The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burn'd; My heart hath one poor string to stay it by, Bast. The Dauphin is preparing hitherward; Were in the washes, all unwarily, [The King dies. Sal. You breathe these dead news in as dead an ear.My liege! my lord!-But now a king, -now thus. P. Hen. Even so must I run on, and even so stop. What surety of the world, what hope, what stay, When this was now a king, and now is clay? Bast. Art thou gone so? I do but stay behind, And then my soul shall wait on thee to heaven, Now, now, you stars, that move in your right spheres, Where be your powers? Show now your mended faiths; To push destruction, and perpetual shame, Out of the weak-door of our fainting land: Sal. It seems, you know not then so much as we: The cardinal Pandulph is within at rest, Who half an hour since came from the Dauphin; Sal. Nay, it is in a manner done already; With whom yourself, myself, and other lords, To cónsummate this business happily. Bast. Let it be so;-And you, my noble prince, With other princes that may best be spared, P. Hen. At Worcester must his body be interr'd; Bast. Thither shall it then, And happily may your sweet self put on * Model The lineal state and glory of the land! To whom, with all submission, on my knee, And true subjection everlastingly. Sal. And the like tender of our love we make, To rest without a spot for evermore. P. Hen. I have a kind soul that would give you thanks, And knows not how to do it, but with tears. Bast. O, let us pay the time but needful woe, Since it hath been before-hand with our griefs.- But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, And we shall shock them: Nought shall make us rue, [Exeunt. BAGOT, GREEN, Richard. EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND. HENRY PERCY, his Son. LORD ROSS. LORD WILLOUGHBY. BISHOP OF CARLISLE. SIR PIERCE of Exton. QUEEN to King Richard. LADY attending on the Queen. LORDS, HERALDS, OFFICERS, SOL- SCENE.-Dispersedly in England and Wales. ACT I. SCENE I-London. A Room in the Palace. Enter KING RICHARD, attended; JOHN of GAUNT, and other Nobles, with him. K. Rich. Old John of Gaunt, time-honour'd Lancaster, Hast thou, according to thy oath and band,* Brought hither Henry Hereford thy bold son; Here to make good the boisterous late appeal, Which then our leisure would not let us hear, K. Rich. Tell me moreover, hast thou sounded him, Or worthily as a good subject should, On some known ground of treachery in him? Gaunt. As near as I could sift him on that argument,― On some apparent danger seen in him, Aim'd at your highness, no inveterate malice. K. Rich. Then call them to our presence; face to face, [Exeunt some Attendants. High-stomach'd are they both, and full of ire, In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire. Re-enter Attendants, with BOLINGBROKE and NORFOLK. Boling. May many years of happy days befall My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege! Nor. Each day still better other's happiness; Until the heavens, envying earth's good hap, Add an immortal title to your crown! K. Rich. We thank you both: yet one but flatters us, As well appeareth by the cause you come; Namely, to appeal each other of high treason. Cousin of Hereford, what dost thou object Against the duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray ? Boling. First, (heaven be the record of my speech!) Tendering the precious safety of my prince, And wish (so please my sovereign), ere I move, What my tongue speaks, my right-drawn sword may prove. "Tis not the trial of a woman's war, The bitter clamour of two eager tongues, The blood is hot, that must be cool'd for this, First, the fair reverence of your highness curbs me From giving reins and spurs to my free speech; I do defy him, and I spit at him; Call him-a slanderous coward, and a villain : Boling. Pale trembling coward, there I throw my gage, And lay aside my high blood's royalty, Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to except: Or chivalrous design of knightly trial: And, when I mount, alive may I not light, If I be traitor, or unjustly fight! K. Rich. What doth our cousin lay to Mowbray's charge? It must be great, that can inheritt us So much as of a thought of ill in him. Boling. Look, what I speak my life shall prove it true;- Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and spring. Upon his bad life, to make all this good, That he did plot the duke of Gloster's death; Suggest his soon-believing adversaries; And, consequently, like a traitor coward, Sluiced out his innocent soul through streams of blood: Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth, * Uninhabitable. + Possess. + Wicked. § Prompt. |