I never long'd to hear a word till now:
Say, Pardon, King; let pity teach thee how.
Boling. Good aunt, ftand
Dutch. I do not fue to ftand,
Pardon is all the fuit I have in hand.
Boling. I pardon him, as heav'n fhall pardon me.
Dutch. O happy vantage of a kneeling knee!
Yet am I fick for fear; speak it again :
Twice faying pardon, doth not pardon twain,
But makes one pardon ftrong.
The word is fhort, but not fo fhort as fweet;
No word like pardon, for Kings mouths fo meet.
York. Speak it in French, King; fay, Pardonnez moy.
Dutch. Doft thou teach pardon, pardon to destroy
Ah, my fow'r husband, my hard-hearted lord,
That fet'ft the word it felf, against the word.
Speak pardon, as 'tis current in our land;
The chopping French we do not understand.
Thine eye begins to speak, fet thy tongue there:
Or, in thy piteous heart, plant thou thine ear;
That, hearing how our plaints and prayers do pierce,
Pity may move thee pardon to rehearse.
Boling. With all my heart
I pardon him.
Dutch. A God on earth thou art.
God on e
Boling. But for our trusty brother-in-law,
With all the reft of that conforted crew,
Deftruction straight shall dog them at the heels.
Good Uncle, help to order several Powers
(12) But for our trufty Brother-in-law, Without these Marks of Disjunction, which I have thought proper to add, the Abbot here mention'd and Bolingbroke's Brother-in-law feem to be one and the fame Perfon: but this was not the Cafe, The Abbot of Westminster was an Ecclefiaftic; but the Brother-in-law, meant, was John Duke of Exeter and Earl of Huntingdon, (own Brother to King Richard II.) and who had married with the Lady Elizabeth Sifter to Henry of Bolingbroke.
To Oxford, or where e'er thefe traytors are.
They fhall not live within this world, I fwears
But I will have them, if I once know where.
Uncle, farewel; and coufin too, adieu;
Your mother well hath pray'd, and prove you true.
Dutch. Come, my old fon; I pray heav'n make thee
[Exeunt.
Enter Exton and a Servant.
Exten. Didft thou not mark the King, what words he fpake?
"Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear?
Serv. Thofe were his very words.
Exton." Have I no friend?
And urg'd it twice together; did he not?
Exton. And fpeaking it, he wiftly look'd on me, As who shall fay,
I would, thou wert the man,
That would divorce this terror from my heart;
Meaning the King at Pomfret. Come, let's go
a m the King's friend, and will rid his foe." [Exeunt.
SCE-NE changes to the Prifon at Pomfrets Caftle.
Have been ftudying, how to compare
This prifon, where I live, unto the world
And, for because the world is populous,
And here is not a creature but my felf,
I cannot do it; yet I'll hammer on't.
My brain I'll prove the female to my foul,
My foul, the father; and these two beget
A generation of ftill-breeding thoughts;
And these fame thoughts people this little world,
In humour, like the people of this world,
For no thought is contented; The better fort,
(As thoughts, of things divine,) are intermixt With fcruples, and do fet the word it felf
Against the word; as thus; Come, little ones; and then again,
It is as hard to come, as for a Camel
To thread the poftern of a needle's eye.
Thoughts, tending to ambition, they do plot
Unlikely wonders; how these vain weak nails
May tear a paffage through the flinty ribs
Of this hard world, my ragged prison-walls:
And, for they cannot, die in their own pride.
Thoughts tending to Content, flatter themselves,
That they are not the firft of fortune's flaves,
And shall not be the laft: (Like filly beggars,
Who, fitting in the Stocks, refuge their fhame
That many have, and others must fit there ;)
And, in this thought, they find a kind of ease,
Bearing their own misfortune on the back
Of fuch as have before endur'd the like.
Thus play I, in one prifon, many people,
And none contented. Sometimes am I King,
Then treafon makes me with my felf a beggar,
And fo I am. Then crufhing penury
Perfuades me, I was better when a King;
Then am I king'd again; and by and by,
Think, that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke,
And ftreight am nothing
Nor I, nor any man, that but man is,
With nothing thall be pleas'd, till he be eas'd
With being nothing-Mufick do I hear?
Ha, ha; keep time: how fow'r fweet mufick is,
When time is broke, and no proportion kept?
So is it in the mufick of mens' lives.
And here have L the daintinefs 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 wafted time, and now doth time waste me.
For now hath time made me his numbring clock:
My thoughts are minutes; and with fighs they jar,
Their watches to mine eyes the outward watch;
Whereto my finger, like a dial's point,
Is pointing ftill, in cleanfing them from tears.
Now, Sir, the founds, that tell what hour it is,
Are clamorous groans, that strike upon my heart,
Which is the bell; fo fighs, and tears, and groans,
Shew minutes, hours, and times O, but my time
Runs pofting on, in Bolingbroke's proud joy,
While I ftand fooling here, his jack o'th' clock.
This mufick mads me, let it found no more;
For though it have help'd mad men to their wits,!
In me, it seems, it will make wife men mad.
Yet bleffing on his heart, that gives it me!
For 'tis a fign of love; and love to Richard
Is a strange brooch, in this all-hating world.
Enter Groom.
Groom. Hail, royal Prince!
K. Rich. Thanks, noble Peer.
The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear.
What art? how com'ft thou hither?
Where no man ever comes, but that fad Drudge, (13)
That brings me food, to make misfortune live?
Groom. I was a poor groom of thy ftable, King,
When thou wert King; who travelling tow'rds York,
With much ado, at length have gotten leave
To look upon my fometime Master's face.
O, how it yearn'd my heart, when I beheld,
In London streets, that Coronation day;
When Bolingbroke rode on Roan Barbary,
That horfe, that thou fo often haft beftrid
That horfe, that I fo carefully have drefs'd.
K. Rich. Rode he on Barbary? tell me, gentle friend, How went he under him?
(13) Where no Man ever comes, but that fad Dog] I have ventur'd at a Change here, against the Authority of the Copies, by the Direction of Mr. Warburton. Indeed, fad Dog favours too much of the Comedian, the Oratory of the late facetious Mr. Penkethman. And Drudge is the Word of Contempt, which our Author chufes to use on other like Oceafions.
Groom, So proudly, as he had difdain'd the ground.
K. Rich. So proud, that Bolingbroke was on his back!
That Jade had eat bread from my royal hand.
This hand hath made him proud with clapping him.
Would he not ftumble? would he not fall down,
(Since Pride must have a fall) and break the neck
Of that proud man, that did ufurp his back?
Forgiveness, horfe; why do I rail on thee,
Since thou, created to be aw'd by man,
Waft born to bear? I was not made a horse;
And yet I bear a burthen like an ass;
Spur-gall'd, and tir'd, by jaunting Bolingbroke.
Enter Keeper, with a dish.
Keep. Fellow, give place; here is no longer stay. [To the Groom. K, Rich. If thou love me, 'tis time thou wert away. Groom. What my tongue dares not, that my heart fhall fay. (Exit. Keep. My lord, will't please you to fall to! K. Rich. Tafte of it firft, as thou wert wont to do. Keep. My lord, I dare not; for Sir Pierce of Exton, Who late came from the King, commands the contrary. K. Rich. The Dev'l take Henry of Lancaster, and
Patience is ftale, and I am weary of it.
Enter Exton, and Servants.
K. Rich. How now? what means death in this rude affault? Wretch, thine own hand yields thy death's inftrument; [Snatching a Sword.
Go thou, and fill another room in hell. [Kills another.
[Exton ftrikes him down. r-quenching fire,
That hand fhall burn in never
That ftaggers thus my perfon: thy fierce hand
Hath with the King's blood stain'd the King's own Land.
|