Madam, your majesty is too much sad.

2.2.2954You promised, when you parted with the King,

2.2.3955To lay aside life-harming heaviness

2.2.4956And entertain a cheerful disposition.

To please the King I did; to please myself

2.2.6958I cannot do it. Yet I know no cause

2.2.7959Why I should welcome such a guest as Grief,

2.2.8960Save bidding farewell to so sweet a guest

2.2.9961As my sweet Richard. Yet again, methinks

2.2.10962Some unborn sorrow ripe in Fortune's womb

2.2.11963Is coming towards me, and my inward soul

2.2.12964With nothing trembles. At something it grieves

2.2.13965More than with parting from my lord the King.

Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows

2.2.15967Which shows like grief itself, but is not so;

2.2.16968For Sorrow's eyes, glazèd with blinding tears,

2.2.17969Divides one thing entire to many objects,

2.2.18970Like perspectives, which rightly gazed upon

2.2.19971Show nothing but confusion; eyed awry,

2.2.20972Distinguish form. So your sweet Majesty,

2.2.21973Looking awry upon your lord's departure,

2.2.22974Find shapes of grief more than himself to wail,

2.2.23975Which, looked on as it is, is naught but shadows

2.2.24976Of what it is not. Then, thrice-gracious Queen,

2.2.25977More than your lord's departure weep not. More is not seen,

2.2.26978Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrow's eye,

2.2.27979Which for things true weeps things imaginary.

It may be so; but yet my inward soul

2.2.29981Persuades me it is otherwise. Howe'er it be,

2.2.30982I cannot but be sad -- so heavy sad

2.2.31983As thought, on thinking on no thought I think,

2.2.32984Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink.

'Tis nothing but conceit, my gracious lady.

'Tis nothing less. Conceit is still derived

2.2.35987From some forefather grief. Mine is not so,

2.2.36988For nothing hath begot my something grief --

2.2.37989Or something hath the nothing that I grieve.

2.2.38990'Tis in reversion that I do possess;

2.2.39991But what it is, that is not yet known. "What"

2.2.40992I cannot name. 'Tis nameless woe, I wot.

God save your majesty! -- And well met, gentlemen.

2.2.42995I hope the King is not yet shipped for Ireland.

Why hop'st thou so? 'Tis better hope he is;

2.2.44997For his designs crave haste, his haste good hope.

2.2.45998Then wherefore dost thou hope he is not shipped?

That he, our hope, might have retired his power

2.2.471000And driven into despair an enemy's hope,

2.2.481001Who strongly hath set footing in this land.

2.2.491002The banished Bolingbroke repeals himself,

2.2.501003And with uplifted arms is safe arrived

2.2.511005At Ravenspurgh.

At Ravenspurgh. Now God in heaven forbid!

Ah, madam, 'tis too true; and, that is worse,

2.2.531007The lord Northumberland, his son young Harry Percy,

2.2.541008The lords of Ross, Beaumont, and Willoughby,

2.2.551009With all their powerful friends, are fled to him.

Why have you not proclaimed Northumberland

2.2.571011And all the rest revolted faction traitors?

We have; whereupon the Earl of Worcester

2.2.591013Hath broken his staff, resigned his stewardship,

2.2.601014And all the Household servants fled with him

2.2.611015To Bolingbroke.

So, Green, thou art the midwife to my woe,

2.2.621016And Bolingbroke my sorrow's dismal heir.

2.2.631017Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy,

2.2.641018And I, a gasping new-delivered mother,

2.2.651019Have woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow joined.

Despair not, madam.

Despair not, madam. Who shall hinder me?

2.2.681022I will despair, and be at enmity

2.2.691023With cozening Hope. He is a flatterer,

2.2.701024A parasite, a keeper-back of Death,

2.2.711025Who gently would dissolve the bands of life,

2.2.721026Which false Hope lingers in extremity.

Here comes the Duke of York.

With signs of war about his agèd neck.

2.2.751030Oh, full of careful business are his looks! --

2.2.761031Uncle, for God's sake, speak comfortable words.

Should I do so, I should belie my thoughts.

2.2.781032Comfort's in heaven, and we are on the earth,

2.2.791033Where nothing lives but crosses, cares, and grief.

2.2.801034Your husband, he is gone to save far off,

2.2.811035Whilst others come to make him lose at home.

2.2.821036Here am I left to underprop his land,

2.2.831037Who, weak with age, cannot support myself.

2.2.841038Now comes the sick hour that his surfeit made;

2.2.851039Now shall he try his friends that flattered him.

My lord, your son was gone before I came.

He was? Why, so! Go all which way it will!

2.2.881043The nobles they are fled, the commons they are cold,

2.2.891044And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's side.

2.2.901045Sirrah, get thee to Pleshy, to my sister Gloucester;

2.2.911046Bid her send me presently a thousand pound.

2.2.921047Hold, take my ring.

My lord, I had forgot to tell your lordship:

2.2.941049Today, as I came by, I callèd there --

2.2.951050But I shall grieve you to report the rest.

What is't, knave?

An hour before I came, the Duchess died.

God for his mercy, what a tide of woes

2.2.991054Comes rushing on this woeful land at once!

2.2.1001055I know not what to do. I would to God,

2.2.1011056So my untruth had not provoked him to it,

2.2.1021057The King had cut off my head with my brother's.

2.2.1031058What, are there no posts dispatched for Ireland?

2.2.1041059How shall we do for money for these wars? --

2.2.1051060[To Queen] Come, sister -- cousin, I would say; pray pardon me. --

2.2.1061061[To Servingman] Go, fellow, get thee home. Provide some carts

2.2.1071062And bring away the armor that is there.[Exit Servingman.]

2.2.1081063[To Bushy, Bagot and Green] Gentlemen, will you go muster men?

2.2.1091064If I know how or which way to order these affairs

2.2.1101065Thus disorderly thrust into my hands,

2.2.1111066Never believe me. Both are my kinsmen.

2.2.1121067Th'one is my sovereign, whom both my oath

2.2.1131068And duty bids defend; th'other again

2.2.1141069Is my kinsman, whom the King hath wronged,

2.2.1151070Whom conscience and my kindred bids to right.

2.2.1161071Well, somewhat we must do. [To Queen.] Come, cousin,

2.2.1171072I'll dispose of you. -- Gentlemen, go muster up your men,

2.2.1181073And meet me presently at Berkeley Castle.

2.2.1191074I should to Pleshy too,

But time will not permit. All is uneven,

2.2.1201075 And everything is left at six and seven.

The wind sits fair for news to go for Ireland,

2.2.1221077But none returns. For us to levy power

2.2.1231078Proportionable to the enemy

Is all unpossible.

Besides, our nearness to the King in love

2.2.1251080Is near the hate of those love not the King.

And that is the wavering commons; for their love

2.2.1271082Lies in their purses, and whoso empties them

2.2.1281083By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate.

Wherein the King stands generally condemned.

If judgment lie in them, then so do we,

2.2.1311086Because we ever have been near the King.

Well, I will for refuge straight to Bristol Castle.

2.2.1331088The Earl of Wiltshire is already there.

Thither will I with you; for little office

2.2.1351090Will the hateful commons perform for us,

2.2.1361091Except like curs to tear us all to pieces. --

2.2.1371092[To Bagot] Will you go along with us?

No; I will to Ireland, to his majesty.

2.2.1391094Farewell. If heart's presages be not vain,

2.2.1401095We three here part that ne'er shall meet again.

That's as York thrives to beat back Bolingbroke.

Alas, poor Duke! The task he undertakes

2.2.1431098Is numb'ring sands and drinking oceans dry.

2.2.1441099Where one on his side fights, thousands will fly.

2.2.1451100Farewell at once, for once, for all, and ever.

Well, we may meet again.

Well, we may meet again. I fear me, never.