YORK I’ll not be by the while. My liege, farewell.
What will ensue hereof there’s none can tell.
But by bad courses may be understood
That their events can never fall out good. Exit.
RICHARD Go, Bushy, to the Earl of Wiltshire straight,
Bid him repair to us to Ely House
To see this business. Tomorrow next
We will for Ireland, and ’tis time I trow.
And we create in absence of ourself
Our uncle York lord governor of England,
For he is just and always loved us well.
Come on, my Queen, tomorrow must we part.
Be merry, for our time of stay is short.
Flourish. Exeunt [Richard] and Queen, [Aumerle, Bushy, Green, and Bagot.]
Northumberland, Willoughby and Ross remain. (2.1.211-223SD)
I’m not going to stay here, and stand by, while you do that, says York; I’m out of here. But he’s polite—my liege, farewell—and (as ever) has a commonplace to end with. What will ensue hereof, what’s going to follow on from your actions, none of us can say. (But I have a fair idea, he might be implying.) Because we know that from bad courses, ill-advised, immoral, badly chosen courses of action, there are never good outcomes. It’s not going to end well. And with that, York’s out, at least for a bit.
Richard is moving fast, now he’s outlined what he’s going to do. He sends Bushy with a message to the earl of Wiltshire (who was, like Bushy, Bagot, and Green, one of Richard’s favourites, although he doesn’t appear in the play) (the lines here sound just a little like history play parody, where one has to work to keep track of what’s a place and who is a person: here there’s a person named after a county and a house in London named after a different city); Ely House is, as has already been established, Gaunt’s London house, where this scene is taking place. So Richard’s sent Bushy to bring the earl to where they all are at the moment, Gaunt’s; he’s going to put him in charge of this business, that is, seizing all Gaunt’s property (and, presumably, of packing it up and selling as much of it for cash as possible). Because Richard’s off to Ireland tomorrow, and not before time I trow, I believe, he says.
And a final cunning/malicious gesture (or is it obtuse foolhardiness? surely the former): we create in absence of ourself our uncle York lord governor of England. There’s got to be heavy irony—and a laugh—on for he is just and always loved us well; after all this is what York has just been protesting, even as he’s been trying to give his nephew a proper telling-off. But Richard isn’t just making a flamboyant, ironic gesture. York is the proper person to be regent, and naming him prevents him from becoming involved in any rebellion (or at least makes it harder). It also signals that there is no gap being left for Bolingbroke, who would have as good a claim as York on the regency, if not better. No time to waste! And off Richard goes with the Queen (who tends to remain a bit of a passenger in this scene): tomorrow must we part, he says, be merry, for our time of stay is short. What sounds like simply an exit line, a way of getting most of the ensemble off-stage is full of potential, a vital character point. Do we imagine a tender leave-taking, a final night of love-making, even, between devoted husband and wife before he goes off to the wars? (Some of us might think forward to Hotspur and Kate Percy, in 1 Henry IV.) Or is this hollow, perfunctory, even ironic (Bushy, Bagot, and Green, the unseen Wiltshire and even Aumerle clearly being where Richard’s attentions are engaged)—or savage—be merry, you won’t have to put up with me much longer, I’m going off to have a war? So much detail; so many choices.
Northumberland, Willoughby and Ross remain. That’s significant.
