The Bodleian First Folio

A digital facsimile of the First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Bodleian Arch. G c.7.



Text and Image

Here you can read a digital edition of each play in various views.

Page Image & Text
Digital Text
XML

Reference: c3v - Histories, p. 30

Left Column


The life and death of Richard the second. What will ensue heereof, there's none can tell.
[835]
But by bad cou ses may be vnderstood, That their euents can neuer fall out good.
Exit. Rich. Go Bushie to the Earle of Wiltshire streight, Bid him repaire to vs to Ely house, To see this businesse: to morrow next
[840]
We will for Ireland, and 'tis time, I trow: And we create in absence of our selfe Our Vncle Yorke, Lord Gouernor of England: For he is iust, and alwayes lou'd vs well. Come on our Queene, to morrow must we part,
[845]
Be merry, for our time of stay is short.
Flourish. Manet North. Willughby, & Ross. Nor. Well Lords, the Duke of Lancaster is dead. Ross. And liuing too, for now his sonne is Duke. Wil. Barely in title, not in reuennew. Nor. Richly in both, if iustice had her right. Ross.
[850]
My heart is great: but it must break with silence, Er't be disburthen'd with a liberall tongue.
Nor. Nay speake thy mind: & let him ne'r speak more That speakes thy words againe to do thee harme. Wil. Tends that thou'dst speake to th' Du. Duke of Hereford,
[855]
If it be so, out with it boldly man, Quicke is mine eare to heare of good towards him.
Ross. No good at all that I can do for him, Vnlesse you call it good to pitie him, Bereft and gelded of his patrimonie. Nor.
[860]
Now afore heauen, 'tis shame such wrongs are borne, In him a royall Prince, and many moe Of noble blood in this declining Land; The King is not himselfe, but basely led By Flatterers, and what they will informe
[865]
Meerely in hate 'gainst any of vs all, That will the King seuerely prosecute 'Gainst vs, our liues, our children, and our heires. An ink mark follows the end of this line.
Ros. The Commons hath he pil'd with greeuous taxes And quite lost their hearts: the Nobles hath he finde
[870]
For ancient quarrels, and quite lost their hearts.
Wil. And daily new exactions are deuis'd, As blankes, beneuolences, and I wo not what: But what o'Gods name doth become of this? Nor. Wars hath not wasted it, for war'd he hath not.
[875]
But basely yielded vpon comprimize, That which his Ancestors atchieu'd with blowes: More hath he spent in peace, then they in warres.
Ros. The Earle of Wiltshire hath the realme in Farme. Wil. The Kings growne bankrupt like a broken man. Nor.
[880]
Reproach and dissolution hangeth ouer him.
Ros. He hath not monie for these Irish warres: (His burthenous taxations notwithstanding) But by the robbing of the banish'd Duke. Nor. His noble Kinsman, most degenerate King:
[885]
But Lords, we heare this fearefull tempest sing, Yet seeke no shelter to auoid the storme: We see the winde sit sore vpon our sailes, And yet we strike not, but securely perish
Ros. We see the very wracke that we must suffer,
[890]
And vnauoyded is the danger now For suffering so the causes of our wracke.
Nor. Not so: euen through the hollow eyes of death, I spie life peering: but I dare not say How neere the tidings of our comfort is. Wil.
[895]
Nay let vs share thy thoughts, as thou dost ours
Ros. Be confident to speake Northumberland, We three, are but thy selfe, and speaking so,

Image


[full image]

Right Column


Thy words are but as thoughts, therefore be bold. Nor. Then thus: I haue from Port le Blan An ink mark follows the end of this line.
[900]
A Bay in Britaine, receiu'd intelligence, That Harry Duke of Herford, Rainald Lord Cobham, That late broke from the Duke of Exeter, His brother Archbishop, late of Canterbury, Sir Thomas Erpingham, Sir Iohn Rainston,
[905]
Sir Iohn Norberie, Sir Robert Waterton, & Francis Quoint, All these well furnish'd by the Duke of Britaine, With eight tall ships, three thousand men of warre Are making hither with all due expedience, And shortly meane to touch our Northerne shore:
[910]
Perhaps they had ere this, but that they stay The first departing of the King for Ireland. If then we shall shake off our slauish yoake, Impe out our drooping Countries broken wing, Redeeme from broaking pawne the blemish'd Crowne,
[915]
Wipe off the dust that hides our Scepters gilt, And make high Maiestie looke like it selfe, Away with me in poste to Rauenspurgh, But if you faint, as fearing to do so, Stay, and be secret, and my selfe will go.
Ros.
[920]
To horse, to horse, vrge doubts to them y t feare.
Wil. Hold out my horse, and I will first be there. Exeunt.
Scena Secunda. [Act 2, Scene 2] Enter Queene, Bushy, and Bagot. Bush. Madam, your Maiesty is too much sad, You promis'd when you parted with the King, To lay aside selfe‑harming heauinesse,
[925]
And entertaine a cheerefull disposition.
Qu. To please the King, I did: to please my selfe I cannot do it: yet I know no cause Why I should welcome such a guest as greefe, Saue bidding farewell to so sweet a guest
[930]
As my sweet Richard; yet againe me thinkes, Some vnborne sorrow, ripe in fortunes wombe Is comming towards me, and my inward soule With nothing trembles, at something it greeues, More then with parting from my Lord the King.
Bush.
[935]
Each substance of a greefe hath twenty shadows Which shewes like greefe it selfe, but is not so: For sorrowes eye, glazed with blinding teares, Diuides one thing intire, to many obiects, Like perspectiues, which rightly gaz'd vpon
[940]
Shew nothing but confusion, ey'd awry, Distinguish forme: so your sweet Maiestie Looking awry vpon your Lords departure, Finde shapes of greefe, more then himselfe to waile, Which look'd on as it is, is naught bur but shadowes
[945]
Of what it is not: then thrice‑gracious Queene, More then your Lords departure weep not, more's not (seene; Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrowes eie, Which for things true, weepe things imaginary.
Qu. It may be so: but yet my inward soule
[950]
Perswades me it is otherwise: how ere it be, I cannot but be sad: so heauy sad, As though on thinking on no thought I thinke, Makes me with heauy nothing faint and shrinke.
Bush. 'Tis nothing but conceit (my gracious Lady.) Queene.

Download the digital text and images of the play



 
Scena Secunda. [Act 2, Scene 2] Enter Queene, Bushy, and Bagot. Bush. Madam, your Maiesty is too much sad, You promis'd when you parted with the King, To lay aside selfe‑harming heauinesse,
[925]
And entertaine a cheerefull disposition.
Qu. To please the King, I did: to please my selfe I cannot do it: yet I know no cause Why I should welcome such a guest as greefe, Saue bidding farewell to so sweet a guest
[930]
As my sweet Richard; yet againe me thinkes, Some vnborne sorrow, ripe in fortunes wombe Is comming towards me, and my inward soule With nothing trembles, at something it greeues, More then with parting from my Lord the King.
Bush.
[935]
Each substance of a greefe hath twenty shadows Which shewes like greefe it selfe, but is not so: For sorrowes eye, glazed with blinding teares, Diuides one thing intire, to many obiects, Like perspectiues, which rightly gaz'd vpon
[940]
Shew nothing but confusion, ey'd awry, Distinguish forme: so your sweet Maiestie Looking awry vpon your Lords departure, Finde shapes of greefe, more then himselfe to waile, Which look'd on as it is, is naught bur but shadowes
[945]
Of what it is not: then thrice‑gracious Queene, More then your Lords departure weep not, more's not (seene; Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrowes eie, Which for things true, weepe things imaginary.
Qu. It may be so: but yet my inward soule
[950]
Perswades me it is otherwise: how ere it be, I cannot but be sad: so heauy sad, As though on thinking on no thought I thinke, Makes me with heauy nothing faint and shrinke.
Bush. 'Tis nothing but conceit (my gracious Lady.) Qu.
[955]
'Tis nothing lesse: conceit is still deriu'd From some fore‑father greefe, mine is not so, For nothing hath begot my something greefe, Or something, hath the nothing that I greeue, 'Tis in reuersion that I do possesse,
[960]
But what it is, that is not yet knowne, what I cannot name, 'tis namelesse woe I wot.
Enter Greene. Gree. Heauen saue your Maiesty, and wel met Gentle­ (men: I hope the King is not yet shipt for Ireland. Qu. Why hop'st thou so? Tis better hope he is:
[965]
For his designes craue hast, his hast good hope, Then wherefore dost thou hope he is not shipt?
Gre. That he our hope, might haue retyr'd his power, and driuen into dispaire an enemies hope, Who strongly hath set footing in this Land.
[970]
The banish'd Bullingbrooke repeales himselfe, And with vp‑lifted Armes is safe arriu'd At Rauenspurg.
Qu. Now God in heauen forbid. Gr. O Madam 'tis too true: and that is worse,
[975]
The L.Lord Northumberland, his yong sonne Henrie Percie, The Lords of Rosse, Beaumo , and Willoughby, With all their powrefull friends are fled to him.
Bush. Why haue you not proclaim'd Northumberland And the rest of the reuolted faction, Traitors? Gre.
[980]
We haue: whereupon the Earle of Worcester Hath broke his staffe, resign'd his Stewardship, And al the houshold seruants fled with him to Bullinbrook
Qu. So Greene, thou art the midwife of my woe, And Bullinbrooke my sorrowes dismall heyre:
[985]
Now hath my soule brought forth her prodegie, And I a gasping new deliuered mother, Haue woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow ioyn'd.
Bush. Dispaire not Madam. Qu. Who shall hinder me?
[990]
I will dispaire, and be at enmitie With couzening hope; he is a Flatterer, A Parasite, a keeper backe of death, Who gently would dissolue the bands of life, Which false hopes linger in extremity.
Enter Yorke Gre.
[995]
Heere comes the Duke of Yorke.
Qu. With signes of warre about his aged necke, Oh full of carefull businesse are his lookes: Vncle, for heauens sake speake comfortable words: Yor. Comfort's in heauen, and we are on the earth,
[1000]
Where nothing liues but crosses, care and greefe: Your husband he is gone to saue farre off, Whilst others come to make him loose at home: Heere am I left to vnder‑prop his Land, Who weake with age, cannot support my selfe:
[1005]
Now comes the sicke houre that his surfet made, Now shall he try his friends that flattered him.
Enter a seruant. Ser. My Lord, your sonne was gone before I came. Yor. He was: why so: go all which way it will: The Nobles they are fled, the Commons they are cold,
[1010]
And will I feare reuolt on Herfords side. Sirra, get thee to Plashie to my sister Gloster, Bid her send me presently a thousand pound, Hold, take my Ring.
Ser. My Lord, I had forgot
[1015]
To tell your Lordship, to day I came by, and call'd there, But I shall greeue you to report the rest.
Yor. What is't knaue? Ser. An houre before I came, the Dutchesse di'de. Yor. Heau'n for his mercy, what a tide of woes
[1020]
Come rushing on this wofull Land at once? I know not what to do: I would to heauen (So my vntruth had not prouok'd him to it) The King had cut off my head with my brothers. What, are there postes dispatcht for Ireland?
[1025]
How shall we do for money for these warres? Come sister (Cozen I would say) pray pardon me. Go fellow, get thee home, p oouide some Carts, And bring away the Armour that is there. Gentlemen, will you muster men?
[1030]
If I know how, or which way to order these affaires Thus disorderly thrust into my hands, Neuer beleeue me. Both are my kinsmen, Th'one is my Soueraigne, whom both my oath And dutie bids defend: th'other againe
[1035]
Is my kinsman, whom the King hath wrong'd, Whom conscience, and my kindred bids to right: Well, somewhat we must do: Come Cozen, Ile dispose of you. Gentlemen, go muster vp your men, And meet me presently at Barkley Castle:
[1040]
I should to Plashy too: but time will not permit, All is vneuen, and euery thing is left at six and seuen.
Exit Bush. The winde sits faire for newes to go to Ireland, But none returnes: For vs to leuy power Proportionable to th'enemy, is all impossible. Gr.
[1045]
Besides our nee renesse to the King in loue, Is neere the hate of those loue not the King.
Ba. And that's the wauering Commons, for their loue Lies in their purses, and who so empties them, By so much fils their hearts with deadly hate. Bush.
[1050]
Wherein the king stands generally condemn'd
Bag. If iudgement lye in them, then so do we, Because we haue beene euer neere the King. Gr. Well: I will for refuge straight to Bristoll Castle, The Earle of Wiltshire is alreadie there. Bush.
[1055]
Thither will I with you, for little office Will the hatefull Commons performe for vs, Except like Curres, to teare vs all in peeces: Will you go along with vs?
Bag. No, I will to Ireland to his Maistie:
[1060]
Farewell, if hearts presages be not vaine, We three here part, that neu'r shall meete againe.
Bu. That's as Yorke thriues to beate back Bullinbroke Gr. Alas poore Duke, the taske he vndertakes Is numbring sands, and drinking Oceans drie,
[1065]
Where one on his side fights, thousands will flye.
Bush. Farewell a once, for once, for all, and euer. Well, we may meete againe. Bag. I feare me neuer. Exit.
 

Download the digital text of the play

        
<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<div type="scene" n="2">
   <head rend="italic center">Scena Secunda.</head>
   <head type="supplied">[Act 2, Scene 2]</head>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Queene, Bushy, and Bagot.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-r2-bus">
      <speaker rend="italic">Bush.</speaker>
      <l n="922">Madam, your Maiesty is too much sad,</l>
      <l n="923">You promis'd when you parted with the King,</l>
      <l n="924">To lay aside selfe‑harming heauinesse,</l>
      <l n="925">And entertaine a cheerefull disposition.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-que">
      <speaker rend="italic">Qu.</speaker>
      <l n="926">To please the King, I did: to please my selfe</l>
      <l n="927">I cannot do it: yet I know no cause</l>
      <l n="928">Why I should welcome such a guest as greefe,</l>
      <l n="929">Saue bidding farewell to so sweet a guest</l>
      <l n="930">As my sweet<hi rend="italic">Richard</hi>; yet againe me thinkes,</l>
      <l n="931">Some vnborne sorrow, ripe in fortunes wombe</l>
      <l n="932">Is comming towards me, and my inward soule</l>
      <l n="933">With nothing trembles, at something it greeues,</l>
      <l n="934">More then with parting from my Lord the King.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-bus">
      <speaker rend="italic">Bush.</speaker>
      <l n="935">Each substance of a greefe hath twenty shadows</l>
      <l n="936">Which shewes like greefe it selfe, but is not so:</l>
      <l n="937">For sorrowes eye, glazed with blinding teares,</l>
      <l n="938">Diuides one thing intire, to many obiects,</l>
      <l n="939">Like perspectiues, which rightly gaz'd vpon</l>
      <l n="940">Shew nothing but confusion, ey'd awry,</l>
      <l n="941">Distinguish forme: so your sweet Maiestie</l>
      <l n="942">Looking awry vpon your Lords departure,</l>
      <l n="943">Finde shapes of greefe, more then himselfe to waile,</l>
      <l n="944">Which look'd on as it is, is naught<choice>
            <orig>bur</orig>
            <corr>but</corr>
         </choice>shadowes</l>
      <l n="945">Of what it is not: then thrice‑gracious Queene,</l>
      <l n="946">More then your Lords departure weep not, more's not
      <lb rend="turnunder"/>
         <pc rend="turnunder">(</pc>seene;</l>
      <l n="947">Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrowes eie,</l>
      <l n="948">Which for things true, weepe things imaginary.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-que">
      <speaker rend="italic">Qu.</speaker>
      <l n="949">It may be so: but yet my inward soule</l>
      <l n="950">Perswades me it is otherwise: how ere it be,</l>
      <l n="951">I cannot but be sad: so heauy sad,</l>
      <l n="952">As though on thinking on no thought I thinke,</l>
      <l n="953">Makes me with heauy nothing faint and shrinke.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-bus">
      <speaker rend="italic">Bush.</speaker>
      <l n="954">'Tis nothing but conceit (my gracious Lady.)</l>
   </sp>
   <pb facs="FFimg:axc0355-0.jpg" n="31"/>
   <cb n="1"/>
   <sp who="#F-r2-que">
      <speaker rend="italic">Qu.</speaker>
      <l n="955">'Tis nothing lesse: conceit is still deriu'd</l>
      <l n="956">From some fore‑father greefe, mine is not so,</l>
      <l n="957">For nothing hath begot my something greefe,</l>
      <l n="958">Or something, hath the nothing that I greeue,</l>
      <l n="959">'Tis in reuersion that I do possesse,</l>
      <l n="960">But what it is, that is not yet knowne, what</l>
      <l n="961">I cannot name, 'tis namelesse woe I wot.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Greene.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-r2-gre">
      <speaker rend="italic">Gree.</speaker>
      <l n="962">Heauen saue your Maiesty, and wel met Gentle­
      <lb rend="turnunder"/>
         <pc rend="turnunder">(</pc>men:</l>
      <l n="963">I hope the King is not yet shipt for Ireland.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-que">
      <speaker rend="italic">Qu.</speaker>
      <l n="964">Why hop'st thou so? Tis better hope he is:</l>
      <l n="965">For his designes craue hast, his hast good hope,</l>
      <l n="966">Then wherefore dost thou hope he is not shipt?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-gre">
      <speaker rend="italic">Gre.</speaker>
      <l n="967">That he our hope, might haue retyr'd his power,</l>
      <l n="968">and driuen into dispaire an enemies hope,</l>
      <l n="969">Who strongly hath set footing in this Land.</l>
      <l n="970">The banish'd<hi rend="italic">Bullingbrooke</hi>repeales himselfe,</l>
      <l n="971">And with vp‑lifted Armes is safe arriu'd</l>
      <l n="972">At<hi rend="italic">Rauenspurg</hi>.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-que">
      <speaker rend="italic">Qu.</speaker>
      <l n="973">Now God in heauen forbid.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-gre">
      <speaker rend="italic">Gr.</speaker>
      <l n="974">O Madam 'tis too true: and that is worse,</l>
      <l n="975">The<choice>
            <abbr>L.</abbr>
            <expan>Lord</expan>
         </choice>Northumberland, his yong sonne<hi rend="italic">Henrie Percie</hi>,</l>
      <l n="976">The Lords of<hi rend="italic">Rosse, Beaumo<gap extent="3"
                 unit="chars"
                 reason="illegible"
                 agent="stain"
                 resp="#ES"/>
         </hi>, and<hi rend="italic">Willoughby</hi>,</l>
      <l n="977">With all their powrefull friends are fled to him.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-bus">
      <speaker rend="italic">Bush.</speaker>
      <l n="978">Why haue you<gap extent="1"
              unit="chars"
              reason="nonstandardCharacter"
              agent="inkedSpacemarker"
              resp="#ES"/>not proclaim'd Northumberland</l>
      <l n="979">And the rest of the reuolted faction, Traitors?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-gre">
      <speaker rend="italic">Gre.</speaker>
      <l n="980">We haue: whereupon the Earle of Worcester</l>
      <l n="981">Hath broke his staffe, resign'd his Stewardship,</l>
      <l n="982">And al the houshold seruants fled with him to<hi rend="italic">Bullinbrook</hi>
      </l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-que">
      <speaker rend="italic">Qu.</speaker>
      <l n="983">So<hi rend="italic">Greene</hi>, thou art the midwife of my woe,</l>
      <l n="984">And<hi rend="italic">Bullinbrooke</hi>my sorrowes dismall heyre:</l>
      <l n="985">Now hath my soule brought forth her prodegie,</l>
      <l n="986">And I a gasping new deliuered mother,</l>
      <l n="987">Haue woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow ioyn'd.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-bus">
      <speaker rend="italic">Bush.</speaker>
      <l n="988">Dispaire not Madam.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-que">
      <speaker rend="italic">Qu.</speaker>
      <l n="989">Who shall hinder me?</l>
      <l n="990">I will dispaire, and be at enmitie</l>
      <l n="991">With couzening hope; he is a Flatterer,</l>
      <l n="992">A Parasite, a keeper backe of death,</l>
      <l n="993">Who gently would dissolue the bands of life,</l>
      <l n="994">Which false hopes linger in extremity.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Yorke</stage>
   <sp who="#F-r2-gre">
      <speaker rend="italic">Gre.</speaker>
      <l n="995">Heere comes the Duke of Yorke.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-que">
      <speaker rend="italic">Qu.</speaker>
      <l n="996">With signes of warre about his aged necke,</l>
      <l n="997">Oh full of carefull businesse are his lookes:</l>
      <l n="998">Vncle, for heauens sake speake comfortable words:</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-yor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Yor.</speaker>
      <l n="999">Comfort's in heauen, and we are on the earth,</l>
      <l n="1000">Where nothing liues but crosses, care and greefe:</l>
      <l n="1001">Your husband he is gone to saue farre off,</l>
      <l n="1002">Whilst others come to make him loose at home:</l>
      <l n="1003">Heere am I left to vnder‑prop his Land,</l>
      <l n="1004">Who weake with age, cannot support my selfe:</l>
      <l n="1005">Now comes the sicke houre that his surfet made,</l>
      <l n="1006">Now shall he try his friends that flattered him.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter a seruant.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ser">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ser.</speaker>
      <l n="1007">My Lord, your sonne was gone before I came.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-yor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Yor.</speaker>
      <l n="1008">He was: why so: go all which way it will:</l>
      <l n="1009">The Nobles they are fled, the Commons they are cold,</l>
      <l n="1010">And will I feare reuolt on Herfords side.</l>
      <l n="1011">Sirra, get thee to Plashie to my sister Gloster,</l>
      <l n="1012">Bid her send me presently a thousand pound,</l>
      <l n="1013">Hold, take my Ring.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ser">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ser.</speaker>
      <l n="1014">My Lord, I had forgot</l>
      <l n="1015">To tell your Lordship, to day I came by, and call'd there,</l>
      <l n="1016">But I shall greeue you to report the rest.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-yor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Yor.</speaker>
      <l n="1017">What is't knaue?</l>
   </sp>
   <cb n="2"/>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ser">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ser.</speaker>
      <l n="1018">An houre before I came, the Dutchesse di'de.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-yor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Yor.</speaker>
      <l n="1019">Heau'n for his mercy, what a tide of woes</l>
      <l n="1020">Come rushing on this wofull Land at once?</l>
      <l n="1021">I know not what to do: I would to heauen</l>
      <l n="1022">(So my vntruth had not prouok'd him to it)</l>
      <l n="1023">The King had cut off my head with my brothers.</l>
      <l n="1024">What, are there postes dispatcht for Ireland?</l>
      <l n="1025">How shall we do for money for these warres?</l>
      <l n="1026">Come sister (Cozen I would say) pray pardon me.</l>
      <l n="1027">Go fellow, get thee home, p<c rend="italic">o</c>ouide some Carts,</l>
      <l n="1028">And bring away the Armour that is there.</l>
      <l n="1029">Gentlemen, will you muster men?</l>
      <l n="1030">If I know how, or which way<c rend="inverted">t</c>o order these affaires</l>
      <l n="1031">Thus disorderly thrust into my hands,</l>
      <l n="1032">Neuer beleeue me. Both are my kinsmen,</l>
      <l n="1033">Th'one is my Soueraigne, whom both my oath</l>
      <l n="1034">And dutie bids defend: th'other againe</l>
      <l n="1035">Is my kinsman, whom the King hath wrong'd,</l>
      <l n="1036">Whom conscience, and my kindred bids to right:</l>
      <l n="1037">Well, somewhat we must do: Come Cozen,</l>
      <l n="1038">Ile dispose of you. Gentlemen, go muster vp your men,</l>
      <l n="1039">And meet me presently at Barkley Castle:</l>
      <l n="1040">I<gap extent="1"
              unit="chars"
              reason="nonstandardCharacter"
              agent="inkedSpacemarker"
              resp="#ES"/>should to Plashy too: but time will not permit,</l>
      <l n="1041">All is vneuen, and euery thing is left at six and seuen.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exit</stage>
   <sp who="#F-r2-bus">
      <speaker rend="italic">Bush.</speaker>
      <l n="1042">The winde sits faire for newes to go to Ireland,</l>
      <l n="1043">But none returnes: For vs to leuy power</l>
      <l n="1044">Proportionable to th'enemy, is all impossible.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-gre">
      <speaker rend="italic">Gr.</speaker>
      <l n="1045">Besides our nee<c rend="inverted">r</c>enesse to the King in loue,</l>
      <l n="1046">Is neere the hate of those loue not the King.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-bag">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ba.</speaker>
      <l n="1047">And that's the wauering Commons, for their loue</l>
      <l n="1048">Lies in their purses, and who so empties them,</l>
      <l n="1049">By so much fils their hearts with deadly hate.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-bus">
      <speaker rend="italic">Bush.</speaker>
      <l n="1050">Wherein the king stands generally condemn'd</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-bag">
      <speaker rend="italic">Bag.</speaker>
      <l n="1051">If iudgement lye in them, then so do we,</l>
      <l n="1052">Because we haue beene euer neere the King.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-gre">
      <speaker rend="italic">Gr.</speaker>
      <l n="1053">Well: I will for refuge straight to Bristoll Castle,</l>
      <l n="1054">The Earle of Wiltshire is alreadie there.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-bus">
      <speaker rend="italic">Bush.</speaker>
      <l n="1055">Thither will I with you, for little office</l>
      <l n="1056">Will the hatefull Commons performe for vs,</l>
      <l n="1057">Except like Curres, to teare vs all in peeces:</l>
      <l n="1058">Will you go along with vs?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-bag">
      <speaker rend="italic">Bag.</speaker>
      <l n="1059">No, I will to Ireland to his Maistie:</l>
      <l n="1060">Farewell, if hearts presages be not vaine,</l>
      <l n="1061">We three here part, that neu'r shall meete againe.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-bus">
      <speaker rend="italic">Bu.</speaker>
      <l n="1062">That's as Yorke thriues to beate back<hi rend="italic">Bullinbroke</hi>
      </l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-gre">
      <speaker rend="italic">Gr.</speaker>
      <l n="1063">Alas poore Duke, the taske he vndertakes</l>
      <l n="1064">Is numbring sands, and drinking Oceans drie,</l>
      <l n="1065">Where one on his side fights, thousands will flye.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-bus">
      <speaker rend="italic">Bush.</speaker>
      <l n="1066">Farewell a<gap extent="1"
              unit="chars"
              reason="illegible"
              agent="inkBlot"
              resp="#ES"/>once, for once, for all, and euer.</l>
      <l n="1067">Well, we may meete againe.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-bag">
      <speaker rend="italic">Bag.</speaker>
      <l n="1068">I feare me neuer.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exit.</stage>
</div>

        
        

Download the XML