York.
Great Duke of Lancaster, I come to thee
From plume-pluckt Richard, who with willing soul
Adopts thee Heir, and his high Scepter yields
To the possession of thy royal hand.
Ascend his Throne, descending now from him,
And long live Henry, of that name the Fourth!

Boling.
In God's name, I'll ascend the regal throne.

Carl.
Marry, heav'n forbid!
'Worst in this royal presence may I speak,
Yet best beseeming me to speak the truth.
Would God, that any in this noble presence
Were enough noble to be upright judge
Of noble Richard; then true Nobleness would
Learn him forbearance from so foul a wrong.
What Subject can give Sentence on his King?
And who sits here, that is not Richard's Subject?
Thieves are not judg'd, but they are by to hear,
Although apparent guilt be seen in them.
And shall the figure of God's Majesty,
His Captain, Steward, Deputy elect,
Anointed, crown'd, and planted many years,
Be judg'd by subject and inferior breath,
And he himself not present? oh, forbid it!
That, in a christian climate, souls refin'd
Should shew so heinous, black, obscene a deed.

I speak to Subjects, and a Subject speaks,
Stirr'd up by heav'n, thus boldly for his King.
My lord of Hereford here, whom you call King,
Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford's King.
And if you crown him, let me prophesie,
The blood of English shall manure the ground,
And future ages groan for this foul act.
Peace shall go sleep with Turks and Infidels,
And in this seat of peace, tumultuous wars
Shall kin with kin, and kind with kind, confound.
Disorder, horror, fear and mutiny
Shall here inhabit, and this Land be call'd
The field of Golgotha, and dead men's sculls.
Oh, if you rear this house against this house,
It will the wofullest division prove,
That ever fell upon this cursed earth.
Prevent, resist it, let it not be so,
Lest children's children cry against you, woe.

North.
Well have you argu'd, Sir; and for your pains,
Of capital treason we arrest you here.
My lord of Westminster, be it your charge,
To keep him safely till his day of tryal.
^{4 note}May't please you, lords, to grant the Commons' suit?

Boling.
Fetch hither Richard, that in common view
He may surrender: so we shall proceed
Without suspicion.

York.
I will be his conduct. [Exit.

Boling.
Lords, you that here are under our Arrest,
Procure your sureties for your days of answer:
Little are we beholden to your love,
And little look'd for at your helping hands.

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