A C T IV. SCENE I.

In London.

Enter, as to the parliament, Bolingbroke, Aumerle, Northumberland, Percy, Fitzwater, Surrey, Bishop of Carlifle, Abbot of Westminster, Herald, Officers, and Bagot.

Boling What thou doft know of Noble Glo'fter's CA

All Bagot forth. Now freely fpeak thy mind,

death;

Who wrought it with the King, and who perform'd The bloody office of his timeless * end.

Bagot. Then fet before my face the Lord Aumerle.
Boling. Coufin, ftand forth, and look upon that man.
Bagot. My Lord Aumerie, I know your daring tongue.
Scorns to unfay what it hath once deliver'd.
In that dead time when Glo'fter's death was plotted
I heard you fay, Is not my arm of length,
That reacheth from the restful English court
As far as Calais to my uncle's head?
Amongst much other talk, that very time,
I heard you fay, You rather had refuse
The offer of an hundred thousand crowns,

Than Bolingbroke return to England; adding,
How blefs'd this land would be in this your coufin's
Aum. Princes, and Noble Lords,

What anfwer fhall I make to this base man?
Shall I fo much difhonour my fair stem,
On equal terms to give him chastisement ?
Either I muft, or have mine honour foil'd
With the attainder of his fland'rous lips.
There is my gage, the manual feal of death,
That marks thee out for hell. Thou lyeft;
And I'll maintain what thou haft faid is falfe,
In thy heart-blood, though being all too bafe
To stain the temper of my knightly fword.

[death.

Boling. Bagot, forbear; thou fhalt not take it up. Aum. Excepting one, I would he were the best In all this presence that hath mov'd me fo.

timeless, for untimely.

Fitzw. If that thy valour stand on fympathies, There is my gage, Aumerle, in gage to thine. By that fair fun, that fhews me where thou ftand'st, I heard thee fay, and vauntingly thou fpak'ft it, That thou wert caufe of Noble Glo'fter's death. If thou deny'ft it, twenty times thou lyeft; And I will turn thy falfehood to thy heart, Where it was forged, with my rapier's point.

Aum. Thou dar'ft not, coward, live to fee the day. Fitzw. Now, by my foul, I would it were this hour. Aum. Fitzwater, thou art damn'd to hell for this. Percy, Aumerle, thou lyeft; his honour is as true, n this appeal, as thou art all unjust;

And that thou art fo, there I throw my gage
To prove it on thee, to th' extremeft point
Of mortal breathing. Seize it, if thou dar'ft.
Aum. And if I do not, may my hands rot off,
And never brandifh more revengeful fteel
Over the glittering helmet of my foe!

Who fets me elfe? by Heav'n, I'll throw at all.
I have a thousand fpirits in my breast,

To answer twenty thoufand fuch as you.

Surrey. My Lord Fitzwater, I remember well The very time Aumerle and you did talk.

Fitzw. My Lord, 'tis true: you were in prefence And you can witnefs with me this is true.

[then;

Surrey. As falfe, by heav'n, as heav'n itself is true. Fitzw. Surrey, thou lyeft.

Surrey. Dishonourable boy,

That lye fhall lie fo heavy on my fword,
That it fhall render vengeance and revenge,
Till thou the lye-giver, and that lye, reft
In earth as quiet as thy father's fcull.

In proof whereof, there is mine honour's pawn;
Engage it to the trial, if thou dar'ft.

Fitzw. How fondly doft thou fpur a forward horse?

If I dare eat, or drink, or breathe, or live,

I dare meet Surrey in a wilderness,

And spit upon him, whilst I say he lyes,

And lyes, and lyes: there is my bond of faith,
To tie thee to my strong correction.

As I intend to thrive in this new world,

Aumerle

Aumerle is guilty of my true appeal.

Befides, I heard the banifh'd Norfolk fay,

That thou, Aumerle, didit fend two of thy men
To execute the noble Duke at Calais..

Aum. Some honest Christian truft me with a gage, That Norfolk lyes: here do I throw down this, If he may be repeal'd, to try his honour.

Boling. Thefe diff'rences fhall all rest under gage,
Till Norfolk be repeal'd: repeal'd he fhall be ;
And, though mine enemy, reftor'd again
To all his figniories; when he's return'd
Against Aumerle we will inforce his trial.

Carl. That honourable day fhall ne'er be feen.
Many a time hath banifh'd Norfolk fought
For Jefu Chrift, in glorious Chriftian field
Streaming the enfign of the Chriftian crofs,
Against black Pagans, Turks, and Saracens :
Then, toil'd with works of war, retir'd himfelf
To Italy, and there at Venice gave

His body to that pleafant country's earth
And his pure foul unto his Captain Christ,
Under whofe colours he had fought fo long.
Boling. Why, Bifhop, is Norfolk dead?
Carl. Sure as I live, my Lord.

Boling. Sweet peace conduct his foul

To th' bofom of good Abraham !-Lords appealants, Your differences shall all rest under gage,

Till we affign you to your days of trial.

SCENE II Enter York.

York. Great Duke of Lancaster, I come to thee From plume-pluck Richard, who with willing foul Adopts thee heir, and his high fceptre yields:

To the poffeffion of thy royal hand.

Afcend his throne, defcending now from him,
And long live Henry, of that name the Fourth!
Boling. In God's name, I'll afcend the regal throne.
Carl. Marry, Heav'n forbid?

'Worft in this Royal prefence may I speak,
Yet beft befeeming me to fpeak the truth.
Would God, that any in this Noble presence
Were enough noble to be upright judge

Of Noble Richard; then true nobleness would
Learn him forbearance from fo foul a wrong.
What fubject can give fentence on his King?
And who fits here that is not Richard's fubject?
Thieves are not judge'd, but they are by to hear,
Although apparent guilt be feen in them,
And fhall the figure of God's Majefty,
His Captain, Steward, Deputy elect,
Anointed, crown'd, and planted many years,
Be judge'd by fubject and inferior breath,
And he himself not prefent! Oh, forbid it!
That, in a Chriftian climate, fouls refin'd
Should fhew fo heinous, black, obfcene a deed.
I fpeak to fubjects, and a fubject speaks,
Stirr'd up by Heav'n, thus boldly for his King.
My Lord of Hereford here, whom you call King,
Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford's King.
And if you crown him, let me prophefy,
The blood of English fhall manure the ground,
And future ages groan for this foul act.
Peace fhall go fleep with Turks and Infidels,
And in this feat of peace, tumultuous wars
Shall kin with kin, and kind with kind, confound,
Disorder, horror, fear and mutiny

Shall here inhabit, and this land be call'd
The field of Golgotha, and dead mens' fculls.
Oh, if you rear this house against this house,
It will the wofullest divifion prove,
That ever fell upon this curfed earth.

Prevent, refift it, let it not be so,

Left children's children cry against you, Woe.
North. Well have you argu'd, Sir, and for your pains,

Of capital treason we arrest you here.

My Lord of Westminster, be it your charge,

To keep him fafely till his day of trial.

May't please you, Lords, to grant the Commons' fuit? Boling. Fetch hither Richard. that in common view He may furrender: fo we fhall proceed

Without fufpicion.

York. I will be his conduct.

[Exit.

Boling. Lords, you that here are under our arrest, Procure your fureties for your days of answer:

VOL. IV.

H

Little

Little are we beholden to your love,

And little look'd for at your helping hands.

SCENE III. Enter King Richard and York.
K. Rich. Alack, why am I fent for to a King,
Before I have fhook off the regal thoughts
Wherewith I reign'd? I hardly yet have learn'd
T' infinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my knee.
Give forrow leave a while to tutor me
To this fubmiffion. Yet I well remember
The favours of thefe men

Did they not fometime cry,

were they not mine?

All hail! to me? So Judas did to Chrift: but he in twelve, [none. * Found truth in all, but one; I, in twelve thousand, To do what fervice, am I fent for hither?

York. To do that office of thine own good will, Which tired Majefty did make thee offer

The refignation of thy ftate and crown.

;

K. Rich. Give me the crown.--Here, coufin, feize

the crown,

Here, on this fide, my hand; on that fide, thine. †

in twelve thousand, none.

God fave the King! will no man fay, Amen ?
Am I both priest and clerk? well then, Amen.
God fave the King, although I be not be:
And yet, Anen, it heav'n do think him me.
To do what fervice, &c.

+

-on that fide, thine.

Now is this golden crown like a deep well,
That owes two buckets, filling one another;
The emptier ever dancing in the air,

The other down, unfeen and full of water;
That bucket down, and full of tears am I;

Drinking my griefs, while you mount up on high.

Beling. I thought you had been willing to refign.

K. Rich. My crown, I am; but ftill my griefs are mine:

You may my glories and my ftate depof,

But not my griefs: fill am I King of those.

Boling. Part of your cares you give me with your crown. K. Rich. Your cares fet up, do not pluck my cares down. My care, is lofs of care, by old care done;

Now

Your care, is gain of care, by new care won.
The cares I give, I have, though given away;

They tend the crown, yet ftill with me they stay.

Boling,