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Even at his feet to lay my arms and power, |
Provided that my banishment repeal'd |
And lands restored 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 slaughter'd 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 threatening drum, |
That from this castle's tatter'd battlements |
Our fair appointments may be well perused. |
Methinks King Richard and myself should meet |
With no less terror than the elements |
Of fire and water, when their thundering 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. |
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. |
DUKE OF YORK: |
Yet looks he 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 II: |
We are amazed; 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 dismissed 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: |
Which on thy royal party granted once, |
His glittering arms he will commend to rust, |
His barbed steeds to stables, and his heart |
To faithful service of your majesty. |
This swears he, as he is a prince, is just; |
And, as I am a gentleman, I credit him. |
KING RICHARD II: |
Northumberland, say thus the king returns: |
His noble cousin is right welcome hither; |
And all the number of his fair demands |
Shall be accomplish'd without contradiction: |
With all the gracious utterance thou hast |
Speak to his gentle hearing kind commends. |
We do debase ourselves, cousin, do we not, |
To look so poorly and to speak so fair? |
Shall we call back Northumberland, and send |
Defiance to the traitor, and so die? |
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