ACT III
SCENE i
Henry takes it upon himself to sentence Bushy and Green to death
for misleading Richard, seizing Lancastrian lands, urging his exile,
using Lancastrian parks for purposes other than hunting and forestry,
and so forth. He notes that he is "Near to the King in blood, and near
in love / Till you did make him misinterpret me" (III.i.17-18). Bushy
remarks, "More welcome is the stroke of death to me / Than Bullingbrook
to England" (III.i.31-32). Northumberland leads them off to their
deaths. Henry then sends York to look after the queen while he goes
to fight Glendower in Wales (an unexplained anachronism). His final
line in the scene seems glib: "A while to work, and after holiday"
(III.i.44).
SCENE ii
Richard has landed back in Wales and rhapsodizes about the dirt.
Despite warnings about Henry, "The bishop of Carlisle, one of
Shakespeare's high churchmen of high character, punctures
[Richard's] egoistic fatalism" (Goddard, I 153). Richard
is happy to think himself protected by virtue of being king, and
he rails against the treacherous, indulging in a lengthy conceit
whereby he represents the sun, revealing thieves who operate under
the darkness of night. Furthermore, "Not all the water in the rough
rude sea / Can wash the balm off from an anointed king" (III.ii.54-55).
Richard is the worst "of all those who depend upon the name instead
of the thing to bestow identity" (Garber 249).
Salisbury reports that the Welsh army disbanded: "O, call back
yesterday, bid time return" (III.ii.69). Richard falters in spirit,
but Aumerle reminds him, "remember who you are" (III.ii.82). "I had
forgot myself, am I not king?" (III.ii.83) -- perhaps a blur of true
self and status. At the arrival of Scroop, Richard exhibits more
"neurotic" behavior though (Goddard, I 154), immediately
asking,
SCENE iii
Henry, York, Northumberland, and the rebels are at Flint Castle
in Wales. Northumberland reports that "Richard not far from hence
hath hid his head" (II.iii.6). York bewails, "Alack the heavy day
/ When such a sacred king should hide his head!" (II.iii.8-9), the
idea being that a head of state has to be a pretty sniveling, cowardly
piece of Garbage to go running for cover in the Wake of a Big national
disaster (IX.xi.2001).
Henry Percy reports that Richard, Aumerle, and others are inside.
Henry Bullingbrook sends the message that he bows down to Richard
provided that his banishment is repealed and his lands restored to
him. Otherwise it's bloody war. Henry and York see Richard on the
castle wall, looking quite regal, as York remarks. Richard starts
out self-assured and snide with Northumberland and declares Henry's
presence to be treasonous. Northumberland tries to convince Richard
that Henry is not starting a civil war. Richard makes dignified
conciliatory overtures, but in ruminating while his message is
delivered, he unravels.
By the time the Bullingbrook party responds, Richard's defeatist side
pre-emptively gives in to Henry's demands and then he flies into
an agony about his own weakness. "There is something infinitely non-heroic
about this speech by a King who had so short a while before been so
absolute" (Asimov 297). Richard seems to be the main force behind
his own deposition. "So, drowning in an orgy of self-pity, Richard
proceeds to uncrown himself" (Goddard, I 154).
Richard is called down from the castle wall. "Undone by a pun
[Base / down] might be a succinct description of what happens. And
the stage direction, confirming the symbolism, is Exeunt from
above" (Goddard, I 154). "It is the abjectest of surrenders"
(Goddard, I 155).
SCENE iv
... our sea-walled garden, the whole land,
Richard and his followers are weeds and he should have lopped off
"Superfluous branches" (III.iv.63). Apparently Bolingbroke is a good
gardener. (For gardening as a political conceit, see the Peter Sellers
film Being There.)
So weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth,
His request that the earth turn against his foe is something that
happens to the enemy of primitive England in Locrine.
And do thee favors with my royal hands.
Feed not thy sovereign's foe, my gentle earth,
Nor with thy sweets comfort his ravenous sense,
But let thy spiders, that suck up thy venom,
And heavy-gaited toads lie in their way,
Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet,
Which with usurping steps do trample thee.
(III.ii.10-18)
Say, is my kingdom lost? Why, 'twas my care,
Scroop reports the massive popular support of Henry and that he
has had dealings with Bushy and Green. Before he can say that this
involved their execution, Richard rants at length. He assumes Bushy,
Bagot, and Green have betrayed him, and rails:
And what loss is it to be rid of care?
. . .
Revolt our subjects? That we cannot mend,
They break their faith to God as well as us.
Cry woe, destruction, ruin, and decay:
The worst is death, and death will have his day.
(III.ii.95-103)
O villains, vipers, damn'd without redemption!
Richard seems dramatically bipolar, one minute monomaniacally
self-confident, the other rendering lamentations. Aumerle asks
where his father the Duke of York is exactly. Richard ignores
this practical question and sinks into more misery:
Dogs, easily won to fawn on any man!
Snakes, in my heart-blood warm'd, that sting my heart!
Three Judases, each one thrice worse than Judas!
(III.ii.129-132)
No matter where -- of comfort no man speak:
Critics note the "masochistic mode of this luxuriance" (Bloom 258).
Some kings, says Richard, prophetically, are "haunted by the ghosts
they have deposed" (III.ii.158). The Bishop of Carlisle tries to
give Richard encouragement, which works momentarily.
Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs,
. . .
Our lands, our lives, and all are Bullingbrook's,
And nothing we can call our own but death,
. . .
For God's sake let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings....
(III.ii.144-156)
My lord, wise men ne'er sit and wail their woes,
But after rallying briefly, Richard sinks lower when he hears a report
that York has also joined Bolingbroke:
But presently prevent the ways to wail;
To fear the foe, since fear oppresseth strength,
Gives in your weakness strength unto your foe,
And so your follies fight against yourself.
(III.ii.178-181)
By heaven, I'll hate him everlastingly
That bids me be of comfort any more.
Go to Flint castle, there I'll pine away....
(III.ii.207-209)
What must the King do now? Must he submit?
"This is role-playing; those are props. Richard's implication is that
all life is role-playing, a scepter as much a stage property as a
walking staff, a king's robes as much a costume as an almsman's gown"
(Garber 261). Richard's anticipation of "a little little grave, an
obscure grave" (III.iii.154) strikes a "theme of obscure burial [that]
also appears in Shakespeare's sonnets and other works, as if the Bard
worried that his identity would be unknown to future generations"
(Farina 114).
The King shall do it. Must he be depos'd?
The King shall be contented.
(III.iii.143-145)
Bullingbrook: My gracious lord, I come but for mine own.
Richard says that the issue of the kingship will be decided in London,
then catches himself and asks Henry if that's okay with him.
King Richard: Your own is yours, and I am yours, and all.
(III.iii.196-197)
But if Shakespeare condemned Richard's version of divine right, he
had just as little use for Henry's doctrine of the strong man. Where
that doctrine leads, the rest of the History Plays reveal.
"The most obviously choric scene of all" (Wells 135) takes place in
the garden of the Duke of York. One of two ladies tries to cheer up
Queen Isabella but neither games nor dancing is likely to work. The
Queen prefers to eavesdrop on a gardener and his apprentices who speak
of politics with gardening analogies.
Is there no other way? Is
there nothing between the feudal idea and the revolutionary practice
that sought to replace it?
Yes, in a little scene that
seems utterly incidental, Shakespeare characteristically drops a
hint. (Goddard, I 159)
Cut off the heads of too fast growing sprays,
That look too lofty in our commonwealth:
All must be even in our government.
(III.iv.34-36)
Is full of weeds, her fairest flowers chok'd up,
Her fruit-trees all unprun'd, her hedges ruin'd,
Her knots disordered, and her wholesome herbs
Swarming with caterpillars....
(III.iv.43-47)
The good gardener, by submitting himself to the creative forces of
nature, but checking them where they grow excessive or unfruitful,
becomes a creator himself. A good ruler, it is intimated, is like
a good gardener, participating in the fructifying activities of
his kingdom instead of merely standing off and watching them,
interfering with them, or expecting them to intervene in his
behalf in an emergency. Here, in a metaphor, is suggested an
everlasting divine right of kings and men alike. (Goddard, I
160)
Queen Isabella, using an Edenic conceit, berates this somewhat
treasonous talk. The gardener says that it is the popular opinion
and the deposition is true news. When the Queen is gone he says he
plans to plant rue where her tears have fallen, "In the remembrance
of a weeping queen" (III.iv.107).