And thy abundant goodness shall excuse
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, 68
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, 72
The traitor lives, the true man's put to death.
Duch. Within. What ho, my liege! for God's sake let me in.
Boling. What shrill-voic'd suppliant makes this eager cry?
Duch. [Within.] A woman, and thine aunt, great king; 'tis I. 76
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.' 80
My dangerous cousin, let your mother in:
I know she's come to pray for your foul sin.
York. If thou do pardon, whosoever pray,
More sins, for this forgiveness, prosper may. 84
This fester'd joint cut off, the rest rest sound;
This, let alone, will all the rest confound.
Enter Duchess.
Duch. O king! believe not this hard-hearted man:
Love, loving not itself, none other can. 88
York. Thou frantic woman, what dost thou make here?
Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear?
66 digressing: erring
69 scraping: parsimonious
80 Cf. n.
88 none other can: can love no one else
89 make: do
