PR 2820 .P2 R6 1904 Copy 2 SHAKESPEARE''S .X .lLvli.^iiA/.l.J.\v imViBiamiii EDriED EY "WILLIAM J. ROI LIBRARY OF CONGRESS DD0DDti71i'^'=^A ^ ^ SHAKESPEARE'S HISTORY OF KING RICHARD II. ^ m SHAKESPEARE'S TRAGEDY OF KING RICHARD THE SECOND. Edited, with Notes, BV WILLIAM J. ROLFE, Litt.B., FORMERLY HEAD MASTER OF THE HIGH SCHOOL, CAMBRIDGE, MASS. IVITH ENGRA VIXGS. NEW YORK •:. CINCINNATI •:• CHICAGO AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY UBRARYorCON6ftESS Two Oeetw RMetved AUG 5 1904 ft Ctpyrighl Entfif CLASS ^ XX«. Na Of I L n I C OPY A / 1^ ENGLISH CLASSICS. rr ;v Edited by WM. J- ROLFE, Litt. D. Illustrated. 12ino, Cloth, 56 cents per voltaine. Shakespeare's Works. The Merchant of Venice. Richard III. Othello. Henry VIII. Julius Caesar. King Lear. A Midsummer-Xight's Dream. The Taming of the Shrew. Macbeth. All "s Well that Ends Well. Hamlet. Coriolanus. Much Ado about Nothing. The Comedy of Errors. Romeo and Juliet. Cymbeline. As You Like It. Antony and Cleopatra. The Tempest. Measure for Measure. Twelfth Night. Merr\- Wives of Windsor. The Winter's Tale. Love's Labour 's Lost. King John. Two Gentlemen of Verona. Richard II. Timon of Athens. Henry IV. Part I. Troilus and Cressida. Henry IV. Part II. Pericles, Prince of Tyre. Henry V. The Two Noble Kinsmen. Henry VI. Part I. Venus and Adonis, Lucrece, etc Henry VI. Part II. Sonnets. Henry VI. Part III. Titus Andronicus. Goldsmith's Select Poems. Browning's Select Poems. Gr.a.y's Select Poems. Browning's Select Dramas. Minor Poems of Joh.n Milton. M.\caulay's Lays of Ancient Rome. Wordsworth's Select Poems. Lambs' Tales from Shakespeare's Comedies. Lambs' Tales from Shakespeare's Tragedies. Edited by WM. J. ROLFE, Litt. D. Illustrated. Cloth., 12mo, 50 cents per vol\ime. Copyright, 1876 and 1898, by Harper & Brothers. Copyright, 1904, by William J. Rolfe. King Richard II W. P. 3 tn ^ CONTENTS. Page Introduction to King Richard the Second .' 9 I. The History of the Play 9 II. The Historical Sources of the Play 12 HI. Critical Comments on the Play 14 KING RICHARD THE SECOND 41 Act 1 43 " II 66 " III 89 " IV no «' V 122 Notes , . . , , 145 'i^'^'f'^m^^^'^^^^^^h^'x'^'^y':^''''!:, BEFORE FLINT CASTLE (iii. 3J. RICHARD II. INTRODUCTION TO RICHARD THE SECOND. I. THE HISTORY OF THE PLAY. Richard the Second ^'2i?> entered on the Register of the Sta- tioners' Company, in 1597, as follows: "29 Aug. 1597 "Andrew Wise.] The Tragedye of Richard the Seconde." lo RICHARD IL It was first published in quarto, the same 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 Seruants. London Printed by Valentine Simmes for Androw Wise, and are to be sold at his shop in Paules church yard at the signe of the Angel. 1597." A second edition in quarto, with the addition of the author's name — '"'■By William Shakespeare^^ — on the title-page, was published by Wise in 1598. In 1608 a third quarto edition appeared, the title-page of which reads as follows : " The 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 Maiesties seruantes, at the Globe. By William Shakespeare. 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." This edition was reprinted in 1615, with the same title- page. In the folio of 1623 Richard II. occupies pages 23-45 in- clusive, in the division of " Histories." A fifth quarto edition, "printed by lohn Norton," appar- ently from the text of the second folio, was issued in 1634. The " new additions " in the third quarto, which appear also in the succeeding editions, occur in act iv., scene i, lines 154-318 inclusive. Though not printed during the life of Elizabeth, there can be little doubt that they formed part of the play as originally written ; for they agree with the act in style and rhythm, and are the natural introduction to the Abbot's speech (line 321) : "A woeful pageant have we here beheld." Their suppression in the earlier editions was prob- ably for fear of offending Elizabeth, who was very sensitive upon the subject of the deposition of an English sovereign. INTROD UCTION. 1 1 It had been often attempted in her own case, and she did not Uke to be reminded that it had been accomplished in Richard's. It is said that once when Lambarde, the keeper of the records in the Tower, in showing her a portion of the rolls he had prepared, came to the reign of Richard II., she exclaimed, " I am Richard the Second ; know ye not that ?" In 1599, Sir John Haywarde was severely censured in the Star Chamber, and committed to prison, for his " History of the First Part of the Life and Reign of King Henry IV.," which contained an account of the deposition of Richard. The date of the composition of Richard II. is uncertain. Malone assigns it to the year 1593, but does not tell us why. Knight, from some similarities of expression in this play and in the story of Richard as given by Daniel* in the portion of his Civil Warres published in 1595, argues that either Daniel drew from Shakespeare or Shakespeare from Daniel, and that the latter is the more probable supposition. White, from a close comparison of the second edition of Daniel's poem (also published in 1595) with the first, comes to the conclu- sion that certain changes in the former were suggested by Shakespeare's Richard II, which had been brought out after Daniel published his first edition. This would place the composition of the play "in the latter part of the year 1594 or the beginning of 1595." The editors of the Clarendon Press edition consider that the coincidences between Daniel and Shakespeare pointed out by White " are too indecisive to found any positive conclusions upon." From internal evi- dence, however, we should fix the date of the play at about this time, when, as White remarks, " Shakespeare had not yet attained the fulness of his powers either as a dramatist or a poet, and yet was rapidly approaching that rich middle period * Staunton, in his edition of Shakespeare (vol. i. p. 502), referring to these criticisms of Knight's, inadvertently gives Drayton's name several times in place of Daniel's. 12 RICHARD II. of his productive life which gave us the two parts of Henry the Fourth, As You Like It, Much Ado about Nothing, Hamlet, and Troilus and Cressida^ For the text oi Richard II., the quarto of 1597 and the fo^ iio of 1623 are the best authorities. In the latter the play appears to have been printed from a copy of the quarto of 16 15, corrected with much care, and possibly (as White sug- gests) the stage copy of the Globe Theatre ; but, like the rest of the folio, it is marred by many errors of the type, and also by sundry omissions, amounting to about forty-five lines in all. Some of these may have been made intentionally in revising the quarto for the printers of the folio ; but there can be no question that some are accidental, and perhaps all of them are. For supplying these deficiencies, and for the correction of typographical and other errors, the quarto is invaluable. On the other hand, in the " new additions " first printed in the quarto of 1608, the imperfect text of that edition appears to have been corrected for the folio from the author's manu- script. For this part of the play, therefore, we must depend on the folio, as well as for the corrections of the 16 15 quarto already mentioned. There are but few difficulties in the text that are not removed by a careful collation of the two au- thorities. II. THE HISTORICAL SOURCES OF THE PLAY. There was another play, and not improbably two other plays, on the same subject, extant in Shakespeare's time, but now lost. On the afternoon of the day preceding the insur- rection of the Earl of Essex in 1601, Sir Gilly Merrick, one of his friends, had a play acted before a company of his fellow -conspirators, the subject of which was "deposing Richard II." It could scarcely have been Shakespeare's, for it is described as an "obsolete tragedy," and the players are said to have complained "'that the play was old, and they should have loss in playing it, because few would come to it." INTRODUCTION. 13 Merrick accordingly gave them forty shillings to make up the expected deficiency.* In the Bodleian Library at Oxford there is a manuscript diary by Dr. Simon Forman, in which allusion is made to a play of Richard II. acted at the Globe Theatre, April 30, 161 1. This play, however, began with Wat Tyler's rebellion, and seems to have differed in other respects from Shake- * In Attorney-General Bacon's speech at the trial of the conspirators (State Trials, p. 1445, ed. of 1809) the following passage occurs : " And the story of Henry the Fourth being set forth in a play, and in that play there being set forth the killing of a king upon the stage, the Friday before, Sir Gilly and some others of the Earl's train having the humour to see a play, they must needs have the play of ' Henry the Fourth.' The players told them that was stale, they should get nothing by playing of that ; but no play else would serve, and Sir Gilly gives forty shillings to Phillips the player to play this, besides whatever he could get." Here, it will be noticed, the play is called " Henry the Fourth," but in Bacon's " Declaration of the Practices and Treasons attempted and com- mitted by Robert late Earl of Essex and his complices against her Maj- esty and her Kingdoms," we are told that "it was given in evidence . . . that the afternoon before the rebellion, Merick, with a great company of others that afterwards were all in the action, had procured to be played before them the play of deposing King Richard the Second. Neither was it casual, but a play bespoken by Merick." And again, in the "Examination of Augustine Philipps, servant to the Lord Chamberlain and one of his Players, before Lord Chief Justice Pop- ham and Edward Fenner" (printed in the Calendar of State Papers, Do- mestic Series, 1598-1601, p. 578), we read : " On Thursday or Friday sevennight Sir Charles Percy, Sir Josceline Percy, Lord Monteagle, and several others spoke to some of our players to play the deposing and killing of Richard XL, and promised to give them forty shillings more than their ordinary to do so. Examinate and his fellows had determined to play some other play, holding that of King Richard as being so old and so long out of use that they should have a small company of it ; but at this request they were content to play it." As we can hardly doubt that this Philipps was the Augustine Philipps of the Globe Theatre, one of Shakespeare's " fellows," Mr. J. W. Hales {The Academy, Nov. 20, 1875) argues that the play was Shakespeare's, notwithstanding it was called an old play and one that it would not pay to act; but the weight of probabilities seems to us to be on the other side. 14 KILUARD IT. speare's. Collier and Staunton think it may have been the same as the " obsolete tragedy " just mentioned ; Knight, the Cambridge editors, and White believe it was a different play, and this on the whole seems more probable. However that may have been, we have no reason for supposing that Shake- speare was indebted to any earlier play or plays on the same subject. His principal authority for the historical facts he has used was Holinshed's " Chronicles of Englande, Scot- lande, and Ireland," the first edition of which was published in 1577. The poet used the second edition (1586-87), as the withering of the bay- trees (ii. 4. 8) is not found in the first. The extracts from Holinshed in our notes will show how closely Shakespeare followed him, sometimes borrowing his very words. III. CRITICAL COMMENTS ON THE PLAY. \From Coleridge's '^JVotes and Lectures upon Shakespeare. ''''*'\ I have stated that the transitional link between the epic poem and the drama is the historic drama ; that in the epic poem a pre-announced fate gradually adjusts and employs the will and the events as its instruments, whilst the drama, on the other hand, places fate and will in opposition to each other, and is then most perfect, when the victory of fate is obtained in consequence of imperfections in the opposing will, so as to leave a final impression that the fate itself is but a higher and a more intelligent will. From the length of the speeches, and the circumstance that, with one exception, the events are all historical, and presented in their results, not produced by acts seen by, or taking place before, the audience, this tragedy is ill suited to our present large theatres. But in itself, and for the closet, I feel no hesitation in placing it as the first and most admi- rable of all Shakespeare's purely historical plays. For the two parts of Henry IV. form a species for themselves, which * Coleridge's Works (Harper's edition), vol. iv. p. 119 foil. INTR OD UC no IV. 15 BOLINGBROKE. may be named the mixed drama. The distinction does- not depend on the mere quality of historical events in the play compared with the fictions— for there is as much history in Macbeth as in Richard— but in the relation of the history to the plot. In the purely historical plays, the history forms the plot; in the mixed, it directs it; in the rest, as Macbeth, Hamlet, Cymbeline, Lear, it subserves it. But, however un- suited to the stage this drama may be, God forbid that even there it should fall dead on the hearts of jacobinized English- men ! Then, indeed, we might s^iy—p rceteriit gloria mundi! For the spirit of patriotic reminiscence is the all-permeating 1 6 RICHARD II. soul of this noble work. It is, perhaps, the most purely his- torical of Shakespeare's dramas. There are not in it, as in the others, characters introduced merely for the purpose of giving a greater individuality and realness, as in the comic parts of Henry IV., by presenting, as it were, our very selves. Shakespeare avails himself of every opportunity to effect the great object of the historic drama, that, namely, of familiar- izing the people to the great names of their country, and thereby of exciting a steady patriotism, a love of just liberty, and a respect for all those fundamental institutions of social life which bind men together: " This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle, 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; This precious stone set in the silver sea, Which serves it in the office of a wall, Or as a moat defensive to a home. Against the envy of less happier lands ; This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England, This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, Fear'd by their breed, and famous by their birth," etc. Add the famous passage in King John : *' This England never did, nor ever shall. Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror. But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again. Come the three corners of the world in arms. And we shall shock them : nought shall make us ru If England to itself do rest but true." And it certainly seems that Shakespeare's historic dramas produced a very deep effect on the minds of the English peo- ple, and in earlier times they were familiar even to the least informed of all ranks, according to the relation of Bishop Corbett. Marlborough, we know, was not ashamed to con- INTRO D UCTION. 17 fess that his principal acquaintance with English history, was derived from them ; and I believe that a large part of the information as to our old names and achievements even now abroad is due, directly or indirectly, to Shakespeare. Admirable is the judgment with which Shakespeare always in the first scene prepares, yet how naturally, and with what concealment of art, for the catastrophe. Observe how he here presents the germ of all the after-events in Richard's in- sincerity, partiality, arbitrariness, and favoritism, and in the proud, tempestuous temperament of his barons. In the very beginning, also, is displayed that feature in Richard's char- acter which is never forgotten throughout the play — his at- tention to decorum and high feeling of the kingly dignity. These anticipations show with what judgment Shakespeare wrote, and illustrate his care to connect the past and future, and unify them with the present by forecast and reminis- cence. . . . In the closing scene of act i. a new light is thrown on Richard's character. Until now he has appeared in all the beauty of royalty ; but here, as soon as he is left to himself, the inherent weakness of his character is immediately shown. It is a weakness, however, of a peculiar kind, not arising from want of personal courage, or any specific defect of faculty, but rather an intellectual feminineness, which feels a necessity of ever leaning on the breasts of others, and of reclining on those who are all the while known to be inferiors. To this must be attributed as its consequences all Richard's vices, his tendency to concealment, and his cunning, the whole op- eration of which is directed to the getting rid of present diffi- culties. Richard is not meant to be a debauchee ; but we see in him that sophistry which is common to man, by which we can deceive our own hearts, and at one and the same time apologize for and yet commit the error. Shakespeare has represented this character in a very peculiar manner. He has not made him amiable with counterbalancing faults ; but B 1 8 RICHARD 11. v has openly and broadly drawn those faults without reserve, relying on Richard's disproportionate sufferings and gradual- ly emergent good qualities for our sympathy ; and this was possible, because his faults are not positive vice, but spring entirely from defect of character. . . . The amiable part of Richard's character is brought full upon us by his queen's few words — . . . "so sweet a guest As my sweet Richard ;" and Shakespeare has carefully shown in him an intense love of his country, well knowing how that feeling would, in a pure historic drama, redeem him in the hearts of the audience. Yet even in this love there is something feminine and personal : " Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand, . . . As a long-parted mother with her child Plays fondly with her tears and smiles in meeting, So, weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth. And do thee favour with my royal hands." With this is combined a constant overflow of emotions from a total incapability of controlling them, and thence a waste of that energy which should have been reserved for actions, in the passion and effort of mere resolves and menaces. The consequence is moral exhaustion, and rapid alternations of unmanly despair and ungrounded hope — every feeling being abandoned for its direct opposite upon the pressure of exter- nal accident. And yet when Richard's inward weakness appears to seek refuge in his despair, and his exhaustion counterfeits repose, the old habit of kingliness, the effect of flatterers from his infancy, is ever and anon producing in him a sort of wordy courage which only serves to betray more clearly his internal impotence. {From UlricVs ^^ Shakespeare' s Dramatic ArC*'\ Richard the Second may for many reasons be regarded as * Morrison's trans., London, 1846, p. 365 foil. Some errors are corrected INTRODUCTION. ig the companion of King Johft. While John employs every evil means to maintain his usurped dignity, Richard forfeits his just right by a weak use of it. The vitality of history endures no abstract, dead notion. The fixed formula of an outward, legal, and conventional right is as nothing in the sight of history, for which nothing is right but what is truly so, as having its foundation in morality. This Richard has forfeited before the eyes of men by treading it himself under foot. The highest earthly power is not exempt from the eternal laws of the universe ; the majesty which is by the grace of God loses its title as soon as it abandons its only foundation in the grace of God, whose justice acknowledges no jurisprudence, no rights of family and inheritance, as against the immutable rights of truth and reason. Richard urges in vain his legal title and the sacred name of majesty; to no purpose does he invoke the angels of Him who set him on the throne ; the rights and title of a king avail not to move a straw, because they are devoid of the mighty force of inward rectitude ; God will send no angel to protect him who has rejected his grace. The people, too, in turn abandon him who had first abandoned them. The injustice of rebellion prevails. The truly noble but spoiled and corrupted nature of Richard wanes before the prudence and moderation of Bolingbroke. However little of true moral power Henry the Fourth subsequently exhibits, nevertheless, as contrasted with the unworthy and most unkingly conduct of Richard, he looks a model of virtue, and designed by nature for a throne. In the doubtful scale a grain of sand turns the balance. Under such an unkingly sovereign the people are of ne- cessity plunged in dissension and misery. At the very open- ing of the piece we behold the nobility divided by party feuds, the people in Ireland in revolt against their lords, and the royal family itself distracted with hatred and dissension. The Duchess of Gloster bewails her husband's unjust fate, while Richard's arbitrary termination of the quarrel between 20 RICHARD 11. Norfolk and Bolingbroke throws the aged Gaunt upon his death-bed with sorrow for his banished son. In vain does he warn the king ; truth dies away on the ear which flattery has stopped. Caprice follows upon caprice, accumulating infamy upon infamy. Richard farms out his kingdom, and rapaciously confiscates the property of the House of Lan- caster to furnish the money necessary for putting down the rebellion in Ireland. While he trusts to his hereditary claims and to the divine right of kings, he nevertheless vio- lates all the right- of family and inheritance; and, by putting his divine office out to hire, he becomes, with suicidal in- consistency, the first rebel, and with his own hands sows the seed of the revolution which eventually robs him of his life and crown. By disregarding in his own person the rights of the historical past — which is the true meaning of the so- called principle of stability — he places himself on an un- substantial future. None but the more aged of his subjects — those who live on in a better past, who still see in him his heroic and noble-minded father, such as the old York with his son, the Bishop of Carlisle, and Salisbury — remain faithful to him ; all the vigour of youth and manhood, on the other hand, that from its very nature is engrossed by the present and future — which, undermined by Richard, wavers and threatens to fall — likewise wavers, and at last goes over to the rebel Bolingbroke. Here, too, the guiding hand of God is discernible. Had Richard returned one day sooner from Ireland, he would have found an army ready equipped for battle ; but deceived by the accidental delay, and a ru- mour of the death of the king, it had dispersed or gone over to Henry. His resources being thus cut off, lost to himself and powerless, he yields himself into the hands of his enemy ; his spirit, like a rotten stem, is broken by the storm which he himself had raised. His creatures, Bushy, Bagot, Green, and Wiltshire — the wicked instruments of a wicked master, who did but confirm him in his injustice — had previously INTRODUCTION', 21 fallen like the branches before the stem. His queen — even in prosperity oppressed with a nameless pang, and looking into the future with a foreboding fear and assured feeling that nothing but misfortune could be the issue of Richard's unrighteous deeds, but who yet could be the partner of her husband's unkingly dissipation, and who at the death-bed of the old Gaunt could listen in silence to his fruitless exhorta- tions, and hear without remonstrance the insults of Richard, and his unjust order for the spoliation of the House of Lan- caster — she naturally, and with justice, shares her consort's fate. Both, however, alike make misfortune great ; the way in which they meet their fate reconciles them both to God and man, and the close of the tragedy is at once truly tragic and profoundly poetical. A single idea, it is plain, runs through the whole piece and its several parts. The poet has here laboured to illustrate the high historical significance of the kingly dignity in the light that it appears to the Christian view of things, as the most exalted, but at the same time the most responsible vo- cation that heaven imposes upon man. Absolutely speak- ing, every man has no doubt his vocation from God ; but whereas the duties and office of every individual member of the state are more or less modified by the governing power, the dignity of the sovereign stands in an immediate relation to God and his all-ruling grace. It pre-eminently is " by the grace of God." And, both on this account, and because, as Shakespeare shows, the happiness of the whole people de- pends on the sovereign, he ought to be only the more mind* ful of divine grace, and the greater is his guilt, whenever, for- getting his true dignity, he acts unkingly, and contrary to justice and to grace. When he contradicts his high vocation, he will call in vain upon its divinity to protect him. In being called to it, he was called to do justice; and it is only by obeying its call that he can maintain his own right. While, then, the poet has thus attempted to elucidate the true rela- 22 RICHARD II. tion both of man to his own historical position, and of his vocation in life to God, and while he thus places the essence of the kingly dignity in its observance of its relation to God and the world, he has successfully illustrated modern polit- ical history under one of its most essential aspects, and in one of its principal ideas. This is the ground idea of the whole drama. [From Gervinus's *' Shakespeare Commentaries.^''*^ Richard II. was the son of the Black Prince, Edward III.'s brave eldest son. According to historical tradition, he was most beautiful, and Shakespeare also, in contrasting him with Richard III., who is urged by his deformity to avenge him- self on nature, has not without intention invested him with the beautiful form, which, according to Bacon, renders " him generally light-minded, whom it adorns and whom it moves ;" he calls him in the lips of Percy " a sweet lovely rose." He gives him the outward features of his father, and allows us occasionally to perceive a mental likeness also ; the mild nature of the lamb and the violence of the lion, which the poet speaks of as combined in the Black Prince, are both exhibited in him. The first is scarcely to be mistaken ; it becomes visible even at the last moment in the many tokens of attachment which he receives at a time when it is danger- ous to manifest it, and after his death in the longing for him which is aroused in the adversaries who had conspired against him. The other quality is more hidden in single scattered traits. He appears throughout like a "young hot colt," easily provoked, like a violent flame consuming itself quickly ; he compares himself to the brilliant Phaeton, who, incapable and daring, would manage his refractory steeds; in the moment of misfortune the defiance of an innate nobil- ity is aroused in the midst of his sorrow, and in his death he appears as "full of valour as of royal blood." But this fintJ * Bunnett's translation, 1863, vol. i. p. 391 foli. IN TROD UC TION. 2 3 disposition is wholly obliterated ; in the early season of his life and rule he has lost his reputation ; he is surrounded by a troop of creatures and favourites, parasites and men who preyed on the kingdom, who stop his ear with flatteries, and poison it with wanton imaginations, who make him tyranni- cal and imperious, incapable of hearing a word of blame and admonition, even from the lips of his dying uncle ; men who made him shallow with Italian fashions, surrounded him with every low vanity, and enticed him into ostentation and ex- travagance. . . . Impoverished by his companions, Richard sees his coffers empty ; he has recourse to forced loans, to ex- tortion of taxes and fines, and at last lets the English kingdom as a tenure to his parasites, no longer a king, only a landlord of England. A traitor to this unsubdued land, he has by his contracts resigned the conquests of his father. At length he lays hands on private property, and seizes the possessions of the late old Lancaster and of his banished son, thus de- priving himself of the hearts of the people and of the nobles. The ruin of the impoverished land, the subversion of right, the danger of property, a revolt in Ireland, the arming of the nobles in self-defence — all these indications allow us to ob- serve in the first two acts the growing seed of revolution which the misled king had scattered. The prognostication of the fall of Richard II. is read by the voice of the people in the common signs of all revolutionary periods (act ii. so. 4): " Rich men look sad, and ruffians dance and leap, The one in fear to lose what they enjoy. The other to enjoy by rage and war." Besides the scattered touches and the insinuations which denote the inability of the king, and his wavering between unseasonable power and weakness, the poet has chosen only one event for a closer dramatic prominence to which the catastrophe of Richard's fate is united— the knightly quar- rel between Bolingbroke and Norfolk, with which the piece 24 RICHARD II. begins. Coleridge said of this scene that it appears mtro duced in order beforehand to depict the characters of Rich- ard and Bolingbroke ; and Courtenay was even bold enough to think it was just introduced because Shakespeare found it in the chronicle. But this was not the method of Shake- speare's writing. Later in Henry IV. (II. act iv. sc. i) he has abundantly said in the plainest language that he began with this scene because it was just the beginning of all the sufferings which fell upon King Richard and afterwards upon his dethroners. Norfolk's son there says : " O, when the king did throw his warder down, His own life hung upon the staff he threw : Then threw he down himself, and all their lives That by indictment and by dint of sword Have since miscarried under Bolingbroke." The scene then, however necessary in itself, certainly serves essentially to place in opposition to each other, in their first decisive collision, the two main characters, Richard and Bo- lingbroke, the declining king yet in his power and glory, and the rising one in his misfortune and banishment. In his ac- cusation of Norfolk, Bolingbroke besets the king remotely with hostile designs. The guilt of Gloster's death rests in the public opinion upon the king and his associates ; subse- quently Aumerle emerges as the im.mediate instrument; the guilt of having known it and concealed it falls upon Norfolk alone, a guilt of which he accuses himself; but the popular hatred turns upon him as upon the king. Bolingbroke, as we learn expressly in the second part of Henry IV. (act iv. sc. i), uses this circumstance to nourish the hatred and to draw upon himself the favour of the people, while he exhibits the Lancastrians honourably solicitous about a sacred family matter. He knows that Norfolk is not guilty of the death of Gloster; but, just as brave as he is politic, he freely ventures to propose the judgment of God, for he removes in him the single powerful support of the king, and at the same INTROD UCTIOlSr, 25 time the enemy of his own family. The survivors of the murdered Gloster spur on the Lancastrians to revenge, their own security being concerned ; tlie old Gaunt indeed com- mits vengeance to God, but his son Bolingbroke believes it more certain if it is in his own human hand. The venerable old man, whom Shakespeare invests with riper years than history does, has transmitted to his son the elements out of which his deeply concealed character is blended. The hoary hero has borne ir^ his heart the welfare of his fatherland, and his patriotic feelings obtain so much in his dying hour over his fidelity as a subject, that in words of the greatest enthusi- asm for his glorious country he cuttingly reproaches the sin- ful Richard with what he has done with this "demi-Paradise." Sorrow for the country and sorrow for his banished son hur- ried him to the grave. With his patriotic feeling is mingled, we see, family-feeling and self-love ; both are also strong in the son. The son's far-stretching domestic policy accompa- nies and determines his whole life ; his patriotic feeling breaks forth in the touching lament on his banishment, which justly has been called not only very beautiful, but very English. To both these traits is joined that diplomatic cunning which lies in the very recesses of his nature, and is, therefore, concealed without difficulty. This too the son appears to have inherit- ed from his father ; for a shrewd design cannot be more deli- cately coupled with generosity than in the old Gaunt, when in the council of state he gives his vote for the banishment of his son, which subsequently breaks his heart, in the idea of moving the rest by his too severe sentence to a milder judgment. With just such a deeply concealed policy Shake- speare has drawn the son, who in one touch alone, in Richard II., appears without a mask, but in all others, throughout the three pieces, remains a riddle even to the attentive reader, until at length the last hour of life elicits a confession to his son. In this same mysterious obscurity even the open- ing scene between Bolingbroke and Norfolk is maintained. 26 RICHARD II. The designs and motives which actuate the former we have just intimated, but we have gathered them from subsequent disclosures ; in the moment of action it is not clear at what he aims, and Norfolk's bearing increases the obscurity. The voice of innocence and honour speaks in him, mostly in his voluntary confessions, and no less so in his strong appeal to his fidelity towards the king. It goes so far that he raises not the veil from the misdeed of which he is accused, not even after the king's sentence of a dateless banishment has fallen on him " all unlooked for," when he hoped for other reward than this disgrace. The king too condemns him, we likewise learn at the end of Henry IV. (II. act iv. sc. i), against his will, because the general anger discharged itself on him ; but the enthusiasm of popular favour was already directed to Bolingbroke, who at his departure behaves to the multitude like a condescending prince. The weak Richard, who Norfolk predicts will rue this deed, ignobly banishes for a lifetime the man whom he loves and who would have been his most faithful support, and for a few years the other whom he hates, whose ambitious thoughts he fears, and whose ban- ishment he has in his heart faithlessly resolved as limitless. He disturbs the combat between the two, whose peace he fears still more : he strikes his enemy and provokes him, without making him harmless ; the helplessness of a man of a troubled conscience, who knows not the right occasion for mildness or severity, is displayed in this one case. The chronicle sums up the faults of his government in these words : He showed too great kindness to his friends, too great favour to his enemies. Both are just. But in this case he shows in his severity towards his friend that he is inconsistent moreover, and allows himself to be influenced by the power of opinion in an unessential point, when he neglected to attend to it in an essential one. Quite in the sense of the sentence quoted from the chroni- cle, Shakespeare draws the political moral from Richard's INTRODUCTION-. 27 rule in the garden scene (act iii. sc. 4), and its simple alle- gory. The wise gardener cares to give " supportance to the bending twigs, which like unruly children make their sire stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight ;" he cuts off the heads of too fast growing sprays, that look too lofty on the commonwealth ; he roots away the noisome weed. Rich- ard, who had not observed the first of these rules in his jeal- ousy of Gloster, who had neglected the second in his too great favour to Bolingbroke, and the third in his too great kindness to his parasites, Bagot and Bush}^, now sees the fall of the leaves ; another roots away the weeds " that his broad-spreading leaves did shelter, that seemed in eating him to hold him up." Had he cherished and nurtured his kingdom as the gardeners their garden, he would have done to the great as they to their trees ; wounding the bark at times to prevent its too luxuriant growth, he would have lopped away the superfluous branches, and thus he might have tasted and enjoyed their fruits and retained his crown. Instead of this he did everything which could forfeit his crown. We have seen the king's unadvised conduct in the quarrel between Bolingbroke and Norfolk. Hardly is this dispute settled, than the old Gaunt dies; the Irish revolt de- mands a remedy ; the extravagant prince has no money ; he now seizes the Lancastrian property, which kindles even the good-natured York, indolent and rest-loving as he is. Rich- ard goes in person to Ireland, and leaves behind him the irritated York, the weakest whom he could choose, as gov- ernor of England. Instantly the banished Bolingbroke seizes the occasion to return to the kingdom thus vacated, under the pretext of taking possession of his lawful inheritance. The apprehensive nobles, the Percies, join themselves to him ; the miserable friends of the king give up their cause at once as lost ; the helpless York goes over. When Richard returns from Ireland, he possesses no more of the kingdom than his right to it. He persuades himself, rather than that he is 28 RICHARD IT. convinced of it, that with this right he has everything. He comes back from Ireland conscience -stricken, foreboding, paralyzed, and inactive. With wonted enthusiasm, when he again sets foot on English ground, he hopes that the " earth shall have a feeling, and the stones prove armed soldiers, ere her native king shall falter under foul rebellious arms." He buries himself in poetical and religious consolation, and in- trenches himself behind his divine right and authority: "not all the water in the rough rude sea can wash the balm from an anointed king ;" the breath of worldly men cannot de- pose the deputy elected by the Lord. He builds upon this, that God and heaven, who guard the right, have, for every man of Bolingbroke's, "in heavenly pay a glorious angel" for him. He compares his kingly dignity to the sun, in whose absence robbers range abroad, but before his fiery rise in the east they tremblingly escape. But soon the poet, glancing silently back upon this image, exhibits him in oppo- sition to the robber Bolingbroke, and this latter himself com- pares him just so to the sun emerging from the east (act iii. sc. 3 : in many editions the passage is placed in the lips of York); but the envious clouds dim the kingly aspect, block up his track, and are not so quickly dispersed as Richard imagined. Just while he boasts so warmly of the assistance of heaven, the tidings come that not alone no angels stand in readiness for him, but that even men are deserting him. Then suddenly his confidence in his good right forsakes him. He calls upon his name and his majesty, but on a new mes- sage of misfortune his courage breaks down even to abdica- tion. Once more, later, he asserts to Northumberland his divine right, and that no human hand can seize his sacred sceptre without robbery and violence. But the blessing of heaven is now visibly on the side of power ; he whom the people uphold stands more surely than the anointed of God. Shakespeare writes here an immortal lesson upon the roy- alty of God's grace and the law of inviolability. His ground INTROD UCTION: 29 is here also thav two-sided one of entire impartiality and candour, to which we unweariedly point, as to the greatest characteristic of his extraordinary mental superiority. He places his opinion chiefly in the mouth of the Bishop of Car- lisle, the grand type of genuine loyalty, who stands faithfully by the side of the lawful king, without concealing from him the stern voice of truth ; who defies the unlawful usurper in the public assembly, but still elicits even from the latter true honour, favour, and esteem. Absorbed in his meditations upon show and reality, over which we see Shakespeare brooding throughout this period of his life, he cannot regard the halo of divine right as the reality of royalty. No invio- lability can protect the anointed head, if it render itself un- worthy of the divine possession ; no legitimacy and no balm can absolve the ruler from his duties to the land of his care. Every vocation would appear to our poet of God, and with the vocation every duty. The fulfilment of duty is even the king's first condition of stability ; by his neglect of it he for- feits possession and right, by this he loses himself, his inner dignity, his consecration, and his power. Thus Henry IV. says to his son in these plain words, that, unbridled and self- forgetful as he then was, he was only " the shadow of succes- sion ;" the honourable Percy, though a rebel, deserved rather to be the heir. The dutiful illegality is compared with the duty-forgetting legitimacy ; it is placed before it by the man who had once elevated himself by it, and who would now se- cure his legality by the fulfilment of duty. It is full of in- formation upon Shakespeare's true intention, if we carefully compare this piece with his King John. The usurper John maintains the crown by good and bad means, so long as he does not lose his power and confidence, so long as he abstains from wicked deeds and useless cruelty, and is thoroughly English-minded ; as soon as he descends from his royal duty and sells England, he loses himself and his crown. He, the usurper, differs not from the lawful Richard, who in the same 30 RICHARD 11. way let the land by lease, and giving up his duty, gave up himself also. It belongs essentially to this kingly duty that the prince, if he will secure his own right, must defend and protect the right of others. The peculiar right of the king is not esteemed by Shakespeare more sacred than any other; these views have taken deeper root in England from the. times of Shakespeare and the Dutch Republic, until Milton, in his Defensio pro Popido^ enforced them with marked em- phasis. As soon as Richard had touched the inheritance of Lancaster, he had placed in his hands as it were the right of retaliation. The indolent York says immediately : " Take Hereford's rights away, and take from time 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 ?" He tells him that he "plucks a thousand dangers on his head," that he loses " a thousand well-disposed hearts," and that he " pricks his tender patience to those thoughts which honour and allegiance cannot think." To this kingly duty there belongs, moreover, not alone the absence of all those vices of a weak love of pleasure, by which Richard is ruined, but in their place the virtue of energy, which is the first honour even of the common man. Heaven alone helps us, says Carlisle to Richard, when we embrace his means. And Salisbury enforces upon Richard the great experience taken from the precipitation of revolutionary times : " One day too late, I fear, my noble lord, Hath clouded all thy happy days on earth. To-day, to-day, unhappy day, too late, O'erthrows thy joys, friends, fortune, and thy state." Upon this warning he rises, when now even the rising is too late. Before, every claim from Aumerle and Carlisle upon his manliness, every reproach of his tardiness, was in vain ; he was absorbed in himself, and revelled in his mis- INTR OD UC riON. 31 fortune as before in his prosperity. And so at last his wife must shame him when she finds him also deposed in intel- lect : she would see him like a lion, dying, that with rage " thrusteth forth his paw, and wounds the earth ;" but he, pupil-like, takes his correction mildly, and teaches resignation to his wife, whose lips this lesson would have better suited. The weakness and guilt, which cause revolutions unexpect- edly to prosper, are depicted by the poet in a masterly man- ner ; and in this piece he draws up before us in succession the spectacle of the powers at work at such a period of rev- olution, a picture of a grandeur and depth scarcely to be fathomed. For no piece must be read so often as this, and in such close connection with the succeeding, that it may be thoroughly understood. Unadorned and without brilliancy of matter, it yet rewards patient industry all the more richly. To analyze the contents of the whole four pieces in a narra- tive, where the underlying motive should be seen entirely in Shakespeare's sense, would be a comprehensive work, and one of extraordinary fulness. Whoever has read them from the beginning of this Richard to the close of Henry V., with conscientious reflection upon every single point, appears to himself truly to have passed through an entire world. The poet, who has not allowed us fully to know the young king in his prosperity, unfolds his character the more fasci- natingly and minutely in his misfortune. As soon as with Bolingbroke's landing the turning-point in his fortune is ar- rived, just where we should have wished to see the powerful ruler, there stands conspicuously before us the kindly human nature, which was before obscured in prosperity and mirth, but even now is accompanied by weakness and want of sta- bihty, the distinguishing feature of his character. He has always needed props, and strong props he has not endured ; he had sought them in climbing plants, which have pulled himself to the ground; Gaunt and Norfolk he had alienated. For this reason, at the first moment of misfortune he falls 32 RICHARD 11. past recovery. As soon as the first intelligence of the defec- tion of his people arrives, he is pale and disheartened ; at the second message, which only threatens him with a new evil, he is submissive and ready for abdication and death. When Aumerle reminds him of his father York, he rouses himself once more, but as soon as he hears that even this last prop is broken, he curses his cousin for having led him forth " of that sweet way he was in to despair ;" he renounces every comfort, every act ; he orders his troops to be discharged ; capable of no further effort, he will be reminded of none, and himself removes every temptation to it. A highly poetic brilliancy is cast upon the scenes of the humiliation and ruin of the romantic youth, whose fancy rises in sorrow and mis- fortune to a height which allows us to infer the strength of the intoxication with which he had before plunged into pleasure. The power which at that time had carried him beyond himself turns now with fearful force within, and the pleasure-loving man now finds enjoyment in suffering and sorrow, and a sweetness in despair. He calls himself at first the slave of a "kingly woe;" subsequently, on the contrary, deprived of his throne, he will remain king of his griefs. The words and predictions of the basely injured Gaunt are now to be fulfilled upon the insulter of the dying man. That sentence finds its truth in Richard : " Woe doth the heavier sit Where it perceives it is but faintly borne." True in him is the word : " Light vanity, insatiate cormorant, Consuming means, soon preys upon itself." Richard marvelled in Gaunt's dying scene (act ii. sc. i) how the lips of the sick can play with words, but in the deathly sickness of his own misery he learns how to fall still deep- er into this play of words and speculative thought. At the very first, in the beginning of his sufferings, he broods upon INTRODUCTION. 33 thoughts of graves and death ; he wishes to let the fate of all fallen kings pass before his mind, and then (as if the words of the dying Gaunt were in his thoughts, when he said to him that a thousand flatterers sit within the small compass of his crown, wasting the land) he pictures to himself the im- age of the crown in sad contrast to his present position, as if within its hollow temples the antic death keeps his court, allowing the wearer of the crown " a breath, a little scene to monarchize." When he afterwards appears before his ene- mies (act iii. sc. 3) a paroxysm of his kingly fancy exhibits him to the sneaking Northumberland with a show of power ; indeed this was now the moment for arresting with dignity and courage the yet undefined plot. But before Bolingbroke had declared any part, at a time when even in the presence of the weak York no one might omit the royal title before Richard's name without apology, suddenly and without any cause his wings hang wearied, he speaks himself of the sub- jection of the king ; and as he sees Aumerle weep, his lively fancy at once runs away with him to the borders of insanity : his words remind us in these scenes of the passionate mel- ancholy of Lear, which is the prelude to his madness. He asks whether they shall " play the wantons with their woes, and make some pretty match with shedding tears ? as thus ; — to drop them still upon one place, till they have fretted a pair of graves." Even here, it seems, we look back shudder- ingly from the midst of wretchedness and misery to that vain intercourse and waste of time in which Richard formerly lived with his companions. The play on words and the con- ceits in these scenes have been censured as inappropriate, but nowhere are they placed with so deep and true a pur- pose ; those whose whole intercourse consisted formerly in raillery and quibbling, speculate most naturally in such a position in an immoderate manner, and delight in exhausting an idea brought about by the force of circumstances. Rich- ard remembers that he is talking but idly, and remarks that C 34 RICHARD II. they mock at him ; the worst is that Northumberland ha:? heard his foolish words, and designates him to Bolingbroke as a frantic man. That which the rebels would not have ventured, the childish man, whom the feeling of being for- saken has quite cast down, offers of himself to them ; he himself designates first the danger which surrounds him, when in his half- insane words he calls Northumberland prince and Bolingbroke king ; in the ears of all, he gives himself and his inheritance into Bolingbroke's hands, even before any one had demanded it. In the scene also of the deposition, which accords excellently with the nature of the king and crowns the characteristic touches, we hear him rapt in the beautiful poetic images upon his misfortune, we see him burying himself in his sorrow with a kind of pleasure. He pictures to himself as in a drama the scene over which another would have passed quickly. Only when it shames him to read his own indictment, his proud nature breaks out yet once again ; and he perceives too late how miserably he had become a traitor to himself Later, too, when we see Richard on the way to prison and in prison, even in his res- ignation, he is ever employed in picturing his painful condi- tion to himself as still more painful, revelling, as it were, in his sorrow, and emptying the cup to the very dregs. He peoples the little space of his prison with his wild fancy, he studies how he may compare it to the world. An air of music drives him to reflect how he has here "the daintiness of ear to hear time broke in a disordered string," whilst "for the concord of his state and time he had no ear to hear his true time broke." He wasted time, which now wastes him ; and thus again in another melancholy simile he pictures himself as a clock, which time had made out of himself It is wise of the poet that, out of the different stories of Rich- ard's death, he chose that which exhibits him to us at the end in honourable strength, after he has allowed us also to perceive the attractive power of his amiability; it is therefore INTRODUCTION. 35 not without esteem that we take our leave of the commiser- ated man. ... But in what does the poet exhibit that good use of the crown which we extol in Bolingbroke ? The whole of Henry IV. must give an answer to this question ; but even in Rich- ard II, the reply is found. His whole path to the kingdom is a royal path, and scarcely has he reached it than he shows by the most striking contrast the difference between the king by nature and the king by mere inheritance. Before, when, banished by Richard, he left the country, he left it like a king. After the death of his father and the plunder of his house, he returns unhesitatingly back from banishment, in defiance of his sentence, and lands poor and helpless on the forbidden shore. The discontented Percies, in league with him before his landing, hasten to him ; the steward of Wor- cester does so, not out of love for him, but for his outlawed brother. On the journey which Bolingbroke has to make with his friends, he flatters them with fair words and enter- tains them with sweet discourse, but not so as to sell himself to these helpers upon whom at the time he wholly depends, as Richard did to his favourites, who even wholly depended upon hun. The possessionless man, who at the time has only thanks and promises for the future to give, is in earnest in his gratitude, without intending subsequently when he is king to concede to the helpers to the throne a position above the throne. The arrogance with which Northumberland, "the ladder wherewithal the mounting Bolingbroke ascended the throne," is on a future day to appear against him, is fully foretold in that with which he prepared the way for him to the throne. He and his followers, in their active eagerness, alertness, and officiousness, form a contrast to Richard's for the most part inactive faint-hearted flatterers : they are the willing myrmidons of the rebellion who urge Bolingbroke as quickly forward as the followers of Richard check his better nature. It is the now smooth and flexible, now rough and 36 RICHARD IT. unfeeling Northumberland, who first speaks of Richard with the omission of his title ; it is he who repeats more solemnly and forcibly the oath of Bolingbrbke that "his coming is but for his own ;" it is he who in the scene of deposition mali- ciously torments King Richard with the reading of his accu- sation ; it is he who would arbitrarily arrest the noble Car- lisle for high-treason after the outbreak of his feelings of right and his civic fidelity. But how noble throughout does Bolingbroke appear compared to this base instrument of his plans : he still humbly kneels to the poor Richard, and at least •preserves the show of decorum, while Northumberland muGt be reminded of his bending knee by his excited king ; he for- bids the malicious tormentor, in the deposition scene, any further urging ; he pardons the arrested Carlisle, whose invec- tives had been hurled in his very presence. He came before Richard prepared for a stormy scene, ready for a part of feigned humility ; but when Richard himself gives him the crown, it is perhaps only another kingly trait in his nature, it is certainly the act of a statesman, contrasting him far more advantageously than detrimentally with the tardy, self-forget- ful king, that he lays hold of the occasion so readily. No less skilfully had he, it must be admitted, prepared for it. Even before it becomes a personal question between him and Richard, he had begun, according to Percy's account, in the feeling of his greatness^ to step somewhat higher than his orig- inal vow. He began to reform edicts and decrees, to abolish abuses, to win men by good measures and actions ; he erad- icated those hated favourites, he assumed to himself a pro- tectorate, and accustomed the people to see kingly acts emanating from him before he was a king. In this manner, when wish and capacity, desire and endowments for ruh"ng, were evidenced in him, the insurrection had already burst forth before it showed itself in its true aspect. Cold and considerate compared to the fanciful, a profound statesman compared to the romanticist and the poet, a quick horseman INTRODUCTION. 37 spurring the heavy overburdened Richard, bearing the mis- fortune of banishment .with manly composure, and easing his nature by immediate search for redress, whilst Richard at the mere approach of misfortune immediately sinks, this man appears throughout as too unequal an adversary to the other for the good right on the one side to stand its ground against his superior gifts. If, intoxicated by his first success, he had not so far lost himself as to tread the path of John and Rich- ard III., and give the hints for the murder of the king (though only remote and indirect ones, which he endeavoured subse- quently to atone for by earnest repentance), we should con- sider Bolingbroke's path to the throne not guiltless, but much justified. His first appearance on the throne, in any case, casts Richard's knightly endowments deeply into the shade. The poet has here made excellent use of the corresponding history. The opening scene, which essentially exhibits to us Richard's conduct as a ruler, has in the fourth act a counterpart, which Shakespeare uses to exemplify Boling- broke's dissimilar conduct in a similar position. Aumerle is accused by four nobles of the murder of Gloster, as once Bolingbroke himself had accused Norfolk, whom he wishes now honourably to recall and to reinstate in his possessions. Only one takes the side of Aumerle, and this is the half- brother of King Richard, a suspicious security. Bolingbroke could have suffered Aumerle, the most avowed favourite of Richard, to fall by the sword of the four accusers, and could thus have removed an enemy, but he does it not. Yet more : a newly projected plot of Aumerle's is discovered to the king; the father himself is the accuser of the son ; the father himself protests earnestly against his pardon ; but the yet unconfirmed, illegitimate ruler scorns to shed the blood of relatives, a deed which cost Richard nothing. He pardons him ; not out of weakness, for he punishes the other conspir- ators with death ; he pardons him from humane and familiar motives, and schools him into a hero and a patriot. He does 38 RICHARD II. as that gardener would have had the lawful king do ; with wise discretion, he rules with mercy and justice, mildness and severity. And at the same time he behaves with that sure power and superiority which permits him to jest in that very scene, and to act with easy humour towards the zealous mother of York, when he has just discovered a conspiracy against his life. The group of characters in Richard II. is arranged very simply in harmony with the suggestions given. In contrast to the incapable legitimate king and his helpless inactive follov/ers stands the rising star of the thorough statesmanlike and royal usurper and his over-active adherents. In the struggle between right and merit stands Carlisle as the man of genuine loyalty, who knows no motive but fidelity and duty, who conceals not the truth from the lawful king, who ruins himself, and opposes unsparingly the shield of right to the usurper, who raises himself to power. Contrasted with him is the old York, whom Coleridge, in consequence of an incorrect apprehension of the character, has placed in a false opposition to Richard.* The true picture of such an agitated age would be missed if this character were wanting in it. He is the type of all political faint-heartedness, of neutrality, in times when partisanship is a duty, of that cowardly loyalty which turns to the strong and" powerful. When Richard is * This is what Coleridge says of York : " There is scarcely any thing in Shakespeare in its degree more admirably drawn than York's character: his religious loyalty struggling with a deep grief and indignation at the king's follies ; his adherence to his word and faith, once given in spite of all, even the most natural, feelings. You see in him the weakness of old age, and the overwhelmingness of circumstances, for a time surmounting his sense of duty — the junction of both exhibited in his boldness in words and feebleness in immediate act ; and then again his effort to retrieve himself in abstract loyalty, even at the heavy price of the loss of his son. This species of accidental and adventitious weakness is brought into parallel with Richard's continually increasing energy of thought and as constantly diminishing power of acting ; and thus it is Richard thai breathes a harmony and a relation into all the characters of the play." INTRODUCTION. 39 still in his full power, he considers he has gone too far when he extols to the young king the virtues of his father. When Richard seizes the Lancastrian lands, his natural sense of right and his anxiety respecting his own property urges him to utter impressive warnings, but when the king makes him, the inoffensive one, his governor in England, he allows him- self to be appeased. Bolingbroke lands, and York sees through his project, and warns him not to take what he should not ; his integrity even here shows him the path which his weakness suffers him not to follow. He would like to serve the king and to discharge his duty to his lord, but he thinks also to have a duty of kinship and conscience respecting Bolingbroke's lawful claims to his inheritance. That he stood for the moment in the place of the king, he heeds not. Helpless what to do, he loses his head in unut- terable perplexity, but not his character. He will remain neutral. He sees the finger of God in the desertion of the people, and lets it be; for Richard he has tears, few words, and no deeds. With loyalty such as this countries go to ruin, while they prosper at usurpations such as Bolingbroke's. But that this weakness of the weak can amount to a degree in which it becomes the most natural obduracy, and in which the cruelty of the usurper is guiltless when compared with it, Shakespeare has displayed in a truly masterly manner, when he suffers York to accuse his own son of high-treason, and to urge his death with pertinacity. He goes so far as to wish that the king may ill thrive if he grant any grace. In this trait conscientiousness and fidelity intermingle undistinguish- ably with the fear of seeing himself exposed and suspected. Such is servile loyalty ; under the rule of the weak it is weak and but a frail support, under that of the strong it is strong and an efiicient trustworthy power. See, see, King Richard doth himself appear! Uii. 3. 62.} ^ )l\ K^ hi DRAMATIS PERSONM. King Richard the Second. John of Gaunt, ^ Duke of Lancaster, f Uncles to the Edmund of Langley, i King. Duke of York, ' Henry, surnamed Bolingbroke, Duke of Hereford, Son to John of Gaunt, afterwards King Henry IV. Duke of Aumerle, Son to the Duke of York. Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk. Duke of Surrey. Earl of Salisbury. Lord Berkeley. Bushy, \ Bagot, [ Servants to King Richard. Green, ) Earl of Northumberland. Henry Percy, surnamed Hotspur, his Son. Lord Ross. Lord Willoughby. Lord Fitzwater. Bishop of Carlisle. Abbot of Westminster. Lord Marshal. Sir Pierce of Exton. Sir Stephen Scroop. Captain of a Band of Welshmen. Queen co King Richard. Duchess of York. Duchess of Gloster. Lady attending on the Queen. Lords, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, Twr Gardeners, Keeper, Messenger, Groom, and other Attendants. Scene : Dispersedly Wales. in England anc ACT I. Scene I. Windsor. A Room in the Castle. Enter King Richard, attended^ John of Gaunt, and other Nobles. King Richard. Old John of Gaunt, time-honour'd Lancaster, Hast thou, according to thy oath and band, Brought hither Henry Hereford, thy bold son, Here to make good the boisterous late appeal, 44 RICHARD II. Which then our leisure would not let us hear, Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray? Gaunt. I have, my liege. King Richard. Tell me, moreover, hast thou sounded him, If he appeal the duke on ancient malice, Or worthily, as a good subject should, ,e On some known ground of treachery in him? 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. King Richard. Then call them to our presence : face to face. And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear The accuser and the accused freely speak. — [Exeunt some Attendants. High-stomach'd are they both, and full of ire, In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire. Efiter Attendants, 7vith Bolingbroke and Norfolk. Bolingbroke. Many years of happy days befall 20 My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege ! Norfolk. Each day still better other's happiness, Until the heavens, envying earth's good hap, Add an immortal title to your crown ! Ki7ig Richard. We thank you both : yet one but flatters us, 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? Bolingbroke. First, — heaven be the record to my speech ! — In the devotion of a subject's love, 30 Tendering the precious safety of my prince, And free from other misbegotten hate, Come I appellant to this princely presence. — Now, Thomas Mowbray, do I turn to thee, ACT I. SCENE I. 45 And mark my greeting well; for what I speak My body shall make good upon this earth, Or ray 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, What my tongue speaks, my right-drawn sword may prove. Norfolk. Let not my cold words here accuse my zeal. ' r is not the trial of a woman's war, The bitter clamour of two eager tongues. Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain : so 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, Which else would post until it had return'd These terms of treason doubled down 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; Which to maintain I would allow him odds. And meet him, were I tied to run afoot Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps, Or any other ground inhabitable Where ever Englishman durst set his foot. Mean time, let this defend my loyalty. — By all my hopes, most falsely doth he lie. Bolingbroke. Pale trembling coward, there I throw my gage, 46 RICHARD II. Disclaiming here the kindred of the king^ 70 And lay aside my high blood's royalty, Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to except. If guilty dread hath left thee so much strength As to take up mine honour's pawn, then stoop : By that and all the rites of knighthood else, Will I make good against thee, arm to arm, - What I have spoken, or thou canst devise. Norfolk. I take it up; and by that sword I swear, Which gently laid my knighthood on my shoulder, I '11 answer thee in any fair degree, 80 Or chivalrous design of knightly trial : And when I mount, alive may I not light, If I be traitor or unjustly fight ! Kitig Richard. What doth our cousin lay to Mowbray's charge ? It must be great that can inherit us So much as of a thought of ill in him. Bolingbroke, Look, what I speak, my life shall prove it true : — That Mowbray hath received eight thousand nobles In name of lendings for your highness' soldiers, 90 The which he hath detain'd for lewd employments, Like a false traitor and injurious villain. Besides, I say, and will in battle prove, Or here or elsewhere to the farthest verge That ever was survey'd by English eye. That all the treasons for these eighteen years Complotted and contrived in this land Fetch'd 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 Gloster's death, 100 Suggest his soon-believing adversaries, And consequently, like a traitor coward, ACT I. SCENE I. 47 Sluic'd out his innocent soul tlirough streams of blood ; Which blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries, Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth. To me for justice and rough chastisement; And, by the glorious worth of my descent, 1 his arm shall do it, or this life be spent. King Richard. How high a pitch his resolution soars ! — Thomas of Norfolk, what say'st thou to this ? no Norfolk. O, let my sovereign turn away his face, 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. King Richard. Mowbray, impartial are our eyes and ears : Were he my brother, nay, our 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. Norfolk. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart, Through the false passage of thy throat, thou liest ! Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais • Disburs'd I duly to his highness' 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 Gloster's death, I slew him not, but to mine own disgrace Neglected my sworn duty in that case. For you, my noble Lord of Lancaster, The honourable father to my foe, Once did I lay an ambush far your life. 48 RICHARD II. A trespass that doth vex my grieved soul : 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 1 boldly will defend. 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. King Richard. 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 : Forget, forgive ; conclude, and be agreed ; Our doctors say this is no time 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. King Richai'd. And, Norfolk, throw down his. Gaunt. When, Harry, when ? Obedience bids I should not bid again. King Richard. Norfolk, throw down, we bid ; there is no boot. Norfolk. Myself I throw, dread sovereign, at thy foot. 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 baffled here, 170 ACT L SCENE I. 49 Pierc'd to the soul with slander's venom'd spear, The which no balm can cure but his heart-blood Which breath'd this poison. King Richard. Rage must be withstood. Give me his gage : — lions make leopards tame. Norfolk. Yea, but not change his spots : take but my shame, 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. King Richard. Cousin, throw down your gage ; do you begin. Bolingbroke. O, God defend my soul from such foul sin ! Shall I seem crest-fallen in my father's sight ? Or with pale beggar-fear impeach my height Before this outdar'd dastard ? Ere my tongue igo Shall wound mine honour with such feeble wrong, Or sound so base a parle, my teeth shall tear The slavish motive of recanting fear, And spit it bleeding in his high disgrace, Where shame doth harbour, even in Mowbray's face ! \^Exit Gaunt. King Richard. We were not born to sue, but to command;.. Which since we cannot do to make you friends, Be ready, as your lives 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 ; D 50 RICHARD II. Since we cannot atone you, you shall see Justice design the victor's chivalry. — Lord maishal, command our officers at arms Be ready to direct these home alarms. \Exevni THE SAVOY, THE DUKE OF LANCASTER'S PALACE. Scene II. London. A Room in the Duke of Lancaster's Palace. Enter Gaunt and Duchess of Gloster. Gaunt. Alas ! the part I had in Gloster'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, Put we our quarrel to the will of heaven, Who, when they see the hours ripe on earth, Will rain hot vengeance on offenders' heads. Duchess. Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper spur? Hath love in thy old blood no living fire ">. 52 RICHARD II. 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 branches by the Destinies cut ; But Thomas, my dear lord, my life, my Gloster, 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, ^^ By envy's hand and murther's bloody axe. Ah, Gaunt, his blood was thine ! that bed, that womb. That metal, 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 In some large measure to thy father's death. In that thou seest thy wretched brother die, Who was the model of thy father's life. Call it not patience, Gaunt; it is despair : In suffering thus thy brother to be slaughter'd, 3c Thou show'st the naked pathway to thy life, Teaching stern murther how to butcher thee. That which in mean men we entitle patience, Is pale cold cowardice in nobler breasts. What shall I say ? to safeguard thine own life. The best way is to venge my Gloster's death. 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. DiKhess. Where, then, alas, may I complain myself.? Gaunt, To God, the widow's champion and defence. Duchess. Why, then, I will. Farewell, old Gaunt. Thou go'st to Coventry, there to behold ACT L SCENE II. 53 Oiir 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 so 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. Gaunt. Sister, farewell ; I must to Coventry. As much good stay with thee as go with me ! Duchess. Yet one word more. — Grief boundeth where it falls, Not with the empty hollowness, but weight : I take my leave before I have begun, 60 For sorrow ends not when it seemeth done. Commend me to my 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 — O, what ? — With all good speed at Flashy visit me. 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? 7° Therefore commend me ; let him not come there To seek our sorrow that dwells every where. Desolate, desolate, will I hence, and die: The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye. \Exeunt. 54 RICHARD II. ScENii III. Gosford Green, near Coventry. Lists set out, and a thro7ie. Heralds, etc., attending. Enter the Lord Marshal and Aumerle. Marshal. My Lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford arm'd ? Aumerle. Yea, at all points, and longs to enter in. Marshal. The Duke of Norfolk, sprightfully and bold, Stays but the summons of the appellant's trumpet. Aumerle. Why, then, the champions are prepar'd, and stay For nothing but his majesty's approach. Flourish of trumpets. Enter King Richard, who takes his seat on his throne ; Gaunt, Bushy, Bagot, Green, and others, who take their places. A t7'umpet is sounded, and answered by another trumpet within. Then enter Norfolk in armour, preceded by a Herald. King Richard. 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. lo Marshal. 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 's thy quarrel. Speak truly, on thy knighthood and thine oath ; As so defend thee heaven and thy valour ! Norfolk. My name is Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk ; 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 his succeeding issue, so 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 ! ACT I. SCENE III. 55 Trumpets sound. Enter Bolingbroke in armour^ preceded by a Herald. King Richard. 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. 39 Marshal. What is thy name 1 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 ! Bolifigbroke. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, Am Ij 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 ! Marshal. On pain of death, no person be so bold Or daring hardy as to touch the lists. Except the marshal and such officers Appointed to direct these fair designs. Boliftgbroke. Lord marshal, let me kiss my sovereign's hand, And bow my knee before his majesty : For Mowbray and myself are like two men That vow a long and weary pilgrimage ; Then let us take a ceremonious leave sq And loving farewell of our several friends. Marshal The appellant in all duty greets your highness, . And craves to kiss your hand and take his leave.. King Richard. We will descend and fold him in our arms. — Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause is right, 56 RICHARD II. 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. Bolingbroke. O, let no noble eye profane a tear For me, if I be gor'd with Mowbray's spear : So 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. But lusty, young, and cheerly drawing breath. — Lo, as at English feasts, so I regreet The daintiest last, to make the end more sweet : O thou, the earthly author of my blood, — \To Gaum: 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. And furbish new the name of John o' Gaunt, Even in the lusty haviour of his son. Gaunt. God in thy good cause make thee prosperous \ Be swift like lightning in the execution; And let thy blows, doubly redoubled, go Fall like amazing thunder on the casque Of thy adverse pernicious enemy : Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant and live. Bolingbroke. Mine innocence and Saint George to thrive \ Norfolk. However God or fortune cast my lot, 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 uncontroll'd enfranchisement, 90 ACT 1. SCENE III. 57 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 Go I to fight ; truth hath a quiet breast. King Richard, Farewell, my lord : securely I espy Virtue with valour couched in thine eye. — Order the trial, marshal, and begin. Marshal. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, loo Receive thy lance ; and God defend the right ! Bolinghroke. Strong as a tower in hope, I cry amen. Marshal. Go bear this lance \to an Officer'] to Thomas, Duke of Norfolk. 1 Herald. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, Stands here for God, his sovereign, and himself. On pain to be found 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. 2 Herald. Here standeth Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Nor- folk, IIO 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. Attending but the signal to begin. Marshal Sound, trumpets ; and set forward, combatants. \A charge sou7ided. Stay ! the king hath thrown his warder down. King Richard. 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 58 RICHARD II. While we return these dukes what we decree. — \A long flourish. Draw near, M'o the combatants. And list what with our council we have done. For that our kingdom's earth should not be soil'd 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' swords. And for we think the eagle-winged pride Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts, 130 With rival-hating envy, set on you To wake our peace, which in our country's cradle Draws the sweet infant breath of gentle sleep ; Which so rous'd up with boisterous untun'd drums, With harsh-resounding trumpets' dreadful bray. 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 regreet our fair dominions. But tread the stranger paths of banishment. Bolingbroke. Your will be done : this must my comfort be, — That sun that warms you here shall shine on me ; And those his golden beams to you here lent Shall point on me and gild my banishment. King Richard. Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier doom, Which I with some unwillingness pronounce : The fly-slow hours shall not determinate iqo The dateless limit of thy dear exile ; — The hopeless word of ' never to return ' Breathe I against thee, upon pain of life. Norfolk. A heavy sentence, my most gracious liege, ; And all unlook'd for from your highness' mouth : ACT L SCENE III. 5,q. 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 forego : ^60 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. 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 ? King Richard. It boots thee not to be compassionate : After our sentence plaining comes too late. Norfolk. Then thus I turn me from my country's light. To dwell in solemn shades of endless night. [Retiring. King Richard. Return again, and take an oath with thee. Lay on our royal sword your banish'd hands ; Swear by the duty that you owe to God, — iSc 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 ever look upon each other's face ; Nor ever write, regreet, nor reconcile This lowering tempest of your home-bred hate ; Nor ever by advised purpose meet To plot, contrive, or complot any ill 'Gainst us, our state, our subjects, or our land. igQ 6o RICHARD II. Bolingbroke. I swear. Norfolk. And I, to keep all this. Bolingbroke. Norfolk, so far as to mine enemy \ — By this time, had the king permitted us, One of our souls had wander'd in the air, Hanish'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 burthen of a guilty soul. mo Norfolk. 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 ! But what thou art, God, thou, and I do know, And all tpo soon, I fear, the king shall rue. — Farewell, my liege. — Now no way can I stray : Save back to England, all the world 's my way. \Exit. King Richard. 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 Bolingbroke] Six frozen winters spent. Return with welcome home from banishment. Bolingbroke. 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. Gaunt. I thank my liege that in regard of me He shortens four years of my son's exile : 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, 22c My oil-dried 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. ACT I. SCENE III. 61 King Richard. Why, uncle, thou hast many years to live. Gaunt. But not a minute, king, that thou canst give : Shorten my days thou canst with sudden sorrow, And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow ; 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. King Richard. Thy son is banish'd upon good advice. Whereto thy tongue a party-verdict gave : Why at our justice seem'st thou, then, to lower.? 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 mine unwilling tongue Against my will to do myself this wrong. King Richard. Cousin, farewell ; — and, uncle, bid him so : Six years we banish him, and he shall go. \Flourish. Exeunt King Richard and train. Aumerle. Cousin, farewell : what presence must not know, From where you do remain let paper show. 250 Marshal. My lord, no leave take I ; for I will ride As far as land will let me by your side. Gaunt. O, to what purpose dost thou hoard thy words, That thou return'st no greeting to thy friends ? Bolinghroke. I have too few to take my leave of you, 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. 62 RICHARD IL Bolingbroke. Joy absent, grief is present for that time. Gaunt What is six winters ? they are quickly gone. 260 Bolmgbroke. To men in joy ; but grief makes one hour ten. Gau7Jt. Call it a travel that thou tak'st for pleasure. Bolingbroke. My heart will sigh when I miscall it so, Which finds it an enforced pilgrimage. Gaunt. The sullen passage of thy weary steps Esteem a foil, wherein thou art to set The precious jewel of thy home-return. Bolingbroke. 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 journeyman to grief? Gaunt. All places that the eye of heaven visits 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. 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. Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it To lie that way thou go'st, 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. ACT I. SCENE IV. 63 Bolingbroke. O, who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the frosty Caucasus ? 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 300 Gives but the greater feeling to the worse : Fell sorrow's tooth doth never rankle more Than when it bites, but lanceth not the sore. Gaunt. Come, come, my son, I '11 bring thee on thy way : Had I thy youth and cause, I would not stay. Bolingbroke. 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 true-born Englishman. [Exeunt. Scene IV. The Court. Enter King Richard, Bagot, and Green ; Aumerle following. King Richard. We did observe. — Cousin Aumerle, How far brought you high Hereford on his way ? Aumerle. I brought high Hereford, if you call him so, But to the next highway, and there I left him. King Richard. And say, what store of parting tears were shed ? Aumerle. Faith, none for me j except the north-east 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. King Richard. What said our cousin when you parted with him? 10 Aumerle. ' Farewell :' 64 RICHARD II. And, for my heart disdained that my tongue Should so profane the word, that taught me craft To counterfeit oppression of such grief. That words seem'd buried in my sorrow's grave. Marry, would the word 'farewell' have lengthen'd 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. King Richard. He is our cousin, cousin ; but 't is 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 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 't were to banish their affects with him. 30 Off 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. 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, Ere further leisure yield them further means 40 For their advantage and your highness' loss. King Richard. 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 enforc'd to farm our royal realm ; The revenue whereof shall furnish us ACT I. SCENE IV. g^. 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, sc 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 very sick, my lord, Suddenly taken j and hath sent post-haste To entreat your majesty to visit him. King Richard. Where lies he t Bushy. At Ely House. King Richard. Now put it, God, in his 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 ! [Exeunt ARMS OF RICHARD II. E BERKELEY CASTLE (SCENE III.) ACT II. Scene I. London. A Room in Ely House. Gaunt on a couch; the Duke of York and others stmidin by him. 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 with your breath For all in vain comes counsel to his ear. Gaunt. O, but they say the tongues of dying men Enforce attention like deep harmony : Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain : ACT II. SCENE I. 67 For they breathe truth that breathe their words in pain. He that no more must say is listen'd more Than they whom youth and ease have taught to gloze ; 10 More are men's ends mark'd than their lives before. The setting sun, and music at the close, As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last, Writ in remembrance more than things long past. Though Richard my life's counsel would not hear, My death's sad tale may yet undeaf his ear. - York. No j it is stopp'd with other flattering sounds, As praises of his state ; then, there are found Lascivious metres, to whose venom* sound The open ear of youth doth always listen ; 2c 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 — 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 ; He tires betimes that spurs too fast betimes ; With eager feeding food doth choke the feeder : Light vanity, insatiate cormorant^ Consuming means, soon preys upon itself. This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle, 40 ,This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Fden, demi-paradise; es RICHARD IL This fortress built by Nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war ; This happy breed of men, this little world, 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 England, 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 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. bo 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. Hath made a shameful 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 Willoughby. York. The king is come : deal mildly with his youth ; For young hot colts, being rag'd, do rage the more. 70 Queen. How fares our noble uncle, Lancaster ? King Richard. What comfort, man ? How is 't with aged Gaunt? Gaunt. O, how that name befits my composition ! ACT II. SCENE I. 69 Old Gaunt, indeed; and gaunt in being old : Within me grief hath kept a tedious fast ; 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 \ 8« 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. King Richard. Can sick men play so nicely with their names? Gaunt. No, misery makes sport to mock itself: Since thou dost seek to kill my name in me, I mock my name, great king, to flatter thee. King Richard. Should dying men flatter with those that live? Gaunt, No, no ; men living flatter those that die. King Richard. Thou, now a-dying, say'st thou flatter'st me. 90 Gaunt. O, no ! thou diest, though I the sicker be. Kifig Richard. 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 the land Wherein thou liest in reputation sick ; And thou, too careless patient as thou art, Committ'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, encaged 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. 70 RICHARD II. From forth thy reach he would have laid thy shame, 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 ; "o But for thy world enjoying but this land, Is it not more than shame to shame it so? Landlord of England art thou, and not king : Thy state of law is bondslave to the law ; And King Richard. And thou' a lunatic lean-witted fool, 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 unreverent shoulders. Gaunt. O, spare me not, my brother Edward's son. For that I was his father Edward's son ; That blood already, like the pelican, Hast thou tapp'd out, and drunkenly carous'd. My brother Gloster, 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 ! — Convey me to my bed, then to my grave : Love they to live that love and honour have. \^Exit, borne out by his Attendants. ACT II. SCENE L 7 1 King Richard. And let them die that age and sullens have ; For both hast thou, and both become the grave. 140 York. I do beseech your majesty, impute his words To wayward sickHness and age in him : He loves you, on my life, and holds you dear As Harry, Duke of Hereford, were he here. Ki?tg Richard. Right, you say true : as Hereford's love, so his ; As theirs, so mine ; and all be as it is. Enter Northumberland. . Northufnberland. My liege, old Gaunt commends him to your majesty. King Richard. What says he ? Northumberland. 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. Ki7tg Richard. 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 : We must supplant those rough rug-headed kerns, Which live like venom, where no venom else, But only they, have privilege to live. And for these great affairs do ask some charge, Towards our assistance we do seize to us 160 The plate, coin, revenues, and movables, Whereof our uncle Gaunt did stand possess'd. York. How long shall I be patient ? ah, how long Shall tender duty make me suffer wrong.? Not Gloster's death, nor Hereford's banishment. Not Gaunt's rebukes, nor England's private wrongs. Nor the prevention of poor Bolingbroke About his marriage, nor my own disgrace. 72 RICHARD II. 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. 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's 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. King Richard. 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. 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 the one deserve to have an heir 1 Is not his heir a well-deserving son ? Take Hereford's rights away, and take from time 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 ! — aoo If you do wrongfully seize Hereford's rights, Call in the letters-patents that he hath ACT II. SCENE /. 73 By his attorneys-general to sue His livery, and deny his offer'd homage, You pluck a thousand dangers on your head, You lose a thousand well-disposed hearts, And prick my tender patience to those thoughts Which honour and allegiance cannot think. King Richard. Think what you will : we seize into our hands His plate, his goods, his money, and his lands. 210 York. I '11 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. King Richard. Go, Bushy, to the Earl of Wiltshire straight : Bid him repair to us to Ely House, To see this business. To-morrow next We will for Ireland ; and 't is 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, Bushy, A^mierle, Green, and Bagot. Northumberland. Well, lords, the Duke of Lancaster is dead. Ross. And living too, for now his son is duke. Willoughby. Barely in title, not in revenue. Northumberland. Richly in both, if justice had her right. Ross. My heart is great ; but it must break with silence, Ere 't be disburthen'd with a liberal tongue. Northumberland. Nay, speak thy mind ; and let him ne'er speak more 230 That speaks thy words again to do thee harm ! Willoughby. Tends that thou'dst speak to the Duke of Hereford ? 74 RICHARD 11. 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 ; Unless you call it good to pity him. Bereft and gelded of his patrimony. Northumberland. Now, afore God, 't is shame such wrongs are borne 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. Ross. The commons hath he pill'd with grievous taxes. And lost their hearts; the nobles hath he fin'd For ancient quarrels, and quite lost their hearts. Willoicghby. And daily new exactions are devis'd ; As blanks, benevolences, and I wot not what : 250 But what, o' God's name, dotli become of this ? Northumberland, Wars have not wasted it, for warr'd he hath not. But basely yielded upon compromise That which his ancestors achiev'd with blows: More hath he spent in peace than they in wars. Ross. The Earl of Wiltshire hath the realm in farm. Willoughby. The king 's grown bankrupt, like a broken man. Northumberland. Reproach and dissolution hangeth over him. Ross. He hath not money for these Irish wars, His burthenous taxations notwithstanding, 260 But by the robbing of the banish'd duke. Northumberland. His noble kinsman : most degenerate king ! ACT IT. SCENE I. 75 But, lords, we hear this fearful tempest sing, Yet seek no shelter to avoid the storm ; We see the wind sit sore upon our sails, And yet we strike not, but securely perish. Ross. We see the very wrack that we must suffer; A.nd unavoided is the danger now, For suffering so the causes of our wrack, Northumberland. Not so : even through the hollow eyes of death 270 I spy life peering ; but I dare not say How near the tidings of our comfort is. Willoughby. Nay, let us share thy thoughts, as thou dost ours. Ross. Be confident to speak, Northumberland : We three are but thyself; and, speaking so, Thy words are but as thoughts : therefore, be bold. Northumberland. Then thus : — I have from Port le Blanc, a bav In Brittany, receiv'd intelligence That Harry Duke of Hereford, Renald Lord Cobham, That late broke from the Duke of Exeter, 280 His brother. Archbishop late of Canterbury, Sir Thomas Erpingham, Sir John Ramston, Sir John Norbery, Sir Robert Waterton, and Francis Quoint, — All these, well furnish'd by the Duke of Bretagne, With eight tall ships, three thousand men of war, Are making hither with all due expedience. And shortly mean to touch our northern shore : Perhaps they had ere this, but that they stay The first departing of the king for Ireland. If, then, we shall shake off our slavish yoke, 390 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. 76 RICHARD 11. And make high majesty look like itself, Away with me in post to Ravenspurg ; 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. Willoughby. Hold out my horse, and I will first be there. \Exeunt, Scene II. London. A Room in the Palace. Enter Queen, Bushy, a7id Bagot. Bushy. Madam, your majesty 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, 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 As my sweet Richard. Yet, again, methinks Some unborn sorrow, ripe in fortune's womb, lo Is coming towards me ; and my inward soul With nothing trembles : at some thing it grieves. More than with parting from my lord the king. Bushy. Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows, Which show like grief itself, but are not so : For sorrow's eye, glazed with blinding tears, Divides one thing entire to many objects ; Like perspectives, which rightly gaz'd upon Show nothing but confusion, eyed awry Distinguish form : so your sweet majesty, 20 Looking awry upon your lord's departure. Finds 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^ ACT 11. SCENE JI. 11 More than your lord's departure weep not: more 's not seen ; Or if it be, 't is with false sorrow's eye, Which for things true weeps things imaginary. Queen. It may be so \ but yet my inward soul 78 RICHARD II. - Persuades me it is otiierwise : 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. 'T is nothing but conceit, my gracious lady Queen. 'T is nothing less : conceit is still deriv'd From some forefather grief; mine is not so, P'or nothing hath begot my something grief. Or something hath the nothing that I grieve. 'T is in reversion that I do possess. But what it is, that is not yet known ; what I cannot name ; 't is 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 t \ is 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 repeals himself, And with uplifted arms is safe arriv'd 50 At Ravenspurg. Queen. Now God in heaven forbid ! Green. O madam, 't is 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. Bushy. Why have you not proclaim'd Northumberland, And all the rest of the revolted faction, traitors ? Green. We have : whereupon the Earl of Worcester Hath broke his staff, resign'd his stewardship. ACT IL SCENE IT. 79 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, 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, ^ Who 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 !— Uncle, for God's sake, speak comfortable words. York. Should I do so, I should belie my thoughts : Comfort 's in heaven ; and we are on the earth. Where nothing lives but crosses, care, and grief. Your husband, he is gone to save far off, Whilst others come to make him lose at home i Here am I left to underprop his land, 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. Enter a Servant. Servant. 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. — 8c 8o RICHARD II. Sirrah, get thee to Plashy, to my sister Gloster; ^ Bid her send me presently a thousand pound. Hold, take my ring. Servant. 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. York. What is 't, knave ? Servant. 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 — loo 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 despatch'd for Ireland t — How shall we do for money for these wars ? — Come, sister, — cousin, I would say; pray pardon me. — Go, fellow \to the Servant\ 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 thrust disorderly into my hands, no Never believe me. Both are my kinsmen : The one is my sovereign, whom both my oath And duty bids defend ; the other, again, Is my kinsman, whom the king hath wTong'd, Whom conscience and my kindred bids to right. Well, somewhat we must do. — Come, cousin, I '11 Dispose of you. — Gentlemen, go, muster up your men. And meet me presently at Berkeley Castle. I should to Plashy too ; But time will not permit : — all is uneven, 120 And every thing is left at six and seven. \Exeunt York and Queen Bushy. The wind sits fair for news to go to Ireland, ACT II. SCENE IL 8 J But none returns. For us to levy power Proportionable to the enemy 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. 130 Bushy. Wherein the king stands generally condemn'd. Bagot. If judgment 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 : 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 ? Bagot. No ; I will to Ireland to his majesty. 140 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 beat back Bolingbroke. Green. Alas, poor duke ! the task he undertakes Is numbering sands, and drinking oceans dry : Where one on his side fights, thousands will fly. Bagot. Farewell at once, — for once, for all, and ever. Bushy. Well, we may meet again. Bagot. I fear me, never. \Exeuni •"There stands the castle." Scene III. The Wilds in Glo'ster shire. Enter Bolingbroke and Northumberland, with Forces. Bolingbroke. How far is it, my lord, to Berkeley now ? No7'thumberland. Believe me, noble lord, I am a stranger here in Glostershire. 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, Making the hard w^ay sweet and delectable. But I bethink me what a weary way From Ravenspurg to Cotswold will be found In Ross and Willoughby, wanting your company, Which, I protest, hath very much beguil'd ACT II. SCENE II L %>^ The tediousness and process of my travel : But theirs is sweeten'd with the hope to have The present benefit which I possess ; And hope to joy is little less in joy 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. Bolingbroke. Of much less value is my company Than your good words. But who comes here ? 20 Enter Harry Percy. Northumberla7id, It is my son, young Harry Percy, 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. Northumberland. Why, is he not with the queen ? Percy. No, my good lord ; he hath forsook the court. Broken his staff of office, and dispers'd The household of the king. Northumberland. What was his reason ? He was not so resolv'd when last we spake together. Percy. Because your lordship was proclaimed traitor. 30 But he, my lord, is gone to Ravenspurg, 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 Ravenspurg. Northumberland. 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. Northumberland. Then learn to know him now ; this is the duke. 40 84 RICHARD 11. 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. Bolingbroke. I thank thee, gentle Percy ; and be sure I count myself in nothing else so happy As in a soul remembering 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. sa Northumberland. 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 ; None else of name and noble estimate. Enter Ross and Willoughby. Northu7fiberland. Here come the Lords of Ross and Wil- loughby, Bloody with spurring, fiery-red with haste. Bolingbroke. 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. Willoughby. And far surmounts our labour to attain it. Bolingbroke. Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the poor ; Which, till my infant fortune comes to years. Stands for my bounty. — But who comes here ? Enter Berkeley. Northumberland. It is my Lord of Berkeley, as 1 guess. Berkeley. My Lord of Hereford, my message is to you. Bolingbroke. My lord, my answer is — to Lancaster ; 70 ACT II. SCENE III. 8S And I am come to seek that name in England ; And I must find that title in your tongue, Before I make reply to aught you say. Berkeley. Mistake me not, my lord ; 't is not my meaning To raze one title of your honour out. 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-born arms. 8a Enter York, attended. BoUngbroke. I shall not need transport my words by you • Here comes his grace in person. — My noble uncle ! \Kneels. York. Show me thy humble heart, and not thy knee. Whose duty is deceivable and false. BoUngbroke. My gracious uncle ! — York. Tut, tut ! Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle : I am no traitor's uncle; and that word 'graced In an ungracious mouth is but profane. Why have those banish'd and forbidden legs Dar'd once to touch a dust of England's ground "i 90 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 And ostentation of despised arms ? Com'st thou because the anointed king is hence .^ Wh)'-, foolish 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, 100 From forth the ranks of many thousand French, O, then, how quickly should this arm of mine, 86 RICHARD II. Now prisoner to the palsy, chastise thee, And minister correction to thy fault ! Bolingbroke. 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 Before the expiration of thy time, no In braving arms against thy sovereign. Bolingbroke. 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 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 royalties Pluck'd from my arms perforce, and given away 120 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 kinsman; 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 denied to sue my livery here. Acid yet my letters-patents give me leave : My father's goods are all distrain'd and sold; 130 And these and all are all amiss employ'd. What would you have me do? I am a subject, And challenge law : attorneys are denied me, And therefore personally I lay my claim To my inheritance of free descent. Northumberland. The noble duke hath been too much abus'd. ACT 11. SCENE III. 87 Ross. It Stands your grace upon to do him right. Willoughby. Base men by his endowments are made great. York. My lords of England, let me tell you this : I have had feeling of my cousin's wrongs, mo 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; And you that do abet him in this kind Cherish rebellion, and are rebels all. Northumberland. 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, And let him ne'er see joy that breaks that oath ! 150 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, 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. And there repose you for this night. ^60 Bolingbroke. 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. The caterpillars of the commonwealth. Which I have sworn to weed and pluck away. York. It may be I will go with you; — but yet I '11 pause ; For I am loath to break our country's laws. Nor friends nor foes, to me welcome you are : Things past redress are now with me past care. 17° \Exeunt. 38 RICHARD 11. Scene IV. A Camp in Wales. Enter Salisbury and a Captain. Captain. My Lord of Salisbury, we have stay'd ten days, And hardly kept our countrymen together. And yet we hear no tidings from the king; Therefore we will disperse ourselves : farewell. Salisbury. Stay yet another day, thou trusty Welshman : The king reposeth all his confidence in thee. Captain. 'T is 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, lo And lean-look'd prophets whisper fearful change; Rich men look sad, and rufiians 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. Farewell : our countrymen are gone and fled. As well assur'd Richard their king is dead. \^Exit. Salisbury. Ah, Richard, with the eyes of heavy mind, I see thy glory, like a shooting star, Fall to the base earth from the firmament. « Thy sun sets weeping 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 III. Scene I. Bolingbroke's Camp at Bristol. Enter Bolingbroke, York, Northumberland, Percy, Wil- LOUGHBY, Ross, witJi BusHY and Green prisoners. Bolingbroke. 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 't were no charity; yet, to wash your blood From off my hands, here in the view of men I will unfold some causes of your deaths. You have misled a prince, a royal king, go RICHARD II. A happy gentleman in blood and lineaments, By ycu unhappied and disfigur'd clean j ,c 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. 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, Have stoop'd my neck under your injuries. And sigh'd my English breath in foreign clouds, 20 Eating die 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, 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 deliver'd over To execution and the hand of death. 30 Bushy. More welcome is the stroke of death to me Than Bolingbroke to England. Green. My comfort is, that heaven will take our souls, And plague injustice with the pains of hell. Bolingbroke. My Lord Northumberland, see them de- spatch'd. — [Exeunt Northumberland and others^ with 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 despatch'd 4° AVith letters of your love to her at large. ACT III. SCENE II. 91 Bolingbroke. Thanks, gentle uncle. — Come, lords, away, To fight with Glendower and his complices : Awhile to work, and after holiday. S^Exeunt. Scene 1 1. The Coast of Wales. A Castle in view. Flourish; drums and trumpets. Enter King Richard, the Bishop of Carlisle, Aumerle, and Soldiers. King Richard. Barkloughly Castle call you this at hand ? Aumerle. Yea, my lord. How brooks your grace the air, After your late tossing on the breaking seas ? King Richard. Needs must I like it well; I weep for joy To stand upon my kingdom once again. — Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand. Though rebels wound thee with their horses' hoofs : As a long-parted mother with her child Plays fondly with her tears and smiles in meeting. So, weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth, 10 And do thee favour with my royal hands. Feed not thy sovereign's foe, my gentle earth. Nor with thy sweets comfort his ravenous sense; But let thy spiders that suck up thy venom, And heavy-gaited toads, lie in their way. Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet Which with usurping steps do trample thee. Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies; 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 Shall falter under foul rebellious arms ! Carlisle. Fear not, my lord ; that Power that made you king g2 RICHARD TL Hath power to keep you king in spite of all. The means that heaven yields 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. Aumerle. He means, my lord, that we are too remiss; Whilst Bolingbroke, through our security, Grows strong and great in substance and in friends. King Richard. Discomfortable 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 murthers 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 murthers, treasons, and detested sins. The cloak of night being pluck'd from off their backs, Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves? So when this thief, this traitor, Bolingbroke, Who all this while hath revell'd in the night, Whilst we were wandering with the antipodes, Shall see us rising in our throne, the east, 5° 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 from an anointed king; 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 man must fall; for heaven still guards the right. — ACT III. SCENE II. 93 Enter Salisbury. Welcome, my lord : how far off lies your power? Salisbury. Nor near nor farther off, my gracious lord, Than this weak arm : discomfort guides my tongue, And bids me speak of nothing but despair. One day too late, I fear, my 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. Aumerle. Comfort, my liege ! why looks your grace so pale? King Richard. 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, «« For time hath set a blot upon my pride. Aumerle. Comfort, my liege! remember who you are. King Richard. I had forgot myself: am I not king? Awake, thou sluggard majesty! thou sleep'st. Is not the king's name forty thousand names ? 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? ^ Enter Scroop. Scroop. More health and happiness betide my liege Than can my care-tun'd tongue deliver him. .^4 RICHARD II. King Richard. Mine ear is open and my heart prepar'd : The worst is worldly loss thou canst unfold. Say, is my kingdom lost ? why, 't was my care ; And what loss is it to be rid of care? 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; loo They break their faith to God as v;ell as us. Cry woe, destruction, ruin, loss, 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. 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 sv;ells the rage Of Bolingbroke, covering your fearful land "c With hard bright steel, and hearts harder than steel. White-beards have arm'd their thin and hairless scalps Against thy majesty; and boys, with women's voices. Strive to speak big, and clap their female joints In stiff unwieldy arms against thy crown: 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. «< King Richard. Too well, too well thou tell'st a tale so ill. Where is the Earl of Wiltshire ? where is Bagot ? What has become of Bushy ? where 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; I warrant they have made peace with Bolingbroke. 130 ACT III. SCENE II. c)5 Scroop. Peace have they made with him, indeed, my lord. King Richard. O villains, vipers, damn'd without redemp- tion ! Dogs, easily won to fawn on any man ! Snakes, in my heart-blood warm'd, that sting my heart ! Three Judases, each one thrice worse than Judas ! Would they make peace? Terrible hell make war Upon their spotted souls for this offence ! Scroop. Sweet love, I see, changing his property. Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate. Again uncurse their souls; their peace is made With heads, and not with hands: those whom you curse Have felt the worst of death's destroying hand, And lie full low, grav'd in the hollow ground. 140 Aumerle. Is Bushy, Green, and the Earl of Wiltshire dead? Scroop. Yea, all of them at Bristol lost their heads. Aumerle. Where is the duke my father with his power ? King Richard. No matter where; of comfort no man speak : Let 's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs. 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 ? iso Our lands, our lives, and all are Bolingbroke'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. 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 murther'd : for within the hollow crown r6o 96 RICHARD II That rounds the mortal temples of a king Keeps Death his court, and there the antio sits, Scoffing his state, and grinning at his pomp. Allowing him a breath, a little scene. To monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with looks j Infusing him with self and vain conceit, As if this flesh, which walls 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! x/c 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, taste grief, Need friends: — subjected thus. How can you say to me, I am a king ? Carlisle. My lord, wise men ne'er wail their present woes. But presently prevent the ways to wail. To fear the foe, since fear oppressseth strength, iSo 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. Where fearing dying pays death servile breath. Aumerle. My father hath a power; inquire of him, And learn to make a body of a limb. King Richard. 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 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 ACT III. SCENE III. 97 The state and inclination of the day; 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 ; 20c And all your northern castles yielded up, And all your southern gentlemen in arms Upon his faction. King Richard. Thou hast said enough. — Beshrew thee, cousin, which didst lead me forth [To Aumerle. Of that sweet way I was in to despair ! What say you now ? what comfort have we now .'' By heaven, I '11 hate him everlastingly That bids me be of comfort any more. Go to Flint Castle : there I '11 pine away ; A king, woe's slave, shall kingly woe obey. 21c 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. Aumerle. My liege, one word. King Richard. He does me double wrong That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue. Discharge my followers : let them hence away, From Richard's night to Bolingbroke's fair day. {Exeunt. Scene III. Wales. Before Flint Castle. Enter, with drum and colours, Bolingbroke and Forces; York- Northumberland, afid others. Bolingbroke. So that by this intelligence we learn The Welshmen are dispers'd; and.Sahsbury Is gone to meet the king, who lately landed With some few private friends upon this coast. G 98 RICHARD II. Northumberland. The news is very fair and good, my lord: Richard not far from hence hath hid his head. York. It would beseem the Lord Northumberland To say * King Richard.' — Alack the heavy day Wnen such a sacred king should hide his head ! JVorthumberland. Your grace mistakes ; only to be brief lo 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. Bolingbroke. Mistake not, uncle, further than you should. York. Take not, good cousin, further than you should, Lest you mistake : the heavens are o'er your head. Bolingbroke. I know it, uncle, and oppose not myself Agamst 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. Bolingbroke. Royally ! Why, it contains no king ? Percy. Yes, my good lord. It doth contain a king : King Richard lies Within the limits of yond lime and stone ; And with him are the Lord Aumerle, Lord Salisbury, Sir Stephen Sc\oop; besides a clergyman Of holy reverence, — who, I cannot learn, Northumberland. O, belike it is the Bishop of Carlisle. 30 Bolingbroke. Noble lord, [To Northumberland. Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle ; Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parle Into his ruin'd ears, and thus deliver : — ACT III. SCENE III. 99 Henry Bolingbroke On both his knees doth kiss King Richard's hand, And sends allegiance and true faith of heart To his most royal person ; hither come Even at his feet to lay my arms and power, Provided that my banishment repeal'd, to And lands restor'd again, be freely granted, if not, I '11 use the advantage of my power. And lay the summer's dust with showers of blood Rain'd from the wounds of slaughter'd Englishmen : The which, how far off from the mind of Bolingbroke 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. — so \Northumberland advances to the Castle with a trumpet. Let 's march without the noise of threatening drum. That from the 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 Of fire and water, when their thundering shock At meeting tears the cloudv cheeks of heaven. Be he the fire, I '11 be the yielding water: The rage be his, while on the earth I rain My waters, — on the earth, and not on him. 6o March on, and mark King Richard how he looks. A parle sounded^ and answered by another trumpet within. Flourish. Enter on the walls King Richard, the Bishop OF Carlisle, Aumerle, Scroop, and Salisbury. York. See, see, King Richard doth himself appear, As doth the blushing discontented sun From out the fiery portal of the east. joo RICHARD II. When he perceives the envious clouds are bent To dim his glory, and to stain the track Of his bright passage to the Occident 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 ! Kijig Richard. We are amaz'd ; and thus long have we stood \^To Northumberland. To watch the fearful bending of thy knee, Because we thought ourself thy lawful king : And if we be, how dare thy joints forget 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. Yet know, my master, God omnipotent, 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. 5° Tell Bolingbroke — for yond methinks he stands — That every stride he makes upon my land Is dangerous treason : he is come to ope The purple testament of bleeding war ; But ere the crown he looks for live in peace, Ten thousand bloody crowns of mother's sons Shall ill become the flower of England's face. Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace ACT III. SCENE III. loi To scarlet indignation, and bedew Her pastures' grass with faithful English blood. loo Northumberland. The King of Heaven forbid our lord the king _ 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, 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, uo Comprising all that may be sworn or said, His coming hither hath no further scope Than for his lineal royalties, and to beg Enfranchisement immediate on his knees : Which on thy royal party granted once. 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 King Richard. 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 Speak to his gentle hearing kind commends. — We do debase ourself, cousin, do we not, \To Aumerle. To look so poorly, and to speak so fair? Shall we call back Northumberland, and send Defiance to the traitor, and so die ? 130 Aumerle. No, good my lord; let's fight with gentle words Till time lend friends, and firiends their helpful swords. I02 RICHARD IL King Richard. O God, O God ! that e'er this tongue of mine, That laid the sentence of dread banishment On yond proud man, should take it off again With words of sooth ! O that I were as great As is my grief, or lesser than my name ! Or that I could forget what I have been ! Or not remember what I must be now ! Swell'st thou, proud heart ? I '11 give thee scope to beat, 140 Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me. Aumerk. Northumberland comes back from Bolingbroke. King Richard. What must the king do now ? Must he sub- mit? The king shall do it. Must he be depos'd ? The king shall be contented. Must he lose The name of king? O' God's name, let it go. I '11 give my jewels for a set of beads. My gorgeous palace for a hermitage. My gay apparel for an alms-man's gown. My figur'd goblets for a dish of wood, r.50 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 '11 be buried in the king's highway, 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 ! — 16-3 We '11 make foul weather with despised tears ; Our sighs and they shall lodge the summer corn, And make a dearth ',n this revolting land. Or shall we play the wantons with our woes, And make some pretty match with shedding tears? ACT III. SCENE III. 103 As thus;— to drop them still upon one place, 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 mock 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 says ay. Northumberland. My lord, in the base court he doth at- tend To speak with you ; may it please you to come down .? King Richard. Down, down I come; like glistering Phae- ton, Wanting the manage of unruly jades. {Northumberland retires to Bolingbroke. 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 ! For night-owls shriek where mounting larks should sing. \Exeunt from above. Bolingbroke. What says his majesty ? Northumberland. Sorrow and grief of heart Makes him speak fondly, like a frantic man; Yet he is come. Enter King Richard and his Attendants below. Bolingbroke. Stand all apart. And show fair duty to his majesty. — My gracious lord,— [Kfieeling. Ki7tg Richard. Fair cousin, you debase your princely knee To make the base earth proud with kissing it : 190 Me rather had my heart might feel your love Than my unpleas'd eye see your courtesy. 104 RICHARD 11. Up, cousin, up ; your heart is up, I know, Thus high at least, although your knee be low. Bolingbroke. My gracious lord, I come but for mine own. King Richard. Your own is yours, and I am yours, and all Bolingbroke. So far be mine, my most redoubted lord. As my true service shall deserve your love. King Richard. Well you deserve : they well deserve to have 200 That know the strong'st and surest way to get. — Uncle, give me your hand : nay, dry your eyes ; Tears show their love, but want their remedies. — Cousin, I am too young to be your father. Though you are old enough to be my heir. What you will have, I '11 give, and willing too; For do we must what force will have us do. — Set on towards London ;— cousin, is it so? Bolingbroke. Yea, my good lord. King Richard. Then I must not say no. \_Flourish. Extum I "11 give my jewels for a set of beads. ::5;>i"c.-^^:_. 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 ? I Lady. Madam, we '11 play at bowls. Queen. 'T will make me think the world is full of rubs, And that my fortune runs against the bias. I Lady. Madam, we '11 dance. Queeii. My legs can keep no measure in delight, When my poor heart no measure keeps in grief: Therefore, no dancing, girl ; some other sport. I Lady. Madam, we '11 tell tales. Queen. Of sorrow or of joy. ^ ro6 RICHARD IT. I 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, It adds more sorrow to my want of joy : For what I have, I need not to repeat; And what I want, it boots not to complain. I Lady. Madam, I '11 sing. Queen. 'T is well that thou hast cause ; But thou shouldst please me better wouldst thou weep. 20 I 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. — But stay, here come the gardeners : Let 's step into the shadow of these trees. 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. Enter a Gardener and two Servants. Gardener. Go, bind thou up yond 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 : 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. I Servant. Why should we, in the compass of a pale. 40 Keep law and form and due proportion, ACT III. SCENE IV. 107 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, Her knots disorder'd, and her wholesome herbs Swarming with caterpillars ? Gardener. Hold thy peace. He that hath suffer'd this disorder'd spring Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf: The weeds that his broad-spreading leaves did shelter, 5° 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. I Servant. What, are they dead ? Gardener. They are ; and Bolingbroke Hath seiz'd the wasteful king.— O, what pity is it 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 We lop away, that bearing boughs may live : Had he done so, himself had borne the crown, Which waste and idle hours hath quite thrown down. I Servant. What ! think you, then, the king shall be de- pos'd ? Gardener. Depress'd he is already ; and depos'd 'T is 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 speak ing ! — [^Coming forward.^ io8 RICHARD II. Thou, old Adam's likeness, set to dress this garden, How dares thy harsh rude tongue sound this unpleasing news ? What Eve, what serpent hath suggested thee To make a second fall of cursed man ? Why dost thou say King Richard is 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 Gardener. 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 j their fortunes both are weigh'd : In your lord's scale is nothing but himself, And some few vanities that make him light ; But in the balance of great Bolingbroke, Besides himself, are all the English peers. And with that odds he weighs King Richard down. Post you to London, and you '11 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 t O, thou think'st To serve me last, that I may longest keep 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 i* — Gardener, for telling me this news of woe, 100 Pray God the plants thou graft'st may never grow ! [Exeunt Queen and Ladies, Gardener. Poor queen ! so that thy state might be no worse, \ would my skill were subject to thy curse. — Here did she fall a tear ; here, in this place. ACT III. SCENE IV. I '11 set a bank of rue, sour herb of grace ; Rue, even for ruth, here shortly shall be seen, In the remembrance of a weeping queen. 109 Within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king, Keeps Death his court ; and there the antic sitSj Scoffing his state, and grinning at his pomp. (iii. 3. i6o.) EXTERIOR OF WESTMINSTER HALL. ACT IV. Scene I. London. Westminster Hall. The Lords spiritual on the right side of the throne ; the Lords temporal on the left ; the Commons below. Enter Bolingbroke, Aumerle, Surrey, Northumberland, Tercy, Fitzwater, another Lord, the Bishop of Car- lisle, the Abbot of Westminster, and At- tendants. Officers behind with Bagot. Bolingbroke. Call forth Bagot. — Now, Bagot, freely speak thy mind. What thou dost know of noble Gloster's death ; Who wrought it with the king, and who perform'd The bloody office of his timeless end. Bagot. Then set before my face the Lord Aumerle. Bolingbroke. Cousin, stand forth, and look upon that man. ACT IV. SCENE I. I II Bagot. My Lord Aumerle, I know your daring tongue Scorns to unsay what once it hath deliver'd. In that dead time when Gloster's death was plotted lo I heard you say, — ' Is not my arm of length, That reacheth from the restful English Court As far as Calais, to my uncle's head ?' Amongst much other talk, that very time, I heard you say that you had rather refuse The offer of an hundied thousand crowns Than Bolingbroke's return to England; Adding withal, how blest this land would be In this your cousin's death. Aumerle. Princes, and noble lords, What answer shall I make to this base man ? aa 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 slanderous lips. — There, is my gage, the manual seal of death, That marks thee out for hell : I say, thou liest, And will maintain what thou hast said is false In thy heart-blood, though being all too base To stain the temper of my knightly sword. Bolingbroke. Bagot, forbear ; thou shalt not take it up. 30 Aumerle. Excepting one, I would he were the best In all this presence that hath mov'd me so. Fitzwater. If that thy valour stand on sympathies, There is my gage, Aumerle, in gage to thine : By that fair sun that shows me where thou stand'st, I heard thee say, and vauntingly thou spak'st it, That thou wert cause of noble Gloster's death. If thou deni'st it twenty times, thou liest ; And I will turn thy falsehood to thy heart. Where it was forged, with my rapier's point. 40 Aumerle. Thou dar'st not, coward, live to see the day. 112 RICHARD IT. Fitzwater. Now, by my soul, I would it were this hour. Aumerle. Fitz water, 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 ; 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 Aumerle. And if I do not, may my hands rot off, And never brandish more revengeful steel sc Over the glittering helmet of my foe ! Lord. I task the earth to the like, forsworn Aumerle ; And spur thee on with full as many lies As may be hoUa'd in thy treacherous ear From sun to sun. There is my honour's pawn ; Engage it to the trial, if thou dar'st. Aumerle. Who sets me else? by heaven, I '11 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, Fitzwater. My lord, 't is very true ; you were in presence then, And you can witness with me this is true. Surrey. As false, by heaven, as heaven itself is true. Fitzwater. Surrey, thou liest. Surrey. Dishonourable boy ! That lie shall lie so heavy on my sword That it shall render vengeance and revenge Till thou, the lie-giver, and that lie do lie In earth as quiet as thy father's skull : In proof whereof, there is mine honour's pawn ; 7° Engage it to the trial. If thou dar'st. Fitzwater. How fondly dost thou spur a forward horse 1 If I dare eat, or drink, or breathe, or live, I dare meet Surrey in a wilderness, ACT IV. SCENE I. 113 And spit upon him, whilst I say he lies, And lies, and lies ; there is my bond of faith, To tie thee to my strong correction. As I intend to thrive in this new world, Aumerle is guilty of my true appeal : Besides, I heard the banish'd Norfolk say So That thou, Aumerle, didst send two of thy men To execute the noble Duke at Calais. Aumerle. Some honest Christian trust me with a gage, That Norfolk lies : here do I throw down this, If he may be repeal'd, to try his honour. Bolingbroke. 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 return'd, Against Aumerle we will enforce his trial. 90 Carlisle. 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 : 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 Bolingbroke. Why, bishop, is Norfolk dead ? Carlisle. As surely as I live, my lord. Bolingbroke. Sweet peace conduct his sweet soul to the bosom Of good old Abraham ! — Lords appellants, Your differences shall all rest under gage Till we assign you to your days of trial. H 114 RICHARD II. 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. no Ascend his throne, descending now from him,--i And long live Henry, of that name the fourth ! Bolingbroke. In God's name I '11 ascend the regal throne. Carlisle. Marry, God forbid ! — Worst in this royal presence may I speak, Yet best beseeming me to speak the truth. Would God that any in this noble presence Were enough noble to be upright judge Of noble Richard ! then true noblesse would Learn him 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. His captain, steward, deputy elect. Anointed, crowned, planted many years. Be judg'd by subject and inferior breath. And he himself not present ? O, forbid it, God, That, in a Christian climate, souls refin'd '3° Should show so heinous, black, obscene a deed I 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 ; 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, ACT IV. SCENE I. 115 And in this seat of peace tumultuous wars mo Shall kin with kin and kind with kind confound ; Disorder, horror, fear, and mutiny Shall here inhabit, and this land be call'd The field of Golgotha and dead men's skulls. O, if you rear this house against this house, It will the woefullest division prove That ever fell upon this cursed earth. Prevent, resist it, let it not be so, Lest children's children cry against you woe ! Northumberland. Well have you argued, sir; and, for your pains, '^° Of capital treason we arrest you here. — My Lord of Westminster, be it your charge To keep him safely till his day of trial. — May it please you, lords, to grant the commons' suit ? Bolingbroke. Fetch hither Richard, that in common view He may surrender ; so we shall proceed Without suspicion. York. I will be his conduct. {Exit. Bolingbroke. Lords, you that here are under our arrest, Procure your sureties for your days of answer. — Little are we beholding to your love, \To Carlisle. 160 And little look'd for at your helping hands. Re-enter York, with King Richard, and Officers bearing the crown, etc. King Richard. Alack ! why am I sent for to a king Before I have shook off the regal thoughts Wherewith I reign'd ? I hardly yet have learn'd To insinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my knee ; Give sorrow leave awhile to tutor me To this submission. Yet I well remember The favours of these men : were they not mine? Did they not sometime cry, All hail ! to me ? Il6 RICHARD II. So Judas did to Christ : but he, in twelve, 170 Found truih in all but one ; I, in twelve thousand, none. God save the king!— Will no man say amen? Am I both priest and clerk ? Well then, amen. God save the king ! although I be not he ; And yet, amen, if heaven do think him me. — To do what service am I sent for hither.? York. To do that office of thine own good win Which tired majesty did make thee offer; The resignation of thy state and crown To Henry Bolingbroke. 180 King Richard. Give me the crown. — Here, cousin, seize the crown ; 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; The emptier ever dancing in the air. The other down, unseen, and full of water; That bucket down and full of tears am I, Drinking my griefs, whilst you mount up on high. Bolingbroke. I thought you had been willing to resign. King Richard. My crown I am ; but still my griefs are mine. 190 You may my glories and my state depose, . But not my griefs ; still am I king of those. Bolingbroke. Part of your cares you give me with your crown. King Richard. Your cares set up do not pluck my cares down. My care is loss of care, by old care done ; Your care is gain of care, by new care won : The cares I give I have, though given away ; They tend the crown, yet still with me they stay. Bolingbroke. Are you contented to resign the crown t King Richard. Ay, no ; — no, ay ; for I must nothing be j 200 ACT IV. SCENE I. 1 17 Therefore no no, for I resign to thee. Now mark me, how I will undo myself — I give this heavy weight from off my head, And this unwieldy sceptre from my hand, The pride of kingly sway from out my heart; With mine own tears I wash away my balm, With mine own hands I give away my crown, With mine own tongue deny my sacred state, With mine own breath release all duteous oaths: All pomp and majesty I do forswear; 210 My manors, rents, revenues I forego ; My acts, decrees, and statutes I deny: God pardon all oaths that are broke to me ! God keep all vows unbroke that swear to thee ! Make me, that nothing have, with nothing griev'd, 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 ! God save King Henry, unking'd Richard says. And send him many years of sunshine days ! — 220 What more remains ? Northumberland. No more, but that you read [ Offering a paper. These accusations, and these grievous crimes Committed by your person and your followers Against the state and profit of this land; That, by confessing them, the souls of men May deem that you are worthily depos'd. King Richard. Must I do so? and must I ravel out My weav'd-up follies ? Gentle Northumberland, If thy offences were upon record, Would it not shame thee in so fair a troop 230 To read a lecture of them ? If thou wouldst. There shouldst thou find one heinous article, Containing the deposing of a king, Ii8 RICHARD 11. And cracking the strong warrant of an oath, 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. Though some of you, with Pilate, wash your hands, Showing an outward pity, yet you Pilates Have here deliver'd me to my sour cross, 240 And water cannot wash away your sin. Northumbe7'land. My lord, despatch ; read o'er these artic\es. King Richard. Mine eyes are full of tears, I cannot see; And yet salt water blinds them not so much But they can see a sort of traitors here. Nay, if I turn mine eyes upon myself, I find myself a traitor with the rest; For I have given here my soul's consent To undeck the pompous body of a king, Made glory base and sovereignty a slave, 250 Proud majesty a servant, state a peasant. Northumberland. My lord, King Richard. No lord of thine, thou haught insulting man. Nor no man's lord; I have no name, no title. No, not that name was given me at the font, But 't is usurped. — Alack the heavy day, That I have worn so many winters out,- And know not now what name to call myself! O that I were a mockery king of snow. Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke, 260 To melt myself away in water drops ! — Good king, — great king, — and yet not greatly good, — And if my word be sterling yet in England, Let it command a mirror hither straight, That it may show me what a face I have, Since it is bankrupt of his majesty. Bolingbroke. Go, some of you, and fetch a looking-glass. \Exit an Attendant ACT IV. SCENE I. I19 Northumberland. Read o'er this paper while the glass doth come. King Richard. Fiend, thou torment'st me ere I come to hell! Bolingbroke. Urge it no more, my Lord Northumber- land. 270 Northumberland. The commons will not then be satisfied. King Richard. They shall be satisfied; I '11 read enough, When I do see the very book indeed Where all my sins are writ, and that 's myself. Re-enter Attendant with a glass. Give me the 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 flattering glass, Like to my followers in prosperity, Thou dost beguile me ! Was this face the face 280 That every day under his household roof Did keep ten thousand men ? Was this the face That, like the sun, did make beholders wink? Was this the face that fac'd so many follies, And was at last out-fac'd by Bolingbroke? A brittle glory shineth in this face : As brittle as the glory is the face; [JDashes the glass against the ground. For there it is, crack'd in a hundred shivers. — Mark, silent king, the moral of this sport: How soon my sorrow hath destroy'd my face. 290 Bolingbroke. The shadow of your sorrow hath destroy'd The shadow of your face. King Richard. Say that again. The shadow of my sorrow ? Ha ! let 's see : — 'T is very true, my grief lies all within ; And these external manners of lament I20 RICHARD 11. 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 Me cause to wail, but teachest me the way 300 How to lament the cause. I '11 beg one boon, And then begone and trouble you no more. Shall I obtain it ? Bolingb7'oke. ^ Name it, fair cousin. King Richard. Fair cousin ! I am greater than a king; For when I was a king, my flatterers Were then but subjects; being now a subject, I have a king here to my flatterer. Being so great, I have no need to beg. Bolingbroke. Yet ask. King Richard. And shall I have.-* 310 Bolingbroke. You shall. King Richard. Then give me leave to go. Bolingbroke. Whither 1 King Richard. Whither you will, so I were from your sights. Bolingbroke. Go, some of you, convey him to the Tower. King Richard. O, good ! Convey ? — conveyers are you all, That rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall. \Exeunt Kiftg 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. 320 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, ACT IV. SCENE I. 121 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. 330 \Exeunt. GREAT SEAL OF RICHARD II. ACT V. Scene I. London. A Street leading to the Tower. Enter Queen and Ladies. 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. ACT V. SCENE /. 1 23 Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth Have any resting for her true king's queen. — Enter King Richard and Guards. 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. — «o 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, 20 To grim Necessity ; and he and I Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to France, And cloister thee in some religious house: Our holy lives must win a new world's crown, Which our profane hours here have stricken down. Queen. What ! is my Richard both in shape and mind Transform'd and weakened? 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 »o To be o'erpower'd ; and wilt thou, pupil-like, • Take thy correction mildly, kiss the rod. And fawn on rage with base humility. Which art a lion and a king of beasts? King Richard. A king of beasts, indeed ; if aught but beasts, I had been still a happy king of men. 124 RICHARD II. Good sometime 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 ; A.nd ere thou bid good-night, to quit their grief Tell thou the lamentable tale of me. And send the hearers weeping to their beds. For why, the senseless brands wdll 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. 5° 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, 6c It is too little, helping him to all ; 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 him headlong from the usurped throne. The love of wicked friends converts to fear ; That fear to hate ; and hate turns one or both To worthy danger and deserved death. ACT V. SCENE I. 125 Northumberlaiid. My guilt be on my head, and there an end. Take leave, and part ; for you must part forthwith. 70 King Richard. Doubly divorc'd ! — Bad men, ye 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 't was 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. 80 Queen. And must we be divided ? must we part ? King Richard. Ay, hand from hand, my love, and heart from heart. Quee7t. Banish us both, and send the king with me. JVorthumberiand. 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. 90 King Richard. Twice for one step I '11 groan, the way be- ing 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 St;op our mouths, and dumbly part ; Thus give I mine, and thus take I thy heart. \They kiss. Queen. Give me mine own again ; 't were no good part To take on me to keep and kill thy heart. — [^They kiss again. So, now I have mine own again, begone. That I may strive to kill it with a groan. 100 126 RICHARD II. King Richard. We make woe wanton with this fond de- lay : Once more, adieu ; the rest let sorrow say. [Exeunt. i^'il"^:f ./^-^ V frtimliX m ACT V. SCENE II. 127 Scene II. London. A Room in the Duke of York's Palace. Enter York and his Duchess. Duchtss. 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 1 Duchess. At that sad stop, my lord, Where rude misgovern'd 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, AVith slow but stately pace kept on his course, 10 While all tongues cried, 'God save thee, Bolingbioke !' 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 With painted imagery had said at once, ' Jesu preserve thee ! welcome, Bolingbroke !' Whilst he, from one side to the other turning. Bareheaded, lower than his proud steed's neck, Bespake them thus, — ' I thank you, countrymen :' 20 And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along. Duchess. Alas, poor Richard ! where rides 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, ' God save him !' No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home ; But dust was thrown upon his sacred head, 30 128 ' RICHARD 11. 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. 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. Duchess. Here comes my son Aumerle. York. Aumerle that v/as ; 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. E?tter Aumerle. Duchess. Welcome, my son : who are the violets now That strew the green lap of the new-come spring ? Aumerle. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care nor : 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. What news from Oxford? hold those justs and triumphs? Aumerle. For aught I know, my lord, they do. York. You will be there, I know. Aumerle. If God prevent it not, I purpose so. York. What seal is that that hangs without thy bosom ? Yea, look'st thou pale ? let me see the writing. Aumerle. My lord, 't is nothing. york. No matter, then, who sees it. I will be satisfied ; let me see the writing. Aumerle. I do beseech your grace to pardon me. It is a matter of small consequence. Which for some reasons I would not have seen. ACT V. SCENE II. 1 29 York. Which for some reasons, sir, I mean to see. I fear, I fear, — Duchess. What should you fear ? T is nothing but some bond that he is enter'd into For gay apparel 'gainst the triumph-day. York. Bound to himself! what doth he with a bond That he is bound to ? Wife, thou art a fool. — Boy, let me see the writing. Aumerle. I do beseech you, pardon me ; I may not show it. York. I will be satisfied ; let me see it, I say. ^^ \Snatches it, and reads. Treason ! foul treason ! — villain ! traitor ! slave ! Duchess. What 's the matter, my lord ? York. Ho ! who 's within there ? Enter a Servant. Saddle my horse. God for his mercy, what treachery is here ! Duchess. Why, what is 't, my lord ? York. Give me my boots, I say \ saddle my horse. — Now, by mine honour, by my life, my troth, I will appeach the villain. \Exit Servant Duchess. What 's the matter? York. Peace, foolish woman. 80 Duchess. I will not peace. — What is the matter, son? Aumerle. Good mother, be content ; it is no more Than my poor life must answer. Duchess. Thy life answer ! York. Bring me my boots : — I will unto the king. Re-enter Servant with boots. Duchess. Strike him, Aumerle. — Poor boy, thou art amaz'd. — Hence, villain ! never more come in my sight. \To the Servant. I 130 RICHARD II. York. Give me my boots, I say. Duchess. Why, York, what wilt thou do? Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own ? Have we more sons, or are 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, Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy? A dozen of them here have ta'en the sacrament. And interchangeably set down their hands. To kill the king at Oxford. Duchess. He shall be none ; We '11 keep him here : then what is that to him ? 100 York. Away, fond woman ! were he twenty times my son I would appeach him. Duchess. Hadst thou groan'd for him As I have done, thou wouldst be more pitiful. But now I know thy mind ; thou dost suspect That I have been disloyal to thy bed, And that he is a bastard, not thy son. . Sweet York, sweet husband, be not of that mind : He is as like thee as a man may be. Not Hke to me, nor any of my kin, And yet I love him. York. Make way, unruly woman ! \^Exit. no Duchess. After, Aumerle ! mount thee upon his horse ; Spur, post, and get before him to the king, And beg thy pardon ere he do accuse thee. I '11 not be long behind ; though I be old, I doubt not but to ride as fast as York. And never will I rise up from the ground Till Bolingbroke have pardon'd thee. Away, begone 1 [Exeunt ACT V. SCENE III. 13 1 Scene III. Windsor. A Room in the Castle. Enter Bolingbroke as King, Percy, and other Lords. Bolingbroke. Can no man tell of my unthrifty son ? 'T is full three months since I did see him last : If any plague hang over us, 't is he. I would to God, my lords, he might be found. Inquire at London, 'mongst the taverns there. For there, they say, he daily doth frequent. With unrestrained loose companions. Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes. And beat our watch, and rob our passengers ; While he, young wanton and effeminate boy, »c 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 these triumphs held at Oxford. Bolingbroke. And what said the gallant? 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. Bolingbroke. As dissolute as desperate : yet through both I see some sparks of better hope, « Which elder days may happily bring forth. — But who comes here ? Enter Aumerle hastily. Aumerle. Where is the king? Bolingbroke. What means Our cousin, that he stares and looks so wildly ? Aumerle. God save your grace ! I do beseech your maj- esty, To have some conference with your grace alone. 132 RICHARD 11. Bolingbroke. Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here alone. — \Exeunt Percy and Lords. What is the matter with our cousin now ? Aumerle. For ever may my knees grow to the earth, 30 \Kneels My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth, Unless a pardon ere I rise or speak. ACT V. SCENE III. 133 Bolingbroke. Intended or committed was this fault ? If on the first, how heinous e'er it be, To win thy after love I pardon thee. Aumerle. Then give me leave that I may turn the key^ That no man ent^r till my tale be done. Bolingbroke. Have thy desire. [Aumerle locks the door. York \withi7i\. My liege, beware ! look to thyself; Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there. 40 Bolingbroke. Villain, I '11 make thee safe. [Drawing. Aumerle. Stay thy revengeful hand ; thou hast no cause to fear. York \imthin\ Open the door, secure foolhardy king : Shall I, for love, speak treason to thy face ? Open the door, or I will break it open. [Bolingbroke opens the door and locks it again. Enter York. Bolingbroke. What is the matter, uncle ? speak \ Recover breath ; tell us how near is danger. That we may arm us to encounter it. York. Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt know The treason that my haste forbids me show. sq Aumerle. Remember, as thou read'st, thy promise pass'd. I do repent me ; read not my name there : My heart is not confederate with my hand. York. It was, villain, ere thy hand did set it down. — I tore it from the traitor's bosom, king ; Fear, and not love, begets his penitence. Forget to pity him, lest thy pity prove A serpent that will sting thee to the heart. Bolingbroke. O heinous, strong, and bold conspiracy ! — O loyal father of a treacherous son ! 6a Thou sheer, immaculate, and silver fountain, - From whence this stream through muddy passages Hath held his current and defil'd himself] 134 RICHARD 11. Thy overflow of good converts to bad, And thy abundant goodness shall excuse This deadly blot in thy digressing son. York. So shall my virtue be his 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 lies: Thou kill'st me in his life; giving him breath. The traitor lives, the true man 's put to death. Duchess \unthiti\. What ho, my liege ! for God's sake, let me in. Bolingbroke. What shrill-voic'dsuppliantmakes this eager cry? Duchess. A woman, and thine aunt, great king; 't is I. Speak with me, pity me, open the door : A beggar begs that never begg'd before. Bolingbroke. Our scene is alter'd from a serious thing, And now chang'd to The Beggar and the King. — 80 My dangerous cousin, let your mother in : I know she 's come to pray for your foul sin. [Aumerle unlocks the door. York. If thou do pardon, whosoever pray, . More sins for this forgiveness prosper may. This fester'd joint cut off, the rest rests sound; This let alone will all the rest confound. Enter Duchess. Duchess. 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? 9c Duchess. Sweet York, be patient. — Hear me, gentle liege. [Kneels. Bolingbroke. Rise up, good aunt. Duchess. Not yet, I thee beseech; ACT V. SCENE III. 135 For ever will I kneel upon my knees, And never see day that the happy sees Till thou give joy; until thou bid me joy, By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy. Aumerle. 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 ! Duchess. Pleads he in earnest ? look upon his face ; loo 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 denied ; We pray with heart and soul, and all beside : His weary joints would gladly rise, I know; 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 prayers ought to have. "< Bolingbroke. Good aunt, stand up. Duchess. Nay, do not say ' stand up 'l But ' pardon' first, and afterwards ' stand up.' And 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 ; 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; sd^y pardonnez-moi. Duchess. Dost thou teach pardon pardon to destroy ? Ah, my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord, That sett'st the word itself against the word ! — Speak ' pardon ' as 't is current in our land ; The chopping French we do not understand. 136 RICHARD IT. Thine eye begins to speak, set thy tongue there \ Or in thy piteous heart plant thou thine ear, That hearing how our plaints and prayers do pierce, Pity may move thee 'pardon' to rehearse. Bolingbroke. Good aunt, stand up. Duchess. I do not sue to stand; Pardon is all the suit I have in hand. 130 Bolingbroke. I pardon him, as God shall pardon me. Duchess. O 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. Bolingbroke. With all my heart I pardon him. Duchess. A god on earth thou art. Bolingbroke. But for our trusty brother-in-law, and tne abbot, With all the rest of that consorted crew. Destruction straight shall dog them at the heels. — Good uncle, help to order several powers 140 To Oxford, or where'er these traitors are : rhey shall not live within this world, I swear, But I will have them, if I once know where. Uncle, farewell, — and, cousin mine, adieu; Your mother well hath pray'd, and prove you true. Duchess. Come, my old son : — I pray God make thee new. \Exeum. Scene IV. The Same. Enter Sir Pierce of Exton and a Servant. Ex'on. 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 ? ACT V. SCENE V. 137 Servant. Those were his very words. Exto7i. 'Have 1 no friend?' quoth he: he spake it twice, And urg'd it twice together, did he not ? Servant. 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: la I am the king's friend, and will rid his foe. \Exeunt. Scene V. Pomfret. The Dungeon of the Castle, Enter King Richard. King Richard. I have been studying how I may Com- pare This prison where I live unto the world And, for because the world is populous, . And here is not a creature but myself, I cannot do it ; yet I '11 hammer it out. My brain I '11 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, v> 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, — ^ It is as hard to come as for a camel To thread the postern of a 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; 138 RICHARD IL 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, 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 misfortune on the back Of such as have before endur'd the like. 30 Thus play I, in one person, many people, And none contented: sometimes am I king; Then treason makes me wish myself a beggar, And so I am : then crushing penury Persuades me I was better when a king; Then am I king'd again : and by and by Think that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke, And straight am nothing. — But whate'er I am, Nor I, nor any man that but man is. With nothing shall be pleas'd till he be eas'd to With being nothing. — Music do I hear ? \Music. 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 To hear 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 numbering clock : 50 My thoughts are minutes, and with sighs they jar Their watches on unto mine eyes, the outward watch, Whereto my finger, like a dial's point, Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears. Now, for the sounds that tell what hour it is, Are clamorous groans, that strike upon my heart, ACT V. SCENE V. 139 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 fooUng 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 't is a sign of love, and love to Richard Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world. Enter Groom. Groom. Hail, royal prince ! King Richard. Thanks, noble peer ; The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear. What art thou ? and how com'st thou hither, Where no man ever 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. 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 ! ^ Kifig Richard. Rode he on Barbary ? Tell me, gentle friend, How went he under him ? Groom. So proud as if he had disdain'd the ground. King Richard, So proud that Bolingbroke was on his back! That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand; This hand hath made him proud with clapping him. Would he not stumble ? would he not fall down, — I40 RICHARD II. ~*vs^ 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, Since thou, created to be awed by man, ACT V. SCENE V. 141 Wast born to bear ? I was not made a horse ; And yet I bear a burden like an ass, Spur-gaird and tir'd by jauncing Bolingbroke. Enter Keeper with a dish. Keeper. Fellow, give place ; here is no longer stay. \To the Groom. King Richard. If thou love me, 't is time thou wert away. Groom. What my tongue dares not, that my heart shall say. \Exit. Keeper. My lord, will 't please you to fall to ? King Richard. Taste of it first, as thou art wont to do. Keeper. My lord, I dare not. Sir Pierce of Exton, who loa lately came from the king, commands the contrary. King Richard. The devil take Henry of Lancaster and thee! Patience is stale, and I am weary of it. \Beats the Keeper. Keeper. Help, help, help ! Enter Exton and Servants armed. King Richard. How now ! what means death in this rude assault? Villain, thine own hand yields thy death's instrument. — \Snatching a weapon^ and killing one. Go thou, and fill another room in hell. \He kills another; then Exton strikes him down. That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire That staggers thus my person. — Exton, thy fierce hand Hath with the king's blood stain'd the lying's own land. ii« Mount, mount, my soul ! thy seat is up on high. Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here to die. SjDies. Exton. As full of valour as of royal blood : Both have I spilt; — O, would the deed were good ! For now the devil, that told me I did well, Says that this deed is chronicled in hell. 142 RICHARD IT. This dead king to the living king I '11 bear. — Take hence the rest, and give them burial here. [Exeunt Scene VI. Windsor. A Room in the Castle. Flourish. Enter Bolingbroke as King, York, Lords, and Attendants. Bolingbroke. Kind uncle York, the latest news we hear Is that the rebels have consum'd with fire Our town of Cicester in Glostershire ; But whether they be ta'en or slain we hear not. Enter Northumberland. Welcome, my lord : what is the news .'' Northumberland. First, to thy sacred state wish I all hap piness. The next news is, I have to London sent The heads of Salisbury, Spencer, Blunt, and Kent : The manner of their taking may appear At large discoursed in this paper here. w [^Presenting a paper. Bolingbroke. We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains. And to thy worth will add right worthy gains. Enter Fitzwater. Fitzwater. My lord, I have from Oxford sent to London The heads of Brocas and Sir Bennet Seely, Two of the dangerous consorted traitors That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow. Bolingbroke. Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be forgot *. Right noble is thy merit, well I wot. Enter Percy, with the Bishop of Carlisle. Percy. The grand conspirator, Abbot of Westminster, With clog of conscience and sour melancholy, 20 ACT V. SCENE VI. 143 Hath yielded up his body to the grave ; But here is Carlisle living, to abide Thy kingly doom and sentence of his pride. Botingbroke. Carlisle, this is your doom : — Choose out some secret place, some reverend room, 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 bearing 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. Bolingbroke. Exton, I thank thee not ; for thou hast wrough'- A deed of slander, with thy fatal hand, Upon my head and all this famous land. Exton. From your own mouth, my lord, did I this deed. Bolingbroke. They love not poison that do poison need. Nor do I thee : though I did wish him dead, I hate the murtherer, love him murthered. 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. That blood should sprinkle me to make me grow: Come, mourn with me for that I do lament. And put on sullen black incontinent. I '11 make a voyage to the Holy Land, To wash this blood off from my guilty hand. — 5° March sadly after ; grace my mournings here. In weeping after this untimely bier. \Exeunt. You holy clergymen, is there no plot To rid the realm of this pernicious blot?' (iv. I. 323-) NOTES. ABBREVIATIONS USED IN THE NOTES. Abbott (or Gr.), Abbott's Shakespearian Grammar (third edition). Adv. of L., Bacon's Advancement of Learning. A. S., Anglo-Saxon. B. and F., Beaumont and Fletcher. B. J., Ben Jonson. C, Craik's English of ShakesJ>eare (Rolfe's edition). Camb. ed., " Cambridge edition" oi Shakespeare^ edited by Clark and Wright Cf. {confer), compare. Coll., Collier. Coll. MS., Manuscript Corrections of Second Folio, edited by Collier. C. P. ed., " Clarendon Press " edition oi Richard II, D., Dyce. F., Fowler's English Language (8vo edition). F. Q., Spenser's Faerie Queene. Foil., following. H., Hudson. Hen. VIII. (followed by reference to page) y Rolfe's edition oi Henry VIII. Id. {idem), the same. Ind., Induction. J., Johnson. J. C. (followed by reference to page), Rolfe's edition biytdius Ceesar. K., Knight. Matzner, English Grammar^ trans, by Greci (London, 1874). Mer., Rolfe's edition of The Merchant of Venice. Nares, Glossary, edited by Halliwell and Wright (London, 1859). P. L., Milton's Paradise Lost. Prol., Prologue. S., Shakespeare. Schmidt, A. Schmidt's Shakespeare-Lexicon (Berlin, 1874). Shep. Kal., Spenser's Shepherd's Kalendar. Sr., Singer. St., Staunton. Temp, (followed by reference to page), Rolfe's edition of The Tempest. Theo., Theobald. v., Verplanck. Var. ed., the Variorum edition of Shakespeare (1821). W., White. Walker, Wm. Sidney Walker's Critical Examination of the Text of Shakespeare (London, i860). Wb., Webster's Dictionary (revised quarto edition of 1864). Wore, Worcester's Dictionary (quarto edition). The abbreviations of the names of Shakespeare's Plays will be readily understood ; as T. N. for Twelfth Night, Cor. for Coriolanus, 3 Hen. VI. for The Third Part of King Henry the Sixth, etc. P. P. refers to The Passionate Pilgrim ; V. and A . to Venus and Adonis ; L. C. to A Lover's Complaint ; and Sonn. to the Sonnets. NOTES. Scene I. — Most of the editors place the scene in London, but accord ing to Holinshed (see extract below) it occurred "within the castle of Windsor." The early quartos and folios do not indicate where the scene is laid. The following is Holinshed's account of the events referred to in this scene, the spelling being modernized : " It fell forth that in this parliament holden at Shrewsbury, Henry, Duke of Hereford, accused Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, of cer- tain words which he should utter in talk had betwixt them, as they rode together lately before betwixt London and Brainford, sounding highly to the King's dishonour. And for further proof thereof, he presented a sup- plication to the King, wherein he appealed the Duke of Norfolk in field of battle for a traitor, false and disloyal to the King, and enemy unto the realm. This supplication was read before both the dukes in presence of the King : which done, the Duke of Norfolk took upon him to answer it, 148 NOTES, declaring that whatsoever the Duke of Hereford had said against him other than well he lied falsely, like an untrue knight as he was : and when the King asked of the Duke of Hereford what he said to it, he, taking his hood off his head, said ; ' My sovereign lord, even as a suppli- cation which I took you importeth, right so I say for truth, that Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, is a traitor, false and disloyal to your Royal Majesty, your crown, and to all the states of your realm.' " Then the Duke of Norfolk being asked what he said to this, he an- swered : ' Right dear lord, with your favour that I make answer into your cousin here, I say (your reverence saved) that Henry of Lancaster, Duke of Hereford, like a false and disloyal traitor as he is, doth lie in that hfc hath or shall say of me otherwise than well.' ' No more,' said the King; 'we have heard enough :' and herewith commanded the Duke of Surrey, for that turn Marshal of England, to arrest, in his name, the two dukes." The narrative proceeds to state that Norfolk was imprisoned in Wind- sor Castle, while the Duke of Lancaster and others became sureties for the appearance of Hereford. The play opens with the facts described as follows : " Now, after the dissolving of the parliament at Shrewsbury, there was a day appointed, about six weeks after, for the King to come unto Windsor to hear and to take some order betwixt the two dukes which had thus appealed each other. There was a great scaffold erected within the Castle of Windsor for the King to sit with the lords and prelates of his realm ; and so, at the day appointed, he, with the said lords and prelates, being come thith- er and set in their places, the Duke of Hereford, appellant, and the Duke of Norfolk, defendant, were sent for to come and appear before the King sitting there in his seat of justice. . . . The King commanded the Dukes' of Aumerle and Surrey, the one being constable and the other marshal, to go unto the two dukes, appellant and defendant, requiring them, on his behalf, to grow to some agreement, and, for his part, he would be ready to pardon all that had been said or done amiss betwixt them touch- ing any harm or dishonour to him or his realm ; but they answered both assuredly that it was not possible to have any peace or agreement made betwixt them. When he heard what they had answered, he commanded that they should be brought forthwith before his presence, to hear what they would say. . •. . When they were come before the King and lords, the King spake himself to them, willing them to agree and make peace together, 'for it is,' said he, ' the best way ye can take.' "The Duke of Norfolk, with due reverence, hereunto answered that it could not be so brought to pass, his honour saved. Then the King asked of the Duke of Hereford what it was that he demanded of the Duke of Norfolk, and what is the matter that ye cannot make peace together, and become friends ? " Then stood forth a knight, that asking and obtaining a license to speak for the Duke of Hereford, said : ' Right dear and sovereign lord, here is Henry of Lancaster, Duke of Hereford and Earl of Derby, who saith, and I for him likewise say, that Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Nor- folk, is a false and disloyal traitor to you and your Royal Majesty, and to ACT I. SCENE I. 149 your whole realm : and likewise the Duke of Hereford saith, and I for him, that Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, hath received 8000 nobles to pay the soldiers that keep your town of Calais, which he hath not done as he ought : and furthermore, the said Duke of Norfolk hath been the occasion of all the treason that hath been contrived in your realm for the space of these eighteen years, and by his false suggestions and malicious counsel hath caused to die and to be murdered your right dear uncle, the. Duke of Gloucester, son to King Edwajd. Moreover, the Duke of Here- ford saith, and I for him, that he will prove this with his body, against the body of the said Duke of Norfolk, within lists.' " The King herewith waxed angry, and asked the Duke of Hereford if these were his words, who answered : ' Right dear lord, they are my words, and hereof I require right and the battle against him.' " There was a knight also that asked license to speak for the Duke of Norfolk, and obtaining it, began to answer thus : ' Right dear sovereign lord, here is Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, who answereth and saith, and I for him, that all that Henry of Lancaster hath said and de- clared (saving the reverence due to the King and his council) is a lie, and the said Henry of Lancaster hath falsely and wickedly lied, as a false and disloyal knight, and both hath been and is a traitor against you, your crown. Royal Majesty, and realm. This will I prove and defend as becometh a loyal knight to do, with my body against his.' . . . "The King then demanded of the Duke of Norfolk if these were his words, and whether he had any more to say. The Duke of Norfolk then answered for himself: * Right dear sir, true it is that I have received so much gold to pay your people of the town of Calais, which I have done ; and I do avouch that your town of Calais is as well kept at your com- mandment as ever it was at any time before, and that there never hath been by any of Calais any complaint made unto you of me. Right dear and my sovereign lord, for the voyage that I made into France about your mairiage I never received either gold or silver of you, nor yet for the voyage that the Duke of Aumerle and I made into Almaigne, where we spent great treasure. Marry, true it is that once I laid an ambush to have slain the Duke of Lancaster that there sitteth ; but, nevertheless, he hath pardoned me thereof, and there was good peace made betwixt us, for the which I yield him hearty thanks. This is that which I have to answer, and am ready to defend myself against mine adversary. I beseech you, therefore, of right, and to have the battle against him in upright judgment.' "After this, when the King had communed with his council a little, he commanded the two dukes to stand forth, that their answers might be heard. The King then caused them once again to be asked if they would agree and make peace together, and they both flatly answered that they would not ; and withal the Duke of Hereford cast down his gage, and the Duke of Norfolk took it up. The King, perceiving this demeanour betwixt them, swore by St. John Baptist that he would never seek to make peace betwixt them again. And therewith Sir John Bushy, in name of the King and his council, declared that the King and his council had commanded and ordained that they should have a day of battle ap- ISO NOTES. pointed them at Coventry. Here writers disagree about the day that was appointed ; for some say it was upon a Monday in August ; others upon St, Lambert's Day, being the 17th of September; others on the nth of September. But true it is that the King assigned them not only the day, but also appointed them lists and place for the combat ; and thereupon great preparation was made, as to such a matter apper- tained." 1. Old yohn of Gaunt. John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, the fourth son of Edward IIL, was born at Ghent in Flanders ; whence his surname. As he was born in 1340. he was only fifty-eight years of age at the time when the play opens. Some of the editors seem to think that it is for poetical effect that S. represents Gaunt as a very old man ; but he speaks in accordance with the common estimate of age in that day, when the average duration of life was considerably less than now. Malohe re- marks that Daniel, in his poem of Rosamond, describes King Henry as extremely old, though he was only fifty-six when he died. Spenser calls Robert, Earl of Leicester, an old man in 1582, but he was not then fifty ; and Coligny is represented by his biographer, Lord Huntington, as an aged man, though he died at fifty-three. Many other examples of the kind might be given. 2. Band. That is, bond, the words being formerly interchangeable. Cf. C. of E. iv. 2. 49 : " Tell me, was he arrested on a band ?" and again Id. iv. 3. 32 : " he that brings any man to answer it that breaks his band." The reference here is to the pledges that Gaunt had given for his son's appearance. See extract from Holinshed above. 3. Herefo'-d. The word is generally spelled Heiford or Harford in the early eds. Henry was called Bolingbroke from his birthplace in Lin- colnshire. 4.* The boisterous late appeal. The violent accusation at Shrewsbury six weeks before. See Holinshed above. ^//m/= impeachment. Cf. A. and C. iii. 5. 12 : " upon his own appeal." The verb is used in a sim- ilar sense, as below in lines 9 and 27; also in i. 3. 21 : "the Duke of Hereford that appeals me." 12. Argument. Matter, subject ; as often. 13. Apparent. Evident, manifest. Cf. y. C ii. I. 198: "these appar- ent prodigies," and see note in our ed. It is used in the same sense in iv. I. 124: "apparent guilt." 16. Ourselves. S. uses ourselves and our self interchangeably in this "regal" sense. Cf. J. C. iii. i. 8: "What touches us ourself," etc. In iii. 3. 127, below, the quartos have our selves, the folio oicr selfe. 18. Hlgh-stomacJi' d. High - tempered, proud. Qi. stomach —-^xidit, '\\\ Hen. VIII. iv. 2. 34: "Of an unbounded stomach." In Temp.\. 2. 157 (see our note) it means courage, as in Hen. V. iv. 3. 35 : " He which hath no stomach to this fight," etc. 20, Many years, etc. Pope suggested " May many," which D. adopts. The Coll. MS. has " Full many." Abbott (Gr. 480) thinks that "years " may perhaps be read as a dissyllable. 22. Other'^s. On the omission of the article cf. y. C. i. 2. 230 : " every ACT I. SCENE I. 151 time gentler than other ;" Otk. ii. 3. 183 : " tilting one at other's breast ;" M. JV. D. iii, 2. 239 : " Wink each at other," etc. Gr. 12. 23. Envying. Accent on second syllable, as in T. of S. ii. i. 18 : ** Is it for him you do envy me so ?" Gr. 490. Cf. Spenser, F. Q. iii. i, 13 : "Let later age that noble use envy;" and /d. iv. 4, 44 : "Which Cambell seeing much the same envyde." 26. T/ie cause yon come. That is, on ox for which you come. Cf. i Hen. FI. U.S. 55'- "Declare the cause My father, Earl of Cambridge, lost his head;" and see Gr. 244. 28. Object. Used transitively and in a stronger sense than now. Cf. I Heti. VI. ii. 4. 116 : "This blot that they object against your house." The preposition to is used after it in Rich. III. ii. 4. 17 : "In him that did object the same to thee." 32. Tendering. Cherishing, holding dear ; as often in S. Cf. Rich. III. ii. 4 72 : "and so betide to me As well I tender you and all of yours !" Hen. V. ii. 2. 175 : "But vi^e our kingdom's safety must so tender ;" R. and y. iii. i. 74 : " which name I tender As dearly as my own ;" etc. 33. And free from other misbegotten hate. This is the reading of all the early eds. The Coll. MS. has "wrath or misbegotten hate," but Coll. does not adopt it in his 2d ed. Misbegotten = ^^ oi a. bad origin" (Schmidt). 34. Appellant. The modern spelling oi appeal ant =^im^Q2.ch.QX, accus- er. See on 4. 38. Divine. Partaking of the nature of God, proceeding from God. Cf. A. W: iii. 6. 33 : " the divine forfeit of his soul "=the forfeit of his di- vine soul (C. P. ed.). 43. To aggravate the note. To intensify the stigma. Cf. R. of L. 208 : "That my posterity, sham'd with the note, Shall curse my bones ;" and L. L. L. v. 2. 75 : " Folly in fools bears not so strong a note, As foolery in the wise, when wit doth dote." 46. Right-drazvn. " Drawn in a right or just cause " (Johnson). 49. Eager.^ Sharp. Cf. Ham. i. 4. 2 : "a nipping and an eager air ;' 3 Hen. VI. ii. 6. 68: "vex him with eager swords." The word is th> French aigre, Latin acer, sharp, sour. It means sour in Ham. i. 5. 69 " like eager droppings into milk ;" and in Sonn. 118. 2 : " Like as, to make our appetites more keen, With eager compounds we our palate urge ;" that is, with piquant or "bitter sauces," as explained in the context. 50. Can arbitrate. That can decide. Gr. 244. 152 NOTES. 54. Fair reverence. Just or becoming reverence. Cf. below, iii. 3. 188 : " fair duty to his majesty." 56. Post. Speed, hasten. Cf. iii. 4. 90, and v. 2. 112. 57. Doubled. The folio has " doubly." 63. Tied. Bound, obliged. Cf. T of S. \. 1.217: "And I am tied to be obedient." 65. Inhabitable. Not habitable. Steevens quotes B. J., Catiline, v. i. 54 : "And pour'd on some inhabitable place." Cf T. Heywood's Gen. Hist, of Women (1624) : " Wh^re all the country was scorched by the heat of the sun, and the place almost inhabitable for the multitude of serpents." S. uses the word nowhere else. On the passage cf Macb. iii. 4. 104 : " dare me to the desert with thy sword." 67. This. That is, this protest. 70. The king. The reading of the quarto of 1597. The other quar- tos and the folio have "a king," which W. prefers, as it makes Boling- broke " disclaim not only the protection and alliance of his particular sovereign, but all immunity of royal blood." 72. Except. St. says the word is used in " the old sense of to put a bar to, or stay action." Schmidt makes it = to object to. Cf T. N.\. 3. 7 : "Let her except before excepted." We find "except against" in •7:a^/r.i.3.83, andii.4. 155. 7 \. Honour's pa%vn. The gage thrown down. The expression is used in the same sense in iv. i. 55 and 70. 75. Else. Other, besides this. Cf 2 Hen. IV. v. 5. 26 : " putting all aifairs else in oblivion," etc. 77. This is the reading of the folio. The ist quarto has "What I have spoke, or thou canst worse devise ;" the 2d, " What I have spoke, or thou canst devise ;" the 3d and 4th, " What I have spoke, or what thou canst devise." 80, 81. " The general sense of these somewhat obscure lines seems to be : ' I will meet you on any fair terms, or in any form of combat pre- scribed by the laws of chivalry ' " (C. P. ed.). 82. Light. Alight, dismount. Cf J. C v. 3. 31 : "Now some light. O, he lights too ;" also Gen. xxiv. 64 ; 2 Icings, v. 21, etc. 85. Inherit ns. Put us in possession ; the only instance of this use of the word in S. For />z/zm/= possess, see below, ii. i. %■}> '■> '^^^o R. and J. i. 2. 30 ; T. A. ii. 3. 3 ; Cynib. iii. 2. 63 ; etc. Gr. 290. 88. Nobles. A gold coin, worth 6s. Sd. See below, on v. 5. 67. 89. Lendings. Money in trust. It should have been used for paying the' garrison of Calais. The word is used by S. nowhere else except in Lear, iii. 4. 113 : " Off, off, you lendings !" that is, the clothes which the mad king throws away. 90. The which. See Gr. 270. Lewd. Base, wicked. Cf i Hen. IV. iii. 2. 13 : " Such poor, such bare, such lewd, such mean attempts !" See also Milton, P. L. 192 ; "So clomb this first grand thief into God's fold; So since into his church lewd hirelings climb." The word (see Wb.) first meant laical as opposed ^o clerical ; thence, ACT I. SCENE I. 153 unlearned, ignorant ; thence, mean, vile ; and at last it got its present restricted meaning. 91. Injurious. Insolent in wrong-doing. C{. Cymb.\\.2.2>6: "Thou injurious thief!" 95. Eighteen years. That is, since the insurrection of Wat Tyler, in 1381. 96. Complotted. Plotted. So below, i. 3. 189: "To plot, contrive, or complot any ill." The noun coniplot is similarly used ; as in 2 Hen. VI. iii. I. 147 ; " Their complot is to have my life ;" T. of A. ii. 3. 265 : " the complot of this timeless tragedy;" Id. v. i. 65 : "complots of mischief," etc. 97. Fetch' d. The folio reading. The ist quarto has "Fetch." 100. The Duke of Gloster. Thomas of Woodstock, seventh son of Edward III., one of the leaders in the opposition to Richard's favourites. He was accused of treason by the Duke of Norfolk, then Earl of Notting- ham, and the Duke of Aumerle, and was put to death at Calais in 1397. loi. Suggest his soon-believing adversaries. Secretly incite his enemies ready to believe anything against him. Cf. Sonn. 144 : " Two loves I have of comfort and despair, Which like two spirits do suggest me still." The noun suggestion is used in the sense of prompting to evil, temptation, in Temp. ii. i. 288 ; Id. iv. i. 26, etc. 104. Which blood. For the repetition of the antecedent, see Gr. 269. Cf. Gen. iv. 10. 106. To me. As the son of his eldest surviving brother. 107. Worth. Excellence, dignity. Cf. T. G. of V. ii. 4. 56 : " I know the gentleman To be of worth and worthy estimation;" Id. iii. I. 107 : "a youthful gentleman of worth." 109. Hozu high a pitch, etc. The expression is taken from the language of falconry. Cf. i Hen. VI. ii. 4. 11 : "Between two hawks, which flies the higher pitch ;" J. C. i. i. 78 : " These growing feathers pluck'd from Caesar's wing Will make him fly an ordinary pitch." 1 13. Slander of his blood. " This reproach to his ancestry " (Steevens). " This disgrace of his race " (Schmidt). Cf. Hen. V. iii. 6. 84 : " Such slanders of the age ;" Rich. III. i. 3. 231, etc. 116. Our kingdom's heir. The folio reading; the ist quarto has "my kingdom's." 1 19. Neighbour. An adjective, as in V. and A. 830 ; L. L. L. v. 2. 94 ; A. Y. L. iv. 3. 79 ; R. and J. ii. 6. 27, and other passages. The word is also used as a verb ; as in V. and A. 259 ; W. T. i. 2. 449, etc. 120. Partialize. To make partial ; found nowhere else in S. Cot- grave gives it as a translation of the Yr er\ch. pai'tialiser (C. P. ed,). 126. Receipt. The money received (88). Cf. Cor. i. i. 116, where it is used of the food received by the stomach : " the mutinous parts That en- vied his receipt." See also R. of L. 703. 1^4 NOTES. 127. Dtdy. The word is found only in the ist quarto. 129. For that. See Gr. 151. 130. Upon remainder of a dear account. On account of the balance of a heavy debt still due. Cf. Much Ado, iv. i. 337 : " Claudio shall render me a dear account." The Coll. MS. has " clear account," which Sr. adopts. 131. He went to France in 1395 to arrange a marriage between Rich- ard and Isabel, the daughter of Charles VI., then only eight years old. 133. Holinshed says that Mowbray offended the king by taking too much time for the business. 140. Exactly. Schmidt is doubtful whether this means "earnestly" or " expressly." The C. P. ed. explains it, " in precise and distinct terms, without the omission of any detail," 142. AppeaPd. Charged against me. See on 4 above. IW. Recreant. An adjective here = cowardly or faithless. The prim- itive meaning (from Lat. recredere) is apostate. 145. In viyself. In my own person. Gr. 162. 149. Overweening. Arrogant, presumptuous, Cf T. JV. ii. 5. 34 : " Here 's an overweening rogue !" 150. I7t haste whereof . To expedite which. Gr. 174. 152. Wrath-kindled gentlemen. So in folio; the ist quarto has "gen- tleman." Coll. defends the latter on the ground that the king was ad- dressing Norfolk, who had just concluded his angry speech. Boling- broke, he says, was not so properly angry, and moreover had had time to cool. But line 156 (" conclude, and be agreed ") shows that both are addressed. 153. C holer. There is a play upon the two meanings of the word, wrath and bile. 154. Physician. Four syllables, like the rhyming word z/zm/o;z. See Gr-479- 156. Conclude. Come to terms, agree. Cf Cor. ni. i. 145 : " where gentry, title, wisdom Cannot conclude but by the yea and no Of general ignorance.' ' 157. No time to bleed. The folio reading; the ist quarto has "no month." Bleeding was then considered advisable only at certain sea- sons, as spring and autumn. 160. On shall for will see Gr. 315. 162. When, Harry, when ? - An expression of impatience. Cf J. C. ii. I. 5 : " When, Lucius, when?" See Temp. p. 1 19, and Gr. 73a. 164. There is no boot. As we say, " It 's of no use." Cf T. of S. v. 2. 176 : "Then vail your stomachs, for it is no boot ;" i Hen. VI. iv. 6. 52 : " Then talk no more of flight, it is no boot." Cf also the use of the verb ( — avail) in iii. 4. 18 below : "And what I want it boots not to com- plain ;" Milton, Lye. 64 : " Alas, what boots it," etc. 168. The antecedent oithat is name. For the transposition cf iii. 2. 38. 170. Baffled. "Originally a punishment of infamy, inflicted on rec- reant knights, one part of which was hanging them up by the heels " Nares). Cf. Spenser, F. Q. vi. 7, 27 : ACT I. SCENE I, 155 "And after all, for greater infamie, He by the heeles him hung upon a tree, And baffuld so, that all which passed by The picture of his punishment might see. And by the like ensample warned bee, How ever they through treason doe trespasse." Hence the word came to mean, to use contemptuously in any manner ; as in T. N. v. i. 377 : "Alas, poor fool, how have they baffled thee !" The present meaning (to balk, frustrate) is not found in S. 171. On the metaphor, see Gr. 529(5). , 172. The which. See Gr. 270. On heart-blood, st& Gx. 22. 173. Which. The antecedent is implied in the preceding his. Gr. 218 ; and for 'which=wh.o, Gr. 265. 174. Malone says that " the Norfolk crest was a golden leopard ;" but it was and is a golden lion. The leopard seems to be mentioned here merely as an inferior animal. 175. His spots. Pope changed "his" to "their;" but the former is the word in Jej'. xiii. 23, which Norfolk has in mind. 180. On the metaphor, see Gr. 522. 184. Dear my liege. See Gr. 13. 186. Throw dotvn. The folio reading ; the ist quarto has " throw up," 187. In the folio God is changed to " Heaven," in accordance with an Act of Parliament (3 James I. cap. 21) entitled "An Act to restrain the abuses of Players," in which the name of God was forbidden to be used in stage-plays, etc. The quartos have " deep sin." 189. Beggar-fear. The reading of the ist quarto and ist and 2d folios. The 2d, 3d, and 4th quartos have " begger-face ;" the 3d and 4th folios, " beggar'd fear." Impeach my height. Detract from my dignity. Impeach (Fr. empecher) at first meant to hinder ; as in Spenser, F. Q. iii. 3, 53 : " That therefore nought our passage may empeach ;" Id. iii. 11, 11 : "and swelling throbs empeach His strugling toung." Then it got the meaning " to accuse " — perhaps, as has been suggested, because an accused person is held for trial, and his free action thus hindered. Here perhaps the two meanings are blended. 190. Outdared. Defied. Some take it as = outdaring, audacious. Cf. w^/j/^/^^;2 = outspeaking, lean-look' d (ii. 4. 11 below) = lean -looking, etc. See Gr. 294. Ere my tongue^ etc. On the figure, see Gr. 529(5). 192. Parle. Parley, or the trumpet-call for one ; as in 3 Hen. VI. v. I. 16 : " Go, trumpet, to the walls, and sound a parle." 193. Motive. Moving power, instrument ; that is, the tongue. Cf A. tV.iv. 4. 20 : "As it hath fated her to be my motive And helper to a husband ;" 71 and C. iv. 5. 57 : " every joint and motive of her body." 194. " It may be doubted whether his refers to the tongue (used for the modern its) or to Mowbray. Either yields a reasonable sense " (C. P. ed.). 156 NOTES. 199. St. Lamberfs day. September 17th. 201. Difference. Quarrel, contention. " (Johnson). 158. The ghosts they have depos''d. The ghosts of those whom they have deposed. "The Elizabethan writers objected to scarcely any ellip- sis, provided the deficiency could be easily supplied from the context" (Gr. 382). 161. Rounds. Surrounds, encircles. Cf. M. N. D. iv. i. 56 : " For she his hairy temples then had rounded With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers.' Douce suggests that this passage was suggested by one of the illustra- tions in the Imagines Mortis, improperly attributed to Holbein. The picture represents a king on his throne, with courtiers about him, while a grinning skeleton stands behind in the act of removing the crown from his head. Death is not sitting in the crown, as S. expresses it, and as the commentators also state it, though any one who looks carefully at the fac-simile of the picture (see Knight's pictorial ed.) will see how the mis- take originated. The skeleton, being directly behind the king, appears at first glance to be rising from the crown. Some of the editors say that 1^2 NOTES. he is sitting in the crown aitd taking it off — a mechanical impossibility, though we will not assert that a ghost would find it such. 162. Antic. Buifoon. Cf. Hen. VI. iv. 7. 18; "Thou antic death, which laugh'st us here to scorn." 163. Scoffing his state. That is, at his state. Gr. 200. 164. A breath, A brief time. Cf. K. John, iii. 4. 134: "One minute, nay one quiet breath of rest." See also Hen. V. ii. 4. 145. 166. Self and vain conceit. Vain self-conceit, or estimate of self. See on ii. 2. 33. 168. Humoured. Abbott (Gr. 378) explains the construction thus : "And, (man having been) humour' d thus, (Death) comes at the last." It is doubtful, as Schmidt suggests, whether humour' d is to be construed thus, or as = "in this humour," referring to Death. 173. Traditiofi. "Traditional practices; that is, established or cus- tomary homage" (Johnson). "Addition" was suggested by Roderick, and D. approves it, but no change seems called for. 1 74. Mistook. Cf. y. C. i. 2. 48, and see Gr. 343. 175. With bread. Cf. i Hen. IV. iii. i. 162 : "I had rather live With cheese and garlic." Gr. 193. On the measure, see Gr. 510. Perhaps something has dropped out of the text here. 176. Subjected. Made a subject ; antithetical to >^z«^ in next line. 178. The folio reading. The quartos have "ne'er sit and wail their woes." 179. Presently. Immediately. Gr. 59. 182. Omitted in the folio. 183. To fight. To fighting ; to you if you fight. Gr. 356. 184. " That is, to die fighting is to return the evil that we suffer, to destroy the destroyers " (Johnson). 185. Where. Whereas. See Gr. 134. Fearing dying. Yielding to death through fear. 186. Of. About, concerning. See Gr. 174. 190. On the metaphor, see Gr. 529(4). 198. By small and small. For the construction, see Gr. 5. 203. Upon his factio7t. Upon his side. This is the folio reading ; the quartos have " his party," which means the same. 204. Beshrew. A mild form of imprecation. Cf. So7tn. 133. i : " Be- shrew that heart that makes my heart to groan ;" M. of V. iii. 2. 14 : " Beshrew your eyes," etc. See on shrezvd, 59 above. On which, see Gr. 268 ; and on forth, Gr. 156. Forth of = out of, away from. Cf extract from Holinshed, p. 194, first line. 209. Flint Castle. In North Wales, about twelve miles from Chester. It is still standing, though in a very ruinous condition. According to Leland, it was built by Edward I. In the civil wars of Charles I. it was garrisoned by the royal party, but was besieged and taken by the parlia- mentary forces in 1643. 211. That flower, etc. Discharge the soldiers that I have. 212. To ear. To plough, or till. Cf. V. and A. dedication, 5 : "never ACT III. SCENE III. 193 after ear so barren a land ;" A. W. i. 3. 47 : " He that ears my land spares my team ;" A. and C. i. 4- 49 = " Make the sea serve them which they ear and wound With keels of every kind." See also Deut. xxi. 4 ; Isa. xxx. 24, etc. That hath, etc. That promises to be productive. Delius would change hath to have, making them the antecedent oithat ; but this seems unnecessary. The meaning seems to be : Let them go to till the land, from which they may expect a better return than from serving a kmg whose cause is hopeless. Scene III.— The following is Holinshed's account of the events in this scene : • j 1. " King Richard being thus come unto the Castle of Flmt, and the Duke of Hereford being still advertised from hour to hour by posts how the Earl of Northumberland sped, the morrow following he came thither, and mustered his army before the King's presence, which undoubtedly Tiade a passing fair show, being very well ordered by the Lord Henry Percy, that was appointed general, or rather, as we may call him, master of the camp, under the Duke, of the whole army. " There were come already to the castle, before the approachmg of the main army, the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Duke of Aumerle, the Earl of Worcester, and divers others. The Archbishop entered first, and then followed the others, coming into the first ward. " The King, that was walking aloft on the brays of the walls to behold the coming of the Duke afar off, might see that the Archbishop and the others were come, and, as he took it, to talk with him : whereupon he forthwith came down unto them, and beholding that they did their due reverence to him on their knees, he took them up, and drawing the Arch- bishop aside from the residue, talked with him a good while, and, as it was reported, the Archbishop willed him to be of good comfort, for he should be assured not to have any hurt as touching his person ; but he prophesied not as a prelate, but as a Pilate, as by the sequel it well ap- peared. .11 " After that the Archbishop had now here at Flint communed with the King, he departed, and taking his horse again, rode back to meet the Duke, who began at that present to approach the castle, and conripassed it round about, even down to the sea, with his people arranged in good and seemly order at the foot of the mountains ; and then the Earl of Northumberland, passing forth of the castle to the Duke, talked with him awhile in the sight of the King, being again got up to the walls to take a better view of the army, being now advanced within two bow- shots of the castle, to the small rejoicing, ye may be sure, of the sorrow- ful King. " The Earl of Northumberland, returning to the castle, appointed to the King to be set to dinner (for he was fasting till then), and after he had dined the Duke came down to the castle himself, and entered the same all armed, his bassinet only excepted, and being within the first N 194 NOTES. gate, he stayed there till the King came forth of the inner part of the castle unto him. " The King, accompanied with the Bishop of Carlisle, the Earl of Sal- isbury, and Sir Stephen Scrope, knight, who bare the sword before him, and a few other, came forth into the utter ward, and sat down in a place prepared for him. Forthwith as the Duke got sight of the King, he showed a reverent duty, as became him, in bowing his knee ; and com- ing forward, did so likewise the second and third time, till the King took him by the hand, and lift him up, saying, ' Dear cousin, ye are welcome.' The Duke, humbly thanking him, said, ' My sovereign lord and king, the cause of my coming at this present, is (your honour saved) to have again restitution of my person, my lands, and heritage, through your favour- able licence.' The King hereunto answered, * Dear cousin, I am ready to accomplish your will, so that ye may enjoy all that is yours, without exception.' " ID. Mistakes. Rowe added " me " to help out the measure ; but see Gr. 487. 12. Wotild you have been, etc. If you should have been, or if you had been disposed to be, etc. Cf Gr. 322, 331. On so, see Gr. 281. 14. Taking so the head. Johnson thought this meant "to take undue liberties ;" Douce, " to take away the sovereign's chief title." The latter seems the better. 17. Mistake. Take wrongly or unjustly. There is a play on the word, which some editors indicate by printing it "mis-take." 0''ej^ your head. So in folio; the 1st and 2d quartos have "over our heads," the 3d and 4th " over your heads." 26. Yond. Equivalent to. yon or yonder, but not a contraction of the latter word, as W., H., and other editors who print it yond'' appear to consider it. Here the folio has "yond," the quartos "yon." See Temp. p. 121, note on " What thou seest yond." 30. Belike. Probably. Common in S., but now obsolete. 31. On the short line, see Gr. 512. 32. Ribs. The C. P. ed. compares K. John, ii. i. 384 : " The flinty ribs of this contemptuous city." 33. Parle. The quartos have "parlee" (parley). See on i. i. 192. 34. His. Its. See on iii. 2. 109 above ; and for deliver, on iii. 2. 92. 38. Hither come. Having come hither. 41. Be freely granted. The subject is the preceding clause, which = my recall from banishment and the restoration of my lands. 52. Tatter' d. So in folio and later quartos ; " tottered " in ist and 2d quartos. As Coll. and D. state, this is simply "a variety of spelling." Schmidt also defines the word here as "torn, ragged." In K. John, v. 5. 7, the folio has " our tott'ring colours ;" and in I Hen. IV. iv. 2, '^'], " a hundred and fiftie totter'd Prodigalls." 53. Perus''d. Surveyed, examined. Cf R. and y. v. 3. 74 : " Let me peruse this face ;" C. ^^. i. 2. 13 : "Till that, I '11 view the manners of this town, Peruse the traders, gaze upon the buildings." ACT III. SCENE III. 195 Tennyson {Princess, ii.) has " At those high words we, conscious of ourselves, Perused the matting." 56. Shock. Here the ist quarto furnishes the correct reading. The other early eds. have "smoke," "smoake," or "smoak." 57. Cheeks of heaven. Cf. Temp. i. 2. 4 : " the welkin's cheek." 60. Not on him. That is, not to extinguish him. 61. King Richard how he looks. See Gr. 414, 62-67. The early eds. give these lines to Bolingbroke ; Warburton, Hanmer, K., Sr., and W., to York ; D., to Percy. Warburton remarks that they are "absurdly given to Bolingbroke, who is made to condemn his own conduct and disculp the king's." Besides, as W. points out, " Bolingbroke, as will be seen by the last twelve lines previous to the appearance of Richard, has marched away with his army from the castle, to which he afterwards returns and asks Northumberland, ' What says the king V " 71. Harm. The Coll. MS. has "storm," which D. and Sr. adopt. 73. Fearful. See on iii. 2. no. 76. Awful. Full of awe, as fearful— 'full of fear. Cf. 2 Hett. IV. iv. i. 176: "We come within our awful banks again." Hence it comes to mean "filled with reverence for all that deserves it, conscientious" (Schmidt), as in T. G. of V. iv. I. 46 : " Thrust from the company of awful men." 81. Profane. Commit sacrilege. 83. Have torn their souls. Have perjured themselves. The metaphor seems to be taken from the act of tearing a legal document. 89. Thai lift. The antecedent o{ that is implied in your. Gr. 218. 90. Threat. Threaten. Used only in verse and in the present tense (Schmidt). Cf. V. and A. 620 : "Of bristly pikes that ever threat his foes ;" Cymb. iv. 2. 127 : " To let an arrogant piece of flesh threat us." 94. To ope the purple testament. To open and carry into execution the blood-stained will. 96. On the metaphor, see Gr. 529 (5). 97. The flower of England'' s face. The blooming surface of the land. Steevens cites Sidney, Arcadia: "the sweet and beautiful flower of her face." 98. Maid-pale. White or fair as a maiden. Cf. i Hen. VI. ii. 4. 47 : "this pale and maiden blossom." 102. Civil and uncivil. Civil in one sense (as in " civil war "), not civil in another. Or imcivil may mean rude, as in T. G. of V. v. 4. 17 : " uncivil outrages." 105. Honourable tomb. That of Edward HI. in Westminster Abbey. 109. Holinshed states that John of Gaunt was buried in St. Paul's. 1 14. Enfranchisement. " Restoration to his full rights as a free Eng- lishman " (C. P. ed.). 115. Party. Part. Cf. Zmr, ii. i. 28 : " have you nothing said Upon his party 'gainst the Duke of Albany?" tg6 NOTES. Ii6. Commend. Give up, deliver over. CI. Lear, ii. 4. 28: "I did commend your highness' lettei's to them;" Macb. i. 7, 11 : "Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice To our ov^^n lips," 117. Barbed. Armoured; used only of horses. Ci. Rick. III. \.i. 10 : " mounting barbed steeds." Not to be confounded with barb, a Barbary horse. See Wb. under barb and barded. 121. Returns. Returns answer. Cf. Heti. V. iii. 3. 46 : " The Dauphin, whom of succours we entreated, Returns us that his powers are not yet ready," See also i. 3. 122 above. 126. Commends. See on iii. I. 38. Gr. 451. 128. Poorly. " Without spirit, dejectedly " (Schmidt). Cf. Macb. ii. 2. 71 : "Be not lost So poorly in your thoughts," 136. Words of sooth. Words of concession, or of flattery. Cf. Per. i. 44 When Signior Sooth here does proclaim a peace. He flatters you, makes war upon your life." So soothers=^2XX.QX&x^ in i Hen. IV. iv. i. 7 : " I cannot flatter ; I do defy The tongues of soothers." On sooth^Xxvi'dx, see Mer. p. 127. 137. lesser. See on ii. i. 95. 146. C God's name. See Gr. 24, 169. The folio has o\ the quartos a. 154. Obscure. Accent on first syllable, as usually in S. when the word is an adjective. See Gr. 492. 156. Common trade. Common passage. Lord Surrey, in his transla- tion of Virgil's ^neid, book ii., translates " pervius usus " by the same expression : " A postern with a blind wicket there was, A common trade, to pass through Priam's house." According to Wedgwood, trade is derived from tread, meaning literally " a trodden way, a beaten path or course." Wb., on the other hand, makes it from the Latin tractare, through the French traiter. However that may be, there is an obsolete trade, as Wb. states, meaning tread. Cf. Spenser, F. Q. ii. 6, 39 : "As Shepheardes curre, that in darke eveninges shade Hath tracted forth some salvage beastes trade." 162. Lodge. Throw down, lay. The word is still used by farmers in this sense. Cf. Macb. iv. i. 55 : " Though bladed corn be lodg'd." 164. Wantons. Triflers. 168. There lies. See on iii. 2. 141. Gr. 335. 169. On the omission of the relative, see Gr. 244 The sentence forms the epitaph that Richard proposes for the graves. 175. Ay. Always spelled " I " in the early eds. There is a play upon You and ay, not upon leg and ay (eye), as some commentators make it. In R. ana J. (iii. 2. 45), however, there is a play on ay and eye. See also iv. I. 201 below. ACT III, SCENE IK 195^ \ 76. Base court. The outer court of the castle, which was usually on a lower level than the inner court ; the French basse cour. 178. Glistering. Glisten is not used by S. See Mer. p. 145. 179. Wanting the 7nafiage of. Unable to control. Manage is especiav ly used of horses. See Mer. p. 153. 185. Fondly. Foolishly. See Mer. pp. 146, 152, and cf iv. i. 72 be- low. On makes, see Gr. 336. Cf. V. and A. 988 : " Despair and hope makes thee ridiculous." 191. To make. See Gr. 356. 192. Me rather had. See Gr. 230. 195. Thus high. Here some insert the explanatory stage direction, " touching his owit head.'''' 198. So far be mine. That is, may they so far be mine. 202. Uncle. Addressed to York. 203. Want their remedies. Are without their remedies, do not avail. 204. Bolingbroke and Richard were both born in 1366, and were now thirty-three years old. 208. Set on. Lead forward, set out. Cf J. C. i. 2. 14 and v. 2. 3. Scene IV. — 4. Rubs. In bowling the word denoted any impediment that might divert the ball from its course. Qi.Hen. V. ii. 2. 188 : " But every rub is smoothed on our way " (see also v. 2. 33) ; Cor. iii. i. 60 : " nor has Coriolanus Deserv'd this so dishonour' d rub, laid falsely I' the plain way of his merit." II. Of sorrow or of joy? The early eds. read "or of griefe.'"' St. ibllows Capell, reading " Of joy or grief?" 14. Remember. Remind. Cf i. 3. 269 above. 15. Altogether had. Altogether possessed; wholly occupying my mind. 18. Complain. Complain of, bewail. Gr. 291. 20. On the use oi shouldst and zvouldst here, cf Gr. 322 and 326. 22. And I could sing, etc. Pope changed sing to weep, which D. adopts and Sr. approves. W. explains it thus as it stands : " The queen says that, if weeping would do her any good, she has shed tears enough her- self to be able to sing ; — the emphasis being, ' And I could sing^ etc." The Camb. ed. paraphrases it as follows : " And I could even sing for joy if my troubles were only such as weeping could alleviate, and then I would not ask you to weep for me." 26. My wretchedness. "I will "sfake my great wretchedness against the merest trifle" (C. P. ed.). 28. Against a change. In anticipation of a change. Gr. 142. Woe is forerun with woe. That is, by woe ; " sadness is the harbingei or precursor of disaster." Gr. 193. 29. Apricocks. Apricots; the old spelling. Qi. M. N. D. iii. I. 169: "Feed him with apricocks and dewberries." 32. Supportance. Support. Used by S. only here and in T. N. iii. 4. 329 : " the supportance of his vow." 34. Too-fast-growing. See Gr. 434. 198 NOTES. 38. Noisome. Noxious. Cf. Z'^. xci. 3 : "the noisome pestilence." 40. Pale. Enclosure. Cf. i Hen. VI. iv. 2. 45 : " How are we park'd and bounded in a pale." 46. Knots. Flower-beds laid out in fanciful shapes. Cf. Milton, P. L. iv. 242 : " In beds and curious knots." 51. In eating him. While depriving him of nourishment. The allu- sion is to the farming of the land to the Earl of Wiltshire, who "seemed to hold him up" by supplying him with money, though really on usuri- ous terms. 56. D^-ess'd. Tilled; as in 73 below. Cf. Gen. ii. 15. 57. We. Wanting in the early eds. ; inserted by Capell. On the omission of the article in at time of year, see Gr. 89. 59. In sap. The reading of ist quarto ; the other early eds. have "with sap." 60. It may refer either to the "bark" or to the "fruit-trees" taken distributively. 63. On the measure, see Gr. 506. The 2d folio has " All superfluous," w^hich D. adopts. W. suggests that superfluous is accented on the pe- nult. 66. The folio reading; the quartos have "waste of." Pope changed hath to have ; but see Gr. 334. 67. On the use oi shall, see Gr. 315. Pope inserted the7t, which is in none of the early eds. 69. ^Tis doubt. 'T is feared or suspected. The folio has "doubted." Cf. Gr. 342, under which this may possibly come. We have " 't is doubt" in another sense in i. 4. 20. 72. Pressed to death. An allusion to the old custom of putting a per- son to death by piling weights upon the chest. Cf Much Ado, iii. i. 76 : " Press me to death with wit ;" M.forM. v. I. 528 : " pressing to death." The punishment was known 2& peine forte et dure, and was inflicted on those who when arraigned refused to plead. 74. On the measure, see Gr. 498. Pope omitted harsh rude. 75. Suggested. Prompted, tempted. See on i. i. loi. (Zi. Hen. VI II. i. I. 164. 76. Cursed man. Cf. Gen. in. 17-19. 78. Thou little better thing than earth. On the arrangement, see Gr. 419a. 79. Divijie. Prophesy. Cf. ^. and C. ii. 6. 124 : " If I were bound to divine of this unity, I would not prophesy so." 80. By this ill-tidings. On by, see Gr. 145. Pope changed this to these; but see on ii. i. 272. 83. He. See Gr. 243. Hold = grasp. 86. The C. P. ed. cites M. of V. iii. 2. 91 : " Making them lightest that wear most of it." 89. Odds. Used by S. both as singular and plural, like tidings and news. Cf.M.for M. iii. i. 41 : "these odds ;" A. and C. iv. 15. 66 : " the odds is gone," etc. 100. This news. The folio reading; the quartos have "these news.'' As just stated, S. uses both forms. AuT IV. SCENE I. 199 roi. Pray God. The folio substitutes " I would." 102. So. See Gr. 133. 104. Fall. Let fall. All the early eds. except ist quarto have " drop." S. often uses fall transitively. See Gr. 291 and our ed. of y. C. p. 169, note on T/zej/ fall their crests. 105. Rue. "The plant Ruta graveolens, called also herb of grace, and used on account of its name as a symbol of sorry remembrance" (Schmidt). This is the most probable of the various explanations of herb of grace. Cf. Ham. iv. 5. 181 : "There 's rue for you ; and here ^s some for me : we may call it herb-grace o' Sundays." See also W. T. iv. 4. 74. 106. Ruth. Pity. Cf. So7t7t. 132. 4 : " Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain ;" Milton, Lye. 163 : " Look homeward, angel, now, and melt with ruth;" Tennyson, Enid: "Had ruth again on Enid." Scene L — Holinshed, after describing Bagot's bill of accusation against Aumerle, continues : " There was also contained in the said bill, that Bagot had heard the Duke of Aumerle say that he had liefer than twenty thousand pounds that the Duke of Hereford was dead, not for any fear he had of him, but for the trouble and mischief that he was like to procure within the realm. " After that the bill had been read and heard, the Duke of Aumerle rose up and said, that as touching the points contained in the bill con- cerning him, they were utterly false and untrue, which he would prove with his body, in what manner soever it should be thought requisite. " On the Saturday next ensuing, the Lord Fitzwater herewith rose up and said to the King that when the Duke of Aumerle excuseth himself of the Duke of Gloucester's death, I say (quoth he) that he was the very cause of his death ; and so he appealed him of treason, offering, by 200 NOTES. throwing down his hood as a gage, to prove it with his body. There were twenty other lords also that threw down their hoods, as pledges to prove the like matter against the Duke of Aumerle. " The Duke of Aumerle threw down his hood, to try it against the Lord Fitzwater, as against him that lied falsely in that he charged him with by that his appeal. These gages were delivered to the Constable and Marshal of England, and the parties put under arrest. " The Duke of Surrey stood up also against the Lord Fitzwater, avouching that where he had said that the appellants were cause of the Duke of Gloucester's death it was false ; for they were constrained to sue the same appeal, in like manner as the said Lord Fitzwater was compelled to give judgment against the Duke of Gloucester and the Earl of Arundel, so that the suing of the appeal wv.s done by coercion; and if he said contrary he lied, and therewith he threw down his hood. " The Lord Fitzwater answered hereunto, that he was not present in the Parliament House when judgment was given against him ; and all the lords bare witness thereof. Moreover, where it was alleged that the Duke of Aumerle should send two of his servants unto Calais to murder the Duke of Gloucester, the said Duke of Aumerle said that if the Duke of Norfolk affirmed it he lied falsely, and that he would prove with his body, throwing down another hood which he had borrowed. The same was likewise delivered to the Constable and Marshal of Eng- land, and the King licensed the Duke of Norfolk to return, that he might arraign his appeal." The speech of the Bishop of Carlisle, when the Commons demanded judgment to be passed on King Richard, is narrated by Holinshed as follows : " Whereupon the Bishop of Carlisle, a man both learned, wise, and stout of stomach, boldly showed forth his opinion concerning that de- mand, affirming that there was none amongst them worthy or meet to give judgment upon so noble a prince as King Richard was, whom they had taken for their sovereign and liege lord by the space of twenty-two years and more. ' And I assure you (said he) there is not so rank a traitor, nor so errant a thief, nor yet so cruel a murderer apprehended or detained in prison for his offence, but he shall be brought before the justice to hear his judgment ; and ye will proceed to the judgment of an anointed king, hearing neither his answer nor excuse. And I say that the Duke of Lancaster, whom ye call King, hath more trespassed to King Richard and his realm than King Richard hath done either to him or to us ; for it is manifest and well known that the Duke was banished the realm by King Richard and his council, and by the judgment of his own father, for the space of ten years, for what cause ye know ; and yet, without license of King Richard, he is returned again into the realm, and, that is worse, hath taken upon him the name, title, and pre-eminence of King. And therefore I say that you have done manifest wrong to pro- ceed in anything against King Richard, without calling him openly to his answer and defence.' As soon as the Bishop had ended this tale, he was attached by the Earl Marshal, and committed to ward in the Abbey of St. Albans." , ACT IV, SCENE I. 201 Westminster Hall, where this scene is laid, was built by William Rufus, but was repaired by Richard II., who raised the walls, altered the win- dows, and added the carved timber roof, which is to this day a marvel of construction. Here in the olden time were held the royal revels at Christmas, and here for centuries the great state trials took place, from that of Sir William Wallace to that of Warren Hastings. Here Crom- A^ell was inaugurated Protector, and Charles I. was condemned to die. No room in England has been the scene of so many events involving the destinies of the nation. Richard finished the work of reconstruction in 1399, and the first meet- ing of Parliament in the new building was for the purpose of deposing him. 4. Wrojight it with the king. Who persuaded the king to it. 5. Timeless. Untimely. Cf. Rich. III. i. 2. 117 : "the timeless deaths, Of these Plantagenets ;" T. G. of V. iii. i. 21 : "your timeless grave." ID. Dead time. "Dark and dreary time " (C. P. ed.) ; or, as Schmidt explains it, "bringing death, deadly." In T A. ii. 3. 99, "dead time" means a time "still as death." Cf. Rich. III. v. 3. 180 ; Ham. i. i. 65 ; Id. i. 2. 198. Z'^aa'= deadly in M. N. D. iii. 2. 57 ; W. T iv. 4. 445 ; K. jfohn, V. 7. 65, etc. 11. Is not my arm of length? Is not my arm long? The C. P. ed. cites Ovid, Epist. xvi. 166 : "An nescis longas regibus esse manus?" 12. Restful. Quiet, peaceful. Cf. Somt. 66. i : "Tir'd with all these, for restful death I cry." Some explain it here as = " stationary," making the passage mean. Can I reach so far without moving from the English court .-* 15. On the measure, see Gr. 466. 17. Than Bolingbroke''s rettirn. Than to have him return. On the ellipsis, see Gr. 390. England is metrically a trisyllable here. Gr. 477. 19. On the measure, see Gr. 500. 21. My fair stars. The dignity assigned me by the propitious stars at my birth. Cf Rich. III. iii. 7. 172 : " The right and fortune of his happy stars." 22. For the omission oi as, see Gr. 281. 24. With the attainder, etc. He means to say that unless he vindicated his honour by wager of battle, he would be as much disgraced as if con- victed of felony or treason. 25. The manual seal of death. His death-warrant; an allusion to the sign-manual of a sovereign. 28. Heart-blood. Cf. i. I. 172, and Gr. 22. On the adverbial use oiall^ see Gr. 28. 29. Cf. I Hen. IV. v. 2. 94 : " A sword whose temper I intend to stain," etc. 33. If that. See Gr. 287. The quartos have " sympathy ;" the 1st folio, "sympathize;" the other folios, "sympathies." Stand on sympa' thies (or sympathy) = insist on equality of rank (in your antagonist). C£ Hen. V. V. 2. 94 : " When articles too nicely urg'd he stood upon ;" 0th, ii. I. 232 : " sympathy in years," etc. 2C2 NOTES. 38. The pointing of the folio. The quartos put the comma after it^ making tivejity times modify liest. 40. The 7'apier was a long pointed sword, of Spanish origin. Its in- troduction here is an anachronism, as it was not known in England in the time of Richard. But, as the C. P. ed. remarks, S. arms Demetrius in T. A. (ii. i. 54 and iv. 2. 85) with a rapier. 49. And if. See Gr. 105. The Camb. ed. adopts Capell's "An if." 52-59. These lines were omitted in the folio ; perhaps, as W. suggests, " because they were considered superfluous, and because the expression, I task the earth, in the quarto of 1597, or I take the earth, in that of 1598 and its successors, was found inexplicable," Capell read " I task thee to the like," which D. approves ; Johnson conjectured " I take thy oath;" Steevens, "I task thy heart;" S. Walker, " 1 take oath." St. makes 7 task the earth— '■'■\ challenge the whole world." The C. P. ed. explains it, " I lay on the earth the task of bearing the like gage ;" and Hunter, " I engage the earth to bear the like trial of battle." 53. With full as many lies. By giving you the lie as many times. 55. Sim to sun. Capell's emendation of the " sinne to sinne " of the quartos. Cf. Cymb. iii. 2. 70 : " One score 'twixt sun and sun." 56. Engage it. Throw down your gage in return. Cf. 71 below. 57. Who sets 7ne else? " Who else sets a match with me?" See Gr. 220. The expression was used in playing dice. Cf i Hen. IV. iv. i. 46 : Rich. III. V. 4. 9 " Were it good To set the exact wealth of all our states All at one cast?" Slave, I have set my life upon a cast. And I will stand the hazard of the dice.' Lear, i. 4. 136 : " Set less than thou throwest," etc. 58. Cf Rich. III. V. 3. 347 : " A thousand hearts are great within my bosom" (C. P. ed.). 62. My lord. These words are not in the quartos. They seem to have been added in the folio " as a proper mark of respect from Fitz- water to a prince of the blood royal, and one much his senior" (W.). Li presence. In the presence-chamber. Gr. 90. 65. Dishonoicrable boy. Spoken in contempt, as Fitzwater was now thirty-one years old. 72. Eondly. Foolishly. See on iii. 3. 185. 74. Iji a wilderness. " Where no help can be had by me against him " (Johnson). Cf. Macb. iii. 4. 104 : " And dare me to the desert with thy sword." Boswell cites B. and F., Love's Progress : " Maintain th}' treason with thj' sword ? -wdth what Contempt I hear it ! In a ^^•ildemess I durst encounter it." 76. My bond of faith. Probably he here throws down another gage. 77. To tie thee. To bind thee, obligate thee. Cf i. i. 63. 78. This new world. The new era under Bolingbroke. 84. Here do I throw down this. According to Holinshed, he threw down a hood that he had borrowed. ACT IV. SCENE I. 203 85. RepeaVd. Recalled from exile. Cf. ii. 2. 49. 89. Signiories. Cf. iii. I. 22. On the measure, see Gr. 495. Pope omitted *' land and." 93. In glorious Christian field. For the omission of article, see Gr. 82. 94. Streaming. For the transitive use, see Gr. 290. Cf. J. C. iii. i. 201 : " Weeping as fast as they stream forth thy blood." 96. ToiPd. Wearied. Gr. 290. On the reflexive retir''d himself, see Gr. 296. Cf. Cor. i. 3. 30. 97. At Venice. There Norfolk is said to have died of grief in 1400. 104. Cf Luke, xvi. 22 ; and Rich. III. iv. 3. 38 : " The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom." On the measure, see Gr. 485. Capell inserted " My" before "lords." 112. Of that name the fourth. So in folio. The quartos have " fourth of that name," in ^\\\Qh fourth may be reckoned a dissyllable. Gr. 484. 115. Worst in this royal presence, etc. " That is, I may be the mean- est and most unfit to speak" (Schmidt). The C. P. ed. makes worst an adverb : " Though I may speak the worst, or vv^ith the least right to speak," etc. 116. Yet best beseeming, etc. That is, it befits me best, as a spiritual peer, to speak the truth. 117. Would God. See Gr. 190. 119. Noblesse. The reading cf the ist quarto; the other early eds. have "noblenesse." Cf the Fr. noblesse oblige. 120, Learn. Teach. Gr. 291. Cf Temp. i. 2. 365 : " The red plague rid you For learning me your language !" It is used reflexively in R. and J. iv. 2. 17 ; "I have learned me to repent the sin." 123. Jud^d. Condemned; as in 128. Cf 2 Hen. VI. ii. 3. 15 : "the law, thou seest, hath judg'd thee." On but, see Gr. 120. 124. Apparent. Manifest. Cf y. C. ii. i. 198 : " these apparent prod- igies ;" and see note in our ed., p. 147. 128. Subject. An adjective here. 129. And. See Gr. 95. Yox forbid the quartos have " forfend," which S. uses in several other places. Cf 0th. v. 2. 32, 186, etc. 130. Climate. Region. Cf J. C. i. 3. 32 : " For I believe they are portentous things Unto the climate that they point upon." Cf. Bacon, Adv. of L. i. 6. 10 : "the southern stars were in that climate unseen." The word is a verb in W. T v. i. 70 : "whilst you Do climate here." 131. Obscene. Foul, abominable. Cf. L. L. L. i. i. 244 : " that obscene and most preposterous event." 139. Go sleep. See Gr. 349. 141. ''''Kin refers to blood-relationship ; kind to our common human nature." Cf Ham. i. 2. 65 : "A little more than kin, and less than kind" (C. P. ed.). 144. See Matt, xxvii. 33. 204 NOTES. 145. Rear. The folio reading ; the quartos have " raise." There is an allusion to Matt. xii. 25. 146. WoefiUlest division. A prophecy of the Wars of the Roses. 148. Prevent, resist it. The early eds. have " Prevent it." Pope omitted //. See Gr. 460. 149. Lest children'' s children. The early eds. have " Lest child, child's children." Pope made the change, and has been followed by D,, W.j and other editors. Coll., K., St., and H. retain the old reading. 151. Of capital treason. See Gr. 177, and cf i. i. 27. 154. The "new additions" (see Introduction, p. 10) begin here, and continue to line 318 inclusive. 157. His conduct. His escort. Cf R. and J. v. 3. 116 : " Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide !" 160. Beholding. Equivalent to "beholden," which Pope substituted, Cf M. of V. i. 3. 106 : " Well, Shylock, shall we be beholding to you ?" and see Mer. p. 135. 161. And little look'' d for. The 3d and 4th quartos have "looke," and the Coll. MS. "look for little." Some understand it to mean, and this (the fact that we are little beholding to your love) was little looked for. 163. Shook. See Gr. 343, S. sometimes uses shaked, as in T. and C. i. 3. loi : "when degree is shaked." 16$. Knee. So the folio. The quartos have "limbs" or "limbes." 168. Favours. Faces. Cfy. Ci. 2. 91: " your outward favour ;" and see note in our ed., p. 131. 169. Sometime. Once, formerly. Ci. Cor. \. 1.2: " sometime his gen- eral." See on sometimes, i. 2. 54. 170. Cf Matt. xxvi. 49. 171. On the measure, see Gr. 501. 178. Tired is a dissyllable. Gr. 480. 181. Seize the crown. Coll., Sr., and others consider this a stage di- rection [seizes the crown), which has accidentally got into the text. 182. Thine. So in folio ; "yours" in 3d and 4th quartos. 184. Owes. Owns, has. Cf Temp. i. 2. 454 : " thou dost here usurp The name thou owest not." It is also used in the modern sense, as ir» i. 3. 180 above. Both meanings occur in K. John, ii. i. 248 : " Be pleased then To pay that duty which you truly owe To him that owes it." 194, 195. There is a play on the two senses of care, anxiety and sor- row : My sorrow is in having to give up the anxieties of a king, a burden which you have to assume. 198. Tend. Attend. Cf Temp. i. 2. 47: "women that tended me." Sometimes it is ■=. be attentive, as in Temp. i. i. 8 : " tend to the master's whistle." It is also used with on or upon, as in Macb. i. v. 42 : " Come you spirits. That tend on mortal thoughts ;" Lear, ii. I. 97 : "the riotous knights. That tend upon my father." 200. Ay is printed "I" in the old editions; hence the play on the vvord. Cf iii. 3. 175. ACT IV. SCENE I. 205 201. No no, " Since I must be nothing, no I is no noP The second no is a noun. 204. Unwieldy. The Camb. ed. prints "unwieldly" (see Gr. 447), and does not mention the folio reading " vnwieldie." 206. Balm. See on iii. 2. 55. 209. Duteous oaths. The folio reading. The 3d and 4th quartos have "duties rites." Coll., St., and others read "duties, rites;" the Camb. ed. " duty's rites." "Duteous rites" and " duties, rights" have also been suggested. Perhaps " duty's rites " (" the ceremonious observances which subjects are bound to render to their sovereign," as the C. P. ed. explains it) is to be preferred to " duteous oaths," as the latter are mentioned in 214, 211. Revenue. Accented on second syllable, as in Temp. \. 2. <)% : "Not only with what my revenue yielded." See Temp. p. 114, and cf. Gr. 490. In i. 4. 46 and ii. i. 161, 226 above, the accent is on the first syllable. 214. That swear. That is, of those that swear; or, perhaps, that are sworn. The folio has "are made" instead oi that swear. 216. And thou. See Gr. 216. 220. Sunshine days. Cf. 3 Hen. VI. ii. I. 187: "a sunshine day;** Milton, VAll. 98 : " On a sunshine holiday." 224. State and profit. " Constitution and prosperity " (Hunter). " Set- tled order and material progress" (C. P. ed.). 228. Weav'd up. See on 163 above. 229. Record. S. accents the noun on either syllable, as suits the measure. Cf. i. i. 30. 231. Read a lecture of them. Read them aloud. ^ Cf. A. Y.L. iii. 2. 365 : "I have heard him read many lectures against it." If thou wouldst. We should say " If thou shouldst,'" and in the next line "There wouldst thou." Cf. iii. 4. 20, and see Gr. 322, 326, 331 for should and would in conditional sentences. 236. Look upon me. So in folio. The quartos omit me. Cf. 3 Hen. VI. ii. 3. 27 : " Why stand we like soft-hearted women here And look upon, as if," etc. and Ham. i. 2. 179 : " Indeed, my lord, it follow'd hard upon." Gr. 192. 237. Whilst that. See Gf. 287. 238. See Matt, xxvii. 24, 26. 240. Sozir. Used metaphorically very much as bitter is. Cf. L. L. L. i. I. 315 : "the sour cup of prosperity " (Costard's speech) ; Sonn. 57. 7 : " Nor think the bitterness of absence sow%'" etc. So we find " sour woe," " sour adversity," "sour affliction," " sour misfortune," and in the present play (iv. I. 241) "sour cross" and (v. 6. 20) "sour melancholy." 245. Sort. Company. CLM.N.D. iii. 2. 13 : " The shallowest thick- skin of that barren sort ;" 2 Heit. VI ii. i. 167 : "a sort of naughty per- sons ;" Id. iii. 2. 277 : " Sent from a sort of tinkers to the king." 249. Pompous. Used in its original sense of stately, magnificent. Cf. A. Y. L. V. 4. 188 : "the pompous court ;" Per. iii. prol. 4 : " Of this mos( pompous marriage-feast." 2o6 . NOTES. 253. Haught, Haughty. Cf. Rich. III. ii. 3. 28 : " the queen's sons and brothers haught and proud." 254. Nor no. The folio has "No, nor." See Gr. 406. 255. That name zvas. That name which was. Gr. 244. 256. Btit H is -usurped. " How Richard's name could be usurped is not clear : perhaps he meant that in surrendering his crown he had given up everything that belonged to him by right of birth, both name and position." 263. And if. Theo. changed this to " An if," and Pope to " Ah, if." See Gr. 103. Word. The quartos have "name." Cf. i. 3. 231. 266. His. Its. Cf i. I. 194, etc. Gr. 228. 268. While. See on i. 3. 122. 269. Torments. Gr. 340. Rowe substituted " torment'st," which the modern eds. generally adopt. 274. Writ. See on shook^ 163 above. Cf ii. i. 14. In Lear, i. 2. 93, we have wrote for written. 280. Beguile. Deceive. Cf Hain. i. 3. 131 : "the better to beguile ;" Somi. 3. 4 : " Thou dost beguile the world," etc. 282. Did keep ten thousand men. Malone says : " Shakespearf' 'S here not quite -Cf^urate. Our chronicles only say : ' To his household came every day to meat ten thousand men.'" 291. ^he shadow of yojir sorrozv, etc. The act by which you express your sorrow has destroyed the reflected image of your face. 295. Lament. Cap^^H's emendation for the "laments" of the early eds. 298. The quartos omit There lies the substance ; also For thy great bounty in next line, and Shall I obtain it? in 303. 307. To, See Gr. 189. Cf Temp. ii. i. 75 and iii. 2. 54. See also Matt. iii. 9 ; Luke, iii. 8, etc. 314. Sights. Pope changed this to "sight ;" but in Elizabethan Eng- lish such use of the plural was common. Ci. Macb. iii. i. 21 : "whose loves ;" T. G. of V. i. 3. 48 : "O that our fathers would applaud our loves, To seal our happiness with their consents." See also Rich. III. iv. i. 25 ; T of A. i. i. 255 ; Per. i. i. 74 ; Hen. VIII. iii. I. 68 ; and v. 2. 38 below. 315. Convey. Often = steal. Cf M. W. i. 3. 32, where after Nym has used the word steal. Pistol says " Convey the wise it call." Cf. Cymb. i. I. 63 and 3 IIe7t. VI. iv. 6. 81. 317. On Wednesday, etc. The first two quartos read — "Let it be so: and lo! on Wednesday next We solemnly proclaim our coronation ; Lords, be ready all." The change in the text was rendered necessary by the new addition of the " Parliament scene." 325. My lord. These words are found only in the first two quartos, Gr, 512. ACT V. SCENE I. 207 326. Take the sacrament. Take an oath. Cf. v. 2. 97 below. 327. Pope and D. omit also. See Gr. 497. 333. A plot shall show. That is, which Shall show. Gr. 244. ^ \&A^^^^MM^!;^M^^ Scene I. — 2. Julius Ccesar's ill-erected tower. That is, erected under evil auspices, or for evil purposes. Cf. Rich. III. iii. i. 68 foL Tradi- tion ascribed the first building of the Tower to Caesar. Hence Gray in The Bard apostrophises it thus : "Ye towers of Julius ! London's lasting shame!" 11. Thou model, Qtc. " Thou /zVi'z/r^ of greatness" (Johnson). "Thou ruined majesty that resemblest the desolated waste where Troy once stood" (Malone). 12. Thou map of honour. " The mere outline, which is all that is left" (C. P. ed.). The expression is used in a somewhat different sense in 2 Hen. VI. iii. i. 203 : "In thy face I see The map of honour;" that is, the outward image of the honour within. 13. Inn. A house of entertainment of the better sort, ai? opposed to alehouse in line 15. Cf B. and F., Lovers Progress, v. 3 : *' She s a book To be with care perus'd ; and 't is my wondei- If such misshapen guests as lust and murder At any price should ever find a lodging In such a beauteous inn." W. quotes Optick Glasse of Humours (1607) : " His comely body is a beauteous Inne Built fairely to the owner's princely minde. Where wandring virtues lodge, oft lodg'd with sin; Such pilgrims kindest entertainement finds. An Inne said 1? O no, that name's unfi:, Sith they stay not anight, but dwell n it.' 14. Hardfavour'd. Ill-looking, ugly. Cf. V. and A. 133 : " Were I hard-favpur'd, foul, or wrinkled-old ;" T. G. of V. ii. i. 53 : 2o8 NOTES. *^ speed. Is she not hard-favoured, boy? Valentine. Not so fair, boy, as well-favoured," 20. Sworn brother. "Adventurers in travel or war sometimes bound themselves to share each other's fortunes ; they were ih^n fr aires jurati, Bworn brothers." Cf. W. T. v, 4. 607: " Ha, ha ! what a fool Honesty is ! and Trust, his sworn brother, a very simple gentleman !" A. Y. L. v. 4. 107 : " and they shook hands, and swore brothers !" Cor. iii. 2. 102 : " I will, sir, flatter my sworn brother, the people." 23. Cloister thee. Shut thyself up. Cf. R. of L. 1085 : "And therefore still in night would cloister'd be." See Gr. 290, 296. Religious house. A convent. 25. Stricken. The reading of the folio ; the quartos have " thrown." Cf. J. C. ii. I. 192 : " The clock hath stricken three." 31. To be d" erpower'' d. At being overpowered. Gr. 356. 37. Sometime. See on iv. i. 169. Gr. 41. 42. Long ago betid. That happened long ago. Cf. Tenip. i. 2. 31 : " No, not so much perdition as a hair Betid to any creature in the vessel." 43. To quit their griefs. To requite their mournful tales. The quartos have " quite." Cf. Spenser, F. Q. i. 8, 26 : " How shall I quite the paynes ye suffer for my sake?" So in R. and J. ii. 4. 204 : " I'll quit thy pains " (" quite " in early eds.) ; T. A. i. I. 141 : " To quit the bloody wrongs upon her foes." The word was spelled either way. 44. Tale. The folio has "fall." On of me, see Gr. 225. 46. For why. Equivalent to " Wherefore } (Because)." See Gr. 75. Cf. T. G. of V. iii. i. 99 : " For why, the fools are mad if left alone." Sympathize. Here used transitively. See Gr. 200. 47. Moving. Moving the feelings of others. 48. Fire. A dissyllable. Cf i. 3. 294. Gr. 480. 52. Pomfret. That is, Pontefract Castle, at the town of the same name in the West Riding of Yorkshire, about twenty-two miles from York. Fomfret is the common pronunciation of the name. This famous castle, the ruins of which still give some idea of its ancient strength and magnificence, was built about 1080 by Hildebert (or Ilbert) de Lacy, one of the followers of William the Conqueror. In 13 10 it v.ame into the possession of Thomas, Earl of Lancaster, who was behead- ed near the castle for a revolt against Edward I., several lords implicated with him being hanged at Pontefract the same day. In 1399 it was the prison of Richard II., and here, according to the account that Shakespeare follows, he was murdered by Sir Pierce of Exton. In 1483, Earl Rivers, Richard Lord Grey, and Sir Thomas Vaughan were executed here, with- out any legal trial, by the order of Richard, Duke of Gloucester, after- wards Richard III. Shakespeare {Rich. III. iii. 3. 9) makes Rivers ex- claim : " O Pomfret, Pomfret ! O thou bloody prison, Filial and ominous to noble peers ! Within the guilty closure of thy walls o 2IO NOTES. Richard the Second here was hack'd to death; And, for more slander to thy dismal seat, _ We give thee up our guiltless blood to drink." The castle was four times besieged : in 1536, by Robert Aske, captain^ general of the Pilgrimage of Grace, to whom it surrendered ; and thrice in the time of Charles I. In 1649 it was dismantled by order of Parlia- ment, The chief remnant of the castle now is a portion of the keep, consist* ing of the ruins of two massive round towers connected by walls. In one of these walls, which is eighteen feet thick, is a wretched dungeon, in which tradition says Richard was confined, but it is more probable that he occupied one of the large apartments of the keep. 53. Order ta^ en. Arrangements made. The expression occurs often in S. Cf. 0th. V. 2. 72 : " Honest lago hath ta'en order for 't ;" Rich. III. iv. 2. 53 : "I will take order for her keeping close." 55. Wherewithal. Cf Gr. 196. 61. Helping him. Thou having helped him. 62. Which. See Gr, 268. 64. Ne''er so little. See Gr. 52. 66. Converts. Is converted, changes. See Gr. 293, and c£ Macb. iv, 3. 229 : " Let grief Convert to anger." 68. Worthy. Well-merited. Cf Rich. III. i, 2, 87 : " For doing worthy vengeance on thyself" 69. And there ait end. A common phrase in S, Cf Macb. iii. 4. 80; T. G. of V. i. 3. 65 ; Hen. V. ii. i. 2, etc. 70. You must part. That is, depart, Cf M. of V. ii. 7. 77 : " Thus losers part ;" T. of A. iv. 2. 21 : " We must all part Into this sea of air." See also Gray, Elegy, i : " The knell of parting day ;" Goldsmith, D. V. 171 : "parting life," etc, 75. For with a kiss V was made. Steevens says : " A kiss appears to have been an established circumstance in our ancient nuptial ceremony. So in Marston's Insatiate Countess (1613) the Duke, on parting with his wife, says to her : ' The kiss thou gavest me in the church, here take.' " 77. Pines. Makes waste, or " afflicts" (Schmidt), It is=starve in V, and A. 602 : " Even as poor birds, deceiv'd with painted grapes, Do surfeit by the eye and pine the maw." 78. Wife. The folio has " Queene." 80. Hallowmas. In the time of S., All Saints' Day, the ist of Novem- ber, was ten days nearer the winter solstice than it is now. The calendar was corrected by Gregory XIII. in 1582, but the reform was not adopted in England until 1752. Shortest of day. See Gr. 473, and cf Macb. iii. i. 117 : "My near'st of life." . 84. The quartos give this lirfe to Richard. 88. The 1st quarto reads, "off than neere be nere the neare;" the folio, "off, then neere, be ne're the neere." The line is variously pointed by the modern editors, but they agree pretty well in regard to the meaning, hich appears to be, " Better to be far off than near, and yet never the ACT V. SCENE II. 211 nearer." The second ;2^^r=nearer. See Gr. 478. Malone quotes Churchyard, Legend of Shore's Wife (1578) : *' Your time is lost, and you are never the near." St. cites Ben Jonson, Tale of a Tub^ epilogue : "Wherein the poet's fortune is, I fear, Still to be early up, but ne'er the near." 94. Wedding it. For the construction, see Gr. 372. 96. Mine. That is, my heart, loi. To make woe wanton. Cf. iii. 3- 164. Fond. See on iii. 3. 185. Even when the word means affectionate, it carries with it the sense of foolish, doting. Scene II. — Holinshed's account of the conspiracy in the Abbot's house at Westminster, and its discovery, is as follows : " At length, by the advice of the Earl of Huntington, it was devised that they should take upon them a solemn joust, to be enterprised be- tween him and twenty on his part, and the Earl of Salisbury and twenty with him, at Oxford, to the which triumph King Henry should be de- sired ; and when he should be most busily regarding the martial pastime, he suddenly should be slain and destroyed, and so by that means King Richard, which as yet lived, might be restored to liberty, and to his for- mer estate and dignity. " This Earl of Rutland, departing before from Westminster to see his father, the Duke of York, as he sat at dinner had his counterpart of the indenture of the confederacy in his bosom. The father, espying it, would needs see what it was ; and though the son humbly denied to show it, the father being more earnest to see it, by force took it out of his bosom, and perceiving the contents thereof, in a great rage caused his horses to be saddled out of hand . . . and incontinently mounted on horseback, to ride towards Windsor to the King, to declare to him the malicious in- tent of his son and his accomplices." 4. Leave. Leave off. Cf V. and A. 71$: " Where did I leave ?" 16. Painted imagery. " Our author probably was thinking of the painted cloths that v/ere hung in the streets, in the pageants that were exhibited in his own time ; in which the figures sometimes had labels issuing from their mouths, containing sentences of gratulation " (Malone). 22. Rides. The ist quarto has "rode." 23. " The painting of this description is so lively, and the words so moving, that I have scarce read anything comparable to it in any other language " (Dryden). We may add that the poet was indebted solely to his imagination for the description. Holinshed simply states that Richard was first taken to Westminster, and the next day "was had to the Tower, and there committed to safe custody." He adds no details, except that " many evil-disposed persons, assembling themselves together in great numbers, intended to have met with him, and to have taken him from such as had the conveying of him, that they might have slain him ; but ' the Mayor and h Idermen gathered to them the worshipful commoners and grave citizens, by whose policy, and not without much ado, the other 212 NOTES. were revoked from their evil purpose." According to Stow, Richard was taken by water from Westminster to the Tower. 25. Idly. Regardlessly, indifferently. W. prints the word " idlely." 28. The quartos have "gentle Richard." 33. Patience. A trisyllable here. See Gr. 479. 38. Capell changed bound to "bind;" D., following Lettsom, to "bow." For contents, see on iv. i. 314. 40. Allow. Accept, acknowledge. Cf. He}i. VIII. ii. 4. 4 : "And on all sides the authority allow'd." 46, 47. The spring IS the reign of Bolingbroke ; the violets, his earliest courtiers. Cf Milton, Song on May Morning, 3 ; " The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose." 48. On the double negative, see Gr. 406. 49. Had as lief. Like had rather, used regularly by S. and all the old writers. Would as lief and would rather are of comparatively recent introduction, like "being built" and sundry other neologisms which writers of grammars prefer to good old English idioms that cannot be "parsed" so easily. Lief IS the A. S. leof, dear. The comparative liefer or lever, and the superlative liefest, are common in the old writers. S. uses the latter in 2 Hen. VI. iii. I. 164 : "my liefest liege." 52. Hold those justs, etc. That is, are they really to be held t See ex- tract from Holinshed above. Triumphs. Tournaments. Cf. v. 3. 14 below. See also i Hen. VI. " Or one that at a triumph havmg vow d To try his strength, forsaketh yet the lists By reason of his adversary's odds ;" Milton, ZM//. 119: " Where throngs of knights and barons bold, In weeds of peace, high triumphs hold." 56. Without. See Gr. 197. The seal was usually attached to a deed or bond by a loop of parchment, 58. Sees. The quartos have " see." Gr. 368. 65. Bond. The quartos have " band." See on i. i. 2. 66. 'Gainst. See on iii, 4. 28. The folio and the later quartos have " against the triumphs." We follow the ist quarto. 75. On>r, see Gr. 155. 79. Appeach. Impeach, inform against. Cf A. W. 1. 3. 197 : " Come, come, disclose The state of your affection ; for your passions Have to the full appeach'd;" that is, informed against you. 81. I will not peace. Cf ii. 3. 87 : " Grace me no grace," etc. 85. Amaz'd. Confounded, bewildered. Cf i. 3. 81. 90. Have we more sons? There was a younger son, Richard, the " Earl of Cambridge " of Hen. V. ACT V. SCENE III. 213 Like. Likely; as often. Cf. Temp. iv. i. 237: "you are like to lose your hair," etc. 91. Is not, etc. Is not my period of child-bearing past ? 98. Inter chatigeably. Mutually. Cf. T. and C. iii. 2. 62 : " Here 's ' In witness whereof the parties interchangeably ;' " i Hen. IV. iii. i. 81 : " sealed interchangeably." In i. i. 146, the word = in return. 99. None. Not one of them. Gr. 53. loi. For the measure, see Gr. 512. 112. Spur, post. The folio has " Spurre post," making /^j/ an adverb, as in A. W. iv. 5. 85 : " comes post." See on i. i, 56. Scene III. — Holinshed writes : " The Earl of Rutland, seeing in what danger he stood, took his horse and rode another way to Windsor, in post, so that he got thither before his father ; and when he was alighted at the castle gate, he caused the gates to be shut, saying that he must needs deliver the keys to the King. When he came before the King's presence, he kneeled down on his knees, beseeching him of mercy and forgiveness, and declaring the whole matter unto him in order as everything had passed, obtained pardon ; and therewith came his father, and, being let in, delivered the indenture which he had taken from his son unto the King, who, thereby perceiving his son's words to be true, changed his purpose for his going to Ox- ford." I. Unthrifty son. Afterwards Henry V., at this time only twelve years old. His introduction here is one of the anachronisms which, as Schle- gel says, Shakespeare committed purposely and most deliberately ^ge- fiissentlich tind mit grossem Bedacht). 5. At London. Abbott (Gr. 144) remarks that London was not so large as it now is when S. wrote this. 6. Erequent. See Gr. 293. S. nowhere else uses the verb intransi- tively. 9. The folio transposes "beat" and "rob." Fasse7igers — T^2i?,stxs by; as in T. G. of V. iv. i. i : "I see a passenger ;" Id. iv. i. 72 : "silly women or poor passengers." S. uses the word in no other sense. 10. While. Pope's emendation for the "which" of the early eds. Some editors retain the latter. St. thinks the passage was meant to end at support, and that so dissolute a crew was to be cancelled or to supply the place oieven such, they say. The C. P. ed. suggests putting a comma after support, making crew in apposition with which. Young wanton. So all the early eds. Rowe put a comma dSXtx young, making wanton an adjective. Cf. Ham. v. 2. 310 : "you make a wanton of me ;" K. John, v. i. 70 : " Shall a beardless boy, A cocker'd silken wanton, brave our fields?" 14. Held. That is, to be held. 16. He would unto. See Gr. 405. 17. Common^ St. See Gr. 473. Cf shorfst, v. i. 80. 18. Favour. Cf. L. L. L. v. 2. 130 : " this favour thou shalt wear ;" 214 NOTES. Hen. V. iv. 7. 160 : " wear thou this favour for me, and stick it in thy cap." 21. Sparks. The 2d, 3d, and 4th quartos have "sparkles." Cf. v. 6. 29: "sparks of honour." 22. Happily. Haply. Cf M.for M. iv. 2. 98 : " Happily You some- thing know;" T. of S. iv. 4. 54: "happily we might be interrupted." Perhaps in the present passage it is used in its ordinary sense. 27. To have. For the infinitive, see Gr. 356. 34. On. See Gr. 181. 43. Secure. Careless, too confident. See on iii. 2. 34. 44. Speak' treason. Use language like that of treason; referring to foolhardy. 48. Us. Used reflexively, as the personal pronouns often are in S. Gr. 223. Cf me in 52 just below. 50. Forbids tne show. For the omission of to, see Gr. 349. 52. Repent me. See Gr. 296. 57. Forget to pity him. " Forget your promise to have mercy on him " (C. P. ed.). 58. Cf 2 Hen. VI. iii. i. 343. 61. Sheer. Pure. S. uses the word only here and in T. of S. induc- tion, 2. 25 : " Fourteen pence on the score for sheer ale." There it prob- ably means " nothing but ale ;" though Schmidt thinks it may mean "unmixed ale." Cf Spenser, F. Q. iii. 2, 44 : "a fountaine shere ;" Id. iv. 6, 20 : "Pactolus with his waters shere;" Golding, Ovid^s Met. iv. : " The water was so pure and shere." 64. Converts. See on v. i. 66. 66. Digressing. " Transgressing " (Schmidt) ; turning aside from the right path, going astray, 72. Giving. In giving. Gr. 372. 80. The Beggar and the Kiitg. An allusion to the old ballad of King Cophetua, which may be found in Percy's Reliques. Cf Z. L. L. i. 2. 114: "Is there not a ballad, boy, of the King and the Beggar.?" 86. Cotifound. Destroy. Cf iii. 4. 60. 88. A'one other can. Can love no one else. Gr, 387. 89. Make. Do, Cf M. W. iv. 2. 55 : " What make you here .?" 0th. \. 2. 49 : " Ancient, what makes he here .?" Id. iii. 4. 169 : " What make you from home ?" 93. Kneel. The quartos have "walk." 95. Bid me joy. See on ii. 3. 15. 97. Unto. In addition to. Gr. 190. 99. Omitted in the folio. loi. The C. P. ed. says that this line as it stands is an Alexandrine, and prayers a dissyllable. It would be better to make are in jest one foot, bringing the line under Gr. 497. D. (following Capell) settles the question by dropping in, which is better than Pope's elision of do. 103. Would be. Wishes to be. See Gr. 329. 109, no. As these lines both end with have, Pope substituted crave in the first. S. Walker prefers to make the change in the second. Pray-^ ers is here a dissyllable. ACT V. SCENE IV. 215 III. Good aunty stand up. The folio gives this to Bolingbroke ; the ist quarto, to York. 113. And if , Theo. changed this to "An if," which many eds. adopt. See Gr. 103. 118. Mouths. The folio has " mouth's." 119. Pardonnez-moi. That is, excuse me; a polite way of refusing the request. 121. My sour husband. Cf. V. and A. 449 : "Jealousy, that sour un- welcome guest ;" /c/. 655 : " This sour informer." See on iv. i. 240. 122. Cf V. 5. 13 below. 124. Choppijig. " Changing, inconstant " (Hunter). Wb. quotes L'Es- trange : *' We go on chopping and changing our friends." Cotgrave uses the word to define the Fr. changer. Schmidt explains it here as " mincing, affected," or " perhaps = the French which hacks or disfigures our words." The word is still used in the sense of " changing suddenly " in the nautical phrase, "a chopping wind." The meaning of the passage seems to be : " The chopping French, which changes one meaning for another, which sets the word itself against the word, we do not under- stand." 125. Set thy tongue there. That is, let it speak the pity that the eye expresses. lyi. Happy vantage. Lucky advantage. "The Duchess here implies that kneeling was for the suppliant as much a position of vantage as it would be the reverse for a combatant" (C. P. ed.). See on i. 3. 218. 137. On/^r, see Gr. 149 ; and on the measure, Gr. 466. The brother- in-law was John, Duke of Exeter and Earl of Huntingdon, who had mar- ried Elizabeth, Bolingbroke's sister. He, together with Aumerle and Surrey, had been deprived of his dukedom in the first Parliament of Henry IV. \1?>. Consorted. Confederated. Cf. v. 6. 15. See also i?. ^Z. 1609: "Collatine and his consorted lords." 139. Cf A. W. iii. 4. 15 : " Where death and danger dogs the heels of worth;" Rich. III. iv. I. 40: "Death and destruction dog thee at the heels !" 140. Order several powers. Marshal separate bodies of troops. On several^ cf. Temp. iji. I. 42 : " For several virtues Have I liked several women;" A. and C i. 5. 62: "Twenty several messengers;" Milton, Comus, 25 : "commits to several government ;" Hymn on Nativity, 234 : " Each fetter 'd ghost slips to his several grave," etc. On powers, cf. ii. 2. 46, etc. 144. Mine. Not in the early eds., but found in the Coll. MS. and adopted by D., St., W., and others. The 5th quarto has "cousin too," which the Camb. ed. gives. Scene IV. — i. For the "redundant object," see Gr. 414. 2. Holinshed says that Exton overheard these words while waiting upon the king at table. For the omission of the relative, see Gr. 244. 5 Urg^d. See on iii. i. 4. T. Wistly. Wistfully. Cf. ./?. aA,^oamf, C£S0mm,29,t2i "Uke to ifte la& ait Isoeali «f dar anHBg FflBB »ffl£B eaed^ ^bd^ Iqaaais at beanc^s giOief liS^/Kiiu^: «*AadfiakelMig^aii^alaBa»aBila»gn8«id." Jm»mtimgmL Fortlwwtfa, iiiwunili iitii 1j . C£aEiuBL4.i2: "lee win te «nni iaonlMKaft.*' We !««« MMEtSawan^ ai <%iL 13.306. Gs^i. The C41IL MSL pMs a penod afier A&ecg. 52, 4/!^, Pope wArtiiicd '*o«ec."' THE«Tn-' ' ■ ' ' ' -~ ' - ■- * F. A, Dawe. _ "Tmeofdrisplaf^foHrteeAdb tnfied cm flae sage; villi terval^ dhe Icoglli of «lndi I caocL c to detExame. D27 I, Act L sc L ijKferpu/. A]KMC;4|naallK?— lnfitoncS^n& * 2. ActLscn, haenaaL^ Camatt jommef to Coveaixj. ** 3, ActLscm. n -' — ' J&armer from CovvaCrj to Loadon. > .^-, -:.- A da^ or tmok ** ^ ActlLscn, Juttrffal, ** 6t, ActlLs&in, *^ 7- Act IL sc ir^ Act in. sc i. ** &ActnLs&at JnUreuL d»aB«ae4^ferAetan»: and iKse iie lisBve a siag ' niiili fawehearfqfifefMhg^dgd^tffe< ^««»todKfisi,iB9Can0eifi)«aaao^%^nfiaedhisscaBe: adkiaeas fifAebtt£rUr«iMaaeKa«b»ldiae9te^ The dfamiM of dbe F« ii—*MtKmgiX»r0uWia0i^^l^t0mdSmt.* ^« emea wdb dUb beak: ■■ die 1 dmAl s9 fca«« n» pcdnfciie tine fiv dK endMsoa «f Ae atmy: adAer ^ ftT i gfeirf M wees de »rifirte> f* ^ a» «o be arcq*pil iCecd^ Ae fiiK of Ab atcae dhcwUlselheaMKRMvef Jlct IL-scir. F«r dns icasoa I^p« .Act IIL sc. i «idk tbat iccae as Dar 7. aa^!. setsaiig aside gjPCgiafiiBcal ceaadentHMBS, aidi vhidi ■dnrd Ac ADDENDA 223 jDay 9. Act III. sc. uL Interval, " 10. Act III. sc. iv. Ifiterval. " 1 1. Act IV. sc. i., Act V. sc. i Interval. " 12. Act V. sc. ii., iii., and iv. I7iterval. " 13. Act V. sc. V. Interval. " 14. Act V. sc. vi. Historic time, from 29th April, 1398, to trie Degi'nn^ng of March, 1400, at which time the body of Richard, or what was declared to be such, was brought to London." Richard and Jaques. — Dowden {Shakspere: his Mind and Art, Amer. ed. p. 180) says: "The soliloquy of Richard in Pomfret (v. 5) might almost be transferred, as far as tone and manner are concerned. to one other personage in Shakspere's plays— to Jaques. The curious intellect of Jaques gives him his distinction. He plays his parts for the sake of understanding the world in his way of superficial fool's-wisdom, Richard plays his parts to possess himself of the sesthetic satisfaction of an amateur in life, with a fine feeling for situations. But each lives in the world of shadow, in the world of mockery wisdom or the world of mockery passion." The same critic remarks (p. 181) : "Yet to the last a little of real love is reserved by one heart or two for the shadowy, attractive Richard ; the love of a wife who is filled with a piteous sense of her husband's mental and moral effacement, seeing her 'fair rose wither,' and the love of a groom whose loyalty to his master is associated with loyalty to his mas- ter's horse, roan Barbary. This incident of roan Barbary is an irivention of the poet. Did Shakspere intend only a little bit of helpless pathos? Or is there a touch of hidden irony here ? A poor spark of affection re- mains for Richard, but it has been kindled half by Richard, and half by Richard's horse. The fancy of the fallen king disports itself for the last time, and hangs its latest wreath around this incident. Then suddenly comes the darkness. Suddenly the hectic passion of Richard flares : he snatches an axe from a servant, and deals about him deadly blows. In another moment he is extinct ; the graceful, futile existence has ceased." List of Characters in the Play, with the Scenes in which THEY Appear. — The numbers in parentheses indicate the lines the characters have in each scene. King Richard: i. 1(57), 3(74), 4(40) ; ii. 1(41); iii. 2(146), 3(104); IV. 1(134) ; V. 1(63), 5(96). Whole no. 755. author does not appear to have concerned himself, we may then with dramatic propriety suppose the journey of Salisbury from North Wales and of Scroop from Bristol to have been simultaneous, bringing them to Richard's presence within a short time of each ntVi»r " Other 224 ADDENDA. Gaunt: i. i(8), 2(16), 3(62) ; ii. 1(106). Whole no. 192. York: ii. 1(74), 2(41), 3(49); "i- 1(2), 3(i3) I iv. 1(11); v. 2(70), 3(28). Whole no. 288. Bolingbroke: i. 1(59), 3(78); ii. 3(56); iii. 1(38), 3(55); iv. 1(39); V. 3(56), 6(33). Whole no. 414. Amnerle: i. 3(5), 4(15) I "i- 2(12), 3(3); iv. 1(26); v. 2(11), 3(13). Whole no. 85. Mo7vbray : i. 1(83), 3(52). Whole no. 135. Surrey : iv. 1(10). Whole no. 10. Salisbury: ii. 4(9); iii. 2(11). Whole no. 20. Berkeley : ii. 3(8). Whole no. 8. Bushy : i. 4(4) ; ii. 2(33) ; iii. 1(2). Whole no. 39. Bagot : ii. 2(9) ; iv. 1(13). Whole no. 22. Green: i. 4(5) ; ii. 2(25) ; iii. 1(2). Whole no. 32, Northumberland: ii. 1(50), 3(35) ; iii. 3(30) ; iv. 1(15) ; v. 1(7), 6(5). Whole no. 142. Percy: ii. 3(21) ; Hi. 3(8) ; iv. 1(5) ; v 3(6), 6(5). Whole no. 45. Ross : ii. 1(20), 3(2). Whole no. 22. Willoughby : ii. 1(10), 3(2). Whole no. 12. Fitzwater : iv. 1(23) ; v, 6(4). Whole no, 27. Carlisle : iii, 2(14) ; iv, 1(49). Whole no. 63. Abbot: iv. 1(10). Whole no. 10. Marshal: i. 3(25). Whole no. 25, Exton: v. 4(10), 5(6), 6(5), Whole no. 21. Scroop : iii. 2(37). Whole no. 37. Captain: ii. 4(15). Whole no, 15, 1st Herald : i. 3(6). Whole no, 6, 2d Herald : i. 3(7). Whole no, 7. Servant : ii. 2(5) ; iii. 4(10) ; v, 4(2), Whole no. 17. Gardener: iii. 4(52). Whole no. 52. Lord: iv. 1(5). Whole no, 5, Grooju : v, 5(12), Whole no, 12. Keeper: v, 5(6), Whole no, 6. Queen: ii. 1(1), 2(39); iii. 4(43); v, 1(32). Whole no. 115. _ Duchess of York : N. i{\s), ■}k^'^)■ Whole no, 93. Duchess of Gloster : i, 2(58), Whole no, 58. Lady : iii. 4(6). Whole no. 6, ''All": i, 4(1). Whole no. i. In the above enumeration, parts of lines are counted as whole lines, making the total in the play greater than it is. The actual number of lines in each scene (Globe edition numbering) is as follows : i. 1(205), 2(74), 3(309), 4(65); ii- 1(299), 2(149), 3(171), 4(24): iii- 1(44), 2(218), 3(209), 4(107); iv. 1(334); V. 1(102), 2(117), 3(146), 4(12). 5(119), 6(52). Whole number in the play, 2756. INDEX OF WORDS EXPLAINED. accomplished, 175. adverse, 163. advice, 166. advised (^deliberate), 165. affects (noun), 169. afore, 176. after (^afterwards), 188. against v^^in anticipation oO, 197. aggravate, 151. allow, 212. amazed, 212. amazing, 163. antic (noun), 192. apparent (^evident), 150, 203. appeach, 212. appeal, 150. appellant, 151. apprehension, 168. approve (>=prove), 163. apricocks, 197. argument (^subject), 150. ask (^call for), 175. aspect (accent), 164, 165. assay, 220. at all points, 161. atone, 156. attach (=arrest), 186. attend (^await), 163. attorneys-general, 176. awful (=full of awe), 195. ay, 196, 204. baffled, 154. balm (^consecrated oil), 190. band (=bond), 150. barbed, 196. barely, 176. Barkloughly, 188. base, 187. base (court), 197. bay. 186. beadsmen, igo. befall, 174. beguile, 206. beholding, 204. belike, 194. benevolences ( ^= forced loans), 177. Berkeley Castle, 183. beshrew, 192. bestrid, 219. betid, 208. bills (weapons), 190. blanks, 177. bonnet (^hat), 169. boot, 154. braving, 185. bring (^accompany), 168. broke (=ibroken), 182. broking, 178. brooch, 219. business (trisyllable), 176. buzz (=;whisper), 171. by (=on account of), 172. by (:=concerning), 176. caitiff, 158. careful ^=full of care), 182. challenge (=;demanu), 186. charge (=expense), 175. charters (=drafts), 169. cheerly (adverb), 162. chopping, 215. Cicester, 221. civil, 195. clap, 190. clean (^completely), 188. climate (^region\ 203. cloister (verb'. 208. coat (=:coat-of-arms), 188. commend (^give up), 196. commends (noun), 188. compare between, 175. compassionate, 164. complain (reflexive), 158. complain (transitive), 197. complices, 186. complot, 165. complotted, 153. composition, 173. conceit, 181. conclude (=agree\ 154. conduct (=escort), 204. confound, 214. conjuration, 189. consorted, 215. convert, 210. convey (=::steal), 206. P Cotswold, 184. cousin, 158. crooked, 174. crossly, 187. cunning, 164. current, 166. dead (time), 201. dear, 154, 164. deceivable, 185. defend (=forbid), 161. delectable (accent), 184, deliver, 190. depose, 162. design, i;6. despised (^=despicable), 185 determinate, 164. difference (=quarrel), 156. digressing, 214. discomfortable, 189. dispark, 188. dissolve, 182. divine, 151, 198. double- (=forked), 189. double-fatal, 190. doubt, 168, 198. dress (:=till), 198. dust, 185. eager (=3sharp), 151. ear (^plough), 192. else, 152. Ely House, 169. enfranchisement, 195. engage, 202. engaoled, 164. ensue (transitive), 175. ensuing, 172. entertain, 179. entreated (:=treated), 18JJ. envy (=malice), 172. envying (accent), 151. event (:=:issue), 176. exactly, 154. except, 152. exclaim (noun), 157. exile (accent), 164. expedience, 178. expedient, 169. extinct, 166. 226 INDEX OF WORDS EXPLAINED. faction, ic(2. fall (transitive), 199. fantastic, 168. favour (=face), 204. fear (reflexive), 183. fearful (=full of fear), 190. fire (dissyllable), 168. Flint Castle, 192. fly-slow, 164. foil, 166. fondly (=foolishly), 197, 202. for (=::because)., 168. forth of, 192. free, 186. _ frequent (intransitive), 213. furbish, 162. get (reflexive), 182. glister, 197. glose, 171. gnarling, 168. _ graved (=buried), 191. great (teeming), 176. had as lief, 212. Hallowmas, 210. happily, 214. happy (=fortunate), 188. hard-favoured, 207. hateful (=-full of hate), 183. haught, 206. haviour, 162. heaven (dissyllable), 164. height (=dignity), 155. Hereford, 150. high-stomached, 150. his (=its), 174. hold (interjectional), 183. holp, 21 8. hour (dissyllable), 157. humoured, 192. humours, 216. idly, 212. imp (verb), 178. impeach, 155. in, 184, 186. in (=iinto\ 190. incontinent, 222. indifferent ( =: impartial ), . 185. mform, 176. inhabitable, 152. inherit, 152, 173. injurious, 153. inn, 207. interchangeably, 213. Jack-o' -the-clock, 218. jade, 219. ]ar (=tick), 218. iauncing, 219. jest (=play), 163. Jewry, 172. journeyman, 166. joy (=enjoy), 184, 221. judged, 203. kem, 175. kin, 203. kind, 203. king (verb), 217. knots (flower-beds), 198. law, 186. lean-looked, 187. learn (=teach), 203. leave (=tleave off), 211. lendings, 152. lesser, 173. letters-patents, 176. lewd (=base), 152. liberal (=free), 176. lief, 212. light (=alight), 152. like (=--likely), 213. linger (transitive), 182. lodge (=throw down), 196. lodgings, 158. maid-pale, 195. make (=:do), 214. manage (=;handle), 190. manage (noun), 169, 197. marry (exclamation), 168. measure (a dance), 168. metal, 157. methinks, 172. misbegotten, 151. mistake, 194. model, 207. model (=copy), 157. model (=mould), 191. moe (^more), 176. mortal (= deadly), 189. motive, 155. murther, 158. native (=hereditary), 189. near (=nearer), 190. needle, 217. needs (adverb), 189. neighbour (adjective), 153. news (number), 198. nicely, 173-. noble (a coin), 219. noisome, 198. note (=stigma), 151. object (transitive), 151. obscene, 203. obscure (accent), 196. odds (number), 198. of (=about), 192. office (=service), 183. offices, 159. order (taken), 210. orderly (adverb), 161. ourself, 150, 169. ourselves, 150. outdared, 155. overweening, 154. owe (=own), 204. pale (rrrenclosure), 198. paper (=letters), i66. parle, 155. _ _ part (transitive), 187. part (r^depart), 210. partialize, 153. party (=part), 195. party-verdict, 166. passages ( --^ wanderings } 166. pelican, 174. pelting, 172. Percy (trisyllable), 184. perforce, 185. perspective, 180. perused (=:surveyed), 194. pilled, 177. pine, 210. pitch, 153. plaining, 164. Plashy, 158. plated, 162. Pomfret, 208. pompous, 205. poorly, 196. post, 152, 178. postern, 217. pound (plural), 182. power (^army), 181, 186. presage (accent), 183. presence (=personal inter« view), 166. presence (=presence-cham« ber), 167. presently ( =; immediately), 182. pressed, 190. prick (^incite), 176, 184. process, 184. profane, 195. profit, 205. proof, 162. property, 191. _ purchase (=gain), 167. quit (=requite), 208. ragged (=rugged), 217. rapier, 202. Ravenspurg, 178. receipt, 153. record (accent), 205 INDEX OF WORDS EXPLAINED. 22'J recreant, 154. refuge (verb), 217. regreet, 162, 164. remember (reflexive), 166, 197. Renald, 177. repeal (^recall), i8i. respect, 171, 174- restful, 201. _ retire (transitive), 181. return (=report), 163, 196. revenue (accent), 205. reversion, 169. rid (^destroy), 216. right-drawn, 151. roundly ( = unreservedly ), 174. rounds (i=surrounds), 191. rouse, 186. rubs, 197. rue, 199. rug-headed, 175. ruth, 199. sacrament, 207. sad (=grave), 219. safeguard (verb), 158. Saint Lambert's day, 156. say (=^as5ay), 220. scruples, 217. secret, 179. secure (=careless), 214. securely, 163, 177. security, 189. see (=see to), 176. self-born, 184. self mould, 157. sepulchre (accent), 165, 172. set, 202. bet on, 197. several (=separate), 215. sheer, 214. shook, 204. should (=would), 186, shrewd, 190. signories, 188. silly, 217. six and seven, 183. slander, 153, 166. so (=be it so), 182. so (=if), 17I) 183. sometimes (=:former), 158. soon-believing, 153. sooth, 196. sort (^company), 205. sour, 205. spirit (monosyllable), 162. stagger (transitive), 220. stand upon, 186. state, 205. stay (^await\ 178. stay (dissyllable), 163. still (=ever), 171, 181. still-breeding, 216. stir, 184. stranger (=foreign), 164. strewed, 167. stricken, 208. strike, 177. subjected, 192. suggest (:=incite), 153, 198 sullen, 222. sullens, 175. sunshine (adjective), 205. supportance, 197. sword (=cross\ 165. sympathize, 208. tattered, 194. tend (:=attend), 204. tender. 184. tendering ( = cherishing ), 151- the (demonstrative), 173. threat (verb), 195. tidings (singular), 177, 198- 1 timeless, 201. i to (omitted), 185, 186. toiled (=:wearied), 203. trade (=passage), 196. tradition, 192. travel (=journey), 166. triumphs, 212. tucket, 161. unavoided (=unavoidable], 177. uncivil, 195. undeaf, 171. underbearing, 169. unfelt, 184. unhappied, 188. unpossible, 183. unreverent, 174. unstaid, 170. unthrifts, 185. untuned (=discordant), i6/j urging, 187. vaded, 157. vantage, 165, 215. venge, 158. venom, 171. verge, 173. viol, 164. wantons, 196. warder, 163. waxen, 162. 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HILL'S FOUNDATIONS OF RHETORIC For High Schools and other Secondary Schools . , $1.00 The object of this book is to train boys and girls to say in written language, correctly, clearly, and effectively, what they have to say. It takes cognizance of faults such as those who are to use it are likely to commit, either from ignorance or from imitation of bad models, and of merits such as are within their reach, It gives a minimum of space to technicalities and a maximum of space to essentials. It covers the middle ground between the work of the grammar school and the theoretical rhetoric of the college course. In language singularly direct and simple it sets forth fundamental principles of correct speaking, and accompanies each rule with abundant illustrations and examples, drawn from practical sources. It gives precisely the kind of training which young minds need to enable them to discriminate between good and bad forms of English, The work comprises an Introduction, giving a short but remarkably clear outline of English grammar; Part I., on Words; Part II, , on Sentences; Part III., on Paragraphs; and an Appendix on Punctuation. h.LL'S PRINCIPLES OF RHETORIC For Academies and Colleges , , • . . , $1 20 This popular work has been almost wholly rewritten, and is enlarged by the addition of important new material. The treatment is based on the principle that the function of rhetoric is not to provide the student of composition with materials for thought, nor yet to lead him to cultivate style for style's sake, but to stimulate and train his powers of expression — to enable him to say what he has to say in appropriate language, and that rhetoric should be studied at school and in college, not as a science, but as an art with practical ends in view. By supplying deficiencies that time has disclosed, making rough places smooth, and adopting the treatment of each topic to present needs, the book in its revised form has been made more serviceable for advanced students of English composition. Copies of either of the above books will be sent, prepaid , to any address on receipt of the price : American Book Company New York * Cincinnati ♦ Chicago (S. S. 87) For the Study of Literature BLAISDELL'S FIRST STEPS WITH AMERICAN AND BRITISH AUTHORS 90 cents This book is now presented in a thoroughly revised and im- proved form, making it still more valuable to teachers desirous of using the best methods of teaching literature. BROOKE'S ENGLISH LITERATURE (Literature Primer Series) 35 cents A new edition of this popular text-book, revised and corrected, with chapters on the Victorian authors. HALLECK'S HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE . $1.25 A new text-book treating the history and development of English literature from the earliest times to the present in a concise and interesting manner. JOHNSON'S OUTLINE HISTORY OF ENGLISH AND AMERICAN LITERATURE $1.25 A comprehensive history of both English and American litera- ture, designed as a text-book for a year's study of the subject. The treatment is based on the historic method and in plan and arrange- ment is particularly well adapted for use in the study, the class room, or the reading circle. MATTHEWS'S INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF AMERICAN LITERATURE $1.00 A text-book of literature on an original plan, admirably designed to guide, to supplement, and to stimulate the student's reading of American authors. PHILLIPS'S MANUAL OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. 2 vols. Each $2.00 A popular manual of English literature, including also outlines of French, German, Italian, and Spanish literatures, with historical, literary, and art notes. ROBERTSON'S HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE . $1.25 A brief but comprehensive compendium of the history of English literature for secondary schools. WATKINS'S AMERICAN LITERATURE (Literature Primer Series) 35 cents A text-book of American literature adapted to the comprehen- sion of pupils in intermediate or grammar schools. Copies of any of the above books will be sent, prepaid, to any address on receipt of the price by the Publishers : American Book Company New York » Cincinnati • Chicago (S. s. 89) Practical Rhetoric A Rational and Comprehensive Text-Book for the use- OF High Schools and Colleges. By JOHN DUNCAN QUACKENBOS, A.M., M.D. Emeritus Professor of Rhetoric in Columbia University. Cloth, 12 mo, 477 pages Price, $1.00 This work differs materially from all other text- books of rhetoric both in plan and method of treatment. It first develops, in a perfectly natural manner, the laws and principles which underlie rhetorical art, and then shows their use and practical appHcation in the different processes and kinds of composition. The book is clear, simple, and logical in its treatment, original in its departure from technical rules and traditions, copiously illustrated with examples, and calculated in every way to awaken interest and enthusiasm in the study. A large part of the book is devoted to instruction and practice in actual composition work in which the pupil is encouraged to follow and apply genuine laboratory methods. The lessons are so arranged that the whole course, including the outside constructive work, may be satis- factorily completed in a single school year. Copies of Quackenbos's Practical Rhetoric will be sent prepaid to any address, on receipt of the price, by the Publishers. Correspond' ence relating to terms for introduction is cordially invited. American Book Company New York • Cincinnati ♦ Chicago (S. S. 88) Text-Books in English BUEHLER'S PRACTICAL EXERCISES IN ENGLISH By H. G. BuEHLER, Master in English in the Hotchkiss School. Cloth, i2mo, 152 pages , .... 50 cents A drill-book for Grammar Schools and High Schools, containing a large number of exercises to be worked out by the student, with many definitions and discriminations in regard to the choice of words. The pupil is made to choose between the correct and incorrect forms of expression and to explain why he has done so. By this means he strengthens his own power of discrimination and acquires the principle of avoiding mistakes rather than correcting them. BUTLER'S SCHOOL ENGLISH By George P. Butler, formerly English Master in the Law- renceville School, Lawrenceville, N. J. Cloth, i2mo, 272 pages 75 cents A brief, concise, and thoroughly practical manual for use in connection with the written English work of Secondary Schools. It has been prepared specially to secure definite results in the study of English, by showing the pupil how to review, criticise, and improve his own writing. The book is based on the following plan for teach- ing English: (1 ) The study and discussion of selections from standard English authors, (2) constant practice in composition, (3) the study of rhetoric for the purpose of cultivating the pupil's power of criticising- and improving his own writing. SWINTON'S SCHOOL COMPOSITION By William Sv\^iNTON. Cloth, i2mo, 113 pages . 32 cents Prepared to meet the demand for a school manual of prose com- position of medium size, arranged on a simple and natural plan, and designed not to teach the theory of style and criticism, but to give pupils in Intermediate or Grammar School grades a fair mastery of the art of writing good English. Copies of any of these books will be sent, prepaid, to any address on receipt of the price by the Publishers : American Book Company New York ♦ Cincinnati ♦ Chicago CS. S. 86) Composition and Rhetoric HILL'S FOUNDATIONS OF RHETORIC Cloth, 1 2mo, 346 pages . . . . . . $1.00 For High Schools, Academies, and College Preparatory Schools. Designed to train pupils to say in written language, correctly, clearly, and effectively, what they wish to say. It gives a minimum of space to technicalities and a maximum to essentials. In language singu- larly direct and simple it sets forth the fundamental principles of correct speaking, and accompanies each rule with abundant illustra- tions and examples drawn from practical sources. HILL'S PRINCIPLES OF RHETORIC Cloth, l2mo, 431 pages $1.20 For Colleges and Advanced Classes. Revised, rewritten, and enlarged by the addition of important new material. This text-book for advanced students is characterized by the soundness of its funda- mental conceptions, the clearness of its arrangement, the lucidity of its definitions, and its combination of scholarship and common-sense. The treatment is based on the principle that the function of rhetoric is not to provide the student of composition with materials for thought, nor yet to lead him to cultivate style for style's sake, but to stimulate and train his powers of expression — to enable him to say what he has to say in appropriate language. QUACKENBOS'S PRACTICAL RHETORIC Cloth, i2mo, 477 pages $1.00 For High Schools and Colleges. A comprehensive text-book in which the laws and principles which underlie rhetorical art are developed in a natural and logical manner, and their practical application in the different processes and kinds of composition are clearly shown. WADDY'S ELEMENTS OF COMPOSITION AND RHETORIC Cloth, i2mo, 416 pages $1 .00 Sufficiently elementary for the lower grades of High School classes and complete enough for all Secondary Schools. Inductive in method, orderly in arrangement, and clear and comprehensive in treatment, with copious exercises in both criticism and construction. Copies will be sent, prepaid, to any address on receipt of the price, American Book Company New York * Cincinnati ♦ Chicago (S.S.85) Text-Books in Grammar for Advanced Grades BASKERVILL AND SEWELL'S ENGLISH GRAMMAR . 90 cents An advanced grammar for use in High School, Academy and College classes. It combines in a remarkable degree a clear and concise statement of the facts of the language, based on its reputable use in literature, with rational methods for teaching and applying the same. The treatment includes Parts of Speech, Analysis, and Syntax, each part separate and distinct, but so articulated into the others as to make a complete, systematic, and harmonious whole. LYTE'S ADVANCED GRAMMAR AND COMPOSITION . 75 cents For use in High Schools, Normal Schools, and other Prepara- tory Schools. Based on the author's popular "Grammar and Com- position " and embodying the improvements suggested by successful class room work. The general plan of the work and the develop- ment of the subject are in strict accordance with accepted pedagog- ical principles. MAXWELL'S ADVANCED LESSONS IN ENGLISH GRAMMAR 60 cents For use in Higher Grammar Grades and High Schools. It em- braces all the theory and practice necessary during the last two years of a grammar school course or throughout a high school course. It is intended to serve two purposes ; — first, as a text-book, supplying the principles and rules of the science as well as their applications, and second as a book of refei'ence, to be used whenever difficulties are presented either in the student's own compositions, or in litera- ture that is subjected to critical study. POWELL AND CONNOLLY'S RATIONAL GRAMMAR OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE .... 60 cents This new grammar differs widely in treatment and terminology from other text-books in English. The subject is developed logically, and every point is made simple and clear. The practical side of the study — the correct use of language in speech and writing — is espe- cially emphasized. Copies of any of these books will be sent, prepaid, to any address on receipt of the price, American Book Company New York ♦ Cincinnati ♦ Chicago (S. S. 83) An Introduction to the Study of American Literature By BRANDER MATTHEWS Professor of Literature in Columbia University Cloth, 12mo, 256 pages . . . Price, $1.00 A text-book of literature on an original plan, and conforming with the best methods of teaching. Admirably designed to guide, to supplement, and to stimulate the student's reading of American authors. Illustrated with a fine collection of facsimile manuscripts, portraits of authors, and views of their homes and birthplaces. Bright, clear, and fascinating, it is itself a literary work of high rank. The book consists mostly of delightfully readable and yet comprehensive little biographies of the fifteen greatest and most representative American writers. Each of the sketches contains a critical estimate of the author and his works, which is the more valuable, coming, as it does, from one who is himself a master. The work is rounded out by four general chapters which take up other prominent authors and discuss the history and conditions of our literature as a whole ; and there is at the end of the book a complete chronology of the best American literature from the beginning down to i8g6. Each of the fifteen biographical sketches is illustrated by a fine portrait of its subject and views of his birthplace or residence and in some cases of both. They are also accompanied by each author's facsimile manuscript covering one or two pages. The book contains excellent portraits of many other authors famous in American literature. Copies of Brander Matihews's Introduction to the Study of American Literature will be sent prepaid to any address^ on receipt of the price ^ by the Publishers: American Book Company New York • Cincinnati ♦ Chicago (8.8,91) / AUG 5 t904 M3G