Queen Isabel is lonely and melancholy without her husband Richard by
QUEEN What sport shall we devise here in this garden,
To drive away the heavy thought of care?
Lady Madam, we'll play at bowls.
QUEEN 'Twill make me think the world is full of rubs,
And that my fortune rubs against the bias.
Lady Madam, we'll dance.
QUEEN My legs can keep no measure in delight,
When my poor heart no measure keeps in grief:
Therefore, no dancing, girl; some other sport.
Lady Madam, we'll tell tales.
QUEEN Of sorrow or of joy?
Lady Of either, madam.
QUEEN Of neither, girl:
For of joy, being altogether wanting,
It doth remember me the more of sorrow;
Or if of grief, being altogether had,
It adds more sorrow to my want of joy:
For what I have I need not to repeat;
And what I want it boots not to complain.
Lady Madam, I'll sing.
QUEEN 'Tis well that thou hast cause