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 pas

sages

Hath held his current, and defiled 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 shamed 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
heaven's sake let me in.

Boling. What shrilled-voice 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 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 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 frantic woman, what dost thou make here?

Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear?
Dach. Sweet York, be patient.

gentle liege.

Boling. Rise up, good aunt.

Duch.

Hear me, [Kneels.

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 mayst 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 joincs 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.

An if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach,
Pardon-should be the first word of thy speech.
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, pardon-

nez moy.

Duch. Dost thou teach pardon pardon to de

stroy?

Ah, my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord,
That sett'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 heaven 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.

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.

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 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 Heaven
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? Was it not so?

Serv.

Those wert 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 wistly look'd 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.
[Exeunt.

SCENE V.-Pomfret.

The Dungeon of the

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 it out.
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 same thoughts people this little world;
In humours like the people of this world,

For no thought is contented. The better sort,-
As thoughts of things divine,—are intermix'd
With scruples, and do set the faith itself
Against the faith;

As thus,-Come, little ones; and then again,—
It is as hard to come, as for a camel

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.
Thoughts tending to content flatter themselves
That they are not the first of fortune's slaves,
Nor shall not be the last: like silly beggars,
Who, sitting in the stocks, refuge their shame,
That many have, and others must sit there:
And in this thought they find a kind of ease,
Bearing their own misfortunes on the back
Of such as have before endured the like.
Thus play I, in one person, many people,
And none contented: sometimes am I king;
'Then treason makes me wish myself a beggar,
And so I am then crushing penury

Persudes me I was better when a king;
Then am I king'd again: and by-and-by,
Think that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke,

And straight am nothing :-but, whate'er I am,