Gary Taylor, John Jowett, Terri Bourus, and Gabriel Egan (eds), The New Oxford Shakespeare: Modern Critical Edition
Editor’s Note5.2Sc. 15
Enter the Duke of York and the Duchess of York1
duchess of york My lord, you told me you would tell the rest,
2When weeping made you break the story off,
3Of our two cousins' coming into London.4
york Where did I leave?
duchess of york At that sad stop, my lord,
Editor’s Note5Where rude misgoverned hands from windows' tops.
6Threw dust and rubbish on King Richard's head.7
york Then, as I said, the Duke, great Bolingbroke,
8Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed,
Editor’s Note9Which his aspiring rider seemed to know,
10With slow but stately pace kept on his course,
12You would have thought the very windows spoke,
13So many greedy looks of young and old
14Through casements darted their desiring eyes
Link 15Upon his visage, and that all the walls
Editor’s Note16With painted imagery had said at once,
17'Jesu preserve thee, welcome Bolingbroke!'
18Whilst he, from the one side to the other turning,
19Bare-headed, lower than his proud steed's neck,
20Bespoke them thus: 'I thank you countrymen',
21And thus still doing, thus he passed along.22
duchess of york Alack, poor Richard! Where rode he the whilst?23
york As in a theatre the eyes of men,
24After a well-graced actor leaves the stage,
25Are idly bent on him that enters next,
26Thinking his prattle to be tedious,
27Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes
28Did scowl on gentle Richard. No man cried 'God save him!'
29No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home;
30But dust was thrown upon his sacred head,
31Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off,
Editor’s Note32His face still combating with tears and smiles,
Editor’s Note33The badges of his grief and patience,
34That had not God for some strong purpose steeled
35The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted,
36And barbarism itself have pitied him.
37But heaven hath a hand in these events,
38To whose high will we bound our calm contents.
39To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now,
Editor’s Note40Whose state and honour I for ay allow.[Enter the Duke of Aumerle]Editor’s Note41
duchess of york Here comes my son Aumerle.
york Aumerle that was;
42But that is lost for being Richard's friend,
43And, madam, you must call him 'Rutland' now.
Editor’s Note44I am in Parliament pledge for his truth
Editor’s Note45And lasting fealty to the new-made King.46
duchess of york Welcome, my son. Who are the violets now
47That strew the green lap of the new-come spring?48
aumerle Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not.
49God knows I had as lief be none as one.50
york Well, bear you well in this new spring of time,
Link 51Lest you be cropped before you come to prime.
Editor’s Note52What news from Oxford? Do these jousts and triumphs hold ?53
aumerle For aught I know, my lord, they do.54
york You will be there, I know.pg 912Editor’s Note55
aumerle If God prevent it not, I purpose so.Editor’s Note56
york What seal is that that hangs without thy bosom?
Editor’s Note57Yea, look'st thou pale? Let me see the writing.58
aumerle My lord, 'tis nothing.
york No matter then who see it.
Editor’s Note59I will be satisfied. Let me see the writing.Editor’s Note60
aumerle I do beseech your grace to pardon me.
61It is a matter of small consequence,
62Which for some reasons I would not have seen.63
york Which for some reasons, sir, I mean to see.
64I fear, I fear—
duchess of york What should you fear?
65'Tis nothing but some bond that he is entered into
Editor’s Note66For gay apparel 'gainst the triumph day.Editor’s Note67
york Bound to himself? What doth he with a bond
68That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool.
69Boy, let me see the writing.70
aumerle I do beseech you pardon me. I may not show it.71
york I will be satisfied. Let me see it, I say.He plucks it out of his bosom and reads it
72Treason, foul treason! Villain, traitor, slave!73
duchess of york What is the matter, my lord?74
york [calls offstage] Ho, who is within there?Editor’s Note[Enter Servingman]
Saddle my horse.
75God for His mercy, what treachery is here!76
duchess of york Why, what is it, my lord?77
york Give me my boots, I say. Saddle my horse.[Exit Servingman]
78Now by mine honour, by my life, my troth
Editor’s Note79I will appeach the villain.80
duchess of york What is the matter?81
york Peace, foolish woman.Editor’s Note82
duchess of york I will not peace. What is the matter, Aumerle?83
aumerle Good mother, be content. It is no more
84Than my poor life must answer.
duchess of york Thy life answer?Link 85
york Bring me my boots. I will unto the King.His man enters with his bootsEditor’s Note86
duchess of york Strike him, Aumerle! Poor boy, thou art amazed.[To Servingman]
Editor’s Note87Hence, villain! Never more come in my sight.88
york [to Servingman] Give me my boots, I say.
duchess of york Why, York, what wilt thou do?
89Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own?
90Have we more sons? Or are we like to have?
pg 913Editor’s Note91Is not my teeming date drunk up with time?
92And wilt thou pluck my fair son from mine age,
93And rob me of a happy mother's name?
94Is he not like thee? Is he not thine own?Editor’s Note95
york Thou fond, mad woman,
96Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy?
97A dozen of them here have ta'en the sacrament,
Editor’s Note98And interchangeably set down their hands
Editor’s Note99To kill the King at Oxford.
duchess of york He shall be none.
Editor’s Note100We'll keep him here; then what is that to him?101
york Away, fond woman! Were he twenty times my son,
Editor’s Note102I would appeach him.
duchess of york Hadst thou groaned for him
103As I have done, thou wouldst be more pitiful.
104But now I know thy mind: thou dost suspect
105That I have been disloyal to thy bed,
106And that he is a bastard, not thy son.
107Sweet York, sweet husband, be not of that mind.
108He is as like thee as a man may be,
109Not like to me, or any of my kin,
110And yet I love him.
york Make way, unruly woman.Editor’s NoteExit [with Servingman]111
duchess of york After, Aumerle! Mount thee upon his horse.
Editor’s Note112Spur, post, and get before him to the King,
113And beg thy pardon ere he do accuse thee.
114I'll not be long behind—though I be old,
115I doubt not but to ride as fast as York—
Link 116And never will I rise up from the ground
117Till Bolingbroke have pardoned thee. Away, be gone![Exeunt severally]