Richard II

Richard II

ACT II SCENE II	The palace.
	Enter QUEEN, BUSHY, and BAGOT
BUSHY	Madam, your majesty is too much sad:
	You promised, when you parted with the king,
	To lay aside life-harming heaviness
	And entertain a cheerful disposition.	5
QUEEN	To please the king I did; to please myself
	I cannot do it; yet I know no cause
	Why I should welcome such a guest as grief,
	Save bidding farewell to so sweet a guest
	As my sweet Richard: yet again, methinks,	10
	Some unborn sorrow, ripe in fortune's womb,
	Is coming towards me, and my inward soul
	With nothing trembles: at some thing it grieves,
	More than with parting from my lord the king.
BUSHY	Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows,	15
	Which shows like grief itself, but is not so;
	For sorrow's eye, glazed with blinding tears,
	Divides one thing entire to many objects;
	Like perspectives, which rightly gazed upon
	Show nothing but confusion, eyed awry	20
	Distinguish form: so your sweet majesty,
	Looking awry upon your lord's departure,
	Find shapes of grief, more than himself, to wail;
	Which, look'd on as it is, is nought but shadows
	Of what it is not. Then, thrice-gracious queen,	25
	More than your lord's departure weep not: more's not seen;
	Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrow's eye,
	Which for things true weeps things imaginary.
QUEEN	It may be so; but yet my inward soul
	Persuades me it is otherwise: howe'er it be,	30
	I cannot but be sad; so heavy sad
	As, though on thinking on no thought I think,
	Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink.
BUSHY	'Tis nothing but conceit, my gracious lady.
QUEEN	'Tis nothing less: conceit is still derived	35
	From some forefather grief; mine is not so,
	For nothing had begot my something grief;
	Or something hath the nothing that I grieve:
	'Tis in reversion that I do possess;
	But what it is, that is not yet known; what	40
	I cannot name; 'tis nameless woe, I wot.
	Enter GREEN
GREEN	God save your majesty! and well met, gentlemen:
	I hope the king is not yet shipp'd for Ireland.
QUEEN	Why hopest thou so? 'tis better hope he is;
	For his designs crave haste, his haste good hope:	45
	Then wherefore dost thou hope he is not shipp'd?
GREEN	That he, our hope, might have retired his power,
	And driven into despair an enemy's hope,
	Who strongly hath set footing in this land:
	The banish'd Bolingbroke repeals himself,	50
	And with uplifted arms is safe arrived
	At Ravenspurgh.
QUEEN	Now God in heaven forbid!
GREEN	Ah, madam, 'tis too true: and that is worse,
	The Lord Northumberland, his son young Henry Percy,	55
	The Lords of Ross, Beaumond, and Willoughby,
	With all their powerful friends, are fled to him.
BUSHY	Why have you not proclaim'd Northumberland
	And all the rest revolted faction traitors?
GREEN	We have: whereupon the Earl of Worcester	60
	Hath broke his staff, resign'd his stewardship,
	And all the household servants fled with him
	To Bolingbroke.
QUEEN	So, Green, thou art the midwife to my woe,
	And Bolingbroke my sorrow's dismal heir:	65
	Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy,
	And I, a gasping new-deliver'd mother,
	Have woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow join'd.
BUSHY	Despair not, madam.
QUEEN	Who shall hinder me?	70
	I will despair, and be at enmity
	With cozening hope: he is a flatterer,
	A parasite, a keeper back of death,
	Who gently would dissolve the bands of life,
	Which false hope lingers in extremity.	75
	Enter DUKE OF YORK
GREEN	Here comes the Duke of York.
QUEEN	With signs of war about his aged neck:
	O, full of careful business are his looks!
	Uncle, for God's sake, speak comfortable words.
DUKE OF YORK	Should I do so, I should belie my thoughts:	80
	Comfort's in heaven; and we are on the earth,
	Where nothing lives but crosses, cares and grief.
	Your husband, he is gone to save far off,
	Whilst others come to make him lose at home:
	Here am I left to underprop his land,	85
	Who, weak with age, cannot support myself:
	Now comes the sick hour that his surfeit made;
	Now shall he try his friends that flatter'd him.
	Enter a Servant
Servant	My lord, your son was gone before I came.
DUKE OF YORK	He was? Why, so! go all which way it will!	90
	The nobles they are fled, the commons they are cold,
	And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's side.
	Sirrah, get thee to Plashy, to my sister Gloucester;
	Bid her send me presently a thousand pound:
	Hold, take my ring.	95
Servant	My lord, I had forgot to tell your lordship,
	To-day, as I came by, I called there;
	But I shall grieve you to report the rest.
DUKE OF YORK	What is't, knave?
Servant	An hour before I came, the duchess died.	100
DUKE OF YORK	God for his mercy! what a tide of woes
	Comes rushing on this woeful land at once!
	I know not what to do: I would to God,
	So my untruth had not provoked him to it,
	The king had cut off my head with my brother's.	105
	What, are there no posts dispatch'd for Ireland?
	How shall we do for money for these wars?
	Come, sister,--cousin, I would say--pray, pardon me.
	Go, fellow, get thee home, provide some carts
	And bring away the armour that is there.	110
	Exit Servant
	Gentlemen, will you go muster men?
	If I know how or which way to order these affairs
	Thus thrust disorderly into my hands,
	Never believe me. Both are my kinsmen:
	The one is my sovereign, whom both my oath	115
	And duty bids defend; the other again
	Is my kinsman, whom the king hath wrong'd,
	Whom conscience and my kindred bids to right.
	Well, somewhat we must do. Come, cousin, I'll
	Dispose of you.	120
	Gentlemen, go, muster up your men,
	And meet me presently at Berkeley.
	I should to Plashy too;
	But time will not permit: all is uneven,
	And every thing is left at six and seven.	125
	Exeunt DUKE OF YORK and QUEEN
BUSHY	The wind sits fair for news to go to Ireland,
	But none returns. For us to levy power
	Proportionable to the enemy
	Is all unpossible.
GREEN	Besides, our nearness to the king in love	130
	Is near the hate of those love not the king.
BAGOT	And that's the wavering commons: for their love
	Lies in their purses, and whoso empties them
	By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate.
BUSHY	Wherein the king stands generally condemn'd.	135
BAGOT	If judgement lie in them, then so do we,
	Because we ever have been near the king.
GREEN	Well, I will for refuge straight to Bristol castle:
	The Earl of Wiltshire is already there.
BUSHY	Thither will I with you; for little office	140
	The hateful commons will perform for us,
	Except like curs to tear us all to pieces.
	Will you go along with us?
BAGOT	No; I will to Ireland to his majesty.
	Farewell: if heart's presages be not vain,	145
	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
	Is numbering sands and drinking oceans dry:
	Where one on his side fights, thousands will fly.	150
	Farewell at once, for once, for all, and ever.
BUSHY	Well, we may meet again.
BAGOT	I fear me, never.
	Exeunt