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SCENE 1.—London. A Street leading to the | And fawn on rage with base humility,
Which art a lion and a king of beasts?
K. Rich. A king of beasts, indeed! if aught Enter Queen and Ladies.
but beasts, Queen. This way the King will come: this is I had been still a happy king of men. the way
Good sometime queen, prepare thee bence for To Julius Cæsar's ill-erected tower,
France: To whose flint bosom my condemned lord Think I am dead; and even here thou tak'st, Is doomed a prisoner by proud Bolingbroke. As from my deathbed, my last living leave. Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth
In winter's tedious nights, sit by the fire
Of woful ages long ago betid :
And ere thou bid good night, to quit their grief, But soft, but see, or rather do not see,
Tell thou the lamentable fall of me, My fair rose wither:-yet look up, behold, And send the hearers weeping to their beds. That you in pity may dissolve to dew,
For why, the senseless brands will sympathise And wash him fresh again with true-love tears !— The heavy accent of thy moving tongue, Ah, thou, the model where old Troy did stand; And, in compassion, weep the fire out; Thou map of honour; thou King Richard's tomb, And some will mourn in ashes, sone coal-black, And not King Richard ; thou most beauteous inn! | For the deposing of a rightful king. Why should hard-favoured grief be lodged in thee, When triumph is become an alehouse guest?
Enter NORTHUMBERLAND, attended. K. Rich. Join not with grief, fair woman, do | North. My lord, the mind of Bolingbroke is not so,
changed: To make my end too sudden : learn, good soul, You must to Pomfret, not unto the Tower. To think our former state a happy dream; And, madam, there is order ta 'en for you: From which awaked, the truth of what we are with all swift speed you must away to France. Shews us but this. I am sworn brother, sweet, K. Rich. Northumberland, thou ladder whereTo grim necessity; and he and I
withal Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to France, The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne, And cloister thee in some religious house : The time shall not be many hours of age Our holy lives must win a new world's crown, More than it is, ere foul sin, gathering head, Which our profane hours here have stricken down. Shall break into corruption. Thou shalt think, Queen. What, is my Richard both in shape and Though he divide the realm and give thee half, mind
It is too little, helping him to all : Transformed and weakened ? Hath Bolingbroke And he shall think that thou, which know'st the way Deposed thine intellect? Hath he been in thy To plant unrightful kings, wilt know again, heart?
Being ne'er so little urged, another way The lion, dying, thrusteth forth his paw,
To pluck him headlong from the usurpéd throne. And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage The love of wicked friends converts to fear; To be o'erpowered : and wilt thou, pupil-like, That fear to hate; and hate turns one, or both, Take thy correction mildly, kiss the rod,
To worthy danger and deserved death.
North. My guilt be on my head, and there an | Where shivering cold and sickness pines the clime; end.
My wife to France; from whence, set forth in Take leave and part; for you must part forthwith.
pomp, K. Rich. Doubly divorced !-Bad men, ye She came adornéd hither like sweet May; violate
Sent back like Hallowmas, or short'st of day. A twofold marriage: 'twixt my crown and me, Queen. And must we be divided; must we part? And then betwixt me and my married wife.
K. Rich. Ay, hand from hand, my love, and Let me unkiss the oath 'twixt thee and me:
heart from heart. And yet not so, for with a kiss 't was made. Queen. Banish us both, and send the King with Part us, Northumberland : I towards the north,
North. That were some love, but little policy. | To take on me to keep, and kill thy heart.
K. Rich. We make woe wanton with this fond Go, count thy way with sighs; I mine with groans.
delay: Queen. So longest way shall have the longest Once more, adieu : the rest let sorrow say. moans.",
[Exeunt. K. Rich. Twice for one step I 'll groan, the
way being short, And piece the way out with a heavy heart. I SCENE II.-The same. A Room in the DUKE Come, come, in wooing sorrow let's be brief,
of York's Palace. Since, wedding it, there is such length in grief. One kiss shall stop our mouths, and dumbly part:
Enter York and his Duchess. Thus give I mine, and thus I take thy heart. Duch. My lord, you told me you would tell
the rest, Queen. Give me mine own again : 't were no | When weeping made you break the story off good part
Of our two cousins coming into London.
York. Where did I leave ?
Aum. Madam, I know not, nor Igreatly care not: Duch. At that sad stop, my lord, God knows I had as lief be none as one. Where rude misgoverned hands, from windows' York. Well, bear you well in this new spring tops,
of time, Threw dust and rubbish on King Richard's head. | Lest you be cropped before you come to prime. York. Then, as I said, the duke, great Boling- What news from Oxford ? hold those jousts and broke,
triumphs ? Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed
Aum. For aught I know, my lord, they do. Which his aspiring rider seemed to know,
York. You will be there, I know. With slow but stately pace kept on his course, Aum. If God prevent it not: I purpose so. While all tongues cried, “ God save thee, Bo York. What seal is that that hangs without lingbroke!”
thy bosom? You would have thought the very windows spake, Yea, look’st thou pale? let me see the writing. So many greedy looks of young and old
Aum. My lord, 't is nothing. Through casements darted their desiring eyes York. No matter, then, who sees it. Upon his visage: and that all the walls,
I will be satisfied : let me see the writing. With painted imagery, had said at once,
Aum. I do beseech your grace to pardon me: "Jesu preserve thee! welcome, Bolingbroke!" | It is a matter of small consequence, Whilst he, from one side to the other turning,
Which for some reasons I would not have seen. Bareheaded, lower than his proud steed's neck, York. Which for some reasons, sir, I mean to Bespake them thus: “ I thank you, countrymen :"
see. And thus still doing, thus he passed along. I fear, I fear, Duch. Alas, poor Richard ! where rides he Duch. What should you fear? the while?
'Tis nothing but some bond that he has entered into York. As, in a theatre, the eyes of men, For gay apparel 'gainst the triumph day. After a well-graced actor leaves the stage,
York. Bound to himself? what doth he with a Are idly bent on him that enters next,
bond Thinking his prattle to be tedious,
That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool. Even so, or with much more contempt, men's Boy, let me see the writing.
Aum. I do beseech you, pardon me: I may not Did scowl on Richard. No man cried, God save
shew it. him:
York. I will be satisfied : let me see it, I say. No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home:
[Snatches it, and reads. But dust was thrown upon his sacred head; Treason; foul treason !-villain, traitor, slave! Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off
Duch. What is the matter, my lord ? (His face still combating with tears and smiles, York. Ho! who is within there? [Enter a The badges of his grief and patience),
Servant.]-Saddle my horse.That had not God, for some strong purpose, God for his mercy, what treachery is here ! steeled
Duch. Why, what is it, my lord ? The hearts of men, they must perforce have | York. Give me my boots, I say; saddle my melted,
[Exit Servant. And barbarism itself have pitied him.
Now by mine honour, by my life, my troth, But heaven hath a hand in these events;
I will appeach the villain.
York. Peace, foolish woman.
Duch. I will not peace.- What is the matter,
York. Aumerle that was :
Duch. Welcome, my son. Who are the violets
Aum. Good mother, be content: it is no more
Re-enter Servant, with boots.
[To the Servant.
That strew the green lap of the new-come spring?
York. Give me my boots, I say.
| Takes on the point of honour to support Duch. Why, York, what wilt thou do?
So dissolute a crew. Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own? Percy. My lord, some two days since I saw the Have we more sons, or are we like to have?
Prince, Is not my teeming date drunk up with time; And told him of these triumphs held at Oxford. And wilt thou pluck my fair son from mine Boling. And what said the gallant? age,
Percy. His answer'was, he would unto the stews, And rob me of a happy mother's name? And from the common'st creature pluck a glove, Is he not like thee; is he not thine own?
And wear it as a favour: and with that York. Thou fond mad woman,
He would unborse the lustiest challenger. Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy?
Boling. As dissolute as desperate: yet through A dozen of them here have ta'en the sacrament,
both And interchangeably set down their hands, I see some sparkles of a better hope, To kill the King at Oxford.
Which elder days may happily bring forth.Duch. He shall be none:
But who comes here?
Enter Aumerle, hastily.
Aum. Where is the King ? I would appeach him.
What means Duch. Hadst thou groaned for him, | Our cousin, that he stares and looks so wildly? As I have done, thou 'dst be more pitiful.
Aum. God save your grace. I do beseech your But now I know thy mind : thou dost suspect
majesty That I have been disloyal to thy bed,
To have some conference with your grace alone. And that he is a bastard, not thy son.
Boling. Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here Sweet York, .sweet husband, be not of that
alone. [Exeunt Percy and Lords. mind:
What is the matter with our cousin now? He is as like thee as a man may be ;
Aum. For ever may my knees grow to the Not like to me, or any of my kin,
[Kneels. And yet I love him.
My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth, York. Make way, unruly woman. Unless a pardon ere I rise or speak.
Boling. Intended or committed was this fault? Duch. After, Aumerle : mount thee upon his If but the first, how heinous e'er it be, horse ;
To win thy after-love I pardon thee. Spur, post, and get before him to the King, Aum. Then give me leave that I may turn the And beg thy pardon ere he do accuse thee.
key, I'll not be long behind: though I be old, | That no man enter till my tale be done. I doubt not but to ride as fast as York:
Boling. Have thy desire. And never will I rise up from the ground
[AUMERLE locks the door. Till Bolingbroke bave pardoned thee.--Away; I York (within). My liege, beware; look to Begone.
Boling. Villain, I 'll make thee safe. [Drawing.
Aum. Stay thy revengeful hand: Scene III.-Windsor. A Room in the Castle. | Thou hast no cause to fear.
York [within]. Open the door, secure, fool-hardy Enter BOLINGBROKE as King; Percy, and other
Shall I, for love, speak treason to thy face? Boling. Can no man tell of my unthrifty son? | Open the door, or I will break it open. 'Tis full three months since I did see him last :
(BOLINGBROKE opens the door. If any plague hang over us, 't is he. I would to God, my lords, he might be found :
Enter YORK. Inquire at London, 'mongst the taverns there, Boling. What is the matter, uncle ? speak : For there, they say, he daily doth frequent, | Recover breath: tell us how near is danger, With unrestrained loose companions :
That we may arm us to encounter it. Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes, 1 York. Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt And beat our watch, and rob our passengers :
know While he, young, wanton, and effeminate boy, The treason that my haste forbids me shew.
Aum. Remember, as thou read'st, thy promise | Mine honour lives when his dishonour dies, past.
Or my shamed life in his dishonour lies. I do repent me: read not my name there; Thou kill'st me in his life: giving him breath, My heart is not confederate with my hand. The traitor lives, the true man's put to death. York. 'T was, villain, ere thy hand did set it Duch. [within]. What ho, my liege! for God's down.
sake, let me in. I tore it from the traitor's bosom, King:
Boling. What shrill-voiced suppliant makes Fear, and not love, begets his penitence.
this eager cry? Forget to pity him, lest thy pity prove
Duch. A woman and thine aunt, great King : A serpent that will sting thee to the heart.
't is I. Boling. O heinous, strong, and bold con Speak with me, pity me, open the door: spiracy!
A beggar begs that never begged before. O loyal father of a treacherous son;
Boling. Our scene is altered, from a serious Thou sheer, immaculate, and silver fountain,
thing, From whence this stream, through muddy passages, And now changed to “The Beggar and the Hath held his current and defiled himself!
King.”— Thy overflow of good converts to bad;
My dangerous cousin, let your mother in : And thy abundant goodness shall excuse
I know she's come to pray for your foul sin. This deadly blot in thy digressing son.
York. If thou do pardon, whosoever pray, York. So shall my virtue be his vice's bawd; | More sins for this forgiveness prosper may. And he shall spend mine honour with his shame, This festered joint cut off, the rest rests sound: As thriftless sons their scraping fathers' gold. This let alone will all the rest confound.