York. It may be, I will go with you :-but yet I'll

pause;

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

Nor friends, nor foes, to me welcome you are:

Things paft redress, are now with me past care. [Exeunt,

SCENE IV,

A Camp in Wales,

Enter SALISBURY, and a Captain.

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 trufty Welshman;
The king repofeth all his confidence

In thee.

Cap. '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-fac'd moon looks bloody on the earth, And lean-look'd prophets whisper fearful change; Rich men look fad, and ruffians dance and leap,The one, in fear to lose what they enjoy, The other, to enjoy by rage and war : Thefe figns forerun the death or fall of kings.Farewell; our countrymen are gone and fled, As well affur'd, Richard their king is dead.

Sal. Ah, Richard! with the eyes of heavy mind,

I fee thy glory, like a fhooting ftar,

[Exit.

Fall

Fall to the base earth from the firmament !
Thy fun fets weeping in the lowly west,
Witneffing storms to come, woe, and unrest:
Thy friends are fled, to wait upon thy foes;
And crossly to thy good all fortune goes.

[Exit.

ACT

ACT III 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 fouls

(Since presently your fouls 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 fome 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 poffeffion of a royal bed,

And ftain'd the beauty of a fair queen's cheeks
With tears drawn from her eyes by your

foul

wrongs.

Myfelf-a prince, by fortune of my birth;
Near to the king in blood; and near in love,
Till you did make him mifinterpret me,——
Have stoop'd my neck under your injuries,
And figh'd my English breath in foreign clouds,
Eating the bitter bread of banishment:

Whilft you have fed upon my fignories,

Difpark'd my parks, and fell'd my forest woods;

From

From my own windows torn my household coat,
Raz'd out my impress, leaving me no fign,-
Save men's opinions, and my living blood,-
To fhow 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.

Busby. More welcome is the stroke of death to me, Than Bolingbroke to England.-Lords, farewell. Green. My comfort is,—that heaven will take our fouls, And plague injuftice with the pains of hell.

Boling. My lord Northumberland, see them despatch'd. [Exeunt NORTHUMBERLAND and Others, with prisoners.

Uncle, you fay, the queen is at your house;
For heaven's fake, fairly let her be entreated :
Tell her, I fend 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;
A while to work, and, after, holiday.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

The coaft of Wales. A caftle in view.

Flourish: drums and trumpets.

Enter King RICHARD,

Bishop of Carlife, AUMERLE, and Soldiers.

K. Rich. Barkloughly caftle call you this at hand? Aum. Yea, my lord: How brooks your grace the air,

After late toffing on the breaking seas ?

K. Rich.

K. Rich. Needs muft I like it well; I weep for joy,
To stand upon my kingdom once again.-

Dear earth, I do falute 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, fmiling, greet I thee, my earth,
And do thee favour with my royal hands.
Feed not thy fovereign's foe, my gentle earth,
Nor with thy sweets comfort his rav'nous sense
But let thy fpiders, that fuck up thy venom,
And heavy-gaited toads, lie in their way;
Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet,
Which with ufurping steps do trample thee.
Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies :
And when they from thy bofom pluck a flower,
Guard it, I pray thee, with a lurking adder;
Whose double tongue may with a mortal touch
Throw death upon thy fovereign's enemies.—
Mock not my senseless conjuration, lords;
This earth fhall have a feeling, and these ftones
Prove armed foldiers, 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 embrac'd,
And not neglected; else, if heaven would,
And we will not, heaven's offer we refuse;
The proffer'd means of fuccour and redress.

Aum. He means, my lord, that we are too remifs;
Whilft Bolingbroke, through our security,
Grows ftrong and great, in fubftance, and in friends.

K. Rich. Difcomfortable coufin! know'ft thou not,

That,