The Tragedie of

The other to enjoy by rage and Warre.
These signes fore-run the death of Kinges.
Farewell, our Countrymen are gone and fled,
As well affured Richard their King, is dead.
Sd. Ah Richard! with eyes of heavy minde,
I feethy glory like a shooting Starre,
Fall to the bafe earth from the firmament,
Thy funne fets, weeping in the lowly Weft,
Witneſſing ſtormes to come, woe and vnrfeft :
Thy friendes are fled to waite vpon thy foes,
And croſſely to thy good all fortune goes.

Enter Duke of Herford, Torke, Northumberland.

Bull. Bring forth thefe men.

Bull. Bring forth thefe men.
Bull. Bring forth thefe men.
Since preſently your ſoules muſt part your bodies,
With too much vrging your pernicious liues,
For t'were no charity; yet to wash your blood
From off my hands, here in the view of men,
I will vnfold some cauſes of your death,
You haue miſ-led a Prince, a royall King,
A happy Gentleman in blood and lineaments,
By you vnhappied and diſfigured cleane,
You haue in manner with your ſinfull houres,
Made a divorce betwixt his Queene and him,
Broke the poſſession of a royall bed,
And ſtaynde the beutie of a fayre Queenes cheekes,
With teares drawne from her eyes with your ſoule wrongs,
My ſelfe a Prince by fortune of my birth,
Neere to the King in blood, and neere in loue,
Till they did make him miſ-interpret me,
Have ſtoop't my necke vnder your injuuries,
And ſigh'd my English breath in forren cloudes,
Eating the bitter bread of baniſhment,
While you haue ſedde vpon my ſegnories,
Diſparkt my Parkes, and ſeld my forreſt woods,
From mine owne windowes torne my household coate,
Rac't outmy impreeſe, leauing me no ſigne,

Saue

King Richard the Second.

Saue meens opinions, and my luing blood,
To ſhow the world I am a Gentleman.
This, and much more, much in ore then twice all this,
Condemns you to the death: see them deliuered ouer
To execution and the hand of death.

Bull. More welcome is the ſtroke of death to me,
Then Bullingbrooke to England: Lords farewell.

Bull. More welcome is the ſtroke of death to me,
Then Bullingbrooke to England: Lords farewell.
Greene. My comfort is, that heauen will take our ſoules,
And plague iniſtice with the paines of hell.

Bull. My Lord Northumberland, see them dispatcht:
Vnkleck, you ſay, the Queene is at your houſe,
For God's sake fairely let her be in treated,
Tell her, I ſend to her my kind commands;
Take ſpeciall care my greetings be delivered.

Bull. Thankes (gentle Vnkleck :) come Lords, away,
With letters of your loue to her at large,
Bull. Thankes (gentle Vnkleck :) come Lords, away,
To fight with Glenarv and his complices,
A while to worke, and after, holiday.

Exeunt.

Enter the King, Aumerle, Carleil &c.

King. Barkloughly Castle call you this at hand?

Aum. Yea my Lord; how brook's your Grace the ayre
After your late toſing on the breaking Seas?

King. Needs muſt I like it well, I weepe for ioy,
To stand vpon my Kingdome once againe.

Deare earth, I do ſalute thee with my hand,
Though Rebels wound thee with their Horſes hoofes :

As a long parted mother with her child,
Playes fondly with her teares, and ſmiles in meeting :

So weeping, ſmilming, greete I thee my earth,
And do theſe ſanour with my rov all hands;
Feede not thy Soueraignes ſoem, my gentle earth,
Nor with thy ſweetes comfort his ravenous ſence,

But let thy Spiders, that fucke vp thy venome,
And heavy gated Toads lie in their way,

Doing anno yance to the trecherous ſeete,

Which with vſurping ſteps do trample thee :

Yelde.

The Tragedie of

Yeeld flinging nettles to mine enemies :
And when they from thy bosome plucke a flower,
Guard it I pray thee with a lurking Adder,
Whofe doubletongue may with a mortal touch,
Throw death vpon thy Soueraines enemies :
Mocken not my senfleſſe coniuration Lords :
This earth shall haue a feeling, and these ſtones
Prooue armed Souldiers ere her native King
Shall falter vnder foule rebellious arms.

*(Carl.)* Feare not my Lord, that power that made you King,
Hath power to keepe you king in spite of all;
The meanes that heauens yeeld must be imbrac'd
And not neglected. Elſe heauen would,
And we would not; heauens offer, we refuſe
The proffered meanes of ſuccours and redreſſe.

*Aum.* He meanes, my Lord, that we are to remiſſe,
Whilſt *Bullingbrooke*, through our ſecurity,
Growes ſtrong and great in ſubſtance and in power.

*Kung.* Difcomfortable coofin, knowſt thou not,
That when the ſearching eie of heauen is hid
Behind the globe that lights the lower world,
Then theeues and robbers range abroade vnſeene,
In murthers, and in outrage bloody heere.
But when from vnder his terreftriall ball,
He fires the proude tops of the eſterne pines,
And darts his lighthroughout euery guilty hole;
Then murders, treaſons, and detested finnes,
The cloake of night being pluckt from off their backes,
Stand bare and naked trembling at themſelues:
So when this thieſe, this traitour *Bullingbrooke*,
Who all this while hath neueld in the night
Whilſt we were wandring with the Antipodes,
Shall fee vs rſing in our throne the Eaſt,
His treaſons will fit bluſhing in his ſace,
Not able to endure the ſight of day,
But ſelſe affrighted, trembled at his finne,
Not all the water in the rough rude Sea,
Can waſh the balme off from an annoynted King.

The

King Richard the Second.

The breath of worldly men cannot depoſe
The deputy elected by the Lord,
For euery man that *Bullingbroek* hath preſſt,
To lift ſhrewde ſteele againſt our golden crowne,
God for his *Ric* : hath in heauenily pay,
A glorious Angel : then if Angel's fight,
Weake men muſt fall, ſot heauen ſtill guardes the right.

*Enter Salisb.*

*King.* Welcome my Lord: how farre off lies your power?
*Salisb.* Nor neere nor farther off, my gratiouſ Lord:
Than this weake arme; diſcomfort guides my tongue.
And bids me ſpeake of nothing but Despair,
One day too late, I ſeare, my noble Lo.
Hath clouded all thy happy dayes on earth,
O call backe yesterday, bid Time returne,
And thou shalt haue twelue thouſand fighting men:
Today, to day, vuhappy day, too late,
Ouertrowes thy ioyes, friends, fortune and thy state:
For all the Welcknien hearing thou wert dead,
Are gone to *Bullingbrooke*, diſperſt, and fled.

*Aum.* Comfort, my liege, why lookes your Grace ſo pale?
*King.* But now the bloud of twenty thouſand men
Did triumph in my ſace, and they are fled :
And till ſo much bloud thither come againe,
Hauſe I not reaſon to looke pale and dead?
All ſonles that will be ſafe, ſie from my ſide,
For Time hath fet a blot vpon my pride.

*Aum.* Comfort, my Liege, remember who you are.
*King.* I had forgot my ſelſe, Am I not King?
Awake thou coiward, Maieſtie thou ſleepeſt,
Is not the Kings name twentie thouſand names?
Arme, arme, my name a puny ſubieſt strikes
At thy great glory, looke not to the ground,
Yee ſauourites of a King, are we not high?
High be our thoughts, I know my vnctyle *Torke* (heere)
Hath power enough to ſerue our turne : but who comes

*Enter Scroope.*

*Scroope.* More health and happinſe betide my Liege,

F.

Then

The Tragedie of

Then can my care tunde tongue deliuer him.

King. Mine care is open, and my heart prepard,
The worft is worldly loffe thou canst vnfold.
Say, is my Kingdome loff? Why twas my care,
And what loffe is it to be rid of care?

Striues Bullingbrooke to be as great as wee.

Greater he shall not be : if he ferue God,

Weeke ferue him tqq, and be his fellow so.

Reuolt our Subieſtes that we can not mende,

They breake their fayth to God as well as vs :

Cry woe, deſtruction, ruine, and decay,

The worſt is death, and death will haue his day.

Scroo. Glad am I, that your Highneſſe is so armde

To beare the tydings of calamitie,

Like an vnfeasonable ſtormie day,

Which make the filuer Riuers drowne their shoſes.

As if the world were all diſſolude to teares,

So high aboue his limits ſwels the rage

Of Bullingbrooke, couering your fearefull land

With hard bright ſteele, and hearts harder then ſteele :

White beards haue arm'd their thinne and haireleſſe ſcalps

A gainſt thy Maieſtie : and boyes with womens voyces.

Striue to ſpake bigge, and clap their female ioynts

In ſtiffe vnwildie armes, againſt thy Crowne,

Thy very beadſ-men learne to bend their browes,

Of double fatall woe againſt thy ſtate.

Yea diſtaffe women mannageruſtie billies :

A gainſt thy ſeate both young and old rebel,

And all goes worſe then I haue power to tell:

Kmp. To well, to well thou telft a tale so ill.

Where is the Earle of Wiltshire ? where is Bagot?

What is become of Buſhie? where is Greene?

That they haue let the dangerous enemie

Meaſure our confines with such peacefull ſteps :

If we preuail, their heads shall pay for it :

I warrant they haue made peace with Bullingbrooke.

Scro. Peace haue they made with him indeede my Lord.

Kmg. Oh villaines, vipers, damnd without redemption,

Dogs

King Richard the Second.

Dogs eafily wonne to ſawne on any man.

Shakes in my heart bloud warnd, that ſting my heart,
Three Iudaſſes, each one thrice worſe then Iudas,
Would they make peace a terrible hell

Make warre vpon their ſpotted ſoules for this.

Scro. Sweete loue's (I fee) changing : his property
Turne to the ſowrest and moſt deadly hate.

Againe vncurſe their ſoules, their peace is made,
With head, and not with hands, thoſe whom you curſe
Haue felt the worſt of death, is destroying wound,
And die full low, grau'd in the hollow ground.

Aum. Is Buſhie, Greene, and the Earle of Wiltshire dead?

Scro. Yea, all of them at Briftow loſt their heads.

Aum. Where is the Duke my father with his power?

Kng. No matter where, of comfort no man ſpake.

Let's talke of graues, of wormes, and Epitaphs,

Make duſt our paper, and with ranie eyes

Write ſorrow on the boſome of the earth.

Let's chooſe Executors and talke of wils :

And yet not ſo, for what can we bequeath,
Sau our depoſed bodies to the ground?

Our lands, our liues, and all are Bullingbrooks,

And nothing can we call our owne, but death,

And that small modell of the barren earth,

Which ſerues as paſte and couer to our bones.

For Gods ſake let vs ſit vpon the ground,

And tell ſad ſtories of the death of Kings,

How ſome haue beene depoſde, ſome ſlaine in war,
Some haunted by the ghoſts they haue depoſed,

Some poyſoned by their wives, ſome ſleeping kild,

All murthered : for within the hollow Crowne

That rounds the mortall temples of a King,

Keepes death his court, and there the antique fits,
Scoffing his ſtate, and grinning at his pompe,
Allowing him a breath, a little ſeeane,

To Monarchife, be feard, and kill with lookes,

Infusing him with ſelſe and vaine conceit,

As if this ſleth which walles a boat our life,

Fa

Wore

The Tragedie of

Were Braſſe impregnable: and humord thus,
Comes at the laſt, and with a little pin,
Bores through his Caſtle walles, and farewell King,
I sound the bell, and call theSoutherne Gentlemen
Couer your heads, and mocke not ſlesh and blood,
With ſolemne reuerence throw away reſpect,
Tradition, ſorme, and ceremonious dutie,
For you haue but miſtooke me all this while,
I lieu with bread like you, ſeele want,
Tafeſt griefe, need friends: ſubieſted thus,
How can you ſay to mee, I am a Kin?

Carl. My Lord, Wife-men me're fit and wail'd their wods
But preſently preuent the wayes to wayle,
To fear the foe, ſince ſeare oppreſſeth ſtrength,
Gives in your weakenſe ſtrength vnto your foe,
And ſo your follies fight againſt your ſelfe:
Feare, and be flaine, no worse can come to fight:
And fight and die, is death deſtroying death,
Where fearing dying, payes death ſeruile breath.

Aum. My Father hath a power, inquire of him,
And learne to make a body of a linne.

King. Thou chidst me well, proud *Bullingbrooke*, I come,
To change blowes with thee for our day of doom:
This Ague-fit of ſeare is ouerblowne,
An eafe taske it is to winne our owne.
Say *Scroope*, Where lies our Vnckle with his power?
Speake fweetely man, although thy looks be lower.

*Scroope.* Men judge by the complexion of the skie,
The ſtate and inclination of the day,
So may you by my dull and heauy eye:
My tongue hath but a heauier tale to ſay:
I play the torturer by small and ſmall,
To lengthen out the worſt that must be ſpoken
Your Vnckle *Torker* is ioyn'd with *Bullingbrooke*.
And all your Northerne Caſſles yeelded vp,
And all your Southerne Gentlemen in armes
Vpon his partie.

King. Thou haſt ſayd enoughe: I will know
Befrew thee Coofin which didſt lead me foorth

Of

King Richard the Second.

Of that fweete way I was in to diſpaire.
What ſay you now? What comfort haue we now?

By heauen I haue him everlaſtingly,
That bids me be of comfort any more,
Goe to Flint Caſſle, there I'll pine away,

A King woes ſlaue; shall kingly woe obey:
That power I haue; diſcharge, and let them go:
To eare the land that hath ſome hope to grow:
For I haue none; let no man ſpeake againe
To alter this, for counſell is but vaine.

Aum. My Liege, one word.
King. He does me double wrong, as, for your part,
That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue:
Diſcharge my followers, let them hence away,
From Richards night, to *Bullingbrooke* faire day.

*Enter Bull. Torker, North.*

*Bull.* So that by this intelligence we learne,
The Welchmen are diſpearſt, and Salisbury
Is gone to meete the King, who lately landed
With ſome few priuate friends, vpon this coaſt.

*North.* The newes is very faire and good, my Lord:
Richard not farre from hence hath hid his head.

*Tork.* It would beſeem'd the Lord Northumberland,
To ſay, King Richard; alacke the heauie day,
When ſuch a ſacred King, should hide his head.

*North.* Your Grace miſtakes; onely to be briefe,
Left I his title out.

*Ter.* The time hath bin, should you haue bin so briefe with
He would haue bin so briefe to ſhorten you,
For taking so the head, your whole head's length.

*Bull.* Miſtake not (Vnckle) further then you should:
*Tork.* Take not (good Coofin) further then you should,
Leaſt your miſtake the heauens are ouer your heads.

*Bull.* I know it Vnckle, and oppoſe not my ſelfe.
Againſt their willes. But, who comes here?
Welcome *Harry*. What, will not this Caſſle yeeld?

*H. Percie.* The Caſſle is royally mand my Lord.
Againſt thy entrance.

F 3

*Bull.*

The Tragedie of

Bull. Royally, why it contains no King

H. Per. Yes (my good Lord)

It doth containe a King, King Richard lies

Within the limits of your lime and stone,

And with him the Lord Aumerle, Lord Salisbury,

Sir Stephen Scroope, besides a Cleargie man

Of holy reuerence, who I cannot learne.

North. Oh belike it is the Bishop of Carleiff.

Bull. Noble Lords,

Go to the rude ribbes of that ancient Castle,

Through brazen Trumpet send the breath of parlee

Into his ruinde cares, and thus deliver.

H. Bull. on both his knees, doth kisse King Richards hand.

And sends all leageance and true fayth of heart

To his royall person : hither come

Euen at his feete, to lay my arms and power:

Prouided, that my banishment repeal'd,

And lands restored againe be freely graunted;

If not, Ile vse the aduantage of my power,

And lay the Summers duft with showres of blood,

Rainde from the woundes of slaughtered Englishmen?

The which, how far off from the minde of Bulling brooke

It is, fuch crimon tempeft should be drench

The fresh greene lap of faire King Richards land,

My flooping duetic tenderly shall vhow.

Go signifie as much, while heere we march

Vpon the graffie carpet of this plaine;

Lets march without the noyse of threatening drumme,

That from this Castles tattered battlements,

Our faire appoyntments may be well peruse.

Me thinkes King Richard and my selfe should meete

With no lefle terour then the Elements

Of Fire and Water, when their thundring Smoake,

At meeting teares the cloudy cheekes of heauen.

Be he the Fire, Ile be the yceelding Water;

The rage be his, whilft on the earth I raigne

My Water's, on the earth, and not on him:

March on, and marke King Richard how he looks.

The

King Richard the Second

The Trumpet found, Richard appeareth on the walles,

Bul. Sce fee, King Richard doth himselfe appeare,

As doth the blushing discontented Sunne

From out the fiery portall of the East,

When he perceives the enuious cloudes are bent

To dimme his glory, and to staife the tracke

Of his bright paflage to the Occident.

Torke. Yet looks he like a King, behold his eyes.

As bright as is the Eagles, lightens so fourth

Controlling Maiestie; alacke for woe,

That any harme should staine so faire a siew.

King. We are amazed, and thus long haue we tood,

To watch the featefull bending of thy knee,

Because we thought our selfe the lawfull King :

And if we be, how dare thy ioynts forget

To pay their awefull dutie to our prefence?

If we be not, they vs the hand of God.

That hath difmift vs from our Stewardship:

For well we know, no hand of blood and bone,

Can gripe the sacred handle of our Scepter,

Vnleſſe he do prophane, steale, or vſurpe:

And though you thinke that all as you haue done,

Haue torne their ſoules, by turning them from vs,

And we are barren and bereft of friendes :

Yet know, my Maifter GOD omnipotent,

Is mustering in his cloudes on our behalfe,

Armies of Peftilence, and they shall strike

Your Children yet vnborne, and vnbegot,

That lift your vaflaile handes againſt my head,

And threat the glory of my precious Crowne.

Tell Bulling brooke (for you mee thinkes he stands)

That euery stride he makes vpon my land,

Is dangerous treafon : he is come to open

The purple teftament of bleeding Warre.

But ere the Crowne he looks for, lure in peace,

Ten thouſand bloody crownes of mothers ſonnes,

Shall ill become the flower of Englands face,

Change the complexion of her Mayd-pale peace,

To

## The Tragedie of

To scarlet indignation, and bedew

Her pastors graffe with fayth full English blood.

North. The King of heanen forbid, our Lord the King,
Should so with ciuill and vnciuill armes, yvortho
Be rufht vpon Thy life noble Cooſin,
Harry Bulling brooke doth humbly kitle thy hand,
And by the honourable Tombe he ſweares,
That ſlands vpon your royall Grandtires bones,
And by the royalties of both your bloods
Currents that ſpring from one moſt gracious head,
And by the buried hand of warlike Gaunt,
And by the worth and honour of himselfe;
Comprising all that may be ſworne or faid,
His comming hither hath no further ſcope,
Then for his liniall royalties, and to begge
Infranchisement immediate on his knees,
Which on thy royall partie graunted once,
His glittering Armes he will commend to rufh,
His barbed Steedes to Stables, and his heart
To fayth full feruice of your Maiestie.
This ſweares he, as he is a Prince iuſt:
And as I am a Gentleman, I credit him.

Aum. Northumberland, ſay thus: the King returns,
His noble Cooſin is right welcome hither,
And all the number of his faire demaundes
Shall be accompliſt without contradiction,
With all the gracious vtterance thou haſt,
Speake to his gentle hearing kind commendes:
We do deſale our ſelues (Cooſin) do we not?
To looke so poorely, and to ſpeake so faire?
Shall we call backe Northumberland, and ſend
Defiance to the traitour, and to die?

Aum. No good my Lord, let us fight with gentle wordes,
Till time lend friends, and friendes their helpfull ſwords.
King. Oh God, oh God that ere this tongue of mine,
That laid the ſentence of dread baniſment
On you proud man, should take it off againe,
With words of looth! Oh that I were as great,

As

## Richard the Second.

As is my griefe, or leſſer then my name !

Or that I could forget what I haue been !

Or not remember what I muſt be now !

Swell it thou (proud heart,) I le give thee ſcope to beat,
Since foes haue ſcope to beat both thee and mee.

Aum. Northumberland comes backe fro Bullingbrooke.

King. 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 looſe

The name of a King? a Gods name, let it goe :

Ile giue my jewels for a ſet of Beades :

My gorgeous Pallace, for a Hermitage:

My gay Apparel, for an Almeſ-mans Gowne:

My ſigurede Goblets, for a diſh of Wood :

My Scepter, for a Palmers walking Staffe:

My ſubieſts, for a payre of carued Sainſts :

And my large Kingdome, for a little Graue,

A little little Graue, an obſcure Graue,

Or, Ile be buried in the Kings hie way,

Some way of common trade, where ſubieſtes ſeete

May hourly trample on their Soueraignes head,

For on my heart they tread now whilft I lieue :

And buried once, why not vpon my head?

Aumerle, thou weepeſt (my tender-hearted Cooſin)

Weele make foule weather with deſpiled teares;

Our ſighes, and they, ſhall lodge the summer come,

And make a dearth in this reuolting land :

Or ſhall we play the wantons with our woes,

And make some pretty match with ſhading teares,

And thus to drop them still vpon one place,

Till they hane fretted vs a paire of Graues

Within the earth: and therein layde; their lies

Two kinſemen digd their Graues with weeping eyes:

Would not this ill doe well? well well I see,

I talke but idlely, and you laugh at mee.

Most mighty Prince, my Lord Northumberland,

What fayes King Bullingbrooke, will his Maiestie

Give Richard leauc to liue till Richard die?

G

You

["The Tragedie of", "You make a legge, and Bulling brooke fayes I.", "North. My Lord, in the bafe court he doth attend,", "To speake with you, may it please you to come downe.", "Knaue. Downe, downe I come, like gliftering Phastor,", "Wanting the management of vnruly Iades.", "In the bafe court, bafe court where Kings grow bafe,", "To come at traytors callos, and do them grace.", "In the bafe court come downe: downe court, downe Kings.", "Bull. What fayes his Maiestie?", "North. Sorrow and griefe of heart,", "Makes him fpeake fondly like a franticke man:", "Yet he is come, and now he comes againe.", "Bull. Stand all apart,", "And shew faire dutye to his Maiestie:", "King. Faire Coofin, you debafe your princely knee,", "To make the bafe earth pure with hailing it:", "Mme. Alas! Alas! Alas! Alas! Alas

The Tragedie of

Cut off the heads of two faft growing sprayes,
That looke too loftie in our Common-wealth :

All muft be euen in our gouernement.

You thus imployde; I will goe roote away

The noyfome Weedes that without profit fucke

The foyles fertilitie from hofome Flowers.

*Man.* Why should we in the compaffe of a Pale,

Keepe law and forme, and due proportion,

Shewing in a modell our firme eftate,

When our sea-walled Garden, the whole Land

Is full of Weedes; her faireft Flowers choakt vp,

Her fruit trees all vnprund her hedges ruinde,

Her Knots disordered, and her holefome Hearbes

Swarming with Caterpillers.

*Gard.* Hold thy peace,

Hethat hath suffered this disordered Spring,

Hath now himfelfe met with the fall of Leafe:

The Weedes that his broade spreading Leaes did flaften,

That seemde in eating him, to hold him vp,

Are puld vp.roote and all, by Bullingbrooke :

I meane the Earle of Wiltshire, Buffie, Greene:

*Man.* What, are they dead?

*Gard.* They are,

And Bullingbrooke hath feizd the waftfull King.

Oh what pittrit it is, that he had not so trimde.

And dreft his Land; as we this Garden, at time of ycere.

Do wound the barke, the skinne of our fruite trees,

Leaft being ouer-proud with fappe and blood,

With too much riches it confound it selfe.

Had he done so, to great and growing men,

They might haue luided to beare, and he to taftes.

Their fruities of duetic : superfluous branches

Weloppe away, that bearing boughes may liue :

Had he done so, himfelfe had borne the Crowne,

Which waſte of idle hours hath quite throwne downe,

*Man.* What, thinke you the King shall be depoffede?

*Gard.* Depreſſt he is already, and depoffede.

Thy

King Richard the Second.

Tis doubt he will be. Letters came laſt night
To a deare friend of the Duke of Yorks,
That tell blacke tidinges.

*Queen.* Oh! I am preſſt to death through want of speaking
Thou old Adams likenesſe fet to drefſe this Garden,
How dares thy harſh rude tongue found this vnpleasing
What Enes what Serpent hath ſuggeſted thee,
To make a ſecond fall of cursed man?

Why doſt thou ſay King Richard is depoffede?

Darſt thou, thou little better thing then earth

Divine his downeſail ? Say, where, when, and how

Camſt thou by this ill tidinges? ſpeake thou wretch?

*Gard.* Pardon me Madam, little ioy haue I

To breathe theſe newes, yet what I ſay is true:

King Richard, he is in the mighty hold

Of Bullingbrooke : their fortunes both are weyde.

In your Lo. ſcale, is nothing but himſelfe,

And ſome ſew vanities that make him lighſt:

But in the ballance of great Bullingbrooke,

Befides himſelfe, are all the English Peeres,

And with that oddes, he weighes King Richard downe.

Poſt you to London, and you will finde it ſo,

I ſpeake no more then euery one doth know.

*Queene.* Nimble Mifchaunce, that art ſo light of ſoore,
Doth not thy embaffage belong to me,

And am I laſt that knowes it? Oh thou thinkeſt

To ferue me laſt, that I may longeſt keepe

Thy forrow in my breaſt : come Ladyes, goe

To meete at London Londons King in woe.

What, was I borne to this, that my ſadd looke,

Should grace the triumph of great Bullingbrooke?

Gardner, for telling me theſe newes of woe,

Pray God the Plants thou graftſt may neuer grow.

Exii.

*Gard.* Poore Queene, ſo that thy ſtate might be no worſe

I would my skill were ſubieſt to thy curſe :

Heere did the drop a teare, heere in this place,

He ſet a bancke of Rew ſowre Hearb-of-graces

Rew,

G 3

The Tragedie of

Rew, even for Ruth, heere shortly shall be scene,
In remembrance of a weeping Queene,
Eneuill,
Enter Bullingbrooke, Aumerle, and others.

Bud. Call foorth Bagot,
Enter Bagot.

Now Bagot, freely speake thy minde,
What thou doft know of noble Gloeckers death,
Who wrought it with the King, and who performde
The bloodie office of his timelesse end.
Bagot. Then set before my face the Lord Aumerle.

Bull. Coofin, stand foorth, and looke vpon that man.

Bagot. My Lord Aumerle, I know your dawing tongue

Scornes to vanfay what once it hath deliuered:
In that dead time when Gloeckers death was plotted,
I heard you fay, Is not my arme of length,
That reacheth from the reft full English court
As farre as Callico to mine Vnckleshead

Amongst much other talke, that very time,
I heard you fay, that you had rather refuse

The offer of an hundred thousand Crownes,
Then Bullingbrookes returne to England adding withall
How bleft this land would be in this your Coofins death.
Aum. Princes, and noble Lords,

What anf were shall I make to this bafe man,
Shall I so much diſhonour my faire starres,

On equal tearmes to gine him chaſtification

Either I muſt or haue mine Honour ſoyld,
With the attainder of his ſlaunderous Ips,
There is my gage, the manall ſale of death,
That markes thee out for Hell: thou lieſt,
And will maintaine what thou haſt ſayd, is ſaleſe,

In thy heart blood, though being all too bafe,
To staine the temper of my knightly Sword

Bull. Bagot, forbeare, thou shall not take this
Aum. Excepting one, I would he were the beſt.

In all this prefent, that hath moord me for ſo long
Fiz. If that thy valour stand, on ſimpathie,
There is my gage, Aumerle, in gage to thine,

By

King Richard the Second.

By that faire Sunne that shewes me where thou standſt,
I heard thee ſay, and vauntingly thou spakſt it,
That thou wert cauſe of noble Gloeckers death:

If thou denieſt it twentie times, thouly eſt,
And I will turne thy falſhood to thy heart,
Where it was forged, with my Rapiers poynt.

Aum. I thou darſt not (coward) line I to fee the day.

Fiz. Now by my ſoule, I would it were this houre.

Aum, Fitzwaters, thou art dahnd to hell for this.

L. Per. Aumerle, thou lieſt, his honour is as true,
In this appeale, as thou art all vnjuſt,

And that thou art ſo, there I throw my gage,
To protee it on thice to the extreame poynt
Of mortall breathing, ſeize it if thou darſt.

Aum. And if I do not, may my hands rot off,
And neuer brandiſh more reuenge full Steele

Ouer the glittering helmet of my foe.

Another L. I take the earth to the like (forſworne Aumerle),
And ſpur thee on with full as many lies,

As it may be hollowed in thy trecherous care:
From finne to ſi ne: there is my honors pawne,
Ingage it to the try all if thou darſt.

Aum. Who ſets me ſelſe by heauen I le throw at all,
I have a thousand ſpirits in one breast,
To anſwer every thousand ſuch as you.

Sur. My Lord Fitzwater, I do remember well
The verie time Aumerle and you did talke.

Fiz. Tis very true, you were in prefence then,
And you can warrmeſſe with me this is true.

Sur. As ſale by heauen, as heauen it ſelfe is true.

Fiz. Sueterie thou lieſt,
That it is onourable boy, that heauen so heauie on
That it shall render veillgance and reuenge,
Till thou the lie-giver, and that he do lie.

In earth as quiet as thy futhers ſculſ.
In proofe whereof there is my honours pawne,
Ingage it to the my alloſ of thou darſt.

Fiz.

The Tragedie of

Fitz. How fondly doft thou fpurre a forward horse,
If I dare care, or drinke, or breathe or liue,
I dare meete Surry in a Wilderneſſe,
And ſpit vpon him whilſt I ſay, he lyes,
And lyes, and lyes : there is my bond of ſayth,
To tie thee to my strong correction :
As I intend to thriue in this new world,
Aumerle is guiltie of my true appeale.
Besides, I heard the banifhed Norſſolke ſay:
That thou Aumerle didſt ſend two of thy men
To execute the noble Duke of Caltice.

Aum. Some honest Chriſtian trust me with a gage,
That Norſſolke lyes, heere do I throw downe this,
If he may be repeal'd to try his honour?

Bull. These differences shall all reſt vnder gage,
Till Norſſolke be repeal'd, repeal'd he ſhall be,
And though mine enemie, reſtor'd, againe
To all his lands and ſignories : when he is reſuta'd,
Againſt Aumerle we will inforce his tryall.

Carl. That honorable day ſhall neuer be ſene :
Many a time hath banifht Norſſolke fought
For Iefus Chriſt, in glorious Chriſtian field,
Streaming the Enſigne of the chriſtian Croſſe,
Againſt blacke Pagans, Turkes, and Saracens,
And toyld with workes of Warre, retir'd himſelfe
To Italy, and there at Venice gaue
His body to a pleafant countries earth,
And his pure foule vnto his captaine Chriſt,
Vnder whose colours he had fought ſo long.

Bul. Why Bifhop, is Norſſolke dead?

Carl. As ſure as I liue, my Lord.

Bul. Sweet peace conduct his ſweet foule to the boſome
Of good old Abraham: Lords appeallants,
Your differences shall all reſt vnder gage,
Till we aſſigne you to your dayes of tryall.

Enter Torke.

Torks. Great Duke of Lancaſter, I come to thee,

Poem

King Richard the Second.

From plume-pluckt Richard, who with willing foule
Adopts thee Heire, and his high Scepter yeeldes
To the poſſession of thy royall hand :
Ascend his Trone, descending now from him,
And long liue Henrie, fourth of that name.

Bull. In God's name, Ile ascend the Regall throne.

Carl. Mary God forbid.

Worſt in this royall prefence I may ſpeake:
Yet beſt beſeeming me to ſpeake the trueth:
Would God any in this noble prefence,
Were enough noble to be vpright Iudge
Of noble Richard : Then true noblenſe would
Learne him forbearance from ſo foule a wrong,
What ſubieſt can giue ſentence on his King?
And who ſits not here that is not Richards ſubieſt?
Theeues are not iudged, but they are by to heare,
Although apparant guilt be ſene in them :
And ſhall the figure of Gods Maieftie,
His Captaine, ſteward, deputy, elect,
Annointed, crowned, planted many yceres,
Be iudg'd by ſubieſt and inferior breath,
And he himſelſe not preſent? Oh forſend it God,
That in a Chriſtian Climate foules reſinde
Should ſhew ſo hainous blacke obſcene a deed,
I ſpeake to ſubieſts, and a ſubieſt ſpeakes,
Stird vp by God thus boldly for his King.
My Lord of Hereford here whom you call King,
Is a foule traitour to proud Hereſords King,
And if you crown him, let me propheſie,
The blood of English ſhall manure the ground,
And future ages groane for his foule act,
Peace ſhall goe ſleepe with Turkes and Infidels,
And in this feate of peace, tumultuous wars
Shall kin with kin, and kinde with kinde confound :
Diforder, horror, ſeare and mutiny,
Shall here inbabit, and this land be cald,
The field of Golgotha and dead mens skuls.

H

Oh

## The Tragedie of

Oh if you rayſe this houſe againſt his houſe,
It will the woſuſel diuifion proue,
That euer ſell vpon this curſed earth :
Preuent it, reſſit it, and let it not be ſo,
Leaſt child, childes children crie againſt you woe.

North. Well haue you argued fir, and for your payne,
Of Capitall treaſon, we arreſt you here:
My Lord of Westminſter, be it your charge,
To keepe him ſafely till his day of triall.
May it please you Lords, to graunt the common ſuite,
Fetch hither Richard, that in common view
He may ſurrender, ſo we ſhall proceed without ſuſpition.
Torke. I will be his conduct.
Bull. Lords, you that are heere, are vnder our areſt,
Procure your Sureties for your dayes of anſwere;
Little are we beholding to your loue,
And little looke for at your helping hands.

### Enter King Richard.

Rich. Alacke why am I ſent for to a King,
Before I haue ſhooke off the regall thoughts
Wherewith I raignd; I hardly yet haue learnt
To infinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my limbes?
Giue Sorrow leaue a while to tutor me to this ſubmission:
Yet I well remember the ſauours of theſe men,
Were they not mine? did they not ſometimes cry all hayle
To me? ſo Iudas did to Cbrift; but he in twelue,
Found trueth in all but one; I in twelue thouſand none:
God faue the King, will no man ſay Amen:
Am I both Priest and Clarke; well then, Amen,
God faue the King, although I be not hee,
And yét Amen, if heauen do thinke him mee:
To doe what ſeruice am I ſent for hither?

Torke. To doe that office of thine owne good will,
Which tired maiestie did make thee offer;
The resignation of thy State and Crowne
To Harry Bullingbrooke.

Rich. Seale the Crowne.

Heere

## King Richard the Second.

Heere Coofin, on this ſide my hand, and on that ſide yours:

Now is this golden Crowne like a deepe Well,
That owes two Buckets filling one an other,
The emptier euer dauncing in the ayre,
The other downe vnſeene, and full of Water:
That Bucket downe, and full of teares, am I,
Drinking my griefe, whilſt you mount vp on high.

Bull. I thought you had been willing to refigne,

Rich. My Crowne I am, but ſtill my Griefes are mine:
You may my Glories and my State depofe,
But not my Griefes, ſtill am I King of thofe.

Bull. Part of your Cares you giue me with your Crowne.

Rich. Your cares ſet vp, do not plucke my cares downe:
My care is loffe of care, by old care don,
Your care is gaine of care by new care won:
The cares I giue, I haue, though giuen away,
They tend the Crowne, yet ſtill with methey ſlay.

Bull. Are you contented to refigne the Crovvne?

Rich. I, no no I, for, I muſt nothing bee,
Therefore no no, for I refigne to thee.

Now marke me how I will vndoe my ſelfe:
I giue this heauie waight from off my head,
And this vnweildie Scepter from my hand,
The pride of kingly ſway from out my heart:
With mine owne teares I wath away my balme,
With mine owne hands I giue away my Crowne,
With mine owne tongue deny my ſacred ſtate,
With mine owne breath releaſe all duties rites,
All pompe and maiestie I do forſweare,
My Manners, Rentes, Reuenewes I forgoe,
My Actes, Decrees, and Statutes I denie:
God pardon all Oathes that are broke to me,
God keepe all Vowes vnbroke that ſware to thee:
Make me that nothing haue, with nothing grieud;
And thou with all pleaſd, that haſt all atchieud:
Long may ſt thou liue in Richards ſeat to ſit,
And ſoon lie Richard in an earthy pit:

H 2

God

The Tragedie of

God faue King Harry, vningd Richard fayes,
And fend him many yeeres of Sun-shining dayes.
What more remaines?

North. No more, but that you read
These accufations, and these grecuous crimes,
Committed by your person, and your followers,
Against the State and profit of this Land;
That by confessing them, the foules of men
May deeme that you are worthily depofde.

Rich. Must I do so? and must I rauell out
My weaud vp Folly, gentle Northumberland?
If thy offences were vpon record,
Would it not shame thee in so faire a troope,
To read a leature of them, if thou wouldst,
There shouldst thou finde one haynous article,
Contayning the depofing of a King,
And cracking the strong warrant of an Oath,
Markt with a blot, damd in the booke of heaven:
Nay of you that stand and looke vpon,
Whilft that my wretchedneſſe doth bate my ſelfe,
Though ſome of you (with Pilat) waſh your hands,
Shewing an outward pittie, yet you Pilates,
Haue heere deliuer me to my ſowre Crotſe,
And water can not waſh away your finne.

North. My Lord, difpatch, read ore the ſeſte Articles.
Rich. Mine eyes are full of teares, I cannot ſee;
And yet salt water blindes them not so much,
But they can fee a forſt of Traytors heere:
Nay, if I turne mine eyes vpon my ſelfe,
I find my ſelfe a Traytor with the reſt;
For I haue giuen heere my ſoules conſent
To vndecke the pompous body of a King;
Made Glory bace, and Soueraigntie a ſlaue;
Proud Maieſtie a ſubieſt, State a peaſant.
North. My Lord,
Rich. No Lord of thine, thou haught inſulting man,
Nor no mans Lord; I haue no name, no title,

No

King Richard the Second.

No not that name was giuen me at the Font,
But tis vſurpt; alacke the heauie day
That I haue worne so many Winters out,
And know not now, what name to call my ſelfe.
O that I were a mockerie King of Snow,
Standing before the ſunne of Bullingbrooke,
To melt my ſelfe away in water drops.

Good King, great King; and yet not greatly good:
And if my name be ſtarling, yet in Englang
Let it commaund a mirour hether ſtrayte
That it may ſhow me what a face I haue,
Since it is banckrout of his Maieſtie.

Bull. Goe ſome of you and fetch a Looking-glasse.
North. Read ore this paper while the Glasse doth come.
Rich. Feind, thou torments me ere I come to Hell.
Bull. Vrge it no more my Lord Northumberland.
North. The Commons will not then be ſatisfied,
Rich. They ſhall be ſatisfied, Ile read enough,
When I do fee the very Booke indeed,
Where all my ſinnes are writ, and that's my ſelfe.
Giue me the Glasse: no deeper wrinkles yet?
Hath Sorrow ſtroke so many blowes vpon this
Face of mine, and made no deeper woundes?

Oh flattering Glasse, like to my followers in proſperitie!
Was this the face that euery day vnder his
Houſhould roofe did keepe ten thouſand men?
Was this the face that faaſt so many follies,
And was at laſt outfaaſt by Bullingbrooke?
A brittle Glorie ſhineth in this face,
As brittle as the Glorie is the face,
For there it is crackt in a hundred ſhiuers:
Marke filent King the morall of this ſport,
How ſoone my ſorrow hath deſtroyd my ſace.

Bull. The ſhadow of your ſorrow hath deſtroyd
The ſhadow of your face.

Rich. Say that againe: the ſhadow of my ſorrow,
Ha lets ſee: tis very true, my griefe

H 3.

Lies

## The Tragedie of

Lies all within, and these externall manners
Of laments are meere ly shadowes to the vnfeene,
Grieſe that ſwelles with ſilence in the tortured ſoule:
And I thanke thee King that not onely gueſt
Me cauſe to wayle, but teacheſt me the way
How to lament the cauſe: Ile begge one boone,
And then be gone, and trouble you no more.

Bull. Name it faire Coofin.

Rich. Faire Coofe, why? I am greater then a King:
For when I was a king, my flatterers were then but ſubieſts,
Being now a ſubieſt, I haue a King heere
To my flatterer; being so great, I haue no need to beg.

Bul. Yet aske.

Rich. And ſhall I haue it?

Bul. You ſhall.

Rich. Why then giue me leaue to goe.

Bull. Whither?

Rich. Whither you will, so I were from your ſights.

Bull. Goe ſome of you conuey him to the Tower.

Rich. O good conuey, conueyers are you all,
That rife thus nimbly by a true Kings fall.

Bull. On Wednesday next we solemnely fet downe
Our Coronation; Lords prepare your felues.

Exeunt.
Manet West.
Carlell.
Aumerle.

Abbot. A wofull Pageant haue we heere beheld.

Carl. The woe's to come; the children yet vnborne,
Shall feele this day as ſharpe to them as thorne.

Aum. You holy Clergie men, is there no plot,
To rid the Realme of this pernicious blot?

Abbot. Before I freely ſpeake my minde herein,
You shall not onely take the Sacrament,
To bury mine intentes, but also to effect,
What euer I shall happen to deuife:
I fee your browes are full of discontent,

Your heart of sorrow, and your eyes of teares;
Come home with me to supper, Ile lay a plot,
Shall ſhow vs all a merry day.

Exeunt.
Enter

## King Richard the Second.

Enter Queene, with her attendants.

Queene. This way the King will come, this is the way
To Iulius Caſars ill erected Tower,

To whose flint boſome my condemned Lord

Is doomde a prifoner by proud Bullingbrooke.

Heere let vs reſt, if this rebellious earth

Hae any reſting for her true Kings Queene.

Enter Richard.

But ſoft, but ſee, or rather, do not ſee,
My faire Rose wither : yet looke vp, behold,
That you in pittie may diſſolueto deaw,
And waſh him freeh againe with true loue teares.

Ah thou the modell whereold Troy did ſtand!

Thou mappe of Honour, thou King Richards toombe,

And not King Richard : thou moſt beauteous Inne,
Why ſhould hard ſauourd grieſe be lodged in thee,

When triumph is become an Alehouſe gueſt?

Rich. Ioyne not with grieſe, faire woman, do not so,
To make my end too ſudden, learne good ſoule,

To thinke our former ſtate a happy dreame,
From which awakethe trueth of what we are,
Shewes vs but this : I am ſworne (brother ſweete)

To grimme Necefsitie, and he and I
Will keepe a league till death. Hie thee to France,

And cloyſter thee in ſome religious houſe :
Our holy liues muſt winne a new worlds Crowne,
Which our praphane houres heere, haue throwne downe.

Queene. What is my Richard both in ſhape and minde,
Transformd and weakned? hath Bullingbrooke

Depofde thine intelleſt? hath he been in thy heart?

The Lyon dying thrusteth foorth his paw,
And wounds the earth, if nothing eſſe, with rage,

To be o'repowerd, and wilt thou Pupil-like
Take thy correction, mildly kiffſe the rodde,

And fawne on Rage with bace humilitie,

Which art a Lion and a King of beaſtes.

King. A King of Beaſtes indeed, if aught but beaſt,

I

The Tragedie of

I had been still a happy King of men.
Good (sometime Queene) prepare thee hence for France,
Thinke I am dead, and that even heere thou takest
As from my death-bed my last liuing leaue.
In Winters tedious nights sit by the fire
With good old folkes, and let them tell thee tales
Of woefull ages long agoe betide,
And ere thou bid good night, to quite their griefe,
Tell thou the lamentable tale of me,
And fende the hearers weeping to their beds :
For why, the senceleffe brands will sympathy
The heauie accent of thy mouing tongue,
And in compafion weepe the fire out;
And some will mourne in afhes, some cole blacke,
For the depofing of a rightfull King.

Enter Northumberland.

North. My Lord, the minde of Bullingbrooke is chang'd,
You must to Pomfret, not vnto the Tower,
And Madam, there is order tan' for you,
With all swift speed you must away to France.

King. Northumberland, thou ladder wherewithal
The mounting Bullingbrooke ascend'st my throne,
The time shall not be many hours of age
More then it is, ere foule finne gathering head,
Shall breake into corruption, thou shall thinke,
Though he deuide the Realme, and giue thee half,
It is too little, helping him to all:
He shall thinke, that thou which know'st the way
To plant vrightfull Kinges, will know v againe,
Being nere to little vrgd another vvay,
To plucke him headlong from the vfurped throne.
The loue of vvicked men converts to feare,
That feare to hate, and hate turnes one or both
To vworthy danger and deferued death.

North. My guilt be on my head, and there an endt
Take leaue and part, for you must part foorthwith.
King. Doubly diuorc't, (badd men) you violate

A

Richard the Second.

A twofold marriage, betwixt my Crowne and me,
And then betwixt me, and my maried wife.
Let me vnkiffle the oath betwixt thee and me :
And yet not so, for with a kiffe t'was made,
Part vs Northumberland, I towards the North,
Where sheuering cold and fickneſſe pines the clime:
My Wife to France, from whence hef set foorth in pompe,
She came adorned hither, like sweete May,
Sent backe like Hollowmas, or ſhortſt of day.

Queen. And muſt we be deuided? muſt we part?
King. I, hand from hand (my loue) and heart from heart.
Queene. Banifh vs both, and ſend the King with me.
King. That were ſome loue, but little policie.
Queen. Then whither he goes, thither let me goe.
King. So two togherewith weeping, make one woe,
Weepe for me in France, I for thee heere,

Better farre off then neere be neare the neere:
Goe count thy way with ſighes, I mine with groanes.

Queene. So longeſt way shall haue the longeſt moanes.
King. T wife for one ſtep He grone, the way being ſhort,
And peeceth the way out with a heauie heart.
Come, come, in wooing ſorrow lets be briefe,
Since wedding it, there is ſuch length in griefe :
One kiffe shall ſtoppe our mouthes, and doubly part,
Thus giue I mine, and thus take I thy heart :

Queene. Giueme my owne againe, twere no good part,
To take on me to keepe, and kill thy heart.
So now I haue mine owne againe, be gone,
That I may ſtrie to kill it with a groane.

King. We make Woe wanton with this ſond delay,
Once more adew, the reſt let ſorrow ſay.

Exemus.

Enter Duke of Torke and the Dutchefſe.

Duke. My Lord, you told me you would tell the reſt,
When weeping made you breake the story
Of our two Coofins comming into London.

Torke. Where did I leaue?

Duke. At that ſad ſtop my Lord,

Where

I

The Tragedie of

Where rude mifgouernd hands from windowes tops,
Threw duft and rubbith on King Richards head.

Torke. Then (as I layd) the Duke great Bullingbrooke,
Mounted vpon a hote and fierie steede,
Which his afpiring rider fene de to know,
With flow, but feately pace kept on his courfe,
While allONGues cride, God faue the Bullingbrooke,
You would haue thought the very Windowes fpake:
So many greedy lookes of young and old,

Through Cafements darted their defiring eyes.

Vpon his visage, and that all the Walles,

With painted imagery had layd at once,

Iefu prefume the welcome Bullingbrooke,

Whilft he from the one fide to the other turning

Bare-headed, lower then his proud Steeds necke.

Belpake them thus, I thanke you Countrymen:

And thus fill doing, thus he past along,

Du: Alacke poore Richard, where rides he the whilft?

Torke. As in a Theater the eyes of men,

After a well graced Actor leaves the Stage,

Arc idely bent on him that enters next,

Thinking his prattle to be tedious:

Euen so, or with much more contempt mens eyes.

Did fcoule on gentle Richard, no man cried, God faue him:

No ioyfull tongue gaue him his welcome home,

But Duft was throwne vpon his faered head;

Which with fuch gentle forrow he fooke off,

His face fill combating with teares and smiles,

The badges of his griefe and patience;

That had not God for some ftrong purpose steeld

The hearts of men, they must perforce haue melted,

And Barbarisme it selfe haue pittied him:

But Heatch hath a hand in these cuentes,

To whose high will we bound our calme contentes,

To Bullingbrooke are we fworne fubieet now,

Whose state and honour I for ay allow.

Du. Heere comes my fonne Amerle.

(Enter Aum.
Torke.

Richard the Second.

Torke. Amerle that was,

But that is loſt, for being Richards friend :

And Madam, you muſt call him Rutland now:

I am in Parliament pledge for his trueth.

And laſting fealtie to the new made King.

Du. Welcome my ſonne, who art the Violets now,

That ſtrew the greene lappe of the new-come ſpring.

Aum. Madam I know not, nor I greatly care not,

God knowes I had as lieſe be none as one.

Torke. Well, beare you well in this new ſpring of time,

Leaſt you be cropt before you come to prime.

What newes from Oxford? do theſe iuſts & triumphs hold?

Aum. For auſt I know (my Lord) they do.

Torke. You will be there I know.

Aum. If God prevent not I purpofe ſo.

Tork. What ſeale is that that hangs without thy boſome?

Yea, look ſt thou pale? let me fee the writing.

Aum. My Lord; tis nothing.

Torke. No matter then who fee it,

I will be ſatisfied, let me fee the writing.

Aum. I do beſeech your Grace to pardon me,

It is a matter of ſmall conſequence,

Which for ſome reaſons I would not haue ſene.

Tork. Which for ſome reaſons (ſir) I meane to fee.

I feare, I feare.

Du. What ſhould you feare?

Tis nothing but ſome band that he is entred into

For gay apparrell againſt the triumph.

Torke. Bound to himſelfe, what doth he with a Bond

That he is bound to: Wife, thou art a fool;

Boy, let me fee the writing.

Aum. I do beſeech you pardon me, I may not ſhow it.

Torke. I will be ſatisfied; let me fee it, I say:

He plucks it out of his boſome, and reades it.

Treſaſon, ſouſe treſaſon: villaine, traytor, ſlaue.

Du. What is the matter, my Lord?

Torke. Ho, who is within there? ſaddle my Horſe?

God

12

The Tragedie of

God for his mercy what trechery is here?

Du. Why, what is it my Lord?

Torke. Giue me my bootes I fay, faddle my horfe,

Now by mine honour, my life, my troth,

I will appeach the villaine.

Du. What is the matter?

Torke. Peace, faithful woman.

Du. I will not peace, what is the matter Amerle?

Aum. Good mother be content, it is no more

Then my poore life must anſwere.

Du. Thy life anſwere?

Torke. Bring me my bootes, I will vnto the King.

His Man enters with his Bootes.

Du. Strike him Amerle, poore boy thou art amaz'd,

Hence villaine, neuer more come in my fight.

Torke. Giue me my bootes I fay.

Du. Why Yorke, what wilt thou do?

Wilt not thou hide the treſpasse of thine owne?

Hauë we more ſonnes ? or are we like to haue?

Is not my teeming date drunke vp with time ?

And wilt thou plucke my faire ſonne from mine age?

And robbe mee of a happie mothers name?

Is he not like thee ? is he not thine owne?

Torke. Thou fond mad woman,

Wilt thou conceale this darke confiracie ?

A doozen of them heere, haue tane the sacrament.

And interchangeably set downe their hands,

To kill the King at Oxford.

Du. He shall be none, weele keepe him heere,

Then what is that to him?

Tor. A way fond woman, were he twentie times my ſonne,

I would appeach him.

Du. Hadst thou grond for him as I haue done,

Thou wouldst be more pittifull :

But now I know thy minde, thou doſt ſuppeſt

That I haue beene diſloyall to thy bed,

And that he is a baſtard, not thy ſonne :

Sweete

King Richard the Second.

Sweete Yorke, ſwete husband be not of that minde,

He is as lik thee as a man may be,

Not like me or any of my kinne,

And yet I loue him.

Torke. Make way vnruly woman.

Exit.

Du. After Amerle: mount thee vpon his horſe,

Spur, poſt, and get before him to the King,

And beg thy pardon ere he do accuſe thee,

Ile not be long behind, though I be old,

I doubt not but to ride as faſt as Yorke,

And neuer will I rife vp from the ground,

Till Bullingbrooke haue pardoned thee, away, be gone.

Enter the King with his Nobles.

King H. Can no man tell me of my vnthriftie ſonne?

Tis full three months since I did ſee him laſt;

If any plague hang ouer vs, tis hee;

I would to God my Lords, he might be found :

Inquire at London, mongſt the Tauernes there,

For there they ſay, he daily doth frequent,

With vnreſtrained loose companions,

Euen ſuch (they ſay) as ſtand in narrow lanes,

And beat our watch, and robbe our paſſengers,

Which he yong wanton and effeminate boy,

Takes on the point of honor to ſupport ſo diſſolute a crew.

H. Per. My Lord, some two daies ſince I ſaw the Prince,

And told him of that ſtriumpions held at Oxford.

King. And what faſt the gallant?

Percie. His anſwere was, he would to the ſtewes,
And from the commoneſt creature plucke a gloue,

And weare it as a fauour, and with that

He would vnhorſe the luſtieſt Challenger.

King H. As diſſolute as desperate, yet through both

I ſee ſome ſparkles of better hope, which elder yeares

May happily bring forth. But who comes heere?

Enter Aumerle amazed.

Aum. Where is the King?

(ſo wildly?

King H. What meanes our coofin that he ſtares and lookes

Aum.

1 3

The Tragedie of

Aum. God save your Grace; I do befech your Maieſtie,
To haue some conference with your Grace alone.

King. Withdraw your ſelues, and leaue vs heere alone:
What is the matter with our Coofin now?

Aum. For euermay my knees grow to the earth,
My tongue leaue to my roofe within my mouth,
Vnleſſe a pardon ere I life or ſpeake.

King. Intended, of committed, was this fault?
If on the first, how heynous ere it be,
To winne thy after loue, I pardon thee.

Aum. Then giue me leaue that I may turne the key,
That no man enter till my tale be done.

King. Haue thy desire.

The Duke of Torke knocks at the door, and cryeth.

Torke. My liege beware, looke to thy ſelſe,
Thou haſt a traitor in thy presence there.

King. Villaine, Ile make thee ſafe.

Aum. Stay thy reuenge full hand, thou haſt no cauſe to fear.

Torke. Open the door, ſecure ſoole, hardy King,
Shall I for loue ſpeake treaſon to thy face?
Open the door, or I will breake it open.

King. What is the matter, vncle ſpeake, recoouer breath,
Tell vs, how neere is danger,
That we may armes to encounter it?

Torke. Peruse this writing here, and thou shall know,
The treaſon that my haſte forbids me ſhow.

Aum. Remember as thou read'st it, thy promise past,
I doe repent me, reade not my name there,
My heart is not confederate with my hand.

Torke. It was (villaine) ere thy hand did fet it downe:

I tore it from the traitors boſome (King)

Feare, and not loue, begets his penitence:

Forget to pitty him, left thy pitty a brode

A ſerpent, that will fling thee to the heart,

King. O heynous, ſtrong, and bolde conspiracy!

Oloyall father of a treacherous ſonne:

Thou ſhcare immaculate and filuer Fountaine,

From

King Richard the Second.

From whence this ſtreame through muddy paſſages

Hath hald his current, and deſilde himſelfe:

Thy ouerflow of good converted to bad:

And thy abundant goodnes ſhall excufe

This deadly blot in thy digreſing ſonne:

Torke. So haſt my Vertue, be his Vices baude,
And he shall ſpend mine honour, with his flame,

As thriftles ſonnes, their scraping Fathers Gold:

Mine honour lives when his diſhonour dies,

Or my ſhande life in his diſhonour lies.

Thou kilſt me in his life giuing him breath,
The traytor lives, the true man's put to death.

Dat. What ho, my Liege for God's ſake let me in?

King. What ſhould voy'd ſuppliant makes this eger cry?

Dat. A Woman, and thy Aunt (great King) tos I,

Speake with me, pitty me open the door,

A Beggar begs, that heuer beg'd before me,

King. Our ſcene is alreaſt from a ſerious thing,

And now chang'd to the Beggar and the King,

My dangerous Coofin, let your Mother in,

I know the is come to pray for your foule ſtane.

Torke. If thou'd pardon who heuer pray,

More ſimes for this forgiuenes, proper may

This ſelued ioynt out guff the reſt reſt ſound,

This let alone, will all the reſt confound.

Dat. Oh King, beleeue not this hard harted man!

Loue louing not it ſelſe, none other can!

Torke. Thou ſtrantike woman, what doſt thou make here?

Shall thy old duigs once more a traytor reare?

Dat. Sweete Torke be patient, heare me gentle Liege.

King H. Rife vp good Aunt!

Dat. Not yet I thee beſeech,
For euer will I walke upon my knees,

And neuer fee day that the happy ſees,

Till thou giue ioy, vntill thou bid me ioy,

By pardoning Rutland, my transgreſing boy.

Aum. Vnto my mothers prayers I bend my knee.

Torke.

The Tragedie of

Torke. Against them both my true ioynts bended be,
I'll mayst thou thrive if thou graunt any grace.

Dute. Pleades he in earneſt? looke vpon his face:
His eyes do drop no teares, his prayers are in iest,
His wordes do come from his mouth, ours from our breake:
He prayes but faintly, and would be denide,
We pray with heart and foule, and all befide:
His weary ioynts vvould gladly rife I knovv,
Our knees ſtill kneele till to the ground they grow:
His prayers are full of falſe hypocrifise,
Ours of true zeale and deepe integritie:
Our prayers do out-pray his, then let them haue
That mercy which true prayer ought to haue.

King. Good Aunt ſtand vp.

Dute. Nay, do not ſay, ſtand vp;
Say pardon firſt, and afterwards ſtand vp,
And if I were thy nurſe thy tongue to teach,
Pardon ſhould be the firſt word of thy ſpeach:
I neuer longd to heare a word till now,
Say pardon King, let pittie teach thee how :
The word is ſhort, but not so ſhort as ſw eete;
No word like Pardon for Kings mouthes ſo meete.

Torke. Speake it in French, King ſay, Pardonne moy.

Dutch. Doff thou teach pardon? pardon to deſtroy:
Ah my ſowre Husband, my hard hearted Lord !
That fets the word it ſelfe against the word ;
Speake pardon as tis currant in our land,
The chopping French we do not vnderstand :
Thine eye begins to ſpeake, ſet thy tongue there,
Or in thy piteous heart, plant thou thine eare,
That hearing how our plaints and prayers doe pierce,
Pittie may mooue thee pardon to rehearſe.

King H. Good Aunt ſtand vp.

Dutch. I doe not ſue to ſtand ;
Pardon is all the ſute I haue in hand.

King. I pardon him, as God shall pardon me.

Dutch. O happy vantage of a kneeling knee.

Yet

King Richard the Second.

Yet am I ſick for ſeare, ſpeake it againe;
Twice ſaying Pardon, doth not pardon twaine,
But makes one Pardon ſtrong.

King. I pardon him with all my heart.

Dute. A God on earth thou art.

King. But for our truſty brother in law and the Abbot,
With all the reſt of that conſorted crew,
Deſtruction ſtrait ſhall dog them at the heeles,
Good vncle, helpe to order ſeverall powers
To Oxford, or where ere theſe traitours are,
They ſhall not liue within this world I ſweare,
But I will haue them, if I once know where.
Vncle farewell, and coofin adue,
Your mother well hath prayed, and prooue you true.

Dute. Come my olde ſonne, I pray God make thee new.

Exeunt. Manet Sie Pierce Exton &c.

Exton. Didst thou not marke the K. what works he ſpake?
Haue I no friend will rid me of this liuing ſeare?

Was it not so?

Man. Theſe were his very wordes.

Exton. Haue I no friend quoth he? he ſpake it twice,
And vrgde it twice together, did he not ?

Man. He did.

Exton. and ſpeaking it, he wistly lookt on me,
As who ſhould ſay, I would thou wert the man,
That would diuorce this terror from my heart,
Meaning the King at Pomfret. Come, lets go,
I am the Kings friend, and will rid his foe.

Enter Richard alone.

Rich. I haue been ſtudying how to compare
This Prifon where I liue, vnto the world:

And for becauſe the world is populous,
And heere is not a creature but my ſelfe,
I can not do it : yet Ile hammer it out :

My braine Ile prooue the ſamale to my ſoule,
My ſoule the father, and theſe two beget

A generation of ſtil-breeding thoughts:

K

Exeunt.

And

The Tragedie of

And these fame thoughts people this little world,
In humours like the people of this world:
For no thought is contented: the better fort,
As thoughts of things divine are intermixed,
With scruples, and do set the word it selfe
Against thy word, as thus: Come little ones, and then againe
It is as hard to come as for a Cammelt

To threed the small posternae of a small needles eye:
Thoughts tending to ambition they doe plot
Vnlikely wonders: how these vaine weakenayles.

May teare a passage thorow the flinty ribs
Of this hard world, my ragged prifon walles:
And for they cannot die in their owne pride,

Thoughts tending to content, flatter then selues,
That they are not the first of Fortunes flanes,
Nor shall not be the last like seely beggars;

Who sitting in the Stockes, refuge their shame,
That many haue, and others must fit there.

And in this thought they finde a kind of ease,
Bearing their owne misfortunes on the backe.

Of such as haue before indurde the like.

Thus play I in one Prifon many people;
And none contented; fometimes am I a King,

Then treasons make me with my selfe a Begger,
And so I am; then crushing Penurie

Perfwades me I was better when a King,
Then am I a King againe, and by and by,

Thinke that I am vnkingde by. *Bullingbrooke,*

And straite am nothing. But what ere I be,
Nor I, nor any man, that but man is,

With nothing shall be pleafde, till he be kafde.
With being nothing, Muficke do I heare; *Muficke playes.*

With nothing shall be pleafde, till he be kafde.
With being nothing, Muficke do I heare; *Muficke playes.*
Ha, ha, keepe time; how fewre sweete Muficke is
When Time is broke, and no proportion kept;

So is it in the muficke of mens liues:

And heere haue I the daintineſſe of eares:

To checke Time broke in disordered ſtling:

But

King Richard the Second.

But for the concord of my ſtate and time,
Had not an care to hear my true Time broke:

I waſted Time, and now doth Time waſt me:
For now hath Time made his numbring clocke;

My thoughts are minuts, and with ſighes they areare,
Their watches on to mine eyes the outward watch
Whereto my Finger like a Dials poynt,

Is poynting ſtill, in cleansing them from teares.

Now fir, the found that tels what houre it is;
Are clamorous groanes, which ſtrike vpon my heart,
Which is the Bell: so ſighes, and Teares, and Groanes,
Shew Minutes, Times, and Hours: but my Time
Runnes poſting on in *Bullingbrooke's* proud joy,

While I stand fooling heere his iacke of the Clocke:
This Mufickemaddes me, let it found no more,
For though it haue holpe madd men to their wits,
In me it feemes it will make wife men madd.

Yet bleſſing on his heart that giues it me,
For 'tis a ſigne of loue: and loue to *Richard,*
Is a ſtrange Brooch in this al-hating world.

*Enter a Groome of the Stable.*

*Groome.* Haile royall Prince.

*Rich.* Thankes noble Peare:

The cheapest of vs is ten groats too deare.

What art thou? and how commeſt thou hither,
Where no man neuer comes but that sad Dogge,
That bringes me food to make misfortune liue?

*Groome.* I was a poore Groome of thy ſtate, King,
When thou wert King: who trauelling towards Yorke,
With much adoe (at length) haue gotten leaue,
To looke vpon my fometimes royall maſters face:

Oh how it ernd my heart, when I beheld
In London streetes that Coronation day,
When *Bullingbrooke* rode on Roane Barbarie,
That Horſe, that thou so often haſt beſtride,
That Horſe, that I so carefully haue drest.

*Rich.* Rode he on Barbarie, tell me gentle friend,

K 2

How

The Tragedic of

How went he vnder him?

Groome. So proudly, as if he disdain'd the ground.

Rich. So proud that Bullingbrooke was on his backe:

That Tade hath eate bread from my royall hand;

This hand hath made him proud with clapping him:

Would he not stumble? would he not fall downe?

Since pride muft haue a fall, and breake the necke.

Of that proud man, that did vforpe his backe:

Forgiuenes Horse, why do I rayle on thee?

Since thou created to be awde by man,

Waft borne to beare, I was not made a Horfe,

And yet I beare a burthen like an Affe,

Spurrde, galde, and tyrde by iauncing Bullingbrooke.

Keeper. Fellow giue place, heere is no longer stay.

Rich. If thou loue me, tis time thou wert away.

Groo. What my tongue dares not, that my heart shall say.

Exit Groome. Enter one to Richard with meat.

Keeper. My Lord, wilt please you to fall to?

Rich. Taste of it first, as thou art wont to do.

Keeper. My Lord I dare not, fir Pierce of Exton,

Who lately came from the king, commands the contrary.

Rich. The diuell take Henry of Lancafter and thee:

Patience is stale, and I am weary of it.

Keeper. Helpe, helpe, helpe.

The murderer's rush in.

Rich. How now, what meanes Death in this rude affaulte?
Villaine, thy owne hand yeelds thy deaths instrument,
Goe thou and fill another roome in Hell.

Heere Exton strikes him downe.

Rich. That hand shall burne in neuer quenching fire,
That flaggers thus my person: Exton, thy fierce hand
Hath with the Kings blood stain'd the Kings owne lande:
Mount, mount my foule, thy stea is vp on hie,
Whilft my groſſe fleth linkes downeward heere to die.

Exton. As full of valoure, as of roiall blood:

Both haue I (pild; Oh would the deed were good!

For now the Diuell that told me I did well,

Sayers

King Richard the Second.

Sayes that this deed is chronicled in Hell:
This dead King to the liuing King Ile beare,
Take hence the reſt, & giue them buriall heere.

Exit.

Enter Bullingbrooke with the Duke of Torke.

King. Kind vrickle Yorke, the latest newes we heare,
Is, that the Rebels haue confumed with fire

Our towne of Ciceter in Gloceſtershire:

But whether they be tane or ſlaine, we heare not:

Welcome my Lord, what is the newes?

Enter Northumberland.

North. First, to thy sacred state with I all happineſſe,
The next newes is, I haue to London ſent

The heads of Oxford, Salisburie, and Kent:

The manner of their taking may appeare

At large discourſed in this Paper heere.

King. We thanke thee gentle Percie for thy paynes,
And to thy worth will addle right worthy gaines.

Enter Lord Fuzwaters.

Fitz. My Lord; I haue from Oxford ſent to London,
The heads of Broccas, and fir Benet Seely;

Two of the dangerous conſorted Traytors,

That fought at Oxford thy dire ouerthrow.

King. Thy paines Fitz: shall not be forgot,
Right noble is thy merit well I wot.

Enter Henrie Percie.

Per. The graund confpirator Abbot of Westminſter,
With clogge of confcience and fowre melancholie,
Hath yeelded vp his body to the Graue;
But heere is Carleſt liuing, to abide

Thy kingly doome, and ſentence of his pride.

King. Carleſt, this is your doome,

Choose out ſome ſecret place, ſome reuerend roome
More then thou haſt, and with it joy thy life,

So as thou liuſt in peace, die free from ſtrike:

For though mine enemie thou haſt euer been,

High ſparkes of honour in thee haue I ſeene.

Enter.

K 3.

The Tragedie of

Enter Exton with the Coffin.

Exton. Great King, within this Coffin I present
Thy buried feare: herein all breathlesse lies
The mightiest of thy greatest enemies,

Richard of Burdeaux, by mee hither brought.

King. Exton, I thanke thee not, for thou haft wrought
A deede of slaughter with thy fatall hand,
Upon my head, and all this famous land.

Exton. From your owne mouth (my Lo.) did I this deed.
King. They loue not poyson, that do poyson need,
Nor doe I thee, though I did wifh him dead;
I hate the murtherer, loue him murthered :

The guilt of confidence take thou for thy labour,
But neither my good word, nor princely fauour :

With Come goe wander through the shade of night,
And neuer shew thy head by day nor light.

Lords, I protest my foule is full of woe,
That blood should fprinkle me to make me grow:
Come, mourne with me, for what I doe lament,

And put on fullen blacke incontinent :
Ile make a voyage to the Holy land,
To wash this blood off from my guilty hand.

March fadly after, grace my mournings heere,
In weeping after this vntimely Beere.

FINIS.