730I mocke my name (great King) to flatter thee.

731Ric. Should dying men flatter those that liue?

732Gau. No, no, men liuing flatter those that dye.

733Rich. Thou now a dying, sayst thou flatter'st me.

734Gau. Oh no, thou dyest, though I the sicker be.

735Rich. I am in health, I breath, I see thee ill.

736Gau. Now he that made me, knowes I see thee ill:

737Ill in my selfe to see, and in thee, seeing ill,

738Thy death-bed is no lesser then the Land,

739Wherein thou lyest in reputation sicke,

740And thou too care-lesse patient as thou art,

741Commit'st thy' anointed body to the cure

742Of those Physitians, that first wounded thee.

743A thousand flatterers sit within thy Crowne,

744Whose compasse is no bigger then thy head,

745And yet incaged in so small a Verge,

746The waste is no whit lesser then thy Land:

747Oh had thy Grandsire with a Prophets eye,

748Seene how his sonnes sonne, should destroy his sonnes,

749From forth thy reach he would haue laid thy shame,

750Deposing thee before thou wert possest,

751Which art possest now to depose thy selfe.

752Why (Cosine) were thou Regent of the world,

753It were a shame to let his Land by lease:

754But for thy world enioying but this Land,

755Is it not more then shame, to shame it so?

756Landlord of England art thou, and not King:

757Thy state of Law, is bondslaue to the law,

758And---

759Rich. And thou, a lunaticke leane-witted foole,

760Presuming on an Agues priuiledge,

761Dar'st with thy frozen admonition

762Make pale our cheeke, chafing the Royall blood

763With fury, from his natiue residence?

764Now by my Seates right Royall Maiestie,

765Wer't thou not Brother to great Edwards sonne,

766This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head,

767Should run thy head from thy vnreuerent shoulders.

768Gau. Oh spare me not, my brothers Edwards sonne,

769For that I was his Father Edwards sonne:

770That blood aIready (like the Pellican)

771Thou hast tapt out, and drunkenly carows'd.

772My brother Gloucester, plaine well meaning soule

773(Whom faire befall in heauen 'mongst happy soules)

774May be a president, and witnesse good,

775That thou respect'st not spilling Edwards blood:

776Ioyne with the present sicknesse that I haue,

777And thy vnkindnesse be like crooked age,

778To crop at once a too-long wither'd flowre.

779Liue in thy shame, but dye not shame with thee,

780These words heereafter, thy tormentors bee.

781Conuey me to my bed, then to my graue,

782Loue they to liue, that loue and honor haue. Exit

783Rich. And let them dye, that age and sullens haue,

784For both hast thou, and both become the graue.

785Yor. I do beseech your Maiestie impute his words

786To wayward sicklinesse, and age in him:

787He loues you on my life, and holds you deere

788As Harry Duke of Herford, were he heere.

789Rich. Right, you say true: as Herfords loue, so his;

790As theirs, so mine: and all be as it is.

792Nor. My Liege, olde Gaunt commends him to your

793Maiestie.

794Rich. What sayes he?

795Nor. Nay nothing, all is said:

796His tongue is now a stringlesse instrument,

797Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent.

798Yor. Be Yorke the next, that must be bankrupt so,

799Though death be poore, it ends a mortall wo.

800Rich. The ripest fruit first fals, and so doth he,

801His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be:

802So much for that. Now for our Irish warres,

803We must supplant those rough rug-headed Kernes,

804Which liue like venom, where no venom else

805But onely they, haue priuiledge to liue.

806And for these great affayres do aske some charge

807Towards our assistance, we do seize to vs

808The plate, coine, reuennewes, and moueables,

809Whereof our Vncle Gaunt did stand possest.

810Yor. How long shall I be patient? Oh how long

811Shall tender dutie make me suffer wrong?

812Not Glousters death, nor Herfords banishment,

813Nor Gauntes rebukes, nor Englands priuate wrongs,

814Nor the preuention of poore Bullingbrooke,

815About his marriage, nor my owne disgrace

816Haue euer made me sowre my patient cheeke,

817Or bend one wrinckle on my Soueraignes face:

818I am the last of noble Edwards sonnes,

819Of whom thy Father Prince of Wales was first,

820In warre was neuer Lyon rag'd more fierce:

821In peace, was neuer gentle Lambe more milde,

822Then was that yong and Princely Gentleman,

823His face thou hast, for euen so look'd he

824Accomplish'd with the number of thy howers:

825But when he frown'd, it was against the French,

826And not against his friends: his noble hand

827Did win what he did spend: and spent not that

828Which his triumphant fathers hand had won:

829His hands were guilty of no kindreds blood,

830But bloody with the enemies of his kinne:

831Oh Richard, Yorke is too farre gone with greefe,

832Or else he neuer would compare betweene.

833Rich. Why Vncle,

834What's the matter?

835Yor. Oh my Liege, pardon me if you please, if not

836I pleas'd not to be pardon'd, am content with all:

837Seeke you to seize, and gripe into your hands

838The Royalties and Rights of banish'd Herford?

839Is not Gaunt dead? and doth not Herford liue?

840Was not Gaunt iust? and is not Harry true?

841Did not the one deserue to haue an heyre?

842Is not his heyre a well-deseruing sonne?

843Take Herfords rights away, and take from time

844His Charters, and his customarie rights:

845Let not to morrow then insue to day,

846Be not thy selfe. For how art thou a King

847But by faire sequence and succession?

848Now afore God, God forbid I say true,

849If you do wrongfully seize Herfords right,

850Call in his Letters Patents that he hath

851By his Atrurneyes generall, to sue

852His Liuerie, and denie his offer'd homage,

853You plucke a thousand dangers on your head,

854You loose a thousand well-disposed hearts,

855And pricke my tender patience to those thoughts

856Which honor and allegeance cannot thinke.

857Ric. Thinke what you will: we seise into our hands,

858His plate, his goods, his money, and his lands.

859Yor. Ile not be by the while: My Liege farewell,

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