William Shakespeare's The Tragedy of King Richard the Second in the complete original text.
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The Tragedy of King Richard the Second

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Act II. Scene III.

Scene III.—The Wolds in Gloucestershire.

UMBERLAND, with Forces.

Boling. How far is it, my lord, to Berkeley
North. Believe me, noble lord,
I am a stranger here in Gloucestershire:
These high wild bills and rough uneven ways
Draw out our miles and make them wearisome;
But yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar,
Making the hard way sweet and delectable.
But I bethink me what a weary way
From Ravenspurgh to Cotswold will be found
In Ross and Willoughby, wanting your company,
Which, I protest, hath very much beguil'd
The tediousness and process of my travel:
But theirs is sweeten'd with the hope to have
The present benefit which I possess;
And hope to joy is little less in joy
Than hope enjoy'd: by this the weary lords
Shall make their way seem short, as mine hath
By sight of what I have, your noble company.
Boling. Of much less value is my company
Than your good words. But who comes here?

North. It is my son, young Harry Percy,
Sent from my brother Worcester, whenceso-
Harry, how fares your uncle?
H. Percy. I had thought, my lord, to have
learn'd his health of you.
North. Why, is he not with the queen?
H. Percy. No, my good lord; he hath forsook
the court,
Broken his staff of office, and dispersed
The household of the king.
North. What was his reason?
He was not so resolv'd when last we spake to-
H. Percy. Because your lordship was pro-
claimed traitor.
But he, my lord, is gone to Ravenspurgh,
To offer service to the Duke of Hereford,
And sent me over by Berkeley to discover
What power the Duke of York had levied there;
Then with direction to repair to Ravenspurgh.
North. Have you forgot the Duke of Here-
ford, boy?
H. Percy. No, my good lord; for that is not
Which ne'er I did remember: to my knowledge
I never in my life did look on him.
North. Then learn to know him now: this is
the duke.
H. Percy. My gracious lord, I tender you my
Such as it is, being tender, raw, and young,
Which elder days shall ripen and confirm
To more approved service and desert.
Boling. I thank thee, gentle Percy; and be
I count myself in nothing else so happy
As in a soul remembering my good friends;
And as my fortune ripens with thy love,
It shall be still thy true love's recompense:
My heart this covenant makes, my hand thus
seals it.
North. How far is it to Berkeley? and what
Keeps good old York there with his men of war?
H. Percy. There stands the castle, by yon tuft
of trees,
Mann'd with three hundred men, as I have
And in it are the Lords of York, Berkeley, and
None else of name and noble estimate.

Enter Ross and WILLOUGHBY.
North. Here come the Lords of Ross and
Bloody with spurring, fiery-red with haste.
Boling. Welcome, my lords. I wot your love
A banish'd traitor; all my treasury
Is yet but unfelt thanks, which, more enrich'd,
Shall be your love and labour's recompense.
Ross. Your presence makes us rich, most
noble lord.
Willo. And far surmounts our labour to at-
tain it.
Boling. Evermore thanks, the exchequer of
the poor;
Which, till my infant fortune comes to years,
Stands for my bounty. But who comes here?

North. It is my Lord of Berkeley, as I guess.
Berk. My Lord of Hereford, my message is to
Boling. My lord, my answer is—to Lancaster;
And I am come to seek that name in England;
And I must find that title in your tongue
Before I make reply to aught you say.
Berk. Mistake me not, my lord; 'tis not my
To raze one title of your honour out:
To you, my lord, I come, what lord you will,
From the most gracious regent of this land,
The Duke of York, to know what pricks you on
To take advantage of the absent time
And fright our native peace with self-born arms.

Enter YORK, attended.
Boling. I shall not need transport my words
by you:
Here comes his Grace in person.
My noble uncle! [Kneels.
York. Show me thy humble heart, and not
thy knee,
Whose duty is deceivable and false.
Boling. My gracious uncle—
York. Tut, tut!
Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle:
I am no traitor's uncle; and that word 'grace'
In an ungracious mouth is but profane.
Why have those banish'd and forbidden legs
Dar'd once to touch a dust of England's ground?
But then, more 'why?' why have they dar'd to
So many miles upon her peaceful bosom,
Frighting her pale-fac'd villages with war
And ostentation of despised arms?
Com'st thou because the anointed king is hence?
Why, foolish boy, the king is left behind,
And in my loyal bosom lies his power.
Were I but now the lord of such hot youth
As when brave Gaunt thy father, and myself,
Rescu'd the Black Prince, that young Mars of
From forth the ranks of many thousand French,
O! then, how quickly should this arm of mine,
Now prisoner to the palsy, chastise thee
And minister correction to thy fault!
Boling. My gracious uncle, let me know my
On what condition stands it and wherein?
York. Even in condition of the worst degree,
In gross rebellion and detested treason:
Thou art a banish'd man, and here art come
Before the expiration of thy time,
In braving arms against thy sovereign.
Boling. As I was banish'd, I was banish'd
But as I come, I come for Lancaster.
And, noble uncle, I beseech your Grace
Look on my wrongs with an indifferent eye;
You are my father, for methinks in you
I see old Gaunt alive: O! then, my father,
Will you permit that I shall stand condemn'd
A wandering vagabond; my rights and royalties
Pluck'd from my arms perforce and given away
To upstart unthrifts? Wherefore was I born?
If that my cousin king be King of England.
It must be granted I am Duke of Lancaster.
You have a son, Aumerle, my noble kinsman:
Had you first died, and he been thus trod down,
He should have found his uncle Gaunt a father,
To rouse his wrongs and chase them to the bay.
I am denied to sue my livery here,
And yet my letters-patent give me leave:
My father's goods are all distrain'd and sold,
And these and all are all amiss employ'd.
What would you have me do? I am a subject,
And challenge law: attorneys are denied me,
And therefore personally I lay my claim
To my inheritance of free descent.
North. The noble duke hath been too much
Ross. It stands your Grace upon to do him
Willo. Base men by his endowments are
made great.
York. My lords of England, let me tell you
I have had feeling of my cousin's wrongs,
And labour'd all I could to do him right;
But in this kind to come, in braving arms,
Be his own carver and cut out his way,
To find out right with wrong, it may not be;
And you that do abet him in this kind
Cherish rebellion and are rebels all.
North. The noble duke hath sworn his com-
ing is
But for his own; and for the right of that
We all have strongly sworn to give him aid;
And let him ne'er see joy that breaks that oath!
York. Well, well, I see the issue of these
I cannot mend it, I must needs confess,
Because my power is weak and all ill left;
But if I could, by him that gave me life,
I would attach you all and make you stoop
Unto the sovereign mercy of the king;
But since I cannot, be it known to you
I do remain as neuter. So, fare you well;
Unless you please to enter in the castle
And there repose you for this night.
Boling. An offer, uncle, that we will accept:
But we must win your Grace to go with us
To Bristol Castle; which they say is held
By Bushy, Bagot, and their complices,
The caterpillars of the commonwealth,
Which I have sworn to weed and pluck away.
York. It may be I will go with you; but yet
I'll pause;
For I am loath to break our country's laws.
Nor friends nor foes, to me welcome you are:
Things past redress are now with me past care.
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