# Richard II (1921) Yale/Text/Act III

Notes originally placed at the bottom of each page appear below, following Act III. Where these notes gloss a word in the text, the gloss can also be found by hovering over the text.
Where these notes refer to an end note (cf. n. = confer notam; "consult note"), a link to the accompanying end note is provided from the Footnotes section. The end notes accompanying Act III begin on page 114 of the original volume.
Layout 2
ACT THIRD
Scene One
[Bristol. Bolingbroke's Camp]
Boling. 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, 4 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, 8 A happy gentleman in blood and lineaments, By you unhappied and disfigur'd clean: You have in manner with your sinful hours Made a divorce betwixt his queen and him, 12 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, 16 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, 20 Eating the bitter bread of banishment; Whilst you have fed upon my signories, ​Dispark'd my parks, and felled my forest woods, From mine own windows torn my household coat, 24 Raz'd out my impress, 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, 28 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. 32
Green. My comfort is, that heaven will take our souls And plague injustice with the pains of hell.
Boling. My Lord Northumberland, see them dispatch'd. [Exeunt Northumberland and others, with Bushy and Green.] Uncle, you say the queen is at your house; 36 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.
York. A gentleman of mine I have dispatch'd 40 With letters of your love to her at large.
Boling. Thanks, gentle uncle. Come, lords, away, To fight with Glendower and his complices: Awhile to work, and after holiday.
Exeunt.
Scene Two
[The Coast of Wales. A Castle in view]
Drums, Flourish, and Colours. Enter Richard, Aumerle, [the Bishop of] Carlisle, and Soldiers.
K. Rich. Barkloughly Castle call they this at hand?
Aum. Yea, my lord. How brooks your Grace the air, After your late tossing on the breaking seas?
K. Rich. Needs must I like it well: I weep for joy 4 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 8 Plays fondly with her tears and smiles in meeting, So, weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth, And do thee favour with my royal hands. Feed not thy sovereign's foe, my gentle earth, 12 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 16 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 20 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 24 ​Prove armed soldiers, ere her native king Shall falter under foul rebellion's arms.
Car. Fear not, my lord: that power that made you king Hath power to keep you king in spite of all. 28 The means that heaven yields must be embrac'd, And not neglected; else, if heaven would, And we will not, heaven's offer we refuse, The proffer'd means of succour and redress. 32
Aum. He means, my lord, that we are too remiss; Whilst Bolingbroke, through our security, Grows strong and great in substance and in friends.
K. Rich. Discomfortable cousin! know'st thou not 36 That when the searching eye of heaven is hid Behind the globe, and lights the lower world, Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen, In murders and in outrage bloody here; 40 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, 44 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 48 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, 52 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 56 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 60 A glorious angel: then, if angels fight, Weak men must fall, for heaven still guards the right.
Enter Salisbury.
Welcome, my lord: how far off lies your power?
Sal. Nor near nor farther off, my gracious lord, 64 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. 68 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; 72 For all the Welshmen, hearing thou wert dead, Are gone to Bolingbroke, dispers'd, and fled.
Aum. Comfort, my liege! why looks your Grace so pale?
K. Rich. But now, the blood of twenty thousand men 76 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; 80 ​For time hath set a blot upon my pride.
Aum. Comfort, my liege! remember who you are.
K. Rich. I had forgot myself. Am I not king? Awake, thou sluggard majesty! thou sleepest. 84 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? 88 High be our thoughts: I know my uncle York Hath power enough to serve our turn. But who comes here?
Enter [Sir Stephen] Scroop.
Scroop. More health and happiness betide my liege Than can my care-tun'd tongue deliver him! 92
K. Rich. Mine ear is open and my heart prepar'd: 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? 96 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; 100 They break their faith to God as well as us: Cry woe, destruction, ruin, loss, decay; The worst is death, and death will have his day.
Scroop. Glad am I that your highness is so arm'd 104 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 dissolv'd to tears, 108 ​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 112 Against thy majesty; and boys, with women's voices, Strive to speak big, and clap their female joints In stiff unwieldy arms against thy crown; Thy very beadsmen learn to bend their bows 116 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. 120
K. Rich. 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 124 Measure our confines with such peaceful steps? If we prevail, their heads shall pay for it. I warrant they have made peace with Bolingbroke.
Scroop. Peace have they made with him, indeed, my lord. 128
K. Rich. 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! 132 Would they make peace? terrible hell make war Upon their spotted souls for this offence!
Scroop. Sweet love, I see, changing his property, ​Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate. 136 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, grav'd in the hollow ground. 140
Aum. Is Bushy, Green, and the Earl of Wiltshire dead?
Scroop. Yea, all of them at Bristol lost their heads.
Aum. Where is the duke my father with his power?
K. Rich. No matter where. Of comfort no man speak: 144 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: 148 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, 152 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: 156 How some have been depos'd, some slain in war, Some haunted by the ghosts they have depos'd, Some poison'd by their wives, some sleeping kill'd; All murder'd: for within the hollow crown 160 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, 164 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 168 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, 172 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, 176 How can you say to me I am a king?
Car. 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, 180 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; 184 Where fearing dying pays death servile breath.
Aum. My father hath a power; inquire of him And learn to make a body of a limb.
K. Rich. Thou chid'st me well. Proud Bolingbroke, I come 188 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? 192 ​Speak sweetly, man, although thy looks be sour.
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, 196 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, 200 And all your northern castles yielded up, And all your southern gentlemen in arms Upon his party.
K. Rich. Thou hast said enough. [To Aumerle.] Beshrew thee, cousin, which didst lead me forth 204 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. 208 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, 212 For I have none: let no man speak again To alter this, for counsel is but vain.
Aum. My liege, one word.
K. Rich. He does me double wrong, That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue. 216 Discharge my followers: let them hence away, From Richard's night to Bolingbroke's fair day.
Exeunt.
Scene Three
[Wales. Before Flint Castle]
Enter with Drum and Colours, Bolingbroke, York, Northumberland, Attendants [and Forces].
Boling. So that by this intelligence we learn The Welshmen are dispers'd and Salisbury Is gone to meet the king, who lately landed With some few private friends upon this coast. 4
North. The news is very fair and good, my lord: Richard not far from hence hath hid his head.
York. It would beseem the Lord Northumberland To say, 'King Richard': alack the heavy day 8 When such a sacred king should hide his head!
North. Your Grace mistakes; only to be brief Left I his title out.
York. The time hath been, Would you have been so brief with him, he would 12 Have been so brief with you, to shorten you, For taking so the head, your whole head's length.
Boling. Mistake not, uncle, further than you should.
York. Take not, good cousin, further than you should, 16 Lest you mistake the heavens are o'er our heads.
Boling. 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? 20
H. Percy. The castle royally is mann'd, my lord, Against thy entrance.
​Boling. Royally! Why, it contains no king?
H. Percy. Yes, my good lord, 24 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 28 Of holy reverence; who, I cannot learn.
North. O! belike it is the Bishop of Carlisle.
Boling. [To North.] Noble lord, Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle, 32 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, 36 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, 40 And lands restor'd 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 44 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. 48 Go, signify as much, while here we march Upon the grassy carpet of this plain. Let's march without the noise of threat'ning drum, That from this castle's totter'd battlements 52 Our fair appointments may be well perus'd. ​Methinks King Richard and myself should meet With no less terror than the elements Of fire and water, when their thundering shock 56 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. 60 March on, and mark King Richard how he looks.
Boling. See, see, King Richard doth himself appear, As doth the blushing discontented sun From out the fiery portal of the east, 64 When he perceives the envious clouds are bent To dim his glory and to stain the track Of his bright passage to the occident.
York. Yet looks he like a king: behold, his eye, 68 As bright as is the eagle's, lightens forth Controlling majesty: alack, alack, for woe, That any harm should stain so fair a show!
K. Rich. [To Northumberland.] We are amaz'd; and thus long have we stood 72 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? 76 If we be not, show us the hand of God That hath dismiss'd us from our stewardship; For well we know, no hand of blood and bone Can gripe the sacred handle of our sceptre, 80 ​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; 84 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, 88 That lift your vassal hands against my head And threat the glory of my precious crown. Tell Bolingbroke,—for yon methinks he stands,— That every stride he makes upon my land 92 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 96 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. 100
North. 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; 104 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, 108 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 112 ​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, 116 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. 120
K. Rich. 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: 124 With all the gracious utterance thou hast Speak to his gentle hearing kind commends. [Northumberland retires to Bolingbroke.] [To Aumerle.] We do debase ourselves, cousin, do we not, To look so poorly and to speak so fair? 128 Shall we call back Northumberland and send Defiance to the traitor, and so die?
Aum. No, good my lord; let's fight with gentle words, Till time lend friends and friends their helpful swords. 132
K. Rich. 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 136 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, 140 Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me.
Aum. Northumberland comes back from Bolingbroke.
K. Rich. What must the king do now? Must he submit? The king shall do it: must he be depos'd? 144 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, 148 My gay apparel for an almsman's gown, My figur'd goblets for a dish of wood, My sceptre for a palmer's walking-staff, My subjects for a pair of carved saints, 152 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 156 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! 160 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, 164 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, there inlaid: 'There lies 168 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, 172 What says King Bolingbroke? will his majesty Give Richard leave to live till Richard die? You make a leg, and Bolingbroke says ay.
North. My lord, in the base court he doth attend 176 To speak with you; may 't please you to come down?
K. Rich. Down, down, I come; like glistering Phaethon, Wanting the manage of unruly jades. In the base court? Base court, where kings grow base, 180 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.]
Boling. What says his majesty?
North. Sorrow and grief of heart 184 Makes him speak fondly, like a frantic man: Yet he is come.
[Enter King Richard, and his Attendants.]
Boling. Stand all apart, And show fair duty to his majesty. 188 He kneels down. My gracious lord,—
​K. Rich. 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 192 Than my unpleas'd eye see your courtesy. Up, cousin, up; your heart is up, I know, Thus high at least, although your knee be low.
Boling. My gracious lord, I come but for mine own. 196
K. Rich. Your own is yours, and I am yours, and all.
Boling. So far be mine, my most redoubted lord, As my true service shall deserve your love.
K. Rich. Well you deserve: they well deserve to have 200 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, 204 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, it is so? 208
Boling. Yea, my good lord.
K. Rich. Then I must not say no.
Flourish. Exeunt.
Scene Four
[Langley. The Duke of York's Garden]
Enter the Queen and two Ladies.
Queen. What sport shall we devise here in this garden, To drive away the heavy thought of care?
First Lady. Madam, we'll play at bowls.
Queen. 'Twill make me think the world is full of rubs, 4 And that my fortune runs against the bias.
First Lady. Madam, we'll dance.
Queen. My legs can keep no measure in delight When my poor heart no measure keeps in grief: 8 Therefore, no dancing, girl; some other sport.
First Lady. Madam, we'll tell tales.
Queen. Of sorrow or of joy?
First Lady. Of either, madam.
Queen. Of neither, girl: 12 For if 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: 16 For what I have I need not to repeat, And what I want it boots not to complain.
First Lady. Madam, I'll sing.
Queen. 'Tis well that thou hast cause; But thou shouldst please me better wouldst thou weep. 20
First 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: 24 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. 28
[Queen and Ladies retire.]
Gard. 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. 32 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. 36 You thus employ'd, I will go root away The noisome weeds, that without profit suck The soil's fertility from wholesome flowers.
First Serv. Why should we in the compass of a pale 40 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 chok'd up, 44 Her fruit-trees all unprun'd, her hedges ruin'd, Her knots disorder'd, and her wholesome herbs Swarming with caterpillars?
Gard. Hold thy peace: ​He that hath suffer'd this disorder'd spring 48 Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf; The weeds that 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; 52 I mean the Earl of Wiltshire, Bushy, Green.
First Serv. What! are they dead?
Gard. They are; and Bolingbroke Hath seiz'd the wasteful king. O! what pity is it That he hath not so trimm'd and dress'd his land 56 As we this garden. We at time of year Do wound the bark, the skin of our fruit-trees, Lest, being over-proud with sap and blood, With too much riches it confound itself: 60 Had he done so to great and growing men, They might have liv'd to bear and he to taste Their fruits of duty: superfluous branches We lop away that bearing boughs may live: 64 Had he done so, himself had borne the crown, Which waste of idle hours hath quite thrown down.
First Serv. What! think you then the king shall be depos'd?
Gard. Depress'd he is already, and depos'd 68 '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. 72 [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? 76 Why dost thou say King Richard is depos'd? Dar'st thou, thou little better thing than earth, Divine his downfall? Say, where, when, and how Cam'st thou by these ill tidings? speak, thou wretch. 80
Gard. Pardon me, madam: little joy have I To breathe these news, yet what I say is true. King Richard, he is in the mighty hold Of Bolingbroke; their fortunes both are weigh'd: 84 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, 88 And with that odds he weighs King Richard down. Post you to London and you'll find it so; I speak no more than every one doth know.
Queen. Nimble mischance, that art so light of foot, 92 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, 96 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, 100 Pray God the plants thou graft'st may never grow.
Exeunt [Queen and Ladies].
Gard. 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, 104 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.
Footnotes to Act III
Scene One
​3 part: quit 4 urging: insisting upon 10 clean: entirely 11 in manner: as it were 22 signories: estates ​23 Dispark'd: unfenced 24 coat: coat-of-arms 25 impress; cf. n. 37 entreated: treated 38 commends: greetings 41 at large: fully set forth 43 Glendower; cf. n.
Scene Two
​1 Barkloughly; cf. n. 2 brooks: endures 23 conjuration: adjuration, prayer ​29–32 Cf. n. 34 security: false confidence 36 Discomfortable: discouraging 49 antipodes: the inhabitants of the other hemisphere ​55 balm: holy oil used in consecrating a king 58 press'd: recruited, levied 59 shrewd: accursed 64 near: nearer 65 discomfort: discouragement ​92 deliver: utter to 99 fellow: equal ​114 clap: set briskly female: womanish 115 arms: armor 116 beadsmen: pensioners 117 double-fatal; cf. n. 118 manage: handle bills; cf. n. 119 seat: throne 125 confines: territories 135 property: essential nature ​140 grav'd: entombed 153 model: mold, close envelop 161 rounds: encircles 162 antic: buffoon 163 Scoffing: mocking ​166 self and vain conceit; cf. n. 168, 169 and . . . Comes: and to him who has been thus humored, death comes 176 subjected: brought low; cf. n. 179 prevent: escape 183 to fight: by fighting 189 change: exchange 190 over-blown: past ​194 complexion: visible aspect 195 inclination: character 203 party: side 204 forth: out 209 Flint; cf. n. 212 ear: plow
Scene Three
​4 private: intimate 14 taking . . . head: being so forward 15, 17 Mistake; cf. n. ​40 banishment repeal'd; cf. n. 52 totter'd: ragged 53 appointments: equipment perus'd: surveyed ​69 lightens: flashes 73 fearful: apprehensive 76 awful: reverential ​83 them: themselves 89 That: refers to 'you' implied 94 testament: will, figuratively 98 maid-pale: pale as a girl 102 uncivil: discourteous ​113 lineal royalties: prerogatives due to descent 114 Enfranchisement: restoration to free man's rights 117 barbed: armored 127 debase: degrade 136 sooth: cajolery ​140 give scope: give free play 147–152 Cf. n. 162 lodge: bend over 164 play . . . wantons: trifle 167 fretted: worn ​168 inlaid: inscribed 169 digg'd: who digged 175 make a leg: make an obeisance 176 base court: outer court of castle 178 glistering: shining Phaethon; cf. n. 179 Wanting: lacking manage: skill to handle jades: horses 185 fondly: foolishly ​192 Me rather had: I'd rather 203 want . . . remedies: lack what will cure their cause 205 heir: i.e., successor
Scene Four
​3–5 Cf. n. 7, 8 Cf. n. 22 Cf. n. ​26 unto: staked against 28 Against: in expectation of forerun: announced as by a harbinger 31 oppression: burden 36 even: uniform government: domain under our control 40 pale: fence 42 model: plan on a small scale estate: condition 46 knots: parterres, flower-beds ​56 dress'd: cultivated 57 time of year: proper seasons 60 confound: destroy 69 'Tis doubt: it is apprehended 72 press'd to death: suffocated; cf. n. ​75 suggested: tempted 79 Divine: prophesy 83 hold: grasp 93 embassage: errand ​104 fall: let drop 105 rue: a garden plant, 'herb of grace' 106 ruth: pity