His brother, Archbishop late of Canterbury, Sir John Norberie, Sir Robert Waterton, and Francis All these well furnish'd by the Duke of Bretagne, Stay, and be fecret, and my felf will go. [fear. Rofs. To horfe, to horfe; urge Doubts to them that Willo. Hold out my horfe, and I will first be there. [Exeunt. Bufby. M Adam, your Majefty is much too fad You promis'd, when you parted with the To lay afide felf-harming heavinefs, Queen. To please the King, I did; to please my self, I cannot do it; yet I know no cause, Why I should welcome fuch a gueft as grief; Is coming tow'rd me; and my inward foul 3 With fomething trembles, yet at nothing grieves, More than with parting from my lord the King. Busby. Each fubftance of a grief hath twenty fhadows, Which fhew like grief it felf, but are not fo: For forrow's eye, glaz'd with blinding tears, Divides one thing entire, to many objects; + Like Perspectives, which, rightly gaz'd upon, Shew nothing but confufion; ey'd awry, Distinguish form.So your fweet Majefty, Looking awry upon your lord's departure, Finds fhapes of grief, more than himself, to wail Which look'd on, as it is, is nought but fhadows Of what it is not; gracious Queen, then weep not More than your lord's departure; more's not feen: Or if it be, 'tis with falfe forrow's eye, Which, for things true, weeps things imaginary. Queen. It may be fo; but yet my inward foul Perfuades me otherwife: howe'er it be, I cannot but be fad; fo heavy-fad, ; As, though, on thinking, on no thought I think, With nothing trembles, yet at fomething grieves,] The fol lowing line requires that this fhould be read juft the contrary way, With fomething trembles, yet at nothing grieves. 4 Like Perfpectives, which rightly gaz'd upon, Diftinguifb form] This is a fine fimilitude, and the thing meant is this. Amongst mathematical recreations, there is one in Optics, in which a figure is drawn, wherein all the rules of Perfpective are inverted: fo that, if held in the fame position with thofe pictures which are drawn according to the rules of Perfpestive, it can prefent nothing but confufion: and to be feen in form, and under a regular Appearance, it must be look'd upon from a contrary ftation: or, as Shakespear lays, ey'd awry. D 2 For For nothing hath begot my fomething grief; But what it is, that is not yet known, what Green. Heav'n fave your Majesty! and well met, gentlemen: I hope, the King is not yet fhipt for Ireland. Queen. Why hop'ft thou fo? 'tis better hope, he is: And driv'n into defpair an enemy's Hope, Queen. Now God in heav'n forbid ! Green. O, Madam, 'tis too true; and what is worse, The lord Northumberland, his young fon Percy, The lords of Rofs, Beaumond, and Willoughby, With all their pow'rful friends, are fled to him. Busby. Why have you not proclaim'd Northumberland, And all of that revolted faction, traitors? Green. We have: whereon the Earl of Worcester Hath broke his staff, refign'd his Stewardship; And all the houshold fervants fled with him To Bolingbroke. Queen. So, Green, thou art the midwife of my woe, And Bolingbroke my forrow's difmal heir: Now hath my foul brought forth her prodigy, Have woe to woe, forrow to forrow, join'd. Who gently would diffolve the bands of life, Green. Here comes the Duke of York. Queen. With figns of war about his aged neck; Oh, full of careful business are his looks! Uncle, for heav'n's fake, comfortable words. York. Should I do fo, I fhould bely my thoughts; Comfort's in heav'n, and we are on the earth, Where nothing lives but Croffes, Care, and Grief. Your husband he is gone to fave far off, Whilft others come to make him lose at home, Here am I left to underprop this Land; Who, weak with age, cannot fupport my self. Now comes the fick hour, that his furfeit made; Now shall he try his friends, that flatter'd him. Enter a Servant. Serv. My lord, your fon was gone before I came. York. He was; why, fo, go all, which way it will: The Nobles they are fled, the Commons cold, And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's fide. Get thee to Plafbie, to my fifter Glo'fter; Bid her send presently a thousand pound: Hold, take my ring. 5 Should I do fo, &c.] This line added from the first Edition. Serm. My lord, I had forgot To tell, to day I came by, and call'd there; Serv. An hour before I came, the Dutchess dy'd. [To the Servant. Never believe me. They are both my kinfmén; My kinfman is, One whom the King hath wrong'd; But time will not permit. All is uneven, S C C E [Exeunt York and Queen. Busby. The wind fits fair for news to go to Ireland, But none returns; for us to levy Power, Proportionable to the enemy, Is all impoffible. Green. |