Shakespeare's First Folio Part 283

Dut. What is the matter?

Yorke. Peace foolish Woman

Dut. I will not peace. What is the matter Sonne?

Aum. Good Mother be content, it is no more Then my poore life must answer

Dut. Thy life answer?

Enter Seruant with Boots.

Yor. Bring me my Boots, I will vnto the King

Dut. Strike him Aumerle. Poore boy, y art amaz'd, Hence Villaine, neuer more come in my sight

Yor. Giue me my Boots, I say

Dut. Why Yorke, what wilt thou do?

Wilt thou not hide the Trespa.s.se of thine owne?

Haue we more Sonnes? Or are we like to haue?

Is not my teeming date drunke vp with time?

And wilt thou plucke my faire Sonne from mine Age, And rob me of a happy Mothers name?

Is he not like thee? Is he not thine owne?

Yor. Thou fond mad woman: Wilt thou conceale this darke Conspiracy?

A dozen of them heere haue tane the Sacrament, And interchangeably set downe their hands To kill the King at Oxford

Dut. He shall be none: Wee'l keepe him heere: then what is that to him?

Yor. Away fond woman: were hee twenty times my Son, I would appeach him

Dut. Hadst thou groan'd for him as I haue done, Thou wouldest be more pittifull: But now I know thy minde; thou do'st suspect That I haue bene disloyall to thy bed, And that he is a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, not thy Sonne: Sweet Yorke, sweet husband, be not of that minde: He is as like thee, as a man may bee, Not like to me, nor any of my Kin, And yet I loue him

Yorke. Make way, vnruly Woman.

Exit

Dut. After Aumerle. Mount thee vpon his horse, Spurre post, and get before him to the King, And begge thy pardon, ere he do accuse thee, Ile not be long behind: though I be old, I doubt not but to ride as fast as Yorke: And neuer will I rise vp from the ground, Till Bullingbrooke haue pardon'd thee: Away be gone.

Exit

Scoena Tertia.

Enter Bullingbrooke, Percie, and other Lords.

Bul. Can no man tell of my vnthriftie Sonne?

'Tis full three monthes since I did see him last.

If any plague hang ouer vs, 'tis he, I would to heauen (my Lords) he might be found: Enquire at London, 'mongst the Tauernes there: For there (they say) he dayly doth frequent, With vnrestrained loose Companions, Euen such (they say) as stand in narrow Lanes, And rob our Watch, and beate our pa.s.sengers, Which he, yong wanton, and effeminate Boy Takes on the point of Honor, to support So dissolute a crew

Per. My Lord, some two dayes since I saw the Prince, And told him of these Triumphes held at Oxford

Bul. And what said the Gallant?

Per. His answer was: he would vnto the Stewes, And from the common'st creature plucke a Gloue And weare it as a fauour, and with that He would vnhorse the l.u.s.tiest Challenger

Bul. As dissolute as desp'rate, yet through both, I see some sparkes of better hope: which elder dayes May happily bring forth. But who comes heere?

Enter Aumerle.

Aum. Where is the King?

Bul. What meanes our Cosin, that hee stares And lookes so wildely?

Aum. G.o.d saue your Grace. I do beseech your Maiesty To haue some conference with your Grace alone

Bul. Withdraw your selues, and leaue vs here alone: What is the matter with our Cosin now?

Aum. For euer may my knees grow to the earth, My tongue cleaue to my roofe within my mouth, Vnlesse a Pardon, ere I rise, or speake

Bul. Intended, or committed was this fault?

If on the first, how heynous ere it bee, To win thy after loue, I pardon thee

Aum. Then giue me leaue, that I may turne the key, That no man enter, till my tale be done

Bul. Haue thy desire.

Yorke within.

Yor. My Liege beware, looke to thy selfe, Thou hast a Traitor in thy presence there

Bul. Villaine, Ile make thee safe

Aum. Stay thy reuengefull hand, thou hast no cause to feare

Yorke. Open the doore, secure foole-hardy King: Shall I for loue speake treason to thy face?

Open the doore, or I will breake it open.

Enter Yorke.

Bul. What is the matter (Vnkle) speak, recouer breath, Tell vs how neere is danger, That we may arme vs to encounter it

Yor. Peruse this writing heere, and thou shalt know The reason that my haste forbids me show

Aum. Remember as thou read'st, thy promise past: I do repent me, reade not my name there, My heart is not confederate with my hand

Yor. It was (villaine) ere thy hand did set it downe.

I tore it from the Traitors bosome, King.

Feare, and not Loue, begets his penitence; Forget to pitty him, least thy pitty proue A Serpent, that will sting thee to the heart

Bul. Oh heinous, strong, and bold Conspiracie, O loyall Father of a treacherous Sonne: Thou sheere, immaculate, and siluer fountaine, From whence this streame, through muddy pa.s.sages Hath had his current, and defil'd himselfe.

Thy ouerflow of good, conuerts to bad, And thy abundant goodnesse shall excuse This deadly blot, in thy digressing sonne

Yorke. So shall my Vertue be his Vices bawd, And he shall spend mine Honour, with his Shame; As thriftlesse Sonnes, their sc.r.a.ping Fathers Gold.

Mine honor liues, when his dishonor dies, Or my sham'd life, in his dishonor lies: Thou kill'st me in his life, giuing him breath, The Traitor liues, the true man's put to death.

Dutchesse within.

Dut. What hoa (my Liege) for heauens sake let me in