ACT III. 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 With too much urging your pernicious lives, And stain'd the beauty of a fair queen's cheeks With tears drawn from her eyes with your foul wrongs. Myself a prince, by fortune of my birth, This, and much more, much more than twice all this, Condemns you to the death:-See them deliver'd 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 despatch'd. [Exeunt NORTH. 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 deliver❜d. York. A gentleman of mine I have despatch'd 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 So, weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth, Whose double tongue may with a mortal touch Bishop. Fear not, my lord; that Power, that made you king, Hath power to keep you king, in spite of all. Whilst Bolingbroke, through our security, Grows strong and great, in substance and in friends. K. Rich. Discomfortable cousin! know'st thou not, That when the searching eye of heaven is hid Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves? For every man that Bolingbroke hath press'd, A glorious angel: then, if angels fight, Weak men must fall; for heaven still guards the right. Enter SALISBURY. Welcome, my lord; How far off lies your power? And bids me speak of nothing but despair. state; For all the Welshmen, hearing thou wert dead, Are gone to Bolingbroke, dispers'd, and fled. Aum. Comfort, my liege: why looks your grace so pale? K. Rich. But now, sand men the blood of twenty thou Did triumph in my face, and they are fled; And, till so much blood thither come again, Have I not reason to look pale and dead? All souls that will be safe, fly from my side; For time hath set a blot upon my pride. Aum. Comfort, my liege: remember who you are. K. Rich. I had forgot myself: Am I not king? Awake, thou sluggard majesty! thou sleep'st. Is not the king's name forty thousand names? Arm, arm, my name; a puny subject strikes At thy great glory.-Look not to the ground, Ye favourites of a king; Are we not high? High be our thoughts: I know, my uncle York Hath power enough to serve our turn. But who Comes here? Enter SCROOP. Scroop. More health and happiness betide my liege, Than can my care-tun'd tongue deliver him. K. Rich. Mine ear is open, and my heart prepar'd: The worst is worldly loss, thou canst unfold. Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we? Scroop. Glad am I, that your highness is so arm'd To bear the tidings of calamity Like an unseasonable stormy day, Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores, As if the world were all dissolv'd to tears; steel. White-beards have arm'd their thin and hairless scalps Against thy majesty; boys, with women's voices, Strive to speak big, and clap their female joints Where is the earl of Wiltshire? where is Bagot? Scroop. Peace have they made with him, in- K. Rich. O villains, vipers, damn'd without redemption! |