Duch. Alack, poor Richard! where rode he the whilst?[1754]
York. As in a theatre, the eyes of men,
After a well-graced actor leaves the stage,
Are idly bent on him that enters next,25
Thinking his prattle to be tedious;
Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes
Did scowl on gentle Richard; no man cried 'God save him!'[1755]
No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home:
But dust was thrown upon his sacred head;30
Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off,
His face still combating with tears and smiles,
The badges of his grief and patience,
That had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd
The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted35
And barbarism itself have pitied him.
But heaven hath a hand in these events,
To whose high will we bound our calm contents.[1756]
To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now,[1757]
Whose state and honour I for aye allow.[1758]40
Duch. Here comes my son Aumerle.[1759]
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.45
Enter Aumerle.[1760]
Duch. Welcome, my son: who are the violets now[1761]
That strew the green lap of the new come spring?[1762]
Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not:[1763]
God knows I had as lief be none as one.
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]