Aum. For ever may my knees grow to the

earth.

[Kneels. My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth, Unless a pardon, ere I rise, or speak. Boling. Intended, or committed, was this fault? If but the first, how heinous ere it be, To win thy after-love, I pardon thee.

Aum. Then give me leave that I may turn the

key,

That no man enter till my tale be done.

Boling. Have thy desire.

[AUMERLE locks the door. York. [Within] My Liege, beware; look to

thyself;

Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there.
Boling. Villain, I'll make thee safe.

Aum. Stay thy revengeful hand; Thou hast no cause to fear.

[Drawing.

York. [Within.] Open the door, secure, fool

hardy King:

Shall I, for love, speak treason to thy face?
Open the door, or I will break it open.

[BOLINGBROKE opens the door.

Enter YORK.

Boling. What is the matter, uncle? speak; Recover breath; tell us how near is danger, That we may arm us to encounter it.

York. Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt know

The treason that my haste forbids me show. Aum. Remember, as thou read'st, thy promise past:

I do repent me; read not my name there,

VOL. VIII.

13

My heart is not confederate with my hand.
York. 'Twas, villain, ere thy hand did set it
down.

I tore it from the traitor's bosom, King;
Fear, and not love, begets his penitence:
Forget to pity him, lest thy pity prove
A serpent that will sting thee to the heart.
Boling, O heinous, strong, and bold conspir-
acy!

O loyal father of a treacherous son!

Thou sheer, immaculate, and silver fountain,
From whence this stream through muddy passages,
Hath held his current, and defil'd himself!
Thy overflow of good converts to bad;
And thy abundant goodness shall excuse
This deadly blot in thy digressing son.

York. So shall my virtue be his vice's hawd;
And he shall spend mine honour with his shame,
As thriftless-sons their scraping fathers' gold.
Mine honour lives when his dishonour dies,
Or my sham'd life in his dishonour lies:
Thou kill'st me in his life; giving him breath,
The traitor lives, the true man's put to death.
Duch. [Within] What ho, my Liege! for God's
sake, let me in.

Boling. What shrill-voic'd suppliant makes this eager cry ?

Duch. A woman, and thine aunt, great King;
'tis I.

Speak with me, pity me, open the door;
A beggar begs, that never begg'd before.

Boling. Our scene is alter'd, from a serious thing,

And now chang'd to The Beggar and the King.—
My dangerous cousin, let your mother in;
I know, she's come to pray for your foul sin.

York. If thou do pardon, whosoever pray, More sins, for this forgiveness, prosper may. This fester'd joint cut off, the rest rests sound; This, let alone, will all the rest confound.

Enter Duchess.

Duch. O King, believe not this hard-hearted

man;

Love, loving not itself, none other can.

York. Thou frantick woman, what dost thou

Shall thy old dugs once
Duch. Sweet York,

make here?

more a traitor rear?
be patient: Hear me,
gentle Liege. [Kneels.

Boling. Rise up, good aunt.

Duch. Not yet, I thee beseech: For ever will I kneel upon my knees, And never see day that the happy sees, Till thou give joy; until thou bid me joy, By pardouing Rutland, my transgressing boy. Aum. Unto my mother's prayers, I bend my

knee.

[Kneels. York. Against them both, my true joints bend

ed be.

[Kneels. Ill may'st thou thrive, if thou grant any grace! Duch. Pleads he in earnest? look upon his

face;

His eyes do drop no tears, his prayers are in

jest:

His words come from his mouth, ours from our breast:

He prays but faintly, and would be denied; We pray with heart, and soul, and all beside: His weary joints would gladly rise, I know;

Our knees shall kneel till to the ground they

grow:

His prayers are full of false hypocrisy;
Ours, of true zeal and deep integrity.

Our prayers do out-pray his; then let them have
That mercy, which true prayers ought to have.
Boling. Good aunt, stand up.

Duch. Nay, do not say.

stand up;

But, pardon, first; and afterwards, stand up. And if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach, Pardon - should be the first word of thy speech. I never long'd to hear a word till now;

Say-pardon, King; let pity teach thee how : The word is short, but not so short as sweet; No word like, pardon, for Kings' mouths so

meet.

York. Speak it in French, King; say, pardonnez moy.

Duch. Dost thou teach pardon pardon to destroy?

Ah, my sour husband, my hard-hearted Lord,
That set'st the word itself against the word!
Speak, pardon, as 'tis current in our land;
The chopping French we do not understand.
Thine eye begins to speak, set thy tongue there:
Or, in thy piteous heart plant thou thine ear;
That hearing how our plaints and prayers do pierce,
Pity may move thee pardon to rehearse.
Boling. Good aunt, stand up.

Duch. I do not sue to stand,

Pardon is all the suit I have in hand.

Boling. I pardon him, as God shall pardon me. Duch. O happy vantage of a kneeling knee! Yet am I sick for fear: speak it again; Twice saying pardon, doth not pardon twain, But makes one pardon strong.

Boling. With all my heart

I pardon him.

Duch. A god on earth thou art.

Boling. But for our trusty brother-in-law,and the Abbot,

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 not friend will rid me of this living

Was it not so?

fear?

Serv. Those were his very words.

Exton. Have I nofriend? quoth he he spake it twice,

And urg'd it twice together; did he not?

Serv. He did.

Exton. And, speaking it, he wistly look'd on

me;

As who should say, I would, thou wert the

man

That would divorce this terror from my heart;