His words to wayward ficklinefs, and age. K. Rich. Right, you fay true; as Hereford's love, fo his ; As theirs, fo mine; and all be, as it is. SCENE III. Enter Northumberland. North. My Liege, old Gaunt commends him to your Majefty. K. Rich. What fays old Gaunt? North. Nay, nothing; all is faid. His tongue is now a ftringlefs inftrument, Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent. York. Be York the next, that must be bankrupt fo! Though death be poor, it ends a mortal woe. K. Rich. The ripest fruit first falls, and so doth he; The plate, coin, revenues, and moveables, Tork. How long fhall I be patient? Oh, how long ; Of Of whom thy father, Prince of Wales, was firt; In peace, was never gentle Lamb more mild, K. Rich. Why, uncle, what's the matter? Pardon me, if you please; if not, I, pleas'd Seek you to feize, and gripe into your hands, Take Hereford's Rights away, and take from time If you do wrongfully feize Hereford's Right, His livery, and * deny his offer'd homage; And prick my tender patience to those thoughts, Deny his offer'd homage.] mage, by which he is to hold his That is, refule to admit the ho- lands. VOL IV. D Which Which honour and allegiance cannot think. K. Rich. Think what you will, we feize 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. But by bad courses may be understood, That their events can never fall out good. [Exit. K. Rich. Go, Busby, to the Earl of Wiltshire ftraight, Bid him repair to us to Ely-house, To fee this bufinefs done. To morrow next We will for Ireland; and 'tis time, I trow. And we create, in absence of ourself, Our uncle York Lord-governor of England, Come on, our Queen; to morrow muft we part; Flourish. [Exeunt, King, Queen, &c. SCENE IV. Manent Northumberland, Willoughby, and Rofs. North. Well, Lords, the Duke of Lancaster is dead. Rofs. 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 speaks 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 In him a royal Prince, and many more That will the King feverely profecute 'Gainft us, our lives, our children, and our heirs. And loft their hearts; the Nobles he hath fin'd But bafely yielded upon compromife 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 mony for thefe Irifb 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, And yet we strike not, but fecurely perish. Rofs. We see the very wreck, that we must fuffer; To frike the fails, is, to contract them when there is too much wind. 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 I fpy life peering; but I dare not fay, Willo. Nay, let us fhare thy thoughts, as thou doft ours. Rofs. Be confident to speak, Northumberland; We three are but thyfelf, 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 these well furnish'd by the Duke of Bretagne, Rofs. To horfe, to horfe; urge Doubts to them that Willo. Hold out my horfe, and I will first be there. 6 [Exeunt. SCENE |