Richard II by William Shakespeare
Act 5 - Scene 2
The DUKE OF YORK’s palace.
Duchess of York : My lord, you told me you would tell the rest,
[p]When weeping made you
break the story off,
[p]of our two cousins coming into London.
Edmund of Langley : Where did I leave?
Duchess of York : At that sad stop, my lord,
[p]Where rude misgovern'd hands from
windows' tops
[p]Threw dust and rubbish on King Richard's head.
Edmund of Langley : Then, as I said, the duke, great Bolingbroke,
[p]Mounted upon a hot
and fiery steed
[p]Which his aspiring rider seem'd to know,
[p]With
slow but stately pace kept on his course,
[p]Whilst all tongues cried
'God save thee,
[p]Bolingbroke!'
[p]You would have thought the very
windows spake,
[p]So many greedy looks of young and old
[p]Through
casements darted their desiring eyes
[p]Upon his visage, and that all
the walls
[p]With painted imagery had said at once
[p]'Jesu preserve
thee! welcome, Bolingbroke!'
[p]Whilst he, from the one side to the
other turning,
[p]Bareheaded, lower than his proud steed's
neck,
[p]Bespake them thus: 'I thank you, countrymen:'
[p]And thus
still doing, thus he pass'd along.
Duchess of York : Alack, poor Richard! where rode he the whilst?
Edmund of Langley : As in a theatre, the eyes of men,
[p]After a well-graced actor leaves
the stage,
[p]Are idly bent on him that enters next,
[p]Thinking his
prattle to be tedious;
[p]Even so, or with much more contempt, men's
eyes
[p]Did scowl on gentle Richard; no man cried 'God save
him!'
[p]No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home:
[p]But dust was
thrown upon his sacred head:
[p]Which with such gentle sorrow he shook
off,
[p]His face still combating with tears and smiles,
[p]The badges
of his grief and patience,
[p]That had not God, for some strong
purpose, steel'd
[p]The hearts of men, they must perforce have
melted
[p]And barbarism itself have pitied him.
[p]But heaven hath a
hand in these events,
[p]To whose high will we bound our calm
contents.
[p]To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now,
[p]Whose state
and honour I for aye allow.
Duchess of York : Here comes my son Aumerle.
Edmund of Langley : Aumerle that was;
[p]But that is lost for being Richard's
friend,
[p]And, madam, you must call him Rutland now:
[p]I am in
parliament pledge for his truth
[p]And lasting fealty to the new-made
king.
Duchess of York : Welcome, my son: who are the violets now
[p]That strew the green lap
of the new come spring?
Duke of Aumerle : Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not:
[p]God knows I had as lief
be none as one.
Edmund of Langley : Well, bear you well in this new spring of time,
[p]Lest you be cropp'd
before you come to prime.
[p]What news from Oxford? hold those justs
and triumphs?
Duke of Aumerle : For aught I know, my lord, they do.
Edmund of Langley : You will be there, I know.
Duke of Aumerle : If God prevent not, I purpose so.
Edmund of Langley : What seal is that, that hangs without thy bosom?
[p]Yea, look'st thou
pale? let me see the writing.
Duke of Aumerle : My lord, 'tis nothing.
Edmund of Langley : No matter, then, who see it;
[p]I will be satisfied; let me see the
writing.
Duke of Aumerle : I do beseech your grace to pardon me:
[p]It is a matter of small
consequence,
[p]Which for some reasons I would not have seen.
Edmund of Langley : Which for some reasons, sir, I mean to see.
[p]I fear, I fear,--
Duchess of York : What should you fear?
[p]'Tis nothing but some bond, that he is
enter'd into
[p]For gay apparel 'gainst the triumph day.
Edmund of Langley : Bound to himself! what doth he with a bond
[p]That he is bound to?
Wife, thou art a fool.
[p]Boy, let me see the writing.
Duke of Aumerle : I do beseech you, pardon me; I may not show it.
Edmund of Langley : I will be satisfied; let me see it, I say.
[p][He plucks it out of his
bosom and reads it]
[p]Treason! foul treason! Villain! traitor!
slave!
Duchess of York : What is the matter, my lord?
Edmund of Langley : Ho! who is within there?
[p][Enter a Servant]
[p]Saddle my
horse.
[p]God for his mercy, what treachery is here!
Duchess of York : Why, what is it, my lord?
Edmund of Langley : Give me my boots, I say; saddle my horse.
[p]Now, by mine honour, by
my life, by my troth,
[p]I will appeach the villain.
Duchess of York : What is the matter?
Edmund of Langley : Peace, foolish woman.
Duchess of York : I will not peace. What is the matter, Aumerle.
Duke of Aumerle : Good mother, be content; it is no more
[p]Than my poor life must
answer.
Duchess of York : Thy life answer!
Edmund of Langley : Bring me my boots: I will unto the king.
Duchess of York : Strike him, Aumerle. Poor boy, thou art amazed.
[p]Hence, villain!
never more come in my sight.
Edmund of Langley : Give me my boots, I say.
Duchess of York : Why, York, what wilt thou do?
[p]Wilt thou not hide the trespass of
thine own?
[p]Have we more sons? or are we like to have?
[p]Is not my
teeming date drunk up with time?
[p]And wilt thou pluck my fair son
from mine age,
[p]And rob me of a happy mother's name?
[p]Is he not
like thee? is he not thine own?
Edmund of Langley : Thou fond mad woman,
[p]Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy?
[p]A
dozen of them here have ta'en the sacrament,
[p]And interchangeably
set down their hands,
[p]To kill the king at Oxford.
Duchess of York : He shall be none;
[p]We'll keep him here: then what is that to him?
Edmund of Langley : Away, fond woman! were he twenty times my son,
[p]I would appeach
him.
Duchess of York : Hadst thou groan'd for him
[p]As I have done, thou wouldst be more
pitiful.
[p]But now I know thy mind; thou dost suspect
[p]That I have
been disloyal to thy bed,
[p]And that he is a bastard, not thy
son:
[p]Sweet York, sweet husband, be not of that mind:
[p]He is as
like thee as a man may be,
[p]Not like to me, or any of my kin,
[p]And
yet I love him.
Edmund of Langley : Make way, unruly woman!
Duchess of York : After, Aumerle! mount thee upon his horse;
[p]Spur post, and get
before him to the king,
[p]And beg thy pardon ere he do accuse
thee.
[p]I'll not be long behind; though I be old,
[p]I doubt not but
to ride as fast as York:
[p]And never will I rise up from the
ground
[p]Till Bolingbroke have pardon'd thee. Away, be gone!
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Next: Act 5 - Scene 3
