The Complete Works of William Shakespeare

I am a stranger here in Glostershire.
These high wild hills, a.id rough uneven ways,
Draw at 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:
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?

And I must find that title in your tongue,
Before I make reply to aught you say.
Berk. Mistake me not, my lord; 'tis not my
meaning,

To raze one title of your honor 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 armis.

Enter YORK, attended.

Boling. I shall not needs 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 the word-grace,
In an ungracious mouth, is but profane.
Why have those banish'd and forbidden legs
Dared once to touch a dust of England's ground?

Percy. No, my good lord; he hath forsook the But then more why;-Why have they dared to

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 together.
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?

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.

North. Then learn to know him now; this is the

duke.

Percy. My gracious lord, I tender you my service,
such as it is, being tender, raw, and young;
Which elder days shall ripen and contirm
To more approved service and desert.

march

So many miles upon her peaceful bosom;
Frighting her pale-faced villages with war,
And ostentation of despised arms?
Why, foolish boy, the king is left behind,
Com'st thou because the anointed king is hence?
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,
And minister correction to thy fault!
Now prisoner to the palsy, chastise thee,

Boling. My gracious uncle, let me know my fault;
On what condition stands it, and wherein?
York. Even in condition of the worst degree,-
Thou art a banish'd man, and here art come,
gross rebellion, and detested treason:
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.

Boling. thank thee, gentle Percy; and be sure, And, noble uncle, I beseech your grace,

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:
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 yon tuft of

trees,

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

mour:

None else of name, and noble estimate.

Enter Ross and WILLOUGHBY.

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?
It must be granted, I am duke of Lancaster.
If that my cousin king be king of England,
You have a son, Aumerle, my noble kinsman;
He should have found his uncle Gaunt a father,
Had you first died, and he been thus trod down,
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:

North. Here comes the lords of Ross and Wil- My father's goods are all distrain'd and sold; loughby,

Bloody with spurring, fiery-red with haste.

And these, and all, are all amiss employ'd.
What would you have me do? I am a subject,

Boling. Welcome, my lords: I wot, your love And challenge law: Attornies are denied me;

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

North. The noble duke hath been too much
abused.

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.

Time of the king's absence.
The persons who wrong him.
Possession of my land, &c.

* Impartial

7Tt is your interest

SCENE IV.-A Camp in Wales. Enter SALISBURY, and a Captain

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;

For I am loth 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.

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
The bay-trees in our country are all wither'd,
And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven;"
The pale-faced 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 assured, Richard their king is dead. [Exu.
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, woe, and unrest:
Thy friends are tled, to wait upon thy foes;
And crossly to thy good all fortune goes.

ACT III.

SCENE I-Bolingbroke's Camp at Bristol. Enter BOLINGBROKE, YORK, NORTHUMBERLAND, PERCY, WILLOUGHBY, Ross: Oflicers 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 to 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 lineaments, By you unhappied and disfigur'd clean. 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 seignories, 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,

Condemns you to the death:-see them deliver'd

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.

[Exeunt NORTHUMBERLAND 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.

[Exit.

SCENE II.-The Coast of Wales. A Castle in view. Flourish: Drums and Trumpets. Enter KING RICHARD, BISHOP OF CARLISLE, AUMERLE, and 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 favor with my royal hands. Feed not thy sovereign's foe, my gentle eartn, 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 their 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.

Car. Fear not, my lord; that Power, that made Hath power to keep you king, in spite of all. you king, 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 proffer'd means of succor 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

Then murdcs, treasons, and detested sins,
The cloak of night being pluck'd from off their
back,

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 wordly 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,

K. Rich. Too well, too well, thou tell'st a tale so ill.

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.

K. Rich. O villains, vipers, damn'd without redemption!

Dogs, easily won to fawn on any man! Snakes, in my heart-blood warm'd, that sting my heart!

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,

Weak men must fall; for heaven still guards the Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate:

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 yeste day, 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

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, '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 unseasonabie 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 brignt 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 ciap their female joints
In still unwieldy arms against thy crown:
Thy very beadsinen learn to bend their bows
Or 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.

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 power?

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

Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs;
Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth.
Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes
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.
And tell sad stories of the death of kings:-
For heaven's sake, let us sit upon the ground,
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,
Comes at the last, and with a little pin
Were brass impregnable; and humor'd thus,

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 white
I live with bread like you, feel want, taste grief,
Need friends:-Subjected thus,

How can you say to me-I am a king?

Car. My lord, wise men ne'er wail their present

woes,

But presently prevent the ways to wail.
To fear the foe, since fear oppresseth strength,
Gives, in your weakness, strength unto your loe,
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 had a power, enquire of him:
And learn to make a body of a limb.

K. Rich. Thou chid'st me well:-Proud Boling
broke, I come
To change blows with thee for our day of doin
This ague-fit of fear is overblown;
An easy task it is to win our own.-
Say, Scroop, where lies our uncle with his ower
Speak sweetly, man, although thy looks be sour.
Scroop. Men judge by the complexion of the głą
The state and inclination of the day:
So may you by my dull and heavy eye,
My tongue hath but a heavier tale to f
I play the torture, by small and small.

To lengthen out the worst that must be spoken:- That from the castle's totter'd battlemen'.

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 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.
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. Before Flint Castle.
Enter, with Drums 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.

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, farther than you
should.

York. Take not, good cousin, further than you
should,

Lest you mistake: The heavens are o'er your head.
Boling. I know it, uncle; and oppose not
Myself against their will.-But who comes here?
Enter PERCY.

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

Boling.

Royally!

Why, it contains no king?
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. Belike it is the Bishop of Carlisle.
Boling. Noble lord,

[TO NORTH.

Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle;

Our fair appointments may be well perused.
Methinks, king Richard and myself should mee
With no less terror than the elements

Of fire and water, when their thund'ring shock
At meeting tears the cloudy cheeks of heaver
Be he the fire, I'll be the yielding wate
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 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
Of his bright passage to the occident.
To dim his glory, and to stain the track
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. We are amaz'd; and thus long have 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, 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 must ring 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 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

Her pasture's grass with faithful English blood.
North. The king of heaven forbid, orr lord the
king

Should so with civil and uncivil arms

Be rush'd upon; Thy thrice-noble cousin,
And by the honorable tomb he swears,
Harry Bolingbroke, doth humbly kiss thy hand;

That stands upon thy 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 warlike Gaunt;
And by the worth and honor of himself,

Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parle Comprising all that may be sworn or said,-
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 Boling-
broke

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 threat'ning drum,

•Plough.

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.

returns

K. Rich Northumberland, say,-thus the king
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.-
We do debase ourself, cousin, do we not,
To look so poorly, and to speak so fair? [To AUM
Shall we call back Northumberland, and send
Defiance to the traitor, and so die?

Aum. No, my good 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 Boling-

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 alms-man'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 therein laid,-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 mock 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
Phaeton,

Wanting the manage of unruly jades. [NORTH. retires to BOLING. In the base court? Base court, where kings grow base,

To come at traitors' call, 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,

And show fair duty to his majesty.—
My gracious lord,-

[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 unpleas'd 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:-The y 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.
SCENE IV.-Langley. The duke of York's Garden.
Enter the QUEEN, and two Ladies.

Queen. What sport shall we devise here in this garden,

To drive away the heavy thought of care? 1 Lady. Madam, we'll play at bowls. Queen.

Twill make me think, The world is full of rubs, and that my fortune Runs 'gainst the bias.

1 La ty. Madam, we will dance. Queen. My legs can keep no measure in delight When my poor heart no measure keeps in grief: Therefore, no dancing, girl; some other sport 1 La ly. Madam, we'll tell tales. Queen.

Of sorrow, or of joy?

1 La ly. Of either, madam.
Queen.
Of neither, girl;
For if of joy, being altogether wanting.
It doth remember me the more of sorrow;
Or if of grief, being altogether had,
It adds more sorrow to my want of joy:
For what I have I need not to repeat;
And what I want, it boots not to complain.
1 La ty. Madam, I'll sing.
Queen.

"Tis well that thou hast cause But thou shouldst please me better, wouldst thou

weep.

1 Lady. I could weep, madam, would it do you good.

Queen. And I could weep, would weeping do me good,

And never borrow any tear of thee.
But stay, here come the gardeners:
Let's step into the shadow of these trees.-

Enter a Gardener, and two Servants.
My wretchedness unto a row of pins,
They'll talk of state: for every one doth so
Against a change: Woe is forerun with woe.

[QUEEN and Ladies retire.
Gard. Go, bind thou up yon' dangling apricocks,
Which, like unruly children, make their sire
Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight:
Give some supportance to the bending twigs.-
Go thou, and like an executioner,
Cut off the heads of too-fast-growing sprays,
That look too lofty in our commonwealth:
All must be even in our government.-
You thus employ'd, I will go root away
The noisome weeds, that without profit suck
The soil's fertility from wholesome flowers.

1 Serv. Why should we, in the compass of a pale, Keep law, and form, and due proportion, Showing, as in a model, our firm estate? When our sea-walled garden, the whole land, Is full of weeds; her fairest flowers chok'd up, Her fruit-trees all unprun'd, her hedges ruin'd. Her knots disorder'd, and her wholesome herbs Swarming with caterpillars? Hold thy peace:He that hath suffer'd this disorder'd spring, Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf: The weeds, that his broad-spreading leaves did shelter,

Gard

That seem'd in eating him to hold him up,
Are pluck'd up, root and all, by Bolingbroke:
I mean the earl of Wiltshire, Bushy, Green.
1 Serv. What, are they dead!
Garl.

They are; and Bolingbroke
Hath seiz'd the wasteful king.-Oh! what pity is it
That he had not so trimm'd and dress'd his land,
As we this garden! We at time of year
Do wound the bark, the skin of our fruit-trees;
With too much riches it confound itself:
Lest, being over-proud with sap and blood,
Had he done so to great and growing mon,
Figures planted ir a hot

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