Northumberland

Lord Bardolph
Look, here comes more news.
Northumberland 
Yea, this man’s brow, like to a title leaf,
Foretells the nature of a tragic volume.
So looks the strand whereon the imperious flood
Hath left a witnessed usurpation.—
Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury?

Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news
Hath but a losing office,
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Lord Bardolph
I cannot think, my lord, your son is dead.
Morton, to Northumberland
I am sorry I should force you to believe
That which I would to God I had not seen,
But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state,
Rend’ring faint quittance, wearied and outbreathed,
To Harry Monmouth,
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Northumberland
Now bind my brows with iron, and approach
The ragged’st hour that time and spite dare bring
To frown upon th’ enraged Northumberland.
Let heaven kiss Earth! Now let not Nature’s hand
Keep the wild flood confined. Let order die,
And let this world no longer be a stage
To feed contention in a lingering act;
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Hotspur
But soft, I pray you. Did King Richard then
Proclaim my brother Edmund Mortimer
Heir to the crown?
Northumberland
He did; myself did hear it.

And now I will unclasp a secret book,
And to your quick-conceiving discontents
I’ll read you matter deep and dangerous

Hotspur
Nay then,
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Worcester
Hear you, cousin, a word.
Hotspur 
All studies here I solemnly defy,
Save how to gall and pinch this Bolingbroke.
And that same sword-and-buckler Prince of Wales—
But that I think his father loves him not
And would be glad he met with some mischance—
I would have him poisoned with a pot of ale.
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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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Northumberland
Now, afore God, ’tis shame such wrongs are borne
In him, a royal prince, and many more
Of noble blood in this declining land.
The King is not himself, but basely led
By flatterers; and what they will inform
Merely in hate ’gainst any of us all,
That will the King severely prosecute
’Gainst us,
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Northumberland
Alas, sweet wife, my honor is at pawn,
And, but my going, nothing can redeem it.
Lady Percy
O yet, for God’s sake, go not to these wars.
The time was, father, that you broke your word
When you were more endeared to it than now,
When your own Percy, when my heart’s dear Harry,
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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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King Richard
What must the King do now? Must he submit?
The King shall do it. Must he be deposed?
The King shall be contented. Must he lose
The name of king? I’ God’s name, let it go.

And my large kingdom for a little grave,
A little, little grave, an obscure grave

I’ll give my jewels for a set of beads,
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