York. O my Liege *. Seek you to feize, and grip into your hands, Is not his heir a well-deferving fon? Take Hereford's rights away, and take from time Let not to-morrow then enfue to-day; Be not thyfelf. - For how art thou a King, But by fair fequence and fucceffion? If you do wrongfully feize Hereford's right, His livery, and deny his offer'd homage; K. Rich. Think what you will; we feize into our His plate, his goods, his money, and his lands. [hands York. I'll not be by the while; my Liege, farewel: What will enfue hereof there's none can tell. But by bad courfes may be understood, That their events can never fall out good. [Exit. K. Rich. Go, Bufhy, to the Earl of Wiltshire straight, Bid him repair to us to Ely-house, To fee this bufinefs done: to-morrow next We will for Ireland; and 'tis time, I trow. And we create, in abfence of ourself, Our uncle York Lord Governor of England: Come on, our Queen; to-morrow muft we part; my Liege. [Flourish. [Exeunt King, Queen, &c. Pardon me, if you pleafe; if not, I, pleas'd SCENE Manent Northumberland, Willoughby, and Rofs. North. Well, Lords, the Duke, of Lancaster is dead. Rofs. And living too, for now his fon is Duke. Willo. Barely in title, not in revenue. North. Richly in both, if juftice had her right. Rofs. My heart is great; but it muft break with filence, Ere't be difburthen'd with a lib'ral tongue. North. Nay, speak thy mind; and let him ne'er speak That speaks thy words again to do thee harm. [more, Willo. Tends what you'd fpeak to the Duke of If it be fo, out with it boldly, man : [Hereford? Quick is mine ear to hear of good tow'rds him. Rofs. No good at all that I can do for him, Unless you call it good to pity him, Bereft and gelded of his patrimony. [are borne North. Now, afore heav'n, it's fhame fuch wrongs As blanks, benevolences, I wot not what : North. Wars have not wafted it, for warr'd he hath But bafely yielded upon compromife [not, That which his ancestors atchiev'd with blows: D 2 North. North. His noble kinfman-moft degenerate King! We fee the wind fit fore upon our fails, Rofs. We fee the very wreck that we must suffer; And unavoided is the danger now, For fuff'ring fo the causes of our wreck. North. Not fo: ev'n thro' the hollow eyes of death I fpy life peering; but I dare not fay How near the tidings, of our comfort is. Willo. Nay, let us fhare thy thoughts, as thou doft ours. That Harry Hereford, Rainald Lord Cobham, Sir John Norberie, Sir Robert Waterton, and Francis All these well furnifh'd by the Duke of Bretagne, go. [fear. Rofs. To horfe, to horfe; urge doubts to them that [Exeunt. SCENE SCENE V. The court. Enter Queen, Bushy, and Bagot. Bushy. Madam, your Majefty is much too fad : You promis'd, when you parted with the King, To lay afide felf-harming heaviness, And entertain a chearful difpofition. Queen. To please the King, I did; to please myself, I cannot do it. Yet I know no caufe Why I fhould welcome fuch a guest as grief; Which, for things true, weeps things imaginary. I cannot but be fad; fo heavy-sad *, Bufby. 'Tis nothing but conceit, my gracious Lady. Queen. 'Tis nothing lefs; conceit is till deriv'd From fome forefather grief: mine is not fot; fo heavy-fad, As though, on thinking, on no thought I think, Bufby. 'Tis nothing, &c. SCENE SCENE VI. Enter Green. Green. Heav'n fave your Majefty! and well met, Gentlemen. I hope the King is not yet fhipp'd for Ireland. Queen. Why hop'ft thou fo? 'tis better hope he is : For his defigns crave hafte, his hafte good hope. Then wherefore doft thou hope he is not shipp'd? Green. That he, our hope, might have retir'd his And driv'n into defpair an enemy's hope, [power; Who ftrongly hath fet footing in this land. The banifh'd Bolingbroke repeals himself; And with uplifted arms is fafe arriv'd At Ravenfpurg. Queen. Now God in heav'n forbid ! Green. O, Madam, 'tis too true; and what is worse, The Lord Northumberland, his young fon Percy, The Lords of Rofs, Beaumond, and Willoughby, With all their pow'rful friends, are fled to him. Busby. Why have you not proclaim'd NorthumberAnd all of that revolted faction, traitors? [land, Green. We have: whereon the Earl of Worcester Queen. So, Green, thou art the midwife of my woe, And Bolingbroke my forrow's difmal heir. Now hath my foul brought forth her prodigy, And I, a gasping new-deliver'd mother, Have woe to woe, forrow to forrow join'd. Queen. Who fhall hinder me? I will defpair, and be at enmity Who gently would diffolve the bands of life, Or fomething hath the nothing that I grieve; "Tis in reverfion that I do pofleis; But what it is, that is not yet known, what SCENE, &c. SCENE |