A C T IV. SCENE I. In London. Enter, as to the parliament, Bolingbroke, Aumerle, Northumberland, Percy, Fitzwater, Surrey, Bishop of Carlifle, Abbot of Westminster, Herald, Officers, and Bagot. Boling What thou doft know of Noble Glo'fter's CA All Bagot forth. Now freely fpeak thy mind, death; Who wrought it with the King, and who perform'd The bloody office of his timeless * end. Bagot. Then fet before my face the Lord Aumerle. Than Bolingbroke return to England; adding, What anfwer fhall I make to this base man? [death. Boling. Bagot, forbear; thou fhalt not take it up. Aum. Excepting one, I would he were the best In all this presence that hath mov'd me fo. timeless, for untimely. Fitzw. If that thy valour stand on fympathies, There is my gage, Aumerle, in gage to thine. By that fair fun, that fhews me where thou ftand'st, I heard thee fay, and vauntingly thou fpak'ft it, That thou wert caufe of Noble Glo'fter's death. If thou deny'ft it, twenty times thou lyeft; And I will turn thy falfehood to thy heart, Where it was forged, with my rapier's point. Aum. Thou dar'ft not, coward, live to fee the day. Fitzw. Now, by my foul, I would it were this hour. Aum. Fitzwater, thou art damn'd to hell for this. Percy, Aumerle, thou lyeft; his honour is as true, n this appeal, as thou art all unjust; And that thou art fo, there I throw my gage Who fets me elfe? by Heav'n, I'll throw at all. To answer twenty thoufand fuch as you. Surrey. My Lord Fitzwater, I remember well The very time Aumerle and you did talk. Fitzw. My Lord, 'tis true: you were in prefence And you can witnefs with me this is true. [then; Surrey. As falfe, by heav'n, as heav'n itself is true. Fitzw. Surrey, thou lyeft. Surrey. Dishonourable boy, That lye fhall lie fo heavy on my fword, In proof whereof, there is mine honour's pawn; Fitzw. How fondly doft thou fpur a forward horse? If I dare eat, or drink, or breathe, or live, I dare meet Surrey in a wilderness, And spit upon him, whilst I say he lyes, And lyes, and lyes: there is my bond of faith, As I intend to thrive in this new world, Aumerle Aumerle is guilty of my true appeal. Befides, I heard the banifh'd Norfolk fay, That thou, Aumerle, didit fend two of thy men Aum. Some honest Christian truft me with a gage, That Norfolk lyes: here do I throw down this, If he may be repeal'd, to try his honour. Boling. Thefe diff'rences fhall all rest under gage, Carl. That honourable day fhall ne'er be feen. His body to that pleafant country's earth Boling. Sweet peace conduct his foul To th' bofom of good Abraham !-Lords appealants, Your differences shall all rest under gage, Till we affign you to your days of trial. SCENE II Enter York. York. Great Duke of Lancaster, I come to thee From plume-pluck Richard, who with willing foul Adopts thee heir, and his high fceptre yields: To the poffeffion of thy royal hand. Afcend his throne, defcending now from him, 'Worft in this Royal prefence may I speak, Of Noble Richard; then true nobleness would Shall here inhabit, and this land be call'd Prevent, refift it, let it not be so, Left children's children cry against you, Woe. Of capital treason we arrest you here. My Lord of Westminster, be it your charge, To keep him fafely till his day of trial. May't please you, Lords, to grant the Commons' fuit? Boling. Fetch hither Richard. that in common view He may furrender: fo we fhall proceed Without fufpicion. York. I will be his conduct. [Exit. Boling. Lords, you that here are under our arrest, Procure your fureties for your days of answer: VOL. IV. H Little Little are we beholden to your love, And little look'd for at your helping hands. SCENE III. Enter King Richard and York. Did they not fometime cry, were they not mine? All hail! to me? So Judas did to Chrift: but he in twelve, [none. * Found truth in all, but one; I, in twelve thousand, To do what fervice, am I fent for hither? York. To do that office of thine own good will, Which tired Majefty did make thee offer The refignation of thy ftate and crown. ; K. Rich. Give me the crown.--Here, coufin, feize the crown, Here, on this fide, my hand; on that fide, thine. † in twelve thousand, none. God fave the King! will no man fay, Amen ? + -on that fide, thine. Now is this golden crown like a deep well, The other down, unfeen and full of water; Drinking my griefs, while you mount up on high. Beling. I thought you had been willing to refign. K. Rich. My crown, I am; but ftill my griefs are mine: You may my glories and my ftate depof, But not my griefs: fill am I King of those. Boling. Part of your cares you give me with your crown. K. Rich. Your cares fet up, do not pluck my cares down. My care, is lofs of care, by old care done; Now Your care, is gain of care, by new care won. They tend the crown, yet ftill with me they stay. Boling, |