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SCENE VII. Enter York.

Green. Here comes the Duke of York.

Queen. With figns of war about his aged neck;
Oh, full of careful business are his looks!
Uncle, for heav'n's fake, comfortable words.

York. Should I do fo, I fhould bely my thoughts;
Comfort's in heav'n, and we are on the earth,
Where nothing lives but croffes, care, and grief.
Your husband he is gone to fave far off,
Whilft others come to make him lofe at home.
Here am I left to underprop this land;
Who, weak with age, cannot fupport myself.
Now comes the fick hour, that his furfeit made;
Now fhall he try his friends that flatter'd him.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. My Lord, your fon was gone before I came. York. He was; why, fo, go all which way it will! The Nobles they are fled, the Commons cold, And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's fide. Get thee to Plathie, to my fifter Glo'fter Bid her fend presently a thousand pound : Hold, take my ring.

Serv. My Lord, I had forgot

To tell, to-day I came by, and call'd there;
But I fhall grieve you to report the rest.
York. What is't?

Serv. An hour before I came the Duchefs dy'd.
York. Heav'n for his mercy, what a tide of woes
Come rushing on this woful land at once! ·
I know not what to do: I would to heav'n
(So my untruth had not provok'd him to it)
The King had cut off my head with my brother's.
What, are there pofts dispatch'd for Ireland ?
How fhall we do for money for thefe wars?
Come, fifler; (coufin, I would fay), pray, pardon me.
Go, fellow, get thee home, provide fome carts,
[To the fervant.

And bring away the armour that is there.
Gentlemen, will you go and muster men?
If I know how to order thefe affairs,

Disorderly

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
Hath broke his ftaff, refign'd his ftewardship;
And all the houfhold-fervants fled with him

To Bolingbroke.

Queen. So, Green, thou art the midwife of my woe, And Bolingbroke my forrow's difmal heiṛ.

Now hath my foul brought forth her prodigy,

And I, a gafping new-deliver'd mother,

Have woe to woe, forrow to forrow join'd.
Bushy. Defpair not, Madam.

Queen. Who fhall hinder me ?
I will defpair, and be at enmity
With cozening Hope; he is a flatterer,
A parafite, a keeper back of death;

Who gently would diffolve the bands of life,
Which falfe hopes linger, in extremity.

Or fomething bath the nothing that I grieve;

'Tis in reverfion that I do pofleis;

But what it is, that is not yet known, what
I cannot name, 'tis nameless woe, I wot.

SCENE, &c.

SCENE

SCENE VII. Enter York.

Green. Here comes the Duke of York.

Queen. With figns of war about his aged neck;
Oh, full of careful bufinefs are his looks!
Uncle, for heav'n's fake, comfortable words.

York. Should I do fo, I fhould bely my thoughts; Comfort's in heav'n, and we are on the earth, Where nothing lives but croffes, care, and grief. Your hufband he is gone to fave far off,

Whilft others come to make him lofe at home.
Here am I left to underprop this land;
Who, weak with age, cannot fupport myself.
Now comes the fick hour, that his furfeit made;
Now fhall he try his friends that flatter'd him.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. My Lord, your fon was gone before I came. York. He was; why, fo, go all which way it will ! The Nobles they are fled, the Commons cold,

And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's fide.
Get thee to Plathie, to my fifter Glo'fter;
Bid her fend prefently a thoufand pound:
Hold, take my ring.

Serv. My Lord, I had forgot

To tell, to-day I came by, and call'd there;
But I fhall grieve you to report the rest.

Tork. What is't?

Serv. An hour before I came the Duchefs dy'd. York. Heav'n for his mercy, what a tide of woes Come rufhing on this woful land at once!

I know not what to do: I would to heav'n

(So my untruth had not provok'd him to it)
The King had cut off my head with my brother's.
What, are there pofts difpatch'd for Ireland?
How fhall we do for money for these wars?
Come, fifter; (coufin, I would fay), pray, pardon me.
Go, fellow, get thee home, provide fome carts,
[To the fervant.

And bring away the armour that is there.
Gentlemen, will you go and mufter men?
If I know how to order thefe affairs,

Disorderly

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Disorderly thus thrust into my hands,

Never believe me. They are both my kinfmen;
The one my Sovereign, whom both my oath
And duty bids defend; th' other again

My kinfman is, one whom the King hath wrong'd;
Whom confcience and my kindred bids to right.
Well, fomewhat we must do: come, coufin, I'll
Difpofe of you, Go mufter up your men,
And meet me presently at Berkley castle.
I fhould to Plafhie too;

But time will not permit. All is uneven,

And every thing is left at fix and feven.

[Exeunt York and Queen.

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Bushy. The wind fits fair for news to go to Ireland, But none returns, for us to levy power, Proportionable to the enemy,

Is all impoffible.

Green. Befides, our nearness to the King in love, Is near the hate of those love not the King.

Bagot. And that's the wav'ring Commons; for their Lies in their purfes; and who empties them,

[love

By fo much fills their hearts with deadly hate.
Bufhy. Wherein the King ftands generally condemn'd.
Bagot. If judgment lie in them, then fo do we;
Because we have been ever 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 with us?

Bagot. No: I'll to Ireland to his Majefty. Farewel if heart's prefages be not vain,

We three here part, that ne'er fhall meet again. Bushy. That's as York thrives, to beat back Bolingbroke.

Green. Alas, poor Duke! the task he undertakes Is numb'ring fands, and drinking oceans dry; Where one on his fide fights, thoufands will fly. Bushy. Farewel at once, for once, for all, and ever.

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Changes to a wild prospect in Gloucestershire.

Enter Bolingbroke and Northumberland.

Boling. How far is it, my Lord, to Berkley now? North. I am a ftranger here in Glo'stershire : These high wild hills, and rough uneven ways, Draw out our miles, and make them wearisome : And yet your fair discourse has been as fugar, Making the hard way sweet and delectable. But I bethink me what a weary way, From Ravenspurg to Cotfhold, will be found In Rofs and Willoughby, wanting your company, Which, I proteft, hath very much beguil'd The tedioufnefs and procefs of my travel; But theirs is fweet'ned with the hope to have The prefent benefit that I poffefs :

And hope to joy, is little less in joy

Than hope enjoy'd. By this the weary Lords
Shall make their way seem short, as mine hath done,
By fight of what I have, your noble company.
Boling. Of much less value is my company,
Than your good words. But who comes here?
Enter Percy.

North. It is my fon, young Harry Percy,
Sent from my brother Worcester. Whencefoever,
Harry, how fares your uncle?

Percy. I thought, my Lord, t'have learn'd his health
North. Why, is he not with the Queen?

[of you.

Percy. No, my good Lord, he hath forfook the court, Broken his ftaff of office, and difpers'd

The houshold of the King.

North. What was his reafon ?

He was not fo refolv'd when laft we fpake together.
Percy. Because your Lordfhip was proclaimed traitor.
But he, my Lord is gone to Ravenfpurg,
To offer fervice to the Duke of Hereford;
And fent me o'er by Berkley, to difcover
VOL. IV.

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