Thou shalt think,
Though he60 divide the realm and give thee half,
It is too little, helping61 him to all.
He shall think that thou, which62 know’st the way
To plant unrightful63 kings, wilt know again,
Being ne’er so little urged, another way
To pluck him headlong from th’usurpèd throne.
The love of wicked friends converts to fear;
That fear to hate, and hate turns one or both67
To worthy68 danger and deservèd death.
NORTHUMBERLAND My guilt be on my head, and there an end.
Take leave and part70, for you must part forthwith.
KING RICHARD Doubly divorced? Bad men, ye violate
A twofold marriage, ’twixt72 my crown and me
And then betwixt me and my married wife.—
Let me unkiss74 the oath ’twixt thee and me;
To Queen
And yet not so, for with a kiss ’twas made.—
Part us, Northumberland. I towards the north,
Where shivering cold and sickness pines77 the clime.
My queen to France, from whence78, set forth in pomp,
She came adornèd hither like sweet May,
Sent back like Hallowmas80 or short’st of day.
QUEEN And must we be divided? Must we part?
KING RICHARD Ay, hand from hand, my love, and heart from heart.
QUEEN Banish us both and send the king with me.
NORTHUMBERLAND That were84 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, near88, be ne’er the near.
Go, count thy way with sighs; I mine with groans.
QUEEN So longest way shall have the longest moans.
KING RICHARD Twice for one step I’ll groan, the way being short,
And piece the way out92 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 stop95 our mouths, and dumbly part;
They kiss
Thus give I mine, and thus take I thy heart.
QUEEN Give me mine own again. ’Twere no good part
To take on me97 to keep and kill98 thy heart.
They kiss
So, now I have mine own again, be gone,
That I may strive to kill it with a groan.
KING RICHARD We make woe wanton101 with this fond delay.
Once more, adieu102; the rest let sorrow say.
Exeunt
Act 5 Scene 2
running scene 15
Location: the Duke of York’s house
Enter York and his Duchess
DUCHESS OF YORK My lord, you told me you would tell the rest,
When weeping made you break the story off,
Of our two cousins3 coming into London.
YORK Where did I leave4?
DUCHESS OF YORK At that sad stop, my lord,
Where rude6 misgoverned hands from windows’ tops
Threw dust and rubbish on King Richard’s head.
YORK Then, as I said, the duke, great Bullingbrook,
Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed
Which10 his aspiring rider seemed to know,
With slow but stately pace kept on his course,
While all tongues cried ‘God save thee, Bullingbrook!’
You would have thought the very windows spake,
So many greedy looks of young and old
Through casements15 darted their desiring eyes
Upon his visage, and that all the walls
With painted imagery17 had said at once
‘Jesu preserve thee! Welcome, Bullingbrook!’
Whilst he, from one side to the other turning,
Bareheaded20, lower than his proud steed’s neck,
Bespake21 them thus: ‘I thank you, countrymen’,
And thus still22 doing, thus he passed along.
DUCHESS OF YORK Alas, poor Richard! Where rides he the whilst23?
YORK As in a theatre, the eyes of men,
After a well-graced25 actor leaves the stage,
Are idly26 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 with33 tears and smiles,
The badges34 of his grief and patience,
That had not God, for some strong purpose, steeled
The hearts of men, they must perforce36 have melted
And barbarism itself have pitied him.
But heaven hath a hand in these events,
To whose high will we bound39 our calm contents.
To Bullingbrook are we sworn subjects now,
Whose state41 and honour I for aye allow.
Enter Aumerle
DUCHESS OF YORK Here comes my son Aumerle.
YORK Aumerle that was,
But that is lost for being Richard’s friend.
And, madam, you must call him Rutland45 now.
I am in parliament pledge for his truth46
And lasting fealty47 to the new-made king.
DUCHESS OF YORK Welcome, my son. Who are the violets48 now
That strew the green lap of the new come spring49?
AUMERLE Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not.
God knows I had as lief51 be none as one.
YORK Well, bear you52 well in this new spring of time,
Lest you be cropped53 before you come to prime.
What news from Oxford? Hold54 those jousts and triumphs?
AUMERLE For aught I know, my lord, they do.
YORK You will be there, I know.
AUMERLE If God prevent not, I purpose so.
YORK What seal58 is that, that hangs without thy bosom?
Yea, look’st thou pale? Let me see the writing.
AUMERLE My lord, ’tis 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.
YORK Which for some reasons, sir, I mean to see.
I fear, I fear—
DUCHESS OF YORK What should you fear?
’Tis nothing but some bond69 that he is entered into
For gay apparel against70 the triumph.
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
Treason, foul treason! Villain, traitor, slave!
DUCHESS OF YORK What’s the matter, my lord?
YORK Ho! Who’s within there?
[Enter a Servant]
Saddle my horse.
Heaven for his mercy, what treachery is here!
DUCHESS OF YORK Why, what is’t, my lord?
YORK Give me my boots, I say. Saddle my horse.—
[Exit Servant]
Now, by my honour, my life, my troth,
I will appeach84 the villain.
DUCHESS OF YORK What is the matter?
YORK Peace, foolish woman.
DUCHESS OF YORK I will not peace. What is the matter, son?
AUMERLE Good mother, be content. It is no more
Than my poor life must answer89.
DUCHESS OF YORK Thy life answer?
Enter Servant with boots
YORK Bring me my boots. I will unto the king.
DUCHESS OF YORK Strike him, Aumerle. Poor boy, thou art amazed92.—
Hence, villain93! Never more come in my sight.
To Servant
YORK Give me my boots, I say.
DUCHESS OF YORK Why, York, what wilt thou do?
Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own96?
Have we more sons? Or are we like to have?
Is not my teeming date98 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 fond102 mad woman,
Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy?
A dozen of them here have ta’en the sacrament,
And interchangeably105 set down their hands,
To kill the king at Oxford.
DUCHESS OF YORK He shall be none107.
We’ll keep him here. Then what is that108 to him?
YORK Away, fond woman! Were he twenty times my son,
I would appeach him.
DUCHESS OF YORK Hadst thou groaned111 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 like to me, nor any of my kin,
And yet I love him.
YORK Make way, unruly woman!
Exit
DUCHESS OF YORK After, Aumerle! Mount thee upon his horse121.
Spur post122, and get before him to the king,
And beg thy pardon ere he do accuse thee.
I’ll not be long behind. Though I be old,
I doubt not but to ride as fast as York:
And never will I rise up from the ground126
Till Bullingbrook have pardoned thee. Away, begone!
Exeunt
Act 5 Scene 3
running scene 16
Location: the royal court
Enter Bullingbrook, Percy and other Lords
BULLINGBROOK Can no man tell of my unthrifty1 son?
’Tis full three months since I did see him last.
If any plague hang over us, ’tis he.
I would to heaven, my lords, he might be found.
Enquire at London, ’mongst the taverns there,
For there, they say, he daily doth frequent,
With unrestrainèd loose7 companions,
Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes,
And rob our watch9, and beat our passengers,
Which he, young wanton and effeminate10 boy,
Takes on the11 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.
BULLINGBROOK And what said the gallant15?
PERCY His answer was, he would unto the stews16,
And from the common’st17 creature pluck a glove,
And wear it as a favour18, and with that
He would unhorse19 the lustiest challenger.
BULLINGBROOK As dissolute as desp’rate20. Yet through both
I see some sparks of better hope, which elder days
May happily22 bring forth. But who comes here?
Enter Aumerle
AUMERLE Where is the king?
BULLINGBROOK What means our cousin, that he stares24 and looks so wildly?
AUMERLE God save your grace! I do beseech your majesty,
To have some conference with your grace alone.
BULLINGBROOK Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here alone.
[Exeunt Henry Percy and Lords]
What is the matter with our cousin now?
AUMERLE Forever may my knees grow29 to the earth,
My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth
Unless a pardon31 ere I rise or speak.
BULLINGBROOK Intended or committed was this fault?
If on the first, how heinous e’er it be,
To win thy after-love34 I pardon thee.
AUMERLE Then give me leave that I may turn the key,
That no man enter till my tale be done.
BULLINGBROOK Have thy desire.
Aumerle locks door
YORK (Within) My liege, beware! Look to thyself:
Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there.
BULLINGBROOK Villain, I’ll make thee safe40.
Draws his sword
AUMERLE Stay41 thy revengeful hand, thou hast no cause to fear.
YORK (Within) Open the door, secure42, foolhardy king:
Shall I for love speak treason43 to thy face?
Open the door, or I will break it open.
Bullingbrook unlocks door
Enter York
BULLINGBROOK 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 reason that my haste49 forbids me show.
Presents paper
AUMERLE Remember, as thou read’st, thy promise passed50.
I do repent me: read not my name there
My heart is not confederate with my hand52.
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.
BULLINGBROOK O, heinous, strong58 and bold conspiracy!
O loyal father of a treacherous son!
Thou sheer60, immaculate and silver fountain,
From whence this stream through muddy passages
Hath held his current62 and defiled himself!
Thy overflow of good converts to bad,
And thy abundant goodness shall excuse
This deadly blot65 in thy digressing son.
YORK So shall my virtue be his vice’s bawd66,
And he shall spend67 mine honour with his shame,
As thriftless sons their scraping68 fathers’ gold.
Mine honour lives when his dishonour dies,
Or my shamed life in his dishonour lies.
Thou kill’st me in his life: giving him breath,
The traitor lives, the true72 man’s put to death.
DUCHESS OF YORK (Within) What ho, my liege! For heaven’s sake, let me in.
BULLINGBROOK What shrill-voiced suppliant makes this eager cry?
DUCHESS OF YORK (Within) A woman, and thine aunt, great king. ’Tis I.
Speak with me, pity me, open the door:
A beggar begs that never begged before.
BULLINGBROOK Our scene is altered from a serious thing,
And now changed to ‘The Beggar and the King’79.—
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 for83 this forgiveness prosper may.
This festered84 joint cut off, the rest rests sound:
This let alone85 will all the rest confound.
Enter Duchess
DUCHESS OF YORK O king, believe not this hard-hearted man!
Love loving not itself87 none other can.
YORK Thou frantic88 woman, what dost thou make here?
Shall thy old dugs89 once more a traitor rear?
DUCHESS OF YORK Sweet York, be patient. Hear me, gentle liege.
Kneels
BULLINGBROOK Rise up, good aunt.
DUCHESS OF YORK Not yet, I thee beseech.
Forever will I kneel upon my knees,
And never see day that the happy94 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 true98 joints bended be.
Kneels
DUCHESS OF YORK Pleads he in earnest? Look upon his face:
His eyes do drop no tears, his prayers are in jest100:
His words come from his mouth, ours from our breast.
He prays but faintly and would102 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.
BULLINGBROOK Good aunt, stand up.
DUCHESS OF YORK Nay, do not say, ‘stand up’.
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 longed 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 meet118.
YORK Speak it in French, king: say, ‘pardonnez-moi119’.
DUCHESS OF YORK Dost thou teach pardon pardon to destroy?
Ah, my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord,
That sets the word itself against the word!—
Speak ‘pardon’ as ’tis current in our land:
To Bullingbrook
The chopping124 French we do not understand.
Thine eye begins to speak, set thy tongue there,
Or in thy piteous heart plant thou thine ear,
That hearing how our plaints127 and prayers do pierce,
Pity may move thee ‘pardon’ to rehearse128.
BULLINGBROOK Good aunt, stand up.
DUCHESS OF YORK I do not sue130 to stand:
Pardon is all the suit131 I have in hand.
BULLINGBROOK I pardon him, as heaven shall pardon me.
DUCHESS OF YORK O, happy133 vantage of a kneeling knee!
Yet am I sick for fear: speak it again,
Twice saying ‘pardon’ doth not pardon twain135,
But makes one pardon strong.
BULLINGBROOK I pardon him with all my heart.
DUCHESS OF YORK A god on earth thou art.
York, Duchess and Aumerle rise
BULLINGBROOK But for139 our trusty brother-in-law, the abbot,
With all the rest of that consorted140 crew,
Destruction straight shall dog them at the heels.
Good uncle, help to order several142 powers
To Oxford, or where’er these traitors are:
They shall not live within this world, I swear,
But I will have them, if I once know where.
Uncle, farewell, and, cousin, adieu:
Your mother well hath prayed, and prove147 you true.
DUCHESS OF YORK Come, my old son. I pray heaven make thee new.
Exeunt
[Act 5 Scene 4]
running scene 16 continues
Enter Exton and Servants
EXTON Didst thou not mark the king, what words he spake —
‘Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear?’
Was it not so?
SERVANT Those were his very words.
EXTON ‘Have I no friend?’ quoth he: he spake it twice,
And urged it twice together, did he not?
SERVANT He did.
EXTON And speaking it, he wistly8 looked on me,
As9 who should say, ‘I would thou wert the man
That would divorce this terror from my heart’,
Meaning the king at Pomfret. Come, let’s go:
I am the king’s friend, and will rid his foe.
Exeunt
Act 5 Scene [5]
running scene 17
Location: Pomfret (Pontefract) Castle
Enter Richard
KING RICHARD I have been studying1 how to compare
This prison where I live unto the world.
And for because3 the world is populous
And here is not a creature but myself,
I cannot do it. Yet I’ll hammer’t out.
My brain I’ll prove the female to my soul,
My soul the father, and these two beget7
A generation of still-breeding8 thoughts;
And these same thoughts people this little world,
In humours10 like the people of this world,
For no thought is contented. The better sort,
As12 thoughts of things divine, are intermixed
With scruples13 and do set the faith itself
Against the faith: as thus, ‘Come, little ones’14,
And then again:
‘It is as hard to come as for a camel16
To thread the postern17 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
Of this hard world, my ragged21 prison walls,
And, for22 they cannot, die in their own pride.
Thoughts tending to content23 flatter themselves
That they are not the first of fortune’s slaves,
Nor shall not be the last, like silly25 beggars
Who sitting in the stocks26 refuge their shame,
That27 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 endured the like.
Thus play I in one prison31 many people,
And none contented. Sometimes am I king;
Then treason33 makes me wish myself a beggar,
And so I am. Then crushing penury34
Persuades me I was better when a king.
Then am I kinged again, and by and by36
Think that I am unkinged by Bullingbrook,
And straight38 am nothing. But whate’er I am,
Music
Nor I nor any man that but man is39
With nothing40 shall be pleased, till he be eased
With being nothing41. Music do I hear?
Ha, ha! Keep time. How sour sweet music is
When time is broke and no proportion43 kept!
So is it in the music of men’s lives.
And here have I the daintiness45 of ear
To hear time broke in a disordered string46,
But for the concord47 of my state and time
Had not an ear to hear my true time broke.
I waste49d time, and now doth time waste me,
For now hath time made me his numb’ring clock50.
My thoughts are minutes; and with sighs they jar51
Their watches52 on unto mine eyes, the outward watch,
Whereto my finger, like a dial’s point53,
Is pointing still54, in cleansing them from tears.
Now sir, the sound that tells55 what hour it is
Are clamorous groans, that strike56 upon my heart,
Which is the bell. So sighs and tears and groans
Show minutes, hours and times58.
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