Bol.
How far is it, my lord, to Berkley now?

Nor.
Believe me, noble lord,14Q0585 I cannot tell;
I am a stranger here ^note in Glocestershire.

These high wild ^note hills, and rough uneven ways,
Draw out our miles, and make ^note them wearisome:
And yet your ^note fair discourse hath been as sugar,
Making the hard way sweet and délectable.
But, I bethink me, what a weary way,
From Ravenspurg to Cotshold ^note, 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 ^note possess:
And hope to 'joy, is little less in joy,
Then ^note 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.

Bol.
Of much less value is my company,
Than your good words. But who comes here? Enter Harry Percy.

Nor.
It is my son, my lord, young Harry Percy,
Sent from my brother Worcester, whencesoever ^note:—
Harry, how fares your uncle?

Per.
I had thought, my lord,
To have learn'd his health of you.

Nor.
Why, is he not with the queen?

Per.
No, my good lord; he hath forsook the court,
Broken his staff of office, and dispers'd
The houshold of the king.

Nor.
What was his reason?
He was not so resolv'd, when we last ^note spake together.

Per.
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 o'er by Berkley, to discover
What power the duke of York had levy'd there;
Then with direction ^note to repair to Ravenspurg.

Nor.
Have you forgot the duke of Hereford ^note, boy?

Per.
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.

Nor.
Then learn to know him now; this † is the duke.

Per.
My gracious lord, I tender you my service,
Such as it is, being tender, raw, and young;
Which elder days shall ripen, and confirm
To more approved service and desert.

Bol.
I thank thee, gentle Percy: and be sure,
I count myself in nothing else so happy,
As in a soul rememb'ring my good friends;
And, as my fortune ripens with thy ^note love,
It shall be still thy true love's recompence:
My heart this covenant makes, my hand thus † seals it.

Nor.
How far is it to Berkley? And what stir
Keeps good old York there, with his men of war?

Per.
There † stands the castle, by yon tuft of trees,
Man'd with three hundred men, as I have heard:
And in it are the lords—York, Berkley, Seymour ^note;
None else of name, and noble estimate ^note. Enter Ross, and Willoughby.

Nor.
Here come the lords of Ross and Willoughby,
Bloody with spurring, fiery-red with haste.

Bol.
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.

Ros.
Your presence makes us rich, most noble lord.

Wil.
And far surmounts our labour to attain it.

Bol.
Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the poor;
Which, 'till my infant fortune comes to years,
Stands for my bounty. But who is't comes here? Enter Berkley.

Nor.
It is my lord of Berkley, as I guess.

Ber.
My lord of Hereford, my message is to you.

Bol.
My lord, my answer is to Lancaster;
And I ^note am come to seek that name in England:
And I must find that title in your tongue ^note,
Before I make reply to aught you say.

Ber.
Mistake me not, my lord; 'tis not my meaning,
To 'rase ^note one title of your honour out:—
To you, my lord, I come, (what lord you will)
From the most gracious ^note 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.

Bol.
I shall not need transport my words by you,
Here comes his grace in person.—My noble uncle! [approaching him with Reverence.

Yor.
Shew me thy humble heart, and not thy knee,
Whose duty is deceivable and false.

Bol.
My gracious uncle!—

Yor.
Tut, tut!
Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle ^note:
I am no traitor's uncle; and that word—grace,
In an ungracious mouth, is but prophane.
Why have those ^note banish'd and forbidden legs
Dar'd once to touch a dust of England's ground?
But then more ^note why,—14Q0586Why have they dar'd to march

So many miles upon her peaceful bosom;
Frighting her pale-fac'd villages with war,
And ostentation of despised arms?
Com'st thou because the anointed king is hence?
Why, foolish boy, the king is left behind,
And in my loyal bosom lies his power.
Were I but now the ^note lord of such hot youth,
As when brave Gaunt thy father, and myself ^note,
Rescu'd the black prince, that young Mars of men,
From forth the ranks of many thousand ^note French;
O, then, how quickly should this arm of mine,
Now prisoner to the palsy ^note, chastise thee,
And minister correction to thy fault.

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

Yor.
Even in condition of the worst degree,—
In gross rebellion, and detested treason:
Thou art a banish'd man, and here art come,
Before the expiration of thy time,
In braving arms against thy ^note sovereign.

Bol.
As I was banish'd, I was banish'd Hereford;
But as I come, I come for Lancaster.
And, noble uncle, I beseech your grace,
Look on my wrongs with an indifferent eye:
You are my father, for, methinks ^note, in you
I see old Gaunt alive; O, then, my ^note father,
Will you permit that I shall stand condemn'd,
A wand'ring vagabond; my rights and royalties
Pluck'd from my arms perforce, and given away
To upstart unthrifts? Wherefore was I born?
If that my cousin king be king of England ^note,
It must be granted, I am duke of Lancaster.

You have a son, Aumerle, my noble kinsman ^note;
Had you dy'd first, and he been thus trod down,
He should have found his uncle Gaunt a father,
To rouze his wrongs, and chase them to the bay.
I am deny'd to sue my livery here,
And yet my letters-patents give me leave:
My father's goods are all distrain'd, and sold;
And these, and all, are all ^note amiss employ'd.
What would you have me do? I am a subject,
And challenge ^note law: Attorneys are deny'd me;
And therefore personally I lay my claim
To my inheritance ^note of free descent.

Nor.
The noble duke hath been too much abus'd.

Ros.
It stands your grace upon, to do him right.

Wil.
Base men by his endowments are made great.

Yor.
My lords of England, let me tell you this,—
I have had feeling of my cousin'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 wrong ^note,—it may not be;
And you, that do abet him in this kind,
Cherish rebellion, and are rebels all.

Nor.
The ^note noble duke hath sworn, 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 see joy, that breaks that oath.

Yor.
Well, well, I see the issue of these arms;
I cannot mend it, I must needs confess,
Because my power 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 sovereign mercy of the king;
But, since I cannot, be it known to you,
I do remain as neuter. So, fare you well;—
Unless you please to enter in the castle,
And there repose you for this night, or so.

Bol.
An offer, uncle, that we will accept.
But we must win your grace, to go with us
To Bristol castle; which, they say, is held
By Bushy, Bagot, and their complices,
The caterpillars of the commonwealth,
Which I have sworn to weed, and pluck away.

Yor.
It may be, I will go with you: but yet I'll pause;
For I am loth to break our country's laws.
Nor friends, nor foes, to me welcome you are:
Things past redress, are now with me past care. [Exeunt.

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