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I know not what to do:-I would to God
(So my untruth? had not provok’d him to it),
The king had cut off my

head with my

brother's 8. What, are there no posts despatch'd for Ireland ?How shall we do for money

for these wars ?Come, sister),—cousin, I would say: pray, pardon


Go, fellow To the Servant.] get thee home, provide

some carts, And bring away the armour that is there.

[Exit Servant. Gentlemen, will you go muster men? if I know How, or which way, to order these affairs, Thus disorderly thrust into my hands, Never believe me. Both are my kinsmen; The one's my sovereign, whom both my

And duty bids defend ; the other again,
Is my kinsman, whom the king hath wrong'd;
Whom conscience and my kindred bids to right.
Well, somewhat we must do.—Come, cousin, I'll
Dispose of you :-Gentlemen, go, muster up your

And meet me presently at Berkley-castle.
I should to Plashy too;-
But time will not permit:-All is uneven,
And every thing is left at six and seven.

[Exeunt YORK and Queen.
Bushy. The wind sits fair for news to go to Ireland,
But none returns. For us to levy power,
Proportionable to the enemy,
Is all impossible.

? Disloyalty, treachery.

8 Not one of York's brothers had his head cut off, either by the king or any one else. Gloster, to whose death he probably alludes, was smothered between two beds at Calais.

9 This is one of Shakspeare's touches of nature. York is talking to the queen, his cousin, but the recent death of his sister is uppermost in his mind,

Green. Besides our nearness to the king in love, Is near the hate of those love not the king. Bagot. And that's the wavering commons : for

their love Lies in their purses; and whoso empties them, By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate. Bushy. Wherein the king stands generally con

Bagot. If judgment lie in them, then so do we,
Because we ever have been near the king.
Green. Well, I'll for refuge straight to Bristol

The earl of Wiltshire is already there.

Bushy. Thither will I with you: for little office
Will the hateful commons perform for us;
Except like curs to tear us all to pieces.-
Will you go along with us?

Bagot. No; I'll to Ireland to his majesty. Farewell: if heart's presages be not vain, We three here part, that ne'er shall meet again. Bushy. That's as York thrives to beat back Bo

Green. Alas, poor duke! the task he undertakes
Is--numb'ring sands, and drinking oceans dry;
Where one on his side fights, thousands will fly.

Bushy. Farewell at once; for once, for all, and ever.
Green. Well, we may meet again.

I fear me, never.

[Exeunt. SCENE III. The Wilds in Glostershire. Enter BOLINGBROKE and NORTHUMBERLAND,

with Forces. Boling. How far is it, my lord, to Berkley now?

North. Believe me, noble lord,
I am a stranger here in Glostershire.



These high wild hills, and rough uneven ways,
Draw out our miles, and make them wearisome:
And yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar,
Making the hard way sweet and délectable.
But, I bethink me, what a weary way
From Ravenspurg to Cotswold, will be found
In Ross and Willoughby, wanting your company:
Which, I protest, hath very much beguild
The tediousness and



travel: But theirs is sweeten’d with the hope to have The present benefit which I

possess :
And hope to joy 1, is little less in joy,
Than hope enjoy'd: by this the weary lords
Shall make their way seem short; as mine hath done
By sight of what I have, your noble company.

Boling. Of much less value is my company,
Than your good words. But who comes here?


North. It is my son, young Harry Percy,
Sent from my brother Worcester, whencesoever.-
Harry, how fares your uncle? ?

Percy. I had thought, my lord, to have learn'd his

health of you.

North. Why, is he not with the queen?
Percy. No, my good lord; he hath forsook the

Broken his staff of office, and dispers’d
The household of the king.

What was his reason ?
He was not so resolv’d, when last we spake together.
Percy. Because your lordship was proclaimed


| To joy is here used as a verb ; it is equivalent with to rejoice. To joy, to clap hands, to rejoyce.' Baret. Shakspeare very frequently uses it in this sense.

But he, my lord, is gone to Ravenspurg,
To offer service to the duke of Hereford ;
And sent me o'er by Berkley, to discover
What power the duke of York had levied there;
Then with direction to repair to Ravenspurg.

North. Have you forgot the duke of Hereford, boy?

Percy. No, my good lord; for that is not forgot, Which ne'er I did remember: to my knowledge, I never in


life did look on him. 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,


young; Which elder days shall ripen and confirm To more approved service and desert.

Boling. I thank thee, gentle Percy; and be sure, I count myself in nothing else so happy, As in a soul rememb’ring my good friends; And, as my fortune ripens with thy love, It shall be still thy true love's recompense: My heart this covenant makes, my hand thus seals it.

North. How far is it to Berkley? And what stir Keeps good old York there, with his men of war ?

Percy. There stands the castle, by yon tuft of trees, Mann'd with three hundred men, as I have heard: And in it are the lords of York, Berkley, and Sey

mour ; None else of name, and noble estimate.

Enter Ross and WILLOUGHBY. North. Here come the lords of Ross and Wil

loughby, Bloody with spurring, fiery-red with haste. 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,
Shall be your love and labour's recompense.
Ross. Your presence makes us rich, most noble

lord. Willo. And far surmounts our labour to attain it. Boling. Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the poor;

infant fortune omes to years, Stands for my bounty.

But who comes here?




Enter BERKLEY. North. It is my lord of Berkley, as I guess. Berk. My lord of Hereford, my message is to you.

Boling. My lord, my answer is—to Lancaster”; And I am come to seek that name in England: And I must find that title in your tongue, Before I make reply to aught you say.

Berk.Mistake me not,my lord; 'tis not my meaning, To raze one title of your honour out 3: To you, my lord, I come (what lord you will), From the most gracious regent of this land, The duke of York; to know, what pricks you on To take advantage of the absent time 4, And fright our native peace with self-born arms.

Enter YORK, attended. Boling. I shall not need transport my words by you; Here comes his grace in

person.—My noble uncle!


2 • Your message, you say, is to my lord of Hereford. My answer is, It is not to him, it is to the Duke of Lancaster.'

3. How the names of them which for capital crimes against majestie were erazed out of the publicke records, tables, and registers, or forbidden to be borne by their posteritie, when their memory was damned, I could show at large.'-- Camden's Remaines, 1605, p. 136.

4 Time of the king's absence.

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