This earth shall have a feeling, and these stones Bishop. Fear not, my lord; that Power that made you king Hath power to keep you king, in spite of all. Whilst Bolingbroke, through our security, Grows strong and great, in substance, and in friends. K. Rich. Discomfortable cousin! know'st thou not, That, when the searching eye of heaven is hid Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves? Can wash the balm from an anointed king: For every man that Bolingbroke hath press'd, Weak men must fall; for heaven still guards the right. Enter SALISBURY. Welcome, my lord: how far off lies your power? And bids me speak of nothing but despair. men: To-day, to-day, unhappy day, too late, O'erthrows thy joys, friends, fortune, and thy state; For all the Welshmen, hearing thou wert dead, Are gone to Bolingbroke, dispersed, and fled. Aum. Comfort, my liege; why looks your grace so pale? K. Rich. But now, the blood of twenty thousand men Did triumph in my face, and they are fled And, till so much blood thither come again, Have I not reason to look pale and dead? All souls that will be safe fly from my side; For time hath set a blot upon my pride. Aum. Comfort, my liege; remember who you are. K. Rich. I had forgot myself: am I not king? Awake thou sluggard majesty! thou sleepest. Is not the king's name twenty thousand names? Arm, arm, my name ! a puny subject strikes At thy great glory.-Look not to the ground, Ye favourites of a king. Are we not high? High be our thoughts: I know, my uncle York Hath power enough to serve our turn. But who Comes here? Enter SCROOP. Scroop. More health and happiness betide my liege, Than can my care-tuned tongue deliver him! K. Rich. Mine ear is open, and my heart prepared; The worst is worldly loss thou canst unfold. Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we? The worst is death, and death will have his day. Scroop. Glad am I that your highness is so arm'd To bear the tidings of calamity. Like an unseasonable stormy day, Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores, White-beards have arm'd their thin and hairless scalps Against thy majesty; and boys, with women's voices, Strive to speak big, and clap their female joints Where is the earl of Wiltshire? where is Bagot? Measure our confines with such peaceful steps? If we prevail, their heads shall pay for it. I warrant they have made peace with Bolingbroke. Scroop. Peace have they made with him, indeed, my lord. K. Rich. O villains, vipers, damn'd without redemption ! Dogs, easily won to fawn on any man! Snakes, in my heart-blood warm'd, that sting my heart! Three Judases, each one thrice worse than Judas! Would they make peace? terrible hell make war Upon their spotted souls for this offence! Scroop. Sweet love, I see, changing his property, Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate :Again uncurse their souls; their peace is made With heads, and not with hands: those whom you curse Have felt the worst of death's destroying wound, And lie full low, graved in the hollow ground. Aum. Is Bushy, Green, and the earl of Wiltshire, dead? Scroop. Yea, all of them at Bristol lost their heads. Aum. Where is the duke my father, with his power? K. Rich. No matter where. Of comfort no man speak : Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs All murder'd: ·- for within the hollow crown To monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with looks; |