Aumerle

King Richard
Thou chid’st me well.—Proud Bolingbroke, I come
To change blows with thee for our day of doom.—
This ague fit of fear is overblown.
An easy task it is to win our own.—
Say, Scroop, where lies our uncle with his power?
Speak sweetly, man, although thy looks be sour.

Discharge my followers.
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King Richard
Northumberland, say thus the King returns:
His noble cousin is right welcome hither,
And all the number of his fair demands
Shall be accomplished without contradiction.

O, that I were as great
As is my grief, or lesser than my name!
Or that I could forget what I have been,
Or not remember what I must be now.
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Henry IV
Rise up, good aunt.
Duchess of York
Not yet, I thee beseech.
Forever will I walk upon my knees
And never see day that the happy sees,
Till thou give joy, until thou bid me joy
By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy.
Aumerle, kneeling
Unto my mother’s prayers I bend my knee.
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