K. Rich. Join not with grief, fair woman, do
not so,

To make my end too sudden: learn, good soul,
To think our former state a happy dream;
From which awak'd, the truth of what we are
Shows us but this: I am sworn brother, sweet,
To grim necessity; and he and I [France,
Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to
And cloister thee in some religious house :
Our holy lives must win a new world's crown,
Which our profane hours here have stricken
down.

Queen. What, is my Richard both in shape
and mind
[broke
Transform'd, and weakened? Hath Boling-
Depos'd thine intellect? hath he been in thy

heart?

The lion, dying, thrusteth forth his paw,
And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with

rage

To be s'erpower'd; and wilt thou, pupil-like,
Take thy correction mildly? kiss the rod;
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
but beasts,

I had been still a happy king of men.
Good sometime queen, prepare thee hence for
France:
[tak'st,
Think, I am dead; and that even here thou
As from my death-bed, my last living leave.
In winter's tedious nights, sit by the fire
With good old folks; and let them tell thee
Of woful ages, long ago betid :* [tales
And, ere thou bid good night, to quitt their
Tell thou the lamentable fall of me, [grief,
And send the hearers weeping to their beds.
For why, the senseless brands will sympathize
The heavy accent of thy moving tongue,
And, in compassion, weep the fire out:
And some will mourn in ashes, some coal-
For the deposing of a rightful king.

moans.

K. Rich. Twice for one step I'll groan, the
way being short,

And piece the way out with a heavy heart.
Come, come, in wooing sorrow let's be brief,
Since, wedding it, there is such length in grief.
One kiss shall stop our mouths, and dumbly
part;

Thus give I mine, and thus I take thy heart.
[They kiss.
Queen. Give me mine own again; 'twere no
good part,

To take on me to keep, and kill thy heart.
[Kiss again.

So, now I have my own again, begone,
That I may strive to kill it with a groan.
K. Rich. We make woe wanton with this
fond delay:

[black, Once more, adieu; the rest let sorrow say.

Enter NORTHUMBERLAND, attended.

[Exeunt.

North. My lord, the mind of Bolingbroke is SCENE II.-The same.-A Room in the Duke

chang'd;

You must to Pomfret, not unto the Tower.-
And, madam, there is order ta'en for you;
With all swift speed you must away to France.
K. Rich. Northumberland, thou ladder

wherewithal

To plant unrightful kings, wilt know again,
Being ne'er so little urg'd, another way
To pluck him headlong from the usurped
throne.

The love of wicked friends converts to fear;
That fear, to hate; and hate turns one, or both,
To worthy danger, and deserved death.
North. My guilt be on my head; and there

an end.

[with.

of YORK's Palace.

Enter YORK, and his DUCHESS.

Duch. My lord, you told me, you would tell

the rest,

When weeping made you break the story off
Of our two cousins coming into London.
York. Where did I leave?

Duch. At that sad stop, my lord,
Where rude misgovern'd hands, from win-
dow's tops,
[head.
Threw dust and rubbish on King Richard's
York. Then, as I said, the duke, great Bol-

ingbroke,

Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed,
Which his aspiring rider seem'd to know,-
With slow, but stately pace, kept on his course,
While all tongues cried-God save thee, Bol-
ingbroke!
[spake,

You would have thought the very windows So many greedy looks of young and old Through casements darted their desiring eyes Upon his visage; and that all the walls, Take leave, and part; for you must part forth-With painted imag'ry, had said at once,K. Rich. Doubly divorc'd?-Bad man, ye Jesu preserve thee! welcome, Bolingbroke! Whilst he, from one side to the other turning, Bare-headed, lower than his proud steed's neck,

violate

A twofold marriage; 'twixt my crown and me;
And then, betwixt me and my married wife.-
Let me unkiss the oath 'twixt thee and me;
And yet not so, for with a kiss 'twas made.-
Passed.
+ Be even with them.

* All-hallows, i. e. All-saints, Nov. 1.
+ Never the nigher.

+ Tapestry hung trom the windows,

1

Duch. Why, what is it, my lord?
York. Give me my boots, I say; saddle my
horse:-

Bespake them thus,-I thank you, country

men:

And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along. Duch. Alas, poor Richard ! where rides he the while?

York. As in a theatre, the eyes of men, After a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage, Are idly bent on him that enters next, Thinking his prattle to be tedious:

eyes

Even so, or with much more contempt, men's
[him;
Did scowl on Richard; no man cried, God save
No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home:
But dust was thrown upon his sacred head;
Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off,-
His face still combating with tears and smiles,
The badges of his grief and patience,-
That had not God, for some strong purpose,
steel'd
Imelted,
The hearts of men, they must perforce, have
And barbarism itself have pitied him.
But heaven hath a hand in these events;
To whose high will we bound our calm contents.
To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now,
Whose state and honour I for ayet allow.
Enter AUMERLE.

Duch. Here comes my son Aumerle.
York. Aumerle that was;

But that is lost, for being Richard's friend,
And, madam, you must call him Rutland now:
I am in parliament pledge for his truth,
And lasting fealty to the new-made king.
Duch. Welcome, my son: Who are the vio-
lets now,
[spring ? |
That strew the green lap of the new-come
Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care

not:

God knows, I had as lief be none, as one. York. Well, bear you well in this new spring of time,

Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime,
What news from Oxford? hold those justs;
and triumphs?

Aum. For aught I know, my lord, they do.
York. You will be there, I know.
Aum. If God prevent it not; I purpose so.
York. What seal is that, that hangs without
thy bosom?

Yea, look'st thou pale? let me see the writing.
Aum. My lord, 'tis nothing.

York. No matter then who sees it:

I will be satisfied, let me see the writing.
Aum. I do beseech your grace to pardon me;
It is a matter of small consequence,
Which for some reasons I would not have seen.
York. Which for some reasons, Sir, I mean

to see. I fear, I fear,---

Duch. What should you fear?
[into
"Tis nothing but some bond that he is enter'd
For gay apparel, 'gainst the triumph day.
York. Bound to himself? what doth he with
a bond

That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool.-
Boy, let me see the writing.

Aum. I do beseech you, pardon me; I may

not show it.

York. I will be satisfied; let me see it, I say.
[Snatches it, and reads.
Treason! foul treason!-villain! traitor! slave!
Duch. What is the matter, my lord?
York. Ho! who is within there? [Enter a
Servant.] Saddle my horse.
God for his mercy! what treachery is here!
† Ever

* Carelessly turned.
I Tilte and tournaments,

Now by mine honour, by my life, my troth,
I will appeach the villain. [Exit Servant.

Duch. What's the matter ?
York. Peace, foolish woman.

Duch. I will not peace:-What is the matter.

son?

Aum. Good mother, be content; it is no more
Than my poor life must answer.
Duch. Thy life answer!

Re-enter Servant, with Boots.

York. Bring me my boots, I will unto the king.

Duch. Strike him, Aumerle.-Poor boy, thou
art amaz'd:*

Hence, villain; never more come in my sight.-
[To the Servant
Fork. Give me my boots, I say.
Duch. Why, York, what wilt thou do?
Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own?
Have we more sons? or are we like to have?
Is not my teeming+ date drunk up with time!
And wilt thou pluck my fair son from mine age,
And rob me of a happy mother's naine?
Is he not like thee? is he not thine own?
York. Thou fond mad woman,

Wilt thou conceal this dark con spiracy?
A dozen of them here have ta en the sacrament,
And interchangeably set down their hands,
To kill the king at Oxford.

Duch. He shall be none;

[hir We'll keep him here : Then what is that w York. Away,

Fond woman! were he twenty times my son,
I would appeach him.

Duch. Hadst thou groan'd for him,
As I have done, thou'd'st be more pitiful.
But now I know thy mind; thou dost suspect,
That I have been disloyal to thy bed,
And that he is a bastard, not thy son: [mind:
Sweet York, sweet husband, be not of that
He is as like thee as a man may be,
Not like to me, or any of my kin,
And yet I love him.

[Fait

York. Make way, unruly woman.
Duch. After, Aumerle; mount thee upon hi

horse;

Spur, post; and get before him to the king,
And beg thy pardon ere he do accuse thee.
I'll not be long behind; though I be old,
I doubt not but to ride as fast as York:
And never will I rise up from the ground,
Till Bolingbroke have pardon'd thee: Away,
Begone.
[Exeunt.

SCENE III-Windsor.-A Room in the Castle.
Enter BOLINGBROKE as King; PERCY, and other
LORDS.

Boling. Can no man tell of my unthrifty son? "Tis full three months, since I did see him

last:

I would to God, my lords, he might be found:
If any plague hang over us, 'tis he.
For there, they say, he daily doth frequent,
Inquire at London, 'mongst the taverns there,
With unrestrained loose companions;
Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes,
And beat our watch, and rob our passengers;
While he, young, wanton, and effeminate boy,
Takes on the point of honour, to support
So dissolute a crew.

* Perplexel, confounded. + Breeding.

Percy. My lord, some two days since I saw |
the prince;

And told him of these triumphs held at Oxford.
Boling. And what said the gallant?
Percy. His answer was, he would unto the
stews;

And from the common'st creature pluck a glove,
And wear it as a favour; and with that
He would unhorse the lustiest challenger.
Boling. As dissolute as desperate; yet,
through both

I see some sparkles of a better hope,
Which elder days may happily bring forth.
But who comes here?

Enter AUMERLE, hastily.
Aum. Where is the king?
Boling. What means

Our cousin, that he stares and looks so wildly?
Aum. God save your grace. I do beseech
your majesty,

To have some conference with your grace alone. Boling, Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here alone.

[Exeunt PERCY and LORDS. What is the matter with our cousin now? Aum. For ever may my knees grow to the earth, [Kneels. My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth, Unless a pardon, ere I rise, or speak.

Boling. Intended, or committed, was this If but the first, how heinous ere it be, [fault? To win thy after-love, I pardon thee."

Aum. Then give me leave that I may turn
the key,

That no man enter till my tale be done.
Boling. Have thy desire.

[AUMERLE locks the door. York. [Within.] My liege, beware; look to

thyself;

Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there.
Boling. Villain, I'll make thee safe.

Aum. Stay thy revengeful hand;
Thou hast no cause to fear.

[Drawing.

York. [Within.] Open the door, secure, fool-
hardy king:

Shall I, for love, speak treason to thy face?
Open the door, or I will break it open.
[BOLINGBROKE opens the door.
Enter YORK.

Boling. What is the matter, uncle? speak;
Recover breath; tell us how near is danger,
That we may arm us to encounter it.

York. Peruse this writing here, and thou

shalt know

The treason that my haste forbids me show.
Aum. Remember, as thou read'st, thy pro-
mise past:

I do repent me; read not my name there,
My heart is not confederate with my hand.
York. 'Twas, villain, ere thy hand did set it
down.-

I tore it from the traitor's bosom, king:
Fear, and not love, begets his penitence:
Forget to pity him, lest thy pity prove
A serpent that will sting thee to the heart.
Boling. O heinous, strong, and bold conspi-
racy!-

O .oyal father of a treacherous son!
Thou sheer, immaculate, and silver fountain,
From whence this stream through muddy pas-
sages,

Hath held his current, and defil'd himself!

* Transparent.

Thy overflow of good converts to bad;
And thy abundant goodness shall excuse
This deadly blot in thy digressing son.
York. So shall my virtue be his vice's bawd;
And he shall spend mine honour with his
shame,

As thriftless sons their scraping fathers' gold.
Mine honour lives when his dishonour dies,
Or my sham'd life in his dishonour lies:
Thou kill'st me in his life; giving him breath,
The traitor lives, the true man's put to death.
Duch. [Within.] What ho, my liege! for
God's sake let me in.

Boling. What shrill-voic'd suppliant makes
this eager cry?

Duch. A woman, and thine aunt, great king,
'tis I.

Speak with me, pity me, open the door;
A beggar begs, that never begg'd before.
Boling. Our scene is alter'd,-from a serious
thing,

And now chang'd to The Beggar and the King.†
My dangerous cousin, let your mother in;
I know, she's come to pray for your foul sin.

York. If thou do pardon, whosoever pray,
More sins, for this forgiveness, prosper may.
This fester'd joint cut off, the rest rests sound;
This, let alone, will all the rest confound.
Enter DUCHESS.

Duch. O king, believe not this hard-hearted
man;

Love, loving not itself, none other can.
York. Thou frantic woman, what dost thou
make here?

Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear?
Duch. Sweet York, be patient: Hear me,
[Kneels.

gentle liege.

Boling. Rise up, good aunt,

Duch. Not yet, I thee beseech:

For ever will I kneel upon my knees,
And never see day that the happy sees,
Till thou give joy; until thou bid me joy,
By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy.
Aum. Unto my mother's prayers, I bend my

knee.

[Kneels. York. Against them both, my true joints [Kneels.

bended be.

Ill may'st thou thrive, if thou grant any grace!
Duch. Pleads he in earnest? look upon his
face;
[jest;

His eyes do drop no tears, his prayers are in
His words come from his mouth, ours from our
breast:

He prays but faintly, and would be denied;
We pray with heart, and soul, and all be-

side:

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

Duch. Nay, do not say-stand up;
But, pardon, first; and afterwards stand up.
And if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach,
Pardon-should be the first word of thy
speech.

I never long'd to hear a word till now;
Say-pardon, king; let pity teach thee how:
The word is short, but not so short as sweet;
No word like pardon, for kings' mouths so

meet.

Spur-gall'd, and tir'd, by jauncing Boling- And to thy worth will add right worthy gains.