And what lofs is it, to be rid of care? Like an unfeafonable and stormy day, Which makes the filver rivers drown their fhores, So high above his limits fwells the rage Of Bolingbroke, cov'ring your fearful land With hard bright steel, and hearts more hard than fteel. K. Rich. Too well, too well thou tell'ft a tale fo ill. I warrant they've made peace with Bolingbroke. Scroop. Peace they have made with him, indeed, my Lord. K. Rich. O villains, vipers, damn'd without redemp Dogs, eafily won to fawn on any man! [tion! Snakes in my heart-blood warm'd, that fting my heart! Three Judaffes, each one thrice worse than Judas! Would they make peace? terrible hell make war Upon their spotted fouls for this offence! Scroop Called fo, because the leaves of the yew are poifon, and the wood is employed for inftruments of death. Scroop. Sweet love, I fee, changing his property, Turns to the foureft and most deadly hate. Again uncurfe their fouls; their peace is made Aum. Is Bufhy, Green, and th' Earl of Wiltshire dead? Scroop. Yea, all of them at Bristol loft 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 duft our paper, and with rainy eyes Write forrow on the bofom of the earth! 'Let's chufe executors, and talk of wills; And yet not fo-for what can we bequeath, • Save our depofed bodies to the ground? * Our lands, our lives,, and all, are Bolingbroke's, "And nothing can we call our own, but death; And that fmall model of the barren earth, 'Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. • For heav'ns fake, let us fit upon the ground, 'And tell fad ftories of the death of Kings; How fome have been depos'd, fome flain in war;' Some haunted by the Ghofts they difpoffefs'd;. Some poifon'd by their wives, fome fleeping kill'd; 'All murther'd.-For within the hollow crown, 'That rounds the mortal temples. of a king, 'Keeps Death his court; and there the antic fits, Scoffing his ftate, and grinning at his pomp; Allowing him a breath, a little fcene To monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with looks; Infufing him with felf and vain conceit, 'As if this flesh which walls about our life, • Were brass impregnable; and, humour'd' thus, 'Comes at the laft, and with a little pin Bores through his caftle-walls, and farewell King! • Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood • With folemn rev'rence: throw away refpect, Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty, For you have but mistook me all this while. I live on bread like you, feel want like you; D 3. Tafte • Model, for part, portion, • Taste grief, need friends, like you: fubjected thus, How can you fay to me I am a King? Carl. My Lord, wife men ne'er wail their prefent woes, But presently prevent the ways to wail. To fear the foe, fince fear oppreffeth ftrength, Gives, in your weakness, ftrength unto your foe; K. Rich. Thou chid'ft me well: proud Bolingbroke, I come + Say, Scroop, where lies your uncle with his power ? K. Rich. Thou haft faid enough. Befhrew thee, coufin, which didft lead me forth Of that sweet way I was into despair! [To Aumerle. What fay you now? what comfort have we now? A King, woe's flave, fhall kingly wòe obey: -against yourself. Fear, and be flain; no worfe can come from fight; Aum. My father hath a power, inquire of him, And learn to make a body of a limb. K. Rich. Thou chid'ft me, &c. To change with thee, for our day of doom This ague-fit of fear is overblown ; An eafy task it is to win our own. Say, Scroop, &c. i. '1 with his power?... Speak fweetly, man, although thy looks be four. So may you, by my dull and heavy eye, My tongue hath but a heavier tale to fay. I play the torturer, &c. That * That pow'r I have, discharge; and let 'em go the land, that hath fome hope to grow; Let no man fpeak again Το ear For I have none. 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 flatt'ries of his tongue. [Exeunt. SCENE V. Bolingbroke's camp near Flint. Enter with drum and colours, Bolingbroke, York, Northumberland, and Attendants. Boling. So that by this intelligence we learn The Welchmen are difpers'd; and Salisbury Is gone to meet the King, who lately landed With fome few private friends upon this coaft. North. The news is very fair and good, my Lord; York. It would befeem the Lord Northumberland, North. Your Grace mistakes me; only to be brief, York. The time hath been, Would you have been fo brief with him, he would Boling. Miftake not, uncle, farther than you fhould. Enter Percy. Welcome, Harry; what, will not this caftle yield? Boling. Royally? why, it contains no King? Ear or are, from aro, to plow. Percy. Percy. Yes, my good Lord, It doth contain a King: King Richard lies [To North Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle, Doth kifs King Richard's hand, and fends allegiance And lay the fummer's duft with fhow'rs of blood, Go fignify as much, while here we march Upon the graffy carpet of this plain; Let's march without the noife of threat'ning drum,, Of fire and water, when their thund'ring fhock, + cheeks of heav'n. Be he the fire, I'll be the yielding water; SCENE |