If any plague hang over us, 'tis he.
Į would to heav'n, my Lords, he might be found.
Inquire at London, 'mong 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, fome 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 commoneft creature pluck a glove,
And wear it as a favour, and with that
He would unhorse the lustiest challenger

Boling. As dissolute as desp'rate ; yet thro' both
I see some sparks of hope, which elder days
May happily bring forth. But who comes here?

Enter Aumerle.
Àum. Where is the King?

Boling. What means our cousin, that he stares,
And looks fo wildly?
Aum. God save your Grace. I do beseech your

Ma. To have some conf'rence with your Grace alone. (jesty Boling. Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here alone.

[Ex. Lords, What is the matter with our cousin 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 rise or speak !

Boling. Intended, or committed, was this fault? If but the first, how heinous e'er it be, To win thy after-love, I pardon thee.

Aum. Then give me leave that I may turn the keys That no man enter till the tale be done. Boling. Have thy defire.

[York within. York. My Liege, beware, look to thyself, Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there.

Boling. Villain, I'll make thee fafe.
Aum. Stay thy revengeful hand, thou hast no cause

to fear.
Tork. Open the door, secure, fool-hardy King.
Shall I for love fpeak treason to thy face?
Open the door, or I will break it open.

SCENE VII. Enter York.
Boling. What is the matter, uncle ? speak, take
Tell us how near is danger,

[breath : That we may arm us to encounter it.

York. Peruse this writing here, and thou snalt know The treason that my haite forbids me show.

Aum. Remember as thou read'st, thy promise palt:
I do repent me, read not my name there,
My heart is not confed'rate with my hand.

York. Villain, it was ere thy hand let it down.
I tore it from the traitor's bofom, King ;
Fear, and not love, begets his penitence;
Forget to pity him, leit thy pity prove
A serpent that will sting thee to the heart.

Boling: O heinous, strong, and bold conspiracy
O loyal father of a treach'rous son !
Thou clear, immaculate, and silver fountain,
From whence this stream, through muddy passages,
Hath had his current, and defild himself;
Thy overflow of good converts the bad;
And thine abundant goodness shall excuse
This deadly blot in thy digresling son.

York. So shall my virtue be his vice's bawd, And he shall spend mine honour with his shame As thriftless fons their scraping father's gold. Mine honour lives, when his dishonour dies :

sham'd life in his dishonour lies: Thou kill'ft me in his life ; giving him breath, The traitor lives, the true man's put to death.

[Duchess within Duch. What ho, my Liege! for Heav'n's fake let

me in. Boling. What shrill-voiced suppliant makes this ea

ger cry? Duch. A woman, and thine aunt, great King, 'tis 1.

Speak

Or my

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

Boling. My dang’rous cousin, let your mother in;
I know The's come to pray

for

your foul sin.
York. If thou do pardon, whosoever pray,
More fins for his forgivennefs profper may :
This felter d joint cut off, the rest is found;
This let alone, will all the rest confound.

SCENE VIII. Enter Duchess.
Duch. O King, believe not this hard-hearted man ;
Love, loving not itself, none other can.

York. Thou frantic woman, what dolt thou do 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 fees,
Till thou give joy ; until thou bid me joy,
By pard'ning Rutland, my tranfgreffing boy.
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 !

Duch. Pleads he in earnest ? look upon his face ?
His eyes do drop no tears, his prayer's in jelt;
His words come from his mouth, ours from our breast :
He prays but faintly, and would be deny'd;
We pray with heart and soul, and all beside.
His weary joints would gladly rife, I know;
Our knees ihall kneel till to the ground they grow.
His pray’rs are full of false hypocrisy,
Ours of true zeal, and deep integrity;
Our prayers do out-pray his; then let them crave
That mercy which true prayers ought to have.

never begg'd before.
Boling. Our tcene is alter'd from a frious thing,
And now changed to the beggar and the King :
My dang'rvus ceutin, ei,

Boling.

Boling. Good aunt, stand up.

Duch. Nay, do not say, Stand up,
But pardon first; fay afterwards, Stand up.
An' 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.

Boling. Good aunt, stand up.

Duch. I do not fue to stand, Pardon is all the suit I have in hand.

Boling. I pardon him, as Heav’n shall pardon me,

Duch. O happy vantage of a kneeling knee !
Yet am I fick 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,--the Ab-
With all the rest of that consorted crew, [bot,-
Destruction straight shall dog them at the heels.
Good uncle, help to order several powers
To Oxford, or where-e'er these traitors are. +

pardon strong. 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.

Duck. Do:t thou teach pardon, pardon to destroy ?
Ah, my four husband, mv hard hearted lord,
That let'st the word itself against the word.
Speak pardon, as ’ris current in our land;
The ci opping Fiench we do not understa:d.
Thire eye begin to speak, let thy tongue there :
Or, in thy pitevus heart, plant thou thine ear;
That, hearing how our plaints and prayers do pierce,
Pity may move thee pardon to rehearte.

Beling. With all, &c.
+

traitors are.
They shall not live within this world, I swear;
But I will have them, if I once know where,
Uncle, farewel; and cousin too, adieu ;
Your'm iher well hath pray'd, and prove you true.
Duik. Cume, my old son; I pray Heav'n make thee new.

SCENE, &c.

SCENE

SCENE IX. 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 ? Was it not so ?

Serv. Those were his very words.

Exton. “ Have I no friend?-quoth he; he fpake And urge'd it twice together ; did he not ? [it twice,

Serv: He did.

Exton. And fpeaking it, he wiftly lookid on me, As who shall 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. [Exeunt.

Changes to the prison at Pomfret castle.

Enter King Richard.
K. Rich. "I have been studying how to compare
- This prison where I live, unto the world;
• And, for because the world is populous,

And here is not a creature but myself,
I cannot do it; yet I'll hammer on't.
My brain I'll prove the female to my soul,

My soul, the father ; and these two beget • A generation of still breeding thoughts; • And these fame thoughts people this little world; • In humour, like the people of this world, • For no thought is contented. The better fort (As thoughts of things divine) are intermix'd With fcruples, and do set the word itself Against the word; as thus, Come, little ones; and then It is as hard to come, as for a camel

[again, To thread the postern of a needle's eye. Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot Unlikely wonders ; how these vain weak nails May tear a passage through the flinty ribs“ Of this hard world, my ragged prison-walls : And, for they cannot, die in their own pride. Vol. IV.

K

Thoughts