Rise up, good aunt

Henry IV
Rise up, good aunt.
Duchess of York
Not yet, I thee beseech.
Forever 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.
Aumerle, kneeling
Unto my mother’s prayers I bend my knee.
York, kneeling
Against them both my true joints bended be.
Ill mayst thou thrive if thou grant any grace.

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.

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 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.
Henry IV
Good aunt, stand up.
Duchess of York
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.