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To-day, as I came by, I called there;
York. What is it, knave ?
York. God for his mercy! what a tide of woes
Go, fellow, [To the Servant.] get thee home, pro
vide some carts, And bring away the armour that is there.
you :-Go, muster up your men,
[Exeunt York and Queen. Bushy. The wind sits fair for news to go to Ire
Green. Besides, our nearness to the king in love, Is near the hate of those love not the king. Bagot. And that's the wavering commons : for
their love Lies in their purses ; and whoso empties them, By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate. Bushy. Wherein the king stands generally con
emn'd. Bagot. If judgment lie in them, then so do we, Because we ever have been near the king. Green. Well, I'll for refuge straight to Bristol
castle; The earl of Wiltshire is already there.
Bushy. Thither will I with you: for little office The hateful commons will perform for us ; Except like curs to tear us all to pieces. Will you go along with us ?
Bagot. No; I'll to Ireland to his majesty. Farewell : if heart's presages be not vain, We three here part, that ne'er shall meet again. Bushy. That's as York thrives to beat back
Bolingbroke. Green. Alas, poor duke! the task he undertakes Is-numbʼring sands, and drinking oceans dry; Where one on his side fights, thousands will iy.
Bushy. Farewell at once; for once, for all, and
Green. Well, we may meet again.
I fear me, never.
The Wilds in Glostershire.
Enter BOLINGBROKE and NORTHUMBERLAND,
with Forces. Boling. How far is it, my lord, to Berkley now? North. Believe me, noble lord,
I am a stranger here in Glostershire.
Boling. Of much less value is my company,
Enter HARRY PERCY. North. It is my son, young Harry Percy, Sent from my brother Worcester, whencesoever.Harry, how fares
uncle ? Percy. I had thought, my lord, to have learn'd
his health of you. North. Why, is he not with the queen ? Percy. No, my good lord; he hath forsook the
What was his reason ? He was not so resolv'd, when last we spake together. Percy. Because your lordship was proclaimed
traitor. But he, my lord, is gone to Ravenspurg, To offer service to the duke of Hereford ; And sent me o'er by Berkley, to discover What power
the duke of York had levied there ; Then with direction to repair to Ravenspurg.
North. Have you forgot the duke of Hereford,
boy? Percy. No, my good lord; for that is not forgot, Which ne'er í did remember: to my knowledge, I never in
life did look on him. North. Then learn to know him now; this is the
duke. Percy. My gracious lord, I tender you my service, Such as it is, being tender, raw,
young; Which elder days shall ripen, and confirm To more approved service and desert.
Boling. I thank thee, gentle Percy; and be sure, I count myself in nothing else so happy, As in a soul remembʼring my good friends ; And, as my fortune ripens with thy love, It shall be still thy true love's recompense : My heart this covenant makes, my hand thus seals it.
North. How far is it to Berkley ? And what stir Keeps good old York there, with his men of war? Percy. There stands the castle, by yon tuft of
trees, Mann'd with three hundred men, as I have heard : And in it are the lords of York, Berkley, and Sey
mour; None else of name, and noble estimate.
Enter Ross and WILLOUGHBY.
North. Here come the lords of Ross and Wil
loughby, Bloody with spurring, fiery-red with haste. Boling. Welcome, my lords: I wot', your love
pursues A banish'd traitor; my treasury Is yet but unfelt thanks, which, more enrich'd, Shall be your love and labour's recompense. Ross. Your presence makes us rich, most noble
Willo. And far surmounts our labour to attain it.
Enter BERKLEY. North. It is my lord of Berkley, as I guess. Berk. My lord of Hereford, my message is to you.
Boling. My lord, my answer is—to Lancaster; And I am come to seek that name in England : And I must find that title in your tongue, Before I make reply to aught you say. Berk. Mistake me not, my lord; 'tis not my
meaning, To raze one title of your honour out: To you, my lord, I come, (what lord you will,) From the most glorious regent of this land, The duke of York; to know, what pricks you on To take advantage of the absent time', And fright our native peace with self-born arms.
Enter York attended. Boling. I shall not need transport my words by
you, Here comes his grace in person.--My noble uncle !
[Kneels. York. Show me thy humble heart, and not thy
knee, Whose duty is deceivable and false,
Boling. My gracious uncle !
York. Tut, tut!
2 Time of the king's absence.