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To a dear friend of the good Duke of York's

That tell black tidings.

QUEEN.

O, I am press'd to death through want of speaking!

[Coming forward]

Thou, old Adam's likeness, set to dress this garden,

How dares thy harsh rude tongue sound this unpleasing news?

What Eve, what serpent, hath suggested the

To make a second fall of cursed man?

Why dost thou say King Richard is depos'd?

Dar'st thou, thou little better thing than earth,

Divine his downfall? Say, where, when, and how,

Cam'st thou by this ill tidings? Speak, thou wretch.

GARDENER.

Pardon me, madam; little joy have

To breathe this news; yet what I say is true.

King Richard, he is in the mighty hold

Of Bolingbroke. Their fortunes both are weigh'd.

In your lord's scale is nothing but himself,

And some few vanities that make him light;

But in the balance of great Bolingbroke,

Besides himself, are all the English peers,

And with that odds he weighs King Richard down.

Post you to London, and you will find it so;

I speak no more than every one doth know.

QUEEN.

Nimble mischance, that art so light of foot,

Doth not thy embassage belong to me,

And am I last that knows it? O, thou thinkest

To serve me last, that I may longest keep

Thy sorrow in my breast. Come, ladies, go

To meet at London London's King in woe.

What, was I born to this, that my sad look

Should grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke?

Gard'ner, for telling me these news of woe,

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

Exeunt QUEEN and LADIES

GARDENER.

Poor Queen, so that thy state might be no worse,

I would my skill were subject to thy curse.

Here did she fall a tear; here in this place

I'll set a bank of rue, sour herb of grace.

Rue, even for ruth, here shortly shall be seen,

In the remembrance of a weeping queen. Exeunt

ACT IV. SCENE 1. Westminster Hall

Enter, as to the Parliament, BOLINGBROKE, AUMERLE,

NORTHUMBERLAND, PERCY,

FITZWATER, SURREY, the BISHOP OF CARLISLE, the ABBOT OF

WESTMINSTER,

and others; HERALD, OFFICERS, and BAGOT

BOLINGBROKE.

Call forth Bagot.

Now, Bagot, freely speak thy mind-

What thou dost know of noble Gloucester's death;

Who wrought it with the King, and who perform'd

The bloody office of his timeless end.

BAGOT.

Then set before my face the Lord Aumerle.

BOLINGBROKE.

Cousin, stand forth, and look upon that man.

BAGOT.

My Lord Aumerle, I know your daring tongue

Scorns to unsay what once it hath deliver'd.

In that dead time when Gloucester's death was plotted

I heard you say 'Is not my arm of length,

That reacheth from the restful English Court

As far as Calais, to mine uncle's head?'

Amongst much other talk that very time

I heard you say that you had rather refuse

The offer of an hundred thousand crowns

Than Bolingbroke's return to England;

Adding withal, how blest this land would be

In this your cousin's death.

AUMERLE.

Princes, and noble lords,

What answer shall I make to this base man?

Shall I so much dishonour my fair stars

On equal terms to give him chastisement?

Either I must, or have mine honour soil'd

With the attainder of his slanderous lips.

There is my gage, the manual seal of death

That marks thee out for hell. I say thou liest,

And will maintain what thou hast said is false

In thy heart-blood, through being all too base

To stain the temper of my knightly sword.

BOLINGBROKE.

Bagot, forbear; thou shalt not take it up.

AUMERLE.

Excepting one, I would he were the best

In all this presence that hath mov'd me so.

FITZWATER.

If that thy valour stand on sympathy,

There is my gage, Aumerle, in gage to thine.

By that fair sun which shows me where thou stand'st,

I heard thee say, and vauntingly thou spak'st it,

That thou wert cause of noble Gloucester's death.

If thou deniest it twenty times, thou liest;

And I will turn thy falsehood to thy heart,

Where it was forged, with my rapier's point.

AUMERLE.

Thou dar'st not, coward, live to see that day.

FITZWATER.

Now, by my soul, I would it were this hour.

AUMERLE.