Y. Which for some reasons, sir, I mean to see. I fear, I fear, Duch. What should you fear? "Tis nothing but some bond that he is entered into For gay apparel, 'gainst the triumph day. Y. 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. [show 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! slave! Duch. What is the matter, my lord? Y. Ho! who is within there? [Enter a Servant. Saddle my horse: Heaven for his mercy! what treachery is here! Duch. Why, what is it, my lord? York. Give me my boots, I say; saddle my horse: Now by mine honour, by my life, my troth, York. Peace, foolish woman. Re-enter Servant, with Boots. Y. 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 my 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? 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, 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; 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. [Exit. Duch. Hadst thou groan'd for him, As I have done, thou'dst be more pitiful. York. Make way, unruly woman. D. 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. Enter Bolingbroke, as King; Percy, and 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. P. His answer was,-he would unto the stews; B. As dissolute, as desperate! yet through both Enter Aumerle hastily. What means Aum. Boling. Our cousin, that he stares and looks so wildly? Aum. God save your grace. I do beseech your majesty, To have some conference with your grace alone. Boling. Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here alone. [Exeunt Percy and Lords. What is the matter with our cousin now? A. 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 e'er it be, To win thy after-love, I pardon thee. A. Then give me leave that I may turn the key, That no man enter till my tale be done. Bol. Have thy desire. [Aumerle locks the door. York. [Within. ]My liege, beware; look to thy self; Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there. (king: Y.[Within. JOpen the door, secure, fool-hardy Shall I, for love, speak treason in 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. (know Y. Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt The treason that my haste forbids me show. A.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. Y."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, Bol. O heinous, strong, and bold conspiracy O loyal father of a treacherous son! Thou sheer, immaculate, and silver fountain, Bol. Our scene is altered,-from a serious thing, Enter Duchess. Duch. O king, believe not this hard-hearted Love loving not itself, none other can. [man. York. Thou frantick woman, what dost thou make here? Shalt thou once more a traitor rear? Duch. Sweet York, be patient: Hear me, Boling. Rise up, good aunt. Not I thee beseech: [Kneels. York. Against them both, my true joints bended be. [Kneels. Ill mayst thou thrive, if thou grant any grace! Duch. Pleads he in earnest, look upon his face; His eyes do drop no tears, his prayers are in jest; His words come from his mouth, ours from our breast: He Nay, do not say-stand up; D. Dost thou teach pardon pardon to destroy? Ah, my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord, That sett'st the word itself against the word!Speak, pardon, as 'tis current in our land: The chopping French we do not understand. Thine eye begins to speak, set thy tongue there: Or, in thy piteous heart plant thou thine ear; That, hearing how our plaints and prayers do Pity may move thee, pardon to rehearse. [pierce, Boling. Good aunt, stand up. Duch. I do not sue to stand, Pardon is all the suit I have in hand. Boling. I pardon him, as God shall pardon me. Duch. O happy vantage of a kneeling knee! Yet am I sick for fear: speak it again; Twice saying pardon, doth not pardon twain, But makes one pardon strong. Boling. With all my heart I pardon him. Duch. With all the rest of that consorted crew,- K. R. I have been studying how I may compare This prison, where I live, unto the world: And, for because the world is populous, And here is not a creature but myself, I cannot do it ;-Yet I'll hammer it out. My brain I'll prove the female to my soul; My soul, the father: and these two beget A generation of still-breeding thoughts, And these same thoughts people this little world; In humours, like the people of this world, For no thought is contented. The better sort,-As thoughts of things divine,-are intermix'd 1 Excuse me. With scruples, and do set the word itself As thus,-Come, little ones! and then again,- [Musick. Ha, ha! keep time:--How sour sweet musick is, Groom. Hail, royal prince! peer; K. Rich. Thanks, noble The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear. What art thou? and how comest thou hither, Where no man never comes, but that sad dog That brings me food, to make misfortune live? Groom. I was a poor groom of thy stable, king, When thou wert king; who, travelling towards York, 1 An automaton, striking the quarters. With much ado, at length have gotten leave [friend, Gr. So proudly, as if he disdain'd the ground. K. Rich. So proud that Bolingbroke was on his back! That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand; This hand hath made him proud with clapping him. Would he not stumble? Would he not fall down, Keep. [To the Groom.] Fellow, give place; here heart shall say. [Exit. Keep. My lord, will't please you to fall to? K. Rich. Taste of it first, as thou art wont to do. K. My lord, I dare not; Sir Pierce of Exton, who Lately came from the king, commands the contrary. [thee! K. Ri. The devil take Henry of Lancaster, and Patience is stale, and I am weary of it. [Beats the Keeper. Keep. Help, help, help! Enter Exton, and Servants armed. K. Rich. How now? what means death in this rude assault? [ment. Villain, thy own hand yields thy death's instru[Snatching a weapon, and killing one. Go thou, and fill another room in hell. [He kills another, then Exton strikes him down. That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire, That staggers thus my person.-Exton, thy fierce hand (land. Hath with the king's blood stain'd the king's own Mount, mount, my soul! thy seat is up on high; Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here to die. [Dies. Exton. As full of valour, as of royal blood: Both have I spilt: O, 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 rest, and give them burial here. [Exeunt. SCENE VI. WINDSOR, A ROOM IN THE CASTLE. Flourish. Enter Bolingbroke, and York, with Lords, and Attendants. Bol. Kind uncle York, the latest news we hear Is-that the rebels have consum'd with fire Our town of Cicester in Glostershire; More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life; But whether they be ta'en, or slain, we hear not. So, as thou liv'st in peace, die free from strife: Enter Northumberland. Welcome, my lord: What is the news? The next news is,-I have to London sent [Presenting a paper. B. We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains; And to thy worth will add right worthy gains. Enter Fitzwater. F. My lord, I have from Oxford sent to London The heads of Brocas, and Sir Bennet Seely; Two of the dangerous consorted traitors, That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow. Bol. Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be forgot; Right noble is thy merit, well I wot. Enter Percy, with the Bishop of Carlisle. Percy. The grand conspirator, abbot of Westminster, With clog of conscience, and sour melancholy, For though mine enemy thou hast ever been, High sparks of honour in thee have I seen. Enter Exton, with Attendants bearing a Coffin. Exton. Great king, within this coffin I present A deed of slander, with thy fatal hand, Bol. They love not poison that do poison need, Shall now, in mutual, well beseeming ranks, To chase these pagans, in those holy fields, West. My liege, this haste was hot in question, Brake off our business for the Holy Land. West. This, match'd with other, did, my gracious lord; For more uneven and unwelcome news Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour; K. Hen. Here is a dear and true industrious Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse, And is not this an honourable spoil 2 In envy that my lord Northumberland Of this young Percy's pride? the prisoners, West. This is his uncle's teaching, this is Malevolent to you in all aspects; K. H. But I have sent for him to answer this; [Exeunt. SCENE II.-ANOTHER ROOM IN THE PALACE. Enter Henry, Prince of Wales, and Falstaff. Fal. Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad? P. Hen. Thou art so fat-witted, with drinking of old sack, and unbuttoning thee after supper, and sleeping upon benches after noon, that thou hast forgotten to demand that truly which thou wouldst truly know. What hast thou to do with the time of the day? Unless hours were cups of sack and minutes capons, I see no reason, why thou shouldst be so superflous to demand the time of the day. Fal. Indeed, you come near me, now, Hals for we that take purses, go by the moon and seven stars; and not by Phoebus,-he, that wandering knight so fair. And, I pray thee, sweet wag, when thou art king,-as, save thy grace, (majesty, I should say; for grace thou wilt have none,) P. Hen. What, none? Fal. No, by my troth; not so much as will serve to be prologue to an egg and butter. P. Hen. Well, how then? come, roundly, roundly. Fal. Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art king, let not us, that are squires of the night's body, be called thieves of the day's beauty, let us be-Diana's foresters, gentlemen of theshade, 1 Trim. |