290 All these well furnish'd by the Duke of Bretagne Graft. Ross. To horse, to horse! urge doubts to them that fear. Willo. Hold out my horse, and I will first be there. [Exeunt. 300 SCENE II. Windsor Castle. Enter QUEEN, BUSHY, and BAGOT. Bushy. Madam, your majesty is too much sad: You promised, when you parted with the king, To lay aside life-harming heaviness And entertain a cheerful disposition. Queen. To please the king I did; to please myself I cannot do it; yet I know no cause Which shows like grief itself, but is not so; II 20 Distinguish form: so your sweet majesty, Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrow's eye, Which for things true weeps things imaginary. 30 As, though on thinking on no thought I think, Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink. Bushy. 'Tis nothing but conceit, my gracious lady. Queen. 'Tis nothing less: conceit is still derived From some forefather grief; mine is not so, But what it is, that is not yet known; what Green. Enter GREEN. 40 God save your majesty! and well met, gentlemen: I hope the king is not yet shipp'd for Ireland. Queen. Why hopest thou so? 'tis better hope he is; *Withdrawn. For his designs crave haste, his haste good hope: Queen. 50 Now God in heaven forbid! Green. Ah, madam. 'tis too true: and that is worse, The Lord Northumberland, his son young Henry Percy, The Lords of Ross, Beaumond, and Willoughby, With all their powerful friends, are fled to him. Bushy. Why have you not proclaim'd Northumberland And all the rest revolted faction traitors? Green. We have: whereupon the Earl of Worcester Hath broke his staff, resign'd his stewardship, And all the household servants fled with him 60 To Bolingbroke. Queen. So, Green, thou art the midwife to my woe, And Bolingbroke my sorrow's dismal heir: Who shall hinder me? I will despair, and be at enmity A parasite, a keeper back of death, Who gently would dissolve the bands of life, Enter YORK. 70 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 God's sake, speak comfortable words. York. Should I do so, I should belie my thoughts: 80 Comfort's in heaven; and we are on the earth, Serv. My lord, your son I came. was gone before York. He was? Why, so! go all which way it will! The nobles they are fled, the commons they are cold, And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's side. Sirrah, get thee to Plashy, to my sister Gloucester; Bid her send me presently a thousand pound: 90 Serv. My lord, I had forgot to tell your lordship, To-day, as I came by, I called there; But I shall grieve you to report the rest. York. What is't, knave? Serv. An hour before I came, the duchess died. 100 York. God for his mercy! what a tide of woes Go, fellow, get thee home, provide some carts [Exit Servant. Gentlemen, will you go muster men? If I know how or which way to order these affairs Is my kinsman, whom the king hath wrong'd, Gentlemen, go, muster up your men, But time will not permit: all is uneven, 20 And every thing is left at six and seven. [Exeunt York and Queen. Bushy. The wind sits fair for news to go to Ireland, But none returns. For us to levy power Is all unpossible. 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 130 By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate. Bushy. Wherein the king stands generally condemn'd. Bagot. If judgement lie in them, then so do we, Because we ever have been near the king. Green. Well, I will for refuge straight to Bristol castle: The Earl of Wiltshire is already there. Bushy. Thither will I with you; for little office The hateful commons will perform for us, 140 Bagot. No; I will 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 Bolingbroke. Green. Alas, poor duke! the task he undertakes Is numbering sands and drinking oceans dry: [Exeunt. |