Dut. Heere comes my sonne Aumerle

Yor. Aumerle that was,

But that is lost, for being Richards Friend.

And Madam, you must call him Rutland now:

I am in Parliament pledge for his truth,

And lasting fealtie to the new-made King

Dut. Welcome my sonne: who are the Violets now,

That strew the greene lap of the new-come Spring?

Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not,

God knowes, I had as liefe be none, as one

Yorke. Well, beare you well in this new-spring of time

Least you be cropt before you come to prime.

What newes from Oxford? Hold those Iusts & Triumphs?

Aum. For ought I know my Lord, they do

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