K. Rich. What said our cousin, when you parted
And for my heart disdained that my tongue
Should so profane the word, that taught me craft
To counterfeit oppression of such grief,
That words seem'd buried in my sorrow's grave.
Marry, would the word farewell have lengthen'd
And added years to his short banishment,
He should have had a volume of farewells;
But, since it would not, he had none of me.
K. Rich. He is our cousin, cousin; but 'tis
When time shall call him home from banishment,
Whether our kinsman come to see his friends.
Ourself, and Bushy, Bagot here, and Green,
Observ'd his courtship to the common people:-
How he did seem to dive into their hearts,
With humble and familiar courtesy;
What reverence he did throw away on slaves;
Wooing poor craftsmen, with the craft of smiles,
And patient underbearing of his fortune,
As 'twere, to banish their effects with him.
Off goes his bonnet to an oysterwench;
A brace of draymen bid-God speed him well,
And had the tribute of his supple knee,
With Thanks, my countrymen, my loving
As were our England in reversion his,
And he our subjeets' next degree in hope.
Green. Well, he is gone; and with him go these
Now for the rebels, wlrich 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.
K. Rich, 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 enforc'd 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.
K. Rich. Bushy, what news?
Bushy. Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick,
Suddenly taken; and hath sent post haste,
To entreat your Majesty to visit him.
K. Rich. Where lies he?
Bushy. At Ely-house.
K. Rich. Now put it, heaven, in his physi
To help him to his grave immediately!
The lining of his coffers shall make coats
To deck our soldiers for these Irish wars. -
Come, Gentlemen, let's all go visit him:
Pray God, we may make haste, and come too
London. A Room in Ely-house.
GAUNT on a Couch; the Duke of YORK, and Others standing by him.
Gaunt. Will the King come? that I may breathe my last
In wholesome counsel to his unstay'd youth. York. Vex not yourself, nor strive not with your breath;
For all in vain comes counsel to his ear.
Gaunt. O, but, they say, the tongues of dying
Enforce attention, like deep harmony:
Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent
For they breathe truth, that breathe their words
He, that no more must say, is listen'd more Than they whom youth and ease have taught
More are men's ends mark'd, then their lives before:.
The setting sun, and musick at the close, As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last; Writ in remembrance, more than things long past: Though Richard my life's counsel would not hear, My death's sad tale may yet undeaf his ear.
York. No; it is stopp'd with other flattering sounds, As, praises of his state: then, there are found
Lascivious metres; to whose venom sound
The open ear of youth doth always listen:
Report of fashions in proud Italy;
Whose manners still our tardy apishi nation
Limps after, in base imitation.
Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity,
(So it be new, there's no respect how vile,)
That is not quickly buzz'd into his ears?
Then all too late comes counsel to be heard,
Where will doth mutiny with wit's regard.
Direct not him, whose way himself will choose ;
Tis breath thou lack'st, and that breath wilt thou
lose.
Gaunt. Methinks, I ant a prophét new inspir'd;
And thus, expiring, do foretell of him: -
His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last;
For violent fires soon burn out themselves:
Small showers last long, but sudden storms are
short;
He tires betimes, that spurs too fast betimes;
With eager feeding, food doth choke the feeder:
Light vanity, insatiate cormorant,
Consuming means, soon preys upon itself.
This royal throne of Kings, this scepter'd isle,
This earth of majesty, the seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise;
This fortress, built by nature for herself,
Against infection, and the hand of war;
This happy breed of men, this little world;
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall,
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands;
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this
This nurse, this teeming womb of royal Kings,
Fear'd by their breed, and famous by their
Renowned for their deeds as far from home,
(For Christian service, and true chivalry,)
As the sepulcher in stubborn Jewry,
Of the worlds ransom, blessed Mary's son:
This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land,
Dear for her reputation through the world,
Is now leas'd out (I die pronouncing it,)
Like to a tenement, or pelting farm:
England, bound in with the triumphant sea,
Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege
Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame,
With inky blots, and rotten parchment bonds;
That England, that was wont to conquer others,
Hath made a shameful conquest of itself:
O, would the scandal vanish with my life,
How happy then were my ensuing death!
Enter King RICHARD, and QUEEN; AUMERLE, - GUSHY, GREEN, BAGOT, Ross, and WILLOUGHBY.
York. The King is come: deal mildly with
For young hot colts, being rag'd, do rage the
Queen. How fares our noble uncle, Lancaster?
K. Rich. What comfort, man? How is't with
aged Gaunt?
Gaunt. O, how that name befits my compo-
Old Gaunt, indeed; and gaunt in being old :
Within me grief hath kept a tedious fast;
And who abstains from meat, that is not gaunt?
For sleeping England long time have I watch'd;
Watching breeds leanness, leanness is all gaunt:
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