Bus.
Madam, your majesty is too much sad:
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: yet at something grieves,
More than with parting from my lord the king.

Bus.
Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows,
Which show like grief itself, but are not so:

Then, thrice-gracious queen,
More than your lord's departure weep not; more's 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, unthinking, on no thought I think,—
Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink. Enter Green.

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

Queen.
Why hop'st thou so? 'tis better hope, he is;
For his designs crave haste, his haste good hope;
Then wherefore dost thou hope, he is not shipp'd?

Gre.
The banish'd Bolingbroke repeals himself,
And with uplifted arms is safe arrived
At Ravenspurg.(K)8Q0140

Queen.
Now gracious heaven forbid!

Gre.
O, madam, 'tis too true: and that is worse,—
The lord Northumberland, his young son Henry Percy,
The lords of Ross, Beaumond, and Willoughby,
With all their powerful friends, are fled to him.

Queen.
Why have you not proclaim'd Northumberland,
And all the rest of the revolting faction,
Traitors?

Gre.
We have: whereon the Earl of Worcester
Hath broke his staff, resign'd his stewardship,
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.

Bus.
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.

Gre.
Here comes the Duke of York.

Queen.
Uncle,
For heaven's sake, speak comfortable words.

York.
Comfort's in heaven; and we are on the earth,
Where nothing lives but crosses, care, 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:—
Heaven for his mercy! what a tide of woes
Comes rushing on this woeful land at once!
Gentlemen, will you go muster men? if I know
How, or which way, to order these affairs,
Thus thrust disorderly into my hands,
Never believe me. Both are my kinsmen;—
The one's my sovereign, whom both my oath
And duty bids defend; the other again,
Is my near 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:—Go, muster up your men,
And meet me presently at Berkley Castle.(L)8Q0141
I know not what to do: all is uneven,
And every thing is left at six and seven. [Exeunt.

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