Well, somewhat we must do. Come, cousin, I'll
Dispose of you.
Gentlemen, go, muster up your men,
And meet me presently at Berkeley.
I should to Plashy too;
But time will not permit: all is uneven,
And every thing is left at six and seven.
[Exeunt DUKE OF YORK and QUEEN]
BUSHY The wind sits fair for news to go to 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's 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 condemn'd.
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
The hateful commons will perform for us,
Except like curs to tear us all to pieces.
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 art 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 numbering sands and drinking oceans dry:
Where one on his side fights, thousands will fly.
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