S CEN E V.

Bolingbroke's Camp, near Flint..

Enter with drum and colours, Bolingbroke, York,
Northumberland, and Attendants.

Boling S
The Welshmen are difpers'd, and Salisbury
Is gone to meet the King, who lately landed
With some few private friends upon this coaft.
North. The news is very fair and good, my Lord,
Richard, not far from hence, hath hid his head.
York. It would befeem the Lord Northumberland,
To fay King Richard. Ah, the heavy day,
When fuch a facred King fhould hide his head!
North. Your Grace mistakes me; only to be brief
Left I his title out.

O that by this intelligence we learn

York. The time hath been,

Would you have been fo brief with him, he would
Have been fo brief to fhorten you the head.

Boling. Miftake not, uncle, farther than you should.
York. Take not, good coufin, farther than you fhould,
Left you mistake; the heav'ns are o'er your head.
Boling. I know it, uncle, nor oppose my self
Against their will. But who 'comes here? 'tis Percy.`
Enter Percy.

'Well, Harry; what, will not this caftle yield? Percy. The caftle royally is mann'd, my Lord, Against your entrance.

Boling. Royally? why, it doth contain` no King?
Percy. Yes, my good Lord,

It doth contain a King: King Richard lyes
Within the limits of yond lime and ftone;
And with him Lord Aumerle, Lord Salisbury,

8 comes here? 9 Welcome,

I it contains

Sir

Sir Stephen Scroop, befides a clergy-man
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 caftle,
Through brazen trumpet fend the breath of parle
Into his ruin'd ears, and thus deliver:

Henry of Bolingbroke upon his knees

Doth kifs King Richard's hand, and fends allegiance
And faith of heart unto his royal perfon:
Ev'n at his feet I lay my arms and pow'r,
Provided that my banishment repeal'd
And lands restor❜d again be freely granted;
If not, I'll ufe th' advantage of my pow'r,

And lay the fummer's duft with fhow'rs of blood,
Rain'd from the wounds of flaughter'd Englishmen.
The which, how far off from the mind of Bolingbroke
It is, fuch crimson tempeft fhould bedrench
The fresh green lap of fair King Richard's land,
My stooping duty tenderly fhall fhew.

Go fignifie as much, while here we march
Upon the graffie carpet of this plain;

Let's march without the noife of threat'ning drum,
That from this caftle's tatter'd battlements
Our fair appointments may be well perus'd.
Methinks King Richard and my felf fhould meet
With no lefs terror than the elements

Of fire and water, when their thund'ring fhock
At meeting tears the cloudy cheeks of heav'n : a
March on, and mark King Richard how he looks.

SCENE

Parle without, and anfwer within; then a flourish. Enter on the walls, King Richard, the Bishop of Carlisle, Aumerle, Scroop, and Salisbury.

2/York. See, fee, King Richard doth himself appear As doth the blushing difcontented fun

From out the fiery portal of the East,
When he perceives the envious clouds are bent
To dim his glory, and to ftain the tract
Of his bright paffage to the Occident.
3/Yet looks he like a King; behold his eye,
As bright as is the Eagle's, lightens forth
Controlling Majefty; alack, for woe,
That any harm should stain fo fair a show!

[To North.

K. Rich. We are amaz'd, and thus long have we stood
To watch the fearful bending of thy knee,
Because we thought our felf thy lawful King;
And if we be, how dare thy joints forget
To pay their awful duty to our prefence?
If we be not, fhew us the hand of God,
That hath difmifs'd us from our stewardship.
For well we know, no hand of blood and bone
Can gripe the facred handle of our scepter,
Unless he do prophane, fteal, or ufurp.

And though you think, that all, as you have done,
Have torn their fouls by turning them from us,
And we are barren, and bereft of friends:
Yet know, my mafter, God omnipotent,
Is muft'ring in his clouds on our behalf
Armies of peftilence; and they fhall strike
Your children yet unborn, and unbegot,
That lift your vaffal hands againft my head,
And threat the glory of my precious crown.
Tell Bolingbroke, (for yond methinks he is)

2 Boling.
3 York. Yet looks, &c.

That

That every ftride he makes upon the land
Is dangerous treafon; he is come to ope
The purple teftament of bleeding war.
But ere the crown he looks for live in peace,
Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers fons
Shall + 'mif-become the flow'ry` England's face,
Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace
To fcarlet indignation, and bedew

Her pafture's grafs with faithful English blood.
North. The King of heav'n forbid, our Lord the King
Should fo with civil and uncivil arms

Be rush'd upon! no, thy thrice-noble coufin,
Harry of Bolingbroke, doth kifs thy hand,
And by the honourable tomb he fwears,
That ftands upon your royal grandfire's bones,
And by the royalties of both your bloods,
(Currents that spring from one moft gracious head)
And by the bury'd hand of warlike Gaunt,
And by the worth and honour of himself,
Comprising all that may be fworn, or faid,
His coming hither hath no farther scope,
Than for his lineal royalties, and to beg
Infranchisement immediate on his knees:
Which on thy royal party granted once,
His glitt'ring arms he will commend to ruft ;
His barbed feeds to ftables; and his heart
To faithful fervice of your Majesty.
This swears he, as he is a Prince, is juft;
And as I am a gentleman, I credit him.

K. Rich. Northumberland, fay thus the King returns:
His noble coufin is right welcome hither,
And all the number of his fair demands
Shall be accomplish'd without contradiction.
With all the gracious utterance thou haft,
Speak to his gentle hearing kind commends.
We do debafe our felf, coufin, do we not,
To look fo poorly, and to speak fo fair?
VOL. III.

4 ill become the flow's

[To Aum.

Shall

Shall we call back Northumberland, and fend
Defiance to the traitor, and fo die?

Aum. No, good my Lord, let's fight with gentle words, 'Till time lend friends, and friends their helpful fwords. K.Rich. Oh God, oh God! that e'er this tongue of mine, That laid the fentence of dread banishment

On yond proud man, fhould take it off again
With words of footh; oh that I were as great
As is my grief, or leffer than my name!
Or that I could forget what I have been,
Or not remember what I must be now!

Swell'ft thou, proud heart? I'll give thee fcope to beat,
Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me.

Aum. Northumberland comes back from Bolingbroke. K. Rich. What must the King do now ? must he submit? The King fhall do it: muft he be depos'd? The King fhall be contented: muft he lose The name of King? o' God's name let it go. I'll give my jewels for a fet of beads; My gorgeous palace, for a hermitage; My gay apparel, for an alms-man's gown; My figur'd goblets, for a difh of wood; My fcepter, for a palmer's walking-staff; My fubjects, for a pair of carved faints, And my large kingdom, for a little grave, A little little grave, an obfcure grave. Or I'll be bury'd in the King's highway; Some way of common 'tread, where fubjects feet May hourly trample on their Sovereign's head, a Aumerle, thou weep'ft, my tender-hearted cousin, We'll make foul weather with despised tears: Our fighs, and they, fhall lodge the fummer corn, And make a dearth in this revolting land. Or fhall we play the wantons with our woes,

And