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And then be gone, and trouble you no more.

BOLING. On Wednesday next, we solemnly set Shall I obtain it ?

down BOLING. Name it, fair cousin.

Our coronation : lords, prepare yourselves.(2) K. Rich. Fair cousin ! I am greater than a [Exeunt all but the Abbot, BISHOP OF CARL. king:

and Aum. For when I was a king, my flatterers

ABBOT. A woeful pageant have we here bebeld. Were then but subjects; being now a subject, Car. The woe's to come ; the children yet unI have a king here to my flatterer.

born Being so great, I have no need to beg.

Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn. BOLING. Yet ask.

Aum. You holy clergymen, is there no plot K. Rich. And shall I have ?

To rid the realm of this pernicious blot ? BOLING. You shall.

ABBot. My lord,* before I freely speak my K. Rich. Then give me leave to go.

mind herein, BOLING. Whither?

(your sights. You shall not only take the sacrament K. Rich. Whither you will, so I were from To bury mine intents, but also to effect Boling. Go, some of you, convey him to the Whatever I shall happen to devise. Tower.

[you all, I see your brows are full of discontent, K. Ricu. O, good! Convey Conveyers are

Your hearts † of sorrow, and your eyes of tears ; That rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall.

Come home with me to supper; I will lay [Exeunt K. RICHARD, some Lords, and a Guard. A plot shall show us all a merry day. [Exeunt.

(*) First folio omits, My lord.

(t) First folio, heart.

* Convey !-Conveyers are you all,] Convey, in Shakespeare's time, was frequently used in a bad sense, implying fraud, and trickery. Thus Pistol ("Merry Wives of Windsor," Act I. Sc. 3) adopts it as a genteel synonym for filching,

Convey, the wise it call;" and Gloster, in “Henry VI." Part I. Act I, Sc. 3, suspecting collusion, remarks,

"Since Henry's death, I fear there is conveyance."

99

b On Wednesday next,-) So the enlarged quarto, 1608. In the first edition, 1597, this speech, which there follows that of Northumberland when he arrests the Bishop of Carlisle (see p. 179), is rendered thus:

“Let it be so, and lo! on Wednesday next,

We solemnly proclaim our coronation :
Lords, be ready, all."

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a II-erected tower,-) Steevens' conjecture, that by ill-erected was meant erected for bad purposes, is extremely plausible.

b Thou most beauteous inn,-) Steevens surmised that inn does not here signify a house of public entertainment, but a dignified mansion. We believe the term was applied without distinction to any building, whether public or private, which was appropriated to human habitation, and that the expression, beautegus inn, meant no more than beauteous abode. We meet with it

in precisely the same sense in “The Lovers' Progress" of Beau-
mont and Fletcher, Act V. Sc. 3:-

“She's a book
To be with care perused; and 't is my wonder,
If such misshapen guests as Lust and Murder,
At any price should ever find a lodging
In such a beauteous inn!

not so,

Why should hard-favour'd grief be lodg'd in thee, K. Rich. Northumberland, thou ladder, whereWhen triumph is become an alehouse guest ?

withal K. Rich. Join not with grief, fair woman, do The mounting Boling broke ascends my throne,

The time shall not be many hours of age To make my end too sudden : learn, good soul, More than it is, ere foul sin, gathering head, To think our former state a happy dream ;

Shall break into corruption. Thou shalt think, From which awak'd, the truth of what we are Though he divide the realm, and give thee half, Shows us but this : I am sworn brother," sweet, It is too little, helping him to all : To grim necessity; and he and I

He shall think, that thou, which knowest the way Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to France, To plant unrightful kings, wilt know again, And cloister thee in some religious house : Being ne'er so little urg'd, another way Our holy lives must win a new world's crown, To pluck him headlong from the usurped throne. Which our profane hours here have stricken down. The love of wicked friends converts to fear ; QUEEN. What! is my Richard both in shape and That fear to hate ; and hate turns one, or both, mind

To worthy danger, and deserved death. Transform’d and weakened ? Hath Bolingbroke North. My guilt be on my head, and there an Depos'd thine intellect? Hath he been in thy

end. heart?

Take leave, and part; for you must part forthwith. The lion, dying, thrusteth forth his paw,

K. Rich. Doubly divorc'd ? — Bad men, ye And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage

violate To be o'erpower’d; and wilt thou, pupil-like, A twofold marriage ; 'twixt my crown and me; Take thy correction mildly ? kiss the rod ; And then betwixt me and my married wife. And fawn on rage with base humility,

Let me unkiss the oath 'twixt thee and me; Which art a lion, and a king of beasts ?

And yet not so, for with a kiss 't was made. K. Rich. A king of beasts, indeed; if aught Part us, Northumberland ; I, towards the north, but beasts,

Where shivering cold and sickness pines the clime; I had been still a happy king of men.

My wife* to France; from whence, set forth in Good sometime queen, prepare thee hence for

pomp, France :

She came adorned hither like sweet May, Think I am dead ; and that even here thou tak'st, Sent back like Hallowmas, or short'st of day. As from my death-bed, my last living leave.

QUEEN. And must we be divided ? must we In winter's tedious nights sit by the fire With good old folks ; and let them tell thee tales K. Rich. Ay, hand from hand, my love, and Of woeful ages, long ago betid :

heart from heart. And, ere thou bid good night, to quit their grief, QUEEN. Banish us both, and send the king with Tell thou the lamentable tale * of me, And send the hearers weeping to their beds.

North. That were some love, but little policy. For why, the senseless brands will sympathise QUEEN. Then whither he goes, thither let me go. The heavy accent of thy moving tongue,

K. Rich. So two, together weeping, make one
And, in compassion, weep the fire out:
And some will mourn in ashes, some coal-black, Weep thou for me in France, I for thee here;
For the deposing of a rightful king.

Better far off, than--near be, ne'er the near.
Go, count thy way with sighs; I mine with groavs.

Quren. So longest way shall have the longest
Enter NORTHUMBERLAND,

attended

K. Rich. Twice for one step I'll groan, the NORTH. My lord, the mind of Boling broke is

way being short, chang'd ;

And piece the way out with a heavy heart. You must to Pomfret, not unto the Tower.(1)

Come, come, in wooing sorrow let's be brief, And, madam, there is order ta'en for you ;

Since, wedding it, there is such length in grief. With all swift speed you must away to France.(2) One kiss shall stop our mouths, and dumbly part ;

part?

me.

woe.

b

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moans.

(*) First folio, fall, Sworn brother, -] Sworn brother came originally fr m the fratres jurati, military adenturers who bound themselves by mutual obligation to share each others' fortunes. When William the Conqueror invaded England, Robert de Oily and Roger de Ivery were fratres jurati, and the former gave ne of the honours he received to his sworn brother, Roger.

(*) First folio, queen.
b Near be, ne'er the near.] That is, be near, but nerer the nigher.
A proverbial -aying implying, to come near the object, yet never
achieve it. Thus, in Ben Jonson's Epilogue to "The Tale of a
Tub:

“ Wherein the poet's fortune is, I fear,
Still to be early up but ne'er the near."

b

Thus give I mine, and thus take I thy heart. Did scowl on Richard; no man cried, God save.

[They kiss.

him ; QUEEN. Give me mine own again ; 't were no No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home, good part,

But dust was thrown upon his sacred head ; To take on me to keep, and kill thy heart. Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off,

[Kiss again. His face still combating with tears and smiles, So, now I have mine own again, begone,

The badges of his grief and patience, That I may strive to kill it with a groan.

That had not God, for some strong purpose, steeld K. Rich. We make woe wanton with this fond The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted, delay;

And barbarism itself have pitied him. Once more, adieu ; the rest, let sorrow say. But heaven hath a hand in these events;

[Exeunt.

To whose high will we bound our calm contents.(3)
To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now,

Whose state and honour I for aye allow. SCENE II.The same. A Room in the Duke Duch. Here comes my son Aumerle. of York's Palace.

YORK.

Aumerle that was ;

But that is lost, for being Richard's friend,
Enter: YORK and his DUCHESS.

And, madam, you must call him Rutland now:

I am in parliament pledge for his truth, Duch. My lord, you told me you would tell the And lasting fealty to the new-made king.

rest,
When weeping made you break the story off,
Of our two cousins coming into London.

Enter AUMERLE.
YORK. Where did I leave ?
Duch.
At that sad stop, my lord,

Duch. Welcome, my son.

Who are the violets Where rude misgovern'd hands, from windows'

now, tops,

That strew the green lap of the new-come spring? Threw dust and rubbish on King Richard's head. Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care YORK. Then, as I said, the duke, great Boling

not; broke,

God knows, I had as lief be none, as one. Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed,

YORK. Well, bear you well in this new spring Which his aspiring rider seem’d to know,

of time, With slow but stately pace, kept on his course,

Lest
you

before you come to prime. While all tongues cried-God save thee, Boling- What news from Oxford ? hold those justs and broke!

triumphs ? You would have thought the very windows spake, Aum. For aught I know, my lord, they do. So many greedy looks of young and old,

YORK. You will be there, I know. Through casements darted their desiring eyes

Aum. If God prevent it not; I purpose so. Upon his visage; and that all the walls,

YORK. What seal is that, that hangs without thy With painted imagery had said at once,

bosom? Jesu preserve thee! welcome, Bolingbroke ! Yea, look’st thou pale ? let me see the writing, Whilst he, from one side to the other turning, Aum. My lord, 't is nothing. Bare-headed, lower than his proud steed's neck,

YORK.

No matter then who sees it: Bespake them thus, -I thank you, countrymen :

I will be satisfied,,let me see the writing. And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along.

Aum. I do beseech your grace to pardon me ; Duch. Alack,* poor Richard ! where rode + he

It is a matter of small consequence, the whilst ?

Which for some reasons I would not have seen. YORK. As in a theatre, the eyes

of
men,

YORK. Which for some reasons, sir, I mean to
After a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage,
Are idly bent on him that enters next,

I fear, I fear, Thinking his prattle to be tedious:

Duch. What should you fear ? Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes 'T is nothing but some bond, that he is enter'd into

be cropt

see.

(*) First folio, Alas.

(+) First folio, rides. & As in a theatre,-) "The painting of this description is so lively, and the words so moving, that I have scarce read anything comparable to it in any other language.”.

."-DRYDEN. b Aumerle that was ;] We learn from Holinshed that the dukes of Aumerle, Surrey, and Exeter, were deprived of their

dukedoms by an act of Henry's first parliament, but were allowed to retain the earldoms of Ruilaud, Kent, and Huntingdon.

c What seal is that, that hangs without thy bosom?) The seals on deeds were in old time not impressed on the documents them. selves, but appended to them by labels or slips of parchment.. See note (C), p. 200.

a bond

For gay apparel, 'gainst the triumph day."

YORK. Away, fond“ woman! were he twenty YORK. Bound to himself ? what doth he with

times my son,

I would appeach him. That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool.- Duch.

Hadst thou groan'd for him, Boy, let me see the writing.

As I have done, thou’dst be more pitiful. Aum. I do beseech you, pardon me ; I

may But now I know thy mind ; thou dost suspect not show it.

That I have been disloyal to thy bed, YORK. I will be satisfied ; let me see it, I say. And that he is a bastard, not thy son.

[Snatches it, and reads. Sweet York, sweet husband, be not of that mind: Treason ! foul treason !-villain! traitor! slave ! He is as like thee as a man may be, Duch. What is the matter, my lord ?

Not like to me, nor any of my

kin, YORK. Ho! who's within there?

And yet I love him.

YORK. Make way, unruly woman! [Exit. Enter a Servant,

Duch. After, Aumerle ! mount thee upon his

horse;

Saddle my horse. God † for his mercy! what treachery is here !

Spur, post, and get before him to the king, Duch. Why, what is’t, my lord ?

And beg thy pardon ere he do accuse thee. YORK. Give me my boots, I say; saddle my

I'll not be long behind ; though I be old,

I doubt not but to ride as fast as York: horse :Now by mine honour, by I my life, my troth,

And never will I rise up from the ground, I will appeach the villain. [Exit Servant.

Till Bolingbroke have pardon'd thee : ‘Away! Duch. What's the matter ? Begone.

[Exeunt. York. Peace, foolish woman. Duch. I will not peace :- What is the matter,

SCENE III.-Windsor. A Room in the Castle.

Enter BOLINGBROKF, as King; PERCY, and Aum. Good mother, be content: it is no more

other Lords. life must answer. Duch.

Thy life answer! Boling. Can no man tell of my unthrifty son ?(4)

'Tis full three months since I did see him last: Re-enter Servant, with boots.

If any plague hang over us, 'tis he.

I would to God,* my lords, he might be found : YORK. Bring me my boots, I will unto the king. Inquire at London, 'mongst the taverns there, Duch. Strike him, Aumerle.—Poor boy, thou For there, they say, he daily doth frequent, art amaz’d:

With unrestrained loose companionsHence, villain ! never more come in my sight.- Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes,

[To the Servant. And beat t our watch, and rob our passengers ; YORK. Give me my boots, I say.

Which he, young, wanton, and effeminate boy, Duch. Why, York, what wilt thou do?

Takes on the point of honour, to support
Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own ? So dissolute a crew.b
Have we more sons ? or are we like to have ?

PERCY. My lord, some two days since I saw the Is not my teeming date drunk up with time?

prince, And wilt thou pluck my fair son from mine age, And told him of these triumphs held at Oxford, And rob me of a happy mother's name ?

Boling. And what said the gallant ? Is he not like thee? is he not thine own ?

Percy. His answer was,-he would unto the York. Thou fond mad woman,

stews, Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy ?

And from the commonest creature pluck a glove, A dozen of them here have ta'en the sacrament, And wear it as a favour ; and with that And interchangeably set down their hands, He would unhorse the lustiest challenger. To kill the king at Oxford.

BOLING. As dissolute as desperate: yet through Duch. He shall be none;

both, We'll keep him here: then what is that to him ? I see some sparkles of a better hope,

son ?

Than my poor

(*) First folio omits, dny.

(t) First folio, Heaven. (1) First folio omits, by.

& Fond woman!) Fond is here used for foolish,-perhaps its original meaning. Chaucer has fonne for fool, and Skelton, both fonne, fon, and fonde, in the same sense.

b So dissolute a crew.) This seems to have been part of a line which was intended to be cancelled, or to supply the place of:

(*) First folio, Hearen.

(t) First folio, rob. (1) First folio, beat,

Even such they say."
The passage should obviously terminate at support.

c I see some sparkles of a better hope,-) Sparkles is in three of the quartos, but the first quarto and folio read, sparkes ; and all the old copies omit the article.

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