Good Uncle, help to order feveral Powers
To Oxford, or where-e'er thefe traytors are.
They shall not live within this world, I swear;
But I will have them, if I once know where.
Uncle, farewel; and coufin too, adieu;

Your mother well hath pray'd, and prove you true.
Dutch. Come, my old fon; I pray heav'n make thee

new.

[Exeunt.

SCE N E

IX.

Enter Exton and a Servant.

Exton. Didit thou not mark the King, what words he fpake?

"Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear? Was it not fo?

Serv. Those were his very words.

[it twice, Exton. "Have I no friend? quoth he; he spake And urg'd it twice together; did he not?

Serv. He did.

Exton. And fpeaking it, he wiftly look'd on me, As who fhall fay, 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.

Changes to the Prison at Pomfret-Caftle.
Enter King Richard.

Have been studying, how to compare
This prifon, where I live, unto the world;
And, for because the world is populous,
And here is not a creature but my felf,
'I cannot do it; yet I'll hammer on't.
'My brain I'll prove the female to my foul,
G 4

. My

My foul, the father; and these two beget
A generation of ftill-breeding thoughts;
And these fame thoughts people this little world
In humour, like the people of this world,

For no thought is contented. The better fort,
(As thoughts, of things divine,) are intermixt
With fcruples, and do fet the word it felf [again,
Against the word; as thus ; Come, little ones; and then
It is as hard to come, as for a Camel
To thread the postern of a needle's eye.
Thoughts, tending to ambition, they do plot
Unlikely wonders; how thefe vain weak nails
May tear a paffage through the flinty ribs
Of this hard world, my ragged prifon-walls:
And, for they cannot, die in their own pride.
Thoughts tending to Content, flatter themfelves,
That they are not the first of fortune's flaves,
And fhall not be the laft: (Like filly beggars,
Who, fitting in the Stocks, refuge their fhame
That many have, and others must fit there;)
And, in this thought, they find a kind of ease,
Bearing their own misfortune on the back

• Of fuch as have before endur'd the like.

Thus play I, in one prifon, many people, And none contented. Sometimes am I King, • Then treason makes me with my self a beggar, • And fo I am. Then crushing penury • Perfuades me, I was better when a King; • Then am I king'd again; and by and by, • Think, that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke, And ftraight am nothing but what-e'er I am, Nor I, nor any man, that but man is,

--

• With nothing fhall be pleas'd, till he be eas'd • With being nothing-Mufick do I hear? [Mufick. Ha, ha, keep time; how fow'r fweet musick is, When time is broke, and no proportion kept? So is it in the mufick of mens' lives.

And

And here have I the daintinefs of ear,
To check time broke in a diforder'd ftring;
But for the concord of my state and time,
Had not an ear to hear my true time broke:
I wasted time, and now doth time waste me.
For now hath time made me his numbring clock :
My thoughts are minutes; and with fighs they jar,
Their watches to mine eyes the outward watch;
Whereto my finger, like a dial's point,

Is pointing ftill, in cleansing them from tears.
Now, Sir, the founds, that tell what hour it is,
Are clamorous groans, that strike upon my heart,
Which is the bell; fo fighs, and tears, and groans,
Shew minutes, hours, and times-O, but my time
Runs posting on, in Bolingbroke's proud joy,
While I ftand fooling here, his jack o'th' clock.
This mufick mads me, let it found no more;
For though it have help'd mad men to their wits,
In me, it feems, it will make wife men mad.
Yet bleffing on his heart, that gives it me!
For 'tis a fign of love; and love to Richard
Is a strange brooch, in this all-hating world,

SCENE

Enter Groom.

Groom. Hail, royal Prince!

K. Rich. Thanks, noble Peer.

XI,

XI.x

The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear.
What art? how com'ft thou hither?

Where no man ever comes,

but that fad Drudge, That brings me food, to make misfortune live? Groom. I was a poor groom of thy stable, King, When thou wert King; who travelling tow❜rds York,

2 in this ALL-HATING world. ] We should read FALLHATING, ie. Love to Richard is a very rare jewel, in a world that fhuns and avoids those who are fallen, or in misfortunes. 3 but that fad Dog.] Read Drudge.

With much ado, at length have gotten leave
To look upon my 4 fometime Master's face.
O, how it yearn'd my heart, when I beheld,
In London ftreets, that Coronation day;
When Bolingbroke rode on Roan Barbary,
That horfe, that thou fo often haft beftrid;
That horfe, that I fo carefully have dress'd.

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

Groom. So proudly, as he had difdain'd the ground. K. Rich. So proud, that Bolingbroke was on his back! That jade had 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 burthen like an ass; Spur-gall'd, and tir'd, by jaunting Bolingbroke.

S CE NE

Enter Keeper, with a difh.

XII.

Keep. Fellow, give place; here is no longer stay.

[To ike Groom. K. Rich. If thou love me, 'tis time thou wert away. Groom. What my tongue dares not, that my heart fhall fay. [Exit. Keep. My lord, will't please you to fall to? K. Rich. Tafte of it firft, as thou wert wont to do. Keep. My lord, I dare not; for Sir Pierce of Exton, Who late came from the King, commands the contrary.

4-fometime Master's face.] fometime for formerly.

Mr. Pope.

K. Rich.

K. Rich. The Dev'l take Henry of Lancaster, and

thee!

Patience is ftale, and I am weary of it.

Keep. Help, help, help!

[Beats the Keeper.

Enter Exton, and Servants.

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

Wretch, thine own hand yields thy death's inftrument; [Snatching a Sword. Go thou, and fill another room in hell. [Kills another. [Exton ftrikes him down. That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire, That staggers thus my perfon: thy fierce hand [Land. Hath with the King's blood ftain'd the King's own Mount, mount, my foul! thy feat is up on high; Whilft my grofs flesh finks downward, here to die. [Dies.

Exton. As full of valour, as of royal blood; Both have I fpilt: 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.

SCENE

XIII.

Changes to the Court at Windfor.

[Exeunt.

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

Buling. K

Ind Uncle York, the latest news we hear,
Is, that the Rebels have confum'd with fire

Our town of Cicefter in Gloucestershire;

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

Enter