William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition (175 page)
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Authors: William Shakespeare
Tags: #Drama, #Literary Criticism, #Shakespeare
BOOK: William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition
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Dost thou teach pardon pardon to destroy?
Ah, my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord
That sets the word itself against the word!
Speak ‘Pardon’ as ’tis current in our land;
The chopping French we do not understand.
Thine eye begins to speak; set thy tongue there;
Or in thy piteous heart plant thou thine ear,
That hearing how our plaints and prayers do pierce,
Pity may move thee ’Pardon’ to rehearse.
Ah, my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord
That sets the word itself against the word!
Speak ‘Pardon’ as ’tis current in our land;
The chopping French we do not understand.
Thine eye begins to speak; set thy tongue there;
Or in thy piteous heart plant thou thine ear,
That hearing how our plaints and prayers do pierce,
Pity may move thee ’Pardon’ to rehearse.
KING HENRY
Good aunt, stand up.
DUCHESS OF YORK I do not sue to stand.
Pardon is all the suit I have in hand.
KING HENRY
I pardon him as God shall pardon me.
⌈
York and Aumerle rise
⌉
DUCHESS OF YORK
O, happy vantage of a kneeling knee!
Yet am I sick for fear. Speak it again.
Twice saying pardon doth not pardon twain,
But makes one pardon strong.
Yet am I sick for fear. Speak it again.
Twice saying pardon doth not pardon twain,
But makes one pardon strong.
KING HENRY
I pardon him
With all my heart.
DUCHESS OF YORK (rising) A god on earth thou art.
KING HENRY
But for our trusty brother-in-law and the Abbot,
With all the rest of that consorted crew,
Destruction straight shall dog them at the heels.
Good uncle, help to order several powers
To Oxford, or where’er these traitors are.
They shall not live within this world, I swear,
But I will have them if I once know where.
Uncle, farewell; and cousin, so adieu.
Your mother well hath prayed; and prove you true.
With all the rest of that consorted crew,
Destruction straight shall dog them at the heels.
Good uncle, help to order several powers
To Oxford, or where’er these traitors are.
They shall not live within this world, I swear,
But I will have them if I once know where.
Uncle, farewell; and cousin, so adieu.
Your mother well hath prayed; and prove you true.
DUCHESS OF YORK
Come, my old son. I pray God make thee new.
Exeunt ⌈King Henry at one door; York, the Duchess of York, and Aumerle at another door⌉
5.4Enter Sir Piers Exton, and his Men
EXTON
Didst thou not mark the King, what words he spake?
‘Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear?’
Was it not so?
‘Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear?’
Was it not so?
⌈FIRST⌉ MAN Those were his very words.
EXTON
‘Have I no friend?’ quoth he. He spake it twice,
And urged it twice together, did he not?
And urged it twice together, did he not?
⌈SECOND⌉ MAN He did.
EXTON
And speaking it, he wishtly looked on me,
As who should say ‘I would thou wert the man
That would divorce this terror from my heart’,
Meaning the King at Pomfret. Come, let’s go.
I am the King’s friend, and will rid his foe.
As who should say ‘I would thou wert the man
That would divorce this terror from my heart’,
Meaning the King at Pomfret. Come, let’s go.
I am the King’s friend, and will rid his foe.
Exeunt
5.5Enter Richard, alone
RICHARD
I have been studying how I may compare
This prison where I live unto the world;
And for because the world is populous,
And here is not a creature but myself,
I cannot do it. Yet I’ll hammer it out.
My brain I’ll prove the female to my soul,
My soul the father, and these two beget
A generation of still-breeding thoughts;
And these same thoughts people this little world
In humours like the people of this world.
For no thought is contented. The better sort,
As thoughts of things divine, are intermixed
With scruples, and do set the faith itself
Against the faith, as thus: ‘Come, little ones’,
And then again,
‘It is as hard to come as for a camel
To thread the postern of a small needle’s eye.’
Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot
Unlikely wonders: how these vain weak nails
May tear a passage through the flinty ribs
Of this hard world, my ragged prison walls;
And for they cannot, die in their own pride.
Thoughts tending to content flatter themselves
That they are not the first of fortune’s slaves,
Nor shall not be the last—like seely beggars,
Who, sitting in the stocks, refuge their shame
That many have, and others must, set there;
And in this thought they find a kind of ease,
Bearing their own misfortunes on the back
Of such as have before endured the like.
Thus play I in one person many people,
And none contented. Sometimes am I king;
Then treason makes me wish myself a beggar,
And so I am. Then crushing penury
Persuades me I was better when a king.
Then am I kinged again, and by and by
Think that I am unkinged by Bolingbroke,
And straight am nothing. But whate’er I be,
Nor I, nor any man that but man is,
With nothing shall be pleased till he be eased
With being nothing.
This prison where I live unto the world;
And for because the world is populous,
And here is not a creature but myself,
I cannot do it. Yet I’ll hammer it out.
My brain I’ll prove the female to my soul,
My soul the father, and these two beget
A generation of still-breeding thoughts;
And these same thoughts people this little world
In humours like the people of this world.
For no thought is contented. The better sort,
As thoughts of things divine, are intermixed
With scruples, and do set the faith itself
Against the faith, as thus: ‘Come, little ones’,
And then again,
‘It is as hard to come as for a camel
To thread the postern of a small needle’s eye.’
Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot
Unlikely wonders: how these vain weak nails
May tear a passage through the flinty ribs
Of this hard world, my ragged prison walls;
And for they cannot, die in their own pride.
Thoughts tending to content flatter themselves
That they are not the first of fortune’s slaves,
Nor shall not be the last—like seely beggars,
Who, sitting in the stocks, refuge their shame
That many have, and others must, set there;
And in this thought they find a kind of ease,
Bearing their own misfortunes on the back
Of such as have before endured the like.
Thus play I in one person many people,
And none contented. Sometimes am I king;
Then treason makes me wish myself a beggar,
And so I am. Then crushing penury
Persuades me I was better when a king.
Then am I kinged again, and by and by
Think that I am unkinged by Bolingbroke,
And straight am nothing. But whate’er I be,
Nor I, nor any man that but man is,
With nothing shall be pleased till he be eased
With being nothing.
The music plays
Music do I hear.
Ha, ha; keep time! How sour sweet music is
When time is broke and no proportion kept.
So is it in the music of men’s lives.
And here have I the daintiness of ear
To check time broke in a disordered string;
But for the concord of my state and time
Had not an ear to hear my true time broke.
I wasted time, and now doth time waste me,
For now hath time made me his numb‘ring clock.
My thoughts are minutes, and with sighs they jar
Their watches on unto mine eyes, the outward watch
Whereto my finger, like a dial’s point,
Is pointing still in cleansing them from tears.
Now, sir, the sounds that tell what hour it is
Are clamorous groans that strike upon my heart,
Which is the bell. So sighs, and tears, and groans
Show minutes, hours, and times. But my time
Runs posting on in Bolingbroke’s proud joy,
While I stand fooling here, his jack of the clock.
This music mads me. Let it sound no more,
For though it have holp madmen to their wits,
In me it seems it will make wise men mad.
Ha, ha; keep time! How sour sweet music is
When time is broke and no proportion kept.
So is it in the music of men’s lives.
And here have I the daintiness of ear
To check time broke in a disordered string;
But for the concord of my state and time
Had not an ear to hear my true time broke.
I wasted time, and now doth time waste me,
For now hath time made me his numb‘ring clock.
My thoughts are minutes, and with sighs they jar
Their watches on unto mine eyes, the outward watch
Whereto my finger, like a dial’s point,
Is pointing still in cleansing them from tears.
Now, sir, the sounds that tell what hour it is
Are clamorous groans that strike upon my heart,
Which is the bell. So sighs, and tears, and groans
Show minutes, hours, and times. But my time
Runs posting on in Bolingbroke’s proud joy,
While I stand fooling here, his jack of the clock.
This music mads me. Let it sound no more,
For though it have holp madmen to their wits,
In me it seems it will make wise men mad.
⌈
The music ceases
⌉
Yet blessing on his heart that gives it me,
For ’tis a sign of love, and love to Richard
Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world.
For ’tis a sign of love, and love to Richard
Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world.
Enter
a Groom
of
the
stable
GROOM
Hail, royal Prince!
RICHARD
Thanks, noble peer.
The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear.
What art thou, and how com’st thou hither,
Where no man never comes but that sad dog
That brings me food to make misfortune live?
What art thou, and how com’st thou hither,
Where no man never comes but that sad dog
That brings me food to make misfortune live?
GROOM
I was a poor groom of thy stable, King,
When thou wert king; who, travelling towards York,
With much ado at length have gotten leave
To look upon my sometimes royal master’s face.
O, how it erned my heart when I beheld
In London streets, that coronation day,
When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary,
That horse that thou so often hast bestrid,
That horse that I so carefully have dressed!
When thou wert king; who, travelling towards York,
With much ado at length have gotten leave
To look upon my sometimes royal master’s face.
O, how it erned my heart when I beheld
In London streets, that coronation day,
When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary,
That horse that thou so often hast bestrid,
That horse that I so carefully have dressed!
RICHARD
Rode he on Barbary? Tell me, gentle friend,
How went he under him?
How went he under him?
GROOM
So proudly as if he disdained the ground.
RICHARD
So proud that Bolingbroke was on his back.
That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand;
This hand hath made him proud with clapping him.
Would he not stumble, would he not fall down-
Since pride must have a fall—and break the neck
Of that proud man that did usurp his back?
Forgiveness, horse! Why do I rail on thee,
Since thou, created to be awed by man,
Wast born to bear? I was not made a horse,
And yet I bear a burden like an ass,
Spur-galled and tired by jauncing Bolingbroke.
That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand;
This hand hath made him proud with clapping him.
Would he not stumble, would he not fall down-
Since pride must have a fall—and break the neck
Of that proud man that did usurp his back?
Forgiveness, horse! Why do I rail on thee,
Since thou, created to be awed by man,
Wast born to bear? I was not made a horse,
And yet I bear a burden like an ass,
Spur-galled and tired by jauncing Bolingbroke.
Enter Keeper to Richard, with meat
KEEPER (
to Groom
)
to Groom
)
Fellow, give place. Here is no longer stay.
RICHARD (to Groom)
If thou love me, ’tis time thou wert away.
GROOM
What my tongue dares not, that my heart shall say.
Exit
KEEPER
My lord, will’t please you to fall to?
RICHARD
Taste of it first, as thou art wont to do.
KEEPER
My lord, I dare not. Sir Piers of Exton,
Who lately came from the King, commands the contrary.
Who lately came from the King, commands the contrary.
RICHARD
(striking
the Keeper
)
(striking
the Keeper
)
The devil take Henry of Lancaster and thee I
Patience is stale, and I am weary of it.
Patience is stale, and I am weary of it.
KEEPER Help, help, help!
Exton and his men rush in
RICHARD
How now! What means death in this rude assault?
He seizes a weapon from a man, and kills him
Villain, thy own hand yields thy death’s instrument.
He kills another
Go thou, and fill another room in hell.
Here Exton strikes him down
RICHARD
That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire
That staggers thus my person. Exton, thy fierce hand
Hath with the King’s blood stained the King’s own land.
Mount, mount, my soul; thy seat is up on high,
Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here to die.
That staggers thus my person. Exton, thy fierce hand
Hath with the King’s blood stained the King’s own land.
Mount, mount, my soul; thy seat is up on high,
Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here to die.
He dies
EXTON
As full of valour as of royal blood.
Both have I spilt. O, would the deed were good I
For now the devil that told me I did well
Says that this deed is chronicled in hell.
This dead King to the living King I’ll bear.
Take hence the rest, and give them burial here.
Both have I spilt. O, would the deed were good I
For now the devil that told me I did well
Says that this deed is chronicled in hell.
This dead King to the living King I’ll bear.
Take hence the rest, and give them burial here.
Exeunt ⌈Exton with Richard’s body at one door, and his men with the other bodies at another door⌉
5.6
⌈
Flourish.
⌉
Enter King Henry and the Duke of York,
⌈
with other lords and attendants
⌉
KING HENRY
Kind uncle York, the latest news we hear
Is that the rebels have consumed with fire
Our town of Ci’cester in Gloucestershire;
But whether they be ta’en or slain we hear not.
Welcome, my lord. What is the news?
Is that the rebels have consumed with fire
Our town of Ci’cester in Gloucestershire;
But whether they be ta’en or slain we hear not.
Enter the Earl of Northumberland
NORTHUMBERLAND
First, to thy sacred state wish I all happiness.
The next news is, I have to London sent
The heads of Salisbury, Spencer, Blunt, and Kent.
The manner of their taking may appear
At large discoursed in this paper here.
The next news is, I have to London sent
The heads of Salisbury, Spencer, Blunt, and Kent.
The manner of their taking may appear
At large discoursed in this paper here.
He gives the paper to King Henry
KING HENRY
We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains,
And to thy worth will add right worthy gains.
And to thy worth will add right worthy gains.
Enter Lord Fitzwalter
FITZWALTER
My lord, I have from Oxford sent to London
The heads of Brocas and Sir Bennet Seely,
Two of the dangerous consorted traitors
That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow.
The heads of Brocas and Sir Bennet Seely,
Two of the dangerous consorted traitors
That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow.
KING HENRY
Thy pains, Fitzwalter, shall not be forgot.
Right noble is thy merit, well I wot.
Right noble is thy merit, well I wot.
Enter Harry Percy, with the Bishop of Carlisle, guarded
HARRY PERCY
The grand conspirator Abbot of Westminster,
With clog of conscience and sour melancholy,
Hath yielded up his body to the grave.
But here is Carlisle living, to abide
Thy kingly doom and sentence of his pride.
With clog of conscience and sour melancholy,
Hath yielded up his body to the grave.
But here is Carlisle living, to abide
Thy kingly doom and sentence of his pride.
KING HENRY Carlisle, this is your doom.
Choose out some secret place, some reverent room
More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life.
So as thou liv’st in peace, die free from strife.
For though mine enemy thou hast ever been,
High sparks of honour in thee have I seen.
More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life.
So as thou liv’st in peace, die free from strife.
For though mine enemy thou hast ever been,
High sparks of honour in thee have I seen.
Enter Exton with ⌈his men bearing⌉ the coffin
EXTON
Great King, within this coffin I present
Thy buried fear. Herein all breathless lies
The mightiest of thy greatest enemies,
Richard of Bordeaux, by me hither brought.
Thy buried fear. Herein all breathless lies
The mightiest of thy greatest enemies,
Richard of Bordeaux, by me hither brought.
KING HENRY
Exton, I thank thee not, for thou hast wrought
A deed of slander with thy fatal hand
Upon my head and all this famous land.
A deed of slander with thy fatal hand
Upon my head and all this famous land.
EXTON
From your own mouth, my lord, did I this deed.
KING HENRY
They love not poison that do poison need;
Nor do I thee. Though I did wish him dead,
I hate the murderer, love him murdered.
The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour,
But neither my good word nor princely favour.
With Cain go wander through the shades of night,
And never show thy head by day nor light.
⌈Exeunt Exton and his men⌉
Lords, I protest my soul is full of woe
That blood should sprinkle me to make me grow.
Come mourn with me for what I do lament,
And put on sullen black incontinent.
I’ll make a voyage to the Holy Land
To wash this blood off from my guilty hand.
March sadly after. Grace my mournings here
In weeping after this untimely bier.
Nor do I thee. Though I did wish him dead,
I hate the murderer, love him murdered.
The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour,
But neither my good word nor princely favour.
With Cain go wander through the shades of night,
And never show thy head by day nor light.
⌈Exeunt Exton and his men⌉
Lords, I protest my soul is full of woe
That blood should sprinkle me to make me grow.
Come mourn with me for what I do lament,
And put on sullen black incontinent.
I’ll make a voyage to the Holy Land
To wash this blood off from my guilty hand.
March sadly after. Grace my mournings here
In weeping after this untimely bier.
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