The Complete Works of William Shakespeare Part 418

You promis'd, when you parted with the King, To lay aside life-harming heaviness And entertain 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 some thing it grieves More than with parting from my lord the King.

BUSHY. Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows, 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 gaz'd upon, Show nothing but confusion-ey'd awry, 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, More than your lord's departure weep not-more is 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, 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 deriv'd From some forefather grief; mine is not so, For nothing hath 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, I cannot name; 'tis nameless woe, I wot.

Enter GREEN

GREEN. G.o.d save your Majesty! and well met, gentlemen.

I hope the King is not yet s.h.i.+pp'd for Ireland.

QUEEN. Why hopest thou so? 'Tis better hope he is; For his designs crave haste, his haste good hope.

Then wherefore dost thou hope he is not s.h.i.+pp'd?

GREEN. That he, our hope, might have retir'd his power And driven into despair an enemy's hope Who strongly hath set footing in this land.

The banish'd Bolingbroke repeals himself, And with uplifted arms is safe arriv'd At Ravenspurgh.

QUEEN. Now G.o.d in heaven forbid!

GREEN. Ah, 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 proclaim'd Northumberland And all the rest revolted faction traitors?

GREEN. We have; whereupon the Earl of Worcester Hath broken his staff, resign'd his stewards.h.i.+p, 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.

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?

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.

Enter 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 G.o.d's sake, speak comfortable words.

YORK. Should I do so, I should belie my thoughts.

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, 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 SERVINGMAN

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

YORK. He was-why so go all which way it will!

The n.o.bles 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.

SERVINGMAN. My lord, I had forgot to tell your lords.h.i.+p, To-day, as I came by, I called there- But I shall grieve you to report the rest.

YORK. What is't, knave?

SERVINGMAN. An hour before I came, the d.u.c.h.ess died.

YORK. G.o.d for his mercy! what a tide of woes Comes rus.h.i.+ng on this woeful land at once!

I know not what to do. I would to G.o.d, So my untruth had not provok'd him to it, The King had cut off my head with my brother's.

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.

Exit SERVINGMAN Gentlemen, will you go muster 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.

T'one is my sovereign, whom both my oath And duty bids defend; t'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. 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 everything is left at six and seven.

Exeunt 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 Is near the hate of those love not the King.

BAGOT. And that is 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.

BAGOT. If judgment lie in them, then so do we, Because we ever have been near the King.

GREEN. Well, I will for refuge straight to Bristow Castle.

The Earl of Wilts.h.i.+re is already there.

BUSHY. Thither will I with you; for little office Will the hateful commons perform for us, Except Eke 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, We three here part 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 numb'ring sands and drinking oceans dry.

Where one on his side fights, thousands will fly.

Farewell at once-for once, for all, and ever.

BUSHY. Well, we may meet again.

BAGOT. I fear me, never. Exeunt

SCENE 3.

Gloucesters.h.i.+re

Enter BOLINGBROKE and NORTHUMBERLAND, forces

BOLINGBROKE. How far is it, my lord, to Berkeley now?

NORTHUMBERLAND. Believe me, n.o.ble lord, I am a stranger here in Gloucesters.h.i.+re.

These high wild hills and rough uneven ways Draws out our miles, and makes them wearisome; And yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar, Making the hard way sweet and delectable.

But I bethink me what a weary way From Ravenspurgh to Cotswold will be found In Ross and Willoughby, wanting your company, Which, I protest, hath very much beguil'd The tediousness and process of my travel.

But theirs is sweet'ned with the hope to have The present benefit which I possess; And hope to joy is little less in joy Than hope enjoy'd. By this the weary lords Shall make their way seem short, as mine hath done By sight of what I have, your n.o.ble company.

BOLINGBROKE. Of much less value is my company Than your good words. But who comes here?

Enter HARRY PERCY

NORTHUMBERLAND. It is my son, young Harry Percy, Sent from my brother Worcester, whencesoever.

Harry, how fares your uncle?

PERCY. I had thought, my lord, to have learn'd his health of you.

NORTHUMBERLAND. Why, is he not with the Queen?

PERCY. No, my good lord; he hath forsook the court, Broken his staff of office, and dispers'd The household of the King.

NORTHUMBERLAND. What was his reason?