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For 'tis a fign of love; and love to Richard
Is a ftrange brooch, in this all-hating world.

Enter Groom.

Groom. Hail, royal Prince!

K. Rich. Thanks, noble Peer.

The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear.
What art? how com'ft thou hither?

Where no man ever comes, but that fad Drudge, (24)
That brings me food, to make misfortune live?
Groom. I was a poor groom of thy ftable, King,
When thou wert King; who travelling tow'rds York,
With much ado, at length have gotten leave
To look upon my fometime Mafter's face.
O, how it yearn'd my heart, when I beheld,
In London ftreets, that Coronation day;
When Bolingbroke rode on Roan Barbary,
That horfe, that thou fo often haft beftrid;
That horse, that I fo carefully have dress'd.

K. Rich. Rode he on Barbary? tell me, gentle friend, How went he under him?

Groom. So proudly as he had difdain'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 ftumble? would he not fall down, (Since pride must have a fall) and break the neck Of that proud man, that did ufurp his back? Forgiveness, horfe; why do I rail on thee, Since thou, created to be aw'd by man,

(24) Where no Man ever comes, but that fad Dog] I have ventur'd at a Change here, againft the Authority of the Copies, by the Direction of Mr. Warburton. Indeed, fad Dog favours too much of the Comedian, the Oratory of the late facetious Mr. Penkethman. And Drudge is the Word of Contempt, which our Author chufes to use on other like Occafions. So in the 2 Henry VI.

Oh, that I were a God, to shoot forth Thunder
Upon thefe paltry, fervile, abject Drudges!

And again,

And will you credit this bafe Drudge's words? And in many other Paffages.

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Ibid.

Waft

Waft born to bear? I was not made a horse;
And yet I bear a burthen like an ass;
Spur-gall'd, and tir'd by jaunting Bolingbroke.

Enter Keeper, with a difb.

Keep. Fellow, give place; here is no longer stay. [To the Groom. K. Rich. If thou love me, 'tis time thou wert away. Groom. What my tongue dares not, that my heart fhall fay. [Exit.

Keep. My lord, will't pleafe you to fall to?

K. Rich. Tafte of it firft, as thou were wont to do. Keep. My lord, I dare not; for Sir Pierce of Exton, Who late came from the King, commands the contrary. K. Rich. The Dev'l take Henry of Lancaster, and thee! Patience is ftale, and I am weary of it. [Beats the Keeper. Keep. Help, help, help.

Enter Exton, and Servants.

K. Rich. How now? what means death in this rude affault? Wretch, thine own hand yields thy death's inftrument;

[Snatching a Sword. Go thou, and fill another room in hell. [Kills another. [Exton frikes him down. That band fhall burn in never-quenching fire, That staggers thus my perfon: thy fierce hand Hath with the King's blood ftain'd the King's own Land, Mount, mount, my foul! thy feat is up on high; Whilft my grofs flesh finks downward, here to die.

[Dies.

Exton. As full of valour, as of royal blood;
Both have I fpilt: Oh, would the deed were good!
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 hence the reft, and give them burial here.

[Exeunt.

SCENE

SCENE changes to the Court at Windfor.

Flourish: Enter Bolingbroke, York, with other Lords and attendants.

Boling. K

IND Uncle York, the latest news we hear, Is, that the Rebels have confum'd with fire Our town of Cicefter in Gloucestershire;

But whether they be ta'en or flain, we hear not.

Enter Northumberland.

Welcome, my lord: what is the news?

North. First to thy facred State wifh I all happiness; The next news is, I have to London fent

The heads of Sal'sbury, Spencer, Blunt and Kent:
The manner of their Taking may appear

At large difcourfed in this paper here.

[Prefenting a paper. Boling. We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains, And to thy worth will add right-worthy gains.

Enter Fitz-water.

Fitz-w. My lord, I have from Oxford fent to London The heads of Broccas, and Sir Bennet Seely; Two of the dangerous conforted traytors, That fought at Oxford thy dire overthrow.

Boling. Thy pains, Fitz-water, fhall not be forgot, Right noble is thy merit, well I wot.

Enter Percy, and the Bishop of Carlisle. Percy. The grand Confpirator, Abbot of Westminster, With clog of confcience, and four melancholy, Hath yeilded up his body to the Grave:

But here is Carlifle, living to abide

Thy kingly doom, and fentence of his pride.
Boling. Carlisle, this is your doom:

Chufe out fome fecret place, fome reverend room
More than thou haft, and with it joy thy life;
So, as thou liv'st in peace, die free from ftrife.
Z 2

For

For though mine enemy thou haft ever been,
High sparks of honour in thee I have seen.

Enter Exton, with a coffin.

Exton. Great King, within this Coffin I prefent
Thy bury'd fear. Herein all breathless lies
The mightiest of thy greateft enemies,
Richard of Bourdeaux, by me hither brought.

Boling. Exton, I thank thee not; for thou haft wrought (25)

A deed of flander with thy fatal hand,

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 with him dead,
I hate the murth'rer, love him murthered.
The Guilt of Conscience take thou for thy labour,
But neither my good word, nor princely favour.
With Cain go wander through the fhade of night,
And never fhew thy head by day, or light.
Lords, I proteft, my foul is full of woe,

That blood fhould fprinkle me, to make me grow.
Come, mourn with me for what I do lament,
And put on fullen Black, incontinent:
I'll make a voyage to the Holy-land,
To wash this blood off from my guilty hand.
March fadly after, grace my Mourning here,
In weeping over this untimely Bier.
[Exeunt omnes.

for Thou haft wrought

(25) A Deed of Slaughter with thy fatal Hand,] I have chose the Reading of the elder Quarto here, a Deed of Slander, &c. For Richard's Murther might be a Reproach upon the whole Country, tho' his Death could not be laid to their general Charge!

The

The FIRST PART of

HENRY IV.

WITH THE

LIFE and DEATH

O F

HENRY, Sirnam'd HOT-SPUR.

Z3

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