SCENE, a Garden, in the Queen's Court.
Enter Queen and two Ladies.
Queen. W garden,
WHAT fport fhall
To drive away the heavy thought of care?
Lady. Madam, we'll play at bowls.
Queen. "Twill make me think, the world is full of rubs, And that my fortune runs against the bias.
Lady. Madam, we'll dance.
Queen. My legs can keep no measure in delight,
When my poor heart no meafure keeps in grief.
Therefore no dancing, girl; fome other sport.
Lady. Madam, we'll tell tales.
Queen. Of forrow, or of joy?
Lady. Of either, Madam.
Queen. Of neither, girl.
For if of joy, being altogether wanting,
It doth remember me the more of forrow:
Or if of grief, being altogether had,
It adds more forrow to my want of joy.
For what I have, I need not to repeat:
And what I want, it boots not to complain.
Lady. Madam, I'll fing.
Queen. 'Tis well, that thou haft caufe:
But thou fhould'ft please me better, would'st thou weep. Lady. I could weep, Madam, would it do you good. Queen. And I could weep, would weeping do me good,
And never borrow any tear of thee.
But ftay, here come the Gardiners.
Let's ftep into the fhadow of these trees;
My Wretchednefs unto a row of pins,
Enter a Gardiner, and two Servants.
They'll talk of State; for every one doth fo,
Against a Change; woe is fore-run with woe.
[Queen and Ladies retire:
Gard.
Gard. Go, bind thou up yond dangling Apricocks,
Which, like unruly children, make their Sire
Stoop with oppreffion of their prodigal weight:
Give fome fupportance to the bending twigs.
Go thou, and, like an executioner,
Cut off the heads of too-faft-growing sprays,
That look too lofty in our Common-wealth :
All must be even in our Government.
You thus imploy'd, I will go root away
The noifom weeds, that without profit fuck
The foil's fertility from wholfom flowers.
Serv. Why should we, in the compafs of a pale,
Keep law, and form, and due proportion,
Shewing, as in a model, our firm state?
When our Sea-walled garden, (the whole Land,)
Is full of weeds, her faireft flowers choak'd up,
Her fruit-trees all unprun'd, her hedges ruin'd,
Her knots diforder'd, and her wholesome herbs
Swarming with Caterpillars ?
He, that hath fuffer'd this diforder'd Spring,
Hath now himself met with the Fall of leaf:
The weeds, that his broad-spreading leaves did fhelter,
(That feem'd, in eating him, to hold him up ;)
Are pull'd up, root and all, by Bolingbroke;
I mean, the Earl of Wiltshire, Bufby, Green.
Serv. What, are they dead?
And Bolingbroke hath feiz'd the wafteful King.
What pity is't, that he had not so trimm'd
And drest his Land, as we this Garden drefs,
And wound the bark, the skin, of our fruit-trees;
Left, being over proud with fap and blood,
With too much riches it confound it felf;
Had he done fo to great and growing men,
They might have liv'd to bear, and he to tafte
Their fruits of duty. All fuperfluous branches
We lop away, that bearing boughs may live :
Had he done fo, himself had born the Crown,
Which waste and idle hours have quite thrown down.
Serv. What, think you then, the King shall be depos'd?
Gard. Depreft he is already, and depos'd, 'Tis doubted, he will be. Letters last night Came to a dear friend of the Duke of York, That tell black tidings.
Queen. Oh, I am preft to death, through want of
speaking:
Thou Adam's likeness, fet to dress this garden,
How dares thy tongue found this unpleafing news?
What Eve, what Serpent hath fuggefted thee,
To make a fecond Fall of curfed man?
Why doft thou fay, King Richard is depos'd ?
Dar'ft thou, (thou little better Thing than earth,)
Divine his downfal? fay, where, when, and how
Cam'ft thou by these ill tidings? fpeak, thou wretch.
Gard. Pardon me, Madam. Little joy have I
To breathe these news; yet, what I fay, 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 fome few Vanities that make him light:
But in the Balance of great Bolingbroke,
Befides himself, are all the English Peers,
And with that odds he weighs King Richard down.
Poft you to London, and you'll find it so;
I fpeak no more, than every one doth know.
Queen. Nimble Mifchance, that art fo light of foot, Doth not thy Embaffage belong to me?
And am I laft, that know it? oh, thou think'st
To ferve me laft, that I may longest keep
Thy forrow in my breaft. Come, ladies, go;
To meet, at London, London's King in woe.
What, was I born to this! that my fad Look
Should grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke!
Gard'ner, for telling me thefe news of woe,
I would, the plants, thou graft'ft, may never grow.
[Exe. Queen and Ladies.
Gard. Poor Queen, fo that thy ftate might be no worse,
I would my
skill were fubject to thy Curse.
Here did the drop a tear; here, in this place,
1'll fet a bank of Rue, fow'r herb of grace;
Rue, ev'n for ruth, here fhortly fhall be seen,
In the remembrance of a weeping Queen.
SCENE, in LONDON.
Enter, as to the Parliament, Bolingbroke, Aumerle, Northumberland, Percy, Fitzwater, Surrey, Bishop of Carlisle, Abbot of Westminster, Herald, Officers, and Bagot.
BOLINGBROKE.
ALL Bagot forth: now freely fpeak thy mind,
What thou doft know of noble Glo'fter's death;
Who wrought it with the King, and who per-
form'd
The bloody office of his timeless end.
Bagot. Then fet before my face the lord Aumerle. Boling. Coufin, ftand forth, and look upon that man. Bagot. My lord Aumerle, I know your daring tongue Scorns to unfay, what it hath once deliver❜d. In that dead time when Glo'fter's death was plotted, I heard you fay, "Is not my arm of length, "That reacheth from the reftful English Court "As far as Calais to my uncle's head? Amongst much other talk that very time, I heard you fay, "You rather had refuse, "The offer of an hundred thousand crowns,
"Than Bolingbroke return to England; adding,
"How bleft this Land would be in this your Coufin's
Aum. Princes, and noble lords,
What answer fhall I make to this bafe man?
Shall I fo much dishonour my fair ftars,
On equal terms to give him chastisement ?
Either I muft, or have mine honour foil'd
With the attainder of his fland'rous lips.
There is my Gage, the manual feal of death,
That marks thee out for hell. Thou lieft,
And I'll maintain what thou haft faid, is false,
In thy heart-blood, though being all too bafe
To ftain the temper of my knightly fword.
Boling. Bagot, forbear; thou shalt not take it
up.
Aum. Excepting one, I would he were the beft
In all this prefence that hath mov'd me fo.
Fitzw. If that thy valour stand on fympathies,
There is my Gage, Aumerle, in gage to thine :
By that fair Sun, that fhews me where thou ftand'ft,
I heard thee fay, and vauntingly thou fpak'ft it,
That thou wert cause of noble Glofter's death.
If thou deny'ft it, twenty times thou lieft;
And I will turn thy falfhood to thy heart,
Where it was forged, with my rapier's point.
Aum. Thou dar'ft not, coward, live to see the day. Fitzw. Now, by my foul, I would it were this hour. Aum. Fitzwater, thou art damn'd to hell for this. Percy. Aumerle, thou lieft; his honour is as true, In this appeal, as thou art all unjust; And that thou art fo, there I throw my Gage Το prove it on thee, to th' extreameft point Of mortal breathing. Seize it, if thou dar'ft. Aum. And if I do not, may my hands rot off, And never brandifh more revengeful steel Over the glittering helmet of my foe! Who fets me elfe? by heav'n, I'll throw at all. I have a thousand fpirits in my breast, To answer twenty thousand fuch as you.
Surrey. My lord Fitzwater, I remember well The very time Aumerle and you did talk.
Fitzw. My lord, 'tis true: you were in presence then;
And you can witnefs with me, this is true.
Surrey. As falfe, by heav'n, as heav'n it felf is true. Fitzw. Surrey, thou lieft.
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