University of Virginia Library

ACT the Third.

SCENE the First.

Enter King Richard, Aumerle, Carlile, &c. Souldiers.
King.
Barklay-Castle , call you this at hand?

Aum.
The same my Lord, how brooks your Grace the Air,
After long tossing on the breaking Seas.

King.
Needs must I like it well, I weep for joy
To stand upon my Kingdom once again,
Dear Earth I do salute thee with my Hand,
Tho' Rebells wound thee with their Horses hoofs;
Feed not thy Sov'raigns foes my gentle earth,
Nor with thy fragrant sweets refresh their sense,
With Thorns and Brambles Choak their Treacherous way;
And when they stoop to Rob thee of a Flow'r,
Guard it I pray thee with a lurking Adder!
Serpents with Serpents fitly will engage—
Mock not my senseless Conjuration Lords,
This Earth shall have a feeling, and these Stones
Rise Souldiers Arm'd before their Native King,
Shall falter under foul Rebellious Arms.

Carlile.
Doubt not my Lord, the Conduct and the Courage
With which you have supprest one Rebel Crew,
Will Crown your Temples with fresh Lawrells here;
How have we else Employ'd our absent time
But Practising the way to Victory.

Aum.
I fear my Lord that we are too remiss
Whilst Bullingbrook through our security,
Strengthens himself in substance and in Friends.

King.
Desponding Cousin dost thou not consider
That when the searching Eye of Heav'n is hid,
Then Thieves and Robbers do securely Range,
Alarm with Cryes of Murther starting sleep,
And fill with Out-rages the guilty Shades,
But when the Day's discov'ring Rays return,
Firing the proud tops of the Eastern Pines,
And dart their Lightnings through each Guilty Nook
Then Murders, Treasons, and detested Crimes,
Dismantled from the Cloak of Night, stand bare,
And Tremble at their own Deformity!
So, when this Thief Night-rev'ling Bullingbrook
Shall see our Beams of Majesty return'd,
His Treasons shall sit blushing on his Face,
Not able to endure the sight of Day.

Carl.
Not all the Waters of th'unfathom'd Sea
Can wash the Balm from an Annointed King.

King.
Move we secure then in our Royal Right,
To th' Traytors Executions, not to Fight.

[Exeunt.

SCENE The Second.

A Garden.
Queen Dutches of York, and other Ladies.
Queen.
Our Uncle York's delay brings fresh suspition,
That we are Pris'ners in a larger Chain;
Besides I fear that our Intelligence
Is Smooth'd and Tamper'd ere it reach our Ear.

Dutch.
Our Servants wear a doubtful Countenance,
Struck with a gen'ral fear whilst they observe
Fresh Prodigies start forth with ev'ry Hour.
The frighted Springs retreat to Earth agen,
The Seasons change their Courses, as the Year
Had found some Months asleep and leapt them over.

Qu.
Here come the Gardiners; let us step aside,
They'l talk of State, for every one do's so
Before a Change, and dullest Animals
Have oft the earliest sense of Alterations.

Enter Gardiner and Servant.
Gard.
Support those Vines, and Bind those Peaches up,
Then like an Executioner
Cut off the Heads of Sprigs that grow too fast,
And look too lofty in our Commonwealth,
All must be even in our Government.
But now we speak of Execution,

2.
Are Bushie Green and th' Earl of Wiltshire Dead?

Serv.
By Bullingbrook's Command they have lost their Heads;
The King is Landed, but it seems too late
To Head the Forces rais'd by Salisbury
Who had disperst themselves ere he arriv'd.

Qu.
Then all our fears are true, we are betray'd.

Dutch.
Patience dear Madam, we may get hear further.

Serv.
Think you the King will be depos'd?

Gard.
Deprest he is already, and 'tis fear'd
His fortune will decline from bad to worse,
Do what we can, you see our Lawrels wither,
Our Sun-flowers all are blasted, streams run backward,
These Prodigies forbode some dreadful change,
'Tis thought at last the King will be depos'd.

Queen.
I'm prest to death with silence—boding Peazant,
More senseless then the Plants or Earth thou tend'st,
Darst thou divine the downfall of a King?
Old Adams likeness set to dress this Garden,
What Eve, what Serpent has seduc'd thy soul,
To prophesie this second fall of Man?

Gard.
Pardon me Madam, little joy have I
To breath this News, but fear you'll find 'em true.

Queen.
Come Ladies, let us post to meet the King,
This Scretch-Owl yet amongst his boding cries,
Has sung the glad news of the Kings Arrival!
Which otherwise we were forbid to know;
Thou fear'st lest York shou'd meet with Bushies Fate,
Suspend thy Tears, the heavy time may come,
That thou wilt blush to see thy York alive;
If Richard fall, 'tis Treason to survive.

Exeunt

SCENE the Third.

A Heath.
King, Aumerle, Carlile, Souldiers.
King.
Command a hault, we will a while refresh,
Our sultry March, a cool breez fanns this Air—
The last expresses we receiv'd from Wales,
Spoke of full 20000 fighting men,
Did it not Lords?

Aum.
And some odd Troops besides.

King.
Nor will our Uncle York be negligent,
To muster up what Force he can,
Sure we shall blush my Lords, at our own strength,
Heaping such numbers for so just a cause.

Aum.
Sir, doubt not but the active Foe will find
Business enough t'employ our outmost Numbers.
Enter Salisbury.
I fear me we shall more want Hands than Work.

King.
See Cousen who comes here, i'th 'very Minute
To clear thy doubts, our trusty Salisbury.
Welcome my Lord, how far off lies your Power?

Sal.
My gracious Lord, no farther off nor nearer
Then this weak Arm, discomfort guides my tongue,
And bids me speak of nothing but despair.
I fear my noble Lord one day too late,
Has clouded all your happy days on earth!
O call back yesterday, bid time return,
Thou shalt have 20000 Fighting men,
To day to day! one luckless day too late,
O'rethrows thy Friends, thy Fortune and thy State;
Our Welchmen Miss-inform'd that you were dead,
Are gone to Bullingbrook disperst and fled.

Aum.
Comfort my Liege, why looks your Grace so pale?

King.
But now the blood of 20000 men,
Did triumph in my Face and they are fled,
Have I not reason think you to look pale?
My Fortune like a wife that has arriv'd
The hardness to have once prov'd open false,
Will set no Limits to her treach'rys now:
But turn to every upstart that will court her,
Now all that will be safe fly from my side,
For time has set a blast upon my Pride.

Aum.
My Liege remember who you are.

King.
I had forgot my self, am I not King?
Awake thou sluggard Majesty thou sleep'st!
Is not the Kings name 40000 names,
Arm, arm my Name! a puny Subject strikes
At thy great glory! look not to the ground
Ye favourites of a King;
See Salisbury, our hasty Scroop brings Balm
To salve the Wound thy piercing tidings gave.
[Enter Scroop.
Come on thou trusty Souldier; oh draw near!
Thou never shew'dst thy self more seasonably,
Not when the flying Battle thou hast turn'd,
And from the hands of Conquest forc't the Day.

Scroop.
More health and happiness befall my Liege,
Then my care-burden'd Tongue has to deliver.

King.
How's that? I charge thee on thy Soul speak comfort.
Ha! wilt thou not speak Comfort? then speak Truth.
My ear is open and my heart prepar'd,
The worst thou canst unfold is worldly loss,
Say, is my Kingdom lost? why 'twas my Care;
And what loss is it to be rid of Care?
Strives Bullingbrook to be as great as we?
If Heav'n approve his hopes, why let 'em thrive!
Revolt our Subjects? that we cannot mend,
To Heav'n they first were false and then to us!
Then give thy heavy heart as heavy speech,
Cry Woe, Destruction, Ruin, Loss, Decay,
The worst is Death, and Death will have his Day.

Scroop.
I'm glad to find your Highness so prepar'd,
Like a fierce sudden Storm that swells the Floods,
As if the world were all dissolv'd to Tears,
So rages Bullingbrook above his bounds,
Cov'ring the fearful Land with clashing Arms;
Old Sires have bound their hairless Scalps in steel,
Boys leave their sports and tune their tender Pipes
To the big voice of War, and strut in Armour;
The very Beadsmen learn to bend their Bows,
The very Women throw their Infants by,
Snatch rusty Bills and flock to the mad War,
And all goes worse than I have Power to tell.

King.
Too well, alas, thou tell'sta Tale so Ill!
Where is the Earl of Wiltshire, Bushie, Bagot?
That they have let these mischiefs spread so far,
If we prevail their Heads shall answer for't!
I warrant they have made peace with Bullingbrook.

Scroop.
Peace have they made with him indeed.

King.
Oh Villains Vipers, damn'd without redemption!
Dogs, quickly won to fawn on any Comer,
Snakes in my Heartsblood warm'd to sting my Heart,
Wou'd they make Peace? eternal Hell make War
Upon their spotted souls for this Offence.

Scroop.
Again uncurse their Souls, their Peace is made
With Heads and not with Hands, those whom you curse
Are butcher'd in your Cause, beheaded all
And with their last breath wisht your Arms success.

Aum.
Where is the Duke my Father with his Forces?

King.
No matter where; of Comfort no man speak;
Let's talk of Graves, of Worms and Epitaphs,
Make Dust our paper, and with rainy eyes
Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth!
For Heav'ns sake let's sit upon the ground,
And tell sad stories of the Death of Kings,
How some have been depos'd, some slain in War,
Some poyson'd by their Wives, some sleeping kill'd;
All murther'd: for within the hollow Crown
That rounds the mortal Temples of a King,
Keeps death his Court, and there the Antique sits,
Scoffing his State, and grinning at his Pomp!
Allowing him a short fictitious Scene,
To play the Prince, be fear'd, and kill with looks,
'Till swell'd with vain conceit the flatter'd thing
Believes himself immortal as a God;
Then to the train fate's Engineer sets fire,
Blows up his pageant Pride and farewell King.
Cover your heads and mock not flesh and blood,
With solemn reverence, throw away Respect,
Obeysance, Form and Ceremonious Duty,
For you have but mistook me all this while,
I live with bread like you, feel Wants, tast Grief,
Therefore am I no King, or a King nothing.

Aum.
Give to the Foe my Lord, this cold despair,
No worse can come of Fight, of Death much better.
My Fathers Troops are firm let's joyn with them,
And manage wisely that last stake o'th' War,
Want's craft can make a body of a limb.

King.
You chide me well, proud Bullingbrook I come,
[Rises.
To change blows with thee for our day of Doom,
This Ague-fit of fear is overblown,
An easie task it is to win our own;
Say, Scroop, where lies our Uncle with his Pow'r?
My fir'd heart now longs for the fatal hour.

Scroop.
Men by the Skies complexion judge the day,
So may you by my dull and heavy eye,
Find that my tongue brings yet a heavier Tale,
I play the Torturer by small and small!
Your Uncle York treating with Bullingbrook,
Was seiz'd by him, and's still kept close Confin'd
So that the strength which he was must'ring up,
Is quast and come to nought.

King.
Thou hast said enough,
Beshrew thee Cousin that didst lead me forth
Of that sweet I was in to despair!
What say ye now? what comfort have ye now?
By Heav'n I'll hate him everlastingly,
That bids me be of comfort any more!
Enter Queen, Dutchess, Ladies and Attendants.
Now by despair my Queen and her fair train!
Come to congratulate our Victory,
And claim the triumph we at parting promis'd;
Go tell 'em Lords, what feats you have perform'd,
And if ye please tell my adventures too,
You know I was no Idler in the War.
Oh! torture, now I feel my miseries sting,
And this appearance strikes me dead with shame

Queen.
Welcome my Lord,
This minute is our own, and I'll devote it all
To extasie, the Realm receives her King,
And I my Lover,—thou dost turn away!
Nor are they tears of joy which thou dost shed,
I give thee welcome, thou reply'st with sighs!

King.
What language shall my bankrupt fortunes find,
To greet such Heavenly excellence as thine?
I promiss'd thee success and bring thee Tears!
O couldst thou but devorce me from thy Heart!
But oh! I know thy virtue will undoe thee,
Thou wilt be still a faithful constant Wife,
Feel all my Wrongs and suffer in my Fall?
There is the sting and venom of my Fate,
When I shall think that I have ruin'd Thee.

Queen.
I ask no more my Lord, at Fortunes hands
Then priviledge to suffer for your sake!
Who wou'd not share your Grief to share your Love?
This Kingdom yet, which once you did prefer
To the worlds sway, this Beauty and this Heart
Is Richards still, millions of Loyal thoughts
Are always waiting there to pay you homage.
That glorious Empire yields to you alone,
No Bullingbrook can chase you from that Throne.

King.
We'll march no farther, lead to th' Castle here.

[Exeunt.

SCENE the Fourth.

A Castle.
Flourish. Enter Bullingbrook, York, Northumberland, Piercy, Willoughby, &c.
North.
The News is very fair and good My Lord,
Richard within this Fort has hid his head.

York.
It would become the Lord Northumberland
To say King Richard, that so good a King
Should be compell'd to hide a sacred Head,
And Thou have leave to shew a Villains Face!

Bull.
Mistake not Uncle farther then you shou'd.

York.
Talk not thou Traytor farther then thou shoud'st.

[Enter Ross.
Bull.
What say'st thou Ross? will not this Castle yield?

Ross.
My Lord the Castle Royally is man'd
Against your entrance, for the King and Queen
But newly are arriv'd and enter'd there,
With them the Lord Aumerle, Lord Salisbury,
Sir Stephen Scroop, besides a Clergy-man
Of holy rev'rence, whom I cannot learn.

North.
I know him, 'tis the Bishop of Carlile.

Bull.
Go Northumberland, through the ribs of this Castle,
With brazen Trumpets sound the breath of Parle,
Say thus—that Bullingbrook upon his knees
Kisses King Richards hands with true allegiance,
And that with thoughts of Peace he's hither come.
Ev'n at his feet to lay his Arms and Pow'r,
Provided his Revenues be restor'd,
His Banishment repeal'd; let this be granted
Or else he'l use th'advantage of his Power,
And lay the Summers Dust with show'rs of Blood:—
Enter King above Aumerle, Carlile, &c.
But see where on the walls he do's appear,
As do's the blushing discontented Sun,
When envious Clouds combine to shade his Glory.

York.
O my dear Liege, Heav'n guard your Majesty,
'Fore Heav'n, my old heart leaps at sight of you,
Think not that falsly I gave up your Pow'r,
If any Villain of 'em dares to say it,
I'le call that Villain Lyar to his teeth,
He is a Rogue, tho' it be Bullingbrook!
Lo, here I kneel, and pay thee Homage as a true
Subject shou'd before the Rebels Faces.

King.
Rise York, I know thy truth, and pity thee.
We are amaz'd, and thus long have we stood
To watch the fearful bending of his knee;
Because We thought Our Self his lawful King.
Tell Bullingbrook, for yond' methinks is he,
That every stride he makes upon Our Land
Is dangerous Treason: He is come t' unfold
The purple Testament of bleeding War:
But e're the Crown he seeks shall bind his Brow,
A thousand Orphan'd Widowed Mothers Tears
Shall wash from Earth their Sons and Husbands Blood

North.
Heaven forbid our Lord the King
Shou'd thus with civil Arms be rusht upon;
Lord Bullingbrook does humbly kiss your Hand,
And swears his coming hither has no other scope
Then to demand his Royalties, and beg
Enfrancisement from Exile; grant but this,
His Glitt'ring Arms he will commend to Rust.

King.
Northumberland say thus,—The King complies
With his Demands; and so commend us to him.
We do debase Our Self Cousin, do we not,
To look so peaceful and to speak so fair?
Shall we call back Northumberland, and send
Defiance to the Traytor's Heart, and Die.

Aum.
No, good my Lord, let's fight with gentle words,
Till time lend Friends, and Friends their conquering Swords.

King.
That ere this power-chang'd Tongue
That laid the Sentence of dread Banishment
On yond proud Man, shou'd take it off agen.
O that I were as great
As is my Grief, or lesser than my Name!
That I could quite forget what I have been,
Or not remember what I must be now.

Aum.
Northumberland comes back from Bullingbrook.

King.
What must the King do now? Must he forgo
The Name of King? O' God's Name let it pass,
I'll give my Jewels for a set of Beads,
My gilded Palace for a Hermitage,
My Robes of Empire for an Alms-man's Gown,
My figur'd Goblets for a Dish of Wood,
My Scepter for an humble Palmers Staff,
My Subjects for a pair of Poor Carv'd Saints,
And my large Kingdom for a little Grave,
A little, very little obscure Grave!
Aumarle, Thou weep'st; my tender hearted Cousin,
Wee'l joyn our Royal with thy Loyal Tears,
Our sighs and they shall lodge the Summer Corn
And make a Dearth in this revolting Land.

North.
My Lord he thanks your Highness and begs leave
To speak with you, Sir please you to come down:
Hee'll wait your Majesty ith' Court below.

King.
Down, down, I come like Blazing Phaeton,
Wanting the Menage of unruly Steeds;
Down pomp, down swelling stubborn Heart, down King,
For Night-Owls shriek where Mounting Larks should sing.

[Exeunt from above.
Re-enter Bullingbrook and his Company in the Court.
Bul.
Northumberland to London, with all speed,
Summon a Parliament i'th' Commons Name,
In Order to the Kings Appearance there;
[Enter King attended.]
But see—his Highness comes, stand all apart
And shew fair Duty to his Majesty.

York runs over to the King, kneels and kisses his Hand.
York.
Now left the Rebels seize me if they can,
For here I'll perish by my Sovereign's side.

King.
Fy Cousin, you debase your princely Knee
And make our Earth too proud with Kissing it;
Methinks my Heart had rather feel your Love,
Then thus in Eye behold the Courtesie:
Up Cousen, up—Your Heart is up, I know

Bul.
My gracious Lord I come but for my own.

King.
And to that Title who must set the Bounds?

Bul.
Nor even to that do I lay farther claim,
Than my true Service shall deserve your Love.

King.
Well you deserve, they best deserve to have,
That know the strongest surest way to get;
But Heav'n rules all—good Uncle dry your Tears—
Cousin I am to young to be your Father
Tho' you are Old enuff to be my Heir!
Methinks one Person's wanting yet
To this fair Presence, our Old Loyal Gaunt,
He was thy Father Herford, was he not?
Excuse me Cousin, Tears but ill become
A King, at least when Friends and Kinsmen meet,
And yet I cannot chuse but weep to think,
That whilst you press and I permit this Scorn;
What Plagues we heap on Children yet unborn.

[Exeunt.