Chapter: Scena Secunda.

Enter Queene, Bushy, and Bagot.

  Bush. Madam, your Maiesty is too much sad,
You promis'd when you parted with the King,
To lay aside selfe-harming heauinesse,
And entertaine a cheerefull disposition

   Qu. To please the King, I did: to please my selfe
I cannot do it: yet I know no cause
Why I should welcome such a guest as greefe,
Saue bidding farewell to so sweet a guest
As my sweet Richard; yet againe me thinkes,
Some vnborne sorrow, ripe in fortunes wombe
Is comming towards me, and my inward soule
With nothing trembles, at something it greeues,
More then with parting from my Lord the King

   Bush. Each substance of a greefe hath twenty shadows
Which shewes like greefe it selfe, but is not so:
For sorrowes eye, glazed with blinding teares,
Diuides one thing intire, to many obiects,
Like perspectiues, which rightly gaz'd vpon
Shew nothing but confusion, ey'd awry,
Distinguish forme: so your sweet Maiestie
Looking awry vpon your Lords departure,
Finde shapes of greefe, more then himselfe to waile,
Which look'd on as it is, is naught but shadowes
Of what it is not: then thrice-gracious Queene,
More then your Lords departure weep not, more's not seene;
Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrowes eie,
Which for things true, weepe things imaginary

   Qu. It may be so: but yet my inward soule
Perswades me it is otherwise: how ere it be,
I cannot but be sad: so heauy sad,
As though on thinking on no thought I thinke,
Makes me with heauy nothing faint and shrinke

   Bush. 'Tis nothing but conceit (my gracious Lady.)
  Qu. 'Tis nothing lesse: conceit is still deriu'd
From some fore-father greefe, mine is not so,
For nothing hath begot my something greefe,
Or something, hath the nothing that I greeue,
'Tis in reuersion that I do possesse,
But what it is, that is not yet knowne, what
I cannot name, 'tis namelesse woe I wot.
Enter Greene.

  Gree. Heauen saue your Maiesty, and wel met Gentlemen:
I hope the King is not yet shipt for Ireland

   Qu. Why hop'st thou so? Tis better hope he is:
For his designes craue hast, his hast good hope,
Then wherefore dost thou hope he is not shipt?
  Gre. That he our hope, might haue retyr'd his power,
and driuen into dispaire an enemies hope,
Who strongly hath set footing in this Land.
The banish'd Bullingbrooke repeales himselfe,
And with vp-lifted Armes is safe arriu'd
At Rauenspurg

   Qu. Now God in heauen forbid

   Gr. O Madam 'tis too true: and that is worse,
The L[ord]. Northumberland, his yong sonne Henrie Percie,
The Lords of Rosse, Beaumond, and Willoughby,
With all their powrefull friends are fled to him

   Bush. Why haue you not proclaim'd Northumberland
And the rest of the reuolted faction, Traitors?
  Gre. We haue: whereupon the Earle of Worcester
Hath broke his staffe, resign'd his Stewardship,
And al the houshold seruants fled with him to Bullinbrook
  Qu. So Greene, thou art the midwife of my woe,
And Bullinbrooke my sorrowes dismall heyre:
Now hath my soule brought forth her prodegie,
And I a gasping new deliuered mother,
Haue woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow ioyn'd

   Bush. Dispaire not Madam

   Qu. Who shall hinder me?
I will dispaire, and be at enmitie
With couzening hope; he is a Flatterer,
A Parasite, a keeper backe of death,
Who gently would dissolue the bands of life,
Which false hopes linger in extremity.
Enter Yorke.

  Gre. Heere comes the Duke of Yorke

   Qu. With signes of warre about his aged necke,
Oh full of carefull businesse are his lookes:
Vncle, for heauens sake speake comfortable words:
  Yor. Comfort's in heauen, and we are on the earth,
Where nothing liues but crosses, care and greefe:
Your husband he is gone to saue farre off,
Whilst others come to make him loose at home:
Heere am I left to vnder-prop his Land,
Who weake with age, cannot support my selfe:
Now comes the sicke houre that his surfet made,
Now shall he try his friends that flattered him.
Enter a seruant.

  Ser. My Lord, your sonne was gone before I came

   Yor. He was: why so: go all which way it will:
The Nobles they are fled, the Commons they are cold,
And will I feare reuolt on Herfords side.
Sirra, get thee to Plashie to my sister Gloster,
Bid her send me presently a thousand pound,
Hold, take my Ring

   Ser. My Lord, I had forgot
To tell your Lordship, to day I came by, and call'd there,
But I shall greeue you to report the rest

   Yor. What is't knaue?
  Ser. An houre before I came, the Dutchesse di'de

   Yor. Heau'n for his mercy, what a tide of woes
Come rushing on this wofull Land at once?
I know not what to do: I would to heauen
(So my vntruth had not prouok'd him to it)
The King had cut off my head with my brothers.
What, are there postes dispatcht for Ireland?
How shall we do for money for these warres?
Come sister (Cozen I would say) pray pardon me.
Go fellow, get thee home, prouide some Carts,
And bring away the Armour that is there.
Gentlemen, will you muster men?
If I know how, or which way to order these affaires
Thus disorderly thrust into my hands,
Neuer beleeue me. Both are my kinsmen,
Th' one is my Soueraigne, whom both my oath
And dutie bids defend: th' other againe
Is my kinsman, whom the King hath wrong'd,
Whom conscience, and my kindred bids to right:
Well, somewhat we must do: Come Cozen,
Ile dispose of you. Gentlemen, go muster vp your men,
And meet me presently at Barkley Castle:
I should to Plashy too: but time will not permit,
All is vneuen, and euery thing is left at six and seuen.

Exit

  Bush. The winde sits faire for newes to go to Ireland,
But none returnes: For vs to leuy power
Proportionable to th' enemy, is all impossible

   Gr. Besides our neerenesse to the King in loue,
Is neere the hate of those loue not the King

   Ba. And that's the wauering Commons, for their loue
Lies in their purses, and who so empties them,
By so much fils their hearts with deadly hate

   Bush. Wherein the king stands generally condemn'd
  Bag. If iudgement lye in them, then so do we,
Because we haue beene euer neere the King

   Gr. Well: I will for refuge straight to Bristoll Castle,
The Earle of Wiltshire is alreadie there

   Bush. Thither will I with you, for little office
Will the hatefull Commons performe for vs,
Except like Curres, to teare vs all in peeces:
Will you go along with vs?
  Bag. No, I will to Ireland to his Maiestie:
Farewell, if hearts presages be not vaine,
We three here part, that neu'r shall meete againe

   Bu. That's as Yorke thriues to beate back Bullinbroke
  Gr. Alas poore Duke, the taske he vndertakes
Is numbring sands, and drinking Oceans drie,
Where one on his side fights, thousands will flye

   Bush. Farewell at once, for once, for all, and euer.
Well, we may meete againe

   Bag. I feare me neuer.
Enter.

 The scene opens in Windsor Castle, where Bushy is trying to cheer Queen Isabel, who is saddened by the King's departure for Ireland. Isabel confesses that she feels the onset of some ominous event and that "some unborn sorrow" is approaching her. Bushy attempts to comfort Isabel by dismissing her thoughts as mere "shapes" and "shadows" of grief. But the queen is extremely troubled, and she cannot help being sad. She is in the grip of this "nameless woe." While the queen and Bushy are talking, Green rushes in and confirms Isabel's suspicion that something dreadful is about to occur. He brings the news that the banished Bolingbroke has landed with his army at Ravenspurgh. Moreover, Northumberland, Willoughby and Ross have rushed to his aid. Green further informs Isabel that the Earl of Worcester has also joined the rebels after resigning his stewardship. The Duke of York enters. He complains that Richard has gone off to Ireland at a time when his presence is of critical importance in England. He cynically remarks that this "sick hour" is the result of Richard's excesses, and now he shall have the opportunity of testing the loyalty of his so-called friends. A messenger enters with the news that York's son has already left and that he could not meet him. He then announces that the Duchess of Gloucester has died. York cannot bear the misfortunes any longer and gives vent to his grief. He confesses that he does not know how to handle the situation, and he wishes that he were dead. He issues instructions to dispatch the news of Bolingbroke's rebellion to Richard in Ireland. He further laments that there is neither money nor a strong army to fight the war and subdue the rebels. York feels torn between his duty to the king and his connection to Bolingbroke: "The one is my sovereign, whom both my oath / And duty bids defend; the other again / Is my kinsman, whom the King hath wronged. . . " York and Queen Isabel leave, and Bushy, Green and Bagot are left alone onstage to discuss the state of affairs. They realize that Richard "stands generally condemn'd" among the commoners, and that Bolingbroke enjoys the support of the majority of the populace. They have always been close to the king and now fear the consequences: "Besides, our nearness to the King in love / Is near the hate of those love not the King." Green and Bushy decide to retreat to Bristol Castle with the Earl of Wiltshire. Bagot decides to go to Ireland to meet Richard and inform him of the situation in England. As they part, the three of them realize that this may be the last time that they ever see each other. They all fear that York will not be victorious over Bolingbroke. They go their separate ways.

