Serv. He did. Exton. And speaking it, he wistly look'd on me; SCENE V. Pomfret. The dungeon of the castle. [Exeunt. K. Rich. I have been studying how I may compare For no thought is contented. The better sort, are intermix'd With scruples, and do set the word itself Against the word: As thus, "Come, little ones;" and then again, To thread the postern of a small neeld's eye." And in this thought they find a kind of ease, Nor I, nor any man that but man is, With nothing shall be pleas'd, till he be eas'd Ha, ha! keep time: - Music do I hear? how sour sweet music is, When time is broke and no proportion kept! To check time broke in a disorder'd string; Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears: Yet, blessing on his heart that gives it me! [Music. For 'tis a sign of love; and love to Richard Enter Groom. Groom. Hail, royal prince! Thanks, noble peer; K. Rich. That brings me food to make misfortune live? Groom. I was a poor groom of thy stable, king, K. Rich. Rode he on Barbary? Tell me, gentle friend, How went he under him? Groom. So proud as if he had disdain'd 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 aw'd by man, Wast born to bear? I was not made a horse; And yet I bear a burden like an ass, Spur-gall'd and tir'd 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. Keep. My lord, will't please you to fall to? [Exit. K. Rich. Taste of it first, as thou art wont to do. Keep. My lord, I dare not. Sir Pierce of Exton, Who late 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. Keep. Help, help, help! [Beats the Keeper. Enter Sir PIERCE of EXTON and Servants, armed. K. Rich. How now! what means death in this rude as sault? Villain, thy own hand yields thy death's instrument. [Snatching a weapon, and killing a Servant. Go thou, and fill another room in hell. [He kills another Servant. That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire That staggers thus my person. Then Exton Exton, thy fierce hand Hath with the king's blood stain'd the king's own land. Mount, mount, my soul! thy seat is up on high; Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here to die. [Dies. Both have I spilt; - O, would the deed were good! SCENE VI. Windsor. A room in the castle. [Exeunt. Flourish. Enter BOLINGBROKE as King, YORK, Lords, and Attendants. Boling. Kind uncle York, the latest news we hear Is that the rebels have consum'd with fire Our town of Ciceter in Glostershire; 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. [Presenting a paper. 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 Boling. Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be forgot; Enter PERCY, with the Bishop of Carlisle. Percy. The grand conspirator, Abbot of Westminster, With clog of conscience and sour melancholy, Hath yielded up his body to the grave; But here is Carlisle living, to abide Thy kingly doom and sentence of his pride. Choose out some secret place, some reverend room, Enter Sir PIERCE of EXTON, with Attendants bearing a coffin. Thy buried fear: herein all breathless lies The mightiest of thy greatest enemies, Richard of Bourdeaux, by me hither brought. Boling. Exton, I thank thee not; for thou hast wrought |