SCENE I.-BOLINGBROKE's Camp at Bristol.

Enter BOLINGBROKE, YORK, NORTHUMBERLAND,
PERCY, WILLOUGHBY, 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 't were no charity: yet, to wash your blood
From off my hands, here, in the view of men,
I will unfold some causes of your deaths.
You have misled a prince, a royal king,
A happy gentleman in blood and lineaments,
By you unhappied and disfigured 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 stained 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 stooped my neck under your injuries,
And sighed my English breath in foreign clouds,
Eating the bitter bread of banishment:
Whilst you have fed upon my signories,
Disparked my parks, and felled my forest woods;
From my own windows torn my household coat,
Razed out my impress, leaving me no sign
(Save men's opinions and my living blood)
To shew the world I am a gentleman.
This and much more, much more than twice all this,
Condemns you to the death.-See them delivered

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 despatched.

[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 delivered.

York. A gentleman of mine I have despatched With letters of your love to her at large.

Boling. Thanks, gentle uncle.-Come, lords,

away,

To fight with Glendower and his complices: Awhile to work,-and, after, holiday. [Exeunt.

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 your 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 meet

ing;

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 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
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, dispersed 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 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

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.

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 hig, 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 bilis
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;
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, 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 war 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 whom 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 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;
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;

Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed;
Some poisoned by their wives; some sleeping killed:
All murdered!--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 monarchise, be feared, and kill with looks:
Infusing him with self and vain conceit
(As if this flesh which walls about our life
Were brass impregnable):—and, humoured 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?

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 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 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.

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 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.

Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parle
Into his ruined 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 repealed,
And lands restored again, be freely granted:
If not, I'll use the advantage of my power,
And lay the summer's dust with showers of blood,
Rained from the wounds of slaughtered English-

men:

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 shew.
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 marchwithout the noise of threatening drum,
That from the castle's tottered battlements
Our fair appointments may be well perused.
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 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,
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 amazed; 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, shew us the hand of God

That hath dismissed 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 ope

The purple testament of bleeding war:
But ere the crown he looks for live in peace,
Ten thousand bloody crowns of mother's 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 rushed upon! Thy thrice-noble cousin,
Harry Bolingbroke, doth humbly kiss thy hand:
And by the honourable tomb he swears
That stands upon thy royal grandsire's bones;
And by the royalties of both your bloods,
Currents that spring from one most gracious head;