1    Madam, your majesty is too much sad:
2    You promised, when you parted with the king,
3    To lay aside life-harming heaviness
4    And entertain a cheerful disposition.

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

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

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

33   'Tis nothing but conceit, my gracious lady.

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

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

43   Why hopest thou so? 'tis better hope he is;
44   For his designs crave haste, his haste good hope:
45   Then wherefore dost thou hope he is not shipp'd?

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

52   Now God in heaven forbid!

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

57   Why have you not proclaim'd Northumberland
58   And all the rest revolted faction traitors?

59   We have: whereupon the Earl of Worcester
60   Hath broke his staff, resign'd his stewardship,
61   And all the household servants fled with him
62   To Bolingbroke.

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

68   Despair not, madam.

69   Who shall hinder me?
70   I will despair, and be at enmity
71   With cozening hope: he is a flatterer,
72   A parasite, a keeper back of death,
73   Who gently would dissolve the bands of life,
74   Which false hope lingers in extremity.

75   Here comes the Duke of York.

76   With signs of war about his aged neck:
77   O, full of careful business are his looks!
78   Uncle, for God's sake, speak comfortable words.

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

88   My lord, your son was gone before I came.

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

95   My lord, I had forgot to tell your lordship,
96   To-day, as I came by, I called there;
97   But I shall grieve you to report the rest.

98   What is't, knave?

99   An hour before I came, the duchess died.

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

125  The wind sits fair for news to go to Ireland,
126  But none returns. For us to levy power
127  Proportionable to the enemy
128  Is all unpossible.

129  Besides, our nearness to the king in love
130  Is near the hate of those love not the king.

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

134  Wherein the king stands generally condemn'd.

135  If judgement lie in them, then so do we,
136  Because we ever have been near the king.

137  Well, I will for refuge straight to Bristol castle:
138  The Earl of Wiltshire is already there.

139  Thither will I with you; for little office
140  The hateful commons will perform for us,
141  Except like curs to tear us all to pieces.
142  Will you go along with us?

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

146  That's as York thrives to beat back Bolingbroke.

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

151  Well, we may meet again.

152  I fear me, never.