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

Enter Green.

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

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

Queen. Why hop'ft thou fo; 'tis better hope, he is;
For his defigns crave hafte, his hafte good hope:
Then wherefore doft thou hope he is not fhip'd?
Green. That he, our hope, 5 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 what is worse, The lord Northumberland, his young fon Henry, The lords of Rofs, Beaumond, and Willoughby, With all their powerful friends, are fled to him. Busby. Why have you not proclaim'd Northumberland,

And all of that revolted faction, traitors?

Green. We have: whereon the earl of Worcester
Hath broke his ftaff, refign'd his stewardship,
And all the houfhold fervants fled with him

To Bolingbroke,

I have poffeft him my moft ftay can be but short. Meaf. for Meaf. He is poffelt what fum you ne d. Merch. of Venice.

I therefore imagine the queen ys thus:

'Tis in reverfion-that I do poffefs.

The event is yet in futurity—that ĺ know with full convictionbut what it is, that is not yet known. In any other interpretation fhe muft fay that he poffeffes what is not yet come, which, though it may be allowed to be poetical and figurative language, is yet, I think, lefs natural than my explanation.

JOHNSON.

might have retir'd his power,] Might have drawn it back. A French fenfe. JOHNSON.

Queen,

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Queen. So, Green, thou art the midwife of my woe,
And Bolingbroke my forrow's difmal heir.
Now hath my foul brought forth her prodigy;
And I, a gafping new-deliver'd mother,
Have woe to woe, forrow to forrow, join'd,
Bushy. Despair 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 diffolve 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;
Oh, full of careful business are his looks!

Uncle, for heaven's fake, fpeak comfortable words.
York, Should I do fo, I fhould bely my thoughts 7;
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 this land;
Who, weak with age, cannot fupport myself.
Now comes the fick hour, that his furfeit made;
Now fhall he try his friends, that flatter'd him.

6

Enter a Servant.

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

will!—

my forrow's difmal heir.] The author feems to have used beir in an improper fenfe, an heir being one that inherits by fucceffion, is here put for one that fucceeds, though he fucceeds but in order of time, not in order of defcent. JOHNSON.

7 So fhould I do, I fhould bely my thoughts ; This line is found in three of the quarto's, but is wanting in the folio. STEEVENS.

The

The nobles they are fled, the commons they are cold,
And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's fide.-
Sirrah,

Get thee to Plashy, to my fifter Glofter;

Bid her fend me presently a thousand pound :-
Hold, take my ring.

Ser. My lord, I had forgot to tell your lordship:
To-day I came by, and call'd there;—but I
Shall grieve you to report the reft.

York. What is it, knave?

Ser. An hour before I came, the dutchefs dy'd. York. Heaven for his mercy! what a tide of woes Comes rufhing on this woeful land at once! I know not what to do.--I would to heaven, So my 9 untruth had not provok'd him to it, The king had cut off my head with my brother's.What, are there pofts difpatch'd for Ireland?— How fhall we do for money for thefe wars ?Come, fifter; coufin, I would fay; pray, pardon

me.

Go, fellow, get thee home, provide fome carts,

[To the fervant. And bring away the armour that is there.-

Gentlemen, will you go, and mufter men? If I know
How or which way to order these affairs,
Thus diforderly thruft into my hands,
Never believe me. Both are my kinfmen;-
The one's my fovereign, whom both my oath
And duty bids defend; the other again
Is my kinfman, whom the king hath wrong'd;

Get thee to Play,-] The lordship of Plafhy was a town of the dutchess of Glofter's in Effex. See Hall's Chronicle, p. 13. THEOBALD.

1

9- untruth-] That is, difloyalty, treachery. JOHNSON. Come, fifter; coufin, I would fay ;-] 1 his is one of Shakefpeare's touches of nature. York is talking to the queen his coufin, but the recent death of his fifter is uppermoft in his mind. STEEVENS.

Whom

Whom confcience and my kindred bids to right.
Well, fomewhat we must do.-Come, coufin, I'll
Difpofe of you.-Go, mufter up your men,
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 fix and seven.

[Exeunt York and queen.

Bufby. The wind fits fair for news to go to Ireland, For us to levy power,

But none returns.

Proportionable to the enemy,

Is all impoffible.

Green. Befides, our nearness to the king in love Is near the hate of thofe love not the king.

Bagot. And that's the wavering commons: for their
love

Lies in their purfes; and whofo empties them,
By fo much fills their hearts with deadly hate.
Bushy. Wherein the king stands generally condemn'd.
Bagot. If judgment lie in them, then fo do we,
Because we have been ever near the king.

Green. Well, I'll for refuge straight to Bristol-castle;

The earl of Wiltshire is already there.

Bufby. Thither will I with you: for little office
The hateful commons will perform for us;
Except, like curs, to tear us all in 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 fhall meet again.
Busby. 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, thoufands 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

SCENE III.

The wilds in Glocefterfbire.

Enter Bolingbroke and Northumberland.

Boling. How far is it, my lord, to Berkley now?
North. Believe me, noble lord,

I am a ftranger here in Glofterfhire.

Thefe high wild hills, and rough uneven ways,
Draw out our miles, and make them wearifome:
And yet your fair difcourfe has been as fugar,
Making the hard way fweet and delectable.
But, I bethink me, what a weary way,
From Ravenfpurg to Cotfhold, will be found.
In Rofs and Willoughby, wanting your company;
Which, I proteit, hath very much beguil'd
The tedioufnefs and procefs of my travel:
But theirs is fweeten'd with the hope to have
The present benefit that I poffefs:
And hope to joy, is little lefs in joy,

Than hope enjoy'd. By this, the weary lords
Shall make their way feem fhort, as mine hath done
By fight of what I have, your noble company.
Boling. Of much lefs value is my company
Than your good words. But who comes here?

Enter Harry Percy.

North. It is my fon, young Harry Percy,
Sent from my brother Worcester, whencefoever.
-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 forfook the court, Broken his ftaff of office, and difpers'd

The houfhold of the king.

North. What was his reafon?

He was not fo refolv'd, when last we fpake together.

Percy.

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