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Boling. As diffolute, 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.

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Aum. Where is the king ?

Boling. What means our cousin, that he stares
And looks so wildly?
Aum. God save your grace. I do beseech your ma-

jesty,
To have some conference with your grace alone.
Boling. Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here

alone.-
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 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 desire.

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

Boling. Villain, I'll make thee fafe. [Drawing.
Aum. Stay thy revengeful hand, thou halt no caule

to fear.
York. Open the door, fecure, fool-hardy king.
Shall I, for love, speak 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. Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt know The treason that my hafte 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 bofom, king; Fear, and not love, begets his penitence: Forget to pity him, leít thy pity prove A ferpent that will sting thee to the heart.

Boling: O heinous, strong, and bold conspiracy ! -
O loyal father of a treacherous fon!
9 Thou sheer, immaculate, and silver fountain,
From whence this stream, through muddy passages,
Hath held his current, and defild himself!
* Thy overflow of good converts the bad
And thine abundant goodness shall excuse
This deadly blot in thy transgressing 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.

[Dutchess within. Dutch. What ho, my liege! for heaven's fake let

me in.

1

9 Tbou Beer, immaculate, &c.) Shecr is pure, transparent. The modern editors arbitrarily read clear, Shakespeare mentions beer ale, and Atterbury says that sheer argument is not the talent of man. Transparent muslin is ftill called focer mullin. STEEV.

In former copies,

Thy overflow of good converts to bad;] This is the reading of all the printed copies in general; and I never till lately sufpected its being faulty. The reasoning is disjointed, and inconclufive : my emendation makes it clear and of a piece. “ Thy “ cverflow of good changes the complexion of thy fon's guilt ; " and thy goodness, being so abundant, shall excuse his tref“ pass.” THEOBALD. Vol. V.

O

Boling

cry?

1

Boling. What shrill-voic'd fuppliant makes this eager

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 scene is alter'd from a serious thing,
And now chang’d'to the Beggar and the King.
-My dangerous cousin, let your

mother in;
I know, she's come to pray for your foul fin.

York. If thou do pardon, whosoever pray,
More fins, for this forgiveness prosper may.
This fester'd joint cut off, the rest is found;
This, let alone, will all the rest confound.

Enter Dutchess.
Dutch. O king, believe not this hard-hearted man;
Love, loving not itself, none other can.
York. Thou frantic woman, what dost thou do

here?
Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear ?
Dutch. Sweet York, be patient : hear me, gentle
liege.

[Kneels. Boling. Rise 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 pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy.
Aum. Unto my mother's prayers I bend my knee.

[Kneels.

? - 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 Begger was perhaps once an interlude ; it was certainly a song. The reader will find it in the first volume of Dr. Percy's collection. It is there intitled, King Cephetna and tbe Brggar Maid. It is printed from Rich. Johnson's Crown Garland of Goüluen Rofis, 1612, 12° ; where it is intiiled fimply, 4 Song of a beggur and a King. STEVENS.

Work.

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 soul, and all beside. His weary joints 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 crave That mercy which true prayers ought to have.

Boling. Good aunt, stand up.

Dutch. 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.
The word is short, but not fo short as sweet;
No word like pardon for kings mouths so meet.

Boling. Good aunt, stand up:

Dutch. I do not sue to stand, Pardon is all the suit I have in hand.

Boling. I pardon him, as heaven shall pardon me.

Dutch. 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. York. Speak it in French, king; say, 3 Pardonnez

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

Pardonnez moy.] That is, excuse me, a phrase used when any thing is civilly denied. The whole paffage is such as I could well with away. Johnson.

O 2

That

That set'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 rehearlé.

Boling. With all my heart
I pardon him.

Dutch. A god on earth thou art.
Boling. + But for our trusty brother-in-law—the ab-

bot-
With all the rest of that conforted crew
Destruction straight shall dog them at the heels.-
Good uncle, help to order several powers
To Oxford, or where-e'er these traitors are.
They shall not live within this world, I swear,
But I will have them, if I once know where.
Uncle, farewell; and cousin too, adieu :
Your mother well hath pray’d, and prove you true.
Dutch. Come, my old fon; I pray heaven make thee

[Exeunt. SC EN E 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 fo?

Sero. Those were his very words.
Exton. Have I no frier.d? --quoth he; he spake it

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

new.

But for our truffy brother-in-law---the abbot-) The abbot of Westminder was an ecclefiaitic ; but the brother-in-law meant, was Jolin duke of Exeter and earl of Huntingdon (own brother to king Richard II.) and who had married with the lady Elizabeth lister of Henry of Bclingbroke. THEOBALD.

Ser.

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