ACT 2
3. SCENE III. The Wolds in Gloucestershire.
(continued)
BERKELEY.
My Lord of Hereford, my message is to you.
BOLINGBROKE.
My lord, my answer is--to Lancaster;
And I am come to seek that name in England;
And I must find that title in your tongue
Before I make reply to aught you say.
BERKELEY.
Mistake me not, my lord; 'tis not my meaning
To raze one title of your honour out:
To you, my lord, I come, what lord you will,
From the most gracious regent of this land,
The Duke of York, to know what pricks you on
To take advantage of the absent time,
And fright our native peace with self-borne arms.
[Enter YORK, attended.]
BOLINGBROKE.
I shall not need transport my words by you;
Here comes his Grace in person.
My noble uncle!
[Kneels.]
YORK.
Show me thy humble heart, and not thy knee,
Whose duty is deceivable and false.
BOLINGBROKE.
My gracious uncle--
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 banish'd and forbidden legs
Dar'd once to touch a dust of England's ground?
But then more 'why?' why have they dar'd to march
So many miles upon her peaceful bosom,
Frighting her pale-fac'd villages with war
And ostentation of despised 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 the
And minister correction to thy fault!
BOLINGBROKE.
My gracious uncle, let me know my fault:
On what condition stands it and wherein?
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