Duchess. 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.
Duch. 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 not
God knows I had as lief be none as one.
York. 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 jousts and triumphs hold?
Aum. For aught I know, my lord, they do.
York. You will be there, I know.
Aum. If God prevent not, I purpose so.
York. What seal is that, that hangs without thy bosom?
Yea, look’st thou pale? Let me see the writing.
Aum. My lord, ’tis nothing.