What pow'r the Duke of York had levy'd there; North. Have you forgot the Duke of Hereford, boy? 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 fhall ripen and confirm To more approved fervice and defert. Boling. I thank thee, gentle Percy; and be fure, I count myself in nothing else so happy, As in a foul rememb'ring my good friends; And as my fortune ripen's with thy love, It fhall be still thy true love's recompence. My heart this cov'nant makes, my hand thus feals it. North. How far is it to Berkley? and what ftir Keeps good old York there with his men of war? Percy. There ftands the caftle by yond tuft of trees, Mann'd with three hundred men as I have heard; And in it are the Lords, York, Berkley, Seymour; None elfe of name and noble estimate. Enter Rofs and Willoughby. North. Here comes the Lords of Rofs and Willoughby. Bloody with fpurring, fiery-red with hafte. Boling. Welcome, my Lords; I wot, your love pursues A banish'd traitor; all my treasury Is yet but unfelt thanks, which, more enrich'd, Rofs. Your prefence makes us rich, moft noble Lord. Willo. And far furmounts our labour to attain it. Boling. Evermore, thanks;-(th' exchequer of the Which, till my infant-fortune comes to years, [poor) Stands for my bounty. But who now comes here? Enter Berkley. North. It is my Lord of Berkley, as I guess. Berk. My Lord of Hereford, my meffage is to you. Boling. My Lord, my answer is to Lancaster; And I am come to feek that name in England, And And I must find that title in your tongue, 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), The Duke of York, to know what pricks you on And fright our native peace with self-born arms, SCENE Boling. I fhall not need tranfport my words by you. Here comes his Grace in perfon. Noble uncle! [Kneels. York. Shew me thy humble heart, and not thy knee, Whofe 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, Com'ft thou because th' anointed King is hence? Boling. My gracious uncle, let me know my fault; On what condition ftands it, and wherein? York. Ev'n in condition of the worst degree, In grofs rebellion, and detefted treason. i. e. unprepared. E 2 Thou Thou art a banish'd man, and here art come, In braving arms against thy fovereign. Boling. As I was banish'd, I was banish'd Hereford; And yet my letters patents give me leave. North. The noble Duke hath been too much abus'd. North. The noble Duke hath fworn, his coming is But for his own; and, for the right of that, We all have strongly fworn to give him aid; And let him ne'er fee joy that breaks that oath. York. York. Well, well, I fee the iffue of these arms. your Boling. An offer, uncle, that we will accept; York. It may be I will go, but yet I'll paufe; For I am loth to break our country's laws : Nor friends, nor foes, to me welcome you are; Things paft redress are now with me past care. [Exeunt. SCENE XI. In Wales. Enter Salisbury, and a Captain. Cap. My Lord of Salisbury, we have staid ten days, And hardly kept our countrymen together, And yet we hear no tidings from the King : Therefore we will disperse ourselves. Farewel. Salif. Stay yet another day thou trufty Welchman: The King repofeth all his truft in thee. Cap. 'Tis thought the King is dead; we will not stay. "The bay-trees in our country all are wither'd, And meteors fright the fixed stars of heav'n; "The pale-face'd moon looks bloody on the earth, "And lean-look'd prophets whisper fearful change. Rich men look fad, and ruffians dance and leap The one, in fear to lose what they enjoy; Th' other, in hope t'enjoy by rage and war. Thefe figns forerun the death of Kings Farewel; our countrymen are gone and fled, As well affur'd Richard their King is dead. [Exit. Salif. Ah, Richard, ah! with eyes of heavy mind, I fee thy glory, like a fhooting star, Fall to the base earth from the firmament: [Exit. ACT III. SCENE I. Bolingbroke's camp at Bristol. Enter Bolingbroke, York, Northumberland, Rofs, Percy, Willoughby, with Bushy and Green prifoners RING forth these men. Boling Bushy and Green, I will not vex your fouls (Since presently your fouls muft part your bodies) And ftain'd the beauty of a fair Queen's cheeks Near to the King in blood, (and near in love, |