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Gard. Depreft he is already, and depos'd
'Tis doubted he will be. Letters laft night
Came to a dear friend of the Duke of York,
That tell black tidings..

Queen. Oh, Fam preft to death through want of speaking: Thou Adam's likenefs, fet to drefs this garden,

How dares thy tongue found this unpleafing news
What Eve, what ferpent hath fuggefted thee,
To make a fecond fall of curfed man?

Why doft thou fay, King Richard is depos'd?
Dar'ft thou, thou little better thing than earth,
Divine his downfal? fay, where, when, and how
Cam'ft thou by thefe ill tidings? fpeak, thou wretch.
Gard. Pardon me, Madam. Little joy have I
To breathe thefe news; yet what I fay is true;
King Richard, he is in the mighty hold

Of Bolingbroke their fortunes both are weigh'd s
In your Lord's fcale is nothing but himself,
And fome few vanities that make him light:
But in the balance of great Bolingbroke,
Befides himself, are all the English Peers,
And with that odds he weighs King Richard down.
Poft you to London, and you'll find it fo;

I fpeak no more than every one doth know.

Queen. Nimble Mifchance, that art fo light of foot,
Doth not thy embaffage belong to me?

And am I laft that know it? Oh, thou think'st
To ferve me laft, that I may longeft keep
The forrow in my breaft. Come, Ladies, go,
To meet, at London, London's King in woe.
What, was I born to this! that my fad look
Should grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke!
Gard'ner, for telling me thefe news of woe,
I would the plants thou graft'ft may never grow.

[Ex. Queen and Ladia. Gard. Poor Queen, fo that thy ftate might be no work,

I would my fkill were fubject to thy curfe.
Here did the drop a tear, here in this place
I'll fet a bank of Rue, fow'r berb of grace

!

Ruc,

Rue, ev'n for ruth, here shortly shall be seen,
In the remembrance of a weeping Queen.

Ex. Gard, and Serv

ACT IV. SCENE I,

LONDON.

Enter as to the Parliament, Bolingbroke, Aumerle, North-
umberland, Percy, Fitzwater, Surrey, Bishop of Carlisle,
Abbot of Westminster, Herald, Officers, and Bagot.
All Bagot forth now freely fpeak thy mind,
What thou doft know of noble Glo'fter's death:
Who wrought it with the King, and who perform'd
The bloody office of his timeless end.

Boling,

CA

Bagot. Then fet before my face the Lord Aumerle. Boling. Coufin, ftand forth, and look upon that man. Bagot. My Lord Aumerle, I know your daring tongue Scorns to unfay what it hath once deliver'd.

In that dead time when Glofter's death was plotted,
I heard you fay, Is not my arm of length,
That reacheth from the reftful English Court
As far as Calais to my uncle's head?
Amongst much other talk, that very time,
I heard you fay, you rather had refuse
The offer of an hundred thousand crowns,
Than Bolingbroke return to England; adding
Withal how bleft this land would be in this
Your coufin's death.

Aum. Princes, and noble Lords!

What answer fhall I make to this bafe man?
Shall I fo much difhonour my fair stars,
On equal terms to give him chastisement ?
Either I muft, or have mine honour foil'd
With the attainder of his fland'rous lips.
There is my gage, the manual feal of death,
That marks thee out for hell. Thou lieft, Bagot,
And I'll maintain, what thou hast said is false,
In thy heart-blood, though being all too base
To ftain the temper of my knightly fword.
Boling. Bagot, forbear; thou shalt not take it up.
Aum. Excepting one, I would he were the best
VOL. IV.
D d

5

In

In all this prefence that hath mov'd me fo.
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'ft,
I heard thee fay, and vauntingly thou spak'st it,
That thou wert caufe of noble Glo'fter's death.
If thou deny'ft it, twenty times thou lieft,
And I will turn thy falfhood 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 lieft; his honour is as true,
In this appeal, as thou art all unjuft:

And that thou art fo, there I throw my gage
To prove it on thee, to th'extreameft point
Of mortal breathing. Seize it, if thou dar'st.
Aum. And if I do not, may my hands rot off,
And never brandish more revengeful steel
Over the glittering helmet of my foe !
Who fets me elfe? by heav'n, I'll throw at all.
I have a thousand fpirits in my breast,
To answer twenty thoufand fuch as you.
Surrey. My Lord Fitzwater, I remember

The very time Aumerle and you did talk.

well

Fitzw. My Lord, 'tis true: you were in prefence then ;

And you can witness with me, this is true.

Surrey. As falfe, by heav'n, as heav'n it self is true. Fitzw. Surrey, thou lieft.

Surrey. Difhonourable boy!

That lie fhall lye fo heavy on my fword,

That it fhall render vengeance and revenge,
'Till thou the lie-giver, and that lie, reft
In earth as quiet, as thy father's fcull.

In proof whereof, there is mine honour's pawn;
Engage it to the tryal, if thou dar'ft.

Fitzw. How fondly doft thou fpur a forward horfe!
If I dare eat, or drink, or breathe, or live,

I dare meet Surrey in a wildernefs,

And fpit upon him, whilft I fay he lies,

And

And lies, and lies: there is my bond of faith,
To tie thee to my ftrong correction.
As I intend to thrive in this new world,
Aumerle is guilty of my true appeal.
Befides, I heard the banish'd Norfolk fay,
That thou, Aumerle, didft fend two of thy men
To execute the noble Duke at Calais.

Aum. Some honeft chriftian truft me with a gage,
That Norfolk lies; here do I throw down this,
If he may be repeal'd, to try his honour.

Boling. Thefe diff'rences fhall all reft under gage,
"Till Norfolk be repeal'd repeal'd he shall be,
And, though mine enemy, reftor'd again
To all his figniories; when he's return'd,
Against Aumerle we will enforce his tryal.

Carl. That honourable day shall ne'er be seen.
Many a time hath banish'd Norfolk fought
For Jefu Chrift, in glorious chriftian field
Streaming the enfign of the chriftian Cross,
Against black Pagans, Turks, and Saracens :
Then, toil'd with works of war, retir'd himself
To Italy, and there at Venice gave

His body to that pleasant country's earth,
And his pure foul unto his captain Chrift,
Under whofe colours he hath fought fo long.
Boling. Why, Bifhop, is Norfolk dead?
Carl. Sure as I live, my Lord.
Boling. Sweet peace conduct his foul
To th' bofom of good Abraham!
Your diff'rences fhall all reft under gage,
'Till we affign you to your days of tryal.

Lords appealants,

SCENE II. Enter York.

York. Great Duke of Lancafter, I come to thee From plume-pluckt Richard, who with willing foul Adopts thee heir, and his high fcepter yields

To the poffeffion of thy royal hand.

Afcend his throne, defcending now from him,
And long live Henry of that name the Fourth!

Boling. In God's name, I'll afcend the regal throne.
Carl Marry, heav'n forbid !

D & 2

Worft

1

Worft in this royal prefence may I speak?
Yet best beseeming me to fpeak the truth.
Would God, that any in this noble presence
Were enough noble to be upright judge,
Of noble Richard; then true nobleness would
Learn him forbearance from fo foul a wrong.
What fubject can give fentence on his King?
And who fits here that is not Richard's subject ?
Thieves are not judg'd but they are by to hear,
Although apparent guilt be seen in them.
And fhall the figure of God's Majefty,
His Captain, Steward, Deputy elect,
Anointed, crown'd, and planted many years,
Be judg'd by fubject and inferior breath,
And he himself not prefent? oh, forbid it,
That in a chriftian climate, fouls refin'd
Should fhew fo heinous, black, obscene a deed!
I fpeak to subjects, and a fubject speaks,
Stirr'd up by heav'n, thus boldly for his King.
My Lord of Hereford here, whom you call King,
Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford's King.
And if you crown him, let me prophefie,
The blood of English fhall manure the ground,
And future ages groan for this foul act.
Peace fhall go fleep with Turks and Infidels,
And in this feat of peace, tumultuous wars
Shall kin with kin, and kind with kind confound.
Disorder, horror, fear and mutiny

Shall here inhabit, and this land be call'd
The field of Golgotha, and dead men's fculls.
Oh, if you rear this house against this house,
It will the wofullest divifion prove,
That ever fell upon this curfed earth.
Prevent, refift it, let it not be fo,

Left children's children cry against you, woe!

North. Well have you argu'd, Sir; and for your pains,

Of capital treafon we arreft you here.

My Lord of Westminster, be it your charge,
To keep him fafely 'till his day of tryal.

May't please you, Lords, to grant the Commons uit?

Bo.ing.

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