Ill mayst thou thrive if thou grant any grace!
DUCHESS.
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 still kneel till to the ground they grow.
His prayers are full of false hypocrisy;
Ours of true zeal and deep integrity.
Our prayers do outpray his; then let them have
That mercy which true prayer ought to have.
KING HENRY.
Good aunt, stand up.
DUCHESS.
Nay, do not say “stand up”.
Say “pardon” first, and afterwards “stand up”.
An if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach,
“Pardon” should be the first word of thy speech.
I never longed 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.
YORK.
Speak it in French, King, say “pardonne moy.”
DUCHESS.
Dost thou teach pardon pardon to destroy?
Ah! my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord,
That sets 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.
KING HENRY.
Good aunt, stand up.
DUCHESS.
I do not sue to stand.
Pardon is all the suit I have in hand.
KING HENRY.
I pardon him, as God shall pardon me.
DUCHESS.
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.