Call forth Bagot.
Bring Bagot forward.
Get Bagot.
bring bagot
Then set before my face the Lord Aumerle.
Bring Aumerle before me.
Bring Aumerle here.
aumerle here
Cousin, stand forth, and look upon that man.
Cousin, stand forward and face your accuser.
Aumerle, get up.
stand face
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, I know your bold tongue never takes back what it says. When Gloucester's death was plotted, I heard you claim you could reach from the court to Calais to kill your uncle. You said you'd refuse a hundred thousand crowns to see Bolingbroke return.
I heard you at Windsor talking about killing Gloucester. You said you'd never let Bolingbroke come back to England.
you said it aumerle gloucester death
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.
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.
Princes and lords, what answer can I give to this base man? Should I dishonor myself fighting someone so low? Either I fight or my honor is destroyed. Here is my gage—the death token. You're marked for hell. I say you lie, and I'll maintain by sword that what you've said is false.
How do I answer this guy? Do I really fight someone this low? My honor's either destroyed or I fight. Here's my glove. You're lying and I'll kill you to prove it.
gage lyou lie false
Bagot, forbear. Thou shalt not take it up.
Bagot, hold. You will not take it up.
Bagot, wait. Don't take his glove yet.
wait don't take it yet
Excepting one, I would he were the best
In all this presence that hath moved me so.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
Fitzwater appears only in this scene, as one of the lords piling accusations on Aumerle. He has no individual character beyond his function: another noble taking this opportunity to settle scores. Watch him as evidence of how Bolingbroke's ascent has unleashed a general free-for-all of old grievances.
If that thy valour stand on sympathy,
There is my gage, Aumerle, in gage to thine.
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 deniest it twenty times, thou liest!
And I will turn thy falsehood to thy heart,
Where it was forged, with my rapier’s point.
If your valor depends on allies, here is my gage. I swear by the sun I heard you boast that you caused Gloucester's death. If you deny it twenty times, you still lie! I'll turn your falsehood back with my rapier where it was forged.
Here's my glove, Aumerle. I heard you say you killed Gloucester. You're a liar and I'll prove it.
gage gloucester lie rapier
Thou dar’st not, coward, live to see that day.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
Now, by my soul, I would it were this hour.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
Fitzwater, thou art damned to hell for this.
Fitzwater, you don't dare. You're a coward and won't live to see that day.
You're a coward, Fitzwater.
coward lie
Aumerle, thou liest. His honour is as true
In this appeal as thou art an unjust;
And that thou art so, there I throw my gage,
To prove it on thee to the extremest point
Of mortal breathing. Seize it if thou dar’st.
Aumerle, you lie. His honor in this accusation is as true as you are unjust. Here is my gage. I'll prove it against you to the last breath. Seize it if you dare.
You're the liar, Aumerle. Here's my glove. I'll beat you to death if you need proof.
gage you lie prove it
And if I do not, may my hands rot off
And never brandish more revengeful steel
Over the glittering helmet of my foe!
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
I task the earth to the like, forsworn Aumerle,
And spur thee on with full as many lies
As may be holloaed in thy treacherous ear
From sun to sun. There is my honour’s pawn.
Engage it to the trial if thou dar’st.
I challenge you, perjured Aumerle. As many lies as the sun witnesses, I'll drive at you. Here is my honor's pawn. Fight me if you dare.
Here's my glove too, Aumerle. You're a liar.
pawn gage challenge
Who sets me else? By heaven, I’ll throw at all.
I have a thousand spirits in one breast
To answer twenty thousand such as you.
Who else wants to throw gages? By heaven, I'll take on all of you! I have a thousand warriors in my heart to fight twenty thousand of you!
Who else? I'll fight everyone! I'm ready.
thousand spirits twenty thousand
Surrey defends Aumerle against Fitzwater, throwing his own gage. He too has no individual character beyond his loyalty to the old regime. His appearance — and immediate silencing — shows how royalist voices are systematically removed in this scene.
My Lord Fitzwater, I do remember well
The very time Aumerle and you did talk.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
’Tis very true. You were in presence then,
And you can witness with me this is true.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
As false, by heaven, as heaven itself is true.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
The mirror scene (4-1-070 through 4-1-088) is the most discussed theatrical moment in the play, and the most philosophically dense. Richard asks for the mirror to see what face remains after his majesty has been stripped. When it arrives, he looks at it and finds — nothing has changed. No new wrinkles. The face looks the same as before. He finds this intolerable: how can such disaster have left no visible mark? And so he smashes it. The gesture reads as theatrical petulance until Bolingbroke responds: 'The shadow of your sorrow hath destroyed / The shadow of your face.' That is: the mirror was only a shadow (a reflection) and the sorrow that shattered it was also only a shadow (a performance of grief). The real sorrow — and the real person — is somewhere else, invisible, inside. Bolingbroke turns out to be right. And Richard knows it: 'Say that again... 'Tis very true, my grief lies all within.' The smashing of the mirror is Richard's most theatrical act, and it's the moment where his theatricality is exposed by someone who has none.
Surrey, thou liest.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
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.
Engage it to the trial if thou dar’st.
That lie will be so heavy on my sword that it will demand vengeance until both you and that lie lie buried as quiet as your father's skull. Here is my honor's pawn. Fight me if you dare.
I'll kill you for that lie. Here's my glove. Fight me.
lie heavy sword vengeance
How fondly dost thou spur a forward horse!
If I dare eat, or drink, or breathe, or live,
I dare meet Surrey in a wilderness
And spit upon him, whilst I say he lies,
And lies, and lies. There is my bond of faith
To tie thee to my strong correction.
As I intend to thrive in this new world,
Aumerle is guilty of my true appeal.
Besides, I heard the banished Norfolk say
That thou, Aumerle, didst send two of thy men
To execute the noble duke at Calais.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
Some honest Christian trust me with a gage.
That Norfolk lies, here do I throw down this,
If he may be repealed to try his honour.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
These differences shall all rest under gage
Till Norfolk be repealed. Repealed he shall be,
And, though mine enemy, restored again
To all his lands and signories. When he is returned,
Against Aumerle we will enforce his trial.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
That honourable day shall ne’er be seen.
Many a time hath banished Norfolk fought
For Jesu Christ in glorious Christian field,
Streaming the ensign of the Christian cross
Against black pagans, Turks, and Saracens;
And, toiled with works of war, retired himself
To Italy, and there at Venice gave
His body to that pleasant country’s earth
And his pure soul unto his captain, Christ,
Under whose colours he had fought so long.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
Why, Bishop, is Norfolk dead?
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
As surely as I live, my lord.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
Sweet peace conduct his sweet soul to the bosom
Of good old Abraham! Lords appellants,
Your differences shall all rest under gage
Till we assign you to your days of trial.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
Great Duke of Lancaster, I come to thee
From plume-plucked Richard, who with willing soul
Adopts thee heir, and his high sceptre yields
To the possession of thy royal hand.
Ascend his throne, descending now from him,
And long live Henry, of that name the fourth!
The King—Richard—has laid down his crown with a willing soul and adopted Henry Bolingbroke as his heir.
Richard's giving up the crown to Henry. He says he's doing it willingly.
richard giving crown henry
In God’s name, I’ll ascend the regal throne.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
Marry, God forbid!
Worst in this royal presence may I speak,
Yet best beseeming me to speak the truth.
Would God that any in this noble presence
Were enough noble to be upright judge
Of noble Richard! Then true noblesse would
Learn him forbearance from so foul a wrong.
What subject can give sentence on his king?
And who sits here that is not Richard’s subject?
Thieves are not judged but they are by to hear,
Although apparent guilt be seen in them;
And shall the figure of God’s majesty,
His captain, steward, deputy elect,
Anointed, crowned, planted many years,
Be judged by subject and inferior breath,
And he himself not present? O, forfend it, God,
That in a Christian climate souls refined
Should show so heinous, black, obscene a deed!
I speak to subjects, and a subject speaks,
Stirred up by God, thus boldly for his king.
My Lord of Hereford here, whom you call king,
Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford’s king.
And if you crown him, let me prophesy
The blood of English shall manure the ground
And future ages groan for this foul act.
Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels,
And in this seat of peace tumultuous wars
Shall kin with kin and kind with kind confound.
Disorder, horror, fear, and mutiny
Shall here inhabit, and this land be called
The field of Golgotha and dead men’s skulls.
O, if you raise this house against this house,
It will the woefullest division prove
That ever fell upon this cursed earth.
Prevent it, resist it, let it not be so,
Lest child, child’s children, cry against you, “woe!”
If you crown him, then know I say: the blood of English shall manure the ground, and future ages groan for this foul act. What subject can give sentence on his king?
If you do this, English blood will soak the earth. Future generations will curse you for this. No subject should judge his king.
blood english soil future
Well have you argued, sir; and, for your pains,
Of capital treason we arrest you here.
My Lord of Westminster, be it your charge
To keep him safely till his day of trial.
May it please you, lords, to grant the commons’ suit?
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
Fetch hither Richard, that in common view
He may surrender. So we shall proceed
Without suspicion.
We shall proceed with the abdication, without suspicion.
Let's do this officially.
proceed official
I will be his conduct.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
Lords, you that here are under our arrest,
Procure your sureties for your days of answer.
Little are we beholding to your love,
And little looked for at your helping hands.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
Alack, why am I sent for to a king
Before I have shook off the regal thoughts
Wherewith I reigned? I hardly yet have learned
To insinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my knee.
Give sorrow leave awhile to tutor me
To this submission. Yet I well remember
The favours of these men. Were they not mine?
Did they not sometime cry “All hail!” to me?
So Judas did to Christ, but He in twelve,
Found truth in all but one; I, in twelve thousand, none.
God save the King! Will no man say, “Amen”?
Am I both priest and clerk? Well then, amen.
God save the King, although I be not he,
And yet, Amen, if heaven do think him me.
To do what service am I sent for hither?
God save the King! [But no one responds to the ritual greeting]
God save the King! [Silence—nobody answers]
god save the king silence
To do that office of thine own good will
Which tired majesty did make thee offer:
The resignation of thy state and crown
To Henry Bolingbroke.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
Give me the crown. Here, cousin, seize the crown.
Here, cousin,
On this side my hand, and on that side thine.
Now is this golden crown like a deep well
That owes two buckets, filling one another,
The emptier ever dancing in the air,
The other down, unseen, and full of water.
That bucket down and full of tears am I,
Drinking my griefs, whilst you mount up on high.
Now mark me how I will undo myself. 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, to you the worthiest in our sight.
I'm going to strip myself of everything. I give you the crown, the scepter, the whole thing. I'm washing away the holy oil they used to crown me. I'm giving it all to you.
undo myself heavy weight tears balm crown
I thought you had been willing to resign.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
My crown I am, but still my griefs are mine.
You may my glories and my state depose,
But not my griefs; still am I king of those.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
Part of your cares you give me with your crown.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
Your cares set up do not pluck my cares down.
My care is loss of care, by old care done;
Your care is gain of care, by new care won.
The cares I give I have, though given away;
They ’tend the crown, yet still with me they stay.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
Are you contented to resign the crown?
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
The first forty chunks of 4-1 constitute a chaotic gage-throwing session that directly mirrors the opening of the play (1-1), where Bolingbroke threw down his gage against Mowbray before Richard. That scene was governed: Richard controlled the ritual, set the terms, called the combatants back. This scene is ungovernable. Fitzwater, Percy, Surrey, and 'Another Lord' all throw gages in rapid succession; Aumerle runs out of his own gages and has to borrow one. The medieval honor system, which the play showed working imperfectly in 1-1, has now completely broken down under the new regime. Bolingbroke cannot control it; he can only postpone it. The historical irony is that this is exactly what Gaunt predicted Richard would face if he continued to abuse the honor system — the nobility's violence turned inward, consuming itself.
Ay, no; no, ay; for I must nothing be.
Therefore no “no”, for I resign to thee.
Now mark me how I will undo myself:
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.
All pomp and majesty I do forswear;
My manors, rents, revenues, I forgo;
My acts, decrees, and statutes, I deny.
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 mayst thou live in Richard’s seat to sit,
And soon lie Richard in an earthly pit!
God save King Henry, unkinged Richard says,
And send him many years of sunshine days!
What more remains?
God save the King! [But no one responds to the ritual greeting]
God save the King! [Silence—nobody answers]
god save the king silence
These accusations, and these grievous crimes
Committed by your person and your followers
Against the state and profit of this land;
That, by confessing them, the souls of men
May deem that you are worthily deposed.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
Must I do so? And must I ravel out
My weaved-up follies? Gentle Northumberland,
If thy offences were upon record,
Would it not shame thee in so fair a troop
To read a lecture of them? If thou wouldst,
There shouldst thou find one heinous article
Containing the deposing of a king
And cracking the strong warrant of an oath,
Marked with a blot, damned in the book of heaven.
Nay, all of you that stand and look upon me
Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait myself,
Though some of you, with Pilate, wash your hands,
Showing an outward pity, yet you Pilates
Have here delivered me to my sour cross,
And water cannot wash away your sin.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
My lord, dispatch. Read o’er these articles.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
Mine eyes are full of tears; I cannot see:
And yet salt water blinds them not so much
But they can see a sort of traitors here.
Nay, if I turn mine eyes upon myself,
I find myself a traitor with the rest;
For I have given here my soul’s consent
T’ undeck the pompous body of a king,
Made glory base and sovereignty a slave,
Proud majesty a subject, state a peasant.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
My lord—
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
No lord of thine, thou haught insulting man,
Nor no man’s lord! I have no name, no title,
No, not that name was given me at the font,
But ’tis usurped. Alack the heavy day!
That I have worn so many winters out
And know not now what name to call myself.
O, that I were a mockery king of snow,
Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke,
To melt myself away in water-drops!
Good king, great king, and yet not greatly good,
An if my word be sterling yet in England,
Let it command a mirror hither straight,
That it may show me what a face I have,
Since it is bankrupt of his majesty.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
Go, some of you, and fetch a looking-glass.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
Read o’er this paper while the glass doth come.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
Fiend, thou torments me ere I come to hell!
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
Urge it no more, my Lord Northumberland.
Enough. Stop speaking of this.
That's enough.
stop enough
The commons will not then be satisfied.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
They shall be satisfied. I’ll read enough
When I do see the very book indeed
Where all my sins are writ, and that’s myself.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
Richard's abdication speech ('Now mark me how I will undo myself') is structured as a deliberate reversal of the coronation ceremony. A coronation proceeds through investiture (crown, sceptre, robes), anointing, and the taking of oaths from subjects. Richard systematically reverses each element: he gives the crown from his head, the sceptre from his hand, washes away his anointing with tears, releases all oaths sworn to him. The reversal is theologically significant: the Church held that coronation anointing was permanent and irrevocable — it left an indelible spiritual mark. Richard's claim to wash it away with tears is either an act of genuine spiritual power or a theatrical impossibility. Shakespeare lets both readings stand. What's most remarkable is that Richard performs this ceremony himself: Bolingbroke does not crown himself or formally depose Richard — Richard does it. This is Richard's last and greatest act of kingship: to undo his kingship on his own terms.
The shadow of your sorrow hath destroyed
The shadow of your face.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
Say that again.
The shadow of my sorrow? Ha, let’s see.
’Tis very true, my grief lies all within;
And these external manner of laments
Are merely shadows to the unseen grief
That swells with silence in the tortured soul.
There lies the substance. And I thank thee, king,
For thy great bounty, that not only giv’st
Me cause to wail, but teachest me the way
How to lament the cause. I’ll beg one boon,
And then be gone and trouble you no more.
Shall I obtain it?
You're right. The shadow of my sorrow—my theatrical display of grief—has destroyed only the shadow of my face, that reflection. But my real grief lies all within, beyond any mirror.
Yeah... my real pain is inside. What people see is just the surface. The real damage is deeper.
shadow reflection real grief within
Name it, fair cousin.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
“Fair cousin”? I am greater than a king;
For when I was a king, my flatterers
Were then but subjects. Being now a subject,
I have a king here to my flatterer.
Being so great, I have no need to beg.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
Yet ask.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
And shall I have?
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
You shall.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
Then give me leave to go.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
Whither?
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
Whither you will, so I were from your sights.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
Go, some of you, convey him to the Tower.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
O, good! “Convey”? Conveyers are you all,
That rise thus nimbly by a true king’s fall.
O good! Convey? Conveyers are you all, that rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall.
You're all con artists—conveyers—who got rich stealing from a real king.
convey conveyers thieves
On Wednesday next we solemnly set down
Our coronation. Lords, prepare yourselves.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
The Abbot of Westminster has three lines, but they launch the conspiracy that runs through Act 5. He is careful, guarded, and shrewd — he requires the sacramental oath before he'll speak. His 'merry day' is a plot to assassinate Henry.
A woeful pageant have we here beheld.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
The woe’s to come. The children yet unborn
Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn.
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
You holy clergymen, is there no plot
To rid the realm of this pernicious blot?
[Scene continues]
[ongoing]
...
My lord,
Before I freely speak my mind herein,
You shall not only take the sacrament
To bury mine intents, but also to effect
Whatever I shall happen to devise.
I see your brows are full of discontent,
Your hearts of sorrow, and your eyes of tears.
Come home with me to supper. I will lay
A plot shall show us all a merry day.
Before anyone speaks freely, everyone must swear a sacred oath—on the sacrament—that nothing discussed leaves this room.
Before we talk, everyone's gotta swear to God that this stays secret.
swear oath silence
The Reckoning
One hundred and eight chunks, the longest and most formally complex scene in the play. It has three distinct movements: the chaotic gage-throwing session (mirroring 1-1 but now uncontrollable), the abdication ceremony, and the mirror. What makes the scene extraordinary is that Richard performs his own deposition — Bolingbroke never takes the crown, Richard gives it. The ceremony of 'undoing' is Richard's last great performance, and it is real and theatrical simultaneously. Carlisle's prophecy delivers the play's moral thesis: this act will generate wars for generations. And then everyone leaves except three conspirators, who begin planning to reverse it.
If this happened today…
The new CEO has called a board meeting. First: a chaotic session where executives start accusing each other of past crimes, throwing metaphorical challenges, and the CEO barely holds it together. Then: the outgoing CEO is brought in to resign on the record, publicly, with the full board watching. He gives a long speech about it, holds the company seal like it's the last thing he owns, asks for a mirror, smashes it, and is escorted out. As the room empties, the general counsel, a senior VP, and one loyalist stay behind. The general counsel says: 'Before I speak freely, everyone swears on the sacrament. Come to my house for dinner. I have a plan.'