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Dutch. Not yet, I thee beseech : For ever will I kneel upon my knees, And never see day that the happy sees, 'Till thou give joy; until thou bid me joy, By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy. Aum. Unto my mother's prayers, I bend my knee.

[Kneels. York. Against them both, my true joints bended be.

[Kneels. Ill may'st thou thrive, if thou grant any grace.

Dutcb. Pleads he in earnest ? look upon his face ;
His eyes do drop no tears, his prayers are in jest ;
His words come from his mouth, ours from our breaft:
He prays but faintly, and would be deny'd ;
We
pray

with heart, and soul, and all beside:
His weary joints would gladly rise, I know ;
Our knees shall kneel 'till to the ground they grow :
His prayers are full of false hypocrisy;
Ours, of true zeal and deep integrity.
Our

prayers do out-pray his ; then let them "crave That mercy, which true prayers ought to have.

Boling. Good aunt, stand up.

Dutcb. Nay, do not say-stand up;
But, pardon, first; and afterwards, stand up.
An if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach,
Pardon-should be the first word of thy speech.
I never long'd to hear a word 'till now;
Say–pardon, king; let pity teach thee how:
The word is short, but not so short as sweet ;
No word like, pardon, for kings' mouths so meet.

York. Speak it in French, king; say, pardonnez moy.

Dutch. Dost thou teach pardon pardon to destroy? Ah, my four husband, my hard-hearted lord,

baur

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That

That set’st the word itself against the word !
Speak, pardon, as 'tis current in our land ;
The "chopping French we do not understand.
Thine eye begins to speak, set thy tongue there :
Or, in thy piteous heart plant thou thine ear ;
That, hearing how our plaints and prayers do pierce,
Pity may move thee pardon to rehearse.

Boling. Good aunt, stand up.

Dutch. I do not fue to stand, Pardon is all the suit I have in hand.

Boling. I pardon him, as heaven shall pardon me,

Dutch. O happy vantage of a kneeling knee !
Yet am I fick for fear: speak it again ;
Twice saying pardon, doth not pardon twain,
But makes one pardon strong.

Boling. With all my heart
pardon him.
Dutch. A god on earth thou art.
Boling. But for our trusty * brother-in-law-and the

abbot,
With all the rest of that conforted crew,-
Destruction straight shall dog them at the heels.-
Good uncle, help to order several powers
To Oxford, or where-e'er these traitors are :
They shall not live within this world, I swear,
But I will have them, if I once know where.
Uncle, farewell ;--and cousin too, adieu :
Your mother well hath pray'd, and prove you true.
Dutch. Come, my old fun; I pray heaven make thee

(Exeunt.

new.

chopping)-jabbering. * brother-in-law]-John Holland, Duke of Exeter, and Earl of Hantiegdon, own brother to Richard II, who had married the Lady Eliza. berb, fister to Boling broke.

SCENE

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Enter Exton, and a Servant.
Exton. Didst thou not mark the king, what words he

spake?
Have I no friend, will rid me of this living fear ? .
Was it not so?
Serv. Those were his

very

words. Exton. Have I no friend? quoth he: he spake it twice, And urg'd it twice together ; did he not.

Serv. He did.

Exton. And, speaking it, he wiftly look'd on me ; As who fhould say,- I would, thou wert the man That would divorce this terror from my heart ; Meaning, the king at Pomfret. Come, let's go ; I am the king's friend, and will rid his foe. [Exeunt.

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Enter King Richard.
K. Rich. I have been studying how I may compare
This prison, where I live, unto the world :
And, for because the world is populous,
And here is not a creature but myself,
I cannot do it ;-Yet I'll hammer it out.
My brain shall prove the female to my soul ;
My soul, the father : and these two beget
A generation of still-breeding thoughts,
And these same thoughts people this little world;

y ibis little world;]-his own frame, the human microcojm, as 'tis often called. Gg 4

In

In humours, like the people of this world,
For no thought is contented. The better sort,
As thoughts of things divine,--are intermix'd
With scruples, and do set the word itself
Against the word :
As thus --Come, little ones ; and then again,-
It is as hard to come, as for a camel
To thread the postern of a needle's eye.
Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot
Unlikely wonders : how these vain weak nails
May tear a passage through the finty ribs
Of this hard world, my ragged prison walls ;
And, for they cannot, die in their own pride.
Thoughts tending to content, fatter themselves,
That they are not the first of fortune's Naves,
Nor shall not be the last ; Like filly beggars,
Who, fitting in the stocks, refuge their shame,
That many have, and others must fit there :
And in this thought they find a kind of ease,
Bearing their own misfortune on the back
Of such as have before endur'd the like.
Thus play I, in one person, many people,
And none contented : Sometimes am I king;
Then treason makes me wish myself a beggar,
And so I am : Then crushing penury
Persuades me, I was better when king;
Then am I king'd again : and, by-and-by,
Think, that I am unking’d by Bolingbroke,
And straight am nothing :-But, what-e'er I am,
Nor I, nor any man, that but man is,
With nothing shall be pleas'd, 'till he be eas'd
With being nothing.-Mufic do I hear? (Mufis.
Ha, ha! keep time :-How four sweet music is,
a prison.

When

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When time is broke, and no proportion kept !
So is it in the music of mens' lives.
And here have I the daintiness of ear,
• To check time broke in a diforder'd ftring;
But, for the concord of my state and time,
Had not an ear to hear my true time broke.
I wasted time, and now doth time waste me.
For now hath time made me his numb'ring clock :
My thoughts are minutes ; and, with fighs, they jar)
Their watches on ; mine eyes, the outward watch,
Whereto my finger, like a dial's point,
Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears.
Now, sir, the sounds that tell what hour it is,
Are clamorous groans, that strike upon my heart,
Which is the bell : So sighs, and tears, and groans,
Shew minutes, times, and hours :--but my time
Runs posting on in Bolingbroke's proud joy,
While I stand fooling here, his Jack o'the clock.
This music mads me, let it sound no more ;
For, though it have holpe madmen to their wits,
In me, it seems, it will make wise men mad.
Yet, blessing on his heart that gives it me!
For 'tis a sign of love ; and love to Richard
'Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world.

Enter Groom.
Groom. Hail, royal prince !
K. Ricb. Thanks, noble peer ;
To cbeck]-To chide, correct-To bear.

and, with figbs, they jar their watches on ;)--which are mark'd out by my sighs, resembling, both in their harshness, and frequency, the vibrations of a pendulum.

sbe outward watcb,)--he outward part, or plate of the watch. d bis Jack o' the clock.)-the figure of a man Itriking the hours, &c. on the bell—and strike for him.

madmen)-persons bitten by the Tarantula. 'Is a frange broocb in this all-bating world.]-An ornament out of fahion, a sarity in this world made up of malice.

The

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