No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home:
But dust was thrown upon his sacred head;
Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off,—
His face still combating with tears and smiles,
The badges of his grief and patience,-

That had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd
The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted,
And barbarism itself have pitied him.
But heaven hath a hand in these events;
To whose high will we bound our calm contents.
To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now,
Whose state and honour I for aye allow.
Enter AUMERLE.

Duch. Here comes my son Aumerle.
York.
Aumerle that was;
But that is lost, for being Richard's friend;
And, madam, you must call him Rutland' now:
I am in parliament pledge for his truth,
And lasting fealty to the new-made king.
Duch. Welcome, my son: Who are the violets

now,

That strew the green lap of the new-come spring ?2
Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not;
God knows, I had as lief be none as one.
York. Well, bear you well in this new spring of
time,

Lest

you be cropp'd before you come to prime. What news from Oxford? hold those justs and triumphs?

Aum. For aught I know, my lord, they do.
York. You will be there, I know.

Aum. If God prevent it not; I purpose so.
York. What seal is that, that hangs without thy
bosom ?3

Yea, look'st thou pale? let me see the writing.
Aum. My lord, 'tis nothing.
York.

No matter then who sees it;
I will be satisfied, let me see the writing.
Aum. I do beseech your grace to pardon me;
It is a matter of small consequence,
Which for some reasons I would not have seen.
York. Which for some reasons, sir, I mean to see.
I fear, I fear,-
Duch.
What should you fear?
'Tis nothing but some bond that he is enter'd into
For gay apparel, 'gainst the triumph day.

York. Bound to himself? what doth he with

bond

That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool.-
Boy, let me see the writing.

Aum. I do beseech you, pardon me; I may not

show it.

Duch. Strike him, Aumerle.-Poor boy, thou
art amaz'd:

Hence, villain; never more come in my sight-
[To the Servant

York. Give me my boots, I say.
Duch. Why, York, what wilt thou do?
Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own?
Have we more sons? or are we like to have?
Is not my teeming date drunk up with time?
And wilt thou pluck my fair son from mine age,
And rob me of a happy mother's name?
Is he not like thee? is he not thine own?
York. Thou fond mad woman,
Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy?
A dozen of them here have ta'en the sacrament,
And interchangeably set down their hands,
To kill the king at Oxford.

Duch.

He shall be none;

Spur, post; and get before him to the king,
I'll not be long behind; though I be old,
And beg thy pardon ere he do accuse thee.

(Ext.

upon

his

I doubt not but to ride as fast as York:
And never will I rise up from the ground,
Till Bolingbroke have pardon'd thee: Away;
Begone.
[Exeunt.

SCENE III. Windsor. A Room in the Castle.
Enter BOLINGBROKE as King; PERCY, and
other Lords.

aTis full three months since I did see him last:-
Boling. Can no man tell of my unthrifty son?
If any plague hang over us, 'tis he.

I would to God, my lords, he might be found
Inquire at London, 'mongst the taverns there,
For there, they say, he daily doth frequent,
With unrestrained loose companions;
Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes,
And beat our watch, and rob our passengers;
While he, young, wanton, and effeminate boy,
Ser-Takes on the point of honour, to support

York. I will be satisfied; let me see it, I say.
[Snatches it, and reads.
Treason! foul treason!--villain! traitor! slave!
Duch. What is the matter, my lord?
York. Ho! who is within there? [Enter a
vant.] Saddle my horse.

God for his mercy! what treachery is here!
Duch. Why, what is it, my lord?

York. Give me my boots, I say; saddle my

horse :

Now by mine honour, by my life, my troth,
I will appeach the villain.
[Exit Servant.
Duch.
What's the matter?
York. Peace, foolish woman.
Duch. I will not peace :-What is the matter, son?
Aum. Good mother, be content; it is no more
Than my poor life must answer.
Duch.

Thy life answer?
Re-enter Servant, with Boots.
York. Bring me my boots, I will unto the king.

1 The dukes of Aumerle, Surrey, and Exeter were
deprived of their dukedoms by an act of Henry's first
parliament, but were allowed to retain the earldoms of
Rutland, Kent, and Huntingdon.'-Holinshed.
2 So in Milton's Song on May Morning :--
who from her green lap throws

The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose.'

So dissolute a crew.4

Percy. My lord, some two days since I saw the
prince;

And told him of these triumphs held at Oxford.
Boling. And what said the gallant?

Percy. His answer was,--he would unto the

Aum.

Enter AUMERLE, hastily.
Where is the king?

character of King Henry V. to his debaucheries in his
4 This is a very proper introduction to the future
youth, and his greatness in his manhood, as the p
has described them. But it has been ably contended by
Mr. Luders that the whole story of his dissipation was a
fiction. At this period (i. e. 1400) he was but twelve

3 The seals of deeds were formerly impressed on years old, being born in 1388. slips or labels of parchment appendant to them.

5 The folio reads sparks.

Boling. But for our trusty brother-in-law,'-and | And in this thought they find a kind of ease,

the abbot,2

With all the rest of that consorted crew,-
Destruction straight shall dog them at the heels.
Good uncle, help to order several powers
To Oxford, or where'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.
Duch. Come, my old son;-I pray God make
thee new.
[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. 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.

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 a king;
Then am I king'd again: and, by-and-by,
Think that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke,
And straight am nothing:-But, whate'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.--Music do I hear? [Music
Ha, ha! keep time:How sour sweet music is,
When time is broke, and no proportion kept!
So is it in the music of men's lives.
And here have I the daintiness of ear
To check time broke in a disorder'd string;

Exton. Have I no friend? quoth he; he spake it But for the concord of my state and time,

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 I'll 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;6
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:7

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 flinty ribs
Of this hard world, my ragged prison walls;
And, for they cannot, die in their own pride.
Thoughts tending to content, flatter themselves,
That they are not the first of fortune's slaves,
Nor shall not be the last; like silly beggars,
Who, sitting in the stocks, refuge their shame,-
That many have, and others must sit there:

1 The brother-in-law meant was John duke of Exeter and earl of Huntingdon (own brother to Edward II.) who had married the Lady Elizabeth, Bolingbroke's sister.

2 i. e. the abbot of Westminster.

3 'Death and destruction dog thee at the heals."
King Richard III.
Too, which is not in the old copies, was added by
Theobald for the sake of the metre.

5 To rid and to dispatch were formerly synonymous, as may be seen in the old Dictionaries, To ridde or dispatche himself of any man.'-'To dispatche or ridde one quickly. Vide Baret's Alvearie, 1576, in Ridde and Dispatche.

6 i. e. his own body.

7 By the word is meant the Holy Scriptures. The folio reads the faith itself against the faith.

8 This is the reading of the quarto, 1597; alluding, perhaps, to the custom of our early theatres. The title pages of some of our Moralities show that three or four characters were frequently represented by one person. The folio, and other copies, read in one prison." 9 The folio reads to hear." 10 Tick.

11 It should be recollected that there are three ways in which a clock notices the progress of time, viz. by the

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 sighs, they jar!*
Their watches on to mine eyes, the outward
watch,11

Whereto my finger, like a dial's point,

Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears.
Now, sir, the sound, that tells what hour it is,
Are clamorous groans, that strike upon my heart,
Which is the bell: So sighs, and tears, and groans,
Show 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 holp madmen to their wits, 14
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. Rich.

Thanks, noble peer;
The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear.
What art thou? and how comest thou hither,
Where no man never 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 sometimes 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?

vibration of the pendulum, the index on the dial, and the striking of the hour. To these the king, in his com parison, severally alludes his sighs corresponding to the jarring or ticking of the pendulum, which, at the same time that it watches or numbers the seconde, marks also their progress in minutes on the dial plate, or outward watch, to which the king compare. h eyes; and their want of figures is supplied by a succession of tears (or minute drops, to use an expression of Milton,) bas inger, by as regularly wiping these away, performs the ofhee of the dial's point: his clamorous groans are the sound that tell the hour.

12 Should we not read :

Now, sir, the sounds that tell what hour it is Are clamorous groans?' &c.

13 That is, I strike for him. One of these automatons is alluded to in King Richard III. Act. iv. Sc. :'Because that, like a Jack, thou keep'st the stroke Between thy begging and my meditation.'

14 See Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, part ii, sec.2. 15 Brooch, an ornamented buckle, and also a jewella general, here figuratively used for jewel.

16 Sometimes was used for former, as well as sometime. Aliquando.

KING RICHARD II.

Groom. So proudly, as if he 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 fail), 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 awed 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 jauncing2 Bolingbroke.
Enter Keeper, with a Dish.

Keep. Fellow, give place; here is no longer stay.
[To the Groom.
K. Rich. If thou love me, 'tis time thou wert away.
Groom. What my tongue dares not, that my
heart shall say.
[Exit.
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.
K. Rich. The devil take Henry of Lancaster, and
thee!

Patience is stale, and I am weary of it.

Keep. Help, help, help!

[Beats the Keeper.

Enter EXTON, and Servants, armed.

K. Rich. 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, and then ExTON strikes
him down.3

That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire,
That staggers thus my person.-Exton, thy fierce
hand
[land.
Hath with the king's blood stain'd the king's own
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. 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 Glocestershire;
But whether they be ta'en, or slain, we hear not.
Enter NORTHUMBERLAND.

Welcome, my lord: What is the news? [ness.
North. First, to thy sacred state wish I all happi-
The next news is,-I have to London sent

1 Froissart relates a yet more silly tale of a greyhound of King Richard's, who was wont to leape upon the king, but left the king and came to the erle of Derby, duke of Lancastre, and made to him the same friendly comtenance and chere as he was wont to do to the king.' -Froissart, by Berners, v. 11. fo. cccxxx.

2 Jancing is hard riding, from the old French word janeer, which Cotgrave explains To stir a horse in the stable till he sweat withal; or (as our) to jaunt.'

3 These stage directions are not in the old copies. 4 The representation here given of the king's death is perfectly agreeable to Hall and Holinshed (who copied from Fabian, with whom the story of Exton is thought to have its origin.) But the fact was otherwise. He refused food for several days, and died of abstinence and a broken heart. See Walsingham, Otterburne, the monk of Evesham, the Continuator of the History of Croyland, and the Godstow Chronicle. His body, after being submitted to public inspection in the church of Pomfret, was brought to London, and exposed in Cheapside for two hours, 'his heade on a black cushion, and his visage open,' when it was viewed, says Froissart, by twenty thousand persons, and finally in St. Paul's

429

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

Enter PERCY, with the Bishop of Carlisle.
Percy. The grand conspirator, abbot of West-
minster,
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 Bourdeaux, 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.

[deed.
Erton. From your own mouth, my lord, did I this
Boling. They love not poison that do poison need,
Nor do I thee; though I did wish him dead,
hate the murderer, love him murdered.

I

The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour,
With Cain go wander through the shade of night,
But neither my good word nor princely favour:
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 what 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 mournings here,
In weeping after this untimely bier.

[Exeunt.

THIS play is one of those which Shakspeare has apparently revised; but as success in works of inven tion is not always proportionate to labour, it is not finished at last with the happy force of some other of his tragedies, nor can it be said much to affect the passions, or enlarge the understanding. JOHNSON.

Cathedral. Stowe seems to have had before him a manuscript history of the latter part of King Richard's life, written by a person who was with him in Wales. He says he was imprisoned in Pomfrait Castle, where xv dayes and nightes they vexed him with continual hunger, thirst, and cold, and finally bereft him of his life with such a kind of death as never before that time was knowen in England.'

5 So the folio. The quarto reads of Oxford, Salis. bury, Blunt, and Kent. The folio is right according to the histories.

6 This abbot of Westminster was William de Colchester. The relation, which is taken from Holinshed, is true, as he survived the king many years; and though called the grand conspirator,' it is very doubtful whether he had any concern in the conspiracy; at least nothing was proved against him.

7 The bishop of Carlisle was committed to the Tower, but on the intercession of his friends obtained leave to change his prison for Westminster Abbey. In order to deprive him of his see, the pope, at the king's instance, translated him to a bishopric in partibus infidelium; and the only preferment he could ever after obtain was a rectory in Gloucestershire.

8 Immediately.

FIRST PART OF

KING HENRY THE FOURTH.

PRELIMINARY REMARKS.

SHAKSPEARE has apparently designed a regular shade; but they only serve to make the supereminent connection of these dramatic histories, from Ri-humour of the knight doubly conspicuous. What cas chard the Second to Henry the Fifth. King Henry, at come nigher to truth and real individual nature than the end of Richard the Second, declares his purpose to those admirable delineations, Shallow and Silence ? visit the Holy Land, which he resumes in the first speech How irresistibly comic are all the scenes in which Falof this play. The complaint made by King Henry, in staff is made to humour the fatuity and vanity of this the last act of King Richard the Second, of the wildness precious pair. of his son, prepares the reader for the frolics which are here to be recounted, and the characters to be exhibited. --Johnson,

The historical dramas of Shakspeare have indeed hecome the popular history. Vain attempts have been made by Walpole to vindicate the character of King Richard III. and in later times by Mr. Luders, to prove that the youthful dissipation ascribed to King Henry V. is without foundation. The arguments are probable, and ingeniously urged, but we still cling to our early notions of that mad-cap-that same sword and buckler Prince of Wales. No plays were ever more read, nor does the inimitable, all-powerful genius of the poet ever shine out more than in the two parts of King Henry IV. which may be considered as one long drama divided.

The historic characters are delineated with a felicity and individuality not inferior in any respect. Harry Percy is a creation of the first order; and our favourite harebrained Prince of Wales, in whom mirthful plea santry and midnight dissipation are mixed up with be roic dignity and generous feeling, is a rival worthy of him. Owen Glendower is another personification, ma naged with the most consummate skill; and the graver characters are sustained and opposed to each other in a manner peculiar to our great poet alone.

The transactions contained in the First Part of King Henry IV. are comprised within the period of about tem months; for the action commences with the news brought of Hotspur having defeated the Scots under Archibal earl of Douglas, at Holmedon (or Halidown Hill.) which battle was fought on Holyrood-day (the 14th of Septem It has been said that 'Falstaff is the summit of Shak-ber,) 1402; and it closes with the battle of Shrewsbury, speare's comic invention,' and we may consequently on Saturday, the 21st of July, 1403. Malone places the date of the composition of this play add, the most inimitable comic character ever delineated; for who could invent like Shakspeare? Falstaff is now in 1597; Dr. Drake in 1596. It was first entered at Stato us hardly a creature of the imagination, he is so defi-tioners' Hall, February 25, 1597. nitely and distinctly drawn, that the mere reader of these dramas has the complete impression of a personal acquaintance. He is surrounded by a group of comic personages from time to time, each of which would have been sufficient to throw any ordinary creation into the

There are no less

than five quarto editions published during the author's life, viz. in 1598, 1599, 1604, 1609, 1613. For the piece which is supposed to have been its original the reader is referred to the Six Old Plays on which Shakspeare founded,' &c. published by Steevens and Nichols.

And breathe short-winded accents of new broils
To be commenc'd in stronds' afar remote.
No more the thirsty entrance of this soil
Shall daub her lips with her own children's blood;
No more shall trenching war channel her fields,
Nor bruise her flowrets with the armed hoofs
Of hostile paces: those opposed eyes,
Which,-like the meteors of a troubled heaven,
All of one nature, of one substance bred,-
which, in my opinion, does not make the passage
clearer, to say nothing of the improbability of such
corruption as entrance for Erinnys. Mr. Douce pro-
posed to read entrails instead of entrance; and Steevens
once thought that we should read entrants. I am satie
fied with the following explanation of the text, modified