As blanks, benevolences, and I wot not what: But what, o'God's name, doth become of this? North. Wars have not wasted it, for warr'd he hath not, But basely yielded upon compromise That, which his ancestors achiev'd with blows: Ross. The earl of Wiltshire hath the realm in farm. man. North. Reproach, and dissolution, hangeth over him. Ross. He hath not money for these Irish wars, His burdenous taxations notwithstanding, But by the robbing of the banish'd duke North. His noble kinsman: most degenerate king! But, lords, we hear this fearful tempest sing, Yet seek no shelter to avoid the storm: We see the wind sit sore upon our sails, And yet we strike not, but securely perish. Ross. We see the very wreck that we must suffer; And unavoided is the danger now, For suffering so the causes of our wreck. North. Not so; 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 dost ours. Ross. Be confident to speak, Northumberland: We three are but thyself; and, speaking so, Thy words are but as thoughts; therefore, be bold. North. Then thus :-I have from Port le Blanc, a bay In Brittany, receiv'd intelligence, That Harry Hereford, Reignold lord Cobham, The son of Richard Earl of Arundel, That late broke from the duke of Exeter, Sir John Norbery, sir Robert Waterton, and Francis All these well furnished by the duke of Bretagne, Ross. To horse, to horse! urge doubts to them that fear. Willo. Hold out my horse, and I will first be there. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-The same. A Room in the Palace. Enter Queen, BUSHY, and BAGOT. Bushy. Madam, your majesty is too much sad: Queen. To please the king, I did; to please myself, I cannot do it; yet I know no cause, Why I should welcome such a guest as grief, Which show like grief itself, but are not so: seen: Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrow's eye, As, though, in thinking, on no thought I think,— Bushy. 'Tis nothing but conceit, my gracious lady. But what it is, that is not yet known; what Enter GREEN. Green. God save your majesty!-and well met, gentlemeu : I hope, the king is not yet shipp'd for Ireland. Queen. Why hop'st thou so? 'tis better hope, he is; For his designs crave haste, his haste good hope; Then wherefore dost thou hope, he is not shipp'd? Green. That he, our hope, might have retir'd his power, And driven into despair an enemy's hope, Who strongly hath set footing in this land: At Ravenspurg. Queen. Now God in heaven forbid! Green. O, madam, 'tis too true: and that is worse, The lord Northumberland, his young son Henry Percy, Bushy. Why have you not proclaim'd Northumberland, And all the rest of the revolting faction, Traitors? Green. We have: whereon the earl of Worcester Hath broke his staff, resign'd his stewardship, And all the household servants fled with him To Bolingbroke. Queen. So, Green, thou art the midwife to my woe, And Bolingbroke my sorrow's dismal heir: Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy; And I, a gasping new-deliver'd mother, Have woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow join'd. 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, Enter YORK. Green. Here comes the duke of York. Queen. With signs of war about his aged neck; O, full of careful business are his looks! Uncle, For heaven's sake, speak comfortable words. York. Should I do so, I should belie my thoughts: Comfort's in heaven; and we are on the earth, |