1112Making the hard way sweet and delectable:

1113But I bethinke me, what a wearie way

1114From Rauenspurgh to Cottshold will be found,

1115In Rosse and Willoughby, wanting your companie,

1116Which I protest hath very much beguild

1117The tediousnesse, and processe of my trauell:

1118But theirs is sweetned with the hope to haue

1119The present benefit that I possesse;

1120And hope to ioy, is little lesse in ioy,

1121Then hope enioy'd: By this, the wearie Lords

1122Shall make their way seeme short, as mine hath done,

1123By sight of what I haue, your Noble Companie.

1124Bull. Of much lesse value is my Companie,

1125Then your good words: but who comes here?

1127North. It is my Sonne, young Harry Percie,

1128Sent from my Brother Worcester: Whence soeuer.

1129Harry, how fares your Vnckle?

1130Percie. I had thought, my Lord, to haue learn'd his

1131health of you.

1132North. Why, is he not with the Queene?

1133Percie. No, my good Lord, he hath forsook the Court,

1134Broken his Staffe of Office, and disperst

1135The Household of the King.

1136North. What was his reason?

1137He was not so resolu'd, when we last spake together.

1138Percie. Because your Lordship was proclaimed Traitor.

1139But hee, my Lord, is gone to Rauenspurgh,

1140To offer seruice to the Duke of Hereford,

1141And sent me ouer by Barkely, to discouer

1142What power the Duke of Yorke had leuied there,

1143Then with direction to repaire to Rauenspurgh.

1144North. Haue you forgot the Duke of Hereford (Boy.)

1145Percie. No, my good Lord; for that is not forgot

1146Which ne're I did remember: to my knowledge,

1147I neuer in my life did looke on him.

1148North. Then learne to know him now: this is the

1149Duke.

1150Percie. My gracious Lord, I tender you my seruice,

1151Such as it is, being tender, raw, and young,

1152Which elder dayes shall ripen, and confirme

1153To more approued seruice, and desert.

1154Bull. I thanke thee gentle Percie, and be sure

1155I count my selfe in nothing else so happy,

1156As in a Soule remembring my good Friends:

1157And as my Fortune ripens with thy Loue,

1158It shall be still thy true Loues recompence,

1159My Heart this Couenant makes, my Hand thus seales it.

1160North. How farre is it to Barkely? and what stirre

1161Keepes good old Yorke there, with his Men of Warre?

1162Percie. There stands the Castle, by yond tuft of Trees,

1163Mann'd with three hundred men, as I haue heard,

1164And in it are the Lords of Yorke, Barkely, and Seymor,

1165None else of Name, and noble estimate.

1167North. Here come the Lords of Rosse and Willoughby,

1168Bloody with spurring, fierie red with haste.

1169Bull. Welcome my Lords, I wot your loue pursues

1170A banisht Traytor; all my Treasurie

1171Is yet but vnfelt thankes, which more enrich'd,

1172Shall be your loue, and labours recompence.

1173Ross. Your presence makes vs rich, most Noble Lord.

1174Willo. And farre surmounts our labour to attaine it.

1175Bull. Euermore thankes, th'Exchequer of the poore,

1176Which till my infant-fortune comes to yeeres,

1177Stands for my Bountie: but who comes here?

1179North. It is my Lord of Barkely, as I ghesse.

1180Bark. My Lord of Hereford, my Message is to you.

1181Bull. My Lord, my Answere is to Lancaster,

1182And I am come to seeke that Name in England,

1183And I must finde that Title in your Tongue,

1184Before I make reply to aught you say.

1185Bark. Mistake me not, my Lord, 'tis not my meaning

1186To raze one Title of your Honor out.

1187To you, my Lord, I come (what Lord you will)

1188From the most glorious of this Land,

1189The Duke of Yorke, to know what pricks you on

1190To take aduantage of the absent time,

1191And fright our Natiue Peace with selfe-borne Armes.

1193Bull. I shall not need transport my words by you,

1194Here comes his Grace in Person. My Noble Vnckle.

1195York. Shew me thy humble heart, and not thy knee,

1196Whose dutie is deceiuable, and false.

1197Bull. My gracious Vnckle.

1198York. Tut, tut, Grace me no Grace, nor Vnckle me,

1199I am no Traytors Vnckle; and that word Grace,

1200In an vngracious mouth, is but prophane.

1201Why haue these banish'd, and forbidden Legges,

1202Dar'd once to touch a Dust of Englands Ground?

1203But more then why, why haue they dar'd to march

1204So many miles vpon her peacefull Bosome,

1205Frighting her pale-fac'd Villages with Warre,

1206And ostentation of despised Armes?

1207Com'st thou because th'anoynted King is hence?

1208Why foolish Boy, the King is left behind,

1209And in my loyall Bosome lyes his power.

1210Were I but now the Lord of such hot youth,

1211As when braue Gaunt, thy Father, and my selfe

1212Rescued the Black Prince, that yong Mars of men,

1213From forth the Rankes of many thousand French:

1214Oh then, how quickly should this Arme of mine,

1215Now Prisoner to the Palsie, chastise thee,

1216And minister correction to thy Fault.

1217Bull. My gracious Vnckle, let me know my Fault,

1218On what Condition stands it, and wherein?

1219York. Euen in Condition of the worst degree,

1220In grosse Rebellion, and detested Treason:

1221Thou art a banish'd man, and here art come

1222Before th' expiration of thy time,

1223In brauing Atmes against thy Soueraigne.

1224Bull. As I was banish'd, I was banish'd Hereford,

1225But as I come, I come for Lancaster.

1226And Noble Vnckle, I beseech your Grace

1227Looke on my Wrongs with an indifferent eye:

1228You are my Father, for me thinkes in you

1229I see old Gaunt aliue. Oh then my Father,

1230Will you permit, that I shall stand condemn'd

1231A wandring Vagabond; my Rights and Royalties

1232Pluckt from my armes perforce, and giuen away

1233To vpstart Vnthrifts? Wherefore was I borne?

1234If that my Cousin King, be King of England,

1235It must be graunted, I am Duke of Lancaster.

1236You haue a Sonne, Aumerle, my Noble Kinsman,

1237Had you first died, and he beene thus trod downe,

1238He should haue found his Vnckle Gaunt a Father,

1239To rowze his Wrongs, and chase them to the bay.

1240I am denyde to sue my Liucrie here,

1241And yet my Letters Patents giue me leaue:

1242My Fathers goods are all distraynd, and sold,

1243And these, and all, are all amisse imployd.