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Of Bolingbroke; their fortunes both are weigh'd :
In your Lord's Scale is nothing but himself,
And some few Vanities that make him light:
But in the Balance of great Boling broke,
Besides himself, are all the English Peers,
And with that odds he weighs King Richard down.
Post you to London, and you'll find it fo;
I speak no more, than every one doth know.

Queen. Nimble Mischance, that art fo light of foot,
Doth not thy Emballage belong to me?
And am I last, that know it? oh, thou thinkst
To serve me laft, that I may longest keep
Thy sorrow in my breast. Come, ladies, go;
To meet, at London, London's King in woe.
What, was I born to this ! that my fad Look
Should grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke!
Gard'ner, for telling me these news of woe,
I would, the plants, thou graft'st, may never grow.

[Exeunt Queen and Ladies.
Gard. Poor Queen, so that thy state might be no worse,
I would my skill were subject to thy Curse.
Here did she drop a tear; here, in this place,
I'll set a bank of Rue, fow'r herb of grace ;
Rue, ev'n for ruth, here shortly shall be seen,
In the remembrance of a weeping Queen.

[Ex. Gard, and Serv,

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In L O N D O N.

that man.

Enter, as to the Parliament, Bolingbroke, Aumerle,

Northumberland, Percy, Fitzwater, Surrey, Bishop of Carlisle, Abbot of Westminster, Herald, Officers, and Bagot.

ALL Bagot forth : now freely speak thy mind,

What thou dost know of noble Glo'fter's death ; Who wrought it with the King, and who perform’d The bloody office of his timeless end.

Bagot. Then set before my face the lord Aumerle. Boling. Cousin, stand forth, and look

Bagot. My lord Aumerle, I know your daring tongue
Scorns to unsay, what it hath once deliver'd.
In that dead time when Gloʻster's death was plotted,
I heard you say, Is not my arm of length,
That reachech from the restful English Court
As far as Calais to my uncle's head?
Amongst much other talk that very time,
I heard you say, You rather had refuse,
The offer of an hundred thousand crowns,
Than Bolingbroke return to England; adding,
How bleft this Land would be in this yourCousin's death,

Aum. Princes, and noble lords,
What answer shall I make to this base man?
Shall I so much dishonour ? my fair stars,
On equal terms to give him chastisement ?
Either I must, or have mine honour soil'd
With the attainder of his Nand'rous lips.

-his timeless end.] timeless for untimely,

my fair staRS,] I rather think it should be stem, he being of the royal blood. VOL. IV, F




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There is my Gage, the manual seal of death,
That marks thee out for hell. Thou lieft,
And I'll maintain what thou hast said, is false,
In thy heart-blood, though being all too base
To stain the temper of my knightly sword.

Boling. Bagot, forbear; thou shalt not take it up.

Aum. Excepting one, I would he were the best
In all this presence that hath mov'd me so.

Fitzw. If that thy valour stand on sympathies,
There is my Gage, Aumerle, in gage to thine:
By that fair Sun, that shews me where thou stand'ft,
I heard thee say, and vauntingly thou spak’ft it,
That thou wert cause of noble Gloster's death,
If thou deny'st it, twenty times thou lieft ;
And I will turn thy falshood to thy heart,
Where it was forged, with my rapier's point.

Aum. Thou dar'ft not, coward, live to see the day.
Fitzw. Now, by my soul, I would it were this hour.
Aum. Fitzwater, thou art damn'd to hell for this.

Percy. Aumerle, thou lieft; his honour is as true,
In this appeal, as thou art all unjust;
And that thou art so, there I throw my Gage
To prove it on thee, to th' extreamest point
Of mortal breathing. Seize it, if thou dar'ft.

Aum. And if I do not, may my hands rot off,
And never brandish more revengeful steel
Over the glittering helmet of my foe!

Who fets me else? by heav'n, I'll throw at all.
I have a thousand spirits in my breast,
To answer twenty thousand such as you.

Surrey. My lord Fitzwater, I remember well
The very time Aumerle and you did talk.

Fitzw. My lord, 'tis true: you were in presence then; And you can witness with me, this is true.

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3 Who fets me else?] These three verses are taken from the first Edition.

Mr. Pope.


Surrey. As false, by heav'n, as heav'n it self is true.
Fitzw. Surrey, thou lieft.

Surrey. Dishonourable boy,
That Lie shall lye so heavy on my sword,
That it shall render vengeance and revenge,
Till thou the life-giver, and that Lie, rest
In earth as quiet, as thy father's scull.
In proof whereof, there is mine honour's pawn;
Engage it to the tryal, if thou dar ft.

Fitzw. How fondly dost thou spur a forward horse?
If I dare eat, or drink, or breathe, or live,
I dare meet Şurrey in a wilderness,
And spit upon him, whilft I say, he lies;
And lies, and lies: there is my bond of faith,
To tie thee to my strong correction
As I intend to thrive in this new world,
Aumerle is guilty of my true appeal.
Besides I heard the banish'a Norfolk say,
That thou, Atmerle, didst fend two of thy men
To execute the noble Duke at Calais.

Aum. Some honest Christian trust me with á gage, That Norfolk lies : here do I throw down this, If he may be repeald, to try his honour.

Boling. These Différences shall all rest under gage;
Till Norfolk be repeald: repeald he shall be ;
And, though mine enemy, restor'd again
To all his Signiories; when he's return'd,
Against Aumerlê we will enforce his tryal.

Carl. That honourable day shall ne'er be féen.
Many a time hath banish'd Norfolk fought
For Jesu Christ, in glorious christian field
Streaming the Ensign of the christian Crofs,
Against black Pagans, Turks, and Saracens :.
Then, toild with works of war, retird. himfelf
To Italy, and there at Venice gave
His body to that pleasant Country's earth,

Were enough noble to be

And his pure foul unto his captain Christ,
Under whose Colours he had fought so long.

Boling. Why, Bishop, is Norfolk dead?
Carl. Sure as I live, my lord.

Boling. Sweet peace conduct his soul
To th’ bosom of good Abraham!

-Lords appealants, Your diff'rences shall all rest under gage, Till we aflign you to your days of tryal.


Enter York.
York. Great Duke of Lancaster, I come to thee
From plume-pluckt Richard, who with willing foul
Adopts thee Heir, and his high Scepter yields
To the possession of thy royal hand.
Ascend his Throne, descending now from him,
And long live Henry, of that name the Fourth!

Boling. In God's name, I'll ascend the regal throne.

Carl. Marry, heav'n forbid !
'Worst in this royal presence may I speak,
Yet best beseeming me to speak the truth.
Would God, that any in this noble presence

Of noble Richard, then true Nobleness would
Learn him forbearance from so foul a wrong.
What Subject can give Sentence on his King ?
And who fits here, that is not Richard's Subject ?
Thieves are not judg'd, but they are by to hear,
Although apparent guilt be seen in them.
And shall the figure of God's Majesty,
His Captain, Steward, Deputy elect,
Anointed, crown'd, and planted many years,
Be judg’d by subject and inferior breath,
And he himself not present? oh, forbid it !
That, in a christian climate, souls refin'd
Should shew so heinous, black, obscene a deed.


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