THE LIFE AND DEATH or KING RICHARD II. LITERARY AND HISTORICAL NOTICE. THE action of this drama comprises little more than the two last years of King Richard's reign. It commences with Bolinbroke's accusation of treason against Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, in 1398, and terminates with the murder of Richard at Pomfret Castle, about the year 1400. Shakspeare wrote the play in 1597, deriving his materials chiefly from Hollinshed's Chronicle, many passages of which, he has almost literally embodied with his own. The speech of the Bishop of Carlisle, in defence of King Richard's unalienable right, and immunity from human jurisdiction, is particularly copied from that old writer. The historical points of the tragedy are consequently accurate; for notwithstanding the Lancasterian prejudices of those who have recorded his reign, Richard was a weak prince, and unfit for government. He had capacity enough, but no solid judgment, nor good education: he was violent in temper, profuse in expence, fond of idle show, devoted to favourites, and addicted to low society. Yet his punishment outbalanced his offence. Dr. Johnson has remarked of this play, that it cannot be said " much to affect the passions, or enlarge the understanding;" but it is impossible to contemplate the abject degradation of the unfortunate monarch, as drawn by the poet, without questioning the truth and judgment of this critical rescript. In dignity of thought and fertility of expression, it is certainly superior to many of Shakspeare's productions, however it may yield to them in attractive incident or highly-wrought catastrophe. Yet where can we find a combination of circumstances more truly pathetic, than those with which Shakspeare has surrounded the short career of Richard, from his landing in Wales, to his murder at Pomfret. If the bitterness of his sorrow when deserted by his friends, and bearded by his barons--if the lowliness and patience of his carriage, whilst exposed to the insults of the rabble, and greeted with the mockery of homage by his aspiring rival---if the majesty of his sentiments, soaring above conscious helplessness or constitutional imbecility---and if his heroic resistance when despatched by his savage assailants--are not calculated to "affect the passions, or enlarge the understanding," there is no dramatic portraiture that is capable of doing so. KING RICHARD THE SECOND. York, JOHN OF GAUNT, Duke of Lan caster, DRAMATIS PERSONE. Uncles to HENRY, surnamed Bolingbroke, Duke of He- DUKE OF AUMERLE, Son to the Duke of York. DUKE OF SURREY. EARL OF SALISBURY. EARL BERKLEY. BUSHY, BAGOT, Creatures to King Richard. GREEN, EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND. HENRY PERCY, his Son. LORD ROSS. LORD WILLOUGHBY. QUEEN to King Richard. LADY attending on the Queen. Lords, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, two Gardeners, Keeper, Messenger, Groom, and other Attendants. SCENE, dispersedly in England, and Wales. ACT I. SCENE I.-London.-A Room in the Enter King RICHARD, attended; JORN of K. Rich. Old John of Gaunt, time honour'd Lancaster, Hast thon, according to thy oath and band,⚫ Which then our leisure would not let us hear, • Bond. K. Rich. I gave this heavy weight from off my head, nd this unwieldy sceptre from my hand; pomp and majesty I do forswear; My manors, rents, and revenues, I forego. Queen. What sport shall we devise here in these gar dens, To drive away the heavy thought of care? Act III. Scene IV. Act II. Scene II. bet. A woeful pageant have we here beheld. r. The woe's to come; the children yet unborn feel this day as sharp to them as thorn. Duch. What's the matter? York. Peace, foolish woman. Act V. Scene 11. Act IV. Scene I. Gaunt. I have, my liege. K. Rich. Tell ine moreover, hast thou sounded him, If he appeal the Duke on ancient malice; On some apparent danger seen in him, : And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear Re-enter Attendants, with BOLINGBROKE and NORFOLK. Boling. May many years of happy days be fall My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege! Nor. Each day still better other's happiness; Until the heavens, envying earth's good hap, Add an immortal title to your crown! K. Rich. We thank you both yet one but flatters us, As well appeareth by the cause you come; Namely, to appeal each other of high trea son. Cousin of Hereford, what dost thou object Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray? Boling. First, (heaven be the record of my speech !) In the devotion of a subject's love, Nor. Let not my cold words here accuse my zeal ; 'Tis not the trial of a woman's war (The bitter clamour of two eager tongnes) Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain: The blood is hot, that must be cool'd for this, Yet can I not of such tame patience boast, As to be hush'd, and naught at all to say: First, the fair reverence of your highness curbs me From giving reins and spurs to my free speech ; Call him-a slanderous coward, and a villain; my gage, Disclaiming here the kindred of a king; • Charge, If guilty dread hath left thee so much strength, As to take up mine honour's pawn, then stoop: By that, and all the rights of kighthood else, Will I make good against thee, arm to arm, What I have spoke, or thou can'st worst devise. Nor. I take it up; and, by that sword I swear, Which gently laid my knighthood on my shoulder, I'll answer thee in any fair degree, Or chivalrous design of knightly trial: K. Rich. What doth our cousin lay to Mowbray's charge? It must be great, that can inherit * us Boling. Look, what I speak my life shall prove it true ; That Mowbray hath receiv'd eight thousand nobles, In name of lendings for your highness' soldiers The which he hath detain'd for lewd employments, Like a false traitor and injurious villain. Further I say, and further will maintain Which blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries K. Rich. How high a pitch his resolution soars ! Thomas of Norfolk, what say'st thou to this? Nor. Oh! let my sovereign turn away his face, And bid his ears a little while be deaf, ears: Were he my brother, nay, my kingdom's heir, Nor. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart, Through the false passage of thy throat, thou liest ! The parts of that receipt I had for Calais, death,- I slew him not; but to my own disgrace, • Possess. This is my fault: As for the rest appeal'd,* SCENE 11.-The same.-A Room in the Duke of LANCASTER's Palace. Enter GAUNT, and Duchess of Gloster. Gaunt. Alas! the part I had in Gloster' blood Doth more solicit me, than your exclaims, Even in the best blood chamber'd in his bo- To stir against the butchers of his life. som: In haste whereof, most heartily I pray K. Rich. Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be rul'd Let's purge this choler without letting blood: age: Throw down, my son, the duke of Norfolk's gage. K. Rich. And, Norfolk, throw down bis. Obedience bids, I should not bid again. K. Rich. Norfolk, throw down; we bid; there is no boot. Nor. Myself I throw, dread sovereign, at thy foot; My life thou shalt command, but not my The one my duty owes but my fair name, But since correction lieth in those hands, Hath love in thy old blood no living fire? O seven fair brauches springing from one root: Some of those branches by the destinies cut: One phial full of Edward's sacred blood, By envy's hand, and murder's bloody axe. mettle, that self mould, that fashion'd Made him a man; and though thou liv'st, and Yet art thou slain in him: Thou dost consent The which no balm can cure, but his heart-Who was the model of thy father's life. blood Which breath'd this poison. K. Rich. Rage must be withstood: Give me his gage: Lions make leopards tame. And I resign my gage. Mine honour is my life; both grow in one; K. Rich. Cousin, throw down your gage; do Boling. O God, defend my soul from such Shall I seem crest-fallen in my father's sight? wrong, Or sound so base a parle, my teeth shall tear Which since we cannot do to make you Be ready, as your lives shall answer it, [Exeunt. Charged against me. Call it not patience, Gaunt, it is despair : Gaunt. Heaven's is the quarrel; for heaven's His deputy anointed in his sight, fully, Let heaven revenge; for I may never lift Duch. Where then, alas ! may I complain Gaunt. To heaven, the widow's champion Duch. Why then, I will. Farewell, old Thou go'st to Coventry, there to behold That it may enter butcher Mowbray's breast! And throw the rider headlong in the lists, With her companion grief must end her life. where it falls, Not with the empty hollowness, but weight: Relationship. |