How dares thy harsh rude tongue sound this unpleasing news?

What Eve, what serpent hath suggested thee

To make a second fall of cursed man?

Why dost thou say King Richard is deposed?

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 I

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

King Richard he is in the mighty hold

Of Bolingbroke. Their fortunes both are weighed.

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 everyone 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 think‘st

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.

Exit with her 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

4.1 Enter, as to Parliament, Bolingbroke Duke of Lancaster and Hereford, the Duke of Aumerle, the Earl of Northumberland, Harry Percy, Lord Fitzwalter, the Duke of Surrey, the Bishop of Carlisle, and the Abbot of Westminster

BOLINGBROKE

Call forth Bagot.

Enter Bagot, with officers

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.

BAGOT

Then set before my face the Lord Aumerle.

BOLINGBROKE (to Aumerle)

Cousin, stand forth, and look upon that man.

Aumerle stands forth

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.

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.

He throws down his gage

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.

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.

FITZWALTER

If that thy valour stand on sympathy,

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

He throws down his gage

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 deny’st 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.

FITZWALTER

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

AUMERLE

Fitzwalter, thou art damned to hell for this.

HARRY PERCY

Aumerle, thou liest. His honour is as true

In this appeal as thou art all unjust;

And that thou art so, there I throw my gage

He throws down his gage

To prove it on thee to the extremest point

Of mortal breathing. Seize it if thou dar’st.

AUMERLE

An if I do not, may my hands rot off,

And never brandish more revengeful steel

Over the glittering helmet of my foe.

SURREY

My lord Fitzwalter, I do remember well

The very time Aumerle and you did talk.

FITZWALTER

’Tis very true. You were in presence then,

And you can witness with me this is true.

SURREY

As false, by heaven, as heaven itself is true.

FITZWALTER

Surrey, thou liest.

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.