DUCH. Pleads he in earnest? look upon his face; His eyes do drop no tears, his prayers are in jest ;

His words come from his mouth, ours from our breast:

He prays but faintly, and would be denied;

100

We pray with heart, and soul, and all beside:

His weary joints would gladly rise, I know;

Our knees shall kneel till to the ground they grow:
His prayers are full of false hypocrisy;
Ours of true zeal and deep integrity.

105

Our prayers do out-pray his; then let them have
That mercy which true prayers ought to have.
BOLING. Good aunt, stand up.

DUCH.
Nay, do not say "stand up";
Say "pardon," first, and afterwards, “stand up".
An if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach,
"Pardon" should be the first word of thy speech.
I never longed to hear a word till now :

Say "pardon," king: let pity teach thee how:

110

The word is short, but not so short as sweet;

No word like " 'pardon" for kings' mouth so meet.

115

YORK. Speak it in French, king: say, "pardonnez-moy".

DUCH. Dost thou teach pardon pardon to destroy?

Ah, my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord,
That sett'st the word itself against the word!
Speak "pardon" as 'tis current in our land;
The chopping French we do not understand.

120

Thine eye begins to speak, set thy tongue there :
Or, in thy piteous heart plant thou thine ear;
That, hearing how our plaints and prayers do pierce,
Pity may move thee "pardon" to rehearse.
BOLING. Good aunt, stand up.
DUCH.

125

I do not sue to stand;

Pardon is all the suit I have in hand.

BOLING. I pardon him, as God shall pardon me.
DUCH. O happy vantage of a kneeling knee!

Yet am I sick for fear: speak it again;

Twice saying "pardon" doth not pardon twain,
But makes one pardon strong.

BOLING.

130

With all my heart

BOLING. But for our trusty brother-in-law, and the abbot,

With all the rest of that consorted crew,

Destruction straight shall dog them at the heels.

Good uncle, help to order several powers

135

To Oxford, or where'er these traitors are:
They shall not live within this world, I swear,

But I will have them, if I once know where.
Uncle, farewell; and cousin, too, adieu:

Your mother well hath prayed, and prove you true.
DUCH. Come, my old son; I pray God make thee new.

SCENE IV. The same.

[Exeunt.

140

Enter EXTON and a Servant.

EXTON. Didst thou not mark the king, what words he spake ? "Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear?"

Was it not so?

SERV.

Those were his very words.

EXTON. "Have I no friend?" quoth he: he spake it twice, And urged it twice together; did he not?

SERV. He did.

EXTON. And speaking it, he wistly looked on me;
As who should say, "I would thou wert the man
That would divorce this terror from my heart";
Meaning the king at Pomfret. Come, let's go;
I am the king's friend, and will rid his foe.

SCENE V. Pomfret. The dungeon of the Castle.
Enter KING RICHARD.

K. RICH. I have been studying how I may compare

This prison where I live unto the world :
And, for because the world is populous,
And here is not a creature but myself,

5

10

[Exeunt.

I cannot do it; yet I'll hammer it out.

My soul, in union with my brain, shall bear
A generation of prolific thoughts,

And these same thoughts people this little world,
In humours like the people of this world;
For no thought is contented. The better sort,
As thoughts of things divine, are intermixed
With scruples, and do set the word itself
Against the word;

As thus, 66

66

Come, little ones," and then again,

It is as hard to come as for a camel

To thread the postern of a small needle's eye".

5

10

15

Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot
Unlikely wonders: how these vain weak nails
May tear a passage through the flinty ribs
Of this hard world, my ragged prison walls;
And, for they cannot, die in their own pride.
Thoughts tending to content, flatter themselves
That they are not the first of fortune's slaves,
Nor shall not be the last; like silly beggars,
Who, sitting in the stocks, refuge their shame,
That many have and others must sit there :
And in this thought they find a kind of ease,
Bearing their own misfortunes on the back
Of such as have before endured the like.
Thus play I in one person many people,
And none contented: sometimes am I king;
Then treasons make we wish myself a beggar,
And so I am: then crushing penury
Persuades me I was better when a king;
Then am I king'd again; and, by-and-by,
Think that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke,
And straight am nothing: but, whate'er I be,
Nor I, nor any man that but man is,
With nothing shall be pleased, till he be eased
With being nothing. Music do I hear?

Ha, ha! keep time: how sour sweet music is
When time is broke and no proportion kept!
So is it in the music of men's lives.
And here have I the daintiness of ear
To check time broke in a disordered string;
But, for the concord of my state and time,
Had not an ear to hear my true time broke.
I wasted time, and now doth time waste me;

20

25

30

35

[Music. 40

45

For now hath time made me his numbering clock :

My thoughts are minutes; and with sighs they jar

50

Their watches on unto mine eyes,-the outward watch,
Whereto my finger, like a dial's point,

Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears.

Now sir, the sounds that tell what hour it is

Are clamorous groans, that strike upon my heart,
Which is the bell: so sighs, and tears, and groans
Show minutes, times, and hours: but my time
Runs posting on in Bolingbroke'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,

55

60

In me it seems it will make wise men mad.
Yet blessing on his heart that gives it me!
For 'tis a sign of love; and love to Richard
Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world.
Enter Groom.

GROOM. Hail, royal prince!

K. RICH.
Thanks, noble peer;
The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear.
What art thou? and how comest thou hither,
Where no man ever comes, but that sad dog

65

That brings me food to make misfortune live?

70

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 royal 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;

75

That horse that I so carefully have dressed!

K. RICH. Rode he on Barbary? Tell me, gentle friend, How went he under him?

80

GROOM. So proudly as if he disdained the ground.
K. RICH. So proud that Bolingbroke was on his back!

85

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,

90

Wast born to bear? I was not made a horse;

And yet I bear a burthen like an ass,

Spurr'd, gall'd, and tired by jauncing Bolingbroke.

Enter Keeper, with a dish.

KEEP. [To the Groom.] Fellow, give place; here is no longer stay.
K. RICH. If thou love me, 'tis time thou wert away.
GROOM. What my tongue dares not, that my heart shall say.

95

[Exit.

KEEP. My lord, will't please you to fall to?
K. RICH. Taste of it first, as thou art wont to do.
KEEP. My lord, I dare not; Sir Pierce of Exton,

Who lately came from the king, commands the contrary.

100

[Beats the Keeper.

K. RICH. The devil take Henry of Lancaster and thee! Patience is stale, and I am weary of it.

KEEP. Help! help!! help!!!

Enter EXTON, and Servants, armed.

K. RICH. How now! what means death in this rude assault? Villain, thine own hand yields thy death's instrument.

[Snatching a weapon, and killing one.

Go thou, and fill another room in hell.

[He kills another, then ExTON strikes him down.

That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire
That staggers thus my person. Exton, thy fierce hand
Hath with the king's blood stained the king's own land.
Mount, mount, my soul! thy seat is up on high;
Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward here to die.
EXTON. As full of valour as of royal blood :
Both have I spilled; O would the deed were good!
For now the devil, that told me I did well,
Says that this deed is chronicled in hell.
This dead king to the living king I'll bear:

Take hence the rest, and give them burial here.

105

110

[Dies.

115

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI. Windsor. A room in the Castle.

Flourish. Enter BOLINGBROKE and YORK, with Lords and

Attendants.

BOLING. Kind uncle York, the latest news we hear

Is that the rebels have consumed with fire

Our town of Cicester in Gloucestershire;

But whether they be ta'en or slain we hear not.

Enter NORTHUMBERLAND.

Welcome, my lord: what is the news?

NORTH. First, to thy sacred state wish I all happiness.
The next news is, I have to London sent

The heads of Oxford, Salisbury, Blunt, and Kent:
The manner of their taking may appear

At large discourséd in this paper here.

5

[Presenting a paper. 10

BOLING. We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains;

And to thy worth will add right worthy gains.

Enter FITZWATER.

FITZ. My lord, I have from Oxford sent to London The heads of Brocas and Sir Bennet Seely,