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North. My guilt be on my head, and there an end. Take leave, and part; for you must part forthwith. K. Rich. Doubly divorced?-Bad men, ye violateA twofold marriage; 'twixt my crown and me; And then betwixt me and my married wife.Let me unkiss the oath 'twixt thee and me; And yet not so, for with a kiss 'twas made.Part us, Northumberland. I towards the north, Where shivering cold and sickness pines the clime; My wife to France; from whence, set forth in pomp, She came adorned hither like sweet May,

Sent back like Hallowmas, or short'st of day.

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 some love, but little policy.

Queen. Then whither he goes, thither let me go.
K. Rich. So two, together weeping, make one woe.
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 sighs; I, mine with groans.
Queen. So longest way shall have the longest moans.
K. Rich. Twice for one step I'll groan, the way being
short,

And piece the way out with a heavy heart.
Come, come, in wooing sorrow let's be brief,
Since, wedding it, there is such length in grief.

One kiss shall stop our mouths, and dumbly part;
Thus give I mine, and thus I take thy heart.

[They kiss.

Queen. Give me mine own again; 'twere no good part,

To take on me to keep, and kill thy heart.
So now I have mine own again, begone,
That I strive to kill it with a groan.

may

[Kiss again.

K. Rich. We make woe wanton with this fond delay. Once more, adieu; the rest let sorrow say.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. The same. A Room in the Duke of York's

Palace.

Enter YORK and his Duchess.

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, misgoverned 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 seemed 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 imagery, 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 passed along.

Duch. Alas, poor Richard! where rides he the while?
York. As in a theatre, the eyes of men,
After a well-graced actor leaves the stage,
Are idly bent on him that enters next,
Thinking his prattle to be tedious;

Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes
Did scowl on Richard; no man cried, God save him;
No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home:
But dust was thrown upon his sacred head;
Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off,-
His face still combating with tears and smiles,
The badges of his grief and patience,-

That had not God, for some strong purpose, steeled
The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted,
And barbarism itself have pitied him.

But Heaven hath a hand in these events;

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

Whose state and honor I for aye allow.

Enter AUMERLE.

Duch. Here comes my son, Aumerle.

Aumerle that was;

York.
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 cropped before you come to prime. What news from Oxford? Hold those jousts and triumphs? Aum. 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 bosom? Yea, look'st thou pale? let me see the writing.

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 entered 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.

Aum. I do beseech you, pardon me; I may not show it. York. I will be satisfied; let me see it, I say. [Snatches it and reads.

Treason foul treason!-villain! traitor! slave!

Duch. What is the matter, my lord?

York. Ho! who is within there? [Enter a Servant. Saddle my horse.

God for his mercy! what treachery is here!

Duch. Why, what is it, my lord?

York. Give me my boots, I say; saddle my horse.Now, by mine honor, by my life, my troth,

I will appeach the villain.

Duch.

[Exit Servant.

What's the matter?

York. Peace, foolish woman.

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.

Duch.

Thy life answer?

Re-enter Servant, with boots.

York. Bring me my boots; I will unto the king. Duch. Strike him, Aumerle.-Poor boy, thou art amazed. Hence, villain; never more come in my sight.

York. Give me my boots, I say.

[To the Servant.

Duch. Why, York, what wilt thou do?
Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own?
Have we more sons, or are we like to have?
Is not my teeming date drunk up with time?
And wilt thou pluck my fair son from mine age,
And rob me of a happy mother's name?

Is he not like thee? is he not thine own?
York. Thou fond, mad woman,

Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy?

A dozen of them here have ta'en the sacrament,
And interchangeably set down their hands,

To kill the king at Oxford.

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,
I would appeach him.

Duch.

Hadst thou groaned for him,

As I have done, thou'dst be more pitiful.

But now I know thy mind; thou dost suspect,
That I have been disloyal to thy bed,

And that he is a bastard, not thy son.

Sweet York, sweet husband, be not of that mind;
He is as like thee as a man may be,

Not like to me, or any of my kin,

And yet I love him.

York.

Make way, unruly woman.

[Exit.

Duch. After, Aumerle; mount thee upon his horse; Spur, post; and get before him to the king, And beg thy pardon ere he do accuse thee. I'll not be long behind; though I be old, I doubt not but to ride as fast as York; And never will I rise up from the ground, Till Bolingbroke have pardoned thee. Away; Begone.

VOL. II.-25

[Exeunt.

SCENE III. Windsor. A Room in the Castle.

Enter BOLINGBROKE as king; PERCY, and other Lords.

Boling. Can no man tell of my unthrifty son? '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.
Inquire at London, 'mongst the taverns there,
For there, they say, he daily doth frequent,
With unrestrained, loose companions;

Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes,
And beat our watch and rob our passengers;
While he, young, wanton, and effeminate boy,
Takes on the point of honor, to support
So dissolute a crew.

Percy. My lord, some two days since I saw the prince,
And told him of these triumphs held at Oxford.
Boling. And what said the gallant?

Percy. His answer was, he would unto the stews, And from the commonest creature pluck a glove, And wear it as a favor; and with that

He would unhorse the lustiest challenger.

Boling. As dissolute as desperate; yet, through both I see some sparkles of a better hope,

Which elder days may happily bring forth.

But who comes here?

Aum.

Enter AUMERLE, hastily.

Boling. What means

Where is the king?

Our cousin, that he stares and looks so wildly?

Aum. God save your grace. I do beseech 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. Forever 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 e'er it be,

To win thy after-love, I pardon thee.

Aum. Then give me leave that I may turn the key,

That no man enter till my tale be done.
Boling. Have thy desire.

[AUM. locks the door.

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