第28章 Exeunt SCENE III. A royal palace.(2)

Thou kill'st me in his life; giving him breath, The traitor lives, the true man's put to death. DUCHESS OF YORK [Within] What ho, my liege! for God's sake, let me in. HENRY BOLINGBROKE What shrill-voiced suppliant makes this eager cry? DUCHESS OF YORK A woman, and thy aunt, great king; 'tis I.

Speak with me, pity me, open the door.

A beggar begs that never begg'd before. HENRY BOLINGBROKE 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 is come to pray for your foul sin. DUKE OF YORK If thou do pardon, whosoever pray, More sins for this forgiveness prosper may.

This fester'd joint cut off, the rest rest sound;

This let alone will all the rest confound.

Enter DUCHESS OF YORK DUCHESS OF YORK O king, believe not this hard-hearted man!

Love loving not itself none other can. DUKE OF YORK Thou frantic woman, what dost thou make here?

Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear? DUCHESS OF YORK Sweet York, be patient. Hear me, gentle liege.

Kneels HENRY BOLINGBROKE Rise up, good aunt. DUCHESS OF YORK Not yet, I thee beseech:

For ever will I walk 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. DUKE OF AUMERLE Unto my mother's prayers I bend my knee. DUKE OF YORK Against them both my true joints bended be.

Ill mayst thou thrive, if thou grant any grace! DUCHESS OF YORK 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 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 have That mercy which true prayer ought to have. HENRY BOLINGBROKE Good aunt, stand up. DUCHESS OF YORK Nay, do not say, 'stand up;'

Say, 'pardon' first, and afterwards 'stand up.'

And 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 so short as sweet;

No word like 'pardon' for kings' mouths so meet. DUKE OF YORK Speak it in French, king; say, 'pardonne moi.' DUCHESS OF YORK Dost thou teach pardon pardon to destroy?

Ah, my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord, 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 rehearse. HENRY BOLINGBROKE Good aunt, stand up. DUCHESS OF YORK I do not sue to stand;

Pardon is all the suit I have in hand. HENRY BOLINGBROKE I pardon him, as God shall pardon me. DUCHESS OF YORK 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. HENRY BOLINGBROKE With all my heart I pardon him. DUCHESS OF YORK A god on earth thou art. HENRY BOLINGBROKE 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 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. DUCHESS OF YORK Come, my old son: I pray God make thee new.