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Which his aspiring rider seem'd to know,

Treason! foul treason !-villain ! traitoi! slave! With slow, but stately pace, kept on his course, Duch What is the matter, my lord ? While all tongues cried-God save thee, Boling- York. Ho! who is within there ? [Enter a Ser. broke!

vant.] Saddle my horse. You would have thought the very windows spake, God for his mercy! what treachery is here! So many greedy looks of young and old

Duch. Why, what is it, my lord ? (horse :-Through casements darted their desiring eyes

York. Give me my boots, I say ;-saddle my Upon his visage; and that all the walls,

Now by mine honour, by my life, my troth, With painted imag'ry, had said at once,

I will appeach the villain. (Erit Servant. Jesu preserve thee! welcome, Bolingbroke!


What's the matter? Whilst he, from one side to the other turning, York. Peace, foolish woman,

(son ? Bare-headed, lower than his proud steed's neck, Duch. I will not peace :-What is the matter, Bespake them thus, I thank you, countrymen : Aum. Good mother, be content; it is no more And thus still doing, thus he passed along. I while ? Than my poor life must answer. Duch. Alas, poor Richard! where rides he the Duch.

Thy life answer ? York. As in a theatre, the eyes of men,

Re-enter Servant, with boots.
After a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage,
Are idly bent on him that enters next,

York. Bring me my boots, I will unto the king. Thinking his prattle to be tedious:

Duch. Strike him, Aumerle.-Poor boy, thou

art amaz'd: Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes Did scowl on Richard ;-no man cried, God save

Hence, villain : never more come in my sight. him;

[ To the Servant.

York. Give me my boots, I say:
No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home :
But dust was thrown upon his sacred head;

Duch. Why, York, what wilt thou do?

Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own?
Which with such gentle sorrow be shook off,-

Have we more sons ? or are we like to have ?
His face still combating with tears and smiles,
The badges of his grief and patience,

Is not my teening date drunk up with time?
That had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd

And wilt thou pluck my fair son from mine age, The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted And rob me of a happy mother's name?

Is he not like thee? is he not thine own?
And barbarism itself have pitied him.

York. Thou fond mad woman,
But heaven hath a hand in these events;
To whose high will we bound our calm content

Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy ?
To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now,

A dozen of them here have ta’en the sacrame: t, Whose state and honour I for aye allow.

And interchangeably set down their hands,

To kill the king at Oxford.


· He shall be none; Duch. Here comes my son Aumerle. York.

Aumerle that i as;

We'll keep him here: Then what is that to hina ?

York. Away, Bat that is lost, for being Richard's friend,

Fond woman! were he twenty times my son And, madam, you must call him Rutland now:

I would appeach him. I am in parliament pledge for his truth,


Hadst thou groan’d for him,
And lasting fealty to the new-made king. [now,
Duch. Welcome, my son : Who are the violets But now I know thy mind, thou dost suspect,

As I have done, thou’dst be more pitiful.
That strew the green lap of the new-come spring ?
Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care pot : And that he is a bastard, not thy son :

That I have been disloyal to thy bed,
God knows, I had as lief be none, as one.
York. Well, bear you well in this new spring of He is as like thee as a man may be,

(time, Sweet York, sweet husband, be not of that mind : Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime. What news from Oxford ? hold those justs and tri- Not like to me, or any of my kin, umphs ?

And yet I love him.
Aum. For aught, I know, my lord, they do.

Make way, unruly woman.

[E.rit. York. You will be there, I know.

Duch. After, Aumerle ; mount thee upon his Aum. If God prevent it not; I purpose so.

horse; York. What seal is that, that hangs without thy Spur, post; and get before him to the king,

bosom? Yea, look'st thou pale ? let me see the writing.

And beg thy pardon ere he do accuse thee.
Aum. My lord, is nothing.

I'll not be long behind; though I be old,
No matter then who sees it: And never will I rise up from the ground,

I doubt not but to ride as fast as York:
I will be satisfied, let me see the writing.
Aum. I do beseech vour grace to pardon me;

Till Bolingbroke have pardon’d thee: Away; It is a matter of small consequence,


(E.reunt. Which for some reasons I would not have seen.

SCENE III.--Windsor. A Room in the Castle. York. Which for some reasons, sir, I mean to see. I fear, I fear,

Enter BOLINGBROKE, as King ; Percy, and other DuchWhat should you fear?

Lords. "Tis nothing but some bond, that he is enter'd into Boling. Can no man tell of my unthrifty sor ? For gay apparel, 'gainst the triumph day.

Tis full three months, since I did see him last :York. Bound to himself ? what doth he with a bond If any plague hang over us, 'tis he. That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool.- I would to God, my lords, he might be found : Boy, let me see the writing.

(show it. Inquire at London, 'mongst the taverns there, Aum. I do beseech you, pardon me; I may not For there, they say, he daily doth frequent York. I will be satisfied; let me see it

, I say. With unrestrained loose companions; (Snatches it, and reads. Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes,


And beat our watch, ana rob our passengers ; Mine honour lives when his dishonour dies,
While he, young, wanton, and effeminate boy, Or my sham'd life in his dishonour lies:
Takes on the point of honour, to support

Thou kill'st me in his life; giving him breath, So dissolute a crew.

[prince; in traitor lives, the true man's put to death. Percy. My lord, some two days since I saw the Duch. [Within.) What ho, my liege! for God's And told him of these triumphs held at Oxford.

sake let me in.

(eager cry? Boling. And what said the gallant? (stews; Boling. What shrill-voic'd suppliant makes this

Percy. His answer was, -he would unto the Luch. A woman, and thine aunt, great king ;And from the common’st creature pluck a glove,

'tis 1. And wear it as a favour; and with that

Speak with me, pity me, open the door: He would un horse the lustiest challenger. [both A beggar begs, that never begg'd before.

Boling. As dissolute, as desperate: yet, through Boling. Our scene is alter'd, from a serious thing, I see some sparkles of a better hope,

And now chang'd to The Begyar and the King.
Which elder days may happily bring forth My dangerous cousia, let your mother in;
But who comes here >

I know she's come to pray for your foul sin.
Enter AUMERLE, hastily

York. If thou do pardon, whosoever pray,
Where is the king ?

More sins, for this forgiveness, prosper may.

What means

This fester'd joint cut off, the rest rests sound;

This, let alone, with all the rest confound.
Our cousin, that he stares and looks so wildly?
Aum. God save your grace. I do beseech your


Duch. O king, believe not this hard-hearted man To have some conference with your grace alone.

[here? Boling. Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here ! Love, loving not itself, none other can.

York. Thou frantick woman, what dost thou make alone.-- (E.reunt Percy and Lords. Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear? What is the matter with our cousin now ?

Duch. Sweet York, be patient: Hear me, gentle Aum. For ever may my knees grow to the earth,


I kneels. (Kneels.

Boling. Rise up, good aunt. My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth, Duch.

Not yet, I thee beseech , Unless a pardon, ere I rise, or speak.

For ever will I kneel upon my knees, Boling. Intended, or committed, was this fault?

And never see day that the happy sees, If but the first, how heinous ere it be,

Till thou give joy; until thou bid me joy, To win thy after-love, I pardon thee.

By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing, boy Aum. Then give me leave that I may turn the key,

Aum. Unto my mother's prayers I bend my knee. That no man enter till my tale be done.

[Kneels. Boling. Have thy desire.

York. Against them both, my true joints bended (AUMERLE locks the door.


(Kneels. York. [Within.] My liege, beware ; look to thy- III may’st thou thrive, if thou grant any grace! self;

Duch. Pleads he in earnest ? look upon his face; Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there, Boling. Villain, I'll make thee safe. (Drawing. His words come from his mouth, ours from our

His eyes do drop no tears, his prayers are in jest; Aum. Stay thy revengeful hand;

breast : Thou hast no cause to fear.

(hardy king: He prays but faintly, and would be denied ; York. (Within.) Open the door, secure, fool. We pray with heart, and soul, and all beside : Shall I, for love, speak treasor to thy face ?

His weary joints would gladly rise, I know; Open the door, or I will break it open.

Our knees shall kneel till to the ground they grow : (BOLINGBROKE opens the door. His prayers are full of false hypocrisy; Enter YORK.

Ours, of true zeal and deep integrity. Boling. What is the matter, uncle? speak ; Our prayers do out-pray his; then let them have Recover breath; tell us how near is danger,

That mercy, which true prayers ought to have. That we may arm us to encounter it.


Boling. Good aunt, stand up. York. Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt


Nay, do not say-stand up, The treason that my haste forbids me show. (past : But pardon, first; and afterwards, stand up.

Aum. Remember, as thou read’st, thy promise And if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach, I do repent me; read not my name there,

Pardon-should be the first word of thy speech. My heart is not confederate with my hand. [down. I never long'd to hear a word till now;

York. 'Twas, villain, ere thy hand did set it Say-pardon, king; let pity teach thee how:
I tore it from the traitor's bosom, king;

The word is short, but not so short as sweet;
Fear, and not love, begets his penitence :

No word like pardon, for kings' mouths so meet. Forget to pity him, lest thy pity prove

York. Speak it in French, king; say, pardonner A serpent that will sting thee to the heart.

moy. Boling. O heinous, strong, and bold conspiracy!

Duch. Dost thou teach pardon pardon to destroy? O loyal father of a treacherous son !

Ah, my sour husland, my hard-hearted lord, Thou sheer, immaculate, and silver fountain,

That set'st the word itself against the word ! From whence this stream through muddy passages, Speak, pardon, as 'tis current in our land; Hath held bis current, and defil'd himself

The chopping French we do not understand. Thy verduw of good converts to bad;

Thine eye begins to speak, set thy tongue there : and thy abundant goodness shall excuse

Or, in thy piteous heart plant thou thine ear; i bass deadly blot in thy digressing son.

That, hearing how our plaints and prayers do pierce, York. So shall my virtue be his vice's bawd;

Pity may move thee, pardon to rehearse. And he shall spend mine honour with his shame,

Boling. Good aunt, stand up. As thristless sung their scraping fathers' gold.


I do not sue to stand,

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Pardon is all the suit I have in hand.

Then treason makes me wish myself a beggar, Boling. I pardon him, as God shall pardon me. And so I am: Then crushing penury

Duch. O happy vantage of a kneeling knee ! Persuades me I was better when a king; Yet am I sick for fear: speak it again;

Then am I king'd again : and, by-and-by, Twice saying pardon, doth not pardon twain, Think that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke, But makes one pardon strong.

And straight am nothing :-But, whate'er I ani, Boling.

With all my heart : Nor I, nor any man, that but man is, I pardon him.

With nothing shall be pleas'd till he be eas'd Duch. A god on earth thou art. [the abbot, With being nothing.-Musick do I hear? (Musick.

Boling. But for our trusty brother-in-law,-and Ha, ha! keep time:-How sour sweet music
With all the rest of that consorted crew,-

When time is broke, and no proportiou kept!
Destruction straight shall dog them at the heels.- So is it in the musick of men's lives.
Good uncle, help to order several powers

And here have I the daintiness of ear,
To Oxford, or where'er these traitors are:

To check time broke in a disorder'd string; They shall not live within this world, I swear, But, for the concord of my state and time, But I will have them, if I once know where. Had not an ear to hear my true time broke. Uncle, farewell, and cousin too, adieu :

I wasted time, and now doth time waste me. Your mother well hath pray'd, and prove you true. For now hath time made me his numb'ring cl ck Duch. Come, my old son ;-I pray God make My thoughts are minutes; and, with sighs, they jar thee new.

(Ereunt. Their watches on to mine eyes, the outward watch, SCENE IV.

Whereto my finger, like a dial's point,

Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears.
Enter EXTON and a Servant.

Now, sir, the sound, that tells what hour it is, Erton. Didst thou not mark the king, what words Are clamorous groans, that strike upon my heart, he spake ?

Which is the bell: So sighs, and tears, and groans, Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear? Show minutes, times, and hours :-but


time Was it 20. so ?

Runs posting on in Bolingbroke's proud joy, Ser

Those were his very words. While I stand fooling here, his Jack o' the clock. Eston. Have I no friend ? quoth he: he spoke it This musick mads me, let it sound no more; twice.

For, though it have holpe madmen to their wits, And urg'd it twice together; did he not?

In me, it seems it will make wise men mad. Serv. He did.

(me; Yet diessing on his heart that gives it me! Eston. And, speaking it, he wistfully look’à on For 'tis a sign of love; and love to Richard As who should say,—I would, thou wert the man Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world. That would divorce this terror from my heart;

Enter Groom. Meaning, the king at Pomfret. Come, let's go;

Groom. Hail, royal prince ! I am the king's friend, and will rid his foe. (Ereunt.

K. Rich.

Thanks, noble preet SCENE V.-Pomfret. The Dungeon of the Castle. The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear. Enter KING RICHARD.

What art thou ? and how comest thou hither, K. Rich. I have been studying how I may compare That brings me food, to make misfortune live!

Where no man never comes, but that sad dog
This prison, where I live, unto the world :
And, for because the world is populous,

Groom. I was a poor groom of thy stable, king And here is not a creature but myself,

When thou wert king; who, travelling towarde York

With much ado, at length have gotten leave
I cannot do it;-Yet I'll hammer it out.
My brain I'll prove the female to my soul;

To look upon my sometimes master's face.
My soul, the father: and these two heget

O, how it yern'd my heart, when I beheld,

In London streets that coronation-day, A generation of still-breeding thoughts,

When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barhary And these same thoughts people this little world;

That horse, that thou so often hast bestrid, In humours, like the people of this world,

That horse, that I so carefully have dress'd! For no thought is contented. The better sort,

K. Rich. Rode he on Barbary? Tell me, good As thoughts of things divine, are intermix'd

friend, With scruples, and do set the word itself

How went he under him?
Against the word:
As thus,-Come, little ones ; and then again,-

Groom. So proudly, as if he disdain'd the ground.

K. Rich. So proud that Bolingbroke was on his It is as hard to come, as for a camel

back! To thread the postern of a needle's eye.

That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand; Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot

This hand hath made him proud with clapping him. Unlikely wonders : how these vain weak nails

Would he not stumble? Would he not fall down, May tear a passage through the flinty ribs

(Since pride must have a fall), and break the neck of this hard world, my ragged prison walls ; And, for they cannot, die their own pride.

Of that proud inan, that did usurp his back ?

Forgiveness, horse! why do I rail on thee,
Thoughts tending to content, flatter themselves,-

Since thou, created to be aw'd by man,
That they are not the first of fortune's slaves,
Nor shall not be the last; like silly beggars,

Was born to bear? I was not made a horse;
Who sitting in the stocks, refuge their shame, –

And yet I bear a burden like an ass,

Spur.gall'd, and tir'd by jauncing Bolingbroke. That many have, and others must sit there: And in this thought they find a kind of ease,

Enter Keeper, with a disn. Bearing their own misfortune on the back

Keep. Fellow, give place; here is no longer stay Of such as have before endur'd the like.

[ To the Groom Thus play I, in one person, many people,

K. Rich. If thou love me, 'tis time thou were Anů pone contented: Sometimes am I king;


2 B

shali say


Groom. What my tongue dares not, that my heart Boling. We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains

(Exit. And to thy worth will add right worthy gains. Keep. My lord, wilt please you to fall to ?

Enter FitzwATER.
K. Rich. Taste of it first, as thou art wont to do.
Keep. My lord, I dare not; Sir Pierce of Exton, The heads of Brocas, and Sir Bennet Seely;

Fitz. My lord, I have from Oxford sent to London I tely came from the king, commands the contrary; That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow.

Two of the dangerous consorted traitors, K. Rich. The devil take Henry of Lancaster, and thee!

Boling. Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be forgot, Pitience is stale, and I am weary of it.

Right noble is thy merit, well I wot.

[Beats the Keeper. Enter Percy, with the BISHOP OP CARLISLE. Keep. Help, help, help!

Percy. The grand conspirator, abbot of West Enter Exton, and Servants, armed.

minster, K. Rich. How now? what means death in this with clog of conscience, and sour melancholy, rude assault ?

Hath yielded up his body to the grave; Villain, thy own hand yields thy death's instrument. But here is Carlisle living, to abide

(Snatching a weapon, and killing one. Thy kiugly doom, and sentence of his pride. Go tłcü, and fill another room in hell.

Boling. Carlisle, this is your doom :He kills another, then Exton strikes him down. Choose out some secret place, some reverend room That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire,

More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life; Tuat staggers thus my person. -Exton, thy fierce So, as thou liv’st in peace, die free from strife : hand

Lland. For though mine enemy thou hast ever been, Hath with the king's blood stain’d the king's own High sparks of honour'in thee have I seen. Mount, mount, my soul! thy seat is up on high ; Enter Exton, with Attendants bearing a coffin. Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here to die.


Exton. Great king, within this coffin I present Eston. As full of valour, as of royal blood :

Thy buried fear; berein all breathless lies Both have I spilt; 0, would the deed were good!

The mightiest of thy greatest enemies,

Richard of Bordeaux, by me hither brought.
For now the devil that told me, I did well,
Says, that this deed is chronicled in hell.

Boling. Exton, I thank thee not; for thou hast

This dead king to the living king I'll bear!-
Take hence the rest, and give them burial here,

A deed of slander, with thy fatal hand,
Exeunt. Upon my head, and all this famous land. [deed.

Exton. From your own mouth, my lord, did I this
SCENE VI.-Windsor. A Room in the Castle. Boling. They love not poison that do poison need,
Flourish, Enter BOLINGBROKE and York, with Nor do I thee; though I did wish him dead,
Lords and Attendants.

| I hate the murderer, love him murdered. Boling. Kind uncle York, the latest news we hear The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour, Is-that the rebels have consum'd with fire

But neither my good word, nor princely favour : Our town of Cicester, in Glostershire;

With Cain go wander through the shade of night, But whether they be ta’en, or slain, we hear not.

And never show thy head by day nor light.-

Lords, I protest, my soul is full of woe,

That blood should sprinkle me, to make me grow · Welcome, my lord: What is the news ? [piness,'Come, mourn with me for what I do lament,

North. First, to thy sacred state wish I all hap- And put on sullen black, incontinent;
The next news is, I have to London sent

I'll make a voyage to the Holy land,
The heads of Salisbury, Spencer, Blunt, and Kent: To wash this blood off from my guilty hand :-
The manner of their taking may appear

March sadly after; grace my mournings here,
At large discourses in this
paper here.

In weeping after this untimely bier. (Eseuni (Presenting a paper..

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March all one way; and be no more oppos'd

Against acquaintance, kindred, aná allies ;

The edge of war, like an ill-sheathed knife
HENRY, Prince of Wales,
PRINCE John of Lancaster,

sons to the King.

No more shall cut his master. Therefore frienas,

As far as to the sepulchre of Christ, EARL OF WESTMORELAND, } friends to the King.

(Whose soldiers now, under whose blessed cross SIR WALTER BLUNT,

We are impressed and engag'd to fight,) Thomas Percy, Earl of Worcester.

Forthwith a power of English shall we levy; HENRY PERCY, Earl of Northumberland.

Whose arms were moulded in their mother's womb HENRY PERCY, surnamed HOTSPUR, his son. To chase these pagans, in those holy fields, EDMUND MORTIMER, Earl of March.

Over whose acres walk'd those blessed feet, SCROOP, Archbishop of York.

Which, fourteen hundred years ago, were nail d Sir Michael, a friend of the Archbishop. For our advantage, on the bitter cross. ARCHIBALD, Earl of Douglas.

But this our purpose is a twelvemonth old, OWEN GLENDOWER.

And bootless'tis to tell you—we will go, SIR RICXARD VERNON.

Therefore we meet not now :-Then let me hear Sir John FalstaFT.

Of you, my gentle cousin Westmoreland, Poins.

What yesternight our council did decree, GADSHILL.

In forwarding this dear expedience. Pero.

West. My liege, this haste was hot in question, BARDOLPH.

And many limits of the charge set down

But yesternight: when, all athwart, there came Lady Percy, wife to Hotspur, and sister to Mortimer. A post from Wales, loaden with heavy news Lady MORTIMER, daughter to Glendower, and wife whose worst was,-that the noble Mortimer, to Mortimer.

Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight Mas. Quickly, hostess of a tavern in Eastcheap. Against the irregular and wild Glendower,

Was by the rude hands of that Welshmas taken, Lords, Officers, Sheriff, Vintner, Chamberlain, Draw And a thousand of his people butchered: ers, Two Carriers, Travellers, and Attendants. Upon whose dead corpses there was such misuse,

Such beastly, shameless transformation,

By those Welshwomen done, as may not be,
Without much shame, re-told or spoken of. (broil

K. Hen. It seems then, that the tidings of this

Brake off our business for the Holy land. (lord; ACT I.

West. This, match'd with other, did, my gracious

For more uneven and unwelcome news SCENE I.-London. A Room in the Palace. Came from the north, and thus it did import.

Un Holy-rood day, the gallant Hotspur there, Enler King HENRY, WESTMORELAND, Sir WALTER Ynung Harry Percy, and brave Archibald, BLUNT, and others.

That ever-valiant and approved Scot, K. Hen. So shaken as we are, so wan with care,

At Holmedon met,
Find we a time for frighted peace to pant,

Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour;
And breathe short-winded accents of new broils As by discharge of their artillery,
To be commenc'd in stronds afar remote.

And shape of likelihood, the news was told;
No more the thirsty Erinnys of this soil

For he that brought them, in the very heat
Shall daub her lips with her own children's blood; And pride of their contention did take horse,
No more shall trenching war channel her fields, Uncertain of the issue any way.
Nor bruise her flowrets with the armed hoofs

K.Hen. Here is a dear and true-industrious friend, Of hostile paces : those opposed eyes,

Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse,
Which-like the meteors of a troubled heaven, Staind with the variation of each soil
All of one nature, of one substance bred

Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of ours; Did lately meet in the :ntestine shock

And he hath brought us smooth and welcome news And furious close of civil butchery,

The earl of Douglas is discomfited; Shall now, in mutual well-beseeming ranks Ten thousand bold Scots, two-and-twent knights,

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