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Richard II (Folio 1, 1623)

Author: William Shakespeare
Editor: Catherine Lisak
Peer Reviewed
32
The life and death of Richard the second.
Making the hard way sweet and delectable:
But I bethinke me, what a wearie way
From Rauenspurgh to Cottshold will be found,
1115In Rosse and Willoughby, wanting your companie,
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 that I possesse;
1120And hope to ioy, is little lesse in ioy,
Then hope enioy'd: By this, the wearie Lords
Shall make their way seeme short, as mine hath done,
By sight of what I haue, your Noble Companie.
Bull. Of much lesse value is my Companie,
1125Then your good words: but who comes here?
Enter H. Percie.
North. It is my Sonne, young Harry Percie,
Sent from my Brother Worcester: Whence soeuer.
Harry, how fares your Vnckle?
1130Percie. I had thought, my Lord, to haue learn'd his
health of you.
North. Why, is he not with the Queene?
Percie. No, my good Lord, he hath forsook the Court,
Broken his Staffe of Office, and disperst
1135The Household of the King.
North. What was his reason?
He was not so resolu'd, when we last spake together.
Percie. Because your Lordship was proclaimed Traitor.
But hee, my Lord, is gone to Rauenspurgh,
1140To offer seruice to the Duke of Hereford,
And sent me ouer by Barkely, to discouer
What power the Duke of Yorke had leuied there,
Then with direction to repaire to Rauenspurgh.
North. Haue you forgot the Duke of Hereford (Boy.)
1145Percie. No, my good Lord; for that is not forgot
Which ne're 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.
1150Percie. My gracious Lord, I tender you my seruice,
Such as it is, being tender, raw, and young,
Which elder dayes shall ripen, and confirme
To more approued seruice, and desert.
Bull. I thanke thee gentle Percie, and be sure
1155I 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 shall be still thy true Loues recompence,
My Heart this Couenant makes, my Hand thus seales it.
1160North. How farre is it to Barkely? and what stirre
Keepes good old Yorke there, with his Men of Warre?
Percie. There stands the Castle, by yond tuft of Trees,
Mann'd with three hundred men, as I haue heard,
And in it are the Lords of Yorke, Barkely, and Seymor,
1165None else of Name, and noble estimate.
Enter Rosse and Willoughby.
North. Here come the Lords of Rosse and Willoughby,
Bloody with spurring, fierie red with haste.
Bull. Welcome my Lords, I wot your loue pursues
1170A banisht Traytor; all my Treasurie
Is yet but vnfelt thankes, which more enrich'd,
Shall be your loue, and labours recompence.
Ross. Your presence makes vs rich, most Noble Lord.
Willo. And farre surmounts our labour to attaine it.
1175Bull. Euermore thankes, th'Exchequer of the poore,
Which till my infant-fortune comes to yeeres,
Stands for my Bountie: but who comes here?

Enter Barkely.
North. It is my Lord of Barkely, as I ghesse.
1180Bark. My Lord of Hereford, my Message is to you.
Bull. My Lord, my Answere is to Lancaster,
And I am come to seeke that Name in England,
And I must finde that Title in your Tongue,
Before I make reply to aught you say.
1185Bark. Mistake me not, my Lord, 'tis not my meaning
To raze one Title of your Honor out.
To you, my Lord, I come (what Lord you will)
From the most glorious of this Land,
The Duke of Yorke, to know what pricks you on
1190To take aduantage of the absent time,
And fright our Natiue Peace with selfe-borne Armes.
Enter Yorke.
Bull. I shall not need transport my words by you,
Here comes his Grace in Person. My Noble Vnckle.
1195York. Shew me thy humble heart, and not thy knee,
Whose dutie is deceiuable, and false.
Bull. My gracious Vnckle.
York. Tut, tut, Grace me no Grace, nor Vnckle me,
I am no Traytors Vnckle; and that word Grace,
1200In an vngracious mouth, is but prophane.
Why haue these banish'd, and forbidden Legges,
Dar'd once to touch a Dust of Englands Ground?
But more then why, why haue they dar'd to march
So many miles vpon her peacefull Bosome,
1205Frighting her pale-fac'd Villages with Warre,
And ostentation of despised Armes?
Com'st thou because th'anoynted King is hence?
Why foolish Boy, the King is left behind,
And in my loyall Bosome lyes his power.
1210Were I but now the Lord of such hot youth,
As when braue Gaunt, thy Father, and my selfe
Rescued the Black Prince, that yong Mars of men,
From forth the Rankes of many thousand French:
Oh then, how quickly should this Arme of mine,
1215Now Prisoner to the Palsie, chastise thee,
And minister correction to thy Fault.
Bull. My gracious Vnckle, let me know my Fault,
On what Condition stands it, and wherein?
York. Euen in Condition of the worst degree,
1220In grosse Rebellion, and detested Treason:
Thou art a banish'd man, and here art come
Before th'expiration of thy time,
In brauing Atmes against thy Soueraigne.
Bull. As I was banish'd, I was banish'd Hereford,
1225But as I come, I come for Lancaster.
And Noble Vnckle, I beseech your Grace
Looke on my Wrongs with an indifferent eye:
You are my Father, for me thinkes in you
I see old Gaunt aliue. Oh then my Father,
1230Will you permit, that I shall stand condemn'd
A wandring Vagabond; my Rights and Royalties
Pluckt from my armes perforce, and giuen away
To vpstart Vnthrifts? Wherefore was I borne?
If that my Cousin King, be King of England,
1235It must be graunted, I am Duke of Lancaster.
You haue a Sonne, Aumerle, my Noble Kinsman,
Had you first died, and he beene thus trod downe,
He should haue found his Vnckle Gaunt a Father,
To rowze his Wrongs, and chase them to the bay.
1240I am denyde to sue my Liucrie here,
And yet my Letters Patents giue me leaue:
My Fathers goods are all distraynd, and sold,
And these, and all, are all amisse imployd.
What