« PreviousContinue »
And then, betwixt me and my married wife. | That had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd
The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted,
And barbarism itself have pitied him.
Whose state and honour I for aye allow.
But that is lost, for being Richard's friend,
Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not:
What news from Oxford ? hold those justs and
triumphs? Come, come, in wooing sorrow let's be brief,
Aum. For aught I know, my lord, they do.
( They kiss. bosom?
York. No matter then who sees it,
I will be satisfied, let me see the writing!
Which for some reasons I would not have seen.
A room in the Duke of York. Which for some reasons, sir, I mean to see.
I fear, I fear,
Duch. What should you fear?
York, Bound to himself? what doth he with a bond,
That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool. –
Boy, let me see the writing!
[Snatches it, and reads. broke,
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!
Duch. Why, what is it, my lord?
For by mine honour, by my life, my troth,
Duch. What's the matter?
York. Peace, foolish woman!
Duch. I will not peace! – What is the matter, son?
Re-enter Servant, with boots.
Duch. Strike him, Aumerle! — Poor boy, thou art
amaz’d: Are idly bent on him that enters next,
Hence, villain; never more come in my sight!-
Have we more sons? or are we like to have?
And rob me of a happy mother's name?
[To the Servant.
Is he not like thee? is he not thine own?
To win thy after-love, I pardon thee.
Aum. Then give me leave, that I m
may turn the key, Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy?
That no man enter, till my tale be done!
York. [Within. Myliege, beware! look to thyself!
Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there.
Boling. Villain, I'll make thee safe. [Drawing
Thou hast no calise to fear.
York. [Within.] Open the door, secure, fool-hardy
Shall I, for love, speak treason to thy face?
Open the door, or I will break it open.
[Bolingbroke opens the door.
Boling. What is the matter, uncle? speak!
Recover breath! tellus, how near is danger,
That we may arm us to encounter it.
York. Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt know York. Make way, unruly woman!
The treason, that my haste forbids me show.
Aum. Remember, as thou read'st, thy promise past!
My heart is not confederate with my hand. 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;
Forget to pity him!lest thy pity prove
A serpent, that will sting thee to the heart.
Boling. O heinous, strong, and bold conspiracy !-
O loyal father of a treacherous son!
Thou sheer, immaculate, and silver fountain,
From whence this stream, through muddy passages,
Bath held his current, and defild himself? 'Tis fullthree months, since I did see him last.
Thy overflow of good converts to bad, If any plague hang over us, 'tis he.
And thy abundant goodness shall excuse I would to God, my lords, he might be found.
This deadly blot in thy digressing son. Inquire at London, 'mongst the taverns there!
York. So shall my virtue be his vice's bawd, For there, they say, he daily doth frequent,
And he shall spend mine honour with his shame, With unrestrained loose companions;
As thriftless sons their scraping fathers' gold.
Mine honour lives, when his dishonour dies,
Or my sham'd life in his dishonour lies.
Thou kill'st me in his life; giving him breath,
The traitor lives, the true man's put to death.
Duch. [Within.) What ho, my liege! for God's sake
let me in! 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? Boling. And what said the gallant?
Duch. A woman, and thine aunt, great king; 'tis I. Percy. His answer was, he would unto the stews;
Speak with me, pity me, open the door! And from the common’st creature pluck a glove,
A beggar begs, that never begg'd before. And wearit as a favour; and with that
Boling. Our sceneis alter'd, from a serious thing, He would unhorse the lustiest challenger.
And now chang'd to The Beggar and the King. Boling. As dissolute, as desperate! yet, through both My dangerous cousin, let your mother in ! I see some sparkles of a better hope,
I know, she's come to pray for your foul sin.
York. If thou do pardon, whosoever pray, Which elder days may happily bring forth.
More sins, for this forgiveness, prosper may;
This fester'd joint cut off, the rest rests sound;
This, let alone, will all the rest confound.
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. jesty,
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 dogs 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. Mytongue cleave to my roof within my mouth, For ever will I kneel upon my knees, Unless a pardon, erel rise, or speak.
And never see day, that the happy sees, Boling. Intended, or committed, was this fault? Tillthou give joy, until thou bid me joy, If but the first, how heinous ere it be,
By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy.
Whe Tha Gre Whe Wit! Tol
In L Whe That That II How Grc
That This Wou Sing Oft Forg Sino Was And Spu
Aum. Unto my mother's prayers, I bend my knee. Meaning, the king at Pomfret. Come, let's go!
(Kneels. I am the king's friend, and will rid his foe. [Exeunt. York. Against them both, my true joints bended be. SCENEV. – Pomfret. The dungeon of the castle.
Enier King Richard.
Duch. Pleads he in earnest? look upon his face! This prison, where I live, unto the world:
eyes do drop no tears, his prayers are in jest; And, for because the world is populous,
I cannot do it. -- Yet I'll hammer it out.
My soul, the father: and these two beget
And these same thoughts people this little world,
In humours, like the people of this world,
With scruples, and do set the word itself
Against the word :
It is as hard to come, as for a camel
Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot
Unlikely wonders : how these vain weak nails
York. Speak it in French, king! say, pardonnez moi! And, for they cannot, die in their own pride.
Who, sitting in the stocks, refuge their shame,
That many have, and others must sit there.
Thus play I, in one person, many people,
And none contented: sometimes am I king;
Then treason makes me wish myself a beggar,
And so I am. Then crushing penury
Duch. O happy vantage of a kneeling knee! Then am I king'd again: and, by-and-by,
Think, that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke,
Nor I, nor any man, that but man is,
With nothing shall be pleas'd, till he be eas'd
With being nothing. - Music do I hear?
(Music. Duch. A god on earth thou art. —
Ha, ha! keep time: - how sour sweet music is,
So is it in the music of men's lives.
And here have I the daintiness of ear,
But, for the concord of my state and time,
Had not an ear, to hear my true time broke.
For now hath time made me his numb’ring clock :
My thoughts are minutes; and, with sighs, they jar
[Exeunt. Is pointig still, in cleansing them from tears.
Now, sir, the sound, that tells what hour it is,
Are clamorous groans, that strike upon my heart,
Which is the bell: so sighs, and tears, and groaus,
Show minutes, times, and hours :- but
While I stand fooling here, his Jack o’the clock.
For, though it have holpe madmen to their wits,
In me, it seems it will make wise men mad.
For 'tis a sign of love; and love to Richard
Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world.
The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear.
SCENE VI. - Windsor. A room in the castle, What art thou ? and how comest thou hither, Flourish. Enter BOLINGBROKE and YORK, with Lords Where no man ever comes, but that sad dog
Groom. I was a poor groom of thy stable, king, Is, that the rebels have consum'd with fire
North. First, to thy sacred state wish I all happiness.
The next news is, — I have to London sent
The manner of their taking may appear
(Presenting a paper.
Boling. Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be forgot;
Right noble is thy merit, well I wot.
Enter Percy, with the Bishop of Carlisle.
Percy. The grand conspirator, abbot of Westminster,
Hath yielded up his body to the grave:
[To the Groom. Thy kingly doom, and sentence of his pride.
(Exit. More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life! Keep. My lord, will't please you to fall to ? So, as thou liv'st in peace, die free from strife! K. Rich. Taste of it first, as thou art wont to do! For though mine enemy thou hast ever been, Keep. Mylord, I dare not; sir Pierce of Exton, who High sparks of honour in thee have I seen. Lately came from the king, commands the contrary. Enter Exton, with Attendunts bearing a coffin. K. Rich. The devil take Henry of Lancaster, and Exton. Great king, within this coffin I present thee!
Thy buried fear; herein all breathless lies
The mightiest of thy greatest enemies,
[Beats the Keeper. Richard of Bourdeaux, by me hither brought. Keep. Help, help, help!
Boling. Exton, I thank thee not; for thou hast
Upon my head, and all this famous land.
(Snatching a weapon, and killing one. deed. Go thon, and fill another room in hell!
Boling, They love not poison, that do poison need. [He kills another, then Exton strikes him down. Nor do I thee; though I did wish him dead, That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire, I hate the murderer, love him murdered. That staggers thus my person.—Exton,thy fierce hand The guilt of conscience take thon for thy labour, Hath with the king's blood stain'd the king's own land. But neither my good word, nor princely favour! Mount, mount, my soul! thy seat is up on high ; With Cain go wander through the shade of night, Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward here to die. And never show thy head by day nor light!
(Dies. Lords, I protest, my soul is full of woe, Exton. As full of valour, as of royal blood ! That blood should sprinkle me to make me grow; Both have I spilt. O, would the deed were good! Come, mourn with me for what I do lament, For now the devil, that told me, I did well, And put on sullen black incontinent! Says, that this deed is chronicled in hell.
I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land, This dead king to the living hing I'll bear. To wash this blood off from my guilty hand. — Take hence the rest, and give them burial here! March sadly after; grace my mournings here,
[Exeunt. 'In weeping after this untimely bier ! [Lxeunt.
And, it Our ho Cousin
But COC For mo
Per sons of the Dr a m a. King Herry the Fourth.
Sir RICHARD TERXON. Henry, prince of Wales,
Sir John FALSTAFF. Prince John of LANCASTER,
sons to the king
Poixs. Earl of WESTMORELAND,
GADSHILL. Sir WALTER BLUNT, friends to the king.
Lady Percy, wife to HOTSPUR, and sister to Mor-
to MORTIER, Scroop, archbishop of York.
Mrs Quickly, hostess of a tavern in Eastcheap. ARCHIBALD, earl of Douglas.
Lords,Officers,Sheriff, Vintner, Chamberlain, DrawOwex GLENDOWER.
ets, Two Carriers, Travellers, and Attendants. SCENE,— England.
А ст І.
K. Hen. It seems then, that the tidings of this broil SCENE I. - London. A room in the palace.
Brake off our business for the Holy Land.
West. This, match'd with other, did, my gracious
For more uneven and unwelcome news
Young Harry Percy, and brave Archibald,
That ever-valiant and approved Scot,
At Holmedon met,
For he, that brought them, in the
heat Which, like the meteors of a troubled heaven, And pride of their contention did take horse, All of one nature, of one substance bred,
Uncertain of the issue any way. Did lately meet in the intestine shock
K. Hlen. Hereis a dear and true-industrious friend,
Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse,
And he hath brought us smooth and welcome news.
Balk'd in their own blood, did sir Walter see
Mordake the earl of Fife, and eldest son
It is a conquest for a prince to boast of.
In envy, that my lord Northumberland
Should be the father of so blest a son; What yesternight our council did decree,
A son, who is the theme of honour's tongue; In forwarding this dear expedience.
Amongst a grove, the very straightest plant;
Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him,
of my young Harry. 0, that it could be provid,
But let him from my thoughts !-What think you, coz,
Which he in this adventure hath surpriz’d,