Speeches (Lines) for Duchess of York
in "Richard II"

Total: 28

---
# Act, Scene, Line
(Click to see in context)
Speech text

1

V,2,2440

My lord, you told me you would tell the rest,
When weeping made you break the story off,
of our two cousins coming into London.

2

V,2,2444

At that sad stop, my lord,
Where rude misgovern'd hands from windows' tops
Threw dust and rubbish on King Richard's head.

3

V,2,2463

Alack, poor Richard! where rode he the whilst?

4

V,2,2482

Here comes my son Aumerle.

5

V,2,2489

Welcome, my son: who are the violets now
That strew the green lap of the new come spring?

6

V,2,2509

What should you fear?
'Tis nothing but some bond, that he is enter'd into
For gay apparel 'gainst the triumph day.

7

V,2,2519

What is the matter, my lord?

8

V,2,2524

Why, what is it, my lord?

9

V,2,2528

What is the matter?

10

V,2,2530

I will not peace. What is the matter, Aumerle.

11

V,2,2533

Thy life answer!

12

V,2,2536

Strike him, Aumerle. Poor boy, thou art amazed.
Hence, villain! never more come in my sight.

13

V,2,2539

Why, York, what wilt thou do?
Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own?
Have we more sons? or are we like to have?
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?

14

V,2,2551

He shall be none;
We'll keep him here: then what is that to him?

15

V,2,2555

Hadst thou groan'd for him
As I have done, thou wouldst be more pitiful.
But now I know thy mind; thou dost suspect
That I have been disloyal to thy bed,
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,
And yet I love him.

16

V,2,2566

After, Aumerle! mount thee upon his horse;
Spur post, and get before him to the king,
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:
And never will I rise up from the ground
Till Bolingbroke have pardon'd thee. Away, be gone!

17

V,3,2652

[Within] What ho, my liege! for God's sake,
let me in.

18

V,3,2655

A woman, and thy aunt, great king; 'tis I.
Speak with me, pity me, open the door.
A beggar begs that never begg'd before.

19

V,3,2667

O king, believe not this hard-hearted man!
Love loving not itself none other can.

20

V,3,2671

Sweet York, be patient. Hear me, gentle liege.

21

V,3,2674

Not yet, I thee beseech:
For ever 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.

22

V,3,2682

Pleads he in earnest? look upon his face;
His eyes do drop no tears, his prayers are in jest;
His words come from his mouth, ours from our breast:
He prays but faintly and would be denied;
We pray with heart and soul and all beside:
His weary joints would gladly rise, I know;
Our knees shall kneel till to the ground they grow:
His prayers are full of false hypocrisy;
Ours of true zeal and deep integrity.
Our prayers do out-pray his; then let them have
That mercy which true prayer ought to have.

23

V,3,2694

Nay, do not say, 'stand up;'
Say, 'pardon' first, and afterwards 'stand up.'
And if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach,
'Pardon' should be the first word of thy speech.
I never long'd to hear a word till now;
Say 'pardon,' king; let pity teach thee how:
The word is short, but not so short as sweet;
No word like 'pardon' for kings' mouths so meet.

24

V,3,2703

Dost thou teach pardon pardon to destroy?
Ah, my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord,
That set'st the word itself against the word!
Speak 'pardon' as 'tis current in our land;
The chopping French we do not understand.
Thine eye begins to speak; set thy tongue there;
Or in thy piteous heart plant thou thine ear;
That hearing how our plaints and prayers do pierce,
Pity may move thee 'pardon' to rehearse.

25

V,3,2713

I do not sue to stand;
Pardon is all the suit I have in hand.

26

V,3,2716

O happy vantage of a kneeling knee!
Yet am I sick for fear: speak it again;
Twice saying 'pardon' doth not pardon twain,
But makes one pardon strong.

27

V,3,2722

A god on earth thou art.

28

V,3,2732

Come, my old son: I pray God make thee new.

Return to the "Richard II" menu

Plays + Sonnets + Poems + Concordance + Character Search + Advanced Search + About OSS