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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
Weep thou for me in France, I for thee here;
K. Rich. Twice for one step I'll groan, the way being short,
And piece the way out with a heavy heart.
To take on me to keep and kill thy heart.
K. Rich. We make woe wanton with this fond delay:
Once more, adieu; the rest let sorrow say.
That had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd
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 prime. What news from Oxford? hold those justs and triumphs?
Aum. For aught I know, my lord, they do.
Yea, look'st thou pale? let me see the writing.
No matter then who sees it:
to see. I fear, I fear,
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.
Aum. I do beseech you, pardon me ;
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
Aum. Good mother, be content; it is no more
Thy life answer!
Re-enter Servant, with boots.
Duch. Strike him, Aumerle. Poor boy, thou
Hence, villain! never more come in my sight.
York. Give me my boots, I say.
Is not my teeming date drunk up with time?
Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy?
He shall be none;
My son, I would appeach him.
Hadst thou groan'd for him
Make way, unruly woman! Exit.
SCENE III.- Windsor. A Room in the Castle.
Aum. God save your grace! I do beseech
To have some conference with your grace alone.
What is the matter with our cousin now?
If on the first, how heinous e'er it be,
Aum. Then give me leave that I may turn the
That no man enter till my tale be done.
York. Within. My liege, beware! look to thy-
Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there.
Boling. Villain, I'll make thee safe. Drawing. Aum. Stay thy revengeful hand; thou hast no cause to fear.
York. Within. Open the door, secure, fool-
Shall I for love speak treason to thy face?
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. 50 Aum. Remember, as thou read'st, thy promise pass'd:
I do repent me; read not my name there; Boling. Can no man tell me of my unthrifty My heart is not confederate with my hand. son ?
"Tis full three months since I did see him last.
I would to God, my lords, he might be found:
And he shall spend mine honour with his shame,
Boling. What shrill-voic'd suppliant makes
Duch. A woman, and thine aunt, great king;
Speak with me, pity me, open the door :
Boling. Our scene is alter'd from a serious
And now chang'd to 'The Beggar and the King.'
Duch. O king! believe not this hard-hearted
Love loving not itself none other can.
With all the rest of that consorted crew,
York. Thou frantic woman, what dost thou Uncle, farewell: and cousin too, adieu:
Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear? 90 Duch. Sweet York, be patient. Hear me, gentle liege.
Boling. Rise up, good aunt.
Not yet, I thee beseech:
York. Against them both my true joints bended be. 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. 102
Your mother well hath pray'd, and prove you
Duch. Come, my old son: I pray God make thee new. Exeunt.
Exton. And speaking it, he wistly look'd on me, As who should say, 'I would thou wert the man That would divorce this terror from my heart'; Meaning the king at Pomfret. Come, let's go : I am the king's friend, and will rid his foe.
He prays but faintly and would be denied;
His prayers are full of false hypocrisy ;
Nay, do not say 'stand up';
Duch. Dost thou teach pardon pardon to
This prison where I live unto the world:
As thus, Come, little ones'; and then again,
It is as hard to come as for a camel To thread the postern of a needle's eye.' Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot Unlikely wonders; how these vain weak nails May tear a passage 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 first of fortune's slaves, Nor shall not be the last; like silly beggars Who sitting in the stocks refuge their shame, That many have and others must sit there: And in this thought they find a kind of ease, Bearing their own misfortune on the back Of such as have before endur'd the like. Thus play I in one person many people, And none contented: sometimes am I king; Then treasons make me wish myself a beggar, And so I am then crushing penury Persuades 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 straight am nothing: but whate'er I be, Nor I nor any man that but man is
With nothing shall be pleas'd, till he be eas'd With being nothing.
Ha, ha! keep time.
Music do I hear? How sour sweet music is When time is broke and no proportion kept! So is it in the music of men's lives. And here have I the daintiness 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 wasted time, and now doth time waste me; For now hath time made me his numbering clock: My thoughts are minutes, and with sighs they jar Their watches on unto mine eyes, the outward watch,
Whereto my finger, like a dial's point,
With much ado at length have gotten leave
That horse that I so carefully have dress'd. K. Rich. Rode he on Barbary? Tell me, gentle friend,
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; This hand hath made him proud with clapping him.
Would he not stumble? would he not fall down,
Keep. Fellow, give place; here is no longer stay.
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.
Keep. Help, help, help!
Strikes the Keeper.
To look upon my sometimes royal master's face. Flourish. Enter BOLINGBROKE and YORK, with
O! how it yearn'd my heart when I beheld In London streets, that coronation day, When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary,
That horse that thou so often hast bestrid,
Lords and Attendants.
Boling. Kind uncle York, the latest news we hear
Is that the rebels have consum'd with fire