties  for  your  days  of  answer. 

Little  are  we  beholding  to  your  love,  160 

And  Uttle  look'd  for  at  your  helping  hands. 

Re-enter  York,  with  Richard  [and  Officers  bearing  the 
crown  and  sceptre]. 

K.  Rich.   Alack,  why  am  I  sent  for  to  a  king. 
Before  I  have  shook  off  the  regal  thoughts 


^ 


Sc.  I  Kic^arD  t\)t  ^econD  89 

Wherewith  I  reign'd  ?     I  hardly  yet  have  learn'd 
To  insinuate,  flatter,  bow,  and  bend  my  knee. 
Give  sorrow  leave  a  while  to  tutor  me  166 

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,        170 
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  ?  176 

York.   To  do  that  office  of  thine  own  good  will 
Which  tired  majesty  did  make  thee  oflFer, 
The  resignation  of  thy  state  and  crown 
To  Henry  Bolingbroke.  180 

K.  Rich.   Give  me  th?  crown.  —  Here,  cousin,  seize  the 
tu/.u^  crown ;       iLcj^JoXij>r<A^ 

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,        185 
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. 


90  l^icljarD  t\)t  ^etonU  Act  iv 

Baling.    I  thought  you  had  been  willing  to  resign.     190 
K.  Rich.   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. 
Boling.   Part  of  your  cares  you  give  me  with  your  crown. 
K.  Rich.   Your  cares  set  up  do  not   pluck  my  cares 
down.  195 

My  care  is  loss  of  care,  by  old  care  done ; 
Your  care  is  gain  of  care,  by  new  care  won. 
The  cares  I  give  I  have,  though  given  away  ; 
They  'tend  the  crown,  yet  still  with  me  they  stay. 
Boling.   Are  you  contented  to  resign  the  crown  ?     200 
K.  Rich.   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,  205 

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 ;  211 

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  !    215 
Make  me,  that  nothing  have,  with  nothing  griev'd. 


iUf 


Sc.  I  Hic^arD  t\)t  ^econo  91 

And  thou  with  all  pleas'd,  that  hast  all  achiev'd  ! 
Long  mayst  thou  live  in  Richard's  seat  to  sit. 
And  soon  lie  Richard  in  an  earthy  pit !  219 

God  save  King  Henry,  unking'd  Richard  says. 
And  send  him  many  years  of  sunshine  days  ! 
—  What  more  remains  ? 

North.  No  more,  but  that  you  read 

[Presenting  a  paper.] 
These  accusations  and  these  grievous  crimes 
Committed  by  your  person  and  your  followers 
Against  the  state  and  profit  of  this  land  ;  225 

That,  by  confessing  them,  the  souls  of  men 
May  deem  that  you  are  worthily  depos'd, 

K.  Rich.   Must  I  do  so  ?  and  must  I  ravel  out 

My  weav'd-up  follies  ?     Gentle  Northumberland, 
If  thy  offences  were  upon  record,  230 

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  the  strong  warrant  of  an  oath,      235 
Mark'd  with  a  blot,  damn'd  in  the  book  of  heaven. 
Nay,  all  of  you  that  stand  and  look  upon  me 
Whilst  that  my  wretchedness  doth  bait  myself, 
j  Though  some  of  you  with  Pilate  wash  your  hands 
/   Showing  an  outward  pity  ;   yet  you  Pilates         240 
\   Have  here  deliver'd  me  to  my  sour  cross, 
And  water  cannot  wash  away  your  sin. 


^^ 


pa  MicliaiD  t\)t  ^econD  Act  iv 

North.   My  lord,  dispatch  ;  read  o'er  these  articles. 

K.  Rick.   Mine  eyes  are  full  of  tears,  I  cannot  see ; 

And  yet  salt  water  blinds  them  not  so  much      245 

But  they  can  see  a  sort  of  traitors  here. 

Nay,  if  I  turn  mine  eyes  upon  myself, 

I  find  myself  a  traitor  with  the  rest ; 

For  I  have  given  here  my  soul's  consent 

To  undeck  the  pompous  body  of  a  king ;  250 

Made  glory  base,  a  sovereignty  a  slave, 

Proud  majesty  a  subject,  state  a  peasant. 

North.   My  lord,  — 

K.  Rich.   No  lord  of  thine,  thou  haught  insulting  man, 
Nor  no  man's  lord.     I  have  no  name,  no  title ;  255 
No,  not  that  name  was  given  me  at  the  font. 
But  'tis  usurp'd.     Alack  the  heavy  day. 
That  I  have  worn  so  many  winters  out, 
And  know  not  now  what  name  to  call  myself  ! 
O  that  I  were  a  mockery  king  of  snow,  260 

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,  265 

That  it  may  show  me  what  a  face  I  have. 
Since  it  is  bankrupt  of  his  majesty. 
Baling.   Go  some  of  you  and  fetch  a  looking-glass. 

[Exit  an  atteyidant.] 

North.   Read  o'er  this  paper  while  the  glass  doth  come. 


sc.  I  HkliarD  tl)r  ^ecotxD  93 

K.  Rich.   Fiend,  thou  torments  me  e'er  I  come  to  hell ! 

Boling.   Urge  it  no  more,  my  Lord  Northumberland. 

North.   The  commons  will  not  then  be  satisfi'd. 

K.  Rich.   They  shall  be  satisfi'd.     I'll  read  enough, 
When  I  do  see  the  very  book  indeed 
Where  all  my  sins  are  writ,  and  that's  myself.   275 

Re-enter  Attendant,  vdth  a  glass. 

Give  me  that  glass,  and  therein  will  I  read. 

No  deeper  wrinkles  yet  ?     Hath  sorrow  struck 

So  many  blows  upon  this  face  of  mine. 

And  made  no  deeper  wounds  ?     O  flatt'ring  glass, 

Like  to  my  followers  in  prosperity,  280 

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  which  fac'd  so  many  follies,        285 

That  was  at  last  out-fac'd  by  Bolingbroke  ? 

A  brittle  glory  shineth  in  this  face  ; 

As  brittle  as  the  glory  is  the  face, 

[Dashes  the  glass  against  the  ground.] 
For  there  it  is,  crack'd  in  an  hundred  shivers. 
Mark,  silent  king,  the  moral  of  this  sport,  290 

How  soon  my  sorrow  hath  destroy'd  my  face. 
Boling.   The  shadow  of  your  sorrow  hath  destroy'd 
The  shadow  of  yom*  face. 


94  Kicl;arD  t\)t  ^ecoriD  Act  iv 

K.  Rich.  Say  that  again. 

The  shadow  of  my  sorrow  !    Ha  !  let's  see. 
'Tis  very  true,  my  grief  lies  all  within  ;  296 

And  these  f-xternal  manners  of  laments 
Are  merely  shadows  to  the  unseen  grief 
That  swells  with  silence  in  the  tortur'd  soul. 
There  lies  the  substance  ;   and  I  thank  thee,  King, 
For  thy  great  bounty,  that  not  only  giv'st         300 
Me  cause  to  wail  but  teachest  me  the  way  } 
How  to  lament  the  cause.     I'll  beg  one  boon, 
And  then  be  gone  and  trouble  you  no  more. 
Shall  I  obtain  it  ? 

Boling.  Name  it,  fair  cousin. 

K.  Rich.  "Fair  cousin"  ?  I  am  greater  than  a  king  ;  305 
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. 

Boling.   Yet  ask.  810 

K.  Rich.   And  shall  I  have  ? 

Boling.   You  shall. 

K.  Rich.   Then  give  me  leave  to  go. 

Boling.    Whither.? 

K.  Rich.    Whither  you  will,  so  I  were  from  your  sights. 

Boling.    Go,  some  of  you  convey  him  to  the  Tower. 

K.  Rich.   O,  good  !  convey  !     Conveyers  are  you  all. 
That  rise  thus  nimbly  by  a  true  king's  fall. 
[Exeunt  King  Richard,  some  Lords,  and  a  Guard.] 


Sc.  I  UicliarD  t\)t  ^econD  95 

Boling.   On  Wednesday  next  we  solemnly  set  down 
Our  coronation.     Lords,  prepare  yourselves.       320 
[Exeunt  all  hut  the  Bishop  of  Carlisle,  the  Abbot 
of  Westminster,  and  Aumerle. 

Abbot.   A  woeful  pageant  have  we  here  beheld. 

Car.   The  woe's  to  come  ;  the  children  yet  unborn 
Shall  feel  this  day  as  sharp  to  them  as  thorn. 

Aum.   You  holy  clergymen,  is  there  no  plot 

To  rid  the  realm  of  this  pernicious  blot  ?  325 

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.  330 

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  all  a  merry  day. 

Exeunt. 


ACT    FIFTH 
Scene  I 

[London.     A  street  leading  to  the  Toioer.] 

Enter  Queen  and  Ladies. 

Queen:   This  way  the  King  will  come ;   this  is  the  way 
To  Julius  Ctesar'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  5 

Have  any  resting  for  her  true  king's  queen. 

Enter  Richard  and  Guard. 

But  soft,  but  see,  or  rather  do  not  see, 
My  fair  rose  wither  ;   yet  look  up,  behold, 
That  you  in  pity  may  dissolve  to  dew. 
And  wash  him  fresh  again  with  true-love  tears.    10 
Ah,  thou,  the  model  where  old  Troy  did  stand. 
Thou  map  of  honour,  thou  King  Richard's  tomb. 
And  not  King  Richard  ;   thou  most  beauteous  inn, 
Wliy  should  hard-favour'd  grief  be  lodg'd  in  thee. 
When  Triumph  is  become  an  alehouse  guest  ?    15 
K.  Rich.   Join  not  with  grief,  fair  woman,  do  not  so. 
To  make  my  end  too  sudden.     Learn,  good  soul. 
To  think  our  former  state  a  happy  dream  ; 

96 


i 


Sc.  I  IXic^arO  t\)t  ^econn  97 

From  which  awak'd,  the  truth  of  what  we  are 
Shows  us  but  this.     I  am  sworn  brother,  sweet. 
To  grim  Necessity  ;   and  he  and  I  21 

Will  keep  a  league  till  death.      Hie  thee  to  France 
And  cloister  thee  in  some  religious  house. 
Our  holy  lives  must  win  a  new  world's  crown. 
Which  our  profane  hours  here  have  thrown  down. 

Queen.   \Miat,  is  ray  Richard  both  in  shape  and  mind 
Transform'd  and  weak'ned .''    Hath  Bolingbroke 

depos'd 
Thine  intellect .'    Hath  he  been  in  thy  heart  ? 
The  Uon  dying  thrusteth  forth  his  paw,  29 

And  wounds  the  earth,  if  nothing  else,  with  rage 
To  be  o'erpower'd  ;  and  wilt  thou,  pupil-like. 
Take  the  correction,  mildly  kiss  the  rod. 
And  fawn  on  rage  with  base  humility, 
WTiich  art  a  lion  and  the  king  of  beasts  ? 

K.  Rich.   A  king  of  beasts,  indeed  ;  if  aught  but  beasts, 
I  had  been  still  a  happy  king  of  men.  36 

Good  sometimes  queen,  prepare  thee  hence  for 

France. 
Think  I  am  dead,  and  that  even  here  thou  tak'st. 
As  from  my  death-bed,  thy  last  living  leave. 
In  winter's  tedious  nights  sit  by  the  fire  40 

With  good  old  folks  and  let  them  tell  thee  tales 
Of  woeful  ages  long  ago  betid  ; 
And  ere  thou  bid  good  night,  to  quit  their  griefs 
Tell  thou  the  lamentable  tale  of  me 


98  KicljarD  tljc  ^fconD  Act  v 

And  send  the  hearers  weeping  to  their  beds.         45 

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.  50 

Enter  Northumberland  [and  others]. 

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

K.  Rich.   Northumberland,  thou  ladder  wherewithal 
The  mounting  Bolingbroke  ascends  my  throne,  56 
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 ;  61 

And  he  shall  think  that  thou,  which  know'st  the 

way 
To  plant  unrightful  kings,  wilt  know  again, 
Being  ne'er  so  little  urg'd,  another  way 
To  pluck  liim  headlong  from  the  usurped  throne. 
The  love  of  wicked  men  converts  to  fear  ;  60 

That  fear  to  hate,  and  hate  turns  one  or  both 
To  worthy  danger  and  deserved  death. 


Sc.  I  HicliarD  tl)c  ^ecouD  99 

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

K.  Rich.   Doubly  divorc'd  !     Bad  men,  you  violate    71 
A  twofold  marriage,  'twixt  my  crown  and  me, 
And  then  betwixt  me  and  my  married  wife. 
Let  me  unikiss  the  oath  'twixt  thee  and  me  ; 
And  yet  not  so,  for  with  a  kiss  'twas  made.  75 

Part  us,  Northumberland  ;  I  towards  the  north. 
Where  shivering  cold  and  sickness  pines  the  clime ; 
My  wife  to  France  ;  from  whence,  set  forth  in  pomp. 
She  came  adorned  hither  like  sweet  May, 
Sent  back  like  Hallowmas  or  short'st  of  day.       80 

Queen.   And  must  we  be  divided  ?     Must  we  part  ? 

K.  Rich.   Ay,  hand  from  hand,  my  love,   and  heart 
from  heart. 

Queen.   Banish  us  .both,  and  send  the  King  with  me. 

North.   That  were  some  love  but  little  policy. 

Queen.    Then  whither  he  goes,  thither  let  me  go.         85 

K.  Rich.   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,  coimt  thy  way  with  sighs  ;  I  mine  with  groans. 

Queen.   So  longest  way  shall  have  the  longest  moans. 

K.  Rich.   Twice  for  one  step  I'll  groan,  the  way  being 
short,  91 

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. 


loo  UicljarU  t\)t  ^cconD  Act  v 

One  kiss  shall  stop  our  mouths,  and  dumbly  part ; 
Thus  give  I  mine,  and  thus  take  I  thy  heart.       96 

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  may  strive  to  kill  it  with  a  groan.  100 

K.  Rich.   We  make  woe  wanton  with  this  fond  delay. 
Once  more,  adieu  ;   the  rest  let  sorrow  saj'. 

Exeunt. 

SCENE   II 

[London.     The  Duke  of  York's  palace.] 
Enter  York  and  his  Duchess. 

Duch.   My  lord,  you  told  me  you  would  tell  the  rest, 
When  weeping  made  you  break  the  story  oflF, 
Of  our  two  cousins  coming  into  London. 

York.   Where  did  I  leave  ? 

Duch.  At  that  sad  stop,  my  lord. 

Where   rude    misgovern 'd   hands   from   windows' 

tops  5 

Threw  dust  and  rubbish  on  King  Richard's  head. 

York.   Then,  as  I  said,  the  Duke,  great  Bolingbroke, 
Mounted  upon  a  hot  and  fiery  steed 
WTiich  his  aspiring   rider  seem'd  to  know, 
With  slow  but  stately  pace  kept  on  his  course,     10 
Wliilst  all  tongues  cried,  "God  save  thee,  Boling- 
broke!" 


Sc.  II  HtcljarD  t\)t  ^econD  loi 

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  that  all  the  walls  15 

With  painted  imagery  had  said  at  once, 
"Jesu  preserve  thee  !     Welcome,  Bolingbroke  !" 
WTiilst  he,  from  the  one  side  to  the  other  turning, 
Bareheaded,  lower  than  his  proud  steed's  neck, 
Bespake  them  thus  :   "I  thank  you,  countrymen." 
And  thus  still  doing,  thus  he  pass'd  along.  21 

Duch.   Alack,  poor  Richard  !  where  rode  he  the  whilst .' 

York.   As  in  a  theatre,  the  eyes  of  men, 

After  a  well-grac'd  actor  leaves  the  stage. 

Are  idly  bent  on  him  that  enters  next,  25 

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  joj'ful  tongue  gave  him  his  welcome  home  ; 
But  dust  was  thrown  upon  his  sacred  head,         30 
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,  steel'd 
The  hearts  of  men,  they  must  perforce  have  melted. 
And  barbarism  itself  have  pitied  him.  36 

But  Heaven  hath  a  hand  in  these  events. 
To  whose  high  will  we  bow  oiu-  calm  contents. 


I02  KtcljarD  t\)t  ^fcono  Act  v 

To  Bolingbroke  arc  we  sworn  subjects  now, 
Whose  state  and  honour  I  for  a^'c  allow.  40 

Enter  Aumerle. 

Diich.   Here  comes  my  son  Aumerle. 

yor/c.  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.  45 

Duch.    Welcome,  my  son  !     Who  are  the  violets  now 

That  strew  the  green  lap  of  the  new  come  spring  ? 
Aum.   Madam,  I  know  not,  nor  I  greatly  care  not. 

God  knows  I  had  as  lief  be  none  as  one. 
York.    Well,  bear  you  well  in  this  new  spring  of  time. 

Lest  you  be  cropp'd  before  you  come  to  prime.    51 

What  news  from  Oxford  ?     Do  these  jousts  and 
triumphs  hold  .' 
Aum.   For  aught  I  know,  my  lord,  they  do. 
York.   You  will  be  there,  I  know. 

Aum.    If  God  prevent  not,  I  purpose  so.  55 

York.   What   seal   is    that,    that    hangs    without    thy 
bosom .'' 

Yea,  look'st  thou  pale  ?     Let  me  see  the  writing. 
Aum.   My  lord,  'tis  nothing. 
York.  No  matter,  then,  who  see  it. 

I  will  be  satisfied  ;  let  me  see  the  writing. 


Sc.  II  Hicliaro  tlje  Second  103 

Aum.    I  do  beseech  your  Grace  to  pardon  me.         60 

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,  — 
Duck.  ^Miat  should  you  fear  ? 

'Tis  nothing  but  some  bond,  that  he  is  ent'red  into  65 

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. 
Aum.  I  do  beseech  you,  pardon  me.    I  may  not  show  it.  70 
York.    I  will  be  satisfied  ;  let  me  see  it,  I  say. 

He  plucks  it  out  of  his  bosom  and  reads  it. 

Treason  !  foul  treason  !     Villain  !  traitor  !  slave  ! 
Duck.   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  !  75 

Duck.    Why,  what  is  it,  my  lord  ? 
York.    Give  me  my  boots,  I  say  ;  saddle  my  horse. 

[Exit  Servant.] 
Now,  by  mine  honour,  by  my  life,  by  my  troth, 
I  will  appeach  the  villain. 
Duck.  What  is  the  matter  ? 

York.   Peace,  foolish  woman.  80 


I04  HtcliarD  tl)t  ^cfonlj  Act  v 

Duch.    I  will  not  peace.     T\Tiat  is  the  matter,  Aumerle  ? 
Aum.   Good  mother,  be  content ;    it  is  no  more 

Than  my  poor  Ufe  must  answer. 
Dtich.  Thy  life  answer  ! 

York.   Bring  me  my  boots  ;  I  will  unto  the  King. 

Re-enter  Servant  icith  hoots. 

Duch.   Strike    him,    Aumerle.     Poor    boy,    thou    art 
amaz'd.  85 

—  Hence,  villain  !  never  more  come  in  my  sight. 

York.   Give  me  my  boots,  I  say. 

Duch.   Vshy,  York,  what  wilt  thou  do  ? 

Wilt  thou  not  hide  the  trespass  of  thine  own  .' 
Have  we  more  sons  .''  or  are  we  like  to  have  ?       90 
Is  not  my  teeming  date  drunk  up  with  time  .' 
And  wilt  thou  pluck  my  fair  son  from  mine  age, 
And  rob  me  of  a  happy  mother's  name  ? 
Is  he  not  like  thee  ?     Is  he  not  thine  own  .'' 

York.   Thou  fond  mad  woman,  95 

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  Eang  at  Oxford. 

Duch.  He  shall  be  none  ; 

We'll  keep  him  here ;  then  what  is  that  to  him .' 

York.   Away,  fond  woman  !   were  he  twenty  times  my 
son,  101 

I  would  appeach  him. 


Sc.  Ill  Kicliaru  t\)t  Second  105 

Duck.  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,  105 

And  that  he  is  a  bastard,  not  thy  son. 
Sweet  York,  sweet  husband,  be  not  of  that  mind. 
He  is  as  like  thee  as  a  man  may  be. 
Not  like  to  me,  or  any  of  my  kin, 
And  yet  I  love  him. 

York.  Make  way,  unruly  woman  ! 

Exit. 

Duck.   After,  Aumerle  !  mount  thee  upon  his  horse  ;  111 
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.  115 

And  never  will  I  rise  up  from  the  ground 
Till  Bohngbroke  have  pardon'd  thee.      Away,  be 
gone !  Exeunt. 

SCENE  III 

[Windsor  Castle.] 

Enter  Bolinghrohe,  Percy,  and  other  Lords. 

Boling.   Can  no  man  tell  me  of  my  unthrifty  son .' 
'Tis  fuU  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. 


io6  HirljarD  t\)t  Second  Act  v 

Inquire  at  London,  'mongst  the  taverns  there,       5 
For  tliere,  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  ; 
Which  he,  j'oung  wanton  and  effeminate  boy,      10 
Takes  on  the  point  of  honour  to  support 
So  dissolute  a  crew. 

Percy.  My  lord,  some  two  days  since  I  saw  the  Prince, 
And  told  him  of  those  triumplis  held  at  Oxford. 

Boling.   And  what  said  the  gallant  ?  15 

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. 

Baling.  As  dissolute  as  desperate  ;  yet  through  both  20 
I  see  some  sparks  of  better  hope,  which  elder  years 
May  happily  bring  forth.     But  who  comes  here  .'' 

Enter  Aumerle,  amazed. 

Aum.   Wliere  is  the  King  .' 

Boling.   What  means  our  cousin,  that  he  stares  and 
looks 
So  wildly  ?  25 

Aum.   God   save   your   Grace !     I   do   beseech   your 
Majesty, 
To  have  some  conference  with  your  Grace  alone. 


Sc.  Ill  KicliarD  t\)t  ^econti  107 

Boling.    Withdraw  yourselves,  and  leave  us  here  alone. 

[Exeunt  Percy  and  Lords.] 
What  is  the  matter  with  our  cousin  now  ? 
Aum.   For  ever  may  my  knees  grow  to  the  earth,    30 

[Kneeling.] 
My  tongue  cleave  to  my  roof  with  my  mouth, 
Unless  a  pardon  ere  I  rise  or  speak. 
Boling.    Intended  or  committed  was  this  fault  ? 
If  on  the  first,  how  heinous  e'er  it  be. 
To  win  thy  after-love  I  pardon  thee.  35 

Aum.   Then  give  me  leave  that  I  may  turn  the  key, 

That  no  man  enter  till  my  tale  be  done. 
Boling.   Have  thy  desire, 

[Aumerle  locks  the  door.]     York  knocks  at  the 

door  and  crieth. 

York.  (Within.)    My  liege,  beware  !    Look  to  thyself  ; 

Thou  hast  a  traitor  in  thy  presence  there.  40 

Boling.    Villain,  I'll  make  thee  safe.  [Draiving.] 

Aum.   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.  45 

Enter  York. 

Boling.    What  is  the  matter,  uncle  ?     Speak  ; 
Recover  breath  ;   tell  us  how  near  is  danger. 
That  we  may  arm  us  to  encounter  it. 


io8  Eicljaru  tlje  fe>fronti  Actv 

York.   Peruse  this  writing  here,  and  thou  shalt  know 
The  treason  that  my  haste  forbids  me  show.        50 

Aum.   Remember,  as  thou  read'st,  thy  promise  pasa'd. 
I  do  repent  me  ;  read  not  my  name  there. 
M}'  heart  is  not  confederate  with  my  hand. 

York.    It  was,  villain,  ere  thy  hand  did  set  it  down. 

I  tore  it  from  the  traitor's  bosom.  King ;  55 

Fear,  and  not  love,  begets  his  penitence. 
Forget  to  pity  him,  lest  thy  pity  prove 
A  serpent  that  will  sting  thee  to  the  heart. 

Baling.   O  heinous,  strong,  and  bold  conspiracy  ! 

O  loyal  father  of  a  treacherous  son  !  60 

Thou  sheer,  immaculate,  and  silver  fountain, 
From  whence  this  stream    through  muddy  pas- 
sages 
Hath  held  his  current  and  defil'd  himself ! 
Thy  overflow  of  good  converts  to  bad. 
And  thy  abundant  goodness  shall  excuse  65 

This  deadly  blot  in  thy  digressing  son. 

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,  70 

Or  my  sham'd  life  in  his  dishonour  Hes. 
Thou  kill'st  me  in  his  life  ;   giving  him  breath. 
The  traitor  lives,  the  true  man's  put  to  death. 

Duch.   (Within.)    ^^^lat  ho,  my  liege !  for  God's  sake, 
let  me  in. 


Sc.  Ill  Kic^arD  t\)t  ^tconn  109 

Boling,   What  shrill-voiced  suppliant  makes  this  eager 
cry  ?  75 

Dtich.   A  woman,  and  thy  aunt,  great  King  ;   'tis  I. 
Speak  with  me,  pity  me,  open  the  door  ! 
A  beggar  begs  that  never  begg'd  before. 

Boling.   Our  scene  is  alt'red  from  a  serious  thing. 
And  now  chang'd  to  "The  Beggar  and  the  King," 
My  dangerous  cousin,  let  your  mother  in :  81 

I  know  she's  come  to  pray  for  your  foul  sin. 

York.   If  thou  do  pardon,  whosoever  pray. 

More  sins  for  this  forgiveness  prosper  may. 

This  fest'red  joint  cut  off,  the  rest  rest  sound  ;    85 

This  let  alone  will  all  the  rest  confound. 

Enter  Duchess. 

Duck.  O  King,  believe  not  this  hard-hearted  man  ! 
Love  loving  not  itself  none  other  can. 

York.   Thou  frantic  woman,  what  dost  thou  make  here  ? 
Shall  thy  old  dugs  once  more  a  traitor  rear  .''        90 

Duck.   Sweet    York,    be    patient.     Hear    me,    gentle 
liege.  [Kneels.] 

Boling.   Rise  up,  good  aimt. 

Duck.  Not  yet,  I  thee  beseech. 

For  ever  will  I  walk  upon  my  knees. 
And  never  see  day  that  the  happy  sees, 
TUl  thou  give  joy  ;   until  thou  bid  me  joy,  95 

By  pardoning  Rutland,  my  transgressing  boy. 


no  EictjarD  tl)c  ^tconn  Act  v 

Aum.   Unto  my  mother's  prayers  I  bend  my  knee. 

[Kneels.] 

York.   Against    them    both    my    true    joints    bended 

be.  [Kneels.] 

Ill  mayst  thou  thrive,  if  thou  grant  any  grace  ! 
Duck.    Pleads  he  in  earnest  ?     Look  upon  his  face  ;  100 

His  eyes  do  drop  no  tears,  his  prayers  are  in  jest ; 

His  words  come  from  his  mouth,  ours  from  our  breast. 

He  prays  but  faintly  and  would  be  deni'd  ; 

We  pray  with  heart  and  soul  and  all  beside. 

His  weary  joints  would  gladly  rise,  I  know  ;       105 

Our  knees  shall  kneel  till  to  the  ground  they  grow. 

His  prayers  are  full  of  false  hypocrisy  ; 

Ours  of  true  zeal  and  deep  integrity. 

Our  prayers  do  out-pray  his  ;   then  let  them  have 

That  mercy  which  true  prayer  ought  to  have.    110 
Boling.   Good  aunt,  stand  up. 
Duch.  Nay,  do  not  say,  "Stand  up"  ; 

Say  "Pardon"  first,  and  afterwards  "Stand  up." 

An  if  I  were  thy  nurse,  thy  tongue  to  teach, 

"Pardon"  should  be  the  first  word  of  thy  speech. 

I  never  long'd  to  hear  a  word  till  now.  115 

Say  "pardon,"  King  ;   let  pity  teach  thee  how. 

The  word  is  short,  but  not  so  short  as  sweet ; 

No  word  like  "pardon"  for  kings'  mouths  so  meet. 
York.  Speak  it  in  French,  King  ;  say,  " Pardonne  moi." 
Duch.    Dost  thou  teach  pardon  pardon  to  destroy  ? 

Ah,  my  sour  husband,  my  hard-hearted  lord,      121 


sc.  Ill  KictjarD  t\)t  ^econD  m 

That  set'st  the  word  itself  against  the  word  ! 

Speak  "pardon"  as  'tis  current  in  our  land  ; 

The  chopping  French  we  do  not  understand. 

Thine  eye  begins  to  speak  ;   set  thy  tongue  there ; 

Or  in  thj^  piteous  heart  plant  thou  thine  ear  ;     126 

That  hearing  how  our  plaints  and  prayers  do  pierce. 

Pity  may  move  thee  "pardon"  to  rehearse. 
Boling.   Good  aunt,  stand  up. 
Duch.  I  do  not  sue  to  stand  ; 

Pardon  is  all  the  suit  I  have  in  hand.  130 

Boling.    I  pardon  him,  as  God  shall  pardon  me. 
Duch.   0  happy  vantage  of  a  kneeling  knee  ! 

Yet  am  I  sick  for  fear :  speak  it  again. 

Twice  saying  "pardon"  doth  not  pardon  twain. 

But  makes  one  pardon  strong. 
Boling.    I  pardon  him  with  all  my  heart.  135 

Duch.   A  god  on  earth  thou  art. 
Boling.  But  for  our  trusty  brother-in-law  and  the  abbot. 

With  all  the  rest  of  that  consorted  crew. 

Destruction  straight  shall  dog  them  at  the  heels. 

Good  imcle,  help  to  order  several  powers  140 

To  Oxford,  or  where'er  these  traitors  are. 

They  shall  not  live  within  this  world,  I  swear, 

But  I  will  have  them,  if  I  once  know  where. 

Uncle,  farewell ;   and,  cousin,  adieu  ! 

Your  mother  well   hath  pray'd,  and   prove   you 

true.  145 

Duch.   Come,  my  old  son ;    I  pray  God  make  thee  new. 

Exeunt. 


113  KicljarD  tljr  ^econD  Actv 

Scene  IV 

[Another  room  in  the  same.] 

Enter  Exton  and  Servant. 

Exton.   Didst  thou  not  mark  the  King,  what  words  he 
spake, 

"Have  I  no  friend  will  rid  me  of  this  living  fear?" 

Was  it  not  so  ? 
Serv,  These  were  his  very  words. 

Exton.   "Have  I  no  friend?"  quoth  he.     He  spake  it 
twice, 

And  urg'd  it  twice  together,  did  he  not .''  5 

Serv.   He  did. 
Exton.   And  speaking  it,  he  wistly  look'd  on  me, 

As  who  should  say,  "I  would  thou  wert  the  man 

That  would  divorce  this  terror  from  my  heart ;" 

Meaning  the  King  at  Pomfret.     Come,  let's  go. 

I  am  the  King's  friend,  and  will  rid  his  foe.  11 

Exeunt. 

Scene  V 

[Pomfret  Castle.     A  ward  room.] 

Enter  King  Richard. 

K.  Rich.   I  have  been  studying  how  I  may  compare 
This  prison  where  I  live  unto  the  world  ; 
And  for  because  the  world  is  populous 


Sc.  V  Hicliaro  t\)t  ^econO  113 

And  here  is  not  a  creature  but  myself, 
I  cannot  do  it ;   yet  I'll  hammer  it  out.  5 

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.  10 

For  no  thought  is  contented.     The  better  sort. 
As  thoughts  of  things  divine,  are  intermix'd 
With  scruples  and  do  set  the  word  itself 
Against  the  word  : 

As  thus,  "Come,  little  ones,"  and  then  again,       15 
"  It  is  as  hard  to  come  as  for  a  camel 
To  thread  the  postern  of  a  small  needle's  eye." 
Thoughts  tending  to  ambition,  they  do  plot 
Unlikely  wonders  :   how  these  vain  weak  nails 
May  tear  a  passage  through  the  flinty  ribs  20 

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         25 
Who  sitting  in  the  stocks  refuge  their  shame, 
That  many  have  and  others  must  sit  there  ; 
And  in  this  thought  they  find  a  kind  of  ease. 
Bearing  their  own  misfortunes  on  the  back 
Of  such  as  have  before  endur'd  the  like.  30 

Thus  play  I  in  one  person  many  people, 
I 


114  KicljaiD  t\)t  ^fconD  Act  V 

And  none  contented.     Sometimes  am  I  king  ; 

Then  treasons  make  me  wish  myself  a  beggar ; 

And  so  I  am.     Then  crushing  penury 

Persuades  me  I  was  better  when  a  king ;  35 

Then  am  I  king'd  again  :   and  by  and  by 

Think  that  I  am  unking'd  by  BoUngbroke, 

And  straight  am  nothing.     But  whate'er  I  be, 

Nor  I  nor  any  man  that  but  man  is 

With  nothing  shall  be  pleas'd,  till  he  be  eas'd      40 

With  being  nothing.     Music  do  I  hear  .'       Mime, 

Ha,  ha  !  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  45 

To  check  time  broke  in  a  disorder'd  string  ; 

But  for  the  concord  of  my  state  and  time 

Had  not  an  ear  to  hear  my  true  time  broke. 

I  wasted  time,  and  now  doth  Time  waste  me ; 

For    now    hath    Time    made    me    his    numb'ring 

clock.  50 

My  thoughts  are  minutes  ;    and  with  sighs  they 

jar 
Their  watches  on  unto  mine  eyes,  the  outward 

watch, 
^\Tiereto  my  finger,  like  a  dial's  point. 
Is  pointing  still,  in  cleansing  them  from  tears. 
Now  sir,  the  sound  that  tells  what  hour  it  is        55 
Are  clamorous  groans,  which  strike  upon  my  heart. 


Sc.  V  l^icljarD  t\)t  ^econo  115 

Which  is  the  bell.     So  sighs  and  tears  and  groans 
Show  minutes,  times,  and  hours  ;   but  my  time 
Runs  posting  on  in  Bolingbroke's  proud  joy. 
While  I  stand  fooling  here,  his  Jack  o'  the  clock.  60 
This  music  mads  me  ;   let  it  sound  no  more  ; 
For  though  it  have  holp  madmen  to  their  wits, 
In  me  it  seems  it  will  make  wise  men  mad. 
Yet  blessing  on  his  heart  that  gives  it  me  ! 
For  'tis  a  sign  of  love  ;   and  love  to  Richard         65 
Is  a  strange  brooch  in  this  all-hating  world. 

Enter  a  Groom  of  the  Stable, 

Groom.   Hail,  royal  prince  ! 

K.  Rich.  Thanks,  noble  peer  ! 

The  cheapest  of  us  is  ten  groats  too  dear. 
What  art  thou  ?  and  how  com'st  thou  hither. 
Where  no  man  never  comes  but  that  sad  dog    70 
That  brings  me  food  to  make  misfortune  live  ? 

Groom.    I  was  a  poor  groom  of  thy  stable.  King, 

When  thou  wert  king;  who,  travelling  towards  York, 
With  much  ado  at  length  have  gotten  leave 
To    look    upon    my    sometimes    royal    master's 
face.  75 

O,  how  it  yearn'd  my  heart  when  I  beheld 
In  London  streets,  that  coronation-day. 
When  Bolingbroke  rode  on  roan  Barbary, 
That  horse  that  thou  so  often  hast  bestrid. 
That  horse  that  I  so  carefully  have  dress'd  !        80 


^1 


ii6  Eicl)arD  t\)t  ^cconD  Act  v 

K.  Rich.   Rode    he    on    Barbary  ?    Tell    me,    gentle 
friend, 
How  went  he  under  him  ? 

Groom.    So  proudly  as  if  he  disdain'd  the  ground. 

K.  Rich.   So  proud  that  Bolingbroke  was  on  his  back  ! 
That  jade  hath  eat  bread  from  my  royal  hand  :  85 
This  hand  hath   made   him  proud  with   clapping 

him. 
Would  he  not  stumble  ?     Would  he  not  fall  down. 
Since  pride  must  have  a  fall,  and  break  the  neck 
Of  that  proud  man  that  did  usurp  his  back .' 
Forgiveness,  horse  !  why  do  I  rail  on  thee,  90 

Since  thou,  created  to  be  aw'd  by  man, 
Wast  born  to  bear  ?     I  was  not  made  a  horse  ; 
And  yet  I  bear  a  burden  like  an  ass, 
Spurr'd,  gall'd,  and  tir'd  by  jauncing  Bolingbroke. 

Enter  Keeper,  with  a  dish. 

Keep.   Fellow,  give  place  ;   here  is  no  longer  stay.       95 
K.  Rich.    If  thou  love  me,  'tis  time  thou  wert  away. 
Groom.   What  my  tongue  dares  not,  that  my  heart  shall 
say.  Exit. 

Keep.   My  lord,  will't  please  you  to  fall  to .' 
K.  Rich.    Taste  of  it  first,  as  thou  art  wont  to  do. 
Keep.   My  lord,  I  dare  not.     Sir  Pierce  of  Exton,    100 

who  lately  came  from  the  King,  commands  the 

contrary. 


Sc.  V  l^tcljarD  t\}t  ^econD  117 

K.  Rich.   The  devil  take  Henry  of  Lancaster  and  thee  ! 

Patience  is  stale,  and  I  am  weary  of  it. 
Keep.   Help,  help,  help  !  105 

Enter  Exton  and  Servants  [armed]. 

K.  Rich.   How  now  !    what  means  death  in  this  rude 

assault  ? 
Villain,  thy  own  hand  yields  thy  death's  instru- 
ment. 

[Snatching  an  axe  from  a  Servant  and  killing 
him.] 
Go  thou,  and  fill  another  room  in  hell. 

[He  kills  another.]    Here  Exton  strikes  him  down. 
That  hand  shall  burn  in  never-quenching  fire 
That  staggers  thus  my  person.     Exton,  thy  fierce 

hand  110 

Hath  with  the  King's  blood  stained   the  King's 

own  land. 
Mount,  mount,  my  soul !   thy  seat  is  up  on  high  ; 
Whilst  my  gross  flesh  sinks   downward,  here  to 

die.  [Dies.] 

Exton.   As  full  of  valour  as  of  royal  blood  ! 

Both  have  I  spill'd  ;  O  would  the  deed  were  good  ! 
For  now  the  devil,  that  told  me  I  did  well,         116 
Says  that  this  deed  is  chronicled  in  hell. 
This  dead  king  to  the  living  king  I'll  bear  : 
Take  hence  the  rest,  and  give  them  burial  here. 

Exeunt. 


3m 


ii8  Kicljaru  tl)e  fe>cconD  Act  v 

Scene  VI 

[Windsor  Castle.] 

Flourish.     Enter  Bolingbroke,   York,  with  other  Lords, 
and  Attendants. 

Baling.   Kind  uncle  York,  the  latest  news  we  hear 
Is  that  the  rebels  hath  consum'd  with  fire 
Our  town  of  Cicester  in  Gloucestershire  ; 
But  whether  they  be  ta'en  or  slain  we  hear  not. 

Enter  Northumberland. 

Welcome,  my  lord,  what  is  the  news  ?  5 

North.   First,  to  thy  sacred  state  wish  I  all  happiness. 
The  next  news  is,  I  have  to  London  sent 
The  heads  of  Oxford,  Salisbury,  Blunt,  and  Kent. 
The  manner  of  their  taking  may  appear 
At  large  discoursed  in  this  paper  here.  10 

Baling.   We  thank  thee,  gentle  Percy,  for  thy  pains  ; 
And  to  thy  worth  will  add  right  worthy  gains. 

Enter  Fitzwater. 

Fitz.   My  lord,  I  have  from  Oxford  sent  to  London 
The  heads  of  Brocas  and  Sir  Bennet  Seely, 
Two  of  the  dangerous  consorted  traitors  15 

That  sought  at  Oxford  thy  dire  overthrow. 

Baling.   Thy  pains,  Fitzwater,  shall  not  be  forgot ; 
Right  noble  is  thy  merit,  well  I  wot. 


Sc.  VI  KicliarD  t\)t  ^cconD  119 

Enter  Percy,  and  the  Bishop  of  Carlisle. 

Percy.   The  grand  conspirator,  Abbot  of  Westminster, 
With  clog  of  conscience  and  sour  melancholy       20 
Hath  yielded  up  his  body  to  the  grave  ; 
But  here  is  Carlisle  living,  to  abide 
Thy  kingly  doom  and  sentence  of  his  pride. 

Baling.   CarUsle,  this  is  your  doom  : 

Choose    out    some    secret    place,    some    reverend 
room,  25 

More  than  thou  hast,  and  with  it  joy  thy  life. 
So  as  thou  liv'st  in  peace,  die  free  from  strife ; 
For  though  mine  enemy  thou  hast  ever  been. 
High  sparks  of  honour  in  thee  have  I  seen. 

Enter  Exton,  with  [Attendants  hearing]  a  coffin. 

Exton.    Great  King,  within  this  coffin  I  present  30 

Thy  buried  fear.     Herein  all  breathless  lies 
The  mightiest  of  thy  greatest  enemies, 
Richard  of  Bordeaux,  by  me  hither  brought. 

Boling.   Exton,    I    thank    thee    not ;     for    thou    hast 
wrought 
A  deed  of  slander  with  thy  fatal  hand  35 

Upon  my  head  and  all  this  famous  land. 

Exton.   From  your  own  mouth,  my  lord,  did  I  this 
deed. 

Boling.   They  love  not  poison  that  do  poison  need, 
Nor  do  I  thee.     Though  I  did  wish  him  dead. 


I30  Kictjarn  t\)t  ^econo  Act  v 

I  hate  the  murderer,  love  him  murdered.  40 

The  guilt  of  conscience  take  thou  for  thy  labour, 
But  neither  my  good  word  nor  princely  favour. 
With  Cain  go  wander  through  the  shades  of  night, 
And  never  show  thy  head  by  day  nor  light. 
Lords,  I  protest,  my  soul  is  full  of  woe  45 

That  blood  should  sprinkle  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  Holy  Land, 
To  wash  this  blood  off  from  my  guilty  hand.       50 
March  sadly  after  ;  grace  my  mournings  here 
In  weeping  after  this  untimely  bier.  Exeunt. 


ISotejs 


The  play  was  first  divided  into  acts  and  scenes  in  Fi. 
Dramatis  PersoncB  and  notes  of  place  have  been  added  by 
later  editors. 

London.  Many  editors,  following  Holinshed,  place 
this  scene  at  Windsor. 

I.  i.  1.  Old  John  of  Gaunt.  Born  in  13-10  at  Ghent, 
hence  the  surname  "Gaunt."  He  was  only  fifty-eight  at 
this  time  (April  29,  1398),  although  Shakespeare  repre- 
sents him  as  very  old. 

I.  i.  58.     Setting  aside  Bolingbroke's  royal  blood. 

I.  i.  100.  Duke  of  Gloucester's  death.  Bolingbroke's 
real  motive  is  to  avenge  the  duke's  death.  The  other 
charges  are  merely  trumped  up,  and  Mowbray  brushes 
them  aside  in  an  instant  (11.  123-132) ;  but  Gloucester's 
murder  is  an  underlying  motive  in  all  the  earlier  part  of 
the  play.  Thomas  of  Woodstock,  Duke  of  Gloucester, 
sixth  (or  seventh)  son  of  Edward  III  and  brother  of  John 
of  Gaunt,  was  murdered  at  Calais  in  September,  1397. 

I.  i.  132-134.  Mowbray's  excuse  is  at  the  King's 
expense ;  he  vaguely  hints  at  the  King's  connivance.  In 
Holinshed  he  ignores  the  charge.  See  2  Henry  IV, 
IV.  i.  134  ff. 

I.  i.  153.  choler.  Anger,  attributed  to  excess  of  bile. 
Letting  blood  is  used  with  a  quibble  on  the  sense  of  blood- 
shed. 

I.  i.  157.  no  month  to  bleed.  Spring  and  autumn  were 
regarded  as  the  proper  time  to  bleed  patients. 

121 


132  0Ott& 

I.  i.  174.  leopards.  Malone  called  attention  to  the 
fact,  questioned  by  the  Clarendon  Press  editors,  that  the 
Norfolk  crest  was  a  golden  leopard. 

I.  ii.  4,  5.  those  hands.  Richard's,  whom  he  charges 
with  responsibility  for  Gloucester's  death.  He  is  more 
explicit  in  11.  37-41. 

I.  ii.  9.  The  Duchess's  argument  of  kinship  develops 
into  that  of  self-defense  in  11.  30  ff. 

I.  ii.  47.  She  regards  Bolingbroke  as  the  family  cham- 
pion, as  he  seems  to  have  regarded  himself  (I.  i.  106). 

I.  ii.  62.  Edmund  York.  Edmund  of  Langley,  fifth 
son  of  Edward  III. 

I.  ii.  66.    Plashy.     Gloucester's  seat  in  Essex. 

I.  ii.  73.  will  I  hence.  Adverb  of  place  used,  as  fre- 
quently in  Shakespeare,  without  the  verb  of  motion. 

I.  iii.  The  events  of  this  scene  took  place  historically 
on  September  16,  1398. 

I.  iii.  7  S.  Observe  in  the  public  behavior  of  Richard 
what  Coleridge  calls  his  "attention  to  decorum  and  high 
feeling  of  kingly  dignity." 

I.  iii.  49.  pilgrimage.  Bolingbroke's  allusion  carries  a 
suggestion  of  future  events  of  which  he  is  unconscious. 

I.  iii.  118.  Richard  regarded  the  victory  of  either 
knight  as  perilous  to  his  own  safety.  It  is  characteristic 
of  his  love  of  display  that  he  should  have  let  the  cere- 
monies proceed  to  the  very  last  possible  moment.  Accord- 
ing to  Froissart,  several  noblemen  of  the  King's  party 
warned  him  not  to  let  the  combat  proceed,  because  the 
people  were  aroused  on  Bolingbroke's  behalf  and  thought 
that  the  King  was  aiming  at  his  destruction.  Shake- 
speare fails  to  disclose  Richard's  motives. 


i^otrsf  123 

I.  iii.  125  ff.  The  King's  speech  is  confused,  perhaps 
intentionally,  perhaps  because  it  is  insincere. 

I.  iii.  137.  Both  metaphor  and  syntax  seem  to  have 
gone  astray. 

I.  iii.  139.  We  banish  you  our  territories.  Richard 
shows  what  Gardiner  calls  the  "  unwise  cunning  of  a  mad- 
man," and  takes  the  only  course  which  would  be  sure  to 
work  injustice  to  both  men. 

I.  iii.  140.  upon  pain  of  life.  So  the  Qq ;  the  Ff  have 
pain  of  death.  The  former  is  an  older  idiom  with  the  same 
meaning;   see  also  1.  153. 

I.  iii.  189.    plot,  contrive,  or  complot.     Legal  tautology. 

I.  iii.  204,  205.  The  prophetic  irony  of  this  speech 
exposes  Richard's  blunder  in  banishing  so  faithful  and 
efficient  a  servant.  The  historical  Richard  probably 
meant  to  recall  Mowbray  and  make  Bolingbroke's  exile 
permanent ;   but  this  is  not  implied  in  this  play. 

I.  iii.  210.  banish'd  years.  Years  of  banishment.  Ban- 
ish'd  is  not  a  past  participle,  but  an  adjective.  For  this 
use  of  an  adjective,  cf.  1.  241. 

I.  iii.  211.  pluck'd  four  away.  According  to  Holins- 
hed  the  amelioration  of  Bolingbroke's  sentence  took  place 
later,  at  Eltham,  when  the  King  was  taking  leave  of 
Bolingbroke.  Dramatically  it  is  a  feeble  attempt  at  con- 
ciliation, and  serves  to  show  how  Richard  is  imposed  upon 
by  the  stronger  personalities  of  Gaunt  and  Bolingbroke. 

I.  iii.  213-215.     "  Admirable     anticipation  !  "  —  Cole- 

BIDGE. 

I.  iii.  230.     Efface  no  wrinkle  that  comes  with  time. 
I.  iii.  241.    partial   slander.     Accusation    of  partiality; 
cf.  1.  210. 


134  ^OttS 

I.  iii.  244.  too  strict  to  make.  In  making:  a  gerundive 
use  of  the  inGnitive  common  in  Shakespeare;  see  also 
11.  255,  256. 

I.  iii.  262.  Cf.  Edward  II.  V.  i.  1-4  (E.  T.  McLaugh- 
lin ed.). 

I.  iii.  289.  the  presence  strewed.  The  royal  presence 
chamber  strewed  with  rushes. 

I.  iii.  302-303.  Doth  never  poison  more  than  when  it 
irritates  the  sore  instead  of  lancing  to  cure. 

I.  iv.  6.   for  me.     For  my  part. 

I.  iv.  13.  The  clause  for  .  .  .  word  is  the  antecedent  of 
that.  Aumerle  says  that  he  pretended  to  be  rendered  silent 
by  grief  so  as  to  avoid  saying  "  Farewell "  to  Bolingbroke. 

I.  iv.  24.  his  courtship  of  the  common  people.  Com- 
pare Bolingbroke's  own  account,  1  Henry  IV,  III.  ii.  46 
ff. ;   also  Daniel,  Civil  Wars,  I.  63-70. 

I.  iv.  37.    go.     Subjunctive,  let  them  go. 

I.  i.  38.  rebels  ...  in  Ireland.  Many  of  the  colonies 
planted  by  Henry  II  in  the  "  English  pale  "  had  thrown 
oflF  their  allegiance  and  were  in  rebellion. 

I.  iv.  39.  Expedient  manage.  Expeditious  manage- 
ment. 

I.  iv.  43.  too  great  a  court.  The  extravagance  of  the 
King's  household  and  the  prodigality  with  which  he 
showered  gifts  upon  his  favorites  is  common  talk  in  the 
writers  of  the  time;  see,  for  example,  Political  Poems, 
i.  363  ff.  (Rolls  Series). 

I.  iv.  58.  Ely  House.  Palace  of  the  Bishop  of  Ely  in 
Holborn.     See  Richard  III.  III.  iv.  33  ff. 

II.  i.  There  are  serious  difBcuIties  in  the  matter  of 
real  and  dramatic  time  in  this  scene  and  the  one  which 


iPotetf  125 

precedes  it.  We  can  suppose  the  elapse  of  only  an  hour 
or  two  between  the  scenes.  In  the  latter  Bolingbroke 
has  just  departed  on  his  exile.  In  II.  i.  277  ff.  he  has  been 
to  France  and  is  on  his  way  back ;  besides  we  are  told 
(II.  i.  167-168)  that  Richard  has  prevented  him  about  his 
marriage.  Insufficient  time  is  also  allowed  Gaunt  to 
grow  ill  (II.  i.  73  S.).  One  result  from  this  treatment  of 
time  is  that  it  would  make  Bolingbroke  begin  his  enter- 
prise of  invading  England  before  his  estates  were  con- 
fiscated, a  thing  which  can  hardly  have  been  intended. 
The  "  short  time  "  is  so  well  managed  that  the  inconsist- 
encies are  hardly  noticed. 

II.  i.  9-12.  Quatrain  measure  seems  here  used  to  char- 
acterize Gaunt's  exalted  manner  of  speech. 

II.  i.  18.  found.  Collier  conjectures  fond,  followed 
by  most  editors.  Fi  has  sound  ;  other  Qq  and  Ff  vary. 
A  possible  explanation  of  the  passage  is,  "  by  whose  taste 
the  wise  are  found." 

II.  i.  21.  proud  Italy.  Ascham,  Lyly,  and  other  six- 
teenth-century writers  complain  of  the  growing  influence 
of  Italian  luxury,  but  here  the  reference  is  anachronistic. 
See  also  Edward  II,  I.  i.  50  ff. 

II.  i.  40-55.  These  lines,  except  1.  50,  were  pub- 
lished in  England's  Parnassus  (1600)  and  attributed  to 
M.  Dr.  (Michael  Drayton). 

II.  i.  84.  Can  sick  men  play  so  nicely  with  their  names? 
"  Yes !  on  a  death  bed  there  is  a  feeling  which  may  make 
all  things  appear  but  as  puns  and  equivocations.  And  a 
passion  there  is  that  carries  off  its  own  excess  by  plays  on 
words  as  naturally,  and,  therefore,  as  appropriately  to 
drama,  as  by  gesticulation,  looks,  or  tones."  —  Coleridge. 


126  j^Otf£f 

II.  i.  93  ff.  With  Gaunt's,  York's,  and  other  speeches 
descriptive  of  Richard's  misrule,  compare  those  of  the 
rebellious  noblemen  in  Edward  II,  II.  ii.  118. 

II.  i.  118.  Make  pale  our  cheek.  Richard's  physical 
sensitiveness,  which  caused  him  to  turn  pale  readily  (see 
III.  ii.  76;  III.  iii.  63),  is  recorded  by  Froissart  and  other 
chroniclers. 

II.  i.  144.  As  Harry,  Duke  of  Hereford.  That  is,  as 
he  holds  Harry,  etc.  Richard  intentionally  puts  the  other 
construction  upon  the  words. 

II.  i.  157.  no  venom  else.  Allusion  to  the  freedom  of 
Ireland  from  reptiles,  traditionally  ascribed  to  St.  Patrick. 

II.  i.  163.  How  long  shall  I  be  patient?  This  one  out- 
burst of  the  submissive  York  does  not  anger  Richard  as 
Gaunt's  reproof  does,  though  the  things  York  says  are 
quite  as  severe ;   Richard  was  not  planning  to  injure  York. 

II.  i.  166.  Gaunt's  rebukes.  The  rebukes  given  to 
Gaunt. 

II.  i.  173.  Rag'd  may  equal  enraged,  as  in  1.  70,  or  we 
may  understand  a  relative  omitted  after  lion. 

II.  i.  202.  Call  in  the  letters  patents.  This  occurred 
some  six  weeks  after  Gaunt's  death. 

II.  i.  220.  Our  uncle  York  lord  governor.  It  is  the 
acme  of  Richard's  tragic  blindness  that  he  should  appoint 
to  the  regency  a  man  whose  loyalty  was  already  strained 
to  the  breaking  point. 

II.  i.  227.  if  Justice  had  her  right.  The  conversation 
of  the  nobles  is  the  beginning  of  the  counterplot  which  is 
to  cause  Richard's  inevitable  overthrow. 

II.  i.  247.  This  line  is  defective  in  meter,  and  is  prob- 
ably corrupt;   Pope  omitted  gut7e. 


j^otesf  127 

II.  i.  253.  basely  yielded.  Allusion  to  Richard's  un- 
popular foreign  policy  of  peace  with  France. 

II.  i.  280.  Malone  inserted  here  a  line  differing  slightly 
from  the  one  in  the  text :  The  son  of  Richard  Earl  of  Arundel. 
Shakespeare  gives  all  of  the  noblemen  in  Holinshed's  list 
except  Thomas,  son  of  Richard,  Earl  of  Arundel ;  this 
Thomas,  and  not  Lord  Cobham,  escaped  from  the  Duke  of 
Exeter ;  Lord  Cobham  was  not  the  brother  of  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury ;   Richard,  Earl  of  Arundel,  was. 

II.  i.  296.  The  Earl  of  Northumberland,  head  of  the 
powerful  family  of  the  Percies,  is  the  leader  among  the 
nobles  in  the  rebellion  against  Richard.     See  V.  i.  55  ff. 

II.  ii.  9.  My  sweet  Richard.  "  The  amiable  part  of 
Richard's  character  is  brought  full  upon  us  by  his  queen's 
few  words."  —  Coleridge. 

II.  ii.  20.    Distinguish  form.     Make  the  form  distinct. 

II.  ii.  28-29.  Compare  the  young  Queen's  forebodings 
with  those  of  Juliet  {Romeo  and  Juliet,  III.  v.  54  ff.)  and 
of  Antonio  {Merchant  of  Venice,  I.  i.  1  ff.). 

II.  ii.  31.  As,  though  in  thinking  I  fix  my  thoughts 
on  nothing. 

II.  ii.  34.    'Tis  nothing  less.     It  is  anything  but  that. 

II.  ii.  36-38.  As  in  1.  12,  the  Queen's  play  on  the  an- 
tithesis between  something  and  nothing  is  rather  confusing. 
She  says  :  Either  nothing  caused  her  real  grief,  or  else  there 
is  something  in  this  unknown  subject  of  her  grief.  The  cause 
of  the  grief  can  only  be  revealed  in  the  future  {in  reversion) . 

II.  ii.  59.  broken  his  staff.  In  token  of  the  resigna- 
tion of  his  office  of  Lord  High  Steward.  Thomas  Percy, 
Earl  of  Worcester,  brother  of  the  Earl  of  Nc  -thumberland, 
provokes  the  rebellion  of  the  Percies  in  Hen  y  IV. 


138  j^Ott& 

II.  ii.  74.    signs  of  war.     York  is  in  armor. 

II.  ii.  86.  your  son.  The  Duke  of  Aumerle,  who  had 
accompanied  Richard  to  Ireland. 

II.  ii.  197.  The  death  of  the  Duchess  of  Gloucester 
is  anticipated  by  several  months  (in  order  to  add  to  York's 
embarrassment) . 

II.  iii.  42.  raw  and  young.  Henry  Percy,  called  "  Hot- 
spur," was  born  in  1364;  Prince  Hal,  in  1388.  Shake- 
speare always  speaks  of  them  as  if  they  were  of  the  same  age. 

II.  iii.  47  ff.  Compare  1  Henry  IV,  I.  iii.  251  ff.,  where 
Hotspur  bitterly  recalls  this  speech. 

II.  iii.  70.  Lancaster.  Bolingbroke  will  enter  into  no 
negotiations  unless  his  proper  title  is  given  him. 

II.  iii.  79.  the  absent  time.  The  time  of  absence; 
cf.  notes,  I.  iii.  211,  241. 

II.  iii.  86.  grace  me  no  grace.  York,  as  he  begins, 
intends  to  do  his  duty  by  the  King;  later,  he  is  won  over 
by  Bolingbroke. 

II.  iii.  114  fiF.  I  come  for  Lancaster.  In  the  character 
of  Lancaster.  There  is  no  reason  to  acquit  Bolingbroke 
of  duplicity  and  of  seeking  the  crown  from  the  start. 
Compare  his  own  words  in  2  Henry  IV,  IV.  v.  184-186. 

II.  iii.  129.  sue  my  livery.  Mak?  legal  claim  to  my 
freehold  as  heir. 

II.  iii.  159.  neuter.  Neutrality  on  York's  part  is 
hostility  to  Richard ;  but  he  is  practically  Bolingbroke's 
prisoner;   see  1.  164. 

II.  iii.  165.  Bagot.  He  had  gone  to  Ireland,  not  to 
Bristol;    see  II.  ii.  141. 

II.  iii.  166.  caterpillars.  Gaveston  is  represented  as 
a  "  canker  "  in  Edward  II,  II.  ii.  16-20. 


j^otesr  129 

II.  iv.  8.  bay-trees.  "  In  this  yeare  .  .  .  old  baie  trees 
withered,  and,  afterwards,  .  .  .  grew  greene  againe ;  a 
strange  sight,  and  supposed  to  import  some  vnknowne 
event."  —  Holinshed,  second  edition  (1586)  only.  Com- 
pare Daniel,  Civil  Wars,  I.  113-115,  for  other  portents. 

II.  iv.  15.  death  or  fall  of  kings.  Compare  Julius 
Coesar,  II.  ii. ;    Hamlet,  I.  i.  113  ff. 

III.  i.  12.  Made  a  divorce.  There  is  no  basis  for  this 
charge;  but  see  V.  i.  71  ff.  It  may  have  been  suggested 
by  the  situation  in  Edward  II.  With  the  whole  scene 
compare  the  capture  of  Gaveston,  Edward  II,  II.  v. 

III.  i.  14.  Queen  Isabella,  daughter  of  Charles  VI 
of  France,  was  only  eleven  years  old  at  this  time. 

III.  i.  31-34.  Compare  the  plucky  deaths  of  Edward's 
favorites,  Edward  II,  III.  i. ;  IV.  v. ;  vi. 

III.  i.  43.  Glendower.  Owen  Glendower  was  not  at 
this  time  in  arms  against  Bolingbroke ;  perhaps  Boling- 
broke  thinks  he  is  the  Welsh  commander  (see  preceding 
scene).  Holinshed's  account  of  Owen's  attack  on  Lord 
Grey  of  Ruthin  (1400)  may  be  the  source  of  this  line; 
Owen's  associates  are  there  spoken  of  as  "  complices." 

III.  ii.  4.  I  weep  for  joy.  "  Shakespeare  has  carefully 
shown  in  him  an  intense  love  of  his  country,  well  knowing 
how  that  feeling  would,  in  pure  historic  drama,  redeem  him 
in  the  hearts  of  the  audience."  —  Coleridge. 

III.  ii.  23.  senseless  conjuration.  Adjuration  of  sense- 
less things;    for  the  construction,  cf.  I.  iii.  210,  241. 

III.  ii.  24.     See  S.  Luke,  xix.  40. 

III.  ii.  33.  He  means,  my  lord,  that  we  are  too  remiss. 
The  stern,  practical  bishop  brings  Richard  back  to  reality ; 
Richard  hardly  understands ;    Aumerle  interprets. 


I30  J]iOtC0 

III.  ii.  38.  that  lights  the  lower  world.  This  clause 
modifies  eye  of  heaven.  For  a  similar  transposition, 
cf.  I.  i.  168. 

III.  ii.  61.    See  S.  Matt.  xxvi.  53. 

III.  ii.  76.  twenty  thousand  men.  Holinshed  puts 
Salisbury's  force  at  forty  thousand. 

III.  ii.  76-81.  Richard's  highly  emotional  speech  is  in 
the  form  of  a  sestet. 

III.  ii.  122.  Bagot's  name  seems  inadvertently  men- 
tioned here.  The  King  speaks,  1.  132,  of  "  three  Ju- 
dases,"  and  Aumerle  does  not  ask  about  Bagot  in 
1.  141. 

III.  ii.  153-154.  Model  may  refer  to  Richard's  own  mor- 
tal body,  or  to  the  grave  mound. 

III.  ii.  162.  Death.  Douce  called  attention  to  a  print 
in  the  Imagines  Mortis  of  a  king,  sitting  on  a  throne, 
sword  in  hand,  surrounded  by  courtiers,  with  a  grinning 
skeleton  arising  from  his  crown. 

III.  ii.  163  ff.  Cf.  Henry  VIII.  III.  ii.  352  flf. ;  Mac- 
beth, V.  V.  24  flf. 

III.  ii.  183-185.  To  die  fighting  is  to  triumph  over 
death ;  to  fear  death  is  to  become  its  slave ;  compare 
Sonnet  cxhn,  11-14;    Julius  Ccesar,  II.  ii.  32-33. 

III.  ii.  211.  That  power  I  have,  discharge.  When 
Richard  finds  that  he  must  fight  for  his  kingship,  he  prefers 
to  relinquish  it  and  assume  the  r6le  of  the  dethroned  mon- 
arch;  but  see  III.  iii.  129-130. 

III.  iii.  6.  Richard  not  far  hence  hath  hid  his  head. 
The  plot  here  diverges  from  Holinshed.  Richard  had 
remained  in  camp  for  some  days  and  then  fled  to  Conway 
Castle.     Salisbury    was    there.     Bolingbroke    despatched 


i|5ote0  131 

Northumberland  to  Conway,  and  he  induced  Richard  to 
confer  with  Bolingbroke  by  assuring  him  that  Bolingbroke 
came  merely  to  demand  his  rights  and  that  a  parliament 
should  be  called  to  restore  order  to  the  kingdom.  When 
they  had  ridden  forth,  Northumberland  seized  Richard 
and  carried  him  to  Flint,  where  he  was  as  much  a  prisoner 
as  later  at  Chester  and  London. 

III.  iii.  62-67.  Assigned  by  Dyce  to  Percy;  but 
Bolingbroke  is  everywhere  sensitive  to  Richard's  personal 
charm ;   see  IV.  i.  304  ;    V.  vi.  40. 

III.  iii.  97.  flower  of  England's  face.  The  blooming 
face  of  England;  cf.  Daniel,  Cm/  Wars,  I.  118:  "  Th' 
vngodly  bloodshed  that  .  .  .  did  marre  the  flowre  of  thy 
chiefe  pride.  .  .  ."  The  abundance  of  Richard's  metaphors 
is  startling.  Blood,  which  disfigures  war  and  also  the  heads 
of  ten  thousand  Englishmen,  stains  purple  the  will  or 
testament,  makes  the  face  of  England  scarlet  with  indig- 
nation, and  bedews  the  grass  of  the  pastures. 

III.  iii.  127-130.     Cf.  Edward  II,  IV.  v.  4-7. 

III.  iii.  143  ff.  The  King  characteristically  throws  away 
his  advantage;  Bolingbroke  would  have  had  to  put  his 
forces  at  the  King's  command  or  incur  the  responsibility 
of  seizing  him. 

III.  iii.  147  ff.     Cf.  Edicard  II,  IV.  vi.  20-21. 

III.  iii.  192.  Me  rather  had.  A  construction  resulting 
from  a  combination  of  me  were  liefer  and  /  had  rather. 

III.  iii.  203.     Tears  show  love,  but  offer  no  remedies. 

III.  iii.  204.  too  young  to  be  your  father.  Bolingbroke 
was  born  in  1367,  and  Richard  a  few  months  later  in  1368. 

III.  iv.  73.    to  dress  this  garden.     See  Genesis  ii.  15. 

III.  iv.  105.    rue.     Cf.  Hamlet.  IV.  v.  181  ff. 


133  ifiOtCfif 

IV.  i.  Westminster  Hall  had  just  been  rebuilt  by  the 
King's  orders. 

IV.  i.  1.  Call  forth  Bagot.  Bolingbroke  lends  dignity 
to  his  usurpation  by  thus  bringing  forward  at  once  the 
issue  which  drove  him  to  revolt. 

IV.  i.  14.  that  very  time.  This  is  a  mistake;  Glouces- 
ter's death  occurred  before  Bolingbroke  left  England. 

IV.  i.  52.  task  the  earth.  Charge  the  earth  with  the 
task  of  bearing  my  gage.  So  Qi ;  other  Qq  have  take; 
Ff  omit  11.  52-59. 

IV.  i.  60.  Surrey  was  Richard's  nephew ;  he  and  Au- 
merle  thus  represent  the  Yorkist  faction. 

IV.  i.  80  ff.  John  Hall,  a  groom  of  Mowbray's  at 
Calais,  confessed  on  October  18,  1399,  that  he  and  two 
servants,  sent,  Mowbray  told  him,  by  Aumerle,  murdered 
Gloucester. 

IV.  i.  92-100.  "  This  yeare  (1399)  Thomas  Mowbraie, 
duke  of  Norffolke,  died  in  exile  at  Venice."  —  Holinshed. 
"  Norffolke  .  .  .  died  at  Venice,  in  his  return  from  Jeru- 
salem." —  Stow,  Annals. 

IV.  i.  104.  good  old  Abraham.  See  S.  Luke,  xvi.  22. 
Note  Bolingbroke's  exultation.  He  is  dismissing  the  sub- 
ject of  the  murder  of  Gloucester ;  it  has  served  his  purpose. 
Aumerle  is  left  with  the  suspicion  of  guilt  upon  him,  but  he 
is  not  brought  to  trial. 

IV.  i.  113.  In  God's  name,  I'll  ascend  the  throne. 
Shakespeare  gives  no  ground  for  Henry's  claim;  in  Holins- 
hed, he  claims  it  as  descended  from  Henry  III  according 
to  a  false  tradition  that  his  ancestor,  Edward  Crouchback, 
was  older  than  his  brother,  Edward  I,  but  was  set  aside 
on  accoimt  of  physical  deformity. 


0ottii  133 

IV.  i.  114  ff.  Carlisle's  speech,  according  to  Holinshed, 
from  whom  it  is  largely  taken,  was  made  on  October  22, 
three  weeks  after  the  deposition. 

IV.  i.  144.    Golgotha.     See  S.  Matt.,  xxvii.  33. 

IV.  i.  152.  Carlisle  was  committed  to  the  Abbot  of 
St.  Alban's,  and  some  months  later  transferred  to  the 
Abbot  of  Westminster. 

IV.  i.  154.  commons'  suit.  Probable  reference  to  a 
demand  that  Bolingbroke  would  ascend  the  throne;  no 
such  suit  is  known,  though  Holinshed  says  that  the  commons 
favored  him. 

IV.  i.  154-318.  These  lines  do  not  occur  in  the  first 
and  second  quarto  editions  of  the  play.  That  they  belonged 
to  the  play  originally  is  clear  from  line  318.  See  Intro- 
duction. 

IV.  i.  156-157.  we  shall  proceed  without  suspicion. 
The  deposition  scene  is  without  historical  basis.  Richard 
signed,  perhaps  under  compulsion,  an  act  of  abdication; 
but  before  witnesses  in  the  Tower.  Daniel  gives  an  elabo- 
rate description  of  such  a  scene.     Cf.  Edward  II,  V.  i. 

IV.  i.  160-161.     These  lines  seem  to  be  an  aside. 

IV.  i.  170.    So  Judas.     See  S.  Matt.,  xxvi.  49. 

IV.  i.  176.  Observe  the  two  levels  of  Richard's  speech; 
when  he  is  not  under  emotion,  has  no  part  to  play,  he 
speaks  with  unusual  flatness;   see  181,  203,  222;    V.  v.  5. 

IV.  i.  195.  cares.  Three  meanings  of  care  are  involved 
in  the  word  play  which  follows :  care  in  the  sense  of 
responsibility ;  care  in  the  sense  of  duty  or  task ;  care 
in  the  sense  of  grief. 

IV.  i.  200.  Similar  questions  are  addressed  to  Edward 
in  the  deposition  scene  in  Edward  II,  V.  i. 


134  J^oteflf 

IV.  i.  201,  202.  Ai/  =  I,  but  7  =  nothing,  therefore 
Ay  =  I  =  no.  Compare  Edward's  hesitation,  Edward  II, 
V.  i. 

IV.  i.  204-221.  The  speech  follows  with  some  faith- 
fulness the  formula  of  abdication,  as  recorded  in  the  Rolls 
of  Parliament. 

IV.  i.  219.     Cf.  Edward  II,  V.  i.  110-111. 

IV.  i.  221.  sunshine.  See  a  similar  use  of  this  word 
in  Edicard  II,  V.  i.  26-27. 

IV.  i.  232-233.  wouldst  .  .  .  shouldst.  In  modern 
usage  these  words  would  be  reversed. 

IV.  i.  239.  wash  your  hands.  See  S.  Matt,  xxvii.  24, 
Richard  persistently  compares  himself  with  Christ. 

IV.  i.  248.  I  find  myself  a  traitor.  Cf.  Edward  II, 
V.  i.  98-99. 

IV.  i.  254.     Cf.  Edtvard  II,  V.  i.  112. 

IV.  i.  255.  I  have  no  name.  Allusion  to  a  story,  cir- 
culated by  the  Lancastrian  party,  that  Richard  was  not 
the  son  of  the  Black  Prince,  but  of  a  canon  of  Bordeaux 
(W.  A.  Harrison,   Trarts.   New  Shak.  Soc,  1883). 

IV.  i.  2G2.  water-drops.  Cf.  Dr.  Faustus,  xvi :  "  O 
soul,  be  changed  into  little  water-drops." 

IV.  i.  271.  Urge  it  no  more.  "  Another  touch  which 
brings  out  Bolingbroke's  absence  of  personal  rancor  towards 
Richard.  He  aims  at  power,  and  is  stern  or  clement  as 
policy,  not  passion,  determines."  —  C.  H.  Herford. 

IV.  i.  281.  Was  this  the  face.  Cf.  Dr.  Faustus,  xiv: 
"  Was  this  the  face  that  launched  a  thousand  ships,"  etc. 

IV.  i.  292-293.  The  shadow  .  .  .  face.  Your  senti- 
mental show  of  sorrow  has  destroyed  your  image  in  the 
glass.     Note,  first,  Richard's  generous  appreciation  of  a 


#ote0  135 

fine  phrase ;    and,  secondly,  the  readiness  with  which  he 
turns  aside  its  practical  application  to  himself. 

IV.  i.  313.  Then  give  me  leave  to  go.  Richard  throws 
away  his  last  small  chance  to  make  terms  for  himself. 

IV.  i.  316.  convey.  For  a  possibly  similar  word  play, 
see  Edward  II,  I.  ii.  200-201. 

V.  i.  1.  This  way  the  king  will  come.  There  is  no  his- 
torical authority  for  this  interview  between  Richard  and 
the  Queen ;  they  did  not  meet  again  after  Richard  left 
for  Ireland.  In  Daniel,  Civil  Wars,  II.  89-94,  the  Queen 
seeks  him  out  in  prison,  and  there  is  a  striking  parallel 
in  the  passage  (II.  66  ff.)  where  she  watches  the  king  ride 
into  the  city. 

V.  i.  2.  Julius  Caesar's.  The  Tower,  ascribed  by  tra- 
dition to  Julius  Caesar,  was  built  by  the  Conqueror  to  hold 
the  city  in  subordination.     See  Richard  III,  III.  i.  68  ff. 

V.  i.  8.  My  fair  rose.  Hotspur  calls  Richard  "  that 
sweet  lovely  rose  ";    1   Henry  IV,  I.  iii.  175. 

V.  i.  11.  "Thou  ruined  majesty  that  resemblest  the 
desolate  waste  where  Troy  once  stood."  —  Maloxe. 

V.  i.  12.   map  of  honour.     The  mere  outline. 

V.  i.  26-28.  What  .  .  .  heart.  Compare  Daniel,  Civil 
Wars,  II.  78  ff. ;  especially :  "  Let  me  not  see  him,  but 
himselfe ;    a  King,  etc." 

V.  i.  29.     Cf.  Edward  II,  V.  i.  11-14. 

V.  i.  55  ff.  Northumberland,  thou  ladder,  etc.  Henry  IV 
recalls  this  speech,  quoting  11.  00  and  56  in  altered  form, 
in  2  Henry  IV,  III.  i.  65  ff. 

V.  i.  88.  Better  be  far  off  than  near  and  yet  be  unable 
to  meet.  The  second  near  is  the  old  short  comparative 
form  for  "nearer";  cf.  III.  ii.  64. 


136  i|5otr0 

V.  ii.  8.  steed.  Compare  the  conversation  about  "  roan 
Barbary,"  v.  78  flF. 

V.  ii.  16.  painted  imagery.  Daniel,  Civil  Wars,  II.  63: 
"  Houses  impov'rislit  were  t'inrich  the  streetes." 

V.  ii.  17-36.  There  is  no  historical  authority  for 
such  an  event;  see  parallel  in  Daniel,  Civil  Wars,  II. 
64,  65. 

V.  ii.  41.  Aumerle  that  was.  Aumerle,  with  others  of 
Richard's  party,  lost  all  titles  and  honors  conferred  upon 
him  by  King  Richard. 

V.  ii.  46.  Who  are  the  violets  now  ?  Who  are  the  fa- 
vorites of  the  new  King.' 

V.  ii.  85.    Strike  him.     Strike  the  servant. 

V.  ii.  90.  Have  we  more  sons?  Historically,  the 
Duchess  of  York  who  was  living  at  the  time  of  the  play 
was  not  Aumerle's  mother,  but  the  Duke's  second  wife; 
but  dramatically  we  must  think  of  the  Duchess  of  the  play 
as  his  mother.  York  had  another  son,  the  Earl  of  Cam- 
bridge who  figures  in  Henry  V. 

V.  ii.  97-99.  "  Hervpon  was  an  indenture  sextipartite 
made,  sealed  with  their  scales,  and  signed  with  their 
hands,  in  the  which  each  stood  bound  to  other,  to  do  their 
whole    indeuor    for  the    accomplishing   of    their  purposed 

exploit."  —  HOUNSHED. 

V.  ii.  111.  his  horse.  In  Holinshed  York  is  under 
way  before  Aumerle  starts  upon  his  own  horse. 

V.  iii.  1.  my  unthrifty  son.  Prince  Henry  was  twelve 
years  old  at  this  time.  Shakespeare  has  in  mind  the 
traditions  of  Prince  Hal's  wayward  youth  followed  in  the 
later  plays  of  the  series. 

V.  iii.  10-lSd,   Which  ...   So  dissolute  a  crew.     This 


jjioteflf  137 

passage  will  not  construe  in  strict  syntax,  Which  and  crew 
both  standing  as  objects  of  support. 

V.  iii.  13.  I  saw  the  Prince.  This  is  the  first  bringing 
together  of  Hotspur  and  Prince  Hal.  Bolingbroke's 
feelings  may  be  further  understood  from  1  Henry  IV, 
I.  i.  78-90 ;  the  tavern  view  of  the  matter,  from  the  same 
play,  II.  iv.  114-121. 

V.  iii.  44.  speak  treason  to  your  face.  By  calling  him 
foolhardy. 

V.  iii.  58.  serpent.  Allusion  to  the  fable  of  the  Coun- 
tryman and  the  Viper;   see  also  III.  ii.  131. 

V.  iii.  61-66.  Chambers  quotes  a  parallel  passage  from 
Lyly's  Euphues  (Arber  ed.,  p.  191)  :  "As  the  water  that 
springeth  from  the  fountain's  head,  etc." 

V.  iii.  80.  "  The  Beggar  and  the  Bang."  One  of  the 
many  allusions  in  Shakespeare  to  the  ballad  of  "  King 
Cophetua  and  the  Beggar  Maid  " ;  see  Love's  Labour's 
Lost,  I.  ii.  115  ff. ;  Romeo  and  Juliet,  II.  i.  14;  2  Henry  IV, 
V.  iii.  106. 

V.  iii.  81.  My  dangerous  cousin.  An  example  of 
Bolingbroke's  sarcastic  humor  used  so  freely  above  in  his 
interviews  with  Richard. 

V.  iii.  88.  He  who  does  not  love  his  own  kin  can  love 
no  one  else,  not  even  the  King. 

V.  iii.  137.  our  trusty  brother-in-law.  John,  Earl  of 
Huntingdon,  who  had  married  Bolingbroke's  sister  Eliza- 
beth. 

V.  iii.  145.  prove  you  true.  Aumerle,  as  Duke  of 
York,  died  leading  the  van  at  Agincourt. 

V.  iv.  7.  Cf.  Daniel's  Civil  Wars,  III.  57 :  "  And 
wisht  that  some  would  so  his  life  esteeme,  As  ridde  him 


138  ijiotftf 

of  these  Jeares  wherein  he  stood :  And  there-with  eyes  a 
Knight,  that  then  was  by ;  Who  soone  could  learne  his 
lesson  by  his  eye." 

V.  V.  1  ff.  Daniel  (III.  64-69)  presents  Richard  solilo- 
quizing, "  Conferring  captiue-Crownes  with  freedome 
poore,"  somewhat  in  the  spirit  of  this  passage. 

V.  V.  5.  I'll  hammer  it  out.  Richard  has  an  artist's 
determination  to  express  his  idea. 

V.  V.  15,  16.     See  -S.  Matt.,  xi.  28;   xix.  14. 

V.  V.  32.  sometimes  I  am  a  king.  Compare  Edward's 
speech  to  Leicester,  Edward  II,  V.  i.  5-37. 

V.  V.  49.  I  wasted  time.  Compare  Edward's  "  bid 
him  rule  better  than  I,"  Edward  II,  V.  i.  121-122. 

V.  V.  50  S.  numbering  clock.  Henley  explains  thus : 
"...  his  sighs  correspond  to  the  jarring  of  the  pendulum, 
which,  at  the  same  time  that  it  watches  or  numbers  the 
seconds,  marks  also  their  progress  in  minutes  on  the  dial 
or  outward  watch,  to  which  the  king  compares  his  eyes; 
and  their  want  of  figures  is  supplied  by  a  succession  of 
tears,  or,  to  use  the  expression  of  Milton,  minute-drops; 
his  finger,  by  as  regularly  wiping  these  tears  away,  per- 
forms the  office  of  the  dial  point ;  his  clamorous  groans 
are  the  sounds  that  tell  the  hour." 

V.  V.  62.  holp  madmen  to  their  wits.  Probable  allu- 
sion to  the  story  of  the  cure  of  Saul  by  David. 

V.  V.  67.  The  editor  of  the  First  Folio  Shakespeare 
suggests  that  Jenico,  the  Gascon,  in  Daniel,  Civil  Wars, 
II.  27,  may  be  the  original  of  the  Groom. 

V.  V.  68.  ten  groats  too  dear.  There  is  a  pun  on 
"  royal  "  and  "  noble  "  in  the  preceding  lines.  Though 
a  royal  (10a.)  is  worth  10  groats  (10  times  4id.)  more  than  a 


iRotrd  139 

noble  (6».  8d.)  is,  a  noble  itself  is  10  groats  too  high  a 
price  for  either  of  them. 

V.  V.  78.  roan  Barbary.  Boswell  Stone  suggests  that 
the  story  of  "  roan  Barbary  "  may  come  from  an  account, 
repeated  in  Froissart,  of  a  greyhound,  Mathe,  which  for- 
sook his  old  master,  Richard,  and  followed  Bolingbroke. 

V.  V.  115.  O  woxild  the  deed  were  good  I  "  It  is  said, 
that  sir  Piers  of  Exton,  after  he  had  thus  slaine  him,  wept 
right  bitterlie,  as  one  stricken  with  the  pricke  of  a  giltie 
conscience,  for  murthering  him,  whome  he  had  so  long  time 
obeied  as  king."  —  Holinshed. 

V.  vi.  8.  Oxford.  No  such  name  occurs  in  Holinshed ; 
the  Ff  read  Spencer.  Shakespeare  antedates  the  death 
of  Richard,  since  the  conspiracy  was  put  down  before  his 
death. 

V.  vi.  34.  Exton,  I  thank  thee  not.  There  is  no  men- 
tion of  Henry's  repudiation  of  Exton  in  any  of  the  chron- 
icles. Daniel,  Civil  Wars,  III.  No.  79,  has  a  sort  of  parallel, 
but  it  does  not  appear  in  the  first  edition. 

V.  vi.  -13.  Henry  never  fulfilled  his  vow,  though  he 
had  it  always  in  mind;  see  1  Henry  IV,  I.  i.  19  fiF. ; 
S   Henry  IV,  III.  i.  108;    IV.  iv.  3;    v.  210  ff.,  233  ff. 

V.  vi.  49-50.    Cain.     See  Genesis,  iv.  12,  14. 

V.  vi.  52.  Richard  died,  probably,  in  January,  1400 ; 
he  was  buried  at  Pomfret;  his  body  was  then  carried  to 
London,  displayed  in  Cheapside  and  St.  Paul's,  on  March 
12,  1400,  and  buried  in  an  obscure  grave  at  Langley. 
Through  the  piety  of  Henry  V,  his  body  was  placed  in  the 
tomb  in  Westminster  Abbey  which  Richard  himself  had 
built  for  his  first  queen,  Anne  of  Bohemia. 


Ccjctual  Watimt^ 

The  text  in  the  present  edition  is  based  upon  the  first  Quarto, 
except  for  IV.  i.  154-318,  which  is  based  on  the  first  Folio;  and 
the  following  list  records  the  more  important  variations  from 
those  versions. 

I.     i.     70.  the  King]  Qi ;  a  King  Q2  Ff . 

77.  spoke,  or  thou  canst  worse  devise]  Qi;    spoken, 
or  thou  canst  de\ase  Ff. 
118.  bymy]Ff;  by  Q,. 
157.  month]  Qi ;   time  Ff . 

162-163.  When,  Harry,  when  !  Obedience  bids]  Pope; 
When,    Harry  ?     when    obedience     bids. 
Obedience  bids  Qi. 
187.  God  .  .  .  deep]  Qi ;      Heaven  .  .  .  foule     Ff. 
(Throughout  Ff  read  Heaven /or  God  in  Qi.) 
ii.     47.  sit]  Ff;   set  Qi. 
iii.     20.  and  my]  Qi ;  and  his  Ff. 
76.  furbish]  Qi ;   furnish  Ff. 
128.  ci\-il]  Some  copies  of  Qi  read  cruell. 
129-133.  FfomU. 
140.  life]  Qi ;   death  Ff. 
172.  then]  Ff;  Qi  omits. 
185,  186,  188.  never]  Q, ;  ever  Ff. 
193.  far]  F4;  fare  Qq  Fj. 
227.  sullen]  Q, ;  sudden  Ff. 
23^242,  268-293.  Ff  omit. 
140 


tETejtual  ©ariantg  141 

iv.     20.  cousin,  cousin]  Ff ;  coosens  coosin  Qi. 
23.  [Bagot  .  .  .  Greene]  Q5 ;  Qi  omits. 

53.  [Bushy,  what  news .']  Ff ;  tcith  news  (as  part  of 
s.  d.)  Qx. 

54.  grievous]  Qi ;   very  Ff . 
II.     i.     18.  of  whose  .  .  .  found]   Qr,    of  his  state:    then 

there  are  found  Ff ;    of  whose  .  .  .  fond  Col- 
lier conj. 
!^  102.  incaged]  Ff ;  inraged  Qi. 

113.  thou  now,  not]  Theobald;    thou  now  not,  not 
Qi ;   thou  and  not  Ff . 
I  254.  noble]  Qj ;  Ff.  omit. 

I  280.  Substantially  from  Holinshed ;   Qq  Ff  omit. 

\  ii.     77.  Ff  omit. 

5  138.  The  .  .  .  will]  Pope;   Will  the  hateful  commons 

\  Qq  Ff. 

iii.     80.  self-borne]  Qq  Fi_2 ;  self-bom  F3. 
III.    ii.     29-32.  Ftomit. 

30.  if]  Pope;  Qq  omit. 
35.  power]  Qi ;  friends  Ff. 
49.  Ff  omit. 

84.  coward]  Qi ;  sluggard  Ff. 
102.  and]  Qi ;   Losse,  Ff . 

134.  ofifence]  Ff ;   Q  omits,  ending  133  mth  hell, 
178.  sit  .  .  .  woes]  Qi ;  wail  their  present  woes  Ff. 
182.  Ff  omit. 

203.  party]  Qi ;   faction  Ff. 
iii.     13.  with  you]  Ff ;   Qi  omits. 

119.  a  prince,  is  just]  Ff ;  princess  just  Qi. 
171.  laugh]  Qi;  mock  Ff . 
iv.     11.  joy]Rowe;   grief  Qq  Ff. 


143 


tEeptual  ©arianttf 


22.  sing]  Qq  Ff ;  weep  Pope. 
57.  We]  Capell ;   Qq  Ff  omii. 
IV.     i.     52-59.  Ff  omit. 

154-318,  Qr2  omit. 

210.  duteous  oaths]  Ff ;  duties  rites  Q3. 
215.  are  made]  Ff ;   that  swear  Q3. 
220.  Henry]  Ff ;  Harry  Q3. 
251.  a  sovereignty]  Fi ;   and  sovereignty  Q3. 
V.     i.     25.  thrown]  Qi ;  stricken  Ff . 
C2.  And]  Rowe ;  Qq  Ff  omit. 
84.  North.]  Fi;  King  Qi. 
ii.     52.  Do  these  .  .  .  hold]  Qi ;  Hold  those  .  .  .  Ff. 
ill.     99.  Ftomit. 

IOC.  shall]  Ff;  still  Qi. 

135.  Boling  ....  heart]    Qq  Ff;  Boling.     With  all 
my   heart   I   pardon   him,  making   lines   run. 
But  .  .  .  heart,  I  ...  art  Pope. 
V.     31.  person]  Qr.  prison  Q2  Ff. 

46.  check]  Qi ;  hear  Ff . 
vi.    43.  the]  Q2  Ff ;  Qi  omits. 


nnnm 

cnnn 
ncnn 


^^ 


accomplish'd,  equipped ;   II.  i.  177. 

accuse,  "  a.  my  zeal,"  accuse  me  of  wanting  zeal;   I.  i.  47. 

affects,  affections ;    I.  iv.  30. 

against,  just  before;    III.  iv.  28. 

allow,  acknowledge;   Y.  ii.  40. 

amaze,  confuse,  bewilder;   I.  iii.  81;   V.  ii.  85. 

an  if,  if;   IV.  i.  49,  264. 

antic,  grotesque  figure;   III.  ii.  162. 

apparent,  evident ;   I.  i.  13;   IV.  i.  124. 

appeach,  impeach;   V.  ii.  79. 

appeal,  sb.,  formal   challenge  or  impeachment  which  the 

accuser  was  obliged  to  maintain  in  combat;    I.  i.  4; 

IV.  i.  79:  vb.,  impeach,  challenge;   I.  i.  9  ;   I.  iii.  21. 
appellant,  accuser,  impeacher;    I.  i.  34;    I.  iii.  4. 
appellants,  "  lords  a.,"  lords  who  appear  as  formal  accusers; 

IV.  i.  104. 
apprehension,  idea,  product  of  mere  imagination;    I.  iii. 

300. 
apricocks,  apricots;   III.  iv.  29. 
argument,  theme,  subject;   I.  i.  12. 
as,  as  far  as;   I.  iii.  55. 
ask,  require;   II.  i.  159. 
atone,  bring  together,  reconcile;   I.  i.  202. 
attach,  arrest  ;    II.  iii.  156. 
attainder,  dishonoring  accusation ;   IV.  i.  24. 
attorneys  general,  deputies,  legal  substitutes;  II.  i.  203. 
awful,  full  of  awe  or  reverence ;   III.  iii.  76. 
ay,  yes;   written  "  I  "  and  used  with  a  play  on  that  word; 

IV.  i.  201. 

M3 


144  ^lo0fi(ar^ 

baffl'd,  disgraced  as  if  a  recreant  knight;  a  part  of  the 
punishment  of  coward  knights  was  hanging  by  the  heels, 
which  is  the  original  meaning  of  the  word;   I.  i.  170. 

balm,  consecrated  oil  used  in  anointing  a  king;   III.  ii.  55. 

band,  bond ;  the  same  word  as  bond,  and  formerly  used 
in  both  senses;   I.  i.  2;    V.  ii.  65. 

barbed,  armed;    III.  iii.  117. 

Barkloughly,  probably  Harlech,  a  castle  in  Wales  between 
Caernarvon  and  Aberystwyth;    III.  ii.  1. 

base  court,  outer  or  lower  court  of  a  castle ;  III.  iii.  176, 
180. 

bay,  "  to  the  b.,"  to  the  extremity  when  the  hunted  crea- 
ture turns  on  its  pursuers;    II.  iii.  128. 

beadsmen,  almsmen  whose  duty  it  was  to  pray  for  the  king ; 
III.  ii.  116. 

beggar-fear,  a  beggar's  fear;   I.  i.  189. 

beholding,  obliged,  indebted;    IV.  i.  160. 

benevolences,  ironically,  for  special  taxes  and  forced 
loans;    II.  i.  250. 

beshrew  thee,  a  mild  curse;   III.  ii.  204. 

bespake,  spoke  to ;   V.  ii.  20. 

betid,  past ;   V.  i.  42. 

bias,  term  in  bowling,  "  applied  alike  to  the  construction 
or  form  of  the  bowl  imparting  an  oblique  motion,  the 
oblique  line  in  which  it  runs,  and  the  kind  of  impetus 
given  to  cause  it  to  run  obliquely  "  {N.  E.  D.) ;  III.  iv.  5. 

bills,  weapons  used  by  infantry,  a  long-handled  ax  with 
hook-shaped  blade  and  spearhead;   III.  ii.  118. 

blank  charters,  carte  blanche  forms  for  forced  loans  which 
were  sealed  with  the  royal  seal  but  not  filled  in;  I.  iv. 
48;    II.  i.  250. 

bold,  boldly;    I.  iii.  3. 

boot,  help,  avail;   I.  i.  164;   I.  iii.  174;   III.  iv.  18. 

breath,  breathing  space,  moment;   III.  ii.  164. 


^lotfflfar^  145 

broking  pawn,  the  security  held  by  a  broker,  used  scorn- 
fully;  II.  i.  293. 
brooch,  ornament  (worn  in  a  man's  hat) ;    V.  v.  66. 
brooks,  likes,  enjoys;   III.  ii.  2. 
buzz'd,  whispered,  used  contemptuously ;    II.  i.  26. 

caitiff,  wretched,  cowardly;    I.  ii.  53. 

career,  the  charge  of  the  horse  in  the  tourney  or  combat; 

I.  ii.  49. 

careful,  anxious;   II.  ii.  75. 

casque,  helmet;    I.  iii.  81. 

challenge,  claim;   II.  iii.  134. 

check, reprove ;    V.  v.  46. 

cheerly,  cheerily;   I.  iii.  66. 

chopping,   jerky,    shifting   suddenly;     possibly,    changing 

(the  sense  of  words) ;   V.  iii.  124. 
civil,  used  in  civil  strife;   III.  iii.  102. 
clap,  hastily  thrust;   III.  ii.  114. 
clean,  completely ;   III.  i.  10. 
cloister,  shut  up  in  a  cloister;   V.  i.  23. 
close,  harmonious  chords  at  the  end  of  a  piece  of  music; 

II.  i.  12. 

coat,  "  my  household  c,"  coat  of  arms,  frequently  em- 
blazoned on  stained  or  painted  windows ;    III.  i.  24. 
comfortable,  afiFording  comfort;   II.  ii.  76. 
commend,  give  over;   III.  iii.  116. 
commends,  greetings;   III.  i.  38. 
compare  between,  draw  comparisons;   II.  i.  185. 
compassionate,  pathetic,  full  of  self-pity;   I.  iii.  174. 
complices,  accomplices;   II.  iii.  165;   III.  i.  43. 
complot,  plot;  see  note,  I.  iii.  189. 
composition,  constitution;    II.  i.  73. 
conceit,  conception,  fancy ;   II.  ii.  34. 
conclude,  agree;    I.  i.  156. 

L 


146  (Stloaanv^ 

condition,  character,  quality;    II.  iii.  107. 

confound,  destroy,  undo;   III.  iv.  GO. 

conjuration,  adjuration,  solemn  appeal;   III.  ii.  23. 

consequently,  successive  in  time  (not  inferential) ;  I,  i.  102. 

consorted,  confederate;    V.  iii.  138;    V.  vi.  15. 

converts,  changes  to,  turns  to ;    V.  i.  66 ;    V.  iii.  64. 

convey,  escort;  IV.  i.  316:  steal  (employed  euphemisti- 
cally with  a  play  upon  the  normal  sense  of  the  word) ; 
IV.  i.  317. 

conveyers,  thieves;   IV.  i.  317. 

cormorant,  glutton;   II.  i.  38. 

corruption,  putrid  matter,  pus  (fig.) ;   V.  i.  59. 

Cotswold,  hilly  district  in  Gloucestershire;  II.  iii.  9. 

cousin,  any  relative  not  belonging  to  one's  immediate 
family;    I.  ii.  46;    II.  iii.  141. 

cozening,  cheating;   II.  ii.  69. 

crossly,  adversely;    II.  iv.  24. 

current,  as  good  as  current  coin;   I.  iii.  231. 

daring-hardy,  daringly  bold ;   I.  iii.  43. 

dead,  deathlike;   IV.  i.  10. 

dear,   coming   home   to   one   intimately,   for   good   or  ill; 

I.  i.  130,  et  passim. 
deceivable,  deceptive;   II.  iii.  84. 
defend,  forbid;   I.  iii.  18. 
deni'd,  refused;    V.  iii.  103. 
depose,  put  under  oath;    I.  iii.  30. 
design,  point  out;   I.  i.  203. 
despised,  despicable;    II.  iii.  95. 
determinate,  set  an  end  to;   I.  iii.  150. 
digressing,  transgressing;    V.  iii.  66. 
discomfort,  discouragement;   III.  ii.  65. 
dispark'd,  destroyed  the  enclosures  and  thrown  the  park 

open;    III.  i.  23. 


^lofiisfar^  147 

dissolve,  loose,  break ;  II.  ii.  71. 

distinguish  form,  see  note,  II.  ii.  20. 

distrain'd,  seized  by  legal  process;   II.  iii.  131. 

divine,  foretell  prophetically;   III.  iv.  79. 

double,  forked ;   III.  ii.  21. 

double-fatal,   doubly    fatal    (since   the   wood   of  the   yew 

was   used    for    bows    and    the   berry  as   poison) ;   III. 

ii.  117. 
doubt,  apprehension,  fear ;   II.  i.  299 ;   III.  iv.  69. 
dust,  a  particle  of  dust;   II.  iii.  91. 

eager,  sharp,  biting;    I.  i.  49. 

ear,  plow;   III.  ii.  212. 

effeminate,  licentious  ( ?) ;   V.  iii.  10. 

embassage,  message;   III.  iv.  93. 

enfranchisement,  restoration  to  the  rights  of  a  freeman; 

III.  iii.  114. 
engage,  take  up  (a  pledge) ;   IV.  i.  56,  71. 
ensue,  follow  upon ;   II.  i.  197. 
entreated,  treated ;   III.  i.  37. 
envy,  malice,  spite ;    II.  i.  49. 
exactly,  explicitly,  formally ;   I.  i.  140. 
exclaims,  exclamations;   I.  ii.  2. 
expedience,  expedition,  swiftness ;   II.  i.  287. 
expedient,  expeditious,  swift;   I.  iv.  39. 

faU,  let  fall ;   III.  iv.  104. 

fantastic,  imaginary ;   I.  iii.  299. 

farm,  exchange  the  national  revenues  for  a  present  cash 

payment;    I.  iv.  45. 
favour,  countenance;   IV.  i.  168. 
fearful,  full  of  fear;   III.  ii.  110;   III.  iii.  73. 
fell,  fierce,  cruel ;   I.  ii.  46  ;   I.  iii.  302. 
female,  weak  and  delicate  like  a  woman;   III.  ii.  114. 


148  (Slosisar^ 

foil,  metal  surface  used  in  setting  gems  to  show  off  their 

luster;    I.  iii.  !266. 
fond,  foolish;    V.  ii.  95. 
for,  as;    II.  iii.  114. 
for  that,  because;    II.  i.  125. 
forfend,  forbid ;    IV.  i.  129. 
found,  see  note,  II.  i.  18. 
free,  noble,  honorable;   II.  iii.  136. 
frequent,  be  there  as  a  matter  of  habit ;   V.  iii.  6. 
fretted,  eaten  away,  worn;    III.  iii.  167. 
friends,  relatives;    I.  iv.  22. 
furbish,  rub  to  brightness;   I.  iii.  76. 

gage,  pledge,  a  glove  or  gauntlet  as  a  sign  of  the  pledge ; 

I.  i.  69 ;   IV.  i.  25 ;   IV.  i.  34  :   "  under  g.,"  under  pledge ; 

IV.  i.  86. 
gall'd,  annoyed ;   lit.,  made  sore  by  rubbing ;   V.  v.  94. 
gUt,  gold;   II.  i.  294. 
glasses,  mirrors;   I.  iii.  208. 
glist'ring,  glittering,  glistening;   III.  iii.  178, 
glose,  flatter,  deceive  in  speech;   II.  i.  10. 
gnarling,  snarling,  growling;   I.  iii.  292. 
greeting,  hostile  greeting;    I.  i.  36. 
griefs,  tales  of  sorrow ;   V.  i.  43. 
groat,  see  note,  V.  v.  68. 
grow,  produce  fruit;   III.  ii.  212. 

Hallowmas,  .\11  Saints'  Day  (Nov.  1) ;  regarded  as  the 
beginning  of  winter,  ten  days  later  in  the  old  calendar 
than  it  is  now ;   V.  i.  80. 

hap,  fortune;   I.  i.  23. 

happily,  haply ;  possibly,  combining  also  the  modern  sense 
of  the  word;    V.  iii.  22. 

happy,  fortunate,  well  endowed;   III.  i.  9. 


<Sloflffifar^  149 

hard-favoxir'd,  ugly ;  V.  i.  14. 

hardly,  with  difficulty ;   II.  iv.  2. 

hateful,  full  of  hate;   II.  ii.  138. 

haught,  haughty,  proud;   IV.  i.  254. 

haviour,  behavior,  deportment;    I.  iii.  77. 

head,  "  taking  so  the  h.,"  omitting  the  title,  or  taking 
such  liberties;    III.  iii.  14. 

head  and  spring,  synonymous  words  meaning  origin; 
I.  i.  97. 

height,  high  position;   I.  i.  189. 

held,  to  be  held;   V.  iii.  14. 

high-stomach'd,  haughty,  having  an  appetite  for  combat ; 
I.  i.  18. 

his,  its;   II.  i.  119;   IV.  i.  267,  etc. 

hold,  sb.,  custody ;  III.  iv.  83 :  vb.,  are  to  be  held,  are 
really  meant;   V.  ii.  52. 

holp,  helped  ;   V.  v.  62. 

humour'd,  having  satisfied  his  humor  or  whim  (referring 
to  death) ;  sometimes  defined  as  "  humored  "  or  '*  in- 
dulged "  (referring  to  the  king) ;  III.  ii.  168. 

hiunours,  moods  or  eccentricities  natural  to  people's 
temperaments;   V.  v.  10. 

idly,  indifferently;   V.  ii.  25. 

ill-erected,  erected  for  evil  ends,  or  with  evil  auspices ; 

V.  i.  2. 
ill  left,  left  with  inadequate  means;   II.  iii.  154. 
imp,  piece  out;    lit.,  to  attach  new  feathers  to  a  disabled 

wing  in  hawking;    II.  i.  292. 
impeach'd,  disgraced  with  a  deserved  reproach;    I.  i.  170. 
impress,  device,  emblematic  design;    III.  i.  25. 
incontinent,  immediately;    V.  vi.  48. 
indifferent,  impartial;    II.  iii.  116. 
infection,  pollution;   possibly,  plague;   II.  i.  44. 


ISO  (Slofitfar^ 

inform,  charge  against  technically;    II.  i.  242. 
inhabitable,  uninhabitable;    I.  i.  65. 

inherit,  put  in  possession  of;   I.  i.  85:   possess;   II.  i.  83. 
inn,    mansion,   abode    (with   some   sense,  however,  of   its 

commoner  meaning) ;    V.  i.  13. 
insinuate,  wheedle,  ingratiate  one's  self;   IV.  i.  165. 
interchangeably,  in  return,  mutually;    I.  i.  146;    V.  ii.  98. 

Jack  o'  the  clock,  a  figure  which  struck  the  bell  on  a  clock ; 

V.  V.  60. 
jade,  worthless  horse;   III.  iii.  179;   V.  v.  85. 
jar,  tick;    V.  v.  51. 

jest,  take  part  in  a  play  or  pastime ;    I.  iii.  95. 
jauncing,    making    prance    up   and   down    (of   a   horse) ; 

V.  V.  94. 
Jewry,  Judea ;   II.  i.  55. 
journeyman,  laborer  hired  by  the  day ;   at  the  end  of  such 

service  would   come   the   liberty  to  work  for  himself;    I. 

iii.  274. 
jousts,  tilts;    V.  ii.  52. 
joy,  enjoy;   II.  iii.  15;   V.  vi.  26. 

kerns,   Irish  foot  soldiers,   more  lightly  armed   than  the 

gallowglasses ;    II.  i.  156. 
kin,  relationship  (of  family) ;   IV.  i.  141. 
kind,  manner;   II.  iii.  143,  146:   relationship  (of  race  and 

nation) ;   IV.  i.  141. 
knave,  familiar  term  in  addressing  servants  (without  evil 

meaning) ;    II.  ii.  96. 
knots,  laid-out  garden  plots ;    III.  iv.  46. 

large,  "  at  1.,"  in  detail,  in  full;    III.  i.  41;    V.  vi.  10. 
lean  look'd,  lean  looking;   II.  iv,  11. 
leave,  leave  off ;    V.  ii.  4. 


<Sloflf0ar^  151 

lecture,  reading  out;    IV.  i.  232. 

leg,  "  make  a  1.,"  assent  by  making  an  obeisance  or  cour- 
tesy;   III.  iii.  175. 

lendings,  money  held  in  trust  to  be  disbursed ;    I.  i.  89. 

letters  patents,  letters  patent,  official  permission;  II.  i. 
202. 

lewd,  vile,  base;    I.  i.  90. 

liberal,  free,  unrestrained;   II.  i.  229. 

lies,  "full  as  many  1.,"  giving  the  lie  as  many  times; 
IV.  i.  53. 

lingers,  causes  to  linger ;    II.  ii.  72. 

listen'd,  listened  to;    II.  i.  9. 

livery,  see  note,  II.  iii.  129. 

lodge,  beat  down ;   III.  iii.  162. 

long-parted,  "  l.-p.  mother  with,"  mother  long  parted 
from;   III.  ii.  8. 

look,  look  for,  search  out ;   I.  iii.  286. 

look'd,  looked  for,  expected ;   I.  iii.  243. 

mads,  maddens;   V.  v.  61. 

make-peace,  peacemaker ;   I.  i.  160. 

manage,  sb.,  measures  of  control;    I.  iv.  39;    III.  iii.  179 

(of  horses)  :   vb.,  wield,  handle  (a  weapon) ;   III.  ii.  118. 
manner,  "  in  m.,"  in  a  manner;   III.  i.  11. 
manors,  estates;   IV.  i.  212. 

manual,  "  m.  seal  of  death,"  death  warrant;   IV.  i.  25. 
map,  mere  outline  or  skeleton ;   V.  i.  12. 
Marry,  an  oath,  originally  "  by  Mary  ";  I.  iv.  16. 
measure,  stately  dance;    I.  iii.  291. 
mockery,  counterfeit ;   IV.  i.  260. 
model,  image,  likeness,  representation ;   I.  ii.  28 ;   III.  iv. 

42;  V.  i.  11 ;  III.  ii.  153 ;  see  notes, 
moe,  more;    II.  i.  239. 
motive,  instrument;   I.  i.  193. 


153  (J5lo0flfar^ 

native,  entitled  by  birth,  rightful ;   II.  iii.  80;   III.  ii.  25. 

near,  nearer;   III.  ii.  64;    V.  i.  88. 

neuter,  neutral;    II.  iii.  159. 

new  world's,  heaven's ;   V.  i.  24. 

nicely,  delicately,  fantastically;    II.  i.  84. 

noble,  gold  coin  worth  20  groats  or  65.  8d. ;   I.  i.  88. 

noblesse,  noble  birth,  nobleness;    IV.  i.  119. 

noisome,  noxious,  injurious;    III.  iv.  38. 

none,  not  one  of  them ;   V.  ii.  99. 

note,  stigma;   I.  i.  43. 

object  against,  charge  criminally  against ;   I.  i.  28-29. 

obscene,  odious,  repulsive;  IV.  i.  131. 

on,  on  the  ground  of;   I.  i.  9. 

order,  marshal,  convey  troops ;   V.  iii.  140. 

order  ta'en,  arrangements  made;    V.  i.  53. 

orderly,  in  due  order;   I.  iii.  9. 

other's,  the  other's,  of  the  next;    I.  i.  22. 

out-dared,  dared  down,  cowed;    I.  i.  190. 

overweening,  overbearing,  presumptuous;    I.  i.  147. 

owes,  owns;    IV.  i.  185. 

oyster-wench,  woman  who  sells  oysters;   I.  iv.  31. 

pale,  enclosure;   III.  iv.  40. 

pardonne   moi,   excuse    me    (affectedly  polite  refusal) ;    V. 

iii.  119. 
parle,  overtures  of  peace,  parley;  I.  i.    192;  III.  iii.  s. d. 

after  1.  61. 
part,  part  from;    III.  i.  3. 
party,  part,  side;   III.  iii.  115. 

party-verdict,  assent  as  participating  in  verdict;  I.  iii.  234. 
passages,  wanderings;    I.  iii.  272. 
passengers,  passers-by,  wayfarers;    V.  iii.  9. 
pawn,  pledge;   I.  i.  74;    see  gage,  I.  i.  69. 


aiofiffifar^  153 

peace,  keep  silent;   V.  ii.  80,  81. 

pelican,   alluding  to   the   belief   in   medieval   animal   my- 
thology.that  the  pelican  fed  its  young  on  its  own  blood ; 

II.  i.  126. 

pelting,  paltry ;   II.  i.  60. 

perspectives,  pictures  or  figures  made  to  appear  distorted 

or  confused  except  when  seen  from  a  special  point  of 

view;  II.  ii.  18. 
Phaethon,  son  of  Apollo,  who,  unable  to  control  the  horses 

of  the  sun,  was  hurled  from  the  chariot;   III.  iii.  178. 
pill'd,  plundered,  despoiled ;   II.  i.  246. 
pines,  afflicts,  distresses ;   V.  i.  77. 
pitch,   height,   a   term   in   falconry   denoting   the   summit 

from  which  the  falcon  stoops  upon  its  prey ;   I.  i.  109. 
pitiful,  compassionate  ;    V.  ii.  103. 
plaining,  complaining;    I.  iii.  175. 
plated,  clothed  in  armor;   I.  iii.  28. 
plume-pluck'd,  humbled;    IV.  i.  108. 
Pomfret,  Pontefract  in  Yorkshire,  twenty-two  miles   from 

York ;   the  castle  is  in  ruins ;   V.  i.  52. 
pompous,  to  be  treated  with  ceremony ;    IV.  i.  250. 
possess'd,  seized  with  madness;    II.  i.  108. 
presence,  presence  chamber;    I.  iii.  249,  289. 
presently,   at  once,   immediately ;    I.   iv.   52 ;    II.  ii.   92 ; 

III.  ii.  179. 

press'd,  impressed,  forced  into  the  ranks ;  III.  ii.  58 : 
"p.  to  death,"  allusion  to  the  peine  forte  et  dure,  inflicted 
by  pressure  of  heavy  weights  upon  the  chests  of  indicted 
persons  who  refused  to  plead ;    III.  iv.  72. 

process,  "  tediousness  and  p.,"  tedious  process;   II.  iii.  12. 

prodigy,  monstrous  birth ;    II.  ii.  64. 

profane,  be  profaned  by ;  I.  iii.  59 :  commit  sacrilege ; 
III.  iii.  81. 

profit,  prosperity ;   IV.  i.  225. 


154  <5lo00ar^ 

proof,  the  resisting  power  of  armor;    I.  ill.  73. 
property,  specific  or  proper  quality ;    III.  ii.  135. 
proportionable,  proportionate;    II.  ii.  125. 
purchase,  acquire;    I.  iii.  282. 

quit,  requite,  make  return  for  (their  tragic  stories) ;  V.  i.  43. 

rag'd,  enraged;   II.  i.  70,  173. 

ragged,  rugged ;   V.  v.  21. 

rankle,  especially,  the  irritation  caused  by  poison;    I.  iii. 

302. 
rapier,  a  small  sword  used  in  thrusting  (not  in  use  until 

sixteenth  century) ;    IV.  i.  40. 
Ravenspurgh,  a  busy  seaport  in  Yorkshire  on  the  Humber, 

since  destroyed  by  the  sea;    II.  i.  296. 
receipt,  the  thing  received;    I.  i.  126. 
recreant,  one  untrue  to  his  knightly  honor ;    I.  i.  144 ;  I. 

iii.  106. 
refuge,  comfort;   V.  v.  26. 
regard,  estimation,  approval;    II.  i.  28. 
regenerate,  born  anew ;   I.  iii.  70. 
regreet,  greet,  salute;    I.  iii.  67:    greet  again;   I.  iii.  142, 

186. 
remember,  remind;   I.  iii.  269;   III.  iv.  14. 
repeal'd,  recalled  from  exile;    IV.  i.  85. 
reversion,  right  of  future  possession ;    I.  iv.  36. 
rheum,  tears;    I.  iv.  8. 

right  drawn,  justly  or  rightly  drawn;    I.  i.  46. 
rightly,  directly,  straight;    II.  ii.  18. 
room,  a  particular  place  assigned  to  a  person ;    V.  v.  108 ; 

V.  vi.  25. 
roimdly,  unceremoniously;   II.  i.  122. 
royalties,  privileges  belonging  to  a  member   of   the  royal 

house;  II.  i.  190. 


^loflffliar^  155 

rubs,  in  bowling,  deflections  of  a  running  bowl  from  its 

course;    III.  iv.  4. 
rue,   "  herb   of   grace,"   a   medicinal   plant   symbolical   of 

repentance,    ruth,     or    sorrow    for    another's    misery ; 

III.  iv.  105. 

rug-headed,  rough-haired;    II.  i.  156, 

St.  Lambert's  Day,  September  17;   I.  i.  199. 

scoffing,  scoffing  at;    III.  ii.  163. 

secure,  unsuspecting,  heedless;   V.  iii.  43. 

securely,  heedlessly,  carelessly;    II.  i.  266. 

security,  confidence,  heedlessness;   III.  ii.  34. 

self  and  vain   conceit,  selfish  and  vain   conceit ;   III.  ii. 

166. 
self-borne,  borne  for  self,  not  for  the  king;    II.  iii.  80. 
self-mould,  selfsame  mold ;    I.  ii.  23. 
sets,  challenges  to  a  game  (properly,  by  laying  down  stakes) ; 

IV.  i.  57. 

shadows,  images;   II.  ii.  14. 

sheer,  clear,  pure;   V.  iii.  61. 

shrewd,  evil,  destructive;   III.  ii.  59. 

sift,  discover  true  motives  by  questioning ;   I.  i.  12. 

signories,  lordships,  estates;    III.  i.  22;    IV.  i.  89. 

sirrah,  form  used  in  addressing  inferiors;    II.  ii.  90. 

sit,  press;    II.  i.  265. 

six  and  seven,  "  at  s.  and  s.,"  in  confusion ;   II.  ii.  122. 

slander,  disgrace;   I.  i.  113. 

small,  "  by  s.  and  s.,"  little  by  little;    III.  ii.  198. 

sooth,  cajolery,  flattery ;    III.  iii.  136. 

sort,  set,  crew;   IV.  i.  246. 

sprightfuUy,  with  high  spirit;   I.  iii.  3. 

staggers,  causes  to  stagger;    V.  v.  110. 

stands  .  .  .  upon,  is  incumbent  upon;    II.  iii.  138. 

stars,  one's  sphere  or  fortune;   IV.  i.  21. 


156  <5loBffifar^ 

state,  settled  order;    IV.  i.  225:    station,  kingship;    IV.  i. 

179,  252:   "  s.  of  law,"  legal  status  as  king;    II.  i.  114. 
stews,  houses  of  ill  fame;   V.  iii.  16. 
still,  constantly,  always;    I.  i.  22;    II.  i.  22. 
streaming,  causing  to  stream;   IV.  i.  94. 
strike,  furl  (of  sails) ;   II.  i.  266. 

strongly,  with  large  force  (military  sense) ;   II.  ii.  48. 
subject,  having  a  subject's  inferiority;    IV.  i.  128. 
subjected,  made  subject  to  grief,  want,  etc.;    III.  ii.  176. 
subscribe,   make   them   write   their   names  under   (causa- 

tively) ;    I.  iv.  50. 
suggest,  prompt,  incite;    I.  i.  101. 
suit,  petition  (with  play  upon  the  term  as  used  at  cards) ; 

V.  iii.  130. 
sullens,  moroseness ;    II.  i.  1S9. 
supple,  pliant,  bending;   I.  iv.  33. 
supportance,  support ;    III.  iv.  32. 
sworn  brother,  allusion  to  the  jratres  jurati  of  chivalry ; 

V.  i.  20. 
sympathize,  answer  to,  tally  with ;   V.  i.  46. 
sympathy,  correspondence  or  equality  of  rank ;    IV.  i.  33. 

tall,  large,  stout;   II.  i.  286. 

teeming  date,  period  of  child-bearing ;    V.  ii.  91. 

tender,  offer;    II.  iii.  41. 

tend'ring,  holding  dear ;    I.  i.  32. 

testament,  "  open  the  purple  t.,"  begin  to  carry  out  a 

bequest  of  blood  to  England ;    blood  was  often  said  to 

be  purple;    III.  iii.  93,  94. 
thin,  thin-haired;    III.  ii.  112. 
timeless,  untimely  ;    IV.  i.  5. 
to,  "  t.  my  flatterer,"  as  or  in  the  capacity  of  my  flatterer; 

IV.  i.  308. 
toil'd,  wearied ;    IV.  i.  96. 


^losiswc^  157 

to-morrow  next,  to-morrow,    II.  i.  217. 

tongueless,     resonant     but     without     articulate     speech; 

I.  i.  105. 
torn,  "  t.  their  souls,"  injured  their  souls  by  treason  to 

the  king;    III.  iii.  83. 
triumphs,  public   festivities   or  displays    (tourneys,  etc.) ; 

V.  ii.  52. 
troth,  faith,  allegiance;    V.  ii.  78. 

unavoided,  unavoidable;    II.  i.  268. 
imcivil,  barbarous,  violent ;   III.  iii.  102. 
undeaf,  make  capable  of  hearing;    II.  i.  16. 
underbearing,  bearing,  enduring;    I.  iv.  29. 
imfelt,  impalpable,  not  perceived;    II.  iii.  61. 
unfumish'd,  bare,  without  tapestries ;   I.  ii.  68. 
unhappied,  made  wretched,  ruined ;    III.  i.  10. 
unkiss,  annul  with  a  kiss  (regarded  as  the  seal  of  a  cere- 
monial bond) ;    V.  i.  74. 
unpossible,  impossible;   II.  ii.  126. 
unrestrained,  lawless;    V.  iii.  7. 
unstaid,  thoughtless,  rash ;   II.  i.  2. 
unthrifts,  spendthrifts,  prodigals;    II.  iii.  122. 
unthrifty,  good  for  nothing;   V.  iii.  1. 
urging,  emphasizing  as  reasons ;    III.  i.  4. 

vantage,  advantage;   I.  iii.  218;   V.  iii.  132. 

venge,  avenge;   I.  ii.  36. 

vengeance,  harm,  mischief;    "v.  and  revenge,"  possibly 

tautological ;    IV.  i.  67. 
venom,  pernicious;   II.  i.  19. 
verge,  circle,  ring;    technically,  "  the  compass  about  the 

king's  court  which  extended  for  twelve  miles  "  ;  II.  i.  102. 

wanton,  sb.,  spoilt  or  pampered  person ;    V.  iii.  10 :    adj., 
wayward,  unrestrained ;   I.  iii.  214. 


158 


(0lo00ar^ 


warder,  staff  or  truncheon  borne  by  the  king  when  pre- 
siding over  a  trial  by  combat;    I.  iii.  118. 

waste,  technically,  "  destruction  of  houses,  wood,  or  other 
produce  of  land,  done  by  the  tenant  to  the  prejudice 
of  the  freehold  "  ;    II.  i.  103. 

waxen,  penetrable,  soft;    I.  iii.  75. 

whencesoever,  from  wherever;  II.  iii.  22. 

while,  until;   I.  iii.  122. 

why,  "  more  w.,"  more  questions  to  ask;   II.  iii.  92. 

wistly,  fixedly;  probably,  with  notion  of  longing,  wist- 
fully ;    V.  iv.  7. 

wit's  regard,  "  with  w.  r.,"  against  the  consideration  due 
to  reason  ;    II.  i.  28. 

wot,  know ;    II.  i.  250. 

wrought,  "  w.  it  with";  joined  with  in  effecting  it;  IV. 
1.4. 

yeam'd,  vexed,  grieved ;   V.  v.  76. 
yon,  yonder;   III.  iii.  91,  135. 


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California  '^"''^  ^^  William  D.  Armks,  of  the  University  of 


S  rS4  FF  F^^^-^^i     EditedhyM... 


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POCKET  SERIES  OF  ENGLISH  CLASSICS  —  Continued 


Shakespeare's  As  Tou  Like  It.     Edited  by  Charles  Robert  Gaston. 

Shakespeare's  Hamlet.  Edited  by  L.  A.  Sher.man,  Professor  oi"  English 
Literature  in  the  University  of  Nebraska. 

Shakespeare's  Henry  V.  Edited  by  Ralph  Hartt  Bowles,  Phillips  Exe- 
ter Academy,  Exeter,  N.H. 

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Shakespeare's  Macbeth.    Edited  by  C.  W.  Frenxh. 

Shakespeare's  Merchant  of  Venice.  Edited  by  Charlotte  W.  Under- 
wood, Lewis  Institute,  Chicago,  111. 

Shakespeare's  Midsummer  Night's  Dream.    Edited  by  E.  C.  Noyes. 

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Shakespeare's  The  Tempest.    Edited  by  S.  C.  Newso.m. 

Shakespeare's  Twelfth  Night.    Edited  by  Edward  P.  Morton. 

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Literature,  Wellesley  College. 
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lish, University  of  Nebraska. 

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Shakespearean  Tragedy  se.on,  E,,ion 

Lectures  on  Hamlet,  Othello.  King  Lear,  and  Macbeth 

\tF^  o^'f  olcS'^'  ^^•°-'  ^'"-D-'  P-f«-  of  Poetry  in  .he  Uni- 
r..  r,W.  Lonaon: -"•  '^"  ""  *""'''"'  ''''  "'' ''  '^  -^^'  ^^-> 

greatest  things  in  Shakespeare's  greatest  nliv!  'h=  »Pprec>ation  of  the 

whether  ,n  the  whole  field  of  EnllLh  ll^rlX  \-  ■  ^""=  ""^y  *"="  doubt 
written  in  the  last  twenty  vearrmore  I  m'  ^  cntiosm  anything  has  been 
trating  to  the  very  centre'^ofits  subject."  ''  """"^  "'^''"'>''  ^°'^  I«ne" 

Shakespeare :   A  Critical  Study 

Jfte  Athenifum,  London:  — 

dat'io?"  'NrothLrs!ngTe  w^rk'on'shr.  '"'°"  ''""^  P"-  -^  commen- 
much  that  is  valuable^  DrBranSes  is  a'^P^r  'S^'"*^"  '°  '""'^h.  and  so 
There  ,s  no  side  of  his  subject  which  he  nSs''  '^"'--.^'1 '  ^I'l-round  man.' 
and  a  cruic.  interested  in  the  sma  lest  de^aH  of  Ki  "'  \^°'^  ?"  antiquary 
broad  and  comprehensive  views  of  ShakesnLrl-^f"P''J'  ="^  =''^°  '^^ing 
book  is  in  its  way  encvcloDsdir  °'  ^"^l^^speare  s  thought  and  style.     Hif 

people -few  scholars-X  woild  irfin"H",l"''  '*?  ^^"^  "'^^  '''"^  =>re  fcw 
and  the  wiser  for  its  perusal  He  has  eou^nn^T'^'^r//^^''^""  '"'""^'"ed 
study  and  research:  and  on  all  the  matelbU^h^  K™'"'^  ^"^  "^'^  '^'■'^  ^y  wide 
to  bear  a  judgment  well  balanced  anTvi^n',,  a  ^'"^•''I'^  ^^  ''^'^  brought 

pendent.  It  is  many  years  since  there  h^sK*  ^"'^  ^  """'^  '"''"=>'  ''"d  inde- 
spearean  literature  of  such  importance  ^  thi?°  t'}?'  -^""'"bution  to  Shake- 
solid  worth,  at^d  deserve  a  plac^e  .n^^^ry^sfes  Ja^^ea„Tt°ud7„S^^- .^^ 

Eighteenth  Century  Essays  on  Shakespeare 

Edited  by  D.  NICHOL  SMITH 
Fro„,  the  Editors  Preface: -         "  ^''"^'  ^^'^ 

Rowe-s'lc'uroV  s'h^'kL^::;e  ifgfven  ifitf  ''"'  P"7^  ^^  -P-.ed. 
the  firs,  „me,  it  is  believed  sin ce^^^"  '"  "'  °'-}f"^>.  and  complete  form  for 
peared  since  the  author  republished  i^"n"  iV^r  ^'"""^u^"?/  ''^'^  not  ap- 
Prefaces  here  reprinted  may  claim  to  rJn.^  V  "  J^"  ^'"'  Essays  or 
spearean  study  from  the  davs  of  n  1  P'^^'^P'  '^=  chief  phases  of  Shake- 
auction  has  l^en  plantd  t';%lw^hrmain^"  °^  ^°'r'^^'=-  The  Intrl 
Shakespeare's  repuration,  and  to  prove  thTt  he  n"."  '"  '-  '^^velopment  of 
to  begin  with  Coleridge,  takes  its  ri«  «  L  i  "«=*  =""f  l^m,  which  is  said 
eighteenth  century."  "^  ^  '""^'y  «  'he  third  quarter  of  the 


The  Development  of  Shakespeare  as  a  Dramatist 

By    GEORGE    PIERCE    BAKER,    Professor  of  English   in   Harvard 
University.  Cloth,  crown  8vc,  $2.00  net ;  by  mail,  $2./s 

The  book  endeavors  to  fill  a  gap  in  the  discussions  of  Shakespeare's  art  by 
distinguishing  his  debt  as  a  dramatic  writer  to  his  predecessors  or  contem- 
poraries, indicating  his  contribution  to  each  of  the  varied  forms,  chronicle 
play,  farce,  melodrama,  comedy  of  manners,  high  comedy,  and  tragedy. 
Professor  Baker  has  made  clear  the  interesting  progress  of  the  dramatist 
toward  the  mastery  of  his  art,  and  has  illustrated  the  work  with  views  of 
London  and  of  the  life  of  the  theatre  in  Shakespeare's  day. 

What  is  Shakespeare  ? 

An  Introduction  to  the  Great  Plays 

By  L.  A.  SHERMAN,  Professor  of  English  Literature  in  the  Univer- 
sity of  Nebraska.  Cloth,  large  ismo,  xii+  414  pp.,  $1.00  net. 

Short  Sketches  of  Shakespeare's  Plots 

By  CYRIL  RANSOME,   Professor  of  Modern  Literature  and  History 
ia  the  Yorkshire  College  of  the  Victoria  University. 

Cloth,  i2mo,  viii+  sqq pp.,  $1.00  net 

Shakespeare's  Heroines 

By  ANNA  JAMESON.     With  twenty-six  portraits  of  famous  players  in 

character  _  Cloth,  8vo,  341  pp.,  $2.00 

The  same  without  the  illustrations.     Bohn  Library.    $1.00  net 

Shakespeare  in  Tale  and  Verse 

By  LOIS  G.  HUFFORD.  Cloth,  i2>no,  ix  +  445 pp.,  $1.00  net 

The  same.     Standard  School  Library.  i-50  net 

Lamb's  Tales  from  Shakespeare 

By  CHARLES  and  MARY  LAMB.  Illustrated  by  Byam  Shaw.  $2.so 
The  same.  Eversley  Series.  $l.jo.  The  same.  Bohn  Library 
Edition.  $t.oo  net. 
Pocket  Classics  Edition.  Edited  by  Canon  Ainger.  $.2S-  English 
Classics  Edition.  $.40.  Standard  School  Library.  $.jo  net. 
Golden  Treasury  Series.     $/.00. 

Characters  of  Shakespeare's  Plays 

By  WILLIAM  HAZLITT.  Cloth,  $1.50 

Shakespeare's  Songs  and  Sonnets 

Edited  by  FRANCIS  T.  PALGRAVE.    Golden  Treasury  Series,    ti.oo 


Shakespeare  —  English  Men  of  Letten 

By  Professor  WALTER    RALEIGH 

Blue  cloth,  gilt  tops,  7/  cents  net ;  by  mail,  8j  cents 
Professor  Dowden  in  the  Nation  : — 

"  Professor  Raleigh  has  felt  over  again,  with  penetrative,  imagina- 
tive, and  fine  intelligence,  the  beauty  and  the  greatness  of  Shake- 
speare's poetry;  he  has  only  placed  these  in  their  proper  environ- 
ment, and  by  virtue  of  a  rare  charm  of  style  enabled  us  to  see  with 
his  eyes  a  most  harmonious  vision.  ...  A  wise  and  beautiful 
book." 

A  Life  of  William  Shakespeare        New  Edition  Revised 

By  SIDNEY  LEE,  Editor  of  the  "  Dictionary  of  National  Bi- 
ography " 

Clotk,  i2mo,  445  pages  and  a  full  index,  $2.25  net 

The  Standard,  Chicago  :  — 

" '  Monumentally  excellent '  was  the  expression  used  by  Mr. 
Henry  A.  Clapp  in  speaking  of  Mr.  Lee's  recent  publication.  Com- 
ing from  such  a  source,  this  is  high  praise  indeed,  but  the  reader 
cannot  fail  to  find  it  justified." 

William  Shakespeare  :  Poet,  Dramatist,  and  Man 

By  HAMILTON    W.    MABIE  Illustrated,  $2.00  net 

Also  an  edition  without  illustrations,  uniform  with  the 
Eversley  Shakespeare,  $1.00  net 

This  work  is  far  more  than  a  mere  life  of  the  poet.  Indeed,  it  is 
conceived  on  lines  so  broad  and  executed  in  a  spirit  so  generous 
that  it  is  rather  an  interpretation  than  a  record.  It  is  written  through- 
out from  the  literary  standpoint  and  stands  almost  alone  in  the  fidel- 
ity, the  sanity,  and  the  candor  of  its  appreciations. 

A  History  of  English  Dramatic  Literature  to  the 
Death  of  Queen  Anne 

By  A.  W.  WARD  Cloth,  $g.oo  net 

A  SUMMARY  OF  CONTENTS 

Volume  I  —  The  Origins  of  the  English  Drama.  The  Beginnings  of  the 
Regular  Drama.     Shakespeare's  Predecessors.     Shakespeare. 

Volume  II  —  Shakespeare  (continued).  Ben  Johnson.  The  Later  Eliza- 
bethans.    Beaumont  and  Fletcher. 

Volume  III  — The  End  of  the  Old  Drama.    The  later  Stuart  Drama. 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

Publishers  64-66  Fifth  Avenue  Ne-w  York 


PR     Shakespeare,  William 

2820      The  tragedy  of  Richard  the 

A2C7   Second 


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