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But duft was thrown upon his facred 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, steel'd · The hearts of men, they muft perforce have melted And barbarism it self have pitied him. But heaven hath a hand in these events, To whofe high will we bound our calm contents. To Bolingbroke are we sworn Subjects now, Whose State, and Honour, I for 'aye allow.

Enter Aumerle.
Dutch. Here comes my son Aumerle.

York. Aumerle that was,
But that is loft, for being Richard's friend.
And, Madam, yoq must call him Rutland now:
I am in Parliament pledge for his truth,
And lasting fealty to the new-made King.

Dutch. 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: God knows, I had as lief be none, as one. York. Well, bear you well in this new Spring of time, be

you come to Prime. What news from Oxford? hold those Justs, and

Triumphs ? Aum. For ought I know, they do. York. You will be there? Aum. If God prevent me not, I purpose fo. York. What Seal is that, that hangs without thy bo

som ? Yea, look?ft 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 fome reasons I would not have seen.



Left you

cropt before

York. Which for some reasons, Sir, I mean to see. I fear, I fear

Dutch. What should you fear, my lord? 'Tis nothing but some bond he's enter'd into, For gay apparel, against the triumph.

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. dum. I do beseech you, pardon me; I may not

shew it. York. I will be satisfied, let me see it, I say.

[Snatches it, and reads. Treason! foul treason! villain, traitor, slave!

Dutch. What's the matter, my lord?

York. Hoa, who's within there? saddle my horse. Heav'n, for his mercy! what treachery is here?

Dutch. Why, what is’t, my lord?

York. Give me my boots, I say: faddle my horse.
Now by my honour, by my life, my troth,
I will appeach the villain.

Dutch. What is the matter?
York. Peace, foolish woman.
Dutch. I will not peace: what is the matter, fon?

Aum. Good mother, be content; it is no more
Than my poor life must answer.

Dutch. Thy life answer!

Enter Servant, with boots.

York. Bring me my boots. I will unto the King. Dutch. Strike him, Aumerle. (Poor boy, thou art

amaz’d.) Hence, villain, never more come in my fight.

[Speaking to the Servant. York. Give me my boots.

Dutch. Why, York, what wilt thou do?
Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own?
Have we more fons? 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 have set their hands,
To kill the King at Oxford.

Dutch. 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.

Dutch. Hadft thou groan'd 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,
Nor like to me, nor any of my kin,
And yet I love him.
York. Make way, unruly woman.

Dutch. After, Aumerle; mount thee upon his horse;
Spur poft, 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 pardon'd thee. Away. (Exeunt.

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(20) SCENE changes to the Court at Windsor

Enter Bolingbroke, Percy, and other Lords.
Boling. Cris ful three months, Gince I did see him

AN ?



(20) Scene changes to Oxford.] This Distinction of Scenary, which is marked in none of the former Copies, we owe to the happy Efforts of

Mr. Pope

If any plague hang over us, 'tis he:
I would to heav'n, my lords, he might be found.
Enquire at London, 'mongst the taverns there:
For there, they fay, he daily doth frequent,
With unrestrained loose Companions :
Even such, they fay, as stand in narrow lanes,
And beat our watch, and rob our passengers: (21)
While he, young, wanton, and effeminate boy,
Takes on the point of honour, to support
So diffolute à 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 common'st Creature pluck a glove And wear it as a favour, and with that He would unhorse the luftieft Challenger.

Boling. As dissolute, as desp'tate ; yet through both I see some sparks of hope; which elder days May happily bring forth. But who comes here?

Enter Aumerle.'

Aum. Where is the King?

Boling. What means our Cousin, that he stares, And looks so wildly? Mr. Pope in his Éditions. But Indolence and Industry work the same Effects


this Gentleman in his Discoveries, and are Both the Parents of Error." 'Tis true, the Turnaments, prepar'd for the Destruction of Bolingbroke, were appointed at Oxford, and thither Bolingbroke was invited by the Confpirators. But the Plot was discover'd early enough to prevent his setting out for Oxford; and the Duke of York impeach'd his Son to him, and Aumerle likewise accus'd himself, at the Castle of Windfor, where Boling broke then refided, as Mr. Pope might have seen in our English Chronicles: and therefore thither I have remov'd the Scene:

(21). And rob our Watch, and beat our Passengers.] This Fashion seems a little alter'd in our Days, if we were to take this on Trust for the genuine Reading. But tho' the generality of the Copies have fallin into this blundering Transposition, the good old Quarto, with which one would imagine Mr. Pope had traded so accurately, bids us read as I have regulated the Text. And beat our Watch, and rob our Passengers.



Aum. God save your Grace. I do beseech your Ma

jefty, To have some conf'rence with your Grace alone.

Boling. Withdraw your selves, and leave us here alone. What is the matter with our Cousin now? Aum. For ever 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 ere 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 the Tale be done. Boling. Have thy desire.

(York within. York. My Liege beware, look to thy self, Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there.

Boling. Villain, I'll make thee fafe.
Aum. Stay thy revengeful hand, thou haft no cause

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to fear

York. Open the door, secure fool-hardy King:
Shall I for love speak treafon to thy face?
Open the door, or I will break it open.

Enter York.
Boling. What is the matter, uncle? speak, take 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 hafte forbids me show.

Aum. Remember, as thou read'st, thy promise past:
I do repent me, read not my name there,
My heart is not confed’rate with my hand.

York. Villain, it was, ere thy hand set it down.
I tore it from the traytor's bosom, King,
Fear, and not love, begets his penitence;
Forget to picy him, left thy pity prove
A ferpent, that will sting thee to the heart.

Boling. O heinous, strong, and bold conspiracy!
O loyal father of a treach'rous son!


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