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So, now I have mine own again, begone,

That I may strive to kill it with a groan.
R. Rich. We make woe wanton with this fond delay:

Once more, adieu; the rest let sorrow say. [Exeunt.

The same. A Room in the Duke of York's Palace.

Enter York, and his Duchess.

Duch. My lord, you told me, you would tell the rest, When weeping made you break the story off Of our two cousins coming into London.

York. Where did I leave?

Duch. At that sad stop, my lord, Where rude misgovern'd hands, from windows' tops, Threw dust and rubbish on king Richard's head.

York. Then, as I said, the duke, great BolingbrokerMounted upon a hot and fiery steed, Which his espirino rider scom'd to know.— With Siow, but stately pace, kept on is course, While all tongues cried—God save thee, Bolingbroke , You would have thought the very windows spake, So many greedy looks of young and old Through casements darted their desiring eyes Upon his visage; and that all the walls, With painted imag’ry, had said at once,”— Jesu preserve thee! welcome, Bolingbroke! Whilst he, from one side to the other turning, Bare-headed, lower than his proud steed's neck, Bespake them thus, I thank you, countrymen:

7 and kill thy heart.] So, in our author's Venus and Adonis: “— they have murder'd this poor heart of mine.” Malone. Again, in King Henry V, Act I, sc. i. “— he'll yield the crow a pudding one of these days: the king hath kill’d his heart.” - Steevens. * With painted imag’ry, had said at once,) Our author probably was thinking of the painted clothes that were hung in the streets, in the pageants that were exhibited in his own time; in which the figures sometimes had labels issuing from their mouths, containing sentences of gratulation. Malone.

And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along.
Duch. Alas, poor Richard! where rides he the while?
York. As in a theatre,” the eyes of men,
After a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage,
Are idly bent" on him that enters next,
Thinking his prattle to be tedious:
Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes
Did scowl on Richard; no man cried, God save him;
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,”—

9 As in a theatre, &c.] “The painting of this description (says Dryden in his preface to Troilus and Cressida) is so lively, and the words so moving, that I have scarce read anything comparable to it, in any other language.” Steevens.

* Are idly bent — That is, carelessly turned, thrown without attention. This the poet learned by his attendance and practice on the stage. johnson.

* His face still combating with tears and smiles, The badges of his grief and patience,) There is, I believe, no image, which our poet more delighted in than this. So, in a former scene of this play: “As a long-parted mother with her child, “Plays fondly with her tears, and smiles in meeting.” Again, in King Lears “Patience and sorrow strove “Who should express her goodliest: &g her smiles and tears “Were like a better May.” Again, in Cymbeline: « nobly he yokes . “A smiling with a sigh.” Again, in Macbeth: “My plenteous joys, “Wanton in fulness, seek to hide themselves “In drops of sorrow.” Again, in Coriolanus: “Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles.” Again, in The Tempest: - “ — I am a fool “To weep at what I am glad of" So, also, Drayton, in his Mortimeriados, 4to. 1596: “With thy sweete kisses so them both beguile, “Untill they smiling weep, and weeping smile.” Malone.

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; 3 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?” •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 — Aumerle that was;] The Dukes of Aumerle, Surrey, and Exeter, were, by an act of Henry's first parliament, deprived of their dukedoms, but were allowed to retain their earldoms of Futland, Kent, and Huntingdon. Holinshed, p. 513, 514. Steevens. 4 That strew the green lap of the new-come spring 2] So, in Milton's Song on May Morning: “—who from her green lap throws “The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose.” Steevens.

* — bear you well—l That is, conduct yourself with prudence. johnson. 6 justs and triumphs?] Triumphs are Shows, such as Masks, Revels, &c.

So, in The Third Part of King Henry VI, Act V, sc. vii:
“And now what rests, but that we spend the time
“With stately triumphs, mirthful comick shows,
“Such as befit the pleasures of the court?” Steevens.

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 a bond
That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool.—
Boy, let me see the writing.
JAum. I do beseech you, pardon me; I may not show
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 Serv.] Sad-
dle 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 Serv.
Duch. What’s the matter?
York. Peace, foolish woman. -
Duch. I will not peace:—What is the matter, son?
JAum. Good mother, be content; it is no more

7 What seal is that, that hangs without thy bosom?] The seals of deeds were formerly impressed on slips or labels of parchment appendant to them. Malone.

* rea, look'st thou pale? let me see the writing.] Such harsh and defective lines as this, are probably corrupt, and might be easily supplied, but that it would be dangerous to let conjecture loose on such slight occasions. Johnson. ,

Perhaps Shakspeare wrote—Boy, let me see the writing. York uses these words a little lower. Malone.

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.
Duch. Strike him, Aumerle. Poor boy, thou art
Hence, villain; never more come in my sight.—
[To the Serv.

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; We’ll keep him here: Then what is that to him? York. Away, | Fond woman were he twenty times my son, I would appeach him. | Duch. Hadst thou groan'd for him, As I have done, thoud'st be more pitiful. But now I know thy mind; thou dost suspect, That I have been disloyal to thy bed, And that he is a bastard, not thy son: Sweet York, sweet husband, be not of that mind: He is as like thee as a man may be, Not like to me, or any of my kin, And yet I love him. York. Make way, unruly woman. [Exit. § 9 amaz'd:] i. e. perplexed, confounded. So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “That cannot choose but amaze him.

If he be not amazed, he will be mocked; if he be amazed, he will every way be mocked.” Steevens.

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