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DUKE OF AUMERLE: |
No, good my lord; let's fight with gentle words |
Till time lend friends and friends their helpful swords. |
KING RICHARD II: |
O God, O God! that e'er this tongue of mine, |
That laid the sentence of dread banishment |
On yon proud man, should take it off again |
With words of sooth! O that I were as great |
As is my grief, or lesser than my name! |
Or that I could forget what I have been, |
Or not remember what I must be now! |
Swell'st thou, proud heart? I'll give thee scope to beat, |
Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me. |
DUKE OF AUMERLE: |
Northumberland comes back from Bolingbroke. |
KING RICHARD II: |
What must the king do now? must he submit? |
The king shall do it: must he be deposed? |
The king shall be contented: must he lose |
The name of king? o' God's name, let it go: |
I'll give my jewels for a set of beads, |
My gorgeous palace for a hermitage, |
My gay apparel for an almsman's gown, |
My figured goblets for a dish of wood, |
My sceptre for a palmer's walking staff, |
My subjects for a pair of carved saints |
And my large kingdom for a little grave, |
A little little grave, an obscure grave; |
Or I'll be buried in the king's highway, |
Some way of common trade, where subjects' feet |
May hourly trample on their sovereign's head; |
For on my heart they tread now whilst I live; |
And buried once, why not upon my head? |
Aumerle, thou weep'st, my tender-hearted cousin! |
We'll make foul weather with despised tears; |
Our sighs and they shall lodge the summer corn, |
And make a dearth in this revolting land. |
Or shall we play the wantons with our woes, |
And make some pretty match with shedding tears? |
As thus, to drop them still upon one place, |
Till they have fretted us a pair of graves |
Within the earth; and, therein laid,--there lies |
Two kinsmen digg'd their graves with weeping eyes. |
Would not this ill do well? Well, well, I see |
I talk but idly, and you laugh at me. |
Most mighty prince, my Lord Northumberland, |
What says King Bolingbroke? will his majesty |
Give Richard leave to live till Richard die? |
You make a leg, and Bolingbroke says ay. |
NORTHUMBERLAND: |
My lord, in the base court he doth attend |
To speak with you; may it please you to come down. |
KING RICHARD II: |
Down, down I come; like glistering Phaethon, |
Wanting the manage of unruly jades. |
In the base court? Base court, where kings grow base, |
To come at traitors' calls and do them grace. |
In the base court? Come down? Down, court! |
down, king! |
For night-owls shriek where mounting larks |
should sing. |
HENRY BOLINGBROKE: |
What says his majesty? |
NORTHUMBERLAND: |
Sorrow and grief of heart |
Makes him speak fondly, like a frantic man |
Yet he is come. |
HENRY BOLINGBROKE: |
Stand all apart, |
And show fair duty to his majesty. |
My gracious lord,-- |
KING RICHARD II: |
Fair cousin, you debase your princely knee |
To make the base earth proud with kissing it: |
Me rather had my heart might feel your love |
Than my unpleased eye see your courtesy. |
Up, cousin, up; your heart is up, I know, |
Thus high at least, although your knee be low. |
HENRY BOLINGBROKE: |
My gracious lord, I come but for mine own. |
KING RICHARD II: |
Your own is yours, and I am yours, and all. |
HENRY BOLINGBROKE: |
So far be mine, my most redoubted lord, |
As my true service shall deserve your love. |
KING RICHARD II: |
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