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THE HISTORY OF King Richard the IId.
ACT I.
I have my Liege.
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I have my Liege.
What do's our Cousen lay to Norfolk's Charge?
And Norfolk throw down his.
Will Norfolk when the King commands be slow?
Cousin, throw down his Gage, do you begin,
When Sister will you find the way to comfort?
Save ye Sister—very hot! oh! hot weather and hot work: come Brother, the Lists are ready; the Fight will be worth the while: besides your concern there is somewhat more than ordi∣nary. I'faith now I cou'd be content to have Harry scape; but for all that I wou'd have the Traytor die.
Where shall my Sorrows make their last complaint, If York deny me too?
What wou'd our Sister?
Revenge, and speedy for my Glosters death.
Why there 'tis—Revenge, ho! a fine morsel for a Lady fasting, Gloster was my Brother, true—but Gloster was a Tray∣tor and that's true too—I hate a Traytor more than I love a Brother.
A Traytor York?
'Tis somewhat a course name for a Kinsman, but yet to my thinking, to raise an Army, execute Subjects, threaten the King himself, and reduce him to answer particulars, has a very strong smatch with it——go too, you are in fault, your com∣plaints are guilty; your very Tears are Treason. No remedy but Patience.
This Air grows infectious: will you go Brother.
My Lord Aumerle is Harry Herford arm'd?
Yes, at all points and longs to enter in,
Complaint comes all too late where we decree.
I Swear.
And I to keep all this!
Despair not Uncle, you have long to live.
But not a Minute King that thou canst give.
NOw Brother, what cheer?
Why well, 'tis with me as old Gaunt cou'd wish.
What, Harry sticks with you still; well I hear he's safe in France and very busie.
My Blood were never Idle.
I fear too busie; come, he's a par'lous Boy, I smell a con∣fed'racy betwixt him and his Companions here, Mischief will come on't, cut him off I say; Let him be Kites-meat—I would hang a Son, to kill a Traytor.
Go sleep good York and wake with better thoughts.
My sickness grows upon me, set me higher.
Villany takes its time, all goes worse and worse in Ireland, Rebellion is there on the Wing, and here in the Egg; yet still the Court dances after the French Pipe, Eternal Apes of Vanity: Mutiny stirring, Discipline asleep, Knaves in Office, all's wrong; make much of your Sickness Brother: if it be Mortal, 'tis worth a Duke-dome.
How fares our Noble Uncle Lancaster?
How is't with aged Gaunt?
Ag'd as your Highness says, and Gaunt indeed.
Gaunt, as a Grave whose Womb holds nought but Bones,
Can sick men play so nicely with their Names?
Should dying men then, flatter those that Live?
No, no, Men living flatter those that dye.
Thou now a dying sayst, thou flatter'st me.
Oh! no, Thou dyest though I the sicker am,
I am in health breath, free but see thee ill
Thanks my good Uncle, bear him to his Bed,
My Liege old Gaunt commends him to your Highness.
What says our Uncle?
O my Liege pardon me if you please, if not, I please not
to be pardon'd, spare to seize the Royalties and Rights of banisht Herford, I fear already he's too apt t'engage against your Power, and these proceedings will give countenance and growth to his Designs, forbear to draw such Dangers on your Head.
Well Lords, the Duke of Lancaster is dead.
Now business stirs and life is worth our while.
Despair not Madam.
Here comes the Duke.
Death and confusion! oh!—set my Corsleet right, fetch my commanding Sword: scour up the brown Bills, Arm, Arm, Arm.
Now Uncle for Heav'ns sake speak comfort.
Comforts in Heav'n, and we are on the Earth, nothing but crosses on this side of the Moon; my heart stews in Choller, I shall dissolve to a Gelly. That your Husband shou'd have no more wit than to go a Knight Erranting whilst Rogues seize all at home, and that I shou'd have no more wit than to be his Deputy at such a proper time: to undertake to support a crazy Government, that can scarce carry my own Fat: Well Sirrah, have you given my Son orders to strengthen his Forces? if he prove a Flincher too.—
Why so? go all which way it will, the Nobles are all fled, and hide themselves like my ungracious Rascal, or else strike in with the Rebels; the Commons find our Exchequer empty and revolt too, and a blessed bargain I have on't.
What is't Knave?
Death what a tide of woes break upon us at once. Per∣verse
Woman to take this time to Die in, and the varlet her Son too to take this time to play the villain in: wou'd to Heav'n the King had cut off my Head as he did my Brothers, Come Sister—Couzen I would say, pray Pardon me, if I know how to or∣der thefe perplext Affairs, I am a Sturgeon. Gentlemen go Mu∣ster up your Men, and meet me at Barkley Castle. I should to Plashie too, but time will not suffer; the Wind's cross too, and will let us hear nothing from Ireland, nor boots it much, if they have no better News for us, than we have for them. All's wrong, Oh! fie, hot! hot!
My Gracious Uncle.
Then Uncle I am sorry you have drawn the Guilt on your own head, and that of Course Justice must fall there too; we must Commit you to our Guards Custody.
We have not leisure to debate; strike Drums.
Now the Villains Curse light on thee, and if thou dost seize the Crown, mayst thou be more Plagu'd with being King, than I am with being Deputy.
1. Silence hea! I Revelation Stitch Command Silence.
Peace hoa!
1. Am I not Nobly Descended and Honourably Born?
2. Right, the Field is Honourable, and there was he Born un∣der a Hedge.
1. Have I not born Commission with Watt Tyler (witness our luminary lost in that Service) and was I not president at Jack Straw's Councel, to kill all the Nobility and Clergy; but the Fryers mendicant, that in our Reign wou'd soon have starv'd out o'th' way?
Hum! hum! hem!
1. What place then do our guifts desere at such a season, where the temporal King is absent and Usurpers invade?
2. Why, it behoveth theeto take unto thee a good Conscience, and make thy felf King.
1. Simon Shuttle, I never lik't thy Politicks, our meanest Bre∣thren pretend to the spirit of Governing, our Talent is to go∣vern the Governour; therefore as Bullingbrook shall approve himself to our liking, we will fix him upon the last of the Go∣vernment, or cast him out amongst the shreds and shavings of the Common-wealth.
4. But pray Neighbour, what is this same Common-wealth?
3. You may see it at Smithfield all the Fair-time, 'tis the Butt End of the Nation.
5. Peace hea! hear Master Revelation expound it.
1. Why the Common-wealth is a-Kin to your-a-republick, like Man and Wife, the very same thing, only the Common-wealth is the Common-wealth and the Republick is the Republick.
2. What an excellent Spirit of knowledge is here?
3. Wee'l have no more Bills nor Bonds, but all shall be reduc't to the Score and Tally.
4. No Physick, but what shall be administer'd in a Horn.
5. We'l have Priviledges taken off, and all sorts compell'd to pay their Debts.
7. I except against that, I would rather break, than have gentle∣men out of my debt; it gives us priviledg of being Sawcy: how are we fain to oringe 'till we have got them into our Books? and then I warrant we can cock up with the best of 'em. I hate mortally to be paid off, it makes a man such a sneaking Rascal.
1. We will have strict and wholsom Laws—
6. Laws, Strict Laws, so will there be no mischief done, and our Profession starve. I'll ha' no Laws.
no Laws, no Laws, no Laws.
Laws, Laws, Laws. They Scuffle.
1. Hark, Bullingbrook approaches, put your selves in posture,
and Sow-gelder, wind me a strong Blast to return their Comple∣ment.
1. Down on thy knee; now (because we will observe Decorums of State) rise up Sir John Drench and Treat with him.
2. Goodly! what a gracious person he is.
A Bullingbrook! a Bullingbrook! &c.
1. How's that? not usurp? hear ye that Neighbours? he refu∣ses to Usurp.
Fall on then, he is not for our turn, down with him.
1. Sir, we shall give you to understand that we want a Usurper, and if you refuse to usurp you are a Traytor, and so we put our selves in Battail array.
A Bullingbrook, a Bullingbrook, &c.
1. One word of caution Friend, be not Chicken-hearted, but pluck up a Spirit for the work before thee; it was revealed to me that now there should arise a Son of Thunder, a second Tyler—and I am resolv'd the vision shall not Lie; therefore I say again pluck up a Spirit; otherwise I shall discharge my Conscience and usurp my Self.
1. Why Neighbours will ye thus give up your Light? who shall reveal to ye, to save you from the Poyson of the Whore and the Horns of the Beast.
2. He had no Vision to foretel this, therefore deserves Hanging for being a false Prophet.
4. Good Prince he weeps for him! Neighbour Revelation de∣part in peace. For thy honour it will be recorded that Bullingbrook was Crown'd and thou hang'd all on a Day.
1. What a spirit of delusion has seiz'd ye? why thus will this rav'nous Storck devour ye all▪ do do, deliver me to the Gibbet, and
let the next turn be yours, thus shall these Nobility Rascals hold you in Slavery, seize your Houses over your heads, hang your Sons and ravish your Daughters.
Say ye so? they must excuse us for that: fall on Neighbors. A Rescue, a Rescue, &c.
BArklay-Castle, call you this at hand?
2. Are Bushie Green and th' Earl of Wiltshire Dead?
Then all our fears are true, we are betray'd.
Patience dear Madam, we may get hear further.
Think you the King will be depos'd?
And some odd Troops besides.
Comfort my Liege, why looks your Grace so pale?
My Liege remember who you are.
Peace have they made with him indeed.
Where is the Duke my Father with his Forces?
You chide me well, proud Bullingbrook I come,
We'll march no farther, lead to th' Castle here.
Mistake not Uncle farther then you shou'd.
Talk not thou Traytor farther then thou shoud'st.
What say'st thou Ross? will not this Castle yield?
I know him, 'tis the Bishop of Carlile.
Northumberland comes back from Bullingbrook.
My gracious Lord I come but for my own.
And to that Title who must set the Bounds?
TUt, tut, tut, tell not me of Patience, 'tis a Load a Burden that Knaves will never cease to lay on whilst Asses will carry it! nothing but Villany in this versal World, and nothing plagues me but that I can't turn Villain too, to be Reveng'd.
My Lord, this is no Answer to our Message.
I, the Message! I had rather you had brought me—Poyson; for certain 'twas sent to be the Death of me: Thou know'st Boy, on what Account we are going this Morning. Wou'd you think it, this Traytor Bullingbrook has sent for me; for me, I say, sent by these Rogues for me, to confer with him in private before the House sits.
That was indeed provoking.
Nay, let honest men judge if Murder was not in his heart, and that he thought the Message wou'd make me Die with Choller.—Now should I clap this pair of Arrows to a Bow-string and shoot 'em back to the Usurper.—Go tell the Knave your Master, He's a Fool to send for me, I renounce him: Speak with him in private before the House sits. Why? I wou'd not meet him there but to shew my self for Richard, and then tell him he'l see one that that hates a Traytor, be Bulling∣brook what he will.
Madam, the King is coming.
Oh Heav'n! Is awful Majesty no more?
Oh my dear Lord, think not I meant t'upbraid
First let me move and yield some Knave a Seat.
I thought you had been willing to Resign.
My Crown I am, but still my Griefs are mine.
Are you contented to Resign or no?
My Lord dispatch, read ore the Articles.
My Eyes are full of Tears! I cannot see.
My Lord—
Fetch him a Glass.
In the mean time read o're this Paper.
Urge it no more Nortbumberland.
Name it fair Cousin.
Whether?
Why, from your sight and then no matter where
Convey him to the Tower.
Long live King Bullingbrook, Henry the Fourth.
Peace Hell-hounds or your own breath Poyson ye.
Alas, poor Richard! where rides he the while?
What, in Tears still? Well, Heav'ns will must be—mark me Boy, I cannot blame thy grieving for Richard, because I do it my self; neither can I blame thee for not loving Bulling∣brook, because I cannot do it my self: But to be true to him (or rather to our Oath, being now his sworn Subjects) I conjure thee. This I speak, because the King suspects thee, and made me even now pledge for thy truth and fealty: Bear you well therefore in this new Spring of Government, lest you be cropt before your time—Well, what News from Oxford Boy? Hold th' intended Triumphs there? 'Tis said our new King will grace them with his Presence.
Ha! come nearer, what Seal is that which hangs out from thy Bosom? Ha! lookst thou pale? Let me see the writing.
Which for some reasons! Sir I mean to see, Just as I fear'd, Treason, foul Treason. Villain Traytor.
What's the matter my Lord, good York inform me.
Away fond Woman, give me my Boots, saddle my Horse.
The matter, Son.
Thy Life!
Hence Villain, strike him Aumarle.
My Boots I say, I will away to th' King.
Tho' I love not Bullingbrook, yet I hate Treason, and will impeach the Villain.
Wise, I believe it, therefore I impeach him; were he none of mine, let his own Father look to him; but since he is my Villain, I'll see the Villain orderd: My Horse, I say.
Hadst thou groan'd for him, York, as I have done—
And art e'en like to groan for him again. Away.
Haste thee Aumarle, mount thee upon his Horse;
Never did sorrow triumph thus before.
O my afflicted Heart!
But This was wanting to compleat our Woe.
Force her away.
And what said the Gallant?
As dissolute as desperate.
Where's the King?
What means our Cousin that he looks so wildly?
My Lord, I humbly beg the favour of a word in private with your Majesty.
Withdraw my Lords; now Cousin to your business.
Have thy Desire.
Beware my Liege, look to thy Lise, thou hast a Traytor in thy Presence.
Ha! Villain I'll secure Thee.
Stay thy revengeful Hand, Thou hast no cause to fear.
Open the Door, or I will force my Passage.
The Matter, Uncle, speak, recover Breath.
Peruse this Writing and read there my Bus'ness.
O King believe not this hard-hearted Man.
Dear York be patient, hear me gentle Liege.
Rise up good Aunt.
And to my Pray'rs, I bend my Knee.
Against 'em Both my Old stiff Joynts I bend.
Good Madam rise up.
I pardon him as Heav'n shall pardon me.
Thanks Gracious Liege, a God on Earth thou art.
Thanks Gracious Liege, a God on Earth thou art.
So much for that,——one word at parting King, Let me tell thee King, 'twas none of these Politicks that made thee King, and so farewell to Court.
Hail Royal Sir, with dang'rous difficulty
Go Thou and fill a room in Hell,
Another Thou.
Our last Expresses speak the Rebels high, Who have consum'd with Fire Our Town of Gloster.
Welcome Northumberland, what News?
From your own Mouth, my Lord, did I this Deed.