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twg_000000024800 | commons perform for us, Except like curs to tear us all to pieces. Will you go along with us? BAGOT. No, I will to Ireland to his Majesty. Farewell. If hearts presages be not vain, We three here part that neer shall meet again. BUSHY. Thats as York thrives to beat back Bolingbroke. GREEN. Alas, poor Duke! The task he | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024801 | undertakes Is numbring sands and drinking oceans dry. Where one on his side fights, thousands will fly. Farewell at once, for once, for all, and ever. BUSHY. Well, we may meet again. BAGOT. I fear me, never. [_Exeunt._] SCENE III. The Wolds in Gloucestershire. Enter Bolingbroke and Northumberland with Forces. BOLINGBROKE. How far is it, my lord, to Berkeley now? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024802 | NORTHUMBERLAND. Believe me, noble lord, I am a stranger here in Gloucestershire. These high wild hills and rough uneven ways Draws out our miles and makes them wearisome. 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 Ravenspurgh to Cotshall will be found In | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024803 | Ross and Willoughby, wanting your company, Which, I protest, hath very much beguiled The tediousness and process of my travel. But theirs is sweetened with the hope to have The present benefit which I possess; And hope to joy is little less in joy Than hope enjoyed. By this the weary lords Shall make their way seem short as mine | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024804 | hath done By sight of what I have, your noble company. BOLINGBROKE. Of much less value is my company Than your good words. But who comes here? Enter Harry Percy. NORTHUMBERLAND. It is my son, young Harry Percy, Sent from my brother Worcester, whencesoever. Harry, how fares your uncle? PERCY. I had thought, my lord, to have learned his health | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024805 | of you. NORTHUMBERLAND. Why, is he not with the Queen? PERCY. No, my good lord. He hath forsook the court, Broken his staff of office, and dispersed The household of the King. NORTHUMBERLAND. What was his reason? He was not so resolved when last we spake together. PERCY. Because your lordship was proclaimed traitor. But he, my lord, is gone | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024806 | to Ravenspurgh To offer service to the Duke of Hereford, And sent me over by Berkeley to discover What power the Duke of York had levied there, Then with directions to repair to Ravenspurgh. NORTHUMBERLAND. Have you forgot the Duke of Hereford, boy? PERCY. No, my good lord; for that is not forgot Which neer I did remember. To my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024807 | knowledge, I never in my life did look on him. NORTHUMBERLAND. Then learn to know him now. This is the Duke. 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. BOLINGBROKE. I thank thee, gentle Percy; and be | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024808 | sure I count myself in nothing else so happy As in a soul remembring my good friends; And as my fortune ripens with thy love, It shall be still thy true loves recompense. My heart this covenant makes, my hand thus seals it. NORTHUMBERLAND. How far is it to Berkeley, and what stir Keeps good old York there with his | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024809 | men of war? PERCY. There stands the castle by yon tuft of trees, Manned with three hundred men, as I have heard. And in it are the Lords of York, Berkeley, and Seymour, None else of name and noble estimate. Enter Ross and Willoughby. NORTHUMBERLAND. Here come the Lords of Ross and Willoughby, Bloody with spurring, fiery-red with haste. BOLINGBROKE. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024810 | Welcome, my lords. I wot your love pursues A banished traitor. All my treasury Is yet but unfelt thanks, which, more enriched, Shall be your love and labours recompense. ROSS. Your presence makes us rich, most noble lord. WILLOUGHBY. And far surmounts our labour to attain it. BOLINGBROKE. Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the poor; Which, till my infant fortune | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024811 | comes to years, Stands for my bounty. But who comes here? Enter Berkeley. NORTHUMBERLAND. It is my Lord of Berkeley, as I guess. BERKELEY. My Lord of Hereford, my message is to you. BOLINGBROKE. My lord, my answer isto Lancaster, And I am come to seek that name in England; And I must find that title in your tongue Before | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024812 | I make reply to aught you say. BERKELEY. Mistake me not, my lord, tis not my meaning To rase one title of your honour out. To you, my lord, I come, what lord you will, From the most gracious regent of this land, The Duke of York, to know what pricks you on To take advantage of the absent time, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024813 | And fright our native peace with self-borne arms. Enter York, attended. BOLINGBROKE. I shall not need transport my words by you. Here comes his Grace in person. My noble uncle! [_Kneels._] YORK. Show me thy humble heart, and not thy knee, Whose duty is deceivable and false. BOLINGBROKE. My gracious uncle YORK. Tut, tut! Grace me no grace, nor uncle | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024814 | me no uncle. I am no traitors uncle, and that word grace In an ungracious mouth is but profane. Why have those banished and forbidden legs Dared once to touch a dust of Englands ground? But then more why: why have they dared to march So many miles upon her peaceful bosom, Frighting her pale-faced villages with war And ostentation | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024815 | of despised arms? Comst 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 lord of such hot youth As when brave Gaunt, thy father, and myself Rescued the Black Prince, that young Mars of men, From forth the ranks of many thousand | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024816 | French, O, then how quickly should this arm of mine, Now prisoner to the palsy, chastise thee And minister correction to thy fault! BOLINGBROKE. 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 banished man, and here | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024817 | art come, Before the expiration of thy time, In braving arms against thy sovereign. BOLINGBROKE. As I was banished, I was banished Hereford; But as I 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024818 | then, my father, Will you permit that I shall stand condemned A wandering vagabond, my rights and royalties Plucked from my arms perforce and given away To upstart unthrifts? Wherefore was I born? If that my cousin king be King in England, It must be granted I am Duke of Lancaster. You have a son, Aumerle, my noble cousin. Had | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024819 | 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 patents give me leave. My fathers goods are all distrained and sold, And these, and all, are all amiss employed. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024820 | What would you have me do? I am a subject, And challenge law. Attorneys are denied me, And therefore personally I lay my claim To my inheritance of free descent. NORTHUMBERLAND. The noble Duke hath been too much abused. ROSS. It stands your Grace upon to do him right. WILLOUGHBY. Base men by his endowments are made great. YORK. My | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024821 | lords of England, let me tell you this: I have had feeling of my cousins wrongs And laboured 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024822 | this kind Cherish rebellion and are rebels all. NORTHUMBERLAND. 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 never see joy that breaks that oath! YORK. Well, well, I see the issue of these arms. I cannot mend it, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024823 | 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 unto you I do remain as neuter. So fare you well Unless you please to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024824 | enter in the castle And there repose you for this night. BOLINGBROKE. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024825 | be I will go with you; but yet Ill pause, For I am loath to break our countrys laws. Nor friends nor foes, to me welcome you are. Things past redress are now with me past care. [_Exeunt._] SCENE IV. A camp in Wales. Enter Earl of Salisbury and a Welsh Captain. CAPTAIN. My Lord of Salisbury, we have stayed | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024826 | ten days And hardly kept our countrymen together, And yet we hear no tidings from the King. Therefore we will disperse ourselves. Farewell. SALISBURY. Stay yet another day, thou trusty Welshman. The King reposeth all his confidence in thee. CAPTAIN. Tis thought the King is dead. We will not stay. The bay trees in our country are all withered, And | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024827 | meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven; The pale-faced moon looks bloody on the earth, And lean-looked 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 countrymen are | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024828 | gone and fled, As well assured Richard their king is dead. [_Exit._] SALISBURY. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024829 | foes, And crossly to thy good all fortune goes. [_Exit._] ACT III SCENE I. Bristol. Bolingbrokes camp. Enter Bolingbroke, York, Northumberland, Harry Percy, Willoughby, Ross; Officers behind, with Bushy and Green, prisoners. BOLINGBROKE. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024830 | 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 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024831 | betwixt his queen and him, Broke the possession of a royal bed, And stained the beauty of a fair queens 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024832 | 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, Rased out my imprese, leaving me no sign Save mens opinions and my living blood To show the world I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024833 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024834 | pains of hell. BOLINGBROKE. My Lord Northumberland, see them dispatched. [_Exeunt Northumberland and Others, with Bushy and Green._] Uncle, you say the Queen is at your house; For Gods 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 dispatched With | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024835 | letters of your love to her at large. BOLINGBROKE. Thanks, gentle uncle. Come, lords, away, To fight with Glendower and his complices. A while to work, and after holiday. [_Exeunt._] SCENE II. The coast of Wales. A castle in view. Flourish: drums and trumpets. Enter King Richard, the Bishop of Carlisle, Aumerle and soldiers. KING RICHARD. Barkloughly Castle call they | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024836 | this at hand? AUMERLE. Yea, my lord. How brooks your Grace the air After your late tossing on the breaking seas? KING RICHARD. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024837 | mother with her child Plays fondly with her tears and smiles in meeting, So weeping-smiling greet I thee, my earth, And do thee favours with my royal hands. Feed not thy sovereigns foe, my gentle earth, Nor with thy sweets comfort his ravenous sense, But let thy spiders, that suck up thy venom, And heavy-gaited toads lie in their way, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024838 | 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 sovereigns enemies. Mock not my senseless conjuration, lords. This earth shall | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024839 | have a feeling, and these stones Prove armed soldiers, ere her native king Shall falter under foul rebellions arms. CARLISLE. 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. Heavens | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024840 | offer we refuse, The proffered means of succour and redress. AUMERLE. He means, my lord, that we are too remiss, Whilst Bolingbroke, through our security, Grows strong and great in substance and in power. KING RICHARD. Discomfortable cousin, knowst thou not That when the searching eye of heaven is hid Behind the globe that lights the lower world, Then thieves | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024841 | and robbers range abroad unseen In murders and in outrage boldly 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024842 | when this thief, this traitor, Bolingbroke, Who all this while hath revelled in the night Whilst we were wandring 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024843 | rude sea Can wash the balm off 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024844 | still guards the right. Enter Salisbury. Welcome, my lord. How far off lies your power? SALISBURY. Nor near nor farther 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 me, noble lord, Hath clouded all thy happy days on earth. O, call back | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024845 | yesterday, bid time return, And thou shalt have twelve thousand fighting men! Today, today, unhappy day, too late, Oerthrows thy joys, friends, fortune, and thy state; For all the Welshmen, hearing thou wert dead, Are gone to Bolingbroke, dispersed, and fled. AUMERLE. Comfort, my liege. Why looks your Grace so pale? KING RICHARD. But now, the blood of twenty thousand | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024846 | men Did triumph in my face, and they are fled; And till so much blood thither come 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. AUMERLE. Comfort, my liege. Remember who you are. KING RICHARD. I had forgot myself. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024847 | Am I not king? Awake, thou coward majesty! thou sleepest! Is not the Kings name twenty 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024848 | But who comes here? Enter Sir Stephen Scroop. SCROOP. More health and happiness betide my liege Than can my care-tuned tongue deliver him. KING RICHARD. Mine ear is open and my heart prepared. The worst is worldly loss thou canst unfold. Say, is my kingdom lost? Why, twas my care, And what loss is it to be rid of care? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024849 | Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we? Greater he shall not be. If he serve God, Well 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024850 | 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024851 | Whitebeards have armed their thin and hairless scalps Against thy majesty; boys with womens 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024852 | goes worse than I have power to tell. KING RICHARD. Too well, too well thou tellst 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024853 | I warrant they have made peace with Bolingbroke. SCROOP. Peace have they made with him indeed, my lord. KING RICHARD. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024854 | their spotted souls for this! 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 deaths destroying wound And lie full low, graved in the hollow ground. AUMERLE. Is Bushy, Green, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024855 | and the Earl of Wiltshire dead? SCROOP. Ay, all of them at Bristol lost their heads. AUMERLE. Where is the Duke my father with his power? KING RICHARD. No matter where. Of comfort no man speak! Lets talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs, Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024856 | Lets 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 Bolingbrokes, 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 Gods sake | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024857 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024858 | there the antic sits, Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp, Allowing him a breath, a little scene, To monarchize, 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024859 | 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? CARLISLE. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024860 | My lord, wise men neer sit and wail their 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 slainno worse can come to fight; And fight and die is death destroying death, Where fearing dying | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024861 | pays death servile breath. AUMERLE. My father hath a power. Enquire of him, And learn to make a body of a limb. KING RICHARD. Thou chidst me well. Proud Bolingbroke, I come To change blows with thee for our day of doom. This ague fit of fear is overblown; An easy task it is to win our own. Say, Scroop, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024862 | 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 in 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024863 | the worst that must be spoken: Your uncle York is joined with Bolingbroke, And all your northern castles yielded up, And all your southern gentlemen in arms Upon his party. KING RICHARD. Thou hast said enough. [_To Aumerle_.] Beshrew thee, cousin, which didst lead me forth Of that sweet way I was in to despair. What say you now? What | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024864 | comfort have we now? By heaven, Ill hate him everlastingly That bids me be of comfort any more. Go to Flint Castle. There Ill pine away; A king, woes 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024865 | speak again To alter this, for counsel is but vain. AUMERLE. My liege, one word. KING RICHARD. He does me double wrong That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue. Discharge my followers. Let them hence away, From Richards night to Bolingbrokes fair day. [_Exeunt._] SCENE III. Wales. Before Flint Castle. Enter, with drum and colours, Bolingbroke and Forces; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024866 | Northumberland and Others. BOLINGBROKE. 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. NORTHUMBERLAND. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024867 | To say King Richard. Alack the heavy day When such a sacred king should hide his head! NORTHUMBERLAND. Your Grace mistakes; 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024868 | whole heads length. BOLINGBROKE. Mistake not, uncle, further than you should. YORK. Take not, good cousin, further than you should, Lest you mistake. The heavens are oer our heads. BOLINGBROKE. I know it, uncle, and oppose not myself Against their will. But who comes here? Enter Harry Percy. Welcome, Harry. What, will not this castle yield? PERCY. The castle royally | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024869 | is manned, my lord, Against thy entrance. BOLINGBROKE. 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 reverencewho, I cannot learn. NORTHUMBERLAND. O, belike it | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024870 | is the Bishop of Carlisle. BOLINGBROKE. [_To Northumberland_.] Noble lord, Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle; Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parley Into his ruined ears, and thus deliver: Henry Bolingbroke On both his knees doth kiss King Richards hand And sends allegiance and true faith of heart To his most royal person, hither come | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024871 | Even at his feet to lay my arms and power, Provided that my banishment repealed And lands restored again be freely granted. If not, Ill use the advantage of my power And lay the summers dust with showers of blood Rained from the wounds of slaughtered Englishmen The which how far off from the mind of Bolingbroke It is such | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024872 | crimson tempest should bedrench The fresh green lap of fair King Richards land, My stooping duty tenderly shall show. Go signify as much, while here we march Upon the grassy carpet of this plain. Lets march without the noise of threatning drum, That from this castles tottered battlements Our fair appointments may be well perused. Methinks King Richard and myself | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024873 | should meet With no less terror than the elements Of fire and water, when their thundring shock At meeting tears the cloudy cheeks of heaven. Be he the fire, Ill be the yielding water; The rage be his, whilst on the earth I rain My waterson the earth, and not on him. March on, and mark King Richard how he | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024874 | looks. A parley sounded, and answered by a trumpet within. Flourish. Enter on the Walls, the King, the Bishop of Carlisle, Aumerle, Scroop and Salisbury 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024875 | stain the track Of his bright passage to the occident. YORK. Yet he looks like a king. Behold, his eye, As bright as is the eagles, lightens forth Controlling majesty. Alack, alack, for woe That any harm should stain so fair a show! KING RICHARD. [_To Northumberland._] We are amazed, and thus long have we stood To watch the fearful | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024876 | bending of thy knee 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, show 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024877 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024878 | yet unborn and unbegot, That lift your vassal hands against my head And threat the glory of my precious crown. Tell Bolingbrokefor yon methinks he stands That every stride he makes upon my land Is dangerous treason. He is come to open The purple testament of bleeding war; But ere the crown he looks for live in peace, Ten thousand | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024879 | bloody crowns of mothers sons Shall ill become the flower of Englands face, Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace To scarlet indignation, and bedew Her pastures grass with faithful English blood. NORTHUMBERLAND. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024880 | thy hand; And by the honourable tomb he swears That stands upon your royal grandsires bones, And by the royalties of both your bloods, Currents that spring from one most gracious head, And by the buried hand of warlike Gaunt, And by the worth and honour of himself, Comprising all that may be sworn or said, His coming hither hath | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024881 | no further scope Than for his lineal royalties, and to beg Enfranchisement immediate on his knees; Which on thy royal party granted once, His glittering arms he will commend to rust, His barbed steeds to stables, and his heart To faithful service of your Majesty. This swears he, as he is a prince and just; And as I am a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024882 | gentleman I credit him. KING RICHARD. Northumberland, say, thus the King returns: His noble cousin is right welcome hither, And all the number of his fair demands Shall be accomplished without contradiction. With all the gracious utterance thou hast, Speak to his gentle hearing kind commends. [_Northumberland returns to Bolingbroke._] [_To Aumerle_.] We do debase ourselves, cousin, do we not, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024883 | To look so poorly and to speak so fair? Shall we call back Northumberland and send Defiance to the traitor, and so die? AUMERLE. No, good my lord. Lets fight with gentle words Till time lend friends, and friends their helpful swords. KING RICHARD. O God, O God, that eer this tongue of mine That laid the sentence of dread | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024884 | banishment On yon proud man should take it off again With words of sooth! O, that I were as great As is my grief, or lesser than my name, Or that I could forget what I have been, Or not remember what I must be now. Swellst thou, proud heart? Ill give thee scope to beat, Since foes have scope | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024885 | to beat both thee and me. AUMERLE. Northumberland comes back from Bolingbroke. KING RICHARD. What must the King do now? Must he submit? The King shall do it. Must he be deposed? The King shall be contented. Must he lose The name of King? I Gods name, let it go. Ill give my jewels for a set of beads, My | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024886 | gorgeous palace for a hermitage, My gay apparel for an almsmans gown, My figured goblets for a dish of wood, My sceptre for a palmers walking-staff, My subjects for a pair of carved saints, And my large kingdom for a little grave, A little, little grave, an obscure grave; Or Ill be buried in the Kings highway, Some way of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024887 | common trade, where subjects feet May hourly trample on their sovereigns head; For on my heart they tread now whilst I live, And, buried once, why not upon my head? Aumerle, thou weepst, my tender-hearted cousin! Well make foul weather with despised tears; Our sighs and they shall lodge the summer corn And make a dearth in this revolting land. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024888 | Or shall we play the wantons with our woes And make some pretty match with shedding tears? As thus, to drop them still upon one place Till they have fretted us a pair of graves Within the earth; and, therein laid, there lies Two kinsmen digged their graves with weeping eyes. Would not this ill do well? Well, well, I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024889 | see I talk but idly, and you laugh at me. Most mighty prince, my Lord Northumberland, What says King Bolingbroke? Will his Majesty Give Richard leave to live till Richard die? You make a leg, and Bolingbroke says ay. NORTHUMBERLAND. My lord, in the base court he doth attend To speak with you. May it please you to come down? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024890 | KING RICHARD. Down, down I come, like glistring Phathon, Wanting the manage of unruly jades. In the base court? Base court, where kings grow base, To come at traitors calls, and do them grace. In the base court? Come down? Down, court! down, king! For night-owls shriek where mounting larks should sing. [_Exeunt from above._] BOLINGBROKE. What says his Majesty? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024891 | NORTHUMBERLAND. Sorrow and grief of heart Makes him speak fondly like a frantic man. Yet he is come. Enter King Richard and his attendants. BOLINGBROKE. Stand all apart, And show fair duty to his Majesty. [_Kneeling_.] My gracious lord. KING RICHARD. Fair cousin, you debase your princely knee To make the base earth proud with kissing it. Me rather had | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024892 | my heart might feel your love Than my unpleased eye see your courtesy. Up, cousin, up. Your heart is up, I know, Thus high at least, although your knee be low. BOLINGBROKE. My gracious lord, I come but for mine own. KING RICHARD. Your own is yours, and I am yours, and all. BOLINGBROKE. So far be mine, my most | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024893 | redoubted lord, As my true service shall deserve your love. KING RICHARD. Well you deserve. They well deserve to have That know the strongst and surest way to get. Uncle, give me your hands. Nay, dry your eyes. Tears show their love, but want their remedies. Cousin, I am too young to be your father, Though you are old enough | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024894 | to be my heir. What you will have, Ill give, and willing too; For do we must what force will have us do. Set on towards London, cousin, is it so? BOLINGBROKE. Yea, my good lord. KING RICHARD. Then I must not say no. [_Flourish. Exeunt._] SCENE IV. Langley. The Duke of Yorks garden. Enter the Queen and two Ladies. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024895 | QUEEN. What sport shall we devise here in this garden To drive away the heavy thought of care? LADY. Madam, well play at bowls. QUEEN. Twill make me think the world is full of rubs And that my fortune runs against the bias. LADY. Madam, well dance. QUEEN. My legs can keep no measure in delight When my poor heart | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024896 | no measure keeps in grief. Therefore no dancing, girl; some other sport. LADY. Madam, well tell tales. QUEEN. Of sorrow or of joy? LADY. Of either, madam. QUEEN. Of neither, girl. For if of joy, being altogether wanting, It doth remember me the more of sorrow; Or if of grief, being altogether had, It adds more sorrow to my want | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024897 | of joy. For what I have I need not to repeat, And what I want it boots not to complain. LADY. Madam, Ill sing. QUEEN. Tis well that thou hast cause; But thou shouldst please me better wouldst thou weep. LADY. I could weep, madam, would it do you good. QUEEN. And I could sing, would weeping do me good, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024898 | And never borrow any tear of thee. But stay, here come the gardeners. Lets step into the shadow of these trees. My wretchedness unto a row of pins, They will talk of state, for everyone doth so Against a change; woe is forerun with woe. [_Queen and Ladies retire._] Enter a Gardener and two Servants. GARDENER. Go, bind thou up | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000024899 | young dangling apricocks, Which, like unruly children, make their sire Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight. Give some supportance to the bending twigs. Go thou, and like an executioner Cut off the heads of too fast-growing sprays That look too lofty in our commonwealth. All must be even in our government. You thus employed, I will go root away | 60 | gutenberg |
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