Aum.
I do not wonder, Lords, that his Revenge
Pursues our Lives, with such inveterate Speed;
He knows our Service is so firmly knit
To Royal Richard, that our Pardons seal'd
Could not unhinge our Faith, or buy us o'er
To own his Title in our Master's Wrong.

Sal.
Since Heaven thought fit to disappoint our Hands,
To Day, with Me, stands in the Place of Time,
And instant Death is welcome to my Soul,
As Rest to the o'er labour'd, drudging, Hind.
O Carlisle, venerable, good old Man,
How shall I bless the Wisdom of thy Tongue!
Whose Utt'rance has dispell'd the Doubts I felt,
And planted Paradise around my Heart:
Made calm my Passions, and dislodg'd each Fear,
Each petty Interest that drag'd me down,
Too servilely to wish this Life prolong'd.

Car.
The Praise be to that Power, whose Sacred Counsels
My Tongue is but the Organ to unfold!

Aum.
So Heaven befriend me, as I feel no Care,
No Weight that hangs more heavy on my Thoughts,
Save what may happen to the Royal Richard,
Than that You, Noble Lord, whose rev'rend Head
The hoary Hand of Time has silver'd o'er,
Should taste the bitter Portion of our Fate,
And not be shrouded in the Arms of Peace. Enter Northumberland.

North.
My Lord, the King has graciously been pleas'd,
In Reverence to the sacred Robe you wear,
To sign your Pardon; but, with this Injunction,
That you forthwith do quit the Tower and City,
Repair you to your Castle at Carlisle,

And spend the peaceful Remnant of your Days
In Exposition of the holy Text.
So wipe this Blemish to your Virtues off,
Preaching Obedience, and the Law of Truth,
And dying, in a good old Age, rever'd.

Car.
Believe me, Lords, I joy not in this Grant:
I had divorc'd my Heart from Earth's Concerns,
And next to that strong Comfort which I taste
In full Assurance of a future Bliss,
It was the Triumph of my Soul, to think
I should have dy'd in Royal Richard's Cause.

North.
My Lord, you now must instantly depart,
And leave the Pris'ners to their Doom.

Aum.
Farewel.
O Carlisle, I had treasur'd up a Hope,
You might have seen us take the Stroke of Death,
And to old York reported, that his Son
Fell not unworthy of his Birth or Cause.

Carl.
Had I dy'd with You I had spar'd these Tears;
But these our Friendship and your Virtues claim.
My Lords, one last Embrace: Heav'n make you strong,
And arm your Breasts with Christian Fortitude,
To stand the Terrors of the Scene before you. Exit Carlisle.

Sal.
Come, let us meet this threat'ning Pomp of Death,
For we, my Lord, are like too desp'rate Men,
That vow a long and weary Pilgrimage;
Let us not stand, and count the Way with Sighs,
But start with Hearts resolv'd, e'er Fancy palls,
And makes the Passage irksome to our Thoughts.

Aum.
I paus'd not, Salisbury, to defer my Doom,
But mourn my suff'ring King and Country's Fate.
This Royal Throne of Kings, this little World,
This Earth of Majesty, this Seat of Mars,
This Fortress built by Nature for her self,
Against Infection, and the Hand of War;
This Land of Liberty, this dear, dear, Land,
Dear for her Reputation thro' the World,

This England, that was wont to conquer Others,
Has made a shameful Conquest of it self.
Our forfeit Lives how gladly should we pay,
If that our Blood could wash its Stains away! Exeunt.

Northumberland Solus.
So, now a little Interval of Time
Will, on that Quarter, set my Soul at Rest:
A Work of Consequence is still behind.
Let me confirm the yet unsettled Crown
To Bolingbroke; and Fortune then is mine:
The Means will be to move King Richard hence,
And, by his Absence, cool the People's Love. Exit North.

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