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shop of Carlisle, Abbot of Westminster, and In proof whereof, there is my honour's pawn;
Attendants. Officers behind, with Bagot.

Engage it to the trial, if thou dar'st!
Boling. Call forth Bagot!

Fitz. How fondly dost thou spur a forward horse !
Now, Bagot, freely speak thy mind,

If I dare eat, or drink, or breathe, or live,
What thou dost know of noble Gloster's death, I dare meet Surrey in a wilderness,
Who wrought it with the king, and who perform’d And spit upon him, whilst I say, he lies,
The bloody oflice of his timeless end !

And lies, and lies. There is my bond of faith,
Bagot. Then set before my face the lord Aumerle. To tie thee to my strong correction.-
Boling.Cousin, stand forth, and look upon that man! As I intend to thrive in this new world,
Bagot. My lord Aumerle, I know, your daring tongue Aumerle is guilty of my true appeal.
Scorns to unsay what once it hath deliver'd. Besides, I heard the banish'd Norfolk say,
In that dead time, when Gloster's death was plotted, That thou, Aumerle, didst send two of thy men,
I heard you say: Is not my arm of length,

To execute the noble duke at Calais. That reacheth from the restful English court

Aum. Some honest Christian trust me with a gage, As far as Calais, to my uncle's head?

That Norfolk lies! here do I throw down this, Amongst much other talk, that very time,

If he may be repueal’d to try his honour. I heard you say, that you had rather refuse Boling. These differences shall all rest under gage, The offer of an hundred thousand crowns,

Till Norfolk be repeal’d: repeal'd he shall be, Than Bolingbroke's return to England ;

And, though mine enemy, restor'd again
Adding withal, how blest this land would be, To all his land and signories; when he's return'd,
In this your cousin's death.

Against Aumerle we will enforce this trial.
Aum. Princes, and noble lords,

Car. That honourable day shall ne'er be seen.-
What answer shall I make to this base man? Many a time hath banish'd Norfolk fought
Shall I so much dishonour my fair stars,

For Jesu Christ, in glorious Christian field On equal terms to give him chastisement ? Streaming the ensign of the Christian cross, Either I must, or have mine honour soil'd

Against black Pagans, Turks, and Saracens, With the attainder of his sland'rous lips.

And, toil'd with works of war, retir'd himself There is my gage, the manual seal of death, To Italy, and there, at Venice, gave That marks thee out for hell: I say, thou liest, His body to that pleasant country's earth, And will maintain, what thou hast said is false, And his pure soul unto his captain Christ, In thy heart-blood, thou being all too base

Under whose colours he had fought so long. To stain the temper of my knightly sword.

Boling. Why, bishop, is Norfolk dead? Boling. Bagot, forbear, thou shalt not take it up. Car. As sure as I live, my lord.

Aum. Excepting one, I would he were the best Boling. Sweet peace conduct his sweet soul to the In all this presence, that hath mov'd me so.

bosom Fitz. If that thy valour stand on sympathies,

Of good old Abraham! Lords appellants,
There is my gage, Aumerle, in gage to thine. Your differences shall all rest under gage,
By that fair sun, that shows me where thou stand'st, Till we assign you to your days of trial.
I heard thee say, and vauntingly thou spak’st it,

Enter York, attended.
That thou wert cause of noble Gloster's death. York. Great duke of Lancaster, I come to thee
If thou deny'st it, twenty times thou liest, From plume-pluck'd Richard, who with willing soul
And I will turn thy falsehood to thy heart, Adopts thee heir, and his high scepter yields
Where it was forged, with my rapier's point. To the possession of thy royal hand.
Aum. Thou dar’st not, coward, live to see that day. Ascend his throne, descending now from him,
Fitz. Now, by my soul, I would, it were this hour. And long live Henry, of that name the urth !
Aum. Fitzwater, thou art damn'd to hell for this. Boling. In God's name, I'll ascend the regal throne.
Percy. Aumerle, thou liest; his honour is as true, Car. Marry, God forbid! -
In this appeal, as thou art all unjust.

Worst in this royal presence may I speak,
And, that thou art so, there I throw my gage, Yet best beseeming me to speak the truth.
To prove it on thee, to the extremest point Would God, that any in this noble presence
of mortal breathing. Seize it, if thou dar'st! Were enough noble, to be upright judge

Aum. And if I do not, may my hands rot oft, Of noble Richard! then true nobless would
And never brandish more revengeful steel Learn him forbearance from so foul a wrong.
Over the glittering helmet of my foe!

What subject can give sentence on his king ? Lord. I task the earth to the like, forsworn Aumerle: And who sits here that is not Richard's subject? And spur thee on with full as many lies,

Thieves are not judg’d, but they are hy to hear, As may be holla'd in thy treacherous ear

Although apparent guilt be seen in them.
From sun to sun. There is my honour's pawn; And shall the figure of God's majesty,
Engage it to the trial, if thou dar’st!

His captain, steward, deputy elect,
Aum. Who sets me else? by heaven, I'll throw at all. Anointed, crowned, planted many years;
I have a thousand spirits in one breast,

Be judg'd by subject and inferior breath,
To answer twenty thousand such as you.

And he himself not present? o, forbidit, God,
Surrey. My lord Fitzwater, I do remember well That, in a Christian climate, souls refin'd

very time, Aumerle and you did talk. Should show so heinous, black, obscene a deed!
Fitz. My lord, 'tis true: you were in presence then, I speak to subjects, and a subject speaks,
And you can witness with me, this is true. Stirr'd up by heaven thus boldly for his king.
Surrey. As false, by heaven, as heaven itself is true. My lord of Hereford here,



call king, Fitz. Surrey, thou liest !

Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford's king :
Surrey, Dishonourable boy!
That lie shall lye so heavy on my sword,

And if you crown him, let me prophesy, —
That it shall render vengeance and revenge,

The blood of English shall manure the ground,

And future ages groan for this foul act; Till thou the lie-giver, and that lie, do lye

Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels, In earth as quiet, as thy father's scull.

And, in this seat of peace, tumultuous wars

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Shall kin with kin, and kind with kind confound; With mine own hands I give away my crown,
Disorder, horror, fear, and mutiny,

With mine own tongue deny my sacred state,
Shall here inhabit, and this land be call'd

With mine own breath release all duteous oaths.
The field of Golgotha, and dead men's sculls. All pomp and majesty I do forswear;
o, if you rear this house against this house, My manors, rents, and revenues, I forego;
It will the woefullest division prove,

My acts, decrees, and statutes, I deny:
That ever fell upon this cursed earth.

God pardon all oaths, that are broke to me!
Prevent, resist it, let it not be so,

God keep all vows unbroke, are made to thee!
Lest child, child's children, cry against you woe! Make me, that nothing have, with nothing griev'd;

North. Well have you argu'd, sir; and, for your pains, And thou with all pleas'd, that hast all achiev'd!,
Of capital treason we arrest you here.

Long may'st thou live in Richard's seat to sit,
My lord of Westminster, be it your charge, And soon lie Richard in an earthy pit!
To keep him safely till his day of trial.-

God save king Henry, unking'd Richard says,
May it please you, lords, to grant the commons' suit. And send him many years of sunshine days! -

Boling. Fetch hither Richard, that in common view What more remains ?
He may surrender; so we shall proceed

North.No more, but that you read [Offering a paper.
Without suspicion.

These accusations, and these grievous crimes,
York. I will be his conduct.

(Exit. Committed by your person, and your followers,
Boling. Lords, you that are here under our arrest, Against the state and profit of this land;
Procure your sureties for your days of answer! - That, by confessing them, the souls of men
Little are we beholden to your love, [To Carlisle. May deem, that you are worthily depos’d.
And little look'd for at your helping hands.

K. Rich. Must I do so? and must I ravel ont Re-enter York, with King Richard, and Officers My weav'd-up follies ? Gentle Northumberland, bearing the crown, etc.

Ifihy offences were upon record, K. Rich. Alack, why am I sent for to a king,

Would it not shame thee in so fair a troop, Before I have shook off the regal thoughts,

To read a lecture of them? If thou would'st, Wherewith I reign'd? I hardly yet have learn'd There should'st thou find one heinous article, To insinuate, flatter, bow, and bend


knee: Containing the deposing of a king, Give sorrow leave a while to tutor me

And cracking the strong warrant of an oath,
To this submission ! Yet I well remember

Mark'd with a blot, damn’d in the book of heaven:
The favours of these men: were they not mine? Nay, all of you, that stand and look upon me,
Did they not sometime cry, All hail to me?

Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait myself, —
So Judas did to Christ: but he, in twelve,

Though some of you, with Pilate, wash your hands, Found truth in all, but one; I, in twelve thousand, Showing an outward pity; yet you Pilates

Have here deliver'd me to my sour cross, God save the king! — Will no man say amen?

And water cannot wash away your sin. Am I both priest and clerk? well then, amen!

North. My lord, dispatch; read o'er these articles !
God save the king! although I be not he;

K. Rich. Mine eyes are full of tears, I cannot see:
Aud yet, amen, if heaven do think him me. — And yet salt water blinds them not so much,
To do what service am I sent for hither?

But they can see a sort of traitors here.
York. To do that office, of thine own good will, Nay, if I turn mine eyes upon myself,
Which tired majesty did make thee offer:

I find myself a traitor with the rest; The resignation of thy state and crown

For I have given here my soul's consent, To Henry Bolingbroke.

To undeck the pompous body of a king, K. Rich. Give me the crown!- Here, cousin, seize Make glory base and sovereignty a slave, the crown!

Proud majesty a subject, state a peasant.
Here, on this side, my hand, on that side, thine ! North. My lord,
Now is this golden crown like a deep well,

K. Rich. No lord of thine, thou haught, insulting
That owes two buckets filling one another;

man, The emptier ever dancing in the air,

Nor no man's lord; I have no name, no title, The other down, unseen, and full of water:

No, not that name was given me at the font,
The bucket down, and full of tears, am I,

But'tis usurp’d. — Alack the heavy day,
Drinking my griefs, whilst you mount up on high. That I have worn so many winters out,
Boling. I thought, you had been willing to resign. And know not now, what name to call myself!
K.Rich. My crown, I am ; but still my griefs are mine. o, that I were a mockery king of snow,
You may my glories and my state depose,

Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke,
But not my griefs; still am I king of those.

To melt myself away in water-drops !
Boling. Part of your cares you give me with your Good king; -- great king,-(and yet not greatly good,

An if my word be sterling yet in England, K. Rich. Your cares, set up, do not pluck my cares Let it command a mirror hither straight; down.

That I may show me what a face I have, My care is loss of care, by old care done;

Since it is bankrupt of his majesty,
Your care is gain of care, by new care won :

Boling. Go some of you, and fetch a looking-glass!
The cares I give, I have, though given away;
They tend the crown, yet still with me they stay. North. Read o'er this paper, while the glass doth
Boling. Are you contented to resign the crown?

come! K. Rich. Ay, no ;- no, ay :--- - for I must nothing be; K. Rich. Fiend! thou torment'st me ere I come to Therefore no no, for I resign to thee.

hell. Now mark me, how I will undo myself!

Boling. Urge it no more, mylord Northumberland! I give this heavy weight from off my head,

North. The commons will not then be satisfied. And this unwieldy scepter from my hand,

K. Rich, They shall be satished; I'll read enough, The pride of kingly sway from out my heart.

When I do see the very book indeed, With mine own tears I wash away my balm,

Where all my sins are writ, and that's-myself.

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(Exit an attendant.


Re-enter Attendant, with a glass. To whose flint bosom my.condemned lord Give me that glass, and therein will I read.

Is doom'd a prisoner by proud Bolingbroke. No deeper wriukles yet ? Hath sorrow struck

Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth So many blows upon this face of mine,

Have any resting for her true king's queen. And made no deeper wounds? – 0, flattering glass,

Inter King RICHARD, and Guards. Like to my followers in prosperity,

But soft, but see, or rather do not see, Thou dost beguile me! Was this face the face, My fair rose wither! Yet look up! behold, That every day under his household roof

That you in pity may dissolve to dew, Did keep ten thousand men? Was this the face, And wash him fresh again with true-love tears. – That, like the sun, did make beholders wink? Ah, thou, the mode), where old Troy did stand! Was this the face, that fac'd so many follies,

Thou map of honour! thou king Richard's tomb, And was at last out-fac'd by Bolingbroke?

And not king Richard! thou most beauteous in, A brittle glory shineth in this face:

Why should hard-favour'd grief be lodg’d in thee, As brittle as the glory is the face;

When triumph is become an alehouse guest? [Đashes the glass against the ground. K.Rich. Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so, For there it is, crack'd in a hundred shivers.

To make my end too sudden! Learn, good soul,
Mark, silent king, the moral of this sport,

To think our former state a happy dream,
How soon my sorrow hath destroy'd my face. From which awak'd, the truth of what we are
Boling. The shadow of your sorrow hath destroy'd Shows us but this: I am sworn brother, sweet,
The shadow of your face.

To grim necessity; and he and I
K. Rich, Say that again!

Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to France, The shadow of my sorrow? Ha! let's see:

And cloister thee in some religious house! 'Tis very true, my grieflies all within,

Our holy lives must win a new world's crown, And these external manners of lament

Which our profane hours here have stricken down. Are merely shadows to the unseen grief,

Queen. What, is my Richard both in shape and mind That swells with silence in the tortur'd soul.

Transforsi'd, and weaken'd ? Hath Bolingbroke There lies the substance: and I thank thee, king, Depos'd thine intellect? hath he been in thy heart? For thy great bounty, that not only giv’st

Thelion, dying, thrusteth forth his paw, Me cause to wail, but teachest me the way,

Aud wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage How to lament the cause. I'll beg one boon,

To be o’erpower'd ; and wilt thou, pupil-like, And then be gone, and trouble you no more.

Take thy correction mildly? kiss the rod, Shall I obtain it?

And fawn on rage with base humility, Boling. Name it, fair cousin !

Which art a lion, and a king of beasts? K. Rich. l'air cousin? Why, I am greater, than a king. K. Rich. A king of beasts, indeed ; ifaught but beasts, For, when I was a king, my flatterers

Thad been still a happy king of men. Were then but subjects; being now a subject, Good sometime queen, prepare thee hence for France! Uave a king here to my flatterer.

Think, I am dead, and that even here thou tak'st, Being so great, I have no need to beg.

As from my death-bed, my last living leave! Boling. Yet ask.

In winter's tedious nights sit by the fire K. Rich. And shall I have?

With good old folks, and let them tell thee tales Boling. You shall.

Of woeful ages, long ago betid: K. Rich. Then give me leave to go!

And, ere thon bid good night, to quit their grief, Boling. Whither?

Tell thon thelamentable fall of me,
K. Rich. Whither you will, so I were from your And send the hearers weeping to their beds!

l'or why, the senseless brands will sympathize
Boling. Go, some of you, convey him to the Tower! The heavy accent of thy moving tongue,
K. Rich. O, good ! Convey?- Conveyers are you all, And, in compassion, weep the fire out,
That rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall.

And some will mourn in ashes, some coal-black,
(Exeunt K. Richard, some Lords, and a Guard. For the deposing of a rightful king.
Boling. On Wednesday next, we solemnly set down Enter NorthUMBERLAND, attended.
Our coronation : lords, prepare yourselves!

North. My lord, the mind of Bolingbroke is chang’d: (Exeunt all but the Ibbot, Bishop of Carlisle, You must to Pomfret, vot unto the Tower. and Aumerle.

And, madam, there is order ta'en for you;. Abbot. A woeful pageant have we here beheld. With all swilt speed you must away to France. Cur. The woes to come; the children yet unborn K. Rich. Northumberland, thou ladder, whereShall feel this day as sharp to them, as thorn.

withal Aum. You holy clergymen, is there no plot The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne, To rid the realm of this pernicious blot?

The time shall not be many hours of age Abbot. Before I freely speak my mind herein, More than it is, ere foul sin, gathering head, You sha!l not only take the sacrament,

Shall break into corruption : thou shalt think, To bury mive intents, but to effect

Though he divide the realm, and give thee half, Whatever I shall happen to devise.

It is too little, helping him to all; I see your brows are full of discontent,

And he shall think, that thou, which !now'st the way Your hearts of sorrow, and your eyes of tears, Come home with me to supper! I will lay

To plant unrightful kings, wilt know again,

Being ne'er so little urg'd, another way A plot, shall show us all a merry day.

[Exeunt. To pluck him headlong from the usurped throne.

The love of wicked friends converts to fear ;
А ст

That fear, to hate; and hate turns one, or both,

To worthy danger, and deserved death. SCENE I. - London. A street leading to the Tower. North. My guilt be on my head, and there an end. Enter Queen, and Ladies.

Take leave, and part! for you must part forthwith. Queen. This way the king will come; this is the way To Julius Caesar's ill-erected tower,

K. Rich. Doubly divorc'd ? - Bad men, ye violate A twofold marriage: 'twixt my crown and me,

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And then, betwixt me and my married wife.

| That had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd Let me unkiss the oath'twixt thee and me!

The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted,
And yet not so, for with a kiss 'twas made.

And barbarism itself have pitied him.
Partus, Northumberland! I towards the north, But heaven hath a hand in these events;
Where shivering cold and sickness pines the clime; To whose high will we bound our calm contents.
My wife to France; from whence, set forth in pomp, To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now,
She came adorned hither, like sweet May,

Whose state and honour I for aye allow.
Sent back like Hallowmas, or short'st of day.

Queen. And must we be divided ? must we part? Duch. Here comes my son Aumerle,
K. Rich. Ay, hand from hand, my love, and heart York. Aumerle that was;
from heart.

But that is lost, for being Richard's friend,
Queen. Banish us both, and send the king with me! And, madam, you must call him Rutland now:
North. That were some love, but little policy. amin parliament pledge for his truth,
Queen. Then whither he goes, thither let me go! And lasting fealty to the new-made king.
K. Rich. So two, together weeping, make one woe. Duch. Welcome, my son! Who are the violets now,
Weep thou for me in France, I for thee here; That strew the green lap of the new-come spring?
Better far off, than-near, be ne'er the near'. Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not:
Go, count thy way with sighs, I mine with groans. God knows, I had as lief benone, as one.
Queen. So longest way shall have the longest moans. York. Well, bear you well in this new spring of time,
K. Rich. Twice for one steep I'll groan, the way be- Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime.
ing short,

What news from Oxford ? hold those justs and
And piece the way out with a heavy heart.

triumphs ? Come, come, in wooing sorrow let's be brief,

Aum. For aught I know, my lord, they do.
Since, wedding it, there is such length in grief.

York. You will be there, I know.
One kiss shall stop our mouths, and dumbly part; Aum. If God prevent it not, I purposeso.
Thus give I mine, and thus l take thy heart. York. What seal is that, that hangs without thy

( They kiss.

Queen. Give me mine own again ; 'twere no good part, Yea, look'st thou pale? let me see the writing !
To take on me to keep, and will thy heart. (Kiss again. Aum. My lord, 'tis nothing.
So, now I have mine own again, begone,

York. No matter then who sees it.
That I may strive to kill it with a groan.

I will be satisfied, let me see the writing!
K. Rich. We make woe wanton with this fond delay. Aum. I do beseech your grace to pardon me;
Once more, adieu ! the rest let sorrow say! (Exeunt. It is a matter of small consequence,

Which for some reasons I would not have seen.

The sume.

A room in the Duke of York. Which for some reasons, sir, I mean to see.
York's palace.

I fear, I fear,
Enter York, and his Duchess.

Duch. What should you fear?
Duch. Mylord, you told me, you would tell the rest, 'Tis nothing but some bond, that he is enter'd into
When weeping made you break the story off For gay apparel, 'gainst the triumph day.
Of our two cousins coming into London.

York. Bound to himself? what doth he with a bond,
York. Where did I leave?

That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool. –
Duch. At that sad stop, my lord,

Boy, let me see the writing!
Where rude misgoveru'd hands, from window's tops, Áum. I do beseech you, pardon me! I may not show it.
Threw dust and rubbish on king Richard's head. York. I will be satisfied; let me see it, I say.
York. Then, as I said, the duke, great Boling-

Treason ! foul treason !- villain! traitor! slave!
Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed,

Duch. What is the matter, my lord ? Which his aspiring rider seem’d to know,

York. Ho! who is within there? [Enter a Servant.] With slow, but stately pace, kept on his course,

Saddle my horse! While all tongues cried: God save thee, Boling- God for his mercy! what treachery is here! broke!

Duch. Why, what is it, my

You would have thought the very windows spake, York. Give me my boots, I say! saddle my horse!
So many greedy looks of young and old

For by mine honour, by my life, my troth,
Through casements darted their desiring eyes I will impeach the villain !
Upon his visage; and that all the walls,

Duch. What's the matter?
With painted imag’ry, had said at once:

York. Peace, foolish woman! Jesu preserve thee! welcome, Bolingbroke!

Duch. lwill not peace! — What is the matter, son?
Whilst he, from one side to the other turning,

Aum. Good mother, be content: it is no more
Bare-headed, lower, than his proud steed's neck, Than my poor life must answer.
Bespake them thus:- I thank you, countrymen : Duch. Thy life answer!
And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along.

Re-enter Servant, with boots.
Duch. Alas, poor Richard ! where rides he the while?
York. As in a teatre the eyes of men,

York. Bring me my boots ! I will unto the king.

Duch. Strike him, Aumerle ! - Poor boy, thou art After a well grac'd actor leaves the stage,

amaz'd :Are idly bent on him that enters next,

Hence, villain; never more come in my sight!
Thinking his prattle to be tedious:
Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes

York. Give me my boots, I say:
Did scowl on Richard; no man cried, God save him! Duch. Why, York, what wilt thou do?
No joyfultongue gave him his welcome home: Wilt thou not hide the trespass ofthine own?
But dust was thrown upon his sacred head,
Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off,

Have we more sons? or are we like to have?
His face still combating with tears and smiles,

Is not my teeming date drunk up with time?
The badges of his grief and patience,

And wilt thou pluck my fair son from mine age,
And rob me of a happy mother's name?

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(Snatches it, and reads.

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[Exit Servant.

[To the Servant.


Is he not like thee? is he not thine own?

To win thy after-love, I pardon thee. York. Thou fond mad woman,

Aun. Then give me leave, that I may turn the key,
Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy?

That no man enter, till my tale be done!
A dozen of them here have ta'en the sacrament, Boling. Have thy desire! [Aumerle locks the door.
And interchangeably set down their hands,

York. (Within.j My liege, beware! look to thyself!
To kill the king at Oxford.

Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there.
Duch. He shall be none;

Boling. Villain, I'll make thee safe. [Drawing.
We'll keep him here. Then what is that to him? Aum. Stay thy revengeful hand!
York. Away

Thou hast no cause to fear.
Fond woman! were he twenty times my son,

York. [Within.] Open the door, secure, fool-hardy I would appeach him.

king! Duch. Hadst thou groan'd for him,

Shall I, for love, speak treason to thy face? As I have done, thou’dst be more pitiful.

Open the door, or I will break it open. But now I know thy mind : thou dost suspect,

[Bolingbroke opens the door. That I have been disloyal to thy bed,

Enter Yonk. And that he is a bastard, not thy son.

Boling. Whatis the matter, uncle? speak!
Sweet York, sweet husband, be not of that mind!

Recover breath! tellus, how near is danger,
He is as like thee, as a man may be,
Not like to me, or any of my kin,

That we may arm us to encounter it.

York. Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt know
And yet I love him.
York. Make way, unruly woman!


| The treason, that my haste forbids me show. Duch. After, Aumerle! mount thee upon' his horse, I do repent me. Read not my name there!

Aum. Remember, as thou read’st, thy promise past! Spur, post, and get before him to the king,

My heart is not confederate with


hand. And beg thy pardon, ere he do accuse thee! I'll not be long behind; though I be old,

York. 'Twas, villain, ere thy hand did set it down.

I tereit from the traitor's bosom, king; I doubt not but to ride as fast as York:

Fear, and not love, begets his penitence; And never will I rise up from the ground,

Forget to pity him! lest thy pity prove Till Bolingbroke have pardon'd thee. Away;

A Begone!


serpent, that will sting thee to the heart.
Boling. Oheinous, strong, and bold conspiracy !-

O loyal father of a treacherous son!
SCENE III.-Windsor. A room in the castle.

Thou sheer, immaculate, and silver fountain, Enter BOLINGBROKE as King; Percy, and other From whence this stream, through muddy passages, Lords.

Vath held his current, and defil'd himself! Boling. Can no man tell of my unthrifty son? 'Tis full three months, since I did see him last.

Thy overflow of good converts to bad,

And thy abundant goodness shall excuse If any plague hang over us, 'tis le.

This deadly blot in thy digressing son.
I would to God, my lords, he might be found.

York. So'shall my virtue be his vice's bawd,
Inquire at London, 'mongst the taverns there!
For there, they say, he daily doth frequent,

And he shall spend mine honour with his shame,
With unrestrained loose companions;

As thriftless sous their scraping fathers' gold.

Mine honour lives, when his dishonour dies, Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes,

Or And beat our watch, and rob our passengers;


sham'd life in his dishonvur lies.

Thou kill'st me in his life; giving him breath,
While he, young, wanton, and ell'eminate boy,

The traitor lives, the true man's put to death.
Takes on the point of honour, to support
So dissolute a crew,

Duch. [Within.] What ho, my liege! for God's sake

let mein! Percy: My lord, some two days since I saw the

Boling. What shrill-voic'd suppliant makes this prince, And told him of these triumphs held at Oxford.

eager cry?

Duch. A woman, and thine aunt, great king; 'tis I.
Boling. And what said the gallant?

Speak with me, pity me, open the door!
Percy. His answer was, he would unto the stews;
And from the common’st creature pluck a glove,

A beggar begs, that never begg’d before.

Boling. Our scene is alter'd, from a serious thing,
And wear it as a favour; and with that

And now chang'd to The Beggar and the King.–
He would unhorse the lustiest challenger.
Boling. As dissolute, as desperate! yet, through both My dangerous cousin, let your mother in!

I know, she's come to pray for your foul sin.
I see some sparkles of a better hope,

York. If thou do pardon, whosoever pray, Which elder days may happily bring forth.

More sins, for this forgiveness, prosper may,
But who comes here?

This fester'd joint cut off, the rest rests sound;
Enter Aumerle, hastily.

This, let alone, will all the rest confound.
Aum. Where is the king ?
Boling. What means

Enter Duchess.
Our cousin, that he stares and looks so wildly? Duch. O king, believe not this hard-hearted man!
Aum. God save your grace! I do beseech your ma- Love, loving not itself, none other can.

York. Thou frantic woman, what dost thou make
To have some conference with your grace alone.

here? Boling. Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear? alone!

[ Exeunt Percy and Lords. Duch. Sweet York, be patient! Hear me,gentle liege! What is the matter with our cousin now?

[Kneels. Aum. For ever may my knees grow to the earth, Boling. Rise up, good aunt !

[Kneels. Duch. Not yet, I thee beseech. My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth, For ever will I kneel upon my knees, Unless a pardon, ere I rise, or speak.

And never see day, that the happy sees, Boling. Intended, or committed, was this fault? Till thou give joy, until thou bid me joy, If but the first, how heinous ere it be,

By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy.

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