Serv. My lord, I had forgot to tell your lordship: To-day, as I came by, I called there; But I shall grieve you to report the rest. York. What is't, knave?

Serv. An hour before I came the duchess died. York. God for his mercy! what a tide of woes Comes rushing on this woeful land at once! I know not what to do:-I would to God, (So my auntruth had not provok'd him to it) The king had cut off my head with my brother's.

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 delectable.
But, I bethink me, what a weary way
From Ravenspurg to Cotswold will be found
In Ross and Willoughby, wanting your company,
Which, I protest, hath very much beguil'd
The tediousness and process of my travel:

me.

Go, fellow, [To the Servant.] get thee home; provide some carts,

And bring away the armor that is there.

[Exit Servant. Gentlemen, will you go muster men?

If I know how, or which way, to order these affairs,
Thus disorderly thrust into my hands,
Never believe me. Both are my kinsmen:
Th' one is my sovereign, whom both my oath
And duty bids defend; th' other again,

Is my near kinsman, whom the king hath wrong'd,
Whom conscience and my kindred bids to right.
Well, somewhat we must do.-Come, cousin,
I'll dispose of you.-Gentlemen, go muster up your
And meet me presently at Berkley.

I should to Plashy too,

But time will not permit.-All is uneven, And every thing is left at six and seven.

[men,

[Exeunt YORK and QUEEN. Bushy. The wind sits fair for news to go for IreBut none returns. For us to levy power, Proportionable to the enemy, Is all impossible.

[land,

Green. Besides, our nearness to the king in love
Is near the hate of those love not the king.
Bagot. And that's the wavering commons; for
their love

Lies in their purses, and whoso empties them,
By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate.
Bushy. Wherein the king stands generally con-
demn'd.

Bagot. If judgment lie in them, then so do we, Because we ever have been near the king. [castle: Green. Well, I'll for refuge straight to Bristol The earl of Wiltshire is already there.

Bushy. Thither will I with you; for little office Will the hateful commons perform for us, Except like curs to tear us all to pieces. Will you go along with us?

Bagot. No; I will to Ireland to his majesty. Farewell: if heart's presages be not vain, We three here part, that ne'er shall meet again. Bushy. That's as York thrives to beat back Bolingbroke.

Green. Alas, poor duke! the task he undertakes Is numbering sands, and drinking oceans dry: Where one on his side fights, thousands will fly. Farewell at once; for once, for all, and ever. Bushy. Well, we may meet again. Bagot.

I fear me, never. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.-The Wilds in Glostershire. Enter BOLINGBROKE and NORTHUMBERLAND, with Forces.

Boling. How far is it, my lord, to Berkley now? North. Believe me, noble lord,

Disloyalty; treachery.

The present benefit which I possess ;
And hope to bjoy is little less in joy,
Than hope enjoy'd: by this the weary lords
Shall make their way seem short, as mine hath been
By sight of what I have, your 3 company.

Boling. Of much less value is my company,
Than your good words. But who comes here?
Enter HARRY PERCY.

North. It is my son, young Harry Percy, Sent from my brother Worcester, whencesoever.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? [court, Percy. No, my good lord: he hath forsook the 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 Together.

[or,

Percy. Because your lordship was proclaimed traitBut he, my lord, is gone to Ravenspurg, To offer service to the duke of Hereford; And sent me over by Berkley, to discover What power the duke of York had levied there; Then, with directions to repair to Ravenspurg. North. Have you forgot the duke of Hereford, boy?

Percy. No, my good lord; for that is not forgot, Which ne'er I did remember: to my knowledge, I never in my life did look on him.

[duke.

North. Then learn to know him now: this is the Percy. My gracious lord, I tender you my service, Such as it is, being tender, raw, and young, Which elder days shall ripen, and confirm To more approved service and desert.

Boling. I thank thee, gentle Percy; and be sure, I count myself in nothing else so happy, As in a soul remembering 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 seals it. North. How far is it to Berkley? And what stir Keeps good old York there, with his men of war? Percy. There stands the castle, by yond' tuft of

trees,

Mann'd with three hundred men, as I have heard; And in it are the lords of York, Berkley, and SeyNone else of name, and noble estimate. [mour; 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
A banish'd traitor: all my treasury [pursues
Is but yet unfelt thanks, which, more enrich'd,
Shall be your love and labor's recompense.

[lord.

Ross. Your presence makes us rich, most noble Willo. And far surmounts our labor to attain it.

"To joy," i. e., to rejoice.

poor;

Which, till my infant fortune comes to years,
Stands for my bounty. But who comes here?
Enter BERKLEY.

North. It is my lord of Berkley, as I guess.
Berk. My lord of Hereford, my message is to you.
Boling. My lord, my answer is-to a Lancaster,
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.

[ing,

Berk. Mistake me not, my lord: 'tis not my meanTo raze one title of your honor out.

To you, my lord, I come, what lord you will,
From the most gracious regent of this land,
The duke of York, to know what pricks you on
To take advantage of the absent time,
And fright our native peace with self-borne arms.
Enter YORK attended.

Boling. I shall not need transport my words by
you:

Here comes his grace in person.-My noble uncle.
[Kneels.
York. Show me thy humble heart, and not thy
Whose duty is deceivable and false.
[knee,
Boling. My gracious uncle- [me no uncle:
York. Tut, tut! Grace me no grace, nor 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 ground?
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,
And ostentation of despoiling arms?
Com'st thou because th' anointed king is hence?
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 of men,
From forth the ranks of many thousand French,
O! then, how quickly should this arm of mine,
Now prisoner to the palsy, chastise thee,
And minister correction to thy fault!
Boling. My gracious uncle, let me know my fault:
On what condition stands it, and wherein ?

York. Even in condition of the worst degree;
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 Here-
But as I come, I come for Lancaster.

[ford;

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 wandering vagabond, my rights and royalties
Pluck'd from my arms perforce, and given away
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 down,
He should have found his uncle Gaunt a father,
To rouse his wrongers, chase them to the bay.

That is, 'Your message, you say, is to my lord of Hereford: my answer is, it is to the Duke of Lancaster." The absent time," i. o., the time of the king's absence." Indifferent," i, e., impartial.

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,
To my inheritance of free descent.
And therefore personally I lay my claim

[abused. North. The noble duke hath been too much Ross. It stands your grace upon to do him right. 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 labor'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 oath. York. Well, well, I see the issue of these arms. 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, I would attach you all, and make you stoop Unto the sovereign mercy of the king: But, since I cannot, be it known unto you, I do remain as neuter. So, 3 farewell; Unless you please to enter in the castle, And there, my lords, 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.

4

York. It may be, I will go with you;-but yet
I'll pause,

For I am loath to break our country's laws.
Nor friends, nor foes, to me welcome you are:
Things past redress are now with me past care.
[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-A Camp in Wales.
Enter SALISBURY, and a Welsh Captain.
Cap. My lord of Salisbury, we have stay'd ten
And hardly kept our countrymen together, [days,
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 in thee. [man:

Cap. 'Tis thought, the king is dead: we will not The bay-trees in our country are all wither'd, [stay. 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: Rich men look sad, and ruffians dance and leap, 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 kings. Farewell: our countrymen are gone and fled, As well assur'd Richard, their king, is dead. [Exit. Sal. Ah, Richard! with the eyes of heavy mind, I see thy glory, like a shooting star,

"To sue my livery," i. e., to sue for the delivery to himself of his lands. It stands your grace upon," í. e., it is incumbent upon your grace.

To-day, to-day, unhappy day too late,
O'erthrows thy joys, friends, fortune, and thy state;
For all the Welshmen, hearing thou wert dead,
Are gone to Bolingbroke, dispers'd, 1or fled,
Aum. Comfort, my liege! why looks your grace
so pale?
[men
K. Rich. But now, the blood of twenty thousand
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 are. K. Rich. I had forgot myself. Am I not king? Awake, thou coward majesty! thou sleepest. Is not the king's name twenty thousand names? Arm, arm, my name! a puny subject strikes At thy great glory.-Look not to the ground, Ye favorites of a king: are we not high? High be our thoughts. I know, my uncle York Hath power enough to serve our turn. But who comes here!

Enter SCROOP.

Scroop. More health and happiness betide my Than can my care-tun'd tongue deliver him. [liege, K. Rich. Mine ear is open, and my heart preThe worst is worldly loss thou canst unfold. [par'd: 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 day. Scroop. Glad am I, that your highness is so arm'd To bear the tidings of calamity.

Like an unseasonable stormy day,

Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores,
As if the world were all dissolv'd to tears;
So high above his limits swells the rage
Of Bolingbroke, covering your fearful land
With hard bright steel, and hearts harder than steel.
White-beards have arm'd their thin and hairless
scalps

Against thy majesty; and boys, with women's voices,
Strive to speak big, and clasp their feeble joints
In stiff unwieldy 3 armor 'gainst thy crown:
Thy very beadsmen learn to bend their bows
Of a d
a 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.

[ill.

K. Rich. Too well, too well, thou tell'st a tale so Where is the earl of Wiltshire? where is Bagot? 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 Bolingbroke. Scroop. Peace have they made with him, indeed, my lord. [demption!

K. Rich. O villains, vipers, damn'd without reDogs, easily won to fawn on any man! [heart! Snakes, in my heart-blood warm'd, that sting my Three Judases, each one thrice worse than Judas! Would they make peace? terrible hell make war Upon their spotted souls for this offence!

Scroop. Sweet love, I see, changing his property, Turns to the sourest and most deadly Late. Again uncurse their souls; their peace is made With heads and not with hands: those whom you

curse

Have felt the worst of death's destroying wound,
And lie full low, grav'd in the hollow ground.
Aum. Is Bushy, Green, and the earl of Wiltshire,
dead?

Scroop. Yea, all of them at Bristol lost their heads. Aum. Where is the duke, my father, with his [speak:

power?

K. Rich. No matter where. Of comfort no man
Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs;
Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes
Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth.
Let's choose executors, and talk of wills:
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 God's sake, let us sit upon the ground,
And tell sad stories of the death of kings:
How some have been depos'd, some slain in war,
Some haunted by the ghosts they have depos'd,
Some poison'd by their wives, some sleeping kill'd,
All murder'd;-for within the hollow crown,
That rounds the mortal temples of a king,
Keeps death his court, and there the antick sits,
Scoffing his state, and grinning at his pomp;
Allowing him a breath, a little scene,

To monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with looks;
Infusing him with self and vain conceit,
As if this flesh, which walls about our life,
Were brass impregnable; and, humor'd thus,
Comes at the last, and with a little pin
Bores through his castle wall, and-farewell king!
Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood
With solemn reverence: throw away respect,
Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty,
For you have but mistook me all this while:
I live with bread like you, feel want,
Taste grief, need friends: subjected thus,
How can you say to me-I am a king?

[woes,

Bishop. My lord, wise men ne'er sit and wail their 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. Fear, and be slain; no worse can come to fight: And fight and die is death destroying death; Where fearing dying pays death servile breath.

Aum. My father hath a 'power, enquire of him, And learn to make a body of a limb.

An

K. Rich. Thou chid'st me well.-Proud Bolingbroke, I come

To change blows with thee for our day of doom,
This ague-fit of fear is over-blown :
easy task it is, to win our own.-
Say, Scroop, where lies our uncle with his power?
Speak sweetly, man, although thy looks be sour.
Scroop. Men judge by the complexion of the sky
The state and inclination of the day;
So may you by my dull and heavy eye,

My tongue hath but a heavier tale to say.
I play the torturer, by small and 5 small,
To lengthen out the worst that must be spoken.

Even at his feet to lay my arms and power,
Provided that, my banishment repeal'd,
And lands restor'd again, be freely granted.
If not, I'll use th' advantage of my power,
And lay the summer's dust with showers of blood,

lead me forth

Of that sweet way I was in to despair!
What say you now?

What comfort have we now?

By heaven, I'll hate him everlastingly,
That bids me be of comfort any more.
Go to Flint castle: there I'll pine away;
A king, woe's slave, shall kingly woe obey.
That power I have, discharge; and let them go
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. Discharge my followers: let them hence away, From Richard's night to Bolingbroke's fair day.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.-Wales. A Plain before Flint Castle.

Enter, with Drum and Colors, 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 brief, Left I his title out.

The which, how far off from the mind of Bolingbroke
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.

Let's march without the noise of threat'ning drum,
That from the castle's tatter'd battlements
Our fair appointments may be well perus'd.
Methinks, king Richard and myself should meet
With no less terror than the elements

Of fire and water, when their thundering shock
At meeting tears the cloudy cheeks of heaven.
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 looks.
A parley sounded, and answered by a Trumpet with-
in. Flourish. Enter on the walls King RICHARD,
the Bishop of Carlisle, AUMERLE, SCROOP, and
SALISBURY.

Boling. 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.

York. 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 1 storm should stain so fair a show! K. Rich. We are amaz'd; and thus long have we stood [To NORTHUMBERLAND. To watch the faithful 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 done, Have torn their souls by turning them from us, And we are barren and bereft of friends, Yet know, my master, God omnipotent, Is mustering 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 stands, 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

b

Her pasture's grass with faithful English blood.
North. The king of heaven forbid, our lord the
Should so with civil and uncivil arms
[king

"To ope the purple testament of bleeding war," i. e., to ascertain what fortune war will assign him. "The flower of England's face," i. e., England's flowery face.