Here am I left to underprop his land;
Who, weak with age, cannot support myself.-
Now comes the sick hour that his surfeit made:
Now shall he try his friends that flattered him.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. My lord, your son was gone before I came. York. He was ?-why so!-go all which way it will!

The nobles they are fled, the commons they are cold, And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's side.Sirrah, get thee to Plashy, to my sister Gloster : Bid her send me presently a thousand pounds. Hold, take my ring.

Serv. My lord, I had forgot to tell your lordship: To-day, as I came by, I called there :But I shall grieve you to report the rest. York. What is it, knave?

Serv. An hour before I came the duchess died. York. God for his mercy! what a tide of woes Comes rushing on this woeful land at once! I know not what to do.-I would to God (So my untruth had not provoked him to it), The King had cut off my head with my brother's!— What, are there posts despatched for Ireland?How shall we do for money for these wars?Come, sister,-cousin, I would say: pray pardon me.

Go, fellow [to the Servant], get thee home; provide some carts,

And bring away the armour that is there.-
[Exit Servant.

Gentlemen, will you go muster men? If I know
How or which way to order these affairs,
Thus disorderly thrust into my hands,
Never believe me. Both are my kinsmen:
The one's my sovereign, whom both my oath
And duty bids defend; the other, again,

Is my kinsman, whom the King hath wronged;
Whom conscience and my kindred bids to right.
Well, somewhat we must do.-Come, cousin, I'll
Dispose of you.-Gentlemen, go muster up your

Lies in their purses; and whoso empties them, By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate. Bushy. Wherein the King stands generally condemned.

Bagot. If judgment lie in them, then so do we; Because we ever have been near the King. Green. Well, I'll for refuge straight to Bristol Castle;

The Earl of Wiltshire is already there.

Bushy. Thither will I with you: for little office The hateful commons will perform for us, Except, like curs, to tear us all in pieces.Will you go along with us?

Bagot. No; I'll to Ireland to his Majesty. Farewell: if heart's presages be not vain, We three here part that ne'er shall meet again. Bushy. That's as York thrives to beat back

SCENE III.-The Wilds in Glostershire. Enter BOLINGBROKE and NORTHUMBERLAND, with Forces.

Boling. How far is it, my lord, to Berkley now?
North. Believe me, noble lord,

I am a stranger here in Glostershire.
These high wild hills and rough uneven ways
Draw out our miles, and make them wearisome:
And yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar,
Making the hard way sweet and délectable.
But I bethink me what a weary way
From Ravenspurg to Cotswold will be found
In Ross and Willoughby, wanting your company;
Which, I protest, hath very much beguiled
The tediousness and process of my travel:
But theirs is sweetened with the hope to have
The present benefit which I possess:
And hope to joy, is little less in joy
Than hope enjoyed. By this the weary lords
Shall make their way seem short: as mine hath
done

By sight of what I have, your noble company.
Boling. Of much less value is my company
Than your good words.-But who comes here?

Enter HARRY PERCY.

North. It is my son, young Harry Percy;

Percy. My gracious lord, I tender you my
service,

Such as it is, being tender, raw, and young;
Which elder days shall ripen, and confirm
To more approved service and desert.

Boling. I thank thee, gentle Percy; and be sure
I count myself in nothing else so happy
As in a soul remembering my good friends:
And, as my fortune ripens with thy love,
It shall be still thy true love's recompense.
My heart this covenant makes; my hand thus
seals it.

North. How far is it to Berkley; and what stir

Keeps good old York there, with his men of war? Percy. There stands the castle, by yon tuft of trees,

Manned with three hundred men, as I have heard:

And in it are the lords of York, Berkley, and Seymour :

None else of name and noble estimate.

Enter Ross and WILLOUGHBY.

North. Here come the lords of Ross and Willoughby,

Bloody with spurring, fiery-red with haste. Boling. Welcome, my lords. I wot your love

pursues

A banished traitor: all my treasury

Is yet but unfelt thanks, which, more enriched, Shall be your love and labour's recompense.

Ross. Your presence makes us rich, most noble lord.

Willo. And far surmounts our labour to attain it.

Boling. Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the poor;

Which, till my infant fortune comes to years, Stands for my bounty.-But who comes here? Enter BERKLey.

North. It is my lord of Berkley, as I guess. Berk. My lord of Hereford, my message is to you.

Boling. My lord, my answer is to "Lancaster;" And I am come to seek that name in England: And I must find that title in your tongue, Before I make reply to aught you say.

Berk. Mistake me not, my lord: 't is not my meaning

To raze one title of your honour out.
To you, my lord, I come (what lord you will)
From the most gracious regent 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.

Enter YORK, attended.

Boling. I shall not need transport my words by you:

Here comes his grace in person. My noble uncle!

[Kneels.

York. Shew me thy humble heart, and not thy knee,

Whose 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 profane.
Why have those banished and forbidden legs
Dared once to touch a dust of England's ground?
But then more why;-why have they dared to
march

So many miles upon her peaceful bosom;
Frighting her pale-faced villages with war,
And ostentation of despised arms?
Com'st thou because the anointed king is hence?
Why, foolish boy, the King is left behind,
And in my loyal bosom lies his power.
Were I but now the lord of such hot youth,
As when brave Gaunt, thy father, and myself,
Rescued the Black Prince, that young Mars of

men,

From forth the ranks of many thousand French; O, then, how quickly should this arm of mine,

Now prisoner to the palsy, chástise thee,
And minister correction to thy fault!

Boling. My gracious uncle, let me know my
fault:

On what condition stands it, and wherein?
York. Even in condition of the worst degree:
In gross rebellion and detested treason.
Thou art a banished man, and here art come,
Before the expiration of thy time,

In braving arms against thy sovereign.
Boling. As I was banished, I was banished
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 condemned
A wandering vagabond; my rights and royalties
Plucked from my arms perforce, and given 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 son, Aumerle, my noble kinsman:
Had you first died, and he been thus trod down,
He should have found his uncle Gaunt a father,
To rouse his wrongs and chase them to the bay.
I am denied to sue my livery here,
And yet my letters-patent give me leave:
My father's goods are all distrained and sold:
And these, and all, are all amiss employed.
What would you have me do?—I am a subject,
And challenge law: attorneys are denied me;
And therefore personally I lay my claim
To my inheritance of free descent.

North. The noble duke hath been too much

abused.

Ross. 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 you this: I have had feeling of my cousin's wrongs, And laboured 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 wrong,-it may not be: And you that do abet him in this kind Cherish rebellion, and are rebels all.

Because my power 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, fare you well
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 Bushy, Bagot, and their complices;
The caterpillars of the commonwealth,
Which I have sworn to weed and pluck away.
York. It may be I will go with you:-but yet
I'll pause;

For I am loth to break our country's laws.
Nor friends, nor foes, to me welcome you are;
Things past redress are now with me past care.
[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-A Camp in Wales.

Enter SALISBURY and a Captain.

Cap. My lord of Salisbury, we have stayed ten days,

And hardly kept our countrymen together,
And yet we hear no tidings from the King:
Therefore we will disperse ourselves: farewell.
Sal. Stay yet another day, thou trusty Welsh-

man:

The King reposeth all his confidence
In thee.

Cap. 'Tis thought the King is dead: we will

not stay.

The bay-trees in our country are all withered,
And meteors fright the fixéd stars of heaven;
The pale-faced moon looks bloody on the earth,"
And lean-looked prophets whisper fearful change;
Rich men look sad, and ruffians dance and leap
(The one in fear to lose what they enjoy,
The other to enjoy by rage and war):
These signs forerun the death or fall of kings.-
Farewell: our countrymen are gone and fled,
As well assured Richard their King is dead.

[Exit.

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 see joy that breaks that oath.
York. Well, well, I see the issue of these arins.
I cannot mend it, I must needs confess,

Fall to the base 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.

SCENE I.-BOLINGBROKE's Camp at Bristol.

Enter BOLINGBROKE, YORK, NORTHUMBERLAND,
PERCY, WILLOUGHBY, Ross: Officers behind,
with BUSHY and GREEN, prisoners.
Boling. Bring forth these men.-
Bushy and Green, I will not vex your souls
(Since presently your souls must part your bodies)
With too much urging your pernicious lives;
For 't were no charity: yet, to wash your blood
From off my hands, here, in the view of men,
I will unfold some causes of your deaths.
You have misled a prince, a royal king,
A happy gentleman in blood and lineaments,
By you unhappied and disfigured clean.
You have, in manner, with your sinful hours,
Made a divorce betwixt his queen and him;
Broke the possession of a royal bed,

And stained the beauty of a fair queen's cheeks With tears drawn from her eyes by your foul wrongs.

Myself (a prince by fortune of my birth,
Near to the King in blood, and near in love
Till you did make him misinterpret me)
Have stooped my neck under your injuries,
And sighed my English breath in foreign clouds,
Eating the bitter bread of banishment:
Whilst you have fed upon my signories,
Disparked my parks, and felled my forest woods;
From my own windows torn my household coat,
Razed out my impress, leaving me no sign
(Save men's opinions and my living blood)
To shew the world I am a gentleman.
This and much more, much more than twice all this,
Condemns you to the death.-See them delivered

over

To execution and the hand of death.

Bushy. More welcome is the stroke of death

to me

Than Bolingbroke to England.-Lords, farewell.

Green. My comfort is that heaven will take our souls,

And plague injustice with the pains of hell. Boling. My lord Northumberland, see them despatched.

[Exeunt NORTHUMBERLAND and others, with Prisoners.

Uncle, you say the Queen is at your house: For heaven's sake, fairly let her be entreated. Tell her I send to her my kind commends: Take special care my greetings be delivered.

York. A gentleman of mine I have despatched With letters of your love to her at large. Boling. Thanks, gentle uncle.-Come, lords, away,

To fight with Glendower and his complices: Awhile to work, and, after, holiday. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-The Coast of Wales. A Castle in view.

Flourish: Drums and Trumpets. Enter KING RICHARD, BISHOP OF CARLISLE, AUMERLE, and Soldiers.

K. Rich. Barkloughly Castle call you this at hand?

Aum. Yea, my lord. How brooks your grace the air,

After your late tossing on the breaking seas? K. Rich. Needs must I like it well: I weep

for joy

To stand upon my kingdom once again.-
Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand,
Though rebels wound thee with their horses' hoofs.
As a long-parted mother with her child
Plays fondly with her tears and smiles, in meet-

ing;

So weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth, And do thee favour with my royal hands.