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"You wou'd have thought, the very windows {pakc, ' So many greedy looks of young and old • Through casements darted their desiring eyes

Upon his visage, and that all the walls . With painted imag'ry had said at once,

Jesu, preserve thee! welcome, Bolingbroke !
Whilft he, from one side to the other tuming,
Bare-headed, lower than his proud steed's neck,
Bespoke them thus; I thank you, Country-men;
And thus still doing, thus he past along.'
Dutch. Alas! poor Richard, where rides hethe 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 : · Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes

Did scowl on Richard; no man cry'd, God save him! 'No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home; * But dust was thrown upon his facred 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, steeld • The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted; • And barbarism it self 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 aye allow.


Enter Aumerle.
Dutch. Here comes my son Aumerle.

York. Aumerle that was,
But that is loft, 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.

Dutch. Welcome, my fon ; who are the Violets now, That strew the green lap of the new-come spring ?

Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care: God knows, I had as lief be none, as one.

York. Well, bear you well in this new Spring of time, Lest you be cropt before you come to Prime. What news from Oxford ? hold those Jufts and Tri

umphs ? Aum. For aught I know, they do, York. You will be there? Aum. If God prevent me not, I purpose fo York. What Seal is that, which 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

Dutch. What should you fear, my lord ? 'Tis nothing but some bond he's enter'd into, For gay apparel, against the triumph.

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.

[shew it. Aum. I do beseech you, pardon me; I may not York, I will be satisfied, let me see it, I say.

[Snatches it and reads. Treason! foul treason! villain, traitor, Nave!

Dutch. What's the matter, my lord?

York. Hoa, who's within there faddle my horse. Heav'n, for his mercy! what treachery is here?


Dutch. Why, what is’t, my lord ?

York. Give me my boots, I say: faddle my horse,
Now by my honour, by my life, my troth,
I will appeach the villain.

Dutch. What is the matter?
York. Peace, foolish woman.
Dutch. I will not Peace: what is the matter, son?

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

S C E N E V.

Enter Servant with boots. York. Bring me my boots. I will unto the King. Dutch. Strike him, Aumerle. (Poor boy, thou art

amaz'd.) Hence, villain, never more come in my sight.

[Speaking to the Servant, York. Give me my boots.

Dutch. 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 fon from mine age,
And rob me of a happy mother's name?
Is he not like thee? is he not thine own!

York. Thou fond mad-woman,
Wilt thou conceal this dark Conspiracy?
A dozen of them here have ta'en the Sacrament,
And interchangeably have set their hands,
To kill the King at Oxford.

Dutch. He shall be none :
We'll keep him here; then what is that to him?

York. Away, fond woman : were he twenty times My son, I would appeach him.

Dutch. Hadst thou groan'd for him,
As I have done, thou'dít be more pitiful:
Vol. IV.


Boling. C 'Tis full three months, since I did see him

But now I know thy mind; thou dost suspect,
That I have been disloyal to thy bed,
And that he is a baftard, not thy fon:
Sweet York, sweet husband, be not of that mind :
He is as like thee as a man may be,
Nor like to me, nor any of my kin,
And yet I love him.
York. Make way, unruly woman.

Dutch. After, Aumerle; mount thee upon his 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,
'Til Bolingbroke have pardon'd thee, Away. (Exeunt.

S с E N E VI.
Changes to the Court at Windsor-Castle.
Enter Bolingbroke, Percy, and other Lords.

AN no man tell of my unthrifty fon?

any plague hang over us, 'tis he:

I would to heav'n, my lords, he might be found.
Enquire at London, 'mong the taverns there :
For there, they say, he daily doth frequent,
With unrestrained loose Companions :
Even such, they fay, 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 diffolute a Crew.

[Prince, Percy. My lord, some two days since I saw the 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'ft Creature pluck a glove,


And wear it as a favour, and with char
He would onhorse the luftiert Challenger.

Boling. As diffolute, as defp'rate ; yer through bork
I fee fome foarks of hope ; which elder days
May happily bring forth. But who comes here?

Enter Aumerle. Aum. Where is the King?

Boling. What means our Cousin, that he ftares, And looks so wildly?

(jesty, Aum God save your Grace. I do beseech your MaTo have some conf'rence with your Grace alone.

Boling. Withdraw your selves, and'leave us here alone, 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 fpeak!

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

Aum. Then give me leave that I may turn the key, That no man enter till the Tale be done. Boling. Have thy desire.

[York within. York. My Liege; beware, look to thy felf, Thou hast a traitor in thy prefence there.

Boling. Villain, I'll make thee safe. (to fear. Aum. Stay thy revengeful hand, thou hast no caule

York. Open the door, fecure, fool-hardy King: Shall I for love speak treason to thy face? Open the door, or i will break it open. SC E Ν Ε VII.

Enter York. Boling. What is the matter, uncle ? speak; take Tell us how near is danger,

(breathi G 2


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