Gau.
Will the King come? that I may breathe my last
In wholesome counsel to his unstaied youth.

York.
Vex not yourself, nor strive not with your breath;
For all in vain comes counsel to his ear.

Gau.
O, but they say, the tongues of dying men
Enforce attention, like deep harmony.
Though Richard my life's counsel would not hear,
My death's sad tale may yet undeaf his ear.

York.
No; it is stopp'd with other flattering sounds.
Then all too late comes counsel to be heard.

Gau.
Methinks, I am a prophet new inspired;
And thus, expiring, do foretell of him:
His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last;
For violent fires soon burn out themselves.

Light vanity, insatiate cormorant,
Consuming means, soon preys upon itself.
This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle,
This fortress, built by nature for herself,
Against infection, and the hand of war:
This happy breed of men, this little world;
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England,
Dear for her reputation through the world,
Is now leas'd out (I die pronouncing it),
Like to a tenement, or pelting^{2 note} farm.
This dear, dear land, is now bound in with shame,
With inky blots,^{3 note} and rotten parchment bonds.^{4 note}
O, would the scandal vanish with my life,
How happy then were my ensuing death! [Distant Trumpets.

York.
The king is come: deal mildly with his youth Enter King Richard, Bushy, Green, Bagot, Ross(C)8Q0133, and Willoughby.(D)8Q0134

K. Rich.
How fares our noble uncle, Lancaster?
What comfort, man? How is't with aged Gaunt?

Gau.
Ill in myself, and in thee seeing ill.
A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown,
Whose compass is no bigger than thy head;
O, had thy grandsire, with a prophet's eye,
Seen how his son's son should destroy his sons,
From forth thy reach he would have laid thy shame;
Deposing thee before thou wert possess'd.
Landlord of England art thou now, not king:
Thy state of law is bondslave to the law;
And thou—

K. Rich.
&wblank;s lunatic lean-witted fool,
Presuming on an ague's privilege,
Dar'st with thy frozen admonition

Make pale our cheek; chasing the royal blood,
With fury, from his native residence?
Now by my seat's right royal majesty,
Wert thou not brother to great Edward's son,
This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head,
Should run thy head from thy unreverend shoulders.

Gau.
O, spare me not, my brother Edward's son,
For that I was his father Edward's son.
Join with the present sickness that I have;
And thy unkindness be like crooked age,
To crop at once a too-long wither'd flower.
Live in thy shame, but die not shame with thee!—
These words hereafter thy tormentors be!— [Faints.

York.
'Beseech your majesty, impute his words
To wayward sickliness and age in him:
He loves you, on my life, and holds you dear
As Harry, Duke of Hereford, were he here. [Gaunt dies.

King R.
Right; you say true: as Hereford's love, so his:
As theirs, so mine; and all be as it is.

North.
My liege, old Guant commends him to your majesty.

K. Rich.
What says he now?

North.
Nay nothing; all is said:
His tongue is now a stringless instrument;
Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent.

K. Rich.
The ripest fruit first falls, and so doth he;
His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be:
So much for that.—Now for our Irish wars:(E)8Q0135
We must supplant those rough rug-headed kerns;^{5 note}
And for these great affairs do ask some charge,
Towards our assistance, we do seize to us
The plate, coin, revenues, and moveables,
Whereof our uncle Gaunt did stand possess'd.

York.
O, my liege,
Pardon me, if you please; if not, I pleas'd
Not to be pardon'd, am content withal.
Seek you to seize, and gripe into your hands,
The royalties and rights of banish'd Hereford?
Is not Gaunt dead? and doth not Hereford live?

If you do wrongfully seize Hereford's rights,
You pluck a thousand dangers on your head,
You lose a thousand well-disposed hearts,
And prick my tender patience to those thoughts
Which honour and allegiance cannot think.

K. Rich.
Think what you will; we seize into our hands
His plate, his goods, his money. and his lands.(F)8Q0136

York.
I'll not be by, the while: My liege, farewell:
What will ensue hereof, there's none can tell. [Exit York

K. Rich.
Go, Bushy,^{6 note} to the Earl of Wiltshire straight;
Bid him repair to us to Ely House,
To see this business: To morrow next
We will for Ireland; and 'tis time, I trow;
And we create, in absence of ourself,
Our uncle York, lord governor of England,(G)8Q0137
For he is just, and always lov'd us well.—
Come on, my lords: to-morrow must we part;
Be merry, for our time of stay is short. [Exeunt King, Green, Bushy, and Bagot.

North.
Now, afore heaven, 'tis shame such wrongs are borne,
The king is not himself, but basely led
By flatterers; and what they will inform,
Merely in hate, 'gainst any of us all,
That will the king severely prosecute
'Gainst us, our wives, our children, and our heirs.

Wil.
The king's grown bankrupt, like a broken man.

North.
Reproach and dissolution hangeth over him.

Ross.
He hath not money for these Irish wars,
His burdenous taxations notwithstanding,
But by the robbing of the banish'd duke.

North.
His noble kinsman: most degenerate king!
But, even through the hollow eyes of death,
I spy life peering; but I dare not say
How near the tidings of our comfort is.

Wil.
Nay, let us share thy thoughts, as thou dost ours.

Ross.
Be confident to speak, Northumberland:

We three are but thyself; and speaking so,
Thy words are but our thoughts; therefore, be bold.

North.
Then thus:—I have from Port le Blanc, a bay
In Britanny, receiv'd intelligence,
That Harry of Hereford,
Well furnished by the Duke of Bretagne,
Is making hither with all due expedience,^{7 note}
And shortly means to touch our northern shore:(H)8Q0138
If then we shall shake off our slavish yoke,
Away, with me, in post to Ravenspurg:
But if you faint, as fearing to do so,
Stay, and be secret, and myself will go.

Ross.
To horse! to horse! urge doubts to them that fear.

Wil.
Hold out my horse, and I will first be there. [Exeunt. Scene II. —ENTRANCE TO ST. STEPHEN'S CHAPEL—(Restored). Enter Queen,(I)8Q0139 Bushy, and Bagot.

Bus.
Madam, your majesty is too much sad:
You promis'd, when you parted with the king,
To lay aside life harming heaviness,
And entertain a cheerful disposition.

Queen.
To please the king, I did; to please myself,
I cannot do it; yet I know no cause
Why I should welcome such a guest as grief,
Save bidding farewell to so sweet a guest
As my sweet Richard: Yet, again, methinks,
Some unborn sorrow, ripe in fortune's womb,
Is coming towards me; and my inward soul
With nothing trembles: yet at something grieves,
More than with parting from my lord the king.

Bus.
Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows,
Which show like grief itself, but are not so:

Then, thrice-gracious queen,
More than your lord's departure weep not; more's not seen:
Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrow's eye,
Which, for things true, weeps things imaginary.

Queen.
It may be so; but yet my inward soul
Persuades me it is otherwise: Howe'er it be,
I cannot but be sad; so heavy sad,
As,—though, unthinking, on no thought I think,—
Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink. Enter Green.

Gre.
God save your majesty!—and well met, gentlemen.
I hope the king is not yet shipp'd for Ireland.

Queen.
Why hop'st thou so? 'tis better hope, he is;
For his designs crave haste, his haste good hope;
Then wherefore dost thou hope, he is not shipp'd?

Gre.
The banish'd Bolingbroke repeals himself,
And with uplifted arms is safe arrived
At Ravenspurg.(K)8Q0140

Queen.
Now gracious heaven forbid!

Gre.
O, madam, 'tis too true: and that is worse,—
The lord Northumberland, his young son Henry Percy,
The lords of Ross, Beaumond, and Willoughby,
With all their powerful friends, are fled to him.

Queen.
Why have you not proclaim'd Northumberland,
And all the rest of the revolting faction,
Traitors?

Gre.
We have: whereon the Earl of Worcester
Hath broke his staff, resign'd his stewardship,
And all the household servants fled with him
To Bolingbroke.

Queen.
So, Green, thou art the midwife to my woe,
And Bolingbroke my sorrow's dismal heir:
Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy.

Bus.
Despair not, madam.

Queen.
Who shall hinder me?
I will despair, and be at enmity
With cozening hope; he is a flatterer,
A parasite, a keeper back of death,
Who gently would dissolve the bands of life,
Which false hope lingers in extremity.

Enter York.

Gre.
Here comes the Duke of York.

Queen.
Uncle,
For heaven's sake, speak comfortable words.

York.
Comfort's in heaven; and we are on the earth,
Where nothing lives but crosses, care, and grief.
Your husband he is gone to save far off.
Whilst others come to make him lose at home:
Here am I left to underprop his land;
Who, weak with age, cannot support myself:—
Heaven for his mercy! what a tide of woes
Comes rushing on this woeful land at once!
Gentlemen, will you go muster men? if I know
How, or which way, to order these affairs,
Thus thrust disorderly 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 near kinsman, whom the king hath wrong'd;
Whom conscience and my kindred bids to right.
Well, somewhat we must do.—Come, cousin, I'll
Dispose of you:—Go, muster up your men,
And meet me presently at Berkley Castle.(L)8Q0141
I know not what to do: all is uneven,
And every thing is left at six and seven. [Exeunt. Scene III. THE WILDS IN GLOUCESTERSHIRE. Enter Bolingbroke^{8 note} and Northumberland with Forces. (March.)

Bol.
How far is it, my lord, to Berkley now?

North.
I am a stranger here in Gloucestershire.
These high wild hills, and rough uneven ways,
Draw out our miles, and make them wearisome;
Yet your fair discourse hath much beguil'd
The tediousness and process of my travel.

Bol.
Who comes here? Enter Harry Percy.(M)8Q0142

North.
It is my son, young Harry Percy,
Sent from my brother Worcester.
Harry, how fares your uncle?

Per.
I had thought, my lord, to have learned his health of you.

North.
Why, is he not with the queen?

Per.
No, my good lord; he hath foorsook the court,
Broken his staff of office, and dispers'd
The household of the king.

North.
What was his reason?
He was not so resolv'd, when last we spake together.

Per.
Because your lordship was proclaimed traitor.
But he, my lord, is gone to Ravenspurg,
To offer service to the Duke of Hereford;
And sent me o'er by Berkley, to discover
What power the Duke of York had levied there;
Then with direction to repair to Ravenspurg.

North.
Have you forgot the Duke of Hereford, boy?

Per.
No, my good lord; for that is not forgot,
Which ne'er I did remember: to my knowledge,
I never in my life did look on him.

North.
Then learn to know him now: this is the duke.

Per.
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.

Bol.
I thank thee, gentle Percy; and be sure,
I count myself in nothing else so happy,
As in a soul rememb'ring my good friends.

North.
How far is it to Berkley? And what stir
Keeps good old York there, with his men of war?

Per.
There stands the castle, by yon tuft of trees,
Mann'd 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 the Lords of Ross and Willoughby.

North.
Here comes the lords of Ross and Willoughby.

Bol.
Welcome, my lords: I wot^{9 note} your love pursues
A banish'd traitor; all my treasury
Is yet but unfelt thanks, which, more enrich'd
Shall be your love and labour's recompense.

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

Wil.
And far surmounts our labour to attain it.

Bol.
Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the poor,
Which, till my infant fortune comes to years,
Stands for my bounty. But who comes here? Enter Lord Berkley, attended.

North.
It is my lord of Berkley, as I guess.

Ber.
My lord of Hereford, my message is to you.

Bol.
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.

Ber.
Mistake me not, my lord; 'tis not my meaning,
To raze one title of your honour out:—
To you, my lord, I come, (what lord you will,)
From the most glorious regent of this land,
The Duke of York; to know, what pricks you on
To take advantage of the absent time,^{10 note}
And fright our native peace with self-born arms. Enter York, attended.(N)8Q0143

Bol.
I shall not need transport my words by you;
Here comes his grace in person.—Noble uncle! [Kneels.

York.
Show me thy humble heart, and not thy knee,
Whose duty is deceivable and false.

Bol.
My gracious uncle!—

York.
I am no traitor's uncle; and that word—grace,

In an ungracious mouth, is but profane.
Why have those banish'd and forbidden legs
Dar'd once to touch a dust of England's ground?
But more than this,—Why have they dared to march
So many miles upon her peaceful bosom;
Frighting her pale-fac'd villages with war?
Thou art a banish'd man, and here art come,
Before the expiration of thy time,
In braving arms against thy sovereign.

Bol.
As I was banish'd, I was banish'd Hereford;
But as I come, I come for Lancaster.
And, noble uncle, I beseech your grace,
Look on my wrongs with an indifferent eye:^{11 note}
You are my father, for, methinks, in you
I see old Gaunt alive; O, then, my father!
Will you permit that I shall stand condemn'd
A wand'ring vagabond; my rights and royalties
Pluck'd 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.
I am denied to use my livery here,
And yet my letters-patent give me leave:
My father's goods are all distrain'd, and sold;
What would you have me do? I am a subject,
And challenge law; Attornies are denied me;
And therefore, personally I lay my claim
To my inheritance of free descent.

North.
The noble duke hath been too much abus'd.

Ross.
It stands your grace upon to do him right.^{12 note}

York.
My lords of England, let me tell you this,—
I have had feeling of my cousin's wrongs,
And labour'd all I could to do him right:
But in this kind to come, in braving arms,
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.

North.
The noble duke hath sworn, his coming 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 arms;
I cannot mend it, I must needs confess,
Because my power is weak, and all ill left:
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.

Bol.
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.(O)8Q0144

York.
It may be, I will go with you; but yet I'll pause;
For I am loath 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. (March repeated.) END OF ACT SECOND.

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