Duch. Why, York, what wilt thou do?
Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own?[1788]
Have we more sons? or are we like to have?90
Is not my teeming date drunk up with time?
And wilt thou pluck my fair son from mine age,
And rob me of a happy mother's name?
Is he not like thee? is he not thine own?
York. Thou fond mad woman,[1789]95
Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy?
A dozen of them here have ta'en the sacrament,
And interchangeably set down their hands,[1790]
To kill the king at Oxford.
Duch. He shall be none;[1791]
We'll keep him here: then what is that to him?[1791]100
York. Away, fond woman! were he twenty times my son,[1792][1793]
I would appeach him.[1792]
Duch. Hadst thou groan'd for him[1794]
As I have done, thou wouldst be more pitiful.[1794][1795]
But now I know thy mind; thou dost suspect
That I have been disloyal to thy bed,105
And that he is a bastard, not thy son:
Sweet York, sweet husband, be not of that mind:
He is as like thee as a man may be,
Not like to me, or any of my kin,[1796]
And yet I love him.
York. Make way, unruly woman! [Exit.110
Duch. After, Aumerle! mount thee upon his horse;
Spur post, and get before him to the king,[1797]
And beg thy pardon ere he do accuse thee.
I'll not be long behind; though I be old,
I doubt not but to ride as fast as York:115
And never will I rise up from the ground
Till Bolingbroke have pardon'd thee. Away, be gone![1798]
[Exeunt.