RICHARD        Off goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench,

A brace of draymen bid God speed him well

And had the tribute of his supple knee,

With ‘Thanks, my countrymen, my loving friends’,

As were our England in reversion his,

And he our subjects’ next degree in hope.

GREEN            Well, he is gone, and with him go these thoughts.

Now for the rebels which stand out in Ireland,

Expedient manage must be made, my liege,

Ere further leisure yield them further means

For their advantage and your highness’ loss. (1.4.31-41)

Richard is getting more detailed, vivid, and specific in his description of Bolingbroke’s cultivation of the common people; there’s a hint of exaggeration or embroidery in Richard’s choice of examples, for instance doffing his bonnet, his hat to an oyster-wench. Bonnet isn’t at all a gendered term for hat in this period, it just means a soft, unstructured hat, as opposed to one with a high crown, for instance; it’s a more everyday, non-elite type of hat. A oyster-wench would be low in the pecking order of street vendors, oysters being cheap food, a staple in the diet of the poor, so Bolingbroke is making a courtly, courteous gesture to a very lowly woman. A couple of draymen, carters—truckies, in effect—speed him well, give him their best wishes as he goes on his way: he bows to them too, deeply, extending his leg in the courtly fashion, and answers the men, ‘Thanks, my countrymen, my loving friends’ (more scope for scornful imitation here, as Richard mocks Bolingbroke’s apparently egalitarian familiarity). And then, in Richard’s last two lines, his point: he’s suspicious of Bolingbroke’s actions not so much in themselves, but because he thinks that Bolingbroke is behaving as if he were next in line to the throne after Richard, England—our England, as Richard terms it, definitely the royal plural here, rather than his and mine—in reversion his, using the technical, legal term for the way in which an office, a title, or indeed land could be promised to a successor (who would trade on, and profit by, the expectation of income, status, and influence on the death of their predecessor). Bolingbroke is both making a large assumption and acting, in public, as if it’s a certainty, as if he were our—Richard’s—subjects’ next degree in hope, the heir to the throne, happily and confidently looked for by the people of England, thought by everyone to be a done deal.

Green isn’t going to enter into this rather tense and messy discussion, and changes the subject: Bolingbroke’s gone, and with him go these thoughts; don’t obsess, forget about him. What you need to be thinking about and dealing with is the rebels in Ireland, being obstinate and causing trouble. Expedient manage must be made: you need to do something to regain control, quickly, now, with all possible efficiency, because any more leisure, delay, just gives them even more scope for pressing home their advantage. Which is very much to your detriment, and a much bigger problem.