Act IIIScene III
Wales. Before Flint Castle
Enter, with drum and colours, Bolingbroke and Forces; Northumberland and Others.
Bolingbroke
So that by this intelligence we learnThe Welshmen are dispersed, and SalisburyIs gone to meet the King, who lately landedWith some few private friends upon this coast.
Northumberland
The news is very fair and good, my lord:Richard not far from hence hath hid his head.
York
It would beseem the Lord NorthumberlandTo say “King Richard”. Alack the heavy dayWhen such a sacred king should hide his head!
Northumberland
Your Grace mistakes; only to be briefLeft I his title out.
York
The time hath been,Would you have been so brief with him, he wouldHave been so brief with you to shorten you,For taking so the head, your whole head’s length.
Bolingbroke
Mistake not, uncle, further than you should.
York
Take not, good cousin, further than you should,Lest you mistake. The heavens are o’er our heads.
Bolingbroke
I know it, uncle, and oppose not myselfAgainst their will. But who comes here?
Enter Harry Percy.
Welcome, Harry. What, will not this castle yield?
Percy
The castle royally is manned, my lord,Against thy entrance.
Bolingbroke
Royally!Why, it contains no king?
Percy
Yes, my good lord,It doth contain a king. King Richard liesWithin the limits of yon lime and stone,And with him are the Lord Aumerle, Lord Salisbury,Sir Stephen Scroop, besides a clergymanOf holy reverence—who, I cannot learn.
Northumberland
O, belike it is the Bishop of Carlisle.
Bolingbroke
To Northumberland.
Noble lord,Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle;Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parleyInto his ruined ears, and thus deliver:Henry BolingbrokeOn both his knees doth kiss King Richard’s handAnd sends allegiance and true faith of heartTo his most royal person, hither comeEven at his feet to lay my arms and power,Provided that my banishment repealedAnd lands restored again be freely granted.If not, I’ll use the advantage of my powerAnd lay the summer’s dust with showers of bloodRained from the wounds of slaughtered Englishmen—The which how far off from the mind of BolingbrokeIt is such crimson tempest should bedrenchThe fresh green lap of fair King Richard’s land,My stooping duty tenderly shall show.Go signify as much, while here we marchUpon the grassy carpet of this plain.Let’s march without the noise of threat’ning drum,That from this castle’s tottered battlementsOur fair appointments may be well perused.Methinks King Richard and myself should meetWith no less terror than the elementsOf fire and water, when their thund’ring shockAt meeting tears the cloudy cheeks of heaven.Be he the fire, I’ll be the yielding water;The rage be his, whilst on the earth I rainMy waters—on the earth, and not on him.March on, and mark King Richard how he looks.
A parley sounded, and answered by a trumpet within. Flourish. Enter on the Walls, the King, the Bishop of Carlisle, Aumerle, Scroop and Salisbury
See, see, King Richard doth himself appear,As doth the blushing discontented sunFrom out the fiery portal of the east,When he perceives the envious clouds are bentTo dim his glory and to stain the trackOf his bright passage to the occident.
York
Yet he looks like a king. Behold, his eye,As bright as is the eagle’s, lightens forthControlling majesty. Alack, alack, for woeThat any harm should stain so fair a show!
King Richard
To Northumberland.
We are amazed, and thus long have we stoodTo watch the fearful bending of thy kneeBecause we thought ourself thy lawful king.And if we be, how dare thy joints forgetTo pay their awful duty to our presence?If we be not, show us the hand of GodThat hath dismissed us from our stewardship;For well we know no hand of blood and boneCan gripe the sacred handle of our sceptre,Unless he do profane, 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 mustering in his clouds on our behalfArmies of pestilence, and they shall strikeYour children yet unborn and unbegot,That lift your vassal hands against my headAnd threat the glory of my precious crown.Tell Bolingbroke—for yon methinks he stands—That every stride he makes upon my landIs dangerous treason. He is come to openThe purple testament of bleeding war;But ere the crown he looks for live in peace,Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers’ sonsShall ill become the flower of England’s face,Change the complexion of her maid-pale peaceTo scarlet indignation, and bedewHer pastures’ grass with faithful English blood.
Northumberland
The King of Heaven forbid our lord the KingShould so with civil and uncivil armsBe rushed upon! Thy thrice-noble cousin,Harry Bolingbroke, doth humbly kiss thy hand;And by the honourable tomb he swearsThat 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 buried 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 further scopeThan for his lineal royalties, and to begEnfranchisement immediate on his knees;Which on thy royal party granted once,His glittering arms he will commend to rust,His barbed steeds to stables, and his heartTo faithful service of your Majesty.This swears he, as he is a prince and just;And as I am a gentleman I credit him.
King Richard
Northumberland, say, thus the King returns:His noble cousin is right welcome hither,And all the number of his fair demandsShall be accomplished without contradiction.With all the gracious utterance thou hast,Speak to his gentle hearing kind commends.
Northumberland returns to Bolingbroke.
To Aumerle.
We do debase ourselves, cousin, do we not,To look so poorly and to speak so fair?Shall we call back Northumberland and sendDefiance to the traitor, and so die?
Aumerle
No, good my lord. Let’s fight with gentle wordsTill time lend friends, and friends their helpful swords.
King Richard
O God, O God, that e’er this tongue of mineThat laid the sentence of dread banishmentOn yon proud man should take it off againWith words of sooth! O, that I were as greatAs 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.
Aumerle
Northumberland comes back from Bolingbroke.
King Richard
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 loseThe name of King? I’ 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 almsman’s gown,My figured goblets for a dish of wood,My sceptre 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 buried in the King’s highway,Some way of common trade, where subjects’ feetMay hourly trample on their sovereign’s head;For on my heart they tread now whilst I live,And, buried 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 cornAnd make a dearth in this revolting land.Or shall we play the wantons with our woesAnd make some pretty match with shedding tears?As thus, to drop them still upon one placeTill they have fretted us a pair of gravesWithin the earth; and, therein laid, there liesTwo kinsmen digged their graves with weeping eyes.Would not this ill do well? Well, well, I seeI talk but idly, and you laugh at me.Most mighty prince, my Lord Northumberland,What says King Bolingbroke? Will his MajestyGive Richard leave to live till Richard die?You make a leg, and Bolingbroke says ay.
Northumberland
My lord, in the base court he doth attendTo speak with you. May it please you to come down?
King Richard
Down, down I come, like glist’ring Phaëthon,Wanting the manage of unruly jades.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.
Bolingbroke
What says his Majesty?
Northumberland
Sorrow and grief of heartMakes him speak fondly like a frantic man.Yet he is come.
Enter King Richard and his attendants.
Bolingbroke
Stand all apart,And show fair duty to his Majesty.
Kneeling.
My gracious lord.
King Richard
Fair cousin, you debase your princely kneeTo make the base earth proud with kissing it.Me rather had my heart might feel your loveThan my unpleased eye see your courtesy.Up, cousin, up. Your heart is up, I know,Thus high at least, although your knee be low.
Bolingbroke
My gracious lord, I come but for mine own.
King Richard
Your own is yours, and I am yours, and all.
Bolingbroke
So far be mine, my most redoubted lord,As my true service shall deserve your love.
King Richard
Well you deserve. They well deserve to haveThat know the strong’st and surest way to get.Uncle, give me your hands. Nay, dry your eyes.Tears show 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?
Bolingbroke
Yea, my good lord.
King Richard
Then I must not say no.
Flourish. Exeunt.