« AnteriorContinuar »
And from the common'st creature pluck a Thou kill'st me in his life ; giving bim breath, glove
The traitor lives, the true mau's put to death. And wear it as a favour; and with that
Duch. [Within.) What ho, my liegel for He would unborse the lustiest challenger.
God's sake let me in. Boling. As dissolute as desperate ; yet Bolirg. What shrill-voic'd suppliant makes through both
this eager cry? I see some sparkles of a better hope,
Duch. A woman, and thine aunt, great king, Whicb elder days may happily bring forth.
'lis I. But who comes bere?
Speak with me, pity ine, open the door
A beggar begs, that never begg'd before.
Boling. Our scene is alter'd,--from a serious Aum. Where is the king ?
thing, Boling. Wbat means
And now chang'd to The Beggar and the Our cousin, that he stares and looks so wildly? Aum. God save your grace.
I do beseech My dangerous cousin, let your mother in ; your majesty,
I know she's come to pray for your foul sin. To have some conference with your grace alone.
York. If thou do pardon, whosoever pray, Boling. Withdraw yourselves, and leave us More sins, for this forgiveness, prosper may. here alone.
This fester's joint cut off, the rest rests souud ; (Ereunt Percy and Lords. This, let alone, will all the rest confound. What is the matter with our cousiu now?
Enter Duchess. Aum. For ever may my knees grow to the earth,
[Kneels. Duch. O king, believe not this hard-hearted My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth, Unless a pardon, ere I rise or speak.
Love, loving not itself, none other can. Boling. Intended or committed, was this York. Thou frantic woman, what dost thon fault ?
make + here? If but the first, how beinous ere it be,
Sball thy old dugs once more a traitor rear ? To win thy after-love, I pardon thee.
Duch. Sweet York, be patient : Hear me, Aum. Then give me leave that I may turn
(Kneels. the key,
Boling. Rise up, good aunt, That no man enter till my tale be done.
Duch. Not yet, I thee beseech : Boling. Have thy desire.
For ever will I kneel upon my knees, [AU MERLE locks the door. And never see day that the bappy sees, York. [Within.] My liege, beware; look to Till thou give joy ; until thou bid me joy, thyself;
By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy. Tbou bast a traitor in thy presence there.
Aum. Unto my mother's prayers, I bend my Boling. Villain, I'll make thee safe.
York. Against them both, my true joints Aum. Stay thy revengeful hand;
[Kneels. Thou hast no cause to fear.
Ill may'st thou thrive, if thou grant any grace!. York. (Within.) Open the door, secure, fool
Duch. Pleads be in earnest ? look upon his bardy king :
face ; Shall I, for love, speak treason to thy face?
His eyes do drop no tears, his prayers are in Open the door, or 1 will break it open.
jest ; (BOLING BROKE opens the door. His words come from his mouth, ours from our
breast : Enter YORK.
He prays but faintly, and would be denied ;
We pray with heart, and soul, and all be. Boling. What is the matter, uncle ? speak ;
side : Recover breath; tell us how near is danger, His weary joints would gladly rise, I know; Tbat we may arm us to encounter it.
Our knees shall kneel till to the ground they York. Peruse this writing here, and thou
grow; shalt know
His prayers are full of false hypocrisy ; The treason that my haste forbids me show. Qur's of true zeal and deep integrity. Aum. Remember, as thou read'st, thy pro- Our prayers do out-pray his; then let them mise past :
have I do repent me; read not my name there, That mercy, which true prayers ought to have. My beart is not confederate with my hand. Boling. Good aunt, stand up. York. 'Twas, villain, ere thy hand did set it Duch. Nay, do not say-stand up ; down.
But, pardon, tirst; and afterwards stand up. I tore it from the traitor's bosom, king :
And if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach, Fear, and not love, begets his penitence : Pardon should be the first word of thy speech. Forget to pity him, lest thy pity prove
I never long'd to hear a word till now; A serpent that will sting tbee to the heart.
Say pardon, king; let pity teach thee how : Boling. O beinous, strong, and bold conspi. The word is short, but not so short as sweet ;
No word like pardon, for kings' mouths so O royal father of a treacherous son!
meet. Thou sbeer, immaculate, and silver fountain, York. Speak it in French, king ; say, par. From wbence this stream through muddy pas- donnez moy. I sages,
Duch. Dost thou teach pardon pardon to deHath held bis current, and defild himself !
stroy ; Thy overflow of good converts to bad ;
Ah! my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord, And thy abundant goodness shall excuse
That set'st the word itself against the word ? This deadly blot in thy digressing + son.
Speak, pardon, as 'tis current in our land ; York. So shall my virtue be his vice's The chopping French we do not understand. bawd;
Tbine eye begins to speak, set thy tongue And be shall spend mine honour with his
there : sbame,
Or, in thy piteous heart plant thou thine ear; As thriftless sons their scraping fathers' gold.
That, hearing, how our plaints and prayers do Mine honour lives when bis dishonour dies,
pierce, Or my sbam'd life in his dishonour lies :
Pily may move thee, pardon to rehearse.
• An old ballad.
1 Excuse me.
Boling. Good aunt, stand up.
Nor shall not be the last ; like silly beggars, Duch. I do not sue to stand,
Who, sitting in the stocks refuge their shame,Pardon is all the guit I have in band.
That many have, and others must sit there : Boling. I pardon him, as God shall pardon And in this thought they find a kind of ease, ine.
Bearing tbeir own misfortune on the back Duch. O happy vantage of a kneeling knee ! of such as have before endur'd the like, Yet am ( sick for fear : speak it again ;
Thus play 1, in one person, many people, Twice saying pardon, doth not pardon twain, . And none contented : Sometimes am I king ; But makes one pardon strong.
Then treason makes me wish myself a beggar, Boling. With all my heart
And so I am : Then crushing penury I pardon him.
Persuades me I was better when a king ; Duch. A god on earth thou art.
Then am I king'd again : and, by-and-by, Boling. But for our trusty brother-in-law,- Think that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke, and the abbot,
And straight am nolbing :-But, whate'er I am, With all the rest of that consorted crew,
Nor 1, nor any man, that but man is, Destruction straight shall dog thein at the With nothing shall be pleas'd, till be be eas'd heels.
With being nothing.-Music do I hear ? Good uncle, help to order several powers
[Music. To Oxford, or where'er these traitors are : Ha, ha! keep time :-How sour sweet muThey shall not live within this world, I swear,
sic is, But I will bave them, if I once know where. When time is broke, and no proportion kept ! Uncle, farewell,--and cousin too, adieu :
So is it in the music of men's lives. Your mother well hath pray'd, and prove you And here have I the daintiness of ear, true.
To check time broke in a disorder'd string ; Duch. Come, my old sou :-) pray God make But for the concord of my state and time, thee new.
(Exeunt. Had not an ear to hear my true time broke.
I wasted time, and now doth time waste me. SCENE IV.
For now bath time made me his numb'ring
clock : Enter Exton, and a SBRVANT.
My thoughts are minutes ; and, with sighs, Exton. Did'st thou uot mark the king, what they jar
(watch, words he spake ?
Their watches on to mine eyes, the outward Have I no friend will rid me of this living Whereto my finger, like a dial's point, fear !
Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears. Was it not so ?
Now, Sir, the sound, that tells what honr it is, Serv. Those were his very words.
Are clamorous groans, that strike upon my Exton. Have I no friend ? quoth he: he
heart, spake it twice,
Which is the bell: So sighs, and tears, and And urg'd it twice together ; did he not?
(time Serv. He did.
Show minutes, times, and hours :- but my Exton. And, speaking it, he wistfully look’a Runs posting on in Bolingbroke's proud joy, on me ;
While i stand fooling here, is Jack o'the elnck. + As who should say,- I would thou wert the This music mads me, let it sound no more ;
For, though it have holpe madinen to their That would divorce this terror from my heart;
wits, Meaning, the king at Pomfret. Come, let's In me, it seems it will make wise men mad. go;
Yet blessing on his heart that gives it me! I am the king's friend, and will rid bis foe. For 'tis a sign of love ; and love to Richard
(Exeunt. Is a strange brooch I in this all-bating world. SCENE 7.-Pomfret.-The Dungeon of the
Groom. Hail, royal prince !
K. Rich. Thanks, noble peer ;
The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear. K. Rich. I have been studying how I may What art thou ? and how comest thou hitber, compare
Where no man never comes, but that sad dog This prison where I live, unto the world : That brings me food, to make misfortune live ? And, for because the world is populous,
Groom. I was a poor groom of thy stable, And here is not a creature but mysell,
king, I cannot do it ;-Yet I'll hammer it out.
When thou wert king; who, travelling towards My brain I'll prove the female to my soal ;
York, My soul, the father : and these two beget With much ado, at length have gotten leave A generation of still-breeding thoughts,
To look upon my sometimes ý master's face. And these same thouguits people this little ob! how it yearu'd my heart, wheu I beheld, world ; t
In London streets, that coronation day,
That horse, that I so carefully have dress'd !
gentle friend, Against the word : 1
How went he under him? As thus,-Come little ones ; and then again, Groom. So proudly, as if he disdain'd the It is as hard to come, as for a camel
ground. To thread the postern ý of a needle's eye.
K. Rich. So proud that Bolingbroke was on Thought tending to arr:bition, they do plot
his back! Unlikely wonders : bow these vain weak nails That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand; May tear a passage through the flinty ribs This hand hath made bim proud with clapping or tbis hard world, my ragged prison walls;
him. And, for they cannot, die in their own pride.
Would he not stumble? Would be not fall Thoughts tending to content, flatter them
(Since pride must have a fall,) and break the That they are not the first of fortune's slaves,
• Tick. • Forces.
+ Strike for him, like the figure + His own body. of a man on a bell.
* An orvamented buckle, * Yoly scripture
Little gate. and also a jewel in general. Former.
or that proud man that did
his The next news is I have to London sent back ?
Yhe beads of Salibsury, Spencer, Blunt, and Forgiveness, borse! why do I rail on thee,
Kent : Since thou, created to be aw'd by Inan,
The manner of their taking may appear Was born to bear? I was not made a horse ; At large discoursed in this paper here. And yet I bear a burden like an ass,
(Presenting a paper. Spur-gall'd, and tir'd, by jauncing Boling- Boling. We thank thee, geutle Percy, for broke.
And to thy worth will add right worthy gains. Enter KEEPER, with a Dish.
Enter FITZWATER. Keep. Fellow, give place; here is no longer stay.
Fit:. My lord, I have from Oxford sent to [To the GROOM.
London K. Rich. If thou love me, 'tis time thou wert The heads of Brocas, and Sir Bennet Seely ; away.
Two of the dangerous consorted traitors, Groom. What my tongue dares not, that my That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow. heart shall say.
(Exit. Boling. Thy paius, Fitzwater, sball not be Keep. My lord, will't please you to fall to ?
forgot ; K. Rich. Taste of it first, as thou art wont to Right noble is thy merit, well I wot.
do. Keep. My lord, I dare not ; Sir Pierce of Enter Percy, with the Bishop of CARLISLE. Exton, who
Percy. The grand couspirator, abbot of WestLately came from the king, commands the
With clog of conscience, and sour melancholy, K. Rich. The devil take Henry of Lancaster, Hath yielded up his body to the grave ; and thee 1
But bere is Carlisle living to abide Patience is stale, and I am weary of it.
Thy kingly doom and sentence of his pride.
[Beats the KEEPER. Boling. Carlisle, this is your doom :Keep. Help, help, help!
Choose out some secret place, some reverend
room, Enter Exton, and Servants, armed.
More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life; K. Rich. How now? what means death in So, as thou liv'st in peace, die free from this rude assault ?
strife; Villain, thy own hand yields thy death's in- For though mine enemy thou hast ever been, strument.
High sparks of honour in thee bave I seeu. (Snatching a weapon and killing one, Go thou, and fill another room in hell.
Enter EXTON, with ATTENDANTS bearing a (He kills another, then EXTON strikes
Coffin. him down.
Exton. Great king, within this coffin ( preThat hand sball burn in never-quenching
Thy buried fear : herein all breathless lies That staggers thus my person.--Exton, thy The mightiest of thy greatest enemies, fierce band
Richard of Bourdeaux, by me bither brought. Hath with the king's blood stain'd the king's Boling. Exton, I thank thee not ; for thou Own land.
(high ; hast wrought Mount, mount, my soul! thy seat is up on A deed of slander with thy fatal band, Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here to- Upon my bead, and all this famous land.
(Dies. Exton. From your owu mouth, my lord, did Erton. As full of valour, as of royal blood :
I this deed. Both bave I spilt; O would the deed were Boling. They love not poison that do poison good!
need, For now the devil, that told me I did well, Nor do I thee; thougb I did wish him dead," Says that this deed is chronicled in hell. I hate the murderer, love him murdered. This dead king to the living king I'll bear ;- The guilt of conscience take thou for thy laTake bence the rest, and give them burial here.
bour, (Ereunt. But neither my good word, nor princely fa
vour : SCENE VI.-Windsor.-A Room in the With Cain go wander through the shade of Castle.
night, Flourish. Enter BOLING BROKB, and York, Lords, I protest my soul is full of woe,
And never show thy head by day nor light.with LORDS and ATTENDANTS.
That blood should sprinkle me, to make me Boling. Kind uncle York, the latest news
grow : we hear
Come, mourn with me for what I do lament, is that the rebels have consum'd with fire And put on sullen black incontinent; Our town of Cicester in Glostersbire ; (not. I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land, Bat wbether they be ta’en, or slain, we hear To wash this blood off from my guilty
hand :Enter NORTHUMBERLAND.
March sadly after ; grace my mournings Welcome, my lord : What is the news
bere, North. First, to thy sacred state wish I all In weeping after this untimely bier. happiness.
(Exeunt. • Jaunting
It was long the prevailing opinion inat Sır Prers Exton, and others of his guards, fell upon Richard in the enstle of Pomfret, where he was confined, and despatched him with their halberts. But it is more probable thnt he was starved to death in prison; and it is said that he prolonged his unhappy life for a fortnighi, alter all sastenance was denied him, before be reached the end of his miseries.--- Hume.
KING HENRY IV.
LITERARY AND HISTORICAL NOTICE. SHAKSPEARE wrote this dramatic history about the year 1997, founding it upon six old plays previously pub
lished. The action commences with Hotspur's defeat of the Scots at Halidown Hill, Sep. 14, 1402 ; and closes with the defeat and death of that leader at Shrewsbury, July 21, 1403. None of Shakspeare's plays are perbaps so frequently read, as this and the one which succeeds it; but the want of ladies, and matter to interest females, lies so heavily upon it, that even with an excellent Falstaff, it can only enjoy occasional life upon the stage. The speeches of King Henry, though clothed in a fine, stately, and nervous dietion, are much too long; and a deal of the humour, sparkling as it is, cannot be heard without a blush. The scene of the case riers is grossly indecent, and so very low, that it might be rejected without the sligbtest injury to the piece. The choleric Hotspur, and the mad-cap Prince of Wales, are, however, charming portraits; great, original, and just ; exbibiting the nicest discernment in the character of mankind, and presenting a moral of very general application. But the subtle roguery of Falstaff---his laughable soliloquies---his whimsical investigations,
and his invincible assumption---(the richer and more ludicrous when opposed to his sucaking cowardice) are strokes of dramatic genius which render this 'fat old man' the leading attraction of the play: and tbough bis maracter is vicious in every respect, he is furnished with so much wit, as to be almost too great a favourite.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. KING HENRY THE FOURTH,
GADSHILL. HENRY, Prince of Wales, Sons to the Pвто. PRINCE JOHN of Lancaster, King. BARDOLPH. EARL OF WESTMORELAND,
Friends to the Sir WALTER BLUNT,
LADY Percy, Wife to Hotspur, and Sister THOMAS PERCY, Earl of Worcester.
to Mortimer. HENRY PERCY, Earl of Northumberland. HENRY Percy, sur named Hotspur, his Son. Lady MORTIMER, Daughter to Glendower,
and Wije to Mortimer. EDWARD MORTIMER, Earl of March.
MRS. QUICKLY, Hostess of a Tavern in East. ScROOP, Archbishop of York.
Lords, Officers, Sherif, Vintner, Chamher SIR JOHN FALSTAFF.
lain, Drawers, tuo Carriers, Travellers, POINS.
and Attendants. SCENE, England.
Which, like the meteors of a troubled heaven,
All of one nature, of one substance bred, SCENE I.-London.-A Room in the Did lately meet in the intestine shock Palace.
And furious close of civil butcbery,
Shall now, in mutual, well-beseeming ranks, Enter King HENRY, WESTMORELAND, Sir
March all one way; and be no more oppos'd WALTER BLUNT, and others.
Against acquaintance, kindred, and allies : K. Hen. So shaken as we are, so wan with the edge of war, like an ill-sheathed knife, care,
No more shall cut bis master. Therefore, friends, Find we a time for frighted peace to pant, As far as to the sepulchre of Christ, And breathe short-winded accents of new broils (Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross To be commenc'd in stronds. afar remote. We are impressed and engag'd to fight,) No more the thirsty Erinnys t of this soil Forthwith a power of English shall we levy ; Shall daub her lips with her own children's Whose arms were moulded in their mothers blood;
womb No more sball trenching war channel her fields, To chase these pagans, in those holy fields, Nor bruise her flowrets with the armed hoofs Over whose acres walk'd those blessed feet, of hostile paces : those opposed eyes,
Which, fourteen hundred years ago, were nail'd
For our advantage, on the bitter cross. • Strando.
+ The fury of discord. But this our purpose is a twelve-month old,