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Enter Duchess. Duch. O King, believe not this hard-hearted

man:

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. I pardon him with all my heart.
Duch. A God on earth thou art!
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
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!

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

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, gentle liege.

[Kneels. Boling. Rise up, good aunt.

Duch. Not yet, I thee beseech: For ever will walk 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 bended be.

[Kneels. Ill mayst thou thrive if thou grant any grace!

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; We pray with heart and soul, and all beside: His weary joints would gladly rise, I know; Ourknees shall kneel till to the ground they grow: His prayers are full of false hypocrisy; Ours of true zeal and deep integrity. Our prayers do outpray bis : then let them have 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. 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. The word is short, but not so short as sweet: No word like pardon, for kings' mouths so meet. York. Speak it in French, King : say, pardon

nez moy. Duch. Dost thou teach pardon pardon to de

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.

(Exeunt.

stroy ?

Ah, my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord,
That sett'st the word itself against the word !-
Speak pardon as 't is current in our land :
The chopping French we do not understand.
Thine eye begins to speak; set thy tongue there:
Or in thy piteous heart plant thou thine ear:
That, hearing how ourplaints and prayersdopierce,
Pity may move thee pardon to rehearse.

Boling. Good aunt, stand up.

Duch. I do not sue to stand : Pardon is all the suit I have in hand.

Boling. I pardon him, as God shall pardon me.

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, I cannot do it: yet I 'll hammer it out. My brain I 'll prove the female to my soul; My soul the father : and these two beget A generation of still-breeding 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

Enter Groom. With scruples, and do set the word itself

Groom. Hail, royal prince ! Against the word:

K. Rich. Thanks, noble peer: As thus—"Come, little ones;" and then again,

The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear. " It is as hard to come as for a camel

What art thou? and how com'st thou hither, To thread the postern of a needle's eye.”

Where no man ever comes but that sad dog Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot

That brings me food, to make misfortune live? Unlikely wonders : how these vain weak nails

Groom. I was a poor groom of thy stable, King, May tear a passage through the flinty ribs

When thou wert king; who travelling towards Of this hard world, my ragged prison walls :

York, And, for they cannot, die in their own pride.

With much ado, at length have gotten leave Thoughts tending to content, flatter themselves

To look upon my sometime master's face. That they are not the first of fortune's slaves,

O how it yearned my heart when I beheld Nor shall not be the last : like silly beggars,

In London streets, that coronation-day, Who, sitting in the stocks, refuge their shame

When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary ! That many have and others must sit there :

That horse that thou so often hast bestrid; And in this thought they find a kind of ease,

That horse that I so carefully have dressed ! Bearing their own misfortune on the back

K. Rich. Rode he on Barbary? Tell me, gentle Of such as have before endured the like.

friend, Thus play I, in one person, many people,

How went he under him? And none contented. Sometimes am I king :

Groom. So proudly as if he had disdained the Then treason makes me wish myself a beggar;

ground. And so I am. Then crushing penury

K. Rich. So proud that Bolingbroke was on Persuades me I was better when a king :

his back! Then am I kinged again : and by and by

That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand: Think that I am unkinged by Bolingbroke,

This hand hath made him proud with clapping And straight am nothing. But whate'er I am,

him. Nor I, nor any man that but man is,

Would he not stumble; would he not fall down With nothing shall be pleased till he be eased

(Since pride must have a fall), and break the neck With being nothing.–Music do I hear? [Music.

Of that proud man that did usurp his back ?Ha, ha! keep time.-How sour sweet music is

Forgiveness, horse! why do I rail on thee, When time is broke and no proportion kept!

Since thou, created to be awed by man, So is it in the music of men's lives.

Wast born to bear?-I was not made a horse : And here have I the daintiness of ear

And yet I bear a burden like an ass, To check time broke in a disordered string ;

Spur-galled and tired by jauncing Bolingbroke. But, for the concord of my state and time, Had not an ear to hear my true time broke!

Enter Keeper with a dish. I wasted time, and now doth time waste me: Keep. Fellow, give place: here is no longer For now hath time made me his numbering clock.

stay.

[To the Groom. My thoughts are minutes; and, with sighs, they K. Rich. If thou love me, 't is time thou wert jar

away. Their watches on to mine eyes, the outward watch, Groom. What my tongue dares not, that my Whereto my finger, like a dial's point,

heart shall say.

(Exit. Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears.

Keep. My lord, wilt please you to fall to? Now, sir, the sound that tells what hour it is K. Rich, Taste of it first, as thou art wont to do. Are clamorous groans that strike upon my heart, Keep. My lord, I dare not: Sir Pierce of ExWhich is the bell. So sighs, and tears, and groans,

Lately came from the King, commands the contrary. Shew minutes, times, and hours !--but my time K. Rich. The devil take Henry of Lancaster Runs posting on in Bolingbroke's proud joy,

and thee! While I stand fooling here, his Jack-o'-the-clock.- Patience is stale, and I am weary of it. This music mads me; let it sound no more:

[Beats the Keeper. For though it have holp madmen to their wits, Keep. Help, help, help! In me it seems it will make wise men mad.Yet blessing on his heart that gives it me!

Enter Exton and Servants, armed. For 't is a sign of love; and love to Richard K. Rich. How now ! what means death in this Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world.

rude assault?

ton, who

Villain, thine own hand yields thy death's in- Two of the dangerous consorted traitors strument.

That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow [Snatching a weapon, and killing one. Boling. Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be Go thou, and fill another room in hell.

forgot; [He kills another, then Exton strikes him down. Right noble is thy merit, well it wot. That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire That staggers thus my person !- Exton, thy

Enter Percy, with the Bishop of CarisLE. fierce hand

Percy. The grand conspirator, abbot of WestHath with the King's blood stained the King's

minster, own land.

With clog of conscience and sour melancholy, Mount, mount, my soul! thy seat is up on high; Hath yielded up his body to the grave: Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here to But here is Carlisle living, to abide die.

[Dies. Thy kingly doom and sentence of his pride. Exton. As full of valour as of royal blood ! Boling. Carlisle, this is your doom :Both have I spilt.-O would the deed were good : Choose out some secret place, some reverend For now the devil, that told me I did well,

room, Says that this deed is chronicled in hell. More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life: This dead king to the living king I'll bear : So, as thou liv'st in peace, die free from strife. Take hence the rest, and give them burial here. For though mine enemy thou hast ever been,

[Exeunt. High sparks of honour in thee have I seen.

Enter Exton, with Attendants bearing a cofin. Scene VI.-Windsor. A Room in the Castle. Exton. Great King, within this coffin I present

Thy buried fear: herein all breathless lies
Flourish. Enter BOLINGBROKE and York, with

The mightiest of thy greatest enemies,
Lords and Attendants.

Richard of Bordeaux, by me hither brought. Boling. Kind uncle York, the latest news we Boling. Exton, I thank thee not: for thou hear

hast wrought Is that the rebels have consumed with fire A deed of slander, with thy fatal hand, Our town of Ci'cester in Glostershire :

Upon my head and all this famous land. But wbether they be ta'en or slain we hear not.- Exton. From your own mouth, my lord, did I

this deed. Enter NORTHUMBERLAND.

Boling. They love not poison that do poison Welcome, my lord: what is the news?

need; Vorth. First, to thy sacred state wish I all Nor do I thee: though I did wish him dead, happiness :

I hate the murderer, love him murdered. The next news is, I have to London sent

The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour, The heads of Salisbury, Spencer, Blunt, and But neither my good word nor princely favour: Kent.

With Cain go wander through the shade of The manner of their taking may appear

night, At large discoursed in this

And never shew thy head by day nor light.

[Presenting a paper. Lords, I protest my soul is full of woe, Boling. We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy That blood should sprinkle me to make me pains:

grow. And to thy worth will add right worthy gains. Come, mourn with me for what I do lament,

And put on sullen black incontinent:
Enter FitzwaTER.

I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land,
Fitz. My Lord, I have from Oxford sent to To wash this blood off from my guilty hand.-
London

March sadly after: grace my mournings here, The heads of Brocas and Sir Bennet Seely; In weeping after this untimely bier.

paper here.

[Ereunt.

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