our lifeWere brass impregnable; and, humour’d thus,
Comes at the last, and with a little pin
Bores through his castle wall, and farewell, king!
Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood
With solemn reverence: throw away respect,
Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty;
For you have but mistook me all this while:
I live with bread like you, feel want,
Taste grief, need friends: subjected thus,
How can you say to me I am a king?
CARLISLE.
My lord, wise men ne’er sit and wail their woes,
But presently prevent the ways to wail.
To fear the foe, since fear oppresseth strength,
Gives, in your weakness, strength unto your foe,
And so your follies fight against yourself.
Fear and be slain; no worse can come to fight;
And fight and die is death destroying death;
Where fearing dying pays death servile breath.
AUMERLE.
My father hath a power; inquire of him,
And learn to make a body of a limb.
KING RICHARD.
Thou chid’st me well. Proud Bolingbroke, I come
To change blows with thee for our day of doom.
This ague fit of fear is overblown;
An easy task it is to win our own.—
Say, Scroop, where lies our uncle with his power?
Speak sweetly, man, although thy looks be sour.
SCROOP.
Men judge by the complexion of the sky
The state in inclination of the day;
So may you by my dull and heavy eye,
My tongue hath but a heavier tale to say.
I play the torturer, by small and small
To lengthen out the worst that must be spoken:
Your uncle York is join’d with Bolingbroke;
And all your northern castles yielded up,
And all your southern gentlemen in arms
Upon his party.
KING RICHARD.
Thou hast said enough.
[To AUMERLE.] Beshrew thee, cousin, which didst lead me forth
Of that sweet way I was in to despair!
What say you now? What comfort have we now?
By heaven, I’ll hate him everlastingly
That bids me be of comfort any more.
Go to Flint Castle; there I’ll pine away;
A king, woe’s slave, shall kingly woe obey.
That power I have, discharge; and let them go
To ear the land that hath some hope to grow,
For I have none. Let no man speak again
To alter this, for counsel is but vain.
AUMERLE.
My liege, one word.
KING RICHARD.
He does me double wrong
That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue.
Discharge my followers; let them hence away,
From Richard’s night to Bolingbroke’s fair day.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE III. Wales. Before Flint Castle.
[Enter, with drum and colours, BOLINGBROKE and Forces; YORK,
NORTHUMBERLAND, and Others.]
BOLINGBROKE.
So that by this intelligence we learn
The Welshmen are dispers’d; and Salisbury
Is gone to meet the king, who lately landed
With some few private friends upon this coast.
NORTHUMBERLAND.
The news is very fair and good, my lord.
Richard not far from hence hath hid his head.
YORK.
It would beseem the Lord Northumberland
To say ‘King Richard’: alack the heavy day
When such a sacred king should hide his head!
NORTHUMBERLAND.
Your Grace mistakes; only to be brief,
Left I his title out.
YORK.
The time hath been,
Would you have been so brief with him, he would
Have been so brief with you to shorten you,
For taking so the head, your whole head’s length.
BOLINGBROKE.
Mistake not, uncle, further than you should.
YORK.
Take not, good cousin, further than you should,
Lest you mistake. The heavens are o’er our heads.
BOLINGBROKE.
I know it, uncle; and oppose not myself
Against their will. But who comes here?
[Enter HENRY PERCY.]
Welcome, Harry: what, will not this castle yield?
PERCY.
The castle royally is mann’d, my lord,
