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But, when he frown'd, it was against the French,
Pardon me, if you please; if not, I pleas'd
Not to be pardon'd, am content withal.
Seek you to seize, and gripe into your hands,
The royalties and rights of banish'd Hereford?
Is not Gaunt dead? and doth not Hereford live?
Was not Gaunt just? and is not Harry true?
Did not the one deserve to have an heir?
Is not his heir a well-deserving son?
Take Hereford's rights away, and take from time
His charters, and his customary rights;
Let not to-morrow then ensue to-day;
Be not thyself, for how art thou a king,
But by fair sequence and succession?
Now, afore God (God forbid, I say true !)
If you do wrongfully seize Hereford's rights,
Call in the letters patents that he hath
By his attornies-general to sue
His liver)', and deny his offer'd homage,
You pluck a thousand dangers on your head,
And prick my tender patience to those thoughts
York. I'll not be by, the while: My liege, farewell: What will ensue hereof, there's none can tell; But by bad courses may be understood, That their events can never fall out good. [Exit.
K. Rich. Go, Bushy, to the earl of Wiltshire
Bid him repair to us to Ely-house,
North. Well, lords, the duke of Lancaster is dead.
Ere't be disburden'd with a liberal tongue.
Willo. Tends that thou'dst speak, to the duke of
It it be so, out with it boldly, man;
Ross. No good at all, that I can do for him;
North. Now, afore heaven, 'tis shame, such wrongs
In him a royal prince, and many more
Ross. The commons hath he pill'd with grievous
And lost their hearts: the nobles hath he fin'd
Willo. And daily new exactions are devis'd;
North, Wars have not wasted it, for warr'd he hath
But basely yielded upon compromise
Ross. The earl of Wiltshire hath the realm in farm.
Wtilo. The king's grown bankrupt, like a broken man.
North. Reproach, and dissolution, hangeth over him.
Emi. He hath not money for these Irish wars,
North. His noble kinsman:—Most degenerate king!
Ross. We see the very wreck that we must suffer; And unavoided is the danger now, For suffering so the causes of our wreck.
North. Not so; even through the hollow eyes of
I spy life peering; but I dare not say
Willo. Nay, let us share thy thoughts, as thou dost ours.
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
In Britany, receiv'd intelligence,
His brother, archbishop late of Canterbury,
All these, well furnish'd by the duke of Bretagne,
Ross. To horse, to horse! urge doubts to thenv that fear.
IVillo. Hold out my horse, and I will first be there.
The Same. A Room in the Palace.
Bushy. Madam, your majesty is too much sad: