le should have had a volume of farewells; Jut, since it would not, he had none of me. K. Rich. He is our cousin, cousin; but doubt,

is

Vhen time shall call him home from banishment,

Whether our kinsman come to see his friends. urself, and Bushy, Bagot here, and Green,

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,

bserv'd his courtship to the cominon people:-As, praises of his state: then, there are found 1 ow he did seem to dive into their hearts," ith humble and familiar courtesy ; hat reverence he did throw away on slaves: going poor craftsmen, with the craft of smiles, d patient underbearing of his fortune, twere, to banish their effects with him. goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench; race of draymen bid-God speed him well, d had the tribute of his snapple knee, th-Thanks, my countrymen, my loving friends;

were our England in reversion his,
The our subjects' next degree in hope.
reen. Well, he is gone; and with him go
these thoughts.

y for the rebels, which stand out in Ireland:
edient manage must be made, my liege;
further leisure yield them further means,
their advantage, and your highness' loss.
Rich. We will ourself in person to this war.
for our coffers-with too great a court,
liberal largess--are grown somewhat light,
are enforc'd to farm our royal realm;
revenne whereof shall furnish us
our affairs in band: If that come short,
substitutes at home shall have blank charters;
ereto, when they shall know what men are
rich,

y shall subscribe them for large sums of gold,
send them after to supply our wants;
we will make for Ireland presently.
Enter Bushy.

y, what news?

shy. Old John of Gant is grievous sick,

my lord;

denly taken; and hath sent post-haste,
treat your majesty to visit him.
Rich. Where lies he?

shy. At Ely-house.

Rick. Now put it, heaven, in his physician's mind,

elp him to his grave immediately! ining of his coffers shall make coats Jeck our soldiers for these Irish wars.we, gentlemen, let's all go visit him: y God, we may make haste, and come too late! [Exeunt.

Lascivious metres; to whose venom sound
The open ear of youth doth always listen:
Report of fashions in prond Italy;
Whose manners still our tardy apish 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, A
Where will doth mutiny with wit's regard.
Direct not him, whose way himself will choose;
'Tis breath thou lack'st, and that breath wit
thon lose.

Gount. Methinks, I am a prophet new in
spir'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; :A
With eager feeding, food doth choke the feeder:
Like vanity, insatiate cormorant,

Consuming means, soous preys upon itself.
This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle,
This earth of majesty, this 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
England,

This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings,
Fear'd by their breed, and famons by their birth,
Renowned for their deeds as far from home
As is the sepulchre in stubborn Jewry,
(For Christian service, and true chivalry,)

Of the world's 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,)
England, bonnd in with the triumphant sea,
Like to a tenement, or pelting farm:
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,
Bushy, Green, Bagot, Ross, and Willoughby,
York. The king is come: deal mildly with his
youth;

For young hot colts, being rag'd, do rage the

more.

Queen. How fares our noble uncle Lancaster? K. Rich. What comfort, man? How is't with aged Gannt?

Gaunt. O, how that name befits my compo
sition !

Oid 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 gaunts
The pleasure, that some fathers feed upon,
Is my riot fast, I mean-my children's look

And, therein fasting, hast thou made me gaunt
Gaunt am I for the grave, gaunt as a grave,
Whose hollow womb inherits nought but bones.
K. Rich. Can sick men play so nicely with
their names?

Gaunt. No, misery makes sport to mock itself:
Since thou dost seek to kill my name in me,
I mock my name, great king, to flatter thee.
K. Rich. Should dying men flatter with those
that live ?

Gaunt. No, no; men living flatter those that
die.

K. Rich. Thou, now a dying, say'st-thou flatter'st me.

Gaunt, Oh! no; thou diest, though I the sicker be.

K. Rich. I am in health, I breathe, and see

thee ill.

Gaunt. Now, he that made me, knows I see
thee ill;

Ill in myself to see, and in thee seeing ill.
Thy deathbed is no lesser than thy land,
Wherein thou liest in reputation sick:
And thou, too careless patient as thou art,
Committ'st thy anointed body to the cure
Of those physicians that first wounded thee;
A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown,
Whose compass is no bigger than thy head;
And yet, incaged in so sinall a verge,
The waste is no whit lesser than thy land;
O, had thy grandsire, with a prophet's eye,
Seen how his son's son should destroy his sons,
From forth thy reach he would have laid thy

shame ;

Deposing thee before thou wert possess'd,
Which art possess'd now to depose thyself.
Why, cousin, wert thou regent of the world,
It were a shame to let this land by lease:
But, for thy world, enjoying but this land,
Is it not more than shame, to shame it so ?
Landlord of England art thou now, not king:
Thy state of law is bondslave to the law;
And thou

Enter Northumberland.

North. My liege, old Gaun comunenda hia
to your majesty.

K. Rich. What says he now?
North. Nay, nothing; all is said:
His tongue is now a stringless instrument;
Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent
York. Be York the next that must be bub
rupt so!

Though death be poor, it ends a mortal wo
K. Rich. The ripest fruit first falls, and a
doth he;

His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be:
So much for that.Now for our Irish wan
We must supplant those rough rug-beaded ker
Which live like venom, where no venom else,
But only they, hath privilege to live.
And for these great alfairs do ask some charg
Towards our assistance, we do seize to as
The plate, coin, revenues, and moveables,
Whereof our uncle Gaunt did stand posses
York. How long shall I be patient? Ah,
long

Shall tender duty make me suffer wrong?
Not Gloster's death, nor Hereford's banish
Not Gaunt's rebukes, nor England's p

wrongs,

Nor the prevention of poor Bolingbroke About his marriage, nor my own disgrace, Have ever made me sour my patient chee, Or bend one wrinkle on my sovereign's fa I am the last of noble Edward's sons, Of whom thy father, prince of Wales, wat In war, was never lion rag'd more fierce, In peace, was never gentle lamb more m Than was that young and princely gentle His face thou hast, for even so look'd he, Accomplish'd with the number of thy houn But, when he frown'd, it was against the Fra And not against his friends: his noble had Did win what he did spend, and spent not t Which his triumphant father's hand had His hands were guilty of no kindred's blad But bloody with the enemies of his kin O, Richard; York is too far gone with g Or else he never would compare between Make pale our check; chasing the royal blood, K. Rich. Why, uncle, what's the matur With fury, from his native residence. Now by my seat's right royal majesty, Wert thou not brother to great Edward's son, This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head, Should run thy head from thy unreverent shoulders.

K. Rich.

a lanatick lean-witted fool, Presuming on an ague's privilege, Dar'st with thy frozen admonition

Gaunt. O, spare me not, my brother Edward's

son,

For that I was his father Edward's son ;
That blood already, like the pelican,
Hast thou tapp'd out, and drunkenly carous'd:
My brother Gloster, plain well meaning soul,
(Whom fair befall in heaven 'mongst happy
souls!)

May be a precedent, and witness good,
That thou respect'st not spilling Edward's blood:
Join with the present sickness that I have,
And thy unkindness be like crooked age,
To crop at once a too-long wither'd flower.
Live in thy shame, but die not shame with
thee!

These words hereafter thy tormentors be !-
Convey me to my bed, then to my grave:
Love they to live, that love and honour have.
[Exit, borne out by his Attendants.
K. Rich. And let them die, that age and sul-
lens have;

For both hast thou, and both become the grave.
York. 'Beseech your majesty, impute his words
To wayward sickliness and age in him:

Ho loves you, on my life, and holds you dear
As Harry duke of Hereford, were he here.
K. Rich Right; you say true: as Hereford's
love, so his:

As theirs, so mine: and all be as it is.

York.
0,
Pardon me, if you please; if not, I, plea
Not to be pardon'd, am content withal.
Seek you to seize, and gripe into your ha
The royalties and rights of banish'd Her
Is not Gaunt dead? and doth not Herefor
Was not Gaunt just 7 and is not Harry La
Did not the one deserve to have an heir?
Is not his heir a well deserving son?
Take Hereford's rights away, and take front
His charters, and his customary rights;
Let not to-morrow then ensue to-day:
Be not thyself, for how art thou a king,
But by fair sequence and succession?
Now, afore God, (God forbid, I say true!
If you do wrongfully seize Hereford's righ
Call in the letters patent that he hath
By his attorneys-general to sue
His livery, and deny his offer'd homage,
You pluck a thousand dangers on your b
You lose a thousand well-disposed hearts,
And prick my tender patience to those that
Which honour and allegiance cannot think
K. Rich. Think what you will; we se
our hands

His plate, his goods, his money, and his
York. I'll not be by the while: My
farewell:

What will ensue hereof, there's none can te
But by bad courses may he understood,
That their events can never fall out good.

K. Rich. Go, Bushy, to the earl of Wil
straight;

Bid him repair to us to Ely-house,

To see this business: To-morrow next
We will for freland; and 'tis time, I trow;
Ind we create, in absence of ourself,
Jur uncle York lord governor of England,
'or he is just, and always lov'd us well.-
Come on, our queen: to-morrow must we part;|
e merry, for our time of stay is short.

[Flourish. Exeunt King, Queen, Bushy, Aumerle, Greene, and Baget. North. Well, lords, the duke of Lancaster is dead.

loss. And living too; for now his son is duke.
Fillo. Barely in title, not in revenne.
orth Richly in both, if justice had their right.
ass. My heart is great; but it must break
with silence,

it be disburden'd with a liberal tongue. orth. Nay, speak thy mind; and let him ne'er speak more,

at speaks thy words again, to do thee harm! illo. Tends that thou'dst speak, to the duke of Hereford ?

be so, out with it boldly, man;

ck is mine ear to hear of good towards him. 88. No good at all, that I can do for him; ess you call it good to pity him,

ft and gelded of his patrimony.

rth. Now, afore heaven, 'tis shame, such
wrongs are borne,

im a royal prince, and many more
oble blood in this declining land.
king is not himself, but basely led
latterers; and what they will inform
ely in hate 'gainst any of us all,
will the king severely prosecute
ast us, our lives, our children, and our heirs.
ss. The commons hath he pill'd with griev-

ous taxes,

gnite lost their hearts: the nobles hath he fin'd

ancient quarrels, and quite lost their hearts. lo. And daily new exactions are devis'd; anks, benevolences, and I wot not what: what, o' God's name, doth become of this 7 . Wars have not wasted it, for warr'd he hath not,

asely yielded upon compromise which his ancestors achiev'd with blows: hath he spent in peace than they in wars. is. The carl of Wiltshire hath the realm in farm.

lo. The king's grown bankrupt, like a broken man.

rth Reproach, and dissolution, hangeth
over him.

ts. He hath not money for these Irish wars,
urdensome taxations notwithstanding,
by the robbing of the banish'd duke.
rth. His noble kinsman; most degenerate
king!

lords, we hear this fearful tempest sing,
seek no shelter to avoid the storm:
ee the wind sit sore upon our sails,
yet we strike not, but securely perish.

8. We see the very wreck that we must suffer;

unavoided is the danger now,

suffering so the causes of our wreck.

[The son of Richard earl of Arundel,]
That late broke from the duke of Exeter,
His brother, archbishop late of Canterbury,
Sir Thomas Erpingham, Sir John Ramston,
Sir John Norbery, Sir Robert Waterton, and
Francis Quoint,

All these well furnish'd by the duke of Bretagne,
With eight tall ships, three thousand men of

war,

Are making hither with all due expedience,
And shortly mean to touch our northern shore:
Perhaps, they had ere this; but that they stay
The first departing of the king for Ireland.
If then we shall shake off our slavish yoke,
Imp out our drooping country's broken wing,
Redeem from broking pawn the blemish'd crown,
Wipe off the dust that hides our sceptre's gilt,
And make high majesty look like itself,
Away, with me, in post to Ravenspurg:
But if you faint, as fearing to do so,
Stay, and be secret, and myself will go.
Ross. To horse, to horse! urge doubts to them
that fear.

Willo. Hold out my horse, and I will first be
there.
[Exeunt.

SCENE II. The same. A Room in the Palace.
Enter Queen, Bushy, and Bagot.

Bushy, Madam, your majesty is too much sad:
You promis'd, when you parted with the king,
To lay aside life-harting heaviness,
And entertain a cheerful disposition.

Queen. To please the king, I did to please
myself,

I cannot do it; yet I know no cause
Why I should welcome such a guest as grief,
Save bidding farewell to so sweet a guest
As my sweet Richard: Yet, again, methinks,
Some unborn sorrow, ripe in fortune's womb,
Is coming towards me; and my inward soul
With nothing trembles: at some thing, it
grieves,

More than with parting from my lord the king.
Bushy. Each substance of a grief hath twenty
shadows,

Which show like grief itself, but are not so;
For sorrow's eye, glazed with blinding tears,"
Divides one thing entire to many objects;
Like perspectives, which, rightly gaz'd upon,,
Show nothing but confusion; ey'd awry,
Distinguish form: so your sweet majesty,
Looking awry upon your lord's departure,
Finds shapes of griefs, more than himself, to
wail;

Which, look'd on as it is, is nonght but shadows
Of what it is not. Then, thrice-gracions queen,
More than your lord's departure weep not;
more's not seen:

Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrow's eye,
Which, for things true, weeps things imaginary.
Queen. It may be so; but yet my inward soul
Persuades me, it is otherwise: Howe'er it be,
I cannot but be sad; so heavy sad,
As,-though, in thinking, on no thought 1
think,

Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink.
Bushy. "Tis nothing but conceit, my gracions
lady.

F Not so; even through the hollow eyes Queen. Tis nothing less: conceit is still deriv·d of death,

life peering; but I dare not say bear the tidings of our comfort is.

lo. Nay, let us share thy thoughts, as thou dost ours.

. Be confident to speak, Northumberland: three are but thyself; and, speaking so, words are but as thoughts; therefore, be bold.

irth. Then thus ;-I have from Port le Blanc, a bay

Brittany, receiv'd intelligence,

Harry Hereford, Reignold Lord Cobham,[

From some fore-father grief: mine is not so;
For nothing hath begot my something grief;
Or something hath the nothing that I grieve,
Tis in reversion that I do possess

I

I

But what it is, that is not yet known; what cannot name; 'tis nameless wo, I wot. Enter Green.

Green. God save your majesty !—and well met, gentlemen:

hope, the king is not yet shipp'd for Ireland... Queen. Why hop'st thou so? 'tis better hope,

he is;

4

For his designs crave haste, his haste good hope; Come, sister,-cousin, I would say: 'pray, par Then wherefore dost thou hope, he is not don me.

shipp'd 7
Green. That he, our hope, might have retir'd]
his power,

And driven into despair an enemy's hope,
Who strongly hath set footing in this land:
The banish'd Bolingbroke repeals himself,
And with uplift'd arms is safe arriv'd
At Ravenspurg.

Queen.

Now God in heaven forbid! Green. O, madam, 'tis too true; and that is

worse,

The Lord Northumberland, his young son Henry
Percy,

The lords of Ross, Beaumond, and Willoughby,
With all their powerful friends, are fled to him.
Bushy. Why have you not proclaim'd Nor-
thumberland,

And all the rest of the revolted faction, traitors?
Green, We have: whereon the earl of Wor-
cester

Hath broke his staff, resign'd his stewardship,
And all the household servants fled with him
To Bolingbroke.

Queen. So, Green, thou art the midwife to my
Wo,

And Bolingbroke my sorrow's dismal heir:
Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy;
And I, a gasping new-deliver'd mother,
Have wo to wo, sorrow to sorrow join'd.
Bushy. Despair not, madam.

Queen.

Go, few, To the Servant.] get thee hom
provide some carts,

And bring away the armour that is there.-
[Exit Serves
Gentlemen, will you go muster men 7 if I ku
How, or which way, to order these affairs,
Thus disorderly thrust into my hands,
Never believe me. Both are my kinsmen
The one's my sovereign, whom both my oth
And duty bids defend: the other again,
Is ny kinsman, whom the king hath wrong
Whom conscience and my kindred bids to righ
Well, somewhat we must do-Come, conia,
Dispose of you: Gentlemen, go, muster up y
men,

And meet me presently at Berkley-castle
I should to Plashy too;--
But time will not permit -All is uneven,
And every thing is left at six and seven-
[Exeunt York and a
Bushy. The wind sits fair for news to g
Ireland,
But none returns. For us to levy power,
Proportionable to the enemy,
Is all impossible.

Green. Besides our nearness to the king
love,

Is near the hate of those love not the king
Bagot. And that's the wavering common
their love

Who shall hinder me? Lies in their purses and whoso empties
By so much fills their hearts with deadly ha
Bushy. Wherein the king stands gene

I will despair, and be at enmity
With cozening hope; he is a flatterer,
A parasite, a keeper-back of death,
Who gently would dissolve the bands of life,
Which false hope lingers in extremity.

Enter York.

Green. Here comes the duke of York.

Queen. With signs of war about his aged neck;
O, full of careful business are his looks!-
Uncle,

For heaven's sake, speak comfortable words.
York. Should I do so, I should belie my
thoughts:

Comfort's in heaven; and we are on the earth,
Where nothing lives but crosses, care, and grief.
Your husband he is gone to save far off,
Whilst others come to make him lose at home:
Here am I left to underprop his land;
Who, weak with age, cannot support myself:-
Now comes the sick hour that his surfeit made;
Now shall he try his friends that flatter'd him.

The nobles they are fled, the commons they are
cold,

And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's side.
Sirrah, get thee to Plashy, to my sister Gloster;
Bid her send me presently a thousand pound:
Hold, take my ring.

Serv. My lord, I had forgot to tell your lord

ship;

To-day, as I came by, I called there;
But I shall grieve yon to report the rest.
York. What is it, knave?

Serv. An hour before I came, the duchess died.
York. God for his mercy! what a tide of woes
Comes rushing on this woful land at once!
I know not what to do:-I would to God
(So my untruth had not provok'd him to it,)
The king had cut off my head with my
ther's.-

What are there no posts despatch'd for land 7

condemn'd.

Bagot. If judgment He in them, then so doi Because we ever have been near the king. Green. Well, I'll for refuge straight to

Castle;

The earl of Wiltshire is already there.
Bushy. Thither will I with you: for little
Will the hateful commons perform for asp
Except like curs to tear us all to pieces-
Will you go along with us?

Bagot. No; I'll to Ireland to his majes
Farewell: if heart's presages be not vain,
We three here part, that ne'er shall meet
Bushy. That's as York thrives to beat
Bolingbroke.

Green. Alas, poor duke! the task he und Is-mumb'ring sands, and drinking ocean Where one on his side fights, thousands will Bushy. Farewell at once; for once,

I

and ever.

SCENE III. The Wilds in Glostershin Enter Bolingbroke and Northumberland,

Forces.

Boling. How far is it, my lord, to B now ?

North. Believe me, noble lord,

am a stranger here in Glostershire.
These high wild hills, and rough uneven
Draw out our miles, and make them wears
And yet your fair discourse hath been ass
Making the hard way sweet and delectable
But, I bethink me, what a weary way
From Ravenspurg to Cotswold, will be femm
In Ross und Willoughby, wanting your

pany:

Which, I protest, hath very much begnil'd
The tediousness and process of my travel:
But theirs is sweeten'd with the hope to have
bro-The present benefit which I possess:
And hope to joy, is little less in joy,
Than hope enjoy'd: by this the weary lorda
Shall make their way seem short; as mine

Ire

How shall we do for money for these wars ?

done

Before I make reply to aught you say.

Berk. Mistake me not, my lord; 'tis not my meaning,

To raze one title of your honour out

To you, my lord, I come (what lord you will,)
From the most gracious regent of this land,
whenceso-The duke of York; to know, what pricks you on
To take advantage of the absent time,
And fright our native peace with self-born arms.
Enter York, attended.

What was his reason ?" was not so resolv'd, when last we spake together.

ercy. Because your lordship was proclaimed traitor.

the, my lord, is gone to Ravenspurg, offer service to the duke of Hereford; I sent me o'er by Berkley, to discover

lat power the duke of York had levied there; n with direction to repair to Ravenspurg. rth. Have you forgot the duke of Hereford, boy?

rey. No, my good lord; for that is not forgot,

ich ne'er I did remember; to my knowledge, ver in my life did look on him.

rth Then learn to know him now: this is

From forth the ranks of many thousand French;
O, then, how quickly should this arm of mine,

ling. I thank thee, gentle Percy; and be Now prisoner to the palsy, chastise thee,