To be o'erpower'd; and wilt thou, pupil-like,
Take thy correction mildly? kiss the rod;
And fawn on rage with base humility,
Which art a lion, and a king of beasts?

K. Rich. Twice for one step I'll groan, the way being short,

And piece the way out with a heavy heart,
Come, come, in wooing sorrow let's be brief,

but beasts,

I had been still a happy king of men.

France:

Think I am dead; and that even here thou

tak'st,

As from my death-bed, my last living leave. In winter's tedious nights, sit by the fire With good old folks; and let them tell thee tales of woful ages, long ago betid: + And, ere thou bid good night, to quit grief,

their

Tell thou the lamentable fall of me,
And send the hearers weeping to their beds.
For why, the senseless brands will sympathize
The heavy accent of thy moving tongue,
And, in compassion, weep the fire out:
And some will mourn in ashes, some coal-black,
For the deposing of a rightful king.

Enter NORTHUMBERLAND attended. North. My lord, the mind of Bolingbroke is chang'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 where-
withal

The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne,
The time shall not be many hours of age
More than it is, ere foul sin, gathering 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 urg'd, another way
To pluck him headlong from the usurped

throne.

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

To take on me to keep, and kill thy heart. [Kiss again. So, now I have my own again, begone, 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 sorrow say.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-The same.-A Room in the Duke of YORK's Palace.

Enter YORK, and his DuсHESS. Duch. My lord, you told me you would tell the rest,

When weeping made you break the story off
Of our two cousins coming into London.
York. Where did I leave ?

Duch. At that sad stop, my lord,

Where rude misgovern'd hands, from window's

tops,

Threw dust and rubbish on King Richard's head.

York. Then, as I said, the duke, great Bol. ingbroke,

Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed,
Which his aspiring rider seem'd to know.-
With slow but stately pace, kept on his course,
While all tongues cried-God save thee, Bol-
ingbroke !

You would have thought the very windows spake,

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,

All-hallows, i. e. All-saints, Nov. 1. Never the nigher. Tapestry hung from the windows.

Jesu preserve thee! welcome, Bolingbroke!
Whilst he, from one side to the other turning,
Bare-headed, lower than his proud steed's neck,
Bespake thein thus,-1 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 men,
After a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage,
Are idly bent on him that enters uext,
Thinking his prattle to be tedious:

Even so, or with much more contempt, men's

eyes

Did scowl on Richard; no man cried, God save him;

No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home; But dust was thrown upon his sacred 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, steel'd

The hearts of men, they must perforce, have melted,

And barbarism itself have pitied him.
But heaven bath 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.

Duch. Here comes my son Aumerle.
York. Aumerle that was;

Than my poor life must answer.
Duck. Thy life answer!

Re-enter Servant, with Boots.

York. Bring me my boots, I will unto the king

Duch. Strike him, Aumerle.-Poor boy, thou art amaz'd:

Hence, villain! never more come in my sight.-
[To the Servant.
York. Give me iny boots, I say.
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 son 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,

not:

God knows, I had as lief be none, as one. York. Well, bear you well in this new spring of time,

Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime, What news from Oxford? hold those justs and

triumphs?

Aum. For aught I know, my lord, they do.
York. You will be there, I know.

Aum. If God prevent it not; I purpose so. York. What seal is that, that 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,

Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy?
A dozen of them here have ta'en the sacrament,
And interchangeably set down their hands,
To kill the king at Oxford.

Duch. He shall be none;

[him?

We'll keep him here: Then what is that to York. Away,

Fond woman! were he twenty times my son, would appeach him.

Duch. Hadst thon groan'd for him, As I have done, thou'd'st be more pitiful. But now I know thy mind; thou dost suspect, That I have been disloyal 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, Not like to me, or any of my kin, And yet I love him.

[Exit.

York. Make way, unruly woman.
Duch. 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,
Till Bolingbroke have pardon'd thee: Away;
Begone.
[Exeunt.

SCENE III.-Windsor.-A Room in the
Castle.

to see.

I fear, I fear,

Duch. What should you fear?

'Tis nothing but some bond that he is enter'd into

For gay apparel, 'gainst the triumph day. 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 show it.

Treason

York. I will be satisfied; let me see it, I say. [Snatches it, and reads. foul treason!-villain ! traitor ! slave! Duch. What is the matter, my lord ? York. Ho! who is within there? [Enter a Servant. Saddle my horse. God for his mercy! what treachery is here! Duch. Why, what is it, my lord?

other LORDS.

Boling. Can no man tell of my unthrifty son? 'Tis full three months since I did see him last:

If any plague hang over us, 'tis he.

I would to God, my lords, he might be found:
Inquire at London, 'mongst the taverns there,
For there, they say, he daily doth frequent,
With unrestrained loose companions;
Even such, they say, 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 dissolute a crew.

Percy. My lord, some two days since I saw the prince;

And told him of these triumphs held at Oxford.

Boling. And what said the gallant?

Percy. His answer was,-he would unte the stews;

• Breeding.

here alone.

[Exeunt PERCY and LORDS. 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 speak.

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 my tale be done.
Boling. Have thy desire.
[AUMERLE locks the door.
York. [Within.] My liege, beware; look to
thyself;

Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there.
Boling. Villain, I'll make thee safe.

Aum. Stay thy revengeful hand;
Thou hast no cause to fear.

[Drawing.

York. [Within.] Open the door, secure, foolhardy king:

Shall I, for love, speak treason to thy face? Open the door, or I will break it open. [BOLINGBROKE opens the door.

Enter YORK.

Boling. What is the matter, uncle? speak; Recover breath; tell us how near is danger, That we may arm us to encounter it.

York. Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt know

The treason that my haste forbids me show. Aum. Remember, as thou read'st, thy promise past:

I do repent me; read not my name there,
My heart is not confederate with my hand.
York. 'Twas, villain, ere thy hand did set it
down.-

I tore it from the traitor's bosom, king:
Fear, and not love, begets his penitence:
Forget to pity him, lest thy pity prove
A serpent that will sting thee to the heart.
Boling. O heinous, strong, and bold conspi-
racy!-

O royal father of a treacherous son!

Thou sheer, immaculate, and silver fountain, From whence this stream through muddy passages,

Hath held his current, and defil'd himself!
Thy overflow of good converts to bad;
And thy abundant goodness shall excuse
This deadly blot in thy digressing son.
York. So shall my virtue be his vice's
bawd;

And he shall spend mine honour with
shame,

As thriftless sons their scraping fathers' gold. Mine honour lives when his dishonour dies, Or my sham'd life in his dishonour lies:

his

The traitor lives, the true man's put to death. Duch. [Within.] What ho, my liege! for God's sake let me in.

Boling. What shrill-voic'd suppliant makes this eager cry?

Duch. A woman, and thine aunt, great king, 'tis I.

Speak with me, pity ine, open the door
A beggar begs, that never begg'd before.
Boling. Our scene is alter'd,--from a serious
thing,

And now chang'd to The Beggar and the
King.

My dangerous cousin, let your mother in;
I know she's come to pray for your foul sin.
York. If thou do pardon, whosoever pray,
More sins, for this forgiveness, prosper may.
This fester'd joint cut off, the rest rests sound;
This, let alone, will all the rest confound.
Enter DUCHESS.

Duch. O king, believe not this hard-hearted man;

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 I kneel 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.

grow;

His prayers are full of false hypocrisy ;
Our's of true zeal and deep integrity.
Our prayers do out-pray his; 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. And if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach, Pardon should be the first word of thy speech. I never long'd 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.