Bufb. Difpaire not madam.

Queene. Who shall hinder me?

*

I will difpaire and be at enmitie
With couetous hope, he is a flatterer,
A parafite, a keeper backe of death,

Who gently would diffolue the bands of life,
Which falfe hope lingers † in extremitie.

Greene. Heere comes the duke of Yorke.

Queene. With fignes of warre about his aged necke:
Oh full of carefull businesse are his lookes :
Vnckle, for Gods fake fpeake comfortable words.
Yorke. Should I do fo, I fbould bely my thoughts,
Comfort's in heauen, and we are on the earth,
Where nothing liues but croffes, care, and griefe.
Your husband he is gone to faue farre off,

Whilft others come to make him || loose at home:
Heere am I left to vnderprop his land,

Who weake with age, cannot fupport my felfe.
Now comes the ficke.houre that his furfet made,
Now shall he trie his friends that flattered him. §
Seruing. My lord, your fonne 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 fifter Glocefter,
Bid her send me presently a thousand pound,
Hold take my ring.

Ser. My lord, I had forgot to tell your lordship,
To day I came by and called there;

But I fhall grieue you to report the rest.

Yorke. What i'st knaue.

Ser. An houre before I came, the dutcheffe 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 + pofts difpatcht for Ireland?
How fhall we doe for money for these warres?
Come fifter, coofin I would fay; pray pardon me :
Goe fellow, get thee home, prouide fome carts.
And bring away the armour that is there.
Gentlemen, will you go mufter men?

If I know how or which way to order thefe affayres,
Thus diforderly thrust into my hands,

Neuer beleeue mee: both are my kinsmen ;
T'one is my foueraigne, whome both my cath
And dutie bids defend: t'other againe,

Is my kinfman, whom the king hath wrong'd,
Whom confcience and my kindred bids to right.
Well, fomewhat we muft doe: come coofin,

Ile dispose of you: gentlemen, goe mufter vp your men,
And meete me presently at Barckly §:

I fhould to Plafie too, but time will not permit :
All is vneuen, and euery thing is left at fixe and feauen.

Exeunt duke and queene: manent Bushie and Greene. Bush. The wind fits faire for newes to go for ** Ireland, But none returnes. For vs to leuie power

Proportionable to the enemie, is all vnpoffible.

Greene. Befides, our neereneffe 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 purfes, and who fo empties them,

By fo much fils their hearts with deadly hate.

Bufb. Wherein the king stands generally condemn'd. Bag. If iudgement lie, in them, then fo do we, Because we euer haue been neere the king.

Greene. Well, I will for refuge straight to Brist. † castle, The earle of Wiltshire is already there.

Bufb. 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 maieftie: Farewell, if hearts prefages be not vaine,

We three heere part, that neere shall meete againe.

Bufb 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 fide fights, thousands will flie: Farewell at once, for once, for all and cuer, Bufb. 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 ftranger in Glocefterfbire,

Thefe high wild § hils and rough vneuen wayes,
Drawes out our miles, and makes them wearifome,
And yet your ++ faire discourse hath beene as fugar,
Making the hard way fweet and delectable:

• Therein

+ Briftoll fourth edition.

This line with the following one is given to Bushy,
§ wide
++ our

Scana Tertia.

But

But I bethinke me what a wearie way,
From Rauenffurgb to Cotfball will be found,
In Roffe and Willoughby wanting your company,
Which I proteft hath very much beguild
The tedioufneffe and proceffe of my trauell:
But theirs is fweetened with the hope to haue
The prefent benefite that I poffeffe,

And hope to ioy is little leffe in ioy,

Then hope inioyed: by this the wearie lords
Shall make their way feeme fhort, as mine hath done,
By fight of what I haue, your noble companie.

Bul. Of much leffe value is my company,

Then your good words.

But who comes heere?

Enter Harry Percie.

North. It is my fonne, young Harrie Perfie, Sent from my brother Worcester whenfoeuer † :

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

H. Per. No my good lord, he hath forfooke the court, Broken his ftaffe of office, and difperft

The houshold of the king.

North. What was his reafon ? he was not fo refolu'd, When last we fpake 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 fent me ouer by Barckly to discouer,

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?

• Cortfield tubencefoezer we laft

H. Per.

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.

Nouth. 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 fhall 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 foule remembring my good friends:
And as my fortune ripens with thy loue,
It shall be still thy true loues recompence,
My heart this couenant makes, my hand thus feales it.,
North. How farre is it to Barkley, and what fturre
Keepes good old Yorke there with his men of warre?

H. P. There ftands the caftle 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 elfe of name and noble estimation †.

Nor. Here comes the lords of Roffe and Willoughby, ‡ Bloudy with fpurring, fierie red with haft.

Bul. Welcome my lords, I wot your loue purfues

A banisht traitour: all my treasurie

Is yet but vnfelt thanks, which more enricht,
Shall be your loue and labours recompence.

Roffe. 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 gueffe.

* my

+timate

Enter Roffe and Willoughby

§ Enter Barkely

Barck.