Enter Percy.

North. It is my fon, young Harry Percy,
Sent from my brother Worcester: whencefoever,
Harry, how fares your uncle?

Percy. I thought, my Lord, t'have learn'd his health of
North. Why, is he not with the Queen ?

[you.

Percy. No, my good Lord, he hath forfook the court, Broken his ftaff of office, and difpers'd

The Houshold of the King.

North. What was his reafon ?

He was not fo refolv'd, when laft we fpake together.
Percy. Because your Lordship was proclaimed traitor.
But he, my Lord, is gone to Ravenfpurg,

To offer fervice to the Duke of Hereford,
And fent me o'er by Barkley, to discover
What Pow'r the Duke of York had levy'd there;
Then with directions 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 fhall ripen and confirm

To more approved fervice and defert.

Boling. I thank thee, gentle Percy; and be fure, I count myself in nothing else fo happy, As in a foul remembring my good friends; And as my fortune ripens with thy love, It fhall be ftill thy true love's recompence. My heart this cov'nant makes, my hand thus feals it. North. How far is it to Barkley? and what stir Keeps good old York there with his men of war? Percy. There ftands the caftle by yond tuft of trees, Mann'd with three hundred men, as I have heard; And in it are the Lords, York, Barkley, Seymour ; None elfe of name, and noble estimate.

Enter Rofs and Willoughby.

North. Here come the Lords of Rofs and Willoughby,

Bloody

Bloody with fpurring, fiery-red with hatte.

Boling. Welcome, my Lords; I wot, your love pursues A banish'd traitor; all my treasury

Is yet but unfelt thanks, which, more enrich'd,
Shall be your love and labour's recompence.

Rofs. Your prefence makes us rich, most noble Lord.
Willo. And far furmounts our labour to attain it.
Boling. Evermore, thanks; (th' exchequer of the poor)
Which, 'till my infant fortune comes to years,
Stands for my bounty. But who now comes here?
Enter Barkley.

North. It is my Lord of Barkley, as I guess. Bark. My Lord of Hereford, my meffage is to you. Boling. My Lord, my answer is to Lancafter; And I am come to feek that Name in England, And I must find that title in your tongue, Before I make reply to ought you fay.

Bark. Miftake me not, my Lord; 'tis not my meaning To raze one title of your honour out.

To you, my Lord, I come, (what Lord you will.)
From the moft glorious 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 felf-born arms.

Enter York.

Boling. I fhall not need tranfport my words by you. Here comes his Grace in perfon. Noble uncle! [Kneels. York. Shew me thy humbly heart, and not thy knee, Whofe duty is deceivable and falfe.

Boling. My gracious uncle!

[uncle:

York. Tut, tut! Grace me no Grace, nor uncle me no

I am no traitor's uncle; and that word Grace,

In an ungracious mouth, is but prophane.
Why have thofe banish'd, and forbidden legs
Dar'd once to touch a duft of England's ground?

So

But more than,-why, why, have they dar'd to march many miles upon her peaceful bosom, Frighting her pale-fac'd villages with war,

And

And oftentation of defpifed arms?

Com'ft thou, because th' anointed King is hence ?
Why, foolish boy, the King is left behind;
And in my loyal bofom lies his power.

Were I but now the lord of fuch hot youth,
As when brave Gaunt, thy father, and myself
Refcued the Black Prince, that young Mars of men,
From forth the ranks of many thoufand French;
Oh! then, how quickly fhould this arm of mine,
Now prifoner to the palfy, chaflife thee,
And minifter correction to thy fault.

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

York. Ev'n in condition of the worst degree;

In grofs rebellion, and detefted treafon :

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 befeech your Grace,
Look on my wrongs with an indifferent eye:
You are my father; for, methinks, in you
I fee old Gaunt alive. O then, my father!
Will you permit, that I fhall ftand condemn'd
A wand'ring vagabond; my rights and royalties
Pluckt from my arms perforce, and giv'n away
To upftart unthrifts? Wherefore was I born?
If that my coufin King be King of England,
It must be granted, I am Duke of Lancaster.
You have a son, Aumerle, my noble kinsman:
Had you firft dy'd, and he been thus trod down,
He fhould have found his uncle Gaunt a father,
To rowze his wrongs, and chafe them to the bay.
I am deny'd to fhew my livery here,
And yet my letters patents give me leave:
My father's goods are all diftrain'd and fold,
And thefe, and all, are all amifs imploy'd.
What would you have me do? I am a fübject,
And challenge law; attorneys are deny'd me;

And

And therefore perfonally I lay my claim

To mine inheritance of free descent.

North. The noble Duke hath been too much abus'd. Ros. It ftands your Grace upon, to do him right. Willo. Bafe men by his endowments are made great. York. My Lords of England, let me tell you this, I have had feeling of my coufin's wrongs, And labour'd all I could to do him right: But, in this kind, to come in braving arms, Be his own carver, and cut out his way, To find out right with wrongs, it may not be ; And you that do abet him in this kind, Cherish rebellion, and are rebels all.

North. The noble Duke hath fworn, his coming is But for his own; and, for the right of that, We all have strongly sworn to give him aid; And let him ne'er fee joy, that breaks that oath. York. Well, well, I fee the iffue of these arms; I cannot mend it, I muft needs confefs, Because my pow'r is weak, and all ill left: But if I could, by him that gave me life, I would attach you all, and make you stoop Unto the fovereign mercy of the King. But fince I cannot, be it known to you, I do remain as neuter. So, farewel. Unless you please to enter in the castle, And there repofe you for this night.

Boling. An offer, uncle, that we will accept; But we muft win your Grace to go with us To Bristol-Castle, which, they fay, is held By Busby, Bagot, and their complices; The caterpillars of the common-wealth, Which I have fworn to weed, and pluck away. York. It may be, I will go: but yet I'll paufe; For I am loath to break our country's laws: Nor friends, nor foes, to me welcome you are; Things paft redress are now with me past care. [Exeunt.

SCENE

Cap.

SCENE, in Wales.

Enter Salisbury, and a Captain.

Y Lord of Salisbury, we have flaid ten days,
And hardly kept our countrymen together,

And yet we hear no tidings from the King:
Therefore we will difperfe ourselves: farewel.
Salis. Stay yet another day, thou trufty Welchman:
The King repofeth all his truft in thee,

Cap. 'Tis thought, the King is dead; we will not ftay.
The bay-trees in our country all are wither'd,
And meteors fright the fixed ftars of heav'n;
The pale-fac'd moon looks bloody on the earth;
And lean-look'd prophets whifper fearful change;
Rich men look fad, and ruffians dance and leap;
The one, in fear to lofe what they enjoy;
Th' other, in hope t'enjoy by rage and war.
Thefe figns forerun the death of Kings
Farewel; our countrymen are gone and fled,
As well affur'd, Richard their King is dead.

[Exit.

Salis. Ah, Richard, ah! with eyes of heavy mind,

I fee thy glory, like a fhooting ftar,
Fall to the base earth from the firmament:
Thy fun fets weeping in the lowly weit,
Witneffing ftorms to come, woe, and unreft:
Thy friends are fled to wait upon thy foes;
And, crossly to thy good, all fortune goes.

[Exit

ACT