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With fpecious luftre lent but to betray.
You had it, Sir, and hold it-from the people.
EDW. And therefore do I prize it; I wou'd guard
Their liberties, and they fhall ftrengthen mine:
But when proud Faction, and her rebel crew
Infult their fov'reign, trample on his laws,
And bid defiance to his pow'r, the people,
In juftice to themselves, will then defend
His caufe, and vindicate the rights they gave..

WAR. Go to your darling people, then; for foon,
If I mistake not, 'twill be needful; try`

Their boafted zeal, and fee if one of them

Will dare to lift his arm up in your cause,
If I forbid them.

EDW. Is it fo, my lord!

Then mark my words: I've been your flave too long,
And you have rul'd me with a rod of iron;

But henceforth know, proud peer, I am thy mafter,.
And will be fo: the king, who delegates

His pow'r to other's hands, but ill deserves
The crown he wears.

WAR. Look well then to your own;

It fits but loosely on your head; for know,`
The man who injur'd Warwick, never pafs'd
Unpunifh'd yet.

EDW. Nor he who threaten'd Edward

You may repent it, Sir-my guards there-feize This traitor, and convey him to the Tow'r,

There let him learn obedience.

EARL OF WARWICK,

CHAP.

CHAP. XII.

ORLANDO AND ADAM.

ORLA. WHO's there?

ADAM. What! my young mafter? O my gentle master! fweet master! O you memory

Oh, my

Of old Sir Rowland! Why, what what makes you here?
Why are you virtuous? Why do people love you?

And wherefore are you gentle, ftrong, and valiant ?
Why would you be fo fond to overcome

The bony priser of the humorous Duke?

Your praise is come too swiftly home before you.
Know you not, mafter, to fome kind of men
Their graces ferve them but as enemies?

No more do yours; your virtues, gentle mafter,
Are fanctified and holy traitors to you.

Oh, what a world is this, when what is comely
Envenoms him that bears it!

ORLA. Why, what's the matter?

ADAM. O unhappy youth,

Come not within these doors; within this roof

The enemy of all your graces lives:

Your brother

(no; no brother; yet the fon

Yet not the fon; I will not call him fon

Of him I was about to call his father)

Hath heard your praises, and this night he means.
To burn the lodging where you used to lie,

And you within it; if he fail of that,

He will have other means to cut you off;

I overheard him, and his practices:

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This is no palace, this houfe is but a butchery;
Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it.

ORLA. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go?
ADAM. No matter whither, fo you come not here.
ORLA. What woul'd thou have me go and beg my

Or with a bafe and boisterous fword enforce
A thievifh living on the common road?
This must I do, or know not what to do:
Yet this I will not do, do how I can ;

I rather will fubject me to the malice.
Of a diverted blood, and bloody brother.

food?

ADAM. But do not fo: I have five hundred crowns,
The thrifty hire I faved under your father,

Which I did ftore, to be my fofter-nurfe
When service should in my old limbs lie lame,
And unregarded age in corners thrown :
Take that; and he that doth the ravens feed,
Yea, providently caters for the fparrow,
Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold,
All this I give you, let me be your fervant;
Though I look old, yet I am strong and lufty;
For in my youth I never did apply
Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood;
Nor did I with unbafhful forehead woo
The means of weakness and debility;
Therefore my age is as a lufty winter,
Frofty, but kindly; let me go with you;
I'll do the fervice of a younger man

In all your bufinefs and neceffities.

ORLA. Oh! good old man, how well in thee appears
The conflant service of the antique world;
When fervice fweat for duty, not for meed!

Thon

Thou art not for the fashion of thefe times,
Where none will fweat but for promotion;
And having that do choke their service up
Even with the having; it is not fo with thee;
But, poor old man, thou prun'ft a rotten tree,
That cannot fo much as a bloffom yield,
In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry.
But come thy ways, we'll go along together;
And ere we have thy youthful wages spent,
We'll light upon fome fettled low content.

ADAM. Mafter, go on; and I will follow thee
To the last gafp with truth and loyalty;
From feventeen years till now, almost fourscore,,
Here liv'd I, but now live here no more..
At feventeen years many their fortunes seek,
But at fourfcore, it is too late a week;
Yet fortune cannot recompence me better
Than to die well, and not my master's debtor.

SHAKSPEARE.

СНАР. XIII.

SCROOP AND RICHARD.

SCROOP. MORE health and happiness betide my liege,

Than can my care-tun'd tongue deliver him!

K. RICH. Mine ear is open, and my

heart prepar'd;
The worst is worldly lofs thou canft unfold.
Say, is my kingdom loft? Why, 'twas, my care;
And what lofs is it, to be rid of care?
Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we ?
Greater he shall not be; if he ferve God,

We'll

We'll serve him too, and be his fellow fo.
Revolt our fubjects? That we cannot mend;
They break their faith to God, as well as us..
Cry wo, destruction, ruin, lofs, decay!
The worst is death, and death will have his day.
SCROOF. Glad am I that your highness is so arm'd
To bear the tidings of calamity.

Like an unfeasonable stormy day,

Which makes the filver rivers drown their shores,.
As if the world were all diffolv'd to tears;

So high above his limits fwells the rage

Of Bolingbroke, covering your fearful land

With hard bright steel, and hearts more hard than steel.
White beards have arm'd their thin and hairless scalps
Against thy majefty; boys, with women's voices,
Strive to speak big, and clasp their female joints
In ftiff unwieldy arms, against thy crown.
The very beadsmen learn to bend their bows
Of double-fatal yew, against thy state:
Yea, diftaff-women manage rufty bills.
Against thy feat both young and old rebel,
And all goes worse than I have pow'r to tell.

K. RICH. Too well, too well, thou tell'ft a tale fo ill. Where is the Earl of Wiltshire ? where is Bagot?

What is become of Bushy? where is Green?

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-No matter where; of comfort no man speak.
Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs,,
Make duft our paper, and with rainy eyes
Write forrow on the bofom of the earth!
Let's choose executors, and talk of wills;
And yet not fo- -for what can we bequeath,
Save our depofed bodies to the ground?.

Our

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