Abbildungen der Seite
[blocks in formation]

Gaunt. Call it a travel that thou tak'st for pleasure. Boling. My heart will sigh, when I miscall it so, Which finds it an enforced pilgrimage.

Gaunt. The sullen passage of thy weary steps
Esteem a foil, wherein thou art to set
The precious jewel of thy home-return.

Boling. Nay, rather, every tedious stride I make
Will but remember me, what a deal of world
I wander from the jewels that I love.
Must I not serve a long apprenticehood
To foreign passages; and in the end,
Having my freedom, boast of nothing else,
But that I was a journeyman to grief?

Gaunt. All places that the eye of heaven visits,
Are to a wise man ports and happy havens:
Teach thy necessity to reason thus;
There is no virtue like necessity.
Think not, the king did banish thee;

But thou the king: Woe doth the heavier sit,
Where it perceives it is but faintly borne.
Go, say-I sent thee forth to purchase honour,
And not-the king exil'd thee: or suppose,
Devouring pestilence hangs in our air,
And thou art flying to a fresher clime.
Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it

To lie that way thou go'st, not whence thou com❜st:
Suppose the singing birds, musicians;

The grass whereon thou tread'st, the presence strew'd;

The flowers, fair ladies; and thy steps, no more
Than a delightful measure, or a dance:
For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite
The man that mocks at it, and sets it light.
Boling. O, who can hold a fire in his hand,
By thinking on the frosty Caucasus?
Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite,
By bare imagination of a feast!

Or wallow naked in December snow,
By thinking on fantastic summer's heat?
O, no! the apprehension of the good,
Gives but the greater feeling to the worse:
Fell sorrow's tooth doth never rankle more,
Than when it bites, but lanceth not the sore. [way:
Gaunt. Come, come, my son, I'll bring thee on thy
Had I thy youth, and cause, I would not stay.
Boling. Then, England's ground, farewell; sweet
soil, adieu;

My mother, and my nurse, that bears me yet!
Where'er I wander, boast of this I can,-
Though banish'd, yet a true-born Englishman.

[Exeunt. SCENE IV. The same. A Room in the King's


Enter King Richard, Bagot, and Green; Aumerle following.

K. Rich. We did observe,-Cousin Aumerle, How far brought you bigh Hereford on his way? Aum. I brought high Hereford, if you call him so, But to the next highway, and there I left him. K. Rich. And say, what store of parting tears were shed? [wind, Aum. 'Faith, Done by me: except the north-east Which then blew bitterly against our faces, Awak'd the sleeping rheum; and so, by chance, Did grace our hollow parting with a tear. K. Rich. What said our cousin, when you parted Aum. Farewell: [with him? And, for my heart disdained that my tongue Should so profane the word, that taught me craft To counterfeit oppression of such grief, That words seem'd buried in my sorrow's grave. Marry, would the word farewell have lengthen'd And added years to his short banishment, [hours, He should have had a volume of farewells; But, since it would not, he had none of me. K. Rich. He is our cousin, cousin; but 'tis doubt, When time shall call him home from banishment, Whether our kinsman come to see his friends. Ourself, and Bushy, Bagot bere, and Green, Observ'd his courtship to the common people:How he did seem to dive into their hearts, With humble and familiar courtesy ; What reverence he did throw away on slaves;

Wooing poor craftsmen, with the craft of smiles,
And patient underbearing of his fortune,
As 'twere, to banish their affects with him.
Off goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench;
A brace of dray men bid-God speed him well,
And had the tribute of his supple knee,
WithThanks, my countrymen, my loving friends;-
As were our England in reversion his,
And he our subjects' next degree in hope.

Green. Well, he is gone; and with him go these thoughts.

Now for the rebels, which stand out in Ireland ;-
Expedient manage must be made, my liege;
Ere further leisure yield them further means,
For their advantage, and your highness' loss.

K. Rich. We will ourself in person to this war.
And, for our coffers--with too great a court,
And liberal largess,-are grown somewhat light,
We are enfore'd to farm our royal realm;
The revenue whereof shall furnish us
For our affairs in hand: If that come short,
Our substitutes at home shall have blank charters;
Whereto, when they shall know what men are rich,
They shall subscribe them for large sums of gold,
And send them after to supply our wants;
For we will make for Ireland presently.
Enter Bushy.

Bushy, what news?

Bushy. Old John of Gaunt is grievous siek, my lord; Suddenly taken; and hath sent post-haste,

To entreat your majesty to visit him.
K. Rich. Where lies he?

Bushy. At Ely-house.

K. Kich. Now put it, heaven, in his physician's To help him to his grave immediately!

The lining of his coffers shall make coats

To deck our soldiers for these Irish wars.-
Come, gentlemen, let's all go visit him:


Pray God, we may make haste, and come too late! [Exeunt.



London. A Room in Ely-house.

Gaunt, on a Couch; the Duke of York, and others standing by him.

Gaunt. Will the king come? that I may breathe my last,

In wholesome counsel to his unstay'd youth.

York. Vex not yourself, nor strive not with your For all in vain comes counsel to his ear. [breath; Gaunt. O, but they say, the tongues of dying men Enforce attention, like deep harmony:

Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain; For they breathe truth, that breathe their words in He, that no more must say, is listen'd more [pain. Than they whom youth and ease have taught to


More are men's ends mark'd, than their lives before:
The setting sun, and music at the close,
As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last;
Writ in remembrance, more than things long past:
Though Richard my life's counsel would not hear,
My death's sad tale may yet undeaf his ear.

York. No; it is stopp'd with other flattering sounds,
As praises of his state: then, there are found
Lascivious metres; to whose venom sound
The open ear of youth doth always listen:
Report of fashions in proud Italy;
Whose manners still our tardy apish nation
Limps after, in base imitation.
Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity
(So it be new, there's no respect how vile),
That is not quickly buzz'd into his ears?
Then all too late comes counsel to be heard,
Where will doth mutiny with wit's regard.
Direct not him, whose way himself will choose;
"Tis breath thou lack'st, and that breath wilt thou lose.
Gaunt. Methinks, I am a prophet new inspir'd;
And thus, expiring, do foretell of him.
His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last;
For violent tires soon burn out themselves:
Small showers last long, but sudden storms are short;
He tires betimes, that spurs too fast betimes;
With eager feeding, food doth choke the feeder:
Light vanity, insatiate cormorant,
Consuming means, soon preys upon itself.
This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,

This other Eden, demi-paradise;

This fortress, built by nature for herself,
Against infection, and the hand of war;
This happy breed of men, this little world;
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall,
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands;
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England,
This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings,
Fear'd by their breed, and famous by their birth,
Renowned for their deeds as far from home
(For Christian service, and true chivalry),
As is the sepulchre in stubborn Jewry,
Of the world's ransom, blessed Mary's son:
This land of such dear souls, this dear, dear land,
Dear for her reputation through the world,
Is now leas'd out (I die pronouncing it),
Like to a tenement, or pelting farm:
England, bound in with the triumphant sea,
Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege
Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame,
With inky blots, and rotten parchment bonds;
That England, that was wont to conquer others,
Hath made a shameful conquest of itself:
O, would the scandal vanish with my life,
How happy then were my ensuing death!
Enter King Richard, and Queen Aumerle, Bushy,
Green, Bagot, Ross, and Willoughby.
York. The king is come: deal mildly with his

For young hot colts, being rag'd, do rage the more.
Queen. How fares our noble uncle, Lancaster ?

Rich. What comfort, man? How is't with aged


Gaunt. O, how that name befits my composition! Old Gaunt, indeed; and gaunt in being old: Within me grief hath kept a tedious fast; And who abstains from meat, that is not gaunt? For sleeping England long time have I watch'd; Watching breeds leannes, leanness is all gaunt: The pleasure, that some fathers feed upon, Is my strict fast, I mean-my children's looks; And, therein fasting, hast thou made me gaunt: Gaunt am I for the grave, gaunt as a grave, Whose hollow womb inherits nought but bones. K. Rich. Can sick men play so nicely with their


that live?

ter'st me.

Gaunt. No, misery makes sport to mock itself: Since thou dost seek to kill my name in me, I mock my name, great king, to flatter thee. K. Rich. Should dying men flatter with those Gaunt. No, no; men living flatter those that die. K. Rich. Thon, now a dying, sayst-thou flatGaunt. Oh! no; thou diest, though I the sicker be. K. Rich. I am in health, I breathe, and see thee ill. Gaunt. Now, he that made me, knows I see thee ill; Il in myself to see, and in thee seeing ill. Thy death-bed is no lesser than the land, Wherein thou liest in reputation sick; And thou, too careless patient as thou art, Commit'st thy anointed body to the cure Of those physicians that first wounded thee : A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown, Whose compass is no bigger than thy head; And yet, incaged in so small a verge, The waste is no whit lesser than thy land. O, had thy grandsire, with a prophet's eye, Seen how his son's son should destroy his sons, From forth thy reach he would have laid thy shame; Deposing thee before thou wert possess'd. Which art possess'd now to depose thyself. Why, cousin, wert thou regent of the world, It were a shame to let this land by lease: But, for thy world, enjoying but this land, Is it not more than shame, to shame it so ? Landlord of England art thou now, not king: Thy state of law is bondslave to the law; And thou

K. Rich.

a lunatic lean-witted fool, Presuming on an ague's privilege, Dar'st with thy frozen admonition Make pale our cheek; chasing the royal blood, With fury, from his native residence." Now by my seat's right royal majesty,, Wert thou not brother to great Edward's son, This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head, Should run thy head from thy unreverend shoulders.

Gaunt. O, spare me not, my brother Edward's son,
For that I was his father Edward's son ;
That blood already, like the pelican,

Hast thou tapp'd out, and drunkenly carous'd:
My brother Gios er, plain well-meaning soul,
(Whom fair befall in heaven 'mongst happy souls!)
May be a precedent and witness good,
That thou respect'st not spilling Edward's blood:
Join with the present sickness that I have;
And thy unkindness be like crooked age,
To crop at once a too-long wither'd flower.
Live in shame, but die not shame with thee!-
These words, hereafter, thy tormenters be!
Convey me to my bed, then to my grave:
Love they to live, that love and honour have.

[Exit, borne out by his Attendants. K. Rich. And let them die, that age and sulleas have;

For both hast thou, and both become the grave.
York. 'Beseech your majesty, impute his words
To wayward sickliness and age in him:
He loves you, on my life, and holds you dear
As Harry, duke of Hereford, were he here."
K. Rich. Right; you say true: as Hereford's love,
As theirs, so mine; and all be as it is. [so his;

Enter Northumberland.
North. My liege, old Gaunt commends him to your
K. Rich. What says he now!

Nay, nothing; all is said:
His tongue is now a stringless instrument;
Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent.
York. Be York the next that must be bankrupt so!
Though death be poor, it ends a mortal woe.

His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be :
K Rich. The ripest fruit first falls, and so doth he;

So much for that.-Now for our Irish wars:
We must supplant those rough rug-headed kerns;
Which live like venom, where no venom else,
But only they, hath privilege to live.
And for these great affairs do ask some charge,
Towards our assistance, we do seize to us
The plate, coin, revenues, and moveables,
Whereof our uncle Gaunt did stand possess'd.

York. How long shall I he patient? Ah, how long
Shall tender duty make me suffer wrong?
Not Gloster's death, nor Hereford's banishment,
Not Gaunt's rebukes, nor England's private wrongs,
Nor the prevention of poor Bolingbroke
About his warriage, nor my own disgrace,
Have ever made me sour my patient cheek,
Or bend one wrinkle on my sovereign's face.-
I am the last of noble Edward's sons,
Of whom thy father, prince of Wales, was first;
In war, was never lion rag'd more fierce,
In peace, was never gentle lamb more mild,
Than was that young and princely gentleman:
His face thou hast, for even so look'd he,
Accomplish'd with the number of thy hours;
But, when he frown'd, it was against the French,
And not against his friends: his noble hand
Did win what he did spend, and spent not that
Which his triumphant father's hand had won:
His hands were guilty of no kindred's blood,
But bloody with the enemies of his kin.
O, Richard! York is too far gone with grief,
Or else he never would compare between.
K. Rich. Why, uncle, what's the matter?
O, my liege,
Pardon me, if you please; if not, I pleas'd
Not to be pardon'd, am content withal.
Seek you to seize, and gripe into your hands,
The royalties and rights of banish'd Hereford?

Is not Gaunt dead ? and doth not Hereford live?
Was not Gaunt just ? and is not Harry true!
Did not the one deserve to have an heir?

Is not his heir a well-deserving son?
Take Hereford's rights away, and take from time
His charters, and his estomary rights;
Let not to-morrow then ensue to-day;
Be not thyself, for how art thou a king,
But by fair sequence and succe-sion ?
Now, afore God (God forbid, I say true!)
If you do wrongfully seize Hereford's rights,
Call in the letters patents that he hath
By his attornies-general to sue

His livery, and deny his offer'd homage,
You pluck a thousand dangers on your head,
You lose a thousand well-disposed hearts,
And prick my tender patience to those thoughts
Which honour and allegiance cannot think."

K. Rich. Think what you will; we seize into Redeem from broking pawn the blemish'd crown, our hands

His plate, his goods, his money, and his lands.

Wipe off the dust that hides our sceptre's gilt,
And make high majesty look like itself,
But if you faint, as fearing to do so,
Stay, and be secret, and myself will go.

York. I'll not be by, the while: My liege, farewell:Away with me, in post to Ravenspurg:

What will ensue hereof, there's none can tell;
But by bad courses may be understood,


That their events can never fall out good. [Exit.
K. Rich. Go, Bushy, to the earl of Wiltshire
Bid him repair to us, to Ely-house,
To see this business: To-morrow next
We will for Ireland; and 'tis time, I trow;
And we create, in absence of ourself,
Our uncle York, lord governor of England,
For he is just, and always lov'd us well.-
Come on, our queen: to-morrow must we part;
Be merry, for our time of stay is short. [Flourish.
[Exeunt King, Queen, Bushy, Aumerle, Green,
and Bagot.

North. Well, lords, the duke of Lancaster is dead.
Ross. And living too; for now his son is duke.
Willo. Barely in title, not in revenue.
North. Richly in both, if justice had her right.
Ross. My heart is great; but it must break with
Ere't be disburden'd with a liberal tongue. [silence,
North. Nay, speak thy mind; and let him ne'er
speak more,

That speaks thy words again, to do thee harm!

[are borne,

Willo. Tends that thou'dst speak, to the duke of
If it be so, out with it boldly, man; [Hereford?
Quick is mine ear, to hear of good towards him.
Ross. No good at all, that I can do for him;
Unless you call it good to pity him,
Bereft and gelded of his patrimony.
North. Now, afore heaven, 'tis shame such wrongs
In him a royal prince, and many more
Of noble blood in this declining land.
The king is not himself, but basely led
By flatterers; and what they will inform,
Merely in hate, 'gainst any of us all,
That will the king severely prosecute
'Gainst us, our lives, our children, and our heirs.
Ross. The commons hath he pill'd with grievous


And lost their hearts: the nobles hath he fin'd,
For ancient quarrels, and quite lost their hearts.
Willo. And daily new exactions are devis'd;
As blanks, benevolences, and I wot not what:
But what, o'God's name, doth become of this?
North. Wars have not wasted it, for warr'd he hath
But basely yielded upon compromise
That which his ancestors achiev'd with blows:
More hath he spent in peace, than they in wars.
Ross. The earl of Wiltshire hath the realm in farm.
Willo. The king's grown bankrupt, like a broken



North. Reproach, and dissolution, hangeth over him.
Ross. He hath not money for these Irish wars,
His burdenous taxations notwithstanding,
But by the robbing of the banish'd duke.
North. His noble kinsman: most degenerate king!
But, lords, we hear this fearful tempest sing,
Yet seek no shelter to avoid the storm:
We see the wind sit sore upon our sails,
And yet we strike not, but securely perish.
Ross. We see the very wreck that we must suffer;
And unavoided is the danger now,
For suffering so the causes of our wreck.
North. Not so; even through the hollow eyes of
I spy life peering; but I dare not say
How near the tidings of our comfort is.



Willo. Nay, let us share thy thoughts, as thou dost
Ross. Be confident to speak, Northumberland:
We three are but thyself; and, speaking so,
Thy words are but as thoughts; therefore, be bold.
North. Then thus:-I have from Port le Blanc, a
In Britany, reeeived intelligence,
That Harry Hereford, Reignold lord Cobham
[The son of Richard, earl of Arundel),
That late broke from the duke of Exeter,
His brother, archbishop late of Canterbury,
Sir Thomas Erpingham, sir John Ramston,


Sir John Norbery, sir Robert Waterton, and Francis


All these well furnish'd by the duke of Bretagne,
With eight tall ships, three thousand men of war,
Are making hither with all due expedience,
And shortly mean to touch our northern shore;
Perhaps, they had ere this; but that they stay
The first departing of the king for Ireland.
If then we shall shake off our slavish yoke,
Imp out our drooping country's broken wing,


Ross. To horse, to horse! urge doubts to them that
Willo. Hold out my horse, and I will first be there.
SCENE II. The same. A Room in the Palace.
Enter Queen, Bushy, and Bagot.

Bushy. Madam, your majesty is too much sad:
You promis'd, when you parted with the king,
And entertain a cheerful disposition.
To lay aside life-harming heaviness,

Queen. To please the king, I did; to please myself,
Why I should welcome such a guest as grief,
I cannot do it; yet I know no cause
Save bidding farewell to so sweet a guest
As my sweet Richard: Yet, again, methinks,
Some unborn sorrow, ripe in fortune's womb,
With nothing trembles: at something it grieves,
Is coming towards me and my inward soul
More than with parting from my lord the king.

Bushy. Each substance of a grief hath twenty


Which show like grief itself, but are not so:
For sorrow's eye, glazed with blinding tears,
Divides one thing entire to many objects;
Like perspectives, which, rightly gaz'd upon,
Show nothing but confusion; ey'd awry,
Looking awry upon your lord's departure,
Distinguish form: so your sweet majesty,
Finds shapes of grief, more than himself, to wail;
Which, look'd on as it is, is nought but shadows
Of what it is not. Then, thrice-gracious queen,
More than your lord's departure weep not; more's
Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrow's eye, [not seen;
Which, for things true, weeps things imaginary.

Persuades me, it is otherwise: Howe'er it be,
Queen. It may be so; but yet my inward soul
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 forefather 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.

Green. God save your majesty !-and well met
gentlemen :-

I hope, the king is not yet shipp'd for Ireland.
Queen. Why hop'st thou so! 'tis better hope, he is;
For his designs crave haste, his haste good hope;
Then wherefore dost thou hope, he is not shipp'd?
Green. That he, our hope, might have retir'd his
And driven into despair an enemy's hope, [power,
Who strongly hath set footing in this land:
The banish'd Bolingbroke repeals himself,
And with uplifted arms is safe arriv'd
At Ravenspurg.

Now God in heaven forbid !
Green. O, madam, 'tis too true: and that is worse,→
The lord Northumberland, his young son Henry Percy,
The lords of Ross, Beaumond, and Willoughby,
With all their powerful friends, are fled to him.
Bushy. Why have you not proclaim'd Northumber-
And all the rest of the revolting faction,


Green, We have: whereon the earl of Worcester
Hath broke his staff, resign'd his stewardship,
And all the household servants fled with him
To Bolingbroke.

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

Who shall hinder me?

I will despair, and be at enmity
With cozening hope; he is a flatterer,
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 signs of war about his aged neck; O, full of careful business are his looks! Uncle,

For heaven's sake, speak comfortable words.

York. Should I do so, I should belie my thonghts: Comfort's in heaven; and we are on the earth," Where nothing 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.

Serv. My lord, your son was gone before I came. York. He was? Why, so !-go all which way it


The nobles they are fled, the commons cold,
And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's side.-

Get thee to Plashy, to my sister Gloster;

Bid her send me presently a thousand pound :-
Hold, take my ring.

Serv. My lord, 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 duchess died. York. God for his mercy! what a tide of woes Comes rushing this woful land at once! I know not what to do:I would to God (So my untruth had not provok'd him to it), The king had cut off my head with my brother's.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, l'il
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,
Is all impossible.

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


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

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

Green. Well, I'll for refuge straight to Bristol casThe earl of Wiltshire is already there. [tle;

Bushy. Thither will I with you for little office The hateful commons will perform for us; Except, like curs, to tear us all to pieces.Will you go along with us?

Bagot. No; I'll to Ireland to his majesty. Farewell if hearts' presages be not vain, We three here part, that ne'er shall meet again. Bushy. That's as York thrives, to beat back Bolingbroke.

Green. Alas, poor duke! the fask he undertakes Is-numb'ring sands, and drinking oceans dry; Where one on 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.

SCENE III. The Wilds in Glostershire.
Enter Bolingbroke and Northumberland with

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

I am a stranger here in Glostershire.
These high wild hills, and rough uneven ways,
Draw out our miles, and make them wearisomne:
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:
Than hope enjoy'd: by this the weary lords
And hope to joy, is little less in joy,
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 ? [health of you.
Percy. I had thought, my lord, to have learn'd his
North. Why, is he not with the queen?

Percy. No, my good lord; he hath forsook the court, Broken his staff of office, and dispers'd The household of the king.


What was his reason?


He was not so resolv'd, when last we spake together.
Percy. Because your lordship was proclaimed trai-
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 Percy. My gracious lord, I tender you my service, Such as it is, being tender, raw, and young; Which elder days shall ripen, and confirm To more approved service and desert.

Boling. I thank thee, gentle Percy; and be sure, 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 Seymour; None else of name, and noble estimate.

Enter Ross and Willoughby.


North. Here come the lords of Ross and WilloughBloody with spurring, fiery-red with haste. [by. Boling. Welcome, my lords. I wot, your love purA banish'd traitor; all my treasury Is yet but unfelt thanks, which, more enrich'd, Shall be your love and labour's recompense. Ross. Your presence makes us rieb, most noble lord. Willo. And far surmounts our labour to attain it. Boling. Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the Which, till my infant fortune comes to years, [poor; Stands for my bounty. But who comes here?

Enter Berkley.

North. It is my lord of Berkley, as I guess. Berk. My lord of Hereford, my message is to you. Boling. My lord, my answer is-to Lancaster; And I am come to seek that name in England: 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 meanTo raze one title of your honour out:Cing, 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 arms.

Enter York, attended.
Boling. I shall not need transport my words by yon;
Here comes his grace in person.-My noble uncle!

York. Show me thy humble heart, and not thy knee,
Whose duty is deceivable and false.

Boling. My gracious uncle!

York. Tat, tut!

Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle:

I am no traitor's uncle; and that word-grace,

In an ungracious mouth, is but profane.


Why have those banish'd and forbidden legs
Dar'd once to touch a dust of England's ground?
But then more why;-Why have they dar'd to
So many miles upon her peaceful bosom
Frighting her pale-fac'd villages with war,
And ostentation of despised arins?
Com'st thou because the anointed king is hence?
Why, foolish boy, the king is left behind,
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,
Rescu'd 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,
Now prisoner to the palsy, chastise thee,
And minister correction to thy fault!

Boling. My gracious uncle, let me know my fault;
On what condition stands it, and wherein ?

York. Even in condition of the worst degree,-
In gross rebellion, and detested treason:
Thou art a banish'd man, and here art come,
Before the expiration of thy time,

In braving arms against thy sovereign.

Boling. As I was banish'd, I was banish'd Here-
But as come, I come for Lancaster.
And, noble uncle, I beseech your grace,
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 1 born?
If that my cousin king be king of England,
It must be granted, I am duke of Lancaster.
You have a son, Aumerle, my noble kinsman ;
Had you first died, and he been thus trod down,
He should have found his uncle Gaunt a father,
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:
My father's goods are all distrain'd, and sold;
And these, and all, are all amiss employ'd.
What would you have me do? I am a subject,
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 abus'd.
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 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, and are rebels all.

Nor friends, nor foes, to me welcome you are:
Things past redress, are now with me past care.

SCENE IV. A Camp in Wales.

Enter Salisbury and a Captain.

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
The bay-trees in our country are all wither'd, [stay.
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 country men are gone and fled,
As well assur'd, Richard their king is dead. [Exit.
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.



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 '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 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,

North. The noble duke bath sworn, his coming is Than Bolingbroke to England.-Lords, farewell.

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
For I am loath to break our country's laws. [pause;

Green. My comfort is,-that heaven will take our
And plague injustice with the pains of hell. [souls,
Boling. My lord Northumberland, see them des-

[Exeunt North, 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.
Boling. Thanks, gentle uncle.-Come, lords, away,
To fight with Glendower and his complices;
Awhile to work, and, after, holiday.


SCENE II. The Coast of Wales. A Castle in View,
Flourish: Drums and Trumpets. Enter King Rich-
ard, Bishop of Carlisle, Aumerle, and Soldiers.
K. Rich. Barkloughly castle call you this at hand!
Aum. Yea, my lord: How brooks your grace the
After late tossing on the breaking seas? [air,

« ZurückWeiter »