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The Wilds in Glostershire,



Boling. How far is it, my lord, to Berkley now?

North. 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 wearisome: And yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar, Making the hard way sweet and délectable. But, I bethink me, what a weary way From Ravenspurg to Cotswold, will be found In Ross and Willoughby, wanting your company; Which, I protest, hath very much beguil'd The tediousness and


travel : But theirs is sweetend with the hope to have The present benefit which I

possess : 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?

process of

North. It is my son, young Harry Percy,
Sent from my brother Worcester, whencesoever.-
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 forsook the court, Broken his staff of office, and dispers’d The household of the king. North.

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

Percy. Because your lordship was proclaimed traitor. But he, my lord, is gone to Ravenspurg, To offer service to the duke of Hereford ; And sent me o'er by Berkley, to discover What power

the duke of York had levied there; Then' with direction to repair to Ravenspurg.

North. Have you forgot the duke of Hereford, boy?

Percy. No, my good lord; for that is not forgot, Which ne'er I did remember : to my knowledge, I never in my life did look on him. North. Then learn to know him now; this is the

duke. Percy. My gracious lord, I tender you my service, Such as it is, being tender, raw, and young; Which elder days shall ripen, and confirm To more approved service and desert.

Boling. I thank thee, gentle Percy; and be sure, I count myself in nothing else so happy, As in a soul rememb’ring my good friends; And, as my fortune ripens with thy love, It shall be still thy true love's recompense: My heart this covenant makes, my hand thus seals it.

North. How far is it to Berkley? And what stir Keeps good old York there, with his men of war?

Percy. There stands the castle, by yon tuft of trees, Mann'd with three hundred men, as I have heard : And in it are the lords of York, Berkley, and Seymour; None else of name, and noble estimate.

Enter Ross and WILLOUGHBY.
North. Here come the lords of Ross and Wil-

Bloody with spurring, fiery-red with haste.
Boling. Welcome, my lords: I wot,' your love

A banish'd traitor ; all my treasury
Is yet but unfelt thanks, which, more enrich'd,
Shall be your love and labour's recompense.
Ross. Your presence makes us rich, most noble lord.
Willo. And far surmounts our labour to attain it.
Boling. Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the

Which, till my infant fortune comes to years,
Stands for my bounty. But wlio comes here?


North. It is my lord of Berkley, as I guess.
Berk. My lord of Hereford, my message is to you.

Boling. My lord, my answer is—to Lancaster;
And I am come to seek that name in England :
And I'must find that title in your tongue,
Before I make reply to aught you say.
Berk. Mistake me not, my lord; 'tis not my

To raze one title of your honour out:-

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To you, my lord, I come, (what lord you will,)
From the most glorious regent of this land,
The duke of York; to know, what pricks you on
To take advantage of the absent time,
And fright our native peace with self-born arms.

Enter York attended. Boling. I shall not need transport my words by you , Here comes his grace in person.-My noble uncle!

[Kneels. York. Show me thy humble heart, and not thy knee, Whose duty is deceivable and false.

Boling. My gracious uncle !

York. Tut, tut !
Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle :
I am no traitor's uncle; and that word grace,
In an ungracious mouth, is but profane.
Why have those banish'd and forbidden legs
Dar'd once to touch a dust of England's ground?
But then more why ;

-Why have they dar'd to
So many miles upon her peaceful bosom ;
Frighting her pale-fac'd villages with war,
And ostentation of despised arms ?
Com'st thou because the anointed king is hence ?
Why, foolish boy, the king is left behind,
And in my loyal bosom lies his power.
Were I but now the lord of such hot youth,
As when brave Gaunt, thy father, and myself,
Rescued the Black Prince, that young Mars of men,
From forth the ranks of many thousand French;
O, then, how quickly should this arm of mine,

2 Time of the king's absence.

Now prisoner to the palsy, chastise thee,
And minister correction to thy fault!

Boling. My gracious uncle, let me know my fault; On what condition stands it, and wherein?

York. Even in condition of the worst degree,
In gross rebellion, and detested treason:
Thou-art a banish'd man, and here art come,
Before the expiration of thy time,
In braving arms against thy sovereign,

Boling. As I was banish'd, I was banish'd Hereford;
But as I come, I come for Lancaster.
And, noble uncle, I beseech your grace,
Look on my wrongs with an indifferent 3

You are my father, for, methinks, in you
I see old Gaunt alive; 0, then, my father!

you permit that I shall stand condemn'd
A wand'ring vagabond ; my rights and royalties
Pluck'd from my arms perforce, and given away
To upstart unthrifts? Wherefore was I born?
If that my consin king be king of England,
It must be granted, I am duke of Lancaster.
You have a son, Aumerle, my noble kinsman;
Had you first died, and he had been thus trod down,
He should have found his uncle Gaunt a father,
To rouse his wrongs,+ and chase them to the bay.
I am denied to sue my liverys here,
And yet iny letters-patent give me leave:
My father's goods are all distrain'd, and sold;
And these, and all, are all amiss employ'd.
What would you have me do? I am a subject,

3 Impartial. 4 The persons who wrong him.

s Possession of my land, &c.

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