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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 Tragedieof
    Sent backe like Hollowmas or shortst of day.
    Queene And must we be diuided? must we part?
    King I hand from hand (my loue) and heart from heart.
    2345Queene Banish vs both, and send the King with me.
    King That were some loue, but little pollicie.
    Queene Then whither he goes, thither let me go.
    King So two togither weeping make one woe,
    Weepe thou for me in Fraunce, I for thee heere,
    2350Better far off than neere be nere the neare,
    Go count thy way with sighes, I mine with groanes.
    Queene So longest way shall haue the longest moanes.
    King Twise for one step Ile grone the way being short
    And peece the way out with a heauy heart.
    2355Come come in wooing sorrow lets be briefe,
    Since wedding it, there is such length in griefe;
    One kisse shall stop our mouths, and dumbly part,
    Thus giue I mine, and thus take I thy heart.
    Queene Giue me mine owne againe, twere no good part
    2360To take on me to keepe, and kill thy heart:
    So now I haue mine owne againe, be gone,
    That I may striue to kill it with a groane.
    King We make woe wanton with this fond delay,
    Once more adue, the rest let sorrow say.
    Enter Duke of Yorke and the Dutchesse.
    Du. My Lord, you told me you would tell the rest,
    When weeping made you breake the storie of
    Of our two cousins comming into London.
    2370Yorke Where did I leaue?
    Du. At that sad stop my Lord,
    Where rude misgouerned hands from windowes tops,
    Threw dust and rubbish on king Richards head.
    Yorke Then (as I said) the Duke great Bullingbrooke
    2375Mounted vpon a hote and fierie steede,
    Which his aspiring rider seemd to know,
    With slow, but stately pase kept on his course,
    Whilst all tongues cried, God saue the Bullingbrooke,
    You would haue thought the very windows spake:
    2380So many greedy lookes of yong and old