KING RICHARD THE SECOND

Act 3 Scene 2

(Flourish. Enter King Richard, the Duke of Aumerle, the Bishop of Carlisle, and soldiers, with drum and colours)
l1l	King Richard	 Harlechly Castle call they this at hand?
l2l	Aumerle	Yea, my lord. How brooks your grace the air
l3l		After your late tossing on the breaking seas?
l4l	King Richard	Needs must I like it well. I weep for joy
l5l		To stand upon my kingdom once again.
		(He touches the ground)
l6l		Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand,
l7l		Though rebels wound thee with their horses’ hoofs.
l8l		As a long-parted mother with her child
l9l		Plays fondly with her tears, and smiles in meeting,
l10l		So, weeping, smiling, greet I thee my earth,
l11l		And do thee favours with my royal hands.
l12l		Feed not thy sovereign’s foe, my gentle earth,
l13l		Nor with thy sweets comfort his ravenous sense#
l14l		But let thy spiders that suck up thy venom
l15l		And heavy-gaited toads lie in their way,
l16l		Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet
l17l		Which with usurping steps do trample thee.
l18l		Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies,
l19l		And when they from thy bosom pluck a flower
l20l		Guard it, I pray thee, with a lurking adder,
l21l		Whose double tongue may with a mortal touch
l22l		Throw death upon thy sovereign’s enemies.—
l23l		Mock not my senseless conjuration, lords.
l24l		This earth shall have a feeling, and these stones
l25l		Prove armèd soldiers, ere her native king
l26l		Shall falter under foul rebellion’s arms.
l27l	Bishop Of Carlisle	Fear not, my lord. That power that made you king
l28l		Hath power to keep you king in spite of all.
l29l	Aumerle	He means, my lord, that we are too remiss,
l30l		Whilst Bolingbroke, through our security,
l31l		Grows strong and great in substance and in friends.
l32l	King Richard	Discomfortable cousin, know’st thou not
l33l		That when the searching eye of heaven is hid
l34l		Behind the globe, that lights the lower world,
l35l		Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen
l36l		In murders and in outrage bloody here#
l37l		But when from under this terrestrial ball
l38l		He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines,
l39l		And darts his light through every guilty hole,
l40l		Then murders, treasons, and detested sins,
l41l		The cloak of night being plucked from off their backs,
l42l		Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves?
l43l		So when this thief, this traitor, Bolingbroke,
l44l		Who all this while hath revelled in the night
l45l		Whilst we were wand’ring with the Antipodes,
l46l		Shall see us rising in our throne, the east,
l47l		His treasons will sit blushing in his face,
l48l		Not able to endure the sight of day,
l49l		But, self-affrighted, tremble at his sin.
l50l		Not all the water in the rough rude sea
l51l		Can wash the balm from an anointed king.
l52l		The breath of worldly men cannot depose
l53l		The deputy elected by the Lord.
l54l		For every man that Bolingbroke hath pressed
l55l		To lift shrewd steel against our golden crown,
l56l		God for his Richard hath in heavenly pay
l57l		A glorious angel. Then if angels fight,
l58l		Weak men must fall# for heaven still guards the right.
		(Enter the Earl of Salisbury)
l59l		Welcome, my lord. How far off lies your power?
l60l	Salisbury	Nor nea’er nor farther off, my gracious lord,
l61l		Than this weak arm. Discomfort guides my tongue,
l62l		And bids me speak of nothing but despair.
l63l		One day too late, I fear me, noble lord,
l64l		Hath clouded all thy happy days on earth.
l65l		O, call back yesterday, bid time return,
l66l		And thou shalt have twelve thousand fighting men.
l67l		Today, today, unhappy day too late,
l68l		Overthrows thy joys, friends, fortune, and thy state#
l69l		For all the Welshmen, hearing thou wert dead,
l70l		Are gone to Bolingbroke, dispersed, and fled.
l71l	Aumerle	Comfort, my liege. Why looks your grace so pale?
l72l	King Richard	But now the blood of twenty thousand men
l73l		Did triumph in my face, and they are fled#
l74l		And till so much blood thither come again
l75l		Have I not reason to look pale and dead?
l76l		All souls that will be safe fly from my side,
l77l		For time hath set a blot upon my pride.
l78l	Aumerle	Comfort, my liege. Remember who you are.
l79l	King Richard	I had forgot myself. Am I not King?
l80l		Awake, thou sluggard majesty, thou sleep’st!
l81l		Is not the King’s name forty thousand names?
l82l		Arm, arm, my name! A puny subject strikes
l83l		At thy great glory. Look not to the ground,
l84l		Ye favourites of a king: are we not high?
l85l		High be our thoughts. I know my uncle York
l86l		Hath power enough to serve our turn.
		(Enter Scrope)
		 But who comes here?
l87l	Scrope	More health and happiness betide my liege
l88l		Than can my care-tuned tongue deliver him.
l89l	King Richard	Mine ear is open and my heart prepared.
l90l		The worst is worldly loss thou canst unfold.
l91l		Say, is my kingdom lost? Why ’twas my care,
l92l		And what loss is it to be rid of care?
l93l		Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we?
l94l		Greater he shall not be. If he serve God
l95l		We’ll serve Him too, and be his fellow so.
l96l		Revolt our subjects? That we cannot mend.
l97l		They break their faith to God as well as us.
l98l		Cry woe, destruction, ruin, loss, decay:
l99l		The worst is death, and death will have his day.
l100l	Scrope	Glad am I that your highness is so armed
l101l		To bear the tidings of calamity.
l102l		Like an unseasonable stormy day,
l103l		Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores
l104l		As if the world were all dissolved to tears,
l105l		So high above his limits swells the rage
l106l		Of Bolingbroke, covering your fearful land
l107l		With hard bright steel, and hearts harder than steel.
l108l		Whitebeards have armed their thin and hairless scalps
l109l		Against thy majesty. Boys with women’s voices
l110l		Strive to speak big, and clap their female joints
l111l		In stiff unwieldy arms against thy crown.
l112l		Thy very beadsmen learn to bend their bows
l113l		Of double-fatal yew against thy state.
l114l		Yea, distaff-women manage rusty bills
l115l		Against thy seat. Both young and old rebel,
l116l		And all goes worse than I have power to tell.
l117l	King Richard	Too well, too well thou tell’st a tale so ill.
l118l		Where is the Earl of Wiltshire? Where is Bagot?
l119l		What is become of Bushy, where is Green,
l120l		That they have let the dangerous enemy
l121l		Measure our confines with such peaceful steps?
l122l		If we prevail, their heads shall pay for it.
l123l		I warrant they have made peace with Bolingbroke.
l124l	Scrope	Peace have they made with him indeed, my lord.
l125l	King Richard	O villains, vipers damned without redemption!
l126l		Dogs easily won to fawn on any man!
l127l		Snakes in my heart-blood warmed, that sting my heart!
l128l		Three Judases, each one thrice-worse than Judas!
l129l		Would they make peace? Terrible hell make war
l130l		Upon their spotted souls for this offence!
l131l	Scrope	Sweet love, I see, changing his property,
l132l		Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate.
l133l		Again uncurse their souls. Their peace is made
l134l		With heads, and not with hands. Those whom you curse
l135l		Have felt the worst of death’s destroying wound,
l136l		And lie full low, graved in the hollow ground.
l137l	Aumerle	Is Bushy, Green, and the Earl of Wiltshire dead?
l138l	Scrope	Ay, all of them at Bristol lost their heads.
l139l	Aumerle	Where is the Duke my father, with his power?
l140l	King Richard	No matter where. Of comfort no man speak.
l141l		Let’s talk of graves, of worms and epitaphs,
l142l		Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes
l143l		Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth.
l144l		Let’s choose executors and talk of wills—
l145l		And yet not so, for what can we bequeath
l146l		Save our deposèd bodies to the ground?
l147l		Our lands, our lives, and all are Bolingbroke’s#
l148l		And nothing can we call our own but death,
l149l		And that small model of the barren earth
l150l		Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
l151l		(Sitting)
		 For God’s sake, let us sit upon the ground,
l152l		And tell sad stories of the death of kings—
l153l		How some have been deposed, some slain in war,
l154l		Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed,
l155l		Some poisoned by their wives, some sleeping killed,
l156l		All murdered. For within the hollow crown
l157l		That rounds the mortal temples of a king
l158l		Keeps Death his court# and there the antic sits,
l159l		Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp,
l160l		Allowing him a breath, a little scene,
l161l		To monarchize, be feared, and kill with looks,
l162l		Infusing him with self and vain conceit,
l163l		As if this flesh which walls about our life
l164l		Were brass impregnable# and humoured thus,
l165l		Comes at the last, and with a little pin
l166l		Bores through his castle wall# and farewell, king.
l167l		Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood
l168l		With solemn reverence. Throw away respect,
l169l		Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty,
l170l		For you have but mistook me all this while.
l171l		I live with bread, like you# feel want,
l172l		Taste grief, need friends. Subjected thus,
l173l		How can you say to me I am a king?
l174l	Bishop Of Carlisle	My lord, wise men ne’er wail their present woes,
l175l		But presently prevent the ways to wail.
l176l		To fear the foe, since fear oppresseth strength,
l177l		Gives in your weakness strength unto your foe#
l178l		And so your follies fight against yourself.
l179l		Fear, and be slain. No worse can come to fight#
l180l		And fight and die is death destroying death,
l181l		Where fearing dying pays death servile breath.
l182l	Aumerle	My father hath a power. Enquire of him,
l183l		And learn to make a body of a limb.
l184l	King Richard	(standing)
		 Thou chid’st me well. Proud Bolingbroke, I come
l185l		To change blows with thee for our day of doom.
l186l		This ague-fit of fear is overblown.
l187l		An easy task it is to win our own.
l188l		Say, Scrope, where lies our uncle with his power?
l189l		Speak sweetly, man, although thy looks be sour.
l190l	Scrope	Men judge by the complexion of the sky
l191l		The state and inclination of the day.
l192l		So may you by my dull and heavy eye
l193l		My tongue hath but a heavier tale to say.
l194l		I play the torturer by small and small
l195l		To lengthen out the worst that must be spoken.
l196l		Your uncle York is joined with Bolingbroke,
l197l		And all your northern castles yielded up,
l198l		And all your southern gentlemen in arms
l199l		Upon his faction.
	King Richard	Thou hast said enough.
l200l		(To Aumerle)
		 Beshrew thee, cousin, which didst lead me forth
l201l		Of that sweet way I was in to despair.
l202l		What say you now? What comfort have we now?
l203l		By heaven, I’ll hate him everlastingly
l204l		That bids me be of comfort any more.
l205l		Go to Flint Castle# there I’ll pine away.
l206l		A king, woe’s slave, shall kingly woe obey.
l207l		That power I have, discharge, and let them go
l208l		To ear the land that hath some hope to grow#
l209l		For I have none. Let no man speak again
l210l		To alter this, for counsel is but vain.
l211l	Aumerle	My liege, one word.
	King Richard	He does me double wrong
l212l		That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue.
l213l		Discharge my followers. Let them hence away
l214l		From Richard’s night to Bolingbroke’s fair day.
		(Exeunt)