The Complete Works of William Shakespeare Part 424

KING RICHARD. 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 BOLINGBROKE. On Wednesday next we solemnly set down Our coronation. Lords, prepare yourselves.

Exeunt all but the ABBOT OF WESTMINSTER, the BISHOP OF CARLISLE, and AUMERLE ABBOT. A woeful pageant have we here beheld.

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

AUMERLE. You holy clergymen, is there no plot To rid the realm of this pernicious blot?

ABBOT. My lord, Before I freely speak my mind herein, You shall not only take the sacrament To bury mine intents, but also to effect Whatever I shall happen to devise.

I see your brows are full of discontent, Your hearts of sorrow, and your eyes of tears.

Come home with me to supper; I will lay A plot shall show us all a merry day. Exeunt

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ACT V. SCENE 1.

London. A street leading to the Tower

Enter the QUEEN, with her attendants

QUEEN. This way the King will come; this is the way To Julius Caesar's ill-erected tower, To whose flint bosom my condemned lord Is doom'd a prisoner by proud Bolingbroke.

Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth Have any resting for her true King's queen.

Enter KING 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.

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, Why should hard-favour'd grief be lodg'd in thee, When triumph is become an alehouse guest?

KING RICHARD. Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so, To make my end too sudden. Learn, good soul, To think our former state a happy dream; From which awak'd, the truth of what we are Shows us but this: I am sworn brother, sweet, To grim Necessity; and he and 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. What, is my Richard both in shape and mind Transform'd and weak'ned? Hath Bolingbroke depos'd Thine intellect? Hath he been in thy heart?

The lion dying thrusteth forth his paw And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage To be o'erpow'r'd; and wilt thou, pupil-like, Take the correction mildly, kiss the rod, And fawn on rage with base humility, Which art a lion and the king of beasts?

KING RICHARD. A king of beasts, indeed! If aught but beasts, I had been still a happy king of men.

Good sometimes queen, prepare thee hence for France.

Think I am dead, and that even here thou takest, As from my death-bed, thy last living leave.

In winter's tedious nights sit by the fire With good old folks, and let 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, And send the hearers weeping to their beds; For why, the senseless brands will sympathize The heavy accent of thy moving tongue, And in compa.s.sion weep the fire out; And some will mourn in ashes, some coal-black, For the deposing of a rightful king.

Enter NORTHUMBERLAND attended

NORTHUMBERLAND. 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.

KING RICHARD. Northumberland, thou ladder wherewithal The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne, The time shall not be many hours of age More than it is, ere foul sin gathering head Shall break into corruption. Thou shalt think Though he divide the realm and give thee half It is too little, helping him to all; And he shall think that thou, which knowest the way To plant unrightful kings, wilt know again, Being ne'er so little urg'd, another way To pluck him headlong from the usurped throne.

The love of wicked men converts to fear; That fear to hate; and hate turns one or both To worthy danger and deserved death.

NORTHUMBERLAND. My guilt be on my head, and there an end.

Take leave, and part; for you must part forthwith.

KING RICHARD. Doubly divorc'd! Bad men, you violate A twofold marriage-'twixt my crown and me, And then betwixt me and my married wife.

Let me unkiss the oath 'twixt thee and me; And yet not so, for with a kiss 'twas made.

Part us, Northumberland; I 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.

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

KING RICHARD. Ay, hand from hand, my love, and heart from heart.

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

NORTHUMBERLAND. That were some love, but little policy.

QUEEN. Then whither he goes thither let me go.

KING RICHARD. So two, together weeping, make one woe.

Weep thou for me in France, I for thee here; Better far off than near, be ne'er the near.

Go, count thy way with sighs; I mine with groans.

QUEEN. So longest way shall have the longest moans.

KING RICHARD. Twice for one step I'll groan, the way being short, And piece the way out with a heavy heart.

Come, come, in wooing sorrow let's be brief, Since, wedding it, there is such length in grief.

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

QUEEN. Give me mine own again; 'twere no good part To take on me to keep and kill thy heart.

So, now I have mine own again, be gone.

That I may strive to kill it with a groan.

KING RICHARD. We make woe wanton with this fond delay.

Once more, adieu; the rest let sorrow say. Exeunt

SCENE 2.

The DUKE OF YORK's palace

Enter the DUKE OF YORK and the d.u.c.h.eSS

d.u.c.h.eSS. My Lord, you told me you would tell the rest, When weeping made you break the story off, Of our two cousins' coming into London.

YORK. Where did I leave?

d.u.c.h.eSS. At that sad stop, my lord, Where rude misgoverned hands from windows' tops 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 Which his aspiring rider seem'd to know, With slow but stately pace kept on his course, Whilst all tongues cried 'G.o.d save thee, Bolingbroke!'

You would have thought the very windows spake, So many greedy looks of young and old Through cas.e.m.e.nts darted their desiring eyes Upon his visage; and that all the walls With painted imagery had said at once 'Jesu preserve thee! Welcome, Bolingbroke!'

Whilst he, from the one side to the other turning, Bareheaded, lower than his proud steed's neck, Bespake them thus, 'I thank you, countrymen.'

And thus still doing, thus he pa.s.s'd along.

d.u.c.h.eSS. 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, Thinking his prattle to be tedious; Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes Did scowl on gentle Richard; no man cried 'G.o.d save him!'

No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home; But dust was thrown upon his sacred head; Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off, His face still combating with tears and smiles, The badges of his grief and patience, That had not G.o.d, for some strong purpose, steel'd The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted, And barbarism itself have pitied him.

But heaven hath a hand in these events, To whose high will we bound our calm contents.

To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now, Whose state and honour I for aye allow.

d.u.c.h.eSS. Here comes my son Aumerle.

YORK. Aumerle that was But that is lost for being Richard's friend, And madam, you must call him Rudand now.

I am in Parliament pledge for his truth And lasting fealty to the new-made king.

Enter AUMERLE

d.u.c.h.eSS. Welcome, my son. Who are the violets now That strew the green lap of the new come spring?

AUMERLE. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not.

G.o.d 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.

What news from Oxford? Do these justs and triumphs hold?

AUMERLE. For aught I know, my lord, they do.

YORK. You will be there, I know.

AUMERLE. If G.o.d prevent not, I purpose so.