With nothing shall be pleas'd, till he be eas'd 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, 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 yern'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? 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; 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; 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, [Exeunt. SCENE VI. WINDSOR. A ROOM IN THE CASTLE. Flourish. Enter Bolingbroke, and York, with Boling. Kind uncle York, the latest news we hear, Is that the rebels have consum'd with fire But whether they be ta'en, or slain, we hear not. Enter Northumberland. Welcome, my lord: What is the news? North. 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. [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; That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow. got; Right noble is thy merit, well I wot. Enter Percy, with the Bishop of Carlisle. Percy. The grand conspirator, abbot of Westminster, With clog of conscience, and sour melancholy, Choose out some secret place, some reverend room, Enter Exton, with Attendants bearing a coffin. |