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The Complete Works of William Shakespeare King Richard the Second

November, 1997

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KING RICHARD THE SECOND

by William Shakespeare

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

QUEEN to King Richard DUCHESS OF YORK DUCHESS OF GLOUCESTER, widow of Thomas of Woodstock, Duke of Gloucester LADY attending on the Queen

Lords, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, Keeper, Messenger, Groom, and other Attendants

SCENE: England and Wales

Enter RICHARD, JOHN OF GAUNT, with other NOBLES and attendants

KING RICHARD. Old John of Gaunt, time-honoured Lancaster, Hast thou, according to thy oath and band, Brought hither Henry Hereford, thy bold son, Here to make good the boist'rous late appeal, Which then our leisure would not let us hear, Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray? GAUNT. I have, my liege. KING RICHARD. Tell me, moreover, hast thou sounded him If he appeal the Duke on ancient malice, Or worthily, as a good subject should, On some known ground of treachery in him? GAUNT. As near as I could sift him on that argument, On some apparent danger seen in him Aim'd at your Highness-no inveterate malice. KING RICHARD. Then call them to our presence: face to face And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear The accuser and the accused freely speak. High-stomach'd are they both and full of ire, In rage, deaf as the sea, hasty as fire.

Enter BOLINGBROKE and MOWBRAY

SCENE 2. London. The DUKE OF LANCASTER'S palace

Enter JOHN OF GAUNT with the DUCHESS OF GLOUCESTER

SCENE 3. The lists at Coventry

Enter the LORD MARSHAL and the DUKE OF AUMERLE

MARSHAL. My Lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford arm'd? AUMERLE. Yea, at all points; and longs to enter in. MARSHAL. The Duke of Norfolk, spightfully and bold, Stays but the summons of the appelant's trumpet. AUMERLE. Why then, the champions are prepar'd, and stay For nothing but his Majesty's approach.

The trumpets sound, and the KING enters with his nobles, GAUNT, BUSHY, BAGOT, GREEN, and others. When they are set, enter MOWBRAY, Duke of Nor folk, in arms, defendant, and a HERALD

KING RICHARD. Marshal, demand of yonder champion The cause of his arrival here in arms; Ask him his name; and orderly proceed To swear him in the justice of his cause. MARSHAL. In God's name and the King's, say who thou art, And why thou comest thus knightly clad in arms; Against what man thou com'st, and what thy quarrel. Speak truly on thy knighthood and thy oath; As so defend thee heaven and thy valour! MOWBRAY. My name is Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk; Who hither come engaged by my oath- Which God defend a knight should violate!- Both to defend my loyalty and truth To God, my King, and my succeeding issue, Against the Duke of Hereford that appeals me; And, by the grace of God and this mine arm, To prove him, in defending of myself, A traitor to my God, my King, and me. And as I truly fight, defend me heaven!

The trumpets sound. Enter BOLINGBROKE, Duke of Hereford, appellant, in armour, and a HERALD

KING RICHARD. Marshal, ask yonder knight in arms, Both who he is and why he cometh hither Thus plated in habiliments of war; And formally, according to our law, Depose him in the justice of his cause. MARSHAL. What is thy name? and wherefore com'st thou hither Before King Richard in his royal lists? Against whom comest thou? and what's thy quarrel? Speak like a true knight, so defend thee heaven! BOLINGBROKE. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, Am I; who ready here do stand in arms To prove, by God's grace and my body's valour, In lists on Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, That he is a traitor, foul and dangerous, To God of heaven, King Richard, and to me. And as I truly fight, defend me heaven! MARSHAL. On pain of death, no person be so bold Or daring-hardy as to touch the lists, Except the Marshal and such officers Appointed to direct these fair designs. BOLINGBROKE. Lord Marshal, let me kiss my sovereign's hand, And bow my knee before his Majesty; For Mowbray and myself are like two men That vow a long and weary pilgrimage. Then let us take a ceremonious leave And loving farewell of our several friends. MARSHAL. The appellant in all duty greets your Highness, And craves to kiss your hand and take his leave. KING RICHARD. We will descend and fold him in our arms. Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause is right, So be thy fortune in this royal fight! Farewell, my blood; which if to-day thou shed, Lament we may, but not revenge thee dead. BOLINGBROKE. O, let no noble eye profane a tear For me, if I be gor'd with Mowbray's spear. As confident as is the falcon's flight Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight. My loving lord, I take my leave of you; Of you, my noble cousin, Lord Aumerle; Not sick, although I have to do with death, But lusty, young, and cheerly drawing breath. Lo, as at English feasts, so I regreet The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet. O thou, the earthly author of my blood, Whose youthful spirit, in me regenerate, Doth with a twofold vigour lift me up To reach at victory above my head, Add proof unto mine armour with thy prayers, And with thy blessings steel my lance's point, That it may enter Mowbray's waxen coat And furbish new the name of John o' Gaunt, Even in the lusty haviour of his son. GAUNT. God in thy good cause make thee prosperous! Be swift like lightning in the execution, And let thy blows, doubly redoubled, Fall like amazing thunder on the casque Of thy adverse pernicious enemy. Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant, and live. BOLINGBROKE. Mine innocence and Saint George to thrive! MOWBRAY. However God or fortune cast my lot, There lives or dies, true to King Richard's throne, A loyal, just, and upright gentleman. Never did captive with a freer heart Cast off his chains of bondage, and embrace His golden uncontroll'd enfranchisement, More than my dancing soul doth celebrate This feast of battle with mine adversary. Most mighty liege, and my companion peers, Take from my mouth the wish of happy years. As gentle and as jocund as to jest Go I to fight: truth hath a quiet breast. KING RICHARD. Farewell, my lord, securely I espy Virtue with valour couched in thine eye. Order the trial, Marshal, and begin. MARSHAL. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, Receive thy lance; and God defend the right! BOLINGBROKE. Strong as a tower in hope, I cry amen. MARSHAL. Go bear this lance to Thomas, Duke of Norfolk. FIRST HERALD. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, Stands here for God, his sovereign, and himself, On pain to be found false and recreant, To prove the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray, A traitor to his God, his King, and him; And dares him to set forward to the fight. SECOND HERALD. Here standeth Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, On pain to be found false and recreant, Both to defend himself, and to approve Henry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, To God, his sovereign, and to him disloyal, Courageously and with a free desire Attending but the signal to begin. MARSHAL. Sound trumpets; and set forward, combatants. Stay, the King hath thrown his warder down. KING RICHARD. Let them lay by their helmets and their spears, And both return back to their chairs again. Withdraw with us; and let the trumpets sound While we return these dukes what we decree.

A long flourish, while the KING consults his Council

SCENE 4. London. The court

Enter the KING, with BAGOT and GREEN, at one door; and the DUKE OF AUMERLE at another

KING RICHARD. We did observe. Cousin Aumerle, How far brought you high Hereford on his way? AUMERLE. I brought high Hereford, if you call him so, But to the next high way, and there I left him. KING RICHARD. And say, what store of parting tears were shed? AUMERLE. Faith, none for me; except the north-east wind, Which then blew bitterly against our faces, Awak'd the sleeping rheum, and so by chance Did grace our hollow parting with a tear. KING RICHARD. What said our cousin when you parted with him? AUMERLE. 'Farewell.' And, for my heart disdained that my tongue Should so profane the word, that taught me craft To counterfeit oppression of such grief That words seem'd buried in my sorrow's grave. Marry, would the word 'farewell' have length'ned hours And added years to his short banishment, He should have had a volume of farewells; But since it would not, he had none of me. KING RICHARD. He is our cousin, cousin; but 'tis doubt, When time shall call him home from banishment, Whether our kinsman come to see his friends. Ourself, and Bushy, Bagot here, and Green, Observ'd his courtship to the common people; How he did seem to dive into their hearts With humble and familiar courtesy; What reverence he did throw away on slaves, Wooing poor craftsmen with the craft of smiles And patient underbearing of his fortune, As 'twere to banish their affects with him. Off goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench; A brace of draymen bid God speed him well And had the tribute of his supple knee, With 'Thanks, my countrymen, my loving friends'; As were our England in reversion his, And he our subjects' next degree in hope. GREEN. Well, he is gone; and with him go these thoughts! Now for the rebels which stand out in Ireland, Expedient manage must be made, my liege, Ere further leisure yicld them further means For their advantage and your Highness' loss. KING RICHARD. We will ourself in person to this war; And, for our coffers, with too great a court And liberal largess, are grown somewhat light, We are enforc'd to farm our royal realm; The revenue whereof shall furnish us For our affairs in hand. If that come short, Our substitutes at home shall have blank charters; Whereto, when they shall know what men are rich, They shall subscribe them for large sums of gold, And send them after to supply our wants; For we will make for Ireland presently.

Enter BUSHY

Bushy, what news? BUSHY. Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, my lord, Suddenly taken; and hath sent poste-haste To entreat your Majesty to visit him. KING RICHARD. Where lies he? BUSHY. At Ely House. KING RICHARD. Now put it, God, in the physician's mind To help him to his grave immediately! The lining of his coffers shall make coats To deck our soldiers for these Irish wars. Come, gentlemen, let's all go visit him. Pray God we may make haste, and come too late! ALL. Amen. Exeunt

Enter JOHN OF GAUNT, sick, with the DUKE OF YORK, etc.

Enter KING and QUEEN, AUMERLE, BUSHY, GREEN, BAGOT, Ross, and WILLOUGHBY

YORK. The King is come; deal mildly with his youth, For young hot colts being rag'd do rage the more. QUEEN. How fares our noble uncle Lancaster? KING RICHARD. What comfort, man? How is't with aged Gaunt? GAUNT. O, how that name befits my composition! Old Gaunt, indeed; and gaunt in being old. Within me grief hath kept a tedious fast; And who abstains from meat that is not gaunt? For sleeping England long time have I watch'd; Watching breeds leanness, leanness is an gaunt. The pleasure that some fathers feed upon Is my strict fast-I mean my children's looks; And therein fasting, hast thou made me gaunt. Gaunt am I for the grave, gaunt as a grave, Whose hollow womb inherits nought but bones. KING RICHARD. Can sick men play so nicely with their names? GAUNT. No, misery makes sport to mock itself: Since thou dost seek to kill my name in me, I mock my name, great king, to flatter thee. KING RICHARD. Should dying men flatter with those that live? GAUNT. No, no; men living flatter those that die. KING RICHARD. Thou, now a-dying, sayest thou flatterest me. GAUNT. O, no! thou diest, though I the sicker be. KING RICHARD. I am in health, I breathe, and see thee ill. GAUNT. Now He that made me knows I see thee ill; Ill in myself to see, and in thee seeing ill. Thy death-bed is no lesser than thy land Wherein thou liest in reputation sick; And thou, too careless patient as thou art, Commit'st thy anointed body to the cure Of those physicians that first wounded thee: A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown, Whose compass is no bigger than thy head; And yet, incaged in so small a verge, The waste is no whit lesser than thy land. O, had thy grandsire with a prophet's eye Seen how his son's son should destroy his sons, From forth thy reach he would have laid thy shame, Deposing thee before thou wert possess'd, Which art possess'd now to depose thyself. Why, cousin, wert thou regent of the world, It were a shame to let this land by lease; But for thy world enjoying but this land, Is it not more than shame to shame it so? Landlord of England art thou now, not King. Thy state of law is bondslave to the law; And thou- KING RICHARD. A lunatic lean-witted fool, Presuming on an ague's privilege, Darest with thy frozen admonition Make pale our cheek, chasing the royal blood With fury from his native residence. Now by my seat's right royal majesty, Wert thou not brother to great Edward's son, This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head Should run thy head from thy unreverent shoulders. GAUNT. O, Spare me not, my brother Edward's son, For that I was his father Edward's son; That blood already, like the pelican, Hast thou tapp'd out, and drunkenly carous'd. My brother Gloucester, plain well-meaning soul- Whom fair befall in heaven 'mongst happy souls!- May be a precedent and witness good That thou respect'st not spilling Edward's blood. Join with the present sickness that I have; And thy unkindness be like crooked age, To crop at once a too long withered flower. Live in thy shame, but die not shame with thee! These words hereafter thy tormentors be! Convey me to my bed, then to my grave. Love they to live that love and honour have. Exit, borne out by his attendants KING RICHARD. And let them die that age and sullens have; For both hast thou, and both become the grave. YORK. I do beseech your Majesty impute his words To wayward sickliness and age in him. He loves you, on my life, and holds you dear As Harry Duke of Hereford, were he here. KING RICHARD. Right, you say true: as Hereford's love, so his; As theirs, so mine; and all be as it is.

Enter NORTHUMBERLAND

SCENE 2. Windsor Castle

Enter QUEEN, BUSHY, and BAGOT

BUSHY. Madam, your Majesty is too much sad. You promis'd, when you parted with the King, To lay aside life-harming heaviness And entertain a cheerful disposition. QUEEN. To please the King, I did; to please myself I cannot do it; yet I know no cause Why I should welcome such a guest as grief, Save bidding farewell to so sweet a guest As my sweet Richard. Yet again methinks Some unborn sorrow, ripe in fortune's womb, Is coming towards me, and my inward soul With nothing trembles. At some thing it grieves More than with parting from my lord the King. BUSHY. Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows, Which shows like grief itself, but is not so; For sorrow's eye, glazed with blinding tears, Divides one thing entire to many objects, Like perspectives which, rightly gaz'd upon, Show nothing but confusion-ey'd awry, Distinguish form. So your sweet Majesty, Looking awry upon your lord's departure, Find shapes of grief more than himself to wail; Which, look'd on as it is, is nought but shadows Of what it is not. Then, thrice-gracious Queen, More than your lord's departure weep not-more is not seen; Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrow's eye, Which for things true weeps things imaginary. QUEEN. It may be so; but yet my inward soul Persuades me it is otherwise. Howe'er it be, I cannot but be sad; so heavy sad As-though, on thinking, on no thought I think- Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink. BUSHY. 'Tis nothing but conceit, my gracious lady. QUEEN. 'Tis nothing less: conceit is still deriv'd From some forefather grief; mine is not so, For nothing hath begot my something grief, Or something hath the nothing that I grieve; 'Tis in reversion that I do possess- But what it is that is not yet known what, I cannot name; 'tis nameless woe, I wot.

Enter GREEN

GREEN. God save your Majesty! and well met, gentlemen. I hope the King is not yet shipp'd for Ireland. QUEEN. Why hopest thou so? 'Tis better hope he is; For his designs crave haste, his haste good hope. Then wherefore dost thou hope he is not shipp'd? GREEN. That he, our hope, might have retir'd his power And driven into despair an enemy's hope Who strongly hath set footing in this land. The banish'd Bolingbroke repeals himself, And with uplifted arms is safe arriv'd At Ravenspurgh. QUEEN. Now God in heaven forbid! GREEN. Ah, madam, 'tis too true; and that is worse, The Lord Northumberland, his son young Henry Percy, The Lords of Ross, Beaumond, and Willoughby, With all their powerful friends, are fled to him. BUSHY. Why have you not proclaim'd Northumberland And all the rest revolted faction traitors? GREEN. We have; whereupon the Earl of Worcester Hath broken his staff, resign'd his stewardship, And all the household servants fled with him To Bolingbroke. QUEEN. So, Green, thou art the midwife to my woe, And Bolingbroke my sorrow's dismal heir. Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy; And I, a gasping new-deliver'd mother, Have woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow join'd. BUSHY. Despair not, madam. QUEEN. Who shall hinder me? I will despair, and be at enmity With cozening hope-he is a flatterer, A parasite, a keeper-back of death, Who gently would dissolve the bands of life, Which false hope lingers in extremity.

Enter YORK

GREEN. Here comes the Duke of York. QUEEN. With signs of war about his aged neck. O, full of careful business are his looks! Uncle, for God's sake, speak comfortable words. YORK. Should I do so, I should belie my thoughts. Comfort's in heaven; and we are on the earth, Where nothing lives but crosses, cares, and grief. Your husband, he is gone to save far off, Whilst others come to make him lose at home. Here am I left to underprop his land, Who, weak with age, cannot support myself. Now comes the sick hour that his surfeit made; Now shall he try his friends that flatter'd him.

Enter a SERVINGMAN

SCENE 3. Gloucestershire

Enter BOLINGBROKE and NORTHUMBERLAND, forces

Enter HARRY PERCY

NORTHUMBERLAND. It is my son, young Harry Percy, Sent from my brother Worcester, whencesoever. Harry, how fares your uncle? PERCY. I had thought, my lord, to have learn'd his health of you. NORTHUMBERLAND. Why, is he not with the Queen? PERCY. No, my good lord; he hath forsook the court, Broken his staff of office, and dispers'd The household of the King. NORTHUMBERLAND. What was his reason? He was not so resolv'd when last we spake together. PERCY. Because your lordship was proclaimed traitor. But he, my lord, is gone to Ravenspurgh, To offer service to the Duke of Hereford; And sent me over by Berkeley, to discover What power the Duke of York had levied there; Then with directions to repair to Ravenspurgh. NORTHUMBERLAND. Have you forgot the Duke of Hereford, boy? PERCY. No, my good lord; for that is not forgot Which ne'er I did remember; to my knowledge, I never in my life did look on him. NORTHUMBERLAND. Then learn to know him now; this is the Duke. PERCY. My gracious lord, I tender you my service, Such as it is, being tender, raw, and young; Which elder days shall ripen, and confirm To more approved service and desert. BOLINGBROKE. I thank thee, gentle Percy; and be sure I count myself in nothing else so happy As in a soul rememb'ring my good friends; And as my fortune ripens with thy love, It shall be still thy true love's recompense. My heart this covenant makes, my hand thus seals it. NORTHUMBERLAND. How far is it to Berkeley? And what stir Keeps good old York there with his men of war? PERCY. There stands the castle, by yon tuft of trees, Mann'd with three hundred men, as I have heard; And in it are the Lords of York, Berkeley, and Seymour- None else of name and noble estimate.

Enter Ross and WILLOUGHBY

NORTHUMBERLAND. Here come the Lords of Ross and Willoughby, Bloody with spurring, fiery-red with haste. BOLINGBROKE. Welcome, my lords. I wot your love pursues A banish'd traitor. All my treasury Is yet but unfelt thanks, which, more enrich'd, Shall be your love and labour's recompense. ROSS. Your presence makes us rich, most noble lord. WILLOUGHBY. And far surmounts our labour to attain it. BOLINGBROKE. Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the poor; Which, till my infant fortune comes to years, Stands for my bounty. But who comes here?

Enter BERKELEY

NORTHUMBERLAND. It is my Lord of Berkeley, as I guess. BERKELEY. My Lord of Hereford, my message is to you. BOLINGBROKE. My lord, my answer is-'to Lancaster'; And I am come to seek that name in England; And I must find that title in your tongue Before I make reply to aught you say. BERKELEY. Mistake me not, my lord; 'tis not my meaning To raze one title of your honour out. To you, my lord, I come-what lord you will- From the most gracious regent of this land, The Duke of York, to know what pricks you on To take advantage of the absent time, And fright our native peace with self-borne arms.

Enter YORK, attended

SCENE 4. A camp in Wales

Enter EARL OF SALISBURY and a WELSH CAPTAIN

CAPTAIN. My Lord of Salisbury, we have stay'd ten days And hardly kept our countrymen together, And yet we hear no tidings from the King; Therefore we will disperse ourselves. Farewell. SALISBURY. Stay yet another day, thou trusty Welshman; The King reposeth all his confidence in thee. CAPTAIN. 'Tis thought the King is dead; we will not stay. The bay trees in our country are all wither'd, And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven; The pale-fac'd moon looks bloody on the earth, And lean-look'd prophets whisper fearful change; Rich men look sad, and ruffians dance and leap- The one in fear to lose what they enjoy, The other to enjoy by rage and war. These signs forerun the death or fall of kings. Farewell. Our countrymen are gone and fled, As well assur'd Richard their King is dead. Exit SALISBURY. Ah, Richard, with the eyes of heavy mind, I see thy glory like a shooting star Fall to the base earth from the firmament! The sun sets weeping in the lowly west, Witnessing storms to come, woe, and unrest; Thy friends are fled, to wait upon thy foes; And crossly to thy good all fortune goes. Exit

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