RICHARD Most mighty prince, my lord Northumberland,
What says King Bolingbroke—will his majesty
Give Richard leave to live till Richard die?
You make a leg and Bolingbroke says ‘Ay’.
NORTHUMBERLAND My lord, in the base court he doth attend
To speak with you. May it please you to come down.
RICHARD Down, down I come like glistering Phaëton,
Wanting the manage of unruly jades.
In the base court? Base court where kings grow base
To come at traitors’ calls and do them grace.
In the base court come down: down court, down king,
For night-owls shriek where mounting larks should sing.
[Exeunt from above] (3.3.171-182)
Finally Richard draws breath, and asks Northumberland to deliver Bolingbroke’s message. He’s courteous, even deferential—most mighty prince, my lord Northumberland—although with Richard there’s always the option of sarcasm, especially given his next line, referring to Bolingbroke as King Bolingbroke and his majesty. (Bolingbroke has still been steadfastly maintaining that he’s only claiming what’s rightfully his own as Gaunt’s heir, and petitioning for the lifting of his sentence of banishment. Richard’s repeated framing of the situation in terms of his own deposition is an odd form of powerplay, as if he retains some agency by naming what’s actually at stake here.) Will his majesty give Richard leave to live till Richard die? is even more of a dare: is this a life-or-death situation? although it’s framed in terms of Richard being allowed to live until his death—truistic—the implicit question is, will that death be a natural one? does Bolingbroke intend to execute Richard, as he has already executed his allies? The question is mostly left unanswered, although you make a leg—Northumberland seems to bow—which Richard interprets as an affirmative: Bolingbroke says ‘Ay’. He will, for the moment, be allowed to live.
Northumberland is scrupulously polite, telling Richard that Bolingbroke is awaiting him in the base court of the castle, that is, in the lower courtyard. May it please you to come down. Base is the word that Richard seizes on, in the sense of physical lowering but also abasement, the loss of status, and base meaning common, or even illegitimate. He will come down (down, down) like glistering Phaëton, the ill-fated and hubristic son of Apollo who could not manage the wild horses, the unruly jades who pulled the chariot of the sun, and was killed with a bolt of lightning by Zeus to avoid further disaster as he careered across the heavens, scorching the earth. Richard has often characterised himself as the sun, but here he imagines not only the setting of that sun, as he lowers himself, comes down into the base court, sets, but also a greater and more violent power, destroying him even as he falls. After that firebolt of an image, Richard reverts to wordplay: the base courtmust be where kings grow base, common, abase themselves, or are deposed; it is already an abasement to come at traitors’ calls, to obey the commands (or requests) of traitors like Bolingbroke and Northumberland, and to respond to them with politeness and courtesy, do them grace (including, presumably, gracing them with the royal presence). And then a twisty near-chiasmus, come down: down court, down king, Richard’s state, his court (his royal court, here represented by Aumerle and the other few) as reduced as his own status, mostly to enable the couplet: night-owls shriek where mounting larks should sing. Richard’s sun sets, and so it is night, time for the shrieking owl, bird of ill-omen. The king comes down, whereas the lark flies up; the discordant shriek of the owl drowns out the hopeful song of the lark.
And, depending on the staging, it may take Richard and his followers (Scroop, Salisbury, and Carlisle, as well as Aumerle) some time to get down to stage level from his position above; in early stagings, whether at the Curtain or the Globe, he’d have nipped down the internal stairs through the tiring house. Richard’s about to come properly face to face with Bolingbroke, for the first time in years.
