service and desert. 

 BOLINGBROKE. I thank thee, gentle Percy; and be sure I count myself in nothing else so happy As in a soul rememb’ring my good friends; And as my fortune ripens with thy love, It shall be still thy true love’s recompense. My heart this covenant makes, my hand thus seals it. 

 NORTHUMBERLAND. 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, Manned with three hundred men, as I have heard. And in it are the Lords of York, Berkeley, and Seymour, None else of name and noble estimate. 

 Enter Ross and Willoughby.

Ross

Willoughby

 NORTHUMBERLAND. Here come the Lords of Ross and Willoughby, Bloody with spurring, fiery-red with haste. 

 BOLINGBROKE. Welcome, my lords. I wot your love pursues A banished traitor. All my treasury Is yet but unfelt thanks, which, more enriched, Shall be your love and labour’s recompense. 

 ROSS. Your presence makes us rich, most noble lord. 

 WILLOUGHBY. And far surmounts our labour to attain it. 

 BOLINGBROKE. Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the poor; Which, till my infant fortune comes to years, Stands for my bounty. But who comes here? 

 Enter Berkeley.

Berkeley

 NORTHUMBERLAND. It is my Lord of Berkeley, as I guess. 

 BERKELEY. My Lord of Hereford, my message is to you. 

 BOLINGBROKE. My lord, my answer is—to “Lancaster”, And I am come to seek that name in England; And I must find that title in your tongue Before I make reply to aught you say. 

 BERKELEY. Mistake me not, my lord, ’tis not my meaning To rase one title of your honour out. To you, my lord, I come, what lord you will, From the most gracious regent of this land, The Duke of York, to know 

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