O, belike it is the Bishop of Carlisle.
Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle;
Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parley
his ruin'd ears, and thus deliver:
On both his knees doth kiss King Richard's hand
sends allegiance and true faith of heart
To his most royal person, hither come
Even at his feet to lay my
arms and power,
Provided that my banishment repeal'd
And lands restored again be freely granted:
not, I'll use the advantage of my power
And lay the summer's dust with showers of blood
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
Go, signify as much, while here we march
Upon the grassy carpet of this plain.
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
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
March on, and mark King Richard how he looks.
Parle without, and answer within. Then a flourish. Enter on the walls, KING RICHARD II, the BISHOP
OF CARLISLE, DUKE OF AUMERLE, SIR STEPHEN SCROOP, and EARL OF SALISBURY
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
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;
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
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,
lift your vassal hands against my head
And threat the glory of my precious crown.
yond methinks he stands
That every stride he makes upon my land
Is dangerous treason: he is come to
The purple testament of bleeding war;
But ere the crown he looks for live in peace,
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.
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,
stands upon your royal grandsire's bones,
And by the royalties of both your bloods,
Currents that spring
Copyright: All texts on Bibliomania are © Bibliomania.com Ltd,
and may not be reproduced in any form without our written permission.
See our FAQ for more details.