Sal. Ah, Richard! with the eyes of heavy mind, I see thy glory, like a shooting star, [Exit. 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 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; And sigh'd my English breath in foreign clouds, 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, Than Bolingbroke to England.-Lords, farewell. Green. My comfort is, that heaven will take our souls, And plague injustice with the pains of hell. despatch'd. [Exeunt NORTHUMBERLAND and Others, with Prisoners. Uncle, you say, the queen is at your house; York. A gentleman of mine I have despatch'd * Dispark'd my parks,] To dispark is to throw down the hedges of an enclosure. 3 From my own windows torn my household coat,] It was the practice when coloured glass was in use, of which there are still some remains in old seats and churches, to anneal the arms of the family in the windows of the house. * Raz'd out my impress, &c.] The impress was a device or motto. Boling. Thanks, gentle uncle.-Come, lords, away; To fight with Glendower and his complices; SCENE II. [Exeunt. The Coast of Wales. A Castle in view. Flourish: Drums and Trumpets. Enter King RICHARD, Bishop of Carlisle, AUMERLE, and Soldiers. K. Rich. Barkloughly castle call you this at hand? Aum. Yea, my lord: How brooks your grace the air, After late tossing on the breaking seas? K. Rich. Needs must I like it well; I weep for joy, To stand upon my kingdom once again.-- Mock not my senseless conjuration, lords; Bishop. Fear not, my lord; that Power, that made you king, Hath power to keep you king, in spite of all. Aum. He means, my lord, that we are too remiss; not, That when the searching eye of heaven is hid backs, Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves? 5 He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines,] It is not easy to point out an image more striking and beautiful than this, in any poet, whether ancient or modern. STEEVENS. Not all the water in the rough rude sea For every man that Bolingbroke hath press'd, right. Enter SALISBURY. Welcome, my lord; How far off lies your power? Aum. Comfort, my liege: why looks your grace so pale? K. Rich. But now, the blood of twenty thousand 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. : Aum. Comfort, my liege; remember who you are. K. Rich. I had forgot myself: Am I not king? Awake, thou sluggard majesty! thou sleep'st. |