The Works of William Shakespeare [Cambridge Edition] [Vol. 4 of 9]Shakespeare, William
General
The Works of William Shakespeare [Cambridge Edition] [Vol. 4 of 9]
Shakespeare, William
English drama
_York._ Well, bear you well in this new spring of time, 50
Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime.
What news from Oxford? hold those justs and triumphs?[1764]
_Aum._ For aught I know, my lord, they do.[1765]
_York._ You will be there, I know.[1766]
_Aum._ If God prevent not, I purpose so.[1767] 55
_York._ What seal is that, that hangs without thy bosom?
Yea, look'st thou pale? let me see the writing.[1768]
_Aum._ My lord, 'tis nothing.
_York._ No matter, then, who see it:[1769]
I will be satisfied; let me see the writing.
_Aum._ I do beseech your grace to pardon me: 60
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?[1770]
'Tis nothing but some band, that he is enter'd into[1771] 65
For gay apparel 'gainst the triumph day.[1772]
_York._ Bound to himself! what doth he with a bond
That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool.[1773]
Boy, let me see the writing.
_Aum._ I do beseech you, pardon me; I may not show it.[1774] 70
_York._ I will be satisfied; let me see it, I say.[1775]
[_He plucks it out of his bosom and reads it._
Treason! foul treason! Villain! traitor! slave!
_Duch._ What is the matter, my lord?[1776]
_York._ Ho! who is within there?
_Enter a_ Servant.
Saddle my horse.[1777]
God for his mercy, what treachery is here![1778] 75
_Duch._ Why, what is it, my lord?[1779]
_York._ Give me my boots, I say; saddle my horse.
[_Exit Servant._[1780]
Now, by mine honour, by my life, by my troth,[1781]
I will appeach the villain.
_Duch._ What is the matter?[1782]
_York._ Peace, foolish woman.[1783] 80
_Duch._ I will not peace. What is the matter, Aumerle?[1784]
_Aum._ Good mother, be content; it is no more
Than my poor life must answer.
_Duch._ Thy life answer!
_York._ Bring me my boots: I will unto the king.
_Re-enter_ Servant _with boots_.[1785]
_Duch._ Strike him, Aumerle. Poor boy, thou art amazed. 85
Hence, villain! never more come in my sight.[1786]
_York._ Give me my boots, I say.[1787]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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