Page 2917 - Shakespeare - Vol. 1

Men judge by the complexion of the sky
The state and inclination of the day. [195]
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, [200]
And all your northern castles yielded up,
And all your southern gentlemen in arms
Upon his party.

RICHARD

Thou hast said enough.
[to Aumerle]

Beshrew thee, cousin, which didst lead me forth
Of that sweet way I was in to despair. [205]
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. [210]
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.

RICHARD

He does me double wrong [215]
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 IT

Enter with drum and colours Bolingbroke, York, Northumberland,
attendants.