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  • Title: Richard II (Quarto 1, 1597)
  • Editor: Catherine Lisak
  • ISBN: 978-1-55058-436-3

    Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Catherine Lisak
    Peer Reviewed

    Richard II (Quarto 1, 1597)

    The Tragedie of
    Bush. More welcome is the stroke of death to me,
    Than Bullingbrooke to England, Lords farewell.
    1345Greene My comfort is, that heauen will take our soules,
    And plague iniustice with the paines of hell.
    Bul. My Lord Northumberland, see them dispatcht:
    Vncle, you say the Queene is at your house,
    For Gods sake fairely let her be intreated,
    1350Tel her I send to her my kinde commends;
    Take special care my greetings be deliuered.
    Yorke A gentleman of mine I haue dispatcht,
    With letters of your loue to her at large.
    Bul. Thankes (gentle vncle:) Come Lords, away,
    1355To fight with Glendor and his complices,
    A while to worke, and after holiday.

    Enter the King Aumerle, Carleil, &c.
    King Barkloughly castle call they this at hand?
    Aum. Yea my Lord, How brookes your Grace the ayre
    After your late tossing on the breaking seas?
    King Needes must I like it well, I weepe for ioy,
    1365To stand vpon my kingdome once againe:
    Deere earth I do salute thee with my hand,
    Though rebels wound thee with their horses hoofes:
    As a long parted mother with her childe
    Playes fondly with her teares and smiles in meeting;
    1370So weeping, smiling greete I thee my earth,
    And do thee fauours with my royall hands;
    Feede not thy Soueraignes foe, my gentle earth,
    Nor with thy sweetes comfort his rauenous sence,
    But let thy Spiders that sucke vp thy venome,
    1375And heauy-gated toades lie in theyr way,
    Doing annoyance to the treacherous feete,
    Which with vsurping steps do trample thee,
    Yeelde stinging nettles to mine enemies:
    And when they from thy bosome plucke a flower,
    1380Guard it I pray thee with a lurking Adder,
    Whose double tongue may wyth a mortall touch,