University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE, an Apartment in the Tower.
Enter Northumberland, follow'd by Lady Piercy
Nor.
Away, fond Girl! Thou might'st as well presume
To heave a Mountain with those feeble Hands,
Or, with Entreaties, still the raging Wind,
As think to shake my steady Disposition,
And make me supplicate a Traytor's Cause.

Pier.
Had he not rashly step'd into Offence,
I had not knelt to intercede for Mercy.
O Sir, consider, 'tis the Work of Gods
To snatch the Wretched from the Verge of Death,
And lengthen out expiring Nature's Date.
Think too, What Praise, what Pleasure crowns the Deed,
What secret Satisfaction swells the Soul,
Which to it self can say, That Man had dy'd,
Had not my Voice revers'd his fatal Doom!
A greater Triumph to a generous Mind,
Than Victories obtain'd, or Crowns bestow'd.

North.
No more;—I charge Thee, think not of Aumerle;
Or, if thou dost, think of him as a Wretch,
Whom his malignant Stars have made my Foe,
And his bad Conduct has mark'd out for Ruin.
Forget him, for he dies this very Hour,

Pier.
Forbid it Heav'n! O heart-distracting Sound!
My shuddering Soul starts at the dire Alarm,
And shakes my Frame with agonizing Fear.
O if you do not wish to see your Child,
Your Piercy, dead, or raving with Despair,
Fly with a pitying Father's kind Concern,
Solicit Bolingbroke for poor Aumerle.
Why do I say, solicit? Do but ask,
And Bolingbroke must grant. 'Tis at your Hands
He holds the Sceptre, and the People's Hearts:
You rais'd him to the Throne, and One poor Life
Is scanty Retribution for such Gifts.

North.
Rise, thou perverse, rash Fool, and loose thy Hold;
Lest I, in just Resentment, do an Act,
Which I shall wish undone.

Pier.
Dash me to Earth,
Tread on my lab'ring Bosom, spurn me, kill me!
Death shall be welcome to my gladden'd Soul,
If you will promise but to spare his Life.
O, are the Springs of Nature quite lock'd up?
That you, unmov'd, can hear your Daughter's Cries,
See her, all bath'd in Tears, crawl at your Feet,
And not once chear her with the Voice of Comfort?

North.
Away!—There is Infection in her Grief,
Which steals into my Heart, and will unman me.
Enter Lieutenant of the Tower.
Welcome to my Relief—How brook your Pris'ners
The Sentence of immediate Death?

Lieut.
My Lord,
They do embrace their Doom, with Minds prepar'd;
Rather impatient for the fatal Stroke,
Than startled, that it reaches them so soon.

North.
'Tis well; their Time's expir'd. Go, bring them forth:
The gracious King, in Mercy, has by Me
Sent one of them his Pardon.

Exit Lieut.
Pier.
Sacred Powers!
Grant it be for Aumerle, and I am blest
Beyond Misfortune's Reach.

North.
Who waits without?
Enter Servant.
Bid her Attendants take her hence with Speed.

Pier.
Hold, cruel Lord, reverse that needless Order.
I will not meanly linger, like a Slave,
To be, by Vassal Hands, dragg'd from your Presence.
Fain would I flatter my despairing Heart,
That Bolingbroke has sav'd the poor Aumerle,
Tho' sternly you disdain to let me know it.
If so, let Peace and Glory bless his Throne!
Let his Great Name stand forth to after Times
Our England's Triumph, and all Europe's Wonder!
But if, strict in Revenge, he thirsts for Blood,
Just Heaven! then short, and bloody be his Reign:
Let Discontents and Tumults wreck his Peace,
Let fresh Rebellions, like the Hydra's Heads,
Sprout on each other's Necks; and let his Own
Wild Offspring help to gaul his Heart with Sorrow!
Till Anguish on his Soul so heavy lye,
That He may curse his State, and wish to dye.

Exit.
North.
These Violent Transports may be dangerous,
And make her desperate; which to prevent,
Concerns my Love, and Wisdom. Ho! within,—
Enter Servant.
Give Charge, that Piercy's Women still be near her:
That they watch close, nor trust her with her self.
Aumerle once dead, this Extasy of Grief,
That, like a Tempest, now plows up her Soul,
Will settle down, and spend it self in Tears.
Exit Northumberland.

SCENE changes to the Outward Part of the Tower.
Enter Aumerle, Carlisle, Salisbury, as to Execution, Lieutenant, and Guards.
Aum.
I do not wonder, Lords, that his Revenge
Pursues our Lives, with such inveterate Speed;
He knows our Service is so firmly knit
To Royal Richard, that our Pardons seal'd
Could not unhinge our Faith, or buy us o'er
To own his Title in our Master's Wrong.

Sal.
Since Heaven thought fit to disappoint our Hands,
To Day, with Me, stands in the Place of Time,
And instant Death is welcome to my Soul,
As Rest to the o'er labour'd, drudging, Hind.
O Carlisle, venerable, good old Man,
How shall I bless the Wisdom of thy Tongue!
Whose Utt'rance has dispell'd the Doubts I felt,
And planted Paradise around my Heart:
Made calm my Passions, and dislodg'd each Fear,
Each petty Interest that drag'd me down,
Too servilely to wish this Life prolong'd.

Car.
The Praise be to that Power, whose Sacred Counsels
My Tongue is but the Organ to unfold!

Aum.
So Heaven befriend me, as I feel no Care,
No Weight that hangs more heavy on my Thoughts,
Save what may happen to the Royal Richard,
Than that You, Noble Lord, whose rev'rend Head
The hoary Hand of Time has silver'd o'er,
Should taste the bitter Portion of our Fate,
And not be shrouded in the Arms of Peace.

Enter Northumberland.
North.
My Lord, the King has graciously been pleas'd,
In Reverence to the sacred Robe you wear,
To sign your Pardon; but, with this Injunction,
That you forthwith do quit the Tower and City,
Repair you to your Castle at Carlisle,
And spend the peaceful Remnant of your Days
In Exposition of the holy Text.
So wipe this Blemish to your Virtues off,
Preaching Obedience, and the Law of Truth,
And dying, in a good old Age, rever'd.

Car.
Believe me, Lords, I joy not in this Grant:
I had divorc'd my Heart from Earth's Concerns,
And next to that strong Comfort which I taste
In full Assurance of a future Bliss,
It was the Triumph of my Soul, to think
I should have dy'd in Royal Richard's Cause.

North.
My Lord, you now must instantly depart,
And leave the Pris'ners to their Doom.

Aum.
Farewel.
O Carlisle, I had treasur'd up a Hope,
You might have seen us take the Stroke of Death,
And to old York reported, that his Son
Fell not unworthy of his Birth or Cause.

Carl.
Had I dy'd with You I had spar'd these Tears;
But these our Friendship and your Virtues claim.
My Lords, one last Embrace: Heav'n make you strong,
And arm your Breasts with Christian Fortitude,
To stand the Terrors of the Scene before you.
Exit Carlisle.

Sal.
Come, let us meet this threat'ning Pomp of Death,
For we, my Lord, are like too desp'rate Men,
That vow a long and weary Pilgrimage;
Let us not stand, and count the Way with Sighs,
But start with Hearts resolv'd, e'er Fancy palls,
And makes the Passage irksome to our Thoughts.

Aum.
I paus'd not, Salisbury, to defer my Doom,
But mourn my suff'ring King and Country's Fate.
This Royal Throne of Kings, this little World,
This Earth of Majesty, this Seat of Mars,
This Fortress built by Nature for her self,
Against Infection, and the Hand of War;
This Land of Liberty, this dear, dear, Land,
Dear for her Reputation thro' the World,
This England, that was wont to conquer Others,
Has made a shameful Conquest of it self.
Our forfeit Lives how gladly should we pay,
If that our Blood could wash its Stains away!

Exeunt.
Northumberland
Solus.
So, now a little Interval of Time
Will, on that Quarter, set my Soul at Rest:
A Work of Consequence is still behind.
Let me confirm the yet unsettled Crown
To Bolingbroke; and Fortune then is mine:
The Means will be to move King Richard hence,
And, by his Absence, cool the People's Love.
Exit North.

SCENE changes to an inner Apartment.
Enter King Richard, and Queen.
King.
O Isabella! Fate cou'd ne'er intend
Those blooming Beauties for the Spoil of Grief,
To waste in Tears, and Health-impairing Woe.
Forsake this Wretch, whom Heav'n has quite thrown off,
And Fortune is commission'd to destroy.
Think, I am dead; or that ev'n now thou tak'st,
As from my Death-bed, my last living Leave:
If Thou wilt bear some Portion of Distress,
Let it be from the Mem'ry of my Wrongs.
In Winter's tedious Nights sit by the Fire,
With good old Folks, and let them tell Thee Tales
Of woful Ages distant far in Time,
Then, e'er thou bid Good Night, to quit their Grief,
Tell thou the lamentable Fall of Me,
And send the Hearers weeping to their Beds.

Queen.
Alas! My Lord, you do distrust my Love;
You think my Heart was wedded to the State,
The Pomp of Courts, and Luxury of Empire,
And that my Soul is weaker than my Sex.
No, let Affliction rain upon our Heads,
Let angry Heav'n pour forth its Stores of Vengeance,
I am prepar'd t' encounter all its Fury,
Share the rough Visitation of the Storm,
That breaks on You, and hush you into Comfort!

King.
Exquisite Goodness! O thou more than Woman,
Thou Angel Form, link'd with an Angel's Mind!
By Heav'n, thy matchless Softness wounds me more
Than all the Rage of rude Calamity.
You righteous Pow'rs! do with Me what you please,
Heap Plagues upon me, let infectious Woe
Vary its Forms, and multiply my Tortures.
I am a Man, black with a Train of Crimes,
That have abus'd your sacred Trust of Pow'r,
And made the Regal Office serve the Turns
Of Appetite, and Arbitrary Will:
And therefore do deserve your just Correction:
But, oh! in Mercy spare her Innocence,
And Me the Pain of seeing her in Anguish.

Queen.
Alas! Misfortunes fall too thick upon us,
For see, the stern Northumberland's at hand.

Enter Northumberland.
North.
My Lord, the Mind of Bolingbroke is chang'd:
The Council, careful for the Nation's Safety,
And to prevent Rebellion's busy Rage,
Have judg'd it meet that you shou'd leave the Tow'r,
And privately retire to Pomfret Castle.

King.
Northumberland, thou Ladder, by whose Steps
The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my Throne,
The Time shall not be many Hours of Age,
More than it is, e'er foul Sin, gathering Head,
Shall break into Corruption: Thou shalt think,
Tho' he divide the Realm, and give thee Half,
It is too little, helping him to All;
And He shall think, that Thou, who knew'st the way
To plant unrightful Kings, wilt know again,
Being ne'er so little urg'd, another Way,
To pluck him headlong from th' usurped Throne.

North.
My Lord, I came not to discourse of This:
If I've done Ought unwarranted, and ill,
My Guilt be on my Head, and there's an End:
But, Madam, there is Order ta'en for You,
With all swift Speed you must away to France.

Queen.
Has Bolingbroke the Law so much at Will,
That he can abrogate Heav'n's eldest Law,
Step in betwixt the venerable Rites,
Sacred even to the barbarous and rude,
And part, whom strong Connubial Love has join'd?

North.
Custom and Law must, where the Cause requires,
Give way to Time, and strict Necessity:
'Tis fixt beyond Recall; therefore, with Speed,
Take Leave, and part, for you must part forthwith.

King.
Doubly divorc'd!—Bad Men, ye violate
A Two-fold Marriage; 'twixt My Crown and Me,
And then betwixt Me, and my marry'd Wife!
Are there no Bolts of Vengeance for such Crimes!
Was it not Wrong enough to break your Faiths,
And strip me of my Crown, but must you too
Break the Possession of a Royal Bed,
And stain the Beauty of a fair Queen's Cheeks
With Tears, drawn from her Eyes by your foul Wrongs?
O Isabella!

Queen.
Give thy Sorrows Vent,
And I will second them with equal Woe:
O, to what Purpose do'st thou hoard thy Words,
And fix thy Eyes in dumb expressive Sadness?

King.
I have no Words, no Utt'rance for my Thoughts,
When the Tongue's Office should be prodigal,
To breath the Anguish of my breaking Heart.
Our Injuries press too hard upon my Soul,
And, like unruly Children, make their Sire
Stoop with Oppression of their galling Weight.

Queen.
But must we be divided? must we part?

King.
Ay, Hand from Hand, my Love, and Heart from Heart;
Therefore in wooing Sorrow let's be brief,
For Woe's made wanton with this fond Delay.
Let me unkiss the Oath betwixt us, Love;
And yet not so; for with a Kiss 'twas made.
O Isabella! I must towards the North,
Where shiv'ring Cold and Sickness pine the Clime;
And Thou to France, from whence, set forth in Pomp,
You came to my Embrace, adorn'd like May,
Blooming in Sweets, and bright with springing Beauties.

North.
My Lord, you do but aggravate your Pains,
By length'ning out the Circumstance of Parting.

King.
Insolent Man! how dar'st thou treat me thus,
Make pale our Cheek, and chase the Royal Blood
With Fury from its Native Residence?
The blackest Fiends take Lancaster, and Thee!
Patience is stale, and I am weary of it.—
And now, We wo'not part.

North.
—Nay then, a Guard.—

King.
They shall not force thee from me.

[Exton and the Guard break in; part of them hurry away the Queen; the King snatches a Sword, kills two of them, and in the Scuffle is kill'd by Exton.
Queen.
Barbarous Men!—
Farewell, O Richard!

King.
Villain, thy own Side
Yields thy Death's Instrument. O, I am slain!

Exton.
Let us away; lest Death, and not Reward
Pursue us for this hasty Deed of Slaughter.

[Exeunt Exton and Guard.
Enter Bolingbroke, Northumberland, Ross, and Willoughby, at several Doors.
Bol.
What Noise of Tumult did invade our Ears?
Ha! Richard! How came this?

King.
Question it not;
Content, that all thy Fears with me ly bury'd:
Unrival'd, wear the Crown. O Isabella!

[Dies.
[A Screaming within.]
Bol.
What new Assault of Horror wounds us thus?

Ross.
The beauteous Piercy, with a desp'rate Hand,
Hearing Aumerle was dead, a secret Dagger
Drew from her Side, and plung'd it in her Breast.

North.
My Daughter! Fate pursues my Guilt too fast.
[Exit North.

Enter York.
York.
Give way, bold Groom; I will not be repuls'd:
Where is my Son, thou Tyrant? Give him back.—

Ross.
My Lord,—

Bol.
To bed, old Man; I see, thou'rt ill.

York.
Now he that made me knows, I see Thee ill:
Thy Death-bed is no less than this wide Land,
Wherein Thou liest in Reputation sick;
Tainted with Murder.—Ha! Start Eyes, break Heart!
My Royal Master welt'ring in his Blood?
Fate, thou art kind; This Blow was home, and sure.

[Falls by the Body, and dies.
Bol.
Support him;

Will.
'Tis too late; he's dead at once.

Bol.
Lords, I protest, my Soul is full of Woe;
And to the Realm my Sorrow shall be known,
That I on such Events should fix my Throne: