Richard II By William Shakespeare

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Richard II

William Shakespeare

Published: 1595

Categorie(s): Non-Fiction, History, Fiction, Drama

Source: http://shakespeare.mit.edu/ About Shakespeare:

William Shakespeare (baptised 26 April 1564 – died 23 April 1616) was an English poet and playwright, widely regarded as the greatest writer in the English language and the world's pre-eminent dramatist. He is often called England's national poet and the "Bard of Avon" (or simply "The Bard"). His surviving works consist of 38 plays, 154 sonnets, two long narrative poems, and several other poems. His plays have been translated into every major living language, and are performed more often than those of any other playwright. Shakespeare was born and raised in Stratford-upon-Avon. At the age of 18 he married Anne Hathaway, who bore him three children: Susanna, and twins Hamnet and Judith. Between 1585 and 1592 he began a successful career in London as an actor, writer, and part owner of the playing company the Lord Chamberlain's Men, later known as the King's Men. He appears to have retired to Stratford around 1613, where he died three years later. Few records of Shakespeare's private life survive, and there has been considerable speculation about such matters as his sexuality, religious beliefs, and whether the works attributed to him were written by others. Shakespeare produced most of his known work between 1590 and 1613. His early plays were mainly comedies and histories, genres he raised to the peak of sophistication and artistry by the end of the sixteenth century. Next he wrote mainly tragedies until about 1608, including Hamlet, King Lear, and Macbeth, considered some of the finest examples in the English language. In his last phase, he wrote tragicomedies, also known as romances, and collaborated with other playwrights. Many of his plays were published in editions of varying quality and accuracy during his lifetime, and in 1623 two of his former theatrical colleagues published the First Folio, a collected edition of his dramatic works that included all but two of the plays now recognised as Shakespeare's. Shakespeare was a respected poet and playwright in his own day, but his reputation did not rise to its present heights until the nineteenth century. The Romantics, in particular, acclaimed Shakespeare's genius, and the Victorians hero-worshipped Shakespeare with a reverence that George Bernard Shaw called "bardolatry". In the twentieth century, his work was repeatedly adopted and rediscovered by new movements in scholarship and performance. His plays remain highly popular today and are consistently performed and reinterpreted in diverse cultural and political contexts throughout the world. Source: Wikipedia

Also available on Feedbooks Shakespeare:

- Romeo and Juliet (1597)

- Hamlet (1599)

- Macbeth (1606)

- A Midsummer Night's Dream (1596)

- Julius Caesar (1599)

- Othello (1603)

- The Merchant of Venice (1598)

- Much Ado About Nothing (1600)

- King Lear (1606)

- The Taming of the Shrew (1594)

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Act I

SCENE I. London. KING RICHARD II's palace.

> Enter KING RICHARD II, JOHN OF GAUNT, with other Nobles and Attendants

KING RICHARD II

> Old John of Gaunt, time-honour'd Lancaster,

> Hast thou, according to thy oath and band,

> Brought hither Henry Hereford thy bold son,

> Here to make good the boisterous late appeal,

> Which then our leisure would not let us hear,

> Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray?

JOHN OF GAUNT

> I have, my liege.

KING RICHARD II

> Tell me, moreover, hast thou sounded him,

> If he appeal the duke on ancient malice;

> Or worthily, as a good subject should,

> On some known ground of treachery in him?

JOHN OF GAUNT

> As near as I could sift him on that argument,

> On some apparent danger seen in him

> Aim'd at your highness, no inveterate malice.

KING RICHARD II

> Then call them to our presence; face to face,

> And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear

> The accuser and the accused freely speak:

> High-stomach'd are they both, and full of ire,

> In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire.

>

> Enter HENRY BOLINGBROKE and THOMAS MOWBRAY

HENRY BOLINGBROKE

> Many years of happy days befal

> My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege!

THOMAS MOWBRAY

> Each day still better other's happiness;

> Until the heavens, envying earth's good hap,

> Add an immortal title to your crown!

KING RICHARD II

> We thank you both: yet one but flatters us,

> As well appeareth by the cause you come;

> Namely to appeal each other of high treason.

> Cousin of Hereford, what dost thou object

> Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray?

HENRY BOLINGBROKE

> First, heaven be the record to my speech!

> In the devotion of a subject's love,

> Tendering the precious safety of my prince,

> And free from other misbegotten hate,

> Come I appellant to this princely presence.

> Now, Thomas Mowbray, do I turn to thee,

> And mark my greeting well; for what I speak

> My body shall make good upon this earth,

> Or my divine soul answer it in heaven.

> Thou art a traitor and a miscreant,

> Too good to be so and too bad to live,

> Since the more fair and crystal is the sky,

> The uglier seem the clouds that in it fly.

> Once more, the more to aggravate the note,

> With a foul traitor's name stuff I thy throat;

> And wish, so please my sovereign, ere I move,

> What my tongue speaks my right drawn sword may prove.

THOMAS MOWBRAY

> Let not my cold words here accuse my zeal:

> 'Tis not the trial of a woman's war,

> The bitter clamour of two eager tongues,

> Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain;

> The blood is hot that must be cool'd for this:

> Yet can I not of such tame patience boast

> As to be hush'd and nought at all to say:

> First, the fair reverence of your highness curbs me

> From giving reins and spurs to my free speech;

> Which else would post until it had return'd

> These terms of treason doubled down his throat.

> Setting aside his high blood's royalty,

> And let him be no kinsman to my liege,

> I do defy him, and I spit at him;

> Call him a slanderous coward and a villain:

> Which to maintain I would allow him odds,

> And meet him, were I tied to run afoot

> Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps,

> Or any other ground inhabitable,

> Where ever Englishman durst set his foot.

> Mean time let this defend my loyalty,

> By all my hopes, most falsely doth he lie.

HENRY BOLINGBROKE

> Pale trembling coward, there I throw my gage,

> Disclaiming here the kindred of the king,

> And lay aside my high blood's royalty,

> Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to except.

> If guilty dread have left thee so much strength

> As to take up mine honour's pawn, then stoop:

> By that and all the rites of knighthood else,

> Will I make good against thee, arm to arm,

> What I have spoke, or thou canst worse devise.

THOMAS MOWBRAY

> I take it up; and by that sword I swear

> Which gently laid my knighthood on my shoulder,

> I'll answer thee in any fair degree,

> Or chivalrous design of knightly trial:

> And when I mount, alive may I not light,

> If I be traitor or unjustly fight!

KING RICHARD II

> What doth our cousin lay to Mowbray's charge?

> It must be great that can inherit us

> So much as of a thought of ill in him.

HENRY BOLINGBROKE

> Look, what I speak, my life shall prove it true;

> That Mowbray hath received eight thousand nobles

> In name of lendings for your highness' soldiers,

> The which he hath detain'd for lewd employments,

> Like a false traitor and injurious villain.

> Besides I say and will in battle prove,

> Or here or elsewhere to the furthest verge

> That ever was survey'd by English eye,

> That all the treasons for these eighteen years

> Complotted and contrived in this land

> Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and spring.

> Further I say and further will maintain

> Upon his bad life to make all this good,

> That he did plot the Duke of Gloucester's death,

> Suggest his soon-believing adversaries,

> And consequently, like a traitor coward,

> Sluiced out his innocent soul through streams of blood:

> Which blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries,

> Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth,

> To me for justice and rough chastisement;

> And, by the glorious worth of my descent,

> This arm shall do it, or this life be spent.

KING RICHARD II

> How high a pitch his resolution soars!

> Thomas of Norfolk, what say'st thou to this?

THOMAS MOWBRAY

> O, let my sovereign turn away his face

> And bid his ears a little while be deaf,

> Till I have told this slander of his blood,

> How God and good men hate so foul a liar.

KING RICHARD II

> Mowbray, impartial are our eyes and ears:

> Were he my brother, nay, my kingdom's heir,

> As he is but my father's brother's son,

> Now, by my sceptre's awe, I make a vow,

> Such neighbour nearness to our sacred blood

> Should nothing privilege him, nor partialize

> The unstooping firmness of my upright soul:

> He is our subject, Mowbray; so art thou:

> Free speech and fearless I to thee allow.

THOMAS MOWBRAY

> Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart,

> Through the false passage of thy throat, thou liest.

> Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais

> Disbursed I duly to his highness' soldiers;

> The other part reserved I by consent,

> For that my sovereign liege was in my debt

> Upon remainder of a dear account,

> Since last I went to France to fetch his queen:

> Now swallow down that lie. For Gloucester's death,

> I slew him not; but to my own disgrace

> Neglected my sworn duty in that case.

> For you, my noble Lord of Lancaster,

> The honourable father to my foe

> Once did I lay an ambush for your life,

> A trespass that doth vex my grieved soul

> But ere I last received the sacrament

> I did confess it, and exactly begg'd

> Your grace's pardon, and I hope I had it.

> This is my fault: as for the rest appeall'd,

> It issues from the rancour of a villain,

> A recreant and most degenerate traitor

> Which in myself I boldly will defend;

> And interchangeably hurl down my gage

> Upon this overweening traitor's foot,

> To prove myself a loyal gentleman

> Even in the best blood chamber'd in his bosom.

> In haste whereof, most heartily I pray

> Your highness to assign our trial day.

KING RICHARD II

> Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be ruled by me;

> Let's purge this choler without letting blood:

> This we prescribe, though no physician;

> Deep malice makes too deep incision;

> Forget, forgive; conclude and be agreed;

> Our doctors say this is no month to bleed.

> Good uncle, let this end where it begun;

> We'll calm the Duke of Norfolk, you your son.

JOHN OF GAUNT

> To be a make-peace shall become my age:

> Throw down, my son, the Duke of Norfolk's gage.

KING RICHARD II

> And, Norfolk, throw down his.

JOHN OF GAUNT

> When, Harry, when?

> Obedience bids I should not bid again.

KING RICHARD II

> Norfolk, throw down, we bid; there is no boot.

THOMAS MOWBRAY

> Myself I throw, dread sovereign, at thy foot.

> My life thou shalt command, but not my shame:

> The one my duty owes; but my fair name,

> Despite of death that lives upon my grave,

> To dark dishonour's use thou shalt not have.

> I am disgraced, impeach'd and baffled here,

> Pierced to the soul with slander's venom'd spear,

> The which no balm can cure but his heart-blood

> Which breathed this poison.

KING RICHARD II

> Rage must be withstood:

> Give me his gage: lions make leopards tame.

THOMAS MOWBRAY

> Yea, but not change his spots: take but my shame.

> And I resign my gage. My dear dear lord,

> The purest treasure mortal times afford

> Is spotless reputation: that away,

> Men are but gilded loam or painted clay.

> A jewel in a ten-times-barr'd-up chest

> Is a bold spirit in a loyal breast.

> Mine honour is my life; both grow in one:

> Take honour from me, and my life is done:

> Then, dear my liege, mine honour let me try;

> In that I live and for that will I die.

KING RICHARD II

> Cousin, throw up your gage; do you begin.

HENRY BOLINGBROKE

> O, God defend my soul from such deep sin!

> Shall I seem crest-fall'n in my father's sight?

> Or with pale beggar-fear impeach my height

> Before this out-dared dastard? Ere my tongue

> Shall wound my honour with such feeble wrong,

> Or sound so base a parle, my teeth shall tear

> The slavish motive of recanting fear,

> And spit it bleeding in his high disgrace,

> Where shame doth harbour, even in Mowbray's face.

>

> Exit JOHN OF GAUNT

KING RICHARD II

> We were not born to sue, but to command;

> Which since we cannot do to make you friends,

> Be ready, as your lives shall answer it,

> At Coventry, upon Saint Lambert's day:

> There shall your swords and lances arbitrate

> The swelling difference of your settled hate:

> Since we can not atone you, we shall see

> Justice design the victor's chivalry.

> Lord marshal, command our officers at arms

> Be ready to direct these home alarms.

>

> Exeunt

SCENE II. The DUKE OF LANCASTER'S palace.

> Enter JOHN OF GAUNT with DUCHESS

JOHN OF GAUNT

> Alas, the part I had in Woodstock's blood

> Doth more solicit me than your exclaims,

> To stir against the butchers of his life!

> But since correction lieth in those hands

> Which made the fault that we cannot correct,

> Put we our quarrel to the will of heaven;

> Who, when they see the hours ripe on earth,

> Will rain hot vengeance on offenders' heads.

DUCHESS

> Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper spur?

> Hath love in thy old blood no living fire?

> Edward's seven sons, whereof thyself art one,

> Were as seven vials of his sacred blood,

> Or seven fair branches springing from one root:

> Some of those seven are dried by nature's course,

> Some of those branches by the Destinies cut;

> But Thomas, my dear lord, my life, my Gloucester,

> One vial full of Edward's sacred blood,

> One flourishing branch of his most royal root,

> Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt,

> Is hack'd down, and his summer leaves all faded,

> By envy's hand and murder's bloody axe.

> Ah, Gaunt, his blood was thine! that bed, that womb,

> That metal, that self-mould, that fashion'd thee

> Made him a man; and though thou livest and breathest,

> Yet art thou slain in him: thou dost consent

> In some large measure to thy father's death,

> In that thou seest thy wretched brother die,

> Who was the model of thy father's life.

> Call it not patience, Gaunt; it is despair:

> In suffering thus thy brother to be slaughter'd,

> Thou showest the naked pathway to thy life,

> Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee:

> That which in mean men we intitle patience

> Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts.

> What shall I say? to safeguard thine own life,

> The best way is to venge my Gloucester's death.

JOHN OF GAUNT

> God's is the quarrel; for God's substitute,

> His deputy anointed in His sight,

> Hath caused his death: the which if wrongfully,

> Let heaven revenge; for I may never lift

> An angry arm against His minister.

DUCHESS

> Where then, alas, may I complain myself?

JOHN OF GAUNT

> To God, the widow's champion and defence.

DUCHESS

> Why, then, I will. Farewell, old Gaunt.

> Thou goest to Coventry, there to behold

> Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight:

> O, sit my husband's wrongs on Hereford's spear,

> That it may enter butcher Mowbray's breast!

> Or, if misfortune miss the first career,

> Be Mowbray's sins so heavy in his bosom,

> They may break his foaming courser's back,

> And throw the rider headlong in the lists,

> A caitiff recreant to my cousin Hereford!

> Farewell, old Gaunt: thy sometimes brother's wife

> With her companion grief must end her life.

JOHN OF GAUNT

> Sister, farewell; I must to Coventry:

> As much good stay with thee as go with me!

DUCHESS

> Yet one word more: grief boundeth where it falls,

> Not with the empty hollowness, but weight:

> I take my leave before I have begun,

> For sorrow ends not when it seemeth done.

> Commend me to thy brother, Edmund York.

> Lo, this is all:—nay, yet depart not so;

> Though this be all, do not so quickly go;

> I shall remember more. Bid him—ah, what?—

> With all good speed at Plashy visit me.

> Alack, and what shall good old York there see

> But empty lodgings and unfurnish'd walls,

> Unpeopled offices, untrodden stones?

> And what hear there for welcome but my groans?

> Therefore commend me; let him not come there,

> To seek out sorrow that dwells every where.

> Desolate, desolate, will I hence and die:

> The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye.

>

> Exeunt

SCENE III. The lists at Coventry.

> Enter the Lord Marshal and the DUKE OF AUMERLE

Lord Marshal

> My Lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford arm'd?

DUKE OF AUMERLE

> Yea, at all points; and longs to enter in.

Lord Marshal

> The Duke of Norfolk, sprightfully and bold,

> Stays but the summons of the appellant's trumpet.

DUKE OF AUMERLE

> Why, then, the champions are prepared, and stay

> For nothing but his majesty's approach.

>

> The trumpets sound, and KING RICHARD enters with his nobles, JOHN OF GAUNT, BUSHY, BAGOT, GREEN, and others. When they are set, enter THOMAS MOWBRAY in arms, defendant, with a Herald

KING RICHARD II

> Marshal, demand of yonder champion

> The cause of his arrival here in arms:

> Ask him his name and orderly proceed

> To swear him in the justice of his cause.

Lord Marshal

> In God's name and the king's, say who thou art

> And why thou comest thus knightly clad in arms,

> Against what man thou comest, and what thy quarrel:

> Speak truly, on thy knighthood and thy oath;

> As so defend thee heaven and thy valour!

THOMAS MOWBRAY

> My name is Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk;

> Who hither come engaged by my oath—

> Which God defend a knight should violate!—

> Both to defend my loyalty and truth

> To God, my king and my succeeding issue,

> Against the Duke of Hereford that appeals me

> And, by the grace of God and this mine arm,

> To prove him, in defending of myself,

> A traitor to my God, my king, and me:

> And as I truly fight, defend me heaven!

>

> The trumpets sound. Enter HENRY BOLINGBROKE, appellant, in armour, with a Herald

KING RICHARD II

> Marshal, ask yonder knight in arms,

> Both who he is and why he cometh hither

> Thus plated in habiliments of war,

> And formally, according to our law,

> Depose him in the justice of his cause.

Lord Marshal

> What is thy name? and wherefore comest thou hither,

> Before King Richard in his royal lists?

> Against whom comest thou? and what's thy quarrel?