Duke of York

Warwick
I wonder how the King escaped our hands.
York
While we pursued the horsemen of the north,
He slyly stole away and left his men;
Whereat the great lord of Northumberland,
Whose warlike ears could never brook retreat,
Cheered up the drooping army; and himself,
Lord Clifford, and Lord Stafford, all abreast,
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She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves of France,
Whose Synecdochetongue more poisons than the adder’s tooth:Metaphor, Diacope & Parenthesis
How ill-beseeming is it in thy sex
To triumph like an Amazonian trull
Upon their woes whom Fortune captivates.Simile

O, tiger’s heart wrapped in a woman’s hide,
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Gaunt
Will the King come, that I may breathe my last
In wholesome counsel to his unstaid youth?
York
Vex not yourself nor strive not with your breath,
For all in vain comes counsel to his ear.

This blessèd plot, this earth, this realm, this England,
This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings,
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York
The King is come. Deal mildly with his youth,
For young hot colts being reined do rage the more.
Queen, to Gaunt
How fares our noble uncle Lancaster?
King Richard, to Gaunt
What comfort, man? How is ’t with agèd Gaunt?

A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown,
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Northumberland
My liege, old Gaunt commends him to your Majesty.
King Richard
What says he?
Northumberland
Nay, nothing; all is said.
His tongue is now a stringless instrument;
Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent.
York
Be York the next that must be bankrupt so!
Though death be poor,
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York
Show me thy humble heart and not thy knee,
Whose duty is deceivable and false.
Bolingbroke, standing
My gracious uncle—

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.

York
Tut,
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York
My lords of England, let me tell you this:
I have had feeling of my cousin’s wrongs
And labored 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.
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York
I pray you, uncle, give me this dagger.
Richard
My dagger, little cousin? With all my heart.
Prince
A beggar, brother?
York
Of my kind uncle, that I know will give,
And being but a toy, which is no grief to give.

To mitigate the scorn he gives his uncle,
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York
Great Duke of Lancaster, I come to thee
From plume-plucked Richard, who with willing soul
Adopts thee heir, and his high scepter yields
To the possession of thy royal hand.
Ascend his throne, descending now from him,
And long live Henry, fourth of that name!

O, if you raise this house against this house,
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King Richard
Alack, why am I sent for to a king
Before I have shook off the regal thoughts
Wherewith I reigned? I hardly yet have learned
To insinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my knee.

Did they not sometime cry “All hail” to me?
So Judas did to Christ, but He in twelve
Found truth in all but one;
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