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North. Believe me, noble lord,
I am a stranger here in Glostershire.
These high wild hills, and rough uneven ways,
Draw out our miles, and make them wearisome:
And yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar,
Making the hard way sweet and délectable.
But, I bethink me, what a weary way
From Ravenspurg to Cotswold, will be found
In Ross and Willoughby, wanting your com-
Which, I protest, hath very much beguil'd
The tediousness and process of my travel:
But theirs is sweeten'd with the hope to have
The present benefit which I possess:
And hope to joy, is little less in joy,
Than hope enjoy'd: by this the weary lords
Shall make their way seem short; as mine
By sight of what I have, your noble company.
Boling. Of much less value is my company,
Than your good words. But who comes here?
North. It is my son, young Harry Percy, Sent from my brother Worcester, whence
Harry, how fares your uncle?
Percy. I had thought, my lord, to have learn'd his health of you.
North. Why, is he not with the queen? Percy. No, my good lord; he hath forsook the court,
Broken his staff of office, and dispers'd
The household of the king.
North. What was his reason?
He was not so resolv'd, when last we spake
Percy. Because your lordship was pro-
But he, my lord, is gone to Ravenspurg,
To offer service to the duke of Hereford;
And sent me o'er by Berkley, to discover
What power the duke of York had levied there;
Then with direction to repair to Ravenspurg.
North. Have you forgot the duke of Here-
Percy. No, my good lord; for that is not forgot, [ledge, Which ne'er I did remember: to my knowI never in my life did look on him.
North. Then learn to know him now; this is the duke.
Percy. My gracious lord, I tender you my
Boling. I thank thee, gentle Percy; and be
I count myself in nothing else so happy,
As in a soul rememb'ring my good friends;
And, as my fortune ripens with thy love,
It shall be still thy true love's recompense:
My heart this covenant makes, my hand thus
North. How far is it to Berkley? And what stir
[war? Keeps good old York there, with his men of Percy. There stands the castle, by yon tuft of trees, [heard: Mann'd with three hundred men, as I have And in it are the lords of York, Berkley, and Seymour;
None else of name, and noble estimate.
Enter Ross and WILLOUGHBY.
North. Here come the lords of Ross and Willoughby,
Bloody with spurring, fiery-red with haste. Boling. Welcome, my lords: I wot, your love pursues
A banish'd traitor; all my treasury
Is yet but unfelt thanks, which, more enrich'd,
Shall be your love and labour's recompense.
Ross. Your presence makes us rich, most
And I am come to seek that name in England: And I must find that title in your tongue, Before I make reply to aught you say.
Berk. Mistake me not, my lord; 'tis not my meaning,
To raze one title of your honour out:-
To you, my lord, I come, (what lord you will,)
From the most glorious regent of this land,
The duke of York; to know, what pricks you
To take advantage of the absent time,t
And fright our native peace with self-born
Boling. I shall not need transport my words
Here comes his grace in person. My noble
York. Show me thy humble heart, and not
Whose duty is deceivable and false.
Boling. My gracious uncle !-
York. Tut, tut!
Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle:
I am no traitor's uncle; and that word-grace,
In an ungracious mouth, is but profane.
Why have those banish'd and forbidden legs
Dar'd once to touch a dust of England's
But then more why;-Why have they dar'd to march
So many miles upon her peaceful bosom ;
Frighting her pale-fac'd villages with war,
+ Time of the kings absence.
And ostentation of despised arms? [hence?
Com'st thou because the anointed king is
Why, foolish boy, the king is left behind,
And in my loyal bosom lies his power.
Were I but now the lord of such hot youth,
As when brave Gaunt, thy father, and myself,
Rescued the Black Prince, that young Mars
From forth the ranks of many thousand French;
O, then, how quickly should this arm of mine,
Now prisoner to the palsy, chástise thee,
And minister correction to thy fault!
Boling. My gracious uncle, let me know my
On what condition stands it, and wherein?
York. Even in condition of the worst
I would attach you all, and make you stoop
Unto the sovereign mercy of the king;
But, since I cannot, be it known to you,
I do remain as neuter. So, fare you well;-
Unless you please to enter in the castle,
And there repose you for this night.
Boling. An offer, uncle, that we will accept.
But we must win your grace, to go with us
To Bristol castle; which, they say, is held
By Bushy, Bagot, and their complices,
The caterpillars of the commonwealth,
Which I have sworn to weed, and pluck away.
York. It may be, I will go with you :—but
yet I'll pause;
For I am loath to break our country's laws. de-Nor friends, nor foes, to me welcome you are: Things past redress, are now with me past [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-A Camp in Wales. Enter SALISBURY, and a CAPTAIN. Capt. My lord of Salisbury, we have staid
In gross rebellion, and detested treason: Thou art a banish'd man, and here art come, Before the expiration of thy time,
In braving arms against thy sovereign.
Boling. As I was banish'd, I was banish'd
But as I come, I come for Lancaster.
And, noble uncle, I beseech your grace,
Look on my wrongs with an indifferent eye:
You are my father, for, methinks, in you
I see old Gaunt alive; O, then, my father!
Will you permit that I shall stand condemn'd
A wand'ring vagabond; my rights and royal-
Pluck'd from my arms perforce, and given
To upstart unthrifts? Wherefore was I born?
If that my cousin king be king of England,
It must be granted, I am duke of Lancaster.
You have a son, Aumerle, my noble kinsman;
Had you first died, and he been thus trod
He should have found his uncle Gaunt a father,
To rouse his wrongs, and chase them to the
I am denied to sue my livery‡ here, [bay.
And yet my letters-patent give me leave:
My father's goods are all distrain'd and sold;
And these, and all, are all amiss employ'd.
What would you have me do? I am a subject,
And challenge law: attornies are denied me;
And therefore personally I lay my claim
To my inheritance of free descent.
North. The noble duke hath been too much abus'd.
Ross. It stands your grace upon, to do him
Willo. Base men by his endowments are made great.
York. My lords of England, let me tell you this,
I have had feeling of my cousin's wrongs,
And labour'd all I could to do him right:
But in this kind to come, in braving arms,
Be his own carver, and cut out his way,
To find out right with wrong, it may not be
And you, that do abet him in this kind,
Cherish rebellion, and are rebels all.
North. The noble duke hath sworn, his coming is
But for his own: and, for the right of that, We all have strongly sworn to give him aid; And let him ne'er see joy, that breaks that
York. Well, well, I see the issue of these
I cannot mend it, I must needs confess, Because my power is weak, and all ill left: But, if I could, by him that gave me life
* Impartial. + The persons who wrong him. Possession of my land, &c. It is your interest.
And hardly kept our countrymen together, And yet we hear no tidings from the king; Therefore we will disperse ourselves: farewell. Sal. Stay yet another day, thou trusty WelshThe king reposeth all his confidence [man; In thee
Capt. "Tis thought, the king is dead; we will not stay. The bay-trees in our country are all wither'd, And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven; The pale-fac'd moon looks bloody on the earth, And lean-look'd prophets whisper fearful change; [leap,
Rich men look sad, and ruffians dance and
The one, in fear to lose what they enjoy,
The other, to enjoy by rage and war:
These signs forerun the death or fall of
Farewell; our countrymen are gone and fled,
As well assur'd, Richard their king is dead.
Sal. Ah, Richard! with the eyes of heavy I see thy glory, like a shooting star, [mind,
Fall to the base earth from the firmament! Thy sun sets weeping in the lowly west, Witnessing storms to come, woe, and unrest: Thy friends are fled, to wait upon thy foes; And crossly to thy good all fortune goes.
ACT III. SCENE I.—BOLINGBROKE's Camp at Bristol, Enter BOLINGBROKE, YORK, NORTHUMBER LAND, PERCY, WILLOUGHBY, Ross: Officers behind with BUSHY and GREEN, prisoners. Boling. Bring forth these men.; (Since presently your souls must part your b Bushy, and Green, I will not vex your souls
With too much urging your pernicious lives,
For 'twere no charity: yet, to wash your blood
From off my hands, here, in the view of men,
I will unfold some causes of your death.
You have misled a prince, a royal king,
A happy gentleman in blood and lineaments,
You have, in manner, with your sinful hours,
By you unhappied and disfigur'd clean.*
Made a divorce betwixt his queen and him;
Broke the possession of a royal bed,
And stain'd the beauty of a fair queen's cheeks With tears drawn from her eyes by your foul wrongs.
Myself-a prince, by fortune of my birth; Near to the king in blood; and near in love, Till you did make him misinterpret me,Have stoop'd my neck under your injuries, And sigh'd my English breath in foreign clouds,
Eating the bitter bread of banishment: Whilst you have fed upon my signories, Dispark'd my parts, and fell'd my forest woods; [coat, From my own windows torn my household Raz'd out my impress, leaving me no sign,Save men's opinions, and my living blood,To show the world I am a gentleman. This, and much more, much more than twice all this,
Condemns you to the death:-See them deliver'd over
To execution and the hand of death. Bushy. More welcome is the stroke of death to me, [well. Than Bolingbroke to England.-Lords, fareGreen. My comfort is,-that heaven will take our souls,
And plague injustice with the pains of hell. Beling. My lord Northumberland, see them despatch'd.
[Exeunt NORTHUMBERLAND and others, with Prisoners.
Uncle, you say, the queen is at your house; For heaven's sake, fairly let her be entreated: Tell her, I send to her my kind commends; Take special care my greetings be deliver'd. York. A gentleman of mine I have despatch'd With letters of your love to her at large. Boling. Thanks, gentle uncle.-Come, lords,
As a long parted mother with her child
Plays fondly with her tears, and smiles in
So, weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth,
And do thee favour with my royal hands.
Feed not thy sovereign's foe, my gentle earth,
Nor with thy sweets comfort his rav'nous 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.
Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies :
And when they from thy bosom pluck a flower,
Guard it, I pray thee, with a lurking adder;
Whose double tongue may with a mortal touch
Throw death upon thy sovereign's enemies.-
Mock not my senseless conjuration, lords;
Thrown down the hedges. Of arms. Motto.
This earth shall have a feeling, and these stones Prove armed soldiers, ere her native king Shall falter under foul rebellious arms.
Car. Fear not, my lord; that Power, that made you king,
Hath power to keep you king in spite of all. The means that heaven yields must be embrac'd,
And not neglected; else, if heaven would, And we will not, heaven's offer we refuse; The proffer'd means of succour and redress. Aum. He means, my lord, that we are too
Whilst Bolingbroke, through our security, Grows strong and great, in substance, and in friends.
K. Rich. Discomfortable cousin! know'st
That when the searching eye of heaven is hid
Behind the globe, and lights the lower world,
Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen
In murders, and in outrage, bloody here;
But when, from under this terrestrial ball,
He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines,
And darts his light through every guilty hole,
Then murders, treasons, and detested sins,
The cloak of night being pluck'd from off their
Stand bare and naked, trembling at them-
So when this thief, this traitor, Bolingbroke,-
Who all this while hath revell'd in the night,
Whilst we were wand'ring with the antipodes,-
Shall see us rising in our throne the cast,
His treasons will sit blushing in his face,
Not able to endure the sight of day,
But, self-affrighted, tremble at his sin.
Not all the water in the rough rude sea
Can wash the balm from an anointed king:
The breath of worldly men cannot depose
The deputy elected by the Lord:
For every man that Bolingbroke hath press'd,
To lift shrewd steel against our golden crown,
God for his Richard hath in heavenly pay
A glorious angel: then, if angels fight,
Weak men must fall; for heaven still guards
Enter SALISBURY. Welcome, my lord; How far off lies your power ?*
Sal. Nor near, nor further off, my gracious lord, [tongue, Than this weak arm: Discomfort guides my And bids me speak of nothing but despair. One day too late, I fear, my noble lord, Hath clouded all thy happy days on earth: O, call back yesterday, bid time return, And thou shalt have twelve thousand fighting To-day, to-day, unhappy day, too late, [men! O'erthrows thy joys, friends, fortune, and thy
For all the Welshmen, hearing thou wert dead,
Are gone to Bolingbroke, dispers'd, and fled.
Aum. Comfort, my liege: why looks your
grace so pale?
K. Rich. But now,
the blood of twenty thou
sand men Did triumph in my face, and they are fled; And, till so much blood thither come again,
Have I not reason to look pale and dead? All souls that will be safe, fly from my side; For time hath set a blot upon my pride.
Aum. Comfort, my liege; remember who you
K. Rich. I had forgot myself: Am I not king?
Awake, thou sluggard majesty! thou sleep'st.
Is not the king's name forty thousand names?
Arm, arm, my name ! a puny subject strikes
At thy great glory.-Look not to the ground,
Ye favourites of a king; Are we not high?
High be our thoughts: I know, my uncle
Hath power enough to serve our turn. But who
Scroop. More health and happiness betide
Than can my care-tun'd tongue deliver him.
K. Rich. Mine ear is open, and my heart pre-
The worst is worldly loss, thou canst unfold.
Say, is my kingdom lost? why, 'twas my care;
And what loss is it, to be rid of care?
Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we?
Greater he shall not be; if he serve God,
We'll serve him too, and be his fellow so:
Revolt our subjects? that we cannot mend;
They break their faith to God, as well as us:
Cry, woe, destruction, ruin, loss, decay;
The worst is-death, and death will have his
Scroop. Glad am I, that your highness is so
To bear the tidings of calamity.
Like an unseasonable stormy day,
Which makes the silver rivers drown their
As if the world were all dissolv'd to tears;
So high above his limits swells the rage
Of Bolingbroke, coverin your fearful land
With hard bright steel, id hearts harder than
White-beards have arm'd their thin and hairless
Against thy majesty; boys, with women's
Strive to speak big, and clap their female joints
In stiff unwieldy arms against thy crown:
Thy very beadsmen learn to bend their bows
Of double-fatal yew against thy state;
Yea, distaff-women manage rusty bills
Against thy seat: both young and old rebel,
And all goes worse than I have power to tell.
K. Rich. Too well, too well, thou tell'st a
tale so ill.
Where is the earl of Wiltshire? where is Ba-
What is become of Bushy? where is Green?
That they have let the dangerous enemy
Measure our confines with such peaceful steps?
If we prevail, their heads shall pay for it.
I warrant, they have made peace with Boling-
Scroop. Peace have they made with him, in-
deed, my lord.
·K. Rich. O villains, vipers, damn'd without
Dogs, easily won to fawn on any man!
Snakes, in my heart-blood warm'd, that sting
Three Judasses, each one thrice worse than
Would they make peace? terrible hell make
Upon their spotted souls for this offence! [war
Scroop. Sweet love, I see, changing his pro-I
Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate:-
Again uncurse their souls; their peace is made
With heads, and not with hands: those whom
Have felt the worst of death's destroying
And lie full low, grav'd in the hollow ground.
Aum. Is Bushy, Green, and the earl of Wilt-
Scroop. Yea, all of them at Bristol lost their
No matter where; of comfort no min speak:
Let's choose executors, and talk of wills:
v on the bosom of the earth.
And yet not so,-for what can we bequeath,
Save our deposed bodies to the ground?
Our lands, our lives, and all are Bolingbroke's,
And nothing can we call our own, but death;
And that small model of the barren earth,
Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
For heaven's sake, let us sit upon the ground,
And tell sad stories of the death of kings:--
Some haunted by the ghosts they have depos'd;
How some have been depos'd, some slain in
Some poison'd by their wives, some sleeping
paper, and with rainy eyes graves, of worms, and epitaphs;
All murder'd:-For within the hollow crown,
That rounds the mortal temples of a king,
Keeps death his court: and there the antic sits,
Allowing him a breath, a little scene
Scoffing his state, and grinning at his pomp;
Infusing him with self and vain conceit,-
To monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with looks;
As if this esh, which walls about our life,
Comes at the last, and with a little pin
Were brass impregnable; and, humour'd thus,
Bores through his castle wall, and-farewell
With solemn reverence; throw away respect,
Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and
For you have but mistook me all this while :
Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty,
I live with bread like you, feel want, taste grief,
How can you say to me--I am a king?
Need friends:-Subjected thus,
Car. My lord, wise men ne'er wail their
But presently prevent the ways to wail.
To fear the foe, since fear oppresseth strength,
Gives, in your weakness, strength unto your
And so your follies fight against yourself.
Fear, and be slain; no worse can come, to
And fight and die, is death destroying death;
Where fearing dying, pays death servile breath.
Aum. My father hath a power, enquire of
And learn to make a body of a limb.
K. Rich. Thou chid'st me well:-Proud Bol-
To change blows with thee for our day of doom.
ingbroke, I come
An easy task it is, to win our own.-
This ague-fit of fear is over-blown;
Say, Scroop, where lies our uncle with his
Speak sweetly, man, although thy looks be
Scroop. Men judge by the complexion of the
So may you by my dull and heavy eye,
The state and inclination of the day: [sky
play the torturer, by small and small,
My tongue hath but a heavier tale to say.
Your uncle York hath join'd with Bolingbroke;
To lengthen out the worst that must be spoken:
And all your northern castles yielded up,
And all your southern gentlemen in arms
Upon his party."
Beshrewt thee, cousin, which didst lead me
K. Rich. Thou hast said enough.
Of that sweet way I was in to despair!
What say you now? What comfort have we | If not, I'll use the advantage of my power,
By heaven, I'll hate him everlastir, [now? And lay the summer's dust with showers of
That bids me be of comfort any 1.
Go, to Flint castle; there I'll p
Rain'd from the wounds of slaughter'd English-
A king, woe's slave, shall kin
The which, how far off from the mind of Bol-
That power* I have, dischar
ay; e obey. let them To ear the land that hath some hope to grow, For I have none :-Let no man speak again To alter this, for counsel is but vain.
Aum. My liege, one word.
K. Rich. He does me double wrong, That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue. [Away, Discharge my followers, let them hence;From Richard's night, to Bolingbroke's fair day. [Exeunt. SCENE III.-Wales.-Before Flint Custle. Enter, with Drum and Colours, BOLINGBROKE, and Forces; YORK, NORTHUMBERLAND, and others.
Boling. So that by this intelligence we learn, The Welshmen are dispers'd; and Salisbury Is gone to meet the king, who lately landed, With some few private friends, upon this coast. North. The news is very fair and good, my lord;
Richard, not far from hence, hath hid his head. York. It would beseem the lord Northumberland,
To say-king Richard:-Alack the heavy day, When such a sacred king should hide his head! North. Your grace mistakes me; only to be Left I his title out.
[brief, York. The time hath been, would Would you have been so brief with him, he Have been so brief with you, to shorten you, For taking so the head, your whole head's length.
Boling. Mistake not, uncle, further than you should.
York. Take not, good cousin, further than you should, [head. Lest you mistake: The heavens are o'er your Boling. I know it, uncle; and oppose not Myself against their will.-But who comes here?
Well, Harry; what, will not this castle yield?
Percy. The castle royally is mann'd, my lord,
Against thy entrance.
Why, it contains no king?
Percy. Yes, my good lord,
It doth contain a king; king Richard lies
Within the limits of yon lime and stone:
And with him are the lord Aumerle, lord Salis-
Sir Stephen Scroop; besides a clergyman
Of holy reverence, who, I cannot learn.
North. Belike, it is the bishop of Carlisle.
Boling. Noble lord
Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle;
Through brazen trumpet send the breath of
Into his ruin'd ears, and thus deliver. [parle
hand; On both his knees doth kiss king Richard's And sends allegiance, and true faith of heart, To his most royal person: hither come Even at his feet to lay my arms and power; Provided that, my banishment repeal'd, And lands restor'd again, be freely granted: + Plough.
It is, such crimson tempest should bedrench
The fresh green lap of fair king Richard's land,
My stooping duty tenderly shall show.
Go, signify as much; while here we march
Upon the grassy carpet of this plain.-
NORTHUMBERLAND advances to the
Castle, with a Trumpet.
Let's march without the noise of threat'ning
That from the castle's totter'd battlements
Our fair appointments may be well perus'd.
Methinks, king Richard and myself should
With no less terror than the elements [meet
At meeting tears the cloudy cheeks of heaven.
Of fire and water, when their thund'ring shock
Be he the fire, I'll be the yielding water:
The rage be his, while on the earth I rain
My waters; on the earth, and not on him.
March on, and mark king Richard how he
A parle sounded, and answered by another Trumpet within. Flourish. Enter on the walls King RICHARD, the Bishop of CARLISLE, AUMERLE, SCROOP, and SALISBURY.
York. See, see, king Richard doth himself appear,
As doth the blushing discontented sun
From out the fiery portal of the east;
When he perceives the envious clouds are bent
To dim his glory, and to stain the track
Of his bright passage to the occident.
Yet looks he like a king; behold, his eye,
As bright as is the eagle's, lightens forth
Controlling majesty; Alack, alack, for woe,
That any harm should stain so fair a show!
K. Rich. We are amaz'd; and thus long have we stood
To watch the fearful bending of thy knee,
Because we thought ourself thy lawful king:
And if we be, how dare thy joints forget
To pay their awful duty to our presence?
If we be not, show us the hand of God
That hath dismiss'd us from our stewardship;
For well we know, no hand of blood and bone
Can gripe the sacred handle of our sceptre,
Unless he do profane, steal, or usurp.
And though you think, that all, as you have
Have torn their souls, by turning them from
And we are barren, and bereft of friends;-
Yet know, my master, God omnipotent,
Is must'ring in his clouds, on our behalf,
Armies of pestilence; and they shall strike
Your children yet unborn, and unbegot,
That lift your vassal hands against my head,
And threat the glory of my precious crown.
Tell Bolingbroke, (for yond', methinks, he is,)
That every stride he makes upon my land,
Is dangerous treason: He is come to ope
The purple testament of bleeding war;
But ere the crown he looks for live in peace,
Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers' sons
Shall ill become the flower of England's face ;*
Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace
To scarlet indignation, and bedew
Her pastures' grass with faithful English blood.