[Drums. Flourish and colors.]
Enter King [Richard,] Aumerle, Carlisle, etc.[, and soldiers.]
Barkloughly Castle call they this at hand?
Yea, my lord. How brooks your grace the air
3.2.31363After your late tossing on the breaking seas?
Needs must I like it well. I weep for joy
3.2.51365To stand upon my kingdom once again.
3.2.5.1[He places his hand on the ground.] 3.2.61366Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand,
3.2.71367Though rebels wound thee with their horses' hoofs.
3.2.81368As a long-parted mother with her child
3.2.91369Plays fondly with her tears and smiles in meeting,
3.2.101370So weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth,
3.2.121372Feed not thy sovereign's foe, my gentle earth,
3.2.131373Nor with thy sweets comfort his ravenous sense,
3.2.141374But let thy spiders that suck up thy venom
3.2.151375And heavy-gaited toads, lie in their way,
3.2.171377Which with usurping steps do trample thee.
3.2.191379And when they from thy bosom pluck a flower,
3.2.201380Guard it, I pray thee, with a lurking adder
3.2.211381Whose double tongue may with a mortal touch
3.2.221382Throw death upon thy sovereign's enemies.
3.2.231383Mock not my senseless conjuration, lords.
3.2.241384This earth shall have a feeling, and these stones
3.2.251385Prove armèd soldiers, ere her native king
3.2.261386Shall falter under foul rebellion's arms.
Fear not, my lord. That power that made you king
3.2.281388Hath power to keep you king in spite of all.
He means, my lord, that we are too remiss,
3.2.341390Whilst Bolingbroke, through our security,
3.2.351391Grows strong and great in substance and in power.
Discomfortable cousin! Know'st thou not
3.2.371393That when the searching eye of heaven is hid
3.2.381394Behind the globe that lights the lower world,
3.2.391395Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen
3.2.411397But when from under this terrestrial ball
3.2.421398He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines
3.2.431399And darts his light through every guilty hole,
3.2.441400Then murders, treasons, and detested sins,
3.2.451401The cloak of night being plucked from off their backs,
3.2.461402Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves?
3.2.471403So when this thief, this traitor, Bolingbroke,
3.2.481404Who all this while hath reveled in the night
3.2.501405Shall see us rising in our throne, the east,
3.2.511406His treasons will sit blushing in his face,
3.2.531408But, self-affrighted, tremble at his sin.
3.2.551410Can wash the balm off from an anointed king.
3.2.581413For every man that Bolingbroke hath pressed
3.2.591414To lift shrewd steel against our golden crown,
3.2.601415God for his Richard hath in heavenly pay
3.2.611416A glorious angel. Then, if angels fight,
3.2.621417Weak men must fall, for heaven still guards the right.
Welcome, my lord. How far off lies your power?
Nor near nor farther off, my gracious lord,
3.2.651421Than this weak arm. Discomfort guides my tongue
3.2.661422And bids me speak of nothing but despair.
3.2.671423One day too late, I fear me, noble lord,
3.2.681424Hath clouded all thy happy days on earth.
3.2.691425Oh, call back yesterday, bid time return,
3.2.701426And thou shalt have twelve thousand fighting men!
3.2.721428O'erthrows thy joys, friends, fortune, and thy state;
3.2.731429For all the Welshmen, hearing thou wert dead,
3.2.741430Are gone to Bolingbroke, dispersed, and fled.
Comfort, my liege. Why looks your grace so pale?
But now the blood of twenty thousand men
3.2.771434Did triumph in my face, and they are fled;
3.2.781435And till so much blood thither come again,
3.2.791436Have I not reason to look pale and dead?
3.2.801437All souls that will be safe, fly from my side,
Comfort, my liege. Remember who you are.
I had forgot myself. Am I not King?
3.2.841441Awake, thou coward majesty, thou sleepest!
3.2.851442Is not the King's name twenty thousand names?
3.2.861443Arm, arm, my name! A puny subject strikes
3.2.871444At thy great glory. Look not to the ground,
3.2.881445Ye favorites of a king. Are we not high?
3.2.891446High be our thoughts! I know my uncle York
3.2.901447Hath power enough to serve our turn. -- But who comes here?
1448 Enter [Sir Stephen] Scroop. More health and happiness betide my liege
3.2.921450Than can my care-tuned tongue deliver him.
Mine ear is open and my heart prepared.
3.2.941452The worst is worldly loss thou canst unfold.
3.2.951453Say, is my kingdom lost? Why, 'twas my care,
3.2.971455Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we?
3.2.981456Greater he shall not be. If he serve God,
3.2.991457We'll serve Him too, and be his fellow so.
3.2.1011459They break their faith to God as well as us.
3.2.1031461The worst is death, and death will have his day.
Glad am I that your highness is so armed
3.2.1071465Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores
3.2.1081466As if the world were all dissolved to tears,
3.2.1111469With hard bright steel, and hearts harder than steel.
3.2.1121470Whitebeards have armed their thin and hairless scalps
3.2.1131471Against thy majesty; boys with women's voices
3.2.1141472Strive to speak big, and clap their female joints
3.2.1201478And all goes worse than I have power to tell.
Too well, too well thou tell'st a tale so ill.
3.2.1221480Where is the Earl of Wiltshire? Where is Bagot?
3.2.1251483Measure our confines with such peaceful steps?
3.2.1261484If we prevail, their heads shall pay for it!
3.2.1271485I warrant they have made peace with Bolingbroke.
Peace have they made with him indeed, my lord.
Oh villains, vipers, damned without redemption!
3.2.1311490Snakes, in my heart-blood warmed, that sting my heart!
3.2.1321491Three Judases, each one thrice worse than Judas!
Sweet love, I see, changing his property,
3.2.1371496Again uncurse their souls. Their peace is made
3.2.1381497With heads, and not with hands. Those whom you curse
3.2.1391498Have felt the worst of death's destroying wound
3.2.1401499And lie full low, graved in the hollow ground.
Is Bushy, Green, and the Earl of Wiltshire dead?
Ay, all of them at Bristol lost their heads.
Where is the Duke my father with his power?
No matter where. Of comfort no man speak!
3.2.1451505Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs,
3.2.1511511Our lands, our lives, and all are Bolingbroke's,
3.2.1541514Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
3.2.1561516And tell sad stories of the death of kings --
3.2.1571517How some have been deposed, some slain in war,
3.2.1581518Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed,
3.2.1591519Some poisoned by their wives, some sleeping killed --
3.2.1621522Keeps death his court; and there the antic sits,
3.2.1631523Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp,
3.2.1651525To monarchize, be feared, and kill with looks,
3.2.1701530Bores thorough his castle wall, and -- farewell, king!
3.2.1711531Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood
My lord, wise men ne'er sit and wail their woes,
3.2.1801540To fear the foe, since fear oppresseth strength,
3.2.1811541Gives in your weakness strength unto your foe,
3.2.1831542Fear, and be slain. No worse can come to fight;
3.2.1841543And fight and die is death destroying death,
3.2.1851544Where fearing dying pays death servile breath.
My father hath a power. Inquire of him,
Thou chid'st me well. -- Proud Bolingbroke, I come
3.2.1891548To change blows with thee for our day of doom. --
3.2.1921551Say, Scroop, where lies our uncle with his power?
3.2.1931552Speak sweetly, man, although thy looks be sour.
Men judge by the complexion of the sky
3.2.1991558To lengthen out the worst that must be spoken.
Upon his party. Thou hast said enough.
3.2.2051564[To Aumerle] Beshrew thee, cousin, which didst lead me forth
3.2.2121571That power I have, discharge, and let them go
3.2.2131572To ear the land that hath some hope to grow,
My liege, one word.
My liege, one word. He does me double wrong
3.2.2181577That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue.
3.2.2191578Discharge my followers. Let them hence away,
3.2.2201579From Richard's night to Bolingbroke's fair day.
[Exeunt.]