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 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; 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 mistake the heavens are o'er our heads. |
| Boling. I know it, uncle; and oppose not myself |
| Against their will. But who comes here? |
| |
Enter HENRY PERCY. |
| Welcome, Harry: what, will not this castle yield? |
| H. Percy. The castle royally is mann'd, my lord, |
| Against thy entrance. |
| Boling. Royally! |
| Why, it contains no king? |
| H. 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 Salisbury, |
| Sir Stephen Scroop; besides a clergyman |
| Of holy reverence; who, I cannot learn. |
| North. O! belike it is the Bishop of Carlisle. |
| Boling. [To NORTH.] Noble lord, |
| Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle, |
| Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parley |
| Into his ruin'd ears, and thus deliver: |
| Henry 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. |
| Let's march without the noise of threat'ning 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 |
| 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 within. Flourish. Enter on the Walls KING RICHARD, the BISHOP OF CARLISLE, AUMERLE, SCROOP, and SALISBURY. |
| H. Percy. 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 harm should stain so fair a show! |
| K. Rich. [To NORTHUMBERLAND.] 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 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 is,— |
| That every stride he makes upon my land |
| Is dangerous treason: he is come to open |
| 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. |
| North. The king of heaven forbid our lord the king |
| Should so with civil and uncivil arms |
| Be rush'd upon! Thy thrice-noble cousin, |
| Harry Bolingbroke, doth humbly kiss thy hand; |
| And by the honourable tomb he swears, |
| That stands upon your royal grandsire's bones, |
| And by the royalties of both your bloods, |
| Currents that spring from one most gracious head, |
| And by the buried hand of war-like Gaunt, |
| And by the worth and honour of himself, |
| Comprising all that may be sworn or said, |
| His coming hither hath no further scope |
| Than for his lineal royalties and to beg |
| Enfranchisement immediate on his knees: |
| Which on thy royal party granted once, |
| His glittering arms he will commend to rust, |
| His barbed steeds to stables, and his heart |
| To faithful service of your majesty. |
| This swears he, as he is a prince, is just; |
| And, as I am a gentleman, I credit him. |
| K. Rich. Northumberland, say, thus the king returns: |
| His noble cousin is right welcome hither; |
| And all the number of his fair demands |
| Shall be accomplish'd without contradiction: |
| With all the gracious utterance thou hast |
| Speak to his gentle hearing kind commends. [NORTHUMBERLAND retires to BOLINGBROKE. |
| [To AUMERLE.] We do debase ourself, cousin, do we not, |
| 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 yond 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 Bolingbroke. |
| K. Rich. What must the king do now? Must he submit? |
| The king shall do it: must he be depos'd? |
| 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 figur'd goblets for a dish of wood, |
| My sceptre for a palmer's walking-staff, |
| My subjects for a pair of carved 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; |
| For on my heart they tread now whilst I live; |
| And buried once, why not upon my head? |
| Aumerle, thou weep'st, my tender-hearted cousin! |
| We'll make foul weather with despised tears; |
| Our sighs and they shall lodge the summer corn, |
| And make a dearth in this revolting land. |
| Or shall we play the wantons with our woes, |
| And make some pretty match with shedding tears? |
| As thus; to drop them still upon one place, |
| Till they have fretted us a pair of graves |
| Within the earth; and, there inlaid: 'There lies |
| Two kinsmen digg'd their graves with weeping eyes.' |
| Would not this ill do well? Well, well, I see |
| I talk but idly and you laugh at me. |
| Most mighty prince, my Lord Northumberland, |
| What says King Bolingbroke? will his majesty |
| Give Richard leave to live till Richard die? |
| You make a leg, and Bolingbroke says ay. |
| 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 Phaethon, |
| Wanting the manage of unruly jades. |
| 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. |
| Boling. Stand all apart, |
| And show fair duty to his majesty. [Kneeling. |
| My gracious lord,— |
| 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 unpleas'd eye see your courtesy. |
| Up, cousin, up; your heart is up, I know, |
| Thus high at least, although 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 deserve to have |
| That know the strong'st and surest way to get. |
| Uncle, give me your hand: nay, dry your eyes; |
| Tears show their love, but want their remedies. |
| Cousin, I am too young to be your father, |
| Though you are old enough to be my heir. |
| What you will have I'll give, and willing too; |
| For do we must what force will have us do. |
| Set on towards London. Cousin, is it so? |
| Boling. Yea, my good lord. |
| K. Rich. Then I must not say no. [Flourish. Exeunt. |
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