Gard. Pardon me, madam: little joy have I

To breathe this news; yet what I say is true. King Richard, he is in the mighty hold

Of Bolingbroke: their fortunes both are weigh'd:

In your lord's scale is nothing but himself, And some few vanities that make him light; But in the balance of great Bolingbroke, Besides himself, are all the English peers, And with that odds he weighs King Richard down.

Post you to London, and you will find it so; I speak no more than every one doth know. Queen. Nimble mischance, that art so light of foot,

Doth not thy embassage belong to me,

And am I last that knows it? O, thou think'st

To serve me last, that I may longest keep Thy sorrow in my breast. Come, ladies, go, To meet at London London's king in woe. What, was I born to this, that my sad look Should grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke?

Gardener, for telling me these news of woe, Pray God the plants thou graft'st may never grow! [Exeunt Queen and Ladies

Gard. Poor queen! so that thy state might be no worse,

I would my skill were subject to thy curse. Here did she fall a tear; here in this place I'll set a bank of rue, sour herb of grace: Rue, even for ruth, here shortly shall be seen In the remembrance of a weeping queen.

Though rebels wound thee with their horses' hoofs:

As a long-parted mother with her child Plays fondly with her tears and smiles in meeting,

So, weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth, And do thee favors with my royal hands. Feed not thy sovereign's foe, my gentle earth,

Nor with thy sweets comfort his ravenous

sense;

But let thy spiders, that suck up thy venom,
And heavy-gaited toads lie in their way,
Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet
Which with usurping steps do trample thee:
Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies;
And when they from thy bosom pluck a
flower,

Guard it, I pray thee, with a lurking adder Whose double tongue may with a mortal touch

Throw death upon thy sovereign's enemies.
Mock not my senseless conjuration, lords:
This earth shall have a feeling and these
stones

Prove armed soldiers, ere her native king
Shall falter under foul rebellion's arms.

Car. Fear not, my lord: that Power that

made you king

Hath power to keep you king in spite of all. The means that heaven yields must be embraced,

And not neglected; else, if heaven would, And we will not, heaven's offer we refuse, The proffer'd means of succor and redress.

Aum. He means, my lord, that we are too remiss;

Whilst Bolingbroke, through our security, Grows strong and great in substance and in

power.

K. Rich. Discomfortable cousin! know'st thou not

That when the searching eye of heaven is hid Behind the globe, that lights the lower world,

Then thieves and robbers range abroad un

seen

In murders and in outrage, boldly here:
But when from under this terrestrial ball
He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines
And darts his light through every guilty
hole,

Then murders, treasons, and detested sins,
The cloak of night being pluck'd from off

their backs,

Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves?

So when this thief, this traitor, Bolingbroke,
Who all this while hath revel'd in the night
Whilst we were wandering with the an-
tipodes,

Shall see us rising in our throne, the east,
His treasons will sit blushing in his face,
Not able to endure the sight of day,
But self-affrighted tremble at his sin.
Not all the water in the rough rude sea

Can wash the balm off from an anointed king;

The breath of worldly men cannot depose
The deputy elected by the Lord:

For every man that Bolingbroke hath press'd
To lift shrewd steel against our golden

[From Act IV, scene i. The King is deposed]

York. Great Duke of Lancaster, I come to thee

From plume-pluck'd Richard; who with willing soul

Adopts thee heir, and his high scepter yields To the possession of thy royal hand: Ascend his throne, descending now from him;

And long live Henry, fourth of that name! Bolingbroke. In God's name, I'll ascend the regal throne.

Carlisle. Marry, God forbid! Worst in this royal presence may I speak, Yet best beseeming me to speak the truth. Would God that any in this noble presence Were enough noble to be upright judge Of noble Richard! then true noblesse would Learn him forbearance from so foul a wrong. What subject can give sentence on his king? And who sits here that is not Richard's subject?

Thieves are not judged but they are by to hear,

Although apparent guilt be seen in them;
And shall the figure of God's majesty,
His captain, steward, deputy-elect,

Anointed, crowned, planted many years,
Be judged by subject and inferior breath,
And he himself not present? O, forfend it,
God,

That in a Christian climate souls refined
Should show so heinous, black, obscene a

deed!

I speak to subjects, and a subject speaks, Stirr'd up by God, thus boldly for his king. My Lord of Hereford here, whom you call king,

Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford's king: And if you crown him, let me prophesy: The blood of English shall manure the ground,

And future ages groan for this foul act;
Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels,
And in this seat of peace tumultuous wars
Shall kin with kin and kind with kind con-
found;

Disorder, horror, fear, and mutiny
Shall here inhabit, and this land be call'd
The field of Golgotha and dead men's skulls.
O, if you raise this house against this house,
It will the woefullest division prove
That ever fell upon this cursed earth.
Prevent it, resist it, let it not be so,
Lest child, child's children, cry against you
"woe!"

Northumberland. Well have you argued, sir; and, for your pains,

Of capital treason we arrest you here.
My Lord of Westminster, be it your charge
To keep him safely till his day of trial.
May it please you, lords, to grant the com-
mons' suit.

Boling. Fetch hither Richard, that in common view

He may surrender; so we shall proceed
Without suspicion.

York.
I will be his conduct. [Erit
Boling. Lords, you that here are under

So Judas did to Christ: but he, in twelve, Found truth in all but one; I, in twelve thousand, none.

God save the king! Will no man say amen? Am I both priest and clerk? well then, amen. God save the king! although I be not he; And yet, amen, if heaven do think him

me.

To do what service am I sent for hither? York. To do that office of thine own good will

Which tired majesty did make thee offer,
The resignation of thy state and crown
To Henry Bolingbroke.

K. Rich. Give me the crown. Here, cousin, seize the crown;

Here, cousin;

On this side my hand, and on that side yours, Now is this golden crown like a deep well That owes two buckets, filling one another, The emptier ever dancing in the air,

The other down, unseen, and full of water: That bucket down and full of tears am I, Drinking my griefs, whilst you mount up on high.

Boling. I thought you had been willing to resign.

K. Rich. My crown I am; but still my griefs are mine:

You may my glories and my state depose, But not my griefs; still am I king of those. Boling. Part of your cares you give me

with your crown.

K. Rich. Your cares set up do not pluck my cares down.

My care is loss of care, by old care done; Your care is gain of care, by new care

won:

The cares I give I have, though given away; They tend the crown, yet still with me they stay.

Boling. Are you contented to resign the crown?

K. Rich. Ay, no; no, ay; for I must
nothing be;

Therefore no no, for I resign to thee.
Now mark me, how I will undo myself:
I give this heavy weight from off my head
And this unwieldy scepter from my hand,
The pride of kingly sway from out my
heart;

With mine own tears I wash away my balm,
With mine own hands I give away my crown,
With mine own tongue deny my sacred state.
With mine own breath release all duty's
rites:

All pomp and majesty I do forswear;

My manors, rents, revenues, I forego;
My acts, decrees, and statutes I deny:
God pardon all oaths that are broke to
me!

God keep all vows unbroke that swear to thee!

Make me, that nothing have, with nothing grieved,

And thou with all pleased, that hast all achieved!

Long mayst thou live in Richard's seat to sit,

And soon lie Richard in an earthy pit! God save King Harry, unking'd Richard says,

And send him many years of sunshine days!

What more remains?

North. No more, but that you read These accusations and these grievous crimes Committed by your person and your followers

Against the state and profit of this land; That, by confessing them, the souls of men May deem that you are worthily deposed.

K. Rich. Must I do so? and must I ravel out

My weaved-up folly? Gentle Northumberland,

If thy offences were upon record,

Would it not shame thee in so fair a troop To read a lecture of them? If thou wouldst, There shouldst thou find one heinous ar

ticle,

Containing the deposing of a king

And cracking the strong warrant of an oath,

Mark'd with a blot, damn'd in the book of heaven:

Nay, all of you that stand and look upon, Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait myself,

Though some of you with Pilate wash your hands

Showing an outward pity; yet you Pilates Have here deliver'd me to my sour cross, And water cannot wash away your sin.

North. My Lord, despatch; read o'er these articles.

K. Rich. Mine eyes are full of tears, I

cannot see:

And yet salt water blinds them not so much
But they can see a sort of traitors here.
Nay, if I turn my eyes upon myself,

I find myself a traitor with the rest;
For I have given here my soul's consent
To undeck the pompous body of a king;

Made glory base and sovereignty a slave, Proud majesty a subject, state a peasant. North. My lord,

K. Rich. No lord of thine, thou haught insulting man,

Nor no man's lord; I have no name, no title,

No, not that name was given me at the font,

But 'tis usurped: alack the heavy day,
That I have worn so many winters out,
And know not now what name to call my-
self!

O that I were a mockery king of snow,
Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke,
To melt myself away in water-drops!
Good king, great king, and yet not greatly
good,

And if my word be sterling yet in England,
Let it command a mirror hither straight,
That it may show me what a face I have,
Since it is bankrupt of his majesty.
Boling. Go some of you and fetch a
looking-glass. [Exit an attendant.

North. Read o'er this paper while the
glass doth come.

K. Rich. Fiend, thou torment'st me ere I come to hell!

Boling. Urge it no more, my Lord Northumberland.

North. The commons will not then be satisfied.

K. Rich. They shall be satisfied: I'll read enough,

When I do see the very book indeed Where all my sins are writ, and that's myself.

Re-enter Attendant, with a glass.

Give me the glass, and therein will I read. No deeper wrinkles yet? hath sorrow struck So many blows upon this face of mine, And made no deeper wounds? O flattering glass,

Like to my followers in prosperity,

Thou dost beguile me! Was this face .the face

That every day under his household roof Did keep ten thousand men? was this the face

That, like the sun, did make beholders wink? Was this the face that faced so many follies,

And was at last out-faced by Bolingbroke?
A brittle glory shineth in this face:
As brittle as the glory is the face;

[Dashes the glass against the ground.

For there it is, crack'd in a hundred shiv

ers.

Mark, silent king, the moral of this sport, How soon my sorrow hath destroy'd my face.

Boling. The shadow of your sorrow hath destroy'd

The shadow of your face.

K. Rich. Say that again. The shadow of my sorrow! ha! let's see: 'Tis very true, my grief lies all within; And these external manners of laments Are merely shadows to the unseen grief That swells with silence in the tortured soul;

There lies the substance: and I thank thee, king,

For thy great bounty, that not only givest Me cause to wail, but teachest me the way How to lament the cause. I'll beg one boon,

And then be gone and trouble you no more. Shall I obtain it?

Boling. Name it, fair cousin.

K. Rich. "Fair cousin"? I am greater than a king:

For when I was a king, my flatterers. Were then but subjects; being now a subject,

I have a king here to my flatterer.
Being so great, I have no need to beg.
Boling. Yet ask.

And shall I have?

K. Rich.
Boling. You shall.

K. Rich. Then give me leave to go.
Boling. Whither?

K. Rich. Whither you will, so I were from your sights.

Boling. Go, some of you convey him to the Tower.

K. Rich. O, good! convey? conveyers are you all,

That rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall.

[Exeunt King Richard, some Lords, and a Guard. Boling. On Wednesday next we solemnly set down

Our coronation: lords, prepare yourselves.

3. The Commonwealth of the Bees [From Henry V, Act I, scene ii. Exeter and Canterbury discourse of government to the King]

Exeter. While that the armed hand doth fight abroad,

The advised head defends itself at home; For government, though high and low and lower,

Put into parts, doth keep in one consent, Congreeing in a full and natural close, Like music.

Canterbury. Therefore doth heaven divide

The state of man in divers functions,
Setting endeavor in continual motion;
To which is fixed, as an aim or butt,
Obedience: for so work the honey-bees,
Creatures that by a rule in nature teach
The act of order to a peopled kingdom.
They have a king and officers of sorts;
Where some, like magistrates, correct at
home,

Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad,

Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings, Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds,

Which pillage they with merry march bring home

To the tent-royal of their emperor;
Who, busied in his majesty, surveys
The singing masons building roofs of
gold,

The civil citizens kneading up the honey,
The poor mechanic porters crowding in
Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate,
The sad-eyed justice, with his surly hum,
Delivering o'er to executors pale
The lazy yawning drone. I this infer,
That many things, having full refer-

ence

To one consent, may work contrariously:
As many arrows, loosed several ways,
Come to one mark; as many ways meet in
one town;

As many fresh streams meet in one salt sea;

As many lines close in the dial's center;
So may a thousand actions, once afoot,
End in one purpose, and be all well borne
Without defeat. Therefore to France, my

liege.

Divide your happy England into four; Whereof take you one quarter into France, And you withal shall make all Gallia shake.

If we, with thrice such powers left at home.

Cannot defend our own doors from the dog,

Let us be worried, and our nation lose
The name of hardiness and policy.

4. OF "DEGREE"

[From Troilus and Cressida, Act I, scene iii.]

The Grecian camp. Before
Agamemnon's tent.

Sennet. Enter AGAMEMNON, NESTOR,
ULYSSES, MENELAUS, and others.
Agam. Princes,

What grief hath set the jaundice on your cheeks?

The ample proposition that hope makes
In all designs begun on earth below
Fails in the promised largeness: checks and
disasters

Grow in the veins of actions highest rear'd,
As knots, by the conflux of meeting sap,
Infect the sound pine and divert his grain
Tortive and errant from his course of
growth.

Nor, princes, is it matter new to us
That we come short of our suppose so far
That after seven years' siege yet Troy walls
stand;

Sith every action that hath gone before,
Whereof we have record, trial did draw
Bias and thwart, not answering the aim,
And that unbodied figure of the thought
That gave't surmised shape. Why then,
you princes,

Do you with cheeks abash'd behold our works,

And call them shames? which are indeed nought else

But the protracted trials of great Jove
To find persistive constancy in men:

The fineness of which metal is not found In fortune's love; for then the bold and coward,

The wise and fool, the artist and unread, The hard and soft, seem all affined and

kin:

But, in the wind and tempest of her frown, Distinction, with a broad and powerful fan, Puffing at all, winnows the light away; And what hath mass or matter, by itself Lies rich in virtue and unmingled.

Nest. With due observance of thy god

like seat,

Great Agamemnon, Nestor shall apply
Thy latest words. In the reproof of chance
Lies the true proof of men: the sea being
smooth

How many shallow bauble boats dare sail
Upon her patient breast, making their way
With those of nobler bulk!