The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear.
What art thou? and how comest thou hither,
Where no man ever comes, but that fad dog
That brings me food, to make misfortune live?

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 fometime royal master's face.
O, how it yern'd my heart, when I beheld,
In London streets, that coronation day,
When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary !
That horse, that thou so often haft bestrid;
That horse, that I so carefully have dress'd!

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

Groom. So proudly, as if he had disdain'd the ground. R. 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 ftumble? Would he not fall down,
(Since pride must have a fall) and break the neck
Of that proud man, that did ufurp his back?
Forgiveness, horfe! why do I rail on thee,
Since thou, created to be aw'd by man,
Waft 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. Fellow, give place; here is no longer stay.

[To the Groom. R. Rich. If thou love me, 'tis time thou wert away.

That fad dog]-gloomy flave.
jauneing]-that rough rider.

Groom.

Groom. What my tongue dares not, that my heart shall

fay.

Keep. My lord, will't please you to fall to?

{Exit.

K. Rich. Tafte of it first, as thou wert wont to do. Keep. My lord, I dare not; fir Pierce of Exton, Who late came from the king, commands the contrary.

K. Rich. The devil take Henry of Lancaster, and thee! Patience is ftale, and I am weary of it.. [Beats the Keeper. Keep. Help, help, help!

Enter Exton, and fervants.

K. Rich. How now? what means death in this rude

affault?

Go thou, and fill another room in hell.

Villain, thine own hand yields thy death's inftrument.
[Snatches a weapon, and killing one.
[Kills another.
[Exton ftrikes him down.
That hand fhall burn in never-quenching fire,

That staggers thus my perfon.-Exton, thy fierce hand
Hath with the king's blood ftain'd the king's own land.
Mount, mount, my foul! thy feat is up on high;
Whilst my grofs flesh finks downward, here to die.

Exton. As full of valour, as of royal blood:
Both have I spilt; Oh, 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 reft, and give them burial here.

[Dies.

[Exeunt.

SCENE

SCENE VI.

The Court at Windfor

Flourish: Enter Bolingbroke, York, with other lords and attendants.

Boling. Kind uncle York, the latest news we hear,
Is that the rebels have confum'd with fire
Our town of Cicefter in Glostershire;

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

Enter Northumberland.

Welcome, my lord: What is the news?

North. First to thy facred state wish I all happiness. The next news is, I have to London fent

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

At large difcourfed in this paper here.

[Prefenting 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 fent to London The heads of Brocas, and fir Bennet Seely;

Two of the dangerous conforted traitors,
That fought at Oxford thy dire overthrow.

Boling. Thy pains, Fitzwater, fhall not be forgot; Right noble is thy merit, well I wot.

Enter Percy, with the bishop of Carlifle.

Percy. The grand confpirator, abbot of Westminster, With clog of confcience, and four melancholy, Hath yielded up his body to the grave:

But here is Carlisle living, to abide

Thy kingly doom, and sentence of his pride.

Boling. Carlisle, this is your doom :

Chufe out fome fecret place, fome 1 reverend room,
More than thou haft, and with it joy thy life;
So, as thou liv'ft in peace, die free from ftrife:
For though mine enemy thou haft ever been,
High fparks of honour in thee have I seen.

Enter Exton, with a coffin.

Exton. Great king, within this coffin I present
Thy bury'd fear: herein all breathless lies
The mightiest of thy mighty enemies,
Richard of Bourdeaux, by me hither brought.

Boling. Exton, I thank thee not; for thou haft wrought A deed of flander, with thy fatal hand,

Upon my head, and all this famous land.

Exton. From your own mouth, my lord, did I this deed; Boling. They love not poison, that do poifon need, Nor do I thee; though I did with him dead, I hate the murderer, love him murdered. The guilt of confcience take thou for thy labour, But neither my good word, nor princely favour: With Cain go wander through the shade of night, And never fhew thy head by day nor light.Lords, I protest, my foul is full of woe, That blood fhould fprinkle me, to make me grow: Come, mourn with me for what I do lament, And put on fullen black 'incontinent;

I'll make a voyage to the Holy land,

To wash this blood off from my guilty hand :-
March fadly after; grace my mournings here,
In weeping" over this untimely bier.

1 reverend room, more than thou haft,]-monaftery, be more at large, than thou art.

incontinent;]-immediately.

[Exeunt omnes.

where thou shalt * greatest. m after.

HENRY