Boling. Sweet peace conduct his sweet soul to the bosom Of good old Abraham!—Lords appellants, Your differences shall all rest under gage, Till we assign you to your days of trial.

Enter YORK, attended.

York. Great duke of Lancaster, I come to thee From plume-pluck'd Richard; who with willing soul Adopts thee heir, and his high scepter yields

To the possession of thy royal hand:

Ascend his throne, descending now from him,-
And long live Henry, of that name the fourth!

Boling. In God's name, I'll ascend the regal throne.
Car. Marry, God forbid !—

Worst in this royal presence may I speak,
Yet best beseeming me to speak the truth.
Would God, that any in this noble presence
Were enough noble to be upright judge

Of noble Richard; then true nobless would
Learn him forbearance from so foul a wrong.
What subject can give sentence on his king?
And who sits here, that is not Richard's subject?
Thieves are not judg'd, but they are by to hear,
Although apparent guilt be seen in them:
And shall the figure of God's majesty,
His captain, steward, deputy elect,
Anointed, crowned, planted many years,
Be judg'd by subject and inferior breath,
And he himself not present? O, forbid it, God,
That, in a Christian climate, souls refin'd
Should show so heinous, black, obscene a deed!
I speak to subjects, and a subject speaks,
Stirr'd up by heaven thus boldly for his king.

My lord of Hereford here, whom you call king,
Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford's king:
And if you crown him, let me prophecy,-
The blood of English shall manure the ground,
And future ages groan for this foul act;
Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels,
And, in this seat of peace, tumultuous wars
Shali kin with kin, and kind with kind confound;
Disorder, horror, fear, and mutiny,

Shall here inhabit, and this land be call'd
The field of Golgotha, and dead men's sculls.
O, if you rear this house against this house,
It will the woefullest division prove,

That ever fell upon this cursed earth:
Prevent, resist it, let it not be so,

Lest child, child's children, cry against you-woe!
North. Well have you argu'd, sir; and, for your pains,
Of capital treason we arrest you here:-

My lord of Westminster, be it your charge

To keep him safely till his day of trial.—

May't please you, lords, to grant the commons' suit. Boling. Fetch hither Richard, that in common view He may surrender; so we shall proceed

Without suspicion.

York.

I will be his conduct.

[Exit.

Boling. Lords, you that are here under our arrest, Procure your sureties for your days of answer:Little are we beholden to your love,

[TO CARLISLE.

And little look'd for at your helping hands.

Re-enter YORK, with King RICHARD, and Officers bearing the crown, &c.

K. Rich. Alack, why am I sent for to a king,

Before I have shook off the regal thoughts
Wherewith I reign'd? I hardly yet have learn'd
To insinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my

Give sorrow leave a while to tutor me

To this submission.

knee:

Yet I well remember

The favours of these men: Were they not mine?
Did they not sometime cry, all hail! to me?

So Judas did to Christ: but he, in twelve,

Found truth in all, but one; I, in twelve thousand, none.
God save the king!-Will no man say, amen?
Am I both priest and clerk? well then, amen.
God save the king! although I be not he;
And yet, amen, if heaven do think him me.-
To do what service am I sent for hither?

York. To do that office, of thine own good will,
Which tired majesty did make thee offer,-

The resignation of thy state and crown

To Henry Bolingbroke.

K. Rich. Give me the crown:-Here, cousin, seize

the crown;

Here, on this side, my hand; on that side, thine.
Now is this golden crown like a deep well,
That owes two buckets filling one another;
The emptier ever dancing in the air,
The other down, unseen, and full of water:
That bucket down, and full of tears, am I,
Drinking my griefs, whilst you mount up on high.

Boling. I thought you had been willing to resign.
K. Rich. My crown, I am; but still my griefs are mine
You may my glories and my state depose,
But not my griefs; still am I king of those.

Boling. Part of your cares you give me with your crown. K. Rich. Your cares set up, do not pluck my cares down.

My care is loss of care, by old care done;
Your care is gain of care, by new care won:
The cares I give, I have, though given away;
They tend the crown, yet still with me they stay.
Boling. Are you contented to resign the crown?
K. Rich. Ay, no;-no, ay;-for I must nothing
be;

Therefore no no, for I resign to thee.
Now mark me how I will undo myself:-
I give this heavy weight from off my head,
And this unwieldy scepter from my hand,
The pride of kingly sway from out my heart;
With mine own tears I wash away my balm,
With mine own hands I give away my crown,
With mine own tongue deny my sacred state,
With mine own breath release all duteous oaths:
All pomp and majesty I do forswear;
My manors, rents, revenues, I forego;
My acts, decrees, and statutes, I deny:

God pardon all oaths, that are broke to me!
God keep all vows unbroke, are made to thee!
Make me, that nothing have, with nothing griev'd;
And thou with all pleas'd, that hast all achiev'd!
Long may'st thou live in Richard's seat to sit,
And soon lie Richard in an earthy pit!
God save king Henry, unking'd Richard says,
And send him many years of sunshine days!—
What more remains?

North.

No more, but that you read [Offering a paper. These accusations, and these grievous crimes, Committed by your person, and your followers, Against the state and profit of this land;

That, by confessing them, the souls of men
May deem that you are worthily depos'd.

K. Rich. Must I do so? and must I ravel out
My weav'd-up follies? Gentle, Northumberland,
If thy offences were upon record,

Would it not shame thee in so fair a troop,
To read a lecture of them? If thou would'st,
There should'st thou find one heinous article,-
Containing the deposing of a king,

And cracking the strong warrant of an oath,—
Mark'd with a blot, damn'd in the book of heaven:-
Nay, all of you, that stand and look upon me,
Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait myself,-
Though some of you, with Pilate, wash your hands,
Showing an outward pity; yet you Pilates

Have here deliver'd me to my sour cross,
And water cannot wash away your sin.

North. My lord, despatch; read o'er these articles.
K. Rich. Mine eyes are full of tears, I cannot see:
And yet salt water blinds them not so much,
But they can see a sort of traitors here.
Nay, if I turn mine eyes upon myself,
I find myself a traitor with the rest:
For I have given here my soul's consent,
To undeck the pompous body of a king;
Make glory base; and sovereignty, a slave;
Proud majesty, a subject; state, a peasant.
North. My lord,-

K. Rich. No lord of thine, thou haught, insulting man, Nor no man's lord; I have no name, no title,— No, not that name was given me at the font,But 'tis usurp'd:-Alack the heavy day,

That I have worn so many winters out,