Richard II

and so die? Aumerle

No, good my lord; let’s fight with gentle words
Till time lend friends and friends their helpful swords.

King Richard

O God, O God! that e’er this tongue of mine,
That laid the sentence of dread banishment
On yon proud man, should take it off again
With words of sooth! O that I were as great
As is my grief, or lesser than my name!
Or that I could forget what I have been,
Or not remember what I must be now!
Swell’st thou, proud heart? I’ll give thee scope to beat,
Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me.

Aumerle Northumberland comes back from Bolingbroke. King Richard

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 lose
The name of king? o’ God’s name, let it go:
I’ll give my jewels for a set of beads,
My gorgeous palace for a hermitage,
My gay apparel for an almsman’s gown,
My figured goblets for a dish of wood,
My sceptre for a palmer’s walking-staff,
My subjects for a pair of carved saints
And my large kingdom for a little grave,
A little little grave, an obscure grave;
Or I’ll be buried in the king’s highway,
Some way of common trade, where subjects’ feet
May hourly trample on their sovereign’s head;
For on my heart they tread now whilst I live;
And buried once, why not upon my head?
Aumerle, thou weep’st, my tender-hearted cousin!
We’ll make foul weather with despised tears;
Our sighs and they shall lodge the summer corn,
And make a dearth in this revolting land.
Or shall we play the wantons with our woes,
And make some pretty match with shedding tears?
As thus, to drop them still upon one place,
Till they have fretted us a pair of graves
Within the earth; and, therein laid⁠—there lies
Two kinsmen digg’d their graves with weeping eyes.
Would not this ill do well? Well, well, I see
I talk but idly, and you laugh at me.
Most mighty prince, my Lord Northumberland,
What says King Bolingbroke? will his majesty
Give Richard leave to live till Richard die?
You make a leg, and Bolingbroke says ay.

Northumberland

My lord, in the base court he doth attend
To speak with you; may it please you to come down.

King Richard

Down, down I come; like glistering Phaethon,
Wanting the manage of unruly jades.
In the base court? Base court, where kings grow base,
To come at traitors’ calls and do them grace.
In the base court? Come down? Down, court! down, king!
For night-owls shriek where mounting larks should sing. Exeunt from above.

Bolingbroke What says his majesty? Northumberland

Sorrow and grief of heart
Makes him speak fondly, like a frantic man:
Yet he is come.

Enter King Richard and his attendants below. Bolingbroke

Stand all apart,
And show fair duty to his majesty. He kneels down.
My gracious lord⁠—

King Richard

Fair cousin, you debase your princely knee
To make the base earth proud with kissing it:
Me rather had my heart might feel your love
Than my unpleased eye see your courtesy.
Up, cousin, up; your heart is up, I know,
Thus high at least, although your knee be low.

Bolingbroke My gracious lord, I come but for mine own. King Richard Your own is yours, and I am yours, and all. Bolingbroke

So far be mine, my most redoubted lord,
As my true service shall deserve your love.

King Richard

Well you deserve: they well deserve to have,
That know the strong’st and surest way to get.
Uncle, give me your hands: nay, dry your eyes;
Tears show their love, but want their remedies.
Cousin, I am too young to be your father,
Though you are old enough to be my heir.
What you will have, I’ll give, and willing too;
For do we must what force will have us do.
Set on towards London, cousin, is it so?

Bolingbroke Yea, my good lord. King Richard Then I must not say no. Flourish. Exeunt.

Scene IV

Langley. The Duke of York’s garden.

	Enter the Queen and two Ladies.
Queen	What sport shall we devise here in this garden, To drive away the heavy thought of care?
Lady	Madam, we’ll play at bowls.
Queen	’Twill make me think the world is full of rubs, And that my fortune rubs against the bias.
Lady	Madam, we’ll dance.
Queen	My legs can keep no measure in delight, When my poor heart no measure keeps in grief: Therefore, no dancing, girl; some other sport.
Lady	Madam, we’ll tell tales.
Queen	Of sorrow or of joy?
Lady	Of either, madam.
Queen	Of neither, girl: For if of joy, being altogether wanting, It doth remember me the more of sorrow; Or if of grief, being altogether had, It adds more sorrow to my want of joy: For what I have I need not to repeat; And what I want it boots not to complain.
Lady	Madam, I’ll sing.
Queen	’Tis well that thou hast cause; But thou shouldst please me better, wouldst thou weep.
Lady	I could weep, madam, would it do you good.
Queen	And I could sing, would weeping do me good, And never borrow any tear of thee.
	Enter a Gardener, and two Servants.
	But stay, here come the gardeners: Let’s step into the shadow of these trees. My wretchedness unto a row of pins, They’ll talk of state; for every one doth so Against a change; woe is forerun with woe. Queen and Ladies retire.
Gardener	Go, bind thou up yon dangling apricocks, Which, like unruly children, make their sire Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight: Give some supportance to the bending twigs. Go thou, and like an executioner, Cut off the heads of too fast growing sprays, That look too lofty in our commonwealth: All must be even in our government. You thus employ’d, I will go root away The noisome weeds, which without profit suck The soil’s fertility from wholesome flowers.
Servant	Why should we in the compass of a pale Keep law and form and due proportion, Showing, as in a model, our firm estate, When our sea-walled garden, the whole land, Is full of weeds, her fairest flowers choked up, Her fruit-trees all unpruned, her hedges ruin’d, Her knots disorder’d and her wholesome herbs Swarming with caterpillars?
Gardener	Hold thy peace: He that hath suffer’d this disorder’d spring Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf: The weeds which his broad-spreading leaves