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You have, in manner, with your sinful hours, And not neglected; else, if heaven wonld,
Made a divorce betwixt his queen and him;

And we will not, heaven's offer we refuse;
Broke the possession of a royal berl,

The profferd means of succour avd redress. And staind the beauty of a fair qucen's cheeks Aum. He means, my lord, that we are too remias ; With tears drawn from her eyes by your foul wrongs. Whilst Bolingbroke, through our security, Myself-a prince, by fortune of my birth;

Grows strong and great, in substance, and in friends. Near to the king in blood ; and near in love,

K. Rich. Discomfortable cousin! know'st thou not Till you did make him misinterpret me,

That when the searching eye of heaven is hid Have stoop'd my neck under your injuries,

Behind the globe, and lights the lower world, And sighd my English breath in foreign clouds, Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen, Eating the bitter bread of banishment :

In murders, and in outrage, bloody here; Whilst you have fed upon my siguories,

But when, from under this terrestrial ball, Dispark'd my parks, and felld my forest woods; He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines, From my own windows torn my household coat, And darts his light through every guilty hole, Raz'd out my impress, leaving me no sign,- Then murders, treasons, and detested sins, Save men's opinions, and my living blood,

The cloak of night being pluckd from off their backs, To show the world I am a gentleman.

Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves? This, and much more, much more than twice all this, || So when this thies, this traitor, BolingbrokeCondemns you to the death :-See them deliver'd over Who all this while hath revellid in the night, To execution and the hand of death.

Whilst we were wand'ring with the Antipodes, Bushy. More welcome is the stroke of death to me, Shall see us rising in our throne the east, Than Bolingbroke to England.-Lords, farewell. His treasons will sit blushing in his face, Green. My comfort is,-that heaven will take our Not able to endure the sight of day, souls,

But, self-affrighted, tremble at his sin, And plague injustice with the pains of hell.

Not all the water in the rough rude sea Bol. My lord Northumberland, see them despatchd. || Can wash the balm from an anointed king: [E.xeunt Northumberland and others with prisoners. The breath of wordly men cannot depose Uncle, you say, the queen is at your house ; The deputy elected by the Lord : For heaven's sake, fairly let her be entreated : For every man that Bolingbroke hath pressid, Tell her, I send to her my kind commends ;

To lift shrewd steel against our golden crown, Take special care my greetings be deliver'd. God for his Richard hath in heavenly pay

Tork. A gentleman of mine I have despatch'd A glorious angel: then, if angels fight, With letters of your love to her at large.

Weak men must fall; for heaven still guards the right. Bob Thanks, gentle uncle.-Come, lords, away;

Enter Salisbury. To fight with Glendower and his complices;

Welcome, my lord; how far off lies your power? Awhile to work, and, after, boliday. (Exeunt.

Sal. Nor vear, nor further off, my gracious lord, SCENE II.-The Coast of Wales. A Castle in vier.

Than this weak arin : Discomfort guides my tongue, Flourish : Drums and Trumpets. Enter King

And bids me speak of nothing but despair.
Richard, Bishop of Carlisle, Aumerle, and Soldiers. One day too late, I fear, my noble lord,
K. Rich. Barkloughly castle call you this at hand ?

Hath clouded all thy happy days on earth :
Aum. Yea, my lonl: How brooks your grace the air, 1 o, call back yesterday, bid time return,
After late tossing on the breaking seas?

And thou shalt have twelve thousand fighting men ! K. Rich. Needs must I like it well; I weep for joy, J. Today, to-day, unhappy day, too late, To stand upon my kingdom once again.

O'erthrows thy joys, friends, fortune, and thy state; Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand,

For all the Welshmen, hearing thou wert dead, Though rebels wound thee with their horses' hoofs: Are gone to Bolingbroke, dispers'd, and fled. As a long parted mother with her child

Aum. Comfort, my liege: why looks your grace Plays fondly with her tears, and smiles in meeting;

$0 pale? So, weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth,

K. Rich. But now, the blood of twenty thousand men And do thee favour with my royal hands.

Did triginph in my face, and they are fled; Feed not thy sovereign's foe, my gentle earth,

And, till so much blood thither come again, Nor with thy sweets comfort his ravenous sense :

Have I not reason to look pale and dead? But let thy spiders, that suck up thy venom,

All souls that will be safe, fly from my side; And heavy-gaited toads lie in their way;

For time hath set a blot upon my pride. Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet,

Aum. Comfort, my liege ; remember who you are. Which with usurping steps do trample thee!

K. Rich. I had forgot myself: Am I not king? Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies:

Awake, thou sluggard majesty! thou sleep'st. And when they from thy bosom pluck a flower,

Is not the king's name forty thousand names ? Guard it, I pray thee, with a lurking adder; Arm, arm, my name! a puny subject strikes Whose double tongue may with a mortal touch At thy great glory.-Lool: not to the ground, Throw death upon thy sovereign's enemies.

Ye favourites of a king ; Are we not high? Mack not my senseless conjuration, lords ;

High be our thoughts : I know, my uncle York This earth shall have a feeling, and these stones

Hath power enough to serve our turn. But who Prove armed soldiers, ere ber native king

Comes here? Shall falter under foul rebellious arins.

Enter Scroop. Bishop. Fear not, my lord; that Power, that made Scroop. More health and happiness betide my liege, you king,

Than can my care-tun'd tongue deliver him. Hath power to keep you king, in spite of all. K. Rich, Mine tar is open, and my heart prepard; The mtaas that heaven yields must be embrac'd, The worst is worldly loss, thou canst unfold.

Say, is my kingdom lost? wby, 'twas my care; All murder'd :-For within the hollow crown,
And what loss is it, to be rid of care?

That rounds the mortal temples of a king,
Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we?

Keeps death his court: and there the antic sits, Greater he shall not be ; if he serve God,

Scofing his state, and grinning at his pomp ;
We'll serve him too, and be his fellow so:

Allowing him, a breath a little scene
Revolt our subjects ? that we cannot mend; To monarchise, be feard, and kill with looks;
They break their faith to God, as well as us: Infusing him with self and vain conceit,-
Cry, woc, destruction, ruin, loss, decay;

As if this flesh, which walls about our life,
'The worst is death, and death will have his day. Were brass impregnable; and, humour'd thus,

Screep. Glad am I, that your highness is so arm’d Comes at the last, and with a little pin
To bear the tidings of calamity.

Bores through his castle wall, and-farewell king! Like an unseasonable stormy day,

Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores, With solemn reverenee; throw away respect, As if the world were all dissolv'd to tears ;

Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty, So high above his limits swells the rage

For you have but mistook me all this while : Of Bolingbroke, covering your fearful land

I live with bread like


feel want, taste grief, With hard bright steel, and hearts harder than steel. Need friends :-Subjected thus, White-beards have arm'd their thin and hairless scalps How can you say to me-I am a king? Against thy majesty; boys, with women's voices, Car. My lord, wise men ne'er wail their present woos, Strive to speak big, and clap their female joints But presently prevent the ways to wail. In stiff unwieldy arms against thy crown :

To fear the foe, since fear oppresseth strength, Thy very beadsmen learn to bend their bows

Gives, in your weakness, strength unto your foe, Of double-fatal yew against thy state;

And so your follies fight against yourself. Yea, distaff-women manage rusty bills

Fear, and be slain ; no worse can come, to fight: Against thy seat : both young and old rebel,

And fight and die, is death destroying death;
And all goes worse than I have power to tell. Where fearing dying, pays death servile breath.

K. Rich. Too well, too well, thou tell’st a tale so ill. Aum. My father hath a power, enquire of him;
Where is the earl of Wiltshire? where is Bagot? And learn to make a body of a limb.
What is become of Bushy? where is Green?

K. Rich. Thou chjd'st me well :-Proud Boling That they have let the dangerous enemy

broke, I come Measure our confines with such peaceful steps? To change blows with thee for our day of doom. If we prevail, their heads shall pay for it.

This ague-fit of fear is over-blown ; I warrant, they have made peace with Bolingbroke. An easy task it is, to win our own.Scroup. Peace have they made with him, indeed, my Say, Scroop, where lies our uncle with his power? lond.

Speak sweetly, man, although thy looks be sour. K. Rich. O villains, vipers, damnd without redemp- Scroop. Men judge by the complexion of the sky tion!

The state and inclination of the day: Dogs, easily won to fawn on any man!

So may you by my dull and heavy eye, Snakex, in my heart-blood warm’d, that sting my heart! My tongue hath but a heavier tale to say. Tume Judases, each one thrice worse than Judas !

I play the torturer, by small and small, Would they make peace ? terrible hell make war

To lengthen out the worst that must be spoken :L'pon their spotted souls for this offence !

Your uncle York hath join'd with Bolingbroke; Scroop. Sweet love, I see, changing his property,

And all your northern castles yielded up, Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate :

And all your southern gentlemen in arms Again uncurse their souls ; their peace is made

Upon his party. With heads, and not with hands: those whom yon K. Rich. Thon hast said enough. eurse,

Beshrew thee, cousin, which didst lead me forth Have felt the worst of death's destroying wound,

(To Aumcrle And lie full low, grav'd in the hollow ground. of that sweet way I was in to despair ! Aum. Is Bushy, Green, and the earl of Wiltshire, l What say you now? what comfort have we now? dead?

By heaven, I'll hate him everlastingly,
Stroop. Yea, all of them at Bristol lost their heads. That bids me be of comfort any more.
Aum. Where is the duke my father with his power? | Go, to Flint castle; there I'll pine away;
K. Rich. No matter where; of comfort no man A king, woe's slave, shall kingly woe obey.

That power I have, discharge ; and let them go let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs ; To ear the land that hath some hope to grow, Make dost our paper, and with rainy eyes

For I have none :-Let no man speak again Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth.

To alter this, for counsel is but vain. Let's choose executors, and talk of wills:

Aum. My liege, one word. And yet not 80,- for what can we bequeath,

K. Rich.

He does me double wrong, Sare our depased bodies to the ground ?

That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue. Our lands, our lives, and al) are Bolingbroke's,

Discharge my followers, let them bence ;-Away, And nothing can we call our own, but death;

From Richard's night, to Bolingbroke's fair day. And that small model of the barren earth,

(Exeunt. Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. For heaven's sake, let us sit upon the ground,

SCENE 111.-Wales. Before Flint Castle. Enter , And teli sad stories of the death of kings:-

with Drum and Colours, Bolingbroke, and forces ; How some have been deposd, some slain in var;

York, Northumberland, and others. Soine haunted by the ghosts they have depos'd ;

Bol. So that by this intelligence we learn, Sune poisou'd by their wives, some sleeping kill'd; The Welshmen are dispers’d; and Salisbury

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Is gone to meet the king, who lately landed,

As doth the blushing discontented suni With some few private friends, upon this coast. From out the fiery portal of the east;

North. The news is very fair and good, my lord; When he perceives the envious clouds are bent
Richard, not far from hence, bath hid bis head. To dim his glory, and to stain the track

York. It would beseem the lord Northumberland, Of his bright passage to the occident.
To say-king Richard :- Alack the heavy day, Yet looks be like a king; behold, his eye,
When such a sacred king should hide his head ! As bright as is the eagle's, lightens forth

North. Your grace mistakes me ; only to be brief, Controlling majesty; Alack, alack, for woe,
Left I his title out.

That any harm should stain so fair a show!
The time hath been,

K. Rich. We are amaz'd; and thus long have we Would you bave been so brief with him, he would

stood Have been so brief with you, to shorten yoll,

To watch the fearful bending of thy knee, [To North For taking so the head, your whole head's length. Because we thought ourself thy lawful king :

Bol. Mistake isot, uncle, further than you should. And if we be, how dare thy joints forget
York. Take not, good cousin, further than you


their awful duty to our presence ?

If we be not, show us the hand of God
Lest you mis-take: the heavens are o'er your head. That hath dismiss'd us from our stewardship;
Bol. I know it, uncle ; and oppose not

For well we know, no hand of blood and bone
Myself against their will.–But who comes here? Can gripe the sacred handle of our sceptre,
Enter Percy

Unless he do profane, steal, or usurp. Well, Harry; what, will not this castle yield? And though you think, that all, as you have done,

Percy. The castle royally is mann'd, my lond, Have torn their souls, by turning them from us, Against thy entrance.

And we are barren, and bereft of friends;

Yet know,-my master, God omnipotent,
Why, it contains no king?

Is must'ring in his clouds, on our behalf,' Percy.

Yes, my good lord, Armies of pestilence; and they shall strike It doth contain a king ; king Richard lies

Your children yet unborn, and unbegot, Within the limits of yon lime and stone:

That lift your vassal hands against my head, And with him are the lord Aumerle, lord Salisbury, And threat the glory of any precious crown. Sir Stephen Scroop; besides a clergyman

Tell Bolingbroke, (for yond', methinks, he is.) of holy reverenee, who, I cannot learn.

That every stride he makes upon my land, North, Belike, it is the bishop of Carlisle.

Is dangerous treason : He is come to ope Bol. Noble lord,

[To North.

The purple testament of bleeding war; Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle;

But ere the crown he looks for live in peace, Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parle Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers' song Into his ruin'd ears, and thus deliver.

Shall ill become the flower of England's face ; Harry Bolingbroke

Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace On both his knees doth kiss kiug Richard's hand; To scarlet indignation, and bedew And sends allegiance, and true faith of heart, Her pastures' grass with faithful English blood. To his most royal person inther come

North. The king of beaven forbid, our lord the king Even at his feet to lay my arms and power ;

Should so with eivil and uncivil arus Provided that, my banishment repeal'd,

Be rush'd upon! Thy thrice-noble cousin, And lands restor'd again, be freely granted :

Harry Bolingbroke, doth bumbly kiss thy hand; If not, I'll use the advantage of my power,

And by the honourable tomb he swears, And lay the summer's dust with showers of blood, That stands upon thy royal grandsire's bones; Rain'd from the wounds of slaughter'd Englishmen; And by the royalties of both your bloods, The which, how far off from the mind of Bolingbroke Currents that spring from one most gracious head; It is, such crimson tempest should bedrench

And by the buried hand of warlike Gaunt; The fresh green lap of fair king Richard's land,

And by the worth and honour of himself, My stooping duty tenderly shall show.

Comprising all that may be sworn or said,Go, signify as much ; while here we march

His coming hither hath no further scope,
Upon the grassy carpet of this plain.-

Than for his lineal royalties, and to beg
(Northumberland advances to the Castle, Enfianchisement immediate on his knees:

with a Trumpet. || Which on thy royal party granted once, Let's march without the noise of threatning drum,

His glittering arms he will commend to rust, That from the castle's totter'd battlements

His barbed steeds to stables, and his heart Our fair appointments may be well perus'd.

To faithful service of your majesty. Methinks, king Richard and myself should meet

This swears he, as he is a prince, is just; With no less terror than the elements

And, as I am a gentleman, I credit him. Of tire and water, when their thund'ring shoek

K. Rich. Northumberland, say,—thus the king re At mecting tears the cloudy cheeks of heaven.

turns Be be the fire, I'll be the yielding water:

His noble cousin is right welcome hither; The rage be his, while on the earth I rain

And all the number of his fair demands My waters ; on the earth, and not on luim.

Shall be accomplish'd without contradiction : March on, and mark king Richard how he looks.

With all the gracious utterar.ce thou hast, A parle sounded, and answered by another Trumpet Speak to his gentle hearing kind commends.

within. Flourish. Enter, on the walls, King Rich- We do debase ourself, cousin, do we not, artl, the Bishop of Carlisle, Aumerle, Scroop, and To look so poorly, and to speak so fair? Salisbury.

Shall we call back Northumberland, and send York. See, see, king Richard doth bimself appear, Defiance to the traitor, and so die?

(Te Aum.

Aum. No, good my lord; let's fight with gentle K. Rich. Fait cousin, you debase your princely words,

knee, Till time lend friends, and friends their helpful swords. To make the base earth prond with kissing it: K. Rich. O God! O God! that e'er this tongue of Me rather had, my heart might feel your love, mine,

Than my unpleas'd eye see your courtesy. That laid the sentence of dread banishment

Up. cousin, up; your heart is up, I know, On son proud man, should take it off again

Thus high at least, [Touching his own head.) although With words of sooth ! O, that I were as great

your knee be low, As is my grief, or lesser than my name!

Bol. My gracious lord, I come but for mine own. Or that I could forget what I have been !

K. Rich Your own is yours, and I am yours, and als Or not remember what I must be now!

Bol. So far be mine, my most redoubted lord, Swell'st thou, proud heart? I'll give thee scope to beat, As my true service shall deserve your love. Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me. K. Rich. Well you deserve :-They well deserve to Aum. Northumberland comes back from Baling have, broke.

That know the strong'st and surest way to get K. Rich. What must the king do now? Must he Uncle, give me your hand : nay, dry your eyes ; subinit?

Tears show their love, but want their remedies. The king shall do it. Must he be deposil?

Cousin, I am too young to be your father, The king sball be contented : Must he lose

Though you are old enough to be my heir. The name of king? o'God's name, let it go :

What you will have, I'll give, and willing too ; I'll give my jewels, for a set of beads;

For do we must, what force will have us do. My gorgeous palace, for a hermitage;

Set on towards London :-Cousin, is it so? My gay apparel, for an alme-man's gown;

Bol. Yen, my good lord. My figurd goblets, for a dish of wood;

K. Rich.

Then I must not say, no. My sceptre, for a palmer's walking-staff;

[Flourish. Exeunt. My subjects, for a pair of carved saints ; And my large kingilom, for a little grave,

SCENE IV.-Langley. The Duke of York's Garden. A little little grave, an obseure grave :

Enter the Queen, and two Ladies, Or I'll be buried in the king's highway,

Queen. What sport shall we devise here in this gar. Same way of common trade, where subjects' feet

den, May hourly trample on their sovereign's head :

To drive away the heavy thought of care ? For on my heart they tread, now whilst I live;

i Lady. Madam, we'll play at bowls. Anal, buried once, why not upon any head ?


'Twill make me think, Aumerle, thou weep'st; My tender-hearted cousin !- The world is full of rubs, and that my fortune We'll make foul weather with despised tears ; Runs 'gainst the bias. Our sighs, and they, shall lodge the summer corn, i Lady.

Madam, we will dance. And make a dearth in this revolting land.

Queen. My legs can keep no measure in delight, Or shall we play the wantons with our woes,

When' my poor heart no measure keeps in grief: And make some pretty match with shelding tears? Therefore, no dancing, girl; some other sport. As thus ;-To drop them still upon one place,

1 Lady. Madam, we'll tell tales. Till they have fretted us a pair of graves


Of sorrow, or of joy? Within the earth; and, therein laid, - There lies i Lady. Of either, madam. Tree kinsmen, digg'd their graves with weeping eyes ? Queen.

or neither, girl: Would not this ill do well ?-Well, well, I see For if of joy, being altogether wanting, I talk bat idly, and you mock at me.

It doth remember me the more of sorrow;
Most mighty prince, my lord Northumberland,

Or if of grief, being altogether hal,
What says king Botingbroke? will his majesty It adds more sorrow to my want of joy:
Give Richard leave to live til Richard die?

For what I have. I need not to repeat;
You make a leg, and Bolingbroke says-ay.

And what I want, it boots not to complain, Northe My lord, in the base court he doth attend

1 Lady. Madam, I'll sing. To speak with you ; may't please you to come down? Queen.

'Tis well, that thou hast cause ; K. Rich. Down, down, I come; like glistering Pha- But thou should'st please me better, would'st thou weep. eton,

1 Lady. I could weep, madam, would it do you good. Wanting the manage of unruly jades.

Queen. And I could weep, would weeping do me (North. retires to Boling. good, In the brage court? Base court, where kings grow base, || And never borrow any tear of thee. To come at traitors' calls, and do them grace.

But stay, here come the gardeners : In the base court? Come down ? Down, court! down Let's step into the shadow of these trees.king!

Enter a Gardener, and two Servants. Per night-owls shriek, where mounting larks should sing.

[E.reunt from above. My wretchedness unto a row of pins, Bol. What says his majesty ?

They'll talk of state ; for every one doth so Nerth.

Sorrow and grief of heart Against a change: Woe is forerun with woe. Wakes him speak fondly, like a frantic man:

[Queen and Ladies retire. Yet he is come.

Gard. Go bind thou up yon' dangling apricocks,

Which, like unruly children, make their sire Enter King Richard, and his Attendants, below.

Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight: Bole Stanil all apart,

Give some supportance to the bending twigs.And show fair duty to his majesty

Go thou, and like an executioner, His gracious lord,

[Kneeling. || Cut off the heads of too-fast-growing sprays,

That look too lofty in our commonwealth:

Gardener, for telling me this news of woe, All must be even in oar government.

I would, the plants thou graft'st, may never grow. You thus employd, I will go root away

[Eacunt Queen and Ladie!. The noisome weeds, that without profit suck

Gard. Poor queen! so that thy state might be no The soil's fertility from wholesome flowers.

worse, 1 Sero. Why should we, in the compass of a pale, I would, my skill were subject to thy curse.Keep law, and form, and due proportion,

Here did she drop a tear; here, in this place, Showing, as in a model, our firm estate?

I'll set a bank of rue, sour herb of grace : When our sea-walled garden, the whole land,

Rue, even for ruth, here shortly shall be seen, Is full of weeds ; her fairest flowers oboak’d up, In the remembrance of a weeping queen. (Exeunt. Her fruit trees all unprun'd, her hedges ruind, Her krots disorder'd, and her wholesome herbs Swarıning with caterpillars ?

ACT IV. Gard.

Hold thy peace:He that hath suffer'd this disorder'd spring,

SCENE 1.-London. Westminster Hall. The Lorde Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf :

spiritual on the right side of the Throne; the Lercio The weeds, that his broad-spreading leaves did shelter, temporal on the left; the Commons belote. Enter That seem'd in eating him to hold him up,

Bolingbroke, Aumerle, Surrey, Northumberland, Are pluck'd up, root and all, by Bolingbroke;

Percy, Fitzwater, another Lord, Bishop of Carlisle, I mean, the earl of Wiltshire, Bushy, Green.

Abbot of Westminster, and Attendants. Officers both i Serv. What, are they dead?

hind with Bagot.
They are; and Bolingbroke

Hath seiz'd the wasteful king.--Oh! What pity is it, CALL forth Bagot:
That he had not so trimm'd and dress'd his land, Now, Bagot, freely speak thy mind;
As we this garden! We at time of year

What thou dost know of noble Gloster's death; Do wound the bark, the skin of our fruit-trees; Who wrought it with the king, and who perform 'd Lest, being over-proud with sap and blood,

The bloody office of his timeless end. With too much riches it confound itself:

Bagot. Then set before my face the lord Aumerle. Had he done so to great and growing men,

Bol. Cousin, stand forth, and look upon that man. They might have liv'd to bear, and he to taste

Bagot. My lord Aumerle, I know your daring tongue Their fruits of duty. All superfluous branches Scorns to unsay what once it hath deliver'd. We lop away, that bearing boughs may live: In that dead time when Gloster's death was plotted, Had he done so, himself had borne the crown, I hearl you say,-1s net my arm of length, Which waste of idle hours hath quite thrown down. That reacheh from the restful English court 1 Sero. What, think you then, the king shall be de- As far as Calais, to my uncle's head? pos'd?

Amongst much other talk, that very time, Gard. Depress'd he is already; and depos'd, I heard you say, that you had rather refuse 'Tis doubt, he will be: Letters came last night The offer of an hundred thousand crowns, To a dear friend of the good duke of York's,

Than Bolingbroke's return to England ; That tell black tidings.

Adding withal, how blest this land would be, Queen.

O, I am press'd to death, In this your cousin's death. Through want of speaking !-- Thou, old Adam's like Aum.

Princes, and noble lords, ness,

[Coming from her concealmenta What answer shall I make to this base man? Set to dress this garden, how dares

Shall I so much dishonour my fair stacs, Thy harsh-rude tongue sound this unpleasing news? On equal terms to give him chastisement ? What Eve, what serpent hath suggested thee Either I must, or have mine honour soild To make a second fall of cursed man ?

With the attainder of his sland 'rous lips. Why dost thou say, king Richard is depos'd ? There is my gage, the manual seal of death, Dar`st thou, thou little better thing than earth, That marks thee out for hell: I say, thou liest, Divine his downfall ? Say, where, when, and how, And will maintain, what thou hast said, is false, Cam'st thou by these ill tidings? speak, thou wretch. In thy heart-blood, though being all too base

Gard. Pardon me, madam: little joy have I, To stain the temper of my knightly sworth To breathe this news; yet, what I say, is true.

Bol. Bagot, forbear, thou shalt not take it up, King Richard, he is in the mighty hold

dum. Excepting one, I would he were the best or Bolingbroke ; their fortunes both are weighd; In all this presence, that hath mov'd me so. In your lord's scale is nothing but himself,

Fitz. If that thy valour stand on sympathiesa And some few vanities that make him light; There is my gage, Aumerle, in gage to thine: But in the balance of great Bolingbroke,

By that sair sun that shows me where thou scand'st, Besides himself, are all the English peers,

I heard thee say, and vauntingly thou spakst it, And with that odds he weighs king Richard down. That thou wert cause of noble Gloster's death. Post you to London, and you'll find it so;

If thou deny'st it, twenty times thou liest ; I speak no more than every one doth kitow.

And I will turn thy falsehood to thy heart, Queen. Nimble mischance, that art so light of foot, Where it was forged, with my rapier's point. Doth not thy embassage belong to me,

Aum. Thou darist not, coward, live to see that day, And am I last that knows it? O, thou think'st

Fitz. Now, by my soul, I would it were this hour. To serve me last, that I may longest keep

dum. Fitzwater, thou art damn'd to hell for this Thy sorrow in my breast.-Come, ladies, go,

Percy. Aumerle, thou liest; his honour is as tres To meet at Lowon London's king in woe.

In this appeal, as thou art all unjust : What, was I born to this! that my sad look

And, that thou art so, there I throw my gage, Should grace the triumph of greac Bolingizroke ?- To prove it on thee to the extremest point

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