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And from the common'st creature pluck a Thou kill'st me in his life; giving him breath,
The traitor lives, the true man's put to death.
Duch. [Within.] What ho, my liege for
God's sake let me in.
And wear it as a favour; and with that
He would unhorse the lustiest challenger.
Boling. As dissolute as desperate; yet
Boling. What shrill-voic'd suppliant makes
this eager cry?
Duch. A woman, and thine aunt, great king,
Speak with me, pity me, open the door;
A beggar begs, that never begg'd before.
Boling. Our scene is alter'd,-from a serious
And now chang'd to The Beggar and the
My dangerous cousin, let your mother in ;
I know she's come to pray for your foul sin.
York. If thou do pardon, whosoever pray,
More sins, for this forgiveness, prosper may.
This fester'd joint cut off, the rest rests sound
This, let alone, will all the rest confound.
I see some sparkles of a better hope,
Which elder days may happily bring forth.
But who comes here ?
Enter AUMERLE, hastily.
Aum. Where is the king?
Boling. What means
Our cousin, that he stares and looks so wildly? Aum. God save your grace. 1 do beseech your majesty,
To have some conference with your grace alone.
Boling. Withdraw yourselves, and leave us
[Exeunt PERCY and LORDS.
What is the matter with our cousin now?
Aum. For ever may my knees grow to the
My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth,
Unless a pardon, ere I rise or speak.
Beling. Intended or committed, was this
If but the first, how heinous ere it be,
To win thy after-love, I pardon thee.
Aum. Then give me leave that I may turn
That no man enter till my tale be done.
Boling. Have thy desire.
[AUMERLE locks the door. York. [Within.] My liege, beware; look to thyself;
Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there.
Boling. Viliain, I'll make thee safe.
Aum. Stay thy revengeful hand; Thou hast no canse to fear.
York. [Within.] Open the door, secure, fool-
Shall I, for love, speak treason to thy face?
Open the door, or I will break it open.
[BOLINGBROKE opens the door.
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 promise past:
1 do repent me; read not my name there,
My heart is not confederate with my hand.
York. 'Twas, villain, ere thy hand did set it
I tore it from the traitor's bosom, king:
Fear, and not love, begets his penitence:
Forget to pity him, lest thy pity prove
A serpent that will sting thee to the heart.
Beling. O heinous, strong, and bold conspi-
O royal father of a treacherous son!
Thou sheer, immaculate, and silver fountain,
From whence this stream through muddy pas-
Hath held his current, and defil'd himself!
Thy overflow of good converts to bad;
And thy abundant goodness sball excuse
This deadly blot in thy digressingson.
York. So shail my virtue be his vice's
And be shall spend mine honour with his
As thriftless sons their scraping fathers' gold.
Mine honour lives when his dishonour dies,
Or my sham'd life in his dishonour lies:
Duch. O king, believe not this hard-hearted man;
Love, loving not itself, none other can.
York. Thou frantic woman, what dost thou
Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear?
Duch. Sweet York, be patient: Hear me,
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
York. Against them both, my true joints
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
He prays but faintly, and would be denied;
We pray with heart, and soul, and all be-
His weary joints would gladly rise, I know;
Our knees shall kneel till to the ground they
His prayers are full of false hypocrisy ;
Our's of true zeal and deep integrity.
Our prayers do out-pray his; then let them
That mercy, which true prayers ought to have.
Boling. Good aunt, stand up.
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
York. Speak it in French, king; say, pardonnez moy. I
Duch. Dost thou teach pardon pardon to de-
Ah! my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord,
That set'st the word itself against the word ?-
The chopping French we do not understand.
Speak, pardon, as 'tis current in our land;
Thine eye begins to speak, set thy tongue
Boling. Good aunt, stand up.
Duch. I do not sue to stand,
Pardon is all the suit I have in hand.
Boling. I pardon him, as God shall pardon
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 treason makes 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 am,
Nor I, nor any man, that but man is,
the With nothing shall be pleas'd, till be be eas'd
With being nothing.-Music do I hear?
Duch. O happy vantage of a kneeling knee!
Yet am I sick for fear: speak it again;
Twice saying pardon, doth not pardon twain,
But makes one pardon strong.
Boling. With all my heart
I pardon him.
Duch. A god on earth thou art.
Boling. But for our trusty brother-in-law,-
and the abbot,
With all the rest of that consorted crew,-
Destruction straight shall dog them at
Good uncle, help to order several powers*
To Oxford, or where'er these traitors are:
They shall not live within this world, I swear,
But I will have them, if I once know where.
Uncle, farewell,-aad cousin too, adieu :
Your mother well hath pray'd, and prove you
Duch. Come, my old son :-I pray God make
That would divorce this terror from my heart;
Meaning, the king at Pomfret. Come, let's
I am the king's friend, and will rid his foe.
SCENE V.-Pomfret.-The Dungeon of the
This prison where I live, unto the world:
And, for because the world is populous,
And here is not a creature but myself,
I cannot do it ;-Yet I'll hammer it out.
My brain I'll prove the female to my soul;
My soul, the father and these two beget
A generation of still-breeding thoughts,
And these same thoughts people this
1 Holy scripture
[Music. Ha, ha! keep time :-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 numb'ring
Groom. Hail, royal prince!
K. Rich. Thanks, noble peer;
The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear.
Enter King RICHARD.
K. Rich. I have been studying how I may What art thou? and how comest thou hither,
Where no man never comes, but that sad dog
That brings me food, to make misfortune live!
Groom. I was a poor groom of thy stable,
When thou wert king; who, travelling towards
selves,That they are not the first of fortune's slaves, + His own body. Little gate.
My thoughts are minutes; and, with sighs,
Their watches on to mine eyes, the outward
Whereto my finger, like a dial's point,
Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears.
Now, Sir, the sound, that tells what hour it is,
Are clamorous groans, that strike upon my
In humours like the people of this world,
For no thought is contented. The better
As thoughts of things divine,-are intermix'd
With scruples, and do set the word itself
Against the word:
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.
Thought 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 their own pride.
Thoughts tending to content, flatter
With much ado, at length have gotten leave
To look upon my sometimes master's face.
Oh! how it yearn'd my heart, wheu I beheld,
In London streets, that coronation day,
When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary !
The horse, that thou so often hast bestrid;
That horse, that I so carefully have dress'd !
K. Rich. Rode he on Barbary? Tell me,
How went he under him?
Groom. So proudly, as if he disdain'd the ground.
K. Rich. So proud that Bolingbroke was on
That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand;
This hand hath made him proud with clapping
Would he not stumble? Would he not fall
(Since pride must have a fall,) and break the
Of that proud man that back?
did usurp his The next news is I have to London sent
The heads of Salibsury, Spencer, Blunt, and
Forgiveness, horse! why do I rail on thee,
Since thou, created to be aw'd by man,
Was born to bear? I was not made a horse;
And yet I bear a burden like an ass,
Spur-gall'd, and tir'd, by jauncing
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
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
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
[Snatching a weapon and killing one. Go thou, and fill another room in hell.
[He kills another, then EXTON strikes him down.
band shall burn in never-quenching fire, That staggers thus my person.-Exton, thy fierce hand
Hath with the king's blood stain'd the king's
Mount, mount, my soul! thy seat is up on
Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here to-
Exton. As full of valour, as of royal blood:
Reth bave I spilt; O would the deed were
For now the devil, that told me I did well,
Says that this deed is chronicled in hell.
This dead king to the living king I'll bear ;-
Take bence the rest, and give them burial here.
SCENE VI.-Windsor.-A Room in the
Flourish. Enter BOLINGBROKE, and YORK,
with LORDS and ATTENDANTS.
Boling. Kind uncle York, the latest news
Is-that the rebels have consum'd with fire
Our town of Cicester in Glostershire; [not.
But whether they be ta'en, or slain, we hear
The manner of their taking may appear At large discoursed in this paper here. [Presenting a paper. Boling. We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains;
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;
Two of the dangerous consorted traitors,
That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow.
Boling. Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be
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,
Hath yielded up his body to the grave;
But here is Carlisle living to abide
Thy kingly doom and sentence of his pride.
Boling. Carlisle, this is your doom :-
Choose out some secret place, some reverend
More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life; So, as thou liv'st in peace, die free from strife;
For though mine enemy thou hast ever been,
High sparks of honour in thee have I seen.
Enter EXTON, with ATTENDANTS bearing a
Exton. Great king, within this coffin I pre-
Thy buried fear: berein all breathless lies
The mightiest of thy greatest enemies,
Richard of Bourdeaux, by me hither brought.
Boling. Exton, I thank thee not; for thou
A deed of slander with thy fatal band,
Upon my head, and all this famous land.
Exton. From your own mouth, my lord, did
I this deed.
Boling. They love not poison that do poison need,
Nor do I thee; though I did wish him dead,
I hate the murderer, love him murdered.
The guilt of conscience take thou for thy la-
But neither my good word, nor princely fa-
With Cain go wander through the shade of night,
Lords, I protest my soul is full of woe,
And never show thy head by day nor light.-
That blood should sprinkle me, to make me
Come, mourn with me for what I do lament,
And put on sullen black incontinent;
I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land,
To wash this blood off from my guilty
hand :March sadly after; grace my
Welcome, my lord: What is the news?
North. First, to thy sacred state wish I al! In weeping after this untimely bier.
It was long the prevailing opinion that Sir Piers Exton, and others of his guards, fell upon Richard in the easth 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 tenance was denied him, before he reached the end of his miseries.---Hume.
LITERARY AND HISTORICAL NOTICE.
SHAKSPEARE wrote this dramatic history about the year 1597, founding it upon six old plays previously padlished. 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 fe males, lies so heavily upon it, that even with an excellent Falstaff, it can only enjoy occasional life upos 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---bis 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.
SCENE I.-London.-A Room in the
Enter King HENRY, WESTMORELAND, Sir
WALTER BLUNT, and others.
K. Hen. So shaken as we are, so wan with
LADY PERCY, Wife to Hotspur, and Sister to Mortimer.
Find we a time for frighted peace to pant,
And breathe short-winded accents of new broils
To be commenc'd in stronds⚫ afar remote.
No more the thirsty Erinnys+ of this soil
Shall daub her lips with her own children's
No more shall trenching war channel her fields,
Nor bruise her flowrets with the armed hoofs
Of hostile paces: those opposed eyes,
The fury of discord.
LADY MORTIMER, Daughter to Glendower,
and Wife to Mortimer.
MRS. QUICKLY, Hostess of a Tavern in East-
Lords, Officers, Sheriff, Vintner, Chamberlain, Drawers, two Carriers, Travellers, and Attendants.
Which, like the meteors of a troubled beaven,
All of one nature, of one substance bred,-
Did lately meet in the intestine shock
And furious close of civil butchery,
Shall now, in mutual, well-beseeming ranks,
March all one way; and be no more oppos'd
Against acquaintance, kindred, and allies:
The edge of war, like an ill-sheathed knife,
No more shall cut his master. Therefore, friends,
As far as to the sepulchre of Christ,
(Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross
We are impressed and engag'd to fight,)
Forthwith a power of English shall we levy ;
Whose arms were moulded in their mothers'
To chase these pagans, in those holy fields,
Over whose acres walk'd those blessed feet,
Which, fourteen hundred years ago, were nail'd
For our advantage, on the bitter cross.
But this our purpose is a twelve-month old,
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.
And bootless 'tis to tell you-we will go;
Therefore we meet not now :-Then let me hear
Of you, my gentle cousin Westmoreland,
What yesternight our council did decree,
la forwarding this dear expedience. •
West. My liege, this haste was hot in ques-
And many limits of the charge set down
But yesternight; when, all athwart, there came
A post from Wales, loaden with heavy news;
Whose worst was,-that the noble Mortimer,
Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight
Against the irregular and wild Glendower,
Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken,
And a thousand of his people butchered;
Upon whose dead corps there was such misuse,
Such beastly, shameless transformation,
By those Welshwomen done, as may not be,
Without much shame, re-told or spoken of.
K. Hen. It seems then, that the tidings
K. Hen. But I have sent for him to answer
And, for this cause, awhile we must neglect
Our holy purpose to Jerusalem.
Cousin, on Wednesday next our council we
Will hold at Windsor, so inform the lords:
But come yourself with speed to us again;
For more is to be said, and to be done,
Than out of anger can be uttered.
West. I will, my liege.
Fal. Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad?
P. Hen. Thou art so fat-witted, with drinking
of old sack, and unbuttoning thee after supper, and
sleeping upon benches after noon, that thou hast
forgotten to demand that truly which thou
For more uneven and unwelcome news
Came from the north, and thus it did import.
On Holy-rood day, the gallant Hotspur there,
Young Harry Percy, and brave Archibald,
That ever-valiant and approved Scot,
At Holmedon met,
Brake off our business for the Holy Land.
to do with the time of the day? unless hours
West. This, match'd with other, did, my gra- would'st truly know. What the devil hast thou
were cups of sack, and minutes capons, aud
clocks the tongues of bawds, and dials the signs
of leaping-houses, and the blessed sun himself a
fair hot wench in flame-colour'd taffata; I see
no reason why thou should'st be so superfluous
to demand the time of the day.
Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour;
As by discharge of their artillery,
And shape of likelihood, the news was told;
For he that brought them, in the very heat
And pride of their contention did take horse,
Uncertain of the issue any way.
K. Hen. Here is a dear and true-industrious
Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse,
Stain'd with the variation of each soil
Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of our's;
And he hath brought us smooth and welcome
mak'st me sin,
In envy that my lord Northumberland
Should be the father of so blest a son:
SCENE II.-The same.-Another Room in
The earl of Douglas is discomfited;
Ten thousand bold Scots, two-and-twenty knights,
Balk'd in their own blood, did Sir Walter see
Cn Holmedon's plains: Of prisoners, Hotspur
• Expedition. I September 14. spbours.
Enter HENRY Prince of Wales, and
Fal. Indeed, you come near me now, Hal; for we, that take purses, go by the moon and seven stars; and not by Phoebus,-he, that wandering knight so fair. And, I pray thee, sweet wag, when thou art king,-as God save thy grace, (majesty I should say, for grace thou wilt have none,)
P. Hen. What, none?
Mordake the earl of Fife, and eldest son
To beaten Douglas; and the earls of Athol,
of Murray, Angus, and Menteith.
And is not this an honourable spoil?
A gallant prize? ha, cousin, is it not?
West. In faith,
P. Hen. Thou say'st well; and it holds well too: for the fortune of us, that are the moon's men, doth ebb and flow like the sea; being governed as the sea is, by the moon. As for proof now: A purse of gold most resolutely
It is a conquest for a prince to boast of.
K. Hen. Yea, there thou mak'st me sad, and snatched on Monday night, and most dissolutely
Trim, as birds clean their feathers.
Fal. No, by my troth; not so much as will serve to be prologue to an egg and butter.
P. Hen. Well, how then? come, roundly, roundly.
Fal. Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art king, let not us, that are squires of the night's be-Diana's foresters, gentlemen of the body, be called thieves of the day's beauty; let we be men of good government; being governed shade, minions of the moon: And let men say as the sea is, by our noble and chaste mistress the moon, under whose countenance we-steal.
A son, who is the theme of honour's tongue;
Amongst a grove, the very straightest plant;
Who is sweet fortune's minion, and her pride:
Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him,
See riot and dishonour stain the brow
of my young Harry.
Oh! that it could be
That some night-tripping fairy had exchang'd
In cradle-clothes our children where they lay,
And call'd mine Percy, his, Plantagenet!
Then would I have his Harry, and he mine,
Est let him from my thoughts :-What think
of this young Percy's pride? the prisoners,
Which he in this adventure hath surpris'd,
To bis own use he keeps; and sends me word,
I ball have none but Mordake earl of Fife.
West. This is his uncle's teaching, this is
P. Hen. Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my
Malevolent to you in all aspects;
Which makes him prunes himself, and bristle up coin would stretch; and where it would not, i
The crest of youth against your dignity.
have used my credit.
Ful. Yea, and so used it, that were it not here
spent on Tuesday morning; got with swearing -lay by ; and spent with crying-bring in: 1 now, in as low an ebb as the foot of the ladder, and by and by, in as high a flow as the ridge of the gallows.
Fal. By the Lord, thou say'st true, lad. And is not my hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench ?
P. Hen. As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle. And is not a buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance ? §
Fal. How now, how now, mad wag? what, in thy quips, and thy quiddities? what a plague have I to do with a buff jerkin?
P. Hen. Why, what a pox have I to do with my hostess of the tavern?
Fal. Well, thou hast called her to a reckoning many a time and oft.
P. Hen. Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part ?
Fal. No; I'll give thee thy due, thou hast paid all there.
Covered with dirt of different
Piled up in a heap.
↑ Stand still.
The dress of sheriff's officers.