Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers' fons
Shall ill become the flower of England's face;
Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace
To scarlet indignation, and bedew

Her pastures' grafs with faithful English blood.
North. The King of heaven forbid, our lord the king
Should fo with civil and uncivil arms

Be rush'd upon! Thy thrice-noble coufin,
Harry Bolingbroke, doth humbly kifs thy hand,
And by the honourable tomb he fwears,
That ftands upon thy royal grandfire's bones;
And by the royalties of both your bloods,
Currents that spring from one moft gracious head;
And by the bury'd hand of warlike Gaunt;
And by the worth and honour of himself,
Comprising all that may be fworn or faid,-
His coming hither hath no farther fcope,
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 ruft,
His barbed steeds to ftables, 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, fay,-thus the king re

turns:

His noble coufin is right welcome hither;
And all the number of his fair demands
Shall be accomplish'd without contradiction:
With all the gracious utterance thou haft,
Speak to his gentle hearing kind commends.-

the flower of England's face ;]-disfigure the flowery furface of her foil-of England's race-the beauty of her choiceft youth.

maid-pale face.

We do debase ourself, coufin, do we not,

To look fo poorly, and to speak fo fair?
Shall we call back Northumberland, and fend
Defiance to the traitor, and fo die?

[To Aum.

Aum. No, good my lord; let's fight with gentle words, 'Till time lend friends, and friends their helpful fwords. K. Rich. Oh God! oh God! that e'er this tongue of mine,

That laid the fentence of dread banishment

On yon proud man, fhould take it off again

" With words of footh! Oh, that I were as great
As is my grief, or leffer than my name!
Or that I could forget what I have been!
Or not remember what I must be now!

Swell'ft 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 fhall do it. Muft he be deposed? The king fhall 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 fubjects, for a pair of carved faints; And my large kingdom, for a little grave, A little little grave, an obfcure grave :Or I'll be bury'd in the king's highway,

W

Some way of common trade, where fubjects' feet
May hourly trample on their fovereign's head :

With words of footb !]-In fuch foft, gentle terms. "common trade]➡traffick, common refort, or usage,

W

For

For on my heart they tread, now whilft I live;
And, bury'd once, why not upon my head?-
Aumerle, thou weep'ft; My tender-hearted coufin!-
We'll make foul weather with despised tears;
Our fighs, and they, shall lodge the fummer corn,
And make a dearth in this revolting land.
Or fhall we play the wantons with our woes,
And make some pretty match with shedding tears?
As thus ;-To drop them ftill upon one place,
'Till they have fretted us a pair of graves
Within the earth; and, therein laid,―There lies
Two kinfmen, digg'd their graves with weeping eyes
eyes?
Would not this ill do well?-Well, well, I fee

I talk but idly, and you *mock at me. [North. advances.
Moft mighty prince, my lord Northumberland,
What fays king Bolingbroke? will his majesty
Give Richard leave to live 'till Richard die?
You make a leg, and Bolingbroke fays—I.

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 glift'ring Phaeton,
Wanting the manage of unruly jades.

[North. retires to Bol. In the bafe court? Bafe court, where kings grow base, To come at traitors' calls, and do them grace. In the base court? Come down? Down, court! down,

king!

For night-owls fhriek, where mounting larks fhould fing.

Boling. What fays his majesty?

North. Sorrow and grief of heart

[Exeunt from above.

Makes him speak fondly, like a frantic man:

Yet he is come.

[Enter Richard, &c. below.

bafe court]-the lower court.

Boling.

Boling. Stand all apart,

And fhew fair duty to his majesty.—

My gracious lord,

[Kneels.

K. Rich. Fair coufin, you debafe your princely knee, To make the base earth proud with kiffing it: Me rather had, my heart might feel your love, Than my unpleas'd eye fee your courtesy. Up, coufin, up; your heart is up, I know, Thus high at least, although your knee be low.

[Touching bis own bead.

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 moft redoubted lord, As my true service shall deferve your love.

K. Rich. Well you deferve:-They well deferve to have, That know the strongest and fureft way to get.— Uncle, give me your hand: nay, dry your eyes; Tears fhew their love, but want their remedies.Coufin, 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 :-Coufin, is it fo?

Boling. Yea, my good lord.

K. Rich. Then I must not fay, no.

SCENE

Langley.

[Flourish. Exeunt.

V.

The Duke of York's Garden.

Enter the Queen, and two ladies.

Queen. What fport fhall we devife here in this garden,

To drive away the heavy thought of care?

Lady.

Lady. Madam, we'll play at bowls.

Queen. 'Twill make me think, the world is full of rubs,

And that my fortune runs against the bias.

Lady, Madam, we'll dance.

Queen. My legs can keep no measure in delight, When my poor heart no measure keeps in grief: Therefore, no dancing, girl; fome other sport. Lady. Madam, we will tell tales.

Queen. Of joy, or grief?

Lady. Of either, madam.

Queen. Of neither, girl:

For if of joy, being altogether wanting,
It doth remember me the more of forrow
Or if of grief, being altogether had,
It adds more forrow to my want of joy :
For what I have, I need not to repeat;
And what I want, it boots not to complain.
Lady. Madam, I'll fing.

Queen. 'Tis well, that thou haft caufe;

But thou should'st please me better, would'ft thou weep. Lady. I could weep, madam, would it do you good. Queen. And I could weep, would weeping do me good, And never borrow any tear of thee.

But stay, here come the gardiners:

Let's step into the fhadow of these trees.-
My wretchedness unto a row of pins,

Enter a gardiner, and two fervants.

They'll talk of ftate; for every one doth fo
Against a change; Woe is fore-run with woe.

z Of forrow, or of joy?

[Queen, and ladies retire.

a Wee is fore-run with woe.]-Dejection precedes calamity; woe is commonly forerun by fome prognoftic from ill-boding rumours, or plaint.ve tales of impending difafters.

Gard,