North.
See, see, King Richard doth himself appear,
As doth the blushing discontented sun,
From out the fiery portal of the east;
When he perceives the envious clouds are bent
To dim his glory, and to stain the track
Of his bright passage to the occident.

K. Rich.
We are amaz'd; and thus long have we stood
To watch the fearful bending of thy knee, [To Northumberland.
Because we thought ourself thy lawful king:
And if we be, how dare thy joints forget
To pay their awful duty to our presence?
If we be not, show us the hand of heaven
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, the omnipotent,
Is must'ring in his clouds, in 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 is),
That every stride he makes upon my land,
Is dangerous treason: He is come to ope
The purple testament of bleeding war:^{9 note}
But ere the crown he looks for live in peace,
Ten thousand bloody crowns of mother's sons
Shall ill become the flower of England's face;^{10 note}
Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace
To scarlet indignation, and bedew
Her pasture's grass with faithful English blood.

North.
Harry Bolingbroke, doth humbly kiss thy hand;
And by the honourable tomb he swears,
That stands upon thy royal grandsire's bones;
His coming hither hath no further 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.

K. Rich.
Northumberland say,—thus the king returns;—
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. [Exeunt Northumberland and Suit. Enter King Richard and his Attendants below, Sir Stephen Scroop bearing the sword before the King.^{11 note}
We do debase ourself, cousin, do we not, [To Aumerle.
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, my good lord; let's fight with gentle words.

K. Rich.
O God! O God! that ere this tongue of mine,
That laid the sentence of dread banishment
On yon proud man, should take it off again
With words of sooth!^{12 note} 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!

Aum.
Northumberland comes back from Bolingbroke.

K. Rich.
What must the king do now? Must he submit?
The king shall do it. Must he be deposed?
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 sceptre, for a palmer's walking-staff;
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,^{13 note} where subject's 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?—
I talk but idly, and you mock at me. Re-enter Northumberland.
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,^{14 note} and Bolingbroke says—ay.

North.
My lord, he doth attend
To speak with you. Enter Bolingbroke, attended(F)8Q0150.

Bol.
Stand all apart,
And show fair duty to his majesty.—
My gracious lord,— [Kneeling.

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.
Up, cousin, up; your heart is up, I know,
Thus high at least [Touching his own head.] although your knee be low.

Bol.
My gracious lord, I come but for mine own.

K. Rich.
Your own is yours, and I am yours, and all.

Bol.
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?

Bol.
Yea, my good lord.

K. Rich.
Then I must not say, no. [Flourish. Exeunt. END OF ACT THIRD.

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