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Ross. The earl of Wiltshire hath the realm in
farm. Willo. The king's grown bankrupt, like a broken
man. . North. Reproach, and dissolution, hangeth over
him. Ross. He hath not money for these Irish wars, His burdenous taxations notwithstanding, 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 sit 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. North, Then thus :- I bave from Port le Blanc,
a bay In Brittany, received intelligence, That Harry Hereford, Reignold lord Cobham [The son of Richard earl of Arundel], That late broke from the duke of Exeter, His brother, archbishop late of Canterbury, Sir Thomas Erpingbam, sir John Ramston,''. Sir John Norbery, sir Robert Waterton, and Francis Quoint, . . . '
T S All these well furvish'd by the duke of Bretagne,
• Perish by confidence in our security.. VOL. IV,
With eight tall* ships, three thousand men of war,
that fear. Willo. Hold out my horse, and I will first be there.
The same. A room in the palace.
Enter Queen, Busby, and Bagot.
Some unborn sorrow, ripe in fortune's womb,
not seen; .. Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrow's eye, Whichi, for things true, weeps things imaginary.
Queen. It may so; but yet my inward soul, Persuades me, it is otherwise : Howe'er it be, I cannot but be sad; so heavy sad, As,-though, in thinking, on no thought I thinkMakes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink. Bushy. 'Tis nothing but conceitt, my gracious
lady. Queen. 'Tis nothing less: conceit is still deriv'd From some fore-father grief; mine is not so; For nothing hath begot my something grief; . . Or something hath the nothing that I grieve; 'Tis in reversion that I do possess; But what it is, that is not yet known; what I cannot name; 'uis nameless woe, I wott.
+ Fanciful conception.
Enter Green. Green. God save your majesty !--and well met,
gentlemen : 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 retired his
Queen. Now God in heaven forbid !
worse, The lord Northumberland, his young son 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 Northum.
berland, And all the rest of the revolting faction, Traitors ?
Green. We have: whereon the earl of Worcester Hath broke his staff, resign'd bis stewardship, And all the household servants fled with bim To Bolingbroke.
Queen. So, Green, thou art the midwife to my woe,
Bushy. Despair not, madam.
Who shall hinder me?
Drawo it back,
I will despair, and be at enmity
Queen. With signs of war about his aged neck;
York. Should I do so, I should belie my thoughts: Comfort's in heaven; and we are on the earth, Where nothing lives but crosses, care, and grief. Your husband he is gone to save far off, Whilst others come to make him lose at home: Here am I left to underprop his land; Who, weak with age, cannot support myself: Now comes the sick hour that his surfeit made; Now shall he try his friends that flatter'd him,
Enter a Servant.
Sero. My lord, your son was gone before I came.
Serd. My lord, I had forgot to tell your lordship:
York. What is it, knave?