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Duch. O ki Enter Duche
Duch. O happy vantage of a kneeling knee! Duch. O King, believe not this hard-hearted Yet am I sick for fear: speak it again : man:
Twice saying pardon doth not pardon twain, Love, loving not itself, none other can.
But makes one pardon strong. York. Thou frantic woman, what dost thou | Boling. I pardon him with all my heart. make here?
Duch. A God on earth thou art ! Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear ? Boling. But for our trusty brother-in-law, and Duch. Sweet York, be patient.-Hear me,
the abbot, gentle liege.
[Kneels. With all the rest of that consorted crew, Boling. Rise up, good aunt.
Destruction straight shall dog them at the heels.Duch. Not yet, I thee beseech: Good uncle, help to order several powers For ever will I walk upon my knees,
To Oxford, or where'er these traitors are: And never see day that the happy sees,
They shall not live within this world, I swear, Till thou give joy: until thou bid me joy, But I will have them if I once know where. By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy. Uncle, farewell; and cousin too, adieu : Aum. Unto my mother's prayers I bend my Your mother well hath prayed, and prove you true. knee.
[Kneels. Duch. Come, my old son: I pray God make York. Against them both my true joints bended
[Exeunt. Kneels. Ill mayst thou thrive if thou grant any grace!
Duch. Pleads he in earnest? look upon his face: His eyes do drop no tears; his prayers are in jest;
Scene IV. His words come from his mouth, ours from our breast:
Enter Exton and a Servant. He prays but faintly, and would be denied ; Exton. Didst thou not mark the King what We pray with heart and soul, and all beside :
words he spake: His weary joints would gladly rise, I know; “Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear?" Ourknees shall kneel till to the ground they grow: Was it not so? His prayers are full of false hypocrisy;
Serv. Those were his very words. Ours of true zeal and deep integrity.
Exton. “Have I no friend ?" quoth he. He Our prayers do outpray bis: then let them have
spake it twice, That mercy which true prayers ought to have. And urged it twice together: did he not? Boling. Good aunt, stand up.
Serv. He did. Duch. Nay, do not say stand up:
Exton. And speaking it, he wistly looked on me, But pardon, first; and afterwards, stand up. | As who should say, “I would thou wert the man An if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach, That would divorce this terror from my heart!" Pardon should be the first word of thy speech. Meaning the King at Pomfret. Come, let's go: I never longed to hear a word till now;
I am the King's friend, and will rid his foe. Say pardon, King: let pity teach thee how.
[Exeunt. The word is short, but not so short as sweet: No word like pardon, for kings' mouths so meet. York. Speak it in French, King : say, pardonnez moy.
Scene V.-Pomfret. The Dungeon of the Castle. Duch. Dost thou teach pardon pardon to de
Enter King RICHARD. stroy ? Ah, my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord, | K. Rich. I have been studying how I may That sett'st the word itself against the word !
compare Speak pardon as 't is current in our land: This prison where I live unto the world: The chopping French we do not understand. And for because the world is populous, Thine eye begins to speak; set thy tongue there: And here is not a creature but myself, Or in thy piteous heart plant thou thine ear: I cannot do it: yet I 'll hammer it out. That, hearing how ourplaints and prayers dopierce, My brain I 'll prove the female to my soul; Pity may move thee pardon to rehearse.
My soul the father : and these two beget Boling. Good aunt, stand up.
A generation of still-breeding thoughts, Duch. I do not sue to stand :
And these same thoughts people this little world; Pardon is all the suit I have in hand.
In humours like the people of this world, Boling. I pardon him, as God shall pardon me. For no thought is contented. The better sort
(As thoughts of things divine) are intermixed
groans, Shew minutes, times, and hours!but my time Runs posting on in Boling broke's proud joy, While I stand fooling here, his Jack-o'-the-clock.This music mads me; let it sound no more : For though it have holp madmen to their wits, In me it seems it will make wise men mad. Yet blessing on his heart that gives it me! For 't is a sign of love; and love to Richard Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world.
K. Rich. Thanks, noble peer:
Groom. I was a poor groom of thy stable, King, When thou wert king; who travelling towards
York, With much ado, at length have gotten leave To look upon my sometime master's face. O how it yearned my heart when I beheld In London streets, that coronation-day, When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary! That horse that thou so often hast bestrid; That horse that I so carefully have dressed ! K. Rich. Rode he on Barbary? Tell me, gentle
friend, How went he under him? Groom. So proudly as if he had disdained the
ground. K. Rich. So proud that Bolingbroke was on
his back! That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand: This hand hath made him proud with clapping
him. Would he not stumble; would he not fall down (Since pride must have a fall), and break the neck Of that proud man that did usurp his back?Forgiveness, horse! why do I rail on thee, Since thou, created to be awed by man, Wast born to bear?- I was not made a horse : And yet I bear a burden like an ass, Spur-galled and tired by jauncing Bolingbroke.
Enter Keeper with a dish. Keep. Fellow, give place : here is no longer stay.
[To the Groom. K. Rich. If thou love me, 't is time thou wert
ton, who Lately came from the King, commands the contrary. K. Rich. The devil take Henry of Lancaster
... and thee! Patience is stale, and I am weary of it.
[Beats the Keeper. Keep. Help, help, help!
Enter Exton and Servants, armed.
Villain, thine own hand yields thy death's in- Two of the dangerous consorted traitors strument.
That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow [Snatching a weapon, and killing one. Boling. Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be Go thou, and fill another room in hell.
forgot; [He kills another, then Exton strikes him down. Right noble is thy merit, well it wot. That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire That staggers thus my person !- Exton, thy
Enter Percy, with the Bishop of CARISLE. fierce hand
Percy. The grand conspirator, abbot of WestHath with the King's blood stained the King's
minster, own land.
With clog of conscience and sour melancholy, Mount, mount, my soul! thy seat is up on high; Hath yielded up his body to the grave: Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here to But here is Carlisle living, to abide die.
[Dies. Thy kingly doom and sentence of his pride. Exton. As full of valour as of royal blood ! Boling. Carlisle, this is your doom :Both have I spilt.-0 would the deed were good: Choose out some secret place, some reverend For now the devil, that told me I did well,
room, Says that this deed is chronicled in hell.- More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life: This dead king to the living king I 'll bear : So, as thou liv'st in peace, die free from strife. Take hence the rest, and give them burial here. For though mine enemy thou hast ever been,
[Exeunt. High sparks of honour in thee have I seen.
Enter Exton, with Attendants bearing a coffin. Scene VI.--Windsor. A Room in the Castle. Exton. Great King, within this coffin I present
Thy buried fear: herein all breathless lies Flourish. Enter BOLINGBROKE and York, with
The mightiest of thy greatest enemies,
Richard of Bordeaux, by me hither brought. Boling. Kind uncle York, the latest news we Boling. Exton, I thank thee not: for thou hear
hast wrought Is that the rebels have consumed with fire A deed of slander, with thy fatal hand, Our town of Ci'cester in Glostershire :
Upon my head and all this famous land. But wbether they be ta'en or slain we hear not.- Exton. From your own mouth, my lord, did I
this deed. Enter NORTHUMBERLAND.
Boling. They love not poison that do poison Welcome, my lord: what is the news?
need; Vorth. First, to thy sacred state wish I all
Nor do I thee: though I did wish him dead, happiness :
I hate the murderer, love him murderéd. The next news is, I have to London sent
The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour, The heads of Salisbury, Spencer, Blunt, and But neither my good word nor princely favour: Kent.
With Cain go wander through the shade of The manner of their taking may appear
night, At large discoursed in this paper here.
And never shew thy head by day nor light.
[Presenting a paper. | Lords, I protest my soul is full of woe, Boling. We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy That blood should sprinkle me to make me pains:
grow. And to thy worth will add right worthy gains. Come, mourn with me for what I do lament,
And put on sullen black incontinent:
I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land,
March sadly after: grace my mournings here, The heads of Brocas and Sir Bennet Seely; In weeping after this untimely bier.