Within the earth; and therein laid, there lies

Two kinfmen, digg'd their Graves with weeping eyes.
Would not this ill do well?-Well, well, I fee
I talk but idly, and you mock at me.

[North, advances.
Most mighty Prince, my lord Northumberland,
What fays King Bolingbroke? will his Majefty
Give Richard leave to live, till Richard die?
You make a leg, and Bolingbroke fays, ay.

North. My lord, in the bafe court he doth attend To fpeak with you, may't please you to come down. K. Rich. Down, down I come; like glift'ring Phaeton, Wanting the manage of unruly jades.

[North. retires to Bol. In the bafe court? bafe court, where Kings grow bafe, To come at traitors' Calls, and do them grace.

In the bafe court come down? down,court; down, King; For Night-owls fhriek, where mounting Larks fhould fing

Boling. What fays his Majefty?

North. Sorrow, and Grief of Heart,

Makes him fpeak fondly, like a frantick Man ;

Yet is he come.

Boling. Stand all apart,

[Richard comes to them.

And fhew fair duty to his Majesty.

My gracious lord

[Kneels.

K. Rich. Fair coufin, you debafe your princely knce,

To make the bafe earth proud with kiffing it.
Me rather had, my heart might feel your love,
Than my unpleas'd eye fee your courtefie.
Up, coufin, up; your heart is up, I know,
Thus high at leaft, although your knee be low.

[Touching his own head. Boling. My gracious lord, I come but for mine own. K. Rich. Your own is yours, and I am yours, and all. Boling. So far be mine, my moft redoubted lord, As my true fervice fhall deferve your love.

F 2

K. Rich.

K. Rich. Well you deserve.-They well deferve to have,

That know the strong'ft and fureft way to get.
Uncle, give me your hand; nay, dry your eyes;
Tears fhew their love, but want their remedies.
Coufin, I am too young to be your father,
Though you are old enough to be my heir.
What you will have, I'll give, and willing too;
For do we muft, what force will have us do.

Set on towards London.

Coufin, is it so?

Boling. Yea, my good lord.

K. Rich. Then I must not fay, no. [Flourish. Exeunt.

SCENE VII.

A Garden, in the Queen's Court.

Enter Queen and two Ladies,

Queen. WHAT fport fhall we devise here in this

garden,

To drive away the heavy thought of care?
Lady. Madam, we'll play at bowls.

Queen. 'Twill make me think, the world is full of rubs,

And that my fortune runs against the bias.

Lady. Madam, we'll dance.

Queen. My legs can keep no measure in delight,
When my poor heart no measure keeps in grief.
Therefore no dancing, girl; fome other iport.
Lady. Madam, we'll tell tales.
Queen. Of forrow, or of joy?
Lady. Of either, Madam.
Queen. Of neither, girl.

For if of joy, being altogether wanting,
It doth remember me the more of forrow;
Or if of grief, being altogether had,

It adds more forrow to my want of joy.

For

For what I have, I need not to repeat,
And what I want, it boots not to complain.
Lady. Madam, I'll fing.

Queen. 'Tis well, that thou haft caufe,

But thou should'st please me better, would'st thou weep.
Lady. I could weep, Madam, would it do you good.
Queen. And I could weep, would weeping do me
good,

And never borrow any tear of thee.
But stay, here comes the Gardiners.
Let's ftep into the fhadow of thefe trees;
My Wretchedness unto a row of pins,

Enter a Gardiner, and two Servants:

They'll talk of State; for every one doth fo,
Against a Change; woe is fore-run with woe.

[Queen and Ladies retire. Guard. Go, bind thou up yond dangling Apricots, Which, like unruly children, make their Sire

Stoop with oppreffion of their prodigal weight.

followed, tho' it did not to what went before. WARBURTON. There is no need of any emendation. The poet, according to the common doctrine of prognoftication, fuppofes dejection to forerun calamity, and a kingdom to be filled with rumours of forrow when any great difafter is impending. The fenfe is that, publick evils are always prefignified by publick penfiveness, and plaintive converfation. The conceit of rhyming mocks with apricocks, which I hope Shakespeare knew better how to fpell, fhows that the commentator was refolved not to let his conjecture fall for want of any fupport that he could give it.

Give fome fupportance to the bending twigs,
Go thou, and, like an executioner,

Cut off the heads of too-faft-growing sprays,
That look too lofty in our Common-wealth;
All must be even in our Government.
You thus imploy'd, I will go root away
The noifom weeds, that without profit fuck
The foil's fertility from wholefom flowers.

Serv. Why fhould we, in the compafs of a pale,
Keep law, and form, and due proportion,
Shewing, as in a model, a firm ftate? s
When our Sea-walled garden, the whole Land,
Is full of weeds, her faireft flowers choak'd up,
Her fruit-trees all unprun'd, her hedges ruin'd,
Her knots diforder'd, and her wholefom herbs
Swarming with Caterpillars?

Guard. Hold thy peace.

He, that hath fuffer'd this disorder'd Spring,
Hath now himfelf met with the Fall of leaf;
The weeds, that his broad spreading leaves did fhelter,
That feem'd, in eating him, to hold him up;
Are pull'd up, root and all, by Bolingbroke;
I mean, the Earl of Wiltshire, Busby, Green.
Serv. What, are they dead?

Gard. They are,

And Bolingbroke hath feiz'd the wasteful King.
What pity is't, that he had not so trimm'd
And dreft his Land, as we this Garden dress,
And wound the bark, the skin, of our fruit-trees;
Left, being over proud with fap and blood,
With too much riches it confound it felf;
Had he done fo to great and growing men,
They might have liv'd to bear, and he to tafie
Their fruits of duty. All fuperfluous branches

5

OUR firm fate?] How firm? We should read, could he fay ours when he immeA firm flate. diately fubjoins, that it was in

WARBURTON.

We

We lop away, that bearing boughs may live;
Had he done fo, himfelf had borne the Crown,
Which waste and idle hours have quite thrown down.
Serv. What, think you then, the King fhall be
depos'd?

Gard. Depreft he is already; and depos'd,
'Tis doubted, he will be. Letters last night
Came to a dear friend of the Duke of York,
That tell black tidings.

Queen. Oh, I am preft to death, through want of
fpeaking.

Thou Adam's likeness, fet to dress this garden,
How dares thy tongue found this unpleafing news?
What Eve, what Serpent hath fuggefted thee,
To make a fecond Fall of curfed man?
Why doft thou fay, King Richard is depos'd?
Dar'ft thou, thou little better Thing than earth,
Divine his downfal? fay, where, when, and how
Cam'st thou by thefe ill tidings? Speak, thou wretch.
Gard. Pardon me, Madam. Little joy have I
To breathe thefe news; yet, what I fay, is true.
King Richard, he is in the mighty hold

Of Bolingbroke; their fortunes both are weigh'd;
In your Lord's Scale is nothing but himself,
And fome few Vanities that make him light;
But in the Balance of great Bolingbroke,
Befides himself, are all the English Peers,
And with that odds he weighs King Richard down.
Poft you to London, and you'll find it fo;

I speak no more, than every one doth know.

Queen. Nimble Mifchance, that art fo light of foot, Doth not thy Embaffage belong to me?

And am I laft, that know it? oh, thou think'ft
To serve me laft, that I may longest keep
Thy forrow in my breaft. Come, ladies, go;
To meet, at London, London's King in woe.
What, was I born to this? that my fad Look
Should grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke?

F 4

Gard'ner,