I cannot name; 'tis nameless woe, I wot.

Enter GREEN.

Green. God save your majesty!—and well met, gen

tlemen:

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,4

And driven into despair an enemy's hope,
Who strongly hath set footing in this land:
The banish'd Bolingbroke repeals himself,
And with uplifted arms is safe arriv'd
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, 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 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 widwife to my woe, And Bolingbroke my sorrow's dismal heir:5

she must say that she possesses what is not yet come, which, though it may be allowed to be poetical and figurative language, is yet, I think, less natural than my explanation. Johnson.

As the grief the Queen felt, was for some event which had not yet come to pass, or at least not yet come to her knowledge, she expresses this by saying that the grief which she then actually possessed, was still in reversion, as she had no right to feel the grief until the event should happen which was to occasion it.

M. Mason.

4 — might have retir'd his power,] Might have drawn it back. A French sense. Johnson.

So, in The Rape of Lucrece:

"Each one, by him enforc'd, retires his ward." Malone.

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.
Bushy. Despair not, madam.
Queen.

I will despair, and be at enmity

Who shall hinder me?

With cozening hope; he is a flatterer,
A parasite, a keeper-back of death,

Who gently would dissolve the bands of life,
Which false hope lingers in extremity.

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;7 Comfort's in heaven; and we are on the earth, Where nothing lives but crosses, care, and grief. Your husband he is gone to save far off,

Whilst others come to make him lose at home:
Here am I left to underprop his land;

5 my sorrow's dismal heir:] The author seems to have used heir in an improper sense, an heir being one that inherits by succession, is here put for one that succeeds, though be succeeds but in order of time, not in order of descent. Johnson.

Johnson has mistaken the meaning of this passage also. The Queen does not in any way allude to Bolingbroke's succession to the crown, an event, of which she could at that time have had no idea. She had said before, that "some unborn sorrow, ripe in fortune's womb, was coming towards her." She talks afterwards of her unknown griefs "being begotten;" she calls Green "the midwife of her woe;" and then means to say, in the same metaphorical jargon, that the arrival of Bolingbroke was the dismal offspring that her foreboding sorrow was big of; which she expresses by calling him her "sorrow's dismal heir," and ex. plains more fully and intelligibly in the following line:

6

Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy. M. Mason.

thou art the midwife to my woe,

And I a gasping new-deliver'd mother,

Have woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow join'd.] So, in Pericles:
"I am great with woe, and shall deliver weeping."

Malone.

7 Should I do so, I should belie my thoughts:] This line is found in the three eldest quartos, but is wanting in the folio. Steevens.

Who, weak with age, cannot support myself:-
Now comes the sick hour that his surfeit made;
Now shall he try his friends that flatter'd him.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. My lord, your son was gone before I came. York. He was?-Why, so!-go all which way it will!

The nobles they are fled, the commons cold,s
And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's side.-
Sirrah,

9

Get thee to Plashy, to my sister Gloster;
Bid her send me presently a thousand pound:-
Hold, take my ring.

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 it, knave?

Serv. An hour before I came, the duchess died. York. God for his mercy! what a tide of woes Comes rushing on this woeful land at once! I know not what to do:-I would to God, (So my untruth1 had not provok'd him to it) The king had cut off my head with my brother's.2What, are there posts despatch'd for Ireland? How shall we do for money for these wars?

Come, sister,-cousin, I would say: pray, pardon me.

8 The nobles they are fled, the commons cold,] The old copies, injuriously to the metre, read:

The nobles they are fled, the commons they are cold. Steevens. 9 Get thee to Plashy,] The lordship of Plashy, was a town of the duchess of Gloster's in Essex. See Hall's Chronicle, p. 13. Theobald.

1

untruth -] That is, disloyalty, treachery. Johnson.

2 The king had cut off my head with my brother's.] None of York's brothers had his head cut off, either by the King or any one else. The Duke of Gloster, to whose death he probably alludes, was secretly murdered at Calais, being smothered between two beds. Ritson.

3 What, are there posts despatch'd for Ireland?] Thus the folio. The quartos-two posts-and-no posts. Steevens.

4 Come, sister,-cousin, I would say:] This is one of Shakspeare's touches of nature York is talking to the Queen his cousin, but the recent death of his sister is uppermost in his mind. Steevens.

Go, fellow, [to the Serv.] get thee home, provide some

carts,

And bring away the armour that is there. [Exit. Serv.
Gentlemen, will you go muster men? if I know
How, or which way, to order these affairs,
Thus thrust disorderly into my hands,
Never believe me. Both are my kinsmen;-
The one 's my sovereign, whom both my oath
And duty bids defend; the other again,

Is my kinsman, whom the king hath wrong'd;5
Whom conscience and my kindred bids to right.
Well, somewhat we must do.—Come, cousin, I'll
Dispose of you:-Go, muster up your men,
And meet me presently at Berkley-castle.
I should to Plashy too;-

But time will not permit:-All is uneven,
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,

Proportionable to the enemy,

Is all impossible.

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,
By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate.

Bushy. Wherein the king stands generally condemn'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.

5 Is my kinsman, whom the king hath wrong'd;] Sir T. Hanmer

has completed this defective line, by reading:

My kinsman is, one whom the king hath wrong'd. Steevens.

Farewel: 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-numb'ring sands, and drinking oceans dry; Where one on his side fights, thousands will fly. Bushy. Farewel at once; for once, for all, and ever. Green. Well, we may meet again.

Bagot.

I fear me, never. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.

The Wilds in Glostershire.

Enter BOLINGBROKE and NORTHUMBERLAND,
with Forces.

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 process of my travel:5
But theirs is sweeten'd with the hope to have
The present benefit which I possess:

And hope to joy," is little less in joy,

5

wanting your company;

Which, I protest, hath very much beguil'd

The tediousness and process of my travel:] So, in King Leir, 1605:

"Thy pleasant company will make the way seem short." Malone.

6 And hope to joy,] To joy is, I believe, here used as a verb. So, in the second Act of King Henry IV: "Poor fellow never joy'd since the price of oats rose." Again, in K. Henry VI, P. II: "Was ever king that joy'd on earthly throne." The word is again used with the same signification in the play before us. Malone.