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    The Dramaturgy of Discomfort in Richard II

    Hochgeladen von

    Ericka Alvarez
    richard ii

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    © All Rights Reserved
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    The Dramaturgy of Dj ; Richard IT iscomfort in Brian Walsh Richard IT has been ably deconstructed, psychoanalyzed, historicized, and. ‘more recently, queered. The agendas of the legion of scholars who have sera. tinzed the play through these schools of theory, along with their results, are as variegated as we might expect, although they tend to congregate, for obvious reasons, around a fairly consistent set of concerns: the status of monarchy, the concept and practice of usurpation, the impact of loss on the psyche, and the implications of political change.' These theoretically-inflected approaches to Richard IJ are in the mode of “strong theory.” Strong theory has been described as that which produces a “highly organized way of inter- preting information so that what is possibly relevant can be quickly abstrac- ted and magnified,” usually as part of “a triumphant advance toward truth and vindication” of the scholar’s thesis and, more broadly, his or her methods (Gedgwick 2003: 135).2 One question this tendency raises is whether there is toom, when faced with such a critically cover-determined work as Richard II, information it communicates or the for examining its affect rather than the 0 ideology it embeds. Attention to Richard IT as a species of performance Is ont Way to explore this proposition, and to experiment with a phenomenological performance criticism that could be an alternative or “weak theory,” one that accounts more for what the play does than what it signifies. ee theory when applied 10 a literary or ister the affect of art. Eve Kosofsky Sedgw'c’ espe conttats it with the totalizing tendency of strong modes of theory sing ak theory” a more open-ended alternative to the often # determing ites “ a ortant phenomen- Kterminism of strong theory.? She writes “there ie imp ora gh el cea i ccomp! 7 cal and theoretical tasks that can be a ree ie jeeties and nonce taxonomies” (Sedgwick 2003 148. My sate as sae fae 28 XBL aon of “loom pted Stanley Wells 0 dean how Richard IT creates the sensation that Pra se 1969: 7). The tint? the tone of the play as persistently elegiac” (Wo re mourns omy content of the many speeches in Richard “to expand upon i i it the st * i an Vetiys Poe perhaps sufficient to substantial the toute being a Al, ew, we could say that the play '$ sitimately elusive as °8Y, for any particular object of its mournfulness # dramatic text can be a way to k, in her work with this term, Brian Walsh P ie ve general feig of s0dess that is diffu yy chard I ea le figure or the movement OF pot gg A vt he epeompltenes 1 ell his its dramaturgy of goat the pay’ ae audiences can be understood as unsettling yt \ wwereby is effect HP ecesarly be mapped onto Elizabethan Policy) | that can, but Peet et common starting and ending point for ergy | read. controversies ‘conveys its discomforts by mobitizin, ings ofthe play. sine of eso (States 1985: 25), What t Tange ofthe “sensory EXPECT hard HL and its “discomfortable” imp,” an atop eet seeing, hearing, and feeling place,’ tthe ~~ the critical pursuit of meaning a5 it is inflected by bist, by aor by theory more broadly-—at bay as long a8 possible rey aa aa form. Theater “oocurs” (Beckerman 1979: 6). Like any to gn be messy and dfcult to make sense of a8 i is happening A Temalar form, i reates involvement ip an event for those on th dag cere those in tbe audience. Its distinctive “affordances”—WB, Worth, term for the yield of the dynamic exchanges between script, actor, and au. aor in theater—are numerous, including most prominently the spectacle living bodies and the aural pleasures of spoken language (Worthen 201 ri), As these engagements unfold, audiences experience a play. This etaih fan intellectual response to ideas, but it also entails a more diffuse corporal response that is, admittedly, difficult to describe. Despite such difficulty {ain inthis chapter to analyze the experience of Richard 11 in search of how te play works on audience members’ minds and bodies. Such a goal isnot on it own 4 novel enterprise. Formalism is a traditional way to assess how fie ture works, and the language of Richard II has long been an object of frm alist scrutiny of various sorts Performance theory as 1 employ it is ite» type of formalism. It reminds us to focus on the dynamics of theater es ¢ form with a particular st of affects that operate in conjunction with but alo to some extent ix excess of, its particular content. To analyze Richard Ilia this way is challenging because the play is so freighted with cultural and hie torical significances. But if we keep in mind that audiences in Shakespeares time went to plays for the experience that being at the theater offered 35 4s anything ese (as much, that is, as for the chance to see monarchy de ied, to se politcal change from the feuidal to the modem represented ‘ee history made an allegory for the present) then there is something {¢ ~ tind from imagining how the lively eventness of dramatic shows wotHeS® audiences, to Stss® i always speoch ina play, and so it is always bodily. one Jer ea eeate’s language today must be through the text, and this thas Tex implications for evaluating Elizabethan performance. But rent or, Tone tion OF texts to performances, or about ShakesPeates th tha hg atte a never be resolved in a way that would Sr a resentation, oj" ave them originated as working ScHPlS IP tempor! and thus as prompts to speaking in the spatio” sexu The dramaturgy of discomfort 18 tion of a live event before an audicnoe* Cees samy Shakespearean stage iy ‘mst tonecay of the ‘pe most exciting recent work in Elizabethan theater hisons sgt ao 5 that which attempts to map the phenomenal ryan cts bas sem theater event and to imagine what the expen tt eat te. It was, a such scolaship hes show, ar ines ane matic wrtng stan m was li 4 tory experience.” W. B. Worthen has ured us to view “i seounter with embodiment, a means to reflect writing as an il than as a script of subjection,” 8 an instrument of| Shion rather than as a seript of subjection.” In Worthen’ word the ite have can be understood as “instigations” for activity, and that activi inberently corporeal (Worthen 2010: 16, 77) Herbert Bis writs tht "ihe ry architectural space of the theater is and has always bon the body of Fhe actor” (Blau 2002: $0). This emphasis on embodiment foregrounds the tpodily work of acting as a key aspect of the performance event. While aten- tion to kinds of stage action—fighting, kissing, dying, sleeping, etc—can bea Stimulating approach to the phenomena of Shakespeare's stage, the body act that occurs on that stage more than any other is, of couse, speaking, Close attention to Shakespeare's language today is necessarily mediated by texts, but itis important to keep in mind always that is poetry is designed to exist as a plysical act. Since speaking on the Shakespearean stage more often than not feans speaking poetry, Robert Pinsky’s formula takes on added foree when wwe apply it to the words uttered there: ‘poetry isa voeal, which is to say @ bodily, art. The medium of poetry is a human body: the column of ait inside the chest, shaped into signifying sounds inthe larynx andthe mouth” (Pinsky 1998: 8). Richard If, a play composed entirely in verse, showcases players in the process of speaking poetry, and thus conveys to audiences, almost constantly, the corporeal exertion that Pinsky describes, as well as, significantly, pauses. and rests from this exertion, small moments tat highlight the kinetics of speech that go on around them. Shakespeare calls attention to this in Richard 17 through the pervasive use of forms of the word “breath” co inicate the act of speaking and to describe language itself? ‘The perception of the Eee ay of performanice—that speech is, ike breath, something that a body proccss through a complex physiological process—is a central aspect of Ue ancien experience at a play. This is part of the total physical sensation of OME T Play that Bernard Beckerman has deseribed: “although theater Torn, Ssxins to derive principally from visual and alton erro ty "ies upon a totality of perception that can be better ferme EAS Audiences “are aware of a performance through varying Costs" centration and relaxation within (ther) bodies" Beckerman i A og Sa ny meats hing prego wees "wl discuss ere the fleshy center of performance SOONE TT aes ‘orporealty of speech. I will consider also how aM Toe wo main Physical response to plotting and narrative (ms romenal moments in Avenues OF analysis, | wll discuss as well two ater phenomen 1 mor 184 Brian Walsh hears in his cell, and the spectacle of his cof ‘Kerman states, the primar Fe the play's closing moments. If, as Bec =, the primary aim or ea ‘Yo “affect spectators,” the aim of mY analysis in this chapter is jg heater ays that Ricard 1 docs his, with an emphasis on te impactor for ckerman 1979: 8), =Temporality and physicality of performance (Beel , the tempor ore begin: Harry Berger book-length study of Richard 1, A te eiion i he most ambitious effort 0 date {0 analyze the play j ie tatneal situation, and is thus an important precedent for my work here a ean earful analysis of dramatic language illocutionary pow, eres 2 wortle mode fora thestrieally-senstive erie practice thay Provide Sojlla and Charybdis of what he calls “sliteyed analysis™ ang it at playgoing” (Berger 1989: 9-42). 1 depart from Berger in two ape Fast, while Tam aware that what he calls “decelerated” reading is the Sibling condition of teaching and producing critical comment on dramatic Ht) readings of Richard 11 attempt to imagine the play as it can aes wx wo in “eal time.” This means understanding the plentitude of Shake- amare’ theater, the densely layered poetry that is uttered amidst all manner aPNwe business and plot movements, a8 the point of the whole enterprise ther than a problem that requires a slow-motion critical solution. Going to the theater circa 1595 meant getting more than you could process in the moment and this overload is itself a sensation that is part of the pleasure of being there. In Richard If, as I will discuss below, such overload helps to sharpen a desire for moments of closure or satisfaction. Second, Berger's speech-act oriented examination of the complex dynamics of speaking and auditing, whereby we follow characters talking and listening to each other and to themselves, leaves litle room in his study for consideration of the actual audience in the theater and the kind of experience the play affords them." 1 fer from Berg then, abo in my greater degree of interest in the playgoing ‘Richard If: the music the king 1 One ofthe moxt prominent features of Richard I is that iti exclusively in verse, making it one of just four such plays in the Shakespeare canon. It has been argued that Elizabethan Fite ee a ae sensitivity to the one of spoken verse than modems do. They could discern the difference tween prose and poetry, for instance, and, more specifically, could hear iambic pentameter (see Freer 1981, McDonald 2001). If this is 80, audience See ‘would have been structured in part by the sun ‘ se. A play written entirely in verse is, at first glance, pictur Sf ezuasy and rhythmic consistency. But the iambic ae in Richard It blank cy ae by variations in stress and line length, so that the Pane tee exhibits the plasticity that the plays of Christopher Marlow {rowel nto vogue Rickard 1 predominant blank verse is ures ditty igh proportion of rhyming lines, which amount to approximately O%° The dramaturgy of di quater of th ‘0 Th yt of sole turgy of discomfort 185 er tse Une ar a ge! ao inlets. In straining to hear an expected end tyme, bone eee ime that appears seemingly at random, in beine mewn eure bY ruse in a speech, audiences of Richard I are put off bine nye Fy by the variegated sound pattems The vatatons Shekeawene froughout te play induce ton and can act auece monte srience of Richard I iia a ‘members? ore gta by preventing them from getting comfortable with “We can begin by considering the effects of rhyme. me initiated sl up expectations oe hecompleton ena hs SMiculated at a regular interval. Because it could be conventonal on the Elizabethan stage for a speaker to close out a speech with an end tyne kind of verbal punctuation mark, ot to use one to give a group of lines an aphoristic east, many uses of couplets in Richard II would probably have been considered unremarkable. For instance, when Richard ends his call for the disputants in the opening scene of the play to be brought forth, he notes “Hligh stomached are they both and full of ire, /In rage, deaf as the sea, hasly as fire” (1.1.18-19). Here the couplet sounds like Richard wants it to: as a piece of worldly wisdom from an authority figure, coolly attempting to define nd perhaps diminish two reckless subjects It is isolated in that it does not follow or precede another set of rhymes, and when Bolingbroke and Mowbray subsequently round out their own impassioned speeches with couplets (45-46 and 67-68), they too are employing rhyme ina limited and conventional way: But the use of rhyme soon becomes odd in this same scene. As Richard moves to halt the escalating confit he declares Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be ruled by me: Let’s purge this choler without letting blood. This we prescribe, though no physician; Deep malice makes too deep incision. Forget, forgive, conclude and be agreed: Our doctors say this is no month to bleed. Good uncle, let this end where it beeuns We'll calm the Duke of Norfolk, you your son. (ase) eine utterance; that i ins in to tis eight Richard “breaks into rhyme” three fines in to this ei tis Pe ean’ concluding ines where we might exPet AT to emerge Once again, this could be viewed as 8 ne to show the king’ strategy Shakespeare kes Ricard nme ere 8 2 ST ert it toa mas em poner INEDA sek a ult this patterned es Wisden pee he sues toward compine, Bt Mi PA" cau, is, surprisingly, picked up by the men impli mM Pee aeraetees procced ty “The four characters proveed to engage in Mowbray, eal couplets, in some instances splitting the oe \y forty bapeabent Richard and Mowbray at 164-65), and as the exchange ®t oes mes less clear why rhyming has become @ quartet performance" Or it aceon to build a thematic reading of this irruption of pyc wat aca” of ike endings The sene 35a whole enacts a gradual yee? teenth Richard loses control cf his subjects through his inability to sy a 2 dispute, He perhaps attempts 10 retore some form of harmony tht Tanguage, and his subjects show superficial fealty by following his lead." danas confirmed if we take not of where the pattern breaks. As the rh dialogue reaches forty-lus lines Richard declares in what audiences mist now expect tobe the fist ine oa couplet, “We were not bom to sue bus Command,” clear enough as an expression of royal power. But this thoughy > immediately undermined in what follows: Which since we cannot do to make you friends ‘Be ready as your lives shall answer it ‘At Conventry upon Saint Lambert's Day. (1.1.197-99), Richard admits the limits of his power, the limits his subjects and audiences must clearly sense already, and at the moment this is made explicit the ideal harmony of royal control his rhyming might imply falters. Even if one strains to hear “command” and “friends” as an imperfect rhyme, the following set of lines is a definitive break. In another strange turn, though, the final six lines of this utterance resume the end-rhiyme pattern, and the scene comes to a close. This could be meant to indicate that Richard is regaining his compo- sure, papering over the rupture he himself revealed in articulating his weak position ‘And thus, presumably, one could treat each irruption of rhyme that occurs in the play as I have briefly done here with the play's first scene: by finding a particular thematic purpose the rhyme serves, But the odd oscillations of blank verse and extended patches of rhymed endings also imply that breaks into rhyme like the one that begins with Richard’s bad joke about incisions and physicians are not necessarily amenable to smooth, clarifying exegesis An extreme alternate position would be to see all such instances as arbtrar}, as random bursts of a decorative language. Neit of these positions is pe suasive, though. I am inclined, ten tapas ‘weak theory of the affect of Performance, one that explores, more loosely, the feeling these semi-TeE\ ‘rruptions of rhyme convey to audiences of Richard II. Bank vers sets up a certain kind of expectation for hythms of speech that can be subtly modulated through variations in stress or syllable count. AS We The dramaturgy of discomfort 187 considered here, when rhyme irrupts and i for no clear Teason, are more unusual in the Shakesteare coooe a required patterned speech in theater. But when Richard II se wna ta ‘erse pattem, then deviates from it un “f redictaby as itd * of extended couplets, a probable effect on the too it its many passages s shared among different characters m ts pair. The unpredictable a Richard Hl pose a simple question that is triggered in tik hea oes and that stays active for the entire duration of the play’ is this line going to be follow by a rhyme or not? Through this means, the play creates and continually heightens an atmosphere of anticipaion and also creates desire for completion in audiences—a corporeal tensing up of the body in anticipation of the relief of rhyme—a desite that is met inconsistently throughout the performance, Another way that speech pattems contribute to the play of completion and incompletion in Richard I1 is through the use of a “short lines.” The inter- pretation of short lines is controversial. Questions abound about how delib. erate they are versus how much they are a product of printing-house error or ‘other contingency. A leading scholar of Shakespeare's verse practices, George Wright, is skeptical that short lines serve much of a theatrical purpose. Others, with whom I tend to agree, sce short lines as implicit stage directions that point actors toward pauses. As with most aspects of Shakespeare’. metrical activity, it is foolish to assign with certainty “rules” about how short lines signify or how they ought to funtion practically. But attention to a few instances of short lines in Richard II will, I think, help us gauge how such lines can be instigations for types of performance that affect physical response to the play's tempo." In the intense scene before and around Flint Castle, Bolingbroke and his allies speak several short lines. When for instance, Harry Perey tells Boling broke that “the castle royally is manned, my lord, / Against thy entrance,” Percy's second line is well short of the regular ten-syllable pentameter. After Bolingbroke protests that the case cannot be “royally manned,” Percy tells him otherwise, leading with another short line: “Yes, my good lord, / It doth contain a king. King Richard lies / Within” @.3.21-25)" When Bolingbroke sends Northumberland to deiveragreting to the ae with a Tine of verse that is only three syllables long: “Noble lord” (3.3.31). At the key moment ‘when Richard has agreed to come down from the walls a must exit the walls above and to meet Bolingbroke in person, he and his train rele descend, out of sight of the audience, to re-emerge. Northumberland 1) 6 Meantime retums to deliver this news to Bolingbroke. This is that ensues, as printed in the Arden 3 Richard 1 rural shapes of Bolingbroke. What says his majesty? yy and grief of heart Northumberland. Soot 188 Brian Walsh “Makes him speak fondly like a frantic man. bier all apart, ingbroke. Stand all apart, Belge eos mats He el dn cious lord “ G.3.184-g9y tors do as the Arden 3 editor has done here: Botingbroke's Not ng Me So neh made, ypogrphiall, to appear as oe ing they are thus counted as on ig tmost modern editions linetion2 In the early printed texts of Richard 17 from the 1597 first quarto to the 1623 First Folio, these lines are of course nol typographiclly sutured. The creation of shared lines out of printed short lines is the attempt, initiated by eighteenth-century editors, to fashion what Paul Bertram his wit called the “platonic pentameter” (Bertram 1981: 26) ‘Whatever one thinks of such editorial moves, this instance seems peculisy “The line created (“What says his majesty? Sorrow and grief of heart) is not even a pentameter, but a hexameter. If we allow ourselves to consider ‘what the Arden calls line 184 as, instead, two separate lines, we have here a seven-ine exchange in which only two lines (Northumberland’s at 185 and Bolingbroke’ at 188) have ten syllables. ‘These shor ines create room for silences in performance that productions of the play can “seize” upon (Worthen 2010: 62). In each instance, the text of the play allows players space to be still, to gesture, of to enact hesitation. In the case of the exchanges her, the speakers are on the threshold of essentially arresting the rightful king. An awesome step is being taken, and this is per bats reflected inthe silences interspersed in what seem on the surface to be Soe ee a Dating Taegan ofthe situation, is elected in the physical at of fllnipe pac ane 9 Richard (the direction is implicit in Richards ies tho ks beara out as a stage direction in the quarto). A man mentee fh ag he in the act of deposing (what else can it mean Joo 2) ake “base court,” and then insist he accompany es eae Clout petit “double business bound.” And. ie beak conedy Sag] oS in Hamlet, ia his moment Baie (Hamiet 33.41) Pause” as to how he should act or speak 1 agree with js snes wold pes it implasbe to assume that shot Tine the tworbeat +; actly the lost metrical beats so that, for instancé, would need to be followed by a threebeat stand all apart the short lines do not subject ee at even in 1595—to follow that ead _ Work to create it is a means by uses pauses, it isa the temporality of theater to ereate effects om the The dramaturgy of discomfort 189 dience. Anyone who has ever attended any kind of live event knows how averaciating ambiguous silence in such contexts can be, and how physically ome feels the awkwardness and uncertainty of hesitation in performances Charles Forker, in the Arden 3 edition, follows standard editorial practice in fpserting a direction that Richard and his attendants have entered at some point in the conversation between Bolingbroke and Northumberland. Forker Rds his own call for a “Flourish” to this direction, stating in a footnote that, because there are only a few lines between Richard’s withdrawal above find his re-emergence below, the “Flourish” would “suffice to cover any awk- wardness” that waiting for Richard might force (Forker 2002: 357). But the ipable awkwardness of this scene seems to me to be a legitimate drama- furgical aim rather than a matter to be “covered.” The short lines and silences around them in the conversation and Richard's reappearance become ‘another means—the larger purpose of which could be any number of things, thematically—by which the disrupted rhythm of the play's language creates, an unsettling atmosphere in the playhouse, one of uncertainty and unrelieved tension?! Unrelieved tension and, perhaps, even anti-climax. Richard’s beautiful, pithy lines “Down, down I come, like glistring Phagion, / Wanting the manage of unruly jades” create an image of imminent, spectacular, violent failure: could he, in distraction or in a self-destructive frenzy, tumble down, as does poor Arthur in King John? Or will he emerge face to face with Boling- broke and challenge him to the duel that never materialized in the first act, or even attack his tormentors, bravely but recklessly, as he will do at the play’s ‘end? None of these things happens. Instead, he emerges resignedly, and the scene ends with a whimper: King Richard. Set on towards London, cousin, is itso? Bolingbroke. Yes, my good lord, King Richard. ‘Then I must not say no. 3.209) ‘As a final comment on short lines in this scene, it should be noted that the Folio prints Richard's first line here as two short lines (unlike the quarto, Which prints it as one). Jn the Folio, we read “Set on towards London: / ‘Cousin, is it so?” Editors now routinely space Richard's final line, as quoted here, so that it fulfills Bolingbroke's. In modern texts then we get two lines of Complete pentameter that could be, by the Folio's authority anyway, per~ formed as four short ones, ending this portentous scene with more pregnant Silences and awkward pauses”? Sedgwick, discussing how strong modes of theory can account neatly for the complexities of messy texts like Richard 11, writes that “A strong theory always has something to say, about anything, because it can always say No! to those things that don’t fit its hermeneutic mold. In contrast to this “If @ Weak theory encounters some terrain unlike any it has ever tripped over—iPit 190 Brian Walsh rey hs ern sini sila or TeseMbLAN oy understan ain a tow uP is bands, sup its shou Tab, It in the space created by remains ak Lhave concentrated 80 far on ye find room 10 asses els arom am goes exert fi0S OF ih som ie mer ay sa char as econ donc amount to 8 Ney laminating aco RA mead But bebe be chins? ave Sead here ofr ace cays ENTE om whic to gauge Row the pIsy works on sudiencay, sotipan te tn le ni ow ie mest oetomssenly raza eson i the dis of those aking only aly av fo Bear acme that doesnt come afer a patery in. he they el he sping sensation of rhyme they di of them has eee they fet trough an uncomfortable, uncertain pause not anti nes ad up toa general ling of being Put out of sors oe cing dxpened by my nex topic: the sound of deranged muse ina key moment late inthe play. can't fone of more in its dom rman dumb” (Sedgwick 2003 0 King Richards only solloquy—one of just two in all of Richard Hig another occasion for creating discomfort through auditory manipulations Richard’s words in his cell are for a time accompanied by music. Just as theater combines the spectacle of moving bodies with the sounds of spoken language for audiences to process simultaneously, it can layer sound so that speech, as at this moment, occurs simultaneously with music. Audiences do not choose somehow which sounds to listen to. They take in both, The music begins about forty lines in:o Richard's sixty-six line soliloquy. Stage directions indicating when it becomes audible occur in both the quarto and the Folio texts (at slightly different starting points), and Richard makes clear that itis diegetic: “Music, do I hear?” (5.5.41). As Richard's only soliloquy, this speech allows audiences a unique moment in which to enjoy a fantasy of intimacy withthe fallen monarch. When Richard declares that he hears the music, he signals to the auditors that they are sharing a phenomenal experience with him. The character on stage and the playgoers in the theater are listening '© music together. Richard constructs a comparison between the music and his situation: ‘Ha, ha, keep time! How sour sweet musi When time is broke and no ea ‘cert ‘So is it in the music of men’s lives. And here have I the daint ess of car To check time broke in a disordered strin But for the concord of my state and time” ‘Had not an ear to hear ‘my true time broke. The dramaturgy of discomfort 191 ard responds to the music, asi wer, intrumentaly. He pus it toa Rialzing purpose when he claims the music to be fame arena aa meets on his sensitive ear for music and his tn ear for polities. In one co eee way, ‘te might think that the music is “used up” by Richard's reflections oni, as it Weer to be an auitory event and becomes instead a figure fr the plays cerforations of power and authority. That js certainly what i slike when esting the text witout taking the theatrical eent nt acount, Sch move fer go the critical impulse of many Shakespeare scholars, here and when i a with other instances of mosic inthe plays: what does it mean, symbol Hee xand for? Usually, as one critic points out, the answers have something to ie Sith early modem ideas about “cosmic harmony” (Lindley 2008: 93). Such questions and answers are warranted by the conventions of Elizabethan aeejaht and musical theory to be sure, But we should also consider a weaker {he of thought, that of what might be left aver from such discussions, and ts, music might exceed even Richard's clever exposition here and affect audiences in other ways* ‘For instance, the music that is being played may have been some tune composed and employed by the musicians ofthe Lord Chamberlain's Men to fe reoyeled in the theater as needed, in which case it could evoke memories of past performances. More likely, it was an allusion to or fragment of some Pendard popular tune? What kind of response would the audience have to this moment in Richard 11 if the music played was all or a bit of some cur- rently popular comic ditty or love song? If the music was familiar, and it was, ts Richard says, played in audibly disordered fashion, this would have been a means to transfer some sense of Richard's frustration to the audience. Hearing. t well-known, especially a well-liked, piece of music mangled can have a physically irritating effect on any listener. When Richard cries out “This Imusic mads me! Let it sound no more” (5.5.61) the play unites is title char- acter and its playgoers in a moment of shared experience: listening to the ‘music itself, as well as the revulsion that betched harmony can inspire TForker, Ike other editors, assumes that the music must stop on command here. and inserts a stage direction to this effect in his Richard LI edition. He uses a footnote t0 explain the decision: “the music probably stops or has died away by fline] 66, beyond which it would be distracting. »%6 | would suggest— in keeping with my comments above where I quibbled with Forker’s atempt to averd “awkwardness” in the scene at Fint Caste—that the music hee ineant to be distracting to Richard as wel as to theater suitors Ricard JT foable-literally by making it louder ‘may, at this moment, be making more pal ater and more annoying to the senses—the kind of discomfort that Nas Hor! PES of the sensory experience it provides through is pervasive vera! ork’ Music can have the effect of uniting a crowd in a more eee a this was most likely the case with the jis that fllowod the mst) es sentations of the early modern sage” aes a Racal moment oF conventions of piay duration, probably kne s Hs communal revelry was inthe ofing by the time Richard is driven mad by 192, Brian Walsh city is not yet available to sic he hears, But such felicity is n (on eat the feeling of being at Richard IT remains one of strain, Te tom that ean be felt physically here thou the musical ding sry et that joins the other aural stops and starts characteris opt play's variegated sound patterns. m1 isa play full of unanswered questions and mysterious motivations pees ‘pom the eryptc accusations that open the play to the mae of how (disjingenvous are Bolingbroke’ initial rationales for his retuy home, the play time and time again refuses to gratify audiences with sm ituminating payoff. The feeling of unrelieved tension reverberates, then, from the level of the spoken verse line to the structure of the whole, somethi that is especially pointed in certain scenes. This question of plotting is inte lectual, to be sure, but as the play offers a series of near conclusions that never arrive, narrative tension in Rickard I can be said to be felt as well as comprehended. Most famously, the third scene of the play promises 2 uel between Mowbray and Bolingbroke, one that will result in death for ‘one, possibly serious injury or death for the other, which Richard interrupts and annals in favor of pronouncing banishment for both parties. And while the first soene of the play does not so explicitly promise and then deny a Violent, definitive end to the debate between Mowbray and Bolingbroke, the bombast of ther exchanges hints that an eruption of violence is possible throughout, especially once it becomes clear that Richard does not in fact have much control over them when it comes to matters of defending ‘their honor and reputations. The “gage” scene later on (4.1) enacts, again, srowing belligerence and a threat of violence that leads to an indefinite conclusion. Bolingbroke suspends the proceedings and defers indefinitely the combat that would resohe the heated disputes: “Lords appellants / vos nees shal all rest under gage / Till we assign you to your days of Queen sage / Till we assign you to your day ‘This same scene also reveals that Mowbray is dead (4.1.103-4). From the moment Bolingbroke returned from his banishment, his main antagonist in the play, obviously, is Richard. But have playgoers forgotten Mowbray cote? Might he be {howaht to hover over the play until this point of time and energy are expended lay’s first_an sens io eablsh Mowbray ata formidable cree,» power from brio With enemies and a checkered past. His own possible be torical Duke a ed laygoers not well versed in the particulars of ee even a8 the cones ace geo Well be narrative shoe waiting (0 oP, Sense, the naoenn bet¥een Bolingbroke and Richard takes priority. In o% cement of his de ‘9 kind of tion, bat profoundly unsetyng exe ath ould be kind of esl ‘ emotions and desperate pleas that require ion, and a definitive resolution, But King Henry’ justiicauee fo his decision creates more tension: “I pardon him (Aumere, as God shal pardon me” (5.3130). The phrase isa kind ofchasmus, bt i i neces incomplete. The words express hope: they create an expectation that Boling broke will find pardon from God for his sins, which ate unm he tea rust surely encompass the usurpation he has recently complete. Boling, broke’s anxiety that this pardon will not ever come—palpable by the end of the play—is hinted at here. In raising the question of Bolingbroke’ cul ability, this scene with York and his family, which sooms calculated to sty desire for some kind of closure, instead articulates a new tenon tht must remain unrlieved. ‘Shakespeare manipulates conventional expectations about charaterizations and plot turns that playgoers might bring to anther key scene, a move which again foils @ certain kind of anticipated conclusion. Midway through the play, the Queen and her ladies appear in a “garden” (34.1) and discuss how to fight off their feelings of trepidation and depression. A trio of gardeners enters, and the women decide to hide and eavesdrop. laygoers would have had reason to expecta certain kindof stage type to inhabit the gardener roles here, prose-speaking or bawdy rustcs played by the company clowns Instead, the play presents exceptionally wellspoken figures in full command of the verbal style that might have to this point sesmed an index of aristocratic refinement. The Gardener’ frst words indicate his mastery of posi language and his facility with aphoristic analogy: “Go, bind thou up young dangling Apricocks, / Which, like unruly children, make their si Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight” (3:4.29-3) a oO A note ge main afflicted by an inability to speak iambic Peete ee aoe nm ike nines of the sardonic, “school of lie” kind exemplified by stage rots lik Derick in the Famous Victories of Hemy ¥. His language conspicuously echoes Gaunt’ early grandiloguence and figurative spessh tel West OS country to-a garden. Given the elegant exposition ofthe ommonvetinas Barden trope, we might sem to te Btn ee fue of Moment where characters on stage can communicate of the ‘mimesis, an interpretation of the play's peels i : Se ees eae Queen and he fades a, fora i ine, let ohare mS expectation forthe course of the Ste 38 a non ot fora certain Lind of imerciom ate ha & MORENO RES morang The hidden observer who ses fh 0 ele BS the unwitting observed can be a trump 194 Brian Walsh consequences for the discoverer OF the discovered which might alter the pj, cra ae ‘Love's Labour's Lost probably first written and perf very close to when Richard 11 Was, contains a expecially intricate version of uch a scene with a progression ‘of such acts of voyeurism and exposure. py the end, Berowne can declare triumphantly, after he has caught his fellow, en, Beoneiting tei wansgressive Loves “Now step 1 forth to whip iypocrisy” (LLL 43.148). Quickly, of course, Berowne himself is discoverey telco be in love. His elated moment of discovery is brief, and he is exposed to his fellows, as he had been exposed all along to the playgoers. But in the ve see, playgoers do not ee the enactment of @ revelation or expoxue se erin te same way. Here, audiences do not learn much more han or ching et in motion in the scenes before—the beginning ofthe deposition Or Richard and the vilification of his friends—are underway. And the gure Sho is observing, the Queen, does not get any sort of leverage or gain power Wror the observed speaker through her act of voyeurism, Her angry words to the gardener when she comes forward and reveals herself do not expose him, of make him vulnerable to her in any way, as one might expect when the ‘overheard speaker is conftonted, especially when the confrontation involves an obvious asymmetry of social position. Her words only demonstrate her ‘own lack of insight and information: “Say where, when and how / Cam’st thou by this ill tidings? Speak, thou wretch!” (3.4.79-80); as well as ard her ‘own vulnerability: “What, was I born to this, that my sad look / Should grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke?” (98-99). ‘The brief exchange of words between the gardener and Isabel does not capitalize on the dramatic possibilities of the Queen's eavesdropping to reve something to the audience, But it does contain a sudden irruption into thyme. [As she exits from the scene, the Queen speaks ten lines. The first four lires a blank verse, while the next six are heroic couplets. The final couplet pro nounces a curse: “Gard'ner, for telling me these news of woe / Pray God he plants thou graft’st may never grow” (100-101). The gardener’s wores follow pick this rhyme pattern up, and he delivers his own six lines of iambic pentameter. At a moment when the play swerves from likely Cram turgical possibilities (lower-class figures who work the land are eloquent and ssious a hidden observer who comes forth to confront another characte, tyend ae ae over him) the play moves again into an arbitrary e < {Lyme that while in itself satisfying, throws audience expectations about larger sound patterns of the play back into confi Far from discomfiting th Peet angry mies rele gardener, or provoking him to an av pons, the Queen's ineffectual curse elicits kindness from Him TOF Queen, s that thy state might be no worse auld my skill were subject to thy curse Here di she fall a tear. Here in this place set a bank of rue, sour herb of grace. The dramat turgy of discomfort Rue e’en for ruth here shortly shall be seen ana In the remembrance of a weeping queen a (102-7) sardener’s generous response to the Queen! nd aurally unsettling ways? tarratvey counterintuitive "The fact that the gardener offers his 0 ene ih Bree am rn ee its Srents of unselfishness exhibited inthe ene play-it iy iw eon ant mohurd 1% dramatization, throughout, of the flue of eaniee onn AMonot comfort the Duchess of Gloucester, nor can York comfort the ding Gaunt. Richard again and again articulates his ov inonsolable state, and ites his friends’ failures to provide relief, as well as his ovm such failure, ‘when, in the soliloquy before his death, his powers of imagination fil to resolve his mental anguish. In their parting scene, the Queen cannot be consoled by Richard. She claims that she is left in a state of suspension when they are separated, for now she must begin the attempt to “kilt her hear] with groan,” itself a perverse and impossible form of reli from anguish that can only be expressed in figurative terms. Shakespeare toys explicitly with the concept of Comfort throughout 3.2, when Richard return from Ireland. At the height of his delusions of sacred kingship, Richard pronounces Aumerle to be “discomfortable” when his cousin attempts to inject some pragmatism into Richard's response to Bolingbroke. As the soene unfolds, and the artifice of divine monarchy begins to crumble, Aumele twice implores Richard with the word “comfort” (3.275, 82), the second te ging fragile sures he form of a positive response from Richard: “I bad forgot anyself," a momen tary resolve that falls apart as more bad news about his position exerEe Richard can finally say “Of comfort no man speak!” .2.144). The ee ‘3 comfort extends, of eourse, to Bolingbroke’ inal words inthe By, 1 the stage in search of absolution. But this failure ‘of comfort is not at the characters on stage. Its the experience the play provides [OF MEET ‘Richard I is a profoundly “discomfortable play. NS SPaNe NT includes frequent unusual variations—the extended ri A Te, that prevent audiences from attaining a sense of 8 oe sk mined This, combined with the play’s penctant for sion dimes, ting conventions, and staged moments of ineonsol@Blith cet pei minds suspended feeling that works as muct on pIBYESR®™ 7 i play's closing Tn examining one final phenomenal enG0Unel TTT 7 works to BIE moments T hope to show another meats BY WED ¢ ne experience ofits Vent audiences trom attaining a sense of compIeUON TO. the spectacle enactment that could also have a visceral impact °F ob int, and then Of the coffin in the closing moments of the D4 * a

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