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Boling. As diffolute, as defperate: yet through both I fee fome fparkles of a better 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 ma

jesty,

To have fome conference with

your grace alone. Boling. Withdraw yourfelves, and leave us here

alone.

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 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 the tale be done. Boling. Have thy defire.

[York within. York. My liege, beware, look to thyself, Thou haft a traitor in thy prefence there. Boling. Villain, I'll make thee fafc.

[Drawing.

Aum. Stay thy revengeful hand, thou hast no cause

to fear.

York. Open the door, fecure, fool-hardy king.

Shall I, for love, fpeak treason to thy face?

Open the door, or I will break it open.

The King 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.

York. Perufe this writing here, and thou shalt know The treafon that my hafte forbids me show.

Aum. Remember, as thou read'ft, thy promife 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. tore it from the traitor's bofom, king; Fear, and not love, begets his penitence: Forget to pity him, left thy pity prove A ferpent that will fting thee to the heart. Boling. O heinous, strong, and bold confpiracy!Oloyal father of a treacherous fon!

9 Thou fheer, immaculate, and filver fountain, From whence this ftream, through muddy paffages, Hath held his current, and defil'd himself! 'Thy overflow of good converts the bad; And thine abundant goodness fhall excuse This deadly blot in thy tranfgreffing fon.

York. So fhall 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 fham'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. [Dutchefs within. Dutch. What ho, my liege! for heaven's fake let me in.

Thou beer, immaculate, &c.] Sheer is pure, tranfparent. The modern editors arbitrarily read clear. Shakespeare mentions fbeer ale, and Atterbury fays that beer argument is not the talent of man. Tranfparent muflin is ftill called beer muflin. STEEV. In former copies,

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Thy overflow of good converts to bad;] This is the reading of all the printed copies in general; and I never till lately fufpected its being faulty. The reafoning is disjointed, and inconclufive: my emendation makes it clear and of a piece. Thy "overflow of good changes the complexion of thy fon's guilt; "and thy goodnefs, being fo abundant, fhall excufe his trefpafs." THEOBALD.

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Boling. What fhrill-voic'd 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.

Boling. Our fcene is alter'd from a serious thing, And now chang'd' to the Beggar and the King. -My dangerous coufin, let your mother in; I know, fhe's come to pray for your foul fin. York. If thou do pardon, whofoever pray, More fins, for this forgiveness profper may. This fefter'd joint cut off, the reft is found; This, let alone, will all the reft confound. Enter Dutchefs.

Dutch. O king, believe not this hard-hearted man; Love, loving not itself, none other can.

York. Thou frantic 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 befeech:

For ever will I kneel upon my knees,
And never fee day that the happy fees,

[Kneels.

Till thou give joy; until thou bid me joy,
By pardoning Rutland, my tranfgreffing boy."
Aum. Unto my mother's prayers I bend my knee.

[Kneels.

2- the Beggar and the King.] The King and Beggar seems to have been an interlude well known in the time of our author, who has alluded to it more than once. I cannot now find that any copy of it is left. JOHNSON.

The King and Beggar was perhaps once an interlude; it was certainly a fong. The reader will find it in the first volume of Dr. Percy's collection. It is there intitled, King Cephetua and the Beggar Maid. It is printed from Rich. Johnfon's Crown Garland of Goulden Refes, 1612, 12°; where it is intitled fimply, A Sing of a Beggur and a King. STEEVENS.

York.

York. Against them both my true joints bended be. [Kneels. Ill may'st thou thrive, if thou grant any grace! Dutch. Pleads he in earnest? look upon his face; His eyes do drop no tears, his prayers are in jeft; His words come from his mouth, ours from our breast: He prays but faintly, and would be deny'd; We pray with heart and foul, and all befide. His weary joints would gladly rife, I know; Our knees fhall kneel, till to the ground they grow. His prayers are full of falfe hypocrify;

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.
Boling. Good aunt, stand up.

Dutch. Nay, do not say, ftand up,

But pardon first; fay afterwards, ftand up.
An if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach,
Pardon fhould be the firft word of thy fpeech.
I never long'd to hear a word till now;
Say, pardon, king; let pity teach thee how.
The word is fhort, but not so short as sweet;
No word like pardon for kings mouths fo meet.
Boling. Good aunt, ftand up.

Dutch. I do not fue to ftand,

Pardon is all the fuit, I have in hand.

Boling. I pardon him, as heaven shall pardon me. Dutch. O happy vantage of a kneeling knee! Yet am I fick for fear: fpeak it again, Twice faying pardon doth not pardon twain, But makes one pardon ftrong.

York. Speak it in French, king; fay, 3 Pardonnez

moy.

Dutch. Doft thou teach pardon, pardon to destroy? Ah, my four husband, my hard-hearted lord,

3

Pardonnez moy.] That is, excuse me, a phrafe ufed when any thing is civilly denied. The whole paffage is fuch as I could well with away. JOHNSON.

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That fet'ft 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 fpeak, fet 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. 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 straight fhall dog them at the heels.-
Good uncle, help to order feveral powers
To Oxford, or where-e'er these traitors are.
They fhall not live within this world, I swear,
But I will have them, if I once know where.
Uncle, farewell; and coufin too, adieu :
Your mother well hath pray'd, and prove you true.
Dutch. Come, my old fon; I pray heaven make thee
[Exeunt.

new.

SCENE

IV.

Enter Exton and a Servant.

Exton. Didft thou not mark the king, what words he fpake?

Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear?

Was it not fo?

Serv. Thofe were his very words.

Exton. Have I no friend?-quoth he; he spake it twice,

And urg'd it twice together; did he not?

But for our trusty brother-in-law-the abbot-] The abbot of Westminster was an ecclefiaftic; but the brother-in-law meant, was John duke of Exeter and earl of Huntingdon (own brother to king Richard II.) and who had married with the lady Elizabeth fifter of Henry of Bolingbroke. THEOBALD.

Ser.

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