_Percy._ My gracious lord, I tender you my service, Such as it is, being tender, raw and young; Which elder days shall ripen and confirm To more approved service and desert. _Boling._ I thank thee, gentle Percy; and be sure 45 I count myself in nothing else so happy As in a soul remembering my good friends; And, as my fortune ripens with thy love,[1225] It shall be still thy true love's recompense: My heart this covenant makes, my hand thus seals it. 50 _North._ How far is it to Berkeley? and what stir Keeps good old York there with his men of war? _Percy._ There stands the castle, by yon tuft of trees,[1226] Mann'd with three hundred men, as I have heard;[1227] And in it are the Lords of York, Berkeley, and Seymour;[1228] 55 None else of name and noble estimate. _Enter_ ROSS _and_ WILLOUGHBY.[1229] _North._ Here come the Lords of Ross and Willoughby,[1230] Bloody with spurring, fiery-red with haste. _Boling._ Welcome, my lords. I wot your love pursues A banish'd traitor: all my treasury 60 Is yet but unfelt thanks, which more enrich'd Shall be your love and labour's recompense. _Ross._ Your presence makes us rich, most noble lord. _Willo._ And far surmounts our labour to attain it. _Boling._ Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the poor;[1231] 65 Which, till my infant fortune comes to years, Stands for my bounty. But who comes here?[1232] _Enter_ BERKELEY. _North._ It is my Lord of Berkeley, as I guess. _Berk._ My Lord of Hereford, my message is to you.[1233] _Boling._ My lord, my answer is--to Lancaster;[1234] 70 And I am come to seek that name in England;[1235] And I must find that title in your tongue,[1236] Before I make reply to aught you say. _Berk._ Mistake me not, my Lord; 'tis not my meaning To raze one title of your honour out:[1237] 75 To you, my lord, I come, what lord you will, From the most gracious regent of this land,[1238] The Duke of York, to know what pricks you on To take advantage of the absent time[1239] And fright our native peace with self-born arms. 80 _Enter_ YORK _attended_.[1240] _Boling._ I shall not need transport my words by you;[1241] Here comes his grace in person. My noble uncle! [_Kneels._[1242] _York._ Show me thy humble heart, and not thy knee, Whose duty is deceiveable and false. _Boling._ My gracious uncle-- 85