And I muft find that Title in your tongue,
Before I make reply to aught you say.

Berk. Miftake me not, my lord; 'tis not my meaning To raze one Title of your honour out.

To you, my lord, I come, (what lord you will,)
From the most glorious of this Land,

The Duke of York, to know, what pricks you on
To take advantage of the absent time,

6

And fright our native peace with felf-born arms.

S C CEN E

Enter York.

X.

Boling. I fhall not need tranfport my words by you. Here comes his Grace in perfon. Noble Uncle!

[Kneels. York. Shew me thy humble heart, and not thy knee, Whofe duty is deceivable and false.

Boling. My gracious uncle!

York. Tut, tut! Grace me no Grace, nor Uncle me
no Uncle:

I am no traitor's uncle; and that word Grace,
In an ungracious mouth, is but prophane.
Why have those banish'd, and forbidden legs
Dar'd once to touch a duft of England's ground?
But more than,why, why, have they dar'd to march
So many miles upon her peaceful bofom,

Frighting her pale-fac'd villages with war,

7 And oftentation of difpofed arms?

Com'ft thou because th'anointed King is hence?
Why, foolish boy, the King is left behind;

And in my loyal bofom lies his Power.

6 the abfent time,] For unprepared. fynecdoche.

Not an inelegant

7 And oftentation of DESPISED arms?] But fure the oftentation of defpifed arms would not fright any one. We should read

DISPOSED arms

i. e. forces in battle-array.

Were

Were I but now the lord of fuch hot youth,
As when brave Gaunt, thy father, and my felf
Refcu'd the Black Prince, that young Mars of men,
From forth the ranks of many thousand French;
Oh! then, how quickly should this arm of mine,
Now prifoner to the palfic, chaftife thee,
And minifter correction to thy fault.

my

Boling. My gracious uncle, let me know
On what condition ftands it, and wherein ?
York. Ev'n in condition of the worst degree;
In grofs Rebellion, and detefted Treafon:
Thou art a banifh'd man, and here art come,
Before the expiration of thy time,

In braving arms against thy Sovereign.

fault;

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 fee old Gaunt alive. O then, my father! Will you permit, that I fhall stand condemn'd A wand'ring vagabond; my Rights and Royalties Pluckt from my arms perforce, and giv'n away To upftart unthrifts? Wherefore was I born? If that my coufin King be King of England, It must be granted, I am Duke of Lancaster. You have a fon, Aumerle, my noble Kinsman: Had you firft dy'd, and he been thus trod down, He should have found his uncle Gaunt a father, To rowze his wrongs, and chafe them to the bay. I am deny'd to fue my livery here, And yet my letters patents give me leave : My father's Goods are all diftrain'd and fold, And these, and all, are all amifs imploy'd. What would you have me do? I am a Subject, And challenge law attorneys are deny'd me; And therefore perfonally I lay my Claim

Το

To mine Inheritance of free Descent.

North. The noble Duke hath been too much abus'd. Rofs. It stands your Grace upon, to do him Right. Willo. Bafe men by his endowments are made great. York. My lords of England, let me tell you this, I have had Feeling of my Coufin'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 wrongs, it may not be ; And you that do abet him in this kind, Cherish Rebellion, and are Rebels all.

North. The noble Duke hath fworn, his Coming is
But for his own; and, for the Right of That,
We all have strongly fworn to give him aid;
And let him ne'er fee joy, that breaks that oath.
York. Well, well, I fee the iffue of these arms;
I cannot mend it, I must needs confefs,
Because my Pow'r is weak, and all ill left:
But if I could, by him that gave me life,
I would attach you all, and make you ftoop
Unto the fovereign mercy of the King.
But fince I cannot, be it known to you,
I do remain as neuter. So, farewel.
Unless you please to enter in the Castle,
And there repofe you for this night.

Boling. An offer, Uncle, that we will accept ;
But we must win your Grace to go with us
To Bristol-Caftle, which, they fay, is held
By Busby, Bagot, and their complices;
The caterpillars of the Common-wealth,
Which I have fworn to weed, and pluck away.
York. It may be, I will but
go: yet I'll paufe;
For I am loath to break our Country's Laws:
Nor friends nor foes, to me welcome you are;
Things paft Redress are now with me paft Care.

[Exeunt. SCENE

S CE N E X I.

In WALES.

Enter Salisbury, and a Captain.

Cap. MX 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 difperfe our felves: farewel.
Salif. Stay yet another day, thou trusty Welshman:
The King repofeth all his truft in thee.

[ftay. Cap. 'Tis thought, the King is dead: we will not "The Bay-trees in our Country all are wither'd, "And meteors fright the fixed ftars of heav'n; "The pale-fac'd moon looks bloody on the earth; "And lean-look'd Prophets whisper fearful Change. "Rich men look fad, and ruffians dance and leap;" The one, in fear to lose what they enjoy; Th' other, in hope t'enjoy by rage and war. Thefe figns forererun the death of Kings Farewel; our countrymen are gone and fled, As well affur'd, Richard their King is dead. Salif. Ah, Richard, ah! with eyes of heavy mind,

I fee thy Glory, like a fhooting Star,
Fall to the bafe earth from the firmament:
Thy Sun fets weeping in the lowly Weft,

Witneffing Storms to come, woe, and unrest:
Thy friends are fled to wait upon thy foes;
And crossly to thy Good all fortune goes.

[Exit.

[Exit.

ACT

ACT III. SCENE I.

Bolingbroke's Camp at Bristol.

Enter Bolingbroke, York, Northumberland, Rofs, Percy, Willoughby, with Bushy and Green Prifoners.

BOLINGBROKE.

RING forth these men.

BRING men.

Busby and Green, I will not vex your fouls
(Since presently your fouls 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 fome caufes of your deaths.
You have mif-led a Prince, a royal King,
A happy Gentleman in blood and lineaments,
By you unhappy'd, and disfigur'd clean.
You have, in manner, with your finful hours
Made a divorce betwixt his Queen and him
Broke the Poffeffion of a royal Bed,

;

And ftain'd the Beauty of a fair Queen's cheeks
With tears drawn from her eyes, with your foul wrongs.
My felf, a Prince, by fortune of my birth,
Near to the King in blood, (and near in love,
Till you did make him mif-interpret me,)
Have ftoopt my neck under your injuries;
And figh'd my English breath in foreign clouds,
Eating the bitter bread of Banishment:
While you have fed upon my Signiories;
Dif-park'd my Parks, and fell'd my forest-woods;
From mine own windows torn my houshold Coat;
Raz'd out my Imprefs; leaving me no fign,
Save mens' opinions, and my living blood,
To fhew the world I am a gentleman.

This, and much more, much more than twice all this,

Con