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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 save your majesty! and well met,

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

Queen. Why hop'st thou to ; 'tis better hope, he is;
For his designs crave haite, his hafte good hope:
Then wherefore doit thou hope he is not ship'd ?
Green. That he, our hope, 5 might have retir'd his

And driven into despair an enemy's hope,
Who strongly hath let footing in this land.
The banish'd Bolingbroke repeals himself,
And with uplifted arms is safe arriv'd
At Ravenspurg. ..

Queen. Now God in heaven forbid !
Green. O, madain, 'tis too true: and what is worse,
The lord Northumberland, his young fon Henry,
The lords of Ross, Beaumond, and Willoughby,
With all their powerful friends, are fled to him.
Busby. Why have you not proclaim’d Northumber-

' land,
And all of that revolted faction, traitors?

Green. We have: whereon the earl of Worcester
Hath broke his staff, rcfign’d his stewardship,
And all the houshold fervants fled with him
To Bolingbroke,

I have posseft him my moft A ay can be but short. Meaf. for Meas.

He is pofteit what fum you nu ú. Merch. of Venice. . I therefore imagine the queen idys thus :

'Tis in reverfion--that Lo prless. The event is yet in futurity—that I know with full convictionbut what it is, that is not yet kniin. In any other interpretation fhe must say that jne pose des what is not yet come, which, though it may be allowed to be poetical and figurative language, is yet, I think, less natural than my explanation.

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


Queen. So, Green, thou art the midwife of my woe, And Bolingbroke 6 my forrow's dismal heir. Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy; And I, a gasping new-deliver's mother, Have woe to woe, forrow to sorrow, join'd,

Busby. Despair not, madam.

Queen. Who shall hinder me?
I will despair, and be at enmity
With cozening hope; he is a flatterer, .
A parasite, a keeper-back of death;
Who gently would dissolve the bands of life,
Which false hope lingers in extremity.

Enter York.
Green. Here comes the duke of York.

Queen. With signs of war about his aged neck;
Oh, full of careful business are his looks!
Uncle, for heaven's sake, speak comfortable words.

York. Should I do so, I should bely my thoughts 7; · Comfort's in heaven, and we are on the earth,

Where nothing lives, but crosses, care, and grief.
Your husband he is gone to save far off,
Whilft others come to make him lose at home.
Here am I left to underprop this land;
Who, weak with age, cannot support myself.
Now comes the sick hour, that his furfeit made;
Now shall he try his friends, that flatter'd him.

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

will !

6 - my forrow's dismal heir.] The author seems to have used heir in an improper sense, an heir being one that inherits by fuccelfon, is here put for one that succeeds, though he fucceeds but in order of time, not in order of descent. JOHNSON.

? So frould I do, I should bcly my thoughts ;] This line is found in three of the quarto's, but is wanting in the folio, STEEVENS.


The nobles they are fled, the commons they are cold,
And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's side. -
Get thee to Plashy 8, to my sister Glofter ;
Bid her send 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 calld there ;---but I
Shall grieve you to report the rest.

York. What is it, knave?
Ser. An hour before I came, the dutchess dy'd.

York. Heaven 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 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 posts dispatch'd for Ireland ? -
How shall we do for money for these wars ?-
Come, sister ; cousin, I would say 1; pray, pardon

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

[To the servant, And bring away the armour that is there. Gentlemen, will you go, and 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 kinfmen; The one's my sovereign, whom both my oath And duty bids defend; the other again Is my kinsman, whom the king hath wrong'd;

& Get thee to Plashy,–] The lordship of Plashy was a town of the dutchess of Gloiter's in Essex. See Hall's Chronicle, p. 13.

THEOBALD. 9- untruth-] That is, disloyalty, treachery. Johnson. ..? Come, fifter ; cousin, I would say ;-) This is one of Shake{peare's touches of nature. York is talking to the queen his cousin, but the recent death of his sister is uppermost in his pind. STEEVENS.


Whom conscience and my kindred bids to right.
Well, somewhat we must do.-Come, cousin, I'll
Dispose of you.—Go, muster 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 six and seven.

[Exeunt York and queen.
Busby. 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.

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.

Buhy. Wherein the king stands generally condemnd.

Bagot. If judgment lie in them, then so do we, Because we have been eyer near the king.

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

Busky. 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 presages be not vain,
We three here part, that ne'er shall meet again.
Bushy. That's as York thrives to beat back Boling-

Green. Alas, poor duke! the task he undertakes
Io numb’ring fands, and drinking oceans dry;
Where one on his side fights, thousands will fiy.

Busiy. Farewell at once ; for once, for all, and ever.
Greci. Well, we may meet again.
Bagot. I fear me, never.

[Exeunt, SCENE


The wilds in Glocestershire.
Enter Bolingbroke and Northumberland.
Boling. How far is it, my lord, to Berkley now?

Norib. 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 wearifome:
And yet your fair discourse has been as sugar,
Making the hard way sweet and delectable.
But, I bethink me, what a weary way,
From Ravenspurg to Cotshold, will be found.

In Ross and Willoughby, wanting your company ; · Which, I protest, hath very much beguild

The tediousness and process of my travel :
But theirs is sweeten'd with the hope to have
The present benefit that I pofless:
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 sight of what I have, your noble company.

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

Enter Harry Percy. North. It is my son, young Harry Percy, Sent from my brother Wora iter, whenceloever. -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 staff of office, and dispers’d The houshold of the king.

North. What was his reason ? He was not so resolv’d, when last we spake together.


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