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Now prisoner to the palsie, chastise thee,
Boling. My gracious uncle, let me know my fault; * On what condition stands it, and wherein ?
York. Ev'n in condition of the worst degree;
Boling. As I was banish’d, I was banish'd Hereford;
* On what condition. ] It what purpose serves birth and lishould be, in what condition. neal succesiion? I am Duke of That is, in what degree of gui't. Lancaster by the same right of The particles in the old editions Lirth as the King is king of Engare of liitle credit.
land. + Weerefore was I born??) To
To mine Inheritance of free Descent.
Norib. The noble Duke hath been too much abus'd. Rofs. It stands your Grace upon, to do him Right, Willo. Bafe men by his endowments are made great.
York. My lords of England, let me tell you this, I have had Feeling of my And labour'd all I could to do him Righe. But, in this kind, to come in braving arms, Be his own carver, and cut out his way, To find out Right with wrongs, it may not be; And you that do abet him in this kind, Cherish Rebellion, and are Rebels all.
North. The noble Duke hath sworn, his Coming is
York. Well, well, I see the issue of these arms;
Boling. An offer, Uncle, that we will accept.
York. It may be, I will go. But yet I'll pause,
S CE N E XI.
Enter Salisbury, and a Captain. Cap.
Y lord of Salisbury, we have staid ten days,
And hardly kept our Countrymen together, And yet we hear no tidings from the King ; Therefore we will disperse our selves. Farewel.
Salis. Stay yet another day, thou trusty Welshman : The King reposeth all his trust in thee. Cap. 'Tis thought, the King is dead: we will not
stay. The Bay-trees in our Country all are wither'd, And meteors fright the fixed stars of heav'n ; The pale fac’d moon looks bloody on the earth ; And lean-look'd Prophets whisper fearful Change. Rich men look sad, and ruffians dance and leap ; The one, in fear to lose what they enjoy ; Th'other, in hope t'enjoy by rage and war. These signs forerun the death of KingsFarewel; our countrymen are gone and fled, As well assurd, Richard their King is dead. [Exit.
Salif. Ah, Richard, ah! with eyes of heavy mind, I see thy Glory, like a shooting Star, * Here is a scene fo unartfully and thought. The play was not, in irregularly thrust into an impro- Shakeljeare's time, broken into per place, that I cannot but suspect acts; the two editions published it accidentally transposed; which, before his death exhibit only a when the scenes were written sequence of scenes from the beon single pages, might easily hap- ginning to the end, without any pen, in the wildness of Shake- hint of a pause of action.
In a jjeare's drama. This dialogue drama so desultory and erratick, was, in the authour's draught, left in such a state, tranfpofitions probably the second scene of the might easily be made. ensuing act, and there I would * The bay-tree!, &c. ) This advise the reader to insert it, enumeration of prodigies is in though I have not ventured on so the highest degree poetical and bold a change. My conjecture striking. is not so presumptuous as may be VOL. IV. E
Fall to the base earth from the firmament.
Bolingbroke's Camp at Bristol.
Enter Bolingbroke, York, Northumberland, Ross, Percy, Willoughby, with Bushy and Green
RING forth these men.
not vex your
fouls (Since presently your souls must part your bodies) With too much urging your pernicious lives; For 'twere no charity : yet to wash your blood From off my hands, here, in the view of men, I will unfold some causes of your deaths. You have mis-led a Prince, a royal King, A happy gentleman in blood and lineaments, By you unhappy'd, and disfigur'd clean. You have, in manner, with your sinful hours Made a divorce betwixt his Queen and him ; Broke the Poffeffion of a royal Bed, And stain'd the Beauty of a fair Queen's cheeks With tears drawn from her eyes, with your foul wrongs. My self, a Prince, by fortune of my birth, Near to the King in blood, and near in love, Till you
did make him mil-interpret me, Have stoopt my neck under your injuries; And sigh'd my English breath in foreign clouds,
Eating the bitter bread of Banishment,
From mine own windows torn my houshold coat,
Busby. More welcome is the stroke of death to me,
Boling. My lord Northumberland, see them dispatch'd.
York. A gentleman of mine I have dispatch'd
3 From mine own windows fion of all the old Copies, I have
torn my houshold coas.] It great Suspicion of its being an was the practice, when coloured Interpolation ; and have thereglass was in use, of which therefore ventur'd to throw it out. are ftill some remains in old seats The first and third Line rhime to and churches, to anneal the arms each other; nor, do I imagine, of the family in the windows of this was ca but intended by the house.
the Poet. Were we to acknow+ Thanks, gentle Uncle; Come, ledge the Line genuine, it must my Lords, away,
argue the Poet of Forgetfulness To fight with Glendower and and Inattention to History. Bohis Complices,
lingbroke is, as it were, yet bur A while to work, and after just arrived; he is now at Briftel:
Holyday.) Tho' the inter- weak in his Numbers ; has had mediate Line has taken Poffef no Meeting with a Parliament;