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 't is a sign of love; and love to Richard
Is a strange 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 thou? and how comest thou hither,
Where no man ever comes, but that sad dog
That brings me food, to make misfortune live?
GROOM. I was a poor groom of thy stable, king,
When thou wert king; who, travelling towards York,
With much ado, at length have gotten leave
To look upon my sometime royal master's face.
O, how it yearn'd my heart, when I beheld,
In London streets that coronation day,
When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary!
That horse that thou so often hast bestrid;
That horse that I so carefully have dress'd!

K. RICH. Rode he on Barbary? Tell me, gentle friend, How went he under him?

GROOM. So proudly as if he had disdain'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 stumble? Would he not fall down, (Since pride must have a fall,) and break the neck Of that proud man that did usurp his back? Forgiveness, horse! why do I rail on thee, Since thou, created to be aw'd by man, Wast 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 jauncing Bolingbroke.

Enter Keeper, with a dish.

KEEP. Fellow, give place; here is no longer stay.

[To the Groom.

K. RICH. If thou love me 't is time thou wert away. GROOM. What my tongue dares not that my heart shall

say.

KEEP. My lord, will 't please you to fall to?

K. RICH. Taste of it first, as thou art wont to do. KEEP. My lord, I dare not; Sir Pierce of Exton, who Lately came from the king, commands the contrary.

[Exit.

K. RICH. The devil take Henry of Lancaster, and thee ! Patience is stale, and I am weary of it. [Beats the Keeper.

KEEP. Help, help, help!

Enter EXTON, and Servants, armed.

K. RICH. How now? what means death in this rude assault? Villain, thine own hand yields thy death's instrument.

[Snatching a weapon, and killing one.

Go thou, and fill another room in hell.

[He kills another, then EXTON strikes him down.

That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire,

That staggers thus my person.-Exton, thy fierce hand
Hath with the king's blood stain'd the king's own land.
Mount, mount, my soul! thy seat is up on high;
Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here to die.
EXTON. As full of valour as of royal blood:
Both have I spilt; O, 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.

[Dies.

Take hence the rest, and give them burial here.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI.-Windsor. A Room in the Castle.

Flourish. Enter BOLINGBROKE and YORK, with Lords and Attendants.

BOLING. Kind uncle York, the latest news we hear Is, that the rebels have consum'd with fire

Our town of Cicester in Glostershire;

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

Enter NORTHUMBERLAND.

Welcome, my lord: what is the news?

NORTH. First, to thy sacred state wish I all happiness. The next news is,-I have to London sent

The heads of Salisbury, Spencer, Blunt, and Kent:

The manner of their taking may appear

At large discoursed in this paper here. [Presenting a paper,
BOLING. We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains;
And to thy worth will add right worthy gains.

Enter FITZWATER.

FITZ. My lord, I have from Oxford sent to London
The heads of Brocas, and sir Bennet Seely;
Two of the dangerous consorted traitors
That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow.

BOLING. Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be forgot;
Right noble is thy merit, well I wot.

Enter PERCY, with the BISHOP OF CARLISLE.

PERCY. The grand conspirator, abbot of Westminster, With clog of conscience and sour melancholy,

Hath yielded up his body to the grave;

But here is Carlisle living, to abide

Thy kingly doom, and sentence of his pride.
BOLING. Carlisle, this is your doom:—
Choose out some secret place, some reverend room,
More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life;
So, as thou liv'st in peace, die free from strife:
For though mine enemy thou hast ever been,
High sparks of honour in thee have I seen.

Enter EXTON, with Attendants bearing a coffin.
EXTON. Great king, within this coffin I present
Thy buried fear; herein all breathless lies
The mightiest of thy greatest enemies,

Richard of Bordeaux, by me hither brought.

BOLING. Exton, I thank thee not; for thou hast wrought A deed of slander, 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 wish him dead,
I hate the murtherer, 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 shade of night,
And never show thy head by day nor light.
Lords, I protest, my soul is full of woe
That blood should sprinkle me to make me grow:
Come, mourn with me for that I do lament,
And put on sullen black, incontinent;
I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land,

To wash this blood off from my guilty hand;-
March sadly after; grace my mourning here,
In weeping after this untimely bier.

[Exeunt.

"In the devotion of a subject's love,

Tendering the precious safety of my prince,
And free from wrath or misbegotten hate,
Come I appellant.”

This is the reading of the MS. Corrector of the folio of 1632, changing the original and received reading:

"And free from other misbegotten hate."

Mr. Collier asks, "What other misbegotten hate does he refer to ?"

(ACT I., Sc. 1.)

We ask, how can Bolingbroke say he is "free from wrath," when he directly after calls Mowbray

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a traitor and a miscreant ?" He does hate Mowbray; but he is free from any other hate than that which arises from "the devotion of a subject's love." His hate from this cause was legitimate, and not "misbegotten." "Desolate, desperate, will I hence, and die." Mr. Collier says, "the repeti

tion of the word desolate" in the Duchess of Gloucester's speech is unlike Shakespeare, as given in the original:

"Desolate, desolate, will I hence, and die."

He adds: "She was desolate because a helpless widow, and desperate because she could not move Gaunt to revenge the death of her husband."

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(ACT I., Sc. 2.)

as

Desperate certainly means without hope, and in this sense the Duchess might use it; but the secondary meaning of reckless is what our poet generally attaches to it. In this very play Henry describes his son's character dissolute as desperate." The word "desperate," so used, is incompatible with the Duchess's mournful resignation to her fate. Romeo, at the tomb of Juliet, says, " tempt not a desperate man,"-a man who has no regard to consequences.

"Be confident to speak, Northumberland:
We three are but thyself; and, speaking so,

Thy words are but our thoughts; therefore, be bold."