As, though, in thinking, on no thought I think,

Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink. Bushy. 'Tis nothing but conceit,* my gracious lady.

Queen. 'Tis nothing less: conceit is still de-
riv'd

From some fore-father grief: mine is not so;
For nothing hath begot my something grief;
Or something hath the nothing that I grieve:
'Tis in reversion that I do possess ;

But, what it is, that is not yet known; what
I cannot name; 'tis nameless woe, I wot.f

Enter GREEN.

Green. God save your majesty!—and well met, gentleman:

he is;

I hope the king is not yet shipp'd for Ireland. Queen. Why hop'st thou so? 'tis better hope, [hope; For his designs crave haste, his haste good Then wherefore dost thou hope, he is not shipp'd?

Green. That he, our hope, might have retir'd

his power,

And driven into despair an enemy's hope,
Who strongly hath set footing in this land:
The banish'd Bolingbroke repeals himself,
And with uplifted arms is safe arriv'd
At Ravenspurg.

Queen. Now God in heaven forbid !
Green. O madam, 'tis too true: and that is
worse,-

The lord Northumberland, his young son,
Henry Percy,

The lords of Ross, Beaumond, and Willoughby,
With all their powerful friends, are fled to him.
Bushy. Why have you not proclaim'd North-
umberland,

And all the rest of the revolting faction,
Traitors?

Who, weak with age, cannot support myself:-
Now comes the sick hour that his surfeit made;
Now shall he try his friends that flatter'd him.
Enter a SERVANT.

Serv. My lord, your son was gone before I

came.

York. He was?-Why, so!-go all which
way it will!-

The nobles they are fled, the commons cold,
And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's side.-
Sirrah,

Get thee to Plashy, to my sister Gloster ;
Bid her send me presently a thousand pound:
Hold, take my ring.

Serv. My lord, I had forgot to tell your lord-
To-day, as I came by, I called there; [ship:
But I shall grieve you to report the rest.
York. What is it, knave?

Serv. An hour before I came, the duchess died.

York. God for his mercy! what a tide of

woes

Comes rushing on this woeful land at once!
I know not what to do:-I would to God,
(So my untruth* had not provok'd him to it,)
The king had cut off my head with my bro-
ther's.-

What, are these posts despatch'd for Ireland?-
How shall we do for money for these wars?—
Come, sister,-cousin, I would say: pray, par-
don me.-

Go, fellow, [To the SERVANT.] get thee home,
provide some carts,

And bring away the armour that is there.—
[Exit SERVANT.
Gentlemen, will you go muster men? if I know
How, or which way, to order these affairs,
Thus thrust disorderly into my hands,
Never believe me. Both are my kinsmen;-
The one's my sovereign, whom both my oath

Green. We have: whereon, the earl of And duty bids defend; the other, again,

Worcester

Hath broke his staff, resign'd his stewardship,
And all the household servants fled with him
To Bolingbroke.

Queen. So, Green, thou art the midwife to

my woe,

And Bolingbroke my sorrow's dismal heir:
Now bath my soul brought forth her prodigy;
And I, a gasping new-deliver'd mother,
Have woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow join'd.
Bushy. Despair not, madam.
Queen. Who shall hinder me?

I will despair, and be at enmity
With cozening hope; he is a flatterer,
A parasite, a keeper-back of death,
Who gently would dissolve the bands of life,
Which false hope lingers in extremity.
Enter YORK.

Green. Here comes the duke of York.
Queen. With signs of war about his aged
neck;

O, full of careful business are his looks!-
Uncle,

For heaven's sake, speak comfortable words.
York. Should I do so, I should belie my

thoughts:

Comfort's in heaven; and we are on the earth,
Where nothing lives but crosses, care, and

grief.

Your husband he is gone to save far off,
Whilst others come to make him lose at home:
Here am I left to underprop his land;

*Fanciful conception. Know. Drawn it back.

Is my kinsman, whom the king hath wrong'd;
Whom conscience and my kindred bids to right.
Well, somewhat we must do.-Come, cousin,
I'll

Dispose of you :-Go, muster up your men
And meet me presently at Berkley castle.
I should to Plashy too;-

But time will not permit :-All is uneven,
And every thing is left at six and seven.

[Exeunt YORK and QUEEN. Bushy. The wind sits fair for news to go to Ireland,

But none returns. For us to levy power,
Proportionable to the enemy,

Is all impossible.

Green. Besides, our nearness to the king in love,

Is near the hate of those love not the king.
Bagot. And that's the wavering commons:
for their love

Lies in their purses; and whoso empties them,
By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate.
Bushy. Wherein the king stands. generally

condemn'd.

Bagot. If judgement lie in them, then so do

we,

Because we ever have been near the king.
Green. Well, I'll for refuge straight to Bris-
tol castle;

The earl of Wiltshire is already there.
Bushy. Thither will I with you: for little
office

The hateful commons will perform for us;

* Disloyalty.

Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle: [ledge, I am no traitor's uncle; and that word-grace, Which ne'er I did remember: to my know-In an ungracious mouth, is but profane. I never in my life did look on him. North. Then learn to know him now; this is the duke.

[hence? I would attach you all, and make you stoop
Unto the sovereign mercy of the king;
But, since I cannot, be it known to you,
I do remain as neuter. So, fare you well;-
Unless you please to enter in the castle,
And there repose you for this night.

And ostentation of despised arms?
Com'st thou because the anointed king is
Why, foolish boy, the king is left behind,
And in my loyal bosom lies his power.
Were I but now the 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 French;
O, then, how quickly should this arm of mine,
Now prisoner to the palsy, chastise thee,
And minister correction to thy fault!

Boling. My gracious uncle, let me know my
fault;

On what condition stands it, and wherein?
York. Even in condition of the worst de-
gree,

In gross rebellion, and detested treason:
Thou art a banish'd man, and here art come,
Before the expiration of thy time,
In braving arms against thy sovereign.

Boling. As I was banish'd, I was banish'd
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, then, my father!
Will you permit that I shall stand condemn'd
A wand'ring vagabond; my rights and royal-
ties

Boling. An offer, uncie, 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 be, I will go with you:-but

yet I'll pause;

care.

For I am loath to break our country's laws.
Nor friends, nor foes, to me welcome you are:
Things past redress, are now with me past
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV-A Camp in Wales.
Enter SALISBURY, and a CAPTAIN.
Capt. 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 trusty Welsh-
The king reposeth all his confidence
In thee.

[man;

Capt. 'Tis thought the king is dead; we will not stay.

Pluck'd from my arms perforce, and given And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven;
[away The bay-trees in our country are all wither'd,
To upstart unthrifts? Wherefore was I born?
If that my cousin king be king of England,
The pale-fac'd moon looks bloody on the earth,
It must be granted, I am duke of Lancaster.
And lean-look'd prophets whisper fearful
You have a son, Aumerle, my noble kinsman: Rich men look sad, and ruffians dance and
change;
[leap,--
Had you first died, and he been thus trod
down,
The one, in fear to lose what they enjoy,
These signs forerun the death or fall of kings.
The other, to enjoy by rage and war:
Farewell; our countrymen are gone and fled,
As well assur'd, Richard their king is dead.

He should have found his uncle Gaunt a father,
To rouse his wrongs,† and chase them to the
I am denied to sue my livery‡ here, [bay.
And yet my letters-patent give me leave:
My father's goods are all distrain'd and sold;
And these, and all, are all amiss employ'd.
What would you have me do? I am a subject,
And challenge law: attornies are denied me;
And therefore personally I lay my claim
To my inheritance of free descent.
North. The noble duke hath been too much

abus'd.

Ross. It stands your grace upon, to do him right.

Willo. Base men by his endowments are made great.

York. My lords of England, let me tell you
this,-

I have had feeling of my cousin's wrongs,
And labour'd 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 this kind,
Cherish rebellion, and are rebels all.

[Exit.

Sal. Ah, Richard! with the eyes of heavy
Fall to the base earth from the firmament!
I see thy glory, like a shooting star, [mind,
Thy sun sets weeping in the lowly west.
Witnessing 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 III. SCENE I.-BOLINGBROKE's Camp at Bristol.

Enter BOLINGBROKE, YORK, NORTHUMBERLAND, PERCY, WILLOUGHBY, Ross: Offcers behind, with BUSHY and GREEN, pri

soners.

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, North. The noble duke hath sworn, his For 'twere no charity: yet, to wash your blood

coming is

But for his own: and, for the right of that,
We all have strongly sworn to give him aid;
And let him ne'er see joy, that breaks that

oath.

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 'twixt 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.

* Completely.

This earth shall have a feeling, and these stones Prove armed soldiers, ere her native king Shall falter under foul rebellious arms.

Car. 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 succour and redress. Aum. He means, my lord, that we are too

Awake, thou sluggard majesty! thou sleep'st.
Is not the king's name forty 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 tura. But who
Comes here?

Enter SCROOP.

Scroop. More health and happiness betide my liege,

Than can my care-tun'd tongue deliver him.
K. Rich. Mine ear is open, and my heart
prepar'd;

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?
Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we?
Greater he shall not be; if he serve God,
We'll 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. Glad am I, that your highness is so
To bear the tidings of calamity. [arm'd
Like an unseasonable stormy day, [shores,
Which makes the silver rivers drown their
As if the world were all dissolv'd to tears;
So high above his limits swells the rage
Of Bolingbroke, covering your fearful land
With hard bright steel, and hearts harder than
[less scalps
White-beards have arm'd their thin and hair-
Against thy majesty; boys, with women's
voices,

steel.

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 goes worse than I have power to tell.
K. Rich. Too well, too well, thou tell'st a
tale so ill.
[got?
Where is the earl of Wiltshire? where is Ba-
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.
I warrant, they have made peace with Boling-

broke.

Aum. Where is the duke my father with his

power?

K. Rich. No matter where; of comfort no
man speak:

Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs;
Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes
Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth.
Let's 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 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 antic sits,
Scoffing his state, and grinning at his pomp;
Allowing him a breath, a little scene
To monarchize, 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!
[blood

Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and
With solemn reverence; throw away respect,
Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty,
For you have but mistook me all this while:
live with bread like you, feel want, taste grief,
How can you say to me-I am a king?
Need friends :-Subjected thus,

I

I

Car. My lord, wise men ne'er wail their
present 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 slain; no worse can come, to
And fight and die, is death destroying death;
fight:
Where fearing dying, pays death servile breath.

Aum. My father hath a power, enquire of
And learn to make a body of a limb. [him;
K. Rich. Thou chid'st me well.-Proud Bol-
ingbroke, 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 bis
power?

[sour.
Speak sweetly, man, although thy looks be
Scroop. Men judge by the complexion of the
The state and inclination of the day: [sky
So may you by my dull and heavy eye,

play the torturer, by small and small,
My tongue hath but a heavier tale to say.
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.

Beshrewt thee, cousin, which didst lead me
forth
[To AUMERLE.
Of that sweet way I was in to despair!