If I know how or which way to order these affairs

Thus disorderly thrust into my hands,

Never believe me. Both are my kinsmen.

T‘one is my sovereign, whom both my oath

And duty bids defend; t’other again

Is my kinsman, whom the King hath wronged,

Whom conscience and my kindred bids to right.

Well, somewhat we must do. (To the Queen) Come,

cousin,

I’ll dispose of you.—

Gentlemen, go muster up your men,

And meet me presently at Berkeley Castle.

I should to Pleshey too, but time will not permit.

All is uneven,

And everything is left at six and seven.

Exeunt the Duke of York and the Queen. Bushy, Bagot, and Green remain

BUSHY

The wind sits fair for news to go for Ireland,

But none returns. For us to levy power

Proportionable to the enemy

Is all unpossible.

GREEN

Besides, our nearness to the King in love

Is near the hate of those love not the King.

BAGOT

And that is 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 condemned.

BAGOT

If judgement lie in them, then so do we,

Because we ever have been near the King.

GREEN

Well, I will 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 commoners perform for us,

Except like curs to tear us all to pieces.

(To Bagot) 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.

⌈BAGOT⌉

Farewell at once, for once, for all and ever.

BUSHY

Well, we may meet again.

BAGOT I fear me never.

Exeunt ⌈Bushy and Green at one door, and Bagot at another door⌉

2.3 Enter Bolingbroke Duke of Lancaster and Hereford, and the Earl of Northumberland

BOLINGBROKE

How far is it, my lord, to Berkeley now?

NORTHUMBERLAND Believe me, noble lord,

I am a stranger here in Gloucestershire.

These high wild hills and rough uneven ways

Draws out our miles and makes them wearisome;

And yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar,

Making the hard way sweet and delectable.

But I bethink me what a weary way

From Ravenspurgh to Cotswold will be found

In Ross and Willoughby, wanting your company,

Which I protest hath very much beguiled

The tediousness and process of my travel.

But theirs is sweetened with the hope to have

The present benefit which I possess;

And hope to joy is little less in joy

Than hope enjoyed. By this the weary lords

Shall make their way seem short as mine hath done

By sight of what I have: your noble company.

BOLINGBROKE

Of much less value is my company

Than your good words.

Enter Harry Percy

But who comes here?

NORTHUMBERLAND

It is my son, young Harry Percy,

Sent from my brother Worcester, whencesoever.

Harry, how fares your uncle?

HARRY PERCY

I had thought, my lord, to have learned his health of

you.

NORTHUMBERLAND Why, is he not with the Queen?

HARRY PERCY

No, my good lord; he hath forsook the court,

Broken his staff of office, and dispersed

The household of the King.

NORTHUMBERLAND

What was his reason? He was not so resolved when last we spake together.

HARRY PERCY

Because your lordship was proclaimed traitor.

But he, my lord, is gone to Ravenspurgh

To offer service to the Duke of Hereford,

And sent me over by Berkeley to discover

What power the Duke of York had levied there,

Then with directions to repair to Ravenspurgh.

NORTHUMBERLAND

Have you forgot the Duke of Hereford, boy?

HARRY 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.

NORTHUMBERLAND

Then learn to know him now. This is the Duke.

HARRY PERCY

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.

BOLINGBROKE

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 love,

It shall be still thy true love’s recompense.

My heart this covenant makes; my hand thus seals it.

He gives Percy his hand

NORTHUMBERLAND

How far is it to Berkeley, and what stir

Keeps good old York there with his men of war?

HARRY PERCY

There stands the castle, by yon tuft of trees,

Manned with three hundred men, as I have heard,

And in it are the Lords of York, Berkeley, and Seymour,

None else of name and noble estimate.

Enter Lord Ross and Lord Willoughby

NORTHUMBERLAND

Here come the Lords of Ross and Willoughby,