AUMERLE.
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—
DUCHESS.
What should you fear?
’Tis nothing but some bond that he is entered into
For gay apparel ’gainst the triumph day.
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.
AUMERLE.
I do beseech you, pardon me. I may not show it.
YORK.
I will be satisfied. Let me see it, I say.
[Snatches it and reads it.]
Treason, foul treason! Villain! traitor! slave!
DUCHESS.
What is the matter, my lord?
YORK.
Ho! who is within there?