Bushy. 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, 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? Enter HARRY PERCY. North. It is my son, young Harry Percy, Sent from my brother Worcester, whenceso ever. 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 dispersed The household of the king. North. What was his reason? He was not so resolved when last we spake to gether. Percy. Because your lordship was proclaimed traitor. But he, my lord, is gone to Ravenspurg, 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; Boling. I thank thee, gentle Percy; and be sure, I count myself in nothing else so happy 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 Willoughby, Bloody with spurring, fiery-red with haste. 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 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 poor; Which, till my infant fortune comes to years, Stands for my bounty. But who comes here? Enter BERKLEY. 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, Berk. Mistake me not, my lord; 'tis not my meaning To raze one title of your honour out: To you, my lord, come, (what lord you will,) From the most gracious 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.-[Kneels.] My noble uncle ! York. Show me thy humble heart, and not thy knee, Whose duty is deceivable and false. York. Tut, tut! Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle. Why have these banish'd and forbidden legs So many miles upon her peaceful bosom, Com'st thou because the anointed king is hence? Rescued the Black Prince, that young Mars of men, From forth the ranks of many thousand French, 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 braving arms against thy sovereign. But as I come, I come for Lancaster. |