Imágenes de páginas

But, when he frown'd, it was against the French,
And not against his friends: his noble hand
Did win what he did spend, and spent not that
Which his triumphant father's hand had won:
His hands were guilty of no kindred's blood,
But bloody with the enemies of his kin.
O, Richard! York is too far gone with grief,
Or else he never would compare between.
K. Rich, Why, uncle, what's the matter?
York. O, my liege,

Pardon me, if you please; if not, I pleas'd

Not to be pardon'd, am content withal.

Seek you to seize, and gripe into your hands,

The royalties and rights of banish'd Hereford?

Is not Gaunt dead? and doth not Hereford live?

Was not Gaunt just? and is not Harry true?

Did not the one deserve to have an heir?

Is not his heir a well-deserving son?

Take Hereford's rights away, and take from time

His charters, and his customary rights;

Let not to-morrow then ensue to-day;

Be not thyself, for how art thou a king,

But by fair sequence and succession?

Now, afore God (God forbid, I say true !)

If you do wrongfully seize Hereford's rights,

Call in the letters patents that he hath

By his attornies-general to sue

His liver)', and deny his offer'd homage,

You pluck a thousand dangers on your head,
You lose a thousand well-disposed hearts,

And prick my tender patience to those thoughts
Which honour and allegiance cannot think.
K. Rich. Think what you will; we seize into our

His plate, his goods, his money, and his lands.

York. I'll not be by, the while: My liege, farewell: What will ensue hereof, there's none can tell; But by bad courses may be understood, That their events can never fall out good. [Exit.

K. Rich. Go, Bushy, to the earl of Wiltshire


Bid him repair to us to Ely-house,
To see this business: To-morrow next
We will for Ireland; and 'tis time, I trow 5
And we create, in absence of ourself,
Our uncle York lord governor of England,
For he is just, and always lov'd us well. —
Come on, our queen: to-morrow must we part;
Be merry, for our tune of stay is short [Flourish.
[Exeunt King, Queen, Bushy, Aumcrle, Green, and _


North. Well, lords, the duke of Lancaster is dead.
Ross. And living too; for now his son is duke.
Witto. Barely in title, not in revenue.
North. Richly in both, if justice had her right.
Ross. My heart is great; but it must break with


Ere't be disburden'd with a liberal tongue.
North. Nay, speak thy mind; and let him ne'er

speak more,
That speaks thy words again, to do thee harm!

Willo. Tends that thou'dst speak, to the duke of


It it be so, out with it boldly, man;
Quick is mine ear, to hear of good towards him.

Ross. No good at all, that I can do for him;
Unless you call it good, to pity him,
Bereft and gelded of his patrimony.

North. Now, afore heaven, 'tis shame, such wrongs

are borne,

In him a royal prince, and many more
Of noble blood in this declining land.
The king is not himself, but basely led
By flatterers; and what they will inform,
Merely in hate, 'gainst any of us all,
That will the king severely prosecute
Gainst us, our lives, our children, and our heirs.

Ross. The commons hath he pill'd with grievous


And lost their hearts: the nobles hath he fin'd
For ancient quarrels, and quite lost their hearts.

Willo. And daily new exactions are devis'd;
As—blanks, benevolences, and I wot not what:
But what, o'God's name, doth become of this?

North, Wars have not wasted it, for warr'd he hath


But basely yielded upon compromise
That which his ancestors achiev'd with blows:
More hath he spent in peace, than they in wars.

Ross. The earl of Wiltshire hath the realm in farm.

Wtilo. The king's grown bankrupt, like a broken man.

North. Reproach, and dissolution, hangeth over him.

Emi. He hath not money for these Irish wars,
His burdenous taxations notwithstanding,
But by the robbing of the banish'd duke.

North. His noble kinsman:—Most degenerate king!
But, lords, we hear this fearful tempest sing,
Yet seek no shelter to avoid the storm:
We see the wind sit sore upon our sails,
And yet we strike not, but securely perish.

Ross. We see the very wreck that we must suffer; And unavoided is the danger now, For suffering so the causes of our wreck.

North. Not so; even through the hollow eyes of


I spy life peering; but I dare not say
How near the tidings of our comfort is.

Willo. Nay, let us share thy thoughts, as thou dost ours.

Ross. Be confident to speak, Northumberland: We three are but thyself; and, speaking so, Thy words are but as. thoughts; therefore, be bold.

North. Then thus:—I have from Port le Blanc, a


In Britany, receiv'd intelligence,
That Harry Hereford, Reignold lord Cobham,
[The son of Richard Earl of Arundel,]
That late broke from the duke of Exeter,

His brother, archbishop late of Canterbury,
Sir Thomas Erpingham, sir John Ramston,
Sir John Norbery, sir Robert Waterton, and Francis


All these, well furnish'd by the duke of Bretagne,
With eight tall ships, three thousand men of war,
Are making hither with all due expedience,
And shortly mean to touch our northern shore:
Perhaps, they had ere this; but that they stay
The first departing of the king for Ireland.
If then we shall shake off our slavish yoke,
Imp out-0 our drooping country's broken wing,
Redeem from broking pawn the blemish'd crown,
Wipe off the dust that hides our scepter's gilt,
And make high majesty look like itself,
Away, with me, in post to Ravenspurg:
But if you faint, as fearing to do so,
Stay, and be secret, and myself will go.

Ross. To horse, to horse! urge doubts to thenv that fear.

IVillo. Hold out my horse, and I will first be there.



The Same. A Room in the Palace.
Enter Queen, Bushy, and Bagot.

Bushy. Madam, your majesty is too much sad:
You promis'd, when you parted with the king,

« AnteriorContinuar »