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 tract
Of his bright passage to the Occident.

York.
Yet looks he like a King; behold his eye,
As bright as is the Eagle's, lightens forth
Controlling Majesty; alack, for woe,
That any harm should stain so fair a show.

K. Rich.
We are amaz'd, and thus long have we stood
To watch the fearful bending of thy knee, [To North.
Because we thought our self thy lawful King;
And if we be, how dare thy joints forget
To pay their awful duty to our presence?
If we be not, shew us the hand of God,
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 scepter,
Unless he do prophane, 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, God omnipotent,
Is must'ring in his clouds on 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 the land
Is dangerous treason; he is come to ope
The purple testament of bleeding war.
But ere the crown he looks for, live in peace,
Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers sons
Shall ill become the flow'r of England's face,
Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace
To scarlet indignation, and bedew
Her pastor's grass with faithful English blood.

North.
The King of heav'n forbid, our lord the King
Should so with civil and uncivil arms
Be rush'd upon: no, thy thrice-noble cousin,
Harry of Bolingbroke, doth kiss thy hand,
And by the honourable tomb he swears
That stands upon your royal grandsire's bones,
And by the royalties of both your bloods,
(Currents that spring from one most gracious head)
And by the bury'd hand of warlike Gaunt,
And by the worth and honour of himself,
Comprising all that may be sworn, or said,
His coming hither hath no farther scope,
Than for his lineal royalties, and to beg
Infranchisement immediate on his knees:
Which on thy royal party granted once,
His glitt'ring arms he will commend to rust;

His barbed steeds to stables; and his heart
To faithful service of your Majesty.
This swears he, as he is a Prince, is just;
And as I am a gentleman, I credit him.

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.
We do debase our self, cousin, do we not, [To Aum.
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, good my lord, let's fight with gentle words,
'Till time lend friends, and friends their ^{f note}helpful swords.

K. Rich.
Oh God, oh God! that e'er this tongue of mine,
That laid the sentence of dread banishment
On yond proud man, should take it off again,
With words of sooth; oh 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!
Swell'st thou, proud heart? I'll give thee scope to beat,
Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me.

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 depos'd?
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 figur'd goblets, for a dish of wood;
My scepter, for a palmer's walking staff;
My subjects, for a pair of carved saints,
And my large kingdom, for a little grave,
A little little grave, an obscure grave.
Or I'll be bury'd in the King's highway;
Some way of common trade, where subject's feet
May hourly trample on their soveraign's head.* ^note




Aumerle, thou weep'st, my tender-hearted cousin,
We'll make foul weather with despised tears:
Our sighs, and they, shall lodge the summer corn,
And make a dearth in this revolting land.
Or shall we play the wantons with our woes,
And make some pretty match with shedding tears?
As thus, to drop them still upon one place,
'Till they have fretted us a pair of graves.* ^note






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, and Bolingbroke says ay.

North.
My lord, in the base court he doth attend
To speak with you, may't please you to come down.

K. Rich.
Down, down I come, like a glist'ring Phaeton,
Wanting the manage of unruly jades.* ^note

Boling.
What says his Majesty?

North.
Sorrow of heart
Makes him speak fondly, like a frantick man;
Yet he is come.

Boling.
Stand all apart, and show
Fair duty to his Majesty.
My gracious lord— [Kneels.

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 un-pleas'd eye see your courtesie.* ^note

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

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

Boling.
So far be mine, my most redoubted lord,
As my true service shall deserve your love.

K. Rich.
Well you deserv'd: 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 shew 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?

Boling.
Yea, my good lord.

K. Rich.
Then I must not say no. [Flourish. Exeunt.

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