I cannot but be sad, so heavy sad,

As, - though, in thinking, on no thought I think, -
Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink.
Bushy. 'Tis nothing but conceit, my gracious lady.
Queen. 'Tis nothing less: conceit is still deriv'd
From some fore-father grief; mine is not so;
For nothing hath begot my something grief;
Or something hath the nothing, that I grieve.
'Tis in reversion, that I do possess;
But what it is, that is not yet known; what
I cannot name; 'tis nameless woe, I wot.

Enter GREEN.

Get thee to Plashy, to my sister Gloster;
Bid her send me presently a thousand pound! -
Hold, take my ring!

Serv. Mylord, I had forgot to tell your lordship :
To-day, as I came by, I called there; -
But I shall grieve you to report the rest.

York. What is it, knave?

Serv. An hour before I came, the dutchess died.
York. God for his mercy! what a tide of woes
Comes rushing on this woeful land at once!
I know not what to do. - I would to God,
(So my untruth had not provok'd him to it,)

Green. God save your majesty! - and well met, The king had cut off my head with my brother's. gentlemen!

I hope, the king is not yet shipp'd for Ireland.
Queen. Why hop'st thou so? 'tis better hope, heis;
For his designs crave haste, his haste good hope;
Then wherefore dost thou hope, he is not shipp'd?
shipp'd
Green. That he, our hope, might have retir'd his

To Bolingbroke.

What, are there posts despatch'd for Ireland?
How shall we do for money for these wars?
Come, sister, -cousin, I would say: pray, pardon

me!

Go, fellow, [To the Servant.] get thee home, provide

some carts,

And bring away the armour, that is there!

[Exit Servant.
Gentlemen, will you go muster men? if I know
How, or which way, to order these affairs,
Thus thrust disorderly into my hands,
Never believe me! Both are my kinsmen; -
The one's my sovereign, whom both my oath
And duty bids defend; the other, again,
Is my kinsman, whom the king hath wrong'd;
Whom conscience and my kindred bids to right.
Well, somewhat we must do. Come, cousin, I'll
Dispose of you. - Go, muster up your men,
And meet me presently at Berkley-castle!
I should to Plashy too;

But time will not permit. - All is uneven,
And every thing is left at six and seven.

[Exeunt York and Queen.

Bushy. The wind sits fair for news to go to Ireland, But none returns. For us to levy power, Proportionable to the enemy,

Queen. So, Green, thou art the midwife to my woe, Is all impossible.

And Bolingbroke my sorrow's dismal heir.

Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy,

And I, a gasping new-deliver'd mother,

Have woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow join'd.

Bushy. Despair not, madam !

Queen. Who shall hinder me?
I will despair, and be at enmity
With cozening hope; he is aflatterer,
A parasite, a keeper-back of death,
Who gently would dissolve the bands of life,
Which false hope lingers in extremity.

Enter YORK.

Green. Here comes the duke of York.

Queen. With sigus of war about his aged neck;
O, full of careful business are his looks! -
Unele,

For heaven's sake, speak comfortable words.
York. Should I do so, I should belie my thoughts.
Comfort's in heaven; and we are on the earth,
Wherenothing lives, but crosses, care, and grief.
Your husband he is gone to save far off,
Whilst others come to make him lose at home.
Here am I left to underprop his land;

Who, weak with age, cannot support myself. -
Now comes the sick hour, that his surfeit made;
Now shall he try his friends, that flatter'd him.

Enter a Servant.

Green. Besides, our nearness to the king in love,
Is near the hate of those, love not the king.

Bagot. And that's the wavering commons; for their

love

Lies in their purses; and whoso empties them,
By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate.
Bushy. Wherein the king stands generally con-

demu'd.

Bagot. If judgement lie in them, then so do we,
Because we ever have been near the king.

Green. Well, I'll for refuge straight to Bristol castle;
The earl of Wiltshire is already there.
Bushy. Thither will I with you: for little office
The hateful commons will perform for us;
Except like curs to tear us all in pieces. -
Will you go along with us?

Bagot. No; I'll to Ireland to his majesty.
Farewell! If heart's presages be not vain,
Wethree here part, that ne'er shall meet again.
Bushy. That's as York thrives to beat back Boling-

broke.

Green. Alas, poor duke! the task he undertakes,
Is numb'ring sands, and drinking oceans dry;
Where one ou his side fights, thousands will fly.
Bushy, Farewell at once; for once, for all, and ever!
Green. Well, we may meet again.

Bagot. I fear me, never.

[Exeunt.

SCENEIM. - The Wilds in Glostershire. Enter BOLINGBROKE and NORTHUMBERLAND, with

forces.

Boling. How far is it, my lord, to Berkley now?
North. Believe me, noble lord,

Percy. No, my good lord; he hath forsook the court, Why have those banish'd and forbidden legs

He was not so resolv'd, when last we spake together. Frighting her pale-fac'd villages with war,

Percy. Because your lordship was proclaimed

My heart this covenant makes, my hand thus seals it. You are my father, for, methinks, in you

Ross. It stands your graceupon, to do him right.
Willo. Base men by his endowments are made great.
York. Mylords of England, let me tell you this :
I have had feeling of my cousin's wrongs,
And labour'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, andarerebels all.

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.

(Since presently your souls must part your bodies,)
With too much urging your pernicious lives;
For 'twere no 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 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 signories,
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 over
To execution and the hand of death!
Bushy. More welcome is the stroke of death to me,
Than Bolingbroke to England. - Lords, farewell!

York. It may be, I will go with you: - but yet I'll Green. My comfort is, that heaven will take our

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

[Exeunt.

Cap. 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.

souls,

And plague injustice with the pains of hell.
Boling. My lord Northumberland, see them dis-
patch'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 dispatch'd
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!

Cap. 'Tis thought, the king is dead; we will not stay. SCENE II. The coast of Wales. A castle in view.

[Exeunt.

The bay-trees in our country are all wither'd,

And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven,

The pale-fac'd moon looks bloody on the earth,

And lean-look'd I prophets whisper fearful change;
Rich men look sad, and ruffians dance and leap,

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?

The one, in fear to lose, what they enjoy,

The other, to enjoy by rage and war.

[Exit.

These sigus forerun the death or fall of kings. -
Farewell! our countrymen are gone and fled,
As well assur'd, Richard their king is dead.
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 fled, to wait upon thy foes,
And crossly to thy good all fortune goes.

ACT III.

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 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,

[Exit. And heavy-gaited toads, lie in their way,
Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet,
Which with usurping steps do trample thee!
And when they from thy bosom pluck a flower,
Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies:
Guardit, 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!

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

This earth shall have a feeling, and these stones

Prove armed soldiers, ere her native king
Shall falter under foul rebellion's arms.

Than can my care-tun'd tongue deliver him.
K. Rich. Mine ear is open, and my heart prepar'd:

Bishop. Fear not, my lord! That Power, that made The worst is worldly loss, thou canst unfold.
you king,

Hath power to keep you king, in spite of all.
The means, that heaven yields, must be embrac'd,
And not neglected; else, if heaven would,
And we will not, heaven's offer we refuse,
The proffer'd means of succour and redress.
Aum. Hemeans, mylord, 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 pluck'd from off their backs,
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 wand'ring with the antipodes,
Shall see us rising in our throne the east,
His treason 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 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,

Weak men must fall; for heaven still guards the right.

Enter SALISBURY.

Welcome, mylord! - How far off lies your power?
Sal. Nornear, norfurther 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 timereturn,
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 Welhsmen, 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

Say, is my kingdomlost? why, 'twas my care;
And what loss is it, to berid 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 worstis-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 unseasonable 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 bright 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 clap their female joints
In stiff unwieldy arms against thy crown:
Thy 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?
What is become of Bushy? Where is Green?
That they have let the dangerons 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 redem-
ption!
Dogs, easily won to fawn on any man!
Snakes in my heart-blood warm'd, that sting my hear
Three Judasses, 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

Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs,
Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes

Aum. Comfort, my liege, remember who you are! Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth!

men

Did triumph in my face, and they are fled;
And, till so much blood thither come again,
Have not I 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.

Κ. 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 ofaking! Are we not high?
High be our thoughts: I know, my uncle York
Hath power enough to serve our turn.
Comes here?

Enter SCROOP.

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.

But who For heaven's sake, let us sit upon the ground,
And tell sad stories of the death of kings:-
How some have been depos'd, some slain in war,

Scroop. More health and happiness betide my liege, Some haunted by the ghosts, they have depos'd,

some poison'd by their wives, some sleeping kill'd, | With some few private friends, upon this coast.

All murder'd; - for within the hollow crown,
That rounds the mortal temple 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, 一
As if this flesh, which walls about our life,
Were brass impregnable; and, humour'd 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?

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, 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?

Enter PERCY.

Well, Harry; what, will not this castle yield?

Car. My lord, wise men ne'er wail their present Percy. The castle royally is mann'd, my lord,

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, 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 doom.
This ague-fit of fear is over-blown;-

An easy task it is, to win our own.

Say, Scroop, wherelies 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 lenghten out the worst, that must be spoken:
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 didst 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 drum and colours, BOLINGBROKE and For-
ces; 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,

Against thy 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,
Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parle
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,
Aud 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, siguify 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,
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 thund'ring 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 trumpet
within. Flourish. Enter on the walls King Ri-
CHARD, 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.