Scroop. Yea, all of them at Bristol lost their

heads.

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 antick

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 farewel

king!

Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and

blood

L

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With solemu reverence; throw away respect, Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty.

For you have but mistook me all this while:

I live with bread like you, feel want, taste

grief,

Need friends: - Subjected thus,

How can you say to me - I am a king?

Car. My lord, wise men ne'er wail their pre

sent 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

fight:

And fight and die, is death destroying death; Where fearing dying, pays death servile breath. Aum. My father hath a power, inquire of

him;

And learn to make a body of a limb.

K. Rich. Thou chid'st me well: Proud Bo

lingbroke, 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 his

power?

Speak sweetly, man, although thy looks be

sour.

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, My tongue hath but a heavier tale to say.

I play the torturer, by small and small,

:

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To lengthen out the worst that must be spok

en :

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, which did lead me forth
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 ear 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

Alack the heavy

land, - king Richard: day, When such a sacred king should hide his head!

North. Your grace mistakes; only to be brief, Left I his title out.

York. The time hath been,

Would you have been so brief with him, he

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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,

head.

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

Boling. I know it, uncle; and oppose not Myself against their will.

here?

But who comes

Welcome, 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 the lord Aumerle, lord Salis-

bury,

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/

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 Bo

lingbroke

It is, such crimson tempest should bedrench
The fresh green lap of fair king Richard's land,
My stooping duty tenderly shall shew.
Go, signify as much; while here we march
Upon the grassy carpet of this plain. -

[North. advances to the Castle, with a Trumpet.] Let's march without the noise of threat'ning

drum,

That from the castles 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

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