Scroop. Men judge by the complexion of the sky

The state and inclination of the day:

So may you by my dull and heavy eye,

ت:

My tongue hath but a heavier tale to say. I play the torturer, by small and small, 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. · Beshrew thee, cousin, whith didst lead me forth

[To AUMERLE.

Of that sweet way I was in to despair!

What say you now? What comfort have we now
By heaven, I'll hate him everlastingly,

That bids me be of comfort any more.
Go, to Flint castle; there I'll pine away;
A King, woe's slave, shall kingly woe obey.
That power I have discharge; and let them go
To car the land that hath some hope to grow,
For I have none: - Let no man speak again
To alter this, for counsel is but vain.

Aum. My Liege, one word.

K. Rich. He does me double wrong,

?

That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue. Discharge my followers, let them hence;

Away,

From Richard's night, to Bolingbroke's fair day.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Wales. Before Flint castle.

Enter with drum and colours, BOLINGBROKE and Forces; YORK, NORTHUMBERLAND, and

Others.

Boling. So that by this intelligence we learn, The Welshmen are dispers'd: and Salisbury Is gone to meet the King, who lately landed, With some few private friends, upon this coast. North. The news is very fair and good, my

Lord;

Richard, not far from hence, hath hid his head. York. It would beseem the lord Northumber

To say-King Richard:
:-

land,

- Alack the heavy day, When such a sacred King should hide his head! North. Your Grace mistakes me; only to be

Left I his title out.

brief,

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 whole head's length. Boling. Mistake not, uncle, further than you

should.

York. Take not, good cousin, further than you should,

Lest you mis-take: The heavens are o'er your head.

Boling. I know it, uncle; and oppose not Myself against their will. But who comes here?

Enter PERCY.

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

Boling. 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 lord Aumerle, lord Salisbury,
Sir Stephen Scroop; besides a clergyman
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 castle;

Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parle Into his ruin'd ears, and thus deliver.

Harry Bolingbroke

On both his knees,

doth kiss King Richard's

hand;

And sends allegiance, and true faith of heart,
To his most royal person: hither come
Even at his feet to lay my arms and power;
Provided that, my banishment repeal'd,
And lands restor❜d again, be freely granted:
If not, I'll use the advantage of my power,
And lay the summer's dust with showers of blood.
Rain'd from the wounds of slaughter'd English-

men:

The which, how far off from the mind of Bolingbroke

It is, such crimson tempest should be drench
The fresh green lap of fair King Richard's land,
My stooping duty tenderly shall show.
Go, signify as much; while here we march

Upon

Upon the grassy carpet of this plain.~
[NORTHUMBERLAND advances to the Castle,
with a Trumpet.

Let's march without the noise of threat'ning drum,
That from the castle's totter'd battlements
Our fair appointments may be well perus'd.
Methinks, King Richard and myself should meet
With no less terror than the elements

Of fire and water, when their thund'ring shock
At meeting tears the cloudy cheeks of heaven.
Be he the fire, I'll be the yielding water:
The rage be his, while on the earth I rain
My waters; on the earth, and not on him.
March on, and mark King Richard how he looks.

A parle sounded, and answered by another trumpet within. Flourish. Enter on the walls King RICHARD, the Bishop of Carlisle, AuMERLE, SCROOP, and SALISBURY.

York. See, see, King Richard doth himselfappear,

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 stain the track
Of his bright passage to the occident.
Yet looks he like a King; behold, his eye,
As bright as is the eagle's, lightens forth
Controlling majesty: Alack, alack, for woe,
That any harm should stain so fair a show!
K. Rich. We are amaz'd; and thus long have
we stood

To watch the fearful bending of thy knee,

[To NORTHUMBERLAND. Because we thought ourself thy lawful King :

VOL. VIII.

11

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 dismiss'd us from our stewardship;
For well we know, no hand of blood and bone
Can gripe the sacred handle of our scepter,
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 must'ring in his clouds, on our behalf,
Armies of pestilence; and they shall strike
Your children yet unborn, and unbegot,
That lift your vassal hands against my head,
And threat the glory of my precious crown.
Tell Bolingbroke, (for yond', methinks, he is,)
That every stride he makes upon my land,
Is dangerous treason: He is come to ope
The purple testament of bleeding war:
But ere the crown he looks for live in peace,
Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers' sons
Shall ill become the flower of England's face;
Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace
To scarlet indignation, and hedew

Her pastures' grass with faithful English blood.
North. The King of heaven forbid, our lord the
King

Should so with civil and uncivil arms

Be rush'd upon! Thy thrice-noble cousin,
Harry Bolingbroke, doth humbly kiss thy hand,
And by the honourable tomb he swears,
That stands upon thy royal grandsire's 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;