Gaunt. Oh, spare me not, my brother Edward's fon, For that I was his father Edward's fon. That blood already, like the pelican, Haft thou tapt out, and drunkenly carows'd. That thou refpect'st not spilling Edward's blood. [Exit, borne out. K. Rich. Right, you fay true; as Hereford's love, fo his; As theirs, fo mine; and all be, as it is. · Enter Northumberland. North. My Liege, old Gaunt commends him to your K. Rich. What fays old Gaunt ? North. Nay, nothing; all is faid: His tongue is now a ftringlefs inftrument, Words, life, and all, old Lancafter hath fpent. [Majefty. York Be York the next, that must be bankrupt fo! Though death be poor, it ends a mortal woe. K. Rich. The ripeft fruit firft falls, and so doth he; His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be : So much for that- Now for our Irish wars; We must fupplant those rough rug-headed kerns, Which live like venom, where no venom else, But only they, have privilege to live. And, for thefe great affairs do afk fome charge, Towards Towards our affistance we do feize to us York. How long fhall I be patient? Oh, how long Of whom thy father, Prince of Wales, was first : K. Rich. Why, uncle, what's the matter? Pardon me, if you please; if not, I, pleas'd Seek you to feize, and gripe into your hands, Take Hereford's rights away, and take from time Be not thyself. For how art thou a King,. But by fair fequence and fucceffion? If you do wrongfully feize Hereford's right, His livery, and deny his offer'd homage; K. Rich.Think, what you will; we feize into our hands His plate, his goods, his money, and his lands. York. I'll not be by, the while; my Liege, farewel : What will enfue hereof, there's none can tell. But by bad courfes may be understood, That their events can never fall out good. [Exit. K. Rich. Go, Busby, to the Earl of Wiltshire straight, Bid him repair to us to Ely-house, To fee this bufinefs done: To-morrow next And we create, in abfence of ourself, [Flourish. [Exeunt King, Queen, &c. Manent Northumberland, Willoughby, and Rofs. North. Well, Lords, the Duke of Lancaster is dead. Rofs. And living too, for now his fon is Duke. Willo. Barely in title, not in revenue. North. Richly in both, if justice had her right. Ros. My heart is great; but it must break with filence, Ere't be difburden'd with a lib'ral tongue. Nor. Nay, fpeak thy mind; and let him ne'er speak more, That fpeaks thy words again to do thee harm. Willo.Tends,what you'd speak, to th' Duke of Hereford? If it be fo, out with it boldly, man: Quick is mine car to hear of good towards him. Rofs. No good at all that I can do for him, Unless you call it good to pity him, Bereft and gelded of his patrimony. North. [borne North. Now, afore Heav'n, it's fhame fuch wrongs are 'Gainft us, our lives, our children, and our heirs. That, which his ancestors atchiev'd with blows: Rofs. The Earl of Wiltshire hath the realm in farm. North. His noble kinfman-moft degenerate King, But, Lords, we hear this fearful tempeft fing, Yet feek no fhelter to avoid the ftorm: We fee the wind fit fore upon our fails, And yet we ftrike not, but fecurely perish. Rofs. We fee the very wreck, that we must suffer; And unavoided is the danger now, For fuff'ring fo the causes of our wreck. North Not fo: Ev'n through the hollow eyes of death I fpy life peering; but I dare not fay, How near the tidings of our comfort is. Willo. Nay, let us fhare thy thoughts, as thou doft ours. We three are but thyfelf, and fpeaking fo, A bay in Bretagne, had intelligence, Sir John Norberie, Sir Robert Waterton, and Francis Coines Away with me in poft to Ravenspurg. Rofs. To horfe, to horfe; urge doubts to thofe that fear. Busty M SCENE, the Court. Enter Queen, Bufhy, and Bagot. Adam, your Majefty is much too fad: You promis'd, when you parted with theKing, To lay afide felf-harming heaviness, And entertain a chearful difpofition. Queen. To please the King, I did; to please myself, I cannot do it; yet I know no cause, Why I should welcome fuch a guest as grief; (7) Redeem from broken pawn the blemish'd crown,] What ideas Mr. Rowe and Mr. Pope form'd to themselves from this pafive epithet annex'd to pawn, I cannot tell. To me, it feems direct nonfenfe. I have reftor'd the reading of the genuine old copies, broking Pawn. The revenues of the crown were farm'd to the Earl of Wilshire, who had them in pawn for what fums he advanc'd, and fo play'd the broker betwixt the King and fubject. |