The Tragedy of King Richard the Second
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R
ichard II (c. 1595–1596) is the first play in Shakespeare’s great four-play historical saga, or tetralogy, that continues with the two parts of Henry IV
(c. 1596–1598) and concludes with Henry V (1599). In this,
his second, tetralogy, Shakespeare dramatizes the beginnings of the great conflict called the Wars of the Roses,
having already dramatized the conclusion of that civil
war in his earlier tetralogy on Henry VI and Richard III
(c. 1589–1594). Both sequences move from an outbreak of
civil faction to the eventual triumph of political stability.
Together, they comprise the story of England’s long century of political turmoil from the 1390s until Henry
Tudor’s victory over Richard III in 1485. Yet Shakespeare
chose to tell the two halves of this chronicle in reverse
order. His culminating statement about kingship in Henry
V focuses on the earlier historical period, on the education and kingly success of Prince Hal.
With Richard II, then, Shakespeare turns to the events
that had launched England’s century of crisis. These
events were still fresh and relevant to Elizabethan minds.
Richard and Bolingbroke’s contest for the English crown
provided a sobering example of political wrongdoing
and, at least by implication, a rule for political right conduct. One prominent reason for studying history, to an
Elizabethan, was to avoid the errors of the past. The relevance of such historical analogy was, in fact, vividly
underscored some six years after Shakespeare wrote the
play: in 1601, followers of the Earl of Essex commissioned
Shakespeare’s acting company to perform a revived play
about Richard II on the eve of what was to be an abortive
rebellion, perhaps with the intention of inciting a riot.
Whether the play was Shakespeare’s is not certain, but it
seems likely. The acting company was ultimately exonerated, but not before Queen Elizabeth concluded that
she was being compared to Richard II. When he wrote the
play, Shakespeare presumably did not know that it
would be used for such a purpose, but he must have
known that the overthrow of Richard II was, in any case,
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Tprecedent for rebellion. The scene of Richard’s deposition
was considered so provocative by Elizabeth’s govH(4.1)
ernment that it was censored in the printed quartos of
, Shakespeare’s play during the Queen’s lifetime.
In view of the startling relevance of this piece of history to Shakespeare’s own times, then, what are the
and wrongs of Richard’s deposition, and to what
Jrights
extent can political lessons be drawn from ShakeOspeare’s presentation?
To begin with, we should not underestimate Richard’s
Sattractive
qualities, as a man and even as a king. ThroughHout the play, Richard is consistently more impressive and
majestic in appearance than his rival, Bolingbroke.
URichard fascinates us with his verbal sensitivity, his poetic
and his dramatic self-consciousness. He eloAinsight,
quently expounds a sacramental view of kingship,
according to which “Not all the water in the rough rude
/ Can wash the balm off from an anointed king”
6sea
(3.2.54–5). Bolingbroke can depose Richard but can never
8capture the aura of majesty Richard possesses; Bolingbroke may succeed politically but only at the expense of
9desecrating an idea. Richard is much more interesting to
0us as a man than Bolingbroke, more capable of grief, more
tender in his personal relationships, and more in need of
Bbeing understood. Indeed, a major factor in Richard’s
is the conflict between his public role (wherein
Utragedy
he sees himself as divinely appointed, almost superhuman) and his private role (wherein he is emotionally
dependent and easily hurt). He confuses what the
medieval and Renaissance world knew as the king’s “two
bodies,” the sacramental body of kingship, which is eternal, and the human body of a single occupant of the
throne, whose frail mortal condition is subject to time and
fortune. Richard’s failure to perceive and to act wisely on
this difference is part of his tragic predicament, but his
increasing insight, through suffering, into the truth of the
distinction is also part of his spiritual growth. His
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The Necessary Shakespeare, Fourth Edition, by David Bevington. Published by Longman. Copyright © 2014 by Pearson Education, Inc.
THE TRAGEDY OF KING RICHARD THE SECOND
dilemma, however poignantly individual, lies at the heart
of kingship. Richard is thus very much a king. Although
he sometimes indulges in childish sentimentality, at his
best he is superbly refined, perceptive, and poetic.
These qualities notwithstanding, Richard is an incompetent ruler, compared with the man who supplants him.
Richard himself confesses to the prodigal expense of “too
great a court.” In order to raise funds, he has been obliged
to “farm our royal realm”; that is, to sell for ready cash the
right of collecting taxes to individual courtiers, who are
then free to extort what the market will bear (1.4.43–5).
Similarly, Richard proposes to issue “blank charters” (line
48) to his minions, who will then be authorized to fill in
the amount of tax to be paid by any hapless subject. These
abuses were infamous to Elizabethan audiences as symbols of autocratic misgovernment. No less heinous is
Richard’s seizure of the dukedom of Lancaster from his
cousin Bolingbroke. Although Richard does receive the
consent of his Council to banish Bolingbroke because of
the divisiveness of the quarrel between him and Mowbray, the King violates the very idea of inheritance of property when he takes away Bolingbroke’s title and lands.
And, as his uncle the Duke of York remonstrates,
Richard’s own right to the throne depends on that idea of
due inheritance. By offending against the most sacred concepts of order and degree, he teaches others to rebel.
Richard’s behavior even prior to the commencement
of the play arouses suspicion. The nature of his complicity in the death of his uncle Thomas of Woodstock, Duke
of Gloucester, is perhaps never entirely clear, and Gloucester may have given provocation. Indeed, one can sympathize with the predicament of a young ruler prematurely
thrust into the center of power by the untimely death of
his father, the crown prince, now having to cope with an
array of worldly-wise, advice-giving uncles. Nevertheless,
Richard is unambiguously guilty of murder in the eyes of
Gloucester’s widow, while her brother-in-law John of
Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, assumes that Richard has
caused Gloucester’s death, “the which if wrongfully / Let
heaven revenge” (1.2.39– 40). Apparently, too, Gaunt’s
son Bolingbroke believes Richard to be a murderer, and
he brings accusation against Thomas Mowbray, Duke of
Norfolk, partly as a means of embarrassing the King,
whom he cannot accuse directly. Mowbray’s lot is an
unenviable one: he was in command at Calais when
Gloucester was executed there, and he hints that Richard
ordered the execution (even though Mowbray alleges
that he himself did not carry out the order). For his part,
Richard is only too glad to banish the man suspected of
having been his agent in murder. Mowbray is a convenient scapegoat.
The polished, ceremonial tone of the play’s opening is
vitiated, then, by our growing awareness of hidden violence and factionalism going on behind the scene. Our
first impression of Richard is of a king devoted to the
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public display of conciliatory even-handedness. He listens to the rival claims of Bolingbroke and Mowbray, and,
when he cannot reconcile them peacefully, he orders a
trial by combat. This trial (1.3) is replete with ceremonial
repetition and ritual. The combatants are duly sworn in
the justice of their cause, and God is to decide the quarrel by awarding victory to the champion who speaks the
truth. Richard, the presiding officer, assumes the role of
God’s anointed deputy on earth. Yet it becomes evident
in due course that Richard is a major perpetrator of injustice rather than an impartial judge, that Bolingbroke is
after greater objectives than he acknowledges even to
himself, and that Richard’s refusal to let the trial by combat take place and his banishment of the two contenders
are his desperate ways of burying a problem he cannot
deal with forthrightly. His uncles reluctantly consent to
the banishment only because they, too, see that disaffection has reached alarming proportions.
Bolingbroke’s motivation in these opening scenes is
perhaps even more obscure than Richard’s. Our first
impression of Bolingbroke is of forthrightness, moral
indignation, and patriotic zeal. In fact, we never really
question the earnestness of his outrage at Richard’s misgovernance, his longing to avenge a family murder (for
Gloucester was his uncle, too), or his bitter disappointment at being banished. Yet we are prompted to ask further: what is the essential cause of the enmity between
Bolingbroke and Richard? If Mowbray is only a stalkinghorse, is not Gloucester’s death also the excuse for pursuing a preexistent animosity? Richard, for one, appears
to think so. His portrayal of Bolingbroke as a scheming
politician, who curries favor with the populace in order
to build a widely based alliance against the King himself,
is telling and prophetic. Bolingbroke, says Richard, acts
“As were our England in reversion his, / And he our subjects’ next degree in hope” (1.4.35–6). This unflattering
appraisal might be ascribed to malicious envy on
Richard’s part, were it not proved by subsequent events
to be wholly accurate.
Paradoxically, Richard is far the more prescient of the
two contenders for the English throne. It is he, in fact,
who perceives from the start that the conflict between
them is irreconcilable. He banishes Bolingbroke as his
chief rival and does not doubt what motives will call Bolingbroke home again. Meanwhile, Bolingbroke disclaims
any motive for his return other than love of country and
hatred of injustice. Although born with a political canniness that Richard lacks, Bolingbroke does not reflect (out
loud, at least) upon the consequences of his own acts. As
a man of action, he lives in the present. Richard, conversely, a person of exquisite contemplative powers and
poetic imagination, does not deign to cope with the practical. He both envies and despises Bolingbroke’s easy way
with the commoners. Richard cherishes kingship for the
majesty and the royal prerogative it confers, not for the
The Necessary Shakespeare, Fourth Edition, by David Bevington. Published by Longman. Copyright © 2014 by Pearson Education, Inc.
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THE TRAGEDY OF KING RICHARD THE SECOND
power to govern wisely. Thus it is that, despite his perception of what will follow, Richard habitually indulges
his worst instincts, buying a moment of giddy pleasure
at the expense of future disaster.
Granted Richard’s incompetence as a ruler, is Bolingbroke justified in armed rebellion against him? According to Bolingbroke’s uncle, the Duke of York (who later,
to be sure, shifts his allegiance), and to the Bishop of
Carlisle, Bolingbroke is not justified in the rebellion. The
attitude of these men can be summed up by the phrase
“passive obedience.” And, although Bolingbroke’s own
father, John of Gaunt, dies before his son returns to England to seize power, Gaunt, too, is opposed to such
human defiances of the sacred institution of kingship.
“God’s is the quarrel,” he insists (1.2.37). Because Richard
is God’s anointed deputy on earth, as Gaunt sees the matter, only God may punish the King’s wrongdoing. Gaunt
may not question Richard’s guilt, but neither does he
question God’s ability to avenge. Gaunt sees human
intervention in God’s affair as blasphemous: “for I may
never lift / An angry arm against His minister” (1.2.40–1).
To be sure, Gaunt does acknowledge a solemn duty to
offer frank advice to extremists of both sides, and he does
so unsparingly. He consents to the banishment of his son,
and he rebukes Richard with his dying breath.
This doctrine of passive obedience was familiar to
Elizabethans, for they heard it in church periodically in
official homilies against rebellion. It was the Tudor state’s
answer to those who asserted a right to overthrow reputedly evil kings. The argument was logically ingenious.
Why are evil rulers permitted to govern from time to
time? Presumably, because God wishes to test a people
or to punish them for waywardness. Any king performing such chastisement is a divine scourge. Accordingly, the worst thing a people can do is to rebel against
God’s scourge, thereby manifesting more waywardness.
Instead, they must attempt to remedy the insolence in
their hearts, advise the King to mend his ways, and
patiently await God’s pardon. If they do so, they will not
long be disappointed. The doctrine is essentially conservative, defending the status quo. It is reinforced in this
play by the Bishop of Carlisle’s prophecy that God will
avenge through civil war the deposition of his anointed
(4.1.126–50); an Elizabethan audience would have appreciated the irony of the prophecy’s having come true and
having been the subject of Shakespeare’s first historical
tetralogy. Moreover, in Richard II the doctrine of passive
obedience is a moderate position between the extremes
of tyranny and rebellion, and is expressed by thoughtful,
selfless characters. We might be tempted to label it
Shakespeare’s view if we did not also perceive that the
doctrine is continually placed in ironic conflict with
harsh political realities. The character who most reflects
the ironies and even ludicrous incongruities of the position is the Duke of York.
York is to an extent a choric character, that is, one who
helps direct our viewpoint, because his transfer of loyalties from Richard to Bolingbroke structurally delineates
the decline of Richard’s fortunes and the concurrent rise
of Bolingbroke’s. At first York shares his brother Gaunt’s
unwillingness to act, despite their dismay at Richard’s
willfulness. It is only when Richard seizes the dukedom
of Lancaster that York can no longer hold his tongue. His
condemnation is as bitter as that of Gaunt, hinting even
at loss of allegiance (2.1.200–8). Still, he accepts the
responsibility, so cavalierly bestowed by Richard, of govSerning England in the King’s absence. He musters what
he can to oppose Bolingbroke’s advance and lecMforce
tures against this rebellion with the same vehemence he
I had used against Richard’s despotism. Yet, when faced
Bolingbroke’s overwhelming military superiority,
Twith
he accedes rather than fight on behalf of a lost cause.
HHowever much this may resemble cowardice or mere
expediency, it also displays a pragmatic logic. Once Bol, ingbroke has become de facto king, in York’s view, he
must be acknowledged and obeyed. By a kind of analogy
to the doctrine of passive obedience (which more rigorJous theorists would never allow), York accepts the status
as inevitable. He is vigorously ready to defend the
Oquo
new regime, just as he earlier defended Richard’s de jure
Srule. York’s inconsistent loyalty helps define the structure
of the play.
H When, however, this conclusion brings York to the
Upoint of turning in his own son, Aumerle, for a traitor and
quarreling with his wife as to whether their son shall live,
Athe ironic absurdity is apparent. Bolingbroke, now King
Henry, himself is amused, in one of the play’s rare lighthearted moments (5.3.79–80). At the same time, the com6edy deals with serious issues, especially the conflict
between public responsibility urged by York and private
8or emotional satisfaction urged by his Duchess—a con9flict seen earlier, for example, in the debate between
Gaunt and his sister-in-law, the widowed Duchess of
0Gloucester (1.2). When a family and a kingdom are
against one another, there can be no really satisBdivided
factory resolution.
U We are never entirely convinced that all the fine old
medieval theories surrounding kingship—divine right,
passive obedience, trial by combat, and the like—can ever
wholly explain or remedy the complex and nasty political situation afflicting England. The one man capable of
decisive action, in fact, is he who never theorizes at all:
Bolingbroke. As we have seen, his avowed motive for
opposing Mowbray—simple patriotic indignation—is
uttered with such earnestness that we wonder if indeed
Bolingbroke has examined those political ambitions in
The Necessary Shakespeare, Fourth Edition, by David Bevington. Published by Longman. Copyright © 2014 by Pearson Education, Inc.
THE TRAGEDY OF KING RICHARD THE SECOND
himself that are so plainly visible to Richard and others.
This same discrepancy between surface and depth
applies to Bolingbroke’s motives in returning to England.
We cannot be sure at what time he begins to plot that
return; the conspiracy announced by Northumberland
(2.1.224–300) follows so closely after Richard’s violation
of Bolingbroke’s hereditary rights and is already so well
advanced that we gain the impression of an already existing plot, though some of this impression may be simply
owing to Shakespeare’s characteristic compression of historic time. When Bolingbroke arrives in England, in any
case, he protests to York with seemingly passionate sincerity that he comes only for his dukedom of Lancaster
(2.3.113–36). If so, why does he set about executing
Richard’s followers without legal authority and otherwise establishing his own claim to power? Why does he
indulge in homophobic slurs against Richard, insinuating that Richard’s favorites have “Broke the possession of
a royal bed” (3.1.13), when, as far as we can see from the
devotion Richard shows to his queen, the charges are
trumped up and untrue? Does Bolingbroke seriously
think he can reclaim his dukedom by force and then yield
to Richard without either maintaining Richard as a puppet king or placing himself in intolerable jeopardy? And
can he suppose that his allies, Northumberland and the
rest, who have now openly defied the King, will countenance the return to power of one who would never trust
them again? It is in this context that York protests, “Well,
well, I see the issue of these arms” (2.3.152). The deposition of Richard and then Richard’s death are unavoidable
conclusions once Bolingbroke has succeeded in an armed
rebellion. There can be no turning back. Yet Bolingbroke
simply will not think in these terms. He permits
Northumberland to proceed with almost sadistic harshness in the arrest and impeachment of Richard and then
admonishes Northumberland in public for acting so
harshly; the dirty work goes forward, with Northumberland taking the blame, while Bolingbroke assumes a
statesmanlike pose. When the new King Henry discovers—to his surprise, evidently—that Richard’s life is now
a burden to the state, he ponders aloud, “Have I no friend
will rid me of this living fear?” (5.4.2) and then rebukes
Exton for proceeding on cue.
Bolingbroke’s pragmatic spirit and new mode of governing are the embodiment of de facto rule. Ultimately,
the justification for his authority is the very fact of its existence, its functioning. Bolingbroke is the man of the hour.
To apply William Butler Yeats’s striking contrast, the Lancastrian usurpers, Bolingbroke and his son, are vessels of
clay, whereas Richard is a vessel of porcelain. One is
durable and utilitarian, yet unattractive; the other is
exquisite, fragile, and impractical. The comparison does
not force us to prefer one to the other, even though Yeats
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himself characteristically sided with beauty against politics. Rather, Shakespeare gives us our choice, allowing us
to see in ourselves an inclination toward political and
social stability or toward artistic temperament.
The paradox may suggest that the qualities of a good
administrator are not those of a sensitive, thoughtful
man. However hopeless as a king, Richard stands before
us increasingly as an introspective and fascinating person. The contradictions of his character are aptly focused
in the business of breaking a mirror during his deposition: it is at once symbolic of a narcissistic, shallow concern for appearances and a quest for a deeper, inward
truth, so that the smashing of the mirror is an act both of
self-destruction and of self-discovery. When Richard’s
power crumbles, his spirit is enhanced, as though loss of
power and royal identity were necessary for the discovery of true values.
In this there is a faint anticipation of King Lear’s selflearning, fearfully and preciously bought. The trace is
only slight here, because in good part Richard II is a political history play rather than a tragedy and because
Richard’s self-realization is imperfect. Nevertheless,
when Richard faces deposition and separation from his
queen, and especially when he is alone in prison expecting to die, he strives to understand his life and through it
the general condition of humanity. He gains our sympathy in the wonderfully humane interchange between this
deposed king and the poor groom of his stable, who once
took care of Richard’s horse, roan Barbary, now the possession of the new monarch (5.5.67–94). Richard perceives
a contradiction in heaven’s assurances about salvation:
Christ promises to receive all God’s children, and yet He
also warns that it is as hard for a rich man to enter heaven
as for a camel to be threaded through a needle’s eye
(5.5.16–17). The paradox echoes the Beatitudes: the last
shall be first, the meek shall inherit the earth. Richard,
now one of the downtrodden, gropes for an understanding of the vanity of human achievement whereby he can
aspire to the victory Christ promised. At his death, that
victory seems to him assured: his soul will mount to its
seat on high “Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward,
here to die” (line 112).
In this triumph of spirit over flesh, the long downward
motion of Richard’s worldly fortune is crucially reversed.
By the same token, the worldly success of Bolingbroke is
shown to be no more than that: worldly success. His
archetype is Cain, the primal murderer of a brother. To the
extent that the play is a history, Bolingbroke’s de facto success is a matter of political relevance; but, in the belated
movement toward Richard’s personal tragedy, we experience a profound countermovement that partly achieves
a purgative sense of atonement and reassurance. Whatever Richard may have lost, his gain is also great.
The Necessary Shakespeare, Fourth Edition, by David Bevington. Published by Longman. Copyright © 2014 by Pearson Education, Inc.
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THE TRAGEDY OF KING RICHARD THE SECOND
Balance and symmetry are unusually important in
Richard II. The play begins and ends with elaborate ritual obeisance to the concept of social and monarchic
order, and yet, in both cases, a note of personal disorder refuses to be subdued by the public ceremonial.
Shakespeare keeps our response to both Richard and
Bolingbroke ambivalent by clouding their respective
responsibilities for murder. Just as Richard’s role in
Gloucester’s death remains unclear, so Bolingbroke’s role
in the assassination of Richard remains equally unclear.
Mowbray and Exton, as scapegoats, are in some respects
parallel. Because Richard and Bolingbroke are both
implicated in the deaths of near kinsmen, both are associated with Cain’s murder of Abel. As Bolingbroke rises
in worldly fortune, Richard falls; as Richard finds insight
and release through suffering, Bolingbroke finds guilt
and remorse through distasteful political necessity. Verbally and structurally, the play explores the rhetorical figure of chiasmus, or the pairing of opposites in an
inverted and diagonal pattern whereby one goes down
as the other goes up and vice versa. Again and again, the
ritual effects of staging and style draw our attention to
the balanced conflicts between the two men and within
Richard. Symmetry helps to focus these conflicts in
visual and aural ways. In particular, the deposition
scene, with its spectacle of a coronation in reverse, brings
the sacramental and human sides of the central figure
into poignant dramatic relationship.
Women play a subsidiary role in this play about male
struggles for power, and yet the brief scenes in which
women take part—the Duchess of Gloucester with Gaunt
(1.2), Richard’s queen with his courtiers and gardeners
and then with Richard himself (2.2, 3.4, 5.1), the Duchess
of York with her husband and son and King Henry
(5.2–5.3)—highlight for us important thematic contrasts
between the public and private spheres, power and powerlessness, political struggle and humane sensitivity, the
state and the family. The women, excluded from roles of
practical authority, offer, nonetheless, an invaluable critical perspective on the fateful and often self-consuming
political games that men play among themselves. As in
Julius Caesar and Troilus and Cressida, the men of Richard II
ignore women’s warnings and insights to their own peril
and to the discomfiting of the body politic.
The imagery of Richard II reinforces structure and
meaning. The play is unlike the history plays that follow
in its extensive use of blank verse and rhyme and in its
interwoven sets of recurring images; Richard II is, in this
respect, more typical of the so-called lyric period (c.
1594–1596) that also produced Romeo and Juliet and A
Midsummer Night’s Dream. Image patterns locate the play
in our imaginations as a kind of lost Eden. England is a
garden mismanaged by her royal gardener, so that weeds
and caterpillars (e.g., Bushy, Bagot, and Green) flourish.
The “garden” scene (3.4), located near the center of the
play, offering a momentary haven of allegorical reflection
on the play’s hectic events, is central in the development
of the garden metaphor. England is also a sick body, illtended by her royal physician, and a family divided
against itself, yielding abortive and sterile progeny. Her
political ills are attested to by disorders in the cosmos:
comets, shooting stars, withered bay trees, and weeping
rains. Night owls, associated with death, prevail over the
larks of morning. The sun, royally associated at first with
SRichard, deserts him for Bolingbroke and leaves Richard
the Phaëthon who has mishandled the sun-god’s charMas
iot and so scorched the earth. Linked to the sun image is
I the prevalent leitmotif of ascent and descent. And, touchon all these, a cluster of biblical images sees England
Ting
as a despoiled garden of Eden witnessing a second fall of
Hhumanity. Richard repeatedly brands his enemies and
deserters as Judases and Pilates—not always fairly;
, nonetheless, in his last agony, he finds genuine consolation in Christ’s example. For a man so self-absorbed in the
drama of his existence, this poetic method is intensely
Jsuitable. Language and stage action have combined perto express the conflict between a sensitive but
Ofectly
flawed king and his efficient but unlovable successor.
S In performance, the play belongs to Richard. However
much he ends up the loser, his role calls for a kind of royal
Hcharisma that Bolingbroke never achieves. Such was the
Ueffect, at any rate, in Brian Bedford’s enactment of the role
at Stratford, Canada, in 1983; his appearance on the walls
Aof Flint Castle in 3.3, splendidly attired in white robes
with gold trim, embodied a regal image of kingship that
was then forced to humble itself before Bolingbroke’s
6brute might. John Gielgud, Alec Guinness, Michael Redgrave, Paul Scofield, John Neville, Ian McKellen, Ian
8Richardson, Richard Pasco, Derek Jacobi, Alan Howard,
9Jeremy Irons, Ralph Fiennes, the actress Fiona Shaw, and
still other leading performers of their day have found the
0role one in which they could enthrall audiences with the
cadences of Richard’s speeches. The role has also
Bnuanced
afforded a wide range of interpretations; Guinness saw
Uhim as unhappily neurotic, Gielgud as kindly, Redgrave
as effeminate, Scofield as cerebral and remote, McKellen
as one who is convinced of his semi-divine nature. The
play has also become a vehicle for spectacle and striking
visual effects emphasizing the symmetries of the text’s
attention to poetic symbolism and social ritual; glittering
pageantry and fading splendor vie for our interest and
our loyalties.
The Necessary Shakespeare, Fourth Edition, by David Bevington. Published by Longman. Copyright © 2014 by Pearson Education, Inc.
The Tragedy of King Richard the Second
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S Personae
[Dramatis
KING RICHARD THE SECOND
Richard’s wife
J O H N O F G A U N T , Duke of Lancaster, King Richard’s uncle
H E N RY B O L I N G B R O K E , John of Gaunt’s son, Duke of
Hereford and claimant to his father’s dukedom
of Lancaster, later King Henry IV
D U K E O F Y O R K , Edmund of Langley, King Richard’s uncle
QUEEN,
DUCHESS OF YORK
DUKE OF AUMERLE,
York’s son and the Earl of
Rutland
widow of Thomas of
Woodstock, Duke of Gloucester (King Richard’s
uncle)
DUCHESS OF GLOUCESTER,
T H O M A S M O W B R AY ,
Duke of Norfolk,
E A R L O F S A L I S B U RY ,
LORD BERKELEY,
DUKE OF SURREY,
BISHOP OF CARLISLE,
SIR STEPHEN SCROOP,
ABBOT OF WESTMINSTER,
supporters of King
Richard
BUSHY,
BAGOT,
favorites of King Richard,
GREEN,
C A P TA I N
of the Welsh Army,
scene: England and Wales]
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Northumberland’s son,
LORD ROSS,
LORD WILLOUGHBY,
L O R D F I T Z WAT E R ,
supporters of
Bolingbroke
SIR PIERCE OF EXTON,
Another L O R D ,
Two H E R A L D S
GARDENER
GARDENER’S MAN
attending the Queen
of the prison
M A N attending Exton
LADY
KEEPER
A
to York
of the stable
S E RV I N G M A N
GROOM
Lords, Officers, Soldiers, Attendants, Ladies attending the Queen
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Brought hither Henry Hereford, thy bold son,
Here to make good the boist’rous late appeal,
Which then our leisure would not let us hear,
Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray?
GAUNT
I have, my liege.
Enter King Richard, John of Gaunt, with other
nobles and attendants.
KING RICHARD
1.1. Location: A room of state. (Holinshed’s Chronicles places this
scene at Windsor, in 1398.)
1 Old John of Gaunt (Born in 1340 at Ghent; hence the surname
Gaunt. In 1398 he was fifty-eight years old.)
H A R RY P E R C Y ,
LORD MARSHAL
J
O
S
H
U
A
[1.1]
Old John of Gaunt, time-honored Lancaster,
Hast thou according to thy oath and bond
E A R L O F N O RT H U M B E R L A N D ,
1
4
5
7
KING RICHARD
Tell me, moreover, hast thou sounded him
8
4 late recent. appeal accusation, formal challenge or impeachment
that the accuser was obliged to maintain in combat 5 our, us (The
royal plural.) leisure i.e., lack of leisure 7 liege i.e., sovereign.
8 sounded inquired of
331
The Necessary Shakespeare, Fourth Edition, by David Bevington. Published by Longman. Copyright © 2014 by Pearson Education, Inc.
332
13–51 • 52–94
THE TRAGEDY OF KING RICHARD THE SECOND: 1.1
If he appeal the Duke on ancient malice,
Or worthily, as a good subject should,
On some known ground of treachery in him?
9
GAUNT
As near as I could sift him on that argument,
On some apparent danger seen in him
Aimed at Your Highness, no inveterate malice.
12
13
KING RICHARD
Then call them to our presence.
[Exit an attendant.]
Face to face,
And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear
The accuser and the accusèd freely speak.
High-stomached are they both, and full of ire;
In rage, deaf as the sea, hasty as fire.
16
18
Enter Bolingbroke and Mowbray.
BOLINGBROKE
Many years of happy days befall
My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege!
M O W B R AY
Each day still better others’ happiness,
Until the heavens, envying earth’s good hap,
Add an immortal title to your crown!
22
23
KING RICHARD
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?
26
28
BOLINGBROKE
First—heaven be the record to my speech!—
In the devotion of a subject’s love,
Tend’ring 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.
9 appeal accuse. on . . . malice on the grounds of a long-standing
enmity 12 sift discover by questioning. argument subject
13 apparent obvious, manifest 16 ourselves I myself. (The royal
plural.) 18 High-stomached Haughty 22 Each . . . happiness May
each day improve on the happiness of other past days 23 hap fortune 26 you come for which you come 28 what . . . object what
accusation do you bring 30 record witness 32 Tend’ring watching
over, holding dear 34 appellant as the accuser 38 answer answer
for 39 miscreant irreligious villain 40 good i.e., noble, high-born
41 crystal clear. (The image alludes to the crystal spheres in which,
according to the Ptolemaic conception of the universe, the heavenly
bodies were fixed.) 43 aggravate the note emphasize the stigma,
i.e., the charge of treason 45 so please if it please 46 right-drawn
justly drawn
30
32
34
38
39
40
41
43
45
46
M O W B R AY
Let not my cold words here accuse my zeal.
’Tis not the trial of a woman’s war,
The bitter clamor of two eager tongues,
Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain;
The blood is hot that must be cooled for this.
Yet can I not of such tame patience boast
As to be hushed and naught 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 returned
These terms of treason doubled down his throat.
Setting aside his high blood’s royalty,
And let him be no kinsman to my liege,
S I do defy him, and I spit at him,
Call him a slanderous coward and a villain;
M Which to maintain I would allow him odds
meet him, were I tied to run afoot
I And
Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps
any other ground inhabitable
T Or
Wherever Englishman durst set his foot.
H Meantime, let this defend my loyalty:
By all my hopes, most falsely doth he lie.
, B O L I N G B R O K E [throwing down his gage]
Pale trembling coward, there I throw my gage,
Disclaiming here the kindred of the King,
lay aside my high blood’s royalty,
J And
Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to except.
O If guilty dread have left thee so much strength
As to take up mine honor’s pawn, then stoop.
S By that, and all the rites of knighthood else,
I make good against thee, arm to arm,
H Will
What I have spoke or thou canst worse devise.
B R AY [taking up the gage]
UM OIWtake
it up; and by that sword I swear
A Which gently laid my knighthood on my shoulder,
I’ll answer thee in any fair degree
Or chivalrous design of knightly trial;
when I mount, alive may I not light
6 And
If I be traitor or unjustly fight!
G RICHARD
8K I NWhat
doth our cousin lay to Mowbray’s charge?
9 It must be great that can inherit us
So much as of a thought of ill in him.
0B O L I N G B R O K E
what I speak, my life shall prove it true:
B Look
That Mowbray hath received eight thousand nobles
U In name of lendings for Your Highness’ soldiers,
47
48
49
50
56
58
59
63
65
69
70
72
74
77
82
85
87
88
89
47 accuse my zeal cast doubt on my zeal or loyalty. 48 woman’s war
i.e., war of words 49 eager sharp, biting 50 Can that can 56 post
ride at high speed (like a messenger riding relays of horses) 58 Setting . . . royalty Disregarding Bolingbroke’s royal blood (as grandson
of Edward III) 59 let him be suppose him to be 63 tied obliged
65 inhabitable uninhabitable 69 gage a pledge to combat (usually a
glove or gauntlet, i.e., a mailed or armored glove) 70 Disclaiming
relinquishing. kindred kinship 72 except exempt, set aside.
74 pawn i.e., the gage 77 or . . . devise or anything worse you can
imagine to have been said about you. 82 light alight, dismount
85 inherit us put me in possession of, make me have 87 Look what
Whatever 88 nobles gold coins worth six shillings eight pence
89 lendings advances on pay
The Necessary Shakespeare, Fourth Edition, by David Bevington. Published by Longman. Copyright © 2014 by Pearson Education, Inc.
95–132 • 133–171
The which he hath detained 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 surveyed by English eye,
That all the treasons for these eighteen years
Complotted and contrivèd 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
How high a pitch his resolution soars!
Thomas of Norfolk, what say’st thou to this?
90
93
95
96
97
100
101
102
S
M
104
105
I
T
H
109
,
103
M O W B R AY
Oh, 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
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 scepter’s awe I make a vow,
Such neighbor 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.
M O W B R AY
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;
90 lewd vile, base 93 Or either 95 these eighteen years i.e., ever
since the Peasants’ Revolt of 1381 96 Complotted plotted in a conspiracy 97 Fetch derive. head and spring (Synonymous words
meaning “origin.”) 100 Duke of Gloucester’s death (Thomas of
Woodstock, Duke of Gloucester, a younger son of Edward III and
brother of John of Gaunt, was murdered at Calais in September 1397,
while in Mowbray’s custody.) 101 Suggest . . . adversaries did
prompt Gloucester’s easily persuaded enemies (to believe him guilty
of treason) 102 consequently afterward 103 Sluiced out let flow
(as by the opening of a sluice, or valve) 104 Abel’s (For the story of
Cain’s murder of his brother Abel, the first such murder on earth and
the archetype of the killing of a kinsman, see Genesis 4:3–12.)
105 tongueless resonant but without articulate speech; echoing
109 pitch highest reach of a falcon’s flight 113 this slander . . . blood
this disgrace to the royal family 118 my scepter’s awe the reverence
due my scepter 120 nothing not at all. partialize make partial,
bias 126 receipt money received
333
THE TRAGEDY OF KING RICHARD THE SECOND: 1.1
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.
[To Gaunt] For you, my noble lord of Lancaster,
The honorable father to my foe,
Once did I lay an ambush for your life,
A trespass that doth vex my grievèd soul;
But ere I last received the Sacrament
I did confess it, and exactly begged
Your Grace’s pardon, and I hope I had it.
This is my fault. As for the rest appealed,
It issues from the rancor 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 chambered in his bosom.
[He throws down his gage. Bolingbroke picks it up.]
In haste whereof most heartily I pray
Your Highness to assign our trial day.
129
130
131
132
133
134
140
142
144
145
146
147
149
150
KING RICHARD
J
113
O
S
H
118
U
120
A
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.
153
156
157
GAUNT
To be a make-peace shall become my age.
Throw down, my son, the Duke of Norfolk’s gage.
KING RICHARD
6
8
126
9
0
B
U
And Norfolk, throw down his.
When, Harry, when?
Obedience bids I should not bid again.
GAUNT
KING RICHARD
Norfolk, throw down, we bid; there is no boot.
129 For that because 130 Upon . . . account for the balance of a
heavy debt 131 Since . . . queen (Mowbray went in 1395 to France
to negotiate the King’s marriage to Isabella, daughter of the French
King Charles VI, but Richard himself escorted her to England.)
132–4 For . . . case (Mowbray speaks guardedly but seems to imply
that he postponed the execution of Gloucester that he was ordered by
Richard to carry out.) 132 For As for 140 exactly (1) explicitly
(2) fully 142 appealed of which I am charged 144 recreant cowardly;
or, coward (used as a noun) 145 Which which charge. in myself in
my own person 146 interchangeably in exchange, reciprocally
147 overweening arrogant, proud 149 Even in by shedding 150 In
haste whereof To hasten which proof of my innocence 153 Let’s . . .
blood let’s treat this wrath (caused by an excess of bile or choler) by
purging (vomiting or evacuation) rather than by medical bloodletting. (With a play on “bloodshed in combat.”) 156 conclude come to
a final agreement 157 no month to bleed (Learned authorities often
differed as to which months or seasons were best for medicinal
bloodletting.) 164 boot help for it.
The Necessary Shakespeare, Fourth Edition, by David Bevington. Published by Longman. Copyright © 2014 by Pearson Education, Inc.
164
334
172–209 • 210–248
THE TRAGEDY OF KING RICHARD THE SECOND: 1.1
[kneeling]
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 dishonor’s use thou shalt not have.
I am disgraced, impeached, and baffled here,
Pierced to the soul with slander’s venomed spear,
The which no balm can cure but his heart-blood
Which breathed this poison.
KING RICHARD
Rage must be withstood.
Give me his gage. Lions make leopards tame.
There shall your swords and lances arbitrate
The swelling difference of your settled hate.
Since we cannot 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.
M O W B R AY
165
168
173
[1.2]
174
Enter John of Gaunt with the Duchess of
Gloucester.
175
177
182
184
SG A U N T
Alas, the part I had in Woodstock’s blood
M Doth more solicit me than your exclaims
stir against the butchers of his life!
I To
But since correction lieth in those hands
made the fault that we cannot correct,
T Which
Put we our quarrel to the will of heaven,
H Who, when they see the hours ripe on earth,
Will rain hot vengeance on offenders’ heads.
, DUCHESS
186
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
J
O
S
H
U
A
KING RICHARD
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.
165 Myself I throw i.e., I throw myself, instead of my gage
168 Despite . . . grave that will live in the epitaph on my grave in
spite of devouring Death 170 impeached accused. baffled publicly dishonored 173 Which . . . poison of him who uttered this slander. 174 Lions . . . tame (The royal arms showed a lion rampant;
Mowbray’s emblem was a leopard.) 175 spots (1) leopard spots
(2) stains of dishonor. 177 mortal times our earthly lives 182 in
one inseparably 184 try put to the test 186 throw . . . gage i.e., surrender your gage up to me, thereby ending the quarrel. (Richard is
probably seated on a raised throne, as in scene 3.) 189 impeach my
height discredit my high rank 190 out-dared dared down, cowed.
dastard coward. 191 feeble wrong dishonorable submission
192 sound . . . parle trumpet so shameful a negotiation, i.e., consent
to ask a truce 192–5 my teeth . . . face my teeth will bite off my
tongue as a craven instrument of cowardly capitulation and spit it
out bleeding, to its (the tongue’s) great disgrace, into Mowbray’s face,
where shame abides perpetually. 195.1 Exit Gaunt (A stage direction from the Folio, adopted by most editors so that Gaunt will not be
required to exit at the end of scene 1 and then immediately reenter.)
199 Saint Lambert’s day September 17.
205
✤
BOLINGBROKE
Oh, God defend my soul from such deep sin!
Shall I seem crestfallen in my father’s sight?
Or with pale beggar-fear impeach my height
Before this out-dared dastard? Ere my tongue
Shall wound my honor 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 harbor, even in Mowbray’s face.
[Exit Gaunt.]
203
Exeunt.
170
M O W B R AY
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-barred-up chest
Is a bold spirit in a loyal breast.
Mine honor is my life; both grow in one;
Take honor from me, and my life is done.
Then, dear my liege, mine honor let me try;
In that I live, and for that will I die.
K I N G R I C H A R D [to Bolingbroke]
Cousin, throw up your gage; do you begin.
202
199
6
8
9
0
B
U
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 cracked, and all the precious liquor spilt,
Is hacked down, and his summer leaves all faded,
By envy’s hand and murder’s bloody ax.
Ah, Gaunt, his blood was thine! That bed, that womb,
That metal, that self mold that fashioned 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 see’st thy wretched brother die,
Who was the model of thy father’s life.
Call it not patience, Gaunt; it is despair.
In suff’ring thus thy brother to be slaughtered,
Thou showest the naked pathway to thy life,
1
2
3
4
11
21
23
25
28
31
202 atone reconcile 203 design . . . chivalry designate who is the
true chivalric victor. 205 home alarms domestic conflicts.
1.2. Location: John of Gaunt’s house (? No place is specified, and
the scene is not in Holinshed.)
1 the part . . . blood my kinship with Thomas of Woodstock, the
Duke of Gloucester (i.e., as the older brother) 2 exclaims exclamations 3 stir take action 4 those hands i.e., Richard’s (whom Gaunt
charges with responsibility for Gloucester’s death) 11 Edward’s
Edward III’s 21 envy’s malice’s 23 metal substance out of which a
person or a thing is made. (With a sense too of mettle, “temperament,
disposition.”) self selfsame 25 consent acquiesce 28 model likeness, copy 31 naked i.e., undefended
The Necessary Shakespeare, Fourth Edition, by David Bevington. Published by Longman. Copyright © 2014 by Pearson Education, Inc.
249–288 • 289–323
Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee.
That which in mean men we entitle 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.
33
37
39
Where then, alas, may I complain myself?
To God, the widow’s champion and defense.
DUCHESS
Why, then, I will. Farewell, old Gaunt.
Thou goest to Coventry, there to behold
Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight.
Oh, 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
That 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.
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 Pleshey visit me.
Alack, and what shall good old York there see
But empty lodgings and unfurnished walls,
Unpeopled offices, untrodden stones,
And what hear there for welcome but my groans?
Therefore commend me; let him not come there
33 mean lowly 37 God’s substitute i.e., the King, God’s deputy on
earth 39 his i.e., Gloucester’s 42 complain myself lodge a complaint on my own behalf. 46 cousin kinsman. fell fierce 47 sit . . .
wrongs may my husband’s wrongs sit 49 misfortune i.e., Mowbray’s downfall. career charge of the horse in a tourney or combat
52 lists barriers enclosing the tournament area 53 caitiff base, cowardly 54 sometimes late 58 boundeth bounces, rebounds, returns.
(The Duchess apologizes for speaking yet again; her grief, she says,
continues on and on, like a bouncing tennis ball.) 59 Not . . . weight
(Grief is not hollow, like a tennis ball, but continues to move because
of its heaviness.) 60 begun i.e., begun to grieve 62 Edmund York
Edmund of Langley, fifth son of Edward III. 66 Pleshey Gloucester’s country seat, in Essex 68 unfurnished bare 69 offices service
quarters, workrooms
[1.3]
Enter Lord Marshal and the Duke [of] Aumerle.
MARSHAL
My Lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford armed?
AUMERLE
DUCHESS
GAUNT
To seek out sorrow that dwells everywhere.
Desolate, desolate, will I hence and die.
The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye. Exeunt.
✤
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.
335
THE TRAGEDY OF KING RICHARD THE SECOND: 1.3
42
S
M
I
46
47
T
49
H
,
Yea, at all points, and longs to enter in.
The Duke of Norfolk, sprightfully and bold,
Stays but the summons of the appellant’s trumpet.
The trumpets sound, and the King enters with his
nobles [Gaunt, Bushy, Bagot, Green, and others].
When they are set, enter [Mowbray] the Duke of
Norfolk in arms, defendant, [with a herald].
KING RICHARD
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.
M A R S H A L [to Mowbray]
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 com’st, and what thy quarrel.
Speak truly on thy knighthood and thy oath,
As so defend thee heaven and thy valor!
62
6
66
8
68
9
69
0
B
U
4
Why then the champions are prepared, and stay
For nothing but His Majesty’s approach.
53
J
O
S
H
58
59
U
60
A
3
AUMERLE
52
54
2
MARSHAL
9
13
M O W B R AY
My name is Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,
Who hither come engagèd 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 [Bolingbroke,] Duke of
Hereford, appellant, in armor, [with a herald].
KING RICHARD
Marshal, ask yonder knight in arms
1.3. Location: The lists at Coventry. Scaffolds or raised seats are provided for the King and his nobles, and chairs are provided for the
combatants.
2 at all points completely. in i.e., into the lists, the space designed
for combat. 3 sprightfully with high spirit 4 Stays awaits
9 orderly according to the rules 13 quarrel complaint. 18 defend
forbid 21 appeals accuses
The Necessary Shakespeare, Fourth Edition, by David Bevington. Published by Longman. Copyright © 2014 by Pearson Education, Inc.
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21
336
324–365 • 366–404
THE TRAGEDY OF KING RICHARD THE SECOND: 1.3
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.
M A R S H A L [to Bolingbroke]
What is thy name? And wherefore com’st thou hither,
Before King Richard in his royal lists?
Against whom comest thou? And what’s thy quarrel?
Speak like a true knight, so defend thee heaven!
28
30
BOLINGBROKE
[To Gaunt] O thou, the earthly author of my blood,
Whose youthful spirit, in me regenerate,
Doth with a twofold vigor lift me up
To reach at victory above my head,
Add proof unto mine armor with thy prayers,
And with thy blessings steel my lance’s point
That it may enter Mowbray’s waxen coat
And furbish new the name of John o’ Gaunt
Even in the lusty havior of his son.
70
71
73
75
76
77
GAUNT
Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby
Am I, who ready here do stand in arms
To prove, by God’s grace and my body’s valor,
In lists, on Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,
That he is a traitor foul and dangerous
To God of heaven, King Richard, and to me;
And as I truly fight, defend me heaven!
God in thy good cause make thee prosperous!
Be swift like lightning in the execution,
And let thy blows, doubly redoubled,
Fall like amazing thunder on the casque
Of thy adverse pernicious enemy.
Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant, and live.
MARSHAL
On pain of death, no person be so bold
Or daring-hardy as to touch the lists,
Except the Marshal and such officers
Appointed to direct these fair designs.
43
BOLINGBROKE
Lord Marshal, let me kiss my sovereign’s hand
And bow my knee before His Majesty;
For Mowbray and myself are like two men
That vow a long and weary pilgrimage.
Then let us take a ceremonious leave
And loving farewell of our several friends.
M A R S H A L [to King Richard]
The appellant in all duty greets Your Highness
And craves to kiss your hand and take his leave.
K I N G R I C H A R D [coming down]
We will descend and fold him in our arms.
[He embraces Bolingbroke.]
Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause is right,
So be thy fortune in this royal fight!
Farewell, my blood—which if today thou shed,
Lament we may, but not revenge thee dead.
47
51
55
56
BOLINGBROKE
Oh, let no noble eye profane a tear
For me if I be gored with Mowbray’s spear.
As confident as is the falcon’s flight
Against a bird do I with Mowbray fight.
[To the King] My loving lord, I take my leave of you;
[To Aumerle] Of you, my noble cousin, Lord Aumerle;
Not sick, although I have to do with death,
But lusty, young, and cheerly drawing breath.
Lo, as at English feasts, so I regreet
The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet.
28 plated armored. habiliments the attire 30 Depose him take his
sworn deposition 43 daring-hardy daringly bold, reckless. touch
i.e., interfere in 47 bow my knee (Presumably Bolingbroke kneels to
Richard and, at about line 69, to Gaunt.) 51 several various 55 as
insofar as 56 royal fight i.e., a fight taking place in the presence of
the King. 59–60 profane . . . For me misuse tears by weeping for me
66 lusty full of vigor. cheerly cheerfully 67 regreet greet, salute
68 The daintiest i.e., the most tasty, the finest. (Bolingbroke refers to
the custom of ending banquets with a sweet dessert.)
59
60
66
67
S
MB O L I N G B R O K E
innocence and Saint George to thrive!
I M OMine
W B R AY
God or fortune cast my lot,
T However
There lives or dies, true to King Richard’s throne,
H A loyal, just, and upright gentleman.
Never did captive with a freer heart
, Cast off his chains of bondage and embrace
His golden uncontrolled enfranchisement
More than my dancing soul doth celebrate
This feast of battle with mine adversary.
Most mighty liege, and my companion peers,
Take from my mouth the wish of happy years.
As gentle and as jocund as to jest
Go I to fight. Truth hath a quiet breast.
J
O
S
G RICHARD
HK I NFarewell,
my lord. Securely I espy
Virtue
with
valor couchèd in thine eye.—
U Order the trial,
Marshal, and begin.
AM A R S H A L
81
84
90
94
95
96
97
98
Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby,
Receive thy lance; and God defend the right!
[A lance is given to Bolingbroke.]
6B O L I N G B R O K E
102
as a tower in hope, I cry “Amen!”
8M A Strong
R S H A L [to an officer]
9 Go bear this lance to Thomas, Duke of Norfolk.
[A lance is given to Mowbray.]
0F I R S T H E R A L D
of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby
B Harry
Stands here for God, his sovereign, and himself,
pain to be found false and recreant,
U On
To prove the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray,
68
70 regenerate born anew 71 twofold i.e., of father and son 73 proof
invulnerability 75 enter . . . coat pierce Mowbray’s armor as though
it were made of wax 76 furbish polish 77 lusty havior vigorous
behavior, deportment 81 amazing bewildering. casque helmet
84 Mine . . . thrive! May my innocence and the protectorship of Saint
George bring me victory! 90 enfranchisement freedom 94 Take . . .
years take from me the wish that you may enjoy many happy years.
95 gentle unperturbed in spirit. to jest i.e., to a play or entertainment 96 quiet calm 97 Securely Confidently 98 couchèd lodged,
expressed, leveled in readiness (as with a lance) 102 Strong . . . hope
(Alludes to Psalm 61:3: “for thou hast been my hope, and a strong
tower for me against the face of the enemy.”)
The Necessary Shakespeare, Fourth Edition, by David Bevington. Published by Longman. Copyright © 2014 by Pearson Education, Inc.
405–441 • 442–484
A traitor to his God, his king, and him,
And dares him to set forward to the fight.
108
SECOND HERALD
Here standeth Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,
On pain to be found false and recreant,
Both to defend himself and to approve
Henry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby,
To God, his sovereign, and to him disloyal,
Courageously and with a free desire
Attending but the signal to begin.
112
114
116
MARSHAL
Sound, trumpets, and set forward, combatants!
[A charge is sounded. Richard throws
down his baton.]
Stay! The King hath thrown his warder down.
S
M
Let them lay by their helmets and their spears,
And both return back to their chairs again.
[To his counselors] Withdraw with us, and let the trumpets I
sound
T
122
While we return these dukes what we decree.
[A long flourish. Richard consults apart with H
Gaunt and others.]
,
Draw near,
118
KING RICHARD
And list what with our council we have done.
For that our kingdom’s earth should not be soiled
With that dear blood which it hath fosterèd;
And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect
Of civil wounds plowed up with neighbors’ sword;
And for we think the eagle-wingèd pride
Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts,
With rival-hating envy, set on you
To wake our peace, which in our country’s cradle
Draws the sweet infant breath of gentle sleep,
Which, so roused up with boist’rous untuned drums,
With harsh-resounding trumpets’ dreadful bray
And grating shock 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 life,
Till twice five summers have enriched our fields,
Shall not regreet our fair dominions,
But tread the stranger paths of banishment.
BOLINGBROKE
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.
124
125
J
127
O
S
131
H
U
134
A
6
140
8
9
143
0
B
U
Which I with some unwillingness pronounce:
The sly slow hours shall not determinate
The dateless limit of thy dear exile.
The hopeless word of “never to return”
Breathe I against thee, upon pain of life.
150
151
M O W B R AY
A heavy sentence, my most sovereign liege,
And all unlooked-for from Your Highness’ mouth.
A dearer merit, not so deep a maim
As to be cast forth in the common 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 instrument cased up,
Or, being open, put into his hands
That knows no touch to tune the harmony.
Within my mouth you have enjailed my tongue,
Doubly portcullised 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?
156
162
163
164
167
173
KING RICHARD
It boots thee not to be compassionate.
After our sentence plaining comes too late.
174
175
M O W B R AY
Then thus I turn me from my country’s light,
To dwell in solemn shades of endless night.
[He starts to leave.]
KING RICHARD
Return again, and take an oath with thee.
Lay on our royal sword your banished hands.
[They place their hands on Richard’s sword.]
Swear by the duty that you owe to God—
Our part therein we banish with yourselves—
To keep the oath that we administer:
You never shall, so help you truth and God,
Embrace each other’s love in banishment,
Nor never look upon each other’s face,
Nor never write, regreet, nor reconcile
This louring tempest of your homebred hate;
Nor never by advisèd purpose meet
To plot, contrive, or complot any ill
’Gainst us, our state, our subjects, or our land.
BOLINGBROKE
I swear.
KING RICHARD
Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier doom,
108 him himself, Bolingbroke. (See line 40.) 112 approve prove
114 him i.e., Mowbray. (See line 24.) 116 Attending awaiting
118 warder staff or truncheon borne by the King when presiding over
a trial by combat 122 While we return until I inform 122.1 flourish
fanfare. 124 list hear 125 For that In order that 127 for because
(also in line 129) 131 envy enmity. set on you set you on
134 Which i.e., which enmity, disturbance of the peace. (Although, in
literal terms, the antecedent of Which is peace in line 132.) 140 life
i.e., loss of life 143 stranger alien
337
THE TRAGEDY OF KING RICHARD THE SECOND: 1.3
150 sly stealthy. determinate put to an end 151 dateless limit
unlimited term. dear grievous 156 dearer merit better reward.
maim injury 162 viol a six-stringed instrument, related to the modern violin, played with a curved bow 163 cunning skillfully made
164 open taken from its case. his that person’s 167 portcullised
shut in by a portcullis, an iron grating over a gateway that can be
raised and lowered 173 breathing . . . breath speaking English.
174 boots avails. compassionate full of laments. 175 plaining
complaining 181 Our part therein i.e., the duty you owe me as King
187 louring threatening, scowling 188 advisèd deliberate, premeditated 189 complot plot together
The Necessary Shakespeare, Fourth Edition, by David Bevington. Published by Longman. Copyright © 2014 by Pearson Education, Inc.
181
187
188
189
338
485–525 • 526–555
THE TRAGEDY OF KING RICHARD THE SECOND: 1.3
M O W B R AY
And I, to keep all this.
KING RICHARD
BOLINGBROKE
Norfolk, so far as to mine enemy:
By this time, had the King permitted us,
One of our souls had wandered in the air,
Banished this frail sepulchre of our flesh,
As now our flesh is banished from this land.
Confess thy treasons ere thou fly the realm.
Since thou hast far to go, bear not along
The clogging burden of a guilty soul.
193
200
206
208
BOLINGBROKE
How long a time lies in one little word!
Four lagging winters and four wanton springs
End in a word; such is the breath of kings.
214
GAUNT
I thank my liege that in regard of me
He shortens four years of my son’s exile.
But little vantage shall I reap thereby;
For, ere the six years that he hath to spend
Can change their moons and bring their times about,
My oil-dried lamp and time-bewasted light
Shall be extinct with age and endless night;
My inch of taper will be burnt and done,
And blindfold Death not let me see my son.
221
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.
Oh, had it been a stranger, not my child,
To smooth his fault I should have been more mild.
A partial slander sought I to avoid
And in the sentence my own life destroyed.
Alas, I looked when some of you should say
I was too strict, to make mine own away;
But you gave leave to my unwilling tongue
Against my will to do myself this wrong.
224
Why, uncle, thou hast many years to live.
GAUNT
230
231
232
My lord, no leave take I, for I will ride,
As far as land will let me, by your side.
[Bolingbroke makes no answer. The Lord Marshal
J
stands aside.]
OG A U N T [to Bolingbroke]
Oh, to what purpose dost thou hoard thy words,
S That thou returnest no greeting to thy friends?
NGBROKE
HB O LIIhave
too few to take my leave of you,
When
the
office should be prodigal
U To breathetongue’s
the abundant dolor of the heart.
AG A U N T
241
243
244
251
256
257
258
BOLINGBROKE
absent, grief is present for that time.
6G A UJoy
NT
is six winters? They are quickly gone.
8B O LWhat
INGBROKE
9 To men in joy; but grief makes one hour ten.
GAUNT
0 Call it a travel that thou tak’st for pleasure.
INGBROKE
BB O LMy
heart will sigh when I miscall it so,
Which
UG A U N T finds it an enforcèd pilgrimage.
The sullen passage of thy weary steps
193 so far let me say this much 196 sepulchre of our flesh i.e., body,
the temple or tomb of the soul 200 clogging (A clog was a wooden
block attached to the leg to hinder movement.) 206 stray take the
wrong road 208 glasses mirrors (here glistening with tears)
214 wanton luxuriant 221 oil-dried empty of oil 223 taper candle
224 blindfold Death i.e., blindfold because Death deprives its victims
of their sight and because it is often pictured as an eyeless skull
230 in his pilgrimage brought about in time’s journey 231 current
i.e., as good as current coin, valid 232 dead i.e., once I am dead.
buy i.e., restore with a payment
240
S
MK I N G R I C H A R D
farewell; and, uncle, bid him so.
I Cousin,
Six years we banish him, and he shall go.
[Flourish. Exit King Richard with his train.]
TA U M E R L E [to Bolingbroke]
H Cousin, farewell. What presence must not know, 249
From where you do remain let paper show.
[Exit.] 250
, M A R S H A L [to Bolingbroke]
Thy grief is but thy absence for a time.
223
KING RICHARD
But not a minute, King, that thou canst give.
Shorten my days thou canst with sullen 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;
Thy word is current with him for my death,
But dead, thy kingdom cannot buy my breath.
234
GAUNT
196
M O W B R AY
No, Bolingbroke. 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, God, thou, and I do know,
And all too soon, I fear, the King shall rue.—
Farewell, my liege. Now no way can I stray;
Save back to England, all the world’s my way. Exit.
K I N G R I C H A R D [to Gaunt]
Uncle, even in the glasses of thine eyes
I see thy grievèd heart. Thy sad aspect
Hath from the number of his banished years
Plucked four away. [To Bolingbroke] Six frozen winters
spent,
Return with welcome home from banishment.
Thy son is banished upon good advice,
Whereto thy tongue a party verdict gave.
Why at our justice seem’st thou then to lour?
259
262
265
234 a party verdict one person’s share in a joint verdict 240 smooth
extenuate 241 partial slander accusation of partiality (on behalf of
my son) 243 looked when expected that, awaited the point at which
244 to . . . away in making away with my own (son) 249 What . . .
know What I cannot learn from you in person 250 s.d. Exit (The exit
is uncertain; see 1.4.1–4.) 251 no leave take I i.e., I will not take my
leave of you, my lord; I will not say good-bye 256 office function.
prodigal lavish 257 To breathe in uttering 258 grief grievance
259 grief unhappiness 262 travel (The quarto spelling, ”trauaile,”
suggests an interchangeable meaning of “travel” and “labor.”)
265 sullen (1) melancholy (2) dull
The Necessary Shakespeare, Fourth Edition, by David Bevington. Published by Longman. Copyright © 2014 by Pearson Education, Inc.
556–567 • 568–602
Esteem as foil wherein thou art to set
The precious jewel of thy home return.
266
BOLINGBROKE
Oh, who can hold a fire in his hand
By thinking on the frosty Caucasus?
Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite
By bare imagination of a feast?
Or wallow naked in December snow
By thinking on fantastic summer’s heat?
Oh, no, the apprehension of the good
Gives but the greater feeling to the worse.
Fell Sorrow’s tooth doth never rankle more
Than when he bites but lanceth not the sore.
266 foil thin metal leaf set behind gems to show off their luster;
hence, that which sets something off to advantage 269 remember
remind. a deal of world a great distance 272 passages wanderings, experiences 273 Having my freedom (1) having completed my
apprenticeship (2) having been allowed to return home 274 journeyman (Literally, one who labors for day wages as a fully qualified
craftsman—with a hint also of one who makes a journey. Bolingbroke
will be proficient only in grief.) 275 the eye of heaven the sun
280 But . . . King i.e., but suppose that you are banishing the King to
the moral wilderness his crimes deserve. 280–1 Woe . . . borne Woe
is all the more oppressive when it perceives that the sufferer is fainthearted. 282 purchase acquire, win 286 Look what Whatever
289 the presence strewed the royal presence chamber strewn with
rushes 291 measure stately, formal dance 292 gnarling snarling,
growling 293 sets it light regards it lightly. 295 Caucasus mountain range between the Black and Caspian seas. 299 fantastic imagined 302 Fell Fierce. rankle cause irritation and festering
303 lanceth not does not open the wound (to permit the release of the
infection; Bolingbroke’s point is that sorrow should be openly confronted, not rationalized or covered over and thus allowed to fester)
304
305
BOLINGBROKE
269
272
273
Then, England’s ground, farewell. Sweet soil, adieu,
My mother and my nurse that bears me yet!
Where’er I wander, boast of this I can:
Though banished, yet a trueborn Englishman.
Exeunt.
✤
274
GAUNT
All places that the eye of heaven visits
Are to a wise man ports and happy havens.
Teach thy necessity to reason thus:
There is no virtue like necessity.
Think not the King did banish thee,
But thou the King. Woe doth the heavier sit
Where it perceives it is but faintly borne.
Go, say I sent thee forth to purchase honor,
And not the King exiled thee; or suppose
Devouring pestilence hangs in our air
And thou art flying to a fresher clime.
Look what thy soul holds dear, imagine it
To lie that way thou goest, not whence thou com’st.
Suppose the singing birds musicians,
The grass whereon thou tread’st the presence strewed,
The flowers fair ladies, and thy steps no more
Than a delightful measure or a dance;
For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite
The man that mocks at it and sets it light.
GAUNT
Come, come, my son, I’ll bring thee on thy way.
Had I thy youth and cause, I would not stay.
BOLINGBROKE
Nay, rather every tedious stride I make
Will but remember me what a deal of world
I wander from the jewels that I love.
Must I not serve a long apprenticehood
To foreign passages, and in the end,
Having my freedom, boast of nothing else
But that I was a journeyman to grief?
339
THE TRAGEDY OF KING RICHARD THE SECOND: 1.4
275
S
M
280
281
I
282
T
H
286
,
289
J
292
O
293
S
H
295
U
A
291
299
6
8
9
0
B
U
302
303
[1.4]
Enter the King, with Bagot, [Green,] etc. at one
door, and the Lord Aumerle at another.
KING RICHARD
We did observe.—Cousin Aumerle,
How far brought you high Hereford on his way?
1
AUMERLE
I brought high Hereford, if you call him so,
But to the next highway, and there I left him.
4
KING RICHARD
And say, what store of parting tears were shed?
AUMERLE
Faith, none for me, except the northeast wind,
Which then blew bitterly against our faces,
Awaked the sleeping rheum and so by chance
Did grace our hollow parting with a tear.
6
8
9
KING RICHARD
What said our cousin when you parted with him?
“Farewell!”
And, for my heart disdainèd that my tongue
Should so profane the word, that taught me craft
To counterfeit oppression of such grief
That words seemed buried in my sorrow’s grave.
Marry, 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.
AUMERLE
12
13
16
19
KING RICHARD
He is our cousin, cousin; but ‘tis doubt,
When time shall call him home from banishment,
Whether our kinsman come to see his friends.
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 he did throw away on slaves,
Wooing poor craftsmen with the craft of smiles
304 bring escort 305 stay linger.
1.4. Location: The court.
1 We did observe (The scene begins in the midst of a conversation.)
4 next nearest 6 for me on my part. except except that 8 rheum
watery discharge (i.e., tears) 9 hollow insincere 12 for because
13 that i.e., my disdain. (Aumerle says he pretended to be overcome
by grief in order to avoid saying an insincere “Farewell” to Bolingbroke.) 16 Marry Indeed. (From the oath, “by the Virgin Mary.”)
19 of from 22 friends kinsmen, i.e., us, his cousins.
The Necessary Shakespeare, Fourth Edition, by David Bevington. Published by Longman. Copyright © 2014 by Pearson Education, Inc.
22
340
603–639 • 640–676
THE TRAGEDY OF KING RICHARD THE SECOND: 1.4
And patient underbearing of his fortune,
As ‘twere to banish their affects with him.
Off goes his bonnet to an oyster wench;
A brace of draymen bid God speed him well
And had the tribute of his supple knee,
With “Thanks, my countrymen, my loving friends,”
As were our England in reversion his,
And he our subjects’ next degree in hope.
29
30
[2.1]
Enter John of Gaunt sick, with the Duke of York,
etc.
32
GAUNT
Will the King come, that I may breathe my last
In wholesome counsel to his unstaid youth?
35
36
GREEN
Well, he is gone, and with him go these thoughts.
Now for the rebels which stand out in Ireland,
Expedient manage must be made, my liege,
Ere further leisure yield them further means
For their advantage and Your Highness’ loss.
39
KING RICHARD
We will ourself in person to this war.
And, for our coffers with too great a court
And liberal largess are grown somewhat light,
We are enforced to farm our royal realm,
The revenue whereof shall furnish us
For our affairs in hand. If that come short,
Our substitutes at home shall have blank charters,
Whereto, when they shall know what men are rich,
They shall subscribe them for large sums of gold
And send them after to supply our wants;
For we will make for Ireland presently.
43
44
45
48
50
51
Bushy, what news?
BUSHY
58
KING RICHARD
Now put it, God, in the physician’s mind
To help him to his grave immediately!
The lining of his coffers shall make coats
To deck our soldiers for these Irish wars.
Come, gentlemen, let’s all go visit him.
Pray God we may make haste and come too late!
ALL
Amen.
Exeunt.
✤
29 underbearing bearing, endurance 30 banish . . . him take their
affections with him into banishment. 32 brace of draymen pair of
cart drivers 35 As . . . his i.e., as if my England were to revert to him
as true owner after my death 36 our . . . hope i.e., the heir presumptive to the throne and favorite choice of the people. 37 go let go
38 for as for. stand out hold out, resist 39 Expedient manage
speedy arrangements 43 for because. too great a court i.e., too
great an extravagance at court 44 liberal largess extravagant generosity (to courtiers) 45 farm lease the right of collecting taxes, for a
present cash payment, to the highest bidder 48 substitutes deputies.
blank charters writs authorizing the collection of revenues or forced
loans to the crown, blank spaces being left for the names of the parties and the sums they were to provide 50 subscribe them put
down their names 51 them i.e., the sums collected 52 presently at
once. 58 Ely House (Palace of the Bishop of Ely in Holborn, a London district.) 61 lining contents. (With pun on lining for coats.)
coats coats of mail, armor
61
3
GAUNT
Oh, but they say the tongues of dying men
Enforce attention like deep harmony.
Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain,
For they breathe truth that breathe their words in pain.
He that no more must say is listened more
Than they whom youth and ease have taught to glose.
More are men’s ends marked than their lives before.
The setting sun, and music at the close,
As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last,
Writ in remembrance more than things long past.
Though Richard my life’s counsel would not hear,
My death’s sad tale may yet undeaf his ear.
S
M
I
T
H
, YORK
52
Enter Bushy.
Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, my lord,
Suddenly taken, and hath sent posthaste
To entreat Your Majesty to visit him.
KING RICHARD
Where lies he?
BUSHY
At Ely House.
Vex not yourself, nor strive not with your breath,
For all in vain comes counsel to his ear.
37
38
2
YORK
J
O
S
H
U
A
No, it is stopped with other, flattering sounds,
As praises, of whose taste the wise are fond;
Lascivious meters, to whose venom sound
The open ear of youth doth always listen;
Report of fashions in proud Italy,
Whose manners still our tardy-apish nation
Limps after in base imitation.
Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity—
So it be new, there’s no respect how vile—
That is not quickly buzzed into his ears?
Then all too late comes counsel to be heard
Where will doth mutiny with wit’s regard.
Direct not him whose way himself will choose.
’Tis breath thou lack’st, and that breath wilt thou lose.
6G A U N T
Methinks I am a prophet new inspired,
8 And thus expiring do foretell of him:
His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last,
9 For violent fires soon burn out themselves;
0 Small showers last long, but sudden storms are short;
B
2.1. Location: Ely House.
U0.1 Enter John of Gaunt sick (Presumably he is carried in by servants in
8
9
10
11
13
14
15
16
18
19
21
22
25
28
29
33
a chair.) 2 unstaid uncontrolled 3 strive . . . breath i.e., don’t waste
your breath 8 they those persons 9 He . . . listened more He who
will soon be silenced by death is listened to more 10 glose flatter,
deceive in speech. 11 marked noticed 13 is sweetest last is longest
remembered as sweet 14 Writ in remembrance written down in the
memory 15 my life’s counsel my advice while I lived 16 My . . . tale
my grave dying speech 18 As . . . fond such as praises, which even
wise men are foolishly inclined to hear 19 meters verses. venom poisonous 21 proud Italy (Roger Ascham, John Lyly, and other sixteenth-century writers complained of the growing influence of Italian
luxury.) 22 still always. tardy-apish imitative but behind the times
25 So so long as. there’s no respect it makes no difference 28 Where
. . . regard where natural inclination rebels against what reason
esteems. 29 Direct . . . choose Don’t try to offer advice to one who
insists on going his own way. 33 riot profligacy
The Necessary Shakespeare, Fourth Edition, by David Bevington. Published by Longman. Copyright © 2014 by Pearson Education, Inc.
677–720 • 721–753
He tires betimes that spurs too fast betimes;
With eager feeding food doth choke the feeder;
Light vanity, insatiate cormorant,
Consuming means, soon preys upon itself.
This royal throne of kings, this sceptered isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise,
This fortress built by Nature for herself
Against infection and the hand of war,
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands,
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England,
This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings,
Feared by their breed and famous by their birth,
Renownèd for their deeds as far from home
For Christian service and true chivalry
As is the sepulcher in stubborn Jewry
Of the world’s ransom, blessèd Mary’s son,
This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land,
Dear for her reputation through the world,
Is now leased out—I die pronouncing it—
Like to a tenement or pelting farm.
England, bound in with the triumphant sea,
Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege
Of wat’ry Neptune, is now bound in with shame,
With inky blots and rotten parchment bonds.
That England that was wont to conquer others
Hath made a shameful conquest of itself.
Ah, would the scandal vanish with my life,
How happy then were my ensuing death!
Enter King [Richard] and Queen, [Aumerle,
Bushy, Green, Bagot, Ross, and Willoughby,] etc.
36
38
39
41
QUEEN
How fares our noble uncle Lancaster?
KING RICHARD
What comfort, man? How is’t with agèd Gaunt?
GAUNT
Oh, how that name befits my composition!
Old Gaunt indeed, and gaunt in being old.
Within me grief hath kept a tedious fast,
And who abstains from meat that is not gaunt?
For sleeping England long time have I watched;
36 betimes soon, early 38 Light vanity frivolous dissipation.
cormorant glutton. (Literally, a voracious seabird.) 39 means i.e.,
means of sustenance 41 earth of majesty land fit for kings. seat of
Mars residence of the god of war 44 infection (1) plague (2) moral
pollution 45 happy breed fortunate race 47 office function
51 teeming fruitful 52 by their breed for their ancestral reputation
for prowess 55 stubborn Jewry i.e., Judea, called stubborn because
it resisted Christianity 60 tenement land or property held by a tenant. pelting paltry 61 bound in bordered, surrounded 63 bound
in legally constrained 64 blots . . . bonds i.e., the blank charters.
68 ensuing approaching 73 composition constitution. 76 meat
food 77 watched kept watch at night, been vigilant
Watching breeds leanness, leanness is all gaunt.
The pleasure that some fathers feed upon
Is my strict fast—I mean, my children’s looks—
And, therein fasting, hast thou made me gaunt.
Gaunt am I for the grave, gaunt as a grave,
Whose hollow womb inherits naught but bones.
80
81
83
KING RICHARD
Can sick men play so nicely with their names?
44
45
47
84
GAUNT
No, misery makes sport to mock itself.
Since thou dost seek to kill my name in me,
I mock my name, great King, to flatter thee.
85
86
87
KING RICHARD
S
51
M
52
I
55
T
H
,
60
61
J
64
O
S
H
68
U
A
63
YORK
The King is come. Deal mildly with his youth,
For young hot colts being reined do rage the more.
341
THE TRAGEDY OF KING RICHARD THE SECOND: 2.1
6
8
9
0
73
B
76
U
77
Should dying men flatter with those that live?
88
GAUNT
No, no, men living flatter those that die.
89
KING RICHARD
Thou, now a-dying, sayest thou flatterest me.
GAUNT
Oh, no, thou diest, though I the sicker be.
KING RICHARD
I am in health, I breathe, and see thee ill.
GAUNT
Now He that made me knows I see thee ill;
Ill in myself to see, and in thee seeing ill.
Thy deathbed is no lesser than thy land,
Wherein thou liest in reputation sick;
And thou, too careless patient as thou art,
Commit’st thy anointed body to the cure
Of those physicians that first wounded thee.
A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown,
Whose compass is no bigger than thy head,
And yet, encagèd in so small a verge,
The waste is no whit lesser than thy land.
Oh, had thy grandsire with a prophet’s eye
Seen how his son’s son should destroy his sons,
From forth thy reach he would have laid thy shame,
Deposing thee before thou wert possessed,
Which art possessed now to depose thyself.
Why, cousin, wert thou regent of the world,
It were a shame to let this land by lease;
80 Is . . . fast is something I must forgo 81 therein fasting i.e., since I
am starved of that pleasure 83 inherits possesses, will receive
84 nicely (1) ingeniously (2) triflingly 85 to mock of mocking
86–7 Since . . . thee Since you seek to destroy my family name (by
banishing my son), I mock my name to please you and flatter your
greatness. 88 flatter with try to please 89 flatter i.e., are attentive
to, offer comfort to 94 Ill . . . ill seeing myself to be physically ill,
and seeing the illness in you of abusing your royal authority.
99 physicians i.e., the King’s favorites 101 compass circle, circumference 102 verge (1) circle, ring (2) the compass about the King’s
court, which extended for twelve miles 103 waste (1) waist, circumference (2) that which is destroyed. (With a quibble on the legal
meaning of waste, “damage done to property by a tenant.”) whit bit,
speck 104 grandsire i.e., Edward III 105 destroy his sons (1) destroy
Edward III’s sons, Richard’s uncles (2) destroy Richard’s own heritage 106 From . . . shame he would have put the matter you have
shamefully handled out of your reach 107 Deposing dispossessing.
possessed put in possession of the crown 108 Which . . . thyself
you who are now seized with an obsessive desire to give away your
authority (by leasing the realm to favorites). 109 cousin kinsman,
nephew. regent ruler
The Necessary Shakespeare, Fourth Edition, by David Bevington. Published by Longman. Copyright © 2014 by Pearson Education, Inc.
94
99
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
342
754–788 • 789–826
THE TRAGEDY OF KING RICHARD THE SECOND: 2.1
But, for thy world enjoying but this land,
Is it not more than shame to shame it so?
Landlord of England art thou now, not king.
Thy state of law is bondslave to the law,
And thou—
KING RICHARD
A lunatic lean-witted fool,
Presuming on an ague’s privilege,
Darest with thy frozen admonition
Make pale our cheek, chasing the royal blood
With fury from his native residence.
Now, by my seat’s right royal majesty,
Wert thou not brother to great Edward’s son,
This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head
Should run thy head from thy unreverent shoulders.
111
113
111 But . . . land i.e., but since you enjoy as your domain only this
land of England (rather than the whole world) 113 Landlord i.e.,
One who leases out property 114 Thy . . . to the law i.e., Your legal
status as King is now subservient to and at the mercy of the law
governing contracts, such as blank charters 116 an ague’s privilege i.e., a sick person’s right to be testy 117 frozen (1) chilly
(2) caused by a chill 119 his its 120 seat’s throne’s 121 great
Edward’s son Edward the Black Prince, Richard’s father
122–3 runs . . . run runs on, talks . . . drive, chase 122 roundly
unceremoniously, bluntly 123 unreverent irreverent, disrespectful
125 For that simply because 126 pelican (The pelican was thought
to feed its ungrateful and murderous young with its own blood.)
127 tapped out drawn as from a tapped barrel. caroused gulped,
quaffed. 129 Whom fair befall to whom may good come 131 thou
respect’st not you care nothing about 132–4 Join . . . flower! May
your unnatural behavior act in concert with my present illness and
my advanced years to cut down my life like a too-long-withered
flower! (Unkindness means both cruelty and behavior contrary to the
natural bond that should exist in blood ties.) 135 die . . . thee i.e.,
may your shame live after you. 138 Love they Let them desire
139 sullens sullenness, melancholy 140 become suit 144 As i.e., as
he would love. (But see the next note.)
[Enter Northumberland.]
My liege, old Gaunt commends him to Your Majesty.
117
KING RICHARD
119
N O RT H U M B E R L A N D
What says he?
120
121
122
123
125
126
127
129
131
132
133
134
135
138
139
140
YORK
I do beseech Your Majesty, impute his words
To wayward sickliness and age in him.
He loves you, on my life, and holds you dear
As Harry Duke of Hereford, were he here.
145
N O RT H U M B E R L A N D
116
KING RICHARD
And let them die that age and sullens have,
For both hast thou, and both become the grave.
Right, you say true. As Hereford’s love, so his;
As theirs, so mine; and all be as it is.
114
GAUNT
Oh, spare me not, my brother Edward’s son,
For that I was his father Edward’s son!
That blood already, like the pelican,
Hast thou tapped out and drunkenly caroused.
My brother Gloucester, plain well-meaning soul—
Whom fair befall in heaven ‘mongst happy souls!—
May be a precedent and witness good
That thou respect’st not spilling Edward’s blood.
Join with the present sickness that I have,
And thy unkindness be like crooked age
To crop at once a too-long-withered flower!—
Live in thy shame, but die not shame with thee!
These words hereafter thy tormentors be!—
Convey me to my bed, then to my grave.
Love they to live that love and honor have.
Exit [borne off by his attendants].
KING RICHARD
144
Nay, nothing, all is said.
His tongue is now a stringless instrument;
Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent.
YORK
Be York the next that must be bankrupt so!
S Though death be poor, it ends a mortal woe.
KING RICHARD
M The ripest fruit first falls, and so doth he;
time is spent, our pilgrimage must be.
I His
So much for that. Now for our Irish wars:
must supplant those rough rug-headed kerns,
T We
Which live like venom where no venom else
H But only they have privilege to live.
And, for these great affairs do ask some charge,
, Towards our assistance we do seize to us
The plate, coin, revenues, and movables
Whereof our uncle Gaunt did stand possessed.
K
JY O RHow
long shall I be patient? Ah, how long
O Shall tender duty make me suffer wrong?
Not Gloucester’s death, nor Hereford’s banishment,
S Nor Gaunt’s rebukes, nor England’s private wrongs,
the prevention of poor Bolingbroke
H Nor
About his marriage, nor my own disgrace,
ever made me sour my patient cheek
U Have
Or bend one wrinkle on my sovereign’s face.
A I am the last of noble Edward’s sons,
Of whom thy father, Prince of Wales, was first.
In war was never lion raged more fierce,
In peace was never gentle lamb more mild,
Than was that young and princely gentleman.
His face thou hast, for even so looked he,
Accomplished with the number of thy hours;
But when he frowned, it was against the French
And not against his friends. His noble hand
6
8
9
0
B145 Right . . . his (Richard deliberately takes the opposite of what
York had intended to say; Richard gibes that Gaunt is as little fond of
Uthe King as is Hereford.) 152 Though . . . woe Though death is the
152
154
156
157
158
159
161
166
167
168
170
173
177
privation of life, it does end the misery of human existence which is
itself a kind of death in life. 154 our . . . be i.e., our journey through
life is yet to be completed but will also end. 156–8 We . . . live We
must expel these shaggy-haired light-armed Irish foot soldiers, who
live there like poisonous snakes where no others are allowed to exist.
(Richard alludes to the freedom of Ireland from snakes, traditionally
ascribed to Saint Patrick.) 159 for because. ask some charge require
some expenditure 161 movables personal property 166 Nor . . .
wrongs nor the rebukes given to Gaunt, nor wrongs inflicted on private English subjects 167–8 prevention . . . marriage (Holinshed’s
Chronicles report that Richard had forestalled Bolingbroke’s intended
marriage with the Duke de Berri’s daughter.) 170 Or bend . . . face
or ever frown at the King, or give him reason to frown. 173 was . . .
fierce never was there a lion more fiercely enraged 177 Accomplished . . . hours i.e., when he was your age
The Necessary Shakespeare, Fourth Edition, by David Bevington. Published by Longman. Copyright © 2014 by Pearson Education, Inc.
827–869 • 870–906
Did win what he did spend, and spent not that
Which his triumphant father’s hand had won.
His hands were guilty of no kindred blood,
But bloody with the enemies of his kin.
Oh, Richard! York is too far gone with grief,
Or else he never would compare between.
182
Come on, our queen. Tomorrow must we part.
Be merry, for our time of stay is short.
[Flourish.] Exeunt King and Queen [with attendants].
Manet Northumberland [with Willoughby and Ross].
223
N O RT H U M B E R L A N D
185
Well, lords, the Duke of Lancaster is dead.
ROSS
KING RICHARD
And living too, for now his son is duke.
Why, uncle, what’s the matter?
O my liege,
Pardon me, if you please; if not, I, pleased
Not to be pardoned, am content withal.
Seek you to seize and grip into your hands
The royalties and rights of banished Hereford?
Is not Gaunt dead? And doth not Hereford live?
Was not Gaunt just? And is not Harry true?
Did not the one deserve to have an heir?
Is not his heir a well-deserving son?
Take Hereford’s rights away, and take from Time
His charters and his customary rights;
Let not tomorrow then ensue today;
Be not thyself; for how art thou a king
But by fair sequence and succession?
Now, afore God—God forbid I say true!—
If you do wrongfully seize Hereford’s rights,
Call in the letters patents that he hath
By his attorneys general to sue
His livery, and deny his offered homage,
You pluck a thousand dangers on your head,
You lose a thousand well-disposèd hearts,
And prick my tender patience to those thoughts
Which honor and allegiance cannot think.
WILLOUGHBY
YORK
KING RICHARD
Think what you will, we seize into our hands
His plate, his goods, his money, and his lands.
YORK
I’ll not be by the while. My liege, farewell.
What will ensue hereof there’s none can tell;
But by bad courses may be understood
That their events can never fall out good.
343
THE TRAGEDY OF KING RICHARD THE SECOND: 2.1
187
Barely in title, not in revenues.
188
N O RT H U M B E R L A N D
190
ROSS
Richly in both, if justice had her right.
S
M
195
I
196
197
T
H
,
202
203
J
O
207
S
H
U
211
A
204
My heart is great, but it must break with silence,
Ere’t be disburdened with a liberal tongue.
228
229
N O RT H U M B E R L A N D
Nay, speak thy mind; and let him ne’er speak more
That speaks thy words again to do thee harm!
230
WILLOUGHBY
Tends that thou wouldst speak to the Duke of
Hereford?
If it be so, out with it boldly, man.
Quick is mine ear to hear of good towards him.
232
ROSS
No good at all that I can do for him,
Unless you call it good to pity him,
Bereft and gelded of his patrimony.
237
N O RT H U M B E R L A N D
Now, afore God, ’tis shame such wrongs are borne
In him, a royal prince, and many more
Of noble blood in this declining land.
The King is not himself, but basely led
By flatterers; and what they will inform
Merely in hate ’gainst any of us all,
That will the King severely prosecute
’Gainst us, our lives, our children, and our heirs.
239
242
243
ROSS
213
Exit.
KING RICHARD
Go, Bushy, to the Earl of Wiltshire straight.
Bid him repair to us to Ely House
To see this business. Tomorrow next
We will for Ireland, and ’tis time, I trow.
And we create, in absence of ourself,
Our uncle York Lord Governor of England,
For he is just and always loved us well.—
214
6
8
216
217
9
218
0
B
U
215
The commons hath he pilled with grievous taxes,
And quite lost their hearts; the nobles hath he fined
For ancient quarrels, and quite lost their hearts.
246
WILLOUGHBY
And daily new exactions are devised,
As blanks, benevolences, and I wot not what.
But what i’ God’s name doth become of this?
250
251
N O RT H U M B E R L A N D
Wars hath not wasted it, for warred he hath not,
But basely yielded upon compromise
That which his noble ancestors achieved with blows.
More hath he spent in peace than they in wars.
ROSS
182 kindred blood blood of one’s relatives 185 compare between
draw comparisons. 187 pleased satisfied 188 withal with that,
nonetheless. 190 royalties privileges granted through the King and
belonging, in this case, to a member of the royal family 195 Take . . .
and take i.e., If you take . . . you take 196 His Time’s 197 ensue follow 202–4 Call . . . livery i.e., revoke the royal grant giving him the
privilege to sue through his attorneys for possession of his inheritance
204 deny refuse. homage avowal of allegiance (by which ceremony
Bolingbroke would be able legally to secure his inheritance) 207 prick
i.e., incite 211 by nearby, present 213 by concerning. may it may
214 events outcomes 215 Earl of Wiltshire (The King’s Lord Treasurer and one of his notorious favorites.) 216 repair come 217 see
see to. Tomorrow next Tomorrow 218 trow believe.
The Earl of Wiltshire hath the realm in farm.
223.2 Manet He remains onstage 228 great i.e., great with sorrow
229 liberal unrestrained, freely speaking 230 ne’er speak more i.e.,
die 232 Tends . . . to Does what you wish to say concern
237 gelded i.e., deprived. (Literally, castrated.) 239 In him in his
case, or, by him 242 inform charge, report as spies 243 Merely in
hate out of pure hatred 246 pilled plundered 250 blanks blank
charters. benevolences forced loans to the crown (not actually
employed until considerably later, in 1473). wot know 251 this i.e.,
this unjustly collected revenue. 256 in farm on lease.
The Necessary Shakespeare, Fourth Edition, by David Bevington. Published by Longman. Copyright © 2014 by Pearson Education, Inc.
256
344
907–940 • 941–976
THE TRAGEDY OF KING RICHARD THE SECOND: 2.1
WILLOUGHBY
The King’s grown bankrupt, like a broken man.
257
N O RT H U M B E R L A N D
Reproach and dissolution hangeth over him.
ROSS
He hath not money for these Irish wars,
His burdenous taxations notwithstanding,
But by the robbing of the banished Duke.
Hold out my horse, and I will first be there.
265
266
267
268
269
270
WILLOUGHBY
Nay, let us share thy thoughts, as thou dost ours.
Be confident to speak, Northumberland.
We three are bu...
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