man,

If it be so, out with it boldly, man;

Imp4 out our drooping country's broken wing, Quick is mine ear to hear of good towards him. Redeem from broking pawn the blemish'd crown,

Ross. No good at all, that I can do for him ; Wipe off the dust that hides our sceptre's giit , Unless you call it good to pity him,

And make high majesty look like itself, Stript and bereft of all his patrimony.

Away, with me, in post to Ravenspurg: North. Now, afore heaven, 'tis shame, such But if you faint, as fearing to do so, wrongs are borne,

Stay, and be secret, and myself will go. In him a royal prince, and many more

Ross. To horse, to horse! urge doubts to them Of noble blood in this declining land.

that fear. The king is not himself, but basely led

Willo. Hold out my horse, and I will first be there. By flatterers; and what they will inform,

[Exeunt. Merely in hate, 'gainst any of us all,

SCENE II. The same.

A Room in the Palace. That will the king severely prosecute 'Gainst us, vur lives, our children, and our heirs.

Enter Queen, Bushy, and Bagot. Ross. The commons hath he pill'd 9 with grievous Bushy. Madam, your majesty is too much sad : taxes,

You promis'd, when you parted with the king,
And lost their hearts; the nobles hath he fin'd To lay aside life-harming heaviness,
For ancient quarrels, and quite lost their hearts. And entertain a cheerful disposition.

Willo. And daily new exactions are devis'd; Queen. To please the king, I did; to please myself,
As blanks, benevolences, and I wot not what : I cannot do it; yet I know no cause
But what, in heaven's name, doth become of this? Why I should welcome such a guest as grief,
North. Wars have not wasted it, for warr'd he hath Save bidding farewell to so sweet a guest
not,

As my sweet Richard : Yet, again, methinks, But basely yielded upon compromise

Some unborn sorrow, ripe in fortune's womb, That which his ancestors achiev'd with blows:

Is coming towards me; and my inward soul More hath ho spent in peace, than they in wars With nothing trembles : at something it grieves,

Ross. The earl of Wiltshire hath the realm in farm. More than with parting from my lord the king. Willo. The king's grown bankrupt, like a broken Bushy. Each substance of a grief hath twenty

shadows, North. Reproach, and dissolution, hangeth over which show like grief itself, but are not so: him.

For sorrow's eye, glazed with blinding tears, Ross. He hath not money for these Irish wars, Divides one thing entire to many objects ; His burdenous taxations notwithstanding,

Like perspectives 6, which, rightly gaz'd upon, But by the robbing of the banish'd duke.

Show nothing but confusion; ey'd awry, North. His noblekinsman: most degenerate king! Distinguish form: so your sweet majesty, But, lords, we hear this fearful tempest sing,

Looking awry upon your lord's departure, Yet seek no shelter to avoid the storm :

Finds shapes of grief, more than himself to wail; We see the wind sit sore upon our sails,

Which, look'd on as it is, is nought but shadows And yet we strike not, but securely perish.' of what it is not. Then, thrice-gracious queen,

Ross. We see the very wreck that we must suffer; More than your lord's departure weep not; more's And unavoided is the danger now,

not seen: For suffering so the causes of our wreck.

Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrow's eye, North. Not so ; even through the hollow eyes of Which, for things true, weeps things imaginary. death,

Queen. It may be so; but yet my inward soul I spy life peering ; but I dare not say

Persuades me, it is otherwise : Howe'er it be, How near the tidings of our comfort is.

I cannot but be sad; so heavy sad, Willo. Nay, let us share thy thoughts, as thou dost As, — though, in thinking on no thought I think, –

Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink. Ross. Be confident to speak, Northumberland:

Bushy. 'Tis nothing but conceit?, my gracious We three are but thyself; and, speaking so,

lady. Thy words are but as thoughts; therefore be bold.

Queen. 'Tis nothing less: conceit is still deriv'd North. Then thus : – I have from Port le Blanc, From some fore-father grief; mine is not so; a bay

For nothing hath begot my something grief; In Britanny, receiv'd intelligence,

Or something hath the nothing that I grieve : That Harry Hereford, Reignold lord Cobham, "Tis in reversion that I do possess; [The son of Richard earl of Arundel,]

But what it is, that not yet known; what
That late broke from the duke of Exeter,

I cannot name; 'tis nameless woe, I wot.8
His brother, archbishop late of Canterbury,
Sir Thomas Erpingbam, sir John Ramston,

Enter Green.
Sir John Norbery, sir Robert Waterton, and Francis Green. Heaven save your majesty !.

and well Quoint,

met, gentlemen :All these well furnish'd by the duke of Bretagne,

I hope, the king is not yet shipp'd for Ireland. With eight tall ? ships, three thousand men of war,

Queen. Why hop'st thou so ? 'tis better hope, he is, Are making hither with all due expedience 3,

For his designs crave haste, his haste good hope; And shortly mean to touch our northern shore :

Then wherefore dost thou hope, he is not shipp'd ? Perhaps, they had ere this; but that they stay

Green. That he, our hope, might have retir'd his The first departing of the king for Ireland.

power, If then, we shall shake off our slavish yoke,

1

ours.

me.

And driven into despair an enemy's hope,

What, are there posts des; atch'd for Ireland ? Who strongly hath set footing in this land :

How shall we do for money for these wars? The banish'd Bolingbroke repeals himself,

Come, sister, cousin, I would say, pray, pardon And with uplifted arms is safe arriv'd At Ravenspurg.

Go, fellow, ( To the Servant.] get thee home, proQueen. Now God in heaven forbid!

vide some carts, Green. 0, madam, 'tis too true: and that is And bring away the armour that is there. worse,

[Erit Servant, The lord Northumberland, his young son Henry Gentlemen, will you go muster men? if I know Percy,

How, or which way, to order these affairs,
The lords of Ross, Beaumond, and Willoughby, Thus thrust disorderly into my hands,
With all their powerful friends, are fled to him. Never believe me. Both are my kinsmen;
Bushy. Why have you not proclaim'd Northum- The one's my sovereign, whom both my oath
berland,

And duty bids defend; the other again,
And all the rest of the revolting faction

Is my kinsman, whom the king hath wrong'd; Traitors ?

Whom conscience and my kindred bids to right.
Green. We have : whereon the earl of Worcester Well, somewhat we must do. - Come, cousin, I'll
Hath broke his staff, resign'd his stewardship, Dispose of you :- - Go, muster up your men,
And all the household servants fled with him And meet me presently at Berkley-castle.
To Bolingbroke.

I should to Plashy too,
Queen. So, Green, thou art the midwife to my woe, But time will not permit :- All is uneven,
And Bolingbroke my sorrow's dismal heir : And every thing is left at six and seven.
Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy ;

(Ereunt York and QUEEN. And I, a gasping new-deliver'd mother,

Bushy. The wind sits fair for news to go to Ireland, Have woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow join'd.

But none returns. For us to levy power, Bushy. Despair not, madam.

Proportionable to the enemy, Queen.

Who shall hinder me? | Is all impossible. I will despair, and be at enmity

Green. Besides, our nearness to the king in love, With cozening hope; he is a flatterer,

Is near the hate of those love not the king. A parasite, a keeper-back of death,

Bagot. And that's the wavering commons: for Who gently would dissolve the bands of life,

their love Which false hope lingers in extremity.

Lies in their purses; and whoso empties them,

By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate. Enter YORK.

Bushy. Wherein the king stands generally conGreen Here comes the duke of York.

demn'd. Queen. With signs of war about his aged neck; Bagot. If judgment lie in them, then so do we, O, full of careful business are his looks!

Because we ever have been near the king. Uncle,

Green. Well, I'll for refuge straight to Bristol For heaven's sake, speak comfortable words.

castle ;
York. Should I do so, I should belie my thoughts: The earl of Wiltshire is already there.
Comfort's in heaven ; and we are on the earth, Bushy. Thither will I with you: for little office
Where nothing lives but crosses, care, and grief. The hateful commons will perform for us ;
Your husband he is gone to save far off,

Except like curs to tear us all to pieces.
Whilst others come to make him lose at home : Will you go along with us?
Here am I left to underprop his land;

Bagot. No; I'll to Ireland to his majesty.
Who, weak with age, cannot support myself; Farewell : if heart's presages be not vain,
Now comes the sick hour that his surfeit made; We three here part, that ne'er shall meet again.
Now shall he try his friends that flatter'd him. Bushy. That's as York thrives to beat back Boling-

broke. Enter a Servant.

Green. Alas, poor duke! the task he undertakes Serv. My lord, your son was gone before I came. Is — numb’ring sands, and drinking oceans dry ; York. He was ? · Why, so! -go all which way Where one on his side fights, thousands will fiy. it will !

Bushy. Farewell at once; for once, for all, and The nobles they are fled, the commons cold, And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's side.

Green. Well, we may meet again. Sirrah,

Bagot.

I fear me, never. Get thee to Plashy, to my sister Gloster ;

[Ereunt. Bid her send me presently a thousand pound: Hold, take my ring.

SCENE III. The Wilds in Gioucestershire. Serv. My lord, I had forgot to tell your lordship :

Enter BOLINGBROKE and NortHUMBERLAND, uith To-day, as I came by, I called there; But I shall grieve you to report the rest.

Forces. York. What is it, knave?

Boling. How far is it, my lord, to Berkley now? Sery. An hour before I came, the duchess died. North. Believe me, noble lord,

York. God for his mercy! what a tide of woes I am a stranger here in Glostershire. Comes rushing on this woeful land at once! These high wild hills, and rough uneven ways, I know not what to do: – I would to heaven, Draw out our miles and make them wearisome : (So my untruth9 had not provok'd him to it) And yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar, The king had cut off my head with my brother's.- Making the hard way sweet and délectable. 9 Disloyalty.

But, I bethink me, what a weary way

ever.

From Ravenspurg to Cotswold will be found

Willo. And far surmounts our labour to attain it, In Ross and Willoughby, wanting your company ; Boling. Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the Which, 1 protest, hath very much beguild

poor; The tediousness and process of my travel :

Which till my infant fortune comes to years, But theirs is sweeten'd with the hope to have Stands for my bounty. But who comes here? The present benefit which I possess : And hope to joy, is little less in joy,

Enter BERKEY. Than hope enjoy'd : by this the weary lords

North. It is my lord of Berkley, as I guess. Shall make their way seem short; as mine hath done

Berk. My lord of Hereford, my message is to you. By sight of what I have, your noble company.

Boling. My lord, my answer is - to Lancaster; Boling. Of much less value is my company,

And I am come to seek that name in England: Than your good words. But who comes here?

And I must find that title in your tongue,

Before I make reply to aught you say.
Enter HARRY PERCY.

Berk. Mistake me not, my lord ; 'tis not my meanNorth. It is my son, young Harry Percy,

ing, Sent from my brother Worcester, whencesoever.

To raze one title of your honour out: Harry, how fares your uncle ?

To you, my lord, I come, (what lord you will,) Percy. I had thought, my lord, to have learn’d From the most glorious regent of this land, his health of you.

The duke of York; to know, what pricks you on North. Why, is he not with the queen ?

To take advantage of the absent time?, Percy. No, my good lord; he hath forsook the And fright our native peace with self-born arms. court,

Enter York, altended.
Broken his staff of office, and dispers'd
The household of the king.

Boling. I shall not needs transport my words by you.

Here comes his

What was his reason ?
North.

in
grace
person.

- My noble uncle! He was not so resolv'd, when last we spake together.

[K'neels. Percy. Because your lordship was proclaimed

York. Show me thy humble heart, and not thy traitor.

knee, But he, my lord, is gone to Ravenspurg,

Whose duty is deceivable and false. To offer service to the duke of Hereford;

Boling. My gracious uncle !
And sent me o'er by Berkley, to discover

York. Tut, tut !
What power the duke of York had levied there; Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle :
Then with direction to repair to Ravenspurg.

I am no traitor's uncle; and that word - grace, North. Have you forgot the duke of Hereford, In an ungracious mouth, is but profane. boy?

Why have those banish'd and forbidden legs Percy. No, my good lord; for that is not forgot, Dar'd once to touch a dust of England's ground? Which ne'er I did remember : to my knowledge,

But then more why ;- Why have they dar'd to march I never in my life did look on him.

So many miles upon her peaceful bosom; North. Then learn to know him now; this is the Frighting her pale-fac'd villages with war, duke.

And ostentation of despised arms? Percy. My gracious lord, I tender you my service, Com'st thou because the anointed king is hence? Such as it is, being tender, raw, and young;

Why, foolish boy, the king is left behind, Which elder days shall ripen and confirm

And in my loyal bosom lies his power. To more approved service and desert.

Were I but now the lord of such hot youth, Boling. I thank thee, gentle Percy ; and be sure,

As when brave Gaunt, thy father, and myself, I count myself in nothing else so happy,

Rescued the black prince, that young Mars of men, As in a soul rememb’ring my good friends ;

From forth the ranks of many thousand French; And, as my fortune ripens with thy love,

0, then, how quickly should this arm of mine, It shall be still thy true love's recompense :

Now prisoner to the palsy, chastise thee, My heart this covenant makes, my hand thus seals it.

And minister correction to thy fault ! North. How far is it to Berkley ? And what stir

Boling. My gracious uncle, let me know my fault; Keeps good old York there, with his men of war?

On what condition stands it, and wherein ? Percy. There stands the castle, by yon tuft of trees,

York. Even in condition of the worst degree, Mann'd with three hundred men, as I have heard :

In gross rebellion, and detested treason : And in it are the lords of York, Berkley, and Sey- Thou art a banish'd man, and here art come, mour;

Before the expiration of thy time, None else of name, and noble estimate.

In braving arms against thy sovereign.

Boling. As I was banish’d, I was banish'd Here. Enter Ross and WILLOUGUBY.

ford; North. Here come the lords of Ross and Wil- But as I come, I come for Lancaster.

And, noble uncle, I beseech your grace, loughby, Bloody with spurring, fiery-red with haste.

Look on my wrongs with an indifferent 3 eye : Boling. Welcome, my lords : I wot', your love You are my father, for, methinks, in you

I see old Gaunt alive; 0, then, my father! pursues A banish'd traitor; all my treasury

Will you permit that I shall stand condemn'd Is yet but unfelt thanks, which more enrich'd,

A wandering vagabond; my rights and royalties Shall be your love and labour's recompense.

Pluck'd from my arms perforce, and given away Ross. Your presence makes us rich, most noble To upstart unthrifts? Wherefore was I born lord.

If that my cousin king be king of England,
I Know
2 Time of the king's absence,

3 Impartial

.

but yet

It must be granted, I am duke of Lancaster. But we must win your grace, to go with us
You have a son, Aumerle, my noble kinsman ; To Bristol castle; which, they say, is held
Had you first died, and he had been thus trod down, By Bushy, Bagot, and their complices,
He should have found his uncle Gaunt a father, The caterpillars of the commonwealth,
To rouse his wrongs 4, and chase them to the bay. Which I have sworn to weed, and pluck away.
I am denied to sue my livery 5 here,

5

York. It may be, I will go with you:
And yet my letters-patent give me leave:

I'll pause;
My father's goods are all distrain’d and sold ; For I am loath to break our country's laws.
And these, and all, are all amiss employ'd.

Nor friends, nor foes, to me welcome you are .
What would you have me do? I am a subject, Things past redress, are now with me past care.
And challenge law : Attornies are denied me;

(Ereunt. And therefore personally I lay my claim

SCENE IV. - A Camp in Wales.
To my inheritance of free descent.
North. The noble duke hath been too much abus'd.

Enter SALISBURY, and a Captain.
Ross. It stands your grace upon , to do him right. Capt. My lord of Salisbury, we have staid ten days,
Willo. Base men by his endowments are made and hardly kept our countrymen together,
great.

And yet we hear no tidings from the king :
York. My lords of England, let me tell you this,- Therefore we will disperse ourselves : farewell.
I have had feeling of my cousin's wrongs,

Sal. Stay yet another day, thou trusty Welshman; And labour'd all I could to do him right:

The king reposeth all his confidence But in this kind to come, in braving arms,

In thee. Be his own carver, and cut out his way,

Capt. 'Tis thought the king is dead; we will not To find out right with wrong, - it may not be;

stay. And you, that do abet him in this kind,

The bay-trees in our country are all wither'd, Cherish rebellion, and are rebels all.

And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven; North. The noble duke hath sworn, his coming is The pale-fac'd moon looks bloody on the earth, But for his own : and, for the right of that, And lean-look'd prophets whisper fearful change ; We all have strongly sworn to give him aid; Rich men look sad, and ruffians dance and leap, And let him ne'er see joy, that breaks that oath. The one, in fear to lose what they enjoy,

York. Well, well, I see the issue of these arms; The other, to enjoy by rage and war: I cannot mend it, I must needs confess,

These signs forerun the death or fall of kings. Because my power is weak, and all ill left:

Farewell : our countrymen are gone and fled, But, if I could, by him that gave me life,

As well assur'd, Richard their king is dead. (Extt. I would attach you all, and make you stoop

Sal. Ah, Richard ! with the eyes of heavy mind, Unto the sovereign mercy of the king;

I see thy glory, like a shooting star, But, since I cannot, be it known to you,

Fall to the base earth from the firmament ! I do remain as neuter. So fare you well ;

Thy sun sets weeping in the lowly west, Unless you please to enter in the castle,

Witnessing storms to come, woe, and unrest :
And there repose you for this night.

Thy friends are fled, to wait upon thy foes;
Boling. An offer, uncle, that we will accept. And crossly to thy good all fortune goes. (Eril.

ACT III.

SCENE I. – Bolingbroke's Camp at Bristol. Near to the king in blood; and near in love,

Till you did make him misinterpret me,
Enter Bolingbroke, York, NortuUMBERLAND, Have stoop'd my neck under your injuries,

Percy, WILLOUGHBY, Ross : Officers behind with And sigh'd my English breath in foreign clouds,
Bushy and GREEN, prisoners.

Eating the bitter bread of banishment:
Boling. Bring forth these men. —

Whilst you have fed upon my seignories,
Bushy, and Green, I will not vex your souls Dispark'd my parks, and felld my forest woods;
(Since presently your souls must part your bodies, From my own windows torn my household coat,
With too much urging your pernicious lives, Raz'd out my impress, leaving me no sign,-
For 'twere no charity : yet, to wash your blood Save men's opinions, and my living blood,
From off my hands, here in the view of men, To show the world I am a gentleman.
J will unfold some causes of your death.

This, and much more, much more than twice all this,
You have misled a prince, a royal king,

Condemns you to the death:—See them deliver'd over
A happy gentleman in blood and lineaments, To execution and the hand of death.
By you unhappied and disfigur'd clean.7

Bushy. More welcome is the stroke of death to me,
You have, in manner, with your sinful hours,

Than Bolingbroke to England. Made a divorce betwixt his queen and him ;

Green. My comfort is, that heaven will take
Broke the possession of a royal bed,

our souls,
And stain'd the beauty of a fair queen's cheeks And plague injustice.
With tears drawn from her eyes by your foul wrongs. Boling. My lord Northumberland, see them de.
Myself - a prince, by fortune of my birth;

spatch'd.

[Ereunt NORTHUMBERLAND and others, 4 The persons who wrong him.

uith Prisoners. Possession of my land, &c. 6 It is your interest. 7 Completely.

Uncle, you say, the queen is at your house;

a

.

For heaven's sake, fairly let her be entreated : The breath of worldly men cannot depose
Tell her, I send to her my kind commends; The deputy elected by the Lord :
Take special care my greetings be deliver’d. For every man that Bolingbroke hath pressid,

York. A gentleman of mine I have despatch'd To lift shrewd steel against our golden crown. With letters of your love to her at large.

God for his Richard hath in heavenly pay Boling. Thanks, gentle uncle.-Come, lords away; A glorious angel: then, if angels fight, To fight with Glendower and his complices; Weak men must fall; for heaven still guards the right. Awhile to work, and, after, holiday. [Ereunt.

Enter SALISBURY.

Welcome, my lord; How far off lies your power? SCENE II. - The Coast of Wales. A Castle in view.

Sal. Nor near, nor further off, my gracious lord, Flourish : Drums and Trumpets. Enter King Than this weak arm: Discomfort guides my tongue,

Richard, Bishop or Carlisle, AUMERLE, and And bids me speak of nothing but despair.
Soldiers.

One day too late, I fear, my noble lord,
K. Rich. Barkloughly castle call you this at hand? Hath clouded all thy happy days on earth:
Aum. Yea, my lord: How brooks your grace the air, And thou shalt have twelve thousand fighting men!

O, call back yesterday, bid time return,
After late tossing on the breaking seas?
K. Rich. Needs must I like it well; I weep for joy, O'erthrows thy joys, friends, fortune, and thy state ;

To-day, to-day, unhappy day too late,
To stand upon my kingdom once again.
Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand,

For all the Welshmen, hearing thou wert dead, Though rebels wound thee with their horses' hoofs:

Are gone to Bolingbroke, dispers'd, and fled. As a long parted mother with her child

Aum. Comfort, my liege: why looks your grace Plays fondly with her tears, and smiles in meeting ;

so pale ? So, weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth,

K. Rich. But now the blood of twenty thousand men And do thee favour with my royal hands.

Did triumph in my face, and they are fled; Feed not thy sovereign's foe, my gentle earth,

And till so much blood thither come again, Nor with thy sweets comfort his rav'nous sense,

Have I not reason to look pale and dead ? But let thy spiders, that suck up thy venom,

All souls that will be safe fly from my side; And heavy gaited toads, lie in their way ;

For time hath set a blot upon my pride. Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet,

Aum. Comfort, my liege; remember who you are. Which with usurping steps do trample thee.

K. Rich. I had forgot myself: am I not king? Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies : .

Awake thou sluggard majesty! thou sleep'st. And when they from thy bosom pluck a flower, Is not the king's name forty thousand names ? Guard it, I pray thee, with a lurking adder;

Arm, arm, my name, a puny subject strikes Whose double tongue may with a mortal touch

At thy great glory. - Look not to the ground, Throw death upon thy sovereign's enemies.

Ye favourites of a king; Are we not high? Mock not, my senseless conjuration, lords ;

High be our thoughts; I know my uncle York This earth shall have a feeling, and these stones

Hath power enough to serve our turn. But who

Comes here?
Prove armed soldiers, ere her native king
Shall falter under foul rebellious arms.

Enter Scroop. Car. Fear not, my lord ; that Power, that made Scroop. More health and happiness betide my liege, you king,

Than can my care-tund tongue deliver him. Hath power to keep you king, in spite of all. K. Rich. Mine ear is open and my heart prepar'd; The means that heaven yields must be embrac'd, The worst is worldly loss, thou canst unfold. And not neglected; else, if heaven would,

Say, is my kingdom lost? why, 'twas my care; And we will not, heaven's offer we refuse;

And what loss is it, to be rid of care ? The proffer'd means of succour and redress. Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we?

Aum. He means, my lord, that we are too remiss; Greater he shall not be; if he serve God, Whilst Bolingbroke, through our security,

We'll serve him too, and be his fellow so: Grows strong

and great, in substance, and in friends. Revolt our subjects ? that we cannot mend; K. Rich. Discomfortable cousin! know'st thou not, They break their faith to God, as well as us : That when the searching eye of heaven is hid Cry, woe, destruction, ruin, loss, decay; Behind the globe, and lights the lower world, The worst is - death, and death will have his day. Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen, Scroop. Glad am I, that your highness is so arm'd In murders, and in outrage, bloody here;

To bear the tidings of calamity. But when, from under this terrestrial ball,

Like an unseasonable stormy day, He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines, Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores, And darts his light through every guilty hole,

As if the world were all dissolv'd to tears; Then murders, treasons, and detested sins,

So high above his limits swells the rage The cloak of night being pluck'd from off their backs, Of Bolingbroke, covering your fearful Jand Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves ? With hard bright steel, and hearts harder than steel. So when this thief, this traitor, Bolingbroke, White beards have arm'd their thin and hairless scalps Who all this while hath revell’d in the night, Against thy majesty ; boys, with women's voices, Whilst we were wandering with the antipodes, – Strive to speak big, and clap their female joints Shall see us rising in our throne the east,

In stiff unwieldy arms against thy crown: His treasons will sit blushing in his face,

Thy very beadsmen learn to bend their bows Not able to endure the sight of day,

Of double-fatal yew against thy state; But, self-affrighted, tremble at his sin.

Yea, distaff-women manage rusty bills Not all the water in the rough rude sea

Against thy seat: both young and old rebel, Can wash the balm from an anointed king:

And all goes worse than I have power to tell.

a