Richard II by William Shakespeare

Act 2 - Scene 2

The palace.

Bushy : Madam, your majesty is too much sad: [p]You promised, when you parted
with the king, [p]To lay aside life-harming heaviness [p]And entertain
a cheerful disposition.

Queen : To please the king I did; to please myself [p]I cannot do it; yet I
know no cause [p]Why I should welcome such a guest as grief, [p]Save
bidding farewell to so sweet a guest [p]As my sweet Richard: yet
again, methinks, [p]Some unborn sorrow, ripe in fortune's womb, [p]Is
coming towards me, and my inward soul [p]With nothing trembles: at
some thing it grieves, [p]More than with parting from my lord the
king.

Bushy : Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows, [p]Which shows like
grief itself, but is not so; [p]For sorrow's eye, glazed with blinding
tears, [p]Divides one thing entire to many objects; [p]Like
perspectives, which rightly gazed upon [p]Show nothing but confusion,
eyed awry [p]Distinguish form: so your sweet majesty, [p]Looking awry
upon your lord's departure, [p]Find shapes of grief, more than
himself, to wail; [p]Which, look'd on as it is, is nought but
shadows [p]Of what it is not. Then, thrice-gracious queen, [p]More
than your lord's departure weep not: more's not seen; [p]Or if it be,
'tis with false sorrow's eye, [p]Which for things true weeps things
imaginary.

Queen : It may be so; but yet my inward soul [p]Persuades me it is otherwise:
howe'er it be, [p]I cannot but be sad; so heavy sad [p]As, though on
thinking on no thought I think, [p]Makes me with heavy nothing faint
and shrink.

Bushy : 'Tis nothing but conceit, my gracious lady.

Queen : 'Tis nothing less: conceit is still derived [p]From some forefather
grief; mine is not so, [p]For nothing had begot my something
grief; [p]Or something hath the nothing that I grieve: [p]'Tis in
reversion that I do possess; [p]But what it is, that is not yet known;
what [p]I cannot name; 'tis nameless woe, I wot.

Green : God save your majesty! and well met, gentlemen: [p]I hope the king is
not yet shipp'd for Ireland.

Queen : Why hopest thou so? 'tis better hope he is; [p]For his designs crave
haste, his haste good hope: [p]Then wherefore dost thou hope he is not
shipp'd?

Green : That he, our hope, might have retired his power, [p]And driven into
despair an enemy's hope, [p]Who strongly hath set footing in this
land: [p]The banish'd Bolingbroke repeals himself, [p]And with
uplifted arms is safe arrived [p]At Ravenspurgh.

Queen : Now God in heaven forbid!

Green : Ah, madam, 'tis too true: and that is worse, [p]The Lord
Northumberland, his son young Henry Percy, [p]The Lords of Ross,
Beaumond, and Willoughby, [p]With all their powerful friends, are fled
to him.

Bushy : Why have you not proclaim'd Northumberland [p]And all the rest
revolted faction traitors?

Green : We have: whereupon the Earl of Worcester [p]Hath broke his staff,
resign'd his stewardship, [p]And all the household servants fled with
him [p]To Bolingbroke.

Queen : So, Green, thou art the midwife to my woe, [p]And Bolingbroke my
sorrow's dismal heir: [p]Now hath my soul brought forth her
prodigy, [p]And I, a gasping new-deliver'd mother, [p]Have woe to woe,
sorrow to sorrow join'd.

Bushy : Despair not, madam.

Queen : Who shall hinder me? [p]I will despair, and be at enmity [p]With
cozening hope: he is a flatterer, [p]A parasite, a keeper back of
death, [p]Who gently would dissolve the bands of life, [p]Which false
hope lingers in extremity.

Green : Here comes the Duke of York.

Queen : With signs of war about his aged neck: [p]O, full of careful business
are his looks! [p]Uncle, for God's sake, speak comfortable words.

Edmund of Langley : Should I do so, I should belie my thoughts: [p]Comfort's in heaven;
and we are on the earth, [p]Where nothing lives but crosses, cares and
grief. [p]Your husband, he is gone to save far off, [p]Whilst others
come to make him lose at home: [p]Here am I left to underprop his
land, [p]Who, weak with age, cannot support myself: [p]Now comes the
sick hour that his surfeit made; [p]Now shall he try his friends that
flatter'd him.

Servant : My lord, your son was gone before I came.

Edmund of Langley : He was? Why, so! go all which way it will! [p]The nobles they are
fled, the commons they are cold, [p]And will, I fear, revolt on
Hereford's side. [p]Sirrah, get thee to Plashy, to my sister
Gloucester; [p]Bid her send me presently a thousand pound: [p]Hold,
take my ring.

Servant : My lord, I had forgot to tell your lordship, [p]To-day, as I came by,
I called there; [p]But I shall grieve you to report the rest.

Edmund of Langley : What is't, knave?

Servant : An hour before I came, the duchess died.

Edmund of Langley : God for his mercy! what a tide of woes [p]Comes rushing on this woeful
land at once! [p]I know not what to do: I would to God, [p]So my
untruth had not provoked him to it, [p]The king had cut off my head
with my brother's. [p]What, are there no posts dispatch'd for
Ireland? [p]How shall we do for money for these wars? [p]Come,
sister,--cousin, I would say--pray, pardon me. [p]Go, fellow, get thee
home, provide some carts [p]And bring away the armour that is
there. [p][Exit Servant] [p]Gentlemen, will you go muster men? [p]If I
know how or which way to order these affairs [p]Thus thrust disorderly
into my hands, [p]Never believe me. Both are my kinsmen: [p]The one is
my sovereign, whom both my oath [p]And duty bids defend; the other
again [p]Is my kinsman, whom the king hath wrong'd, [p]Whom conscience
and my kindred bids to right. [p]Well, somewhat we must do. Come,
cousin, I'll [p]Dispose of you. [p]Gentlemen, go, muster up your
men, [p]And meet me presently at Berkeley. [p]I should to Plashy
too; [p]But time will not permit: all is uneven, [p]And every thing is
left at six and seven.

Bushy : The wind sits fair for news to go to Ireland, [p]But none returns. For
us to levy power [p]Proportionable to the enemy [p]Is all unpossible.

Green : Besides, our nearness to the king in love [p]Is near the hate of those
love not the king.

Bagot : And that's the wavering commons: for their love [p]Lies in their
purses, and whoso empties them [p]By so much fills their hearts with
deadly hate.

Bushy : Wherein the king stands generally condemn'd.

Bagot : If judgement lie in them, then so do we, [p]Because we ever have been
near the king.

Green : Well, I will for refuge straight to Bristol castle: [p]The Earl of
Wiltshire is already there.

Bushy : Thither will I with you; for little office [p]The hateful commons will
perform for us, [p]Except like curs to tear us all to pieces. [p]Will
you go along with us?

Bagot : No; I will to Ireland to his majesty. [p]Farewell: if heart's presages
be not vain, [p]We three here art that ne'er shall meet again.

Bushy : That's as York thrives to beat back Bolingbroke.

Green : Alas, poor duke! the task he undertakes [p]Is numbering sands and
drinking oceans dry: [p]Where one on his side fights, thousands will
fly. [p]Farewell at once, for once, for all, and ever.

Bushy : Well, we may meet again.

Bagot : I fear me, never.

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