 | The history of King Richard The Second |  |
ACT IV.
Enter York, Aumarle in their Parliament Robes, Two Messengers from Bullingbrook.York.
Tut, tut, tut, tell not me of Patience, 'tis a Load a
Burden that Knaves will never cease to lay on
whilst Asses will carry it! nothing but Villany
in this versal World, and nothing plagues me
but that I can't turn Villain too, to be Reveng'd.
Aum.
Perfidious Bullingbrook to bow the knee,
And do Obeysance to our Royal Master;
To treat of Peace and tend him all the way
With duteous Ceremony humblest Service,
Yet basely to confine him after all,
To call a Senate in King Richard's Name
Against King Richard, to depose King Richard,
Is such a Monster of curst usurpation,
As nere was practis'd in the barb'rous Climes,
Where Subject her'd and Courts themselves are Savage.
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Out on this Sultry Robe! O Spleen! Spleen!-Fat and
Vexation will be the Death of me,—Behold this Brace
Of Raizor-nos'd Rascals, you'd swear that a split
Groat made both their Faces; lean Pimps,
That cou'd scarce stop a Cranny in a Door:
Why? they are forsooth no less than Rogues of State.
Mess.
My Lord, this is no Answer to our Message.
York.
I, the Message! I had rather you had brought me—
Poyson; for certain 'twas sent to be the Death of me: Thou
know'st Boy, on what Account we are going this Morning.
Wou'd you think it, this Traytor Bullingbrook has sent for me;
for me, I say, sent by these Rogues for me, to confer with him
in private before the House sits.
Aum.
That was indeed provoking.
York.
Nay, let honest men judge if Murder was not in his
heart, and that he thought the Message wou'd make me Die
with Choller.—Now should I clap this pair of Arrows to a
Bow-string and shoot 'em back to the Usurper.—Go tell the
Knave your Master, He's a Fool to send for me, I renounce him:
Speak with him in private before the House sits. Why? I
wou'd not meet him there but to shew my self for Richard, and
then tell him he'l see one that that hates a Traytor, be Bullingbrook
what he will.
[Exit.
Enter Dutchess of York.
Dutch.
Aumarle, come back, by all the Charms of Duty,
I do conjure you temper your rash Father,
His Zeal can do th' abandoned King no good;
But will provoke th' usurper to our ruin.
Aum.
Already, I have prest beyond his Patience,
What can our poor Endeavours help the King
When he himself comply's with his hard fortune;
He comes this Morning to Resign the Crown.
Dutch.
Where then is that amazing Resolution,
That in his Non-age fir'd his Youthful Brest:
To face Rebellion and strike dead the Monster,
When Tyler's Deluge cover'd all the Land?
Or where the fury that supprest the Kerns;
Whilst numbers perisht by his Royal Arm?
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With such Malignant fortune he is prest,
As renders bravest Resolution vain;
By force and fraud reduc't to that Distress,
That ev'n ith' best opinion of his Friends
He is advis'd to yield his Scepter up,
This poor reserve being all, to make that seem
As voluntary, which perforce must be;
But how resents the Queen this strange Oppression?
Dutch.
As yet the worst has been dissembled to her,
A slumber now has seiz'd her wakeful Lids:
But heere she comes, I must attend, Away.
[Ex. Aum.
Enter Queen supported by Ladies.
Qu.
Convey me to my Lord, or bring him hither,
Fate labours in my Brest and frights my Dreams;
No sooner sleep can seize my weeping Eyes,
But boding Images of Death and Horrour
Affright the Infant slumber into Cries,
A Thousand forms of ruin strike my thoughts;
A Thousand various Scenes of Fate are shewn,
Which in their sad Catastrophe agree,
The Moral still concludes in Richard's fall.
Dutch.
How shall we now dare to inform her Grief
Of the sad Scene the King must Act to day?
Qu.
Ev'n now amidst a Chaos of distraction,
A Towring Eagle wing'd his cloudy way,
Pursu'd by rav'nous Kites, and clamorous Daws,
That stript th' imperial Bird of all his Plumes,
And with their Numbers sunk him to the ground:
But as I nearer drew, the Figure chang'd,
My Richard there lay weltring in his gore!
So dreamt Calphurnia, and so fell Cæsar.
Enter a Lady.
Lad.
Madam, the King is coming.
Qu.
Thou bring'st a welcom hearing, and already
I feel his powerful influence chase my fears,
For grief it self must smile when Richard's by.
Enter King in Mourning.
Oh Heav'n is this? is this my promis'd joy!
Not all the terrours of my sleep presented
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The Blood starts back to my cold Heart; O speak!
What means this dark and mournful Pageantry,
This pomp of Death?
King.
Command your Waiters forth,
My space is short, and I have much to say.
Qu.
Are these the Robes of State? Th' imperial Garb,
In which the King should go to meet his Senate?
Was I not made to hope this Day shou'd be
Your second Coronation, second Birth
Of Empire, when our Civil Broils shou'd sleep,
For ever husht in deep Oblivion's Grave?
King.
O Isabel! This Pageantry suits best
With the black Day's more black Solemnity;
But 'tis not worth a Tear, for, say what part
Of Life's vain Fable can deserve a Tear,
A real Sorrow for a feign'd Distress!
My Coronation was (methinks) a Dream,
Think then my Resignation is no more.
Qu.
What Resignation? Mean you of the Crown?
Will Richard then against himself conspire?
Th'Usurper will have more excuse than he:
No, Richard, never tamely yield your Honours,
Yield me; yield if you must your precious Life,
But seize the Crown, and grasp your Scepter dying.
King.
Why dost thou fret a Lyon in the Toil
To Rage, that only makes his Hunters sport?
Permit me briefly to recount the steps,
By which my Fortune grew to this distress.
Then tell me, what cou'd Alexander do
Against a Fate so obstinate as mine.
Qu.
Oh Heav'n! Is awful Majesty no more?
King.
First, had I not bin absent when th' Invader
Set footing here; or if being then in Ireland,
The cross Winds not forbad the News to reach me;
Or when the shocking Tidings were arriv'd,
Had not the veering Winds agen obstructed
My passage back, 'till rumour of my Death
Disperst the Forces rais'd by Salisbury;
Or when these hopes were perisht, had not Baggot,
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Old York himself (our last reserve) surpriz'd,
There were some scope for Resolution lest.
But what curst Accident i'th' power of Chance,
That did not then befall to cross my Wishes;
And what strange hit could Bullingbrook, desire,
That fell not out to push his Forttnes on;
Whatever outmost Fate cou'd do to blast
My hopes was done; what outmost Fate cou'd do
T' advance proud Bullingbrooks as sure befell.
Now which of these Misfortunes was my fault?
Or what cou'd I against resisting Heav'n!
Qu.
Oh my dear Lord, think not I meant t'upbraid
[Weeps over him.]
Your Misery—
Death seize my Youth, when any other passion
For injur'd Richard in my Brests finds room,
But tendrest Love and Pity of his Woes.
King.
That I resign the Crown with seeming will,
Is now the best my Friends can counsel me,
Th' usurping House decrees it must be done,
And therefore best that it seem Voluntary.
Qu.
Has Loyalty so quite renounc't the World,
That none will yet strike for an injur'd King?
King.
Alas! my sinking Barque shall wreck no more
My gen'rous Friends, let Crowns and Scepters go
Before I swim to 'em in Subjects blood.
The King in pity to his Subjects quits
His Right, that have no pity for their King!
Let me be blest with cool Retreat and thee,
Thou World of Beauty, and thou Heav'n of Love,
To Bullingbrook I yield the Toils of State:
And may the Crown sit lighter on his Head
Than e're it did on Richard's.
Qu.
Destiny
Is Tyrant over King's; Heav'n guard my Lord.
King.
Weep not my Love, each Tear thou shedst is Theft,
For know, thou robb'st the great ones of their due;
Of Pomp divested we shou'd now put off,
It's dull Companion Grief—Farewel my Love:
Thy Richard shall return to thee again,
The King no more.
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In spight of me, my sorrow
In sad Prophetic Language do's reply
Nor Richard, nor the King.
[Exeunt severally.
SCENE the Parliament.
Bullingbrook, Northumb. Piercie, York, Aumarle, Carlile, with other Nobles and Officers making a full House.
North.
Great Duke of Lancaster, I come to thee
From Richard, who with free and willing Soul
Adopts thee Heir, and his high Scepter yields
To the possession of thy Royal Hand;
Ascend his Throne descending now from him,
And long live Henry of that Name the Fourth.
Bull.
Richard Consents, and Lords I have your Voices,
In Heav'ns Name therefore I ascend the Throne.
Carl.
No, hasty Bullingbrook, in Heav'ns Name stay,
Tho' meanest of this Presence, yet I'll speak
A Truth that do's beseem me best to speak,
And wou'd to God, the noblest of this presence
Were enuff noble to be Richard's Judge:
What subject can give sentence on his King!
And who sits here that is not Richard's Subject?
Theeves are not judg'd, but they are by to hear,
Th' indictment read, and Answer to their Charge,
And shall the Figure of Heav'ns Majesty,
His Captain, Steward, Deputy, Elect,
Anointed, Crown'd and planted many years,
Be judg'd by Subject and inferiour Breath,
And he not present! o' forbid it God!
That in a Christian Climate Souls refin'd,
Shou'd Plot so heinous black obscene a deed;
I speak to Subjects, and a Subject speaks,
Stir'd up by Heaven thus boldly for his King.
York.
Now by my Life, I thank thee honest Prelate,
My Lords what say ye to the Bishops Doctrine,
Is't not Heavenly true? you know it is;
Nor can ev'n graceless Herford's self gain say't.
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My Lord of Hereford here whom you call King,
Is a foul Traytor to proud Herford's King,
And if you Crown him, let me prophesie,
The blood of English shall manure the Land,
And future Ages groan for this foul Deed:
And if you rear this House against its self,
It will the wofullest Division prove
That ever yet befell this guilty Earth.
Prevent, resist it, stop this breach in Time
Lest Childrens Children, curse you for this Crime.
North.
Well have you argu'd, Sir, and for your pains
Of Capital Treason we Arrest you here;
My Lord of Westminster, be it your care
To keep him safely till his Day of Tryal.
Wil't please you Lords to grant the Common's Suit?
York.
First let me move and yield some Knave a Seat.
Bull.
Bring hither Richard, that in open view
He may surrender so shall we proceed
Without suspition.
King Richard brought in.
King.
Alack why am I sent for to the King,
Before I have shook off the Regal thoughts
With which I Reign'd—as yet I have not learnt
T' insinuate, flatter, bow, and bend the Knee,
Give sorrow leave a while to tutor me
To this submission—Yet I well remember
The favours these Men! were they not mine?
To do what service am I sent for hither?
North.
To do that Office of your own good will,
Which weary'd Majesty did prompt thee to
The Resignation of thy Crown and State
To Henry Bullingbrook.
King.
My own good Will?
Yes, Heav'n and you know with what sort of Will!
You say it is my Will: why be it so,
Give me the Crown—come Cousin seize the Crown
Upon this side my Hand, on that side thine.
Now is this Crown a Well wherein two Vessels
That in successive Motion rise and fall,
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Th' opprest one down, unseen and sunk, that Vessel
Dejected, prest and full of Tears am I,
Drinking my Griefs whilst Herford mounts on high.
Bull.
I thought you had been willing to Resign.
King.
My Crown I am, but still my Griefs are mine.
Bull.
Are you contented to Resign or no?
King.
Yes—No—yet let it pass,
From off my Head I give this heavy weight,
And this unwieldy Scepter from my Hand;
So with my Tears I wash my Balm away,
With my own breath release all duteous Oaths,
My Pomp and Majesty for ever quit,
My mannors, Rents, Revenues I forego,
My Acts, Decrees and Statutes I repeal,
Heav'n pardon all Oaths that are broke to me;
Heav'n keep unbroke all Vows are made to thee
Make me that nothing have, to covet nought,
And thee possest of all that all hast sought:
What more remains?
North.
No more, but that you read
This Bill of Accusations charg'd upon your Crimes.
King.
Distraction! made my own accuser too
To read a bead-roll of my own defaults,
Read it my self? by piece-meal to unrauel
My weav'd-up follies? why, Northumberland,
If thy Offences were upon Record,
Wou'd it not shame thee in so full a Presence
To read a Lecture of 'em? if thou shou'dst,
There wou'dst thou find one heynous Article,
Containing the deposing of a King:
And cracking the strong warrant of an Oath,
Markt with a blot damn'd in the book of Heav'n,
Nay all of you that stand and look upon me,
Waiting to see my Misery bait it self;
Like Pilates have betray'd me to my Cross,
And water cannot wash away your sin.
North.
My Lord dispatch, read ore the Articles.
King.
My Eyes are full of Tears! I cannot see.
North.
My Lord—
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No Lord of thine thou false insulting Man;
Nor no Man's Lord—I have no Name, no Title,
Let me Command a Mirrour hither streight,
That it may shew me what a Face I have
Since stript and Bankrupt of it's Majesty.
Bul.
Fetch him a Glass.
North.
In the mean time read o're this Paper.
King.
Hell!—for a Charm to lay
This foul Tormenting Fiend.
Bul.
Urge it no more Northumberland.
Nor.
The Commons Sir will not be satisfi'd,
Unless he Read, Confess, and Sign it too.
King.
They shall be satisfi'd, I'le Read enuff
When I shall see the very Book indeed
Where all my faults are writ, and that's my Self,
Give me that Mirrour—
[Views himself in the Glass.
No deeper wrinkles yet? has Sorrow struck
So many many blows upon these Cheeks and made
No deeper wounds?—O' flattring Instrument,
Like to my followers in prosperity,
So shall just Fate dash them as I dash thee:
[Breaks it.
So Pomp and Fals-hood ends—I'll beg one Boon,
Then take my leave and trouble you no more,
Shall I obtain it?
Bul.
Name it fair Cousin.
King.
Fair Cousin?—I am greater than a King!
For when I was a King my Flatterers
Were then but Subjects, being now a Subject
I have a King here for my Flaterer.
'Tis onely leave to go.
Bul.
Whether?
King.
Why, from your sight and then no matter where
Bul.
Convey him to the Tower.
King.
Ha! ha! my fortune's Malice now
Is grown so strange that 'tis become my sport;
Convey, Convey, Conveighers are you all
That rise thus nimbly on your Monarchs fall.
Bul.
Lords, I shall study to requite your Favours:
On Wednesday next we Solemnly set down
Our Coronation, so prepare your selves.
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Long live King Bullingbrook, Henry the Fourth.
York.
Well, my Allegiance follows still the Crown,
True to the King I shall be, and thereon
I kiss his Hand; 'tis equally as true
That I shall always Love and Guard the King,
As that I always shall hate Bullingbrook.
The King's Sacred, be Herford what he will
Yet 'tis no Treason sure to pity Richard.
Bul.
Break up the Assembly, so wee'll pass in state
To greet the Loves of our expecting Subjects,
Lead there and bid our Trumpets speak.
Ex. Bullingbrook attended; shouts without.
York.
Peace Hell-hounds or your own breath Poyson ye.
King.
Good Uncle give 'em way, all Monsters Act
To their own kind, so do the Multitude.
Shout again.
Carl.
Why impious hardned wretches, Brands for Hell?
Forbear this barb'rous Out-rage, Tears of Blood
Can never wash this Monstrous Guilt away.
King.
What must I then preach Patience to my Priest?
Let no Man's wrongs complain whilst mine are silent,
How think ye my good Friends, will not
Succeeding Ages call this Day to witness
What Changes sway the World; your King must pass
A Spectacle of scorn through crouded streets,
That at the same time view th' usurpers Triumph;
Heav'n shut thy Eye till this dire Scene be past,
The light that sees it, sure will be the last.
Ex. Guarded.
| The history of King Richard The Second | |