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Revolt our subjects ? That we cannot mend;
They break their faith to God, as well as us.
Cry, woe, destruction, ruin, lofs, decay;
The worst is death, and death will have his day. .

Scroop. Glad am I that your Highnefs is lo arin'd
To bear the tidings of calamity.
Like an unreasonable stormy day,
Which makes the filver rivers drown their shores,
As if the world were ali diffolvid to tears;
So high above his limits (wells the rage
Of Bolingbroké, cov'ring your fearful land i
With hard bright steel, and hearts more hard than steel.
White beards have arm’d their thin and hairless fcalps
Against thy Majesty ; boys, with women's voices,
Striie to speak big, and clasp their female joints
In stiff unwieldy arms, against thy crown.
Thy very beadsmen learn to bend their bows
Of double-fatal yew, against thy state :
Yea, diftafi-women manage rusty bills.
Against thy seat both young and old rebel,
And all goes worse than I have pow'r to tell.

K. Rich. Too well, too well, thou tell'ít a tale fo ill, Where is the Earl of W ltshire? where is Bagot? What is bicome of Bulhy? Where is Green ? --No matter where ; of comfort no man speak. Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs, Make dut our paper, and with rainy eyes Write forrow on the bus m of the earth! Let's chuse executors, and talk of wills; And yet not so- for what can we bequeath, Save our deposed bodies to ihe ground? Our lands, our lives, and all, are Bolingbroke's,


And nothing can we call our own, but death:
And that small model of the barren earth,
Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. ..
For heav'n's fake, let us fit upon the ground,
And tell sad stories of the death of Kings ;
How some have been depos'd, fome Aain in war;
Some haunted by the ghost they dispossess'd;
Some poison’d by their wives, some sleeping kill'd;
All murder'd.-For within the hollow crown,
That rounds the mortal temples of a King,
Keeps Death his court; and there the antic fits,
Scoffing his state, and grinning at his pompi
Allowing him a breath, a little scene :
To monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with looks:
Infusing him with self and vain conceit,
As if this flesh which walls about our life,
Were brass impregnable; and, humour'd thus,
Comes at the last, and with a little pin
Bores through his castle walls, and farewel King!
Cover your heads, and mock not Aesh and blood
With solemn rev’rence': throw away respect,
Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty,
For you have but mistook me all this while.
I live on bread like you, feel want like you ;
Taste grief, need friends, like you : subjected thus,
How can you say to me I am a King ?


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Glen.CIT, cousin, Percy;, sit good coulin Hotspur; .

For, by that name, as oft as Lancaster Doth speak of you, his cheek looks pale ; and with A rising figh, he wisheth you in heav'n.

Hor. And you in hell, as often as he hears Owen Glendower spoke of.. ::

Glen. I blame him not: at my nativity,
The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes,
Of burning cressets : know that, at my birth,
The frame and the foundation of the earth .
Shook like a coward.

Hot. So it would have done
At the same season if your mother's cat
Had kitten'd, though yourself had ne'er been born.
Glen. I say, the earth did shake when I was bora.

Hot. I say, the earth then was not of my mind;
If you suppose, as fearing you, it shook.
GLEN. The heav'ns were all on fire, the earth did

tremble. , Hor. O, then the earth shook to see the heav'ns on fire, And not in fear of your nativity. Diseased nature oftentimes breaks forth In strange eruptions: and the teeming earth Is with a kind of colick pinch'd and vex’d, By the imprisoning of unruly wind Within her womb; which for enlargement striving, Shakes the old beldame earth, and topples down High tow'rs and moss-grown steeples. At your birth,


Our grandam earth, with this distemperature,
In passion fhook.

Glen. Cousin, of many men
I do not bear these crossings : give me leave
To tell you once again, that at my birth
The front of heav'n was full of fiery shapes ;
The goats ran from the mountains, and the herds
Were strangely clam'rous in the frighted fields :
These signs have marked me extraordinary,
And all the courses of my life do thew,
I am not in the roll of common men.
Where is he living, clipt in with the sea,
That chides the banks of England, Wales, or Scotland,
Who calls me pupil, or hath read to me?
And bring him out, that is but woman's son, .
Can trace me in the tedious ways of art,
Or hold me pace in deep experiments.

Hot. I think there is no man speaks better Welch.

Glen. I can speak English, Lord, as well as you,
For I was train'd up in the English court:
Where, being young, I framed to the harp,
Many an English ditty, lovely well,
And gave the tongue a helpful ornament;
A virtue that was never seen in you.

Hot. Marry, and I'm glad of it with all my heart,
I had rather be a kitten, and cry mew!
Than one of these fame metre-ballad mongers !
I'd rather hear a brazen candlestick turn’d,
Or a dry wheel grate on the axle-tree,
And that would nothing set my teethi on edge,
Nothing fo much as mincing poetry;
'Tis like the forc'd gait of a shuffling nag.




Glen. And I can call spirits from the vasty deep.

Hot. Why, fo can I, or so can any man: But will they come when you do call for them?

Glen. Why, I can teach thee to command the devil.'

Hot. And I can teach thee, coz, to shame the devil, By telling truth; Tell truth and shame the devil.

If thou hast pow'r to raise him, bring him hither, And I'll be sworn, I've pow'r to shame him hence. Oh, while you live, Tell truth and shame the devil.



"D UT for mine' own part, my Lord, I could be weil - D contented to be there, in refpect of the love I bear “ your house.” He could be contented to be there; why is he not then ? ** In refpect of the love he bears our house !" He shews in this, he loves his own barn better than he loves our house. Let me fee some more. « The purpose ycu un- , dertake is dangerous.” Why, that is certain: it is danger. ous to take a cold, to seep, to drink: but I tell you, my Lord fool, out of this nettle danger, we pluck this flower safety. “ The purpose you undertake is dangerous, the “ friends you have named uncertain, the eime itself anfort“ ed, and your whole plot too light, for the counterpoise of " so great ani oppofition.” Say you so, say you so? I say unto you again, you are a shallow cowardly hind, and you lie. What a lack-brain is this? By the Lord, our plat is a good plot as ever was laid; our friends true and conftant: a good plot, good friends, and full of expectation ; an excelfent plot; very good friends.. What a frosty-spirited rogae

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