William Shakespeare

The Complete Historical Plays of William Shakespeare


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Would you have been so brief with him, he would

       Have 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 myself

       Against their will. But who comes here?

       [Enter HENRY PERCY.]

       Welcome, Harry: what, will not this castle yield?

       PERCY.

       The castle royally is mann’d, my lord,

       Against thy entrance.

       BOLINGBROKE.

       Royally!

       Why, it contains no king?

       PERCY.

       Yes, my good lord,

       It doth contain a king; King Richard lies

       Within the limits of yon lime and stone;

       And with him are the Lord Aumerle, Lord Salisbury,

       Sir Stephen Scroop, besides a clergyman

       Of 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 parley

       Into his ruin’d ears, and thus deliver:

       Henry Bolingbroke

       On both his knees doth kiss King Richard’s hand,

       And sends allegiance and true faith of heart

       To his most royal person; hither come

       Even at his feet to lay my arms and power,

       Provided that my banishment repeal’d

       And lands restor’d again be freely granted;

       If not, I’ll use the advantage of my power

       And lay the summer’s dust with showers of blood

       Rain’d from the wounds of slaughtered Englishmen;

       The which, how far off from the mind of Bolingbroke

       It is, such crimson tempest should bedrench

       The fresh green lap of fair King Richard’s land,

       My stooping duty tenderly shall show.

       Go, signify as much, while here we march

       Upon the grassy carpet of this plain.

       Let’s march without the noise of threat’ning drum,

       That from this castle’s totter’d battlements

       Our fair appointments may be well perus’d.

       Methinks King Richard and myself should meet

       With no less terror than the elements

       Of fire and water, when their thund’ring shock

       At 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 rain

       My 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.]

       HENRY PERCY.

       See, see, King Richard doth himself appear,

       As doth the blushing discontented sun

       From out the fiery portal of the east,

       When he perceives the envious clouds are bent

       To dim his glory and to stain the track

       Of his bright passage to the occident.

       YORK.

       Yet he looks like a king: behold, his eye,

       As bright as is the eagle’s, lightens forth

       Controlling majesty: alack, alack, for woe,

       That any harm should stain so fair a show!

       KING RICHARD.

       [To NORTHUMBERLAND.] We are amaz’d; and thus long

       have we stood

       To watch the fearful bending of thy knee,

       Because we thought ourself thy lawful king;

       And if we be, how dare thy joints forget

       To pay their awful duty to our presence?

       If we be not, show us the hand of God

       That hath dismiss’d us from our stewardship;

       For well we know no hand of blood and bone

       Can 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 behalf

       Armies of pestilence; and they shall strike

       Your children yet unborn and unbegot,

       That lift your vassal hands against my head

       And threat the glory of my precious crown.

       Tell Bolingbroke,—for yond methinks he stands,—

       That every stride he makes upon my land

       Is dangerous treason; he is come to open

       The purple testament of bleeding war;

       But ere the crown he looks for live in peace,

       Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers’ sons

       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.

       NORTHUMBERLAND.

       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 swears

       That 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 scope

       Than for his lineal royalties, and to beg

       Enfranchisement immediate on his knees;