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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 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 antick sits,
Scoffing his state, and grinning at his pomp;
Allowing him a breath, a little scene
To monarchise, be fear'd, and kill with looks;
Infusing him with self and vain conceit,- .
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 :-Subjécted thus,
How can you say to me-I am a king?
Car. My lord, wise men ne'er wail their present

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 34; 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 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, 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 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 35 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.



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 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 ine; only to be brief,
Left I his title out.

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 wbole 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 ?

Percy. The castle royally is mann’d, my lord,
Against thy entrance.

Boling. Royally!
Why, it contains no king ?

Yes, my good lord,
It doth contain a king ; king Richard lies
Within the limits of yon lime and stone:
And with him are lord Aumerle, Jord 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.

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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 repealid, 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 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, 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, 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.

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