« PreviousContinue »
Bush. Dispaire not madam.
Queene. Who shall hinder me?
I will dispaire and be at enmitie
With couetous * hope, he is a flatterer,
A parasite, a keeper backe of death,
Who gently would dissolue the bands of life,
Which false hope lingers † in extremitie.
Greene. Heere comes the duke of Yorke.
Queene. With signes of warre about his aged necke:
Oh full of carefull businesse are his lookes :
Vnckle, for Gods sake speake comfortable words.
Yorke. Should I do so, I pould bely my thoughtsf,
Comfort's in heauen, and we are on the earth,
Where nothing lines but crosses, care, and griefe.
Your husband he is gone to faue farre off,
Whilst others come to make him | loose at home :
Heere am I left to vnderprop his land,
Who weake with age, cannot support my selfe.
Now comes the sicke. houre that his surfeť made,
Now shall he trie his friends that flattered him. $
Seruing. My lord, your sonne was gone before I came.
Yorke. He was, why fo; go all which way it will :
The nobles they are fled, the commons they are cold,
And will (I feare) reuolt on Herfords side.
Sirra, get thee to Plafbie to my sister Glocester,
Bid her send me presently a thousand pound,
Hold take my ring.
Ser. My lord, I had forgot to tell your lordship,
Today I came by and called there;
But I shall grieue you to report the rest.
Yorke. What i'lt koaue.
+ bopes linger I This line omitted in the fourth Edition. V bis $ Enter a fervant, fourth Edition.
Ser. An houre before I came, the dutchesse died.
Yorke. God * for his mercy! what a tide of woes
Comes rushing on this woefull land at once ?
I know not what to doe: I would to God
(So my vntruth had + not prouokt him to it)
The king had cut off my head with my brothers.
What, are there two | posts dispatcht for Ireland ?
How shall we doe for money for these warres ?
Come fister, coosin I would say ; pray pardon me :
Goe fellow, get thee home, prouide some carts.
And bring away the armour that is there.
Gentlemen, will you go muler men ?
If I know how or which way to order these affayres,
Thus disorderly thrust into my hands,
Neuer beleeue mee: both are my kinsmen ;
T'one | is my foueraigne, whome both my oath
And dutie bids defend : t'other againe,
Is my kinsman, whom the king hath wrong'd,
Whom conscience and my kindred bids to right.
Well, somewhat we must doe: come coofin,
Ile dispose of you : gentlemen, goe muster vp your men,
And meete me presently at Barckly 9:
I should to Plafbie too, but time will not permit:
All is vneuen, and euery thing is left at fixe and seauen.
Exeunt duke and queene : manent Bulhie and Greene. Bujh. The wind fies faire for newes to go for ** Ireland, But none returnes. For vs to leuie
power Proportionable to the enemie, is all vnpollible.
Greene. Besides, our neerenelle to the king in loue, Is neere the hate of those loue not the king.
Bag. And that is the wauering commons; for their loue Lies in their purses, and who fo empties them, By so much fils their hearts with deadly hate.
Busb. Wherein * the king stands generally condemn'd.
Bag. If iudgement lie in them, then so do we, Because we euer haue been neere the king.
Greene. Well, I will for refuge straight to Brift. + castle, The earle of Wilt hire is already there.
Bush. Thither will will I with you, for little office
Will the hatefull commons performe for vs,
Except like curres, to teare vs all in peeces:
Will you goe along with vs ?
Bag. No, I will to Ireland to his maiestie :
Farewell, if hearts presages be not vaine,
We three heere part, that neere shall meete againe.
Bulb Thats as Torke thriues to beat backe Bullingbrooke.
Greene. Alas poore duke, the taske he vndertakes,
Is numbring fands, and drinking oceans dry,
Where one on his side fights, thousands will flie:
† Farewell at once, for once, for all and cuer,
Bus. Well, wee may meete againe.
Bag. I feare me neuer. ||
Enter Hereford : Northumberland. Bull. How farre is it my lord to Barckly now?
North. Beleeue me noble lord, I am a stranger in Glocestershire, These high wild ş hils and rough vneuen wayes, Drawes out our miles, and makes them wearisome, And yet your ft faire discourse hath beene as sugar, Making the hard way sweet and delectable : Tberein + Briftell This line with the following one is given to Bulhy, fourth edition. Scæna Tertia. & wide ttour
But I bethinke me what a wearie way,
From Rauensfurgb to Cotball * will be found,
In Rolje and Willoughby wanting your company,
Which I protest hath very much beguild
The tediousnesse and processe of my trauell :
But theirs is sweetened with the hope to haue
The present benefite that I poslefie,
And hope to ioy is little lesse in ioy,
Then hope inioyed: by this the wearie lords
Shall make their way feene short, as mine hath done,
By sight of what I haue, your noble companie.
Bul. Of much lesse value is my company,
Then your good words. But who comes hcere?
Enter Harry Percie.
Nerth. It is my sonne, young Harrie Persie,
Sent from my brother Worcester whenfeuert:
Harry, how fares your vnckle?
Per. I had thought my lord to haue learned his health of
North. Why? is he not with the queene?
(you n. Per. No my good lord, he hath forlooke the court, Broken his staffe of office, and disperst The houshold of the king.
North. What was his reason ? he was not so resolu'd, When last we # spake together.
H. Per. Because your lordship was proclaimed traitour ; But he my lord is gone to Rauenspurgh, To offer feruice to the duke of Herford, And sent me ouer by Barckly to discover, What power the duke of Yorke had leuied there, Then with directions; to repaire to Rauenfpurgh.
North. Haue you forgot the duke of Herford, boy?
H. Per. No my good lord for that is not forgot
Which ne're I did remember, to my knowledge
I neuer in my life did looke on him.
Nosth. Then learne to know him now, this is the duke.
H. P. My gracious lord, I tender you my feruice,
Such as it is, being tender, raw, and young,
Which elder daies shall ripen and confirme
To more approued feruice and defart.
Bul. I thanke thee gentle Percie, and be sure,
I count my felfe in nothing else so happy,
As in a soule remembring my good friends :
And as my fortune ripens with thy * loue,
It Mall be still thy true loues recompence,
My heart this couenant makes, my hand thus seales it.,
North. How farre is it to Barkley, and what surre
Keepes good old Yorke there with his men of warre?
H. P. There stands the castle by yon tuft of trees, Mann'd with three hundred men, as I haue heard : And in it are the lords of Yorke, Barkley, and Seymor, None else of name and noble estimation t.
Nor. Here comes the lords of Roffe and Willoughby,
Bloudy with spurring, fierie red with hast.
Bul. Welcome my lords, I wot your loue pursues
A banisht traitour: all my treasurie
Is yet but vnfelt thanks, which more enricht,
Shall be your loue and labours recompence.
Rolle. Your presence makes vs rich, most noble lord.
Wil. And farre furmounts our labour to attaine it.
Bull. Euermore thanks, the exchequer of the poore,
Which till my infant fortune comes to yeares,
Stands for my bounty : but who comes heere ? $
Nor. It is my lord of Barkeley, as I guesse.
| Enter Roffe and Willoughby