Shakespeare's Henriad (Book 1-4) - William Hazlitt

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that I so carefully have dress’d.

      KING RICHARD.

       Rode he on Barbary? Tell me, gentle friend,

       How went he under him?

      GROOM.

       So proudly as if he disdain’d the ground.

      KING RICHARD.

       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 burden like an ass,

       Spur-gall’d and tir’d by jauncing Bolingbroke.

      [Enter Keeper, with a dish.]

      KEEPER. [To the Groom.]

       Fellow, give place; here is no longer stay.

      KING RICHARD.

       If thou love me, ‘tis time thou wert away.

      GROOM.

       My tongue dares not, that my heart shall say.

      [Exit.]

      KEEPER.

       My lord, will’t please you to fall to?

      KING RICHARD.

       Taste of it first as thou art wont to do.

      KEEPER.

       My lord, I dare not: Sir Pierce of Exton,

       Who lately came from the king, commands the contrary.

      KING RICHARD.

       The devil take Henry of Lancaster and thee!

       Patience is stale, and I am weary of it.

      [Strikes the Keeper.]

      KEEPER.

       Help, help, help!

      [Enter EXTON and Servants, armed.]

      KING RICHARD.

       How now! What means death in this rude assault?

       Villain, thy 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.

       [Dies.]

      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.

       Take hence the rest, and give them burial here.

      [Exeunt.]

      SCENE VI.

       Windsor. An Apartment in the Castle.

       Table of Contents

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

      BOLINGBROKE.

       Kind uncle York, the latest news we hear

       Is that the rebels have consum’d with fire

       Our town of Cicester in Gloucestershire;

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

      [Enter NORTHUMBERLAND.]

      Welcome, my lord. What is the news?

      NORTHUMBERLAND.

       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.

      BOLINGBROKE.

       We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains;

       And to thy worth will add right worthy gains.

      [Enter FITZWATER.]

      FITZWATER.

       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.

      BOLINGBROKE.

       Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be forgot;

       Right noble is thy merit, well I wot.

      [Enter HENRY 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.

      BOLINGBROKE.

       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 livest 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, hearing 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.

      BOLINGBROKE.

       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.

      BOLINGBROKE.

       They love not poison that do poison need,

       Nor do I thee: though I did wish him dead,

       I hate the murderer, love him murdered.

       The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour,

       But neither my good word nor princely favour:

       With Cain go wander thorough shade of night,

       And never show thy head by day nor light.

      

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