North. My guilt be on my head, and there an end. Take leave, and part; for you must part forthwith. K. Rich. Doubly divorced?-Bad men, ye violateA twofold marriage; 'twixt my crown and me; And then betwixt me and my married wife.Let me unkiss the oath 'twixt thee and me; And yet not so, for with a kiss 'twas made.Part us, Northumberland. I towards the north, Where shivering cold and sickness pines the clime; My wife to France; from whence, set forth in pomp, She came adorned hither like sweet May, Sent back like Hallowmas, or short'st of day. Queen. And must we be divided? must we part? K. Rich. Ay, hand from hand, my love, and heart from heart. Queen. Banish us both, and send the king with me. North. That were some love, but little policy. Queen. Then whither he goes, thither let me go. And piece the way out with a heavy heart. One kiss shall stop our mouths, and dumbly part; [They kiss. Queen. Give me mine own again; 'twere no good part, To take on me to keep, and kill thy heart. may [Kiss again. K. Rich. We make woe wanton with this fond delay. Once more, adieu; the rest let sorrow say. [Exeunt. SCENE II. The same. A Room in the Duke of York's Palace. Enter YORK and his Duchess. Duch. My lord, you told me, you would tell the rest, When weeping made you break the story off Of our two cousins coming into London. York. Where did I leave? Duch. At that sad stop, my lord, Where rude, misgoverned hands, from windows' tops, Threw dust and rubbish on king Richard's head. York. Then, as I said, the duke, great Bolingbroke,— Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed, Which his aspiring rider seemed to know,- Duch. Alas, poor Richard! where rides he the while? Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes That had not God, for some strong purpose, steeled But Heaven hath a hand in these events; To whose high will we bound our calm contents. Whose state and honor I for aye allow. Enter AUMERLE. Duch. Here comes my son, Aumerle. Aumerle that was; York. 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 cropped before you come to prime. What news from Oxford? Hold those jousts and triumphs? 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 bosom? 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, Duch. What should you fear? 'Tis nothing but some bond that he is entered 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.— 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 Servant. 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; saddle my horse.Now, by mine honor, by my life, my troth, I will appeach the villain. Duch. [Exit Servant. What's the matter? York. Peace, foolish woman. 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 amazed. Hence, villain; never more come in my sight. York. Give me my boots, I say. [To the Servant. Duch. Why, York, what wilt thou do? 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, To kill the king at Oxford. Duch. He shall be none; We'll keep him here. Then what is that to him? Fond woman! were he twenty times my son, Duch. Hadst thou groaned for him, As I have done, thou'dst be more pitiful. But now I know thy mind; thou dost suspect, And that he is a bastard, not thy son. Sweet York, sweet husband, be not of that mind; 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, 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 pardoned thee. Away; Begone. VOL. II.-25 [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. Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes, Percy. My lord, some two days since I saw the prince, Percy. His answer was, he would unto the stews, And from the commonest creature pluck a glove, And wear it as a favor; 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. But who comes here? Aum. Enter AUMERLE, hastily. Boling. What means Where is the king? 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. Forever 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. [AUM. locks the door. |