Authors: William Shakespeare
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
by
213
the while. My liege, farewell:
What will ensue hereof, there’s none can tell.
But by bad
courses
215
may be understood
That their
events
216
can never fall out good.
Exit
KING RICHARD
Go, Bushy, to the Earl of Wiltshire straight.
Bid him
repair
218
to us to Ely House
To
see
219
this business.— Tomorrow next
We will for Ireland, and ’tis time, I
trow
220
.
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
great
230
, but it must break with silence,
Ere’t be disburdened with a
liberal
231
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 to
234
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,
Bereft
239
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
prosecute
246
Gainst us, our lives, our children, and our heirs.
ROSS
The commons hath he
piled
248
with grievous taxes,
And quite lost their hearts. The nobles hath he fined
For
ancient
250
quarrels, and quite lost their hearts.
WILLOUGHBY
And daily new
exactions
251
are devised,
As
blanks
252
, benevolences, and I wot not what.
But what, o’God’s name, doth become of
this
253
?
NORTHUMBERLAND
Wars hath not wasted it, for warred he hath not,
But
basely yielded upon compromise
255
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 farm
258
.
WILLOUGHBY
The king’s grown bankrupt, like a
broken
259
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
sore
267
upon our sails,
And yet we
strike
268
not, but securely perish.
ROSS
We see the very wreck that we must suffer,
And unavoided is the danger now,
For
suffering
271
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
tidings
274
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 Cobham
281
,
That late
broke
282
from the Duke of Exeter,
His
283
brother, Archbishop late of Canterbury,
Sir Thomas Erpingham, Sir John Rainston,
Sir John Norbery, Sir Robert Waterton and Francis Quoint,
All these well
furnished
286
by the Duke of Brittany
With eight
tall
287
ships, three thousand men of war,
Are making hither with all due
expedience
288
And shortly mean to touch our northern shore.
Perhaps they
had ere this
290
, but that they stay
The first departing of the king for Ireland.
If then we shall shake off our slavish yoke,
Imp out
293
our drooping country’s broken wing,
Redeem from
broking pawn
294
the blemished crown,
Wipe off the dust that hides our sceptre’s
gilt
295
And make high majesty look like itself,
Away with me in
post
297
to Ravenspurgh.
But if you
faint
298
, 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 horse
301
, and I will first be there.
Exeunt
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
heaviness
3
And
entertain
4
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
shadows
14
,
Which shows like grief itself, but is not so.
For sorrow’s eye,
glazèd
16
with blinding tears,
Divides one
thing entire to
17
many objects,
Like
perspectives
18
, which rightly gazed upon
Show nothing but confusion: eyed
awry
19
Distinguish form
20
. So your sweet majesty,
Looking awry upon your lord’s departure,
Find shapes of grief, more than
himself
22
to wail,
Which, looked on as it is, is naught but shadows
Of what it is not. Then, thrice-gracious queen,
More
25
than your lord’s departure weep not. More’s not seen;
Or if it be, ’tis with false sorrow’s eye,
Which
for
27
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
heavy
30
sad
As though
on thinking
31
on no thought I think,
Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink.
BUSHY
’Tis nothing but
conceit
33
, my gracious lady.
QUEEN
’Tis
nothing less
34
. Conceit is still derived
From some forefather grief. Mine is not so,
For nothing hath
begot
36
my something grief,
Or something hath the nothing that I
grieve
37
.
’Tis
in reversion
38
that I do possess —
But what it is, that is not yet known — what
I cannot name. ’Tis nameless woe, I
wot
40
.
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
wherefore
45
dost thou hope he is not shipped?
GREEN
That he, our hope, might have
retired
46
his power,
And driven into despair an enemy’s hope,
Who
strongly
48
hath set footing in this land.
The banished Bullingbrook
repeals himself
49
,
And with
uplifted arms
50
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
staff
60
, resigned his stewardship,
And all the
household
61
servants fled with him
To Bullingbrook.
QUEEN
So, Green, thou art the midwife of my woe,
And Bullingbrook my sorrow’s dismal
heir
64
.
Now hath my soul brought forth her
prodigy
65
,
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
cozening
71
hope; he is a flatterer,
A parasite, a keeper-back of death,
Who gently would dissolve the
bands
73
of life,
Which false hope
lingers
74
in extremity.
Enter York
GREEN
Here comes the Duke of York.
QUEEN
With signs of war about his agèd neck.
O, full of
careful
77
business are his looks!
Uncle, for heaven’s sake, speak
comfortable
78
words.
YORK
Comfort’s in heaven, and we are on the earth,
Where nothing lives but
crosses
80
, care and grief.
Your husband, he is gone to
save
81
far off,
Whilst others come to make him lose at home.
Here am I left to
underprop
83
his land,
Who, weak with age, cannot support myself.
Now comes the sick hour that his
surfeit
85
made,
Now shall he
try
86
his friends that flattered him.
Enter a Servant
SERVANT
My lord, your
son
87
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
cold
89
,
And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford’s side.
Sirrah
91
, get thee to Plashy, to my sister Gloucester:
Bid her send me
presently
92
a thousand pound.
Hold,
take my ring
93
.
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.