'Tis very true, my grief lies all within ;
And these external manners of lament
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
How to lament the cause. I'll beg one boon,
And then be gone, and trouble you no more.
Shall I obtain it?

Boling.

Name it, fair cousin.

K.Rich. Fair cousin? Why, 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.
Boling. Yet ask.

K. Rich. And shall I have?

Boling. You shall.

K. Rich. Then give me leave to go.
Boling. Whither?

[sights. K. Rich. Whither you will, so I were from your Boling. Go, some of you, convey him to the Tower. K. Rich. O, good! Convey?-Conveyers are you all, That rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall.

[Exeunt K. RICHARD, some Lords, and a Guard. Boling. On Wednesday next, we solemnly set down Our coronation: lords, prepare yourselves.

[Exeunt all but the ABBOT, BISHOP OF
CARLISLE, and AUMERLE.
Abbot. A woeful pageant have we here beheld.
Car. The woe's to come; the children yet unborn
Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn.

Aum. You holy clergymen, is there no plot
To rid the realm of this pernicious blot?
Abbot. Before I freely speak my mind herein,
You shall not only take the sacrament
To bury mine intents, but also to effect
Whatever I shall happen to devise :-
I see your brows are full of discontent,
Your hearts of sorrow, and your eyes of tears;
Come home with me to supper; I will lay
A plot shall shew us all a merry day.

ACT V.

[Exeunt.

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 weaken'd? Hath Bolingbroke
Depos'd thine intellect? Hath he been in thy heart?
The lion, dying, thrusteth forth his paw,
And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage
To be o'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?

K. Rich. A king of beasts, indeed; if aught but
I had been still a happy king of men. [beasts,
Good sometime queen, prepare thee hence for France:
Think, I am dead; and that even here thou tak'st,
As from my death-bed, my last living leave.
In winter's tedious nights, sit by the fire
With good old folks; and let them tell thee tales
Of woeful ages, long ago betid:
And, ere thou bid good night, to quit their grief,
Tell thou the lamentable fall of me,
And send the hearers weeping to their beds.
For why, the senseless brands will sympathize
The heavy accent of thy moving tongue,
And, in compassion, weep the fire out:
And some will mourn in ashes, some coal-black,
For the deposing of a rightful king.

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

K. Rich. Northumberland, thou ladder wherewithal
The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne,--
The time shall not be many hours of age
More than it is, ere foul sin, gathering head,
Shall break into corruption: thou shalt think,
Though he divide the realm, and give thee half,
It is too little, helping him to all;

And he shall think, that thou, which 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.

Enter QUEEN and Ladies.

Queen. This way the king will come; this is the way To Julius Cæsar's ill-erected tower, To whose flint bosom my condemned lord Is doom'd a prisoner by proud Bolingbroke: Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth Have any resting for her true king's queen.

Enter KING RICHARD und 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. 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?

K. Rich. Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so, To make my end too sudden: learn, good soul, To think our former state a happy dream; From which awak'd, the truth of what we are Shews us but this: I am sworn brother, sweet,

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

North. My guilt be on my head, and there an end.
Take leave, and part; for you must part forthwith.
K. Rich. Doubly divorc'd?-Bad men, 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 'twas made.-
Part us, Northumberland; I towards the north,
Where shivering cold and sickness pines the clime;
My wife to France; from whence, set forth in pomp,
She came adorned hither like sweet May,
Sent back like Hallowmas, or short'st of day.

Queen. And must we be divided? must we part? K. Rich. Ay, hand from hand, my love, and heart from heart.

Queen. Banish us both, and send the king with me. North. That were some love, but little policy. Queen. Then whither he goes, thither let me go. K. Rich. So two, together weeping, make one woc. 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. K. Rich. Twice for one step I'll groan, the way being And piece the way out with a heavy heart. [short, Come, come, in wooing sorrow, let's be brief, Since, wedding it, there is such length in grief. One kiss shall stop our mouths, and doubly part; Thus give I mine, and thus I take thy heart. [They kiss. Queen. Give me mine own again; 'twere no good

part,

To take on me to keep, and kill thy heart. [Kiss again.
So, now I have mine own again, begone,
That I may strive to kill it with a groan.

K. Rich. We make woe wanton with this fond delay: Once more, adieu; the rest let sorrow say. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. The same. A Room in the Duke of York's Palace. Enter YORK and his DUCHESS.

Duch. My lord, you told me you would tell the rest, When weeping made you break the story off Of our two cousins coming into London. York. Where did I leave? Duch. At that sad stop, my lord, Where rude misgovern'd hands, from windows' tops, Threw dust and rubbish on king Richard's head. York. Then, as I said, the duke, great Bolingbroke, Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed, Which his aspiring rider seem'd to know,With slow, but stately pace, kept on his course, While all tongues cried-God save thee, Bolingbroke! You would have thought the very windows spake, So many greedy looks of young and old Through casements darted their desiring eyes Upon his visage; and that all the walls, With painted imag'ry, had said at once,Jesu preserve thee! welcome, Bolingbroke! Whilst he, from one side to the other turning, Bare-headed, lower than his proud steed's neck, Bespake them thus,-I thank you, countrymen : And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along.

Duch. Alas, poor Richard! where rides he the while?
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 Richard; no man cried, God save him;
No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home :
But dust was thrown upon his sacred head;
Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off,-
His face still combating with tears and smiles,
The badges of his grief and patience,-
That had not 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.

Enter AUMERLE.

Duch. Here comes my son Aumerle. York. Aumerle that was; But that is lost, for being Richard's friend, And, madam, you must call him Rutland now: I am in parliament pledge for his truth, And lasting fealty to the new-made king.

Duch. Welcome, my son: Who are the violets now, That strew the green lap of the new-come spring? dum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not: God knows, I had as hef 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. [umphs? What news from Oxford? hold those justs and triAum. For aught I know, my lord, they do. York. You will be there, I know.

Aum. If God prevent it not; I purpose so. York. What seal is that, that hangs without thy boYea, look'st thou pale? let me see the writing. [som? Aum. My lord, 'tis nothing.

York.

No matter then who sees it: I will be satisfied, let me see the writing. Aum. I do beseech your grace to pardon me; It is a matter of small consequence, Which for some reasons I would not have seen. York. Which for some reasons, sir, I mean to see. I fear, I fear,Duch.

What should you fear? 'Tis 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.

[it.
Aum. I do beseech you, pardon me; I may not shew
York. I will be satisfied; let me see it, I say.
[Snatches it, and reads.
Treason foul treason!-villain! traitor! slave!
Duch. What is the matter, my lord?
York. Ho! who is within there? [Enter a Servant.]
Saddle my horse.

God for his mercy! what treachery is here!
Duch. Why, what is it, 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.

Duch.

[Erit Servant. What's the matter?

Re-enter Servant, with boots.

York. Bring me my boots, I will unto the king. Duch. Strike him, Aumerle.-Poor boy, thou art amaz'd:

Hence, villain: never more come in my sight.-
[To the Servant.

York. Give me my boots, I say.
Duch. 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?
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.

Duch.

He shall be none;

We'll keep him here: Then what is that to him?
York. Away,

Fond woman! were he twenty times my son
I would appeach him.

Duch.
Hadst thou groan'd for him,
As I have done, thou'dst 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,

SCENE III.-Windsor. A Room in the Castle.
Enter BOLINGBROKE, as King; PERCY, and other Lords.
Boling. Can no man tell of my unthrifty son?
'Tis full three months, since I did see him last:-
If any plague hang over us, 'tis he.

I would to God, my lords, he might be found:
Inquire at London, 'mongst the taverns there,
For there, they say, he daily doth frequent,
With unrestrained loose companions;

Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes,
And beat our watch, and rob our passengers;
While he, young, wanton, and effeminate boy,
Takes on the point of honour, to support
So dissolute a crew.

Percy. My lord, some two days since I saw the prince; And told him of these triumphs held at Oxford.

Boling. 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.
Boling. As dissolute, as desperate: yet, through both
I see some sparkles of a better hope,
Which elder days may happily bring forth.
But who comes here?

Enter AUMERLE, hastily.
Where is the king?

Aum.
Boling.
What means
Our cousin, that he stares and looks so wildly?
Aum. God save your grace. I do beseech your majesty,
To have some conference with your grace alone.
Boling. Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here
alone.-
[Exeunt PERCY and Lords.

What is the matter with our cousin now?

Aum. For ever may my knees grow to the earth, [Kneels.

My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth,
Unless a pardon, ere I rise, or speak.

Boling. Intended, or committed, was this fault?
If but the first, how heinous ere it be,
To win thy after-love, I pardon thee.

Aum. Then give me leave that I may turn the key, That no man enter till my tale be done.

Boling. Have thy desire. [AUMERLE locks the door. York. [Within.] My liege, beware; look to thyself; Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there. Boling. Villain, I'll make thee safe. Aum. Stay thy revengeful hand, Thou hast no cause to fear.

[Drawing.

York. [Within.] Open the door, secure, fool-hardy Shall I, for love, speak treason to thy face? [king: Open the door, or I will break it open.

[BOLINGBROKE opens the door. Enter YORK.

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

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

Aum. Remember, as thou read'st, thy promise past: I do repent ine; read not my name there, My heart is not confederate with my hand. York. 'Twas, 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.

Boling. O heinous, strong, and bold conspiracy!— O loyal father of a treacherous son! Thou sheer, immaculate, and silver fountain, From whence this stream through muddy passages, Hath held his current, and defil'd himself! Thy overflow of good converts to bad; And thy abundant goodness shall excuse This deadly blot in thy digressing son.

York. So shall my virtue be his 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,
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.
Duch. [Within.] What ho, my liege! for God's
sake let me in.
[eager cry?
Boling. What shrill-voic'd suppliant makes this
Duch. A woman, and thine aunt, great king; 'tis I.
Speak with me, pity me, open the door :
A beggar begs, that never begg'd before.

And now chang'd to The Beggar and the King.—
Boling. Our scene is alter'd,-from a serious thing,
My dangerous cousin, let your mother in ;
I know, she's come to pray for your foul sin.
York. If thou do pardon, whosoever pray,
More sins, for this forgiveness, prosper may.
This fester'd joint cut off, the rest rests sound;
This, let alone, will all the rest confound.

Enter DUCHESS.

Duch. O king, believe not this hard-hearted man, Love, loving not itself, none other can.

York. Thou frantic woman, what dost thou make

Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear? [here? Duch. Sweet York, be patient: Hear me, gentle [Kneels.

liege.
Boling. Rise up, good aunt.
Duch.

For ever will I kneel upon my knees,
Not yet, I thee beseech:
And never see day that the happy sees,
Till thou give joy; until thou bid me joy,
By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy.
Aum. Unto my mother's prayers I bend my knee.

[Kneels.

York. Against them both, my true joints bended be. [Kneels.

Ill may'st thou thrive, if thou grant any grace!
His eyes do drop no tears, his prayers are in jest;
Duch. Pleads he in earnest? look upon his face;

His

He prays but faintly, and would be denied ;
His words come from his mouth, ours from our breast;
We pray with heart, and soul, and all beside :
Our knees shall kneel till to the ground they grow:
weary joints would gladly rise, I know;
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.
Boling. Good aunt, stand up.

Duch.

Nay, do not say—stand up; But pardon, first; and afterwards, stand up. An if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach, Pardon-should be the first word of thy speech.

This hand hath made him proud with clapping him.
Would he not stumble? Would he not fall down,
(Since pride must have a fall,) and break the neck
Of that proud man, that did usurp his back?
Forgiveness, horse! why do I rail on thee,
Since thou, created to be aw'd by man,
Was born to bear? I was not made a horse;
And yet I bear a burden like an ass,
Spur-gall'd, and tir'd by jauncing Bolingbroke.
Enter Keeper, with a dish.

Keep. Fellow, give place; here is no longer stay. [To the Groom. K. Rich. If thou love me, 'tis time thou wert away. Groom. What my tongue dares not, that my heart shall say. [Exit. Keep. My lord, wilt please you to fall to? K. Rich. Taste of it first, as thou art wont to do. Keep. My lord, I dare not; sir Pierce of Exton, who Lately came from the king, commands the contrary: K. Rich. The devil take Henry of Lancaster, and Patience is stale, and I am weary of it. [thee! [Beats the Keeper.

Keep. Help, help, help!

Enter EXTON, and Servants, armed. K. Rich. How now? what means death in this rude assault?

Villain, thy 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 king's own land. Mount, mount, my soul! thy seat is up on high; Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here to die. [Dies.

Exton. As full of valour, as of royal blood : Both have I 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. This dead king to the living king I'll bear ;— Take hence the rest, and give them burial here. [Ex.

SCENE VI.-Windsor. A Room in the Castle. Flourish. Enter BOLINGBROKE and YORK, with Lords and Attendants.

Boling. 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?

North. First, to thy sacred state wish I all happiThe next news is,-I have to London sent [ness The heads of Salisbury, Spencer, Blunt, and Kent The manner of their taking may appear At large discoursed in this paper here.

[Presenting a paper. Boling. We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains; And to thy worth will add right worthy gains.

Enter FITZWater.

:

Enter EXTON, with Attendants bearing a coffin. Exton. Great king, within this coffin I present Thy buried fear; herein all breathless lies The mightiest of thy greatest enemies, Richard of Bourdeaux, by me hither brought. Boling. Exton, I thank thee not; for thou hast A deed of slander, with thy fatal hand, [wrought Upon my head, and all this famous land. [deed. Exton. From your own mouth, my lord, did I this Boling. They love not poison that do poison need, Nor do I thee; though I did wish him dead, I hate the murderer, love him murdered. The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour, But neither my good word, nor princely favour: With Cain go wander through the shade of night, And never shew 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 what I do lament, And put on sullen black, incontinent; I'll make a voyage to the Holy land, To wash this blood off from my guilty hand :March sadly after; grace my mournings here, In weeping after this untimely bier.

[Exeunt.

This play is extracted from the Chronicle of Holinshed, in which many passages may be found which Shakspeare has, with very little alteration, transplanted into his scenes; particularly a speech of the bishop of Carlisle, in defence of King Richard's unalienable right, and immunity from human jurisdiction.

Jonson, who, in his Catiline and Sejanus, has inserted many speeches from the Roman historians, was perhaps induced to that practice by the example of Shakspeare, who had condescended sometimes to copy more ignoble writers. But Shakspeare had more of his own than Jonson; and, if he sometimes was willing to spare his fabour, shewed, by what he performed at

other times, that his extracts were made by choice or idleness rather than necessity.

This play is one of those which Shakspeare has apparently revised; but as success in works of invention is not always proportionate to labour, it is not finished at last with the happy force of some other of his tragedies, nor can be said much to affect the passions, or enlarge the understanding.-JOHNSON.

The notion that Shakspeare revised this play, though it has long prevailed, appears to me extremely doubtful; or, to speak more plainly, I do not believe it.-MALONE.