O my liege, York. Take Hereford's rights away, and take from Time His livery, and deny his offer'd homage, And prick my tender patience to those thoughts K. Rich. Think what you will, we seize into our hands His plate, his goods, his money, and his lands. York. I'll not be by the while: my liege, farewell: What will ensue hereof, there's none can tell; But by bad courses may be understood That their events can never fall out good. [Exit. K. Rich. Go, Bushy, to the Earl of Wiltshire straight: Bid him repair to us to Ely House To see this business. To-morrow next We will for Ireland; and 'tis time, I trow: Our uncle York lord governor of England; [Flourish. Exeunt KING, QUEEN, AUMERLE, North. Well, lords, the Duke of Lancaster is dead. North. Richly in both, if justice had her right. Ross. My heart is great; but it must break with silence, Ere't be disburden'd with a liberal tongue. North. Nay, speak thy mind; and let him ne'er speak more That speaks thy words again to do thee harm! Willo. Tends that thou wouldst speak to the Duke of Hereford? If it be so, out with it boldly, man; Quick is mine ear to hear of good towards him. Ross. No good at all, that can do for him; Unless you call it good to pity him, Bereft and gelded of his patrimony. North. Now, afore God, 'tis shame such wrongs are borne In him, a royal prince, and many more Of noble blood in this declining land. The king is not himself, but basely led That will the king severely prosecute 'Gainst us, our lives, our children, and our heirs. Ross. The commons hath he pill'd with grievous taxes, As blanks, benevolences, and I wot not what: North. Wars have not wasted it, for warr'd he hath not, But basely yielded upon compromise That which his ancestors achiev'd with blows: Ross. The Earl of Wiltshire hath the realm in farm. But by the robbing of the banish'd duke. North. His noble kinsman :-most degenerate king! But, lords, we hear this fearful tempest sing, Yet seek no shelter to avoid the storm; We see the wind set sore upon our sails, And yet we strike not, but securely perish. Ross. We see the very wreck that we must suffer; And unavoided is the danger now, For suffering so the causes of our wreck. North. Not so; even through the hollow eyes of death I spy life peering; but I dare not say How near the tidings of our comfort is. Willo. Nay, let us share thy thoughts, as thou dost ours. Ross. Be confident to speak, Northumberland: We three are but thyself; and, speaking so, Thy words are but as thoughts; therefore, be bold. That Harry Duke of Hereford, Renald Lord Cobham, His brother, Archbishop late of Canterbury, Sir Thomas Erpingham, Sir John Ramston, Sir John Norbery, Sir Robert Waterton, and Francis All these, well furnish'd by the Duke of Bretagne, Stay and be secret, and myself will go. Ross. To horse, to horse! urge doubts to them that fear. Willo. Hold out my horse, and I will first be there. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-The same. A Room in the Palace. Enter QUEEN, BUSHY, and Bagot. Bushy. Madam, your majesty is too much sad: You promis'd, when you parted with the king, To lay aside life-harming heaviness, And entertain a cheerful disposition. Queen. To please the king, I did; to please myself, I cannot do it; yet I know no cause Why I should welcome such a guest as grief, Bushy. Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows, Which show like grief itself, but are not so; -more's not seen; As, though, on thinking, on no thought I think,- Bushy. 'Tis nothing but conceit, my gracious lady. But what it is, that is not yet known; what Enter GREEN. Green. God save your majesty!—and well met, gentle men: I hope the king is not yet shipp'd for Ireland. Queen. Why hop'st thou so? 'tis better hope he is; For his designs crave haste, his haste good hope: Then wherefore dost thou hope he is not shipp'd? Green. That he, our hope, might have retir'd his power, And driven into despair an enemy's hope, Who strongly hath set footing in this land: At Ravenspurg. Queen. Now God in heaven forbid ! Green. O madam, 'tis too true: and that is worse, The Lord Northumberland, his son young Henry Percy, The Lords of Ross, Beaumond, and Willoughby, With all their powerful friends, are fled to him. Bushy. Why have you not proclaim'd Northumberland, And all the rest of the revolted faction, Traitors? Green. We have: whereupon the Earl of Worcester Hath broke his staff, resign'd his stewardship, And all the household servants fled with him To Bolingbroke. Queen. So, Green, thou art the midwife to my woe, And Bolingbroke my sorrow's dismal heir: Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy; And I, a gasping new-deliver'd mother, Who shall hinder me? I will despair, and be at enmity Who gently would dissolve the bands of life, Green. Here comes the Duke of York. Enter YORK. Uncle, for God's sake, speak comfortable words. Who, weak with age, cannot support myself: Enter a Servant. Serv. My lord, your son was gone before I came. York. He was?-Why, so!-go all which way it will!— The nobles they are fled, the commons they are cold, And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's side. Sirrah, get thee to Plashy, to my sister Gloster; Serv. My lord, I had forgot to tell your lordship, |