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; 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 conspiracy! O, loyal father of a treacherous son! Thou sheer, immaculate, and silver fountain, From whence this stream through muddy passages, York. So shall my virtue be his vice's bawd; Duch. [Within.] What, ho, my liege! for God's sake, let me in. Boling. What shrill-voiced 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 begged before. Boling. Our scene is altered,- from a serious thing, And now changed 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 his forgiveness, prosper may. This festered 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 frantic woman, what dost thou make here? Shall thy old dugs another traitor rear? Duch. Sweet York, be patient. Hear me, gentle liege. Boling. Rise up, good aunt. [Kneels. Not yet, I thee beseech. Forever will I kneel upon my knees, And never see day that the happy sees, Till thou give joy; until thou bid me joy, By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy. Aum. Unto my mother's prayers, I bend my knee. [Kneels. York. Against them both, my true joints bended be. [Kneels. Ill mayst thou thrive, if thou grant any grace! 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; Ours, of true zeal and deep integrity. Our prayers do out-pray his; then let them have Duch. Nay, do not say-stand up; But, pardon, first; and afterwards, stand up. The word is short, but not so short as sweet; 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. Twice saying pardon, doth not pardon twain, Boling. I pardon him. Duch. With all my heart 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.- To Oxford, or where'er these traitors are, Your mother well hath prayed, 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 no friend will rid me of this living fear? Serv. Those were his very words. Exton. Have I no friend? quoth he; he spake it twice, And urged it twice together; did he not? Serv. He did. Exton. And, speaking it, he wistfully looked on me; As who should say,-I would thou wert the man That would divorce this terror from my heart; Meaning, the king at Pomfret. Come, let's go; I am the king's friend, and will rid his foe. SCENE V. Pomfret. [Exeunt. The Dungeon of the Castle. Enter KING RICHARD. K. Rich. I have been studying how I may compare And these same thoughts people this little world; As thus, Come, little ones; and then again,- Thus play I, in one person, many people, Think that I am unkinged by Bolingbroke, [Music. Ha, ha! keep time.-How sour sweet music is, Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears. Enter Groom. Groom. Hail, royal prince! Thanks, noble peer; K. Rich. Groom. I was a poor groom of thy stable, king, |