ARKCODEX
Act V, Scene 2
1The Duke of York’s palace.
2Enter York and his Duchess.
3DuchessMy lord, you told me you would tell the rest,
When weeping made you break the story off,
of our two cousins coming into London.
4YorkWhere did I leave?
5DuchessAt that sad stop, my lord,
Where rude misgovern’d hands from windows’ tops
Threw dust and rubbish on King Richard’s head.
6YorkThen, as I said, the duke, great Bolingbroke,
Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed
Which his aspiring rider seem’d to know,
With slow but stately pace kept on his course,
Whilst all tongues cried “God save thee, Bolingbroke!”
You would have thought the very windows spake,
So many greedy looks of young and old
Through casements darted their desiring eyes
Upon his visage, and that all the walls
With painted imagery had said at once
“Jesu preserve thee! welcome, Bolingbroke!”
Whilst he, from the one side to the other turning,
Bareheaded, lower than his proud steed’s neck,
Bespake them thus; “I thank you, countrymen:”
And thus still doing, thus he pass’d along.
7DuchessAlack, poor Richard! where rode he the whilst?
8YorkAs in a theatre, the eyes of men,
After a well-graced actor leaves the stage,
Are idly bent on him that enters next,
Thinking his prattle to be tedious;
Even so, or with much more contempt, men’s eyes
Did scowl on gentle Richard; no man cried “God save him!”
No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home:
But dust was thrown upon his sacred head;
Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off,
His face still combating with tears and smiles,
The badges of his grief and patience,
That had not God, for some strong purpose, steel’d
The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted
And barbarism itself have pitied him.
But heaven hath a hand in these events,
To whose high will we bound our calm contents.
To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now,
Whose state and honour I for aye allow.
9DuchessHere comes my son Aumerle.
10YorkAumerle that was;
But that is lost for being Richard’s friend,
And, madam, you must call him Rutland now:
I am in parliament pledge for his truth
And lasting fealty to the new-made king.
11Enter Aumerle.
12DuchessWelcome, my son: who are the violets now
That strew the green lap of the new come spring?
13AumerleMadam, I know not, nor I greatly care not:
God knows I had as lief be none as one.
14YorkWell, 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?
15AumerleFor aught I know, my lord, they do.
16YorkYou will be there, I know.
17AumerleIf God prevent not, I purpose so.
18YorkWhat seal is that, that hangs without thy bosom?
Yea, look’st thou pale? let me see the writing.
19AumerleMy lord, ’tis nothing.
20YorkNo matter, then, who see it:
I will be satisfied; let me see the writing.
21AumerleI do beseech your grace to pardon me:
It is a matter of small consequence,
Which for some reasons I would not have seen.
22YorkWhich for some reasons, sir, I mean to see.
I fear, I fear—
23DuchessWhat should you fear?
’Tis nothing but some bond, that he is enter’d into
For gay apparel ’gainst the triumph day.
24YorkBound to himself! what doth he with a bond
That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool.
Boy, let me see the writing.
25AumerleI do beseech you, pardon me; I may not show it.
26YorkI will be satisfied; let me see it, I say. He plucks it out of his bosom and reads it.
Treason! foul treason! Villain! traitor! slave!
27DuchessWhat is the matter, my lord?
28YorkHo! who is within there?
29Enter a Servant.
30Saddle my horse.
God for his mercy, what treachery is here!
31DuchessWhy, what is it, my lord?
32YorkGive me my boots, I say; saddle my horse. Exit Servant.
Now, by mine honour, by my life, by my troth,
I will appeach the villain.
33DuchessWhat is the matter?
34YorkPeace, foolish woman.
35DuchessI will not peace. What is the matter, Aumerle?
36AumerleGood mother, be content; it is no more
Than my poor life must answer.
37DuchessThy life answer!
38YorkBring me my boots: I will unto the king.
39Reenter Servant with boots.
40DuchessStrike him, Aumerle. Poor boy, thou art amazed.
Hence, villain! never more come in my sight.
41YorkGive me my boots, I say.
42DuchessWhy, 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?
43YorkThou 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.
44DuchessHe shall be none;
We’ll keep him here: then what is that to him?
45YorkAway, fond woman! were he twenty times my son,
I would appeach him.
46DuchessHadst thou groan’d for him
As I have done, thou wouldst 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,
And yet I love him.
47YorkMake way, unruly woman! Exit.
48DuchessAfter, Aumerle! mount thee upon his horse;
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, be gone! Exeunt.