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Like pérspectives, which, rightly gaz'd upon,
Queen. It may be so; but yet my inward soul Persuades me, it is otherwise : Howe'er it be, I cannot but be sad; so heavy sad, As,-though, in 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 deriv'd From some fore-father grief; mine is not so; For nothing hath begot my something grief; Or something hath the nothing that I grieve : 'Tis in reversion that I do possess ; But what it is, that is not yet known, what I cannot name; 'tis nameless woe, I wot.?
Enter Green. Green. God save your majesty !--and well met,
gentlemen :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;
s Pictures. 6 Fanciful conception. 7 Know.
Then wherefore dost thou hope, he is not shipp'd ?
Queen. Now God in heaven forbid !
Green. O, madam, 'tis too true: and that is worseThe lord Northumberland, his young son 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 Northum
berland, 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,
Bushy. Despair not, madam.
Who shall hinder me?
8 Drawn it back.
Who gently would dissolve the bands of life,
Green. Here comes the duke of York.
Queen. With signs of war about his aged neck;
York. Should I do so, I should belie my thoughts :
Enter a Servant.
Serv. My lord, your son was gone before I came.
Sert. My lord, I had forgot to tell your lordship:
York. What is it, knave ?
York. God for his mercy! what a tide of woes
some carts, And bring away the armour that is there.
you :-Go, muster up your men,
[Exeunt York and Queen. Bushy. The wind sits fair for news to go to Ireland, But none returns. For us to levy power,
Proportionable to the enemy,
Green. Besides our nearness to the king in love,
their love Lies in their purses; and whoso empties them, By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate. Bushy. Wherein the king stands generally con
demn’d. Bagot. If judgment lie in them, then so do we, Because we ever have been near the king.
Green. Well, I'll 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; Except like curs to tear us all to 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
Bushy. Farewell at once; for once, for all, and ever.
I fear me, never.