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 triumphs? Aum. For aught I know, my lord, they do. Aum. If God prevent it not; I purpose so. Yea, look'st thou pale? let me see the writing. York. 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, Duch. 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 bond That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool.- Aum. I do beseech you, pardon me; I may not show it. York. I will be satisfied; let me see it, I say. York. Ho! who is within there? [Enter a servant.] Tilts and tournaments. God for his mercy! what treachery is here! York. Give me my boots, I say; saddle my horse : Now by mine honour, by my life, my troth, I will appeach the villain. Duch. York. Peace, foolish woman. [Exit servant. What's the matter? Duch. I will not peace:-What is the matter, son? Aum. Good mother, be content; it is no more Than my poor life must answer. Duch. 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. Is he not like thee? is he not thine own? Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy? A dozen of them here have ta'en the sacrament, Duch. 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. Duch. Hadst thou groan'd for him, + Breeding. As I have done, thoud'st be more pitiful. * Perplexed, confounded. 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, And yet I love him. York. Make way, unruly woman. [Exit. Duch. After, Aumerle; mount thee upon his horse; Spur, post; and get before him to the king, [Exeunt. SCENE III. 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 over us, 'tis he. I would to God, my lords, he might be found: : Percy. My lord, some two days since I saw the prince; And told him of these triumphs held at Oxford. Percy. His answer was,―he would unto the stews ; 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 both I see some sparkles of a better hope, Which elder days may happily bring forth. Aum. Boling. Enter Aumerle, hastily. Where is the king? 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 [Exeunt Percy and Lords. alone. 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 e'er 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, Aum. Stay thy revengeful hand; Thou hast no cause to fear. [Drawing. 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. Enter York. Boling. What is the matter, uncle? speak; Recover breath; tell us how near is danger, That we 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 thee; read not my name there, York. 'Twas, villain, ere thy hand did set it down. I tore it from the traitor's bosom, king: Boling. O heinous, strong, and bold conspiracy!— O loyal father of a treacherous son! Thou sheer*, immaculate, and silver fountain, Thy overflow of good converts to bad; York. So shall my virtue be his vice's bawd; * Transparent. |