Show me thy humble heart and not thy knee

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, tut!
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.
Why have those banished and forbidden legs
Dared once to touch a dust of England’s ground?
But then, more why: why have they dared to march
So many miles upon her peaceful bosom,
Frighting her pale-faced villages with war
And ostentation of despisèd arms?
Com’st thou because the anointed king is hence?
Why, foolish boy, the King is left behind
And in my loyal bosom lies his power.
Were I but now lord of such hot youth
As when brave Gaunt thy father and myself
Rescued the Black Prince, that young Mars of men,
From forth the ranks of many thousand French,
O, then, how quickly should this arm of mine,
Now prisoner to the palsy, chastise thee
And minister correction to thy fault!
Bolingbroke
My gracious uncle, let me know my fault.
On what condition stands it and wherein?
York
Even in condition of the worst degree,
In gross rebellion and detested treason.
Thou art a banished man and here art come,
Before the expiration of thy time,
In braving arms against thy sovereign.
Bolingbroke
As I was banished, I was banished Hereford,
But as I come, I come for Lancaster.
And, noble uncle, I beseech your Grace
Look on my wrongs with an indifferent eye.
You are my father, for methinks in you
I see old Gaunt alive. O, then, my father,
Will you permit that I shall stand condemned
A wandering vagabond, my rights and royalties
Plucked from my arms perforce and given away
To upstart unthrifts? Wherefore was I born?
If that my cousin king be king in England,
It must be granted I am Duke of Lancaster.
You have a son, Aumerle, my noble cousin.
Had you first died and he been thus trod down,
He should have found his uncle Gaunt a father
To rouse his wrongs and chase them to the bay.
I am denied to sue my livery here,
And yet my letters patents give me leave.
My father’s goods are all distrained and sold,
And these, and all, are all amiss employed.
What would you have me do? I am a subject,
And I challenge law. Attorneys are denied me,
And therefore personally I lay my claim
To my inheritance of free descent.