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With nothing shall be pleas’d, till he be eas’d
Enter Groom. Groom. Hail, royal prince! K. Rich.
Thanks, noble peer; The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear.
What art thou? and how comest thou hither,
Groom. I was a poor groom of thy stable, king,
friend, How went he under him?
Groom. So proudly, as if he disdain’d the ground. K. Rich. So proud that Bolingbroke was on his
back! That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand; This hand hath made him proud with clapping him. Would he not stumble? Would be not fall down, (Since pride must have a fall,) and break the neck Of that proud man, that did usurp his back? Forgiveness, horse! why do I rail on thee, Since thou, created to be aw'd by man, Wast born to bear? I was not made a horse; And yet
I bear a burden like an ass, Spur-galld, and tir’d, by jauncing Bolingbroke.
Enter Keeper, with a dish.
[To the Groom.
K. Rich. If thou love me, 'tis time thou wert
a way Groom. What my tongue dares not, that my heart
[Erit. Keep. My lord, will’t please you to fall to? K. Rich. Taste of it first, as thou art wont to do. Keep. My lord, I dare not; sir Pierce of Exton,
who Lately came from the king, commands the contrary. K. Rich. The devil take Henry of Lancaster, and
thee! Patience is stale, and I am weary of it.
[Beats the Keeper. Keep. Help, help, help!
Enter Exton, and Servants, armed. K. Rich. How now? what means death in this
rude assault? Villain, thy own hand yields thy death's instrument.
[Snatching a weapon, and killing one. Go thou, and fill another room in hell.
[He kills another; then Exton strikes him down. That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire, That staggers thus my person.-Exton, thy fierce
hand Hath with the king's blood stain'd the king's own
land. Mount, mount, my soul! thy seat is up on high; Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here to die.
[Dies. Exton. As full of valour, as of royal blood: Both have I spilt; 0, would the deed were good!
For now the devil, that told me—I did well,
S CE NE VI.
A ROOM IN THE CASTLE.
Flourish. Enter Bolingbroke, and York, with
Lords and Attendants.
Boling. Kind uncle York, the latest news we
hear, Is- that the rebels have consum'd with fire Our town of Cicester in Glo'stershire; But whether they be ta’en, or slain, we hear not.
Welcome, my lord: What is the news?
[Presenting a paper. Boling. We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy
pains; And to thy worth will add right worthy gains.
Fitz. My lord, I have from Oxford sent to Lon
don The heads of Brocas, and Sir Bennet Seely; Two of the dangerous consorted traitors, That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow. Boling. Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be for
got; Right noble is thy merit, well I wot.
Enter Percy, with the Bishop of Carlisle.
your doom :-
Enter Erton, with Attendants bearing a coffin.
Exton. Great king, within this coffin I present Thy buried fear: herein all breathless lies The mightiest of thy greatest enemies, Richard of Bourdeaux, by me hither brought. Boling. Exton, I thank thee not; for thou hast