RICHARD THE SECOND.

9

SERV. What, think you then, the king shall be deposed? GARD. Depress'd he is already; and deposed,

Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed,

Which his aspiring rider seem'd to know,—
With slow, but stately pace, kept on his course,
While all tongues cried-God save thee, Bolingbroke!
You would have thought the very windows spake,

So many greedy looks of young and old
Through casements darted their desiring eyes
Upon his visage; and that all the walls,
With painted imagery, had said at once,-
Jesu preserve thee! welcome, Bolingbroke!
Whilst he, from one side to the other turning,
Bare-headed, lower than his proud steed's neck,
Bespake them thus,-I thank you, countrymen :
And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along.

As, in a theatre, the eyes of men,
After a well-graced actor leaves the stage,
Are idly bent on him that enters next,

Thinking his prattle to be tedious;

Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes
Did scowl on Richard; no man cried, God save him:

But dust was thrown upon his sacred head."

ACT V. S. 2.

VIII.

The resignation of the crown to BOLINGBROKE by

RICHARD.

"RICH. 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:
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 may'st thou live in Richard's seat to sit,
And soon lie Richard in an earthy pit!"

ACT IV. S. 1.

IX.

The parting between RICHARD and his QUEEN, on his way to the Tower.

"QUEEN.

Ah, thou, the model where old Troy did stand;
Thou map of honour; thou King Richard's tomb,
And not King Richard; thou most beauteous inn,
Why should hard-favour'd grief be lodged in thee,
When triumph is become an ale-house guest?

RICH. Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so,
To make my end too sudden : learn, good soul,
To think our former state a happy dream.

Hie thee to France,

And cloister thee in some religious house:

Our holy lives must win a new world's crown,

Which our profane hours here have stricken down."

Enter EXTON, and Servants, armed.

"RICH. How now? what means death in this rude

assault?

Villain, thy own hand yields thy death's instrument.

(Snatches a weapon, and kills one.)

Go thou, and fill another room in hell. (He kills another, and then EXTON strikes him down.)" ACT V. S. 5.

For the precise form of the very peculiar helmets introduced into these designs, I have to thank B. Brocas, Esq. of Wokingham, Berks, who is in possession of the only one, probably, at this time remaining. The shape, when represented in old manuscripts, is quite unintelligible, and there is no correct engraving of it published.