To take on me to keep, and kill thy heart. [Kifs again. So, now I have mine own again, be gone, That I may strive to kill it with a groan. K. Rich. We make woe wanton with this fond delay: Once more, adieu; the reft, let forrow fay. SCENE II. The duke of York's palace. Enter York and bis Dutchefs. [Exeunt. Dutch. My lord, you told me, you would tell the reft, When weeping made you break the ftory off Dutch. At that fad ftop, my lord, Where rude mifgovern'd hands, from window-tops, Which his afpiring rider feem'd to know, With flow, but stately pace, kept on his course, Dutch. Alas, poor Richard! where rides he the while? York. As in a theatre, the eyes of men, After a well-grac'd actor leaves the ftage, Are 4 Are idly bent on him that enters next, Even fo, or with much more contempt, mens' eyes That had not God, for fome ftrong purpose, steel'd But heaven hath a hand in thefe events, To whofe high will we bound our calm contents. Enter Aumerle. Dutch. Here comes my fon Aumerle. But that is loft, for being Richard's friend, Dutch. Welcome, my fon: who are the violets now, 5 That ftrew the green lap of the new-come spring? Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not; God knows, I had as lief be none, as one. 6 York. Well, bear you well in this new spring of time, Left you be cropt before you come to prime. Are idly bent- -] That is carelefly turned, thrown without attention. This the poet learned by his attendance and practice on the stage. JOHNSON. 5 That fire the green lap of the new-come fpring?] So Milton in one of his fongs, who from her green lap throws "The yellow cowflip and the pale primrofe." STEEV. 6 - bear you well-] That is, conduct yourfelf with prudence. JOHNSON. What What news from Oxford? hold thefe jufts and tri umphs? Aum. For aught I know, my lord, they do. Aum. If God prevent me not; I purpose so. 7 Yea, look'st thou pale? let me fee the writing. Aum. My lord, 'tis nothing. York. No matter then who fees it: I will be fatisfied, let me fee the writing. Aum. I do befeech your grace to pardon me; Which for fome reasons I would not have seen. Dutch. What should you fear? 'Tis nothing but some bond that he is enter'd into, York. Bound to himself? what doth he with a bond, Aum. I do befeech you pardon me; I may not fhew it. York. I will be fatisfied; let me fee it, I fay. [Snatches it and reads. Treafon foul treafon! villain! traitor! flave! Dutch. What is the matter, my lord? York. Ho! who is within there? faddle my Heaven, for his mercy! what treachery is here? Dutch. Why, what is it, my lord? horse. York. Give me my boots, I fay: faddle my horse. Now by my honour, by my life, my troth, I will appeach the villain. Yea, look'ft thou pale? let me fee the writing.] Such harsh and defective lines as this, are probably corrupt, and might be eafily fupplied, but that it would be dangerous to let conjecture loofe on fuck flight occafions. JoHNSON. Dutch. 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 muft answer. Dutch. Thy life answer! Enter fervant 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. York. Give me my boots. [Speaking to the fervant. Dutch. Why, York, what wilt thou do? Dutch. He fhall be none: We'll keep him here; then what is that to him? York. Away, fond woman! were he twenty times My fon, I would appeach him. Dutch. Hadft thou groan'd for him, As I have done, thou'dft be more pitiful. But now I know thy mind; thou dost suspect, That I have been difloyal to thy bed, And that he is a baftard, not thy fon. Sweet York, fweet husband, be not of that mind: And yet I love him. York. York. Make way, unruly woman! [Exit. Dutch. After, Aumerle: mount thee upon his horfe; Spur poft; and get before him to the king, And beg thy pardon, ere he do accufe thee. I'll not be long behind; though I be old, I doubt not but to ride as faft as York: And never will I rife up from the ground, Till Bolingbroke have pardon'd thee. Away. [Exeunt, SCENE III. The court at Windfor-castle. Enter Bolingbroke, Percy, and other lords. Boling. Can no man tell of my unthrifty fon? 'Tis full three months fince I did fee him laft.If any plague hang over us, 'tis he. I would to heaven, my lords, he might be found. Even fuch, they fay, as ftand in narrow lanes, So diffolute a crew. Percy. My lord, fome two days fince I saw the prince, And told him of these triumphs held at Oxford. Percy. His anfwer was, he would unto the ftews, And from the common'ft creature pluck a glove, And wear it as a favour; and with that He would unhorfe the luftieft challenger. Enquire at London, &c.] This is a very proper introduction to the future character of Henry the Fifth, to his debaucheries in his youth, and his greatnefs in his manhood. JOHNSON. |