Internet Shakespeare Editions

Author: William Shakespeare
Editor: Catherine Lisak
Peer Reviewed

Richard II (Quarto 1, 1597)


Enter the Queene, Bushie, Bagot.
Bush. Madam, your maiestie is too much sad,
You promist, when you parted with the King,
955To lay aside life-harming heauines,
And entertaine a cheerefull disposition.
Queene 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 Griefe,
960Saue bidding farewell to so sweete a guest,
As my sweete Richard: yet agayne me thinkes
Some vnborne sorrow ripe in Fortunes wombe,
Is comming towardes me and my inward soule,
With nothing trembles, at something it grieues,
965More then with parting from my Lord the King.
Bushie Each substance of a griefe hath twenty shadowes,
Which shewes like griefe it selfe, but is not so:
For Sorrowes eyes glazed with blinding teares,
Diuides one thing entire to many obiects,
970Like perspectiues, which rightly gazde vpon
Shew nothing but confusion; eyde awry,
Distinguish forme: so your sweet maiestie,
Looking awry vpon your Lords departure,
Finde shapes of griefe more than himselfe to waile,
975Which lookt on as it is, is naught but shadows
Of what it is not; then thrice (gracious Queene)
More then your Lords departure weep not, more is not seen
Or if it be, tis with false Sorrowes eye,
Which for things true, weepes things imaginarie.
980Queene It may be so; but yet my inward soule
Perswades me it is otherwise: how ere it be,
I cannot but be sad: so heauie sad,
As thought on thinking on no thought I thinke,
Makes me with heauy nothing faint and shrinke.
985Bush. Tis nothing but conceit my gratious Lady.
Queene Tis nothing lesse: conceit is still deriude,
From some forefather griefe, mine is not so,
For nothing hath begot my something griefe.
Or something hath the nothing that I grieue,
990Tis in reuersion that I do possesse,
But what it is that is not yet knowen what,
I cannot name, tis namelesse woe I wot.
Greene God saue your maiesty, and well met Gentlemen,
995I hope the King is not yet shipt for Ireland.
Queene Why hopest thou so? tis better hope he is,
For his designes craue haste, his haste good hope:
Then wherefore dost thou hope he is not shipt?
Greene That he our hope might haue retirde his power,
1000And driuen into despaire an enemies hope,
Who strongly hath set footing in this land,
The banisht Bullingbrooke repeales himselfe,
And with vplifted armes is safe ariude at Rauenspurgh.
1005Queene Now God in heauen forbid.
Greene Ah Madam! tis too true, and that is worse:
The lord Northumberland, his son yong H. Percie,
The lords of Rosse, Beaumond, and Willoughby,
With all their powerful friends are fled to him.
1010Bush. Why haue you not proclaimd Northumberland
And al the rest reuolted faction, traitours ?
Greene We haue, whereupon the earle of Worcester
Hath broken his Staffe, resignd his Stewardship,
And al the houshold seruants fled with him to Bullingbrook
1015Queene So Greene, thou art the midwife to my woe,
And Bullingbrooke my sorowes dismall heire,
Now hath my soule brought forth her prodigie,
And I a gasping new deliuerd mother,
Haue woe to woe, sorow to sorow ioynde
1020Bushie Dispaire not Madam.
Queene Who shall hinder me?
I will dispaire and be at enmitie
With cousening Hope, he is a flatterer,
A parasite, a keeper backe of Death,
1025Who gently would dissolue the bands of life,
VVhich false Hope lingers in extremitie.
Greene Here comes the Duke of Yorke.
Queene VVith signes of war about his aged necke,
1030Oh ful of carefull busines are his lookes!
Vncle, for Gods sake speake comfortable wordes.
1031.1Yorke Should I do so I should bely my thoughts,
Comfort's in heauen, and we are on the earth,
VVhere nothing liues but crosses, cares and griefe:
Your husband, he is gone to saue far off,
1035VVhilst others come to make him loose at home:
Heere am I left to vnderprop his land,
Who weake with age cannot support my selfe,
Now comes the sicke houre that his surfet made,
Now shall he trie his friends that flatterd him.
Seruingman My Lord, your son was gone before I came.
Yorke He was; why so go all which way it will:
The nobles they are fled, the commons they are colde,
And will (I feare) reuolton Herefords side.
1045Sirra, get thee to Plashie to my sister Glocester,
Bid her send me presently a thousand pound,
Hold take my ring.
Seruingman My Lord, I had forgot to tel your Lordship:
To day as I came by I called there,
1050But I shall grieue you to report the rest.
Yorke What ist knaue?
Seruingman An houre before I came the Dutchesse died.
Yorke God for his mercy, what a tide of woes
Comes rushing on this wofull land at once!
1055I know not what to do: I would to God,
(So my vntruth had not prouokt him to it)
The King had cut off my head with my brothers.
What are there no Posts dispatcht for Ireland?
How shal we do for money for these wars?
1060Come sister, cousin I would say, pray pardon me:
Go fellow get thee home, prouide some cartes,
And bring away the armour that is there.
Gentlemen, will you go muster men?
If I know how or which way to order these affayres
1065Thus disorderly thrust into my hands,
Neuer beleeue me: both are my kinsmen,
Tone is my soueraigne, whom both my oath
And duety bids defend; tother againe
Is my kinsman, whom the King hath wrongd,
1070Whom conscience, and my kinred bids to right.
Wel somewhat we must do: Come cousin,
Ile dispose of you: Gentlemen, go muster vp your men,
And meete me presently at Barkly:
I should to Plashie too, but time wil not permit:
1075All is vneuen, and euery thing is left at sixe and seauen.
Bush. The winde sits faire for newes to go for Ireland,
But none returnes. For vs to leuie power
Proportionable to the enemy is all vnpossible.
Gree. Besides our neerenes to the King in loue,
1080Is neare the hate of those loue not the King.
Bag. And that is the wauering commons, for their loue
Lies in their purses, and who so empties them,
By so much fils their hearts with deadly hate.
Bush. Wherein the King stands generally condemnd.
1085Bag. If iudgment lie in them, then so do we,
Because we euer haue beene neere the King.
Gree. Well I will for refuge straight to Brist. Castle,
The Earle of Wiltshire is already there.
Bush. Thither will I with you, for little office
1090Will the hatefull commons perfourme for vs,
Except like curs to teare vs all to pieces:
Will you go along with vs?
Bag. No, I will to Ireland to his Maiesty,
Farewell if hearts presages be not vaine,
1095We three here part that nere shall meete againe.
Bush. Thats as Yorke thriues to beat backe Bullingbrook.
Gree. Alas poore Duke the taske he vndertakes,
Is numbring sands, and drinking Oceans drie,
Where one on his side fights, thousands will flie:
1100Farewellat once, for once, for all, and euer.
Bush. Well, we may meete againe.
Bag. I feare me neuer.