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time,

Are idly bent' on him that enters next,

Aum. Good mother, be content; it is no more Thinking his pratile to be tedious :

Than my poor life inust answer. Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes Duch.

Thy life answer! Did scowlon Richard: no man cried, God gave him : No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home:

Re-enter servant, with boots. But dust was thrown upon his sacred head;

York. Bring me my boots, I will unto the king. Which, with such gentle sorrow, he shook off,

Duch. Strike him, Aumerle.--Poor boy, thou Ilis lace still coinbating with tears and smiles,

art amaz'd: The badges of his grief and patience,

Hence, villain ; never more come in my sight.Thuat had not God, for some strong purpose, stcel'd

[To the servant, The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted, York. Give me my boots, I say. And barbarism itself have pitied him.

Duch. Why, York, what will ihou do? But heaven hath a hand in these events;

Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own? To whose high will we bound our calm 'contents.

Have we more sons? or are we like to have ? To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now,

Is not my teemings date drunk up with time? Whose state and honour I for aye? allow.

And wili thou pluck my fair son from mine age, Enter Aumerle.

And rob me of a happy mother's name?

Is he not like thec? Is he not thine own? Duch. Here comes my son Aumerlc.

York. Thou fond mad woman, York.

Aumerle that was;

Wilt thou conceal this dark consp

will in But that is lost, for being Richard's friend,

A dozen of them here have ta’en the sacrament, And, madam, you must call him Rutland now:

And interchangeably set down their hands, I am in parliament pledge for his truth,

To kill the king at Oxford. And lasting fealty to the new-made king. u Duch.

He shall be none; Duch, Welcome, my son: Who are the violcts We'll keep him here: Then what is that to him? now,

York. Away, That strew the green lap of the new-come spring? Fond woman! were he twenty times my son,

Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care nol: I would speach him. God knows, I had as lief be none, as one.

Dich.

Hladst thou groan'd for him, York. Well, bear you well in this new spring of] As I have done, thou'dst be more pitiful.

But now I know thy mind; thou dost suspect, L'st you be cropp'd before you come to prime. That I have been disloyal to thy bed, What news from Oxford ? hold those justs and and that he is a bastard, not thy son: triumphs ?

Swect York, sweet husband, be not of that mind : Airin. For aught I know, my lord, they do.

He is as like thce as a man may be, York. You will be there, I know.

Not like to me, or any of my kin, lum. If God prevent it not; I purpose so.

And yet I love him. York. What seal is that, that hangs without thy York. Make way, unruly woman. [Eril. bosom?

Duch. Aller, Auinerle; mount thce upon his Yea, look'st thou pale? let me see the writing.

horse; Jum. My lord, 'lis nothing.

Spur, post; and get besore him to the king,
York.
No matter then who sees it:

And bcg his pardon ere he do accuse thee.
I will be satisfied, let me see the writing.

I'll not be long behind; though I be old, Aum. I do beseech your grace to pardon me; I doubt not but to ride as fast as York : It is a matter of small consequence,

And never will I rise up from the ground, Which for some reasons I would not have scen.

Till Bolingbroke have pardon'd thee: Away; York. Which for some reasons, sir, I mean to see. Begone.

[Ereunt. I fear, I fear,Duch,

What should you fear? SCENE III.-IVindsor. A room in the castle. 'Tis nothing but some bond that he is enter'd into Enter Bolingbroke as king ; Percy, and other For gay apparel, 'gainst the triumph day.

lords. York. Bound to himself? what doth he with a bond/ That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool. I Boling. Can no man tell of my unthriftv son ? Bov, let me see the writing.

l’Tis full three months, since I did see him last :Aum. I do bescech you, pardon me; I may not If any plague hang over us, 'uis he. show it.

I would to God, my lords, he might be found : York. I will be satisfied ; let me see it, I say. Inquire at London, 'mongst the taverns there,

[Snatches il, and reads. For there, they say, he daily doth frequent, Treason! fou! treason !-villain! traitor! slave! With unrestrained loose companions ; Mich. What is the matter, my lord ?

Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes, York. Ho! who is within there? (Enter a ser- And beat our watch, and rob our passengers ; vant.) Saddle iny horse.

While he, young, wanton, and effeminate boy, God for his mercy! what treachery is here! Takes on the point of honour, to support Duch. Why, what is it, my lord ?

So dissolute a crew. York. Give me my boots, I say; saddle my! Percy. My lord, some two days since I saw the horse :

prince; Now by mine honour, by my life, my troth, And told him of these triumphs held at Oxford. I will appeach the villain.

[Eril servant. Boling. And what said the gallant ? Duch.

What's the matter? Percy. His answer was,-he would unto the York. Peace, foolish woman.

stews ; Duch. I will not peace:-What is the matter, son? And from the common'st creature pluck a glove,

And wear it as a favour; and with that
(1) Carelessly turned. (2) Ever,
13) Tilts and tournaments,

(4) Perplexed, confounded. (5) Breeding.

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He would unhorse the lustiest challenger.

Duch. (Within.] What ho, my liege! to God's Boling: As dissolute, as desperate: yet, through

sake let me in. both

Boling. What shrill-roic'd suppliant makes this I see some sparkles of a better hope,

eager cry? Which elder days may happily bring forth. Duch. A woman, and thine aunt, great king: But who comes here?

'tis I. Enter Aumerle, hastily.

Speak with me, pity me, open the door;

A beggar begs, that never begg'd before.
Aum.
Where is the king?

Boling. Our scene is alter'd,- from a serious Boling.

What means

thing, Our cousin, that he stares and looks so wildly? And now chang'd to The Begrar and the KinAum. God save your grace. I do beseech your My dangerous cousin, let your mother in: majesty,

I know, she's come to pray for your soul sin. To have some conference with your grace alone. York. If thou do pardon, whosoever pray, Boli Withdraw

thdraw yourselves, and leave us here More sins, for this forgiveness, prosper man alone.

(Exeunt Percy and lords. This fester'd joint cut ofl; the rest rests sound: What is the matter with our cousin now?

This, let alone, will all the rest confound. Aum. For ever may my knees grow to the earth,

(Kneels.

Enter Duchess.
My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth,
Unless a pardon, ere I rise, or speak.

th, 1 Drick. O, king, believe not this hard-bearted Boling. Intended, or committed, was this fault?),

man; Ir but the first, how heinous e'er it be,

Love, loving not itsell, none other can. To win thy alter-love, I pardon thee.

York. Thou frantic woman, what dost that Aum. Then give me leave that I may turn the key, la

make* here?

me key shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear ? That no man enter till my tale be done.

Boling. Have thy desire. Aum. locks the door.) Duch. Sweet York, be patient : Hear me, en York. (Within.) My liege, beware; look to

tle liege. thyself;

Boling. Risc up, good aunt. Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there.

Duch.

Not yet, I thce beseech: Boling. Villain, I'll make thee safe. [Drawing. For ever will I kneel upon my knees, Aum. Stay thy revengeful hand;

And never see day that the happy secs, Thou hast no cause to sear.

Till thou give joy ; unul thou bid me joy, York. (Within.) Open the door, secure, fool-By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy. hardy king:

Aum. Unto my mother's prayers, I bend mit Shall I, for love, speak treason to thy face?

knee.

(kweli Open the door, or I will break it open.

York. Against them both, my truc joints benerd

be. (Bolingbroke opens the door. m.

Knerten Ill may'st thou thrive, ir thou grant any grace! Enter York.

Duch. Pleads he in earnest ? look upon his face; Boling. What is the matter, uncle ? speak; His eyes do drop no tears, his priyers are in just; Recover breath; tell us how near is danger, His words come from his inouth, ours from our That we may arm us to encounter it.

breast: York. Peruse this writing here, and thou shaltį He prays but faintly, and would be denied ; know

We pray with heart, and soul, and all beside: The treason that my haste forbids me show. His weary joints would gladly rise, I know ; Auin. Remember, as thou read'st, thy promise Our knees shall kneel till to the ground they stor: past :

His prayers are full of false hypocrisy; I do repent me ; read not my name there,

Ours, of true zeal and deep integrity. My heart is not confederate with my hand. Our prayers do out-pray his; then let them tave York. 'Twas, villain, ere thy hand did set it That mercy, which true prayers ought to have. down.

Boling. Good aunt, stand up. I tore it from the traitor's bosom, king:

Dich.

Nay, do not say tand up; Fear, and not love, begets his penitence :

But, pardon, first; and afterwards, stand up. Forget to pity him, lest thy pity prove

An if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach, A serpent that will sting thee to ihe heart. Pardon--should be the first word of thy speoch. Boling. O heinous, strong, and bold conspi- I never long'd to hear a word ull now; racy!

Say-pardon, king; let pity teach thee how: O loyal father of a treacherous son!

The word is short, but not so short as sweet; Thou sheer,' immaculate, and silver fountain, No word like pardon, for kings' mouths so mert From whence this stream through muddy passages, York. Speak it in French, king; say, pardennet Hath held his current, and deal'd himself!

moy. Thy overflow of good converts to bad;

Duch. Dost thou teach pardon pardon to de And thy abundant goodness shall excuse

stroy ? This deadly blot in thy digressing: son.

Ah, my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord. York. So shall my virtue be his vice's bawd; That set'st the word itself against the word ! And he shall spend mine honour with his shame, Speak, pardon, as 'lis current in our land; As thrifless sons their scraping fathers' gold. The chopping French we do not understand. Mine honour lives when his dishonour dies, Thine eye begins to speak, set thy tongue there : Or my sham'd life in his dishonour lies :

Or, in thy pitenus heart plant thou thine ear; Thou kill'st me in his life; giving him breath, That, hearing how our plaints and prayers do pierec The traitor lives, the true man's put to death. Pity may move thee, pardon to rehearse.

Boling. Good aunt, stand up. (1) Transparent. (2) Transgressing. (3) An old ballad (4) Do,

(5) Excuse me,

Duch.

I do not sue to stand, That many have, and others must sit there : Pardon is all the suit I have in hand.

And in this thought they find a kind of ease, Boling. I pardon him, as God shall pardon me. Bearing their own misfortune on the back

Duch. O happy vantage of a kneeling knee! Of such as have before endur'd the like. Yet am I sick for fear: speak it again;

Thus play I, in one person, many people, Twice saying pardon, doth not pardon twain, And none contented : Sometimes am I king; But makes one pardon strong.

Then treason makes me wish myself a beggar, Boling.

With all my heart And so I am: Then crushing penury I pardon him.

Persuades me I was better when a king; Duch. A god on earth thou art.

Then am I king'd again : and, by-and-by, Boling. But for our trusty brother-in-law,-and Think that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke, the abbot,

And straight am nothing :-But, whale'er I am, With all the rest of that consorted crew,

Nor I, nor any man, that but man is, Destruction straight shall dog them at the heels. With nothing shall be pleas'd, till he be eas'd, Good uncle, help to order several powers

With being nothing.-Music do I hear ? [Music
To Oxford, or where'er these traitors are: Ha, ha! keep time:-How sour sweet music is,
They shall not live within this world, I swear, When time is broke, and no proportion kept!
But I will have them, if I once know where. So is it in the music of men's lives.
Uncle, farewell,--and cousin too, adieu :

And here have I the daintiness of car,
Your mother well hath pray'd, and prove you true. To check time broke in a disorder'd string;
Duch. Come, my old son ;-I pray God make But, for the concord of my slate and time,
thee new.

(Exeunt. Had not an ear to hear my true time broke.

I wasted time, and now doth time waste me SCENE IV.-Enter Exton, and a Servant. For now hath'time made me his numb'ring clock: Erton. Didst thou not mark the king, what words My thoughts are minutes; and, with sighs, they jars he spake?

Their watches on to mine eyes, the outward watch, Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear? Whereto my finger, like a dial's point, Was it not so ?

Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears. Sero.

Those were his very words. Now, sir, the sound, that tells what hour it is, Exton. Have I no friend ? quoth he: he spake Are clamorous groans, that strike upon my heart, it twice,

Which is the bell; So sighs, and tears, and groans, And urg'd it twice together; did he not ?

Show minutes, times, and hours :-but my time Sero. He did.

Runs posting on in Bolingbroke's proud joy, Exton. And, speaking it, he wistfully look'd on While I stand fooling here, his Jack o'the clock. me;

This music mads me, let it sound no more ;
As who should say, I would, thou wert the man For, though it have holp madmen to their wits,

That would divorce this terror from my heart; In me, it seems it will make wise men mad.
Meaning, the king at Pomfret. Come, let's go; Yet blessing on his heart that gives it me!
I am the king's friend, and will rid his foe. (Ere. For 'tis a sign of love ; and love to Richard
SCENE V.-Pomfret. The dungeon of the castle.

Is a strange brooch’ in this all-haling world.
Enler King Richard.

Enter Groom. K. Rich. I have been studying how I may com- Groom. Hail, royal prince ! pare

K. Rich.

Thanks, noble peer; This prison, where I live, unto the world :

The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear. And, for because the world is populous,

What art thou ? and how comest thou hither, And here is not a creature but myself,

Where no man never comes, but that sad dog I cannot do it ;-Yet I'll hammer it out.

That brings me food, to make misfortune live? My brain I'll prove the female to my soul :

1 Groom. I was a poor groom of thy stable, king, My soul, the father : and these two beget' When thou wert king; who, travelling towards A generation of still-breeding thoughts,

York,
And these same thoughts people this little world ;a With much ado, at length have gotten leave
In humours, like the people ol' this world,

To look upon my sometimes' master's face.
For no thought is contented. The better sort, 0, how it yearn'd my heart, when I beheld,
As thoughts of things divine, are intermix'd In London streets, that coronation day,
With scruples, and do set the word itself

When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary! Against the word :3

That horse, ihat thou so often hast bestrid; As thus,-Come, lillle ones ; and then again, That horse, that I so carefully have dress'd! It is as hard to come, as for a camel

K. Rich. Rode he on Barbary? Tell me, gentle To thread the postern of a needle's eye.

friend, Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot How went he under him? Unlikely wonders : how these vain weak nails Groom. So proudly, as if he disdain'd the ground. May tear a passage through the flinty ribs

K. Rich. So proud that Bolingbroke was on his or this hard world, my ragged prison walls ;

back! And, for they cannot, die in their own pride. That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand; Thoughts tending to content, flatter themselves, This hand hath made him proud with clapping That ihey are not the first of fortune's slaves,

him. Nor shall not be the last; like silly beggars, Would he not stumble? Would he not fall down Who, sitting in the stocks, refuge their shame, |(Since pride must have a fall,) and break the neck

or that proud man that did usurp his back? (1) Forces.

(2) His own body. (3) Holy scripture. (4) Little gate. (5) Tick. | (7) An ornamented buckle, and also a jewel in

(6) Strike for him, like the figure of a man on general. : bell.

1 (8) Former,

Forgiveness, horse! why do I rail on thoc, į Boling. We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy Since thou, created to be aw'd by man,

pains;
Wast born to bear? I was not made a horse; And to thy worth will add right worthy gains.
And yet I bear a burden like an ass,
Spur-gall’d, and tir’d, by jauncing Boling broke.

Enter Fitzwater.
Enter Kecper, with a dish.

| Filz. My lord, I have from Oxford sent to Lon

don Keep. Fellow, give place; here is no longer stay. The

ay. The heads of Brocas, and sir Bennet Seely;

[To the Groom.l, K. Rich. If thou love me, 'tis time thou wert Cha

: Two of the dangerous and consorted traitors,

uwer That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow. away. Groom. What my tongue dares not, that my

Boling. Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be forgot, heart shall say.

"TE Right noble is thy merit, well I wol. Keep. My lord, will't please you to fall to? K. Rich, Taste of it first, as ihou art wont to do.

Enter Percy, with the Bishop of Carlisle. Keep. My lord, I dare not; sir Pierce of Eston, Percy. The grand conspirator, abbot of Westwho

minster, Lately came from the king, commands the contrary. With clog of conscience, and sour melancholy, K. Rich. The devil také Henry of Lancaster and Hath yielded up his body to the grave; thce !

Bui here is Carlisle, living, to abide Patience is stale, and I am weary of it.

| Thy kingly doom, and sentence of his pride.

(Beals the Keeper. Boling. Carlisle, this is your doom :Keep. Help, help, help!

Choose out some sccret place, some reverend room, Enter Exton, and servants, armed.

More than thou hast, and with it joy thy lite ;

So, as thou liv'st in peace, dic frec from strile: K. Rich. How now? what means death in this for though mine enemy thou hast ever been, rude assault?

High sparks of honour in thee have I seen. Villain, thy own hand yields thy death's instrument.

(Snatchins a wrapon, and killing one. Enter Exton, with altendants bearing a coffin. Go thou, and fill another room in hell.

He kills another, then Exton strikes him down." Erton. Grcat king, within this coffin I present That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire. [Thy buried fear: herein all breathless lics. That staryers thus my person.-Exton, thy fiercelThe mighliest of thy greatest enemies, hand

Richard of Bordeaux, by me hither brought. Hath with the king's blood stain'd the king's own! Boling. Exton, I thank thee not; for thou hast land.

wrought Mount, mount, my soul! thy seat is up on high: A deed of slander, with thy fatal hand, Whilst my cross flesh sinks downward, here to die. Upon my head, and all this famous land.

Dies.

Exton. From your own mouth, my lord, did I Exton. As full of valour, as of royal blood:

this deed. Both have I spilt; (), would the deed were good!

Boling. They love not poison that do poison neod, For now the devil, that told me I did well,

Nor do I thee; though I did wish him dead, Says, that this deed is chronicled in bell.

I hate the murderer, love him murdered. This dead king to the living king l'll bear;-

The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour, Take hence the rest, and give them burial here. I

But neither my good word, nor princely favour: Erent. Wiih Can yo wander through the shade of nicht.

And never show thy head by day nor night.SCENE VI.-IVirdsor. A room in the castle. Lords, I protest, my soul is full of wo,

Flourish. Enter Bolingbroke, and York, with That blood should sprinkle me, to make me grow: lords and allendanis.

Come, mourn with me for what I do lament, Boling. Kind uncle York, the latest news we hear And put on sullen black incontinent ; : Is-that the rebels have consum'd with fire

l'll make a voyage to the Holy Land, Our town of Cicester in Glostershire;

To wash this blood off from my guilty hand :But whether they be ta’en, or slain, we hear not. March sadly asler; grace my mournings here,

In weeping after this untimely bier. (Ereunt. Enler Northumberland. Welcome, my lord: What is the news ? North. First, to thy sacred state wish I all hap

piness. The next news 15,-I have to London sent

| This play is one of those which Shakspeare has The heads of Salisbury, Spencer, Blunt, and Kent: apparently revised; but as success in works of inThe manner of their taking may appear

vention is not always proportionate to labour, it is At large discoursed in this paper here.

not finished at last with the happy force of some - I Presenting a paper. other of his tragedies, nor can be said much to af

|fect the passions, or enlarge the understanding. (1) Jaunting. (2) Immediately.

JOHNSON,

FIRST PART OF

KING LIENRY IV.

PERSONS REPRESENTED. King Henry the Fourth.

(Poins. Henry, prince of Wales,

Gadshull.

one to the li Prince Lohn of Lancaster, I soul castersons to the king.

l'eto. Bardolph. Earl of Wesimorclund, } friends to the king. Sir Walter Blunt,

Lady Perey, wife to Holspur, and sister to Nor. Thomas Perey, earl of li'orcesler.

timer. Henry Percy, earl of Northumberland.

Lady Mortimer, daughter to Glendlower, and wise Henry Perey, surnamed Rio

10 Mortimer. Edmund Mortimer, eerl us arch.

Mrs. Quickly, hostess of a lavern in Eastcheap. Scroop, archbishop of York. Archibald, earl of Douglass.

Lords, Officers, Sheriff, Vintner, Chamberlain, Owen Glendower.

Drawers, two Carriers, Travellers, and Alo Sir Richard 'ernon.

tendants. Sir John Falstaff

Scene, England.

is son,

ACT I.

| West. My liege, this haste was hot in question,

And many limits of the charge set down SCOVE 1.-London. Aroom in the palace. But yesternight: when, all athwart, there came

Enter King Henry, Westmoreland, Sir Walter A post from Wales, loaden with heavy news; Blunt, and others.

Whose worst was,-that the noble Mortimer,

Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight
King Ilenry.

Against the irregular and wild Glendower,

Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken, Do shaken as wc arc, so wan with care,

And a thousand of his people butchered: Find me a time for frighted peace to pant,

Upon whose dead corps there was such misuse, And breathe short-winded accents of new broils

Such bcastly, shameless transformation, To be commenc'd in stronds' afar reinote.

By those Welshwomen done, as may not be, No more the thirsty Erionys? of this soil

Without much shaine, re-told or spöken oi. Shall daub her lips with her own children's blood : k. llen. It seems then, that the tidings of this

broil No more shall trenching war channel her fields, Nor bruise her lowrets with the armed hool's

Brake off our business for the Holy Land. Or hostile paces; those opposed eyes,

Wesl. This, match'd with other, did, my gra. Which, like the metcors of a trouble fa troubled heaven,

cious lord: All of one nature, of one substance bred,

For more uneven and unwelcome news Did lately incet in the intestine shock

Came from the north, and thus it did import. And furious close of civil butchery,

On Holy-rood day,' the gallant Hotspur there, Shall now, in mulu: w. in mutual, well-besceming ranks,

Young Harry Percy, and brave Archibald, March all one way; and be no more oppos'd

That ever-valiant and approved Scot, Against acquaintance, kindred, and allies :

At Holmedon met, The edge of war, like an ill-sheathed knife, Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour : No more shull cut his master. Therefore friends. As by discharge of their artillery. As sur 1s to the sepulchre of Christ

And shape of likelihood, the news was told; (Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross

For he that brought them, in the very heat We are iinpressed and engag'd to light,)

And pride of their contention did take horse, Forthwith a power of English shall we levy:

Uncertain of the issue any way. Whose arms were moulded in their moshers' wombl K. Hen. Here is a dear and true-industrious To chase these pagans, in those holy fields,

friend, Oser whose acres walk'd those blessed feet,

Sir Walter Blunt, new lighied from his horse, Which, fouricen hundred years ago, were nail'd,

Stain'd' with the variation of cach soil For our advantage, on the bitter cross.

Bctwixt that Holmedon and this seat of ours ; But this our purpose is a twelve-month old,

And he hith brought us smooth and welcome news, And boulleggi 'lis to tell you-we will go;

The cari ot Douglass is discomfited: Thurefore we meet not now:--Then let mc hear

Ten thousand bold Scots, two and twenty knights, Of sou, my gentle cousin Westmoreland,

Balk'd' in their own blood, did sir Walter see What yesternight our council did decrce,

On Holmcdon's plains: Os prisoners, Hotspur took In forwarding this dear expedience..

Mordake the earl of Fife, and eldest son (1) Strands, banks of the sea.

(6) Estimates. (7) September 14. (2) The Fury of discord.

(8) Covered with dirt of different colours, (3) Force, army. (1) Necdicss. (5) Expedition. (9) Piled up in a heap.

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