Prophets eie Seene how his sonnes sonne should destroy his sonnes From forth thy reach he would haue laid thy shame Deposing thee before thou wert possest Which art possest now to depose thy selfe Why cousin wert thou regent of the world It were a shame to let this land by lease But for thy world enioying but this land Is it not more than shame to shame it so Landlord of England art thou now 〈◊〉 not King Thy state of lawe is bondslaue to the lawe And thou King A lunatike leane-witted foole Presuming on an agues priuâ—ledge Darest with thy frozen admonition Make pale our cheeke chasing the royall bloud With â—urie from his natiue residence Now by my seates right royall maiestie Wert thou not brother to great Edwards sonne This tong that runnes so roundly in thy head Should runne thy head from thy vnreuerent shoulders Gaunt Oh spare me not my brothers Edwards sonne For that I was his father Edwards sonne That bloud already like the Pellican Hast thou tapt out and drunkenly carowst My brother Glocester plaine well meaning soule Whom faire befall in heauen mongst happy soules Maie be a president and witnes good That thou respectst not spilling Edwards bloud Ioine with the present sicknes that I haue And thy vnkindnes be like crooked age To crop at once a too long withered flower Liue in thy shame but die not shame with thee These words hereafter thy tormentors be Convay me to my bed then to my graue Loue they to liue that loue and honour haue Exit King And let them die that age and sullens haue For both hast thou and both become the graue Yorke I doe beseech your Maiesty impute his words To waiward sicklines and age in him He loues you on my life and holdes you deere As Harry Duke of Hereford were he here King Right you say true as Herefords loue so his As theirs so mine and all be as it is North. My liege old Gaunt commends him to your Maiestie King What saies he North. Nay nothing all is said His tongue is now a stringlesse instrument Words life and al old Lancaster hath spent Yorke Be Yorke the next that must be bankrout so Though death be poore it ends a mortall wo. King The ripest fruit first fals and so doth he His time is spent our pilgrimage must be So much for that Now for our Irish wars We must supplant those rough rugheaded kerne Which liue like venome where no venome else But onely they haue priuiledge to liue And for these great affaires do aske some charge Towards our assistance we doe seaze to vs The plate coine reueâ—â—â—es and moueables Whereof our Vnckle Gaunt did stand possest Yorke How long shal I be patient ah how long Shall tender duty make me suffer wrong Not Glocesters death nor Herefords banishment Nor Gauntes robukes not Englands priuate wrongs Nor the preuention or poore Bulling brooke About his mariadge nor my owne disgrace Haue euer made me sower my patient cheeke Or bende one wrinckie on my soueraignes face I am the last of noble Edwards sonnes Of whom thy father Prince of Wales waâ— first In warre was neuer Lyon ragde more fierce In peace was neuer gentle lambe more milde Then was that young and princely Gentleman His face thou hast for euen so lookt he Accomplisht with a number of thy howers But when he frowned it was against the french And not against his friends his noble hand Did win what he did spende and spent not that Which 〈◊〉 triumphant fathers hand had wonâ—e His hands were guilty of no kinâ—ed bloud But bloudie with the enemies of his kinne Oh Richard Yorke is too far gone with griefe Or else he neuer would compare betweene King Why Vnckle whats the matter Yorke Oh my liege pardone me if you please If not I pleasd not to be pardoned am content with all Seeke you to seaze and gripe into your hands The roialties and rights of banisht Hereford Is not Gaunt dead and doth not Here ford liue Was not Gaunt iust and is not Harrie true Did not the one deserue to haue an heire Is not his heire a well deseruing sonne Take Herefordes rightes away and take from time His charters and his cust omarie rightes Let not to morrow then ensue to daâ—e Be not thy selfe For how aâ—t thou a King But by faire sequence and succession Now afore God God forbidde I say true If you doe wrongfully seaze Herefords rightes Call in the letters patents that he hath By his attourneies generall to sue His liuery and deny his offred homage You plucke a thousand dangers on your head You loose a thousand well disposed hearts And pricke my tender patience to those thoughts Which honour and alleageance cannot thinke King Thinke what you wil we cease into our hands His plate his goods his money and his landes Yorke Ile not be by the while my liege farewell What will ensue hereof thers none can tell But by bad courses may be vnderstood That their euents can neuer fall out good Exit King Go Bushie to the Earle of Wiltshire straight Bid him repaire to vs to Ely house To see this buâ—â—nes to morrow next We will for Ireland and tis time I trow And we create in absence of our selfe Our Vnckle Yorke Lord gouernour of England For he is iust and alwaies loued vs well Come on our Queene to morrow must we part Be merry for our time of staie is short Exeunt King and Queene Manet North. North. Well Lords the Duke of Lancaster is dead Rosse And liuing to for now his sonne is Duke Will. Barely in title not in reuenewes North. Richly in both if iustice had her right Rosse My heart is great but it must breake with silence Eart be disburdened with a liberall tongue North. Nay speake thy mind let him nere speake morâ— That speakes thy words againe to doe thee harme Wil. Tends that thou wouldst speake to the Duke of Herford If it be so out with it boldly man Quicke is mine eare to heare of good towards him Rosse No good at all that I can doe for him Vnlessâ— you call it good to pitty him Bereft and gelded of his patrimony North. Now afore God tis shame such wrongs are borne In him a royall Prince and many mo Of noble bloud in this declining land The King is not himselfe but basely led By flatterers and what they will informe Meerely in hate gainst any of vs all That will the King seuerely prosecute Gainst vs our liues our children and our heires Rosse The commons hath he pild with grieâ—ous taxes And quite lost their hearts The nobles hath he finde For ancient quarrels and quite lost their hearts Willo And daily new exactions are deuisde As blanckes beneuolences and I wot not what But what a Gods name doth become of this North. Wars hath not wasted it for warrde he hath not But basely yeeâ—ded vpon compromise That which his noble auncestors atchiued with blowes More hath
with the fall of leafe The weedes which his broad spreading leaues did shelter That seemde in eating him to hold him vp Are pluckt vp roote and all by Bullingbrooke I meane the Earle of Wiltshire Bushie Greene Man What are they dead Gard. They are And Bullingbrooke hath ceasde the wastefull king Oh what pitie is it that he had not so trimde And drest his land aâ— we this garden at time of yeare Do wound the barke the skinne of our fruit trees Lest being â—uer prowd in 〈◊〉 bloud With too much riches it 〈◊〉 it selfe Had he done so to great and growing men They might haue liude to beare and he to taste Their fruits of duety supeâ—fluous branches We loppe away that bearing boughes may liue Had he done so himselfe had borne the crowne Which waste of idle houres hath quite throwne downe Man What thinke you the King shall be deposed Gard. Deprest he is already and deposde Tis doubt he will be Letters came last night To a deare friend of the good Duke of Yoâ—kes That tell blacke tidings Queene Oh I am prest to death through want of speaking Thou old Adams likenesse set to dresse this garden How dares thy harsh rude tong sound this vnpleasing news What Eue what serpent hath suggested thee To make a second fall of cursed man Why dost thou say king Richard is deposde Darst â—hou thou little better thing than earth Diuine his downe fall say where when and how Canst thou by this ill tidings speake thou wretch Gard. Pardon me Madam little ioy haue I To breathe this newes yet what I say is true King Richard he is in the mightie hold Of Bullingbrooke their fortunes both are weyde In your Lo. scale is nothing but himselfe And some few vanities that make him light But in the ballance of great Bullingbrooke Besides himselfe are all the English peeres And with that oddes he weighs King Richard downe Post you to London and you will find it so I speake no moâ—e than euery one doth know Queene Nimble Mischance that aâ—â—e so light of foote Doth not thy embassage belong to me And am I last that knowes it Oh thou thinkest To seâ—ue me last that I may longest keepe Thy sorrow in my breast come Ladies go To meete at London Londons king in wo What was I borne to this that my sad looke Should grace the triumph of gâ—eat Bullingbrooke Gardner for telling me these newes of wo Pray God the plants thou graftst may neuer grow Exit Gard. Poore Queene so that thy state might be no worse I would my Skill were subiect to thy cuâ—se Here did she fall a teare here in this place Ile set a banke of Rew sowre hearb of grace Rew euen for ruth heere shortly shall be seene In the remembrance of a weeping Queene Exeunt Enter Bullingbrooke with the Lords to parliament Bull. Call forth Bagot Enter Bagot Now Bagot freely speake thy mind What thou doest know of noble Gloucesters death Who wrought it with the King and who performde The bloudy office of his timeles end Bagot Then set before my face the Lord Aumerle Bull. Cousin stand foorth and looke vpon that man Bagot My Lord Aumerle I know your daring tong Scornes to vnsay what once it hath deliuered In that dead time when Glocesters death was plotted I heard you say Is not my arme of length That reacheth from the restful English court As farre as Callice to mine vncles head Amongst much other talke that very time I heard you say that you had rather refuse The offer of an hundred thousand crownes Then Bullingbrookes returne to England adding withall How blest this land would be in this your cosins death Aum. Princes and noble Lords What answer shall I make to this base man Shall I so much dishonour my faire starres On equall termes to giue them chasticement Either I must or haue mine honour soild With the attainder of his slaunderous lippes Theâ—â— is my gage the manual seale of death That maâ—kes thee out for hell I say thou liest And wil maintaine what thou hast said is false In thy heart bloud though being all too base To staine the temper of my knightly sword Bull. Bagot forbeare thou shalt not take it vp Aum. Excepting one I would he were the best In all this presence that hath moude me so Fitz. If that thy valure stand on simpathie There is my gage Aumerle in gage to thine By that faire Sunne which shews me where thou standst I heard thee say and vauntingly thou spakst it That thou wert cause of noble Gloucesters death If thou deniest it twenty times thou liest And I will turne thy falshoode to thy heart Where it was forged with my rapiers point Aum. Thou darst not coward liue to see that day Fitz. Now by my soule I would it were this houre Aum. Fitzwaters thou art damnd to hell for this L. Per. Aumerle thou liest his honour is as true In this appeale as thou art all vniust And that thou art so there I throwe my gage To prooue it on thee to the extreamest point Of mortall breathing ceaze it if thou darst Aum. And if I do not may my hands rot off And neuer brandish more reuengefull steele Ouer the glittering helmet of my foe Another L. I taske the earth to the like forsworne Aumerle And spurre thee on with full as many lies As it may be hollowed in thy treacherous eare From sinne to sinne there is my honors pawne Ingage it to the triall if thou darest Aum. Who sets me else by heauen Ile throwe at all I haue a thousand spirites in one breast To answer twenty thousand such as you Sur. My lord Fitzwater I do remember well The very time Aumerle and you did talke Fitz. Tis very true you were in presence then And you can witnes with me this is true Sur As false by heauen as heauen it selfe is true Fitz. Surrie thou liest Sur. Dishonorable boy that lie shall lie so heauie on my sword That it shall render vengeance and reuenge Till thou the lie-giuer and that lie do lie In earth as quiet as thy fathers scull In proofe whereof there is my honours pawne Ingage it to the triall if thou darst Fitz. How fondly doest thou spurre a forward horse If I dare eate or drinke or breathe or liue I dare meet Surry in a wildernes And spit vpon him whilst I say he lies And lies and lies there is bond of faith To tie thee to my strong correction As I intende to thriue in this new world Aumerle is guiltie of my true appeale Besides I heard the banished Norffolke say That thou Aumerle didst send two of thy men To execute the noble Duke at Callice Aum. Some honest Christian trust me with a gage That Norffolke lies heere do I throwe downe this If he may be repeald to trie his honour Bull. These differences shall all rest vnder gage Till Norffolke be repeald repeald he shallbe And though mine enimie
once know where Vncle farewell and cousin a due Your mother well hath prayed and prooue you true Du. Come my olde sonne I pray God make thee new Exeunt Maneâ— sir Pierâ—â— Exton c. Exton Didst thou not maâ—ke the K what words he spake Haue I no friend will rid me of this liuing feare Was it not so Man These were his very words Exton Haue I no friend quoth heâ—he spake it twice And vrgde it twice togither did he not Man He did Exton And speaking it he wishtly lookt on me As who should say I would thou wert the man That would diuorce this terrour from my heart Meaning the king at Pomfret Come lets go I am the kings friend and will rid his foe Enter Richard alone Rich. I haue beene studying how I may compare This prison where I liue vnto the world And forbecause the world is populous And here is not a creature but my selfe I cannot do it yet Ile hammer it out My braine Ile prooue the female to my soule My soule the father and these two beget A generation of still-breeding thoughts And these same thoughts people this little world In humors like the people of this world For no thought is contented the better sort As thoughts of things diuine are intermixt With scruples and do set the word it selfe Against the word as thus Come little ones then againe It is as hard to come as for a Cammell To threed the posterne of a small needles eie Thoughts tending to ambition they do plot Vnlikely wonders how these vaine weake nailes May teare a passage thorow the flinty ribs Of this hard world my ragged prison walles And for they cannot die in their owne pride Thoughts tending to content flatter themselues That they are not the first of fortunes slaues Nor shall not be the last like seely beggars Who â—itting in the stockes refuge their shame That many haue and others must set there And in this thought they find a kind of ease Bearing their owne misfortunes on the backe Of such as haue before indurde the like Thus play I in one peâ—son many people And none contented sometimes am I King Then treasons make me wish my selfe a beggar And so I am then crushing penurie Perswades me I was better when a king Then am I kingd againe and by and by Thinke that I am vnkingd by Bullingbrooke And strait am nothing But what ere I be Nor I nor any man that but man is With nothing shall be pleasde till he be easde With being nothing Musicke do I heare the musike plates Ha ha keepe time how sowre sweete Musicke is When time is broke and no proportion kept So is it in the musike of mens liues And here haue I the daintinesse of eare To checke time broke in a disordered string But for the concord of my state and time Had not an eare to heare my true time broke I wasted time and now doth time waste me For now hath time made me his numbring clocke My thoughts are minutes and with sighes they iarre Their watches on vnto mine eyes the outward watch Whereto my finger like a dialles poynt Is pointing still in cleansing them â—â—om teares Now â—â—â—the sound that telles what houre it is Are clamorous groanes which strike vpon my hart Which is the bell so sighs and teares and grones Shew minutes times and houres but my time Runnes posting on in Bullingbrokes proud ioye While I stand fooling heere his iacke of the clocke This musicke maddes me let it sound no more For though it haue holp mad men to their witts In me it seemes it will make wise men mad Yet blessâ—ing on his hart that giues it me For tis asigne of loue and loue to Richard Is a strange brooch in this al-hating world Enter a groome of the stable Groome Haile roiall Prince Rich. Thankes noble peare The cheapest of vs is ten grotes too deare What art thou and how comest thou â—ither Where no man neuer comes but that sad dog That brings me foode to make misfortune liue Groome I was a poore groome of thy stable King When thou wert King who trauailling towards Yorke With much adoe at length haue gotten leaue To looke vpon my sometimes roiall maisters face Oh how it ernd my hart when I beheld In London streetes that Corronation day When Bullingbroke rode on Roane Barbarie That horse that thou so often hast bestride That horse that I so carefully haue drest Rich. Rode he on Barbarie tell me gentle freind How went he vnder him Groom So proudly as if he disdaind the ground Ric. So proud that Bullingbroke was on his backe That Iade hath eate bread from my royall hand This hand hath made him proud with clapping him Would he not stumble would he not fall downe Since pride must haue a fal and breake the necke Of that prond man that did vsurpe his backe Forgiuenes horse why do I raile on thee Since thou created to be awed by man Wast borne to beare I was not made a horse And yet I beare a burthen like an asse Spurrde galld and tirde by iauncing Bullingbrooke Enter one to Richard with meaâ—e Keeper Fellow giue place heere is no longer stay Rich. If thou loue me tis time thou wert away Groome What my tong dares not that my heart shal say Exit Groome Keeper My Lord wilt please you to fall to Rich. Taste of it first as thou art wont to do Keeper My Lord I dare not fir Pierce of Exton Who lately came from the King commaunds the contrary Rich. The diuell take Henry of Lancaster and thee Patience is stale and I am wearie of it Keeper Help help help The murderers rush in Rich. How now what meanes Death in this rude assault Villaine thy owne hand yeelds thy deaths instrument Go thou and fill another roome in hell Here Exton strikes him downâ— Rich. That hand shall burne in neuer quenching fire That staggers thus my person Exton thy fierce hand Hath with the kings bloud staind the kings owne land Mount mount my soule thy seate is vp on high Whilst my grosse flesh sinckes downeward here to die Exton As full of valure as of royall bloud Both haue I spilld Oh would the deede were good For now the diuell that told me I did well Saies that this deede is chroniâ—led in hell This dead king to the liuing king Ile beare Take hence the rest and giue them buriall 〈◊〉 Enter Bullingbrooke with the duke of Yorkâ— King Kind vncle Yorke the latest newes we hearâ— Is that the rebels haue consumed with fire Our towne of Ciceter in Gloucestershire But whether they be tane oâ— slaine we heare not Enter Northumberland Welcome my Lord what is the newes Nâ—rth First to thy sacred state wish I all happinesse The next newes is I hâ—ue to London sent The heades of Oxford Salisbury Blunt and Kent The maner of their taking may appeare At large discoursed in this paper heere King We thanke thee gentle Pâ—â—cie for thy paines And to thy woorth will adde right worthy gaines Enter Lord Fitzwaters Fitz. My Lord I haue from Oxford sent to London The heads of Broccas and sir Benet Seely Two of the daungerous consorted traiâ—ors That fought at Oxford thy dire ouerthrow king Thy paines Fitz. shall nor be forgot Right noble is thy merit well I wot Enter H. Percie Percie The grand conspirator Abbot of Westminster With clog of conscience and sowre melancholy Hath yeelded vp his body to the graue But here is Carleil liuing to abide Thy kingly doome and sentence of his pride king Carleil this is your doome Choose out some secret place some reuerent roome More than thou bast and with it ioy thy life So as thou liu'st in peace die free from strife For though mine enemy thou hast euer beene High sparkes of honour in thee haue I seene Enter â—xton with the coffin Exton Great King within this coffin I prâ—sent Thy buried feare herein all breathlesse lies The mightiest of thy greacest enemies Richard of Burdeaux by me hither brought king Exton I thanke thee not for thou hast wrought A deed of slaunder with thy fatall hand Vpon my head and all this famous Land Exton From your owne mouth my Lo. did I this deed King They loue not poison that do poison neede Nor do I thee though I did wish him dead I hate the murtherer loue him murthered The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labor But neither my good word nor Princely fauour With Cayne go wander through shades of night And neuer shew thy head by day nor light Lordes I protest my soule is full of wo That bloud should sprincle me to make me grow Come mourne with me for what I do lament And put on sulleyn blacke incontinent Ile make a voiage to the holly lande To wash this bloud off from my guiltie hand March sadly after grace my mournings heere In weeping after this vntimely Beere FINIS
he spent in peace then they in wars Rosse The Earle of Wiltshire hath the realme in farme Will. The King growen banckroâ—t like a broken man North. Reproch and dissolution hangeth ouer him Rosse He hath not money for these Irish wars His burthenous taxations notwithstanding But by the robbing of the banisht Duke North. His noble kinsman most degenerate King But Lords we heare this fearefull tempest sing Yet seeke no shelter to auoid the storme We see the wind sit sore vpon our failes And yet we strike not but securely perish Rosse We see the very wracke that we must suffer And vnauoided is the danger now For suffering so the causes of our wracke North. Not so euen through the hollow eies of death I spie life peering but I dare not say How neere the tidings of our comfort is Wil. Nay let vs share thy thoughts as thou dost ours Rosse Be confident to speake Northumberland We three are but thy selfe and speaking so Thy words are but as thoughts therefore be bold North. Then thus I haue from le Port Blan A Bay in Brittaine receiude intelligence That Harry duke of Herâ—ord Rainold L. Cobham That late broke from the Duke of Exeter His brother archbishop late of Canterburie Sir Thomas Eâ—pingham sir Iohn Ramston Sir Iohn Norbery sir Robert Waterâ—on and Francis Coinâ—s All these well furnished by the Duke of Brittaine With eight tall shippes three thousand men of warre Are making hither with all due expedience And shortly meane to touch our Northerne shore Perhaps they had erâ— this but that they stay The first departing of the King for Ireland If then we shall shake off our slauish yoke Impe out our drowping countries broken wing Redeeme from Broking pawne the blemisht Crowne Wipe off the dust that hides our Scepters guilt And make high Maiestie looke like it selfe Away with me in post to Rauenspurgh But if you faint as fearing to do so Stay and be secret and my selfe will go Rosse To horse to horse vrge doubts to them that feare Willo Holde out my horse and I will first be there Exeunt Enter the Queene Bushie Bagot Bush. Madam your maiestie is too much sad You promist when you parted with the King To lay aside life-harming heauines And entertaine a cheerefull disposition Queene To please the king I did to please my selfe I cannot do it yet I know no cause Why I should welcome such a guest as Griefe Saue bidding farewell to so swâ—â—te a guest As my sweete Richard yet agayne me thinkes Some vnborne sorrow ripe in Fortunes wombe Is commâ—ng towardes me and my inward soule With nothing trembles at something it grieues More then with parting from my Lord the King Bushie Each substance of a griefe hath twenty shadowes Which sheweâ— like griefe it selfe but is not so For Sorrowes eyes giazed with blinding teares Diuides one thing entire to many obiects Like perspectiues which rightly gazde vpon Shew nothing but confusion eyde awry Distinguish forme so your sweet maiestie Looking awry vpon your Lords departure Finde shapes of griefe more than himselfe to waile Which lookt on as it is is naught but shadows Of what it is not then thrice gracious Queene More then your Lords departure weep not more is not seen Or if it be tis with false Sorrowes eye Which for things true weepes things imaginarie Queene It may be so but yet my inward soule Perswades me it is otherwise how ere it be I cannot but be sad so heauie sad As thought on thinking on no thought I thinke Makes me with heauy nothing faint and shrinke Bush. Tis nothing but conceit my gratious Lady Queene Tis nothing lesse conceit is still deriude From some forefather griefe mâ—ne is not so For nothing hath begot my something griefe Or something hath the nothing that I grieue Tis in reuersion that I do possesse But what it is that is not yet knowen what I cannot name tis nâ—melesse woe I wot Greene God saue your maiesty and well met Gentlemen I hope the King is not yet shipt for Ireland Queene Why hopest thou so tis better hope he is For his designes craue haste his haste good hope Then wherefore dost thou hope he is not shipt Greene That he our hope might haue retirde his power And driuen into despaire an enemies hope Who strong'y hath set footing in this land The banisht Bullingbrooke repeales himselfe And with vplifted armes is safe ariude at Rauenspurgh Queene Now God in heauen forbid Greene Ah Madam tis too true and that is worse The lord Northumberland his son yong H. Percie The lords of Rosse Beaumond and Willoughby With all their powerful friends are fled to him Bush. Why haue you not proclaimd Northumberland And al the rest reuolted faction traitours Greene We haue whereupon the earle of Worcesâ—er Hath brokâ—n his Staffe resignd his Stewardship And al the houshold seruants sled with him to Bullingbrook Queene So Greene thou art the midwife to my woe Anâ— Bullingbrooke my sorowes dismall heire Now hath my soule brought forth her prodigie And I a gasping new deliueâ—d mother Haue woe to woe sorow to soâ—ow ioynde Bushie Dispaire not Madam Queene Who 〈◊〉 hinder me I will dispaire and be at enmitie With cousening Hope he is a flatterer A parasite a keeper backe of Death Who gently would dissolue the bands of life VVhich false Hope lingers in extremitie Greene Here comes the Duke of Yorke Queene VVith signes of war about his aged necke Oh ful of carefull busines are his lookes Vncle for Gods sake speake comfortable wordes Yorke Should I do so I should bely my thoughts Comfort's in heauen and we are on the earth VVhere nothing liues but câ—osses cares and griefe Your husband he is gone to saue far off VVhilst others come to make him loose at home Heere am I lefâ— to vnderprop his land Who weake with age cannot support my selfe Now comes the sicke houre that his surfet made Now shall he trie his friends that flatterd him Seruingman My Lord your son was gone before I came Yorke He was why so go all which way it will The nobles they are fled the commons they are colde And will I feare reuolton Herefords side Sâ—rra get thee to Plashie to my sister Glocester Bid her send me presently a thousand pound Hold take my ring Seruingman My Lord I had forgot to tel your Lordship To day as I came by I called there But I shall grieue you to report the rest Yorke What ist knaue Seruingman An houre before I came the Dutchesse died Yorke God for his mercy what a tide of woes Comes rushing on this wofull land at once I know not what to do I would to God So my vntruth had not prouokt him to it The King had cut off my head with my brothers Whâ—t are there no Posts dispatcht for Ireland Hâ—w shal we do for money for these wars Come sister cousin I would say pray pardon me Go fellow get thee home prouide some cartes And bring
away the armour that is there Gentlemen will you go muster men If I know how or which way to order these affayres Thus disorderly thrust into my hands Neuer beleeue me both are my kinsmen Tone is my soueraigne whom both my oath And duety bids defend tother againe Is my kinsman whom the King hath wrongd Whom conscience and my kinred bids to right Wel somewhat we must do Come cousin Ile dispose of you Gentlemen go muster vp your men And meete me presently at Barkly I shoâ—ld to Plashie too but time wil not permit All is vneuen and euery thing is left at sixe and seauen Exeunt Duke Qu. man Bush. Green Bush. The winde sits faire for newes to go for Ireland But none returnes For vs to leuie power Proportionable to the enemy is all vnpossible Gree. Besides our neerenes to the King in loue Is neare the hate of those loue not the King Bag. And that is the wauering commons for their loue Lies in their purses and who so empties them By so much fils their hearts with deadly hate Bush. Wherein the King stands generally condemnd Bag. If iudgment lie in them then so do we Because we euer haue beene neere the King Gree. Well I will for refuge straight to Brist Castle The Earle of Wiltshire is already there Bush. Thither will I with you for little office Will the hatefull commons perfourme for vs. Except like curs to teare vs all to pieces Will you go along with vs Bag. No I will to Ireland to his Maiesty Farewell if hearts presages be not vaine We three here part that nere shall meete againe Bush. Thats as Yorke thriues to beat backe Bullingbrook Gree. Alas poore Duke the taske he vndertakes Is numbring sands and drinking Oceans drie Where one on his side fights thousands will flie Farewell at once for once for all and euer Bush. Well we may meete againe Bag. I feare me neuer Enter Hereford Northumberland Bull. How far is it my Lord to Barckly now North. Beleeue me noble Lord I am a stranger here in Glocestershire These high wild hils and rough vneuen waies Drawes out our miles and makes them wearisome And yet your faire discourse hath beene as sugar Making the hard way sweete and delectable But I bethinke me what a weary way From Rauenspurgh to Cotshall will be found In Rosse and Wilsoughby wanting your company Which I protest hath very much beguild The tediousnesse and processe of my trauell But theirs is sweetned with the hope to haue The present benefit which I pessesse And hope to ioy is little lesse in ioye Then hope enioyed by this the weary Lords Shall make their way seeme short as mine hath done By sight of what I haue your noble company Bull. Of much lesse value is my company Then your good wordes But who comes here Enter Harry Persie North. It is my sonne young Harry Persy Sent from my brother Worcester whence soeuer Harry how fares your Vnâ—kle H. Per. I had thought my Lord to haue learned his health of you North. Why is he not with the Queene H. Per. No my good Lord he hath for sooke the court Broken his staffe of office and disperst The houshold of the King North. What was his reason he was not so resolude When last we spake togither H. Per. Because your Lo was proclaimed traitor But he my Lo is gone to Rauenspurgh To offer seruice to the Duke of Hereford And sent me ouer by Barckly to discouer What power the Duke of Yorke had leuied there Then with directions to repaire to Rauenspurgh North. Haue you forgot the Duke of Herefords boy H. Per. No my good Lo for that is not forgot Which nere I did remember to my knowledge I neuer in my life did looke on him North. Then learne to know him now this is the Duke H. Per. My gratious Lo I tender you my seruice Such as it is being tender raw and young Which elder daies shal ripen and confirme To more approued seruice and desert Bull. I thanke thee gentle Persy and be sure I count my selfe in nothing else so happy As in a soule remembring my good friends And as my fortune ripens with thy loue It shalbe still thy true loues recompence My heart this couenant makes my hand thus seales it North. How farre is it to Barckly and what sâ—ur Keepes good old Yorke there with his men of war H. Per. There stands the Castle by yon tuft of trees Mand with 300. men as I haue heard And in it are the Lords of Yorke Barkly and Seymer None else of name and noble estimate North. Here come the Lords of Rosse and Willoughby Bloudy with spurring fiery red with haste Bull. VVelcome my Lords I wot your loue pursues A banisht traitor all my treasury Is yet but vnfelt thanks which more inricht Shalbe your loue and labours recompence Rosse Your presence makes vs rich most noble Lord. Wil. And far surmounts our labour to attaine it Bul. Euermore thanke's the exchequer of the poore VVhich till my infant fortune comes to yeares Stands for my bounty but who comes here North. It is my Lord of Barkly as I guesse Barkly My Lord of Hereford my message is to you Bul. My Lord my answere is to Lancaster And I am come to seeke that name in England And I must find that title in your tongue Before I make reply to ought you say Bar. Mistake me not my Lord tis not my meaning To race one title of your honor out To you my Lo I come what Lo you will From the most gratious regent of this land The Duke of Yorke to know what prickes you on To take aduantage of the absent time And fright out natiue peace with selfeborne armes Bull. I shall not need transport my words by you Here comes his grace in person my noble Vnckle Yorke Shew me thy humblâ— heart and not thy knee Whose duety is deceiueable and false Bull. My gratious Vnckle Yor. Tut tut grace me no grace nor vnckle me no vnckle I am no traitors Vnckle and that word Grace In an vngratious mouth is but prophane Why haue those banisht and forbidden legs Dard once to touch a dust of Englands ground Put then more why why haue they dard to march So many miles vpon her peacefull bosoâ—e Frighting her pale fac't villadges with warre And ostentation of despised armes Comst thou because the annointed king is hence Why soolish boy the King is left behinde And in my loiall bosome lies his power Were I but now Lord of such hot youth As when bâ—aue Gaunt thy father and my selfe Rescued the blacke prince that young Mars of men From forth the ranckes of many thousand french O then how quickly should this arme of mine Now prisoner to the Palsie chastise thee And minister correction to thy fault Bull. My gratious Vnckle let me know my fault On what condition stands it and wherein Yorke Euen in condition of the worst degree In grosse rebelliâ—n and
restord againe To all his landes and signiories when he is returnd Against Aumerle we will inforce his triall Carl. That honourable day shall neuer be seene Manie a time hath banisht Norffolke fought For Iesu Christ in glorious Christian feild Streaming the ensigne of the Christian Crosse Against blacke Pagans Turkes and Saracens And toild with workes of warre retird him selfe To Italie and there at Venice gaue His bodie to that pleasant Countries earth And his pure soule vnto his Captaine Christ Vnder whose coulours he had fought so long Bull. Why B. is Norffolke dead Carl. As surely as I liue my Lord. Bull. Sweet peace conduct his sweete soule to the bosome Oâ— good olde Abrahamâ— Lords Appellants Your differences shall all rest vnder gage Till we assigne you to your daies of triall Enter Yorke Yorke Great Duke of Lancaster I come to thee From plume-pluckt Richard who with willing soule Adopts the heire and his high scepter yeeldes To the possession of thy royall hand Ascend his throne descending now from him And long liue Henry fourth of that name Bull. In Gods name Ile ascend the regall throne Car. Maâ—y God forbid Worst in this â—oyall presence may I speake Yet best beseeming me to speake the truth Would God that any in this noble presence Were enough noble to be vpright iudge Of noble Richard Then true noblesse would Learne him forbearance from so foule a wrong What subiect can giue sentence on his King And who sits here that is not Richards subiect Theeues are not iudgd but they are by to heare Although apparant guiâ—t be seene in them And shall the figure of Gods Maiesty His Captaine steward deputy elect Annointed crowned planted many yeares Be iudgd by subiect and inferiour breath And he himselfe not present Oh forâ—end it God That in a Christian climate soules refinde Should shew so heinous blacke obsceene a deed I speake to subiects and a subiect speakes Stird vp by God thus boldly for his King My Lord of 〈◊〉 here whom you call King Is a foule traitour to proud Herefords King And if you crownâ— him let me prophesie The bloud of English shall manure the ground And future ages groanâ— for this foule act Peace shall go sleepe with turkes and infidels And in this seate of peace tumultuous warres Shall kin with kin and kinde with kind confound Disorder horror feare and mutiny Shall heere inhabit and this land be cald The field of Golgotha and dead mens sculs Oh if yon raise this house against this house It will the wofullest diuision proue That euer fell vpon this cursed earth Preuent it resist it let it not be so Lest child childs children crie against you wo. North. Well haue you argued sir and for your paines Of Capitall treason we arrest you heere My Lord of Westminster be it your charge To keepe him safely till his day of triall Bull. Let it be so and loe on wednesday next We solemnly proclaime our Coronation Lords be ready all Exeunt Manent West Caleil Aumerle Abbot A wofull Pageant haue we heere behelâ— Car. The woe's to come the children yet vnbornâ— Shall feele this day as sharp to them as thorne Aum. You holy Clergy men is there no plot To ridde the realme of this pernitious blot Abbot My Lo. before I freely speake my mind heerein You shall not onely take the Sacrament To burie mine intents but also to effect What euer I shall happen to deuise I see your browes are full of discontent Your harts of sorrow and your eies of teares Come home with me to supper Ile lay a plot Shall shew vs all a merrie daie Exeunt Enter the Queene with her attendants Quee. This way the King will come this is the way To Iulius Caesars ill erected Tower To whose flint bosome my condemned Lord Is doomde a prisoner by proud Bullingbrooke Heere let vs rest if this rebellious earth Haue any resting for her true Kings Queene Enter Ric. But soft but see or rather doe not see My faire Rose wither yet looke vp behold That you in pittie may dissolue to deâ—w And wash him fresh againe with true loue â—eares Ah thou the modle where olde Troy did stand Thou mappe of honour thou King Richards tombe And not King Richard thou most beauteous Inne Why should hard fauourd greife be Iodged in thee When triumph is become an alehouse guest Rich. ioyne not with greife faire woman doe not so To make my end too sudden learne good soule To thinke our former state a happie dreame From which awakt the trueth of what we are Shewes vs but this I am swoâ—ne brother sweet To grim necessitie and he and I Will keepe a league till death Hie thee to Fraunce And cloister thee in some religious house Our holy liues must win a new worlds crowne VVhich ouâ— prophane houres heere haue throwne downe Quee. what is my Richard both in shape and minde Transformd and weakned hath Bullingbrooke Deposde thine intellect hath he been in thy hart The Lyon dying thrusteth foorth his pawe And woundes the earâ—h if nothing else with rage To be ore-powr'd and wilt thou pupill-like Take the correction mildly kisse the rod And fawne on Rage with base humilitie VVhich art a Lion and the king of beasts King a King of beasts indeed if aught but beasts I had been 〈◊〉 a happie King of men Good sometimes Queene prepare thee hence for France Thinke I am dead and that euen here thou takest As from my death bed thy last liuing leaue In winters tedious nights sit by the fire with good old folkes and let them tell the tales Of woefull ages long agoe be tidde And ere thou bid good night to quite their griefes Tell thou the lamentable tale of me And send the hearers weeping to their beds For why the senslesse brands will simpathize The heauy accent of thy moouing tong And in compassion weepe the fire out And some wil mourne in ashes some cole blacke For the deposing of a rightfull King Enter Northum North. My Lord the minde of Bullingbrooke is changde You must to Pomfret not vnto the Tower And Madam there is order tane for you With al swift speede you must away to France King Northumberland thou ladder wherewithall The mounting Bullingbrooke ascends my throne The time shall not be many houres of age More than it is ere foule sinne gathering head Shall breake into corruption thou shalt thinke Though he diuide the realme and giue thee halfe It is too little helping him to all He shall thinke that thou which knowest the way To plant vnrightfull kings wilt know againe Being nere so little vrgde another way To plucke him headlong from the vsurped throneâ— The loue of wicked men conueâ—ts to feare That feare to hate and hate turnes one or both To worthy daunger and deserued death North. My guilt be on my head and there an end Take leaue and part for you must part forthwith King Doubly â—iuorst bad men you violate A