Page 2947 - Shakespeare - Vol. 1

Y ORK

Where did I leave?

DUCHESS

At that sad stop, my lord,
Where rude misgoverned hands from windows’ tops [5]
Threw dust and rubbish on King Richard’s head.

Y ORK

Then, as I said, the Duke, great Bolingbroke,
Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed
Which his aspiring rider seem’d to know,
With slow but stately pace kept on his course, [10]
Whilst 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 [15]
With painted imagery had said at once
“Jesu preserve thee, welcome Bolingbroke”,
Whilst he, from the one side to the other turning,
Bare-headed, lower than his proud steed’s neck
Bespake them thus: “I thank you, countrymen”, [20]
And thus still doing, thus he passed along.

DUCHESS

Alack, poor Richard! Where rode he the whilst?

Y ORK

As in a theatre the eyes of men,
After a well grac’d actor leaves the stage,
Are idly bent on him that enters next, [25]
Thinking his prattle to be tedious:
Even so, or with much more contempt, men’s eyes
Did scowl on gentle Richard. No man cried “God save him!”.
No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home;
But dust was thrown upon his sacred head, [30]
Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off,
His face still combating with tears and smiles,
The badges of his grief and patience,