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Your husband he is gone to save far off,
Whilst others come to make him lose at home:
Here am I left to underprop his land;
Who, weak with age, cannot support myself:-
Now comes the sick hour that his surfeit made;
Now shall he try his friends that flatter'd him.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. My lord, your son was gone before I came.
York. He was?-Why, so!-go all which way
it will!

The nobles they are fled, the commons cold,
And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's side.-
Sirrah,

Get thee to Plashy, to my sister Gloster;
Bid her send me presently a thousand pound:
Hold, take my ring.

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 it, knave?

Serv. An hour before I came, the duchess died.
York. God for his mercy! what a tide of woes
Comes rushing on this woful land at once!
I know not what to do:-I would to God,
(So my untruth' had not provok'd him to it,)

I

Bagot. No; I'll 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 Bo-
lingbroke.

Green. Alas, poor duke! the task he undertakes
Is-numb'ring sands, and drinking oceans dry;
Where one on his side fights, thousands will fly.
Bushy. Farewell at once; for once, for all, and

ever.

Green. 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,

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 company;

The king had cut off my head with my brother's.-Which, I protest, hath very much beguil'd
What, are there posts despatch'd for Ireland?-
How shall we do for money for these wars?-
Come, sister,-cousin, I would say: pray, pardon

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some carts,

And bring away the armour that is there.

[Exit Servant.
Gentlemen, will you go muster men? if I know
How, or which way, to order these affairs,
Thus thrust disorderly into my hands,
Never believe me. Both are my kinsmen ;-
The one's my sovereign, whom both my oath
And duty bids defend; the other again,

Is my 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:-Go, muster up your men,
And meet me presently at Berkley-castle.
I should to Plashy too

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

[Exeunt York and Queen. Bushy. The wind sits fair for news to go to Ireland,

But none returns. For us to levy power,
Proportionable to the enemy,

Is all impossible.

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.

Green. Well, I'll for refuge straight to Bristol castle;

The earl of Wiltshire is already there.

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 hath done
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?
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?
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 to

gether.

Percy. Because your lordship was proclaimed
traitor.

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 Hereford,

boy?

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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

Bushy. Thither will I with you: for little office To more approv'd service and desert.

The hateful commons will perform for us;
Except like curs to tear us all to pieces.

Will you go along with us?

(1) Disloyalty,

Boling. I thank thee, gentle Percy; and be sure,
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:

seals it.

My heart this covenant makes, my hand thus 0, then, how quickly should this arm of mine,
Now prisoner to the palsy, chástise thee,
And minister correction to thy fault!

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 yon tuft of
trees,

Boling. My gracious uncle, let me know my
fault;

On what condition stands it, and wherein ?
York. Even in condition of the worst degree,-

Mann'd with three hundred men, as I have heard:
And in it are the lords of York, Berkley, and Sey-In gross rebellion, and detested treason:

mour;

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.

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
ford;

But as I come, I come for Lancaster.
And, noble uncle, I beseech your grace,

Boling. Welcome, my lords: I wot,' your love Look on my wrongs with an indifferent eye:

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 noble

lord.

Willo. And far surmounts our labour to at

tain it.

Boling. Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the

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 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.

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
Pluck'd from my arms perforce, and given away
A wand'ring vagabond; my rights and royalties
If that my cousin king be king of England,
To upstart unthrifts? Wherefore was I born?
You have a son, Aumerle, my noble kinsman,
It must be granted, I am duke of Lancaster.
Had you first died, and he been thus trod down,
He should have found his uncle Gaunt a father,
To rouse his wrongs, and chase them to the bay.
I am denied to sue my livery' here,
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

4

Berk. Mistake me not, my lord; 'tis not my To my inheritance of free descent.

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 on
To take advantage of the absent time,
And fright our native peace with self-born arms.
Enter York, attended.

2

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 knee,

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 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 despised arms?

Com'st thou because the 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;

(1) Know. (2) Time of the king's absence.
(3) Impartial. (4) The persons who wrong him,

North. The noble duke hath been too much abus'd.

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 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 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 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;

(5) Possession of my land, &c,
(6) It is your interest,

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

[Exeunt. SCENE IV-A camp in Wales. Enter Salisbury, and a Captain.

Capt. My lord of Salisbury, we have staid ten days,
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 Welshman;
The king reposeth all his confidence

In thee.

Capt. "Tis thought, the king is dead; we will not stay.

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,
Than Bolingbroke to England.-Lords, farewell.
Green. My comfort is,-that heaven will take
our souls,

And plague injustice with the pains of hell.
Boling. My lord Northumberland, see them
despatch'd.

[Exe. North. 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,

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away;

[Exeunt.

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; To fight with Glendower and his complices;
Rich men look sad, and ruffians dance and leap,-Awhile to work, and, after, holiday.
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,
Fall to the base earth from the firmament!
Thy sun sets weeping in the lowly west,
Witnessing storms to come, wo, and unrest:
Thy friends are fled, to wait upon thy foes;
And crossly to thy good all fortune goes.

SCENE H.-The coast of Wales. A castle in
view. Flourish: drums and trumpets. Enter
King Richard, Bishop of Carlisle, Aumerle, and

ACT III.

[Exit.

SCENE I-Bolingbroke's camp at Bristol. Enter
Bolingbroke, York, Northumberland, Percy, Wil-
loughby, Ross: officers behind with Bushy and
Green, prisoners."

Boling. Bring forth these men.-
Bushy, and Green, I will not vex your souls
(Since presently your souls must part your bodies,)
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 lincaments,
By you unhappied and disfigur'd clean.1
You have, in manner, with your sinful hours,
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 parks, and fell'd my forest woods
From my own windows torn my household coat,
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,

(1) Completely. (2) Thrown down the hedges.

soldiers.

K. Rich. Barkloughly castle call you this at hand?

Aum. Yea, my lord: How brooks your grace the air,

After late tossing on the breaking seas?

K. Rich. Needs must I like it well; I weep for

joy,

To stand upon my kingdom once again.-
Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand,
Though rebels wound thee with their horses' hoofs:
As a long parted mother with her child
Plays fondly with her tears, and smiles in meeting;
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;
This earth shall have a feeling, and these stones
Prove armed soldiers, ere her native king
Shall falter under foul rebellious arms.
Bishop. 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 remiss;
Whilst Bolingbroke, through our security,
Grows strong and great, in substance, and in
friends.

K. Rich. Discomfortable cousin! know'st thou
not,

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;
(3) Of arms. (4) Motto, (5) Commendations,

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 backs,
Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves?
So when this thief, this traitor, Bolingbroke,-
Who all this while hath revell'd in the night,
Whilst we were wandering with the antipodes,-
Shall see us rising in our throne the east,
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 the
right.

Enter Salisbury.

Welcome, my lord; How far off lies your power?
Sal. Nor near, nor further off, my gracious lord,
Than this weak arm: Discomfort guides my tongue,
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 men!
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, and fled.
Aum. Comfort, my liege: why looks your grace
so pale?'

K. Rich. But now, the blood of twenty thousand

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

are.

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 York
Hath power enough to serve our turn. But who
Comes here?

Enter Scroop.

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; boys, with women's voices,
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.

I

Where is the earl of Wiltshire? where is Bagot?
What is become of Bushy? where is Green?
That they have let the dangerous enemy
If we prevail, their heads shall pay for it.
Measure our confines with such peaceful steps?
warrant, they have made peace with Bolingbroke.
Scroop. Peace have they made with him, in-
deed, my lord.

K. Rich. O villains, vipers, damn'd without re

Dogs, easily won to fawn on any man!
demption!

Snakes, in my heart-blood warm'd, that sting my
heart!

Three Judases, each one thrice worse than Judas!
Upon their spotted souls for this offence!
Would they make peace? terrible hell make war

Scroop. Sweet love, I see, changing his property,
Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate :-
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 Wilt-
shire, dead?

Scroop. Yea, all of them at Bristol lost their heads.

Aum. Where is the duke, my father, with his power?

K. Rich. No matter where; of comfort no man
speak:

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,

Scroop. More health and happiness betide my Save our deposed bodies to the ground?

liege,

Than can my care-tun'd tongue deliver him.

K. Rich. Mine car is open, and my heart pre-
par'd ;

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:
Crv, wo, destruction, ruin, loss, decay;

(1) Force.

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:-
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 antic 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, humour'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?

North. Your grace mistakes me, only to be brief,' Left I his title out.

York. The time hath been,

Would you have been so brief with him, he would
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,

Lest you mis-take: The heavens are o'er your head.
Boling. I know it, uncle; and oppose not

Car. My lord, wise men ne'er wail their present Myself against their will.—But who comes here?

woes,

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, inquire of him;
And learn to make a body of a limb.

K. Rich. Thou chid'st me well:-Proud Bo-
lingbroke, I come

To change blows with thee for our day of doom.
This ague-fit of fear is over-blown ;
An 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 eve,

My tongue hath but a heavier tale to say.
I play the torturer, by small and small,
To lengthen out the worst that must be spoken:-
Your uncle York hath join'd with Bolingbroke;
And all your northern castles yielded up,
And all your southern gentlemen in arms
Upon his party.

K. Rich.
Thou hast said enough.-
Beshrew thee, cousin, which didst lead me forth
[To Aumerie.
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, wo's slave, shall kingly wo 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.

Enter Percy.

Well, Harry; what, will not this castle yield?
Percy. The castle royally is mann'd, my lord,
Against thy entrance.

Boling. Royally!
Why, it contains no king?

Percy.

Yes, my good lord,

It doth contain a king; king Richard fies
Within the limits of yon lime and stone:
And with him are the lord Aumerle, lord Salisbury,
Sir Stephen Scroop; besides a clergyman
Of holy reverence, who, I cannot learn.

North. Belike, it is the bishop of Carlisle.
Boling. Noble lord,
[To North.

Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle;
Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parle'
Into his ruin'd ears, and thus deliver :
Harry Bolingbroke

On both his knees doth kiss king Richard's hand;
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:
If not, I'll use the advantage of my power,
And lay the summer's dust with showers of blood,
Rain'd from the wounds of slaughter'd Englishmen:
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.—

[Northumberland advances to the castle,
with a trumpet.
Let's march without the noise of threatening drum,
That from the castle's totter'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 [Exeunt. My waters; on the earth, and not on him.

SCENE III.-Wales. Before Flint Castle. En-
ter, 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!
(1) Part. (2) Ill betide. (3) Force. (4) Plow.

March on, and mark king Richard how he looks.
A parle sounded, and answered by another trum-
pet 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,
(6) Such liberty.

(5) Short.

(7) Parley.

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