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North. That were some love but little policy. | That had not God, for some strong purpose,
Whose state and honour I for aye allow. K. Rich. Twice for one step I 'll groan, the Duch. Here comes my son Aumerle. way being short,
Aumerle that was ; And piece the way out with a heavy heart. But that is lost for being Richard's friend, Come, come, in wooing sorrow let 's be brief, And, madam, you must call him Rutland now. Since, wedding it, there is such length in grief. I am in parliament pledge for his truth One kiss shall stop our mouths, and dumbly part: And lasting fealty to the new made king. Thus give I mine, and thus take I thy heart.
Enter AUMERLE. Queen. Give me mine own again ; 'twere no good part
Duch. Welcome, my son: who are the violets To take on me to keep and kill thy heart. So, now I have mine own again, be gone, That strew the green lap of the new come spring! That I may strive to kill it with a groan.
Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care K. Rich. We make woe wanton with this fond
not: delay :
God knows I had as lief be none as one. Once more, adieu ; the rest let sorrow say.
York. Well, bear you well in this new spring Exeunt. of time,
Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime. SCENE II.-The Same. A Room in the Duke of What news from Oxford ? hold those justs and YORK's Palace.
Aum. For anght I know, my lord, they do. Enter YORK and the DUCHESS.
York. You will be there, I know. Duch. My lord, you told me you would tell Aum. If God prevent not, I purpose so. the rest,
York. What seal is that that hangs without
Aum. My lord, 'tis nothing.
No matter then who sees it : Where rude misgovern'd hands, from windows' | I will be satisfied ; let me see the writing. tops,
Aum. I do beseech your grace to pardon me: Threw dust and rubbish on King Richard's head. It is a matter of small consequence, York. Then, as I said, the duke, great Boling. Which for some reasons I would not have seen. broke,
York. Which for some reasons, sir, I mean Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed,
to see. Which his aspiring rider seem'd to know, I fear, I fear, With slow but stately pace kept on his conrse, Duch.
What should you fear? While all tongues cried.God save thee, Boling. 'Tis nothing but some bond that he is enter'd into broke!'
For gay apparel 'gainst the triumph day. You would have thought the very windows spake, York. Bound to himself ? what doth he with So many greedy looks of young and old
a bond Through casements darted their desiring eyes That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool. Upon his visage, and that all the walls
Boy, let me see the writing. With painted imagery had said at once
Aum. I do beseech you, pardon me; I may not Jesu preserve thee! welcome, Bolingbroke!'
show it. Whilst he, from one side to the other turning,
York. I will be satisfied ; let me see it, I say. Bare-headed, lower than his proud steed's neck,
Snatches it, and reads. Bespake them thus: 'I thank you, countrymen': Treason! foul treason! Villain ! traitor! slave! And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along. Duch. What is the matter, my lord ? Duch. Alack! poor Richard ; where rode he York. Ho! who is within there?
the whilst ? York. As in a theatre, the eyes of men,
Enter a Servant. After a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage,
Saddle my horse. Are idly bent on him that enters next,
God for his mercy! what treachers is here! Thinking his prattle to be tedious;
Duch. Why, what is it, my lord ? Even so,or with much more contempt, men's eyes York. Give me my boots, I say: saddle my Did scowl on Richard : no man cried God save horse.
Erit Serrant. him!'
Now, by mine honour, by my life, my troth, No joyful tongue gave bim his welcome home; I will appeach the villain. But dust was thrown upon his sacred head, Duch.
What's the matter! Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off, York. Peace, foolish woman. His face still combating with tears and smiles,
Duch, I will not peace.
What is the matter, The badges of his grief and patience,
Aum. Good mother, be content; it is no more Percy. His answer was, he would unto the Than my poor life must answer.
Thy life answer ! And from the common'st creature pluck a glove, York. Bring me my boots : I will unto the king. And wear it as a favour ; and with that
He would unhorse the lustiest challenger.
Boling. As dissolute as desperate : yet through
both Duch. Strike him, Aumerle. Poor boy, thou art amaz'd.
I see some sparks of better hope, which elder days Hence, villain! never more come in my sight.
May happily bring forth. But who comes here? Exit Servant.
Enter AUMERLE. York. Give me my boots, I say.
Aum. Where is the king ? Duch. Why, York, what wilt thou do?
Boling. What means our cousin, that he stares Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own?
and looks Have we more sons, or are we like to have ?
Aum. God save your grace! I do beseech And rob me of a happy mother's name?
To have some conference with your grace alone. Is he not like thee? is he not thine own? York. Thou fond, mad woman,
Boling. Withdraw yourselves, and leave us
here alone. Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy ?
Exeunt PERCY and Lords. A dozen of them here have ta’en the sacrament, What is the matter with our cousin now? And interchangeably set down their hands,
Aum. For ever may my knees grow to the earth,
Knedls. 30 To kill the king at Oxford. Duch.
He shall be none;
My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth, We'll keep him here : then what is that to him? Unless a pardon ere I rise or speak. York. Away, fond woman! were he twenty If on the first, how heinous e'er it be,
Boling. Intended or committed was this fault? times My son, I would appeach him.
To win thy after-love I pardon thee.
Aum. Then give me leave that I may turn the As I have done thou would'st be more pitiful.
key, But now I know thy mind; thou dost suspect
That no man enter till my tale be done. That I have been disloyal to thy bed,
Boling. Have thy desire. And that he is a bastard, not thr son :
York. Within. My liege, beware! look to thySweet York, sweet husband, be not of that mind : Thon hast a traitor in thy presence there.
self ; He is as like thee as a man may be, Not like to me, nor any of my kin,
Boling. Villain, I 'll make thee safe. Drawing. And yet I love him.
Aum. Stay thy revengeful hand ; thou hast no York.
cause to fear, Make way, unruly woman! Exit. Duch. After, Aumerle! Mount thee upon his
York. Within. Open the door, secure, foolhorse;
hardy king : Spur post, and get before him to the king,
Shall I for love speak treason to thy face? And beg thy pardon ere he do accuse thee.
Open the door, or I will break it open.
Boling. What is the matter, uncle ? speak; Till Bolingbroke have pardon'd thee. Away! Recover breath; tell us how near is danger,
That we may arm us to encounter it.
know SCENE III.- WindsorA Room in the Castle. The treason that my haste forbids me show. 50
Aum. Remember, as thou read'st, thy promise Enter BOLINGBROKE as king ; PERCY, and other
pass'd : Lords.
I do repent me; read not my name there ; Boling. Can no man tell me of my unthrifty My heart is not confederate with my hand. son ?
York. 'Twas, villain, ere thy hand did set it "Tis full three months since I did see him last. down. If any plague hang over us, 'tis he.
I tore it from the traitor's bosom, king ; I would to God, my lords, he might be found : Fear, and not love, begets his penitence. Inquire at London, 'mongst the taverns there, Forget to pity him, lest thy pity prove For there, they say, he daily doth frequent, A serpent that will sting thee to the heart. With unrestrained loose companions,
Boling. O heinous, strong, and bold conspiracy! Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes O loyal father of a treacherous son! And beat our watch and rob our passengers ; Thou sheer, immaculate, and silver fountain, Which he, young wanton and effeminate boy, From whence this stream through muddy pasTakes on the point of honour to support
sages So dissolute a crew.
Hath held his current and defil'd himself ! Percy. My lord, some two days since I saw Thy overflow of good converts to bad, the prince,
And thy abundant goodness shall excuse And told him of those triumphs held at Oxford. This deadly blot in thy digressing son. Boling. And what said the gallant ?
York. So shall my virtue be his vice's bawd,
And he shall spend mine honour with his shame, Ah! my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord,
Boling. Good aunt, stand up. Duch. A woman, and thine aunt, great king ; Duch.
I do not sue to stand ; 'tis I.
Pardon is all the suit I have in hand. Speak with me, pity me, open the door :
Boling. I pardon him, as God shall pardon me. A beggar begs that never begg'd before.
Duch. O happy vantage of a kneeling knee ! Boling. Our scene is alter'd from a serious Yet am I sick for fear : speak it again ; thing,
Twice saying 'pardon' doth not pardon twain, And now chang'd to · The Beggar and the King.' But makes one pardon strong. My dangerous cousin, let your mother in :
With all my heart I know she's come to pray for your foul sin. I pardon him. York. If thou do pardon, whosoever pray,
Duch. A god on earth thou art.
With all the rest of that consorted crew,
Destruction straight shall dog them at the heels.
Good uncle, help to order several powers Duch. O king! believe not this hard-hearted To Oxford, or where'er these traitors are :
They shall not live within this world, I swear, Love loving not itself none other can.
But I will have them, if I once know where. York. Thou frantic woman, what dost thou Uncle, farewell: and cousin too, adieu : make here?
Your mother well hath pray'd, and prove you Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear? 90 true. Duch. Sweet York, be patient. Hear me, gentle Duch. Come, my old son: I pray God make liege. Kneels. thee new.
Ereunt. Boling. Rise up, good aunt.
Enter EXTON and Serrant. Duch.
Not yet, I thee beseech : For ever will I walk upon my knees,
Exton. Didst thou not mark the king, what And never see day that the happy sees,
words he spake, Till thou give joy ; until thou bid me joy, • Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear?' By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy. Was it not so? Aum. Unto my mother's prayers I bend my Serv.
Those were his very words. knee.
Kneels. Exton. “Have I no friend?' quoth he: he spake York. Against them both my true joints it twice, bended be.
Kneels. And urg'd it twice together, did he not? Ill may'st thou thrive if thou grant any grace! Serv. He did.
Duch. Pleads he in earnest? look upon his face; Exton. And speaking it, he wistly look'd on me, His eyes do drop no tears, his prayers are in jest; | As who should say, 'I would thou wert the man His words come from his mouth, ours from our That would divorce this terror from my heart'; breast :
102 Meaning the king at Pomfret. Come, let's go : He prays but faintly and would be denied ;
I am the king's friend, and will rid his foe. We pray with heart and soul and all beside :
Exeunt. His weary joints would gladly rise, I know ; Our knees shall kneel till to the ground they SCENE IV.— Pomfret. The Dungeon of the Castle.
grow: His prayers are full of false hypocrisy;
Enter King RICHARD. Ours of true zeal and deep integrity.
K. Rich. I have been studying how I may Our prayers do out-pray his ; then let them have
compare That mercy which true prayer ought to have. 110 This prison where I live unto the world : Boling. Good aunt, stand up.
And for because the world is populous, Duch.
Nay, do not say “stand up'; And here is not a creature but myself, But 'pardon’ first, and afterwards “stand up.' I cannot do it; yet I'll hammer it out. An if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach, My brain I'll prove the female to my soul ; * Pardon' should be the first word of thy speech. My soul the father : and these two beget I never long'd to hear a word till now;
A generation of still-breeding thoughts, Say 'pardon,' king ; let pity teach thee how: And these same thoughts people this little world, The word is short, but not so short as sweet ; In humours like the people of this world, No word like 'pardon' for kings' mouths so meet. For no thought is contented. The better sort, York. Speak it in French, king; say, par. As thoughts of things divine, are intermix'd donnez-moii'
With scruples, and do set the word itself Duch. Dost thou teach pardon pardon to Against the word : destroy
As thus, 'Come, little ones’; and then again,
It is as hard to come as for a camel
Music do I hear?
Ha, ha! keep time. How sour sweet music is
Would he not stumble? would he not fall down,
Whereto my finger, like a dial's point,
Enter Keeper, with a dish.
Keep. Fellow, give place; here is no longer stay.
K. Rich. If thou love me, 'tis time thou wert away.
Groom. What my tongue dares not, that my heart shall say. Exit.
Keep. Help, help, help!
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
Patience is stale, and I am weary of it.
Enter EXTON and Servants, armed.
K. Rich. How now! what means death in this rude assault? Villain, thine own hand yields thy death's instrument.
Snatching a weapon, and killing one. Go thou and fill another room in hell.
He kills another 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
Mount, mount, my soul! thy seat is up on high,
Exton. As full of valour as of royal blood:
Groom. Hail, royal prince!
An Apartment in the
With much ado at length have gotten leave
O how it yearn'd my heart when I beheld
Boling. Kind uncle York, the latest news we
Is that the rebels have consum'd with fire
Our town of Cicester in Gloucestershire ;
More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life; But whether they be ta'en or slain we hear not. So, as thou liv'st in peace, die free from strife: Enter NORTHUMBERLAND.
For though mine enemy thou hast ever been,
High sparks of honour in thee have I seen.
Exton. Great king, within this coffin I present
Thy buried fear : herein all breathless lies The heads of Salisbury, Spencer, Blunt, and Kent. The mightiest of thy greatest enemies, The manner of their taking may appear
Richard of Bordeaux, by me hither brought. At large discoursed in this paper here.
Boling. Exton, I thank thee not; for thou Boling. We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy hast wrought pains,
A deed of slander with thy fatal hand And to thy worth will add right worthy gains. Upon my head and all this famous land. Enter FITZWATER.
Erton. From your own mouth, my lord, did I
this deed. Pitz. My lord, I have from Oxford sent to London
Boling. They love not poison that do poison
need, The heads of Brocas and Sir Bennet Seely, Two of the dangerous consorted traitors
Nor do I thee: though I did wish him dead, That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow.
I hate the murderer, love him murdered. Boling. Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour, forgot ;
But neither my good word nor princely favour : Right noble is thy merit, well I wot.
With Cain go wander through the shades of
night, Enter PERCY, with the Bishop of CARLISLE. And never show thy head by day nor light. Percy. The grand conspirator, Abbot of West- Lords, I protest, my soul is full of woe, minster,
That blood should sprinkle me to make me grow: With clog of conscience and sour melancholy, 20 Come, mourn with me for that I do lament, Hath yielded up his body to the grave;
And put on sullen biack incontinent.
I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land,
March sadly after; grace my mournings here,