Queen So longest way shall have the longest moans. To take on me to keep, and kill thy heart. [Kiss again. SCENE II. 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 windows' tops, Threw dust and rubbish on king Richard's head. York. Then, as I said, the duke, great Bolingbroke, '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, Bolingbroke! 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,Jesu preserve thee! welcome, Bolingbroke! Whilst he, from one side to the other turning, Bare-headed, lower than his proud steed's neck, Bespake them thus, -I thank you, countrymen : And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along. Duch. Alas, poor Richard! where rides he the while? Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes Enter AUMERLE. Duch. Here comes my son Aumerle. York. Aumerle that was; But that is lost, for being Richard's friend, And, madam, you must call him Rutland now: I am in parliament pledge for his truth, And lasting fealty to the new-made king. Duch. Welcome, my son: Who are the violets now, That strew the green lap of the new-come spring? Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care 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 príme. [umphs? What news from Oxford? hold those justs and triAum. 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 boYea, look'st thou pale? let me see the writing. [som? 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, Which for some reasons I would not have seen. York. 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 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. [it God for his mercy! what treachery is here! York. Give me my boots, I say; saddle my horse :— Duch. [Exit Servant What's the matter? 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.- York. Give me my boots, I say. York. Thou fond mad woman, A dozen of them here have ta'en the sacrament, 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 Duch. Hadst thou groan'd for himAs I have done, thou'dst be morebitiful. But now I know thy mind, thou lost suspect, That I have been disloyal to thy bed, And that he is a bastard, not thy son: Sweet York, sweet husband, be net of that mind. He is as like thee as a man may bete, SCENE III.-Windsor. A Room in the Castle. I would to God, my lords, he might be found: Percy.My lord,some two days since I saw the prince; Boling. And what said the gallant? Percy. His answer was, he would unto the stews; He would unhorse the lustiest challenger. Aum. Enter AUMERLE, hastily. Boting. What is the matter with our cousin now? Aum. For ever may my knees grow to the earth, My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth, Boling. Intended, or committed, was this fault? Aum. Then give me leave that I may turn the key, Boling. Have thy desire. [AUMERLE locks the door. Beling. Villain, I'll make thee safe. [Drawing. York. [Within.] Open the door, secure, fool-hardy 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 shew. Aum. Remember, as thou read'st, thy promise past: York. 'Twas, villain, ere thy hand did set it down.- York. So shall my virtue be his vice's bawd; And now chang'd to The Beggar and the King.- York. If thou do pardon, whosoever pray, 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 liege. Not yet, I thee beseech: York. Against them both, my true joints bended be. Ill may'st 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; Our prayers do out-pray his; then let them have Duch. Nay, do not say—stand up; I never long'd to hear a word till now; Boling. I pardon him, as God shall pardon me. With all my heart I pardon him. new. K. Rich. I have been studying how I may compare As thus,-Come, little ones; and then again,- To thread the postern of a needle's eye. [Music Is pointing still, in cleaning them from 'ears. Groom. Hail, royal prince! Groom. I was a poor groom of thy stable, king, This hand hath made him proud with clapping him. Was born to bear! I was not made a horse, Keep. Fellow, give place; here is no longer stay. [To the Groom. K. Rich. If thou love ine, 'tis time thou wert away. Groom. What my tongue dares not, that my heart shall say. [Exit. Keep. My lord, wilt please you to fall to? K. Rich Taste of it first, as thou art wont to do. Keep. My lord, I dare not; sir Pierce of Exton, who Iately came from the king, commands the contrary: K. Rich. The devil take Henry of Lancaster, and Fatience is stale, and I am weary of it. [thee! [Beats the Keeper. Keep. Help, help, help! Enter EXTON, and Servants, armed. K. Rich. How now? what means death in this rude assault? Villain, thy own hand yields thy death's instrument. [Snatching a weapon, and killing one. Go thon, 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 Hath with the king's blood stain'd the king's own land. 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-1 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. [Ex. SCENE VI.-Windsor. A Room in the Castle. Flourish. Enter BOLINGBROKE and YORK, with Lords and Attendants. Boling. Kind uncle York, the latest news we hear Is that the rebels have consum'd with fire Welcome, my lord? What is the news? North. First, to thy sacred state wish I all happiThe next news is,-I have to London sent [ness The heads of Salisbury, Spencer, Blunt, and Kent The manner of their taking may appear At large discoursed in this paper here. [Presenting a pape· Boling. 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. Boling. Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be forgot; Right noble is thy merit, well I wot. Enter PERCY, with the BISHOP OF CARLISLE. With clog of conscience, and sour melancholy, Percy. The grand conspirator, abbot of Westminster, Hath yielded up his body to the grave: But here is Carlisle living, to abide Thy kingly doom, and sentence of his pride. Boling. 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 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 Thy buried fear; herein all breathless lies The mightiest of thy greatest enemies, Richard of Bourdeaux, by me hither brought Boling. Exton, I thank thee not; for thou hast A deed of slander, with thy fatal hand, [wrought Upon my head, and all this famous land. [deed. Exton. From your own mouth, my lord, did I this Boling. 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 shew 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 This play is extracted fron the Chronicle of Holipshed, in which many passages may be found which Shakspeare has, with very litle alteration, transplanted into his scenes, particularly speech of the bishop of Carlisle, in defence of King Richard's unalienable right, and immunity from human jurisdiction. Jonson, who, in his Carline and Sejanus, has inserted many speeches from the Roman historians, was perhaps induced to that practice by the example of Shakspeare, who had condescended sometimes to copy more ignoble writers, But Shakspeare had more of his own than Jonson; and, if he sometimes was willing to spare his labour, shewed, by what he performed at other times, that his extracts were made by choice or idleness rather than necessity. I his play is one of those which Shakspeare has apparently revised; but as success in works of in ention is not always proportionate to labour, it is not finished at last with the happy force of some other of his tragedies, nor can be said much to affect the passions, or enlarge the understanding.-JOHNSON, The notion that Shakspeare revised this play, though it has long prevailed, appears to me extremely doubtful; or, to peak more plainly, I do not believe it.-MALONE. KING HENRY IV. THIS exquisite play was entered at Stationers' Hall, Feb. 25, 1597; and was printed in quarto the following year. The transactions contained in it are comprised within the period of about ten months. The action commences with the news brought of Hotspur having defeated the Scots under Archibald earl of Douglas, at Holmedon (or Halidown-hill), which battle was fought on Holy-rood day (the 11th of September), 1402; and it closes with the defeat and death of Hotspur at Shrewsbury; which engagement happened on Saturday the 21st of July (the eve of Saint Mary Magdalen), in the year 1403. Enter KING HENRY, WESTMORELAND, Sir WALTER BLUNT, and others. K. Hen. So shaken as we are, so wan with care, Find we a time for frighted peace to pant, And breathe short-winded accents of new broils To be commenc'd in stronds afar remote. No more the thirsty entrance of this soil Shall daub her lips with her own children's blood; No more shall trenching war channel her fields, Nor bruise her flowrets with the armed hoofs Of hostile paces: those opposed eyes, Which, like the meteors of a troubled heaven, All of one nature, of one substance bred,Did lately meet in the intestine shock And furious close of civil butchery, Shall now, in mutual well-beseeming ranks, March all one way; and be no more oppos'd Against acquaintance, kindred, and allies: The edge of war, like an ill-sheathed knife, No more shall cut his master. Therefore, friends, "Shakspeare has," says Dr. Johnson, "apparently designed i regular connexion of these dramatic histories, from Richar the Second, to Henry the Fifth, King Henry, at the end o Richard the Second, declares his purpose to visit the Holy Land, which he resumes in the first speech of this play. Th complaint made by King Henry in the last act of Richard the Second of the wildness of his son, prepares the reader for the frolics which are here to be recounted, and the characters which are now to be exhibited." As far as to the sepulchre of Chr`st, (Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross To chase these pagans, in those holy fields, Over whose acres walk'd those blessed feet, But this our purpose is a twelvemonth old, West. My liege, this haste was hot in question, K. Hen. It seems then, that the tidings of this broil Brake off our business for the Holy land. [lord: West. This, match'd with other, did, my gracious For more uneven and unwelcome news Came from the north, and thus it did import. On Holy-rood day, the gallant Hotspur there, That ever-valiant and approved Scot, Young Harry Percy, and brave Archibald. At Holmedon met, Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour; K. Hen. Here is a dear and true-industrious friend. |