Richard II (6 page)

SECOND HERALD
    Here standeth Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,
    On pain to be found false and recreant,
    Both to defend himself and to
approve
¹¹²
    Henry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby,
    To God, his sovereign and to
him
¹¹⁴
disloyal,
    Courageously and with a free desire
    
Attending
¹¹⁶
but the signal to begin.

A charge sounded

LORD MARSHAL
    Sound trumpets, and set forward, combatants.
    
Stay
¹¹⁸
, the king hath thrown his warder down.

KING RICHARD
    Let them
lay by
¹¹⁹
their helmets and their spears,
    And both return back to their chairs again.
    Withdraw with us, and let the trumpets sound
    While we
return
¹²²
these dukes what we decree.

A long flourish

    Draw near, and
list
¹²³
what with our council we have done.
    
For that
¹²⁴
our kingdom’s earth should not be soiled
    With that
dear
¹²⁵
blood which it hath fosterèd,
    And
for
¹²⁶
our eyes do hate the dire aspect
    Of civil wounds ploughed up with neighbours’ swords,
    Which so roused up with
boist’rous
¹²⁸
untuned drums,
    With harsh resounding trumpets’ dreadful bray,
    And grating
shock
¹³⁰
of wrathful iron arms,
    Might from our quiet confines fright fair peace
    And make us wade even in our kindred’s blood:
    Therefore, we banish you our territories.
    You, cousin Hereford, upon pain of death,
    Till twice five summers have enriched our fields
    Shall not
regreet
¹³⁶
our fair dominions,
    But tread the
stranger
¹³⁷
paths of banishment.

BULLINGBROOK
    Your will be done. This must my comfort be:
    That sun that warms you here shall shine on me,
    And those his golden beams to you here lent
    Shall point on me and gild my banishment.

KING RICHARD
    Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier doom,
    Which I with some unwillingness pronounce:
    The
sly
¹⁴⁴
slow hours shall not determinate
    The
dateless limit
¹⁴⁵
of thy dear exile.
    The hopeless word of ‘never to return’
    Breathe I against thee, upon pain of
life
¹⁴⁷
.

MOWBRAY
    A heavy sentence, my most sovereign liege,
    And all
unlooked for
¹⁴⁹
from your highness’ mouth.
    A dearer
merit
¹⁵⁰
, not so deep a maim
    As to be cast forth in the
common
¹⁵¹
air,
    Have I deservèd at your highness’ hands.
    The language I have learned these forty years,
    My native English, now I must forgo,
    And now my tongue’s use is to me no more
    Than an unstringèd viol or a harp,
    Or like a
cunning
¹⁵⁷
instrument cased up,
    Or, being
open
¹⁵⁸
, put into his hands
    That knows no
touch
¹⁵⁹
to tune the harmony.
    Within my mouth you have enjailed my tongue,
    Doubly
portcullised
¹⁶¹
with my teeth and lips,
    And dull unfeeling barren ignorance
    Is made my jailer to attend on me.
    I am too old to fawn upon a nurse,
    Too far in years to be a pupil now.
    What is thy sentence then but speechless death,
    Which robs my tongue from breathing native breath?

KING RICHARD
    It
boots
¹⁶⁸
thee not to be compassionate.
    After our sentence,
plaining
¹⁶⁹
comes too late.

MOWBRAY
    Then thus I turn me from my country’s light
    To dwell in
solemn
¹⁷¹
shades of endless night.

Starts to go

KING RICHARD
    Return again, and take an oath with thee.
    Lay on our royal sword your banished hands;
    Swear by the duty that you owe to heaven —
    
Our part therein
¹⁷⁵
we banish with yourselves —
    To keep the oath that we administer:
    You never shall, so help you truth and heaven,
    Embrace each other’s love in banishment,
    Nor ever look upon each other’s face,
    Nor ever write,
regreet
¹⁸⁰
, or reconcile
    This
louring
¹⁸¹
tempest of your home-bred hate,
    Nor ever by
advisèd
¹⁸²
purpose meet
    To plot, contrive, or
complot
¹⁸³
any ill
    Gainst us, our state, our subjects, or our land.

BULLINGBROOK
    I swear.

MOWBRAY
    And I, to keep all this.

BULLINGBROOK
    Norfolk,
so far as
¹⁸⁷
to mine enemy:
    By this time, had the king permitted us,
    One of our souls had wandered in the air,
    Banished this frail
sepulchre
¹⁹⁰
of our flesh,
    As now our flesh is banished from this land.
    Confess thy treasons ere thou
fly
¹⁹²
this realm:
    Since thou hast far to go, bear not along
    The
clogging
¹⁹⁴
burden of a guilty soul.

MOWBRAY
    No, Bullingbrook. If ever I were traitor,
    My name be blotted from the book of life,
    And I from heaven banished as from hence!
    But what thou art, heaven, thou, and I do know,
    And all too soon, I fear, the king shall
rue
¹⁹⁹
.
    Farewell, my liege, now no way can I
stray
²⁰⁰
:
    
Save
²⁰¹
back to England, all the world’s my way.

Exit

KING RICHARD
    Uncle, even in the
glasses
²⁰²
of thine eyes

To Gaunt

    I see thy grievèd heart. Thy sad
aspect
²⁰³
    Hath from the number of his banished years
    Plucked four away.— Six frozen winters spent,

To Bullingbrook

    Return with welcome home from banishment.

BULLINGBROOK
    How long a time lies in one little word!
    Four lagging winters and four
wanton
²⁰⁸
springs
    End in a word: such is the breath of kings.

GAUNT
    I thank my liege, that in regard of me
    He shortens four years of my son’s exile.
    But little
vantage
²¹²
shall I reap thereby,
    For ere the six years that he hath to spend
    Can change their moons and bring their
times
²¹⁴
about
    My
oil-dried
²¹⁵
lamp and time-bewasted light
    Shall be
extinct
²¹⁶
with age and endless night.
    My inch of
taper
²¹⁷
will be burnt and done,
    And
blindfold death
²¹⁸
not let me see my son.

KING RICHARD
    Why uncle, thou hast many years to live.

GAUNT
    But not a minute, king, that thou canst give.
    Shorten my days thou canst with sudden sorrow,
    And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow.
    Thou canst help time to furrow me with age,
    But stop no wrinkle in his
pilgrimage
²²⁴
.
    Thy word is
current
²²⁵
with him for my death,
    But
dead
²²⁶
, thy kingdom cannot buy my breath.

KING RICHARD
    Thy son is banished upon good
advice
²²⁷
,
    Whereto thy tongue a
party-verdict
²²⁸
gave.
    Why at our justice seem’st thou then to
lour
²²⁹
?

GAUNT
    Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour.
    You urged me as a judge, but I had rather
    You would have bid me argue like a father.
    Alas, I
looked when
²³³
some of you should say
    I was too strict to
make mine own away
²³⁴
.
    But you gave
leave
²³⁵
to my unwilling tongue,
    Against my will to do myself this wrong.

KING RICHARD
    Cousin, farewell, and, uncle, bid him so.
    Six years we banish him, and he shall go.

Flourish.  Exeunt
[
Richard and Attendants
]

AUMERLE
    Cousin, farewell. What
presence must not know
²³⁹
,

To Bullingbrook

    From where you do remain let
paper
²⁴⁰
show.

LORD MARSHAL
    My lord, no leave take I, for I will ride

To Bullingbrook

    As far as land will let me, by your side.

GAUNT
    O, to what purpose dost thou hoard thy words

To Bullingbrook

    That thou return’st no greeting to thy friends?

BULLINGBROOK
    I have too
few
²⁴⁵
to take my leave of you,
    When the tongue’s
office
²⁴⁶
should be prodigal
    To
breathe
²⁴⁷
th’abundant dolour of the heart.

GAUNT
    Thy
grief
²⁴⁸
is but thy absence for a time.

BULLINGBROOK
    Joy absent, grief is present for that time.

GAUNT
    What is six winters? They are quickly gone.

BULLINGBROOK
    To men in joy. But grief makes one hour ten.

GAUNT
    Call it a
travel
²⁵²
that thou tak’st for pleasure.

BULLINGBROOK
    My heart will sigh when I
miscall
²⁵³
it so,
    Which finds it an enforcèd pilgrimage.

GAUNT
    The
sullen
²⁵⁵
passage of thy weary steps
    
Esteem as foil
²⁵⁶
wherein thou art to set
    The precious jewel of thy home return.

BULLINGBROOK
    O, who can hold a fire in his hand
    By thinking on the frosty
Caucasus
²⁵⁹
?
    Or
cloy
²⁶⁰
the hungry edge of appetite
    By bare imagination of a feast?
    Or wallow naked in December snow
    By thinking on
fantastic
²⁶³
summer’s heat?
    O, no, the
apprehension
²⁶⁴
of the good
    Gives but the greater feeling to the worse.
    
Fell
²⁶⁶
sorrow’s tooth doth never rankle more
    Than when it bites, but
lanceth
²⁶⁷
not the sore.

GAUNT
    Come, come, my son, I’ll
bring
²⁶⁸
thee on thy way.
    Had I thy youth and cause, I would not stay.

BULLINGBROOK
    Then England’s ground, farewell. Sweet soil,
adieu
²⁷⁰
.
    My mother, and my nurse, which bears me yet!
    Where’er I wander, boast of this I can,
    Though banished, yet a trueborn Englishman.

[
Exeunt
]

Location:
the royal court

Enter King, Aumerle, Green and Bagot

KING RICHARD
    
We did observe
¹
.— Cousin Aumerle,
    How far brought you
high
²
Hereford on his way?

AUMERLE
    I brought high Hereford, if you call him so,
    But to the
next
⁴
highway, and there I left him.

KING RICHARD
    And say, what
store
⁵
of parting tears were shed?

AUMERLE
    Faith, none
for me
⁶
, except the north-east wind,
    Which then blew bitterly against our face,
    Awaked the sleepy
rheum
⁸
, and so by chance
    Did grace our
hollow
⁹
parting with a tear.

KING RICHARD
    What said our cousin when you parted with him?

AUMERLE
    ‘Farewell’. And,
for
¹¹
my heart disdainèd that my tongue
    Should so profane the word, that taught me
craft
¹²
    To
counterfeit
¹³
oppression of such grief
    That word seemed buried in my sorrow’s grave.
    
Marry
¹⁵
, would the word ‘farewell’ have lengthened hours
    And added years to his short banishment,
    He should have had a volume of farewells,
    But since it would not, he had none of me.

KING RICHARD
    He is our
cousin
¹⁹
, cousin, but ’tis doubt,
    When time shall call him home from banishment,
    Whether our kinsman come to see his
friends
²¹
.
    Ourself and Bushy, Bagot here, and Green
    Observed his courtship to the common people.
    How he did seem to dive into their hearts
    With humble and familiar courtesy,
    What
reverence
²⁶
he did throw away on slaves,
    Wooing poor craftsmen with the craft of smiles
    And patient
underbearing
²⁸
of his fortune,
    As ’twere to
banish their affects with him
²⁹
.
    Off goes his
bonnet
³⁰
to an oyster-wench.
    A
brace of draymen
³¹
bid God speed him well
    And had the tribute of his
supple
³²
knee,
    With ‘Thanks, my countrymen, my loving friends’,
    As were our England
in reversion
³⁴
his,
    And he
our subjects’ next degree in hope
³⁵
.