Act 4, Scene 1

Original Text

SCENE I. Westminster Hall. The Lords spiritual on the right side of the throne; the Lords temporal on the left; the Commons below. Enter Bolingbroke, Aumerle, Surrey, Northumberland, Harry Percy, Fitzwater, another Lord, the Bishop of Carlisle, the Abbot of Westminster and attendants.

Modern English

*Westminster Hall. The clergy stand to the right of the throne, the nobles to the left, the commoners below. Bolingbroke enters with Aumerle, Surrey, Northumberland, Harry Percy, Fitzwater, another lord, the Bishop of Carlisle, the Abbot of Westminster, and attendants.*

Original Text

BOLINGBROKE. Call forth Bagot. Enter Officers with Bagot. Now, Bagot, freely speak thy mind, What thou dost know of noble Gloucester’s death, Who wrought it with the King, and who performed The bloody office of his timeless end.

Modern English

BOLINGBROKE. Bring Bagot forward. *Officers enter with Bagot.* Now, Bagot — speak freely. Tell us everything you know about the death of the noble Duke of Gloucester: who conspired with the King to arrange it, and who actually carried out the bloody act that ended his life before its time.

Original Text

BAGOT. Then set before my face the Lord Aumerle. BOLINGBROKE. Cousin, stand forth, and look upon that man.

Modern English

BAGOT. Then bring Lord Aumerle before me. BOLINGBROKE. Cousin, step forward and face this man.

Original Text

BAGOT. My Lord Aumerle, I know your daring tongue Scorns to unsay what once it hath delivered. 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.

Modern English

BAGOT. My Lord Aumerle, I know your proud tongue is not in the habit of taking back what it has said. Back when Gloucester's murder was being planned, I heard you say: "Can't my reach extend all the way from the comfort of the English court to Calais, where my uncle is, to take his head?" And there was more — on that very same occasion, I heard you say you'd sooner refuse a hundred thousand crowns than see Bolingbroke return to England, adding that this land would be blessed by the death of this cousin of yours.

Original Text

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 soiled 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, though being all too base To stain the temper of my knightly sword.

Modern English

AUMERLE. Lords and princes, what answer am I supposed to give this low-born man? Would it not dishonor everything I was born to to lower myself to fight someone like him? Either I must do it, or let my honor be stained by the filth of his lying mouth. Here is my gage — the token that seals death, the mark I'm putting on you for hell. I say you lie, and I will prove everything you've said is false in your own blood — though you're far too base to deserve to soil my knightly sword with you.

Original Text

BOLINGBROKE. Bagot, forbear. Thou shalt not take it up. AUMERLE. Excepting one, I would he were the best In all this presence that hath moved me so.

Modern English

BOLINGBROKE. Bagot, hold back. You may not accept that challenge. AUMERLE. I wish it were the finest man in this room — save one — who had provoked me this way.

Original Text

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.

Modern English

FITZWATER. If your courage only rises to meet equals, then here is my gage, Aumerle, matched against yours. By the bright sun that lights the ground where you stand, I heard you say it — and you said it boastfully — that you were responsible for the noble Gloucester's death. Deny it twenty times over, and you still lie! And I will drive that lie back into your heart, where it was born, on the point of my sword.

Original Text

AUMERLE. Thou dar’st not, coward, live to see that day. FITZWATER. Now, by my soul, I would it were this hour.

Modern English

AUMERLE. You don't have the courage to live long enough to see that day, coward. FITZWATER. I swear on my soul, I wish it were this very hour.

Original Text

AUMERLE. Fitzwater, thou art damned to hell for this.

Modern English

AUMERLE. Fitzwater, you'll burn in hell for this.

Original Text

HARRY PERCY. Aumerle, thou liest. His honour is as true In this appeal as thou art an unjust; And that thou art so, there I throw my gage, To prove it on thee to the extremest point Of mortal breathing. Seize it if thou dar’st.

Modern English

HARRY PERCY. Aumerle, you lie. His charge against you is as sound as your defense is false. And to prove it, there is my gage — I'll make good on it to the very last breath of mortal life. Pick it up if you dare.

Original Text

AUMERLE. And if I do not, may my hands rot off And never brandish more revengeful steel Over the glittering helmet of my foe!

Modern English

AUMERLE. And if I don't, may my hands rot off and never raise a sword in righteous anger over the glittering helmet of an enemy again!

Original Text

ANOTHER LORD. I task the earth to the like, forsworn Aumerle, And spur thee on with full as many lies As may be holloaed in thy treacherous ear From sun to sun. There is my honour’s pawn. Engage it to the trial if thou dar’st.

Modern English

ANOTHER LORD. I make the same challenge to you, treacherous Aumerle, and I'll press you with every last lie you've told — enough to fill your traitorous ears from sunrise to sunset. There is my pledge of honor. Take it up and face a reckoning, if you dare.

Original Text

AUMERLE. Who sets me else? By heaven, I’ll throw at all. I have a thousand spirits in one breast To answer twenty thousand such as you.

Modern English

AUMERLE. Who else wants a piece of me? By God, I'll take you all on. I have a thousand fighting spirits in my chest, more than enough to answer twenty thousand like you.

Original Text

SURREY. My Lord Fitzwater, I do remember well The very time Aumerle and you did talk. FITZWATER. ’Tis very true. You were in presence then, And you can witness with me this is true.

Modern English

SURREY. My Lord Fitzwater, I remember that conversation between you and Aumerle very well. FITZWATER. That's right — you were there, you were present, and you can confirm that what I'm saying is true.

Original Text

SURREY. As false, by heaven, as heaven itself is true. FITZWATER. Surrey, thou liest.

Modern English

SURREY. As false, by God, as God himself is true. FITZWATER. Surrey, you're lying.

Original Text

SURREY. Dishonourable boy! That lie shall lie so heavy on my sword That it shall render vengeance and revenge Till thou the lie-giver and that lie do lie In earth as quiet as thy father’s skull. In proof whereof, there is my honour’s pawn. Engage it to the trial if thou dar’st.

Modern English

SURREY. Disgraceful boy! That lie will weigh so heavily on my sword that it will draw out vengeance and revenge until you — the one who told it — and the lie itself both lie as quietly in the ground as your father's skull. As proof, here is my pledge of honor. Take it up and face a reckoning, if you dare.

Original Text

FITZWATER. How fondly dost thou spur a forward horse! If I dare eat, or drink, or breathe, or live, I dare meet Surrey in a wilderness And spit upon him, whilst I say he lies, And lies, and lies. There is my bond of faith To tie thee to my strong correction. As I intend to thrive in this new world, Aumerle is guilty of my true appeal. Besides, I heard the banished Norfolk say That thou, Aumerle, didst send two of thy men To execute the noble duke at Calais.

Modern English

FITZWATER. You fool — why do you spur a horse that's already at full gallop? If I dare eat, drink, breathe, or live, I dare meet Surrey in a deserted wasteland and spit in his face while calling him a liar — a liar, and a liar again. Here is my sworn bond to hold you to that correction. As I intend to thrive in this new world, Aumerle is guilty — my charge against him is true. And there's more: I heard the banished Norfolk say that you, Aumerle, sent two of your men to murder the noble duke at Calais.

Original Text

AUMERLE. Some honest Christian trust me with a gage. That Norfolk lies, here do I throw down this, If he may be repealed to try his honour.

Modern English

AUMERLE. Will some honest Christian lend me a gage? Norfolk is lying — I throw down this challenge against him, if he can be brought back to answer for his words.

Original Text

BOLINGBROKE. These differences shall all rest under gage Till Norfolk be repealed. Repealed he shall be, And, though mine enemy, restored again To all his lands and signories. When he is returned, Against Aumerle we will enforce his trial.

Modern English

BOLINGBROKE. All these disputes will remain under gage until Norfolk is recalled. He will be recalled, and though he is my enemy, he will be restored to all his lands and titles. When he returns, we will press his case against Aumerle at trial.

Original Text

CARLISLE. That honourable day shall ne’er be seen. Many a time hath banished Norfolk fought For Jesu Christ in glorious Christian field, Streaming the ensign of the Christian cross Against black pagans, Turks, and Saracens; And, toiled with works of war, retired himself To Italy, and there at Venice gave His body to that pleasant country’s earth And his pure soul unto his captain, Christ, Under whose colours he had fought so long.

Modern English

CARLISLE. That honorable day will never come to pass. The banished Norfolk has fought many times for Jesus Christ on the fields of holy war, carrying the banner of the Christian cross against pagans, Turks, and Saracens. And when the labors of war finally wore him out, he withdrew to Italy, and there in Venice he gave his body to that peaceful country's earth and his pure soul to his commander, Christ, under whose colors he had fought so long.

Original Text

BOLINGBROKE. Why, Bishop, is Norfolk dead? CARLISLE. As surely as I live, my lord.

Modern English

BOLINGBROKE. Bishop — is Norfolk dead? CARLISLE. As surely as I stand here alive, my lord.

Original Text

BOLINGBROKE. 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.

Modern English

BOLINGBROKE. May peaceful rest carry his gentle soul to the embrace of good Father Abraham! Lords making these challenges — your disputes will all remain under gage until we assign you to your days of trial. *York enters with attendants.*

Original Text

YORK. Great Duke of Lancaster, I come to thee From plume-plucked Richard, who with willing soul Adopts thee heir, and his high sceptre yields To the possession of thy royal hand. Ascend his throne, descending now from him, And long live Henry, of that name the fourth!

Modern English

YORK. Great Duke of Lancaster, I come to you from a humbled Richard, who with willing heart names you his heir and yields his royal scepter into the keeping of your rightful hand. Ascend his throne — the throne that now descends from him — and long live Henry, fourth of that name!

Original Text

BOLINGBROKE. In God’s name, I’ll ascend the regal throne.

Modern English

BOLINGBROKE. In God's name, then, I will take the throne.

Original Text

CARLISLE. 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 noblesse 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 judged 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 judged by subject and inferior breath, And he himself not present? O, forfend it, God, That in a Christian climate souls refined Should show so heinous, black, obscene a deed! I speak to subjects, and a subject speaks, Stirred up by God, 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 prophesy 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 Shall kin with kin and kind with kind confound. Disorder, horror, fear, and mutiny Shall here inhabit, and this land be called The field of Golgotha and dead men’s skulls. O, if you raise this house against this house, It will the woefullest division prove That ever fell upon this cursed earth. Prevent it, resist it, let it not be so, Lest child, child’s children, cry against you, “woe!”

Modern English

CARLISLE. God forbid it! I may hold the lowest rank in this royal company, yet it falls to me to speak the truth. God grant that someone here was noble enough in spirit to stand as a fair judge of noble Richard — then true nobility would teach this assembly to step back from so foul a wrong. What subject can sit in judgment over his king? And who among you here is not Richard's subject? Even common thieves are present at their own trial, though their guilt may be written plainly on their faces. And shall God's anointed representative on earth — his appointed captain, his chosen steward, crowned and enthroned for years — be judged by the breath of his inferiors, and he himself not even present? God forbid that in a Christian nation, souls who know better should stoop to something so heinous, so dark, so obscene! I speak to subjects, and I am a subject myself, stirred by God to speak boldly for his king. The Lord of Hereford whom you call king is a foul traitor to the true king of England. And if you crown him, I prophesy this: English blood will fertilize this ground, and future generations will suffer for this act. Peace will take its leave and go to sleep among the infidels, and in this place that was once peaceful, civil war will set family against family, kin against kin. Disorder, horror, fear, and rebellion will take root here, and this land will be remembered as a field of Golgotha and dead men's skulls. If you raise this house against this house, it will be the most devastating division that ever fell upon this cursed earth. Stop it, resist it, let it not be so — or else your children's children will cry out against you: "Woe!"

Original Text

NORTHUMBERLAND. Well have you argued, 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 it please you, lords, to grant the commons’ suit?

Modern English

NORTHUMBERLAND. You have argued well, sir — and for your trouble, we arrest you here on charges of high treason. My Lord of Westminster, it is your responsibility to hold him safely until his trial. My lords, shall we grant the commons' petition?

Original Text

BOLINGBROKE. Fetch hither Richard, that in common view He may surrender. So we shall proceed Without suspicion.

Modern English

BOLINGBROKE. Bring Richard here so that before everyone's eyes he may surrender his crown. That way we proceed without any shadow of suspicion.

Original Text

YORK. I will be his conduct. [_Exit._]

Modern English

YORK. I will escort him here. *[He exits.]*

Original Text

BOLINGBROKE. Lords, you that here are under our arrest, Procure your sureties for your days of answer. Little are we beholding to your love, And little looked for at your helping hands. Enter York with King Richard and Officers bearing the Crown, &c.

Modern English

BOLINGBROKE. Lords — those of you who are under our arrest — arrange for your guarantors before your days of trial. You have shown us very little in the way of loyalty, and we expected very little help from your hands. *York enters with King Richard and officers bearing the crown.*

Original Text

KING RICHARD. Alack, why am I sent for to a king Before I have shook off the regal thoughts Wherewith I reigned? I hardly yet have learned To insinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my knee. Give sorrow leave awhile to tutor me To this submission. 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?

Modern English

KING RICHARD. What misery — why am I summoned before a king before I've had any time to shake off the thoughts of royalty that filled my mind while I ruled? I've barely begun to learn how to flatter, bow, and bend to others. Give grief a little time to school me in this new life of submission. And yet — I remember these men's faces. Were they not once mine? Did they not once shout "All hail!" to me? As Judas did to Christ — but Christ, among his twelve, found one traitor; I, among twelve thousand, have found none loyal. God save the King! Will no one say "Amen"? Am I both priest and congregation? Very well — Amen. God save the King — though I may not be that king any longer. And yet: Amen, if heaven still counts me as one. What service am I brought here to perform?

Original Text

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.

Modern English

YORK. To do voluntarily what a worn-out reign brought you to offer: the surrender of your crown and title to Henry Bolingbroke.

Original Text

KING RICHARD. Give me the crown. Here, cousin, seize the crown. Here, cousin, On this side my hand, and 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.

Modern English

KING RICHARD. Give me the crown. Here, cousin — take hold of the crown. Here, cousin — my hand on this side, yours on the other. Now this golden crown is like a deep well with two buckets sharing the same rope, each one filling as the other empties — the lighter one always dancing upward through the air, the other sinking down, heavy and full of water. That bucket sinking, full of tears, is me, drowning in my grief while you rise up on high.

Original Text

BOLINGBROKE. I thought you had been willing to resign.

Modern English

BOLINGBROKE. I understood you were willing to abdicate.

Original Text

KING RICHARD. 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.

Modern English

KING RICHARD. My crown I give, but my grief remains mine. You can strip away my glory and my power, but not my sorrow — that kingship I keep.

Original Text

BOLINGBROKE. Part of your cares you give me with your crown.

Modern English

BOLINGBROKE. Some of your burdens pass to me with your crown.

Original Text

KING RICHARD. 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.

Modern English

KING RICHARD. Your new burdens don't lift mine from my shoulders. My burden is the loss of what I cared for — undone by old neglect. Your burden is gaining new responsibilities — won through new effort. The cares I hand over, I still carry within me — they belong to the crown, yes, but they stay with me regardless.

Original Text

BOLINGBROKE. Are you contented to resign the crown?

Modern English

BOLINGBROKE. Are you willing to give up the crown?

Original Text

KING RICHARD. 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 sceptre 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 forgo; 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 grieved, And thou with all pleased that hast all achieved. Long mayst thou live in Richard’s seat to sit, And soon lie Richard in an earthly pit! God save King Henry, unkinged Richard says, And send him many years of sunshine days! What more remains?

Modern English

KING RICHARD. Yes — no — no — yes. I must become nothing. So no "no" from me: I surrender it to you. Now watch how I undo myself, piece by piece: I lift this heavy weight from off my head, I remove this unwieldy scepter from my hand, I uproot the pride of kingship from my heart. With my own tears I wash away my sacred anointing, with my own hands I give away my crown, with my own tongue I renounce my royal state, with my own breath I release all the oaths sworn to me. All pomp and majesty I now disown. My estates, rents, revenues — all gone. My acts, decrees, and statutes — all revoked. God pardon every oath that has been broken to me. God keep every promise made to you. Make me — who now has nothing — grieve for nothing, and make you — who has gained everything — content with it all. Long may you sit in Richard's seat upon the throne, and may Richard soon lie quietly in his grave. God save King Henry, says Richard, stripped of his crown — and may he reign through many bright and peaceful days! What else remains?

Original Text

NORTHUMBERLAND. [_Offering a paper_.] No more, but that you read 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 deposed.

Modern English

NORTHUMBERLAND. *[Holding out a document.]* Only this — that you read aloud these charges and these serious crimes committed by you and your followers against the welfare of this kingdom, so that by confessing them, the people will know your removal was deserved.

Original Text

KING RICHARD. Must I do so? And must I ravel out My weaved-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 wouldst, There shouldst thou find one heinous article Containing the deposing of a king And cracking the strong warrant of an oath, Marked with a blot, damned 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 delivered me to my sour cross, And water cannot wash away your sin.

Modern English

KING RICHARD. Must I? Must I unravel every tangled mistake and lay them out for everyone to see? Gentle Northumberland — if your own offenses were written down in full, would it not shame you before so honorable a company to read them aloud? And if you looked, you'd find one crime above all the others: the deposing of a king and the shattering of a solemn oath — a deed marked in black, condemned in the book of heaven. And all of you standing here watching while my wretchedness is used as bait — some of you, like Pilate, wash your hands of it, making a show of sympathy. But you Pilates have handed me over to my bitter cross, and no amount of water can wash your sin away.

Original Text

NORTHUMBERLAND. My lord, dispatch. Read o’er these articles.

Modern English

NORTHUMBERLAND. My lord, enough delay. Read through these articles.

Original Text

KING RICHARD. 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 T’ undeck the pompous body of a king, Made glory base and sovereignty a slave, Proud majesty a subject, state a peasant.

Modern English

KING RICHARD. My eyes are full of tears and I cannot see clearly. And yet the salt water doesn't blind me so completely that I can't make out a room full of traitors. But then — if I turn my gaze on myself, I find I am a traitor along with the rest of them. For I have consented in my soul to strip the magnificent body of kingship bare, to make glory cheap and sovereignty a slave, to reduce proud majesty to a subject, a king to a peasant.

Original Text

NORTHUMBERLAND. My lord—

Modern English

NORTHUMBERLAND. My lord —

Original Text

KING RICHARD. 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 usurped. Alack the heavy day! That I have worn so many winters out And know not now what name to call myself. O, that I were a mockery king of snow, Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke, To melt myself away in water-drops! Good king, great king, and yet not greatly good, An if my word be sterling yet in England, Let it command a mirror hither straight, That it may show me what a face I have, Since it is bankrupt of his majesty.

Modern English

KING RICHARD. No lord of yours, you arrogant, insulting man — and no one's lord! I have no name, no title — not even the name I was given at baptism feels like mine anymore. It has all been taken. God, what a heavy day! That I have lived through so many winters and no longer know what to call myself. If only I were a mockery king made of snow, standing before the blazing sun of Bolingbroke — I could melt away into water and be done with it. A good king, a great king — and yet perhaps not great enough. If my word still carries any weight in England, let it command that a mirror be brought here, so I can see what kind of face I wear now that it's been stripped of all its majesty.

Original Text

BOLINGBROKE. Go, some of you, and fetch a looking-glass. [_Exit an Attendant._]

Modern English

BOLINGBROKE. Someone — go fetch a looking glass. *[An attendant exits.]*

Original Text

NORTHUMBERLAND. Read o’er this paper while the glass doth come. KING RICHARD. Fiend, thou torments me ere I come to hell!

Modern English

NORTHUMBERLAND. Read through this paper while you wait for the mirror. KING RICHARD. You torment me like a devil — and I'm not even in hell yet!

Original Text

BOLINGBROKE. Urge it no more, my Lord Northumberland. NORTHUMBERLAND. The commons will not then be satisfied.

Modern English

BOLINGBROKE. Press him no further on that, my Lord Northumberland. NORTHUMBERLAND. The commons will not be satisfied without it.

Original Text

KING RICHARD. They shall be satisfied. I’ll read enough When I do see the very book indeed Where all my sins are writ, and that’s myself. Re-enter Attendant with glass. Give me that glass, and therein will I read. No deeper wrinkles yet? Hath sorrow struck So many blows upon this face of mine And made no deeper wounds? O flatt’ring glass, Like to my followers in prosperity, Thou dost beguile me. Was this face the face That every day under his household roof Did keep ten thousand men? Was this the face That like the sun did make beholders wink? Is this the face which faced so many follies, That was at last outfaced by Bolingbroke? A brittle glory shineth in this face. As brittle as the glory is the face! [_Dashes the glass against the ground._] For there it is, cracked in an hundred shivers. Mark, silent king, the moral of this sport, How soon my sorrow hath destroyed my face.

Modern English

KING RICHARD. They will be satisfied. I'll read all I need to read when I look into the one true book where all my sins are written — and that book is myself. *An attendant re-enters with a mirror.* Give me that glass. I'll read myself in it. No deeper wrinkles yet? Has sorrow struck so many blows against this face and left so few marks? Flattering mirror — just like my followers in the days of my prosperity, you deceive me. Was this the face that once kept ten thousand men under his roof each day? Was this the face that shone like the sun and made everyone who looked on it squint? Is this the face that weathered so many foolish acts, and was at last outfaced by Bolingbroke? A fragile glory shines in this face — and as fragile as the glory is, so is the face! *[He dashes the mirror against the ground.]* There — shattered into a hundred pieces. Note that, silent king. Mark the lesson of this little drama: how quickly my grief has destroyed my face.

Original Text

BOLINGBROKE. The shadow of your sorrow hath destroyed The shadow of your face.

Modern English

BOLINGBROKE. The shadow of your sorrow has destroyed the shadow of your face.

Original Text

KING RICHARD. Say that again. The shadow of my sorrow? Ha, let’s see. ’Tis very true, my grief lies all within; And these external manner of laments Are merely shadows to the unseen grief That swells with silence in the tortured soul. There lies the substance. And I thank thee, king, For thy great bounty, that not only giv’st Me cause to wail, but teachest me the way How to lament the cause. I’ll beg one boon, And then be gone and trouble you no more. Shall I obtain it?

Modern English

KING RICHARD. Say that again. The shadow of my sorrow? Let me think on that. Yes — it's quite true. My real grief lives entirely inside me. And all these outward displays of lamentation are merely shadows of the unseen grief that swells in silence inside a tortured soul. There lies the substance. And I thank you, king, for this great gift — not only do you give me cause to weep, but you have taught me how to name the cause of my weeping. I'll ask one favor, and then I'll go and trouble you no more. Will you grant it?

Original Text

BOLINGBROKE. Name it, fair cousin.

Modern English

BOLINGBROKE. Name it, fair cousin.

Original Text

KING RICHARD. “Fair cousin”? I am greater than a king; For when I was a king, my flatterers Were then but subjects. Being now a subject, I have a king here to my flatterer. Being so great, I have no need to beg.

Modern English

KING RICHARD. "Fair cousin"? I am greater than a king right now. When I was king, the people who flattered me were mere subjects. Now that I am a subject, I have a king here to flatter me. Being so great, I have no need to beg.

Original Text

BOLINGBROKE. Yet ask. KING RICHARD. And shall I have?

Modern English

BOLINGBROKE. Ask it anyway. KING RICHARD. And will I have it?

Original Text

BOLINGBROKE. You shall. KING RICHARD. Then give me leave to go.

Modern English

BOLINGBROKE. You will. KING RICHARD. Then give me leave to go.

Original Text

BOLINGBROKE. Whither? KING RICHARD. Whither you will, so I were from your sights.

Modern English

BOLINGBROKE. Where to? KING RICHARD. Anywhere you like, as long as I'm out of your sight.

Original Text

BOLINGBROKE. Go, some of you, convey him to the Tower.

Modern English

BOLINGBROKE. Some of you — escort him to the Tower.

Original Text

KING RICHARD. O, good! “Convey”? Conveyers are you all, That rise thus nimbly by a true king’s fall. [_Exeunt King Richard and Guard._]

Modern English

KING RICHARD. Oh, fine — "escort"? You are all escorts, every one of you — men who have climbed so swiftly on the back of a true king's fall. *[King Richard and his guard exit.]*

Original Text

BOLINGBROKE. On Wednesday next we solemnly set down Our coronation. Lords, prepare yourselves. [_Exeunt all but the Bishop of Carlisle, the Abbot of Westminster and Aumerle._]

Modern English

BOLINGBROKE. Next Wednesday we will solemnly hold our coronation. Lords, make your preparations. *[Everyone exits except the Bishop of Carlisle, the Abbot of Westminster, and Aumerle.]*

Original Text

ABBOT. A woeful pageant have we here beheld. CARLISLE. The woe’s to come. The children yet unborn Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn.

Modern English

ABBOT. What a sad spectacle we have just witnessed. CARLISLE. The worst is still to come. Children not yet born will feel the sting of this day as sharply as a thorn.

Original Text

AUMERLE. You holy clergymen, is there no plot To rid the realm of this pernicious blot?

Modern English

AUMERLE. You holy men of the church — is there no plan, no way to rid this kingdom of this poisonous stain?

Original Text

ABBOT. My lord, Before I freely speak my mind herein, You shall not only take the sacrament To bury mine intents, but also to effect Whatever I shall happen to devise. I see your brows are full of discontent, Your hearts of sorrow, and your eyes of tears. Come home with me to supper. I will lay A plot shall show us all a merry day. [_Exeunt._]

Modern English

ABBOT. My lord — before I speak my mind freely on this matter, you must first swear on the sacrament not only to keep my intentions secret, but also to carry out whatever I devise. I can see the discontent written across your brows, the sorrow in your hearts, the tears in your eyes. Come home with me to supper. I will lay a plan that will bring us all a brighter day. *[They exit.]*

Richard II

Act 4, Scene 1

Act 4, Scene 1