North. Then thus: I have from Port le Blanc, a bay[1091][1092]
In Brittany, received intelligence[1092][1093]
That Harry Duke of Hereford, Rainold Lord Cobham,[1094]
................................280
That late broke from the Duke of Exeter,
His brother, Archbishop late of Canterbury,[1095]
Sir Thomas Erpingham, Sir John Ramston,[1096]
Sir John Norbery, Sir Robert Waterton and Francis Quoint,[1097]
All these well furnish'd by the Duke of Bretagne285
With eight tall ships, three thousand men of war.
Are making hither with all due expedience
And shortly mean to touch our northern shore:
Perhaps they had ere this, but that they stay
The first departing of the king for Ireland.290
If then we shall shake off our slavish yoke,[1098]
Imp out our drooping country's broken wing,
Redeem from broking pawn the blemish'd crown,[1099]
Wipe off the dust that hides our sceptre's gilt[1100]
And make high majesty look like itself,295
Away with me in post to Ravenspurgh;[1101]
But if you faint, as fearing to do so,
Stay and be secret, and myself will go.
Ross. To horse, to horse! urge doubts to them that fear.
Willo. Hold out my horse, and I will first be there.300
[Exeunt.
Scene II. The palace.[1102]
Enter Queen, Bushy, and Bagot.
Bushy. Madam, your majesty is too much sad.[1103]
You promised, when you parted with the king,
To lay aside life-harming heaviness,[1104]
And entertain a cheerful disposition.
Queen. To please the king I did; to please myself5
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,10
Is coming towards me, and my inward soul[1105]
With nothing trembles: at some thing it grieves,[1106]
More than with parting from my lord the king.
Bushy. Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows,[1107]
Which shows like grief itself, but is not so;[1108]15
For sorrow's eye, glazed with blinding tears,[1109]
Divides one thing entire to many objects;
Like perspectives, which, rightly gazed upon,[1110]
Show nothing but confusion, eyed awry,[1110]
Distinguish form: so your sweet majesty,[1111]20
Looking awry upon your lord's departure,
Find shapes of grief, more than himself, to wail;[1112]
Which, look'd on as it is, is nought but shadows[1113]
Of what it is not. Then, thrice-gracious queen,[1114][1115]
More than your lord's departure weep not: more's not seen;[1115][1116]25
Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrow's eye,[1117]
Which for things true weeps things imaginary.[1118]