Richard II

New test pasted here

Act 2

Scene 3

Close to Berkeley Castle

Bolingbroke and Northumberland and their forces are now in Gloucestershire and heading for Berkeley Castle. Northumberland describes their arduous journey but says it has been sweetened and eased by being in Bolingbroke’s company. Bushy, Bagot and Green are often described as flatterers but that term surely applies to Northumberland in his description of their journey. He says Bolingbroke’s “fair discourse” has made “the hard way sweet and delectable”; his company has “very much beguiled” the “tediousness of my travel”. And though the other forces led by Ross and Willoughby make their way separately, the mere hope of joining up with Bolingbroke will, according to Northumberland, make “their way seem short as mine hath done/By sight of what I have: your noble company”.

Harry Percy (Northumberland’s son)  enters with news. He tells them about the Earl of Worcester’s actions (see previous scene). After Harry Percy is made aware that he is standing before Bolingbroke he tells him that Berkeley Castle is nearby. Ross and Willoughby now enter and they and Bolingbroke rather lavishly praise and thank each other (more flattery? Who is exempt from it? The ‘old guard’, the likes of Gaunt and  York?) In Bolingbroke’s greeting – “I wot your love pursues/A banished traitor” –  his use of “banished traitor” echoes the way the Richard camp would brand him and so is a way of acknowledging the risks his followers are taking – they are staking all on helping what others would call a “banished traitor”. “Wot” as used here means ‘know’.

Berkeley enters and shortly after he is  followed by the Duke of York. Berkeley addresses Bolingbroke as “My lord of Hereford”, but Bolingbroke insists that he will only respond if he is addressed as “Lancaster” – note that earlier in the scene when Harry Percy referred to Bolingbroke as the Duke of Hereford neither Northumberland nor Bolingbroke corrected him. Berkeley asks Bolingbroke why he was come with his invasive force. This question is taken up immediately when York enters. York has no time for Bolingbroke’s gracious words (“grace me no grace”), he, as ‘elder statesman’,  addresses him as “foolish boy” and his challenging, fiery questioning makes a stark contrast from the fawning words of the first half of the scene. If he had the strength of his younger days he boasts that he would have quickly suppressed Bolingbroke’s forces. He charges Bolingbroke with breaking the law in that he has not kept to the terms of his banishment and is in arms against his “sovereign” – for which there can be no justification in York’s eyes. Bolingbroke counters this with the claim that he was banished as the Duke of Hereford but he is returning as the Duke of Lancaster in order  to take what is rightfully his, his title and properties which have been, “Plucked from my arms perforce and given away/To upstart unthrifts” (he means Bushy, Bagot, Green and Wiltshire though it was Richard who made the immediate decision to appropriate Bolingbroke’s inheritance). He adds to this an emotive appeal to York  to take his side since he is  the closest that Bolingbroke now has to a father: “For methinks in you/I see old Gaunt alive”.   Northumberland, Ross and Willoughby add their one-liners in support of this appeal for justice to be done.

York concedes that he has “had feeling of my cousin’s wrongs” (cousin here means kinsman rather than our limited usage), but for Bolingbroke to “Be his own carver, and cut out his way/To find out right with wrong” is, in York’s view, completely wrong. If he had forces to match Bolingbroke’s he would arrest him and his supporters. But, since he is powerless to prevent Bolingbroke, he declares himself as “neuter” (neutral). He offers Bolingbroke the hospitality of the castle for one night. Bolingbroke accepts but then, sensing that York as neutral can now be managed if not manipulated, he says he “must win” (persuade) him to go with them to Bristol Castle where they will find “Bushy, Bagot and their complices,/The caterpillars of the commonwealth”. “Must win” here seems to be a euphemism for York having little alternative. Clearly it is in Bolingbroke’s interest to have York with him since it is likely to create the impression that York has sanctioned Bolingbroke’s campaign. In York’s response, wavering from “It may be I will go with you” to,  “…but yet I’ll pause”, we can, perhaps, see him wobbling from his declared stance of neutrality to a reluctant leaning towards  Bolingbroke’s side.

Act 2

Scene 4

Somewhere in Wales

A Welsh captain tells Salisbury that having waited ten days for news from the King, his forces can wait no longer and are about to disperse. Salisbury attempts to persuade him to stay for another day. The Captain replies, “’Tis thought the King is dead. We will not stay.” (In the penultimate line of his speech, the Captain says his “countrymen are gone and fled” – so it seems they have already gone!) He then refers to a series of omens: “bay trees in our country are all withered,/And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven/The pale faced moon looks bloody on the earth”. Prophets are whispering of “fearful change”. Rich men anticipate loss of their wealth; “ruffians dance and leap” as they expect “rage and war”. The Captain asserts that these signs “forerun the death or fall of kings”. After the Captain’s exit, Salisbury ends the scene in similarly apocalyptic prophetic mode with a falling star, a setting sun and storms to come.

Act 3

Scene 1

Bristol Castle

At the end of II (iii), Bolingbroke said his forces were on their way to Bristol Castle which “… they say is held/By Bushy, Bagot and their complices/The caterpillars of the commonwealth”. Bolingbroke’s source of information is somewhat at fault here since we know from II (ii) 140 (“No, I will to Ireland to his majesty”) that Bagot decided to go to Ireland and it was Bushy and Green that went to Bristol.

Given that this scene begins with Bolingbroke ordering the executions of Bushy and Green, Bolingbroke must have taken Bristol Castle. He gives reasons for the executions. The first reason given is that they “misled a prince, a royal king”. We have seen that they were close to Richard and were his favourites but Bolingbroke’s case against them fails to convince when he gives more details of the particular ways they misled Richard. He says that with their “sinful hours” they made a “divorce betwixt his queen and him/Broke the possession of a royal bed/And stained the beauty of a fair queen’s cheeks”. However, we have seen no sign of a “divorce” (a separation, a breakdown of relations, not a literal divorce) between the Queen and Richard – as we have already noted, they  seem to be a loving couple.  Nor have we seen evidence for “sinful hours” between Bushy and Green and Richard that could have damaged marital relations between Richard and the Queen. Bolingbroke also accuses them of being responsible for his banishment but we know that it was Richard and his council (including Bolingbroke’s father) that imposed the sentence. His last particular charge is that they have exploited and abused his land, property and noble status. There may be something in this but, again, as we have seen,  it was Richard who, as soon as John of Gaunt died, seized his property and wealth and so deprived Bolingbroke of his inheritance. Bolingbroke’s set of charges ends with “This and much more, much more than twice all this/Condemns you to the death.” It seems clear that Bolingbroke has manufactured a set of charges in order to justify the execution of his opponents. Politic considerations rather than justice seem to be at work. One can only speculate on his reasoning – remember that Bolingbroke is given no soliloquys which could reveal the workings of his mind.  If the blame for all that has gone wrong in Richard’s reign can be placed on Bushy and Green (and Bagot? – but see IV (i) 6-19) then Bolingbroke does not have to blame Richard and decide on a punishment. For the moment at least, it seems that it serves him better to make scapegoats of these two who happen to be seen by others, York in particular (see his earlier implicit reference to them as flatterers), as corrupt influences on Richard.

Act 3

Scene 2

Barkloughly (not a mistake for Berkeley!) Castle, Wales

This scene takes place on the coast of Wales. Richard is filled with joy on his return from Ireland to his kingdom. He compares himself to a “long-parted mother’ being reunited with her child. As King he sees his kingdom’s earth as being absolutely his; he does it “favours” with his “royal hands” – presumably by picking up a handful of earth. He orders the earth to be hostile to “thy sovereign’s foe” and to his followers. Like a sorcerer casting a spell he calls upon venomous spiders and toads, stinging nettles and adders to hinder and to poison the rebels. Having said this, he sees a sceptical response in those around him and says, “Mock not my senseless conjuration, lords”. Perhaps these lords are thinking that more practical means such as armed men and a strategy are called for rather than magical incantations. Carlisle reassures him that God is on his side but he, Richard, must play his part by attending to practical matters. Aumerle agrees. Richard has too grand an idea of his kingly self to stoop to practical matters. He says he is like the sun that exposes night’s criminals to daylight and leaves them “trembling at themselves”; in the same way, his kingly sunlight newly arisen in the day of his return will expose Bolingbroke and leave him with “His treasons blushing in his face”. Richard believes that the fact of him being King is all that is needed to deter the rebels. Nobody can “wash the balm from an anointed king”; “worldly men cannot depose/The deputy elected by the Lord”. For every armed man that Bolingbroke has Richard has “A glorious angel”.

However, this optimism is quickly dispelled when Salisbury enters and informs the king that the Welsh army has dispersed. Richard turns pale, saying that the blood of those thousands of men has rushed from his face. He now feels that “Time hath set a blot upon my pride”. Minutes after proclaiming his invulnerability with God on his side he now sees Time as punishing him for his pride! Equally quickly, he pulls himself together. He says that his very name as King is worth twenty thousand names (that is, men).

Scroop enters with more bad news. He says that as Bolingbroke marches through the country, people both old and young have been flocking to his cause and joining the rebellion. Richard believes that Bushy, Bagot and Green and the Earl of Wiltshire have failed him and are now probably gone over to Bolingbroke’s side. He compares them (Bushy, Bagot and Green, his ‘favourites’) to three Judases, “each one worse” than Judas; if they are Judases then the analogy implies that Richard is like Christ. In fact,  Richard’s analogy makes him into a kind of Christ-plus in that he had three Judases against him not just one and each one of them is even worse than Judas!  Scroop gradually reveals that Wiltshire, Bushy and Green  have all been executed.

 With this news  Richard  says that all is lost. He forbids anyone to talk of comfort  and begins a speech developing an eloquent poetry of despair. Rather than words of comfort he says, “Let’s talk of graves, of worms and epitaphs”; “let us sit upon the ground/And tell sad stories of the death of kings’; “For within the hollow crown/That rounds the mortal temples of a king/Keeps Death his court…”  The personified Death is seen as “Infusing” a king with an illusion of power.  Once the king is sufficiently convinced that  he is as “impregnable” as his castle walls,  Death comes along and, “with a little pin/Bores through the castle wall, and farewell king!”. Richard says that he now recognises who he really is. “Tradition, form and ceremonious duty” have fostered an illusion: he is not a unique, sacred being but one who lives “with bread like you; feel want/Taste grief, need friends.”. He shares the common life of his subjects.  This must be recognised as a moment of insight when Richard sees himself as he really is. However, this deeper understanding of himself and his role is expressed in a characteristically dramatic ‘extremist’ way. As King he was “impregnable”, a unique sacred being, but now he is at rock bottom, full of despair and beyond comfort. He now sees that he is no more than another subject and so cannot possibly be a king. (“Subjected/Thus how can you call me a king?” note pun on ‘subjected’). He has seen kingship as an illusion yet at the same time he continues to have an elevated idea of a king since by Richard’s definition a king can not be subject to the ordinary human needs and feelings. A more mature level of insight would surely find some  position between these extremes – though perhaps a more measured, level-headed, pragmatic response would not produce such dramatic poetry!

 After this lengthy speech, Carlisle  tells Richard that fearing and wailing only strengthen their enemies, and that the king needs to prepare to fight. It’s much better to fight and die, he says, then simply to die afraid. Aumerle adds that his father (the Duke of York) could supply a force which could, perhaps, be increased.  With another swift change, Richard is revived and decides  that he will fight Bolingbroke.   But almost immediately he is broken again with the news, delivered by Scroop, that York has joined with Bolingbroke, and “All your northern castles yielded up”, and all “southern gentlemen in arms”.  Richard turns on Aumerle and asks him what he has to say now given the news . He curses Aumerle  for leading him out of “that sweet way I was in to despair”. Despair seen as a “sweet way” shows that Richard was deriving some pleasure from being the ruined king, a condition that inspired his eloquent poetry. He will hear no more of fighting back. He will go to Flint Castle and “pine away”. What powers he has should all be discharged. Reversing an earlier image in which he was the sun, Richard ends the scene ordering his followers to “hence away/From Richard’s night to Bolingbroke’s fair day”.

Act 3

Scene 3

Flint Castle

Bolingbroke , York and Northumberland, guided by their sources of ‘intelligence’, are approaching Flint Castle in North Wales. They have heard that Richard has “lately landed” from Ireland, that Salisbury and “some few private friends” have gone to meet Richard and that Richard’s Welsh forces have dispersed. After York criticises Northumberland for referring to “Richard” rather than King Richard, Harry Percy brings them news that Richard is in Flint Castle. Bolingbroke orders his forces to be deployed within sight of the Castle so that Richard can see the power that Bolingbroke commands. He sends Northumberland to parley with the message that he has come simply to have his banishment repealed and his lands restored. Once that is done, he is at the King’s service. He likens their meeting to the meeting of the elements of fire (lightning) and water (rain) in a stormy sky. He says he will be the “yielding water”.

Richard appears on the battlements and Bolingbroke likens him to a rising sun whose glory is dimmed by “envious clouds”. Notwithstanding the image of a dimmed glory, does Bolingbroke’s use of the sun image express a (residual) degree of awe at the sight of Richard? York immediately insists that Richard still looks like a king: his eye, which is as bright as an eagle’s, “lightens [lightenings] forth/Controlling majesty”.

Richard on the walls of the castle , addressing Northumberland who is standing below, wonders why he is not kneeling before his “lawful king”. He invokes the “hand of God” which bestowed upon Richard the sacred steward ship of the crown and asks if a human hand is at work to “profane, steal or usurp” the throne. Here we notice that Richard is assuming that Bolingbroke is aiming for the crown and not just his stated aims of repeal and restoration.  Richard  then elevates his style into a  prophetic mode (another prophetic utterance!) , beginning with, “Yet know: my Master, God omnipotent, /Is mustering … /Armies of pestilence and they shall strike/Your children, yet unborn and unbegot.”  Again, we have Richard’s assumption that Bolingbroke seeks the crown when he prophesies that before the “crown he looks for” can be enjoyed in peace, “Ten thousand bloody crowns [heads] of mothers’ sons/Shall ill become the flower of England’s face”. In his reply Northumberland says Bolingbroke swears by his honourable ancestry that his only aim is to gain his hereditary rights. Richard then, with a remarkable change in tone, tells Northumberland to tell Bolingbroke that he is “right welcome here” and that his “fair demands” shall be “accomplished” and to convey to him Richard’s regards. Northumberland returns to Bolingbroke. Meanwhile Richard expresses his misgivings  to Aumerle: he asks if he has ended up being too willing to agree to Bolingbroke’s “fair demands”, too conciliatory in tone.  Aumerle advises him to fight with “gentle words” until such time as Richard has gathered friends and “their helpful swords”. To maintain  such a calculated strategy  seems to be beyond Richard’s capacity since he responds to Aumerle by  launching into an emotional outburst (“O God, O God…”)  regretting that he has conceded to Bolingbroke’s demands with soothing words.  Northumberland comes back from Bolingbroke  but Richard continues with his emotional outburst.  By referring to the King as if he were a separate person (“What must the King do now?),  and then switching to the first person (“I’ll…”). he divides himself into two actors giving a performance in a mini drama. This very division dramatizes his existential crisis, it asks, “Am I the King?”  This element of public performance is heightened by the rhetoric of repetition and listing which begins in line 147 (Arden edition) and continues until line 154. With a characteristic switching from one extreme to another, he considers his position as King: he tells himself to let the name of King go; he imagines exchanging his royal life for one of poverty; he imagines being buried in an obscure grave or even “in the King’s highway”. Then, seeing that Aumerle weeps in response to this outpouring, he develops a highly fanciful play upon the idea of the possible effects of his and Aumerle’s tears. Northumberland then manages to convey his message to Richard: Bolingbroke wants to speak to him in the courtyard.

Again, with the self-dramatising theatricality that is typical of him, Richard says he is coming down like Phaeton (here, if you do not know it,  you could look up his story). This simile is both self-aggrandising by linking himself to a classical myth associated with the son of the sun god, Apollo, but is, perhaps,  unwittingly appropriate since Phaeton is an example of rash and disastrous action. By exploiting the two meanings of ‘base’  –  the lower level of a building and the ‘worthless’ meaning – he makes verbal play with the idea of the king growing ‘base’ as he descends to the “base court” (the ground-level courtyard).

When Richard enters the courtyard, Bolingbroke orders all to kneel, which they do. Richard tells them to arise and adds that he sees their kneeling as a mere outward show of courtesy which is not sincerely felt. Bolingbroke continues to insist that he comes “but for my own” and that he offers “true service”. Richard repeats that he will give what Bolingbroke wants. Richard’s “Your own is yours, and I am yours and all”  can be taken as an implicit recognition that he has little choice since Bolingbroke, by virtue of his armed power has, in effect, already taken what he wants and, in the process,  has already taken Richard. Read in this way, “I am yours” is not so much Richard offering himself, as recognising that he is already taken.  This is made explicit when Richard says, “do we must what force will have us do.” The idea of being forced to act is also seen when Richard asks, “Set on towards London, cousin, is it so?” “Is it so” amounts to, ‘is it ordered so?’ Bolingbroke answers, “Yea, my good Lord” and Richard ends the scene with, “Then I must not say no”.

Act 3

Scene 4

A garden of the Queen’s house, London

This garden scene begins with the Queen and her two ladies and develops further with the entry of the three gardeners – the head gardener and his two ‘men’. In the opening dialogue the Queen’s two Ladies are unable to lift the Queen’s spirits. She wants to eavesdrop on the gardeners in order to pick up what the common people are saying about the changes taking place.

The Gardener’s language soon makes it clear that the state of the garden is being used as an image of the English State. We can see this in his use of anthropomorphic and political metaphors such as “unruly children”, “oppression”, “executioner”, “commonwealth”, “government”.  The gardeners recognise both the poor state of the garden they tend and the garden that is England. As such, they are in agreement with those nobles who see England as a badly governed land. In particular we will recall John of Gaunt’s speech on England as a fallen Garden of Eden. We can also link this England as a garden analogy to the play’s many references to  “land” and “earth”. Incidentally, there is an excellent Shakespeare Concordance freely available on line at opensourceshakespeare.org. A concordance will tell you how many times, and where, a word occurs in a work. In Richard II “Land” occurs twenty five times and “earth” twenty three.

The head gardener calls for radical, uncompromising solutions to restore his  garden; so he talks of cutting off heads like an executioner, of rooting away “noisome weeds”.  This implies that he favours an equally severe and uncompromising solution to England’s ills. However, this is qualified by his response when one of his men complains of the futility of improving  their minor garden whilst the major garden that is England remains “unpruned” and “ruined”. Having told his man to hold his peace, he shows both criticism and some sympathy for Richard when he says, “He that hath suffered this disordered spring/Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf”. Some, at least, of the blame for England’s state is apportioned to the “weeds” which Richard’s “broad-spreading leaves did shelter”. And these weeds have been “plucked up” by Bolingbroke. The Gardener goes on to make explicit his  pity for Richard when he says of Richard, “O what pity is it/That he had not so trimmed and dressed his land/As we this garden”. He then reveals to his man the latest news on Richard, namely, that he is about to be deposed.

Hearing this, the Queen reveals herself  and, abusing the Gardener as a mere rude-tongued wretch, demands to know the source of his news – though she did overhear the Gardener refer to his source  (see lines 69-71). The Gardener ruefully informs the Queen that Bolingbroke and all the nobles have taken Richard and that she should go to London  where she will find  “it so”. The Queen immediately decides to go to London and as she exits puts a curse on the gardener for giving her bad news. Once she has left,  the Gardener, with great forbearance, expresses sympathy for the Queen and plans to plant rue, which symbolises pity, in “remembrance of a weeping queen”.

 The ambiguity of the Gardener’s response to Richard is interesting. He is in no doubt that the country is like a neglected garden and that Richard has been “wasteful”. However, he emphasises the “weeds”  (Richard’s favourites) who have been eating Richard up – though he also places some blame on Richard since his “broad-spreading leaves did shelter” them.  Yet in his image of Richard as a noble tree with “broad-spreading leaves” and in his expressions of pity both for Richard and his Queen,  we also see the Gardener’s sense of awe and respect for the monarchy.

Act 4

Scene 1

Westminster Hall, London

This scene, the longest in the play, begins with a number of similarities to I (i). In that scene the King, Richard, presided over a form of legal hearing in which Henry, Duke of Hereford (Bolingbroke) accused Thomas Mowbray of treason. Amongst other treasonable acts, Hereford accused Mowbray of plotting the Duke of Gloucester’s death. In this scene, Bolingbroke, though not yet the King, acts in the place of Richard whilst Bagot (who, unlike the other favourites, has escaped execution) accuses another former favourite, Aumerle, the Duke of York’s son, of the murder/assassination of the Duke of Gloucester. Bagot, addressing Aumerle directly, claims that he heard him boast that he had the power to reach across the channel and take Gloucester’s life. He also claims that “at that very time” Aumerle also said that a huge sum of money would not persuade him to accept Bolingbroke’s return to England and that the country would be better off with Bolingbroke dead. There is a problem with this charge since Gloucester’s death took place before Bolingbroke’s banishment which undermines Bagot’s claim that all this was said at the same time. Is this a slip up on Shakespeare’s part or an indication that Bagot is lying? It seems that Bagot is not the most trustworthy of characters. He told Bushy and Green that he was going to join Richard in Ireland but, unlike Aumerle, he was not in the party that returned with Richard. It seems that he did not go there. Did circumstances prevent him? Did he simply change his mind or was he lying to Bushy and Green? Or perhaps he did go to Ireland but did not return with the party we encountered at the beginning of III (ii). We can only speculate, just as we can only speculate on how he came to be with Bolingbroke in London’s Westminster Hall. Are we to assume that he was ‘taken’ by Bolingbroke’s forces – he was, after all, as Bolingbroke said, one of the “caterpillars of the commonwealth” that Bolingbroke had “sworn to weed and pluck away”. What motivates him to accuse Aumerle of the murder of Gloucester? Aumerle is a man of royal blood (Bolingbroke’s cousin) and a supporter of Richard and, as such, Bolingbroke may see him as a potential enemy. Is Bagot calculating that by accusing Aumerle of being a murderer he could win some degree of favour with Bolingbroke? What we do know (by the end of this scene! ) is that Bagot’s case against Aumerle is not successful and by the end of the play we have heard no more of Bagot!

Aumerle’s response is to call Bagot a liar, to express contempt for his lowly rank and, throwing down his gage,  to challenge him to trial by combat. Bolingbroke forbids Bagot from taking up the challenge – rather like Richard and Gaunt in the first scene ordering the combatants (Mowbray and Norfolk) to put down the already accepted gages. Though, unlike Richard’s order,  it seems that Bolingbroke’s order is obeyed without any protest.

At this point Fitzwater throws down his gage to challenge Aumerle  and tells him that he too heard Aumerle  say that he was the cause of Gloucester’s death. And to repay Aumerle’s lie of denial, he will kill him in knightly combat. This provokes Aumerle to call Fitzwater a coward which provokes an angry response from Fitzwater which provokes a curse from Aumerle. Harry Percy (Northumberland’s son) joins in, calls Aumerle a liar, throws down his gage (his challenge to Aumerle) and dares him to seize it – which he does with fiery words. ‘Another Lord’ throws down his gage, also accusing Aumerle of being a liar. Undeterred by all this opposition, Aumerle takes up the latest gage  and swears that he is ready to fight all comers! Which is just as well as it is now Aumerle versus three others – four if you count Bagot (though Bolingbroke had forbidden him to take up the challenge). To even things up somewhat, Surrey then joins in on Aumerle’s side and says that Fitzwater is lying. And, of course, he too throws down his gage which Fitzwater takes up and immediately throws down his  gage to accept the challenge from Surrey. Fitzwater then adds, as further testimony against Aumerle, that he heard the Duke of Norfolk (the banished Mowbray) say that Aumerle had told him that he had sent two of his men to execute Gloucester at Calais. Aumerle vehemently denies this, borrows a gage and throws it down as a challenge to the banished Duke of Norfolk on the understanding that “he may be repealed to try his honour”. Aumerle now has challenges against Bagot (possibly), Fitzwater, Harry Percy, “Another Lord” and the exiled Duke of Norfolk – if he were to be allowed to return “to try his honour”. Fitzwater has it relatively easy since he only has to take on Aumerle and Surrey!

These multiple challenges seem to undermine the notion of trial by combat. If the whole point of these combats is to prove the guilt of one party and the innocence of the other, it is difficult to see any purpose being served in combats after the initial Aumerle v Fitzwater combat:  if Aumerle is the winner then this proves that he was telling the truth and he is innocent of Gloucester’s death.  Further fights against Aumerle must therefore, according to the trial by combat legal method, come from those who are lying or are mistaken in their views of Aumerle – since he has been proved to be innocent.  If Fitzwater wins, Aumerle presumably being dead, then the fight is off for Harry Percy, Bagot (if Bolingbroke were to allow it) , Norfolk (if he returns) and “Another Lord! This leaves the Fitzwater v Surrey fight (arguably!) still on.   

With all the significant nobles in this scene (minus Northumberland and Bolingbroke) committed to a combat and with the latest (potential) combatant being absent (Norfolk), the throwing down of gages has run out of challengers. At this point Bolingbroke brings matters to a conclusion when he says that the challenges will remain on hold until Norfolk is repealed and allowed back with all his lands restored. On his return the challenges can take place (Bolingbroke assumes that Norfolk will accept the challenge from Aumerle).

However, the Bishop of Carlisle tells them that Norfolk is dead. Carlisle gives a quick summary of Norfolk’s career in exile: he fought as a crusader and on retirement went to Venice where he died. Bolingbroke responds with some surprise to this news (“Why, Bishop, is Norfolk dead?”), and offers a prayer for him (“Sweet Peace conduct his sweet soul to the bosom/Of good old Abraham”), though the prayer seems either rather glibly conventional (those two ‘sweets’)  or ironical (that “good old Abraham”). Norfolk was his bitter enemy, so is this a magnanimous, conciliatory Bolingbroke playing a kingly part? Some (excessively cynical or realistic?) commentators suggest that he already knew of Norfolk’s death before the Bishop spoke. They also suggest that his repeal of Norfolk’s banishment and the restoration of his lands was designed to sound generous whilst knowing that there could be no return and no restoration – Norfolk being dead.

The scene now finds a new impetus when York arrives with a statement of abdication from Richard and his adoption of Bolingbroke as his heir. This raises the question of whether Richard as King can legally abdicate and name his successor. Bolingbroke, however, does not linger over this question and immediately says, “In God’s name I’ll ascend the throne”.

The Bishop of Carlisle objects and makes a powerful speech on the sacred nature of the monarchy. He says that no subject of a kingdom has the power to pass sentence on a king. The King as God’s “captain, stewart, deputy elect” is subject to God alone. He seeks to reduce Bolingbroke’s standing as claimant to the throne by addressing him as “My Lord of Hereford”, though he is now, at least, the Duke of Lancaster. He then risks all by denouncing Bolingbroke as a foul traitor and makes a dire prophecy. (another prophecy). If Bolingbroke is crowned then “The blood of English shall manure the ground/And future ages groan … Tumultuous wars/Shall kin with kin and kind with kind confound”. In other words, there will be civil wars.

Northumberland’s immediate response is to charge the Bishop with “capital treason” which means the act of treason could be punished by execution. Northumberland  orders that the Bishop be kept in custody until his trial for treason. Bolingbroke’s only response to the Bishop’s prophecy is to summon Richard so that he, Richard,  can publicly declare his abdication and the election of Bolingbroke.

When Richard enters he is not as submissive and willing to yield the crown as York implied. Instead he expresses his difficulty in accepting his loss of status. He calls for time to allow “Sorrow… to tutor me/To this submission”. He draws a parallel between himself and Christ (once again),  but whilst Christ was only betrayed by one of his followers (Judas), Richard, with characteristic hyperbole, can find no loyalty in twelve thousand.

York recalls him to the reason for his appearance, namely to carry out the office of abdication in public. Richard, with characteristic self-dramatisation, takes the crown from York and uses it as a form of theatrical prop to give an image of the rise and fall in fortunes of Richard and Bolingbroke.

Bolingbroke beaks into Richard’s speech with three one-liners, the last of which bluntly asks, “Are you content to resign the crown?” Richard’s answer is ambiguous but he does hand both the crown and the sceptre to Bolingbroke. However, his version of a speech of abdication is a sad litany (note the use of repetition) of sorrowful resignation whose focus is the forlorn state of the deposed king. When he addresses the new king, his tone is ironic as he wishes him, “many years of sunshine days”. “Sunshine days” reduces traditional sun images for kingship to a trite conventional wish – a wish which, as Richard’s experience (perhaps) shows, is hardly likely to be fulfilled in any monarchy.

Northumberland – again acting as   Bolingbroke’s tough enforcer – calls for more from Richard: a public confession of his failings as a king. He hands him a paper with a list of the “crimes”  he committed “Against the state and profit of this land” and tells him that a confession will show that he is “worthily deposed” and, as such (as Northumberland later puts it),  it will satisfy the commons. Richard’s reply asks Northumberland if he would be prepared to confess to his offences, the chief of which, according to Richard, is the deposition of a King and the breaking of an oath of loyalty to the monarch which Northumberland, and others, will have sworn to in the past.  Referring to those other nobles, Richard sees some of them as Pilates who have washed their hands of responsibility by virtue of a show of “an outward pity” whilst being  prepared to allow Richard to be delivered to his “sour cross”. Here we note a further parallel between Richard and Christ.

Though prompted to read by Northumberland, Richard continues to dwell on the theme of Bolingbroke and others as traitors. Drawing a distinction between himself as ‘ordinary’ person and the office of kingship which he holds, he even includes himself as a traitor to that office in that he has consented to strip away kingship from himself. Once again with a sense of the theatrical, Richard calls for a mirror to consider his face, “Since it is bankrupt of … majesty”. When urged again by Northumberland to read the confession, Bolingbroke, once again acting as a conciliatory voice, tells Northumberland to urge Richard no more (it was Bolingbroke who ordered attendants to bring the looking glass). Richard agrees to satisfy the need to declare publicly his sins but he intends to do it by ‘reading’ the image of his face in the mirror for his sins are written in the ‘book’ that is his body. However, what he sees, ‘reads’, in the “flattering glass” is still the face of the once prosperous King. That leads him, through a series of rhetorical questions, to recall  the regal power that this face could once command. Now “outfaced by Bolingbroke” he sees his former glory as “brittle” and, in a dramatic gesture, he symbolises regal  brittleness by smashing the glass’, declaring that his “sorrow hath destroyed my face”.

Bolingbroke tries to deflate Richard’s dramatic performance when he responds with, “The shadow of your sorrow hath destroyed/The shadow of your face”. By this he means that the shadow of his sorrow is the act of sorrow that Richard has just performed, it is not a substantial thing, it is an act; the shadow of his face is the reflection of his face in the mirror. Richard, who is never verbally outdone by Bolingbroke, immediately makes use of the shadow image. He begins by agreeing with Bolingbroke that what was seen was the shadow of his sorrow but then turns that image to his advantage: it was merely the shadow of his sorrow because the substance of his sorrow is inexpressible: “It swells with silence in the tortured soul”. Richard sarcastically thanks Bolingbroke for providing him with the shadow image since it helps him to point towards his inexpressible inner sorrow. The dialogue with Bolingbroke ends with Richard asking for “one boon” (favour). This turns out to be the modest request to leave the present company (not to go away into complete freedom). A modest request that he knows will be granted, and, as such, it is a minor way of mocking Bolingbroke’s power. Instead of asking for a lot which might have made Richard beholden to Bolingbroke’s magnanimous display of power, he simply asks, as it were,  to leave the room. However, the  state of his present condition is brought home to us when Bolingbroke orders Richard to be ‘conveyed’ to the Tower – in effect, to prison. Richard manages to have the last word with a neat rhyming couplet which makes play with Bolingbroke’s use of the word ‘convey’ - this could, in Elizabethan usage, be a euphemism for ‘to steal’: “O, good – ‘Convey’! Conveyers are you all/That rise but nimbly by a true king’s fall” .Once Richard has gone, Bolingbroke brusquely declares that his coronation will be on Wednesday next.

With the exit of Bolingbroke and his nobles, the Abbot of Westminster, the Bishop of Carlisle and Aumerle are left on the stage. The Abbot and the Bishop complain of the terrible turn of events. Aumerle asks if there is no plot to “rid the realm of this pernicious blot”. The Abbot wants them to swear to secrecy before he reveals to them a “plot” which will “show us all a Merry day”.

Act 5

Scene 1

A public street near the Tower of London

This is the only scene in which Richard and his Queen speak to each other. The Queen and her Ladies are on their way to the Tower when they come across Richard being led by a “Guard” (probably a collection of guards). The Queen describes his appearance and plight. She sees him in terms of his former heroic stature and beauty, qualities that are now mere images of what they once were. Richard hears this and appeals to her not to grieve as it intensifies his sorrow. He counsels her to think of the life that have lost as a happy dream that they have awakened from. (To repeat a point made earlier: no trace here of the division between them that Bolingbroke refers to in III (i)). He is resigned to his fate and he advises her to return to France and to join a convent. The Queen urges him to fight back: just as a dying lion will paw the earth with fury so the king, the metaphorical king of beasts in his kingdom, should retaliate. Richard, however, feels that he is a lion (not the lion) who has been overcome by his kingdom’s “beasts”, Bolingbroke and his supporters. Again he advises her to go to France and to take her leave of him as if he has died. He imagines a role for the Queen “In winter’s tedious nights” sitting by the fire with “Good old folks” who are telling “tales/Of woeful ages long betid.” The Queen is to outdo their tales with “the lamentable tale of me” which will “send the hearers weeping to their beds”. In this way Richard will ‘enjoy’ a form of posthumous existence as the saddest tale of all.

Northumberland enters with orders from Bolingbroke: Richard is to be taken to “Pomfret” (Pontefract Castle) not to the Tower. The Queen must return to France.

Richard’s response is to ignore what has been said and to make a dire prophecy: Bolingbroke as King will not trust a man like Northumberland since he “knowest the way/To plant unrightful kings”. Fear, hate and suspicion will govern his relations with the new King and will lead the way to death. This prophecy is to be fulfilled in the Henry IV plays. It reminds us of the other ‘dark’ prophecies in Richard II.  For example,  Thomas Mowbray’s in I (iii), John of Gaunt’s in II (i), Richard’s III (ii) and the Bishop of Carlisle’s prophecy (“The blood of English shall manure the ground”) in IV (i).

Before brusquely repeating Bolingbroke’s orders, Northumberland says, “My guilt be upon my head, and there an end.” In saying this he (unwittingly?) casts himself in the role of those Jews who, referring to Christ, answered Pilate with “His blood be on us, and on our children” (Matthew 27.25). This New Testament allusion also suggests a likeness between Richard and Christ – a likeness which is suggested at various points in the play.

Richard calls on Northumberland to part them: he, Richard, is to go to “the north/Where shivering cold and sickness pines the clime” and she to France. The Queen appeals to Northumberland to exile them both; this is turned down  by Northumberland (“That were some love, but little policy”) . She then asks to go north with Richard. Richard rejects this: he says they are better off being widely separated rather than physically near but  (given the constraints of his anticipated imprisonment) not truly near.  With further shared thoughts on the sorrow of their parting, they kiss and take leave of each other.

Act 5

Scene 2

Duke of York’s house, London

This scene begins with the Duke of York in the middle of (in medias res) describing to the Duchess the arrival into London of Bolingbroke and Richard. People leaning out of windows throw rubbish on Richard’s head whilst Bolingbroke rides in greeted by cries of “God save thee Bolingbroke”. Although York has accepted that Bolingbroke will be King, he is still attached to the sacred nature of Kingship: when describing Richard’s entry he speaks of dust thrown upon his “sacred head”. And furthering the Christ comparison that “sacred” and jeering mockery can suggest, York describes Richard’s visible responses in terms of “grief and patience” that make Richard resemble Christ as a long-suffering ‘man of sorrows’.

When Aumerle enters, the Duke immediately refers to his son’s loss of aristocratic status (from Duke to Earl) as a result of having been “Richard’s friend”.  He warns him of the need to adapt to the new regime lest he be, using a plant analogy,  “cropped” before he comes to prime. He then spots a “seal” that is visible in Aumerle’s clothing. A seal would have a parchment attached to it. York, alert to Aumerle’s link to Richard, is suspicious. He demands to see it and despite Aumerle’s unwillingness and the Duchess’s dismissal of its significance, the Duke takes it from him. It is a document drawn up by the conspirators who plan to assassinate Bolingbroke. Determined to stop an act of treachery, even when that involves his son and a King that he does not especially favour (since he is a usurper), the Duke leaves  to ride as quickly as possible to Bolingbroke and warn him. The Duchess, desperate to protect her son, urges him to outpace his father and get to Bolingbroke first to confess his treachery and to beg pardon before his father can get there to accuse him. She will not be far behind!

Act 5

Scene 3

King Henry IV’s Court, Windsor Castle, London

Bolingbroke is now King Henry IV. He is discussing with Harry Percy, Northumberland’s son, the whereabouts and behaviour of King Henry’s son, Prince Hal. Hal has been associating with “unrestrained loose companions” in an area of London known for its criminals and brothels. Aumerle suddenly bursts in and asks to be alone with the King. Once this is granted , Aumerle goes on his knees and begs to be pardoned. The King says he will pardon him if the “fault’ be intended but not yet committed.. Aumerle, knowing that his father is on his way, asks that they be locked in until he has confessed his “fault”. No sooner are they locked in, but the Duke of York is knocking at the door and calling out to the King that he has a traitor within. The King opens the door and York shows the King the manuscript with the conspirators’ sworn and signed pledges. Aumerle appeals to the King’s promised pardon. York urges the King to “Forget to pity him, lest pity prove/A serpent that will sting thee to the heart”. The King is so struck by York’s loyalty, by the strength of his abhorrence of treachery, even to the point that he will condemn his son, that he says that York’s goodness serves to excuse his son’s “deadly blot”. York could, of course, be trying to ensure that he is not tainted by his son’s actions. His reply to the King’s pardon reveals that personal and family honour does drive him to condemn his son. He goes so far as to say that his loss of honour will be so extreme that he will ‘die’ if his son is not executed. With that, the Duchess, from the other side of the closed door, is heard begging for entry. Once allowed in, she goes on her knees appealing for a pardon for her “transgressing son”. York goes on his knees and continues to appeal for ‘no mercy’. This battle of opposing requests takes an extraordinary turn, given the stakes, when York plays with the word ‘pardon’. The Duchess has just called on the King to say, “Pardon”. York calls for it to be said in French as “Pardonne-moi”. Here he is playing on a convention in which pardonnez-moi would be a courteous way of saying ‘No’ to a request. In effect, one would be saying, “Forgive me for refusing”. The Duchess responds immediately with further word play: she complains that he is using the word ‘pardon’ in order to destroy pardon; he is setting the “word itself against the word”. She calls for English usage only, not “The chopping French we do not understand”. Finally, the King grants the pardon – he had referred to the Duchess several times as “Good aunt” which suggests a fondness for her. Once the King has spoken, York remains silent. He accepts the King’s authority.

The King makes it clear that the other conspirators will be shown no mercy. The scene ends with the Duchess’s, “Come, my old son, I pray God make thee new.”

Act 5

Scene 4

Windsor Castle, London

Sir Piers Exton (a courtier, though he is not named until the next scene) is confirming with his servants that the King did actually say, “Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear?”. Furthermore, he takes it that when the King looked at him, he was wishing that Sir Piers were the man that would “divorce this terror from my heart”. Exton takes the “living fear” to refer to the “King at Pomfret” . He tells his servants that they will go there and rid King Henry of his foe.

Act 5

Scene 5

Pomfret (Pontefract) Castle, Pontefract, Yorkshire

This scene begins with Richard’s lengthy soliloquy in which he offers a philosophical reflection on his own condition. He begins by considering the limitations of a prison-as-world metaphor; the world is populous and his prison only contains himself. He then ‘solves’ this problem by populating this “little world” with his thoughts. To do so his brain is likened to a female and his soul to a potent male begetting his thoughts in his fertile brain. His thoughts are initially of “things divine”: here he is thinking of apparently contradictory sayings of Jesus. One of which seems to make radical innocence a sure way to enter the kingdom of heaven and the other one which emphasises how difficult it is to enter. Thoughts of things divine then give way to thoughts of ambition that “do plot unlikely wonders”. Such thoughts of impossible feats “die in their own pride”. From vainly ambitious thoughts he turns to thoughts of being content with one’s lot by reflecting that things could be even worse. Finally, he uses a theatrical metaphor in which he as one person plays the part of many people – none of whom (notwithstanding his previous thoughts on acceptance) are contented. This leads to consideration of the part he played as King; a part that made him wish himself a lowly beggar. Such a thought begets the further thought that poverty is such a hardship that he would be a king again. However, the thought of Bolingbroke ‘unkings’ him and makes him “nothing”. But nobody can be content with being nothing until, he bitterly concludes, he has become the nothing that comes with death.

The sound of music from elsewhere in or around the castle begins the second ‘movement’ of his soliloquy , a movement in which the key motifs are music and musical time. The thought of time in music leads to thoughts of time in general. The music he hears is not keeping time, it is not true to the number of beats per bar. As a result, what should be “sweet” is made “sour”. Richard immediately relates this to “the music of men’s lives” and in particular, his own. Although he has a fine enough musical ear to hear a fault in music he did not have the political ‘ear’ to ‘hear’ the disharmony of his life and reign. He now thinks that, “I wasted time, and now doth Time waste me.” As his next line of thinking has it, Time has made him its instrument, its “numb’ring clock”. His thoughts become minutes and their sighs “jar”  the clockwork movement  as it marks  the minutes. Just as a clock reveals the passage of time on its face so does the expression in Richard’s eyes. The Richard as clock parallel becomes even more extended when he sees his fingers, (they are wiping tears from his eyes)  as  pointers on the clock’s dial. At this point Richard addresses an imaginary person with “Now, sir”. This suggests an awareness that his speech is something of a performance.  He has an audience whether that be a part of himself that he us addressing or an imagined listener – an actor playing Richard might well turn to and address the actual audience at this point. Although “Now, sir” brings a form of change of gear, he stays with the clock parallel. The groans that strike his heart are now the clock’s bell that chimes the hour. His final clock parallel comes when he sees himself as the little clockwork figure with a hammer who strikes the bell on the hour and quarter-hours. While Bolingbroke’s time goes smoothly and joyfully, Richard is reduced to this subservient figure who seems to be no more than Bolingbroke’s “jack o’the clock”.

Richard now exclaims, “This music mads me! Let it sound no more” and, as if in response to him, it ceases. The “sour” nature of the music put him in mind of his own bitter experiences and so rather than soothe and console him the music has aggravated him. Yet he blesses whoever was making the music and takes it that it was deliberately played to soothe him and was a sign of love.

That sentiment acts as a cue for the entry of a groom, one who was a groom in the King’s stable. He is full of sympathy for Richard (so at least one ‘commoner’ respects Richard) and he explains that while travelling towards York he has stopped at Pomfret and has been given leave to see Richard. He has a tale to tell of Richard’s horse, Barbary. This horse was used by King Henry IV on his coronation day and the groom relates how the horse went proudly with Bolingbroke as its rider. Richard momentarily feels betrayed by Barbary and then forgives his horse. Thinking of the horse leads to him think of himself as having become like an ass “spurred and galled and tired by jauncing Bolingbroke”.

The Groom’ visit is cut short by the jail’s Keeper – Richard had referred to him as “that sad dog”. He abruptly dismisses the groom with a contemptuous,  “Fellow, give place”. Richard’s kindly parting words to the groom, “If thou love me, ‘tis time thou went away”, shows an appreciation of the groom’s loyalty.

This loyalty has perhaps boosted Richard’s sense of his kingly status.  When the Keeper offers food, he orders the Keeper to “Taste it first”; instead of obeyimg the Keeper refers to a command from Sir Piers (“who lately/Came from the King”). Richard, recognising that Sir Piers has probably arrived to kill him, becomes (as the Queen urged him)  the dying lion that “thrusteth forth its paw with rage”. Abandoning patient acceptance, he attacks the Keeper which brings in Sir Piers and four servants. Richard, immediately seeing that they are here to kill him, showing, perhaps, an unexpected  ferocity and fighting spirit, disarms one of the servants and kills him with his weapon and uses that weapon to kill another servant. Sir Piers then strikes him down. With his dying words , “Exton, thy fierce hand/Hath with the King’s own blood stained the King’s own land.” Richard reasserts his kingly status and predicts that such sacrilege of a sacred being means that Exton will “burn in the never-quenching fire of hell”.

This prediction has a deep impact on Exton. He now feels he was prompted by the devil rather than the King and that his action, far from being good,  is “chronicled in hell”. Notwithstanding these misgivings, he must finish the work and prove that Richard is dead, by taking the corpse to King Henry.

Act 5

Scene 6

Windsor Castle, London

The scene begins with King Henry IV telling York of the latest news of the rebellion. Henry’s summary indicates the seriousness of the rebellion – Ci’cester (Cirencester) has been consumed by fire. We are not told the exact nature of the rebels’ cause. Is it anti-Bolingbroke and his seizure of the crown? Is it chiefly motivated by the traditional idea of the sanctity of the monarch? Presumably, it is a mixture of both. Northumberland brings fresh news: leading rebels have been beheaded. Fitzwater then enters with news of further beheadings of rebels. Enter Harry Percy with news of the sudden death (from natural causes) of the Abbot of Westminster. He is also brings the Bishop of Carlisle before Henry for judgement. Henry ‘condemns’ him to live a cloistered life apart from all social and political strife. Although he has been Henry’s enemy, Henry praises him for his “High sparks of honour” and so spares him his life.

Exton’s entry brings further news of the death of an enemy: this time it is Richard  – described by Exton as Henry’s “buried fear”. This ‘news’ is confirmed by Exton bringing Richard’s coffin before Henry. Although he wished Richard dead, he can not thank Exton. Instead he puts  a Cain-like curse on him: he must live apart from the court; he must “wander through shades of night” and never show his “head by day nor night”. Henry himself is “full of woe/That blood should sprinkle me to make me grow”.  He resolves to atone for his blood-guilt by going on crusade to the Holy Land  (an intention that is never fulfilled).

This final scene with its talk of rebellions, executions and deaths and Henry’s talk of being sprinkled with blood suggests that so much is unresolved and bodes ill for the future.  The scene seems to recall the Bishop of Carlisle’s prophecy, “The blood of English shall manure the ground/And future ages groan for this foul act”. Richard’s tragedy seems set  become the national tragedy later known as the Wars of the Roses and explored by Shakespeare in the subsequent history plays.