| [Enter HENRY BOLINGBROKE, DUKE OF YORK,
NORTHUMBERLAND, LORD ROSS, HENRY PERCY, LORD WILLOUGHBY, with BUSHY and GREEN, prisoners] | |
| HENRY BOLINGBROKE | Bring forth these men.
Bushy and Green, I will not vex your souls-- Since presently your souls must part your bodies-- With too much urging your pernicious lives, For 'twere no charity; yet, to wash your blood From off my hands, here in the view of men I will unfold some causes of your deaths. You have misled a prince, a royal king, A happy gentleman in blood and lineaments, By you unhappied and disfigured clean: You have in manner with your sinful hours Made a divorce betwixt his queen and him, Broke the possession of a royal bed And stain'd the beauty of a fair queen's cheeks With tears drawn from her eyes by your foul wrongs. Myself, a prince by fortune of my birth, Near to the king in blood, and near in love Till you did make him misinterpret me, Have stoop'd my neck under your injuries, And sigh'd my English breath in foreign clouds, Eating the bitter bread of banishment; Whilst you have fed upon my signories, Dispark'd my parks and fell'd my forest woods, From my own windows torn my household coat, Razed out my imprese, leaving me no sign, Save men's opinions and my living blood, To show the world I am a gentleman. This and much more, much more than twice all this, Condemns you to the death. See them deliver'd over To execution and the hand of death. |
| BUSHY | More welcome is the stroke of death to me
Than Bolingbroke to England. Lords, farewell. |
| GREEN | My comfort is that heaven will take our souls
And plague injustice with the pains of hell. |
| HENRY BOLINGBROKE | My Lord Northumberland, see them dispatch'd. |
| [Exeunt NORTHUMBERLAND and others, with the
prisoners] | |
| Uncle, you say the queen is at your house;
For God's sake, fairly let her be entreated: Tell her I send to her my kind commends; Take special care my greetings be deliver'd. | |
| DUKE OF YORK | A gentleman of mine I have dispatch'd
With letters of your love to her at large. |
| HENRY BOLINGBROKE | Thank, gentle uncle. Come, lords, away.
To fight with Glendower and his complices: Awhile to work, and after holiday. |
| [Exeunt] |
| [Drums; flourish and colours. Enter KING RICHARD
II, the BISHOP OF CARLISLE, DUKE OF AUMERLE, and Soldiers] | |
| KING RICHARD II | Barkloughly castle call they this at hand? |
| DUKE OF AUMERLE | Yea, my lord. How brooks your grace the air,
After your late tossing on the breaking seas? |
| KING RICHARD II | Needs must I like it well: I weep for joy
To stand upon my kingdom once again. Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand, Though rebels wound thee with their horses' hoofs: As a long-parted mother with her child Plays fondly with her tears and smiles in meeting, So, weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth, And do thee favours with my royal hands. Feed not thy sovereign's foe, my gentle earth, Nor with thy sweets comfort his ravenous sense; But let thy spiders, that suck up thy venom, And heavy-gaited toads lie in their way, Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet Which with usurping steps do trample thee: Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies; And when they from thy bosom pluck a flower, Guard it, I pray thee, with a lurking adder Whose double tongue may with a mortal touch Throw death upon thy sovereign's enemies. Mock not my senseless conjuration, lords: This earth shall have a feeling and these stones Prove armed soldiers, ere her native king Shall falter under foul rebellion's arms. |
| BISHOP OF CARLISLE | Fear not, my lord: that Power that made you king
Hath power to keep you king in spite of all. The means that heaven yields must be embraced, And not neglected; else, if heaven would, And we will not, heaven's offer we refuse, The proffer'd means of succor and redress. |
| DUKE OF AUMERLE | He means, my lord, that we are too remiss;
Whilst Bolingbroke, through our security, Grows strong and great in substance and in power. |
| KING RICHARD II | Discomfortable cousin! know'st thou not
That when the searching eye of heaven is hid, Behind the globe, that lights the lower world, Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen In murders and in outrage, boldly here; But when from under this terrestrial ball He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines And 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 hath revell'd in the night Whilst we were wandering with the antipodes, Shall see us rising in our throne, the east, His treasons will sit blushing in his face, Not able to endure the sight of day, But self-affrighted tremble at his sin. Not all the water in the rough rude sea Can wash the balm off from an anointed king; The breath of worldly men cannot depose The deputy elected by the Lord: For every man that Bolingbroke hath press'd To lift shrewd steel against our golden crown, God for his Richard hath in heavenly pay A glorious angel: then, if angels fight, Weak men must fall, for heaven still guards the right. |
| [Enter EARL OF SALISBURY] | |
| Welcome, my lord how far off lies your power? | |
| EARL OF SALISBURY | Nor near nor farther off, my gracious lord,
Than this weak arm: discomfort guides my tongue And bids me speak of nothing but despair. One day too late, I fear me, noble lord, Hath clouded all thy happy days on earth: O, call back yesterday, bid time return, And thou shalt have twelve thousand fighting men! To-day, to-day, unhappy day, too late, O'erthrows thy joys, friends, fortune and thy state: For all the Welshmen, hearing thou wert dead. Are gone to Bolingbroke, dispersed and fled. |
| DUKE OF AUMERLE | Comfort, my liege; why looks your grace so pale? |
| KING RICHARD II | But now the blood of twenty thousand men
Did triumph in my face, and they are fled; And, till so much blood thither come again, Have I not reason to look pale and dead? All souls that will be safe fly from my side, For time hath set a blot upon my pride. |
| DUKE OF AUMERLE | Comfort, my liege; remember who you are. |
| KING RICHARD II | I had forgot myself; am I not king?
Awake, thou coward majesty! thou sleepest. Is not the king's name twenty thousand names? Arm, arm, my name! a puny subject strikes At thy great glory. Look not to the ground, Ye favourites of a king: are we not high? High be our thoughts: I know my uncle York Hath power enough to serve our turn. But who comes here? |
| [Enter SIR STEPHEN SCROOP] | |
| SIR STEPHEN SCROOP | More health and happiness betide my liege
Than can my care-tuned tongue deliver him! |
| KING RICHARD II | Mine ear is open and my heart prepared;
The worst is worldly loss thou canst unfold. Say, is my kingdom lost? why, 'twas my care And 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 Him too and be his fellow so: Revolt our subjects? that we cannot mend; 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 SCROOP | Glad am I that your highness is so arm'd
To bear the tidings of calamity. Like an unseasonable stormy day, Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores, As if the world were all dissolved to tears, So high above his limits swells the rage Of Bolingbroke, covering your fearful land With hard bright steel and hearts harder than steel. White-beards have arm'd their thin and hairless scalps Against thy majesty; boys, with women's voices, Strive to speak big and clap their female joints In stiff unwieldy arms against thy crown: The very beadsmen learn to bend their bows Of double-fatal yew against thy state; Yea, distaff-women manage rusty bills Against thy seat: both young and old rebel, And all goes worse than I have power to tell. |
| KING RICHARD II | Too well, too well thou tell'st a tale so ill.
Where is the Earl of Wiltshire? where is Bagot? What is become of Bushy? where is Green? That they have let the dangerous enemy Measure our confines with such peaceful steps? If we prevail, their heads shall pay for it: I warrant they have made peace with Bolingbroke. |
| SIR STEPHEN SCROOP | Peace have they made with him indeed, my lord. |
| KING RICHARD II | O villains, vipers, damn'd without redemption!
Dogs, easily won to fawn on any man! Snakes, in my heart-blood warm'd, that sting my heart! Three Judases, each one thrice worse than Judas! Would they make peace? terrible hell make war Upon their spotted souls for this offence! |
| SIR STEPHEN SCROOP | Sweet love, I see, changing his property,
Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate: Again uncurse their souls; their peace is made With heads, and not with hands; those whom you curse Have felt the worst of death's destroying wound And lie full low, graved in the hollow ground. |
| DUKE OF AUMERLE | Is Bushy, Green, and the Earl of Wiltshire dead? |
| SIR STEPHEN SCROOP | Ay, all of them at Bristol lost their heads. |
| DUKE OF AUMERLE | Where is the duke my father with his power? |
| KING RICHARD II | No matter where; of comfort no man speak:
Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; Make dust our paper and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth, Let's choose executors and talk of wills: And yet not so, for what can we bequeath Save 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 earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground And 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 kill'd; All murder'd: for within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king Keeps Death his court and there the antic sits, Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp, Allowing him a breath, a little scene, To monarchize, be fear'd and kill with looks, Infusing him with self and vain conceit, As if this flesh which walls about our life, Were brass impregnable, and humour'd thus Comes at the last and with a little pin Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king! Cover your heads and mock not flesh and blood With 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? |
| BISHOP OF CARLISLE | My lord, wise men ne'er sit and wail their woes,
But presently prevent the ways to wail. To fear the foe, since fear oppresseth strength, Gives in your weakness strength unto your foe, And so your follies fight against yourself. Fear and be slain; no worse can come to fight: And fight and die is death destroying death; Where fearing dying pays death servile breath. |
| DUKE OF AUMERLE | My father hath a power; inquire of him
And learn to make a body of a limb. |
| KING RICHARD II | Thou chidest me well: proud Bolingbroke, I come
To change blows with thee for our day of doom. This ague fit of fear is over-blown; An easy task it is to win our own. Say, Scroop, where lies our uncle with his power? Speak sweetly, man, although thy looks be sour. |
| SIR STEPHEN SCROOP | Men judge by the complexion of the sky
The state and inclination of the day: So may you by my dull and heavy eye, My tongue hath but a heavier tale to say. I play the torturer, by small and small To lengthen out the worst that must be spoken: Your uncle York is join'd with Bolingbroke, And all your northern castles yielded up, And all your southern gentlemen in arms Upon his party. |
| KING RICHARD II | Thou hast said enough.
Beshrew thee, cousin, which didst lead me forth |
| [To DUKE OF AUMERLE] | |
| Of that sweet way I was in to despair!
What say you now? what comfort have we now? By heaven, I'll hate him everlastingly That bids me be of comfort any more. Go to Flint castle: there I'll pine away; A king, woe's slave, shall kingly woe obey. That power I have, discharge; and let them go To ear the land that hath some hope to grow, For I have none: let no man speak again To alter this, for counsel is but vain. | |
| DUKE OF AUMERLE | My liege, one word. |
| KING RICHARD II | He does me double wrong
That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue. Discharge my followers: let them hence away, From Richard's night to Bolingbroke's fair day. |
| [Exeunt] |
| [Enter, with drum and colours, HENRY BOLINGBROKE,
DUKE OF YORK, NORTHUMBERLAND, Attendants, and forces] | |
| HENRY BOLINGBROKE | So that by this intelligence we learn
The Welshmen are dispersed, and Salisbury Is gone to meet the king, who lately landed With some few private friends upon this coast. |
| NORTHUMBERLAND | The news is very fair and good, my lord:
Richard not far from hence hath hid his head. |
| DUKE OF YORK | It would beseem the Lord Northumberland
To say 'King Richard:' alack the heavy day When such a sacred king should hide his head. |
| NORTHUMBERLAND | Your grace mistakes; only to be brief
Left I his title out. |
| DUKE OF YORK | The time hath been,
Would you have been so brief with him, he would Have been so brief with you, to shorten you, For taking so the head, your whole head's length. |
| HENRY BOLINGBROKE | Mistake not, uncle, further than you should. |
| DUKE OF YORK | Take not, good cousin, further than you should.
Lest you mistake the heavens are o'er our heads. |
| HENRY BOLINGBROKE | I know it, uncle, and oppose not myself
Against their will. But who comes here? |
| [Enter HENRY PERCY] | |
| Welcome, Harry: what, will not this castle yield? | |
| HENRY PERCY | The castle royally is mann'd, my lord,
Against thy entrance. |
| HENRY BOLINGBROKE | Royally!
Why, it contains no king? |
| HENRY PERCY | Yes, my good lord,
It doth contain a king; King Richard lies Within the limits of yon lime and stone: And with him are the Lord Aumerle, Lord Salisbury, Sir Stephen Scroop, besides a clergyman Of holy reverence; who, I cannot learn. |
| NORTHUMBERLAND | O, belike it is the Bishop of Carlisle. |
| HENRY BOLINGBROKE | Noble lords,
Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle; Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parley Into his ruin'd ears, and thus deliver: Henry Bolingbroke On both his knees doth kiss King Richard's hand And sends allegiance and true faith of heart To his most royal person, hither come Even at his feet to lay my arms and power, Provided that my banishment repeal'd And lands restored again be freely granted: If not, I'll use the advantage of my power And lay the summer's dust with showers of blood Rain'd from the wounds of slaughter'd Englishmen: The which, how far off from the mind of Bolingbroke It is, such crimson tempest should bedrench The fresh green lap of fair King Richard's land, My stooping duty tenderly shall show. Go, signify as much, while here we march Upon the grassy carpet of this plain. Let's march without the noise of threatening drum, That from this castle's tatter'd battlements Our fair appointments may be well perused. Methinks King Richard and myself should meet With no less terror than the elements Of fire and water, when their thundering shock At meeting tears the cloudy cheeks of heaven. Be he the fire, I'll be the yielding water: The rage be his, whilst on the earth I rain My waters; on the earth, and not on him. March on, and mark King Richard how he looks. |
| [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] | |
| See, see, King Richard doth himself appear,
As doth the blushing discontented sun From out the fiery portal of the east, When he perceives the envious clouds are bent To dim his glory and to stain the track Of his bright passage to the occident. | |
| DUKE OF YORK | Yet looks he like a king: behold, his eye,
As bright as is the eagle's, lightens forth Controlling majesty: alack, alack, for woe, That any harm should stain so fair a show! |
| KING RICHARD II | We are amazed; and thus long have we stood
To watch the fearful bending of thy knee, |
| [To NORTHUMBERLAND] | |
| Because we thought ourself thy lawful king:
And if we be, how dare thy joints forget To pay their awful duty to our presence? If we be not, show us the hand of God That hath dismissed us from our stewardship; For well we know, no hand of blood and bone Can gripe the sacred handle of our sceptre, Unless he do profane, steal, or usurp. And though you think that all, as you have done, Have torn their souls by turning them from us, And we are barren and bereft of friends; Yet know, my master, God omnipotent, Is mustering in his clouds on our behalf Armies of pestilence; and they shall strike Your children yet unborn and unbegot, That lift your vassal hands against my head And threat the glory of my precious crown. Tell Bolingbroke--for yond methinks he stands-- That every stride he makes upon my land Is dangerous treason: he is come to open The purple testament of bleeding war; But ere the crown he looks for live in peace, Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers' sons Shall ill become the flower of England's face, Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace To scarlet indignation and bedew Her pastures' grass with faithful English blood. | |
| NORTHUMBERLAND | The king of heaven forbid our lord the king
Should so with civil and uncivil arms Be rush'd upon! Thy thrice noble cousin Harry Bolingbroke doth humbly kiss thy hand; And by the honourable tomb he swears, That stands upon your royal grandsire's bones, And by the royalties of both your bloods, Currents that spring from one most gracious head, And by the buried hand of warlike Gaunt, And by the worth and honour of himself, Comprising all that may be sworn or said, His coming hither hath no further scope Than for his lineal royalties and to beg Enfranchisement immediate on his knees: Which on thy royal party granted once, His glittering arms he will commend to rust, His barbed steeds to stables, and his heart To faithful service of your majesty. This swears he, as he is a prince, is just; And, as I am a gentleman, I credit him. |
| KING RICHARD II | Northumberland, say thus the king returns:
His noble cousin is right welcome hither; And all the number of his fair demands Shall be accomplish'd without contradiction: With all the gracious utterance thou hast Speak to his gentle hearing kind commends. We do debase ourselves, cousin, do we not, |
| [To DUKE OF AUMERLE] | |
| To look so poorly and to speak so fair?
Shall we call back Northumberland, and send Defiance to the traitor, and so die? | |
| DUKE OF AUMERLE | No, good my lord; let's fight with gentle words
Till time lend friends and friends their helpful swords. |
| KING RICHARD II | O God, O God! that e'er this tongue of mine,
That laid the sentence of dread banishment On yon proud man, should take it off again With words of sooth! O that I were as great As is my grief, or lesser than my name! Or that I could forget what I have been, Or not remember what I must be now! Swell'st thou, proud heart? I'll give thee scope to beat, Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me. |
| DUKE OF AUMERLE | Northumberland comes back from Bolingbroke. |
| KING RICHARD II | What must the king do now? must he submit?
The king shall do it: must he be deposed? The king shall be contented: must he lose The name of king? o' God's name, let it go: I'll give my jewels for a set of beads, My gorgeous palace for a hermitage, My gay apparel for an almsman's gown, My figured goblets for a dish of wood, My sceptre for a palmer's walking staff, My subjects for a pair of carved saints And my large kingdom for a little grave, A little little grave, an obscure grave; Or I'll be buried in the king's highway, Some way of common trade, where subjects' feet May hourly trample on their sovereign's head; For on my heart they tread now whilst I live; And buried once, why not upon my head? Aumerle, thou weep'st, my tender-hearted cousin! We'll make foul weather with despised tears; Our sighs and they shall lodge the summer corn, And make a dearth in this revolting land. Or shall we play the wantons with our woes, And make some pretty match with shedding tears? As thus, to drop them still upon one place, Till they have fretted us a pair of graves Within the earth; and, therein laid,--there lies Two kinsmen digg'd their graves with weeping eyes. Would not this ill do well? Well, well, I see I talk but idly, and you laugh at me. Most mighty prince, my Lord Northumberland, What says King Bolingbroke? will his majesty Give Richard leave to live till Richard die? You make a leg, and Bolingbroke says ay. |
| NORTHUMBERLAND | My lord, in the base court he doth attend
To speak with you; may it please you to come down. |
| KING RICHARD II | Down, down I come; like glistering Phaethon,
Wanting the manage of unruly jades. In the base court? Base court, where kings grow base, To come at traitors' calls and do them grace. In the base court? Come down? Down, court! down, king! For night-owls shriek where mounting larks should sing. |
| [Exeunt from above] | |
| HENRY BOLINGBROKE | What says his majesty? |
| NORTHUMBERLAND | Sorrow and grief of heart
Makes him speak fondly, like a frantic man Yet he is come. |
| [Enter KING RICHARD and his attendants below] | |
| HENRY BOLINGBROKE | Stand all apart,
And show fair duty to his majesty. |
| [He kneels down] | |
| My gracious lord,-- | |
| KING RICHARD II | Fair cousin, you debase your princely knee
To make the base earth proud with kissing it: Me rather had my heart might feel your love Than my unpleased eye see your courtesy. Up, cousin, up; your heart is up, I know, Thus high at least, although your knee be low. |
| HENRY BOLINGBROKE | My gracious lord, I come but for mine own. |
| KING RICHARD II | Your own is yours, and I am yours, and all. |
| HENRY BOLINGBROKE | So far be mine, my most redoubted lord,
As my true service shall deserve your love. |
| KING RICHARD II | Well you deserve: they well deserve to have,
That know the strong'st and surest way to get. Uncle, give me your hands: nay, dry your eyes; Tears show their love, but want their remedies. 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 willing too; For do we must what force will have us do. Set on towards London, cousin, is it so? |
| HENRY BOLINGBROKE | Yea, my good lord. |
| KING RICHARD II | Then I must not say no. |
| [Flourish. Exeunt] |
| [Enter the QUEEN and two Ladies] | |
| QUEEN | What sport shall we devise here in this garden,
To drive away the heavy thought of care? |
| Lady | Madam, we'll play at bowls. |
| QUEEN | 'Twill make me think the world is full of rubs,
And that my fortune rubs against the bias. |
| Lady | Madam, we'll dance. |
| QUEEN | My legs can keep no measure in delight,
When my poor heart no measure keeps in grief: Therefore, no dancing, girl; some other sport. |
| Lady | Madam, we'll tell tales. |
| QUEEN | Of sorrow or of joy? |
| Lady | Of either, madam. |
| QUEEN | Of neither, girl:
For of joy, being altogether wanting, It doth remember me the more of sorrow; Or if of grief, being altogether had, It adds more sorrow to my want of joy: For what I have I need not to repeat; And what I want it boots not to complain. |
| Lady | Madam, I'll sing. |
| QUEEN | 'Tis well that thou hast cause
But thou shouldst please me better, wouldst thou weep. |
| Lady | I could weep, madam, would it do you good. |
| QUEEN | And I could sing, would weeping do me good,
And never borrow any tear of thee. |
| [Enter a Gardener, and two Servants] | |
| But stay, here come the gardeners:
Let's step into the shadow of these trees. My wretchedness unto a row of pins, They'll talk of state; for every one doth so Against a change; woe is forerun with woe. | |
| [QUEEN and Ladies retire] | |
| Gardener | Go, bind thou up yon dangling apricocks,
Which, like unruly children, make their sire Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight: Give some supportance to the bending twigs. Go thou, and like an executioner, Cut off the heads of too fast growing sprays, That look too lofty in our commonwealth: All must be even in our government. You thus employ'd, I will go root away The noisome weeds, which without profit suck The soil's fertility from wholesome flowers. |
| Servant | Why should we in the compass of a pale
Keep law and form and due proportion, Showing, as in a model, our firm estate, When our sea-walled garden, the whole land, Is full of weeds, her fairest flowers choked up, Her fruit-trees all upturned, her hedges ruin'd, Her knots disorder'd and her wholesome herbs Swarming with caterpillars? |
| Gardener | Hold thy peace:
He that hath suffer'd this disorder'd spring Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf: The weeds which his broad-spreading leaves did shelter, That seem'd in eating him to hold him up, Are pluck'd up root and all by Bolingbroke, I mean the Earl of Wiltshire, Bushy, Green. |
| Servant | What, are they dead? |
| Gardener | They are; and Bolingbroke
Hath seized the wasteful king. O, what pity is it That he had not so trimm'd and dress'd his land As we this garden! We at time of year Do wound the bark, the skin of our fruit-trees, Lest, being over-proud in sap and blood, With too much riches it confound itself: Had he done so to great and growing men, They might have lived to bear and he to taste Their fruits of duty: superfluous branches We lop away, that bearing boughs may live: Had he done so, himself had borne the crown, Which waste of idle hours hath quite thrown down. |
| Servant | What, think you then the king shall be deposed? |
| Gardener | Depress'd he is already, and deposed
'Tis doubt he will be: letters came last night To a dear friend of the good Duke of York's, That tell black tidings. |
| QUEEN | O, I am press'd to death through want of speaking! |
| [Coming forward] | |
| Thou, old Adam's likeness, set to dress this garden,
How dares thy harsh rude tongue sound this unpleasing news? What Eve, what serpent, hath suggested thee To make a second fall of cursed man? Why dost thou say King Richard is deposed? Darest thou, thou little better thing than earth, Divine his downfall? Say, where, when, and how, Camest thou by this ill tidings? speak, thou wretch. | |
| Gardener | Pardon me, madam: little joy have I
To breathe this news; yet what I say is true. King Richard, he is in the mighty hold Of Bolingbroke: their fortunes both are weigh'd: In your lord's scale is nothing but himself, And some few vanities that make him light; But in the balance of great Bolingbroke, Besides himself, are all the English peers, And with that odds he weighs King Richard down. Post you to London, and you will find it so; I speak no more than every one doth know. |
| QUEEN | Nimble mischance, that art so light of foot,
Doth not thy embassage belong to me, And am I last that knows it? O, thou think'st To serve me last, that I may longest keep Thy sorrow in my breast. Come, ladies, go, To meet at London London's king in woe. What, was I born to this, that my sad look Should grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke? Gardener, for telling me these news of woe, Pray God the plants thou graft'st may never grow. |
| [Exeunt QUEEN and Ladies] | |
| GARDENER | Poor queen! so that thy state might be no worse,
I would my skill were subject to thy curse. Here did she fall a tear; here in this place I'll set a bank of rue, sour herb of grace: Rue, even for ruth, here shortly shall be seen, In the remembrance of a weeping queen. |
| [Exeunt] |