King Richard II
Act V, Scene 2
The Duke of York’s palace.
- Enter Duke of York and the Duchess of York.
Duchess of York1 - 3
- 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.
- Where did I leave?
Duchess of York5 - 7
- At that sad stop, my lord,
- Where rude misgoverned hands from windows’ tops
- Threw dust and rubbish on King Richard’s head.
York8 - 22
- Then, as I said, the Duke, great Bullingbrook,
- 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, Bullingbrook!”
- 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, Bullingbrook!”
- Whilst he, from the one side to the other turning,
- Bare-headed, lower than his proud steed’s neck,
- Bespake them thus: “I thank you, countrymen.”
- And thus still doing, thus he pass’d along.
Duchess of York23
- Alack, poor Richard, where rode he the whilst?
York24 - 41
- As 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 Bullingbrook are we sworn subjects now,
- Whose state and honor I for aye allow.
Duchess of York42
- Here comes my son Aumerle.
- Enter Aumerle.
York43 - 47
- Aumerle 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.
Duchess of York48 - 49
- Welcome, my son! Who are the violets now
- That strew the green lap of the new-come spring?
Aumerle50 - 51
- Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not,
- God knows I had as lief be none as one.
York52 - 54
- Well, bear you well in this new spring of time,
- Lest you be cropp’d before you come to prime.
- What news from Oxford? Do these justs and triumphs hold?
- For aught I know, my lord, they do.
- You will be there, I know.
- If God prevent not, I purpose so.
York58 - 59
- What seal is that, that hangs without thy bosom?
- Yea, look’st thou pale? Let me see the writing.
- My lord, ’tis nothing.
York61 - 62
- No matter then who see it.
- I will be satisfied, let me see the writing.
Aumerle63 - 65
- I do beseech your Grace to pardon me.
- It is a matter of small consequence,
- Which for some reasons I would not have seen.
York66 - 67
- Which for some reasons, sir, I mean to see.
- I fear, I fear—
Duchess of York68 - 70
- What should you fear?
- ’Tis nothing but some band that he is ent’red into
- For gay apparel ’gainst the triumph day.
York71 - 73
- 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.
- I do beseech you pardon me, I may not show it.
York75 - 76
- I 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!
Duchess of York77
- What is the matter, my lord?
York78 - 80
- Ho, who is within there?
- Enter a Servant.
- Saddle my horse.
- God for his mercy! What treachery is here!
Duchess of York81
- Why, what is it, my lord?
York82 - 84
- Give me my boots, I say, saddle my horse.
- Exit Servant.
- Now by mine honor, by my life, by my troth,
- I will appeach the villain.
Duchess of York85
- What is the matter?
- Peace, foolish woman.
Duchess of York87
- I will not peace. What is the matter, Aumerle?
Aumerle88 - 89
- Good mother, be content, it is no more
- Than my poor life must answer.
Duchess of York90
- Thy life answer?
- Bring me my boots, I will unto the King.
- His Man enters with his boots.
Duchess of York92 - 93
- Strike him, Aumerle. Poor boy, thou art amaz’d.
- Hence, villain! Never more come in my sight.
- Give me my boots, I say.
- His Man helps him on with his boots and exit.
Duchess of York95 - 101
- 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?
York102 - 106
- 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.
Duchess of York107 - 108
- He shall be none,
- We’ll keep him here, then what is that to him?
York109 - 110
- Away, fond woman, were he twenty times my son,
- I would appeach him.
Duchess of York111 - 119
- Hadst 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.
- Make way, unruly woman!
Duchess of York121 - 127
- 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.
- An’ never will I rise up from the ground
- Till Bullingbrook have pardoned thee. Away, be gone!