York. Give me my boots, I say; saddle my horse : Jesu preserve thee! welcome, Bolingbroke! Bespake them thus,--I thank you, countrymen: York. As in a theatre, the eyes of meu, Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes Did scowl on Richard; no man cried, God save No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home; That had not God, for some strong purpose, The hearts of men, they must perforce, have melted, And barbarism itself have pitied him. But heaven hath a hand in these events; Enter AUMERLE. Duch. Here comes my son Aumerle. I will appeach the villain. [Exit Seivaut, Duch, I will not peace:-What is the matter, son ? Aum. Good mother, be content; it is no more Than my poor life must answer. Re-enter Servant, with Boots. York. Bring me my boots, I will unto the king Duch. Strike him, Aumerle.-Poor boy, thou Hence, villain! never more come in my sight.— Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy? Duch. He shall be none; [bim We'll keep him here: Then what is that to But that is lost, for being Richard's friend, That strew the green lap of the new-come Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care God knows, I had as lief be none, as oue. Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime, triumphs ? Aum. For aught I know, my lord, they do. Aum. If God prevent it not; I purpose so. Yea, look'st thou pale? let me see the writing. York. No matter then who sees it : ! will be satisfied, let me see the writing. to see. I fear, I fear, Duch. What should you fear? 'Tis nothing but some bond that he is enter'd For gay apparel, 'gainst the triumph day. That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool.- York. I will be satisfied; let me see it, I say. Fond woman! were he twenty times my son, Duch. Hadst thou groan'd for him, [Exit. York. Make way, unruly woman. Spur, post; and get before him to the king, SCENE III.-Windsor.-A Room in the Enter BOLINGBROKE as King; PERCY, and Boling. Can no mau tell of my unthrifty sou? 'Tis full three months since I did see him last: If any plague hang over us, 'tis he. I would to God, my lords, he might be found : Percy. My lord, some two days since I saw And told him of these triumphs held at Oxford. Boling. And what said the gallant? Percy. His answer was,-he would unto the stews; • Breeding. And from the common'st creature pluck a Thou kill'st me in his life; giving him breath, glove And wear it as a favour; and with that I see some sparkles of a better hope, Enter AUMERLE, hastily. your majesty, To have some conference with your grace alone. Boling. Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here alone. [Exeunt PERCY and LORDS. What is the matter with our cousin now? Aum. For ever may my knees grow to the earth, [Kneels. My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth, Unless a pardon, ere I rise or speak. Boling. Intended or committed, was this fault? If but the first, how heinous ere it be, the key, That no man enter till my tale be done. Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there. [Drawing. Aum. Stay thy revengeful hand; Thou hast no cause to fear. York. [Within.] Open the door, secure, foolhardy king: Shall I, for love, speak treason to thy face? Open the door, or I will break it open. [BOLINGBROKE opens the door. 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 show. Aum. Remember, as thou read'st, thy pro mise past: I do repent me; read not my name there, I tore it from the traitor's bosom, king: O royal father of a treacherous son! Thou sheer, immaculate, and silver fountain, From whence this stream through muddy passages, Hath held his current, and defil'd himself! bawd; And he shall spend mine honour with his shame, As thriftless sons their scraping fathers' gold. Mine honour lives when his dishonour dies, Or my sham'd life in his dishonour lies: The traitor lives, the true man's put to death. Duch. [Within.] What ho, my liege! for God's sake let me in. Boling. What shrill-voic'd suppliant makes this eager cry? Duch. A woman, and thine aunt, great king, 'tis I. Speak with me, pity me, open the door; And now chang'd to The Beggar and the My dangerous cousin, let your mother in ; Duch. O king, believe not this hard-hearted man; Love, loving not itself, none other can. York. Thou frantic woman, what dost thou make here? Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear? Duch. Sweet York, be patient: Hear me, gentle liege. [Kneels. Boling. Rise up, good aunt, Duch. Not yet, I thee beseech: For ever will I kneel upon my knees, And never see day that the happy sees, Till thou give joy; until thou bid me joy, By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy. Aum. Unto my mother's prayers, I bend my knee. bended be. [Kneels. York. Against them both, my true joints [Kneels. 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: He prays but faintly, and would be denied; We pray with heart, and soul, and all beside: His weary joints would gladly rise, I know; His prayers are full of false hypocrisy ; That mercy, which true prayers ought to have. Duch. Nay, do not say-stand up; But, pardon, first; and afterwards stand up. And if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach, Pardon should be the first word of thy speech. I never long'd to hear a word till now; Say pardon, king; let pity teach thee how: The word is short, but not so short as sweet; No word like pardon, for kings' mouths so Boling. Good aunt, stand up. ine. Duch. O happy vantage of a kneeling knee! Boling. With all my heart I pardon him. Duch. A god on earth thou art. Nor shall not be the last; like silly beggars, Boling. But for our trusty brother-in-law, With all the rest of that consorted crew,- heels. Good uncle, help to order several powers [Music. My thoughts are minutes; and, with sighs, Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears. Which is the bell: So sighs, and tears, and In me, it seems it will make wise men mad. Groom. Hail, royal prince! K. Rich. I have been studying how I may What art thou? and how comest thou hither, compare sort, As thoughts of things divine,-are intermix'd As thus,-Come little ones; and then again,- Of this hard world, my ragged prison walls; That they are not the first of fortune's slaves, • Forces. Holy scripture Where no man never comes, but that sad dog king, When thou wert king; who, travelling towards With much ado, at length have gotten leave How went he under him? Groom. 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; Would he not stumble? Would he not fall (Since pride must have a fall,) and break the Of that proud man that did usurp back? Forgiveness, horse! why do I rail on thee, his The next news is I have to London sent • Boling 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 shall say. [Exit. Keep. My lord, will't 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 Lately came from the king, commands the contrary. K. Rich. The devil take Henry of Lancaster, and thee! Patience is stale, and I am weary of it. [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 in strument. [Snatching a weapon and killing one. Go thou, and fill another room in heil. That [He kills another, then ExTON Strikes him down. hand shall burn in never-quenching fire, That staggers thus my person.-Extou, thy fierce hand Hath with the king's blood stain'd the king's own land. [high; Mount, mount, my soul! thy seat is up on Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here to[Dies. die. 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 I did well, Flourish. Enter BOLINGBROKE, and YORK, Is that the rebels have consum'd with fire [not. But whether they be ta'en, or slain, we hear Enter NORTHUMBERLAND. The manner of their taking may appear At large discoursed in this paper here. thy pains; [Presenting a paper. Boling. We thank thee, gentle Percy, for And to thy worth will add right worthy gains. Enter FITZWATER. Fitz. My lord, I have from Oxford sent to The heads of Brocas, and Sir Bennet Seely; Right noble is thy merit, well I wot. Enter PERCY, with the Bishop of CARLISLE. Percy. The grand conspirator, abbot of Westminster, With clog of conscience, and sour melancholy, More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life; 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 A deed of slander with thy fatal band, Boling. They love not poison that do poison need, Nor do I thee; though I did wish him dead; But neither my good word, nor princely fa March sadly after; grace my here, Welcome, my lord: What is the news? happiness. • Jaunting Immediately. [Exeunt. It was long the prevailing opinion that Sir Piers Exton, and others of his guards, fell upon Richard in the castle of Pomfret, where he was confined, and despatched him with their halberts. But it is more probable that he was starved to death in prison; and it is said that he prolonged his unhappy life for a fortnight, after all sustenance was denied him, before he reached the end of his miseries.---Hume. 3 D 14. FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. LITERARY AND HISTORICAL NOTICE. SHAKSPEARE wrote this dramatic history about the year 1597, founding it upon six old plays previously published. The action commences with Hotspur's defeat of the Scots at Halidown Hill, Sep. 14, 1402; and closes with the defeat and death of that leader at Shrewsbury, July 21, 1403. None of Shakspeare's plays are perhaps so frequently read, as this and the one which succeeds it; but the want of ladies, and matter to interest females, lies so heavily upon it, that even with an excellent Falstaff, it can only enjoy occasional life upon the stage. The speeches of King Henry, though clothed in a fine, stately, and nervous diction, are much too long; and a deal of the humour, sparkling as it is, cannot be heard without a blush. The scene of the carriers is grossly indecent, and so very low, that it might be rejected without the slightest injury to the piece. The choleric Hotspur, and the mad-cap Prince of Wales, are, however, charming portraits; great, original, and just; exhibiting the nicest discernment in the character of mankind, and presenting a moral of very general application. But the subtle roguery of Falstaff---his laughable soliloquies---his whimsical investigations, --and his invincible assumption---(the richer and more ludicrous when opposed to his sneaking cowardice) are strokes of dramatic genius which render this fat old man' the leading attraction of the play: and though his character is vicious in every respect, he is furnished with so much wit, as to be almost too great a favourite. Which,-like the meteors of a troubled beaven, To chase these pagans, in those holy fields, |