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Bull. I thanke thee gentle Percie, and be sure I 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
North. 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, None else of Name, and n.o.ble estimate.
Enter Rosse and Willoughby.
North. Here come the Lords of Rosse and Willoughby, b.l.o.o.d.y with spurring, fierie red with haste
Bull. Welcome my Lords, I wot your loue pursues A 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 n.o.ble Lord
Willo. And farre surmounts our labour to attaine it
Bull. Euermore thankes, th' Exchequer of the poore, Which till my infant-fortune comes to yeeres, Stands for my Bountie: but who comes here?
North. It is my Lord of Barkely, as I ghesse
Bark. 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 t.i.tle in your Tongue, Before I make reply to aught you say
Bark. Mistake me not, my Lord, 'tis not my meaning To raze one t.i.tle 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 p.r.i.c.ks you on To take aduantage of the absent time, And fright our Natiue Peace with selfe-borne Armes.
Bull. I shall not need transport my words by you, Here comes his Grace in Person. My n.o.ble Vnckle
York. 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, In 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, Frighting 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.
Were 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, Now 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, In grosse Rebellion, and detested Treason: Thou art a banish'd man, and here art come Before th' expiration of thy time, In brauing Armes against thy Soueraigne
Bull. As I was banish'd, I was banish'd Hereford, But as I come, I come for Lancaster.
And n.o.ble 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, Will 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, It must be graunted, I am Duke of Lancaster.
You haue a Sonne, Aumerle, my n.o.ble 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.
I am denyde to sue my Liuerie 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 would you haue me doe? I am a Subiect, And challenge Law: Attorneyes are deny'd me; And therefore personally I lay my claime To my Inheritance of free Discent
North. The n.o.ble Duke hath been too much abus'd
Ross. It stands your Grace vpon, to doe him right
Willo. Base men by his endowments are made great
York. My Lords of England, let me tell you this, I haue had feeling of my Cosens Wrongs, And labour'd all I could to doe him right: But in this kind, to come in brauing Armes, Be his owne Caruer, and cut out his way, To find out Right with Wrongs, it may not be; And you that doe abett him in this kind, Cherish Rebellion, and are Rebels all
North. The n.o.ble Duke hath sworne his comming is But for his owne; and for the right of that, Wee all haue strongly sworne to giue him ayd, And let him neu'r see Ioy, that breakes that Oath
York. Well, well, I see the issue of these Armes, I cannot mend it, I must needes confesse, Because my power is weake, and all ill left: But if I could, by him that gaue me life, I would attach you all, and make you stoope Vnto the Soueraigne Mercy of the King.
But since I cannot, be it knowne to you, I doe remaine as Neuter. So fare you well, Vnlesse you please to enter in the Castle, And there repose you for this Night
Bull. An offer Vnckle, that wee will accept: But wee must winne your Grace to goe with vs To Bristow Castle, which they say is held By Bushie, Bagot, and their Complices, The Caterpillers of the Commonwealth, Which I haue sworne to weed, and plucke away
York. It may be I will go with you: but yet Ile pawse, For I am loth to breake our Countries Lawes: Nor Friends, nor Foes, to me welcome you are, Things past redresse, are now with me past care.
Enter Salisbury, and a Captaine.
Capt. My Lord of Salisbury, we haue stayd ten dayes, And hardly kept our Countreymen together, And yet we heare no tidings from the King; Therefore we will disperse our selues: farewell
Sal. Stay yet another day, thou trustie Welchman, The King reposeth all his confidence in thee
Capt. 'Tis thought the King is dead, we will not stay; The Bay-trees in our Countrey all are wither'd, And Meteors fright the fixed Starres of Heauen; The pale-fac'd Moone lookes b.l.o.o.d.y on the Earth, And leane-look'd Prophets whisper fearefull change; Rich men looke sad, and Ruffians dance and leape, The one in feare, to loose what they enioy, The other to enioy by Rage, and Warre: These signes fore-run the death of Kings.
Farewell, our Countreymen are gone and fled, As well a.s.sur'd Richard their King is dead.
Sal. Ah Richard, with eyes of heauie mind, I see thy Glory, like a shooting Starre, Fall to the base Earth, from the Firmament: Thy Sunne sets weeping in the lowly West, Witnessing Stormes to come, Woe, and Vnrest: Thy Friends are fled, to wait vpon thy Foes, And crossely to thy good, all fortune goes.
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
Enter Bullingbrooke, Yorke, Northumberland, Rosse, Percie, Willoughby, with Bushie and Greene Prisoners.
Bull. Bring forth these men: Bushie and Greene, I will not vex your soules, (Since presently your soules must part your bodies) With too much vrging your pernitious liues, For 'twere no Charitie: yet to wash your blood From off my hands, here in the view of men, I will vnfold some causes of your deaths.
You haue mis-led a Prince, a Royall King, A happie Gentleman in Blood, and Lineaments, By you vnhappied, and disfigur'd cleane: You haue in manner with your sinfull houres Made a Diuorce betwixt his Queene and him, Broke the possession of a Royall Bed, And stayn'd the beautie of a faire Queenes Cheekes, With teares drawn fro[m] her eyes, with your foule wrongs.
My selfe a Prince, by fortune of my birth, Neere to the King in blood, and neere in loue, Till you did make him mis-interprete me, Haue stoopt my neck vnder your iniuries, And sigh'd my English breath in forraine Clouds, Eating the bitter bread of banishment; While you haue fed vpon my Seignories, Dis-park'd my Parkes, and fell'd my Forrest Woods; From mine owne Windowes torne my Household Coat, Raz'd out my Impresse, leauing me no signe, Saue mens opinions, and my liuing blood, To shew the World I am a Gentleman.
This, and much more, much more then twice all this, Condemnes you to the death: see them deliuered ouer To execution, and the hand of death
Bushie. More welcome is the stroake of death to me, Then Bullingbrooke to England
Greene. My comfort is, that Heauen will take our soules, And plague Iniustice with the paines of h.e.l.l
Bull. My Lord Northumberland, see them dispatch'd: Vnckle, you say the Queene is at your House, For Heauens sake fairely let her be entreated, Tell her I send to her my kind commends; Take speciall care my Greetings be deliuer'd