playonfestival.org · Web viewRichard II First Reads Script. Introduction: Lue will welcome everyone to first reads and will give opening remarks. Lue will introduce Taylor and

Richard II First Reads Script

Introduction:

Lue will welcome everyone to first reads and will give opening remarks.

Lue will introduce Taylor and Kelsey

(lue, video / audio offTaylor and kelsey, video / audio on)

Taylor: Thanks Lue! Kelsey and I will be running things behind the scenes today. For all you live-streamers we hope you'll participate in the live chat function on YouTube!

Kelsey: We will be keeping an eye on the chat and bringing your questions and comments into the discussion portions of today, so let us know what is coming up for you and what questions you may have and we will bring them into the live discussions with our artists.

Taylor: Thanks to the generosity of the Hitz Foundation, we are proud to provide an honorarium to everyone involved in first reads. If you would like to contribute to the well-being and payment of artists in these unprecedented times, we have a couple of suggestions for you:

Kelsey: The Dramatists Guild Foundation provides emergency financial assistance to individual playwrights, composers, lyricists, and bookwriters in dire need of funds due to severe hardship or unexpected illness. Their requests for grants has spiked due to covid-19. They depend heavily on contributions from individuals like you so they may continue to provide immediate relief to writers.

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Taylor: And The Actor's Fund. Since March 18, 2020, The Actors Fund has distributed $8.2 Million in emergency financial assistance to more than 6,900 people in our industry. This money is helping people cover basic living expenses, such as food, essential medications, utilities and more. To make donations, we are putting the links to these organizations in the description on YouTube and they can also be found at playonshakespeare.org/firstreads. Thanks everyone!

(Taylor and Kelsey audio / video off)

Lue will talk a bit more and then introduce director Jennifer Chang

(Lue – audio / video offJennifer – audio video on)

Jennifer Chang gives remarks. Afterward, introduces playwright Naomi Iizuka.

(Jennifer – audio / video off (Naomi – audio video on)

Naomi gives remarks. Afterward, introduces Dramaturg Joy Meads.

(Naomi – audio / video off (Joy – audio video on)

Joy gives remarks. Afterward, gives it back to Lue.

(Joy – audio / video off (Lue – audio video on)

Lue may say more here, then will ask the readers to introduce themselves in the following order:

Richard II FIRST READSUpdated:

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Lue audio video off. Readers will take turns turning on their audio and video and introducing themselves. Once they ’ re done, they will stay on the screen until ALL introductions are complete.

Pun Bandhu – states name, pronouns if desired, location, and roles they are reading. (don’t turn off video)

Christian Barillas – states name, pronouns if desired, location, and roles they are reading. (don’t turn off video)

Raffi Barsoumian - states name, pronouns if desired, location, and roles they are reading. (don’t turn off video)

Celeste Den - states name, pronouns if desired, location, and roles they are reading. (don’t turn off video)

Vanessa Kai - states name, pronouns if desired, location, and roles they are reading. (don’t turn off video)

Kimber Lee - states name, pronouns if desired, location, and roles they are reading. (don’t turn off video)

Jeff Marlowe - states name, pronouns if desired, location, and roles they are reading. (don’t turn off video)

Josh Odess-Rubin - states name, pronouns if desired, location, and roles they are reading. (don’t turn off video)

Dileep Rao - states name, pronouns if desired, location, and roles they are reading. (don’t turn off video)


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Daisuke Tsuji - states name, pronouns if desired, location, and roles they are reading. (don’t turn off video)

Moses Villarama - states name, pronouns if desired, location, and roles they are reading. (don’t turn off video)

Lisa Wolpe - states name, pronouns if desired, location, and roles they are reading. (don’t turn off video)

Paul Culos - states name, pronouns if desired, location, and roles they are reading. Then says:

Paul: As the stringer, I will be jumping in and taking over for folks if they begin having connection issues with zoom, so you may see me pop in as any of the characters today.

(at this point Jennifer will rejoin the group and ask if the actors have any questions before the reading begins – pronunciations, questions about stage directions, conventions, etc. Once this is settled, Jennifer will ask Paul to begin the reading and Paul will begin reading stage directions from the next page.)


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RICHARD II

Written byWilliam Shakespeare

In a modern verse Translation byNaomi Iizuki

Dramaturg:Joy Meads

FIRST READS Draft May 15, 2020


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ACT I, SCENE I - LONDON. KING RICHARD II'S PALACE.

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

KING RICHARD IIOld John of Gaunt, time-honored Lancaster,Have you, according to your oath and bond,Brought here now Bolingbroke, your daring son,To present to us his grave and heinous charge,Which then our leisure would not let us hear,Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray?

JOHN OF GAUNTI have, my Liege.

KING RICHARD IIAnd tell me, further, have you sounded himIf accusation grows from ancient maliceOr does he, as good subjects should, Shed light on treason up to now unknown?

JOHN OF GAUNTAs far as I could glean the workings of his mind,He honestly perceives an imminent dangerAimed at my Liege. This is no grudge he harbors.

Enter Henry Bolingbroke and Thomas Mowbray

KING RICHARDThen call them to our presence. Face to face,And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hearThe accuser and the accused freely speak.Hot-tempered are they both, and full of ire;In rage, deaf as the sea, hasty as fire.


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HENRY BOLINGBROKEMany years of happy days befallMy gracious sovereign, my most loving Liege!

THOMAS MOWBRAYMay each day of your life surpass the last,‘Til God in heaven, envying your life,Add an immortal title to your crown!

KING RICHARD IIWe thank you both. Yet one just flatters us,As it would seem from that which brings you here:Namely, to accuse each other of high treason.Cousin of Hereford, what is it you holdAgainst the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray?

HENRY BOLINGBROKEFirst (heaven be the witness to my speech!)In the devotion of a subject's love,Treasuring the precious safety of my Prince,I bring these charges to this princely presence.Now, Thomas Mowbray, do I turn to you,And mark my greeting well, for what I speakMy body shall make good upon this earth,Or my divine soul answer it in heaven.You are a traitor and a miscreant,Too noble to be such, too vile to live,Once more, the more to drum again the note, With a foul traitor's name I stuff your throat,And wish, so please my king, before I move,What my tongue speaks my right drawn sword may prove.

THOMAS MOWBRAYLet not my calm words here accuse my zeal.This matter won’t resolve through words alone,Blood must be spilled to settle our dispute.Yet I can not of such tame patience boastAs not to speak and let these slanders lie.


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First, the fair reverence of your Highness curbs meFrom giving reins and spurs to my free speech,Which otherwise would race ahead and hurlThese terms of treason doubled down his throat.Setting aside his blood’s nobility,As if he were no kinsman to my Liege,I do defy him, and I spit at him,Call him a slanderous coward and a villain,Which to maintain I would advantage himAnd meet him, were I bound to run by footEven to the frozen ridges of the Alps,Or any other barren plot of landWherever man has dared to set his foot.Meantime, let this defend my loyalty:By all my hopes, most falsely does he lie.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEPale coward, now I challenge you to arms,Disclaiming any kinship to the king,And lay aside my blood's nobility,Which fear, not reverence, caused you to exempt.If guilty dread has left you enough strength,Take up my challenge, arm yourself to fight.By God, my king, my honor, and my name,I will prevail against you, arm to arm,And prove you liar, coward, traitor, worse.

THOMAS MOWBRAYI take it up, and by that sword I swearWhich gently laid my knighthood on my shoulder,I’ll battle you as honor would decree,

KING RICHARD IIWhat does our cousin say to Mowbray's charge?The crime that would engender doubt in usMust needs be fierce and monstrous to behold.


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HENRY BOLINGBROKELook, what I speak, my life shall prove it true:That all the treasons for these eighteen yearsConspired and contrived in this landFind in false Mowbray their first source and spring.Further I say, and further will maintainThat he did plot the Duke of Gloucester's death,By whisp’ring plots in all too trusting ears,And consequently, like a traitor coward,Sluiced out his innocent soul through streams of blood:That blood cries out to me, as Abel’s bloodCried out from tongueless caverns of the earth,Demanding justice and stern punishment.And, by the glorious worth of my good name,This arm shall do it or this life be spent.

KING RICHARD IITo lofty heights his resolution soars!Thomas of Norfolk, what say you to this?

THOMAS MOWBRAYO, let my sovereign turn away his face,And bid his ears be deaf a little while,‘Til I have told this stain upon his nameHow God and good men hate so foul a liar!

KING RICHARD IIMowbray, impartial are our eyes and ears.Were he my brother, even my own heir,Instead of just my father's brother's son,Now, by my hallowed crown, I make a vow:Such neighbour nearness to our sacred bloodWill never privilege him, nor prejudiceThe unstooping firmness of my upright soul.He is our subject, Mowbray; so are you.Speak freely and fear not, as is your due.


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THOMAS MOWBRAYThe lies he spews infect the air we breathe,As if from some malignancy within.Now swallow down that lie. For Gloucester's death,I did not kill him, but to my disgraceNeglected my sworn duty in that case.For you, my noble Lord of Lancaster,The honorable father to my foe,Once I did lay an ambush for your life,A trespass that does vex my grieved soul.Before I last received the sacramentI did confess it, and expressly begg’dYour grace's pardon, and I hope I had it.This is my fault. The other accusationsIssue from the rancour of a villain,A vile coward and most degenerate traitor,Which with my life I boldly will defend. Just as he threw down his challenge here,I take it up and answer with my own,I’ll prove myself as loyal, noble, true By shedding this proud villain’s false heart’s blood.

KING RICHARD IIHot-tempered gentlemen, be ruled by me.Let’s cool this fever 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.

JOHN OF GAUNTMy son, enough, this rift we now must mend,Now is the time to bring your dispute to an end.


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KING RICHARD IIAnd, Norfolk, do the same.

JOHN OF GAUNTWhen, Harry, when?Obedience bids I should not bid again.

KING RICHARD IINorfolk, back down! We bid; you must retreat.

THOMAS MOWBRAYMyself I throw drown, sovereign, at your feet.My life you shall command, but not my shame.The one my duty owes, but my good name,Which even after death unstained lives on,Shall not be cast into oblivion.I am disgraced, accused, insulted here,Pierced to the soul with slander's venom'd spear,A wound no cure can heal but his lifebloodWhich breathed this poison.

KING RICHARD IIRage must be withstood.Give up your cause. Lions make leopards tame.

THOMAS MOWBRAYYes but not change their spots. Take but my shame,And I resign my cause. My dear dear lord,The purest treasure mortal times affordIs man’s unblemished name: take that away,We are but gilded earth and painted clay.A jewel in a chained and locked up chestIs a bold spirit in a loyal breast.My honor is my life; both grow in one;Take honor from me, and my life is done.Then, dear my liege, my honor let me try;In that I live and for that will I die.


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KING RICHARD IICousin, take back your charge. Do you begin.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEO, God defend my soul from such deep sin!Shall I be humbled in my father's eye?Or with pale beggar-fear quiver and cryBefore this timid weakling? If my tongueWith gutless words my precious honor stung,Or crooned base notes of peace, my teeth would tearThe slavish organ of recanting fear,And spit it bleeding in its high disgraceWhere shame resides, right there in Mowbray's face.

KING RICHARD IIWe were not born to plead, 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 arbitrateThe swelling difference of your settled hate.Since we can not appease you, we shall seeJustice design the victor's chivalry.

Exit All.

ACT I, SCENE II - THE DUKE OF LANCASTER'S PALACE.

Enter John of Gaunt with Duchess

JOHN OF GAUNTThe blood that coursed through mine and Gloucester’s veinsCompels me more than your impassioned criesTo move against the butchers of his life!But since correction lies within those handsThat caused the fault that we cannot correct,Entrust our quarrel to the will of God,Who, when He sees the time ripe on earth,


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Will rain hot vengeance on offenders' heads.

DUCHESSFinds brotherhood in you no sharper spur?Has love in your old blood no living fire?Edward's seven sons, of whom yourself are one,Were like seven vials of his sacred blood,Or seven fair branches springing from one root.Some of those seven dried by nature's course,Some of those branches cut by Destiny’s shears;But my dear lord, my life, beloved Gloucester,One vial full of Edward's sacred blood,One flourishing branch of his most royal root,Is crack'd, and all the precious liquid spilt;Is hack'd down, and his summer leaves all fadedBy envy's hand and murder's bloody axe.Ah, Gaunt, his blood was yours! That bed, that womb,That matter, that raw clay that fashion’d youMade him a man; and though you live and breathe,Yet are you killed in him. You do consentTo see your noble father die once moreIn standing by to see your brother slain,Who was the mirror of your father's life.Call it not patience, Gaunt, it is despair.In suffering thus your brother’s foul murder,You clear a naked path to your own death,Teach ruthless murder how to murder you.That feature we call patience in the lowlyIs pale cold cowardice in noble breasts.What shall I say? To safeguard your own life,The best way is avenge my Gloucester’s death.

JOHN OF GAUNTOur quarrel is with God. God’s substitute,His deputy anointed in His sight,Has caused my brother’s death. If wrong was done,Let heaven seek revenge. I will not liftAn angry arm against His minister.


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DUCHESSFrom whom, tell me, can I seek justice then?

JOHN OF GAUNTFrom God, the widow’s champion and defence.

DUCHESSWhy, then, I will. Farewell, old Gaunt.Then go to Coventry, there to beholdOur cousin Bolingbroke and Mowbray fight.Let Hereford’s spear conduct my husband’s wrongs,That they may enter butcher Mowbray’s heart.Farewell, old Gaunt. Your murdered brother’s wifeWith her companion, grief, must end her life.

JOHN OF GAUNTSister, farewell, I go to Coventry.Good fortune stay with you as go with me.

DUCHESSYet one more word: Remember me to your dear brother York.So this is all --but wait, depart not so,Though this is all, do not so quickly go.I will remember more. Ask him--ah, what?--“Come quickly to my home, come visit me.”Alas, but what will good old York there seeBut empty lodgings and unfurnished walls,Unpeopled offices, untrodden stones?What welcome would he hear there but my groans?Desolate, desolate, I will go and die.This is the last I’ll see you with these eyes.

Exit All.


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ACT I, SCENE III - TOURNAMENT FIELD AT COVENTRY.

Enter the Lord Marshal and the Duke of Aumerle

LORD MARSHALMy Lord Aumerle, is Bolingbroke prepared?

DUKE OF AUMERLECompletely so and longs to enter in.

LORD MARSHALThomas Mowbray, spirited and bold,Awaits the summons of the accuser’s trumpet.

DUKE OF AUMERLEThen the combatants are prepared, and waitFor nothing but his majesty’s approach.

The trumpets sound, and King Richard enters with John of Gaunt, Bushy, Bagot, Green, and others. When they are set, enter Thomas Mowbray and Henry Bolingbroke in arms

KING RICHARD IIMarshal, demand of these two noblemenThe cause of their arrival here in arms.Ask them their names and orderly proceedTo swear an oath their cause is just and true.

LORD MARSHALIn God’s name and the King’s, say who you are,And why you come here clad in knightly arms,What wrong has been inflicted and by whom?

THOMAS MOWBRAYMy name is Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk.I come here now because I took an oath--Which God forbid a knight should violate--Both to defend my loyalty and truth


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To God, my king, my children yet to be,Against the Duke of Hereford who slanders me;And, by the grace of God and my own 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.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEHarry of Hereford, Lancaster, and DerbyAm I, who, ready here, do stand in armsTo prove, by God’s grace and my body’s valour,That my foe Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, Is a foul, malevolent traitorTo God in heaven, King Richard, and to me.And as I truly fight, defend me heaven!

HENRY BOLINGBROKELord marshal, let me kiss my sovereign's hand,And bow my knee before his majesty,For Mowbray and myself are like two menThat vow a long and weary pilgrimage.Then let us take a ceremonious leaveAnd loving farewell of our several friends.

LORD MARSHALThe accuser in all duty greets your Highness,And yearns to kiss your hand and take his leave.

KING RICHARD IIWe will descend and fold him in our arms.Cousin, in as much as your cause is right,So prove the outcome of this royal fight!Farewell, my blood, which if today you bleed,Lament we may, but not revenge the deed.


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HENRY BOLINGBROKELet not your eye be tainted by a tearFor me, if I be gored with Mowbray’s spear.As confident as is the falcon's flightAgainst a sparrow, I begin this fight.(To Lord Marshal) My loving lord, I take my leave of you,(To Aumerle) Of you, my noble cousin, Lord Aumerle;I am not sick, though I encounter death,But lusty, young, and gladly drawing breath.O father, earthly author of my blood,Add strength onto my armor with your prayers,And may your blessings sharpen my spear’s point,That it may pierce the traitor Mowbray’s coatAnd polish new the name of John of GauntThrough the vigor and courage of his son.

JOHN OF GAUNTGod in your good cause grant you good fortune!Be swift like lightning in the execution,And let your blows, doubly redoubled,Fall like terrifying thunder on the helmetOf your adverse pernicious enemy.Arouse your youthful blood, be valiant, live.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEThe truth of my cause lead me to prevail!

THOMAS MOWBRAYHowever God or fortune cast my lot,I live or die, true to King Richard’s throne,A loyal, just and upright gentleman.As gentle and as joyful as to jestGo I to fight: truth has a quiet breast.

KING RICHARD IIFarewell, my lord. Securely I espyVirtue with valour lodged in your eye.Order the trial, marshal, and begin.


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LORD MARSHALHarry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby,Take up your lance; and God defend the right!

HENRY BOLINGBROKEStrong as a tower in hope, I cry amen.

LORD MARSHALTake up your lance, Thomas, Duke of Norfolk.

LORD MARSHALSound trumpets, and set forward combatants!

The Trumpets sound. King Richard throws down his scepter.

Stay! The King hath thrown his scepter down.

KING RICHARD IILet them set down their helmets and their spears,And both return back to their chairs again.Withdraw with us, and let the trumpets soundTill we return these dukes with our decree.

Trumpets, as King Richard and his nobles confer. King Richard returns and addresses Bolingbroke and Mowbray.

KING RICHARD II Draw near,And hear what with our council we have done.For that our kingdom's earth should not be soil'dWith noble blood which it has nurtured,We think the sin of eagle-winged pride,Of overreaching and ambitious thoughts,The envy of a rival did cause youTo wake our peace, And make us wade deep in our kindred's blood,Therefore, we banish you from our kingdom.


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You, Bolingbroke, upon the pain of death,Till twice five summers have enrich'd our fields,Shall not return to this beloved land,But tread the stranger paths of banishment.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEYour will be done. This must my comfort be,Sun that warms you here shall shine on me,And those its golden beams to you here lentShall point on me and gild my banishment.

KING RICHARD IIMowbray, for you remains a bleaker fate,Which I with some unwillingness pronounce.The sly, slow hours shall never terminateThe endless limit of your banishment.The hopeless words of 'never to return'Breathe I against you, upon pain of death.

THOMAS MOWBRAYA heavy sentence, my most sovereign liegeAnd unexpected from your highness’ mouth.From your blessed hands do I deserveA token of thanks, not this sudden wound--To cast me forth into the wilderness.The language I have learn'd these forty years,My native English, now I must forego,And now my tongue's of no more use to meThan an unstringed violin or harp,Or like a priceless instrument locked up,Or, being opened, put into the handsOf one who cannot play a single note.Within my mouth you have enjail'd my tongue,I am too old to sit at teacher’s knee,Too far in years to be a pupil now:What is your sentence then but speechless death,Which robs my tongue from breathing native breath?


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KING RICHARD IIYour sorrow does no good, it helps you not.Our sentence stands. Your protests come too late.

THOMAS MOWBRAYThen turn I from my country's blessed light,To dwell in solemn shades of endless night.

KING RICHARD IIReturn once more, and take this oath with you.Lay on our royal sword your banish'd hands.Swear that you never shall, so help you God,Conspire with one another while away,Nor ever by deliberate purpose meetTo plot, contrive, or dream up any ill'Gainst us, our state, our subjects, or our land.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEI swear.

THOMAS MOWBRAYAnd I do swear as well.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEMowbray, even though we are enemies,I will speak: had the king permitted us,One of our souls would by now have been released,Banish'd from this sepulchre of frail flesh,As now our flesh is banish'd from this land.Confess your treasons now before you go.Since you have far to travel, free yourselfFrom weighty shackles of a guilty soul.

THOMAS MOWBRAYNo, Bolingbroke. If ever I were traitor,My name be excised from the book of life,And I from heaven banish'd as from here!But what you are, I, God, and you do know.


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And all too soon, I fear, the king will learn.

Exit Mowbray.

KING RICHARD IIUncle, even in the windows of your eyes,I see your grieving heart. Your sorrowHas from the number of his banish’d yearsPluck'd four away.(To Henry Bolingbroke) Six frozen winters spent,Return with welcome home from banishment.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEHow long a time lies in one little word!Four frozen winters and four fecund springsEnd in a word: such is the breath of kings.

JOHN OF GAUNTI thank my Liege that in regard of meHe shortens four years of my son's exile,But no advantage shall I reap from this.Before the six years that he has to spendCan change their moons and winter turn to spring,My oil-dried lamp and time-extinguished lightShall be extinct with age and endless night.The nub of my burnt candle will be done, And blindfold death not let me see my son.

KING RICHARD IIWhy uncle, you have many years to live.

JOHN OF GAUNTBut not a minute, king, that you can give.Shorten my days you can with gloomy sorrow,Rob me of years, and lend me no tomorrow.You can help time to wrinkle me with age,But cannot stop its furious rampage.


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I will not see my son before my death.Once dead, your kingdom cannot buy my breath.

KING RICHARD IIYour son is banish'd upon good advice,You voted for the verdict as did we.Why protest now the sentence we have given?

JOHN OF GAUNTThings sweet to taste prove in digestion sour.You spoke to me as judge, but I had ratherYou would have bid me argue like a father.O, had it been a stranger, not my child,The words I spoke--I should have been more mild.A seeming bias I sought to avoidAnd in the sentence my own life destroy'd.Alas, I thought that some of you would say,I was too strict to send my son away.But you gave leave to my unwilling tongueAgainst my will to do myself this wrong.

KING RICHARD IICousin, farewell; and, uncle, bid him so.Six years we banish him, and he shall go.

DUKE OF AUMERLEMy lord, no leave take I, for I will ride,As far as land will let me, by your side.

Exits.

JOHN OF GAUNTO, to what purpose do you hoard your words,That you return no greeting to your friends?


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HENRY BOLINGBROKEI have too few to take my leave of you,When my tongue’s duty should be to speakAnd breathe the abundant grieving of the heart.

JOHN OF GAUNTYour grief is just your absence for a time.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEJoy absent, grief is present for that time.

JOHN OF GAUNTWhat is six winters? They are quickly gone.

HENRY BOLINGBROKETo men in joy, but grief makes one hour ten.

JOHN OF GAUNTCall it a travel that you now take for pleasure.

JOHN OF GAUNTAll places that the eye of heaven visitsAre to a wise man ports and happy havens.Teach your unruly mind to reason thus;There is no virtue like necessity.Think not the king did banish you,But you the king. Go, say I set you forth to make your nameInstead of that the king exiled you.Imagine pestilence infects our airAnd you are fleeing to untainted lands.Look what your soul holds dear, imagine thatIt lies the way you go, not whence you came:For snarling sorrow has less power to biteThe man that mocks his fate and makes it light.


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HENRY BOLINGBROKEO, who can hold a fire in his handBy thinking of the frosty Caucasus?Or sate the hungry edge of appetiteBy bare imagination of a feast?Or wallow naked in December snowBy thinking on fantastic summer's heat?O, no! the very thought of all that’s goodAccentuates the feeling of the worse.For sorrow’s piercing bite hurts all the moreThe man who feels, but fails to lance the sore.

JOHN OF GAUNTCome, come, my son, I’ll bring you on your wayHad I your youth and cause, I’d not delay.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEThen, England's ground, farewell. Sweet soil, adieu,My mother, and my nurse, that bears me yet!Wherever I wander, boast of this I can,Though banish'd, yet a true born Englishman.

Exit all

ACT I, SCENE IV - THE COURT.

Enter King Richard II, with Bagot and Green at one door; and the Duke of Aumerle at another

KING RICHARD IIWe did observe. --Cousin Aumerle,Has our proud cousin set out on his way?

DUKE OF AUMERLEI brought your cousin Bolingbroke alongJust to the next highway, and there I left him.


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KING RICHARD IIWhat amplitude of salty tears were shed?

DUKE OF AUMERLEWell, none by me, except the north-east wind,Which then blew bitterly against my face,Woke up a sleeping tear, and so by chanceIt fell as we exchanged our cold good-byes.

KING RICHARD IIWhat said our cousin when you parted with him?

DUKE OF AUMERLE“Farewell.”Because I knew that to respond in kindWas more than he deserved, I learned the craftTo counterfeit oppression of such griefThat words seem’d buried in my sorrow’s grave.Truly, would the word “farewell” have lengthen’d hoursAnd 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 IIHe is our cousin, cousin; but we doubtWhen time shall call him home from banishment,Whether he’ll come to see his former friends.Ourself and Bushy, Bagot here, and GreenObserved his courtship to the common folk,How he did seem to dive into their heartsWith humble and familiar courtesy,What reverence he did throw away on peasants,Wooing poor craftsmen with the craft of smilesAs if to take their love away with him.Off goes his cap to some old fisherman;A pair of workers bid God speed him wellAnd had the tribute of his supple knee,With “Thanks, my countrymen, my loving friends,”


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As though our England would revert to him,And he our subjects’ future, hopeful king.

GREENWell, he is gone, and with him go these thoughts.Now for the rebels up in Ireland.Expedient measures must be taken nowLest more delay afford them further meansFor their advantage and your highness’ loss.

KING RICHARD IIWe will ourselves in person to this war.And as our retinue and great largesseHave made our royal coffers somewhat light,We are enforced to farm our royal realm.The revenue whereof shall furnish usFor our affairs in hand. If that come short,Our deputies at home shall have blank ordersTo be filled out with names of wealthy men.They shall demand of them large sums of goldAnd send them after to supply our wants,For we will make for Ireland presently.

Enter Bushy

KING RICHARD IIBushy, what news?

BUSHYOld John of Gaunt is gravely sick, my lord,Suddenly taken, and has sent posthasteTo entreat your majesty to visit him.

KING RICHARD IIWhere is he?

BUSHYAt Ely House.


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KING RICHARD IINow put it, God, in the physician's mindTo help him to his grave immediately!The lining of his coffers shall make coatsTo 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!

AllAmen.

Exit all.

ACT II, SCENE I - ELY HOUSE

Enter John of Gaunt sick, with the Duke of York, & Servants.

JOHN OF GAUNTWill the king come, that his unsteady youthMay fortify itself with my last words?

DUKE OF YORKDo not trouble yourself, or waste your breath,For all in vain comes counsel to his ear.

JOHN OF GAUNTO, but they say the tongues of dying menEnforce attention like sweet harmony.Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain,For they breathe truth that breathe their words in pain.Though my life's counsel Richard would not hear,My death's sad tale may yet undeaf his ear.

DUKE OF YORKNo, it is blocked by other flattering sounds:As compliments seductive to his ears,Or those lascivious verses and lewd rhymesSo greedily lapped up by eager youth,


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The news of fashions in vain ItalyWhere does the world belch out a vanity--Who cares how vile, so long as it is new--That isn’t quickly buzzed into his ears?Then all too late comes counsel to be heard,Don’t guide the man who chooses his own way,Save your scant breath for one who might obey.

JOHN OF GAUNTI feel like I’m a prophet new inspiredAnd 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 his steed that spurs it from the start;With eager feeding food will choke the feeder.Extravagance, voracious bird of prey,Consumes its kill, then preys upon itself.This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle,This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,This other Eden, demi-paradise,This fortress built by Nature for herselfAgainst 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 function 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 tomb of blessed Mary’s son,Known worlds away from old Jerusalem;This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land,Dear for her reputation through the world,Is now leased out (I die pronouncing it),


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Like to a tenement or mortgaged farm.England, bound in with the triumphant seaWhose rocky shore beats back the envious siegeOf watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame,With inky blots and rotten parchment bonds.That England, that was wont to conquer others,Has made a shameful conquest of itself.Ah, would the scandal vanish with my life,How happy then were my ensuing death!

Enter King Richard II and Queen, Duke of Aumerle, Bushy, Green, Bagot, Lord Ross, and Lord Willoughby

DUKE OF YORKThe king is come. Deal mildly with his youth,For young hot colts, being reined, do rage the more.

QUEENHow fares our noble uncle, Lancaster?

KING RICHARD IIWhat comfort, man? How is't with aged Gaunt?

JOHN OF GAUNTO how that name befits my composition!Old Gaunt indeed, and gaunt in being old:Within me grief has kept a tedious fast,And who abstains from meat that is not gaunt?The pleasure that some fathers feed upon,The sight of their son’s face, I am denied,And therein fasting, you have made me gaunt.Gaunt am I for the grave, gaunt as a grave,Whose hollow womb inherits nought but bones.

KING RICHARD IICan sick men play so nicely with their names?


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JOHN OF GAUNTSince you forced me to bid my heir adieu,I mock my name, great king, to flatter you.

KING RICHARD IIShould dying men flatter like those that live?

JOHN OF GAUNTNo, no, men living flatter those that die.

KING RICHARD III am in health, I breathe, and see you ill.

JOHN OF GAUNTNow He that made me knows I see you ill:Ill in myself to see, and in you seeing ill.Your death-bed is no lesser than your landWherein you lie sick in your reputation;And you, too careless patient as you are,Commit'st your anointed body to the cureOf those physicians that first wounded you.A thousand flatterers sit within your crown,Whose compass is no bigger than your head;And yet, encaged within so small a space,The waste is nothing less than all your land.Oh, had your granddad with a prophet’s eyeSeen how his son’s son should destroy his sons,He would’ve laid your shame beyond your reach,Deposing you before you were enthroned,Instead of watching you depose yourself.If you were sovereign of the entire world,Then it would be a shame to lease this land,But since this land is all the world you own,Is it not more than shame to shame it so?You are landlord of England now, not king:And you --


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KING RICHARD IIA lunatic lean-witted fool,Presuming on your death bed’s privilege,You dare enrage us with this admonitionMake pale our cheek, driving the royal bloodWith fury from its native residence.Now, by my throne's right royal majesty,Were you not brother to great Edward's son,This tongue that runs so roundly in your headShould run your head from your unreverent shoulders.

JOHN OF GAUNTO, spare me not, my brother Edward's son,For that I was his father Edward's son.That blood already, like the parasite,Have you leached out and drunkenly lapped up.My brother Gloucester, plain well-meaning soul(May he be blessed in heav’n ‘mongst happy souls)Stands as a precedent and witness goodThat you respect not spilling Edward’s blood.Live in your shame, but shame dies not with you!These words hereafter plague your conscience true!Convey me to my bed, then to my grave.Love they to live that love and honor have.

Exit

KING RICHARD IIAnd let them die, the aged and depraved, For you are both, and both become the grave.

DUKE OF YORKI do beseech your majesty, impute his wordsTo peevish illness and advancing years.He loves you, on my life, and holds you dearAs his own Bolingbroke if he were here.


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KING RICHARD IIRight, you say true: as Bolingbroke's love, so his.As theirs, so mine; and all be as it is.

Enter Northumberland

NORTHUMBERLANDMy liege, old Gaunt commends him to your majesty.

KING RICHARD IIWhat says he?

NORTHUMBERLANDNay, nothing: all is said.His tongue is now a stringless instrument;Words, life and all, old Lancaster has spent.

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

KING RICHARD IIThe ripest fruit first falls, and so does he.His time is spent; our journeys all must end.So much for that. Now for our Irish wars:We must root out those rebels in the north,Those rough, rug-headed kerns, the only snakesStill living in that ghastly, barren land.Because these great affairs demand some funds,Towards our assistance we do confiscateThe gold, grain, revenues and moveablesWhereof our uncle Gaunt did stand possess'd.

DUKE OF YORKHow long shall I be patient? Oh, how longShall tender duty make me suffer wrong?Not Gloucester's death, nor Bolingbroke's exile,Not Gaunt's rebukes, nor England's private wrongs,


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Nor my humiliation and disgrace,Have ever made me sour my patient cheek,Or bend one wrinkle on my sovereign's face.I am the last of noble Edward's sons,Of whom your father, Prince of Wales, was first.In war was never lion raged more fierce,In peace was never gentle lamb more mild,Than was that young and princely gentleman.His face you have, for even he so look'd,When his years upon this earth were equal yours.But when he frown'd, it was against the French,And not against his friends. His noble handDid will what he did spend and spent not thatWhich his triumphant father's hand had won.His hands were guilty of no kindred blood,But bloody with the enemies of his kin.Oh Richard! York is too far gone with grief,Or else he never would compare between.

KING RICHARD IIWhy, uncle, what's the matter?

DUKE OF YORKO my liege,Pardon me, if you please; if not, I, pleasedTo not be pardon'd, am content as well.Seek you to seize and grasp into your handsThe royalties and rights of Bolingbroke?Is not Gaunt dead, and Bolingbroke alive?Was not Gaunt just, and is not Harry true?Did not the one deserve to have an heir?Is not his heir a well-deserving son?Take Bolingbroke's birthright, and take from TimeTime’s charters and Time’s customary rights:Let not to-morrow then ensue to-day;Be not yourself, for how are you a kingBut by fair sequence and succession?Now, before God--God forbid I say true!--


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If you now seize Bolingbroke's birthright,Deny his offer’d homage the throne,You pluck a thousand dangers on your head,You lose a thousand well-disposed hearts,And prick my tender patience, to those thoughtsWhich honor and allegiance cannot think.

KING RICHARD IIThink what you will, we seize into our handsHis gold, his goods, his money and his lands.

DUKE OF YORKI won’t stand by the while. My Liege, farewell:What will ensue from this, no one can tell.Bad actions, it is widely understood,Have repercussions that are never good.

Exit

KING RICHARD IIGo, Bushy, to the Earl of Wiltshire straight,And tell him come to us at Ely HouseTo do this business. Tomorrow nextWe’ll go to Ireland, and 'tis time, I know.And we appoint, in absence of ourselves,Our uncle York Lord Governor of England;For he is just and always loved us well.

York exits.

Come on, our queen: to-morrow we must part.Be merry, for our time of stay is short.

Exit King Richard II, Queen, Duke of Aumerle, Bushy, Green, and Bagot

NORTHUMBERLANDWell, lords, the Duke of Lancaster is dead.


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LORD ROSSAnd living too, for now his son is Duke.

LORD WILLOUGHBYBarely in title, not in revenues.

NORTHUMBERLANDRichly in both, if justice had her right.

LORD ROSSMy heart is full, but it must break with silence.Ere't be disburdened with a liberal tongue.

NORTHUMBERLANDNo, speak your mind, and let him ne'er speak moreThat speaks your words again to do you harm!

LORD WILLOUGHBYDoes what you’d speak concern poor Bolingbroke?If it be so, out with it boldly, man.Quick is my ear to hear of good towards him.

LORD ROSSNo good at all that I can do for him,Unless you call it good to pity him,Bereft and gelded of inheritance.

NORTHUMBERLANDNow, before God, 'tis shame such wrongs are borneIn him, a royal prince, and many moreOf noble blood in this declining land.The king is not himself, but basely ledBy 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.


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LORD ROSSHis subjects he has gut with grievous taxes,And lost their hearts. The nobles he has finedFor old, forgotten feuds, and lost their hearts.

LORD WILLOUGHBYAnd daily he devises new demands,New tariffs, fees, concocted surcharges,But what, in God's name, does he do with it?

NORTHUMBERLANDNot war, for he has never waged war,But basely yielded upon compromiseThat which his noble ancestors achieved with blows.More has he spent in peace than they in wars.

LORD WILLOUGHBYThe king's grown bankrupt, like a broken man.

NORTHUMBERLANDReproach and dissolution follow him.

LORD ROSSHe has no money for these Irish wars,His burdensome taxations notwithstanding,But by the robbing of the banish'd duke.

NORTHUMBERLANDHis noble kinsman. Most degenerate King!But, lords, we hear this fearful tempest sing,Yet see no shelter to avoid the storm.

LORD ROSSWe see the very wreck that we must suffer,And now the danger is inevitable,For time we’ve lost in our long sufferance.


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NORTHUMBERLANDNot so. Even through the hollow eyes of deathI spy life peering, but I dare not sayHow near we are to news of our relief.

LORD WILLOUGHBYPlease share your thoughts with us, Northumberland.

LORD ROSSBe confident and speak, Northumberland.We three are but one self, and speaking so,Your words are just like thoughts; therefore, be bold.

NORTHUMBERLANDThen thus. I have from Port le Blanc, a bayIn Brittany, received intelligenceThat Harry Duke of Hereford, With eight tall ships, three thousand men of war,Are headed here with all expedience,And shortly mean to touch our northern shore.Perhaps they would’ve landed here by now,Had they not waited for the King to leave.If then we shall shake off our slavish yoke,Repair our drooping country’s broken wing,Redeem the blemish’d crown now held in pawn,And make high majesty look like itself,Now come away with me to Ravenspurgh,But if you falter, fearing to do so,Stay and be secret, and myself will go.

LORD ROSSLet’s go. Save talk of doubt for those who fear.

LORD WILLOUGHBYMy will is strong. I will be the first there.

Exit all.


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ACT II, SCENE II - THE PALACE.

Enter Queen, Bushy, and Bagot

BUSHYMadam, your majesty is much too sad.You promised, when you parted with the king,To lay aside life-harming heavinessAnd entertain a cheerful disposition.

QUEENTo please the king I did; to please myselfI cannot do it. Yet I know no causeWhy I should welcome such a guest as grief,Except for parting from so sweet a guestAs my sweet Richard. Then again, I think,Some unborn sorrow, ripe in fortune’s womb,Is coming towards me, and my inward soulTrembles at nothing. At some thing it grieves,More than with parting from my lord the King.

BUSHYEach substance of a grief has twenty shadows,Which seems like grief itself, but is not so.For sorrow's eyes, glazed with blinding tears,Divide one thing entire to many objects.Just as your grief at your sweet lord’s farewell,Inspires you to conjure phantom fearsSo then, thrice-gracious queen,Mourn nothing more than your sweet lord’s departure,All else is but a trick of sorrow’s eye,

QUEENIt may be so, but yet my inward soulPersuades me it is otherwise. Howe'er it be,I cannot but be sad: so heavy sad,That, though on thinking on no thought I think,With heavy nothing so I faint and shrink.


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BUSHYIt’s nothing but imagination, Madam.

QUEENIt’s nothing less. Imagination comesFrom some forefather grief; mine does not so,There’s something to the nothing that I grieve.It’s an inheritance I will possess,But what it is, that is not yet known, whatI cannot name. It’s nameless woe, I know.

Enter Green

GREENGod save your majesty! And greetings, gentlemen!I hope the king has not yet gone to Ireland.

QUEENShould not you hope that he’s already gone?His plans require haste, his haste’s our hope.Then tell me why you hope he has not left.

GREENThat he, our hope, might have recalled his troops,And driven to despair an enemy’s hope,An enemy arrived with mighty force.The banish’d Bolingbroke absolves himself,And now with men and arms has safely landedAt Ravenspurgh.

QUEENNow God in heaven forbid!

GREENOh, madam, it is true, and what is worse,The Lord Northumberland, his son young Henry Percy,The Lords of Ross, Beaumond, and Willoughby,With all their powerful friends, have fled to him.


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QUEENSo, Green, you are the midwife to my woe,And Bolingbroke my sorrow's monstrous heir.Now has my soul brought forth her progeny,And I, a gasping new-deliver'd mother,Have join’d woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow.

BUSHYDespair not, madam.

QUEENWho shall restrain me?I will despair, and call deceitful hopeMy enemy. He is a flatterer,A parasite, a keeper-back of death,Which gently would deliver me from lifeWhile false hope traps me in infirmity.

Enter Duke of York

GREENHere comes the Duke of York.

QUEENWith armour hung upon his aged bones.Uncle, for God's sake, speak comforting words.

DUKE OF YORKComfort's in heaven, and we are on the earth,Where nothing lives but worries, cares and grief.Your husband’s left to rescue distant lands,While others come to make him lose at home.Here am I left to prop up all his land,Who, weak with age, cannot support myself.Now comes the purging that his excess made,Now he will test his friends that flatter’d him.

Enter a Servant


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SERVANTMy lord, your son was gone before I came.

DUKE OF YORKHe was? Why not? The nobles have all fled, The people have grown cold against their king,And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's side.Leave now for Plashy, to my sister Gloucester,Tell her to send me now a thousand pounds.Wait, take my ring.

SERVANTMy lord, I had forgot to tell your lordship,I stopped there on my way to you today,But saying more will cause you great distress.

DUKE OF YORKWhat is it? Speak.

SERVANTAn hour before I came, the duchess died.

DUKE OF YORKPray God for mercy! what a tide of woesComes rushing on this woeful land at once!I don’t know what to do. I wish to God,As long as my misdeed was not to blame,The king had cut off my head with my brother's.Has no one sent this news to Ireland?What will we do for money for these wars?Come, sister - cousin, I should say - please pardon me.[to servant] Go, leave for home. Get all the weapons there,And bring them to me quickly as you can.

Exit Servant


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DUKE OF YORKGentlemen, will you go muster troops?If I know how or which way to order these affairsThrust so disorderly into my hands,Don’t you believe me. Both are family.The one is my sovereign, whom both my oathAnd duty bids defend; the other againIs family, whom the king has wrong’d,Whom my conscience and my family bids to right.Well, something must be done. Come, cousin, I’llTake care of you.Gentlemen, go, muster up your troops,And meet me presently at Berkeley Castle.I should to Plashy too,But time will not permit. All is uneven,And every thing is left at six and seven.

Exit Duke of York and Queen

BUSHYThe wind is fair for news to get to Ireland,But none returns. For us to levy troopsProportionate to the enemyIs all impossible.

GREENBesides, our nearness to the king in loveIs near the hate of those love not the king.

BAGOTAnd that’s the wavering people, for their loveLies in their purses, and he who empties themBy so much fills their hearts with deadly hate.

BUSHYIn that the king stands generally accused.


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BAGOTWere they to judge, then we would be condemn’d,Because we ever have been near the king.

GREENWell, I’ll seek refuge now in Bristol castle.The Earl of Wiltshire is already there.

BUSHYI’ll go with you; all that we can expectThe hateful commoners to do for usIs tear us all to pieces like wild dogs.Will you go along with us?

BAGOTNo, I’ll go to Ireland to his majesty.Farewell. If heart’s forebodings be not false,We three now part, never to meet again.

BUSHYThat's as York thrives to beat back Bolingbroke.

GREENOh, the poor duke! The task he undertakesIs numbering sands and drinking oceans dry.For each who fights with him, a thousand flee.Farewell at once, for once, for all, and ever.

BUSHYWell, we may meet again.

BAGOTI fear we never will.

Exit all.

WE WILL PAUSE HERE FOR A DISCUSSION AND A TEN-MINUTE BREAK


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ACT II, SCENE III - WILDS IN GLOUCESTERSHIRE.

Enter Henry Bolingbroke and Northumberland, with Forces

HENRY BOLINGBROKEHow far is it, my lord, to Berkeley now?

NORTHUMBERLANDBelieve me, noble lord,I am a stranger here in Gloucestershire.These high wild hills and rough uneven roadsDraw out our miles, and make them wearisome,And yet your conversation is like sugar,It makes the hard way sweet and delectable.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEOf much less value is my companyThan your good words. But who comes here?

Enter HENRY PERCY

NORTHUMBERLANDIt is my son, young Harry Percy,Sent from my dear, beloved brother Worcester.Harry, how is your uncle?

HENRY PERCYI had thought, my lord, to have heard of him from you.

NORTHUMBERLANDWhy, is he not with the Queen?

HENRY PERCYNo, my good Lord. He has abandoned court.He left his post and suddenly dispersedThe household of the king.


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NORTHUMBERLANDWhat was his reason?He was not so resolved when last we spoke together.

HENRY PERCYBecause your lordship was proclaimed traitor.But he, my lord, has gone to Ravenspurgh,To offer service to one Bolingbroke,And sent me on to Berkeley, to discoverWhat troops the Duke of York had levied here.

NORTHUMBERLANDHave you forgotten Bolingbroke, dear boy?

HENRY PERCYNo, my good lord, I cannot now forgetWhat I never did remember. To my knowledge,I never in my life have looked on him.

NORTHUMBERLANDThen learn to know him now. This is the duke.

HENRY PERCYMy gracious lord, I tender you my service,Such as it is, being tender, raw and young,Which older days will ripen and confirmTo proven service and true worthiness.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEI thank you, gentle Percy, and be sureI pride myself in this above all else:That I always remember my good friends;And, as my fortune ripens with your love,It will be your true love’s just recompense.My heart makes this covenant, my hand seals it.

He gives Percy his hand


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NORTHUMBERLANDHow far is it to Berkeley? And tell meIs good old York there with his men of war?

HENRY PERCYThere stands the castle, by that tuft of trees,Mann'd by three hundred men, as I have heard,And in it are the Lords of York, Berkeley, and Seymour;No other lords or nobles there with them.

Enter Lord Ross and Lord Willoughby

NORTHUMBERLANDHere come the Lords of Ross and Willoughby,

HENRY BOLINGBROKEWelcome, my lords. I know you’ve come to serveA banish'd traitor. All the wealth I haveIs yet but unfelt thanks, which, more enrich'd,Will be your love and labour’s just reward.

LORD ROSSYour presence makes us rich, most noble lord.

LORD WILLOUGHBYAnd it exceeds the value of our efforts.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEMy everlasting thanks, a poor man’s coffersStands for my bounty ‘til my infant fortuneHas reached maturity. But who comes here?

Enter Lord Berkeley

NORTHUMBERLANDIt looks to be my Lord of Berkeley.


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LORD BERKELEYMy Lord of Hereford, my message is to you.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEMy lord, I answer now to “Lancaster,”And I have come to claim that name in England,And you must train your tongue to speak my nameBefore I will reply to what you say.

LORD BERKELEYDon’t get me wrong, my lord, I did not meanTo drain one drop of honor from your name.Whatever lord you are, I come to youFrom the most gracious lord of this fair land,The Duke of York, to know what draws you hereTo take advantage of the king’s absence,Disrupt our natural peace with self-born arms.

Enter Duke of York attended

HENRY BOLINGBROKEI do not need to send my words through you.Here comes his grace in person. My noble uncle!

He kneels

DUKE OF YORKShow me your humble heart, and not your knee,Whose duty is deceivable and false.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEMy gracious uncle--

DUKE OF YORKCome now!Don’t talk to me of grace nor call me uncle.I am no traitor's uncle and that word 'grace'From your ungracious mouth is sacrilege.


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Why have your banish'd and forbidden legsDared now to touch the dust of England's ground?And still more ‘why’? Why have they dared to marchSo many miles upon her peaceful bosom,Alarming pale-faced villages with warAnd with a show of terrifying arms?Have you come here because your king is gone?Why, foolish boy, the king has never left,For in my loyal bosom lies his power.If I had now the strength I had in youthThat day your father Gaunt and I myselfRescued your uncle, bravest of all men,Held captive by a thousand French soldiers,O, then how quickly would this arm of mineNow prisoner to the palsy, punish youAnd mete out swift correction to your fault.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEMy gracious uncle, let me know my fault.On what condition does it stand and how?

DUKE OF YORKThe worst condition I can comprehend,In gross rebellion and detested treason.You are a banished man, but here you comeBefore your punishment has run its course,And with defiant arms against your king.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEI was banished as the Lord of Hereford,Yet I return the Duke of Lancaster.Now, noble uncle, I beseech your graceLook on my wrongs with an impartial eye.You are my father, for I recognizeThe man I mourn alive again in you.Father, will you stand by as I’m condemnedTo be a vagabond, my rights and propertyTaken from me by force and given away


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To upstart grifters? Why then was I born?And if my cousin Richard is the king,It must be granted I am Duke of Lancaster.You have a son, Aumerle, my noble cousin.Had you died first and were he so abused,He would have found his uncle Gaunt a father,Relentless in the hunt to right his wrongs.I am denied my true inheritance,And yet my lawful charter gives me rights.He’s seized my father’s goods and sold them off,And squanders all the profits from the sale.What would you have me do? I am a subject,And here I claim my rights. Denied a trial,I come here now to stake my rightful claimTo my legitimate inheritance.

NORTHUMBERLANDThe noble duke has been too much abused.

LORD ROSSIt falls now to your grace to make things right.

LORD WILLOUGHBYThe lowest scum is raised up with his wealth.

DUKE OF YORKMy lords of England, let me tell you this:I’ve felt the sting of all my cousin’s wrongsAnd laboured all I could to do him right.But he returns this way with rebel arms,He carves a wrongful path to righteous ends.It is insurrection and it may not be.And you that do abet him in this actCherish rebellion and are rebels all.


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NORTHUMBERLANDThe noble duke has sworn that his returnIs only for what’s his, and for the right Of that we all have sworn to give him aid.May he that breaks that oath be damned to hell.

DUKE OF YORKWell, well, I see there’s nothing I can do.I cannot steer you from this stubborn course.My army is too weak to win the day,But if I could, by God in heaven above,I would arrest you all and make you bendBefore the sovereign mercy of the king.But since I cannot, know that I here standNeutral to both sides. So, fare you well,Unless you’d like to come inside the castleAnd rest there for the night.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEAn offer, uncle, that we will accept,But we’ll prevail upon you to go with usTo Bristol castle, which they say is heldBy Bushy, Bagot, and their treacherous ilk.The parasites of our good commonwealthWhich I have sworn to weed and pluck away.

DUKE OF YORKIt may be I will go with you--but yet I'll wait,For I am loath to break our country's laws.I welcome you as neither friend nor foe,Things past redress are now with me past care.

Exeunt


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ACT 2, SCENE IV - A CAMP IN WALES.

Enter Earl of Salisbury and a Welsh Captain

CAPTAINMy lord, we’ve waited here for ten long days,And barely kept our countrymen together,And yet our king has sent no news to us,Therefore I will release my men. Farewell.

EARL OF SALISBURYStay yet another day, you trusty Welshman.The king has placed his confidence in you.

CAPTAINIt’s thought the king is dead. We will not stay.The bay-trees in our country have all wither'dAnd meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven.The pale-faced moon looks bloody on the earthAnd lean-look'd prophets whisper fearful change.These signs foretell the death or fall of kings.Farewell. Our countrymen have gone and fled,They are assured Richard their king is dead.

Exit

EARL OF SALISBURYAh, Richard! With the eyes of heavy mindI see your glory, like a shooting star,Fall to the base earth from the firmament.Your sun sets weeping in the lowly west,Witnessing storms to come, woe and unrest.Your friends have fled to wait upon your foes,Against your every good all fortune goes.

Exit


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ACT III, SCENE I - BRISTOL. BEFORE THE CASTLE.

Enter Henry Bolingbroke, Duke of York, Northumberland, Lord Ross, Henry Percy, Lord Willoughby, with Bushy and Green, prisoners

HENRY BOLINGBROKEBring forth these men,Bushy and Green, I’ll not be so unkind To vex your souls--since soon your souls must part From your bodies--by lingering upon Your shameful deeds. Yet to wash your bloodFrom off my hands, here in the view of menI will disclose some causes of your deaths.You have misled a prince, a royal king,Much blessed in birth and in ability,By you unblessed and utterly debased.Through your debauched, salacious excessYou’ve sullied his marriage and his good name,You’ve kept him absent from his royal bed,And stain'd the beauty of a fair queen's cheeksWith tears drawn from her eyes by your foul wrongs.And I, myself, (a royal prince by birth,Near to the king in blood, and near in love,Until you made him misinterpret me,)Have bent my neck under your injuries,And sigh'd my English breath in foreign clouds,Eating the bitter bread of banishment,While you have fed upon my fecund lands,Misused my grounds and fell’d my forest woods,From my own windows razed my noble crest,Erased my family’s name, leaving no signExcept for memory and my true blood,To show the world I am a nobleman.This and much more, much more than twice all this,Condemns you to the death. See them deliver'd overTo execution and the hand of death.


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BUSHYMore welcome is the stroke of death to meThan Bolingbroke to England. Lords, farewell.

GREENMy comfort is that heaven will take our soulsAnd plague injustice with the pains of hell.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEMy Lord Northumberland, see them dispatch'd.

Exeunt NORTHUMBERLAND and others, with the prisoners

HENRY BOLINGBROKE Uncle, you say the queen is at your house;For God’s sake, please ensure she’s treated well.Tell her I send to her my kind regards.Take special care my greetings be deliver'd.

DUKE OF YORKI have dispatched a gentleman of mineWith earnest letters of your love to her.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEThank you, good uncle. Come, lords, let’s leave.We must go fight the king’s confederates.Some labor more before we take our rest.

Exit all.


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ACT III, SCENE II -THE COAST OF WALES. A CASTLE IN VIEW.

Trumpet. Enter King Richard II, the Bishop of Carlisle, Duke of Aumerle, and Soldiers

KING RICHARD IICousin, our heart is glad to see you here.

DUKE OF AUMERLEHow does it please your grace to stand on earthAfter your voyage on the storm-tossed seas?

KING RICHARD IIGreatly it pleases me. I weep for joy.To stand upon my kingdom once again.Dear earth, I must caress you with my hand,Though rebels wound you with their horses' hoofs.Like a mother who, after long years away,Is finally reunited with her child,I greet you weeping, smiling all at onceAnd embrace you with gentle, loving hands.My gentle earth, feed not your sovereign’s foe,Nor sate his ravenous hunger with your sweets,But let your spiders, that suck up your venom,And slow, sluggish toads lie in their way,Tripping up the traitors’ treacherous feetThat with usurping steps now trample you.Yield stinging nettles to my enemies,And when they pluck a flower from your breast,Guard it, I pray you, with a lurking viperWhose double tongue may, with a fatal touch,Throw death upon your sovereign's enemies.-- Mock not my foolish incantations, lords.This earth shall come alive and all these stonesWill turn into fierce soldiers, before her kingSuccumbs to treachery and rebel arms.


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BISHOP OF CARLISLEFear not, my lord. That Power that made you kingHas power to keep you king in spite of all.The means that heaven gives must be embraced,And not ignored. For, if heaven will,And we will not, heaven’s offer we refuse.

DUKE OF AUMERLEHe means, my lord, that we have been remiss,While Bolingbroke, through our complacency,Grows strong and great in substance and in power.

KING RICHARD IIMy gloomy cousin, don’t you understandThat when the searching eye of heaven is hidBehind the earth and lights the lower world,Then thieves and robbers move about unseenTo plunder and to murder without fear;But when, from under this terrestrial ball,He fires the proud tops of the eastern pinesAnd darts his light through every guilty hole,Then murders, 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 has revell'd in the nightShall see us rising in our throne, the east,His treasons will sit blushing in his face,Unable to endure the sight of day,But, seeing himself, will tremble at his sin.Not all the water in the rough rude seaCan wash the blessing from an anointed king.The words of worldly men cannot deposeThe deputy elected by the Lord.For every man that Bolingbroke has press'dTo lift sharp steel against our golden crown,God for his Richard has employed in heavenA glorious angel. Then, if angels fight,


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Weak men must fall, for heaven still guards the right.

Enter Earl of Salisbury

KING RICHARD II (con’t)Welcome, my lord, how far off is your force?

EARL OF SALISBURYMy force lies just as far, my gracious lord,As this weak arm. Discomfort guides my tongue,And bids me speak of nothing but despair.My noble lord, I fear one day too lateHas clouded all your happy days on earth.O, call back yesterday, bid time return,And you shall have twelve thousand fighting men!Today, today, unhappy day too late,Divests you of your friends, fortune, and state;For all the Welshmen, hearing you were dead.Are gone to Bolingbroke, dispersed and fled.

DUKE OF AUMERLEComfort, my lord. Why looks your grace so pale?

KING RICHARD IIBut now the blood of twenty thousand menDid triumph in my face, and they are fled;And, till so much blood comes there once again,Have I not reason to look pale and dead?All souls that will be safe fly from my side,For time has set a stain upon my pride.

DUKE OF AUMERLEComfort, my lord. Remember who you are.

KING RICHARD III had forgot myself. Am I not king?Awake, you coward majesty! You sleep.Is not the king's name twenty thousand names?


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Arm, arm, my name! A puny subject strikesAt your great glory. Look not to the ground,You comrades of a king. Are we not high?Lift high our thoughts. I know our Uncle YorkHas power enough to serve our needs.

Enter Sir Stephen Scroop

SIR STEPHEN SCROOPMore health and happiness befall my lordThan can my grief-worn tongue deliver him!

KING RICHARD IIMy ear is open and my heart prepared.The worst you can impart is worldly loss.Say, is my kingdom lost? Why, ‘twas my careAnd 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 God, too, and be his equal there.And do our fickle subjects now rebel?They break their faith to God as well as us.Cry woe, destruction, ruin and decay.The worst is death, and death will have his day.

SIR STEPHEN SCROOPI’m glad to see your highness is so armedTo bear the tidings of calamity.Like an unseasonably stormy day,Which makes the silver rivers flood their shoresAs if the world were all dissolved to tears,So high above his borders swells the rageOf Bolingbroke, covering your fearful landWith hard bright steel and hearts harder than steel.White-beards have arm'd their thin and hairless scalpsAgainst your Majesty. Boys, with women's voices,Strive to speak big and clap their girlish jointsIn stiff unwieldy arms against your crown.


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And ancient spinsters take up rusty pikesAgainst your throne. Both young and old rebel,And all goes worse that I have power to tell.

KING RICHARD IIToo well, too well you tell a tale so ill.Where is the Earl of Wiltshire?What has become of Bushy? Where is Green?That they have let the dangerous enemyTrespass upon our lands without a fight.If we prevail, their heads will pay the price.I’ll wager they’ve made peace with Bolingbroke.

SIR STEPHEN SCROOPIndeed, they’ve made their peace, my gracious lord.

KING RICHARD IIO villains, vipers, damn'd without redemption!Dogs who will lick the hand of any man!Snakes warmed by my heart-blood now sting my heart!Three Judases, each three times worse than Judas!Did they make peace? Terrible hell make warUpon their filthy souls for this offence.

SIR STEPHEN SCROOPAgain uncurse their souls. Their peace is madeWith heads and not with hands. Those whom you curseHave felt the sting of death’s destroying woundAnd lie in shallow graves, despised and scorned.

DUKE OF AUMERLEAre Bushy, Green, and the Earl of Wiltshire dead?

SIR STEPHEN SCROOPYes. All of them at Bristol lost their heads.


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DUKE OF AUMERLEWhere is the Duke my father with his troops?

KING RICHARD IIIt matters not. Speak not of comfort now.Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs,Make dirt our paper and with rainy eyesWrite sorrow on the bosom of the earth.Let's choose executors and talk of wills.And yet not so, for what can we bequeathSave our deposed bodies to the ground?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 earthWhich serves as paste and cover to our bones.For God's sake, let us sit upon the groundAnd tell sad stories of the death of kings,How some have been deposed, some slain in war,Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed,Some poison'd by their wives, some sleeping killed--All murder'd. For within the hollow crownThat rounds the mortal temples of a kingKeeps Death his court; and there the jester sits,Mocking his state and grinning at his pomp,Allowing him a breath, a little scene,To act a king, be fear'd, and kill with looks,Infusing him with ego and conceit,As if this flesh which walls about our lifeWere brass impregnable, and humor'd thus,Comes at the last and with a little pinBores through his castle wall; and farewell, king!Cover your heads and mock not flesh and bloodWith 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?


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BISHOP OF CARLISLEMy lord, wise men ne'er sit and wail their woes,But think how to avoid the path of woe.

DUKE OF AUMERLEMy father has an army. Send for itAnd learn to make a body from a limb.

KING RICHARD IIYou chide me well. Proud Bolingbroke, I comeTo meet you on the field and win the day.This fever fit of fear is over-blown.It is an easy task to win our own.Say, Scroop, where is our uncle with his army?Speak sweetly, man, although your looks are sour.

SIR STEPHEN SCROOPMen judge by the complexion of the skyThe state and inclination of the day.So may you by my dull and heavy eye,Know that my tongue has heavy news to tell.Your uncle York has join'd with Bolingbroke,And all your northern castles yielded up,And all your southern men have joined his foldAnd what’s more still, he--

KING RICHARD IIStop! You’ve said enough.(To Duke of Aumerle)Curse you, cousin, for turning me awayFrom the consoling bosom of despair!What can you say? What comfort’s left to us?By heaven, I will hate him evermoreWhoever tries to comfort me again.Go to Flint castle. There I’ll pine away. A king, woe's slave, shall kingly woe obey.Discharge my army now and let them goTo till the soil that still has hope to grow;


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For I have none. Let no man speak againTo change my mind. Advice is all in vain.

DUKE OF AUMERLEMy lord, one word.

KING RICHARD IIHe does me double wrongThat wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue.Release my followers. Let them fly awayFrom Richard's night to Bolingbroke's fair day.

Exit all

ACT III, SCENE III -WALES. BEFORE FLINT CASTLE.

Enter, with drum and colours, Henry Bolingbroke, Duke of York, Northumberland, Attendants, and forces

HENRY BOLINGBROKESo now we learn from this intelligenceThe Welshmen are dispersed, and SalisburyIs gone to meet the king, who has arrivedWith some few paltry friends upon this coast.

NORTHUMBERLANDThe news is very fair and good, my lord.Richard has hid his head not far from here.

DUKE OF YORKIt would behoove the Lord NorthumberlandTo say 'King Richard:' alas the heavy dayWhen such a sacred king should hide his head.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEUncle, don’t take this further than you should.


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DUKE OF YORKGood cousin, take no more than you are owed,Lest you forget God watches overhead.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEI know God watches. I won’t set myselfAgainst his will. But who comes here?

Enter Henry Percy

HENRY BOLINGBROKEGood Harry. Will not this castle welcome us?

HENRY PERCYThe castle royally is manned, my lord,Against your entrance.

HENRY BOLINGBROKERoyally!Why? It contains no king.

HENRY PERCYYes, my good lord,It does contain a king. King Richard liesWithin the limits of its stony walls,And with him are the Lord Aumerle, Lord Salisbury,Sir Stephen Scroop, and then a clergymanOf holy reverence whom I don’t know.

NORTHUMBERLANDThe Bishop of Carlisle I have no doubt.

HENRY BOLINGBROKENoble lords,Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle,With brazen trumpet send the note of parleyInto his ruin'd ears, and this report:Henry Bolingbroke


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On both his knees will kiss King Richard's hand,Sends his allegiance and true faith of heartTo his most royal person. I’ve come hereTo lay my arms and power at his feet,So long as my exile is repealed andMy lands restored without further delay.If not, I'll use the advantage of my power,And wet the summer dust with showers of bloodRain'd from the wounds of slaughter'd Englishmen;How far it is from Bolingbroke’s desireThat this cruel crimson flood should inundateThe fresh green fields of fair King Richard’s land,My reverent knees upon the ground will prove.Go tell him all of this, We’ll wait without the noise of threatening drum,It seems to me the king and I should meetWith no less terror than the elementsOf fire and water, when their thundering shockAt meeting tears the cloudy cheeks of heaven.He’ll be the fire, I the yielding water,The rage all his, while on the earth I rainMy waters: on the earth, and not on him.

Parle without, and answer within. Then a flourish. Enter on the walls, King Richard II, The Bishop of Carlisle, Duke of Aumerle, Sir Stephen Scroop, and Earl of Salisbury

HENRY BOLINGBROKESee, see, King Richard now himself appears,As does the blushing discontented sunFrom out the fiery portal of the east,When he perceives the envious clouds are bentTo dim his shining glory and obscureHis brilliant passage to the dusky west.


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DUKE OF YORKAnd yet he still looks like a king. BeholdHis eye, bright as the eagle’s, radiatesCommanding majesty. Alas, alas, for woeThat any harm should stain so fair a show!

KING RICHARD II(To Northumberland)We are amazed; and so long have we waitedTo see the reverent bending of your kneeBecause we thought ourself your lawful king.And if we are, how dare your joints forgetTo pay their lawful duty to our presence?If we are not, show us the hand of GodThat has dismissed us from our stewardship,For well we know no hand of blood or boneCan grasp the sacred handle of our sceptre,Lest he profane, steal, pilfer, or usurp.Unless you think that all have torn their soulsBy turning them from us, as you have done,And we are barren and bereft of friends,Yet know my master, God omnipotent,Is mustering armies of pestilence in his clouds on our behalf, and they shall strikeYour children yet unborn and unbegot,That lift your vassal hands against my headAnd threat the glory of my precious crown.Tell Bolingbroke--for there I think he stands--That every stride he makes upon my landIs dangerous treason. He is come to openThe scarlet chronicle of bloody war;And ere the crown he seeks rests on his head,Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers' sonsShall blemish our beloved England’s face,Change the complexion of her maid-pale peaceTo crimson indignation, and bedewHer pastures' grass with faithful English blood.


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NORTHUMBERLANDThe king of heaven forbid our lord the KingShould ever be attacked by his own kin.Be assured, your majesty, your cousinHarry Bolingbroke does humbly kiss your hand,And more, he swears upon the sacred tombThat holds your royal grandfather’s remains,And by the royalty of both your blood,Two rivers springing from a single source, And by the buried hand of warlike Gaunt,And by the worth and honor of himself,By everything that may be sworn or said,His aims in coming here are nothing moreThan claiming his ancestral legacyAnd begging restitution on his knees;Which once your royal majesty permits,He will consign his glittering arms to rust,His battle steeds to stable, and his heartTo faithful service of your majesty.This he swears, as he is a prince and just,And, as my heart is true, I credit him.

KING RICHARD IINorthumberland, convey the king’s reply:We welcome our kind cousin in good faith,And every one of his lawful demandsWill be acceded to without delay.With all the eloquence that you commandRelate our kindest wishes to his ears.(To Duke of Aumerle)We do debase ourselves, cousin, do we not,To look so poorly and to speak so fair?Shall we call back Northumberland, and swearDefiance to the traitor, and so die?

DUKE OF AUMERLENo, good my lord, let's fight with gentle wordsTill time lend friends, and friends their helpful swords.


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KING RICHARD IIO God, O God! that e’er this tongue of mine,That laid the sentence of dread banishmentOn that proud man, should take it off againWith soothing words! O, that I were as strongAs is my grief, or weaker than my name!Or that I could forget what I have been,Or not remember what I must be now!Proud heart, do you now break? Go on and break,Since foes have pow’r to break both you and me.

DUKE OF AUMERLENorthumberland returns from Bolingbroke.

KING RICHARD IIWhat must the king do now? Must he submit?The king shall do it. Must he be deposed?The king shall be contented. Must he loseThe name of king? On God's name, let it go.I'll give my jewels up for a rosary,My gorgeous palace for a hermitage,My ornate goblets for a dish of wood,My sceptre for a pilgrim's walking staff,And my large kingdom for a little grave,A little little grave, an obscure grave;Or I'll be buried in the dusty road,Some common road where subjects’ filthy feetWill trample daily on their sovereign’s head,For on my heart they tread now, while I live,And once I’m buried, why not on my head?Aumerle, you weep, my tender-hearted cousin!We’ll conjure up a storm with our salt tears.Our abject sighs shall crush the summer corn,Like hurricanes, leave famine in their wake.Or shall we linger here in child-like woe,And pass the time by shedding constant tears?Our tears will fall upon the hungry earth,Till they have carved us two a pair of graves


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To hold our weary bones, and there will lieTwo men who dug their graves with weeping eyes.Would not this ill do well? Well, well, I seeI talk but idly, and you laugh at me.(to Northumberland)Most mighty prince, my Lord Northumberland,What says King Bolingbroke? Will his majestyGive Richard leave to live till Richard die?You take a knee, and Bolingbroke says “Ay.”

NORTHUMBERLANDHe’s in the lower courtyard waiting there,If it please your highness to come down.

KING RICHARD IIDown, down I come; like glistening Phaeton,Unable to control his riotous steeds.The lower court? Low court where kings grow low,To come when traitors call and pay them homage.The lower court? Come down? Down, court! Down, king!For night-owls shriek where morning larks should sing.

Exit from above

HENRY BOLINGBROKEWhat says his majesty?

NORTHUMBERLANDSorrow and grief of heartLeaves him ranting like a lunaticYet he will come.

Enter King Richard and his attendants below

HENRY BOLINGBROKEMake way, make way,And show your deference to his majesty.


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He kneels

My gracious lord,--

KING RICHARD IIFair cousin, you debase your princely kneeTo make the base earth proud with kissing it.I’d rather that my heart should feel your loveThan my indifferent eye see your courtesy.Up, cousin, up. Your heart is up, I know,Thus high at least, although your knee be low.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEMy gracious lord, I come to claim what’s mine.

KING RICHARD IIYour own is yours, and I am yours, and all.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEOnly be mine, my most exalted lord,As far as my true service earns your love.

KING RICHARD IIThey that know the art of acquisitionKnow how to earn, for what they seize is theirs.(to the DUKE OF YORK) Uncle, give me your hands. No, dry your eyes.Tears show their love, but offer no solutions.(to BOLINGBROKE) Cousin, I am too young to be your father,Though you are old enough to be my heir.What you will have I'll give, and willingly,For we must do what force will make us do.We go to London, cousin, is it so?

HENRY BOLINGBROKEYes, my good lord.


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KING RICHARD IIThen I must not say no.

Flourish. Exit all.

ACT III, SCENE IV - LANGLEY. THE DUKE OF YORK'S GARDEN.

Enter the Queen and two Ladies

QUEENWhat game shall we devise here in this garden,To drive away the heavy thought of care?

1 LADYMadam, let’s bowl.

QUEENIt’ll make me think the world is full of strikes,And that my fate will plunge into the gutter.

1 LADYMadam, let’s tell tales.

QUEENOf sorrow or of joy?

1 LADYOf either, madam.

QUEENOf neither, girl.For tales of joy remind me of my grief,And happy endings lay bare misery.And tales of grief recount the grief I have.They add more sorrow to my lack of joy.


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2 LADYMadam, I'll sing.

QUEENI’m glad you have a song within your heart,But you would please me better if you wept.

2 LADYI could weep, madam, if it did you good.

QUEENAnd I could sing, if your sweet tears would help,

Enter a Gardener, and two Servants.

But wait, here come some gardeners.Let’s step into the shadow of these trees.I’ll wager all of my unhappiness,They’ll talk of politics, as they all do.Great change is underway. More woe will come.

Queen and Ladies withdraw

GARDENER(To 1 Servant)Go and tie down those drooping apricotsWhich, like unruly children, make their paSlump with the burden of their heavy weight.And prop up and support those bending twigs.(To 2 Servant)Go on, and like an executioner,Cut off the heads of shoots that grow too fast,That look too high and mighty for our realm.All must be even in our government.While you are doing that, I’ll go and weed.Those nasty weeds just suck the soil dryAnd rob the wholesome flowers of their food.


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1 SERVANTWhy should we, in the confines of this garden,Try to impose order and harmony,When everything outside these stony walls,Our country and our whole entire land,Is full of weeds, her fruit-trees all unpruned,Her flowers choked by vines, her hedges ruin'd,Her saplings all diseased and her sweet herbsSwarming with parasites--

GARDENERNow hold your peace.He who let this garden go to seedHas himself been pruned, his power snipped.The vines which he neglected to trim back,That seemed to hold him as they sucked his life,Are pluck'd up root and all by Bolingbroke--I mean the Earl of Wiltshire, Bushy, Green.

2 SERVANTWhat, are they dead?

GARDENERThey are; and BolingbrokeHas seized the wasteful king. Oh, what a shameThat he did not so trim and tend his landAs we this garden! At this time of yearWe tap the bark and pierce the skin of trees,Lest, being over-proud in sap and blood,With too much richness, they destroy themselves.Had he done so to these ambitious men,They might have borne the fruit of loyaltyAnd he enjoyed the harvest. Useless branchesWe lop away, so healthy ones can live.Had he done so, he would still wear the crown,But now his laziness has brought him down.


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1 SERVANTWait, do you think that the king will be deposed?

GARDENERDepress'd he is already, and deposedNo doubt he will be soon. I heard Old YorkReceived a letter from a friend last nightThat told dark tidings.

QUEENIt’s torture to stand mute and hear these words!

She comes forward

You there, old as Adam, tasked to tend this garden,How dare your harsh rude tongue sound this unpleasant news?What Eve, what serpent, has tempted youTo make a second fall of cursed man?Why do you say King Richard is deposed?How dare you who are lowly as the earthPredict his downfall? Say, where, when, and how,You came to hear of this bad news? Speak, wretch.

GARDENERPardon me, madam. It gives me no joyTo share this news, yet what I say is true.King Richard is now held by Bolingbroke.The two are being weighed by Fortune’s scales.On your lord’s side is nothing but himself,But on the side of mighty Bolingbroke,Besides himself, are all the English lords,And with those odds he weighs King Richard down.Hurry to London and you’ll find it so.I say no more than everybody knows.


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QUEENMisfortune moves so swiftly when she strikes,How is it that her news travels so slowThat I am last to know? Come, ladies, go,To meet at London London's king in woe.What, was I born to this, that my sad lookShould grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke?Gardener, for telling me these news of woe,Pray God the plants you graft may never grow.

Exit Queen and Ladies

GARDENERPoor queen! Her tears fell here, so right here in this placeI’ll plant a bed of rue, sour herb of graceAnd pure compassion, shortly shall be seen,Planted in memory of a weeping queen.

Exit all.

ACT IV, SCENE I - WESTMINSTER HALL.

Enter, as to the Parliament, Henry Bolingbroke, Duke of Aumerle, Northumberland, Henry Percy, Lord Fitzwater, Duke of Surrey, the Bishop of Carlisle, the Abbot of Westminster, and another Lord, Herald, Officers, and Bagot

HENRY BOLINGBROKENow, Bagot, freely speak your mind.What do you know of noble Gloucester’s death?Who plotted with the king, and who performedThe bloody act of his untimely end?

BAGOTThen bring the Lord Aumerle before me now.


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HENRY BOLINGBROKECousin, come here, and look upon that man.

BAGOTMy Lord Aumerle, I know your daring tongueWould ne’er deny what you once freely said.When the cruel plot for Gloucester’s death was hatched,I heard you say, “My arm is long enoughTo reach from here in England to CalaisTo cut my uncle’s head from his neck.”Among much other talk, at that same time,I heard you say that you would rather refuseThe offer of a hundred thousand coinsThan see good Bolingbroke return back home,And going on to say how blessed we’d beTo see your cousin dead.

DUKE OF AUMERLEPrinces and noble lords,What answer shall I make to this base man?Should I bring shame upon my noble nameBy dignifying him with my response?It’s either that or see my honor sulliedBy all the discharge from his sland’rous lips.Here is my challenge and my solemn vow:I’ll see you dead and send you down to hell.You lie.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEBagot, stand back. I forbid you to respond.

DUKE OF AUMERLEI wish the one who so insulted meWere the most noble here, except for you.


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LORD FITZWATERIf your valor waits for one of equal rank,Here is my challenge in exchange for yours.I heard you say, and boastfully you said itThat you had caused our noble Gloucester’s death.If you deny it twenty times, you lie,And I’ll return your falsehood to your heart,Where it was forged, with my hard, ruthless blade.

DUKE OF AUMERLEYou dare not, coward, live to see that day.

LORD FITZWATEROh by my soul, I wish it were this hour.

DUKE OF AUMERLEFitzwater, you are damn'd to hell for this.

HENRY PERCYAumerle, you lie. I challenge you,And I will back my challenge to that pointWhere life gives way to death, dare you accept.

DUKE OF AUMERLEAnd if I do not, may my hands rot offAnd never brandish vengeful steel againOver the glittering helmet of my foe.

DUKE OF SURREYMy Lord Fitzwater, I can remember wellThe time that you and Lord Aumerle talked.

LORD FITZWATERI had forgotten you were there as well.You are my witness that my words are true.

DUKE OF SURREYAs false, by heaven, as heaven itself is true.


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LORD FITZWATERSurrey, you lie.

DUKE OF SURREYDishonorable boy!Your lie shall lie so heavy on my sword,That it shall render vengeance and revengeAnd by way of proof, I give my challenge,Take it up and test it, if you dare.

LORD FITZWATERHow foolish of you to spur on a horseAlready frothing at the bit. Know this:I’ll meet foul Surrey anywhere he wantsAnd spit upon him, while I say he lies,And lies, and lies. Here is my bond of faith,As I intend to thrive in this new world,Aumerle is guilty of my accusation.Besides, I heard the banish’d Norfolk sayThat you, Aumerle, sent two of your own menTo execute the noble duke at Calais.

DUKE OF AUMERLEWill someone here please lend a glove to me?Thank you. I throw this down to prove that Norfolk lies.Let him return to prove me otherwise.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEThese challenges shall rest until the dayThat Norfolk is called home, which I shall do,And, though he is my enemy, I willReturn his lands and properties to him.

BISHOP OF CARLISLEThat honorable day will ne’er arrive.For many years, the banish’d Mowbray foughtHoly wars in glorious Christian fields,And tired by works of war, retired unto


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Fair Italy, and there at Venice gaveHis body to that pleasant country’s earth,And his pure soul unto his captain Christ,Under whose standards he had fought so long.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEWhat? Bishop, is Mowbray dead?

BISHOP OF CARLISLEAs surely as I live, my lord.

HENRY BOLINGBROKESweet peace conduct his sweet soul to the armsOf good old Abraham! Lord combatants,Your disagreements soon will be resolvedIn trial by combat, once we name the day.

Enter Duke of York

DUKE OF YORKGreat Duke of Lancaster, I come to youFrom chastened Richard, who with willing soulAdopts you heir, and yields his gilded sceptreTo the possession of your royal hand.Ascend his throne, descending now from him,And long live Henry, fourth of that name!

HENRY BOLINGBROKEIn God's name, I'll ascend the regal throne.

BISHOP OF CARLISLEDear God above forbid!Had any man among this noble groupNobility enough to be the judge Of noble Richard, then his nobilityWould teach him to prevent so foul a wrong.What subject can give sentence on his king?And who sits here that is not Richard's subject?


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The guiltiest of thieves is still not judgedUnless he’s present to receive his sentence.So will the Lord’s majestic delegate,His captain, steward, deputy-elect,Be judged by subject and inferior breath,And he himself not present? Heaven forfend.I speak to subjects, and a subject speaks,Stirr'd up by God thus boldly for his king.My Lord Bolingbroke here, whom you call king,Is a foul traitor to proud Bolingbroke's king.And if you crown him, let me prophesyThe blood of English shall manure the ground,And future ages groan for this foul act.And in this seat of peace tumultuous warsShall kin with kin and kind with kind destroy.Disorder, horror, fear and mutinyShall here take root, and this land be call’dGolgotha, fetid field of rotting bones.O, if you raise this house against this house,It will unleash the woefullest divisionThat ever fell upon this cursed earth.Prevent it, resist it, let it not be so,Lest child, child's children, cry against you “woe!”

NORTHUMBERLANDYou have argued well, and for your pains,We now arrest you for the crime of treason.My Lord of Westminster, make it your chargeTo keep him safely till his day of trial.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEBring Richard here, that he might surrenderIn public view. So we can then proceedWithout suspicion.

DUKE OF YORKI’ll escort him here.


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He exits

HENRY BOLINGBROKELords, you that here are under our arrest,Procure your bail until your day of trial.We owe you little for your loyalty,And expected little from such feckless rogues.

Re-enter Duke of York, with King Richard II, and Officers bearing the regalia

KING RICHARD IIAlas, why was I summoned to a king,Before I have shook off the regal thoughtsWherewith I reign'd? I hardly yet have learn'dTo insinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my knee.Give sorrow leave awhile to tutor meTo this submission. Yet I well rememberThe favors of these men. Were they not mine?Did they not sometimes cry, 'all hail!' to me?So Judas did to Christ. But he, in twelve,Found truth in all but one; I, in twelve thousand, none.God save the king! Will no man say amen?Am I both priest and clerk? Well then, amen.God save the king! Although I be not he;And yet, amen, if heaven do think him me.To do what service was I sent for here?

DUKE OF YORKTo say again now of your own free willWhat burdens of your rule had made you tender:The resignation of your state and crownTo Henry Bolingbroke.


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KING RICHARD IIGive me the crown. Here, cousin, seize the crown. Here cousin:On this side my hand, and on that side yours.Now is this golden crown like a deep wellThat has 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, while you mount up on high.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEI thought you had been willing to resign.

KING RICHARD IIMy crown I am; but still my griefs are mine:You may my glories and my state depose,But not my griefs; still am I king of those.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEPart of your cares you give me with your crown.

KING RICHARD IIYour cares raised 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.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEAre you contented to resign the crown?

KING RICHARD IIYes, no. No, yes; for I will be nothing.Therefore no, no, for I will not be king.Now watch me, how I will undo myself.I give this heavy weight from off my head,And this unwieldy sceptre from my hand,


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The pride of royal pow’r from out my heart,With my own tears I wash away my balm,With my own hands I give away my crown,With my own tongue deny my sacred state,With my own breath release all duty's rites.All pomp and majesty I do forswear.My manors, rents, revenues I forego.My acts, decrees, and statutes I deny.God pardon all the oaths once made to me!God keep vows sworn to you eternally!May I, with nothing, find nothing to grieve,And you be pleased with all you now achieve!Long may you live in Richard's seat to sit,And soon lie Richard in an earthly pit.“God save King Harry,” unking'd Richard says,And send him many years of sunshine days!What more remains?

NORTHUMBERLAND(giving Richard papers)No more, but that you readThese accusations and these grievous crimesCommitted by your person and your followersAgainst the state and profit of this land,That, by confessing them, the souls of menMay judge that you are worthily deposed.

KING RICHARD IIMust I? And must I here unravel allMy woven follies? Good Northumberland,If your offences had all been recorded,Would it not shame you in this companyTo read a lecture of them? If you would,You’d find one heinous item listed thereContaining the deposing of a kingAnd cracking the strong contract of an oath,Mark'd with a blot, damn'd in the book of heaven.No, all of you that stand and look at me


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While all my wretchedness devours myself,Though some with Pontius Pilate wash your handsShowing an outward pity; yet you allHave here deliver'd me to this cruel cross,And water cannot wash away your sin.

NORTHUMBERLANDMy lord, be quick. Read o’er these articles.

KING RICHARD IIMy eyes are full of tears. I cannot see.And yet salt water blinds them not so muchBut they can see a mob of traitors here.No, if I turn my eyes upon myself,I find myself a traitor with the rest,For I have given here my soul's consentTo undeck the splendid body of a king,Made glory base and sovereignty a slave,Proud majesty a subject, state a peasant.

NORTHUMBERLANDMy lord--

KING RICHARD IINo lord of yours, you vain insulting man,Nor no one’s lord. I have no name, no title,The very name that I was baptized with,Has been usurped. I mourn this grievous dayThat I have worn so many winters outAnd know not now what name to call myself!I wish I were a king made out of snow,Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke,To melt myself away in water-drops!Good king, great king, and yet not greatly good,If my commands have value still in England,Let them bring forth a mirror to me now,That it may show me what a face I have,Now that it’s bankrupt of its majesty.


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HENRY BOLINGBROKEGo some of you and fetch a looking-glass.

Exit an attendant

NORTHUMBERLANDConfess your crimes until the mirror comes.

KING RICHARD IIFoul demon, why torment me while I live?

HENRY BOLINGBROKELet the matter go, Northumberland.

NORTHUMBERLANDThe people will not be satisfied then.

KING RICHARD IIThey will be satisfied. I’ll read my wrongsFrom the fair book where they have all been etched,Where all my sins appear upon my flesh.

Re-enter Attendant, with a mirror

Give me the mirror. No deeper wrinkles yet? has sorrow struckSo many blows upon this face of mine,And made no deeper wounds? O flattering glass,Just like my followers in prosperity,You do beguile me! Was this face the faceThat every day under his household roofOnce kept ten thousand men? Was this the faceThat, like the sun, once dazzled every eye?Was this the face that faced so many follies,And was at last out-faced by Bolingbroke?A brittle glory shines now from this face--As brittle as the glory is the face!


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He dashes the glass against the ground

For there it is, crack'd in a hundred slivers.See, silent king, the moral of this tale:How soon my sorrow has destroy'd my face.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEThe shadow of your sorrow has destroy'dThe shadow of your face.

KING RICHARD IISay that again.The shadow of my sorrow! Ha! Let's see.It’s very true: my grief is all within,And all of these expressions of lamentAre merely shadows to the unseen griefThat swells with silence in my tortured soul.That is the substance. And I thank you, king,For your beneficence, for you not only gaveMe cause to grieve, but also teach me howI should lament the cause. I’ll beg a favor,And then be gone and trouble you no more.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEName it, fair cousin.

KING RICHARD II“Fair cousin”? I am greater than a King,For when I was a King, my flatterersWere then but subjects. Being now a subject,I have a King here as my flatterer.Being so great, I have no need to beg.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEYet ask.


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KING RICHARD IIWill I have it?

HENRY BOLINGBROKEYou will.

KING RICHARD IIThen give me leave to go.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEGo where?

KING RICHARD IIWhere’er you want, as long as you’re not there.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEGo, some of you, and take him to the Tower.

KING RICHARD IIO, good! “Take” him? You’re takers, one and all,Who rise so nimbly from a true king’s fall.

Exit King Richard II, some Lords, and a Guard

HENRY BOLINGBROKEOn Wednesday next we solemnly decreeOur coronation. Lords, prepare yourselves.

Exit all except the Bishop of Carlisle, the Abbot of Westminster, and Duke of Aumerle

ABBOTA sad charade we have just witnessed here.

BISHOP OF CARLISLEThe woe will come. The children yet unbornWill feel this day as sharp to them as thorn.


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DUKE OF AUMERLEYou holy clergymen, is there no plotTo rid the realm of this pernicious blot?

ABBOTMy lord,Before I freely speak my mind on this,You will not only take a solemn vowTo bury deep what I will then revealAnd also be accomplice to my plan.Come home with me to supper and I’ll layA plot that will soon birth a better day.

Exit all.

WE WILL PAUSE HERE FOR A DISCUSSION AND A TEN-MINUTE BREAK


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ACT V, SCENE I -LONDON. A STREET LEADING TO THE TOWER.

Enter Queen and Ladies

QUEENThis way the king will come. This is the wayTo this vindictive and malicious tower,To whose stony embrace my dearest lordIs doom'd a prisoner by proud Bolingbroke.Here let us rest, if this rebellious earthHave any resting for her true king's queen.

Enter King Richard II and Guard.

But wait, look, see--or rather do not see--My fair rose wither. Yet look up, behold,That you in pity may melt into dew,And wash him fresh again with true-love tears.My lord, I look at you and see a ruin.You have become King Richard’s marble tomb,And not King Richard. You, most lovely inn,Why should unlovely grief be lodged in you,When triumph dwells within a tawdry brothel?

KING RICHARD IIDo not add to my grief, my dearest queen,The weight would crush my all too heavy heart.Our former state was but a happy dreamAnd now we are awake to see this truth:My partner now is grim Necessity,And he and I are bound until my death.Go now to France and lodge within an abbey.Our holy lives must win a heavenly crown,Which our profane hours here have stricken down.


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QUEENWhat, is my Richard both transform’d and weaken’d In shape and mind? Has Bolingbroke deposedYour intellect? Has he been in your heart?The lion dying thrusts his mighty paw,And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rageAt his defeat; but you, the eager student,Take your correction mildly, kiss the rod,And fawn on rage with base humility,You who are a lion, king of beasts.

KING RICHARD IIOf beasts, indeed. If they had been less beastly,I’d still have been a happy king of men.Good former queen, prepare to go to France.Imagine I am dead and that you’ve comeTo say your last farewells before you go.In winter's barren nights sit by the fireWith good old folks and let them tell you talesOf woeful ages once upon a time.Before you say good night, then share your own,Tell them the lamentable tale of meAnd send the hearers weeping to their beds.The woeful music of your moving tongueWill stir the pity of the burning logsAnd douse their flames in floods of bitter tears; And some will mourn in ashes, some coal-black,For the deposing of a rightful king.


NORTHUMBERLANDMy lord, Bolingbroke has changed his mind.You’ll go to Pomfret rather than the Tower.And, madam, I’ve an order for you, too:With all swift speed you’ll go away to France.


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KING RICHARD IINorthumberland, you ladder that was usedBy mounting Bolingbroke to scale my throne,It won’t be long until the putrid sinThat swells throughout this poor, corrupted landWill burst and show the festering within.If he divides the realm and gives you half,You’ll want more since you helped him to gain all.And he will think that you, who know the wayTo plant usurpers to the royal throne,Will know again someday another wayTo pluck the stolen crown away from him.The love of wicked men converts to fear,That fear to hate, and hate will thrust you bothTowards well-deserved suffering and death.

NORTHUMBERLANDMy guilt is my concern. Now that’s enough.Say your good-byes. It’s time for you to go.

KING RICHARD IIDoubly divorced! Bad man, you violateTwo marriages: between my crown and me,And then between me and my married wife.(To Queen) Let me unkiss the oath between we two—And yet I can’t, for with a kiss ‘twas made.Part us, Northumberland: I am sent north,Where shivering cold and sickness shroud the land.My wife returns to France, where long agoShe left a girl adorned like sweetest May,And now returns as grey as winter’s day.

QUEENAnd must we be divided? Must we part?

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


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QUEENBanish us both and send the king with me.

NORTHUMBERLANDRomantic. But misguided strategy.

QUEENWhere’er he goes, please also send me there.

KING RICHARD IISo two, together weeping, make one despair.You’ll weep for me in France, I for you here.Better to be far if I can’t see you near.Go count the miles with sighs, I’ll count with groans.

QUEENSo longest way will have the longest moans.

KING RICHARD IITwice for one step I’ll groan when we two part,And lengthen my short route with heavy heart.Come, come, in wooing sorrow let’s be brief,Since wedding it begins our age long grief.One kiss shall stop our mouths, and mutely part.I give you mine, and thus I take your heart.

They kiss

QUEENGive back my heart, if yours leaves here in me,I’ll smother it with all my misery.

They kiss

So, now I have my own again, be goneThat I might let it die while I walk on.


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KING RICHARD IIWe aggravate our pain with this delay.Once more, adieu. The rest let sorrow say.

Exit all.

ACT V, SCENE II - THE DUKE OF YORK'S PALACE.

Enter Duke of York and Duchess of York

DUCHESS OF YORKMy lord, you said you’d finish telling meWhat happened when the new king and the oldArrived in London on their way up north.

DUKE OF YORKWhere did I end?

DUCHESS OF YORKYour tears swallowed your voiceWhen speaking of the rude misgovern’d handsThat threw foul garbage on King Richard’s head.

DUKE OF YORKThen, as I said, the duke, great Bolingbroke,Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed,Who walked with slow and stately pace as ifHe knew the noble rider on his back,While all tongues cried “God save you, Bolingbroke!”You would have thought the very windows spoke,So many greedy looks of young and oldThrough casements darted their desiring eyesUpon his face, and had said all at once:“Jesus preserve you! Welcome, Bolingbroke!”While he, from the one side to the other turning,Bareheaded, lower than his proud steed's neck,Addressed them thus: “I thank you, countrymen.”And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along.


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DUCHESS OF YORKPoor Richard. What did he think of all this?

DUKE OF YORKAs in a theatre, the eyes of men,After an alluring actor leaves the stage,Will be indifferent to the other players,Thinking their chatter to be tedious,E’en so, or with yet more contempt, men’s eyesAll scowled 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,Which, with such gentle sorrow, he shook off,His face convulsing between tears and smiles,The remnants of his grief and patience,That had not God, for some strong purpose, steel’dThe hearts of men, they would by instinct meltAnd e’en the most vicious would pity him.But heaven has a hand in these events,And so we must accept his sacred will.To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now,Whose rank and title I fore’er approve.

DUCHESS OF YORKHere comes my son Aumerle.

DUKE OF YORKAumerle no more,He lost that title when he chose his side,So, madam, you must call him Rutland now.I went to parliament to pledge he wouldBe ever faithful to the new-made king.

Enter Duke of Aumerle

DUCHESS OF YORKWelcome, my son: who are the burgeoning sproutsNow shooting up towards our new royal sun?


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DUKE OF AUMERLEMadam, I do not know nor do I care.God knows I’d rather not be in that crop.

DUKE OF YORKWell, watch yourself in this new spring of time,Lest you be pruned before you reach your prime.What news from Oxford? Are the celebrations on?

DUKE OF AUMERLEFor all I know, my lord, they are.

DUKE OF YORKYou will be there, I know.

DUKE OF AUMERLEUnless God prevents it, I imagine so.

Duke of York spies a paper peeking from Aumerle’s shirt

DUKE OF YORKWhat is that paper you have tucked away?You look so pale. Now let me see it, son.

DUKE OF AUMERLEMy lord, it’s nothing.

DUKE OF YORKThen let me see it.Do as I say. Let me see the letter.

DUKE OF AUMERLEForgive me, father, I would rather not.It is a matter of no consequence,Which for some reasons I’d rather you not see.


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DUKE OF YORKWhich for some reasons, sir, I mean to see.I fear, I fear,--

DUCHESS OF YORKWhat should you fear?It’s nothing but an order that he placedFor a fine suit to wear to the new court.

DUKE OF YORKMy wife, you are a fool. Boy, let me see that letter.

DUKE OF AUMERLEI’m sorry, father, I cannot show it.

DUKE OF YORKYou will obey me, son. Let me see it, I say.

York takes the paper and reads it.

Treason! Foul treason! Judas! Traitor! Snake!

DUCHESS OF YORKWhat does it say?

DUKE OF YORK(Ignoring the Duchess and calling to a servant off stage:)You! Out there! Come here!

Enter a Servant.

Saddle my horse.Oh God, have mercy! Treason in my home!

DUCHESS OF YORKWhy? What does it say?


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DUKE OF YORKGive me my boots, now quick saddle my horse.Now, by my honor, by my life, by my faith,I will accuse the traitor.

DUCHESS OF YORKWhat is the matter?

DUKE OF YORKHush, foolish woman.

DUCHESS OF YORKI will not hush. What is the matter, Aumerle.

DUKE OF AUMERLEGood mother, please be calm. It is no moreThan my poor life must answer.

DUCHESS OF YORKYour life answer!

DUKE OF YORKBring me my boots. I’ll go and see the king.

Re-enter Servant with boots

DUCHESS OF YORKDo something, son. Don’t stand there like a block.(To Servant) Get out of here! Now! Flee my sight!

DUKE OF YORKGive me my boots, I said.

DUCHESS OF YORKWhy, York, what will you do?Won’t you hide the sins of your own son?Do we have other sons? Or will we ever?


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My womb is withered and I’ll bear no more.And will you rob me of my only child,And take away my happy mother’s name?Isn’t he your blood? Is he not your son?

DUKE OF YORKYou crazy, foolish woman,Would you conceal this dark conspiracy?A dozen of them here have made a vow,Each one has signed his name with traitorous inkTo kill the king at Oxford.

DUCHESS OF YORKHe will not.We’ll keep him here. Then what is that to him?

DUKE OF YORKAway with you! If he were twenty times my son,I would accuse him.

DUCHESS OF YORKIf you had carried himAs I once did, your heart would ache like mine.But I know your mind. You must suspectThat I have been disloyal to your bed,And that he is a bastard, not your son.Sweet York, sweet husband, don’t be of that mind.He is as like you as a man may be,He’s not like me or any of my kin,And yet I love him.

DUKE OF YORKOut of my way, you fool.

Exit


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DUCHESS OF YORKGo, Aumerle! Get on your horse and ride!Go fast, and beat him to the king, now go!Before he knows your crime, beg for pardon.I’ll not be long behind. Though I am old, I’m certain that I’ll ride as fast as York.And never will I rise up from the groundTill Bolingbroke has pardon’d you. Now, go!

Exit all.

ACT V, SCENE III - A ROYAL PALACE.

Enter Henry Bolingbroke, Henry Percy, and other Lords

HENRY BOLINGBROKECan no one tell me where to find my son?It’s been three months since I last saw the lad.If any plague hangs over us, it’s him.I wish to God, my lords, that he’d be found.Inquire at London, 'mongst the taverns there,For there, they say, he spends all of his time,And with, it’s said, a wild and rowdy crew.They tell me that they often lurk in alleys,And rob the blameless citizens who pass.And he, my reckless, dissolute, young sonTakes perverse pleasure that he is a part Of this strange band of wayward souls.

HENRY PERCYTwo days ago, I saw the prince, my lord,And told him of the royal tournament.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEAnd what said the gentleman?


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HENRY PERCYHis answer was he’d go to some whorehouse,And from the foulest whore, he’d take a glove,And wear it for good luck. And then, with thatHe’d triumph over every challenger.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEAs dissolute as desperate! Yet even soI see some sparks of hope, which, when he’s grown,Will hopefully hold sway. But who is this?

Enter Duke of Aumerle

DUKE OF AUMERLEWhere is the king?

HENRY BOLINGBROKEWhat’s wrong, dear cousin, that you stare and look so wildly?

DUKE OF AUMERLEGod save your grace! I beg your majestyTo speak in private with your royal grace.

HENRY BOLINGBROKELords, leave us now so we may speak alone.

Exit Henry Percy and Lords

HENRY BOLINGBROKE What troubles you, dear cousin? Speak your mind.

DUKE OF AUMERLEForever may my knees grow to the earth,My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouthUnless, before I speak, you pardon me.


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HENRY BOLINGBROKEWas this offense committed or just planned?If merely thought, however bad it is,I’ll pardon you to win your loyalty.

DUKE OF AUMERLEThen please permit me now to lock the door,So no man enters till my tale is done.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEDo what you will.

DUKE OF YORK(Off stage) My lord, beware. Protect yourself.You have a traitor in your presence there.

HENRY BOLINGBROKE(Drawing his sword)Stand back, you traitor.

DUKE OF AUMERLEWait! Please, my lord, you have no cause to fear.

DUKE OF YORK(Off stage)Open the door, you foolish, trusting king!My duty urges me to speak of treason.Open the door, or I will break it open.

Enter Duke of York

HENRY BOLINGBROKEWhat is the matter, uncle? Speak!Just catch your breath and say if danger’s near,So we can arm ourselves to face it now.


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The Duke of York gives Bolingbroke the letter

DUKE OF YORKRead this, my lord, and you will know the truth,The treason that spurred me to hurry here.

DUKE OF AUMERLERemember, as you read, your oath to me.I swear that I repent. Don’t read my name.My heart is not confederate with my hand.

DUKE OF YORKIt was, you traitor, when you signed your name.I tore this from the traitor’s bosom, King.Fear, and not love, begets his penitence.Beware of mercy, lest your mercy beA serpent that will sting you to the heart.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEO heinous, strong and bold conspiracy!O loyal father of a treacherous son!Your abundant goodness will excuseThis deadly blot in your deviant son.

DUKE OF YORKMy honor lives when his dishonor dies,Or it will die in his dishonored life.You kill me in his life: giving him breath,The traitor lives, the true man’s put to death.

DUCHESS OF YORK(Off stage) My lord, my king! For God’s sake, let me in!

HENRY BOLINGBROKEWho is that shrill-voiced suppliant outside?


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DUCHESS OF YORKA woman, and your aunt, great King, it’s I.Speak with me, pity me! Open the door!A beggar begs that never begg'd before.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEAnother entrance soon after the last,A farce begins before the drama’s passed.My dangerous cousin, let your mother in.I know she’s come to pray for your foul sin.

DUKE OF YORKIf you forgive him, you will soon invite,A swarm of traitors rising up to fight.

Enter Duchess of York

DUCHESS OF YORKO King, ignore this cold, hardhearted fool!No man can love who treats his own this cruel.

DUKE OF YORKOld woman, would you pardon his deceitAnd let a traitor suckle at your teat?

DUCHESS OF YORKSweet York, be patient. Hear me now, please do.

Duchess of York kneels.

HENRY BOLINGBROKERise up, good aunt.

DUCHESS OF YORKNot yet, I beg of you.Forever will I crawl upon my knees,And never know again a day of ease,Till you give joy--I beg you give me joy--


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By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy.

Aumerle kneels

DUKE OF AUMERLEAnd with my mother's prayers I bend my knee.

Duke of York kneels

DUKE OF YORKAgainst them both my true joints bended be.Trouble will come, if you grant any grace!

DUCHESS OF YORKIs he in earnest? Look upon his face.His eyes do not shed tears, his prayers are in jest.His words come from his mouth, ours from our breast.His prayers are weak, he wants to be denied;We pray with heart and soul, and all beside.His weary joints would gladly rise, I know;Our knees will kneel till to the ground they grow.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEGood aunt, stand up.

DUCHESS OF YORKNo, do not say, 'stand up.'Say, 'pardon' first, and afterwards 'stand up.'And if I were your mother, this I’d teach,'Pardon' should be the first word of your speech.I never long'd to hear a word till now--Say 'pardon,' king, let pity teach you how.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEGood aunt, stand up.


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DUCHESS OF YORKI do not ask to stand.Pardon is all the suit I have in hand.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEI pardon him, as God shall pardon me.

York and Aumerle rise

DUCHESS OF YORKO happy vantage of a kneeling knee!Yet I am sick for fear. Say it once more,The sound of it is music I adore.Say it again.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEDear aunt, you have my word.I pardon him.

Duchess of York rises.

DUCHESS OF YORKThe sweetest words I’ve heard.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEAs for our brother-in-law and the abbot,And all those who conspired against my crown,Destruction now shall dog their every step.Good uncle, send forth trusted regimentsTo Oxford, or where'er these traitors are.They will not live upon this earth, I swear,But I will have them, as soon as I know where.Uncle, farewell, and, cousin too, adieu.Your mother has prayed well, and so be true.

DUCHESS OF YORKCome, my old son. I pray God make you new.


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Exit all.

ACT V, SCENE IV - THE SAME.

Enter Exton and Servant

EXTONDid you not hear the king, the words he said,‘Have I no friend will read me of this living fear?’Was that not it?

SERVANTThose were his very words.

EXTON'Have I no friend?' he said. He said it twice,And stressed it two times over, did he not?

SERVANTHe did.

EXTONAnd speaking it, he stared into my eyes,As if to say, “I wish you’d be the manThat would remove this terror from my heart,”Meaning the former king. Now come, let’s go.I am the king’s friend, and will kill his foe.

Exit all.

ACT V, SCENE V - A PRISON CELL.

Enter King Richard

KING RICHARD III have been studying how I may compareThis prison where I live unto the world;And for because the world is populous


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And here is not a creature but myself,I cannot do it. Yet I'll hammer it out.My brain I'll prove the wife unto my soul,My soul the father, and these two will spawnA generation of still-breeding thoughts;And these same thoughts people this little worldIn humours like the people of this world,For no thought is contented. The better sort,Like thoughts of things divine, are intermix'dWith scruples and do set the word itselfAgainst the word, as thus: “Come, little ones,” and then again,“It is as hard to come as for a camelTo thread the entrance of a needle's eye.”Thoughts tending to ambition, they will plotUnlikely wonders: how these vain weak nailsMay tear a passage through the flinty ribsOf this hard world, my ragged prison walls;And for they cannot, die in their own pride.Thoughts of contentment all flatter themselvesThat they are not the first of fortune's slaves,Nor shall not be the last--like simple beggarsWho, sitting in the stocks, assuage their shame,By thinking of the others who’ve sat there,And in this thought they find a kind of ease,Bearing their own misfortunes on the backOf such as have before endured the like.Thus play I in one person many people,And none contented. Sometimes am I king,Then treasons make me wish myself a beggarAnd so I am. Then crushing penuryPersuades me I was better when a king,Then am I king'd again, and by and byThink that I am unking'd by BolingbrokeAnd straight am nothing. But whate'er I be,Nor I nor any man that but man isWith nothing shall be pleased till he be easedWith being nothing.


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Music plays

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 earTo check time broke in a disordered 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 does time waste me,For now has time made me his stoic clock:My thoughts are minutes, and with sighs they tickThe inner workings of the watch’s gearsThat move my hands across my mournful faceTo wipe away the tears that gather there.Now sir, the sound that tells what hour it isAre clamorous groans, which strike upon my heart,Which is the bell. So sighs and tears and groansShow minutes, times, and hours. But my timeRuns swiftly on in Bolingbroke's proud joy,While I stand fooling here, the cuckoo of his clock. This music makes me mad, let it be still, Yet blessing on his heart that gives it me!For 'tis a sign of love and love to RichardIs a rare jewel in this all-hating world.

Enter a Groom of the Stable

GROOMHail, royal prince!

KING RICHARD IIThanks, noble peer,Who are you? And why have you come here?Where no man ever comes but that sad dogWho brings me food to make misfortune live?


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GROOMI was a poor groom in your stable, King,When you were king; who, travelling towards York,With much persuasion finally got leaveTo look upon my one time royal master’s face.O, how it hurt my heart when I beheldIn London streets on coronation day,When Bolingbroke rode on your Barbary,That horse that you so often rode upon,That horse that I so carefully have dressed.

KING RICHARD IIHe rode my Barbary? Tell me, gentle friend,How did he carry him?

GROOMSo proudly as if he disdain'd the ground.

KING RICHARD IISo proud that Bolingbroke was on his back!That nag has eaten bread from my own hand;This hand once made him proud by stroking him.Would he not stumble? Would he not fall down--Since pride must have a fall--and break the neckOf that proud man that did usurp his back?Forgiveness, horse! Why do I rail at you,Since you, created to be awed by man,Was born to bear? I was not made a horse,And yet I bear a burthen like an ass,Spurred on and tired by prancing Bolingbroke.

Enter Keeper, with a dish

KEEPER(to Groom)Fellow, move on. You can no longer stay.


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KING RICHARD II(to Groom)If you love me, it’s time you went away.

GROOMWhat my tongue dares not, that my heart will say.

Exit

KEEPERMy lord, eat this food I brought for you.

KING RICHARD IIYou taste it first, as everyday you do.

KEEPERMy lord, I dare not. Sir Pierce of Exton, whocame from the king, commands the contrary.

KING RICHARD IIThe devil take Henry of Lancaster and you!Patience grows stale, and I am weary of it.

King Richard attacks the Keeper.

KEEPERHelp, help, help!

Enter Exton and Servants, armed

KING RICHARD IIHave you come here to kill me with this axe?

Your own hand wields your own death’s instrument.

King Richard snatches the axe from the Servant and kills him.


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You! Go and fill another room in hell!

King Richard kills another servant. Then Exton strikes him down.

Your hand will burn in never-quenching fire,Your hand that struck me down, your shameless handHas with the king’s blood stain’d the king’s own land.Rise, rise, my soul! Your seat is up on highWhile my gross flesh sinks downward, here to die.

King Richard dies.

EXTONYou, full of valor and of royal blood.I have spill’d both. Have I done ill or good?For now the devil who told me I did well,Says that my deed is chronicled in hell.This dead King to the living King I’ll bear.You take the rest and give them burial here.

Exit all.

ACT V, SCENE VI - WINDSOR CASTLE.

Trumpets. Enter Henry Bolingbroke, Duke of York, with other Lords, and Attendants

HENRY BOLINGBROKEKind uncle York, the latest news we heardIs that the fleeing rebels set on fire A sleepy town to the southeast of Gloucester,But we don’t know if they were killed or captured.


HENRY BOLINGBROKE Welcome, my lord. What is the news?


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NORTHUMBERLANDFirst, may heaven’s sacred light shine on your blessed throne.The next news is, To London I have sentThe heads of Oxford, Salisbury, Blunt, and Kent.The circumstances of their deaths appearExplained at length upon this paper here.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEWe thank you, Percy, for your loyaltyAnd will in kind reward you royally.

Enter Lord Fitzwater

LORD FITZWATERMy lord, I have sent from Oxford to LondonThe heads of Brocas and Sir Bennet Seely,Two of the traitorous conspiratorsThat sought to overthrow your royal crown.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEFitzwater, we’ll remember all your laborsTo rid our land of all these craven traitors.

Enter Henry Percy, and the Bishop of Carlisle

HENRY PERCYThe grand conspirator Abbot of Westminster,Burdened by the weight of his misdeeds,Has yielded up his body to the grave.Carlisle lives, though Westminster has died,And here he is to answer for his pride.

HENRY BOLINGBROKECarlisle, this is your doom:Select some secret place, some holy room,More pious than before, and live your life. So as you live in peace, die free from strife.


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For though you made the choice to be my foe,There’s sparks of honor in you yet, I know.

Enter Exton, with persons bearing a coffin

EXTONGreat king, within this coffin I presentThe cold remains of your once living fear.Your greatest adversary lies lifeless here:I give to you Richard who once was king.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEExton, what have you done? For here you bringDisgrace and slander wrought by your own handUpon my head and this exalted land.

EXTONFrom your own mouth, my lord, I did this deed.

HENRY BOLINGBROKEThey love not poison that do poison need,Nor do I you. Though I once wished him dead,I hate the murderer, love him murdered.The guilt of conscience take you for your labor,But neither my good word nor princely favor:With Cain go wander through shades of night,And never show your 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 all that I lament,And adorn yourself with somber black raiment.I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land,To wash this blood off from my guilty hand.

Exit all.


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Documents

playonfestival.org · Web viewRichard II First Reads Script. Introduction: Lue will welcome everyone to first reads and will give opening remarks. Lue will introduce Taylor and