Dutch.
Here comes my son Aumerle.

York.
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.

Dutch.
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:
God knows, I had as lief be none, as one.

York.
Well, bear you well in this new Spring of time,
Lest you be cropt before you come to Prime.
What news from Oxford? hold those Justs and Triumphs?

Aum.
For aught I know, they do.

York.
You will be there?

Aum.
If God prevent me not, I purpose so

York.
What Seal is that, which hangs without thy bosom?
Yea, look'st thou pale? let me see the Writing.

Aum.
My lord, 'tis nothing.

York.
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—

Dutch.
What should you fear, my lord?
'Tis nothing but some bond he's enter'd into,
For gay apparel, against the triumph.

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 shew it.

York.
I will be satisfied, let me see it, I say. [Snatches it and reads.
Treason! foul treason! villain, traitor, slave!

Dutch.
What's the matter, my lord?

York.
Hoa, who's within there? saddle my horse.
Heav'n, for his mercy! what treachery is here?

Dutch.
Why, what is't, my lord?

York.
Give me my boots, I say: saddle my horse.
Now by my honour, by my life, my troth,
I will appeach the villain.

Dutch.
What is the matter?

York.
Peace, foolish woman.

Dutch.
I will not Peace: what is the matter, son?

Aum.
Good mother, be content; it is no more
Than my poor life must answer.

Dutch.
Thy life answer!

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