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.

Duch. After, Aumerle; mount thee upon
Spur, post; and get before him to the king,
And beg thy pardon ere he do accuse thee.
I'll not be long behind; though I be old,
I doubt not but to ride as fast as York:
And never will I rise up from the ground,
Till Bolingbroke have pardon'd thee: Away;
Begone.

SCENE III.

[Exit.

his horse;

[Exeunt.

Windsor. A Room in the Castle.

Enter BOLINGBROKE as King; PERCY, and other Lords.

Boling. Can no man tell of my unthrifty son?
'Tis full three months, since I did see him last:-
If any plague hang over us, 'tis he.

I would to God, my lords, he might be found:
Enquire at London 48, 'mongst the taverns there,
For there, they say, he daily doth frequent,
With unrestrained loose companions;

Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes,
And beat our watch, and rob our passengers;
While he, young, wanton, and effeminate boy,

Takes on the point of honour, to support

So dissolute a crew.

Percy. My lord, some two days since I saw the prince;

And told him of these triumphs held at Oxford.

Boling. And what said the gallant?

Percy. His answer was,-he would unto the stews; And from the common'st creature pluck a glove, And wear it as a favour; and with that

He would unhorse the lustiest challenger.

Boling. As dissolute, as desperate: yet, through both

I see some sparkles of a better hope,

Which elder days may happily bring forth.

But who comes here?

Enter AUMERLE, hastily.

* Where is the king?

Aum.

What means

Boling. Our cousin, that he stares and looks so wildly? Aum. God save your grace. I do beseech your majesty,

To have some conference with your grace alone. Boling. Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here alone.[Exeunt Percy and Lords. What is the matter with our cousin now? Aum. For ever may my knees grow to the earth, [Knecls.

My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth,
Unless a pardon, ere I rise, or speak.

Boling. Intend, 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;

[Drawing.

Thou hast no cause to fear.

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 49, 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 bawd;
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 50My 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 make here?

Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear?

Duch. Sweet York, 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 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 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 :