Dutch. Not yet, I thee befeech:

For ever will I kneel upon my knees,

And never fee day that the happy fees, 'Till thou give joy; until thou bid me joy, By pardoning Rutland, my tranfgreffing boy. Aum. Unto my mother's prayers, I bend my knee. [Kneels: York. Against them both, my true joints bended be. [Kneels.

Ill may'st thou thrive, if thou grant any grace.

Dutch. 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: prays but faintly, and would be deny'd;

He

We pray

with heart, and foul, and all befide:

His weary joints would gladly rife, I know;

Our knees fhall kneel 'till to the ground they grow:
His prayers are full of false hypocrify;

Ours, of true zeal and deep integrity.

Our

prayers do out-pray

his; then let them "crave

That mercy, which true prayers ought to have.
Boling. Good aunt, ftand up.

Dutch. Nay, do not fay-stand up;

But, pardon, firft; and afterwards, ftand up.
An if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach,
Pardon-fhould 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 fhort, but not fo fhort as sweet;
No word like, pardon, for kings' mouths so meet.
York. Speak it in French, king; fay, pardonnez moy.
Dutch. Doft thou teach pardon pardon to destroy?
Ah, my four husband, my hard-hearted lord,

• bave

Gg 3

That

W

That fet'ft the word itfelf against the word!-
Speak, pardon, as 'tis current in our land
The chopping French we do not understand.
Thine eye begins to speak, fet thy tongue there:
Or, in thy piteous heart plant thou thine ear;
That, hearing how our plaints and prayers do pierce,
Pity may move thee pardon to rehearse.
Boling. Good aunt, ftand up.

Dutch. I do not fue to ftand,

Pardon is all the fuit I have in hand.

Boling. I pardon him, as heaven fhall pardon me,
Dutch. O happy vantage of a kneeling knee!
Yet am I fick for fear: fpeak it again;

Twice faying pardon, doth not pardon twain,
But makes one pardon ftrong.

Boling. With all my heart

pardon him.

Dutch. A god on earth thou art.

Boling. But for our trusty brother-in-law-and the abbot,

With all the reft of that conforted crew,-
Deftruction straight fhall dog them at the heels.—
Good uncle, help to order several powers
To Oxford, or where-e'er these traitors are:
They fhall not live within this world, I swear,
But I will have them, if I once know where.
Uncle, farewell;-and coufin too, adieu :

Your mother well hath pray'd, and prove you true. Dutch. Come, my old fon; I pray heaven make thee

W

new.

chopping]-jabbering.

[Exeunt.

x brother-in-law-John Holland, Duke of Exeter, and Earl of Hantingdon, own brother to Richard II. who had married the Lady Eliza, beth, filter to Bolingbroke.

SCENE

Exton. Didft thou not mark the king, what words he

Have I no friend, will rid me of this living fear?

Was it not fo?

Serv. Those were his very words.

Exton. Have I no friend? quoth he: he spake it twice, And urg'd it twice together; did he not.

Serv. He did.

Exton. And, fpeaking it, he wiftly look'd on me;
As who fhould fay,-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.

SCENE V.

The Prifon at Pomfret caftle.

Enter King Richard.

[Exeunt.

K. Rich. I have been studying how I may compare

This prifon, 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 fhall prove the female to my foul;
My foul, the father: and these two beget

A generation of ftill-breeding thoughts,

And these fame thoughts people this little world;

Y this little world;]-his own frame, the human microcofm, as 'tis often called.

In humours, like the people of this world,
For no thought is contented. The better fort,-
As thoughts of things divine,-are intermix'd
With fcruples, and do fet 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 poftern of a needle's eye.

Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot
Unlikely wonders: how thefe vain weak nails
May tear a paffage 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 themfelves,-
That they are not the first of fortune's slaves,
Nor fhall not be the laft; Like filly beggars,
Who, fitting in the stocks, refuge their shame,-
That many have, and others must fit there:
And in this thought they find a kind of ease,
Bearing their own misfortune on the back
Of fuch as have before endur'd the like.
Thus play I, in one perfon, many people,
And none contented: Sometimes am I king;
Then treafon makes me wifh myself a beggar,
And fo I am: Then crufhing penury
Perfuades me, I was better when king;
Then am I king'd again: and, by-and-by,
Think, that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke,

And straight am nothing :-But, what-e'er I am,
Nor I, nor any man, that but man is,
With nothing shall be pleas'd, 'till he be eas'd
With being nothing.-Mufic do I hear?
Ha, ha! keep time :-How four fweet mufic is,

[Mufic.

When time is broke, and no proportion kept!
So is it in the mufic of mens' lives.

And here have I the daintiness of ear,

To check time broke in a diforder'd ftring;
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 clock:
My thoughts are minutes; and, with fighs, they jar]
Their watches on; mine eyes, the outward watch,
Whereto my finger, like a dial's point,

Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears.
Now, fir, the founds that tell what hour it is,
Are clamorous groans, that strike upon my heart,
Which is the bell: So fighs, and tears, and groans,
Shew minutes, times, and hours :—but my time
Runs pofting on in Bolingbroke's proud joy,
While I stand fooling here, his Jack o' the clock.
This mufic mads me, let it found no more;

For, though it have holpe madmen to their wits,
In me, it seems, it will make wife men mad.
Yet, bleffing on his heart that gives it me!
For 'tis a fign of love; and love to Richard
'Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world.

Enter Groom.

Groom. Hail, royal prince!

K. Rich. Thanks, noble peer;

To check]-To chide, correct-To bear.

and, with figbs, they jar their watches on ;]-which are mark'd out by my fighs, refembling, both in their harfhnefs, and frequency, the vibrations of a pendulum.

the outward watch,]-the outward part, or plate of the watch. bis Jack o' the clock.]-the figure of a man striking the hours, &c. on the bell-and ftrike for him.

madmen]-perfons bitten by the Tarantula.

Is a Arange brooch in this all-bating world.]-An ornament out of fashion, a rarity in this world made up of malice.

The