But bloody with the enemies of his kin. K. Rich. Why, uncle, what's the matter? O, my liege, Pardon me, if you pleafe; if not, I pleas'd Is not his heir a well-deserving son? Take Hereford's rights away, and take from time His livery, and deny his offer'd homage, You pluck a thousand dangers on your head, 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 enfue 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 fee this business: To-morrow next Our uncle York lord governor of England, [Flourish. [Exeunt King, Queen, BUSHY, AUMERLE, GREEN, North. Well, lords, the duke of Lancaster is dead. North. Richly in both, if justice had her right. Rofs. My heart is great; but it must break with filence, Ere't be difburden'd with a liberal tongue. North. Nay, fpeak thy mind; and let him ne'er speak more, That speaks thy words again, to do thee harm! Willo. Tends that thou'dst speak, to the duke of Hereford? If it be fo, out with it boldly, man; Quick is mine ear, to hear of good towards him. Rofs. No good at all, that I can do for him; Unless you call it good, to pity him, Bereft and gelded of his patrimony. North. Now, afore heaven, 'tis fhame, fuch wrongs are borne, In him a royal prince, and many more Of noble blood in this declining land. That That will the king feverely prosecute 'Gainst us, our lives, our children, and our heirs. North. Wars have not wasted it, for warr'd he hath not, But bafely yielded upon compromise That which his ancestors achiev'd with blows: More hath he spent in peace, than they in wars. Rofs. 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. Rofs. He hath not money for these Irish wars, His burdenous taxations notwithstanding, But by the robbing of the banish'd duke. North. His noble kinfman :-Moft degenerate king! But, lords, we hear this fearful tempest sing, Yet feek no shelter to avoid the ftorm: We see the wind fit fore upon our fails, And yet we strike not, but securely perish. Rofs. We fee the very wreck that we must suffer; And unavoided is the danger now, For fuffering fo the caufes of our wreck. North. Not fo; 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 doft ours. Rofs. Be confident to speak, Northumberland: We three are but thyself; and, speaking so, Thy words are but as thoughts; therefore, be bold. North. North. Then thus:-I have from Porte le Blanc, a bay In Britany, receiv'd intelligence, That Harry Hereford, Reignold lord Cobham, The fon of Richard Earl of Arundel, That late broke from the duke of Exeter, Sir Thomas Erpingham, fir John Ramfton, Sir John Norbery, fir Robert Waterton, and Francis All thefe, well furnish'd by the duke of Bretagne, Stay, and be fecret, and myself will go. Rofs. To horfe, to horfe! urge doubts to them that fear. Willo. Hold out my horse, and I will first be there. [Exeunt. SCENE SCENE II. The fame. A Room in the Palace. Enter Queen, BUSHY, and BAGOT. Busby. Madam, your majesty is too much fad : Queen. To please the king, I did; to please myself, feen : Or if it be, 'tis with falfe forrow's eye, Which, for things true, weeps things imaginary. Queen. |