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Duch. Welcome, my son: Who are the violets

now, That strew the green lap of the new-come spring? Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care

not: God knows, I had as lief be none, as one. York. Well, bear you well in this new spring of

time, Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime. What news from Oxford ? hold those justs and tri

umphs ?
Aum. For aught I know, my lord, they do.
York. You will be there, I know.
Aum. If God prevent it not; I purpose so.
York. What seal is that, that hangs without thy

Yea, look’st thou pale? let me see the writing.

Aum. My lord, 'tis nothing.

No matter then who sees it : I will be satisfied, let me see the writing.

Aum. I do beseech your grace to pardon me ;
It is a matter of small consequence,
Which for some reasons I would not have seen.

York. Which for some reasons, sir, I mean to see.
I fear, I fear,

What should you fear? 'Tis nothing but some bond that he is enter'd into For gay apparel, 'gainst the triumph day. York. Bound to himself? what doth he with a

That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool.-
Boy, let me see the writing.
Aum. I do beseech you, pardon me; I may not

show it.
York. I will be satisfied ; let me see it, I say.

[Snatches it, and reads. Treason! foul treason !-villain! traitor! slave!

Duch. What is the matter, my lord?
York. Ho! who is within there? [Enter a Ser-

vant.] Saddle my horse.
God for his mercy! what treachery is here !

Duch. Why, what is it, my lord ?
York. Give me my boots, I

say ;


horse :

Now by mine honour, by my life, my troth,
I will appeach the villain. [Exit Servant.

What's the matter?
York. Peace, foolish woman.
Duch. I will not peace :

-What is the matter,
Aum. Good mother, be content; it is no more
Than my poor life must answer.

Thy life answer

Re-enter Servant, with Boots. York. Bring me my boots, I will unto the king. Duch. Strike him, Aumerle.- Poor boy, thou art

amaz'd: Hence, villain : never more come in my sight.

[To the Servant. York. Give me my boots, I say:

Duch. Why, York, what wilt thou do?
Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own?
Have we more sons ? or are we like to have?
Is not my teeming date drunk up with time?
“And wilt thou pluck my fair son from mine age,
And rob me of a happy mother's name?
Is he not like thee? is he not thine own?

York. Thou fond mad woman,
Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy?
A dozen of them here have ta'en the sacrament,
And interchangeably set down their hands,
To kill the king at Oxford.


He shall be none; We'll keep him here: Then what is that to him?

York. Away,
Fond woman! were he twenty times my son
I would appeach him.

Hadst thou groan'd for him,
As I have done, thou’dst be more pitiful.
But now I know thy mind; thou dost suspect,
That I have been disloyal to thy bed,
And that he is a bastard, not thy son:
Sweet York, sweet husband, be not of that mind :
He is as like thee as a man may be,
Not like to me, or any of my kin,

I love him. York. Make way, unruly woman. .

[Exit. Duch. After, Aumerle; mount thee upon his


Spur, post; and get before him to the king,
And beg thy pardon ere he do accuse thee.
I'll not be long behind; though I be old,
I doubt not but to ride as fast as York :
And never will I rise up from the ground,
Till Bolingbroke have pardon'd thee: Away;




Windsor. A Room in the Castle.

Enter BOLINGBROKE, as King; Percy, and other

Lords. Boling. Can no man tell of my unthrifty son ? 'Tis full three months, since I did see him last :If any plague hang oyer us, 'tis he. I would to God, 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 our passengers ;
While he, young, wanton, and effeminate boy,
Takes on the point of honour, to support
So dissolute a crew.
Percy. My lord, some two days since I saw the

And told him of these triumphs held at Oxford.

Boling. And what said the gallant?
Percy. His. answer was, he would unto the

And from the common'st 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

I see some sparkles of a better hope,
Which elder days may happily bring forth.
But who comes here?

Enter AUMERLE, hastily. Aum.

Where is the king? Boling.

What means Our cousin, that he stares and looks so wildly? 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 Percy and Lords. What is the matter with our cousin now? Aum. For ever may my knees grow to the earth,

[Kneels. 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 but the first, how heinous ere it be, To win thy after-love, I pardon thee. Aum. Then give me leave that I may turn the

key, That no man enter till my tale be done. Boling. Have thy desire.

[AUMERLE locks the door. York. [Within.] My liege, beware; look to thy

self; Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there.

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

Aum. Stay thy revengeful band; Thou hast no cause to fear. York. (Within.] Open the door, secure, fool

hardy king : Shall I, for love, speak treason to thy face? Open the door, or I will break it open. "

BOLINGBROKE opens the door.

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Boling. What is the matter, uncle? speak; Recover breath ; tell us how near is danger, That we may arm us to encounter it. York. Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt

know The treason that my haste forbids me show. Aum. Remember, as thou read'st, thy promise

past : I do repent me; read not my name there, My heart is not confederate with


York. 'Twas, villain, ere thy hand did set it

I tore it from the traitor's bosom, king;
Fear, and not love, begets his penitence:
Forget to pity him, lest thy pity prove

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