North. His noble kinsman:-most degenerate

king!

But, lords, we hear this fearful tempest sing,

Yet seek no shelter to avoid the storm:
We see the wind sit sore upon our sails,
And yet we strike not, but securely perish.

Ross. We see the very wreck that we must
suffer:

And unavoided is the danger now,

For suffering so the causes of our wreck.
North. Not so: even through the hollow eyes
of death

I spy life peering; but I dare not say
How near the tidings of our comfort is.

Willo. Nay, let us share thy thoughts, as thou
dost ours.

Ross. Be confident to speak, Northumberland. We three are but thyself; and speaking so, Thy words are but as thoughts: therefore be bold. North. Then thus:-I have from Port le Blanc (a bay

In Britanny) received intelligence

That Harry Hereford, Reignold Lord Cobham
(The son of Richard Earl of Arundel),
That late broke from the Duke of Exeter,
His brother, Archbishop late of Canterbury,
Sir Thomas Erpingham, Sir John Ramston,
Sir John Norbery, Sir Robert Waterton, and
Francis Quoint,—

All these, well furnished by the Duke of Bretagne
With eight tall ships, three thousand men of war,
Are making hither with all due expedience,
And shortly mean to touch our northern shore:
Perhaps they had ere this, but that they stay
The first departure of the King for Ireland.
If, then, we shall shake off our slavish yoke,
Imp out our drooping country's broken wing,
Redeem from broking pawn the blemished crown,
Wipe off the dust that hides our sceptre's gilt,
And make high majesty look like itself,
Away with me, in post to Ravenspurg:
But if you faint, as fearing to do so,
Stay and be secret, and myself will go.

Reass. To horse, to horse! urge doubts to them
that fear.

Wallo. Hold out my horse, and I will first be there

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-The same. A Room in the Palace.

Enter QUEEN, BUSHY, and BAGOT. Bushy. Madam, your majesty is too much sad: You promised, when you parted with the King, To lay aside life-harming heaviness, And entertain a cheerful disposition.

Queen. To please the King, I did: to please myself

I cannot do it: yet I know no cause
Why I should welcome such a guest as grief,
Save bidding farewell to so sweet a guest
As my sweet Richard:-yet again, methinks,
Some unborn sorrow, ripe in fortune's womb,
Is coming towards me, and my inward soul
With nothing trembles: at something it grieves,
More than with parting from my lord the King.
Bushy. Each substance of a grief hath twenty

shadows,

Which shew like grief itself, but are not so:
For sorrow's eye, glazéd with blinding tears
Divides one thing entire to many objects:
Like perspectives, which rightly gazed upon
Shew nothing but confusion; eyed awry,
Distinguish form:-so your sweet majesty,
Looking awry upon your lord's departure,
Finds shapes of griefs, more than himself, to wail:
Which, looked on as it is, is nought but shadows
Of what it is not. Then, thrice-gracious queen,
More than your lord's departure weep not:
more's not seen:

Or if it be, 't is with false sorrow's eye,
Which, for things true, weeps things imaginary.
Queen. It may be so; but yet my inward soul
Persuades me it is otherwise. Howe'er it be,
I cannot but be sad: so heavy sad

As (though in thinking on no thought I think)
Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink.
Bushy. "T is nothing but conceit, my gracious

Here am I left to underprop his land;
Who, weak with age, cannot support myself.-
Now comes the sick hour that his surfeit made:
Now shall he try his friends that flattered him.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. My lord, your son was gone before I came. York. He was?-why so!-go all which way it will !

The nobles they are fled, the commons they are cold, And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's side.Sirrah, get thee to Plashy, to my sister Gloster: Bid her send me presently a thousand pounds. Hold, take my ring.

Serv. My lord, I had forgot to tell your lordship: To-day, as I came by, I called there :But I shall grieve you to report the rest. York. What is it, knave?

Serv. An hour before I came the duchess died. York. God for his mercy! what a tide of woes Comes rushing on this woeful land at once! I know not what to do.—I would to God (So my untruth had not provoked him to it), The King had cut off my head with my brother's!-What, are there posts despatched for Ireland?— How shall we do for money for these wars?— Come, sister,-ccrsin, I would say: pray pardon me.

Go, fellow [to the Servant], get thee home; provide some carts,

And bring away the armour that is there.-
[Exit Servant.

Gentlemen, will you go muster men? If I know
How or which way to order these affairs,
Thus disorderly thrust into my hands,
Never believe me. Both are my kinsmen:
The one's my sovereign, whom both my oath
And duty bids defend; the other, again,

Is my kinsman, whom the King hath wronged;
Whom conscience and my kindred bids to right.
Well, somewhat we must do.-Come, cousin, I'll
Dispose of you.-Gentlemen, go muster up your

Lies in their purses; and whoso empties them, By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate. Bushy. Wherein the King stands generally condeinned.

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 in 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

SCENE III.-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.
These high wild hills and rough uneven ways
Draw out our miles, and make them wearisome:
And yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar,
Making the hard way sweet and délectable.
But I bethink me what a weary way
From Ravenspurg to Cotswold will be found
In Ross and Willoughby, wanting your company
Which, I protest, hath very much beguiled
The tediousness and process of my travel:
But theirs is sweetened with the hope to have
The present benefit which I possess:
And hope to joy, is little less in joy
Than hope enjoyed. By this the weary lords
Shall make their way seem short: as mine hath
done

By sight of what I have, your noble company.
Boling. Of much less value is my company
Than your good words.—But who comes here?

Enter HARRY PERCY.

North. It is my son, young Harry Percy;

He was not so resolved when last we spake together.

Percy. Because your lordship was proclaiméd 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?

Is yet but unfelt thanks, which, more enriched, Shall be your love and labour's recompense.

Box. Your presence makes us rich, most noble

Willa. And far surmounts our labour to attain it

Bag. Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the poor;

Which, till my infant fortune comes to years, Stands for my bounty.-But who comes here? Exter BERKLEY.

North. It is my lord of Berkley, as I guess. Berk. My lord of Hereford, my message is to

you.

forgot

Which ne'er I did remember: to my knowledge,

I never in my 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, and 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 remembering 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,

Manned with three hundred men, as I have heard:

And in it are the lords of York, Berkley, and Seymour:

None else of name and noble estimate.

To you, my lord, I come (what lord you will)
From the most gracious 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. Shew me thy humble heart, and not thy knee,

Whose duty is deceivable and false.
Boling. My gracious uncle!—

York. Tut, tut!

Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle:
I am no traitor's uncle: and that word grace,
In an ungracious mouth, is but profane.
Why have those banished and forbidden legs
Dared once to touch a dust of England's ground?
But then more why;-why have they dared to
march

So many miles upon her peaceful bosom;
Frighting her pale-faced villages with war,
And ostentation of despiséd arms?
Com'st thou because the anointed king is hence?
Why, foolish boy, the King is left behind,
And in my loyal bosom lies his power.
Were I but now the lord of such hot youth,
As when brave Gaunt, thy father, and myself,
Rescued the Black Prince, that young Mars of

men,

From forth the ranks of many thousand French; O, then, how quickly should this arm of mine,

Now prisoner to the palsy, chástise thee,
And minister correction to thy fault!

Boling. My gracious uncle, let me know my fault:

On what condition stands it, and wherein?

York. Even in condition of the worst degree:
In gross rebellion and detested treason.
Thou art a banished man, and here art come,
Before the expiration of thy time,
In braving arms against thy sovereign.
Boling. As I was banished, I was banished
Hereford;

But as I come, I come for Lancaster.
And, noble uncle, I beseech your grace,
Look on my wrongs with an indifferent eye.
You are my father; for methinks in you
I see old Gaunt alive: O then, my father,
Will you permit that I shall stand condemned
A wandering vagabond; my rights and royalties
Plucked from my arms perforce, and given away
To upstart unthrifts? Wherefore was I born?
If that my cousin king be King of England,
It must be granted I am Duke of Lancaster.
You have a son, Aumerle, my noble kinзman.
Had you first died, and he been thus trod down,
He should have found his uncle Gaunt a father,
To rouse his wrongs and chase them to the bay.
I am denied to sue my livery here,
And yet my letters-patent give me leave:
My father's goods are all distrained and sold:
And these, and all, are all amiss employed.
What would you have me do?—I am a subject,
And challenge law: attorneys are denied me;
And therefore personally I lay my claim
To my inheritance of free descent.

North. The noble duke hath been too much

abused.

Ross. It stands your grace upon to do him right.

Willo. Base men by his endowments are made great.

York. My lords of England, let me tell you this: I have had feeling of my cousin's wrongs, And laboured all I could to do him right. But in this kind to come, in braving arms, Be his own carver, and cut out his way, To find out right with wrong,-it may not be: And you that do abet him in this kind Cherish rebellion, and are rebels all.

North. The noble duke hath sworn his coming is

But for his own: and, for the right of that,
We all have strongly sworn to give him aid:
And let him ne'er see joy that breaks that oath.
York. Well, well, I see the issue of these arms
I cannot mend it, I must needs confess,

Because my power is weak and all ill lett.
But if I could, by Him that gave me life,
I would attach you all, and make you stoop
Unto the sovereign mercy of the King:
But since I cannot, be it known to you
I do remain as neuter. So, fare you well:-
Unless you please to enter in the castle,
And there repose you for this night.

Boling. An offer, uncle, that we will accept.
But we must win your grace to go with us
To Bristol Castle, which they say is held
By Bushy, Bagot, and their complices;
The caterpillars of the commonwealth,
Which I have sworn to weed and pluck away.
York. It may be I will go with you:—but yet
I'll pause;

For I am loth to break our country's laws.
Nor friends, nor foes, to me welcome you are:
Things past redress are now with me past care.
[Exeunt.