Queen. 'Tis nothing less: conceit is still deriv'd
From some forefather grief; mine is not so;
For nothing hath begot my something grief;
Or something hath the nothing that I grieve;
"Tis in reversion that I do possess ;

But what it is, that is not yet known; what
I cannot name; 't is nameless woe, I wot.

Enter GREEN.

Green. Heaven save your majesty !—and well met, gentlemen,

I hope the king is not yet shipp'd for Ireland.

Queen. Why hop'st thou so? 't is 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, 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, 't is 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 the rest of the revolting faction traitors?a

Green. We have: whereupon 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 midwife of my woe, And Bolingbroke my sorrow's dismal heir:

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.

a The folio, revolting; the first quarto, revolted.

Queen.

Who shall hinder me?

I will despair, and be at enmity

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:] a
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;
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 they are cold,

And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's side.—

Sirrah, 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, I came by, and 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.

a This line is wanting in the folio.

b Steevens rejected the second they are from this line.

York. Heaven 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 heaven,
(So my untruth had not provok'd him to it,)
The king had cut off my head with my brother's.
What, are there posts despatch'd for Ireland?— a
How shall we do for money for these wars?—

Come, sister, cousin, I would say: pray, pardon me.Go, fellow, [to the Servant] get thee home, provide some carts,

And bring away the armour that is there. [Exit Servant. Gentlemen, will you go muster men? if I know

How, or which way, to order these affairs,

Thus disorderly thrust into my hands,

Never believe me.

Both are my kinsmen ;

The one is my sovereign, whom both my oath
And duty bids defend; the other again

Is

my

kinsman, whom the king hath wrong'd, Whom conscience and my kindred bids to right.

Well, somewhat we must do.-Come, cousin, I'll

Dispose of you :-Gentlemen, go muster up your men,b
And meet me presently at Berkley castle.

I should to Plashy too;--

But time will not permit :-All is uneven,

And everything 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,

a The first quarto has no posts.

b Steevens omits gentlemen. It may be well to say, once for all, that we notice the principal of these changes, which are very numerous in this play, and were made without any authority from old copies, to account for the differences between our text and that of all the modern editions, except Malone's of 1821. The principle upon which Steevens invariably worked was to cut out or thrust in a word, or words, wherever he found a verse longer or shorter than ten syllables counted upon his fingers. To restore the popular text to what Shakspere wrote would, perhaps, be impossible; for every edition, in a portable form, that has been printed within the last thirty years, makes a merit of adopting "the text of Steevens and Malone," which is, in point of fact, the text with all the corruptions of Steevens. Malone, when left to himself, and not working in conjunction with Steevens, knew better what was the duty of an editor. We have restored several minor readings without notice.

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 have been ever 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 Will the hateful commons perform for us;

Except, like curs, to tear us all in pieces.

Will you go along with us?

Bagot. No; I will to Ireland to his majesty.

Farewell 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. Farewell 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 our fair discourse hath been as sugar,
Making the hard way sweet and delectable.
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:
But theirs is sweeten'd with the hope to have
The present benefit which I possess :

And hope to joy,a 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?

Enter HARRY PERCY.

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 we last 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 over 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;