But for thy world enjoying but this land111,
Is it not more than shame to shame it so?
Landlord of England art thou and not king.
Thy state of law114 is bondslave to the law, and—
KING RICHARD And thou, a lunatic lean-witted fool,
Presuming on116 an ague’s privilege,
Dar’st with thy frozen117 admonition
Make pale our cheek, chasing the royal blood
With fury from his native residence?
Now, by my seat120’s right royal majesty,
Wert thou not brother to great Edward’s son,
This tongue that runs so roundly122 in thy head
Should run thy head from thy unreverent123 shoulders.
GAUNT O, spare me not, my brother’s — Edward’s — son,
For that125 I was his father Edward’s son.
That blood already, like the pelican126,
Thou hast tapped out127 and drunkenly caroused.
My brother Gloucester, plain well-meaning soul —
Whom fair129 befall in heaven ’mongst happy souls! —
May be a precedent and witness good
That thou respect’st not spilling Edward’s blood.
Join with the present sickness that I have,
And thy unkindness133 be like crookèd age,
To crop at once a too long withered flower.
Live in thy shame, but die not shame with thee:
These words hereafter thy tormentors be!
Convey me to my bed, then to my grave:
Love they to live that love and honour have.
Carried off by Attendants
Exit
KING RICHARD And let them die that age and sullens139 have,
For both hast thou, and both become140 the grave.
YORK I do beseech your majesty, impute his words
To wayward sickliness and age in him.
He loves you, on my life, and holds you dear
As Harry143 Duke of Hereford, were he here.
KING RICHARD Right, you say true. As Hereford’s love, so his;
As theirs, so mine, and all be as it is.
Enter Northumberland
NORTHUMBERLAND My liege, old Gaunt commends him to your majesty.
KING RICHARD What says he?
NORTHUMBERLAND Nay, nothing. All is said.
His tongue is now a stringless instrument.
Words, life and all, old Lancaster hath spent151.
YORK Be York the next that must be bankrupt so!
Though death be poor, it ends a mortal woe.
KING RICHARD The ripest fruit first falls, and so doth he.
His time is spent, our pilgrimage155 must be.
So much for that. Now for our Irish wars:
We must supplant157 those rough rug-headed kerns,
Which live like venom where no venom else
But only they have privilege to live.
And for these great affairs do ask some charge160,
Towards our assistance we do seize161 to us
The plate162, coin, revenues and movables,
Whereof our uncle Gaunt did stand possessed.
YORK How long shall I be patient? O, how long
Shall tender duty make me suffer wrong?
Not Gloucester’s death, nor Hereford’s banishment,
Nor Gaunt’s rebukes167, nor England’s private wrongs,
Nor the prevention of poor Bullingbrook
About his marriage168, nor my own disgrace
Have ever made me sour my patient cheek,
Or bend one wrinkle171 on my sovereign’s face.
I am the last of noble Edward’s sons,
Of whom thy father, Prince of Wales, was first.
In war was never lion raged more fierce,
In peace was never gentle lamb more mild,
Than was that young and princely gentleman.
His face thou hast, for even so looked he,
Accomplished with the number of thy hours178.
But when he frowned, it was against the French
And not against his friends. His noble hand
Did win what he did spend and spent not that
Which his triumphant father’s hand had won.
His hands were guilty of no kindred’s blood,
But bloody with the enemies of his kin.
O Richard, York is too far gone with grief,
Or else he never would compare between.
KING RICHARD Why, uncle, what’s the matter?
YORK O my liege,
Pardon me, if you please; if not, I, pleased
Not to be pardoned, am content withal190.
Seek you to seize191 and grip into your hands
The royalties192 and rights of banished Hereford?
Is not Gaunt dead? And doth not Hereford live?
Was not Gaunt just? And is not Harry true194?
Did not the one deserve to have an heir?
Is not his heir a well-deserving son?
Take Hereford’s rights away, and take from time
His198 charters and his customary rights:
Let not tomorrow then ensue199 today.
Be not thyself. For how art thou a king
But by fair sequence and succession?
Now, afore God — God forbid I say true! —
If you do wrongfully seize Hereford’s right,
Call in his letters patents204 that he hath
By his attorneys-general to sue
His livery205, and deny his offered homage206,
You pluck207 a thousand dangers on your head,
You lose a thousand well-disposèd hearts
And prick209 my tender patience to those thoughts
Which honour and allegiance cannot think.
KING RICHARD Think what you will, we seize into our hands
His plate, his goods, his money and his lands.
YORK I’ll not be by213 the while. My liege, farewell:
What will ensue hereof, there’s none can tell.
But by bad courses215 may be understood
That their events216 can never fall out good.
Exit
KING RICHARD Go, Bushy, to the Earl of Wiltshire straight.
Bid him repair218 to us to Ely House
To see219 this business.— Tomorrow next
We will for Ireland, and ’tis time, I trow220.
And we create, in absence of ourself,
Our uncle York Lord Governor of England,
For he is just and always loved us well.—
Come on, our queen. Tomorrow must we part.
Be merry, for our time of stay is short.
Flourish. [Exeunt all] except Northumberland, Willoughby and Ross
NORTHUMBERLAND Well, lords, the Duke of Lancaster is dead.
ROSS And living too, for now his son is duke.
WILLOUGHBY Barely in title, not in revenue.
NORTHUMBERLAND Richly in both, if justice had her right.
ROSS My heart is great230, but it must break with silence,
Ere’t be disburdened with a liberal231 tongue.
NORTHUMBERLAND Nay, speak thy mind, and let him ne’er speak more
That speaks thy words again to do thee harm!
WILLOUGHBY Tends that thou wouldst speak to234 th’Duke of Hereford?
If it be so, out with it boldly, man.
Quick is mine ear to hear of good towards him.
ROSS No good at all that I can do for him,
Unless you call it good to pity him,
Bereft239 and gelded of his patrimony.
NORTHUMBERLAND Now, afore heaven, ’tis shame such wrongs are borne
In him, a royal prince, and many more
Of noble blood in this declining land.
The king is not himself, but basely led
By flatterers. And what they will inform,
Merely in hate, gainst any of us all,
That will the king severely prosecut
e246
Gainst us, our lives, our children, and our heirs.
ROSS The commons hath he piled248 with grievous taxes,
And quite lost their hearts. The nobles hath he fined
For ancient250 quarrels, and quite lost their hearts.
WILLOUGHBY And daily new exactions251 are devised,
As blanks252, benevolences, and I wot not what.
But what, o’God’s name, doth become of this253?
NORTHUMBERLAND Wars hath not wasted it, for warred he hath not,
But basely yielded upon compromise255
That which his ancestors achieved with blows.
More hath he spent in peace than they in wars.
ROSS The Earl of Wiltshire hath the realm in farm258.
WILLOUGHBY The king’s grown bankrupt, like a broken259 man.
NORTHUMBERLAND Reproach and dissolution hangeth over him.
ROSS He hath not money for these Irish wars,
His burdenous taxations notwithstanding,
But by the robbing of the banished duke.
NORTHUMBERLAND His noble kinsman. Most degenerate king!
But, lords, we hear this fearful tempest sing,
Yet seek no shelter to avoid the storm.
We see the wind sit sore267 upon our sails,
And yet we strike268 not, but securely perish.
ROSS We see the very wreck that we must suffer,
And unavoided is the danger now,
For suffering271 so the causes of our wreck.
NORTHUMBERLAND Not so: even through the hollow eyes of death
I spy life peering, but I dare not say
How near the tidings274 of our comfort is.
WILLOUGHBY Nay, let us share thy thoughts, as thou dost ours.
ROSS Be confident to speak, Northumberland.
We three are but thyself, and speaking so,
Thy words are but as thoughts: therefore be bold.
NORTHUMBERLAND Then thus: I have from Port le Blanc, a bay
In Brittany, received intelligence
That Harry Duke of Hereford, Rainold Lord Cobham281,
That late broke282 from the Duke of Exeter,
His283 brother, Archbishop late of Canterbury,
Sir Thomas Erpingham, Sir John Rainston,
Sir John Norbery, Sir Robert Waterton and Francis Quoint,
All these well furnished286 by the Duke of Brittany
With eight tall287 ships, three thousand men of war,
Are making hither with all due expedience288
And shortly mean to touch our northern shore.
Perhaps they had ere this290, but that they stay
The first departing of the king for Ireland.
If then we shall shake off our slavish yoke,
Imp out293 our drooping country’s broken wing,
Redeem from broking pawn294 the blemished crown,
Wipe off the dust that hides our sceptre’s gilt295
And make high majesty look like itself,
Away with me in post297 to Ravenspurgh.
But if you faint298, as fearing to do so,
Stay and be secret, and myself will go.
ROSS To horse, to horse! Urge doubts to them that fear.
WILLOUGHBY Hold out my horse301, and I will first be there.
Exeunt
Act 2 Scene 2
running scene 6
Location: the royal court
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 heaviness3
And entertain4 a cheerful disposition.
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,
Some unborn sorrow, ripe in fortune’s womb,
Is coming towards me, and my inward soul
With nothing trembles. At something it grieves,
More than with parting from my lord the king.
BUSHY Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows14,
Which shows like grief itself, but is not so.
For sorrow’s eye, glazèd16 with blinding tears,
Divides one thing entire to17 many objects,
Like perspectives18, which rightly gazed upon
Show nothing but confusion: eyed awry19
Distinguish form20. So your sweet majesty,
Looking awry upon your lord’s departure,
Find shapes of grief, more than himself22 to wail,
Which, looked on as it is, is naught but shadows
Of what it is not. Then, thrice-gracious queen,
More25 than your lord’s departure weep not. More’s not seen;
Or if it be, ’tis with false sorrow’s eye,
Which for27 things true weeps things imaginary.
QUEEN It may be so, but yet my inward soul
Persuades me it is otherwise. Howe’er it be,
I cannot but be sad, so heavy30 sad
As though on thinking31 on no thought I think,
Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink.
BUSHY ’Tis nothing but conceit33, my gracious lady.
QUEEN ’Tis nothing less34. Conceit is still derived
From some forefather grief. Mine is not so,
For nothing hath begot36 my something grief,
Or something hath the nothing that I grieve37.
’Tis in reversion38 that I do possess —
But what it is, that is not yet known — what
I cannot name. ’Tis nameless woe, I wot40.
Enter Green
GREEN Heaven save your majesty! And well met, gentlemen.
I hope the king is not yet shipped for Ireland.
QUEEN Why hop’st thou so? ’Tis better hope he is,
For his designs crave haste, his haste good hope.
Then wherefore45 dost thou hope he is not shipped?
GREEN That he, our hope, might have retired46 his power,
And driven into despair an enemy’s hope,
Who strongly48 hath set footing in this land.
The banished Bullingbrook repeals himself49,
And with uplifted arms50 is safe arrived
At Ravenspurgh.
QUEEN Now God in heaven forbid!
GREEN O, madam, ’tis too true. And that is worse,
The Lord Northumberland, his son young Henry Percy,
The Lords of Ross, Beaumond and Willoughby,
With all their powerful friends, are fled to him.
BUSHY Why have you not proclaimed Northumberland
And the rest of the revolted faction, traitors?
GREEN We have: whereupon the Earl of Worcester
Hath broke his staff60, resigned his stewardship,
And all the household61 servants fled with him
To Bullingbrook.
QUEEN So, Green, thou art the midwife of my woe,
And Bullingbrook my sorrow’s dismal heir64.
Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy65,
And I, a gasping new-delivered mother,
Have woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow joined.
BUSHY Despair not, madam.
QUEEN Who shall hinder me?
I will despair, and be at enmity
With cozening71 hope; he is a flatterer,
A parasite, a keeper-back of death,
Who gently would dissolve the bands73 of life,
Which false hope lingers74 in extremity.
Enter York
GREEN Here comes the Duke of York.
QUEEN With signs of war about his agèd neck.
O, full of careful77 business are his looks!
Uncle, for heaven’s sake, speak comfortable78 words.
YORK Comfort’s in heaven, and we are on the earth,
Where nothing lives but crosses80, care and grief.
Your husband, he is gone to save81 far off,
Whilst others come to make him lose at home.
Here am I left to underprop83 his land,
Who, weak with age, cannot support myself.
Now comes the sick hour that his surfeit85 made,
Now shall he try86 his friends that flattered him.
Enter a Servant
SERVANT My lord, your son87 was gone before I came.
YORK He was? Why, so! Go all which way it will!
The nobles they are fled, the commons they are cold89,
And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford’s side.
Sirrah91, get thee to Plashy, to my sister Gloucester:
Bid her send me presently92 a thousand pound.
Hold, take my ring93.
SERVANT My lord, I had forgot to tell your lordship:
Today as I came by, I callèd there —
But I shall grieve you to report the rest.
YORK What is’t, knave?
SERVANT An hour before I came, the duchess died.
YORK Heav’n99 for his mercy! What a tide of woes
Come rushing on this woeful land at once!
I know not what to do. I would101 to heaven —
So102 my untruth had not provoked him to it —
The king had cut off my head with my brother’s103.
What, are there posts104 dispatched for Ireland?
How shall we do105 for money for these wars?
Come, sister — cousin, I would say — pray, pardon me.—
To Queen
Go, fellow, get thee home, provide some carts
To Servant
And bring away the armour that is there.—
[Exit Servant]
Gentlemen, will you muster109 men?
If I know how or which way to order these affairs
Thus disorderly thrust into my hands,
Never believe me. Both are my kinsmen.
Th’one is my sovereign, whom both my oath113
And duty bids defend: th’other again
Is my kinsman, whom the king hath wronged,
Whom conscience and my kindred116 bids to right.
Well, somewhat117 we must do.— Come, cousin, I’ll
Dispose of118 you.—
Gentlemen, go muster up your men,
And meet me presently at Berkeley Castle120.
I should to Plashy too,
But time will not permit. All is uneven,
And everything is left at six and seven123.
Exeunt [York and Queen]
BUSHY The wind sits124 fair for news to go to Ireland,
But none returns. For us to levy power125
Proportionable to th’enemy
Is all impossible.
GREEN Besides, our nearness to the king in love
Richard II Page 6
