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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' grass with faithful English blood.

Nortb. The King of heaven forbid, our lord the king
Should so with civil and uncivil arms
Be rush'd upon! Thy thrice-noble cousin,
Harry Bolingbroke, doth humbly kiss thy hand,
And by the honourable tomb he fwears,
That stands upon thy royal grandfire'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
Enfranchisement immediate on his knees :
Which on thy royal party granted once,
His glittering arms he will commend to ruft,
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 re

turns:

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 haft,
Speak to his gentle hearing kind commends.

. the flower of England's face ;) - disfigure the flowery surface of her foil—of England's race the beauty of her choicelt youth. I maid-pale face.

We

Ee 4

[To Aum.

We do debase ourself, cousin, do we not,
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 helpful swords. K. Rich. Oh God! oh God! that e'er this tongue of

mine, That laid the sentence of dread banishment On yon proud man, should take it off again • With words of footh! 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 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 figur'd goblets, for a dish of wood; My scepter, for a palmer's walking Ataff; My subjects, for a pair of carved faints ; 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 subjects' feet May hourly trample on their sovereign's head :

» Wiib words of foorb !]-In such soft, gentle terms. W rommon trade)-traffick, common refort, or usage.

For

For on my heart, they tread, now whilst I live;
And, bury'd once, why not upon my head ?-
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 ftill upon one place,
'Till they have fretted us a pair of graves
Within the earth; and, therein laid, -There lies
Two kinsmen, digg'd their graves with weeping eyes ?
Would not this ill do well ?-Well, well, I see
I talk but idly, and you * mock at me. (Nortb. advances.
Most mighty prince, my lord Northumberland,
What says king Bolingbroke? will his majesty
Give Richard leave to live 'rill Richard die?
You make a leg, and Bolingbroke says—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 glist'ring Phaeton, Wanting the manage of unruly jades.

[North. retires to Bol. In the base court ? Base 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 shriek, where mounting larks should sing.

[Exeunt from above. Boling. What says his majesty ?

Nortb. Sorrow and grief of heart
Makes him speak fondly, like a frantic man:
Yer he is come.

[Enter Richard, &c. below. * meck) -laugh. y base court)--the lower court.

Boling.

Boling. Stand all apart,
And shew 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 kisling 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, 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 most redoubted lord, As my true service shall deserve your love.

K. Rich. Well you deserve :-They well deserve to have, That know the strongest 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.

[blocks in formation]

Enter the Queen, and two ladies. Queen. What sport shall we devise 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 griet:
Therefore, no dancing, girl ; some 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 sorrow;
Or if of grief, being altogether had,
It adds more sorrow 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 sing.

Queen. 'Tis well, that thou hast cause ; But thou should'st please me better, would'st 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 shadow of these trees.My wretchedness unto a row of pins,

Enter a gardiner, and two fervants. They'll talk of state ; for every one doth so Against a change; - Woe is fore-run with woe.

[ Queen, and ladies retire. z Of sorrow, or of jog?

a l'ce is fore-run with croe.]-Dejection precedes calamity; woe is commonly forerun by some prognostic from ill-boding rumours, or plaint.ve tales of impending difatters.

Gard,

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