Boling.
Can no man tell me ^note of my unthrifty son?
'Tis full three months since I did see him last:
If any plague hang over us, 'tis he.
I would to God ^note, my lords, he might be found:
Inquire at London, 'mongst the taverns there,
For there, they say, he daily doth frequent,
With unrestrained loose companions,
Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes,
And beat our watch, and rob ^note our passengers;
Which ^note he, young wanton ^note and effeminate boy,
Takes on the point of honour to support
So dissolute a crew ^{note note}.

Percy.
My lord, some two days since I saw the prince,
And told him of those ^note triumphs held at Oxford.

Boling.
And what said the gallant?

Percy.
His answer was, he would unto ^note the stews,
And from the common'st ^note creature pluck a glove,
And wear it as a favour; and with that
He would unhorse the lustiest challenger.

Boling.
As dissolute as desperate; yet through both
I see some sparks ^note of better ^note hope, which elder years ^note
May happily bring forth. But who comes here? ^note

Enter Aumerle. ^note

Aum.
Where is the king?

Boling.
What means our ^note cousin, that he stares and looks
So wildly? ^note

Aum.
God save your grace! I do beseech your majesty,
To have some conference with your grace alone.

Boling.
Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here alone. [Exeunt ^note Percy and Lords.
What is the matter with our cousin now? ^note

Aum.
For ever may my knees grow to the earth,
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 on ^note the first, how heinous e'er it be,
To win thy after-love I pardon thee.

Aum.
Then give me leave that I may ^note turn the key,
That no man enter till my tale be ^note done. ^note

Boling.
Have thy desire. ^note

York. [Within]
My liege, beware; look to thyself ^{note note};
Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there.

Boling.
Villain, I'll make thee safe. [Drawing. ^note

Aum.
Stay thy revengeful hand ^note; thou hast no cause to fear ^note.

York. [Within ^note]
Open the door, secure, foolhardy ^note king:

Shall I for love speak treason to thy face?
Open the door, or I will break it open. ^noteEnter York. ^note

Boling.
What is the matter, uncle? speak;
Recover ^note breath; tell us how near is danger ^note,
That we may arm us to encounter it.

York.
Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt know
The treason ^note that my haste forbids me show.

Aum.
Remember, as thou read'st, thy promise pass'd:
I do repent me; read not my name there;
My heart is not confederate with my hand.

York.
It was, villain, ere thy hand did set ^note it down.
I tore it ^note from the traitor's bosom, king;
Fear, and not ^note love, begets his penitence:
Forget to pity him, lest thy pity prove
A serpent that will sting thee to the ^note heart.

Boling.
O heinous, strong and bold conspiracy!
O loyal father of a treacherous son!
Thou sheer ^note, immaculate and silver fountain,
From whence this stream through muddy passages
Hath held ^note his current and defiled himself!
Thy overflow of good converts to bad ^note,
And thy ^note abundant ^note goodness shall excuse ^note
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 ^note]
What ho, my liege! for God's ^note sake, let me in.

Boling.
What shrill-voiced ^note suppliant makes this eager cry?

Duch.
A woman, and thy ^note 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 ^note changed to ‘The Beggar and the King ^note.’
My dangerous cousin, let your mother in: ^note
I know she is ^note come to pray for your foul sin.

York.
If thou do pardon, whosoever pray,
More sins for this ^note forgiveness prosper may.
This fester'd ^note joint cut off, the rest rest ^note sound;
This let alone will all the rest confound. Enter Duchess. ^note

Duch.
O king, believe not this hard-hearted ^note man!
Love loving not itself none other can.

York.
Thou frantic woman, what dost thou make ^note here?
Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear?

Duch.
Sweet York, be patient. Hear me, gentle liege. [Kneels.

Boling.
Rise up, good aunt.

Duch.
Not yet, I thee beseech:
For ever will I walk ^note upon my knees,
And never see day that the happy sees,
Till thou give joy ^note; until thou bid me joy,
By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy.

Aum.
Unto my mother's prayers I bend my knee.

York.
Against them both my true joints bended be.
Ill mayst thou thrive, if thou grant any grace ^note!

Duch.
Pleads he in earnest? look upon his face;
His eyes do ^note drop no tears, his prayers are in ^note jest;
His words come ^note 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 ^note kneel till to the ground ^note 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 ^note have ^note
That mercy which true prayer ^note ought to have ^note.

Boling. ^note
Good aunt, stand up.

Duch.
Nay, do not say, ‘stand up;’
Say ‘pardon’ first, and ^note afterwards ‘stand up.’
An if ^note 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 ^note how:
The word is short, but not so short as sweet;

No word like ‘pardon’ for kings' mouths ^note so meet.

York.
Speak it in French, king; say ^note, ‘pardonne moi ^note.’

Duch.
Dost thou teach pardon pardon to destroy? ^note
Ah, my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord,
That set'st ^note 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 ^note.

Boling. ^note
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 God ^note 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.
With all my heart
I pardon him ^note.

Duch.
A god on earth thou art.

Boling.
But for our trusty brother-in-law, and the ^note 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 ^note:
They shall not live within this world, I swear,

But I will have them, if I once know ^note where.
Uncle, farewell: and, cousin too ^note, adieu:
Your mother well hath pray'd, and prove you true.

Duch.
Come, my old son: I pray God ^note make thee new ^note. [Exeunt. ^{note note}

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