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

Berk. Mistake 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,
And fright our native peace with self-born arms.
S с EN E X.

Enter York. Boling. I shall not need transport my words by you. Here comes his Grace in person. 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 dust of England's ground?
But more than, —why, why, have they dar'd to march
So many miles upon her peaceful borom,
Frighting her pale-fac'd villages with war,
7 And ostentation of disposed arms ?
Com'st thou because th’anointed King is hence ?
Why, foolish boy, the King is left behind;
And in my loyal bosom lies his Power,

6 — the absent time,] For unprepared. Not an inelegant fynecdoche.

7 And oftentation of DESPISED arms] But sure the often. tation of despised arms wouid noe fright any one. We should read

DISPOSED GT773

i. e. forces in battle-array.

Werc

Were I but now the lord of such hot youth,
As when brave Gaunt, thy father, and my felf
Rescu'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 prisoner to the palsic, 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. Ev’n in condition of the worst degree;
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 Royalties
Pluckt from my arms perforce, and giv'n away
To upstart unthrifts ? Wherefore was I born ?
If that my cousin King be King of England,
It must be granted, I am Duke of Lancaster.
You have a fon, Aumerle, my noble Kinsman :
Had you first dy'd, and he been thus trod down,
He should have found his uncle Gaunt a father,
To rowze his wrongs, and chase them to the bay.
I am deny'd to sue 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 amiss imploy’d.
What would you have me do? I am a Subject,
And challenge law : attorneys are deny'd me ;
And therefore personally I lay my Claim

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you this,

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. Base men by his endowments are made great.

York. My lords of England, let me tell
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 wrongs, it may not be ;
And you that do aber him in this kind,
Cherish Rebellion, and are Rebels all.

North. The noble Duke hath sworn, his 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 fee joy, that breaks that oath.

York. Well, well, I see the issue 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 stoop
Unto the sovereign mercy of the King.
But since I cannot, be it known to you,
I do remain as neuter. So, farewel.
Unless you please to enter in the Castle,
And there repose you for this night.

Boling. An offer, Uncle, that we will accept ;
But we must win your Grace to go with us
To Bristol-Castle, which, they say, is held
By Bufhy, Bagat, and their complices ;
The caterpillars of the Common-wealth,
Which I have sworn to weed, and pluck away.

York. It may be, I will go : but yet I'll pause ;
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 paft Care.

[Exeunt. SCENE

SCE N E XI.

In W A L E S.

Cap.

Enter Salisbury, and a Captain.
Y lord of we have ,

And hardly kept our Countrymen together,
And yet we hear no tidings from the King:
Therefore we will disperse our selves: farewel.

Salis. Stay yet another day, thou trusty Welshman: The King reposeth all his trust in thee. [stay.

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 stars 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 e’enjoy by rage and war. These signs forererun the death of KingsFarewel; our countrymen are gone and fed, As well assur’d, Richard their King is dead. (Exit.

Salis. Ah, Richard, ah! with eyes of heavy mind, I see thy Glory, like a shooting Star, Fall to the bale earth from the firmament: 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

A CT III. SCEN E I.

Bolingbroke's Camp at Bristol.
Enter Bolingbroke, York, Northumberland, Ross,
Percy, Willoughby, with Bushy and Green Prisoners.

BOLINGBROKE.
RING forth these men.

Bufby 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 fome causes of your deaths.
You have mis-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 sinful hours
Made a divorce betwixt his Queen and him ;
Broke the Poffesion of a royal Bed,
And stain'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 mis-interpret me,)
Have stoopt my neck under your injuries;
And sigh'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 felld my forest-woods; From mine own windows torn my houshold Coat; Raz'd out my Impress ; leaving me no sign, Save mens' opinions, and my living blood, To shew the world I am a gentleman. This, and much more, much more than twice all this,

Con

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