ACT 3

       SCENE I. Bristol. BOLINGBROKE’S camp.

       [Enter BOLINGBROKE, YORK, NORTHUMBERLAND, HENRY PERCY, WILLOUGHBY, ROSS; Officers behind, with BUSHY and GREEN, prisoners.]

       BOLINGBROKE.

       Bring forth these men.

       Bushy and Green, I will not vex your souls—

       Since presently your souls must part your bodies—

       With too much urging your pernicious lives,

       For ‘twere no charity; yet, to wash your blood

       From off my hands, here in the view of men

       I will unfold some causes of your deaths.

       You have misled a prince, a royal king,

       A happy gentleman in blood and lineaments,

       By you unhappied and disfigur’d clean;

       You have in manner with your sinful hours

       Made a divorce betwixt his queen and him,

       Broke the possession of a royal bed,

       And stain’d the beauty of a fair queen’s cheeks

       With tears drawn from her eyes by your foul wrongs.

       Myself, a prince by fortune of my birth,

       Near to the King in blood, and near in love

       Till you did make him misinterpret me,

       Have stoop’d my neck under your injuries,

       And sigh’d my English breath in foreign clouds,

       Eating the bitter bread of banishment;

       Whilst you have fed upon my signories,

       Dispark’d my parks and felled my forest woods,

       From my own windows torn my household coat,

       Raz’d out my impress, leaving me no sign

       Save men’s opinions and my living blood

       To show the world I am a gentleman.

       This and much more, much more than twice all this,

       Condemns you to the death. See them deliver’d over

       To execution and the hand of death.

       BUSHY.

       More welcome is the stroke of death to me

       Than Bolingbroke to England. Lords, farewell.

       GREEN.

       My comfort is that heaven will take our souls,

       And plague injustice with the pains of hell.

       BOLINGBROKE.

       My Lord Northumberland, see them dispatch’d.

       [Exeunt NORTHUMBERLAND, and Others, with BUSHY and GREEN.]

       Uncle, you say the Queen is at your house;

       For God’s sake, fairly let her be entreated:

       Tell her I send to her my kind commends;

       Take special care my greetings be deliver’d.

       YORK.

       A gentleman of mine I have dispatch’d

       With letters of your love to her at large.

       BOLINGBROKE.

       Thanks, gentle uncle. Come, lords, away,

       To fight with Glendower and his complices.

       Awhile to work, and after holiday.

       [Exeunt.]

       SCENE II. The coast of Wales. A castle in view.

       [Flourish: drums and trumpets. Enter KING RICHARD, the BISHOP OF

       CARLISLE, AUMERLE, and soldiers.]

       KING RICHARD.

       Barkloughly Castle call they this at hand?

       AUMERLE.

       Yea, my lord. How brooks your Grace the air

       After your late tossing on the breaking seas?

       KING RICHARD.

       Needs must I like it well: I weep for joy

       To stand upon my kingdom once again.

       Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand,

       Though rebels wound thee with their horses’ hoofs:

       As a long-parted mother with her child

       Plays fondly with her tears and smiles in meeting,

       So weeping-smiling greet I thee, my earth,

       And do thee favours with my royal hands.

       Feed not thy sovereign’s foe, my gentle earth,

       Nor with thy sweets comfort his ravenous sense;

       But let thy spiders, that suck up thy venom,

       And heavy-gaited toads lie in their way,

       Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet

       Which with usurping steps do trample thee.

       Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies;

       And when they from thy bosom pluck a flower,

       Guard it, I pray thee, with a lurking adder

       Whose double tongue may with a mortal touch

       Throw death upon thy sovereign’s enemies.

       Mock not my senseless conjuration, lords.

       This earth shall have a feeling, and these stones

       Prove armed soldiers, ere her native king

       Shall falter under