Tell thou the lamentable fall of me, "And fend the hearers weeping to their beds." * II. SCENE Enter Northumberland attended North. My Lord,the mind of Bolingbroke is change'd: You must to Pomfret, not unto the Tower. And, Madam, there is order ta'en for you; With all fwift speed you must away to France. K. Rich. Northumberland, thou ladder wherewithal And he fhall think, that thou, which know'ft the way To pluck him headlong from th' ufurped throne. North. My guilt be on my head, and there's an end ! [To the Queer.. And yet not fo, for with a kifs 'twas made. to their beds." For why? the fenfelefs brands will sympathize And in compaffion weep the fire out: And fome will mourn in ashes, fome coal-black, SCENE, &c. Sent back like Hollowmas, or fhoftest day. T Queen. And must we be divided ? must we part? K. Rich. Ay, hand from hand, my love, and heart from heart. Queen. Banish us both, and send the King with me. North. That were fome love, but little policy. * K. Rich. Thus give I mine, and thus take I thy heart. [They kifs. Queen. Give me mine own again; 'twere no good part, To take on me to keep, and kill thy heart. [Kifs again. K. Rich. We make woe wanton with this fond delay.' Once more, adieu; the rest let forrow fay. [Exeunt. SCENE III. The Duke of York's palace. Enter York, and his Duchefs. Duch. My Lord, you told me, you would tell the When weeping made you break the story off, Of our two coufins coming into London. Tork. Where did I leave! Duch. At that fad ftop, my Lord, [reft, Where rude mifgovern'd hands, from window-tops, Which his afpiring rider feem'd to know, With flow, but ftately pace, kept on his courfe; • While all tongues cry'd, God fave thee, Bolingbroke! but little policy. Queen. Then whither he goes, thither let me go. Weep thou for me in France, I for thee here: Better far off, than near, be ne'er the near. Go, count thy way with fighs, I mine with groans. Queen. So longest way fhall have the longest moans. K. Rich. Twice for one fep I'll groan, the way being short, Come, come, in wooing forrow let's be brief; One kifs fhall ftop our mouths, and dumbly part; VOL. IV. I · You You would have thought the very windows fpake, Duch. Alas! poor Richard, where rides he the while? Thinking his prattle to be tedious: Even fo, or with much more contempt, mens' eyes • Did fcowl on Richard; no man cry'd, God fave him! No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home: But duft was thrown upon his facred head; Which with fuch gentle forrow h fhook off, His face ftill combating with tears and fmiles, The badges of his grief and patience; That had not God, for fome strong purpose, steel'd The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted And barbarifm itself have pitied him.' But heav'n hath a hand in these events, To whofe high will we bound our calm contents. SCENE IV. Enter Aumerle. Duch. Here comes my fon Aumerle. But that is loft, for being Richard's friend. And lafting fealty to the new-made King. Duch. Welcome, my fon; who are the violets now. That ftrew the green lap of the new-come spring? Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care. God knows, I had as lief be none, as one. York. Well, bear you well in this new fpring of time. Left Left you be cropt before you come to prime. What news from Oxford? hold thofe jufts and triumphs? Aum. For aught I know, they do. Tork. You will be there? Aum. If God prevent me not, I purpose so. York. What feal is that which hangs without thy boYea, look'st thou pale? let me fee the writing. [fom? Aum. My Lord, 'tis nothing. York. No matter then who fees it. I will be fatisfied; let me fee the writing. Aum. I do befeech your Grace to pardon me: It is a matter of fmall confequence, Which for fome reasons I would not have seen. York. Which, for fome reasons, Sir, I mean to fee. I fear, I fear Dutch. What fhould you fear, my Lord ? Tis nothing but fome bond he's enter'd into, For gay apparel, against the triumph. York. Bound to himself? what doth he with a bond, That he is bound to? wife, thou art a fool. Boy, let me fee the writing. Aum. I do befeech you, pardon me; I may not fhew it. Tork. I will be satisfied, let me fee it, I fay. Treason [Snatches it, and reads, foul treafon! villain, traitor, flave ! Dutch. What's the matter, my Lord? York. Hoa, who's within there faddle my horse. Heav'n, for his mercy! what treachery is here! Duch. Why, what is't, my Lord ? Tork. Give me my boots, I fay; faddle my horse. Now by my honour, by my life, my troth, I will appeach the villain. Duch. What is the matter? York. Peace, foolish-woman. Duch. I will not peace: what is the matter, fon? Aum. Good mother, be content; it is no more Than my poor life must answer. Duch. Thy life answer! SCENE V. Enter Servant with boots. York. Bring me my boots. I will unto the King. Duch. Strike him, Aumerle. (Poor boy, thou art amaz'd). I 2 Hence, Hence, villain, never more come in my fight. York. Give me my boots. [Speaking to the Servant. Duch. Why, York, what wilt thou do? Is he not like thee? is he not thine own? Wilt thou conceal this dark confpiracy? A dozen of them here have ta'en the facrament, Dutch. He fhall be none. We'll keep him here; then what is that to him? Duch. Had'st thou gron'd for him, As I have done, thou'dft be more pitiful. But now I know thy mind; thou doft suspect, That I have been disloyal to thy bed, And that he is a bastard, not thy fon. Sweet York, fweet hufband, be not of that mind: He is as like thee as a man may be, Nor like to me, nor any of my kin, And yet I love him. York. Make way, unruly woman. [Exit. Duch. After, Aumerle; mount thee upon his horse; Spur poft, and get before him to the King, Till Bolingbroke have pardon'd thee. Away. [Exeunt. SCENE VI. Changes to the court at Windsor-castle. Enter Bolingbroke, Percy, and other Lords. Boling. Can no man tell of my unthrifty fon? 'Tis full three months fince I did fee him last. |