Ha, ha! keep time:-how sour sweet music is,
When time is broke, and no proportion kept!
So is it in the music of men's lives.
And here have I the daintiness of ear,
To check time broke in a disorder'd string;
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 numb'ring clock;
My thoughts are minutes; and, with sighs, they jar
Their watches on to mine eyes, the outward watch,
Whereto my finger, like a dial's point,

Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears.
Now, sir, the sound, that tells what hour it is,
Are clamorous groans, that strike upon my heart,
Which is the bell: so sighs, and tears, and groans,
Show minutes, times, and hours:-but my time.
Runs posting on in Bolingbroke's proud joy,
While I stand fooling here, his Jack o'the clock.
This music mads me, let it sound no more;
For, though it have holpe madmen to their wits,
In me, it seems, it will make wise men mad.
Yet blessing on his heart, that gives it me!
For 'tis a sign of love; and love to Richard
Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world.
Enter Groom.

Gro. Hail, royal prince!

K. Rich. Thanks, noble peer;

The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear.
What art thou? and how comest thou hither,
Where no man ever comes, but that sad dog
That brings me food, to make misfortune live?
Gro. I was a poor groom of thy stable, king,
When thou wert king; who, travelling towards
York,

With much ado, at length have gotten leave
To look upon my sometimes master's face.
O, how it yearned my heart, when I beheld,
In London streets, that coronation day,
When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary!
That horse, that thou so often have bestrid;
That horse, that I so carefully have dress'd!
K. Rich. Rode he on Barbary? Tell me, gentle
How went he under him?
[friend,
Gro. 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,
(Since pride must have a fall), and break the neck
Of that proud man, that did usurp his back?
Forgiveness, horse! why do I rail on thee,
Since thou, created to be aw'd by man,
Wast born to bear! I was not made a horse;
And yet I bear a burden like an ass,
Spur-gall'd, and tir'd, by jauncing Bolingbroke.
Enter Keeper, with a dish.
Keep. Fellow, give place; here is no longer stay.
[to the Groom.
K. Rich. If thou love ine, 'tis time thou wert

Lately came from the king, commands the conK. Rich. The devil take Henry of Lancaster Patience is stale, and I am weary of it. [and thee! [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 hilling 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

Ext. 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 Ci'cester in Glostershire; But whether they be ta'en, or slain, we hear not. Enter Northumberland.

Welcome, my lord: what is the news?

[ness.

Nor. First, to thy sacred state wish I all happiThe next news is, I have to London sent The heads of Salisbury, Spencer, Blunt, and Kent: The manner of their taking may appear At large discoursed in this paper here.

[presenting a paper.

Bol. We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains; And to thy worth will add right worthy gains. Enter Fitzwater.

Fitz. 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. Per. The grand conspirator, abbot of West minster,

With clog of conscience, and sour melancholy,
Hath yielded up his body to the grave:
But here is Carlisle living, to abide
Thy kingly doom, and sentence of his pride.

Bol. Carlisle, this is your doom:
Choose out some secret place, some reverend room
More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life;
So, as thou liv'st in peace, die free from strife:
For though mine enemy thou hast ever bee
High sparks of honour in thee have I seen

Enter Exton, with Attendants bearing a coffin. Ext. Great king, within this coffin I present Thy buried fear: herein all breathless lies The mightiest of thy greatest enemies, Richard of Bourdeaux, by me hither brought. Bol. Exton, I thank thee not; for thou hast A deed of slander, with thy fatal band, [wrought Upon my head, and all this famous land. [deed. Ext. From your own mouth, my lord, did I this Bol. They love not poison, that do poison need, Nor do I thee; though I did wish him dead, I hate the murderer, love him murdered.

The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour,
But neither my good word, nor princely favour:
With Cain go wander through the shade of night,
And never show thy head by day nor light.-
Lords, I protest my soul is full of woe,
That blood should sprinkle me, to make me grow
Come, mourn with me for what I do lament,
And put on sullen black incontinent;
I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land,
To wash this blood off from my guilty hand:
March sadly after; grace my mournings here,
In weeping after this untimely bier.

[exeunt

Vincentio, Duke of Vienna.

Angelo, Lord Deputy in the Duke's absence.

Elbow, a simple Constable. Froth, foolish Gentleman.

tation.

Claudio, a young Gentleman.

Lucio, a Fantastic.

Two other like Gentlemen.

Varrius, a Gentleman, servant to the Duke.

Provost.

Thomas,

Peter,

A Justice.

two Friars.

Abhorson, an Executioner.

Barnardine, a dissolute Prisoner..

Isabella, Sister to Claudio.

Mariana, betrothed to Angelo.
Juliet, beloved by Claudio.
Francisca, a Nun.

Mrs. Over-done, a Bawd.

SCENE I. AN APARTMENT IN THE DUKE'S PALACE. Enter Duke, Escalus, Lords, and Attendants. Duke. ESCALUS,—

Esc. My lord.

Duke. Of government the properties to unfold, Would seem in me to affect speech and discourse; Since I am put to know that your own science Exceeds, in that, the lists of all advice

My strength can give you: then no more remains
But that to your sufficiency, as your worth is able,
And let them work. The nature of our people,
Our city's institutions, and the terms
For common justice, you are as pregnant in,
As art and practice hath enriched any
That we remember: there is our commission,
From which we would not have you warp.-Call
hither,

I say, bid come before us Angelo.

[exit an Attendant. What figure of us think you he will bear? For you must know, we have with special soul Elected him our absence to supply; Lent him our terror, drest him with our love; And given his deputation all the organs Of our own power: what think you of it? Esc. If any in Vienna be of worth To undergo such ample grace and honour, It is lord Angelo.

Enter Angelo.

Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike [touch'd,
As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely
But to fine issues: nor nature never lends
The smallest scruple of her excellence,
But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines
Herself the glory of a creditor,

Both thanks and use. But I do bend my speech
To one that can my part in him advértise;
Hold therefore, Angelo;

In our remove, be thou at full ourself;
Mortality and mercy in Vienna

Live in thy tongue and heart: Old Escalus,
Though first in question, is thy secondary:
Take thy commission.

Ang. Now, good my lord,

Let there be some more test made of my metal,
Before so noble and so great a figure
Be stamp'd upon it.

Duke. No more evasion:

We have, with a leaven'd and prepared choice,
Proceeded to you; therefore take your honours.
Our haste from hence is of so quick condition,
That it prefers itself, and leaves unquestion'd
Matters of needful value. We shall write to you.
As time and our concernings shall impórtune,
How it goes with us; and do look to know
What doth befal you here. So, fare you well:
To the hopeful execution do I leave you
Of your commissions.

Ang. Yet, give leave, my lord,
That we may bring you something on the way.
Duke. My haste may not admit it;
Nor need you, on mine honour, have to do
With any scruple: your scope is as mine own,
So to enforce, or qualify the laws,
As to your soul seems good. Give me your hand;
I'll privily away: I love the people,
But do not like to stage me to their eyes:
Though it do well, I do not relish well
Their loud applause, and aves vehement;

1 Gent. Why, 'twas a commandment to command the captain and all the rest from their functions; they put forth to steal: there's not a soldier of us all, that, in the thanksgiving before meat, doth relish the petition well, that prays for peace.

2 Gent. I never heard any soldier dislike it. Luc. I believe thee; for, I think, thou never wast where grace was said.

2 Gent. No? a dozen times at least. 1 Gent. What? in metre?

Luc. In any proportion, or in any language. 1 Gent. I think, or in any religion.

Luc. Ay! why not? Grace is grace, despite of all controversy: as for example; thou thyself art a wicked villain, despite of all grace.

1 Gent. Well, there went but a pair of sheers between us.

1 Gent. Ay, and more.

Luc. A French crown more.

1 Gent. Thou art always figuring diseases in me: but thou art full of error: I am sound. Luc. Nay, not as one would say, healthy; but so sound, as things that are hollow: thy bones are hollow; impiety has made a feast of thee. Enter Bawd. 1 Gent. How now? Which of your hips ha the most profound sciatica?

Bawd. Well, well; there's one yonder arrested, and carried to prison, was worth five thousand of you all. [dio.

1 Gent. Who's that, I pray thee? Bawd. Marry, sir, that's Claudio, signior Clau1 Gent. Claudio to prison! 'tis not so.

Bawd. Nay, but I know, 'tis so: I saw him arrested; saw him carried away; and, which is more, within these three days his head's to be chopped off.

Luc. But, after all this fooling, I would not have it so: art thou sure of this?

Bawd. I am too sure of it: and it is for getting madam Julietta with child.

Luc. Believe me, this may be: he promised to meet me two hours since; and he was ever precise in promise-keeping.

2 Gent. Besides, you know, it draws something near to the speech we had to such a purpose. 1 Gent. But most of all, agreeing with the proclamation.

Luc. Away; let's go learn the truth of it. [exeunt Lucio and Gentlemen. Bawd. Thus, what with the war, what with the sweat, what with the gallows, and what with poverty, I am custom-shrunk. How now? what's the news with you?

Enter Clown.

Clo. Yonder man is carried to prison.
Bawd. Well; what has he done?
Clo. A woman.

Bawd. But what's his offence?

Clo. Groping for trouts in a peculiar river. Bawd. What, is there a maid with child by him? Clo. No; but there's a woman with maid by

:

1 Gent. And thou the velvet: thou art good velvet thou art a three-piled piece, I warrant thee: I had as lief be a list of an English kersey, as be piled, as thou art piled, for a French velvet. Do I speak feelingly now?

Luc. I think thou dost; and, indeed, with most painful feeling of thy speech: I will, out of thine own confession, learn to begin thy health; but, whilst I live, forget to drink after thee.

1 Gent. I think I have done myself wrong; have I not!

2 Gent. Yes, that thou hast; whether thou art cainted, or free.

Luc. Behold, behold, where madam Mitigation comes! I have purchased as many diseases under her roof, as come to→

2 Gent. To what, I pray?

1 Gent. Judge.

2 Gent. To three thousand dollars a year.

have you?

Bawd. What proclamation, man?

Clo. All houses in the suburbs of Vienna must be plucked down. [city? Bawd. And what shall become of those in the Clo. They shall stand for seed: they had gone down too, but that a wise burgher put in for them. Bawd. But shall all our houses of resort in the suburbs be pulled down?

Clo. To the ground, mistress.

Bawd. Why, here's a change, indeed, in tho commonwealth! What shall become of me?

Clo. Come; fear not you: good counsellors lack no clients: though you change your place, you need not change your trade; I'll be your tapster still. Courage; there will be pity taken on you: you that have worn your eyes almost out in the service, you will be considered.

Bawd. What's to do here, Thomas Tapster? let's withdraw.