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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 thyjoys, friends, fortune, and thy state! For all the Welshmen, hearing thou wert dead, Are gone to Bolingbroke, dispersed and fled. Aum. Comfort, my liege: why looks your grace
so pale? K. Rich. But now the blood of twenty thousand
Did triumph in my face, and they are fled: And till so much blood come thither 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
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 arméd soldiers, ere her native king Shall falter under foul rebellion's 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 embraced, And not neglected : else, if heaven would, And we will not, heaven's offer we refuse; The proffered 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: 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 plucked from off their
backs), Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves ? So when this thief, this traitor, Bolingbroke (Who all this while hath revelled 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 pressed 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
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
Enter SCROOP. Scroop. More health and happiness betide my
liege Than can my care-tuned tongue deliver him. K. Rich. Mine ear is open and my heart pre
pared: The worst is worldly loss thou canst unfold. Say, is my kingdom lost? why, 't was 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 armed 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 dissolved 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 armed their thin and hairless
scalps Against thy majesty : boys with women's voices Strive to speak big, and clap their female joints In stiff unwieldly arms against thy crown: The 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 Bagot;
broke. Scroop. Peace have they made with him, in
deed, my lord. K. Rich. O villains, vipers, damned without
redemption ! Dogs, easily won to fawn on any man! Snakes in my heart-blood warmed, that sting my
heart ! Three Judases, each one thrice worse than Judas! Would they make peace ? terrible hell make wa Upon their spotted souls for this offence !
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 wbom
you curse Have felt the worst of death's destroying wound, And lie full low, graved 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
Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed;
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 eye,
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 joined 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 did lead me forth
(To AUMERLE. 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.
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, Save our deposéd 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 : How some have been deposed; some slain in war;
That power I have, discharge; and let them go
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!
Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parle
SCENE III.-Wales. Before Flint Castle. Enter, with drum and colours, BOLINGBROKE and Forces; YORK, NORTHUMBERLAND, and others.
Boling. So that by this intelligence we learn The Welshmen are dispersed; 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 Northum
berland, 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.
York. The time hath been, Would you have been so brief with him, he would Have been so brief with you to shorten you, Por 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 Myself against their will.—But who comes here?
The which how far off from the mind of Boling
broke It is, such crimson tempest should bedrench The fresh green lap of fair King Richard's land, My stooping duty tenderly shall shew. Go, signify as much; while here we march Upon the grassy carpet of this plain. (NORTHUMBERLAND advances to the castle,
with a trumpet.
pet within. Flourish. Enter, on the walls,
we stood To watch the fearful bending of thy knee,
[To NORTHUMBERLAND. 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, shew us the hand of God
Enter PERCY. Welcome, Harry: what, will not this castle yield?
Percy. The castle royally is manned, my lord, Against thy entrance.
Yes, my good lord,
bury, 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 NORTHUMBERLAND. Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle :
That hath dismissed us from our stewardship :
The purple testament of bleeding war:
And by the buried hand of warlike Gaunt;
[To AUMERLE. To look so poorly and to speak so fair ? Shall we call back Northumberland, and send Defiance to the traitor, and so die? Aum. No, good my lord : let's fight with gentle
words, Till time lend friends, and friends their helpful
swords. K. Rich. O God, o God! that e'er this tongue
of mine, That laid the sentence of dread banishment On yon proud man, should take it off again With words of sooth! O that I were as great As is my grief, or lesser than my name ! Or that I could forget what I have been, Or not remember what I must be now! Swell'st thou, proud heart? I 'll give thee scope
to beat, Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me. Aum. Northumberland comes back from Bo
lingbroke. K. Rich. What must the King do now? Must
he submit? The King shall do it. Must he be deposed ? The King shall be contented. Must he lose The name of King? O'God's name, let it go I'll give my jewels for a set of beads; My gorgeous palace for a hermitage ; My gay apparel for an almsman's gown; My figured goblets for a dish of wood; My sceptre for a palmer's walking-staff; My subjects for a pair of carvéd saints ; And my large kingdom for a little grave, A little little grave, an obscure grave: Or I'll be buried in the king's highway, Some way of common trade, where subjects' feet May hourly trample on their sovereign's head :
Would not this ill do well ?—Well, well, I see
North. My lord, in the base court he doth attend To speak with you: may't please you to come down? K. Rich. Down, down, I come; like glistering
[NorthUMBERLAND retires to BOLINGBROKE. “In the base court ?" Base court, where kings
grow base, To come at traitors' calls, and do them grace. “ In the base court!" “Come down ?" Down
court; down king! For night-owls shriek where mounting larks should sing.
[Exeunt from above. Boling. What says his majesty?
North. Sorrow and grief of heart Makes him speak fondly, like a frantic man: Yet he is come.
Enter King Richard and his Attendants, below.
Boling. Stand all apart,
[Kneeling. K. Rich. Fair cousin, you debase your princely
knee To make the base earth proud with kissing it: Me rather had my heart might feel your love, Than my unpleased eye see your courtesy. Up, cousin, up: your heart is up, I know, Thus high at least (touching his own head], al
though your knee be low. Boling. My gracious lord, I come but for mine own. K. Rich. Your own is yours; and I am yours,
and all. Boling. So far be mine, my most redoubted lord, As my true service shall deserve your love. K. Rich. Well you deserve :—they well de
serve to have, That know the strong'st and surest way to get.