NORTHUMBERLAND The king of heaven forbid our lord the King
Should so with civil and uncivil arms
Be rushed upon. Thy thrice noble cousin,
Harry Bolingbroke, doth humbly kiss thy hand,
And by the honourable tomb he swears,
That stands upon your royal grandsire’s bones,
And by the royalties of both your bloods,
Currents that spring from one most gracious head,
And by the buried hand of warlike Gaunt,
And by the worth and honour of himself,
Comprising all that may be sworn or said,
His coming hither hath no further scope
Than for his lineal royalties and to beg
Enfranchisement immediate on his knees,
Which on thy royal party granted once,
His glittering arms he will commend to rust,
His barbèd steeds to stables and his heart
To faithful service of your majesty.
This swears he, as he is a prince and just,
And as I am a gentleman, I credit him. (3.3.100-119)
Nowhere to break this; it’s a single speech, and more or less a single sentence. Northumberland—and through him, Bolingbroke—is being both circumspect and disingenuous; he’s also, perhaps, implicitly, accusing Richard of over-reacting, being a bit of a drama queen, up there on the walls doing his sun king thing. This isn’t an attack or an ambush! God forbid! All Bolingbroke is doing is claiming what is rightfully his own. He is thrice noble because he is descended from Edward III and from John of Gaunt, both royal, as well as having noble titles of his own, but for all his high rank, he humbly kisses Richard’s hand. And he swears, on the tomb of his and Richard’s grandfather Edward III, and by the royal blood that they share by their descent from him, currents that spring from one most gracious head, and by the buried hand of warlike Gaunt, swearing on the body of his own father, and by his own worth and honour, as a noble and a gentleman. Bolingbroke swears by everything that he’s only come to ask, very politely, for what is his by right. Actually Bolingbroke has done no such thing; he’s not taken any oath at all. And the terms in which Northumberland is putting this remind Richard not only of his and Bolingbroke’s nearness in blood, their shared lineage and inheritance, but thereby also of Bolingbroke’s claim to the throne. But Northumberland persists: if Bolingbroke is granted his lineal royalties, what is due to him as the son and heir of John of Gaunt, and at the same time enfranchisement immediate, that is, the lifting of his sentence of banishment; if his request for those two things, begged on his knees, is granted on Richard’s part, thy royal party, then all this will end. His glittering arms he will commend to rust (look at all the glittering arms!), his barbèd steeds to stables (look at all the heavily armed horses! Richard, you are outnumbered, outgunned, and outflanked)—and Bolingbroke will commend his heart to faithful service of your majesty. This swears he (except he hasn’t and he doesn’t and he won’t; far too canny for that). And, you know what, Northumberland adds, in a final touch of disingenuousness, I believe him, as he is a prince and just, and as I am a gentleman.
