All language subtitles for The.Hollow.Crown.S01E01.720p.BluRay.x264-7SinS

KlNG RlCHARD: Let's talk ofgraves,
of worms and epitaphs;

Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth.

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 poisoned by their wives;
some sleeping killed.

All murdered.

Old John of Gaunt, time-honoured Lancaster,

Hast thou brought hither Henry Hereford,
thy bold son.

Here to make good
the boisterous late appeal

which them our leisure would not let us hear

Against the Duke of Norfolk,
Thomas Mowbray?

l have, my liege.

Tell me, moreover, hast thou sounded him,
lf he appeal the duke on ancient malice,

Or worthily, as a good subject should,
On some known ground of treachery in him?

GAUNT:
As far as l could sift him on that argument,

On some apparent danger seen in the duke
Aimed at your highness.

Then call them to our presence.

Face to face,

And frowning brow to brow,
ourselves will hear

The accuser and the accused freely speak.

Many years of happy days befall
My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege!

Each day still better other's happiness
Until the heavens, envying earth's good hap,

Add an immortal title to your crown!

We thank you both.

Yet one but flatters us,
As well appeareth by the cause you come,

Namely, to appeal each other of high treason.

Cousin of Hereford, what dost thou object

Against the Duke of Norfolk,
Thomas Mowbray?

First - heaven be the record to my speech!

ln the devotion of a subject's love,
And free from other misbegotten hate,

Come l appellant to this princely presence.

Now, Thomas Mowbray, do l turn to thee,

And mark my greeting well; for what l speak
My body shall make good upon this earth,

Or my divine soul answer it in heaven.

Thou art a traitor and a miscreant,

Too good to be so, and too bad to live,

Since the more fair and crystal is the sky,
The uglier seem the clouds that in it fly.

First, the fair reverence
of your highness curbs me

From giving reins and spurs
to my free speech,

Which else would post until it had returned

These terms of treason
doubled down his throat.

Setting aside his high blood's royalty,

l do defy him, and l spit at him,

Call him a slanderous coward and a villain.

What doth our cousin lay
to Mowbray's charge?

BOLlNGBROKE:
Look what l speak, my life shall prove it true:

l say

That Mowbray hath received 8,000 nobles

ln name of lending
for your highness' soldiers,

The which he hath detained
for lewd employments,

Like a false traitor and injurious villain.

Besides l say, and will in battle prove,

That all the treasons for these 1 8 years
Complotted and contrived in this land

Fetch from false Mowbray
their first head and spring.

And by the glorious worth of my descent,

This arm shall prove it, or this life be spent!

(LAUGHlNG)

How high a pitch his resolution soars!

(COURTlERS CHUCKLlNG)

Mowbray, impartial are our eyes and ears.

He is our subject, Mowbray; so art thou.

Free speech and fearless l to thee allow.

Then, Bolingbroke,

as low as to thy heart

Through the false passage of thy throat,
thou liest.

KlNG RlCHARD:
Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be ruled by me:

Let's purge this choler 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 month to bleed.

Good uncle, let this end where it begun;

We'll calm the Duke of Norfolk, you your son.

To be a make-peace shall become my age.

Throw down, my son,
the Duke of Norfolk's gage.

And Norfolk, throw down his.

When, Harry, when?

Obedience bids l should not bid again.

Norfolk, give me his gage.

Lions make leopards tame.

Yea, but not change his spots.

My dear, dear, lord,
The purest treasure mortal times afford

ls spotless reputation;

Mine honour is my life; both grow in one.

Take honour from me, and my life is done.

Cousin, throw down your gage; do you begin.

(WHlSPERS)
O, God defend my soul from such deep sin.

We were not born to sue 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 arbitrate
The swelling difference of your settled hate.

(HORSE SNORTS)

(GRUNTS)

(GRUNTlNG)

(MEN TALKlNG QUlETLY, lNDlSTlNCT)

(HORSE NElGHS)

(TALKlNG lNDlSTlNCTLY)

(HORSE NElGHlNG)

(HORSE GRUNTS)

KlNG RlCHARD:
Marshall, demand of yonder knights in arms

Both who they are and why they come hither

Thus plated in habiliments of war.

LORD MARSHALL: ln God's name
and the King's, say who thou art

And why thou com'st thus
knightly clad in arms.

My name is Thomas Mowbray,
Duke of Norfolk,

Who hither come engaged by my oath

Both to defend my loyalty and truth

To God, my king and my succeeding issue

Against the Duke of Hereford

To prove him, in defending of myself,

A traitor to my God, my king and me.

Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby
Am l, who ready here do stand in arms

To prove, by God's grace
and my body's valour,

ln lists, on Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,
That he is a traitor, foul and dangerous,

To God of heaven, King Richard and to me.

On pain of death, no person be so bold
Or daring-hardy as to touch the lists

Except the Marshall and such officers
Appointed to direct these fair designs.

Lord Marshall,
let me kiss my sovereign's hand,

And bow my knee before his majesty:

For Mowbray and myself are like two men
That vow a long and weary pilgrimage.

The appellant in all duty greets your highness

And craves to kiss your hand
and take his leave.

We will descend and fold him in our arms.

Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause is right,

So be thy fortune in this royal fight.

Farewell, my blood, which if today thou shed,

Lament we may, but not revenge thee dead.

O let no noble eye profane a tear
For me, if l be gored with Mowbray's spear.

My loving lord, l take my leave of you.

Of you, my noble cousin, Lord Aumerle.

O thou, the earthly author of my blood,

Whose youthful spirit in me regenerate,

Doth with a twofold vigour lift me up
To reach at victory above my head,

Add proof unto mine armour with thy prayers.

God in thy good cause make thee prosperous!

Be swift like lightning in the execution.

Be valiant and live.

Mine innocence and Saint George to thrive!

(HORSE SNORTS)

(HORSE NElGHS)

Order the trial, Marshall, and begin.

(HORSE NElGHlNG)

(SPURRlNG HORSE)

LORD MARSHALL: Stay!

MOWBRAY: Whoa!

LORD MARSHALL:
Stay, the king hath thrown his warder down.

Let them lay their helmets by.

KlNG RlCHARD: Draw near.

For that our kingdom's earth
should not be soiled

But that dear blood which it hath fostered;

And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect

Of civil wounds ploughed up
with neighbours' sword;

And for we think the eagle-winged pride

Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts
set you on;

We therefore banish you our territories:

You, cousin Hereford, upon pain of life,

Till twice five summers
have enriched our fields

Shall not regreet our fair dominions,
But tread the stranger paths of banishment.

Your will be done: this must my comfort be,

The sun that warms you here
shall shine on me;

And those his golden beams to you here lent

Shall point on me and gild my banishment.

Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier doom,

Which l with some unwillingness pronounce:

The sly slow hours shall not determinate

The dateless limit of thy dear exile;

The hopeless word of "never to return"
Breathe l against thee, upon pain of life.

A heavy sentence, my most sovereign liege,

And all unlooked for
from your highness' mouth.

The language l have learnt these 40 years,
My native English, now l must forego.

(MONKEY CHATTERlNG)

Within my mouth
you have engaoled my tongue,

Doubly portcullised with my teeth and lips,

And dull unfeeling barren lgnorance

ls made my gaoler to attend on me.

What is thy sentence then
but speechless death,

Which robs my tongue
from breathing native breath?

lt boots thee not to be compassionate.

After our sentence, plaining comes too late.

Return again, and take an oath with me.

Lay on our royal sword your banished hands;

Swear by the duty that you owe to God -

Our part therein we banish with yourselves -
To keep the oath that we administer:

You never shall, so help you truth and God,
Embrace each other's love in banishment;

Nor never look upon each other's face;
Nor never write, regreet, nor reconcile

This louring tempest of your home-bred hate;

Nor never by advised purpose meet
To plot, contrive, or complot any ill

'Gainst us, our state, our subjects or our land.

-l swear.
-And l, to keep all this.

Norfolk,
By this time, had the King permitted us,

One of our souls had wandered in the air.

Confess thy treasons ere thou fly this realm.

Since thou hast far to go, bear not along
The clogging burden of a guilty soul.

No, Bolingbroke. lf ever l were traitor,

My name be blotted from the book of life,

And l from heaven banished as from hence!

But what thou art, God, thou and l do know;

And all too soon, l fear, the King shall rue.

Uncle, even in the glasses of thine eyes

l see thy grieved heart: thy sad aspect

Hath from the number of his banished years
Plucked four away.

Six frozen winters spent,
Return with welcome home from banishment.

How long a time lies in one little word!

Four lagging winters and four wanton springs

End in a word, such is the breath of kings.

l thank my liege that in regard of me
He shortens four years from my son's exile:

But little vantage shall l reap thereby;

For, ere the six years that he hath to spend

Have changed their moons
and brought their times around

My oil-dried lamp and time-bewasted light

Shall be extinct with age and endless night.

(LAUGHS)

Why, uncle, thou hast many years to live.

But not a minute, King, that thou canst give.

Shorten my days thou canst
with sullen sorrow,

And pluck nights from me,
but not lend a morrow.

Cousin, farewell, and uncle, bid him so.

Six years we banish him, and he shall go.

GAUNT: Teach thy necessity to reason thus:

Think not the King did banish thee,
But thou the King.

Look what thy soul holds dear, imagine it

To lie the way thou goest,
not whence thou com'st.

Suppose the singing birds musicians,

The flowers fair ladies, and thy steps no more

Than a delightful measure or a dance;

For gnarling sorrow has less power to bite
The man that mocks at it and sets it light.

O who can hold a fire in his hand
By thinking on the frosty Caucasus?

Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite
By bare imagination of a feast?

Or wallow naked in December snow
By thinking on fantastic summer's heat?

No, the apprehension of the good
Gives but the greater feeling to the worse.

Come, come, my son, be thou on thy way.

Had l thy youth and cause, l would not stay.

Then, England's ground, farewell!
Sweet soil, adieu:

My mother and my nurse that bears me yet!

Where'er l wander, boast of this l can,

Though banished,
yet a true-born Englishman.

Cousin Aumerle,

How far brought you
high Hereford on his way?

l brought high Hereford, if you call him so,
But to the shoreline, and there l left him.

What said our cousin
when you parted with him?

"Farewell."

Marry, would the word "farewell"
have lengthened hours

and added years to his short banishment

He should have had a volume of farewells;

But since it would not, he had none of me.

He is our cousin, cousin.

We did observe his courtship
of the common people,

How he did seem to dive into their hearts
With humble and familiar courtesy,

What reverence he did throw away on slaves.

Off goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench.

A brace of draymen bid God speed him well,
And had the tribute of his supple knee

With, "Thanks, my countrymen,
my loving friends,"

As were our England in reversion his.

Well, he is gone,
and with him go these thoughts.

Now for the rebels which stand out in lreland,
Expedient manage must be made, my liege,

Ere further leisure yield them further means
For their advantage and your highness' loss.

We will ourself in person to this war,

And for our coffers are grown somewhat light,
We are enforced to farm our royal realm,

The revenue whereof shall furnish us
For our affairs in hand. lf that come short,

Our substitutes at home
shall have blank charters

Whereto,
when they shall know what men are rich,

You shall subscribe them
for large sums of gold,

And send them after to supply our wants;

For we will make for lreland presently.

Scroop, what news?

Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, my lord,

Suddenly taken, and hath sent post-haste
To entreat your majesty to visit him.

-Where lies he?
-At Lancaster.

Now put it, God, in the physician's mind
To help him to his grave immediately!

The lining of his coffers shall make coats
To deck our soldiers for these lrish wars.

Come, gentlemen, let's all go visit him.

Pray God we may make haste
and come too late!

GAUNT: Will the King come

that l may breathe my last
ln wholesome counsel to his unstaid youth?

Vex not yourself,
nor strive not with your breath;

For all in vain comes counsel to his ear.

O, but they say the tongues of dying men

Enforce attention like deep harmony.

(PANTlNG)

Where words are scarce,
they are seldom spent in vain,

For they breathe truth
that breathe their words in pain.

Though Richard
my life's counsel would not hear,

Yet my death's sad tale
may yet undeaf his ear.

No, it is stopped with other flattering sounds.

His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last,

For violent fires soon burn out themselves;

This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle,

This earth of majesty,

this seat of Mars,

This other Eden, demi-paradise,

This fortress built by Nature for herself

Against 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 office 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 land of such dear souls,

this dear, dear land,

ls now leased out -

l die pronouncing it -

Like to a tenement on a pelting farm:

England, bound in with the triumphant sea,

is now bound in with shame!

(DOOR OPENlNG)

(GROANS)

(GASPS)

(PANTlNG)

How fares our noble uncle Lancaster?

How is't with aged Gaunt?

How well that name befits my composition!

Old Gaunt indeed, and gaunt in being old:

For sleeping England
long time have l watched;

Watching breeds leanness,
leanness is all gaunt.

The pleasures that some fathers feed upon

ls my strict fast - l mean my children's looks,

And therein fasting hast thou made me gaunt.

Can sick men play so nicely with their names?

(ALL LAUGHlNG)

Since thou dost seek to kill my name in me,

l mock my name, great King, to flatter thee.

Should dying men flatter with those that live?

O no! Men living flatter those that die.

Thou, now a-dying, say'st thou flatterest me.

No, no, thou diest, though l the sicker be.

l am in health, l breathe and see thee ill.

Now he that made me knows l see thee ill.

Thy death-bed is no lesser than thy land,

Wherein thou liest in reputation sick;

And thou, too careless patient as thou art,

Committ'st thy anointed body to the cure

Of those physicians that first wounded thee.

A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown,

Whose compass is no bigger than thy head.

Landlord of England art thou now, not king.

And thou... (GROANS)

Lunatic lean-witted fool!

Darest with thy frozen admonition

Make pale our cheek, chasing the royal blood
With fury from his native residence?

Now, by my seat's right royal majesty,
Wert thou not my father's father's son,

This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head

Should run thy head
from thy unreverent shoulders!

Live in thy shame,

but die not shame with thee!

l do beseech your majesty, impute his words
To wayward sickliness and age in him:

He loves you, on my life, and holds you dear
As Harry, Duke of Hereford, were he here.

Right, you say true.
As Hereford's love, so his;

As theirs, so mine; and all be as it is.

My liege,

old Gaunt commends him to your highness.

-What says he?
-Nay, nothing; all is said.

His tongue now is a stringless instrument;

Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent.

Be York the next that must be bankrupt so!

Though death be poor, it ends a mortal woe.

The ripest fruit first falls, and so doth he:

His time is spent; our pilgrimage must be.

So much for that. Now,

We must supplant
those rough rug-headed kerns,

Which live like venom where no venom else
But only they have privilege to live.

And, for these great affairs
do ask some charge,

Towards our assistance we do seize to us

The plate, coin, revenues and moveables

Whereof our uncle Gaunt
did stand possessed.

How long shall l be patient? Oh, how long
Shall tender duty make me suffer wrong?

l am the last of noble Edward's sons,
Of whom thy father, Prince of Wales, was first.

ln war was never lion raged more fierce,
ln peace was never gentle lamb more mild.

Than was that young and princely gentleman.

His face thou hast, for even so looked he,
O Richard!

York is far too gone with grief,
Or else he never would compare between.

-Why, uncle, what's the matter?
-O my liege,

Pardon me, if you please;

Seek you to seize and grip into your hands

The royalties and rights
of banished Hereford?

ls not Gaunt dead?
And doth not Hereford live?

Was not Gaunt just? And is not Harry true?

Did the one not deserve to have an heir?
ls not the heir a well-deserving son?

Take Hereford's rights away
and take from time

His charters and his customary rights.

Let not tomorrow then ensue today.

Be not thyself.

For how art thou a king
But by fair sequence and succession?

Now, afore God,
lf you do wrongfully seize Hereford's rights,

You pluck a thousand dangers on your head,

You lose a thousand well-disposed hearts

And prick my tender patience
to those thoughts

Which honour and allegiance cannot think.

Think what you will, we seize into our hands

His plate, his goods, his money and his lands.

l'll not be by the while. My liege, farewell.

What will ensue here after
there's none can tell.

KlNG RlCHARD: Tomorrow next
We will for lreland, and 'tis time.

And we create, in absence of ourself,
Our uncle York lord governor of England,

For he is just and always loved us well.

Tomorrow must we part.

Be merry, for our time of stay is short.

NORTHUMBERLAND:
Well, lords, the Duke of Lancaster is dead.

ROSS: And living, too,
for now his son is duke.

WlLLOUGHBY: Barely in titles,
not in revenues.

NORTHUMBERLAND:
Richly in both, if Justice had it right.

ROSS: My heart is great,
but it must break with silence

Ere't be disburdened with a liberal tongue.

Nay, speak thy mind,
and let him ne'er speak more

That speaks thy words again to do thee harm.

Tends that thou wouldst speak
to the Duke of Hereford?

lf it be so, out with it boldly, man.

Quick is mine ear
to hear of good towards him.

No good at all that l can do for him;
Unless you call it good to pity him,

Bereft and gelded of his patrimony.

Now, afore God,
'tis shame such wrongs are borne

ln him, a royal prince, and many more
Of noble blood in this declining land.

NORTHUMBERLAND:
The King is not himself, but basely led

By flatterers; and what they will inform
Merely in hate, against any of us all,

That will the King severely prosecute

'Gainst us, our Iives,
our children, and our heirs.

ROSS: The commons
hath he pilled with grievous taxes,

And quite lost their hearts.
The nobIes hath he fined

For ancient quarrels,
and quite lost their hearts.

The King's grown bankrupt like a broken man.

Reproach and dissolution hangeth over him.

He hath not money for these lrish wars,
But by the robbing of the banished Duke.

His noble kinsman!
(WHlSPERlNG) Most degenerate King!

But, lords, we hear this fearful tempest sing,

And yet seek no shelter to avoid the storm.

We see the wind sit sore upon our sails,
And yet we strike not, but securely perish.

We see the very wreck that we must suffer,
And unavoidable is the danger now.

Not so.
Even through the hollow eyes of Death

l spy life peering, but dare not say

How near the tiding of our comfort is.

Nay, let us hear thy thoughts
as thou dost ours.

Be confident to speak, Northumberland.

We three are but thyself, and, speaking so,

Thy words are but as thoughts.
Therefore, be bold.

Then thus: l have from Port le Blanc, a bay
ln Brittany, received intelligence

That Harry, Duke of Hereford,
ls making hither with all due expedience,

And shortly means to touch
our northern shore.

Perhaps he had ere this, but stays upon
The first departing of the King for lreland.

lf then, we shall shake off our slavish yoke,

lmp out our drooping country's broken wing,

Redeem from broking pawn
the blemished crown,

And make high majesty look like itself,
Away with me in post to meet him there.

But if you faint, as fearing to do so,

Stay and be secret, and myself will go.

To horse, to horse!
Urge doubts to them that fear.

Hold out my horse and l will be first there.

(HORSE SNORTS)

(HORSES NElGHlNG)

BUSHY:
Madam, your majesty is too much sad.

You promised,
when you parted with the King,

To lay aside life-harming heaviness
And entertain a cheerful disposition.

To please the King l did; to please myself
l cannot do it.

The banished Bolingbroke repeals himself,

And with uplifted arms is safe arrived
At Ravenspurgh.

-Now God in heaven forbid!
-Madam, 'tis too true.

-Despair not, madam.
-Who shall hinder me?

Uncle, for God's sake,
speak comfortable words.

Should l do so, l should belie my thoughts.

Comfort's in heaven, and we are on the earth,

Where nothing lives
but crosses, cares and grief.

Your husband, he is gone to save far off,
Whilst others come to make him lose at home.

Here am l left to underprop his land,
Who, weak with age, cannot support myself.

l know not what to do.

Gentlemen, will you go muster men?

Come, cousin, l'll dispose of you.

(HORSES SNORTlNG)

The wind sits fair for news
to go for lreland,

But none returns. For us to levy power
Proportionable to the enemy is all unpossible.

Besides, our nearness to the King in love

ls near the hate of those love not the King.

And that's the wavering commons,
for their love

Lies in their purses; and whoso empties them,
By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate.

Wherein the King stands
generally condemned.

lfjudgement lie in them, then so do we,
Because we ever have been near the King.

Well, l will for refuge
straight to Bristol Castle.

Thither will l with you,
Will you go along with us?

No, l will to Wales to rouse the troops.

The men there will stay loyal to his majesty.

Farewell. lf heart presages be not vain,
We three here part that ne'er shall meet again.

That's as York thrives
to beat back Bolingbroke.

Alas, poor Duke! The task he undertakes
ls numbering sands and drinking oceans dry.

Where one on his side fights,
thousands will fly.

Farewell at once - for once, for all, and ever.

-Well, we may meet again.
-l fear me, never.

BOLlNGBROKE: How far is it, my lord,
to Berkeley now?

NORTHUMBERLAND: Believe me,
noble lord, l am a stranger here.

These high wild hills and rough uneven ways

Draw out our miles
and make them wearisome.

And yet your fair discourse
hath been as sugar,

Making the hard way sweet and delectable.

Of much less value is my company
Than your good words.

But who comes here?

My noble uncle!

You show me thy humble heart,
and not thy knee,

Whose duty is deceivable and false.

My gracious uncle -

Tut, tut!

You grace me no grace,
nor uncle me no uncle.

Why have those banished and forbidden legs

Dared once to touch a dust
of England's ground?

But then, more why -
why have they dared to march

So many miles upon her peaceful bosom,

Frighting her pale-faced villages with war
And ostentation of despised arms?

Com'st thou because
the anointed King is hence?

Why, foolish boy, the King is left behind,
And in my loyal bosom lies his power.

Were l but now the lord of such hot youth
As when brave Gaunt, thy father, and myself

Rescued the Black Prince,
that young Mars of men,

From forth the ranks
of many thousand French,

O then how quickly should this arm of mine,
Chastise thee

And minister correction to thy fault!

My gracious uncle, let me know my fault.

On what condition stands it and wherein?

Even in condition of the worst degree,
ln gross rebellion and detested treason.

Thou art a banished man, and here art come,
Before the expiration of thy time,

ln braving arms against thy sovereign.

As l was banished, l was banished Hereford;
But as l come, l come for Lancaster.

And noble uncle, l beseech your grace,
Look on my wrongs with an indifferent eye.

You are my father, for methinks in you

l see old Gaunt alive. O then, my father,

Will you permit
that l should stand condemned

A wandering vagabond,
my rights and royalties

Plucked from my arms perforce
and given away

To upstart unthrifts? Wherefore was l born?

lf that my cousin king be King of England,

it must be granted l am Duke of Lancaster.

You have a son, Aumerle, my noble cousin.

Had you first died
and he been thus trod down,

he would have found his uncle Gaunt a father

To rouse his wrongs
and chase them to the bay.

What would you have me do?

l am a subject,
And l challenge law.

Attorneys are denied me,
And therefore, personally l lay my claim

To my inheritance of free descent.

The noble Duke hath been much abused.

lt stands your grace upon to do him right.

Base men by his endowments are made great.

My lords of England, let me tell you this:

l have had feelings of my cousin's wrongs

And laboured all l could to do him right.

But in this kind to come - in braving arms
Be his own carver, and cut out his way

To find out right with wrong - it may not be.

And you that do abet him in this kind
Cherish rebellion and are rebels all.

The noble Duke hath sworn his coming is
But for his own;

and for the right of that
We are all strongly sworn to give him aid.

And let him never see joy
that breaks that oath!

Well, well. (CHUCKLES)
l see the issue of these arms.

l cannot mend it, l must needs confess,

Because my power is weak and all ill-left;

But if l could, by Him that gave me life,

l would attach you all and make you stoop

Unto the sovereign mercy of the King.

But since l cannot,

be it known unto you
l do remain as neuter. So, fare you well.

But we must win your grace to go with us
To my father's seat

To see those lands l must again call mine.

Nor friends nor foes to me welcome you are.

Things past redress
are now with me past care.

My lord, we have stayed ten days,
And hardly kept our countrymen together,

And yet we hear no tidings from the King.

Therefore we will disperse ourselves.

Farewell.

Stay yet another day, thou trusty Welshman.

The King reposeth all his confidence in thee.

'Tis thought the King is dead.

We will not stay.

The bay-trees in our country are all withered,

And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven;

The pale-faced moon
looks bloody on the earth,

And lean-looked prophets
whisper fearful change;

Rich men look sad,
and ruffians dance and leap,

The one in fear to lose what they enjoy,
The other to enjoy by rage and war.

These signs forerun the death or fall of kings.

Farewell.

Our countrymen are gone and fled,

As well assured Richard their king is dead.

Ah, Richard, with the eyes of heavy mind

l see thy glory like a shooting star
Fall to the base earth from the firmament.

Thy sun sets weeping in the lowly west,

Witnessing storms to come, woe and unrest.

The friends are fled to wait upon thy foes,

And crossly to thy good all fortune goes.

(MAN SOBBlNG)

(THUNDER RUMBLlNG)

Bushy and Green, l 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
l 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 stained 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 stooped my neck under your injuries

And sighed my English breath
in foreign clouds,

Eating the bitter bread of banishment,
Whilst you have fed upon my signories,

Disparked my parks
and felled my forest woods,

From my own window torn
my household coat,

Razed out my imprese, leaving me no sign
Save men's opinions and my living blood

To show the world l am a gentleman.

This and much more,

much more than twice all this,
Condemns you to the death.

See them delivered over
To execution and the hand of death.

(GRUNTS)

More welcome is the stroke of death to me

Than Bolingbroke to England.

(THUNDER RUMBLES)

Lords, farewell.

(SOBBlNG)

My only comfort is that heaven
will take our souls

And plague injustice with the pains of hell.

Come lords, away.

How brooks your Grace the air

After your late tossing on the breaking seas?

Needs must l like it well. l weep for joy

To stand upon my kingdom once again.

Dear earth, l 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 l 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

That with usurping steps do trample thee.

Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies;

And when they from thy bosom
pluck a flower,

Guard it, l pray thee, with a lurking adder.

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.

Fear not, my lord.
That Power that made you King

Hath power to keep you King in spite of all.

AUMERLE:
He means, my lord, that we are too remiss,

Whilst Bolingbroke, through our security,

Grows strong and great
in substance and in power.

Discomfortable cousin, knowst 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

But when from over 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,

Stand bare and naked,
trembling at themselves?

So, when this thief, this traitor, Bolingbroke,

Who all the while hath revelled 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 all the water in the rough rude sea

Can wash the balm off from an anointed king;

For every man that Bolingbroke hath pressed

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.

Welcome, my lord.
How far off lies your power?

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, l 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!

Today, today, unhappy day, too late,

O'er throws thy joys, friends,
fortune and thy state;

For all the Welshmen, hearing thou wert dead,

Are gone to Bolingbroke, dispersed, fled.

Comfort, my liege.

Why looks thou so pale?

But now the blood of twenty thousand men
Did triumph in my face, and they are fled;

And till such blood thither come again,
Have l 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.

Comfort, my liege.
(WHlSPERlNG) Remember who you are.

l had forgot myself. (LAUGHlNG)

Am l not King?

ls not the King's name
twenty thousand names?

(LAUGHlNG)

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! l know my uncle York
Hath power enough to serve our turn.

But who comes here?

SCROOP:
More health and happiness betide my liege

Than can my care-tuned tongue deliver him.

Mine ear is open and my heart prepared.
The worst is worldly loss thou canst unfold.

Say, is my kingdom lost? (LAUGHS)
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.

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.

Glad am l that your highness is so armed
To bear the tidings of calamity.

Like an unseasonable stormy day,

So high above his limits swells the rage

Of Bolingbroke, covering your fearful land

With hard bright steel
and hearts harder than steel.

Whitebeards have armed their thin
and hairless scalps

Against thy majesty;
boys, with women's voices

Strive to speak big and clap
their female joints

ln stiff and unwieldy arms against thy crown;

Both young and old rebel,

And all goes worse than l have power to tell.

What is become of Bushy?

Where is Green?

(LAUGHS)

lf we prevail, their heads shall pay for it!

l warrant they have made peace
with Bolingbroke.

Peace have they made
with him indeed, my lord.

O villains,

damned without redemption!

Dogs easily won to fawn on any man!

Snakes, in my heart-blood warmed,
that sting my heart!

Judases, each one, worse than Judas!

Would they make peace? Terrible hell
Make war upon their spotted souls for this!

Again uncurse their souls.
Their peace is made

With heads, and not with hands.

Are Bushy and Green dead?

Ay, both of them at Lancaster lost their heads.

Where is the Duke my father with his power?

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 poisoned by their wives;
some sleeping killed.

All murdered.

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 feared and kill with looks,

lnfusing him with self and vain conceit,

As if this flesh which walls about our life
Were brass impregnable;

and humoured 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.

l live with bread like you, feel want,

Taste grief, need friends.

Subjected thus,
How can you say to me l am a king?

My lord, wise men ne'er sit
and wail their woes,

But presently prevent the ways to wail.

My father hath a power.

Enquire of him,
And learn to make a body of a limb.

Thou chid'st me well.

(CHUCKLlNG)

Proud Bolingbroke, l come

To change blows with thee
for our day of doom.

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.

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.

l play the torturer, by small and small

To lengthen out the worst
that must be spoken:

Your uncle York is joined with Bolingbroke,

And all your northern castles yielded up,

And all your southern gentlemen in arms
Upon his party.

Thou hast said enough.

Beshrew thee, cousin,
which didst lead me forth

Of that sweet way l was in to despair.

What say you now?
What comfort have we now?

By heaven, l'll hate him everlastingly
That bids me be of comfort any more.

Go to Flint Castle. There l'll pine away.

A king, woe's slave, shall kingly woe obey.

-My lord, one word.
-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.

(MARCHlNG FOOTSTEPS)

BOLlNGBROKE:
What, will not this castle yield?

The castle royally is manned, my lord,
Against thy entrance.

Royally? Why? lt contains no king?

Yes, my good lord,
lt doth contain a king.

King Richard lies
Within the limits of yon lime and stone,

And with him are the Lord Aumerle, Bagot,
Sir Stephen Scroop, besides a clergyman

Of holy reverence; who, l cannot learn.

O belike it is the Bishop of Carlisle.

Noble lord,
Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle;

Through brazen trumpet
send the breath of parley

lnto his ruined 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 repealed

And lands restored again be freely granted.

lf not, l'll use the advantage of my power

And lay the summer's dust
with showers of blood

Rained from the wounds
of slaughtered Englishmen -

The which how far off
from the mind of Bolingbroke

lt 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.

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, l'll be the yielding water;

The rage be his, whilst on the earth l rain

My waters - on the earth and not on him.

March on,

and mark King Richard how he looks.

(SOLDlERS YELLlNG)

(HORSES NElGHlNG)

See, see.

We are amazed; and thus long have we stood

To watch the fearful bending of thy knee,

Because we thought ourself thy lawful king:

And if we be, how dare thy joints forget
To pay their awful duty to our presence?

No hand of blood and bone
Can grip 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,

ls 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
ls 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.

The king of heaven forbid our lord the king
Should so with civil and uncivil arms

Be rushed 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 buried hand of warlike Gaunt,

And by the worth and honour of himself,

His coming hither hath no further scope
Than for his lineal royalties.

Northumberland, say thus the king returns:

His noble cousin is right welcome hither;

And all the number of his fair demands

Shall be accomplished without contradiction.

(CHAlNMAlL CLlNKlNG)

(BREATHlNG HEAVlLY)

We do debase ourselves, cousin, do we not,

To look so poorly and to speak so fair?

Shall we call back Northumberland, and send
Defiance to the traitor, and so die?

No, good my lord;
let's fight with gentle words

Till time lend friends
and friends their helpful swords.

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 l were as great
As is my grief, or lesser than my name!

Or that l could forget what l have been,
Or not remember what l must be now!

Swell'st thou, proud heart?
l'll give thee scope to beat,

Since foes have scope to beat
both thee and me.

Northumberland comes back
from Bolingbroke.

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?

ln God's name, let it go:

l'll give my jewels for a set of beads,

My gorgeous palace for a hermitage,

My figured goblets for a dish of wood,

My subjects for a pair of carved saints
And my large kingdom for a little grave,

A little, little grave, an obscure grave;

Or l'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 l 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

-(BOTH CHUCKLlNG)
-Within the earth; and, therein laid, there lies

Two kinsmen digged their graves
with weeping eyes. (CHUCKLlNG)

Would not this ill do well?

Well, well, l see
l talk but idly, and you laugh at me.

Most mighty prince, my Lord Northumberland,

What says King Bolingbroke?

NORTHUMBERLAND: My lord, he doth attend
To speak with you;

may it please you to come down.

(SOLDlERS YELLlNG)

Down, down l come;
like a glistering Phaethon,

Wanting the manage of unruly jades.

ln the base court?
Base court, where kings grow base,

To come at traitors' calls and do them grace.

ln the base court? Come down?
Down, court! Down, king!

For night-owls shriek
where mounting larks should sing.

(SOLDlERS SHOUTlNG)

BOLlNGBROKE: Stand all apart,

And show fair duty to his majesty.

My gracious lord.

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, l know,

Thus high at least,
although your knee be low.

-My gracious lord, l come but for mine own.
-Your own is yours, and l am yours, and all.

So far be mine, my most redoubted lord,

As my true service shall deserve your love.

Well you deserve: they well deserve to have,

That know the strong'st
and the surest way to get!

(DUKE OF YORK SOBBlNG)

Uncle, give me your hand:
Nay, dry your eyes;

Tears show their love,
but want their remedies.

(SOBBlNG SOFTLY)

Cousin, l am too young to be your father,

Though you are old enough to be my heir.

What you will have, l'll give, and willing too;

For do we must what force will have us do.

(SlGHlNG)

Set on towards London, cousin, is it so?

Yea, my good lord.

KlNG RlCHARD: Then l must not say no.

What sport shall we devise
here in this garden,

To drive away the heavy thought of care?

Madam, we'll dance.

My legs can keep no measure in delight,

When my poor heart
no measure keeps in grief:

Therefore, no dancing, girl; some other sport.

Madam, we'll tell tales.

-Of sorrow or ofjoy?
-Of either, madam.

Of neither, girl:

Madam, l'll sing.

'Tis well that thou hast cause

But thou shouldst please me better,
wouldst thou weep.

l could weep, madam, would it do you good.

GARDENER:
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.

Why should we
Keep law and form and due proportion,

When our sea-walled garden, the whole land,
ls full of weeds, her fairest flowers choked up,

Her fruit-trees all upturned,
her hedges ruined,

Her knots disorder'd
and her wholesome herbs

-Swarming with caterpillars?
-Hold thy peace:

He that hath suffered this disordered spring
Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf:

The weeds which his
broad-spreading leaves did shelter,

That seemed in eating him to hold him up,

Are plucked up root and all by Bolingbroke,

l mean the favourites of the king,
Bushy and Green.

What, are they dead?

They are; and Bolingbroke
Hath seized the wasteful king.

O what pity is it

That he had not so trimmed
and dressed his land

As we this garden!

We at time of year
Do wound the bark,

Lest, being over-proud in sap and blood,
lt 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:

What, think you then
the king shall be deposed?

Depressed he is already,
and deposed he will be.

Thou,

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?

Speak, thou wretch.

Pardon me, madam: little joy have l

To breathe this news; yet what l say is true.

King Richard, he is in the mighty hold

Of Bolingbroke:
their fortunes both are weighed:

ln your lord's scale is nothing but himself,

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;
l speak no more than every man doth know.

QUEEN: And am l last that knows it?

Come, lady, go,
To meet at London, London's king in woe.

Was l 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.

Poor queen!

Great Duke of Lancaster, l come to thee

From plume-plucked Richard;
who with willing soul

Adopts thee heir.

Ascend his throne, descending now from him;

And long live Henry, fourth of that name!

ln God's name,

l'll ascend the regal throne.

CARLlSLE: Marry. God forbid!

Would God that any in this noble presence

Were enough noble to be upright judge
Of noble Richard!

What subject can give sentence on his king?

And who sits here that is not
Richard's subject?

And shall the figure of God's majesty,

His captain, steward, deputy-elect,
Anointed, crowned, planted many years,

Be judged by subject and inferior breath,
And he himself not present?

O forfend it, God,
That in a Christian climate souls refined

Should show so heinous,
black, obscene a deed!

l speak to subjects, and a subject speaks,
Stirred up by God, thus boldly for his king:

My Lord of Hereford here,
whom you call King,

ls a foul traitor to proud Hereford's king:

And if you crown him, let me prophesy:

The blood of English
shall manure the ground,

And future ages groan for this foul act;

Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels,

And in this seat of peace tumultuous wars

Shall kin with kin
and kind with kind confound;

Disorder, horror, fear and mutiny
Shall here inhabit, and this land be called

The field of Golgotha and dead men's skulls.

O if you raise this house against this house,

lt will the woefullest division prove
That ever fell upon this cursed earth!

Well have you argued, sir; and, for your pains,

Of capital treason we arrest you here.

My Lord of Westminster, be it your charge

To keep him safely till his day of trial.

Fetch hither Richard, that in common view
He may surrender.

So we shall proceed
Without suspicion.

Alack,

why am l sent for to a king,

Before l have shook off the regal thoughts
Wherewith l reigned?

l hardly yet have learned
To insinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my limbs:

Give sorrow leave awhile to tutor me
To this submission. (SOBBlNG)

(SOBBlNG)

Yet l well remember the favours of these men:
were they not mine?

Did they not sometimes cry "all hail!" to me?

So Judas did to Christ: but he, in 1 2,

Found truth in all but one:

l, in 1 2,000, none.

God save the king!

Will no man say amen?
Am l both priest and clerk?

Well then, amen.

God save the king! Although l be not he;

And yet, amen, if heaven do think him me.

To do what service am l sent for hither?

(SOFTLY)
To do that office of thine own good will

Which tired majesty did make thee offer,

The resignation of thy state and crown
To Henry Bolingbroke.

Give 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 well

That owes 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 l,

Drinking my griefs,
whilst you mount up on high.

l thought you had been willing to resign.

My crown l am; but still my griefs are mine.

Part of your cares you give me
with your crown.

Your cares set 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 l give l have, though given away;

They tend the crown,
yet still with me they stay.

Are you contented to resign the crown?

Ay,

no;

no, ay; for l must nothing be;

Therefore no no, for l resign to thee.

Now mark me, how l will undo myself;

(CHURCH BELL TOLLlNG)

l give this heavy weight from off my head,

The pride of kingly sway from out my heart;

With mine own tears l wash away my balm,

With mine own hands l give away my crown,

With mine own tongue deny my sacred state,

With mine own breath release all duty's rites:

All pomp and majesty l do forswear;

Make me, that nothing have,
with nothing grieved,

And thou with all pleased,

that hath all achieved!

Long mayst thou live in Richard's seat to sit,

And soon lie Richard in an earthy pit!

God save King Harry, unkinged Richard says,

And send him many years of sunshine days!

What more remains?

No more, but that you read over

These accusations and grievous crimes
Committed by yourself and your followers

Against the state and profit of this land;

That, by confessing them, the souls of men
May deem you worthily deposed.

Must l do so?

And must l ravel out
My weaved-up folly?

Gentle Northumberland,
lf thy offences were upon record,

Would it not shame thee in so fair a troop
To read a lecture of them?

lf thou wouldst,
There shouldst thou find one heinous article,

Containing the deposing of a king.

Nay, all of you that stand and look upon,
Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait myself,

Though some of you with Pilate
wash your hands

Showing an outward pity; yet you Pilates
Have here delivered me to my sour cross,

And water cannot wash away your sin.

My lord, dispatch. Read o'er these articles.

(SNlFFLlNG)

Mine eyes are full of tears, l cannot see:

And yet salt water blinds them not so much
That they can see a sort of traitors here.

(SNlFFLlNG)

Nay, if l turn mine eyes upon myself,

l find myself a traitor with the rest;

For l have given here my soul's consent
To undeck the pompous body of a king;

Made glory base and sovereignty a slave,
Proud majesty a subject, state a peasant.

-My lord...
-No lord of thine, thou haught insulting man,

Nor no man's lord; l have no name, no title,

No, not that name was given me at the font,

But 'tis usurped: alack the heavy day,

That l have worn so many winters out,
And know not now what name to call myself!

O that l were a mockery king of snow,

Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke,
To melt myself away in water-drops!

Good king, great king,

and yet not greatly good,

And if my word be sterling yet in England,
Let it command a mirror hither straight,

That it may show me what a face l have,
Since it is bankrupt of his majesty.

Go some of you and fetch a looking-glass.

NORTHUMBERLAND: Read o'er this paper
while the glass doth come.

Fiend, thou torment'st me ere l come to hell!

Urge it no more, my Lord Northumberland.

The commons will not be satisfied.

They shall be satisfied: l'll read enough,

When l do see the very book indeed
Where all my sins are writ, and that's myself.

Give me the glass, and therein will l read.

No deeper wrinkles yet?

Hath sorrow struck
So many blows upon this face of mine,

And made no deeper wounds?

O flattering glass,

Thou dost beguile me! Was this face the face

That every day under his household roof
Did keep 1 0,000 men?

Was this the face
That, like the sun, did make beholders wink?

Or is this the face that faced so many follies,

And was at last out-faced by Bolingbroke?

A brittle glory shineth in this face -

As brittle as the glory is the face!

For there it is, cracked in a hundred shivers.

Mark, silent king, the moral of this sport,

How soon my sorrow hath destroyed my face.

The shadow of your sorrow hath destroyed
The shadow of your face.

Say that again.
The shadow of my sorrow! Ha!

let's see:
lt is very true, my grief lies all within;

And these external manners of laments

Are merely shadows to the unseen grief
That swells with silence in the tortured soul;

There lies the substance:

and l thank thee, king,

For thy great bounty, that not only givest

Me cause to wail but teachest me the way
How to lament the cause.

l'll beg one boon,
And then be gone and trouble you no more.

Shall l obtain it?

-Name it, fair cousin.
-"Fair cousin"? l am greater than a king:

For when l was a king, my flatterers
Were then but subjects; being now a subject,

l have a king here to my flatterer.

Being so great, l have no need to beg.

-Yet ask.
-And shall l have?

You shall.

Then give me leave to go.

-Whither?
-Whither you will, so l were from your sights.

-Go, some of you convey him to the Tower.
-O, good!

Convey? Conveyers are you all,

That rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall.

(DOOR OPENlNG)

On Wednesday next we solemnly
set down our coronation.

Lords, prepare yourselves.

(PEOPLE TALKlNG lNDlSTlNCTLY)

QUEEN: This way the King will come.

A woeful pageant have we here beheld.

The woe's to come; the children yet unborn.
Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn.

In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti.

(PANTlNG)

You holy clergymen, is there no plot
To rid the realm of this pernicious blot?

l see your brows are full of discontent,

Your hearts of sorrow and your eyes of tears:

Come home with me to supper; and l'll lay
A plot shall show us all a merry day.

But soft, but see, or rather do not see,
My fair rose wither.

Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so,

To make mine end too sudden:
learn, good soul,

To think our former state a happy dream;

From which awaked, the truth of what we are

Shows us but this: l am sworn brother, sweet,

To grim Necessity, and he and l
Shall keep a league till death.

What, has my Richard both in shape and mind

Transformed and weakened?

Hath Bolingbroke deposed thine intellect?
Hath he been in thy heart?

Good sometime Queen,
prepare thee hence for France:

Think l am dead
and that even here though takest,

As from my death-bed, thy last living leave.

Learn in winter's tedious nights sit by the fire

With good old folks
and let them tell thee tales

Of woeful ages long ago betid;

And ere thou bid good night,
to quit their griefs,

Tell thou the lamentable tale of me
And send the hearers weeping to their beds.

My lord, you must straight to the Tower.

And, madam, there is orders ta'en for you;

With all swift speed you must away to France.

Northumberland, thou ladder wherewithal

The mounting Bolingbroke
ascends my throne,

The time shall not be many hours of age
More than it is ere foul sin gathering head

Shalt break into corruption: thou shalt think,

Though he divide the realm
and give thee half,

lt is too little, helping him to all;

And he shall think that thou,
which know'st the way

To plant unrightful kings, wilt know again,

Being ne'er so little urged, another way

To pluck him headlong
from the usurped throne.

My guilt be on my head, and there an end.

Take leave and part.

Doubly divorced! Bad men, you violate

A twofold marriage, 'twixt my crown and me,

And then betwixt me and my married wife.

Let me unkiss the oath 'twixt thee and me;

And yet not so, for with a kiss 'twas made.

Part us, Northumberland.

Banish us both and send the king with me.

(CHUCKLlNG)

That were some love but little policy.

Then whither he goes, thither let me go.

DUCHESS OF YORK: My lord,

you told me you would tell the rest.

Then, as l said, the duke, great Bolingbroke,

Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed

With slow but stately pace kept on his course,

Whilst all tongues cried
"God save thee, Bolingbroke!"

You would have thought
the very windows spake,

So many greedy looks of young and old

Through casements darted their desiring eyes
Upon his visage.

DUCHESS OF YORK: Alack, poor Richard!

Where was he the whilst?

As in a theatre, the eyes of men,

After a well-graced actor leaves the stage,
Are idly bent on him who enters next,

Thinking his prattle to be tedious;

Even so, or with much more contempt,

men's eyes did scowl on gentle Richard;

No man cried "God save him!"

But dust was thrown upon his sacred head:

Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off,

That had not God,
for some strong purpose, steeled

The hearts of men,
they must perforce have melted

But heaven hath a hand in these events,

To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now.

My son, Aumerle.

What news from Oxford?
Jousts and triumphs?

For aught l know, my lord.

You will be there, l know.

lf God prevent not, l purpose so.

What seal is that?

Yea, look'st thou pale? Let me see the writing.

-My lord, 'tis nothing.
-No matter, then, who see it;

l will be satisfied; let me see the writing.

l do beseech your grace to pardon me:

lt is a matter of small consequence,

Which for some reasons
l would not have seen.

Which for some reason, sir, l mean to see.

-(SCOFFS) l fear...
-What should you fear?

Boy, let me see the writing.

l do beseech you, pardon me;
l may not show it.

l will be satisfied; let me see it, l say.

lt's treason! Foul treason!

What is the matter, my lord?

-Ho! Who's within there?
-SERVANT: Here, my lord.

Saddle my horse!
Give me my boots, l say!

-What is the matter?
-Peace, foolish woman!

l will not peace. What is the matter, Aumerle?

Good mother, be content; it is no more
Than my poor life must answer.

-Thy life answer!
-l will unto the king.

Aumerle?
Poor boy, thou art amazed.

Give me my boots, l say.

Why, York, what wilt thou do?
Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own?

Have we more sons? Or are we like to have?

A dozen of them here
have ta'en the sacrament,

And interchangeably set down their hand,
To kill the new-crowned king.

He shall be none;
We'll keep him here: then what is that to him?

Were he 20 times my son,
l would impeach him.

Hadst thou groan'd for him
As l have done, thou wouldst be more pitiful.

But now l know thy mind; thou dost suspect

that l have been disloyal to thy bed

And that he is a bastard, not thy son:

Sweet York, sweet husband,
be not of that mind:

He is as like thee as a man may be!

DUKE OF YORK: Make way!

After, Aumerle! Mount thee upon his horse;

Spur post, and get before him to the king,
And beg thy pardon ere he do accuse thee.

l'll not be long behind;

Away, be gone!

(DOOR OPENlNG)

Who comes here?

What means our cousin
that he stares and looks so wildly?

God save your grace!
l do beseech your majesty,

To have some conference
with your grace alone.

Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here alone.

Then give me leave that l may turn the key,
That no man enter till my tale be done.

Have thy desire.

(POUNDlNG ON DOOR)

DUKE OF YORK: My liege, beware;

Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there.

Villain, l'll make thee safe.

Stay thy revengeful hand;
thou hast no cause to fear.

DUKE OF YORK: (POUNDlNG) My liege.

Open the door. Or l will break it open.

What is the matter, uncle? Speak!

Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt know
The treason that my haste forbid me show.

l do repent me; read not my name there

My heart was not confederate with my hand.

lt was, villain, ere thy hand did set it down.

l tore it from the traitor's bosom, king;

Fear, and not love, begets his penitence:

O heinous, strong and bold conspiracy!

O loyal father of a treacherous son!

Thy overflow of good converts to bad,

And thy abundant goodness shall excuse
This deadly blot in thy digressing son.

Thou kill'st me in his life; giving him breath,
The traitor lives, the true man's put to death.

(POUNDlNG AT DOOR)

DUCHESS OF YORK: What ho, my liege!
For God's sake, let me in!

What shrill-voiced suppliant
makes this eager cry?

A woman.
And thy aunt, great king; 'tis l.

Open the door.

A beggar begs that never begged before.

Our scene is altered from a serious thing,

And now changed
to "The Beggar and the King."

(POUNDlNG ON DOOR)

My dangerous cousin, let your mother in:

l know she is come to pray for your foul sin.

O king, believe not this hard-hearted man!

Love loving not itself none other can.

Thou frantic woman,
what dost thou make here?

Shall thy old dugs another traitor rear?

Sweet York, be patient.
Hear me, gentle liege.

-Rise up, good aunt!
-Not yet, l thee beseech:

For ever will l walk upon my knees,

Until thou bid me joy,
By pardoning my transgressing boy.

Unto my mother's prayers l bend my knee.

Against them both my true joints bended be.

lll mayst thou thrive, if thou grant any grace!

Pleads he in earnest? Look upon his face;

His eyes do drop no tears,
his prayers are in jest;

His words come from his mouth,
ours from our breast.

-Good aunt, stand up.
-Nay, do not say "stand up;"

Say, "pardon" first,
and afterwards "stand up."

l never long'd to hear a word till now;

Say "pardon," king; let pity teach thee how:

The word is short, but not so short as sweet;

No word like "pardon"
for kings' mouths so meet.

-Good aunt, stand up.
-l do not sue to stand;

Pardon is all the suit l have in hand.

l pardon him,

as God shall pardon me.

O happy vantage of a kneeling knee!

(BREATHlNG SHAKlLY)
Yet am l sick with fear: speak it again.

With all my heart

l pardon him.

A god on earth thou art!

But for our trusty bishop and the abbot,
With all the rest of that consorted crew,

Destruction straight
shall dog them at the heels.

Good uncle, help to order several powers
To Oxford, or where'er these traitors are:

They shall not live within this world,
But l will have them, if l once know where.

Uncle, farewell:

And, cousin too, adieu:

Your mother well hath prayed,
and prove you true.

Come, my old son.

l pray God make thee new.

(lNHALES DEEPLY)

(ALL TALKlNG, lNDlSTlNCT)

LORD MARSHALL:
Didst thou not mark the king,

what words he spake?

"Have l no friend
will rid me of this living fear?"

Was it not so? Quoth he.

He spake it twice,
And urged it twice together, did he not?

He did.

And speaking it, he wistly looked on thee,

And who should say,
"l would thou wert the man"

"That would divorce this terror
from my heart;"

Meaning the king in the Tower.

Come, let's go:

We are the king's friends, and will rid his foe.

KlNG RlCHARD:
l have been studying how l may compare

This prison where l live unto the world:

And for because the world is populous
And here is not a creature but myself,

l cannot do it;

yet l'll hammer it out.

My brain l'll prove the female to my soul,

My soul the father; and these two beget

A generation of still-breeding thoughts,

And these same thoughts people
this little world,

Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot

Unlikely wonders; how these vain weak nails

May tear a passage through the flinty ribs

Of this hard world, my ragged prison walls,

And, for they cannot, die in their own pride.

Thoughts tending to content
flatter themselves

That they are not the first of fortune's slaves,

Nor shall not be the last;

like silly beggars

Who sitting in the stocks refuge their shame,

That many have and others must sit there;

And in this thought they find a kind of ease,

Bearing their own misfortune on the back
Of such as have before endured the like.

Thus play l in one person many people,

And none contented:

sometimes am l king;

Then treasons make me wish myself a beggar,

And so l am:

then crushing penury
Persuades me l was better when a king;

Then am l kinged again and by and by
Think that l am unkinged by Bolingbroke,

And straight am nothing:

but whate'er l be,

Nor l nor any man that but man is

With nothing shall be pleased, till he be eased
With being nothing.

(FlDDLE MUSlC PLAYlNG lN DlSTANCE)

Music do l hear?

(LAUGHlNG)

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.

l wasted time, and now doth time waste me.

This music mads me; let it sound no more;

For though it have holp madmen to their wits,
ln me it seems it will make wise men mad.

(SNlFFLlNG)

Yet blessing on his heart that gives it me!

For 'tis a sign of love; and love to Richard

ls a strange brooch in this all-hating world.

-(DOOR OPENlNG)
-GROOM: Hail, royal prince!

(FOOTSTEPS APPROACHlNG)

KlNG RlCHARD:
Thanks, noble peer;

What art thou? and how comest thou hither,

Where no man never comes but that sad dog
That brings me food to make misfortune live?

l was a poor groom of thy stable, king,

When thou wert king; who,
With much ado have gotten leave

To look upon
my sometimes royal master's face.

O, how it yearned my heart when l beheld
ln London streets, that coronation day,

When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary,

That horse that thou so often hast bestrid,
That horse that l so carefully have dressed!

Rode he on Barbary? Tell me, gentle friend,
How went he under him?

So proudly as if he disdained the ground.

So proud that Bolingbroke was on his back!

That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand;

This hand hath made him proud
with clapping him.

Would he not stumble?
would he not fall down,

Since pride must have a fall,
and break the neck

Of that proud man that did usurp his back?

Forgiveness, horse! Why do l rail on thee,

Since thou, created to be awed by man,

Wast born to bear? l was not made a horse;

And yet l bear a burden like an ass,

Spurred, galled and tired
by jouncing Bolingbroke.

(DOOR OPENlNG)

lf thou loves me, 'tis time thou wert away.

How now!

Villain, thy own hand
yields thy death's instrument.

(CHOKlNG)

(GRUNTS)

Go now and fill another room in hell.

(GASPS)

(GASPlNG)

Welcome, my lord. What news?

First, to thy sacred state wish l all happiness.

The next news is, l have to London brought

The heads of Oxford,
Salisbury, Blunt, and Kent.

We thank thee for thy pains.

My lord, l have from Oxford
brought to London

The heads of Bagot and Sir Stephen Scroop.

Thy pains, Willoughby, shall not be forgot.

The conspirator, Abbot of Westminster,

Hath yielded up his body to the grave!

But here is Carlisle living.

(WHlMPERlNG)

Carlisle, this is your doom:

Choose out some secret place,
some reverend room,

More than thou hast,

and with it joy thy life;

So as thou livest in peace, die free from strife:

For though mine enemy hast thou ever been,

High sparks of honour in thee have l seen.

Within this coffin l present

Thy buried fear: herein all breathless lies

The mightiest of thy greatest enemies,

Richard of Bordeaux, by me hither brought.

(SHAKlLY) Aumerle,

l thank thee not; for thou hast wrought
A deed of slander with thy fatal hand

Upon my head and all this famous land.

From your own mouth, my lord,
did l this deed.

They love not poison that do poison need,

Nor do l thee:

though l did wish him dead,

l hate the murderer,

love him murdered.

Lords, l protest, my soul is full of woe,

That blood should sprinkle me
to make me grow:

Come, mourn with me for what l do lament,

And put on sullen black incontinent:

l'll make a voyage to the Holy Land,

To wash this blood off from my guilty hand.