I fee fome sparks of 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 Majefty,

To have fome conf'rence with your Grace alone.

Boling Withdraw your felves, 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 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 defire.

[York within.

York. My Liege, beware, look to thy felf,

Thou haft a traitor in thy prefence there.
Boling. Villain, I'll make thee fafe.

Aum. Stay thy revengeful hand, thou haft no caufe to fear.

York. Open the door, fecure, fool-hardy King: Shall I for love speak treafon to thy face?

Open the door, or I will break it open.

Enter York.

Boling. What is the matter, uncle? speak, take breath : Tell us how near is danger,

That we may arm us to encounter it.

York. Perufe this writing here, and thou shalt know

The Treafon that my hafte forbids me show.

Aum. Remember, as thou read'ft, thy promise past :

I do repent me, read not my name there,

My

My heart is not confed'rate with my hand.

York. Villain, it was, ere thy hand fet it down.
I tore it from the traytor'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, ftrong, and bold confpiracy!
O loyal father of a treach'rous fon!

Thou clear, immaculate, and filver fountain,
From whence this ftream, through muddy paffages,
Hath had his current, and defil'd himself,
Thy overflow of good converts the bad; (11)
And thine abundant goodness fhall excufe
This deadly blot, in thy digreffing fon.

York. So fhall my virtue be his vice's bawd, And he shall spend mine honour with his shame; As thriftlefs fons their fcraping fathers' gold. Mine honour lives, when his difhonour dies: Or my fham'd life in his dishonour lies: Thou kill'ft me in his life; giving him breath, The traytor lives, the true man's put to death. [Dutchess within. Dutch. What ho, my Liege! for heav'n's fake, let me in.

Boling. What fhrill-voic'd Suppliant 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 Scene is alter'd from a ferious thing, And now chang'd to the Beggar, and the King: My dang'rous Coufin, let your mother in ;

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

(11) 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 Son's Guilt; and thy Goodness, being so abundant, "fhall excufe his Tréfpafs.

D 4

York.

York. If thou do pardon, whofoever pray, More fins for his forgiveness profper may; This fefter'd joint cut off, the reft is found; This, let alone, will all the rest confound. Enter Dutchess.

Dutch. O King, believe not this hard-hearted man; Love, loving not it self, none other can.

York. Thou frantick woman, what doft thou do here?

Shall thy old dugs once more a traytor 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 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!
Dutch. Pleads he in earneft? look upon his face;
His eyes do drop no tears, his prayr's 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 rise, I know ;

Our knees fhall kneel, till to the ground they grow.
His pray'rs are full of falfe hypocrifie,

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, ftand up.

Dutch. Nay, do not fay, ftand up,

But pardon firft; fay afterwards, ftand up.
An if I were thy nurfe, thy tongue to teach,
Pardon fhould be the first word of thy fpeech..

I never long'd to hear a word till now:

Say, Pardon, King; let pity teach thee how.
Boling. Good aunt, ftand up.

Dutch. I do not fue to stand,

Pardon is all the fuit I have in hand.

Boling. I pardon him, as heav'n fhall 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.

moy..

The word is fhort, but not fo fhort as fweet;
No word like pardon, for Kings mouths fo meet.
York. Speak it in French, King; fay, Pardonnez
Dutch. Doft thou teach pardon, pardon to destroy?
Ah, my fow'r husband, my hard-hearted lord,
That fet'ft the word it felf, 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,

Abbot,

(12)

With all the rest of that conforted crew,

Destruction straight shall dog them at the heels. • Good Uncle, help to order feveral Powers

the Abbot

the

(12) But for our trusty Brother-in-law, Without these Marks of Disjunction, which I have thought proper to add, the Abbot here mention'd and Bolingbroke's Brother-in-law feem to be one and the fame Perfon: but this was not the Cafe. 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 I.) and who had married with the Lady Elizabeth Sister to Henry of Bolingbroke.

D. 5

To

To Oxford, or where e'er thefe traytors are.
They fhall not live within this world, I fwear;
But I will have them, if I once know where.
Uncle, farewel; and coufin too, adieu;

Your mother well hath pray'd, and prove you true. Dutch. Come, my old fon; I pray heav'n make thee [Exeunt.

new.

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?

Serv. Those were his very words.

Exton."Have I no friend?

it twice,

quoth he; he spake

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

Serv. He did.

Exton. And fpeaking it, he wiftly look'd on me, As who fhall fay, 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.

I

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to the Prifon at PomfretCaftle.

Enter King Richard.

Have been ftudying, how to compare
This prifon, where I live, unto the world;
And, for becaufe the world is populous,
And here is not a creature but my felf,
I cannot do it; yet I'll hammer on't.
My brain I'll prove the female to my foul,
My foul, the father; and these two beget
A generation of ftill-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