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Richard II (Folio 1, 1623)

Author: William Shakespeare
Editor: Catherine Lisak
Peer Reviewed
Scena Secunda.
Enter Queene, Bushy, and Bagot.
Bush. Madam, your Maiesty is too much sad,
You promis'd when you parted with the King,
955To lay aside selfe-harming heauinesse,
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,
960Saue bidding farewell to so sweet a guest
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,
965More then with parting from my Lord the King.
Bush. 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,
970Like perspectiues, which rightly gaz'd vpon
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,
975Which look'd on as it is, is naught bur shadowes
Of what it is not: then thrice-gracious Queene,
More then your Lords departure weep not, more's not
Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrowes eie,
Which for things true, weepe things imaginary.
980Qu. It may be so: but yet my inward soule
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.
985Bush. 'Tis nothing but conceit (my gracious Lady.)
Qu. '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,
990'Tis in reuersion that I do possesse,
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-
995I hope the King is not yet shipt for Ireland.
Qu Why hop'st thou so? Tis better hope he is:
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,
1000and driuen into dispaire an enemies hope,
Who strongly hath set footing in this Land.
The banish'd Bullingbrooke repeales himselfe,
And with vp-lifted Armes is safe arriu'd
At Rauenspurg.
1005Qu. Now God in heauen forbid.
Gr. O Madam 'tis too true: and that is worse,
The L.Northumberland, his yong sonne Henrie Percie,
The Lords of Rosse, Beaumond, and Willoughby,
With all their powrefull friends are fled to him.
1010Bush. Why haue you not proclaim'd Northumberland
And the rest of the reuolted faction, Traitors?
Gre. 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
1015Qu. So Greene, thou art the midwife of my woe,
And Bullinbrooke my sorrowes dismall heyre:
Now hath my soule brought forth her prodegie,
And I a gasping new deliuered mother,
Haue woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow ioyn'd.
1020Bush. Dispaire not Madam.
Qu. Who shall hinder me?
I will dispaire, and be at enmitie
With couzening hope; he is a Flatterer,
A Parasite, a keeper backe of death,
1025Who gently would dissolue the bands of life,
Which false hopes linger in extremity.
Enter Yorke
Gre. Heere comes the Duke of Yorke.
Qu. With signes of warre about his aged necke,
1030Oh 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,
Where nothing liues but crosses, care and greefe:
Your husband he is gone to saue farre off,
1035Whilst 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:
Now comes the sicke houre that his surfet made,
Now shall he try his friends that flattered him.
1040
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,
And will I feare reuolt on Herfords side.
1045Sirra, 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
To tell your Lordship, to day I came by, and call'd there,
1050But 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
Come rushing on this wofull Land at once?
1055I 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?
How shall we do for money for these warres?
1060Come sister (Cozen I would say) pray pardon me.
Go fellow, get thee home, poouide some Carts,
And bring away the Armour that is there.
Gentlemen, will you muster men?
If I know how, or which way to order these affaires
1065Thus 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
Is my kinsman, whom the King hath wrong'd,
1070Whom 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:
I should to Plashy too: but time will not permit,
1075All 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. Besides our neerenesse to the King in loue,
1080Is neere the hate of those loue not the King.
BaAnd that's the wauering Commons, for theirloue
Lies in their purses, and who so empties them,
By so much fils their hearts with deadly hate.
Bush. Wherein the king stands generally condemn'd
1085Bag. 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. Thither will I with you, for little office
1090Will 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 Maiestie:
Farewell, if hearts presages be not vaine,
1095We 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,
Where one on his side fights, thousands will flye.
1100Bush. Farewell at once, for once, for all, and euer.
Well, we may meete againe.
Bag. I feare me neuer.
Exit.