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Edward, 2nd Duke of York

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Edward, 2nd Duke of York (c. 1373 – 25 October 1415) was an English nobleman, military commander and magnate. He was the eldest son of Edmund of Langley, 1st Duke of York, and a grandson of King Edward III of England. He held significant appointments during the reigns of Richard II, Henry IV, and Henry V, and is also known for his translation of the hunting treatise The Master of Game. He was killed in 1415 at the Battle of Agincourt, whilst commanding the right wing of the English army.

Quotes

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The Master of Game

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Wm. A. & F. Baillie-Grohman, eds., The Master of Game (London: Chatto & Windus, 1909)
  • I your own in every humble wise have me ventured to make this little simple book which I recommend and submit to your noble and wise correction, ...
    • Chapter I. The Prologue
  • Idleness is the foundation of all evil imaginations.
    • Chapter I. The Prologue
  • It is the beast of this world that is strongest armed, and can sooner slay a man than any other. Neither is there any beast that he could not slay if they were alone sooner than that other beast could slay him, be they lion or leopard, unless they should leap upon his back, so that he could not turn on them with his teeth. And there is neither lion nor leopard that slayeth a man at one stroke as a boar doth, for they mostly kill with the raising of their claws and through biting, but the wild boar slayeth a man with one stroke as with a knife, and therefore he can slay any other beast sooner than they could slay him. It is a proud beast and fierce and perilous, for many times have men seen much harm that he hath done. For some men have seen him slit a man from knee up to the breast and slay him all stark dead at one stroke so that he never spake thereafter.
    • Chapter VI. Of the Wild Boar and of His Nature

Quotes about the Duke of York (Aumerle)

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Historical

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Literary

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  • Aumerle: Comfort, my liege; remember who you are.
    Richard: I had forgot myself; am I not king?
  • Richard:
    To look so poorly and to speak so fair?
    Shall we call back Northumberland, and send
    Defiance to the traitor, and so die?
    Aumerle:
    No, good my lord; let's fight with gentle words
    Till time lend friends and friends their helpful swords.
  • Aumerle:
    Princes and noble lords,
    What answer shall I make to this base man?
    Shall I so much dishonour my fair stars,
    On equal terms to give him chastisement?
    Either I must, or have mine honour soil'd
    With the attainder of his slanderous lips.
    There is my gage, the manual seal of death,
    That marks thee out for hell: I say, thou liest,
    And will maintain what thou hast said is false
    In thy heart-blood, though being all too base
    To stain the temper of my knightly sword.
  • Aumerle:
    You holy clergymen, is there no plot
    To rid the realm of this pernicious blot?
  • Aumerle:
    Unto my mother's prayers I bend my knee.
  • York:
    My lord, most humbly on my knee I beg
    The leading of the vaward.
    Henry:
    Take it, brave York. Now, soldiers, march away:
    And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day!
  • Exeter:
    The Duke of York commends him to your majesty.
    Henry:
    Lives he, good uncle? thrice within this hour
    I saw him down; thrice up again and fighting;
    From helmet to the spur all blood he was.
    Exeter:
    In which array, brave soldier, doth he lie,
    Larding the plain; and by his bloody side,
    Yoke-fellow to his honour-owing wounds,
    The noble Earl of Suffolk also lies.
    Suffolk first died: and York, all haggled over,
    Comes to him, where in gore he lay insteep'd,
    And takes him by the beard; kisses the gashes
    That bloodily did spawn upon his face;
    And cries aloud 'Tarry, dear cousin Suffolk!
    My soul shall thine keep company to heaven;
    Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly abreast,
    As in this glorious and well-foughten field
    We kept together in our chivalry!'
    Upon these words I came and cheer'd him up:
    He smiled me in the face, raught me his hand,
    And, with a feeble gripe, says 'Dear my lord,
    Commend my service to me sovereign.'
    So did he turn and over Suffolk's neck
    He threw his wounded arm and kiss'd his lips;
    And so espoused to death, with blood he seal'd
    A testament of noble-ending love.
    The pretty and sweet manner of it forced
    Those waters from me which I would have stopp'd;
    But I had not so much of man in me,
    And all my mother came into mine eyes
    And gave me up to tears.
  • The Duke of York so dread
    The eager vaward led;
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