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The life and death of King Richard the Second.
Actus Primus,
Scaena Prima.
I haue my Liege.
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I haue my Liege.
And Norfolke, throw downe hi••
Norfolke, throw downe, we bidde; there is no boote.
Where then (alas may I) complaint my selfe?
To heauen, the widdowes Champion to defence
My L. Aumerle, is Harry Herford arm'd.
Yea, at all points, and longs to enter in.
Mine innocence, and S. George to thriue.
Strong as a towre in hope, I cry Amen.
Go beare this Lance to Thomas D. of Norfolke.
I sweare.
And I, to keepe all this.
Why Vncle, thou hast many yeeres to liue.
Thy greefe is but thy absence for a time.
Ioy absent, greefe is present for that time.
What is sixe Winters, they are quickely gone?
To men in ioy, but greefe makes one houre ten.
Call it a trauell that thou tak'st for pleasure.
I brought high Herford (if you call him so) but to the next high way, and there I left him.
And say, what store of parting tears were shed?
What said our Cosin when you parted with him?
what newes?
Where lyes he?
At Ely house.
How fares our noble Vncle Lancaster?
What comfort man? How ist with aged Gaunt?
Can sicke men play so nicely with their names?
Should dying men flatter those that liue?
No, no, men liuing flatter those that dye.
Thou now a dying, sayst thou flatter'st me.
Oh no, thou dyest, though I the sicker be.
I am in health, I breath, I see the ••ill.
My Liege, olde Gaunt commends him to your Maiestie.
What sayes he?
Well Lords, the Duke of Lancaster is dead.
And liuing too, for now his sonne is Duke.
Barely in title, not in reuennew.
Richly in both, if iustice had her right.
The Earle of Wiltshire hath the realme in Farme.
The Kings growne bankrupt like a broken man.
Reproach, and dissolution hangeth ouer him.
To horse, to horse, vrge doubts to them yt feare.
Hold out my horse, and I will first be there.
Now God in heauen forbid.
Dispaire not Madam.
Heere comes the Duke of Yorke.
My Lord, your sonne was gone before I came.
What is't knaue?
An houre before I came, the Dutchesse di'de.
Wherein the king stands generally condemn'd
That's as Yorke thriues to beate back Bullinbroke
How farre is it my Lord to Berkley now?
I had thought, my Lord, to haue learn'd his health of you.
Why, is he not with the Queene?
Haue you forgot the Duke of Hereford (Boy.)
Then learne to know him now: this is the Duke.
Your presence makes vs rich, most Noble Lord.
And sure surmounts our labour to attaine it.
It is my Lord of Barkely, as I ghesse.
My Lord of Hereford, my Message is to you.
My gracious Vnckle.
The Noble Duke hath been too much abus'd.
It stands your Grace vpon, to doe him right.
Base men by his endowments are made great.
Barkloughly Castle call you this at hand?
Comfort my Liege, why lookes your Grace so pale?
Comfort my Liege, remember who you are.
Peace haue they made with him indeede (my Lord.)
Is Bushie Greene, and the Earle of Wiltshire dead?
Yea all of them at Bristow lost their heads.
Where is the Duke my Father with his Power?
My Liege, one word.
The newes is very faire and good, my Lord, Richard, not farre from hence, hath hid his head.
Mistake not (Vnckle) farther then you should.
Royally? Why, it containes no King?
Oh, belike it is the Bishop of Carl••le.
Northumberland comes backe from Bulling∣brooke.
What sayes his Maiestie?
My gracious Lord, I come but for mine owne.
Your owne is yours, and I am yours, and all.
Yea, my good Lord.
Then I must not say, no.
Madame, wee'le play at Bowles.
Madame, wee'le Dance.
Madame, wee'le tell Tales.
Of Sorrow, or of Griefe?
Of eyther, Madame.
Madame, Ile sing.
I could weepe, Madame, would it doe you good.
What are they dead?
What thinke you the King shall be depos'd?
Then set before my face, the Lord Aumerle.
Cosin, stand forth, and looke vpon that man.
Bagot forbeare, thou shalt not take it vp.
Thou dar'st not (Coward) liue to see the day.
Now by my Soule, I would it were this houre.
Fitzwater thou art damn'd to hell for this.
Surrey, thou Lyest.
Why Bishop, is Norfolke dead?
As sure as I liue, my Lord.
In Gods Name, Ile ascend the Regall Throne.
I will be his Conduct.
I thought you had been willing to resigne.
Part of your Cares you giue me with your Crowne.
Are you contended to resigne the Crowne?
My Lord dispatch, reade o're these Articles.
My Lord.
Goe some of you, and fetch a Looking-Glasse.
Read o're this Paper, while yc Glasse doth come.
Fiend, thou torments me, ere I come to Hell.
Vrge it no more, my Lord Northumberland.
The Commons will not then be satisfy'd.
Name it, faire Cousin.
Yet aske.
And shall I haue?
You shall.
Then giue me leaue to goe.
Whither?
Whither you will, so I were from your sights.
Goe some of you, conuey him to the Tower.
A wofull Pageant haue we here beheld.
And must we be diuided? must we part?
I, hand from hand (my Loue) and heart frō heart.
Banish vs both, and send the King with me.
That were some Loue, but little Pollicy.
Then whither he goes, thither let me goe.
So longest Way shall haue the longest Moanes.
Where did I leaue?
Alas poore Richard, where rides he the whilst?
Heere comes my sonne Aumerle.
For ought I know my Lord, they do.
You will be there I know.
If God preuent not, I purpose so.
My Lord, 'tis nothing.
I do beseech you pardon me, I may not shew it.
What's the matter, my Lord?
Why, what is't my Lord?
What is the matter?
Peace foolish Woman.
I will not peace. What is the matter Sonne?
Thy life answer?
Bring me my Boots, I will vnto the King.
Giue me my Boots, I say.
Away fond woman: were hee twenty times my Son, I would appeach him.
Make way, vnruly Woman.
And what said the Gallant?
Where is the King?
Haue thy desire.
Villaine, Ile make thee safe.
Stay thy reuengefull hand, thou hast no cause to feare.
What hoa (my Liege) for heauens sake let me in.
What shrill-voic'd Suppliant, makes this eager cry?
Sweet Yorke be patient, heare me gentle Liege.
Rise vp good Aunt.
Vnto my mothers prayres, I bend my knee.
Against them both, my true ioynts bended be.
Good Aunt stand vp.
Speake it in French (King) say Pardon'ne moy.
Good Aunt, stand vp.
I pardon him, as heauen shall pardon mee.
I pardon him with all my hart.
A God on earth thou art.
Come my old son, I pray heauen make thee new.
Those were his very words.
He did.
Haile Royall Prince.
So proudly, as if he had disdain'd the ground.
Fellow, giue place heere is 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••nger ••y.
If ••hou loue me, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 thou with away.
What thy tongue da••s not, that my heart shall say.
My Lord, will please you to fall too?
Taste of it first, as thou wer't wont to doo.
Helpe, helpe, helpe.
From your owne mouth my Lord, did I this deed.