Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Yor. Son, I would appeach him.
Dut. Dut.
Dut. Hadst thou groan'd for him as I haue done,
Dut. Thou wouldest be more pittifull:
Dut. But now I know thy minde; thou do'st suspect
Dut. That I haue bene disloyall to thy bed,
Dut. And that he is a Bastard, not thy Sonne:
Dut. Sweet Yorke, sweet husband, be not of that minde:
Dut. He is as like thee, as a man may bee,
Dut. Not like to me, nor any of my Kin,
Dut. And yet I loue him.
Yorke. Yorke.
Yorke. Make way, vnruly Woman.
Yorke. Exit
Dut. After Aumerle. Mount thee vpon his horse,
Dut. Spurre post, and get before him to the King,
Dut. And begge thy pardon, ere he do accuse thee,
Dut. Ile not be long behind: though I be old,
Dut. I doubt not but to ride as fast as Yorke: