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• Tell thou the lamentable fall of me,
" And send the hearers weeping to their beds.” *


Enter Northumberland attended North. My Lord, the mind of Bolingbroke is change'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
The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne,
The time shall not be

hours of

More than it is, ere foul sin, gath'ring head,
Shall break into corruption; thou shalt think,
Though he divide the realm, and give thee half,
It is too little, helping him to all:
And he shall think, that thou, which know'st the way.
To plant unrightful Kings, wilt know again,
Being ne'er so little urge'd, another way
To pluck him headlong from th' 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's an end ! Take leave and



forthwith. K. Rich. Doubly divorce'd ? bad men ye violate A twofold marriage; 'twixt

my crown and

me, And then betwixt me and my married wise. Let me unkiss the oath 'twixt thee and me.

[To the Queen.. And yet not so, for with a kiss 'twas made. Part us, Northumberland : 1, towards the north, Where shiv'ring cold and sickness pines the clime; My Queen to France ; from whence, set forth in pomp, She came adorned hither like sweet May !

to their beds," for why? the senseless brands will sympa: hize The heavy accent of thy moving tongue, And in compassion weep the fire cut: And some will mourn in aihes, some coal-black, For the deposing of a rightful King, SCENE, &c.

must part

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Sent back like Hollowmas, or shortest day: 5.1:?:?

Queen. And must we be divided ? must we part ?
K. Rich. Ay, hand from hand, my love, and heart

from heart.
Queen. Banish us both, and send the King with me."
North. That were some love, but little policy. *
K: Rich. Thus give I mine, and thus take I thy heart.

[They kiss. Queen. Give me mine own again ; 'twere no good

part, Totake on me to keep, and kill thy heart." [Kiss again. So, now I have mine own again, be gone, That I may strive to kill it with a groan.

K.Rich. We make woe wanton'with this fond delay.' Once more, adieu; the rest let forrow fay: [Exeunt. SCENE III.': The Duke of rork's palace.

£nter, York, and his Duchess. Duch. My Lord, you told me, you would tell the When weeping made you break the story off, [rest, Of our two cousins coming into London.

York. Where did I leave!

Duch. At that fad stop, my Lord, Where rude misgovern'd hands, from window-tops, Threw dust and rubbish on King Richard's head.

York. “Then, as I said, the Duke, great Bolingbroke, * Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed.

Which his afpiring rider feem'd to know, · With flow, but itately pace, kept on his course ; While all tongues cry'd, God save thee, Bolingbroke!

but little policy.
Queen. Then whither he goes, thither let me go.

K. Rich. So two together weeping, make one woe.
Weep thou for me in France, I for thee here :
Better far off, than near, be ne'er the near.
Go, count thy way with fighs, I mine with groans.
Queen. So longest way shall have the longest moans.
K. Rich. Twice for one flep l’li 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, the:e is such length in grief.
One kiss shall rtop our mouihs, and dumbly part ;
Thus give I mine, &c.
Vol. IV.



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• You would have thought the very windows fpake,
'So many greedy looks of young and old
• Through casements darted their desiring eyes

Upon his visage ; and that all the walls • With paint'd imag'ry had said at once,

Jesu, preserve thee! welcome Bolingbroke! ... Whilst he, from one side to the other turning, • Bare-headed, lower than his proud steed's neck,

Bespoke them thus : I thank you, countrymen ; • 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

After a well-grace'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, mens' eyes • Did fcowl on Richard; no man cry’d, God save him! : No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home: • But duft was thrown upon his facred head ; • Which with such gentle sorrow h fhook 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 • The hearts of men, they must perforce have meltedo • And barbarism itself have pitied him.' But heav'n hath a hand in thele events, To whose high will we bound our calm contents. To Bolingbroke are we sworn ubjects now, Whose state and honour 1 tor ay allow..

SCENE IV. Enter Aumerle,
Duch. Here comes my fon 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 lon; 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.


be cropt

Left you

before you come to prime. What news from Oxford hold those jofts and triumphs? Aum. For aught I know, they do. York. You will be there? Aum. If God prevent me not, I purpose fo.

York. What feal is that which hangs without thy boYea, look'st thou pale ? let me see the writing. [lom?

Aum. My Lord, 'tis nothing.

York. No matter then who sees it.
I will be satisfied ; let me see the writing.

Aun. I do beseech your Grace to pardon me:
It is a matter of small consequence,
Which for fome 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.

Aum. I do beseech you, pardon me; I may not fhewit. Tork. I will be satisfied, let me see it, I fay.

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

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 !

Duch. Why, what is't, my Lord ?
York. Give me my boots, I fay; saddle my

horse. Now by my honour, by my life, my troth, I will appeach the villain.

Duch. What is the matter ? York. Peace, foolish-woman. Duch. I will not peace: what is the matter, fon? Aum. Good mother, be content; it is no more Than my poor

life must answer. Duch. Thy life answer !

SCENE V. Enter Servant with boots. York. Bring me my boots. I will unto the King. Duch. Strike him, Aumerle. (Poor boy, thou art amaz’d). I 2


Hence, villain, never more come in my light.

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

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 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 facrament,
And interchangeably have fet 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.

Duch. Had'st thou gron'd for him, As I have done, thou’dt be more pitiful. But now I know thy mind; thou dost suspect, That I have been difoyal to thy bed, And that he is a bastard, not thy son. 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.

[Exit. Duch. After, Aumerle ; mount thee upon his horse; Spur poft, 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


from the ground, Till Bolingbroke have pardon'd thee. Away. [Exeunt.

SCENE VI. Changes to the court at Windsor-castle.

Enter Bolingbroke, Percy, and other Lords. Boling. Can no man tell of my unthrifty fon? 'Tis full tliree months fince I did see him falt.


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