Barck. My lord of Herford, my message is to you.
Bul. My lord, my anfwere is to Lancaster,
And I am come to feeke that name in England,
And I must find that title in your tongue *,
Before I make reply to ought you say.

Bark. Miftake me not my lord, t'is not my meaning
To race one title of your honour out:

To you my lord I come, what lord you will,

From the most glorious of this land,

The duke of Yorke, to know what pricks you on,
To take aduantage of the abfent time,

And fright our natiue peace with felfe-borne armes ?
Bul. I fhall not need tranfport my words by you,
Here comes his grace in perfon: my noble vnckle! †
Yorke. Shew me thy humble heart, and not thy knee,
Whofe duety is deceiueable and falfe.

Bul. My gracious vnckle!

Yorke. Tut, tut, grace me no grace, nor vnckle me no

I am no traitours vnckle; and that word grace

In an vngracious mouth, is but prophane:
Why haue thofe || banifht and forbidden legs

Darde once to touch a f duft of Englands ground?
But more then why? why haue they darde to march
So many miles vpon her peacefull bofome,

Fryting her pale-facde villages with warre,
And oftentation of defpifed armes ?

Comft thou because th'annoynted king is hence?
Why foolish boy, the king is left behind,
And in my loyall bofome lies his power:

Were I but now ++ lord of fuch hot youth,

As when braue Gaunt thy father, and thy ‡‡ felfe,
Rescued the blacke prince that young Mars of men,

(unckle,t

towne Enter Yorke no uncle omitted thefe § the now the my

From

From foorth the rancks of many thousands French,
O then how quickly fhould this arme of mine,
Now prisoner to the paulfey *, chastise thee,
And minifter correction to thy fault!

Bul. My gracious vnckle, let me know my fault,
On what condition ftands it, and wherein ?
Yorke. Euen in condition of the worst degree,
In groffe rebellion, and detefted treafon :
Thou art a banisht man, and heere art come,
Before the expiration of thy time,

In brauing armes against my + foueraigne.
Bul. As I was banifht, I was banisht Herford,
But as I come, I come for Lancaster:
And noble vnckle, I befeech your grace,
Looke on my wrongs with an indifferent eye :
You are my father, or ‡ me thinks in you
I fee old Gaunt aliue. Oh then || father,
Will you permit that I fhall stand condemn'd
A wandering vagabond, my rights and royalties
Pluckt from my armes perforce, and giuen away
To vpftart vnthrifts? wherefore was I borne ?
If that my coofin king, be king of England,
It must be graunted I am duke of Lancaster:
You hauc a fonne, Aumerle, my noble coofin §,
Had you first died, and he beene thus trod downe,
He should haue found his vnckle Gaunt a father,
To rouze his wrongs, and chafe them to the bay.
I am denied to fue my liuerie heere,
And yet my letters patents giue me leaue.
My fathers goods are all distrain'd and fold,
And these, and all, are all †† amiffe employed,
What would you haue me doe? I am a fubiect,

Plefbytby for then my § kinsman †† are all omitted

And

And I challenge law, atturnies are denide me,
And therefore perfonally I lay my claime
To my inheritance of free descent.

North. The noble duke hath been too much abufde.
Roffe. It stands your grace vpon, to do him right.
Willo. Bafe men by his endowments are made great.
Yorke. My lords of England, let me tell you this;
I haue had feeling of my coofins wrongs,
And laboured all I could to do him right;
But in this kind, to come in brauing armes,

Be his owne caruer, and cut out his way,
To find out right with wrong, it may not be :
And you that do abette him in this kind,

Cherish rebellion, and are rebels all.

North. The noble duke hath fworne, his comming is
But for his owne; and for the right of chat,

We all haue strongly fworne to giue him ayde:
And let him ne're fee ioy that breakes that oath.
Yorke. Well, well, I fee the iffue of these armes ;

I cannot mend it, I muft needs confeffe,
Because my power is weake, and all ill left:
But if I could, by him that gaue me life,
I would attach you all, and make you stoope
Vnto the foueraigne mercy of the king:
But fince I cannot, be it knowne to you,
I do remaine as newter; fo fare you well,
Vnleffe you please to enter in the castle,
And there repose you for this night.

Bul. An offer vnckle that we will accept,
But we must winne your grace to go with vs
To Bristow caftle, which they fay is held
By Bufhie, Bagot, and their complicies,

I omitted

The

The caterpillers of the common-wealth;

Which I haue fworne to weede and plucke away.

Yorke. It may be I will go with you; but yet Ile pause,
For I am loth to breake our countries lawes :

Nor* friends, nor foes, to me welcome you are,
Things paft redreffe, are now with me past care. †

Enter earle of Salisburie, and a Welch + captaine.
Welch. My lord of Salisburie, we haue ftaide ten daies,
And hardly kept our countrymen together;

And yet we heare no tidings from the king,

Therefore we will difperfe our felues: farewell.

Salif. Stay yet another day, thou trufty Welchman,
The king repofeth all his confidence in thee.

Welch. Tis thought the king is dead, we will not stay,
The bay-trees in our countrey all are withered,
And meteors fright the fixed starres of heauen:
The pale-fac'd moone lookes bloody on the earth,
And leane-look't prophets whisper fearefull change,
Rich men looke fadde, and ruffians daunce and leape,
The one in feare to loose what they enjoy.
The other to enioy by rage and warre.
Thefe fignes fore-run the death of kings.
Farewell, our countrimen are gone and fled,
As well affured Richard their king is dead.

Sal. Ah Richard! with eies of heauie mind,
I fee thy glorie like a shooting starre,
Fall to the bafe earth from the firmament,
Thy funne fets, weeping in the lowly weft,
Witneffing stormes to come, woe and vnreft;
Thy friends are fled to waite vpon thy foes,
And croffely to thy good all fortune goes. §

Enter the duke of Herford, Yorke, Northumberland*, Bufhie and Greene prifoners.

Bul. Bring foorth these men.

Bufbie and Greene, I will not vexe your foules
Since prefently your foules muft part your bodies,
With two much vrging your pernicious liues,
For t'were no charitie; yet to wash your blood
From off my hands, here in the view of men,
I will vnfold fome caufes of your deaths
You haue mif-led a prince, a royall king,
A happie gentleman in blood and lineaments,
By you vnhappied and disfigured cleane,
You haue in manner with your finfull howres,
Made a diuorce betwixt his queene and him,
Broke the profeffion † of a royall bed,

And ftaind the beautie of a fayre queenes cheekes,
With teares drawne from her eies with your foule wrongs,

My felfe a prince by fortune of my birth,

Neere to the king in blood, and neere in loue,

Till they did make him mif-interpret me,

Haue ftoopt my necke vnder your iniuries,
And figh'd my English breath in forren clouds,
Eating the bitter bread of banishment,
While you haue fedde vpon my fegniories,
Difparkt my parkes, and feld my forrest woods,

From mine owne windowes torne my

houfhold coate,"
Rac'tout my impreffe, leauing me no figne,
Saue mens opinions, and my liuing blood,
To fhew the world 1 am a gentleman.

This, and much more, much more then twice all this,
Condemns you to the death: fee them deliuered ouer
To execution and the hand of death.

Rfe, Percy, Willoughby, with + potation

Raz'd

Bufb.