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 NORTHUMBERLAND.
To watch the fearful bending of thy knee,
Because we thought ourself thy lawful king:
And if we be, how dare thy joints forget
Το 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 sceptre,
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 mustering 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 stands,
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 bedew
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 your 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,
And by the worth and honour of himself,
Comprising all that may be sworn or said,
His coming hither hath no farther scope,
Than for his lineal royalties, and to beg
Enfranchisement immediate on his knees:
Which on thy royal party granted once,
His glittering arms he will commend to rust,
His barbed steeds to stables, and his heart
To faithful service of your majesty.
This swears he, as he is a prince, is just',
And, as I am a gentleman, I credit him.
K. Rich. Northumberland, say,-thus the king re
His noble cousin is right welcome hither;
And all the number of his fair demands
Shall be accomplish'd without contradiction.
With all the gracious utterance thou hast,
Speak to his gentle hearing kind commends.
[NORTHUMBERLAND retires to BOLINGBROKE. We do debase ourself, cousin, [To AUMERLE.] do we
To look so poorly, and to speak so fair?
Shall we call back Northumberland, and send
Defiance to the traitor, and so die?
Aum. No, good my lord: let's fight with gentle words,
Till time lend friends, and friends their helpful swords. K. Rich. O God! O God! that e'er this tongue of
This swears he, as he is a prince, is just,] The correct reading of the folio. The quartos of 1597 and 1598 have," as he is a princesse just," and the quartos of 1608 and 1615, " as he is a prince, just."
That laid the sentence of dread banishment
On yond' proud man, should take it off again
With words of sooth. O! that I were as great
As is my grief, or lesser than my name,
Or that I could forget what I have been,
Or not remember what I must be now!
Swell'st thou, proud heart? I'll give thee scope to beat,
Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me.
Aum. Northumberland comes back from Boling
K. Rich. What must the king do now? Must he submit?
The king shall do it. Must he be depos'd?
The king shall be contented. Must he lose
The name of king? o' God's name, let it go:
I'll give my jewels for a set of beads,
My gorgeous palace for a hermitage,
My gay apparel for an alms-man's gown,
My figur'd goblets for a dish of wood,
My sceptre for a palmer's walking-staff,
My subjects for a pair of carved saints,
And
my large kingdom for a little grave,
A little little grave, an obscure grave:
Or I'll be buried in the king's highway,
Some way of common trade, where subjects' feet
May hourly trample on their sovereign's head;
For on my heart they tread, now whilst I live,
And, buried once, why not upon my head?—
Aumerle, thou weep'st; my tender-hearted cousin!—
We'll make foul weather with despised tears;
Our sighs and they shall lodge the summer corn,
And make a dearth in this revolting land:
Or shall we play the wantons with our woes,
And make some pretty match with shedding tears?
As thus ;-to drop them still upon one place,
Till they have fretted us a pair of graves
Within the earth; and, therein laid, there lies
Two kinsmen digg'd their graves with weeping eyes.
Would not this ill do well?-Well, well, I see
I talk but idly, and you mock at me.-
Most mighty prince, my lord Northumberland,
What says king Bolingbroke? will his majesty
Give Richard leave to live till Richard die?
You make a leg, and Bolingbroke says ay2.
North. My lord, in the base court he doth attend
To speak with you: may't please you to come down?
K. Rich. Down, down, I come; like glistering
Phaeton,
Wanting the manage of unruly jades.
[NORTH. retires again to BOLING. In the base court? Base court, where kings grow base, To come at traitors' calls, and do them grace. In the base court? Come down? Down, court! down,
For night-owls shriek, where mounting larks should
Sorrow and grief of heart
Boling. What says his majesty?
Makes him speak fondly, like a frantic man:
Enter King RICHARD, and his Attendants, below.
Boling. Stand all apart,
And show fair duty to his majesty.—
My gracious lord,—
K. Rich. Fair cousin, you debase your princely knee, To make the base earth proud with kissing it: Me rather had, my heart might feel your love, Than my unpleas'd eye see your courtesy.
2 - and Bolingbroke says AY.] For the rhyme we ought to read, as in the old copies, "and Bolingbroke says I," for "ay" was then almost invariably spelt with a capital I. Hundreds of instances may be found in our dramatists of the reigns of Elizabeth and James I.
Up, cousin, up: your heart is up, I know,
Thus high at least, although your knee be low.
Boling. My gracious lord, I come but for mine own. K. Rich. Your own is yours; and I am yours, and all.
Boling. So far be mine, my most redoubted lord, As my true service shall deserve your love.
K. Rich. Well you deserve:-they well deserve to have,
That know the strong'st and surest way to get.-
Uncle, give me your hand: nay, dry your eyes;
Tears show their love, but want their remedies.-
Cousin, I am too young to be your father,
Though you are old enough to be my heir.
What you will have, I'll give, and willing too;
For do we must what force will have us do.—
Set on towards London.-Cousin, is it so?
Boling. Yea, my good lord.
K. Rich.
Langley. The Duke of YORK's Garden.
Enter the QUEEN, and two Ladies.
Queen. What sport shall we devise here in this garden,
To drive away the heavy thought of care?
1 Lady. Madam, we'll play at bowls.
Queen. Twill make me think the world is full of
And that my fortune runs against the bias.
1 Lady. Madam, we'll dance.
Queen. My legs can keep no measure in delight,
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