The Hollow Crown - Season 1 Edit

A beggar begs that never begged before.

A brace of draymen bid God speed him well,

A brittle glory shineth in this face.

A deed of slander

A dozen of them here have ta'en the sacrament,

A generation of still breeding thoughts,

A god on earth thou art!

A happy gentleman in blood and lineaments,

A heavy sentence, my most sovereign liege,

A king, woe's slave, shall kingly woe obey.

A little, little grave.

A lunatic lean witted fool!

A plot shall show us all a merry day.

A prince by fortune of my birth,

A puny subject strikes at thy great glory.

A royal king,

A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown,

A traitor to my God, my king and me.

A twofold marriage, 'twixt my crown and me,

A wandering vagabond, my rights and royalties

A woeful pageant have we here beheld.

A woman.

Add an immortal title to your crown!

Add proof unto mine armour with thy prayers.

Adopts thee heir

After a well graced actor leaves the stage,

After our sentence, plaining comes too late.

After your late tossing on the breaking seas?

After, Aumerle!

Again uncurse their souls.

Against infection and the hand of war,

Against the Duke of Hereford

Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray?

Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray?

Against the envy of less happier lands,

Against the state and profit of this land;

Against them both my true joints bended be.

Against thy majesty.

Ah, how long

Ah, Richard,

Aimed at your highness.

Alack the heavy day,

Alack,

Alack, poor Richard!

Alas, poor Duke!

All is said.

All murdered.

All murdered.

All must be even in our government.

All pomp and majesty I do forswear;

All souls that will be safe fly from my side.

Allowing him a breath, a little scene,

Although I be not he;

Am I both priest and clerk?

Am I not king?

Am I, who ready here do stand in arms

An easy task it is to win our own.

An obscure grave.

And added years to his short banishment

And all goes worse than I have power to tell.

And all the number

And all this famous land.

And all too soon, I fear,

And all unlooked for from your highness' mouth.

And all your northern castles yielded up,

And all your southern gentlemen in arms upon his party.

And am I last that knows it?

And bedew her pastures' grass

And beg thy pardon ere he do accuse thee.

And Bolingbroke hath seized the wasteful king.

And bow my knee before his majesty

And buried once, why not upon my head?

And by the buried hand of warlike Gaunt,

And by the glorious worth of my descent,

And by the honourable tomb he swears,

And by the worth and honour of himself,

And craves to kiss your hand and take his leave.

And crossly to thy good all fortune goes.

And darts his light through every guilty hole,

And do thee favours with my royal hands.

And dull, unfeeling, barren ignorance

And entertain a cheerful disposition.

And ere thou bid good night, to quit their griefs,

And fold him in our arms.

And for because the world is populous

And for our coffers are grown somewhat light,

And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect

And for the right of that

And for we think the eagle winged pride

And free from other misbegotten hate,

And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear

And future ages groan for this foul act;

And had the tribute of his supple knee

And hardly kept our countrymen together,

And he himself not present?

And he shall think that thou, which know'st the way

And hearts harder than steel.

And heavy gaited toads lie in their way,

And her wholesome herbs Swarming with caterpillars?

And here is not a creature but myself,

And how comest thou hither,

And I from heaven banished as from hence!

And I spit at him,

And I thank thee, king,

And I,

And if my word be sterling yet in England,

And if we be, how dare thy joints forget

And if you crown him,

And in my loyal bosom lies his power.

And in this seat of peace tumultuous wars

And in this thought they find a kind of ease,

And interchangeably set down their hand,

And is not Harry true? Did the one not deserve to have an heir?

And know not now what name to call myself!

And laboured all I could to do him right.

And lands restored again be freely granted.

And lay the summer's dust with showers of blood

And lean looked prophets whisper fearful change

And learn to make a body of a limb.

And let him never see joy that breaks that oath!

And long live Henry, fourth of that name!

And love to Richard

And made no deeper wounds?

And make a dearth in this revolting land.

And make high majesty look like itself,

And make some pretty match with shedding tears?

And mark King Richard how he looks.

And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven

And minister correction to thy fault!

And mock not flesh and blood with solemn reverence.

And must I ravel out My weaved up folly?

And my large kingdom for a little grave.

And my succeeding issue

And noble uncle, I beseech your grace,

And none contented:

And Norfolk, throw down his.

And nothing can we call our own but death.

And now changed to The Beggar And The King.

And now doth time waste me.

And ostentation of despised arms?

And plague injustice with the pains of hell.

And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow.

And prick my tender patience to those thoughts

And prove you true.

And put on sullen black incontinent

And quite lost their hearts.

And quite lost their hearts.

And send defiance to the traitor, and so die?

And send him many years of sunshine days!

And send the hearers weeping to their beds.

And send them after to supply our wants

And sends allegiance and true faith of heart to his most royal person,

And shall I have?

And shall the figure of God's majesty, His captain,

And shortly means to touch our northern shore.

And show fair duty to his majesty.

And sighed my English breath in foreign clouds,

And so I am, then crushing penury

And soon lie Richard in an earthy pit!

And speaking it, he wistly looked on thee,

And stained the beauty of a fair queen's cheeks

And straight am nothing:

And tell sad stories of the death of kings.

And tell sad stories of the death of kings.

And that he is a bastard, not thy son

And that small model of the barren earth

And that's the wavering commons, for their love

And then be gone and trouble you no more.

And then betwixt me and my married wife.

And there the antic sits,

And therefore, personally I lay my claim

And therein fasting hast thou made me gaunt.

And these external manners of laments

And these same thoughts people this little world,

And these stones prove armed soldiers,

And they are fled.

And they shall strike your children yet unborn and unbegot,

And those his golden beams to you here lent

And thou shalt have twelve thousand fighting men!

And thou shalt know

And thou with all pleased,

And thou, too careless patient as thou art,

And thou, too careless patient as thou art,

And thou...

And though you think that all, as you have done,

And threat the glory of my precious crown.

And thus long have we stood

And thy abundant goodness shall excuse

And thy aunt, great king; 'tis I.

And thy steps no more

And till such blood thither come again,

And tired by jouncing Bolingbroke.

And to Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now.

And unavoidable is the danger now. Not so.

And urged it twice together, did he not?

And was at last out faced by Bolingbroke?

And water cannot wash away your sin.

And we are barren and bereft of friends,

And we create, in absence of ourself,

And what loss is it to be rid of care?

And when they from thy bosom pluck a flower,

And who should say,

And who sits here that is not Richard's subject?

And why thou com'st thus knightly clad in arms.

And will rid his foe.

And with him are the Lord Aumerle, Bagot, Sir Stephen Scroop,

And with him go these thoughts.

And with rainy eyes

And with that odds he weighs King Richard down.

And with uplifted arms is safe arrived

And yet I bear a burden like an ass,

And yet not greatly good,

And yet not so, for with a kiss 'twas made.

And yet not so.

And yet salt water blinds them not so much

And yet seek no shelter to avoid the storm.

And yet we hear no tidings from the King.

And yet we strike not, but securely perish.

And yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar,

And yet, amen,

And you that do abet him in this kind

And you will find it so; I speak no more than every man doth know.

And, cousin too, adieu:

And, for these great affairs do ask some charge,

And, for they cannot, die in their own pride.

And, humoured thus, comes at the last

And, madam, there is orders ta'en for you;

And, therein laid, There lies two kinsmen,

And, with a little pin, bores through his castle wall and,

Anointed, crowned, planted many years,

Appointed to direct these fair designs.

Are Bushy and Green dead?

Are gone to Bolingbroke, dispersed, fled.

Are idly bent on him who enters next,

Are merely shadows to the unseen grief

Are plucked up root and all by Bolingbroke,

Are we not high?

Are you contented to resign the crown?

Arm, arm, my name!

Armies of pestilence!

As a long parted mother with her child

As brittle as the glory is the face!

As far as I could sift him on that argument,

As from my death bed, thy last living leave.

As God shall pardon me.

As Harry, Duke of Hereford, were he here.

As I have done, thou wouldst be more pitiful.

As I was banished, I was banished Hereford

As if this flesh, which walls about our life,

As in a theatre,

As my true service shall deserve your love.

As theirs, so mine and all be as it is.

As thus, to drop them still upon one place,

As we this garden.

As well appeareth by the cause you come,

As well assured Richard, their king,

As were our England in reversion his.

As when brave Gaunt, thy father, and myself

Ascend his throne,

At Coventry upon Saint Lambert's Day.

At Ravenspurgh. Now God in heaven forbid!

Attorneys are denied me,

Aumerle,

Aumerle, thou weep'st, my tender hearted cousin!

Aumerle? Poor boy, thou art amazed.

Away with me in post to meet him there.

Away, be gone!

Ay,

Aye.

Bad men, you violate

Banish us both and send the king with me.

Base men by his endowments are made great.

Be confident to speak, Northumberland.

Be feared and kill with looks

Be he the fire.

Be his own carver, and cut out his way

Be it known unto you I do remain as neuter.

Be judged by subject and inferior breath,

Be merry, for our time of stay is short.

Be ready as your lives shall answer it

Be swift like lightning in the execution. Be valiant and live.

Be though on thy way.

Be York the next that must be bankrupt so!

Bear not along the clogging burden of a guilty soul.

Bearing their own misfortune on the back

Because my power is weak and all ill left

Because my power is weak and all ill left

Because we ever have been near the King.

Because we thought ourself thy lawful king.

Before I have shook off the regal thoughts

Before the expiration of thy time,

Behind the globe that lights the lower world

Being ne'er so little urged, another way

Being so great, I have no need to beg.

Believe me, noble lord, I am a stranger here.

BELL CHIMES

Bereft and gelded of his patrimony.

Beshrew thee, cousin, which didst lead me forth,

Besides a clergyman of holy reverence who, I cannot learn.

Besides himself, are all the English peers,

Besides I say, and will in battle prove,

Besides, our nearness to the King in love

Both of them at Lancaster lost their heads.

Both to defend my loyalty and truth

Both who they are and why they come hither

Both young and old rebel,

Boy, let me see the writing.

Boys with women's voices

Breathe I against thee, upon pain of life.

Broke the possession of a royal bed

Bushy and Green, I will not vex your souls

But 'tis usurped

But as I come, I come for Lancaster.

But by fair sequence and succession?

But by the robbing of the banished Duke.

But die not shame with thee!

But dust was thrown upon his sacred head

But for his own

But for our trusty Bishop and the Abbot,

But he, in twelve,

But heaven hath a hand in these events,

But here is Carlisle living.

But I will have them, if I once know where.

But if I could, by Him that gave me life,

But if I could, by Him that gave me life,

But if you faint, as fearing to do so,

But in the balance of great Bolingbroke,

But in this kind to come in braving arms

But let thy spiders, that suck up thy venom,

But little vantage shall I reap thereby

But none returns.

But not a minute, King, that thou canst give.

But now I know thy mind;

But now the blood of twenty thousand men did triumph in my face,

But only they have privilege to live.

But presently prevent the ways to wail.

But presently prevent the ways to wail.

But since I cannot,

But since it would not,

But soft, but see, or rather do not see,

But then, more why why have they dared to march

But thou shouldst please me better, wouldst thou weep.

But thou the King.

But to the shoreline, and there I left him.

But tread the stranger paths of banishment.

But we must win your grace to go with us

But what thou art,

But whate'er I be,

But when, from over this terrestrial ball,

But who comes here?

But who comes here?

But, ere the crown he looks for live in peace,

But, lords, we hear this fearful tempest sing,

By bare imagination of a feast?

By flatterers, and what they will inform

By heaven, I'll hate him everlastingly

By me hither brought.

By pardoning my transgressing boy.

By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate.

By that dear blood which it hath fostered

By thinking on fantastic summer's heat?

By thinking on the frosty Caucasus?

By this time, had the King permitted us,

By you unhappied and disfigured clean.

Call him a slanderous coward and a villain.

Can grip the sacred handle of our sceptre,

Can sick men play so nicely with their names?

Can wash the balm off from an anointed king.

Carlisle,

Change the complexion of her maid pale peace

Cherish rebellion and are rebels all.

Choose out some secret place, some reverend room,

Com'st thou because the anointed King is hence?

Come home with me to supper; and I'll lay

Come I appellant to this princely presence.

Come, come, my son,

Come, cousin, I'll dispose of you.

Come, gentlemen,

Come, lady, go,

Come, lords, away.

Come, mourn with me for what I do lament,

Come, my old son.

Come...let's go

Comfort, my liege.

Comfort, my liege.

Comfort's in heaven, and we are on the earth,

Committ'st thy anointed body to the cure

Committ'st thy anointed body to the cure

Committed by yourself and your followers

Complotted and contrived in this land

Condemns you to the death.

Confess thy treasons 'ere thou fly this realm.

Containing the deposing of a king.

Convey?

Conveyers are you all,

Cousin Aumerle,

Cousin of Hereford,

Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause is right,

Cousin, farewell, and uncle, bid him so.

Cousin, I am too young to be your father,

Cousin, throw down your gage; do you begin?

Cover your heads.

Covering your fearful land with hard, bright steel

Cry woe, destruction, ruin and decay.

Cut off the heads of too fast growing sprays,

Damned without redemption!

Dared once to touch a dust of England's ground?

Darest thou, thou little better thing than earth,

Darest with thy frozen admonition

Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand,

Deep malice makes too deep incision.

Demand of yonder knights in arms

Demi paradise,

Deny my sacred state,

Deny my sacred state,

Depressed he is already, and deposed he will be.

Descending now from him;

Destruction straight shall dog them at the heels.

Did I this deed.

Did keep ten thousand men?

Did they not sometimes cry, All hail! to me?

Didst thou not mark the king,

Die free from strife

Digged their graves with weeping eyes.

Discharge my followers.

Discomfort guides my tongue and bids me speak of nothing but despair.

Discomfortable cousin,

Disorder, horror, fear and mutiny

Disparked my parks and felled my forest woods,

DISTANT MUSIC PLAYS

Divine his downfall?

Do wound the bark,

Dogs easily won to fawn on any man!

Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet

DOOR CREAKS OPEN

DOOR OPENS

Doth humbly kiss thy hand,

Doth with a twofold vigour lift me up

Doubly divorced!

Doubly portcullised with my teeth and lips,

Draw near.

Draw out our miles and make them wearisome.

Drinking my griefs, whilst you mount up on high.

Duke of Norfolk,

Each day still better other's happiness

Eating the bitter bread of banishment,

Embrace each other's love in banishment

End in a word,

Enforce attention like deep harmony.

England, bound in with the triumphant sea,

Enquire of him.

Ere her native king shall falter under foul rebellion's arms.

Even in condition of the worst degree,

Even so,

Even through the hollow eyes of Death

Except the Marshal and such officers

Expedient manage must be made, my liege,

Face to face,

Fair cousin, you debase your princely knee

Fair cousin?

Fall to the base earth from the firmament.

Farewell at once for once, for all, and ever.

Farewell, King!

Farewell, my blood,

Farewell.

Farewell.

Farewell.

Farewell.

Fear not, my lord.

Fear, not love, begets his penitence:

Feed not thy sovereign's foe, my gentle earth,

Feel want

Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and spring.

Fetch hither Richard,

Fiend, thou torment'st me ere I come to hell!

Filling one another,

FIRE CRACKLES

First heaven be the record to my speech!

First, the fair reverence of your highness curbs me

First, to thy sacred state wish I all happiness.

Flatter themselves

Flatter, bow, and bend my limbs

For 'tis a sign of love;

For 'twere no charity

For all in vain comes counsel to his ear.

For all the Welshmen, hearing thou wert dead,

For aught I know, my lord.

For do we must what force will have us do.

For every man that Bolingbroke hath pressed

For gnarling sorrow has less power to bite

For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground.

For he is just and always loved us well.

For heaven still guards the right.

For how art thou a king

For I have given here my soul's consent

For I must nothing be;

For I resign to thee.

For me, if I be gored with Mowbray's spear.

For methinks in you I see old Gaunt alive.

For Mowbray and myself are like two men

For night owls shriek where mounting larks should sing.

For on my heart they tread now whilst I live.

For our affairs in hand.

For sleeping England long time have I watched

For that our kingdom's earth should not be soiled

For their advantage and your highness' loss.

For there it is, cracked in a hundred shivers.

For they breathe truth that breathe their words in pain.

For thou hast wrought

For though it have holp madmen to their wits,

For though mine enemy thou hast ever been,

For thy great bounty,

For Time hath set a blot upon my pride.

For us to levy power

For violent fires soon burn out themselves

For violent fires soon burn out themselves

For we will make for Ireland presently.

For what can we bequeath, save our deposed bodies to the ground?

For what can we bequeath, save our deposed bodies to the ground?

For when I was a king, my flatterers

For within the hollow crown

For yond methinks he stands.

For you have but mistook me all this while.

For, ere the six years that he hath to spend

Forget, forgive, conclude and be agreed;

Forgiveness, horse!

Foul treason!

Found truth in all but one

Four lagging winters and four wanton springs

Free speech and fearless I to thee allow.

Frighting her pale faced villages with war

From forth the ranks of many thousand French,

From giving reins and spurs to my free speech,

From my own window torn my household coat,

From off my hands, here in the view of men

From plume plucked Richard;

From Richard's night

From which awaked, the truth of what we are

From your own mouth, my lord,

Gardener, for telling me these news of woe,

Gentle Northumberland,

Gentlemen, will you go muster men?

Give me my boots, I say.

Give me the crown.

Give me the glass, and therein will I read.

Give sorrow leave awhile to tutor me

Gives but the greater feeling to the worse.

Glad am I that your highness is so armed

Go now and fill another room in hell.

Go signify as much.

Go some of you and fetch a looking glass.

Go thou and, like an executioner,

Go to Flint Castle.

Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle.

Go, some of you convey him to the Tower.

God in thy good cause make thee prosperous.

God save King Harry,

God save the king!

God save the king!

God save your grace.

God, for his Richard, hath in heavenly pay a glorious angel.

God, thou and I do know

Good aunt, stand up.

Good aunt, stand up.

Good king, great king,

Good mother, be content;

Good sometime Queen,

Good uncle, help to order several powers

Good uncle, let this end where it begun;

Great Bolingbroke,

Great Duke of Lancaster,

Greater he shall not be.

Grows strong and great in substance and in power.

Guard it, I pray thee, with a lurking adder.

Had he done so to great and growing men,

Had I thy youth and cause, I would not stay.

Had you first died and he been thus trod down,

Hadst thou groan'd for him

Hail, royal Prince!

Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby

Hast thou brought hither Henry Hereford, thy bold son,

Hath Bolingbroke deposed thine intellect?

Hath clouded all thy happy days on earth.

Hath from the number of his banished years

Hath he been in thy heart?

Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf.

Hath power to keep you king in spite of all.

Hath sorrow struck

Hath suggested thee

Hath yielded up his body to the grave!

Have changed their moons and brought their times around

Have here delivered me to my sour cross,

Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear?

Have I not reason to look pale and dead?

Have stooped my neck under your injuries

Have thy desire.

Have torn their souls by turning them from us,

Have we more sons? Or are we like to have?

HE CHUCKLES

HE CHUCKLES

He did.

He does me double wrong

He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines

HE GARGLES

HE GASPS

He had none of me.

He hath not money for these Irish wars,

He is as like thee as a man may be!

He is come to open the purple testament of bleeding war.

He is our cousin, cousin.

He is our subject, Mowbray; so art thou.

HE LAUGHS

HE LAUGHS

HE LAUGHS

HE LAUGHS

HE LAUGHS

HE LAUGHS

He loves you, on my life, and holds you dear

He may surrender

He means, my lord, that we are too remiss,

He shall be none;

He shortens four years from my son's exile

He should have had a volume of farewells.

HE SOBS

HE SOBS

HE SOBS No!

He spake it twice,

He that hath suffered this disordered spring

He would have found his uncle Gaunt a father

Hear me, gentle liege.

Helping him to all;

Henry Bolingbroke

Her fairest flowers choked up,

Her fruit trees all upturned, her hedges ruined,

Her knots disorder'd

Here am I left to underprop his land,

Here to make good the boisterous late appeal

Here, cousin

Here, cousin, seize the crown;

Herein all breathless lies

High be our thoughts!

High sparks of honour in thee have I seen.

His charters and his customary rights.

His coming hither hath no further scope than for his lineal royalties.

His eyes do drop no tears,

His face thou hast, for even so looked he, O Richard!

His noble cousin

His noble kinsman!

His plate, his goods, his money and his lands.

His prayers are in jest;

His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last,

His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be.

His tongue now is a stringless instrument

His treasons will sit blushing in his face,

His words come from his mouth, ours from our breast.

Hither come, even at his feet, to lay my arms and power,

Hold out my horse and I will be first there.

Hold thy peace!

HORSE WHINNIES

HORSES NEIGH AND SNORT

How brooks your grace the air

How dares thy harsh rude tongue sound this unpleasing news?

How far brought you high Hereford on his way?

How far is it, my lord, to Berkeley now?

How far off lies your power?

How fares our noble uncle Lancaster?

How he did seem to dive into their hearts

How high a pitch his resolution soars!

How is't with aged Gaunt?

How long a time lies in one little word!

How long shall I be patient?

How near the tiding of our comfort is.

How now!

How some have been deposed, some slain in war,

How some have been deposed; some slain in war;

How soon my sorrow hath destroyed my face.

How sour sweet music is,

How to lament the cause.

I am a subject, And I challenge law.

I am greater than a king

I am in health,

I am the last of noble Edward's sons,

I breathe and see thee ill.

I brought high Hereford, if you call him so,

I cannot do it;

I cannot mend it, I must needs confess,

I cannot mend it, I must needs confess,

I come to thee

I could weep, madam, would it do you good.

I die pronouncing it

I do beseech you, pardon me; I may not show it.

I do beseech your grace to pardon me

I do beseech your majesty,

I do beseech your majesty, impute his words

I do not sue to stand;

I do repent me; read not my name there

I fear me, never.

I fear. What should you fear?

I find myself a traitor with the rest;

I give this heavy weight from off my head,

I had forgot myself.

I hardly yet have learned

I have a king here to my flatterer.

I have been studying how I may compare

I have had feelings of my cousin's wrongs

I have, my liege.

I know my uncle, York, hath power enough to serve our turn.

I know not what to do!

I know she is come to pray for your foul sin.

I live with bread, like you

I mean the favourites of the King, Bushy and Green.

I mean to see.

I mock my name, great King, to flatter thee.

I never long'd to hear a word till now;

I pardon him,

I pardon him.

I play the torturer, by small and small,

I pray God make thee new.

I say that Mowbray hath received eight thousand nobles

I see the issue of these arms.

I see thy glory like a shooting star

I see thy grieved heart.

I see your brows are full of discontent,

I speak to subjects, and a subject speaks,

I spy life peering, but dare not say

I swear.

I talk but idly, and you laugh at me.

I thank my liege that in regard of me

I thank thee not;

I thought you had been willing to resign.

I tore it from the traitor's bosom, king;

I warrant they have made peace with Bolingbroke.

I was a poor groom of thy stable, king,

I was not made a horse;

I wasted time,

I will be satisfied;

I will be satisfied; let me see it, I say.

I will not peace. What is the matter, Aumerle?

I will to Wales to rouse the troops.

I will unfold some causes of your deaths.

I would attach you all and make you stoop

I would attach you all and make you stoop

I would thou wert the man

I, in twelve thousand, none.

I'll ascend the regal throne.

I'll be the yielding water.

I'll beg one boon,

I'll give my jewels for a set of beads,

I'll give thee scope to beat,

I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land,

I'll not be by the while.

I'll not be long behind;

I'll read enough,

If ever I were traitor,

If God prevent not, I purpose so.

If he appeal the Duke on ancient malice,

If heart's presages be not vain,

If heaven do think him me.

If it be so, out with it boldly, man.

If judgment lie in them, then so do we,

If not, I'll use the advantage of my power

If that come short,

If that my cousin king be King of England,

If then, we shall shake off our slavish yoke,

If thou love me, 'tis time thou wert away.

If thou wouldst,

If thy offences were upon record,

If we prevail, their heads shall pay for it!

If you do wrongfully seize Hereford's rights,

Ill mayst thou thrive, if thou grant any grace!

Imagine it to lie that way thou goest,

Imp out our drooping country's broken wing,

In braving arms against thy sovereign.

In Brittany, received intelligence

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

In God's name,

In God's name, let it go.

In gross rebellion and detested treason.

In him, a royal prince, and many more

In lists, on Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,

In London streets, that coronation day,

In me it seems it will make wise men mad.

In name of lending for your highness' soldiers,

In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti.

In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti.

In peace was never gentle lamb more mild.

In stiff and unwieldy arms against thy crown.

In the devotion of a subject's love,

In war was never lion raged more fierce,

In wholesome counsel

In your lord's scale is nothing but himself,

Infusing him with self and vain conceit,

Into his ruined ears, and thus deliver

Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford's king

Is a strange brooch in this all hating world.

Is dead.

Is made my gaoler to attend on me.

Is making hither with all due expedience,

Is mustering in his clouds on our behalf

Is my strict fast I mean my children's looks,

Is near the hate of those love not the King.

Is not Gaunt dead? And doth not Hereford live? Was not Gaunt just?

Is not the heir a well deserving son?

Is not the King's name twenty thousand names?

Is now bound in with shame!

Is now leased out

Is numbering sands and drinking oceans dry.

Is right welcome hither,

Is spotless reputation;

Is there no plot

It boots thee not to be compassionate.

It confound itself:

It doth contain a king.

It is a matter of small consequence,

It is no more than my poor life must answer.

It is too little,

It is very true, my grief lies all within;

It must be granted I am Duke of Lancaster.

It stands your grace upon to do him right.

It was, villain, ere thy hand did set it down.

It will the woefullest division prove

It's treason!

Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so,

Jousts and triumphs?

Judases, each one. Worse than Judas!

Keep time

Keeps Death his court.

King Richard lies within the limits of yon lime and stone,

King Richard, he is in the mighty hold of Bolingbroke

KNOCK AT DOOR

KNOCKS ON DOOR

Knowest thou not that when the searching eye of heaven is hid,

Lament we may, but not revenge thee dead.

Landlord of England art thou now, not king.

Lay on our royal sword your banished hands.

Learn in winter's tedious nights sit by the fire

Lest, being over proud in sap and blood,

Let it command a mirror hither straight,

Let me kiss my sovereign's hand,

Let me prophesy

Let me see the writing.

Let me see the writing.

Let me unkiss the oath 'twixt thee and me;

Let not tomorrow then ensue today. Be not thyself.

Let pity teach thee how:

Let them hence away

Let them lay their helmets by.

Let us sit upon the ground

Let's all go visit him.

Let's choose executors and talk of wills.

Let's fight with gentle words,

Let's purge this choler without letting blood.

Let's see

Let's talk of graves

Let's talk of graves, of worms and epitaphs,

Lies in their purses and whoso empties them,

Like a deep well

Like a false traitor and injurious villain.

Like an unseasonable stormy day,

Like silly beggars

Like to a tenement on a pelting farm.

Little joy have I

Live in thy shame!

Long mayst thou live in Richard's seat to sit,

Look not to the ground, ye favourites of a king.

Look on my wrongs with an indifferent eye.

Look upon his face;

Look what I speak, my life shall prove it true:

Look what thy soul holds dear,

Lord Marshal,

LORD MARSHALL: Stay!

Lords,

Lords,

Lords, I protest, my soul is full of woe,

Love him murdered.

Love loving not itself none other can.

Madam, 'tis too true. Despair not, madam.

Madam, I'll sing.

Madam, we'll dance.

Madam, we'll tell tales.

Madam, your majesty is too much sad.

Made a divorce betwixt his queen and him,

Made glory base and sovereignty a slave,

Make dust our paper

Make me, that nothing have,

Make pale our cheek, chasing the royal blood

Make way!

Making the hard way sweet and delectable.

Many years of happy days befall

March on.

Mark, silent king, the moral of this sport,

Marry, would the word farewell have lengthened hours

Marry. God forbid!

Marshal,

May deem you worthily deposed.

May it please you to come down.

May tear a passage through the flinty ribs

Me cause to wail but teachest me the way

Me rather had my heart might feel your love

Meaning the king in the Tower.

Men judge, by the complexion of the sky,

Men living flatter those that die.

Men's eyes did scowl on gentle Richard;

Merely in hate, against any of us all,

Methinks King Richard and myself should meet with no less terror

Mine ear is open and my heart prepared.

Mine eyes are full of tears, I cannot see:

Mine honour is my life; both grow in one.

Mine innocence and Saint George to thrive!

Mock not my senseless conjuration, lords.

More health and happiness betide my liege

More than it is ere foul sin gathering head

More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life;

More welcome is the stroke of death to me

Most degenerate King!

Most mighty prince,

Mount thee upon his horse;

Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed

Mowbray, impartial are our eyes and ears.

Much more than twice all this,

Music do I hear?

Must he be deposed?

Must he lose the name of king?

Must he submit?

Must I do so?

My body shall make good upon this earth,

My brain I'll prove the female to my soul,

My care is loss of care, by old care done;

My crown I am; but still my griefs are mine.

My dangerous cousin, let your mother in:

My dear, dear, lord,

My fair rose wither.

My father hath a power.

My figured goblets for a dish of wood,

My gorgeous palace for a hermitage,

My gracious lord, I come but for mine own.

My gracious lord.

My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege!

My gracious uncle, let me know my fault.

My gracious uncle...

My guilt be on my head, and there an end.

My heart is great, but it must break with silence

My heart was not confederate with my hand.

My legs can keep no measure in delight,

My liege, beware;

My liege, farewell.

My liege!

My liege.

My lord

My Lord Northumberland,

My Lord of Hereford here,

My Lord of Westminster, be it your charge

My lord, 'tis nothing. No matter, then, who see it;

My lord, dispatch.

My lord, he doth attend to speak with you

My Lord, I have from Oxford brought to London

My lord, one word.

My lord, we have stayed ten days

My lord, wise men ne'er sit and wail their woes,

My lord, you must straight to the Tower.

My Lord...

My lords of England, let me tell you this.

My loving lord, I take my leave of you.

My mother and my nurse that bears me yet!

My name be blotted from the book of life,

My name is Thomas Mowbray,

My native English, now I must forego.

My noble uncle!

My oil dried lamp and time bewasted light

My only comfort is that heaven will take our souls

My ragged prison walls,

My son, Aumerle. What news from Oxford?

My soul the father; and these two beget

My stooping duty tenderly shall show.

My subjects for a pair of carved saints

My tongue hath but a heavier tale to say.

Myself,

Name it, fair cousin.

Namely, to appeal each other of high treason.

Nay, all of you that stand and look upon,

Nay, do not say, stand up

Nay, dry your eyes.

Nay, if I turn mine eyes upon myself,

Nay, let us hear thy thoughts as thou dost ours.

Nay, nothing.

Nay, speak thy mind, and let him ne'er speak more

Near to the King in blood, and near in love

Need friends.

Needs must I like it well. I weep for joy

No deeper wrinkles yet?

No good at all that I can do for him

No hand of blood and bone

No lord of thine, thou haught insulting man,

No man cried God save him!

No matter where.

No more, but that you read over

No person be so bold

No word like pardon for kings' mouths so meet.

No,

No,

No, ay;

No, Bolingbroke.

No, good, my lord.

No, it is stopped with other, flattering sounds.

No, no,

No, not that name was given me at the font,

No;

Noble lord.

Nor do I thee

Nor friends nor foes to me welcome you are.

Nor I nor any man that but man is

Nor near nor farther off, my gracious lord, than this weak arm.

Nor never by advised purpose meet

Nor never look upon each other's face

Nor never write, regreet, nor reconcile

Nor no man's lord; I have no name, no title,

Nor shall not be the last;

Nor with thy sweets comfort his ravenous sense,

Norfolk,

Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier doom,

Norfolk, give me his gage. Lions make leopards tame.

Northumberland comes back from Bolingbroke.

Northumberland, thou ladder wherewithal

NORTHUMBERLAND: Well, lords,

Northumberland.

Not all the water in the rough, rude sea

Not whence thou com'st.

Not yet, I thee beseech, for ever will I walk upon my knees,

Now for the rebels which stand out in Ireland,

Now he that made me knows I see thee ill.

Now is this golden crown

Now mark me, how I will undo myself;

Now put it, God, in the physician's mind

Now, afore God

Now, afore God, 'tis shame such wrongs are borne

Now, by my seat's right royal majesty,

O belike it is the Bishop of Carlisle.

O but they say the tongues of dying men

O call back yesterday, bid Time return,

O flattering glass,

O forfend it, God,

O God defend my soul from such deep sin.

O good!

O happy vantage of a kneeling knee!

O heinous, strong and bold conspiracy!

O how that name befits my composition!

O king, believe not this hard hearted man!

O let no noble eye profane a tear

O loyal father of a treacherous son!

O loyal father of a treacherous son!

O my liege, Pardon me, if you please

O that I were a mockery king of snow,

O that I were as great as is my grief,

O then how quickly should this arm of mine chastise thee

O then, my father,

O thou, the earthly author of my blood,

O what pity is it

O who can hold a fire in his hand

O, how it yearned my heart when I beheld

O, if you raise this house against this house,

O, VILLAINS!

O'er throws thy joys, friends, fortune and thy state.

Of capital treason we arrest you here.

Of civil wounds ploughed up with neighbours' sword

Of comfort, no man speak!

Of either, madam.

Of fair King Richard's land,

Of his fair demands

Of majesty,

Of mothers' sons

Of much less value is my company than your good words.

Of neither, girl.

Of noble blood in this declining land.

Of noble Richard!

Of sky aspiring and ambitious thoughts,

Of sorrow or of joy?

Of such as have before endured the like.

Of that proud man that did usurp his back?

Of that sweet way I was in to despair!

Of this hard world,

Of those physicians that first wounded thee.

Of those physicians that first wounded thee.

Of whom thy father, Prince of Wales, was first.

Of woeful ages long ago betid;

Of worms and epitaphs.

Of you, my noble cousin, Lord Aumerle.

Off goes his bonnet to an oyster wench.

Oh, God. Oh, God!

Oh, no,

Old Gaunt commends him to your highness.

Old Gaunt indeed, and gaunt in being old.

Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, my lord,

Old John of Gaunt, time honoured Lancaster.

On both his knees doth kiss King Richard's hand

On pain of death,

On some apparent danger seen in the Duke

On some known ground of treachery in him?

On the earth and not on him.

On this side my hand, and on that side yours.

On Wednesday next we solemnly set down our coronation.

On what condition stands it and wherein?

One day too late, I fear me, noble lord,

One of our souls had wandered in the air.

Open the door

Open the door or I will break it open!

Or as a moat defensive to a house

Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite

Or daring hardy as to touch the lists

Or else he never would compare between...

Or I'll be buried in the King's Highway,

Or lesser than my name!

Or my divine soul answer it in heaven.

Or not remember what I must be now!

Or shall we play the wantons with our woes,

Or that I could forget what I have been,

Or wallow naked in December snow

Or with much more contempt,

Or worthily, as a good subject should,

Order the trial, Marshal, and begin.

Our countrymen are gone and fled,

Our doctors say this is no month to bleed.

Our lands, our lives and all are Bolingbroke's.

Our lives, our children, and our heirs.

Our part therein we banish with yourselves

Our scene is altered from a serious thing,

Our sighs and they shall lodge the summer corn,

Our substitutes at home shall have blank charters

Our uncle York Lord Governor of England,

Pardon is all the suit I have in hand.

Pardon me, madam,

Part of your cares you give me with your crown.

Part us, Northumberland.

Peace have they made with him indeed, my lord.

Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels,

Perhaps he hath 'ere this, but stays upon

Persuades me I was better when a king;

Peruse this writing here,

Plays fondly with her tears and smiles in meeting,

Pleads he in earnest?

Plucked four away.

Plucked from my arms perforce and given away

Poor queen!

Post you to London,

Pray God the plants thou graft'st may never grow.

Pray God we may make haste and come too late!

Prepare thee hence for France

Prepare yourselves.

Proportionable to the enemy is all unpossible.

Proud Bolingbroke, I come!

Proud majesty a subject, state a peasant.

Provided that my banishment repealed

Quick is mine ear to hear of good towards him.

Rained from the wounds of slaughtered Englishmen.

Rased out my imprese, leaving me no sign

Read o'er these articles.

Read o'er this paper while the glass doth come.

Redeem from broking pawn the blemished crown,

Reproach and dissolution hangeth over him.

Rescued the Black Prince, that young Mars of men,

Return again, and take an oath with me.

Return with welcome home from banishment.

Revolt, our subjects? That we cannot mend.

Rich men look sad, and ruffians dance and leap,

Richard of Bordeaux,

Richly in both, if justice had it right.

Right, you say true. As Hereford's love, so his

Rise up, good aunt!

Rode he on Barbary?

ROSS: And living, too, for now his son is duke.

Royally? Why? It contains no king.

Saddle my horse! Give me my boots I say!

Save men's opinions and my living blood

Say pardon, king;

Say that again. The shadow of my sorrow! Ha!

Say thus the king returns.

Say, is my kingdom lost?

Say, pardon first, and afterwards stand up.

Say, Scroop, where lies our uncle with his power?

Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp

Scroop, what news?

See them delivered over

See, see.

Seek you to seize and grip into your hands

Set on towards London, cousin, is it so?

Set you on,

Setting aside his high blood's royalty, I do defy him,

Shall be accomplished

Shall be extinct with age and endless night.

Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn.

Shall here inhabit, and this land be called

Shall I obtain it?

Shall ill become

Shall keep a league till death.

Shall kin with kin and kind with kind confound;

Shall not regreet our fair dominions,

Shall point on me and gild my banishment.

Shall see us rising in our throne, the East,

Shall tender duty make me suffer wrong?

Shall thy old dugs another traitor rear?

Shall we call back Northumberland,

Shalt break into corruption

SHE CONTINUES TO KNOCK

Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow,

Should dying men flatter with those that live?

Should grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke?

Should I do so, I should belie my thoughts.

Should run thy head from thy unreverent shoulders!

Should show so heinous, black, obscene a deed!

Should so with civil and uncivil arms be rushed upon!

Should take it off again with words of sooth!

Showing an outward pity; yet you Pilates

Shows us but this: I am sworn brother, sweet,

Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me.

Since it is bankrupt of his majesty.

Since presently your souls must part your bodies

Since pride must have a fall, and break the neck

Since the more fair and crystal is the sky,

Since thou dost seek to kill my name in me,

Since thou hast far to go,

Since thou, created to be awed by man,

Six frozen winters spent,

Six years we banish him, and he SHALL go.

Snakes, in my heart blood warmed, that sting my heart!

So as thou livest in peace,

So be thy fortune in this royal fight.

So far be mine, my most redoubted lord,

So high above his limits swells the rage of Bolingbroke,

So I were from your sights.

So is it in the music of men's lives.

So Judas did to Christ

So many blows upon this face of mine,

So many greedy looks of young and old

So many miles upon her peaceful bosom,

So may you by my dull and heavy eye.

So much for that. Now,

So proud that Bolingbroke was on his back?

So proudly as if he disdained the ground.

So we shall proceed

So weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth,

So, fare you well.

So, when this thief, this traitor, Bolingbroke

SOBBING

Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed,

Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed;

Some other sport.

Some poisoned by their wives, some sleeping killed

Some poisoned by their wives; some sleeping killed.

Some way of common trade,

Sometimes am I king;

Speak sweetly, man, although thy looks be sour.

Speak, thou wretch.

Spur post, and get before him to the king,

Spurred, galled

Stand all apart!

Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves.

Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke,

Stay and be secret, and myself will go.

Stay thy revengeful hand; thou hast no cause to fear.

Stay yet another day, thou trusty Welshman.

Stay! The King hath thrown his warder down.

Steward, deputy elect,

Stirred up by God,

Strive to speak big and clap their female joints

Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we?

Subjected thus, how can you say to me I am a king?

Subjected thus, how can you say to me I am a king?

Such crimson tempest should bedrench the fresh green lap

Such is the breath of kings.

Suddenly taken, and hath sent post haste

Suppose the singing birds musicians,

Swear by the duty that you owe to God

Sweet soil, adieu

Sweet York, be patient.

Sweet York, sweet husband, be not of that mind

Swell'st thou, proud heart?

Take Hereford's rights away and take from time

Take honour from me, and my life is done.

Take leave and part.

Taste grief

Teach thy necessity to reason thus

Tears show their love, but want their remedies.

Tears the cloudy cheeks of heaven.

Tell Bolingbroke.

Tell me, gentle friend, How went he under him?

Tell me, moreover, hast thou sounded him

Tell thou the lamentable tale of me

Ten thousand bloody crowns

Tends that thou wouldst speak to the Duke of Hereford?

Terrible hell make war upon their spotted souls for this!

Than a delightful measure or a dance

Than Bolingbroke to England.

Than can my care tuned tongue deliver him.

Than my unpleased eye see your courtesy.

Than the elements of fire and water,

Than was that young and princely gentleman.

Thanks, noble peer;

That all the treasons for these 18 years

That bids me be of comfort any more.

That brings me food to make misfortune live?

That bucket down and full of tears am I,

That do poison need,

That ever fell upon this cursed earth!

That every day under his household roof

That every stride he makes upon my land is dangerous treason.

That had not God, for some strong purpose, steeled

That Harry, Duke of Hereford,

That hath all achieved!

That he had not so trimmed and dressed his land

That he is a traitor, foul and dangerous,

That horse that I so carefully have dressed!

That horse that thou so often hast bestrid,

That I have worn so many winters out,

That I may breathe my last

That in a Christian climate souls refined

That in common view

That it may show me what a face I have,

That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand;

That know the strong'st and the surest way to get!

That laid the sentence of dread banishment on yon proud man,

That lift your vassal hands against my head

That look too lofty in our commonwealth

That many have and others must sit there;

That no man enter till my tale be done.

That not only givest

That owes two buckets,

That power that made you king

That rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall.

That rounds the mortal temples of a king

That seemed in eating him to hold him up,

That speaks thy words again to do thee harm.

That stands upon your royal grandsire's bones,

That swells with silence in the tortured soul;

That they are not the first of fortune's slaves,

That they can see a sort of traitors here.

That vow a long and weary pilgrimage.

That were some love but little policy.

That will the King severely prosecute

That with usurping steps do trample thee.

That would divorce this terror from my heart;

That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue.

That, by confessing them, the souls of men

That, like the sun, did make beholders wink?

That...blood should sprinkle me

That's as York thrives to beat back Bolingbroke.

Thate'er this tongue of mine,

The accuser and the accused freely speak.

The appellant in all duty greets your highness

The apprehension of the good

The banished Bolingbroke repeals himself,

The bay trees in our country are all withered,

The blood of English shall manure the ground,

The cares I give I have, though given away;

The castle royally is manned, my lord, against thy entrance.

The commons hath he pilled with grievous taxes,

The commons will not be satisfied.

The Conspirator, Abbot of Westminster,

The dateless limit of thy dear exile

The Duke of Lancaster is dead.

The duke,

The emptier ever dancing in the air,

The eyes of men,

The field of Golgotha and dead men's skulls.

The first departing of the King for Ireland.

The flower of England's face,

The flowers fair ladies,

The friends are fled to wait upon thy foes,

The heads of Bagot and Sir Stephen Scroop.

The heads of Oxford, Salisbury, Blunt, and Kent.

The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted

The hopeless word of never to return

The King is not himself, but basely led

The king of heaven forbid our lord, the king,

The King reposes all his confidence in thee.

The king shall be contented.

The king shall do it.

The King shall rue.

The King's grown bankrupt like a broken man.

The language I have learnt these 40 years,

The lining of his coffers shall make coats

The man that mocks at it and sets it light.

The men there will stay loyal to his majesty.

The mightiest of thy greatest enemies,

The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne,

The next news is, I have to London brought

The noble Duke hath been much abused.

The noble Duke hath sworn his coming is

The nobles hath he fined For ancient quarrels,

The one in fear to lose what they enjoy,

The other down, unseen and full of water

The other to enjoy by rage and war.

The pale faced moon looks bloody on the earth,

The plate, coin, revenues and moveables

The pleasure that some fathers feed upon

The pride of kingly sway from out my heart;

The purest treasure mortal times afford

The rage be his,

The resignation of thy state and crown

The revenue whereof shall furnish us

The ripest fruit first falls, and so doth he.

The royalties and rights of banished Hereford?

The shadow of your face.

The shadow of your sorrow hath destroyed

The sly slow hours shall not determinate

THE SOLDIERS ROAR

The state and inclination of the day.

The sun that warms you here shall shine on me

The swelling difference of your settled hate.

The task he undertakes

The time shall not be many hours of age

The traitor lives, the true man's put to death.

The treason that my haste forbid me show.

The uglier seem the clouds that in it fly.

The weeds which his broad spreading leaves did shelter,

The which he hath detained for lewd employments,

The which how far off from the mind of Bolingbroke it is

The wind sits fair for news to go for Ireland,

The woe's to come; the children yet unborn

The word is short, but not so short as sweet;

The worst is death, and Death will have his day.

The worst is worldly loss thou canst unfold.

Their fortunes both are weighed

Their fruits of duty.

Their peace is made with heads, and not with hands.

Then am I kinged again and by and by

Then call them to our presence.

Then give me leave that I may turn the key,

Then give me leave to go.

Then I must not say no.

Then murders, treasons and detested sins

Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen?

Then thus I have from Port le Blanc, a bay

Then treasons make me wish myself a beggar,

Then whither he goes, thither let me go.

Then, as I said,

Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart

Then, England's ground, farewell!

Then, if angels fight, weak men must fall,

There I'll pine away.

There lies the substance

There shall your swords and lances arbitrate

There shouldst thou find one heinous article,

Therefore no no,

Therefore we will disperse ourselves. Farewell.

Therefore, be bold.

Therefore, no dancing, girl.

These accusations and grievous crimes

These high wild hills and rough uneven ways

These signs forerun the death or fall of kings.

These terms of treason doubled down his throat.

THEY BOTH LAUGH

They break their faith to God as well as us.

They love not poison

They might have lived to bear and he to taste

They shall be satisfied

They shall not live within this world,

They tend the crown, yet still with me they stay.

They well deserve to have,

Things past redress are now with me past care.

Think I am dead and that even here though takest,

Think not the King did banish thee,

Think that I am unkinged by Bolingbroke,

Think what you will,

Thinking his prattle to be tedious;

This and much more,

This arm shall prove it, or this life be spent!

This blessed plot, this earth,

This deadly blot in thy digressing son.

This deadly blot in thy digressing son.

This dear, dear land,

This earth shall have a feeling,

This England,

This fortress built by Nature for herself

This hand hath made him proud with clapping him.

This happy breed of men,

This is your doom

This land of such dear souls,

This little world,

This louring tempest of your home bred hate

This music mads me; let it sound no more;

This must my comfort be,

This other Eden,

This precious stone set in the silver sea,

This prison where I live unto the world

This realm,

This royal throne of kings,

This sceptred isle,

This seat of Mars,

This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head

This way the king will come;

This we prescribe, though no physician;

This...earth

Thither will I with you,

Thou art a banished man, and here art come,

Thou art a traitor and a miscreant,

Thou chid'st me well.

Thou diest, though I the sicker be.

Thou dost beguile me!

Thou dost suspect that I have been disloyal to thy bed

Thou frantic woman,

Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there.

Thou hast said enough.

Thou kill'st me in his life; giving him breath,

Thou shalt think,

Thou, now a dying, say'st thou flatterest me.

Thou!

Though banished,

Though death be poor, it ends a mortal woe.

Though he divide the realm and give thee half,

Though I did wish him dead, I hate the murderer,

Though rebels wound thee with their horses' hoofs.

Though Richard my life's counsel would not hear,

Though some of you with Pilate wash your hands

Though you are old enough to be my heir.

Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot

Thoughts tending to content

Through brazen trumpet, send the breath of parley

Through casements darted their desiring eyes

Through the false passage of thy throat, thou liest.

Throw away respect, tradition, form and ceremonious duty

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

Thus boldly for his king,

Thus high at least, although your knee be low.

Thus plated in habiliments of war.

Thus play I in one person many people,

Thy buried fear

Thy death bed is no lesser than thy land,

Thy life answer! I will unto the king.

Thy overflow of good converts to bad,

Thy overflow of good converts to bad,

Thy pains, Willoughby, shall not be forgot.

Thy sad aspect

Thy sun sets weeping in the lowly west,

Thy thrice noble cousin, Harry Bolingbroke,

Thy words are but as thoughts.

Till he be eased

Till they have fretted us a pair of graves within the earth.

Till time lend friends and friends their helpful swords.

Till twice five summers have enriched our fields

Till you did make him misinterpret me,

To be a make peace shall become my age.

To bear the tidings of calamity.

To Bolingbroke's fair day.

To breathe this news;

To change blows with thee for our day of doom.

To deck our soldiers for these Irish wars.

To do that office of thine own good will

To do what service am I sent for hither?

To drive away the heavy thought of care?

To entreat your majesty to visit him.

To execution and the hand of death.

To find out right with wrong it may not be.

To God of heaven, King Richard and to me.

To God, my king

To grim Necessity, and he and I

To have some conference with your grace alone.

To help him to his grave immediately!

To Henry Bolingbroke.

To his unstaid youth?

To horse, to horse! Urge doubts to them that fear.

To insinuate,

To keep all this.

To keep him safely till his day of trial.

To keep the oath that we administer

To kill the new crowned king.

To lay aside life harming heaviness

To lengthen out the worst that must be spoken.

To lift shrewd steel against our golden crown,

To look so poorly and to speak so fair?

To look upon my sometimes royal master's face.

To make a second fall of cursed man?

To make me grow

To make my end too sudden: learn, good soul,

To make the base earth proud with kissing it.

To meet at London, London's king in woe.

To melt myself away in water drops!

To monarchise

To my father's seat

To my inheritance of free descent.

To Oxford, or where'er these traitors are:

To pay their awful duty to our presence?

To plant unrightful kings, wilt know again,

To please myself I cannot do it.

To please the King I did,

To plot, contrive, or complot any ill

To pluck him headlong from the usurped throne.

To prove him, in defending of myself,

To prove, by God's grace and my body's valour,

To reach at victory above my head,

To read a lecture of them?

To rid the realm of this pernicious blot?

To rouse his wrongs and chase them to the bay.

To scarlet indignation

To see those lands I must again call mine.

To show the world I am a gentleman.

To stand upon my kingdom once again.

To think our former state a happy dream;

To this submission.

To undeck the pompous body of a king;

To upstart unthrifts?

To wash this blood off from my...guilty hand.

To watch the fearful bending of thy knee,

To wayward sickliness and age in him.

Today, today, unhappy day, too late,

Tomorrow must we part.

Tomorrow next

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

Towards our assistance we do seize to us

Transformed and weakened?

Tut, tut! You grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle.

Uncle, even in the glasses of thine eyes

Uncle, farewell.

Uncle, for God's sake, speak comfortable words.

Uncle, give me your hand.

Unkinged Richard says,

Unless he do profane, steal, or usurp!

Unless you call it good to pity him,

Unlikely wonders; how these vain weak nails

Until the heavens, envying earth's good hap,

Until thou bid me joy,

Unto my mother's prayers I bend my knee.

Unto the sovereign mercy of the King.

Up, cousin, up.

Upon his visage.

Upon my head

Urge it no more, my Lord Northumberland.

Vex not yourself, nor strive not with your breath,

Villain, I'll make thee safe.

Villain, thy own hand yields thy death's instrument.

VIPERS!

Was I born to this, that my sad look

Was it not so? Quoth he.

Was this face the face

Was this the face

Was this the face that faced so many follies,

Wast born to bear?

Watching breeds leanness, leanness is all gaunt.

We are all strongly sworn to give him aid.

We are amazed.

We are enforced to farm our royal realm,

We are the king's friends,

We at time of year

We did observe his courtship of the common people.

We do debase ourselves, cousin, do we not,

We must supplant those rough rug headed kerns,

We see the very wreck that we must suffer,

We see the wind sit sore upon our sails,

We seize into our hands

We thank thee for thy pains.

We thank you both.

We therefore banish you our territories

We three are but thyself, and, speaking so,

We three here part that ne'er shall meet again.

We were not born to sue but to command;

We will descend

We will for Ireland, and 'tis time.

We will not stay.

We will ourself in person to this war,

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

We'll keep him here, then what is that to him?

We'll make foul weather with despised tears.

Welcome, my lord.

Welcome, my lord. What news?

Well have you argued, sir; and, for your pains,

Well then, amen.

Well you deserve.

Well, he is gone,

Well, I will for refuge straight to Bristol Castle.

Well, we may meet again.

Well, well, I see...

Well, well. HE CHUCKLES

Were brass impregnable.

Were enough noble to be upright judge

Were he twenty times my son, I would impeach him.

Were I but now the lord of such hot youth

Were then but subjects; being now a subject,

Were they not mine?

Wert thou not my father's father's son,

What art thou?

What comfort have we now?!

What dost thou make here?

What dost thou object

What doth our cousin lay to Mowbray's charge?

What Eve, what serpent,

What ho, my liege! For God's sake, let me in!

What is become of Bushy?

What is the matter, my lord? Ho! Who's within there?

What is the matter, uncle? Speak.

What is the matter? Peace, foolish woman!

What is thy sentence then, but speechless death,

What means our cousin that he stares and looks so wildly?

What more remains?

What must the king do now?

What reverence he did throw away on slaves.

What said our cousin when you parted with him?

What say you now?!

What says he?

What says King Bolingbroke?

What seal is that?

What shrill voiced suppliant makes this eager cry?

What sport shall we devise here in this garden,

What subject can give sentence on his king?

What will ensue here after there's none can tell.

What words he spake.

What would you have me do?

What you will have, I'll give, and willing, too;

What, has my Richard both in shape and mind

What, think you then the king shall be deposed?

What, will not this castle yield?

What?! Are they dead?! They are.

When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary,

When I do see the very book indeed

When my poor heart no measure keeps in grief.

When our sea walled garden, the whole land, is full of weeds,

When their thundering shock at meeting

When thou wert king;

When time is broke and no proportion kept!

When, Harry, when? Obedience bids I should not bid again.

Where all my sins are writ, and that's myself.

Where is Green?

Where lies he? At Lancaster.

Where no man never comes but that sad dog

Where nothing lives but crosses, cares and grief.

Where one on his side fights, thousands will fly.

Where subjects' feet may hourly trample on their sovereign's head,

Where was he the whilst?

Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain,

Where'er I wander, boast of this I can,

Where's the Duke, my father, with his power?

Wherefore was I born?

Wherein the King stands generally condemned.

Wherein thou liest in reputation sick

Whereof our uncle Gaunt did stand possessed.

Whereto, when they shall know what men are rich,

Wherewith I reigned?

Which else would post until it had returned

Which for some reason, SIR,

Which for some reasons I would not have seen.

Which honour and allegiance can not think.

Which I with some unwillingness pronounce

Which if today thou shed,

Which live like venom where no venom else

Which robs my tongue from breathing native breath?

Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.

Which serves it in the office of a wall,

Which since we cannot do to make you friends,

Which then our leisure would not let us hear

Which tired majesty did make thee offer,

Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off,

Whilst all tongues cried God save thee, Bolingbroke!

Whilst Bolingbroke, through our security,

Whilst others come to make him lose at home.

Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait myself,

Whilst we were wandering with the Antipodes

Whilst you have fed upon my signories,

Whilst, on the earth, I rain my waters.

WHISPERS: Remember who you are.

Whitebeards have armed their thin and hairless scalps

Whither you will,

Whither?

Who all the while hath revelled in the night

Who comes here?

Who hither come engaged by my oath

Who shall hinder me?

Who sitting in the stocks refuge their shame,

Who with willing soul

Who, weak with age, cannot support myself.

Who, with much ado, have gotten leave

Whom you call king,

Whose compass is no bigger than thy head.

Whose duty is deceivable and false.

Whose youthful spirit in me regenerate,

Why am I sent for to a king,

Why do I rail on thee,

Why dost thou say King Richard is deposed?

Why have those banished and forbidden legs

Why looks thou so pale?

Why should we keep law and form and due proportion,

Why, 'twas my care.

Why, foolish boy, the King is left behind,

Why, uncle, thou hast many years to live.

Why, uncle, what's the matter?

Why, York, what wilt thou do?

Will no man say amen?

Will the King come...

Will you go along with us?

Will you permit that I shall stand condemned

WILLOUGHBY: Barely in titles, not in revenues.

Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own?

With all my heart

With all swift speed you must away to France.

With all the rest of that consorted crew,

With being nothing.

With faithful English blood.

With fury from his native residence?

With good old folks and let them tell thee tales

With humble and familiar courtesy,

With mine own breath release all duty's rites

With mine own hands I give away my crown,

With mine own tears I wash away my balm,

With mine own tongue

With nothing grieved,

With nothing shall be pleased,

With slow but stately pace kept on his course,

With tears drawn from her eyes by your foul wrongs.

With Thanks, my countrymen, my loving friends,

With the eyes of heavy mind

With thy fatal hand

With too much urging your pernicious lives,

Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here alone.

Within my mouth you have engaoled my tongue,

Within this coffin I present

Without contradiction.

Without suspicion.

Witnessing storms to come, woe and unrest.

Words, life and all old Lancaster hath spent.

Would God that any in this noble presence

Would he not fall down,

Would he not stumble?

Would it not shame thee in so fair a troop

Would not this ill do well?

Would they make peace?

Wrath kindled gentlemen, be ruled by me:

Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth.

Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth.

Yea, but not change his spots.

Yea, look'st thou pale?

Yea, my good lord.

Yes, my good lord,

Yet a true born Englishman.

Yet am I sick with fear: speak it again;

Yet ask.

Yet blessing on his heart that gives it me!

Yet I well remember the favours of these men

Yet I'll hammer it out.

Yet know, my master, God omnipotent,

Yet my death's sad tale may yet undeaf his ear.

Yet one but flatters us,

Yet to wash your blood

Yet what I say is true.

Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies,

York is far too gone with grief,

YORK SOBS

You are my father,

You have a son, Aumerle, my noble cousin.

You have in manner with your sinful hours

You have misled a prince,

You holy clergymen,

You lose a thousand well disposed hearts

You never shall, so help you truth and God,

You pluck a thousand dangers on your head,

You promised, when you parted with the King,

You shall subscribe them for large sums of gold,

You shall.

You show me thy humble heart, and not thy knee,

You told me you would tell the rest?

You will be there, I know.

You would have thought the very windows spake,

You, cousin Hereford, upon pain of life,

Your care is gain of care, by new care won

Your cares set up do not pluck my cares down.

Your heart is up, I know.

Your hearts of sorrow and your eyes of tears

Your husband, he is gone to save far off,

Your mother well hath prayed,

Your own is yours, and I am yours, and all.

Your uncle, York, is joined with Bolingbroke,

Your will be done.

'Base court, where kings grow base,

'Come down?

'Down, court!

'Down, down I come.

'Down, king!'

'Ere further leisure yield them further means

'Ere it be disburdened with a liberal tongue.

'Gainst us,

'Gainst us, our state, our subjects or our land.

'In the base court?

'In the base court?

'Like a glistering Phaeton, wanting the manage of unruly jades.

'Tis thought the King is dead.

'Tis well that thou hast cause.

'To come at traitors' calls and do them grace.