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Who all this while hath revell’d in the night,
Whilft we were ward’ring with the Antipodes,
Shall see us rising in our Throne, the east;
His treasons will fit blushing in his face,
Not able to endure the sight of day;
But, self-affrighted, tremble at his sin,
Not all the water in the rough rude sea
Can wash the balm from an anointed King;
• The breath of worldly men cannot depose
The Deputy elected by the Lord.
For every man that Bolingbroke hath prest,
To lift sharp steel against our golden Crown,
Heav'n for his Richard hath in heav'nly Pay
A glorious Angel; then if angels fight,
Weak men must fall, for heav'n still guards the Right.

SCE N E III.

Enter Salisbury

Welcome, my lord, how far off lies your Power ?

Salif. Nor near, nor further off, my gracious lord, Than this weak arm: Discomfort guides my tongue, And bids me speak of nothing but Despair: One day too late, I fear, my noble lord, Hath clouded all thy happy days on earth. Oh,call back yesterday, bid time return, And thou shalt have twelve thousand fighting men. Today, to day, unhappy day, too late O’erthrows thy joys, friends, fortune, and thy state. For all the Welshmen, hearing thou wert dead, Are gone to Boling broke, disperst and fled.

6 The breath of worldly men.) all writers, whose opinions are Here is the doctrine of indefeafi- regulated by falhion or intereft

, ble right expressed in the strongest to impute the original of every terms; but our foet did not learn tenet which they have been it in the reign of King James, taught to think false or foolish. to which it is now the practice çf

Aum.

Aum. Comfort, my Liege, why looks your Grace

so pale?
K. Rich. But now the blood of twenty thousand men
Did triumph in my face, and they are fled,
And till so much blood thither come again,

Have I not reason to look pale, and dead?
All souls, that will be safe, fly from my fide;
For time hath set a blot upon my pride,

Aum. Comfort, my Liege; remember, who you are.
K. Rich. I had forgot myself

. Am I not King ?
Awake, thou coward Majesty, thou fleepest;
Is not the King's name forty thousand names ?
Arm, arm, my Name; a puny Subjectstrikes
At thy great glory. Look nat to the ground,
Ye fay’rites of a King, are we not high?
High be our thoughts. I know, my uncle York
Hath pow'r to serve our turn, But who comes here?

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Scroop. More health and happiness betide my Liege,
Than can my care-tun'd tongue deliver him!

K. Rich.' Mine ear is open, and my heart prepar’d.
The worst is worldly loss thou canst unfold.
Say, is my Kingdom lost? why, 'twas my care,
And what loss is it, to be rid of care?
Strives Boling broke to be as great as we?
Greater he shall not be; if he serve God,
We'll serve him too, and be his fellow so.
Revolt our Subjects ? that we cannot mend;

? Mine ear is open,] It seems the virtue of a confeffor rather to be the design of the poet to than of a king. In his prosperaise Richard to esteem in his rity we saw him imperious and fall, and consequently to intereft oppreffive, but in his distress he the reader in his favour. He is wise, y atient, and pious. gives him only paflive fortitude, E 4

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They break their faith to God, as well as us.
Cry, Woe, Destruction, Ruin, Lofs, Decay,
The worst is death, and death will have his day.

Scroop. Glad am I, that your Highness is so arm?!
To bear the tidings of calamity.
Like an unseasonable stormy day,
Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores,
As if the world were all diffolv'd to tears;
So high above his limits swells the rage
Of Bolingbroke, cov’ring your fearful Land
With hard bright steel, and hearts more hard than steel.
White beards have arm’d their thin and hairless scalps
Against thy Majesty; boys with women's voices
Strive to speak big, and clasp their

female joints In stiff unwieldy arms, againft thy Crown. Thy very Beadsmen learn to bend their bows

Of double-fatal Ewe, against thy State. Yea, distaff-women 'manage rusty bills. Against thy Seat both young and old rebel, And all goes worse than I have pow'r to tell. K. Rich. Too well, too well, thou tell'It à Tale fo

ill. Where is the Earl of Wiltshire? where is Bagot?

What

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& The very Beadmen learn to Called fo, because the leaves of

bend their bows.] Such is the Ewe are poison, and the wood the reading of all the copies, is employed for instruments of jet I doubt whether beadsmen be death; therefore ' double fatal right, for the bow feems to be should be with an hyphen. mentioned here as the proper

WARBURTON, weapon of a beadsman. The Where is the Earl of Wiltking's beadsmen were his chap Shire ? where is Bagot? ļains. Trensa" calls himself the What is become of Bulhy? beadsman of his patron. Bead where is Green] Here man might likewise be any men are four of them named ; and, maintained by charity to pray within a very few Lines, the for their benefactor. Hanmer King, hearing they had, made reads the very bead/men, but thy their Peace with Bolingbroke, is better.

calls them THREE Judas's. But s Of double fatal Ewe, how was their Peace made

Why;

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Whaç is become of Bufhy? where is Green?

That they have let the dang’rous enemy
Measure our confines with such peaceful steps?
If we prevail, their heads fhall pay for it.
I warrant, they've made peace with Bolingbroke.
Scroop. Peace they have made with him, indeed, my

Lord.
K. Rich. O villains, vipers, damn’d without res

demption ! Dogs, easily won fo fawn on any man! Snakes in my heart-blood warm'd, thật sting my heart! Three Judases, each one thrice worse than Judas! Would they make peace? terrible hell make war Upon their spotted souls for this offence!

Scroop. Sweet love, I see, changing his property, Turns to the fow'rest and most deadly hate. Again uncurse their souls; their peace is made With heads, and not with hands; those, whom you

curse, Have felt the worst of death's destroying hand, And lie full low, grav'd in the hollow'd ground.

Aum. Is Bushy, Green, and th’Earl of Wiltshire dead? Șcroop. Yea, all of them at Bristol lost their heads. Aum. Where is the Duke my Father, with his Power?

3

Why, with the Loss of their have blunderd. It seems proHeads. This being explained, bable to me that he wrote, as I Aumerle says, Is Bashy, Green, have conjecturally alter'd the and th Earl of Wiltshire dead? Text, So that "Bagøt ought to be left Where is the Earl of Wilt out of the Question: and, in fhire? where is he got ? deed, he had made the best of i. e. into what Corner of my his way for Chester, and from Dominions is he flunk, and abthence had escap'd into Ireland. fconded ?

THEOBALD. And so we find him, in the ad This emendation Dr. Warbura Act, determining to do.

ton adopts. Hanmer leaves a blank Bagot. No: I'll to Ireland, to after Wiltshire. I believe the auhis Majesty.

thour, rather than transcriber,made The Poet could not be guilty of a mistake. Where is be got does so much Forgetfulness and Ab: not found in my ear like an exsurdity. The Transcribers must preslion of Shakespeare.

K. Rich.

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K. Rich. No matter where ; of comfort no man

speak;
Let's talk of Graves, of Worms, and Epitaphs,
Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes
Write forrow on the bosom of the earth!
Let's chuse executors, and talk of wills;
And yet not lo-for what can we bequeath,
Save our deposed bodies to the ground?
Our lands, our lives, and all are Boling broke's,
And nothing can we call our own, but death;
? And that small model of the barren earth,
3 Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
For heav'n's sake, let us fit upon the ground,
And tell sad stories of the death of Kings;
How some hạve been depos'd, some slain in war ;
Some haunted by the Ghosts they dispofsess'd;
Some poison'd by their wives, some fleeping killid;
All murther'd.--For within the hollow Crown,
That rounds the mortal temples of a King,
Keeps Death his Court; and there the Antick fits,
Scoffing his State, and grinning at his Pomp;
Allowing him a breath, a little scene
To monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with looks;
Infusing him with self and vain conceit,
As if this flesh, which walls about our life,
Were brass impręgnable; and, humour'd thus,
Comes at the last, and with a little pin
Bores through his castle-walls, and farewel King!
Cover your heads, and mock not filesh and blood

And that small model of the to authorise.

barren earth.] He uses mo 3 A metaphor, not of the del here, as he frequently does most sublime kind, taken from a elsewhere, for part, portion.

pie. WARBURTON.

4 There the Antick fits.] Here He uses it rather for mould. is an allusion to the antick or fool That earth, which closing upon of old farces, whose chief part the body, takes its form. This is to deride and disturb the graver interpretation the next line seems and more splendid personages.

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