How far is it, my lord, to Berkeley now?
How far is it to Berkeley now?
How much farther to Berkeley?
how far to berkeley?
Believe me, noble lord,
I am a stranger here in Gloucestershire.
These high wild hills and rough uneven ways
Draws out our miles and makes them wearisome.
And yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar,
Making the hard way sweet and delectable.
But I bethink me what a weary way
From Ravenspurgh to Cotshall will be found
In Ross and Willoughby, wanting your company,
Which, I protest, hath very much beguiled
The tediousness and process of my travel.
But theirs is sweetened with the hope to have
The present benefit which I possess;
And hope to joy is little less in joy
Than hope enjoyed. By this the weary lords
Shall make their way seem short as mine hath done
By sight of what I have, your noble company.
I'm a stranger to these roads in Gloucestershire. These rough hills and uneven paths stretch out the miles and make them wearisome. But your gracious conversation has been like sugar, making the hard way sweet and pleasant. I think of the weary journey from Ravenspurgh that Ross and Willoughby must endure without your company—which has greatly eased my traveling. They are comforted by the hope of seeing you when they arrive, and hope of joy to come is almost as good as joy itself. By now, the weary lords will find their journey short, just as mine has been, from the sight of your noble company.
I don't know these roads. They're rough and long and tiring. But talking with you makes it bearable. Your words make the hard way easy. I think of Ross and Willoughby on their way without you—it must be miserable for them. At least they'll be cheered when they see you. Hope of meeting you is almost as good as actually meeting you. The other lords will feel the same way. Seeing you makes the whole journey feel short.
youre like sugar making the hard way sweet ross and willoughby will be comforted seeing you hope of you is almost like having you
Of much less value is my company
Than your good words. But who comes here?
My company is worth far less than your good words. But who comes here?
You flatter me too much. But who's that?
you flatter me whos that?
It is my son, young Harry Percy,
Sent from my brother Worcester, whencesoever.
Harry, how fares your uncle?
It is my son, young Harry Percy, sent from my brother Worcester. Harry, what news of your uncle?
That's my son, Harry. He's from my brother Worcester. Harry, how's your uncle doing?
thats my son harry from uncle worcester how is he?
Young Harry Percy — the future Hotspur — speaks in the grammar of eager loyalty: straightforward, direct, unpolished. Watch for his characteristic bluntness ('I never in my life did look on him') and the raw energy that will later turn into the most combustible force in Henry IV.
I had thought, my lord, to have learned his health of you.
I thought you would have heard from him yourself.
I thought you'd know—you probably saw him more recently than I did.
i thought you knew i was just with you
Why, is he not with the Queen?
Is he not with the Queen?
Isn't he with the Queen?
isnt he with the queen?
No, my good lord. He hath forsook the court,
Broken his staff of office, and dispersed
The household of the King.
No, my lord. He has left the court, broken his staff of office, and dismissed the King's household.
No. He's quit. Broken his staff, fired everyone. He's done with the court.
hes quit broken his staff fired everyone donе with the court
What was his reason?
He was not so resolved when last we spake together.
Why? He was firmly resolved when we last spoke.
Why? When we talked before, he was still loyal.
why? he was loyal just before
Because your lordship was proclaimed traitor.
But he, my lord, is gone to Ravenspurgh
To offer service to the Duke of Hereford,
And sent me over by Berkeley to discover
What power the Duke of York had levied there,
Then with directions to repair to Ravenspurgh.
Because your lordship was declared a traitor. But he went to Ravenspurgh to offer his service to the Duke of Hereford, and sent me ahead to Berkeley to find out what forces York has gathered there, then to report back.
Because you're a declared traitor. But he's gone to Ravenspurgh to serve Bolingbroke. He sent me to check what York is doing here, then to come back and tell him.
uncle went to bolingbroke because you're declared traitor i checked on york now reporting back
Bolingbroke's claim that he came back 'for Lancaster' rather than as a rebel is technically precise and practically meaningless. The legal argument runs: he was banished as the Earl of Hereford, a personal title. Gaunt's death made him Duke of Lancaster, a separate title with vast estates. The banishment of the Earl, he argues, doesn't automatically banish the Duke — especially since Richard illegally seized Lancaster property that Bolingbroke was entitled to by letters patent. None of this is wrong. All of it is a cover story for what anyone looking at the army marching behind him can plainly see: this is a bid for power. Shakespeare lets Northumberland make the assurance explicit — 'the Duke hath sworn his coming is but for his own' — which will look increasingly absurd as the play continues. The legalism is what makes Bolingbroke so interesting: he's not lying exactly, but he's also not telling the full truth, and everyone in the room knows it.
Have you forgot the Duke of Hereford, boy?
Have you forgotten the Duke of Hereford, boy?
You've never heard of the Duke of Hereford?
you know the duke?
No, my good lord; for that is not forgot
Which ne’er I did remember. To my knowledge,
I never in my life did look on him.
No, my good lord—because I cannot forget what I never learned. To my knowledge, I have never seen him in my life.
No, my lord. I mean, I can't forget someone I never knew. I've never laid eyes on him.
never saw him in my whole life
Then learn to know him now. This is the Duke.
Then learn who he is now. This is the Duke.
Well, now you can meet him. This is the Duke.
here he is
My gracious lord, I tender you my service,
Such as it is, being tender, raw, and young,
Which elder days shall ripen and confirm
To more approved service and desert.
My gracious lord, I offer you my service—such as it is, being young and raw and tender. The years ahead will ripen my loyalty and turn it into worthier, more proven service.
My lord, I'm offering myself to you. I'm young and inexperienced, but time will make me better, stronger, more useful.
i offer myself i am young but ill grow stronger
I thank thee, gentle Percy; and be sure
I count myself in nothing else so happy
As in a soul rememb’ring my good friends;
And as my fortune ripens with thy love,
It shall be still thy true love’s recompense.
My heart this covenant makes, my hand thus seals it.
I thank you, gentle Percy. I count myself lucky in nothing more than in having a soul that remembers his good friends. As my fortune grows through your love, it will always be your true love's reward. My heart makes this covenant, my hand seals it.
Thank you, Percy. I'm happiest when I'm with people I trust. As things get better for me because of you, I'll make sure you're rewarded. This is my promise.
thank you remembering friends is everything your loyalty ill reward it my hand seals this
How far is it to Berkeley, and what stir
Keeps good old York there with his men of war?
How far is it to Berkeley, and what size force is good old York keeping there?
How far to Berkeley? What kind of army does York have?
how far to berkeley? whats york got there?
There stands the castle by yon tuft of trees,
Manned with three hundred men, as I have heard.
And in it are the Lords of York, Berkeley, and Seymour,
None else of name and noble estimate.
The castle stands by those trees over there, manned with about three hundred men as I've heard. The Lords of York, Berkeley, and Seymour are inside—no one else of rank or importance.
The castle is by those trees. It's got about three hundred soldiers. York, Berkeley, and Seymour are there. No one important besides them.
castle over there three hundred men york berkeley seymour no one else important
Here come the Lords of Ross and Willoughby,
Bloody with spurring, fiery-red with haste.
Here come the Lords of Ross and Willoughby, bloody from spurring their horses, red-faced from hurrying.
Here are Ross and Willoughby—covered in blood from riding hard, their faces flushed from the speed.
ross and willoughby ridden hard bloody red faced burning with haste
Welcome, my lords. I wot your love pursues
A banished traitor. All my treasury
Is yet but unfelt thanks, which, more enriched,
Shall be your love and labour’s recompense.
Welcome, my lords. I know your love supports a banished traitor. My only treasure right now is gratitude—which hasn't yet proven valuable, but when my fortune improves, that gratitude will be your full reward.
Welcome. I know you're risking everything for a man called traitor. I can't pay you now. All I have is thanks. But when things turn around, your loyalty will be rewarded completely.
welcome you love a banished traitor thats dangerous all i have now is thanks but theyll be paid fully
Your presence makes us rich, most noble lord.
Your presence alone makes us rich, my lord.
Having you here is wealth enough.
youre wealth enough just being here
Harry Percy enters this scene as a minor character — York's nephew, sent to scout. His lines are brief: he's never met Bolingbroke ('I never in my life did look on him'), he offers his raw service with attractive modesty, and Bolingbroke responds with a warm hand-clasp. It takes about ninety seconds of stage time. But this is the beginning of one of Shakespeare's most important relationships. Percy — who becomes Hotspur — will be the central antagonist of Henry IV Part 1, and the friendship begun here will crack under the weight of Bolingbroke's kingship into one of the play sequence's defining collisions. Shakespeare gives us their first meeting with perfect understated economy: two men at the start of a long and eventually tragic arc, both young, both full of energy, neither yet knowing what the other will become.
And far surmounts our labour to attain it.
And far exceeds anything we could labor to gain.
And that's more than we could ever earn.
thats more than we could ever earn
Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the poor;
Which, till my infant fortune comes to years,
Stands for my bounty. But who comes here?
Thanks are always the poor man's only payment—but only until my fortune grows. For now, thanks must stand in place of gold. But who comes here?
Thanks are all a poor man can give. That's all I've got until I'm rich enough to pay properly. But who's this arriving?
thanks are all i have now the poor mans treasure but whos coming?
It is my Lord of Berkeley, as I guess.
That's my Lord of Berkeley, I believe.
That's Berkeley.
thats berkeley
My Lord of Hereford, my message is to you.
My message is for you, Lord of Hereford.
I have a message for you.
i have a message for you
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.
My answer to you is to call me 'Lancaster'—not Hereford. I came here seeking that name in England. I need to hear you speak my true title before I'll answer anything you say.
Before you say anything, call me Lancaster. That's who I am now. Use the right name and then we can talk.
call me lancaster not hereford thats my title use it then we talk
Mistake me not, my lord, ’tis not my meaning
To rase 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.
Don't misunderstand me, my lord. I'm not here to take away any of your titles. Whatever title you claim, I come to you as a messenger from the Duke of York, asking why you've taken up arms and disturbed England's peace while the King is away.
No, my lord. I'm not taking away your titles. Whatever you want to be called, I'm here as York's messenger. He wants to know why you came back with an army and disturbed the peace.
im not stripping you of any title im york's messenger he wants to know why you came back with weapons
I shall not need transport my words by you.
Here comes his Grace in person. My noble uncle!
I won't need Berkeley to carry messages. Here comes his Grace in person. My noble uncle!
I don't need him to relay anything. Here you are in person, uncle!
no need for messages youre here yourself my uncle
Show me thy humble heart, and not thy knee,
Whose duty is deceivable and false.
Show me your honest heart, not your knee. Your knee's obedience is false and can be faked.
Don't show me your knee. Show me your heart. A kneeling knee is just theater—it lies.
show me your heart not your knee knees lie
York's 'I do remain as neuter' is one of the most unusual political positions in Shakespeare — not quite betrayal, not quite loyalty, but a sort of principled impotence. He has declared Bolingbroke a rebel; he has admitted he can't stop him; he has accepted his hospitality; and he is about to accompany him to Bristol. This is not neutrality in any meaningful sense. What York is doing is rationalizing an impossible situation: he can't support Richard without abandoning justice, and he can't support Bolingbroke without betraying his oath. His 'neutrality' is the fig leaf that lets him keep going. What's striking is that Shakespeare does not condemn him for it. The play treats York's paralysis as the natural consequence of Richard's crimes — he didn't create this impossible choice, Richard did. York's situation is the play's clearest demonstration that political loyalty, once the ruler betrays the rules that make loyalty meaningful, has nowhere left to go.
My gracious uncle—
My gracious uncle—
Uncle—
uncle
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 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 thee
And minister correction to thy fault!
Stop, stop! Don't address me as 'gracious uncle'—I'm no uncle to a traitor. That word 'grace' spoken from your mouth is profane. Why did those banished feet dare touch English soil? More importantly, why did you march them across my country with weapons drawn, frightening our villages? Because the anointed king is away? Foolish boy—the King is here with me, in my loyal heart. If I still had the strength of youth that I had with your father, when we rescued the Black Prince from the French, I would teach you a lesson. But now my arm is paralyzed with age, and all I can do is speak the truth.
Stop. Don't call me 'gracious.' I'm not your uncle if you're a traitor. 'Grace' from your lips is a curse. Why did you come back to England? Why did you march armed across this peaceful country? Because Richard is gone? No. Richard is here, in me. If I were young like you, like I was with your father, I'd stop you myself. But I'm old. So I can only tell you: you're wrong.
no grace no uncle im not yours you are traitor why the weapons? why march armed? richard is here in me if i were young id fight you
My gracious uncle, let me know my fault.
On what condition stands it and wherein?
My gracious uncle, tell me what my fault is. What condition makes it a fault, and how exactly?
Uncle, what have I done? What exactly is my crime?
what is my fault? where am i wrong?
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.
Your fault is the worst kind: gross rebellion and detested treason. You are a banished man who returned before your time was up, bringing soldiers against your king.
Your fault is treason. You were banished—you came back before you were allowed to, and you brought an army. That's rebellion.
youre banished you came back with soldiers thats treason thats rebellion
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 challenge law. Attorneys are denied me,
And therefore personally I lay my claim
To my inheritance of free descent.
I was banished as Hereford, but I return as Lancaster. Uncle, look at my wrongs fairly. You look like my father Gaunt to me. Father, will you let me stand condemned as a vagabond, stripped of my rights and titles and given to wastrels? If my cousin Richard is King, then I must be Duke of Lancaster. You have a son, Aumerle. If you died and he was treated as I've been treated, you would hope his uncle Gaunt would help him fight the wrong. But I am denied even the right to sue for my inheritance. My father's lands are all seized and sold. Everything is used wrong. What do you want me to do? I am a subject. I appeal to law. But lawyers are denied me. So I claim my birthright here, in person.
I was banished as the Earl. But my father left me the Duchy of Lancaster, which Richard has no right to seize. You're like my father to me. How can you let me stand condemned as a wanderer? My rights are stolen. I'm a subject under law, but Richard denies me lawyers, denies me justice. So I claim what's mine, here, now, in person.
banished as hereford returned as lancaster its different titles father gaunt is you im stripped of everything richard seized my lands i have no lawyers i claim what's mine
The noble Duke hath been too much abused.
The Duke has been treated very badly.
The Duke's been wronged.
hes been wronged
It stands your Grace upon to do him right.
It's up to you, sir, to make things right.
You should help him.
do right by him
Base men by his endowments are made great.
Base men have been made great by his generosity.
His kindness makes even small men great.
hes generous lifts people up
My lords of England, let me tell you this:
I have had feeling of my cousin’s wrongs
And laboured 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.
My lords, I understand my cousin's wrongs. I've tried everything to help him. But coming with weapons, carving his own path to justice with force—that cannot be. You who support this are rebels all.
I know his case is good. I've tried to help. But coming with an army, taking justice by force—that's rebellion. That's what you all are, if you support him.
i know hes wronged i tried to help but force? that is rebellion you're all rebels
The noble Duke hath sworn his coming is
But for his own; and for the right of that
We all have strongly sworn to give him aid;
And let him never see joy that breaks that oath!
The Duke has sworn his coming is only for his own rights. We've sworn to help him claim them. May anyone who breaks that oath find no joy.
He swore he came only for what's his. We swore to help. God curse anyone who lies.
he swore only for lancaster we swore to help him curse the liar
Well, well, I see the issue of these arms.
I cannot mend it, I must needs confess,
Because my power is weak and all ill-left;
But if I could, by Him that gave me life,
I would attach you all and make you stoop
Unto the sovereign mercy of the King.
But since I cannot, be it known unto you
I do remain as neuter. So fare you well—
Unless you please to enter in the castle
And there repose you for this night.
Well, I see how this ends. I cannot change it, and I must confess it. My power is weak and badly left. If I could stop this, by God I would arrest you all and make you bow to the King. But I cannot. So I declare myself neutral. Farewell—unless you will enter the castle and stay the night?
I see what's happening. I can't stop it. I'll be honest—I have no power to stop you. If I could, I'd arrest you all and make you obey Richard. But I can't. So I'm staying out of this. We're done talking—unless you want to stay at the castle tonight?
i see whats coming i cant stop it i have no power if i could id arrest you all but i cant im neutral stay the night?
An offer, uncle, that we will accept;
But we must win your Grace to go with us
To Bristol Castle, which they say is held
By Bushy, Bagot, and their complices,
The caterpillars of the commonwealth,
Which I have sworn to weed and pluck away.
We'll take that offer, uncle. But we need you to come with us to Bristol Castle, where Bushy, Bagot, and their friends are. Those are the commonwealth's parasites, and I've sworn to root them out.
We'll stay, uncle. But come with us to Bristol. Bushy and Bagot are there—the King's flatterers. I've sworn to get rid of them.
we'll stay but come to bristol bushy and bagot are there the kings parasites i have to root them out
It may be I will go with you; but yet I’ll pause,
For I am loath to break our country’s laws.
Nor friends nor foes, to me welcome you are.
Things past redress are now with me past care.
I may go with you, but I pause first. I hate to break the country's laws. You're neither friends nor foes to me—I welcome you as neither. What's past fixing is now past caring about for me.
I might go with you. But I don't like it. I don't like breaking the law. You're not friends or enemies—just men. And what can't be fixed doesn't matter anymore.
i'll go but i hate this i hate breaking law past fixing past caring
The Reckoning
This is where the revolution gets its human face. Bolingbroke is charming, measured, legally precise, and surrounded by men who clearly like him — a stark contrast to everything we've seen of Richard. York confronts him with full moral clarity and genuine force, calls it treason, and then invites him to stay the night. The scene ends with York admitting he can't stop what's happening and deciding, famously, to be 'neuter.' England's last loyal Plantagenet just stepped aside.
If this happened today…
A high-powered executive wrongfully fired and stripped of his stock options returns from exile with a team of investors and legal advisers. He greets everyone warmly, pledges loyalty, frames everything as a legal dispute over what's rightfully his, and uses his dead father's legacy to make it emotional. The board's emergency appointee — his own uncle — reads him the full riot act, calls it a hostile takeover, and admits his own law firm can't match the resources in the room. He ends the meeting by inviting the returning exec to use the executive suite and joining him on the ride to headquarters to arrest the current CFO.