My Lord of Salisbury, we have stayed ten days
And hardly kept our countrymen together,
And yet we hear no tidings from the King.
Therefore we will disperse ourselves. Farewell.
My Lord of Salisbury, we have waited ten days and barely managed to hold our countrymen together, and still we have received no news from the King. Therefore, we will disperse. Farewell.
Lord Salisbury, we've been here ten days, I've barely kept the men from scattering, and there's still not a word from the King. We're done waiting. Goodbye.
ten days. nothing. barely held them here no word from the king we're done farewell
To a modern audience, the Welsh captain's list of omens — withered bay trees, blood-red moon, fearful meteors — sounds like superstition. To Shakespeare's audience it was closer to physics. Medieval and early modern cosmology held that the natural world and the human world were sympathetically linked: a disruption in the state of kingship would manifest as disruption in the natural order. Comets, blood-red moons, and strange weather were understood as the cosmos communicating political news. Shakespeare uses this tradition throughout his history plays and tragedies — 'When beggars die there are no comets seen; the heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes' (Julius Caesar). The Welsh captain isn't being superstitious; he's reading the world as his culture taught him to. The interesting thing is that he's right: Richard is falling, whether or not the bay trees have actually withered.
Salisbury is the play's most loyal grief-keeper — he cannot save Richard and he knows it, but he cannot abandon him either. Watch for his characteristic late-arriving elegies: he always speaks after it's too late.
Stay yet another day, thou trusty Welshman.
The King reposeth all his confidence in thee.
Stay one more day, my trustworthy Welshman. The King places all his confidence in you.
Come on, just one more day. The King trusts you completely — you, of all people.
just one more day the king chose you don't walk away now
’Tis thought the King is dead. We will not stay.
The bay trees in our country are all withered,
And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven;
The pale-faced moon looks bloody on the earth,
And lean-looked prophets whisper fearful change;
Rich men look sad, and ruffians dance and leap,
The one in fear to lose what they enjoy,
The other to enjoy by rage and war.
These signs forerun the death or fall of kings.
Farewell. Our countrymen are gone and fled,
As well assured Richard their king is dead.
It is believed the King is dead. We will not stay. The bay trees in our country have all withered, and meteors are frightening the fixed stars of heaven. The pale-faced moon looks bloody upon the earth, and gaunt-looking prophets whisper of fearful change. Rich men look sad, and ruffians dance and leap — the former in fear of losing what they possess, the latter hoping to seize what they can through violence and war. These signs foreshadow the death or fall of kings. Farewell. Our countrymen are gone and fled, fully convinced that Richard their king is dead.
Everyone thinks the King is already dead. We're not sticking around. The bay trees back home have all dried up, meteors are streaking across the sky, the moon looks blood-red, and hollow-eyed prophets are muttering about terrible things ahead. Rich men are terrified of losing what they have, while thugs are out celebrating — figuring they'll grab power through chaos. These are exactly the warning signs that show up before a king falls. Goodbye. Our men have already bolted — they're convinced Richard is gone.
the king is dead, we know it bay trees dead, moon blood-red rich men afraid, ruffians dancing omens don't lie we're already gone
Scene 2-4 is seven chunks long and contains only two speaking characters. Modern productions often cut it. But it does several things nothing else in the play does. First, it confirms Richard's military situation from an independent source — he's losing troops he doesn't know he's losing, and the news will reach him with crushing force in 3-2. Second, it introduces the 'shooting star' image that Richard will use for himself. Third, it marks the end of Act 2 with a deliberate slowing-down: after the rapid collapse of 2-1 through 2-3, this quiet scene of two men watching an army melt away gives the audience a moment to feel the weight of what's happened. Salisbury's closing speech — six lines of pure elegy — is one of the play's most beautiful passages of anticipatory grief. Keep an eye on Salisbury: he will remain loyal to Richard past the point of any rational hope.
Ah, Richard! With the eyes of heavy mind
I see thy glory like a shooting star
Fall to the base earth from the firmament.
Thy sun sets weeping in the lowly west,
Witnessing storms to come, woe, and unrest.
Thy friends are fled, to wait upon thy foes,
And crossly to thy good all fortune goes.
Ah, Richard! With the eyes of a heavy-hearted mind, I watch your glory fall to the ground like a shooting star dropping from the firmament. Your sun sets in sorrow in the lowly west, foretelling storms to come, grief, and unrest. Your friends have fled to serve your enemies, and fortune turns against everything that is for your good.
God, Richard — I look at all this with a sinking feeling and all I can see is your star dropping right out of the sky. You were blazing up there, and now it's all crashing down to earth. Your sun's going down crying in the west — bad weather coming, nothing but trouble and grief ahead. Your friends have all bailed to go work for your enemies, and every bit of luck is running the wrong way.
watching your star fall out of the sky sun going down like it's crying storms coming, grief ahead your friends are all gone to the other side nothing's breaking your way
The Reckoning
A two-minute scene that does one thing perfectly: it shows Richard losing his last reserve forces without a fight, and without anyone even knowing he's still alive in Ireland. The Welsh captain's list of bad omens — withered bay trees, bloody moon, dancing ruffians — frames Richard's fall as something written in nature, not just politics. Salisbury's final image of a shooting star is devastating in its gentleness.
If this happened today…
The interim manager calls the temp agency to say the temps walked out — they heard on social media the company CEO was already done, so they didn't see the point. 'We saw the signs,' the agency rep says. 'Stocks tanking, senior staff resigning en masse, people celebrating in the parking lot. Seemed like a done deal.' The manager is left alone with a phone that doesn't ring and the image of a brand that used to shine.