Not Gloster's death, nor Hereford's banishment, Nor Gaunt's rebukes, nor England's private wrongs, Nor the prevention of poor Bolingbroke Of whom thy father, prince of Wales, was first; Take Hereford's rights away, and take from His charters, and his customary rights: Be not thyself, for how art thou a king, His livery, and deny his offer'd homage, K. Rich. Think what you will; we seize into our hands His plate, his goods, his money, and his lands. York. I'll not be by the while my liege, farewell : What will ensue hereof there's none can tell; That their events can never fall out good. [Exit. K. Rich. Go, Bushy, to the earl of Wiltshire straight; Bid him repair to us to Ely House To see this business. To-morrow next North. Well, lords, the duke of Lancaster is dead. Ross. And living too; for now his son is duke. Willo. Barely in title, not in revenue. North. Richly in both, if justice had her right. Ross. My heart is great: but it must break with silence, Ere't be disburden'd with a liberal tongue. North. Nay, speak thy mind; and let him ne'er speak more That speaks thy words again to do thee harm! Willo. Tends that thou'dst speak, to the duke of Hereford? If it be so, out with it boldly, man; Quick is mine ear to hear of good towards him. North. Now, afore heaven, 'tis shame such wrongs are borne, In him a royal prince, and many more 'Gainst us, our lives, our children, and our heirs. Ross. The commons hath he pill'd with grievous taxes, And quite lost their hearts: the nobles hath he fined For ancient quarrels, and quite lost their hearts. Willo. And daily new exactions are devisedAs blanks, benevolences, and I wot not what ; But what, o' God's name, doth become of this? North. Wars have not wasted it, for warr'd he hath not, But basely yielded upon compromise That which his ancestors achieved with blows: More hath he spent in peace than they in wars. Ross. The earl of Wiltshire hath the realm in farm. Willo. The king's grown bankrupt, like a broken man. North. Reproach and dissolution hangeth over him. Ross. He hath not money for these Irish wars, His burthenous taxations notwithstanding, But by the robbing of the banish'd duke. North. His noble kinsman: most degenerate But, lords, we hear this fearful tempest sing, And unavoided is the danger now, For suffering so the causes of our wreck. North. Not so; even through the hollow eyes I spy life peering; but I dare not say Willo. Nay, let us share thy thoughts, as thou Ross. Be confident to speak, Northumberland: We three are but thyself; and, speaking so, Thy words are but as thoughts; therefore, be bold. North. Then thus:-I have from Port le Blanc, a bay In Brittany, received intelligence That Harry duke of Hereford, Reignold lord Cobham, [The son of Richard, earl of Arundel,] That late broke from the duke of Exeter, His brother, archbishop late of Canterbury, All these, well furnish'd by the duke of Bretagne, Ross. To horse, to horse! urge doubts to them that fear. Willo. Hold out my horse, and I will first be there. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-The same. A Room in the Palace. 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 Why I should welcome such a guest as grief, |