Straight cleares his brow; and with a borrowed smile,
What, my deare Queene? welcome, my deare, he sayes:
And (striuing his owne passion to beguile,
And hide the sorrow which his eye betrayes)
Could speake no more; but wrings her hands, the while:
And then, Sweet Lady; and againe he stayes:
Th' excesse of ioy and sorrow both affordes
Affliction none, or but poore niggard wordes.
From The Chronicle of Froissart: translated out of French by Sir John Bourchier Lord Berners. (The Tudor Translations) 1903. Cap. CCXL. Vol. vi. p. 378. Compare with IV. i. 162–222.
And on a day the duke of Lancastre acompanyed with lordes, dukes, prelates, erles, barones, and knyghtes, and of the notablest men of London, and of other good townes, rode to the Towre, and there alyghted. Then kynge Rycharde was brought into the hall, aparelled lyke a kynge in his robes of estate, his septer in his hande, and his crowne on his heed. Than he stode up alone, nat holden nor stayed by no man, and sayde aloude: I have been kynge of Englande, duke of Aquytany, and lorde of Irelande, aboute xxii. yeres, whiche sygnory, royalte, cepter, crowne, and herytage, I clerely resygne here to my cosyn Henry of Lancastre: and I desyre hym here in this open presence, in entrynge of the same possessyon, to take this septour: and so delyvered it to the duke, who toke it. Than kynge Rycharde toke the crowne fro his heed with bothe his handes, and set it before hym, and sayd: Fayre cosyn, Henry duke of Lancastre, I gyve and delyver you this crowne, wherwith I was crowned kyng of Englande, and therwith all the right therto dependyng. The duke of Lancastre tooke it, and the archebysshop of Caunterbury toke it out of the dukes handes. . . . Than Rycharde of Burdeaux retourned agayne into the chambre fro whence he came.
