Speeches (Lines) for Bushy in "History of Richard II"

Total: 13
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# Act / Scene Speech text
1 I / 4
  • Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, my lord,
    Suddenly taken; and hath sent p...
  • Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, my lord,
    Suddenly taken; and hath sent post haste
    To entreat your majesty to visit him.
  • King Richard II. We will ourself in person to this war:
    And, for our coffers, with too great a court
    And liberal largess, are grown somewhat light,
    We are inforced to farm our royal realm;
    The revenue whereof shall furnish us
    For our affairs in hand: if that come short,
    Our substitutes at home shall have blank charters;
    Whereto, when they shall know what men are rich,
    They shall subscribe them for large sums of gold
    And send them after to supply our wants;
    For we will make for Ireland presently.
    [Enter BUSHY]
    Bushy, what news?

    Bushy. Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, my lord,
    Suddenly taken; and hath sent post haste
    To entreat your majesty to visit him.

2 I / 4
  • At Ely House.
  • At Ely House.
  • King Richard II. Where lies he?

    Bushy. At Ely House.

3 II / 2
  • Madam, your majesty is too much sad:
    You promised, when you parted with the...
  • Madam, your majesty is too much sad:
    You promised, when you parted with the king,
    To lay aside life-harming heaviness
    And entertain a cheerful disposition.
  • Lord Willoughby. Hold out my horse, and I will first be there.

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

4 II / 2
  • Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows,
    Which shows like grief itself...
  • 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 gazed upon
    Show nothing but confusion, eyed 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's not seen;
    Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrow's eye,
    Which for things true weeps things imaginary.
  • 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 gazed upon
    Show nothing but confusion, eyed 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's not seen;
    Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrow's eye,
    Which for things true weeps things imaginary.

5 II / 2
  • 'Tis nothing but conceit, my gracious lady.
  • 'Tis nothing but conceit, my gracious lady.
  • 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.

6 II / 2
  • Why have you not proclaim'd Northumberland
    And all the rest revolted faction...
  • Why have you not proclaim'd Northumberland
    And all the rest revolted faction traitors?
  • 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?

7 II / 2
  • Despair not, madam.
  • Despair not, madam.
  • 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.

8 II / 2
  • The wind sits fair for news to go to Ireland,
    But none returns. For us to le...
  • 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.
  • Edmund of Langley. God for his mercy! what a tide of woes
    Comes rushing on this woeful land at once!
    I know not what to do: I would to God,
    So my untruth had not provoked 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 Servant]
    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 is my sovereign, whom both my oath
    And duty bids defend; the 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 every thing is left at six and seven.

    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.

9 II / 2
  • Wherein the king stands generally condemn'd.
  • Wherein the king stands generally condemn'd.
  • Bagot. And that's 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.

10 II / 2
  • Thither will I with you; for little office
    The hateful commons will perform...
  • Thither will I with you; for little office
    The hateful commons will perform for us,
    Except like curs to tear us all to pieces.
    Will you go along with us?
  • Green. Well, I will for refuge straight to Bristol castle:
    The Earl of Wiltshire is already there.

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

11 II / 2
  • That's as York thrives to beat back Bolingbroke.
  • That's as York thrives to beat back Bolingbroke.
  • Bagot. No; I will to Ireland to his majesty.
    Farewell: if heart's presages be not vain,
    We three here art that ne'er shall meet again.

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

12 II / 2
  • Well, we may meet again.
  • Well, we may meet again.
  • Green. Alas, poor duke! the task he undertakes
    Is numbering 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.

13 III / 1
  • More welcome is the stroke of death to me
    Than Bolingbroke to England. Lords...
  • More welcome is the stroke of death to me
    Than Bolingbroke to England. Lords, farewell.
  • Henry IV. Bring forth these men.
    Bushy and Green, I will not vex your souls--
    Since presently your souls must part your bodies--
    With too much urging your pernicious lives,
    For 'twere no charity; yet, to wash your blood
    From off my hands, here in the view of men
    I will unfold some causes of your deaths.
    You have misled a prince, a royal king,
    A happy gentleman in blood and lineaments,
    By you unhappied and disfigured clean:
    You have in manner with your sinful hours
    Made a divorce betwixt his queen and him,
    Broke the possession of a royal bed
    And stain'd the beauty of a fair queen's cheeks
    With tears drawn from her eyes by your foul wrongs.
    Myself, a prince by fortune of my birth,
    Near to the king in blood, and near in love
    Till you did make him misinterpret me,
    Have stoop'd my neck under your injuries,
    And sigh'd my English breath in foreign clouds,
    Eating the bitter bread of banishment;
    Whilst you have fed upon my signories,
    Dispark'd my parks and fell'd my forest woods,
    From my own windows torn my household coat,
    Razed out my imprese, leaving me no sign,
    Save men's opinions and my living blood,
    To show the world I am a gentleman.
    This and much more, much more than twice all this,
    Condemns you to the death. See them deliver'd over
    To execution and the hand of death.

    Bushy. More welcome is the stroke of death to me
    Than Bolingbroke to England. Lords, farewell.

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© Copyright 2017-2022 Shakespeare Network - Maximianno Cobra - All rights reserved.