Queen. It may be fo; but yet my inward foul
Perfuades me, it is otherwise: Howe'er it be,
I cannot but be fad; so heavy fad,

As, though, in thinking, on no thought I think,—
Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink.

Busby. 'Tis nothing but conceit, my gracious lady.
Queen. 'Tis nothing lefs: conceit is still deriv'd
From fome fore-father grief; mine is not so;
For nothing hath begot my fomething grief;
Or fomething hath the nothing that I grieve:
'Tis in reverfion that I do poffefs;

But what it is, that is not yet known; what
I cannot name; 'tis nameless woe, I wot.

Enter GREEN.

Green. God fave your majefty!-and well met, gentlemen :

I hope, the king is not yet shipp'd for Ireland.

Queen. Why hop'ft thou fo? 'tis better hope he is For his defigns crave haste, his hafte good hope; Then wherefore doft thou hope, he is not shipp'd? Green. That he, our hope, might have retir'd his

power,

And driven into defpair an enemy's hope,

Who ftrongly hath fet footing in this land:
The banish'd Bolingbroke repeals himself,
And with uplifted arms is fafe arriv'd
At Ravenfpurg.

Queen.

Now God in heaven forbid!

Green. O, madam, 'tis too true: and that is worse,— The lord Northumberland, his young fon Henry Percy, The lords of Rofs, Beaumond, and Willoughby, With all their powerful friends, are filed to him.

Busby

Busby. Why have you not proclaim'd Northumberland, And all the rest of the revolting faction,

Traitors?

Green. We have: whereon the earl of Worcester

Hath broke his staff, refign'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 forrow's difinal heir:

Now hath my foul brought forth her prodigy;
And I, a gasping new-deliver'd mother,

Have woe to woe, forrow to forrow join'd.
Busby. Defpair not, madam.

Queen.

Who fhall hinder me?

I will defpair, and be at enmity

With cozening hope; he is a flatterer,

A parafite, a keeper-back of death,

Who gently would dissolve the bands of life,
Which falfe hope lingers in extremity.

Enter YORK.

Green. Here comes the duke of York.
Queen. With figns of war about his aged neck;
O, full of careful business are his looks!-

Uncle,

For heaven's fake, fpeak comfortable words.

York. Should I do fo, I should belie my thoughts:
Comfort's in heaven; and we are on the earth,
Where nothing lives, but croffes, care, and grief.
Your husband he is gone to fave far off,
Whilft others come to make him lofe at home:
Here am I left to underprop his land;
Who, weak with age, cannot fupport myself:

Now comes the fick hour that his surfeit made;
Now fhall he try his friends that flatter'd him.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. My lord, your fon was gone before I came.
York. He was?-Why, fo!-go all which way it

will!

The nobles they are fled, the commons cold,

And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's fide.-
Sirrah,

Get thee to Plashy, to my fifter Gloster ;

Bid her fend me prefently a thoufand pound :-
Hold, take my ring.

Serv. My lord, I had forgot to tell your lordship:
To-day, as I came by, I called there :-

But I fhall grieve you to report the reft.
York. What is it, knave?

Serv. An hour before I came, the duchefs died.
York. God for his mercy! what a tide of woes
Comes rushing on this woeful land at once!
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.—
What, are there posts despatch'd for Ireland ?—
How fhall we do for money for these wars ?-

Come, fifter,-coufin, I would fay: pray, pardon me.-
Go, fellow, [To the Servant.] get thee home, provide fome

carts,

And bring away the armour that is there.

[Exit Servant.

Gentlemen, will you go mufter men? if I know

How, or which way, to order these affairs,
Thus thrust disorderly into my hands,

oath

Never believe me. Both are my kinsmen
The one's my fovereign, whom both my
And duty bids defend; the other again,
Is my kinfman, whom the king hath wrong'd;
Whom confcience and my kindred bids toʻright.
Well, fomewhat we must do.-Come, coufin, I'll
Difpofe of you :-Go, muster up your men,
And meet me presently at Berkley-castle.
I fhould to Plashy too ;-

But time will not permit :-All is uneven,
And every thing is left at fix and seven.

[Exeunt YORK and Queen.

Busby. The wind fits fair for news to go to Ireland, But none returns. For us to levy power,

Proportionable to the enemy,

Is all impoffible.

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 whofo empties them,
By fo much fills their hearts with deadly hate.

Busby. Wherein the king stands generally condemn’d. Bagot. If judgement lie in them, then so do we, Because we ever have been near the king.

Green. Well, I'll for refuge straight to Bristol castle
The earl of Wiltshire is already there.

Busby. Thither will I with you: for little office
The hateful commons will 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 prefages be not vain,
We three here part, that ne'er shall meet again.

D 3

Busby.

Bufby. That's as York thrives to beat back Boling

broke.

Green. Alas, poor duke! the task he undertakes Is-numb'ring fands, and drinking oceans dry; Where one on his fide fights, thousands will fly. Busby. Farewell at once; for once, for all, and ever, Green. Well, we may meet again.

Bagot.

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 Gloftershire.

These high wild hills, and rough uneven ways,
Draw out our miles, and make them wearifome:
And yet your fair discourse hath been as fugar,
Making the hard way sweet and délectable.
But, I bethink me, what a weary way
From Ravenfpurg to Cotswold, will be found
In Rofs and Willoughby, wanting your company;
Which, I proteft, hath very much beguil'd
The tediousness and process of my travel:
But theirs is fweeten'd with the hope to have

The present benefit which I poffefs:

And hope to joy, 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 fight of what I have, your noble company.

Boling.