For there, they say, he daily doth frequent, Even fuch, they fay, as ftand in narrow lanes, So diffolute a crew. Percy. My Loid, fome two days fince I saw the Prince, Percy. His answer was, he would unto the ftews, He would unhorse the luftieft challenger. Boling. As diffolute as defp'rate; yet through both I fee fome fparks of hope; which elder days May happily bring forth. But who comes here? Enter Aumerle. Aum. Where is the King? Boling. What means our coufin, that he ftares And looks fo wildly? Aum. God fave your Grace! I do befeech your Majefty, To have fome conf'rence with your Grace alone. Boling. Withdraw your felves, and leave us here alone. [Exeunt Lords. What is the matter with our coufin now? 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 rife or speak! Boling. Intended or committed was this fault? If but the firft, how hainous e'er 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 the tale be done. Boling. Have thy defire. [York within, York. My Liege, beware, look to thy felf, Thou haft a traitor in thy prefence there. Boling. Villain, I'll make thee fafe. Aum. Stay thy revengeful hand, thou haft no cause to fear, York. Open the door, fecure, fool-hardy King: Shall Shall I for love fpeak treafon to thy face? SCENE VII. Enter York. Boling. What is the matter, uncle? fpeak, take breath? Tell us how near is danger, That we may arm us to encounter it. York. Perufe this writing here, and thou fhalt know The treason that my hafte forbids me show. Aum. Remember, as thou read'ft, thy promife paft: Thou clear, immaculate, and filver fountain, York. So fhall my virtue be his vice's bawd. [Dutchess within. Dutch. What ho! my Liege! for heaven's fake let me in. Boling. What fhrill-voice fuppliant makes this eager cry? Dutch. 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. * -begg'd before. Boling. Our fcene is alter'd from a ferious thing, And now chang'd to the beggar, and the King. My dang'rous Coulin, &c. Boling. My dang'rous coufin, let your mother in, SCENE VIII. Enter Dutchess. Dutch. O King, believe not this hard-hearted man ; Love, loving not itself, none other can. York. Thou frantick woman, what doft thou do here? Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear? Dutch. Sweet York, be patient; hear me, gentle Liege! Boling. Rife up, good aunt. Dutch. Not yet, I thee beseech; For ever will I kneel upon my knees, And never fee day that the happy fees, Till thou give Joy, until thou bid me joy, By pard'ning Rutland, my tranfgreffing boy. [Kneels. Aum.Unto my mother's pray'rs I bend my knee. [Kneels. York. Against them both my true joints bended be. [Kneels. Ill may'st thou thrive, if thou grant any grace! Dutch. Pleads he in earneft? look upon his face; His eyes drop no tears, his prayers are in jest ; His words come from his mouth, ours from our breaft; Our knees fhall kneel, 'till to the ground they grow, Ours of true zeal, and deep integrity; Our prayers do out-pray his; then let them crave Dutch. Nay, do not fay ftand up, But pardon firft, fay afterwards ftand up. Say, Say, Pardon, King, let pity teach thee how * Dutch. I do not fue to stand, Pardon is all the fuit I have in hand. Boling. I pardon him, as heav'n fhall pardon me, Twice faying pardon doth not pardon twain, Boling. With all my heart I pardon him. Dutch. A God on earth thou art. Boling. But for our trusty brother-in-law; the Abbot, With all the reft of that conforted crew, Deftruction ftraight fhall dog them at the heels. Good uncle, help to order feveral powers To Oxford, or where-e'er these traitors are. † [Exeunt. SCENE IX. Enter Exton and a Servant. Exton. Didft thou not mark the King, what words he Have I no friend will rid me of this fear? Was it not fo? Serv. Those were his very words. [fpake? Exton, Have I no friend? quoth he: he spake it twice, teach thee how. The word is fhort, but not fo fhort as sweet, No word like pardon, for Kings mouths fo meet. Boling. Good aunt, &c. +traitors are. They fhall not live within this world, I fwear: Uncle, farewel; and coufin, adieu; Your mother well hath pray'd, and prove you true. Dutch. Come, my old fon, 1 pray heav'n make thee new. SCENE, &c. And And urg'd it twice together; did he not? Serv. He did. Exton. And speaking it he wiftly look'd on me, As who fhall fay, 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. [Exeunt. K. Rich. I have been ftudying how to compare Against the word; as thus; Come, little ones; and then again, To thread the poftern of a needle's eye. Then |