DUCHESS       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.

YORK              Make way, unruly woman.                           Exit

DUCHESS       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 pardoned thee. Away, be gone.      Exeunt             (5.2.104-118)

 

This really turns into the Duchess’s show; Aumerle in particular doesn’t even try to speak, or can’t get a word in edgewise, and he says not a word for the rest of the scene. York’s political canniness, and awareness of his own personal stake in Aumerle’s loyalty (or not) to the crown is contrasted with the Duchess’s seeing everything through a prism of intimate relationships. If York is not backing his son then it can only be because he doesn’t think that Aumerle is legitimately his. (Perhaps a slightly knowing glance at others of the histories here: it’s an accusation levelled at the Duchess of York in Richard III, that Edward IV was not her husband’s son: Richard gets Buckingham to tell the citizens ‘when that my mother went with child| Of that insatiate Edward, noble York| My princely father then had wars in France;| And, by true computation of the time,| Found that the issue was not his begot;| Which well appearèd in his lineaments| Being nothing like the noble Duke my father’ (3.5.86-92); it was also a slander which the historical Richard III spread about his mother the Duchess as he prepared to usurp the throne. An illegitimate son, Falconbridge, claiming his royal paternity and his mother Lady Falconbridge confessing her infidelity to her husband with Richard Lionheart is also central to the opening scene of King John.)

 

But don’t think that, sweet York, sweet husband (it hasn’t even crossed York’s mind); he is as like thee as a man may be, perhaps not quite the best thing to say to York in the circumstances, look, your son is just like you! In fact—and this may get a laugh, as the Duchess becomes a little absurd in exaggerating in order to make her point—he’s not like to me or my side or the family at all—and I still love him! So you must love him all the more, because he’s so like you! York doesn’t engage at all, not least because this logic is not his: make way, unruly woman, and he’s out of there, whether he’s managed to get his boots on or not. The Duchess therefore turns to Aumerle: get after him, steal his horse, spur post, ride as fast as you can, and get before him to the King, so that you can get in first and beg thy pardon ere he—that is, your father York—do accuse thee. I’ll not be far behind. Nothing stops the Duchess of York, and she’s a handy rider too: though I be old I doubt not but to ride as fast as York. And when I get to court, I will throw myself at the King’s feet and beg for mercy. And never will I rise up from the ground till Bolingbroke have pardoned thee. Go on, what are you waiting for, Aumerle? Away, be gone! And off she sweeps, rolling up her sleeves, kilting up her skirts, and off he scuttles.