Act 2 — Scene II. The palace.[1102]

Bushy. Madam, your majesty is too much sad.[1103] You promised, when you parted with the king, To lay aside life-harming heaviness,[1104] And entertain a cheerful disposition. Queen. To please the king I did; to please myself5 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, Some unborn sorrow, ripe in fortune's womb,10 Is coming towards me, and my inward soul[1105] With nothing trembles: at some thing it grieves,[1106] More than with parting from my lord the king. Bushy. Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows,[1107] Which shows like grief itself, but is not so;[1108]15 For sorrow's eye, glazed with blinding tears,[1109] Divides one thing entire to many objects; Like perspectives, which, rightly gazed upon,[1110] Show nothing but confusion, eyed awry,[1110] Distinguish form: so your sweet majesty,[1111]20 Looking awry upon your lord's departure, Find shapes of grief, more than himself, to wail;[1112] Which, look'd on as it is, is nought but shadows[1113] Of what it is not. Then, thrice-gracious queen,[1114][1115] More than your lord's departure weep not: more's not seen;[1115][1116]25 Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrow's eye,[1117] Which for things true weeps things imaginary.[1118] Queen. It may be so; but yet my inward soul Persuades me it is otherwise: howe'er it be,[1119] I cannot but be sad; so heavy sad,[1120]30 As, though on thinking on no thought I think,[1121][1122] Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink.[1121][1123] Bushy. 'Tis nothing but conceit, my gracious lady. Queen. 'Tis nothing less: conceit is still derived[1124] From some forefather grief; mine is not so,35 For nothing hath begot my something grief;[1125][1126] Or something hath the nothing that I grieve:[1125][1127] 'Tis in reversion that I do possess;[1125][1128] But what it is, that is not yet known; what[1125][1129] I cannot name; 'tis nameless woe, I wot.[1125][1129]40

Green. God save your majesty! and well met, gentlemen:[1131] 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:[1132] Then wherefore dost thou hope he is not shipp'd?45 Green. That he, our hope, might have retired his power, And driven into despair an enemy's hope,[1133] Who strongly hath set footing in this land: The banish'd Bolingbroke repeals himself, And with uplifted arms is safe arrived[1134]50 At Ravenspurgh.[1134][1135] Queen. Now God in heaven forbid! Green. Ah madam, 'tis too true: and that is worse,[1136] The Lord Northumberland, his son young Henry Percy,[1137] The Lords of Ross, Beaumond, and Willoughby, With all their powerful friends, are fled to him.55 Bushy. Why have you not proclaim'd Northumberland And all the rest revolted faction traitors?[1138] Green. We have: whereupon the Earl of Worcester[1139] Hath broke his staff, resign'd his stewardship,[1140] And all the household servants fled with him[1141]60 To Bolingbroke.[1141][1142] Queen. So, Green, thou art the midwife to my woe,[1143] And Bolingbroke my sorrow's dismal heir: Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy, And I, a gasping new-deliver'd mother,[1144]65 Have woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow join'd. Bushy. Despair not, madam. Queen. Who shall hinder me? I will despair, and be at enmity With cozening hope: he is a flatterer,[1145] A parasite, a keeper back of death,70 Who gently would dissolve the bands of life, Which false hope lingers in extremity.

Green. Here comes the Duke of York.[1147] Queen. With signs of war about his aged neck; O, full of careful business are his looks![1148]75 Uncle, for God's sake, speak comfortable words.[1149] York. Should I do so, I should belie my thoughts:[1150] Comfort's in heaven; and we are on the earth, Where nothing lives but crosses, cares and grief.[1151] Your husband, he is gone to save far off,80 Whilst others come to make him lose at home:[1152] Here am I left to underprop his land, Who, weak with age, cannot support myself: Now comes the sick hour that his surfeit made;[1153] Now shall he try his friends that flatter'd him.[1154]85

Serv. My lord, your son was gone before I came.[1156] York. He was? Why, so! go all which way it will! The nobles they are fled, the commons they are cold,[1157] And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's side. Sirrah, get thee to Plashy, to my sister Gloucester;[1158]90 Bid her send me presently a thousand pound:[1159] Hold, take my ring.[1160] Serv. My lord, I had forgot to tell your lordship,[1156][1161] To-day, as I came by, I called there;[1160][1162][1163] But I shall grieve you to report the rest.[1163]95 York. What is't, knave?[1164] Serv. An hour before I came, the duchess died.[1156] York. God for his mercy! what a tide of woes[1165] Comes rushing on this woeful land at once![1166] I know not what to do: I would to God,[1165]100 So my untruth had not provoked him to it, The king had cut off my head with my brother's. What, are there no posts dispatch'd for Ireland?[1167] How shall we do for money for these wars? Come, sister,—cousin, I would say,—pray, pardon me.105 Go, fellow, get thee home, provide some carts[1168] And bring away the armour that is there. [Exit Servant.[1169] Gentlemen, will you go muster men?[1170] If I know how or which way to order these affairs[1171] Thus thrust disorderly into my hands,[1172]110 Never believe me. Both are my kinsmen:[1173] The one is my sovereign, whom both my oath[1174] And duty bids defend; the other again[1175] Is my kinsman, whom the king hath wrong'd,[1176] Whom conscience and my kindred bids to right.115 Well, somewhat we must do. Come, cousin, I'll[1177] Dispose of you.[1177] Gentlemen, go, muster up your men,[1177][1178] And meet me presently at Berkeley.[1179] I should to Plashy too;[1180]120 But time will not permit: all is uneven,[1180] And every thing is left at six and seven.[1180]

Bushy. The wind sits fair for news to go to Ireland,[1182] But none returns. For us to levy power Proportionable to the enemy[1183]125 Is all unpossible.[1183][1184] Green. Besides, our nearness to the king in love Is near the hate of those love not the king. Bagot. And that's the wavering commons: for their love[1185] Lies in their purses, and whoso empties them[1186]130 By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate. Bushy. Wherein the king stands generally condemn'd.[1187] Bagot. If judgement lie in them, then so do we, Because we ever have been near the king.[1188] Green. Well, I will for refuge straight to Bristol castle:[1189][1190]135 The Earl of Wiltshire is already there. Bushy. Thither will I with you; for little office[1191] The hateful commons will perform for us,[1192] Except like curs to tear us all to pieces.[1193] Will you go along with us?[1194]140 Bagot. No; I will to Ireland to his majesty.[1189][1195] Farewell: if heart's presages be not vain, We three here part that ne'er shall meet again.[1196] Bushy. That's as York thrives to beat back Bolingbroke. Green. Alas, poor duke! the task he undertakes[1197]145 Is numbering sands and drinking oceans dry: Where one on his side fights, thousands will fly. Farewell at once, for once, for all, and ever.[1198] Bushy. Well, we may meet again.[1198] Bagot. I fear me, never.[1198]