Which honour and allegiance cannot think. 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, farewel: What will enfue hereof, there's none can tell. Bit by bad courfes may be understood, That their events can never fall out good. [Exit. K. Rich. Go, Bufhy, to the Earl of Wiltshire ftraight, Bid him repair to us to Ely-house, To fee this bufinefs done. To-morrow next [Flourish. [Exeunt King, Queen, &c. SCENE IV. Manent Northumberland, Willoughby, and Rofs. North. Well, Lords, the Duke of Lancaster is dead. Refs. And living too, for now his fon is Duke. Willo. Barely in title, not in revenue. North. Richly in both, if juftice had her right. Rofs. My heart is great; but it must break with filence, Ere't be difburden'd with a lib'ral tongue. North. Nay, fpeak thy mind; and let him ne'er fpeak more, That fpeaks thy words again to do thee harm. If it be fo, out with it boldly, man: Quick is mine ear to hear of good tow'rds him. Unless you call it good to pity him, Bereft Bereft and gelded of his patrimony. "North. Now, afore heav'n, it's fhame, fuch wrongs are borne In him a royal Prince, and many more 'Gainft us, our lives, our children, and our heirs. Refs. The Commons hath he pill'd with grievous Taxes, And loft their hearts; the Nobles he hath fin'd not, But bafely yielded upon compromise That, which his Ancestors atchiev'd with blows; Rofs. The Earl of Wiltshire hath the Realm in farm. man. North. Reproach, and diffolution, hangeth over him. Rofs. He hath not money for these Irish wars, His burthenous taxations notwithstanding, But by the robbing of the banish'd Duke. North. His noble Kinfman. Moft degenerate King! But, lords, we hear this fearful tempeft fing, Yet feek no fhelter to avoid the ftorm: We fee the wind fit fore upon our fails, I ' And yet we strike not, but fecurely perish. Rofs. We fee the very wreck, that we must fuffer; wind. To ftrike the fails, is, to contract them when there is too much And unavoided is the danger now, For fuff'ring fo the caufes of our wreck. North. Not fo; ev'n through the hollow eyes of Death Four I dare not fay, I fpy life peering; but I dare not fay, How near the tidings of our comfort is. Willo. Nay, let us fhare thy thoughts, as thou dost & ours. Rofs. Be confident to fpeak, Northumberland We three are but thyself, and speaking fo," Thy words are but as thoughts, therefore be bold. North. Then thus, my friends. I have from Port le Blanc, A bay in Bretagne, had intelligence, That Harry Hereford, Rainald lord Cobham, Sir John Norberie, Sir Robert Waterton, and Francis All thefe, well furnish'd by the Duke of Bretagne, demo ay Rofs. To horfe, to horfe; urge Doubts to them that fear. Willo. Hold out my horfe, and I will first be there. Job od Enter Queen, Bufhy, and Bagot, Busby. MAdam, your Majefty is much too fad : You promis'd, when you parted with the To lay afide felf-harming heaviness, Queen. To please the King, I did; to please myself, I cannot do it; yet I know no cause, Why I should welcome fuch a guest as grief; With nothing trembles, at fomething it grieves, Which fhew like grief itself, but are not fo: Shew The reading, which Dr. Warburton corrects, is itself an innovation. His conjecture gives indeed a better fenfe than that of any copy, but copies must not be needlefly forfaken. 9 bra Like Perfpectives, which rightly gaz'd upon, Shew nothing but confufion; ey'd awry, blur! Diftinguish form.] This is a fine fimilitude, and the thing D 3 meant Shew nothing but confufion; ey'd awry *As, though, on thinking, on no thought I think, Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink. Bufhy.Tis nothing but Conceit, my gracious lady. Queen. 'Tis nothing lefs; Conceit is ftill deriv'd From fome fore-father grief; mine is not fo; 5 For nothing hath begot my fomething grief; Or felt, is here very forcibly defcribed. 5 For nothing hath begot my fomething grief; Or Jomething bath, the nothing that I grieve.] With thefe lines I know not well what can be done. The Queen's reafoning, as it now ftands, is this. My trouble is not conceit, for conceit is fill derived from fome antecedent caufe, fome forefather grief; but with me the cafe is, that either my real grief hath no real caufe, or fome real caufe has produced a fancy'd grief. That is, my grief is not conceit, because it either has not a caufe like conceit, or it has a caufe like conceit. This can hardly stand. Let us try again, and read thus: For nothing bath begot my fomething grief; Not |