642Gau. Will the King come, that I may breath my last

643In wholsome counsell to his vnstaid youth?

644Yor. Vex not your selfe, nor striue not with your breth

645For all in vaine comes counsell to his eare.

646Gau. Oh but (they say) the tongues of dying men

647Inforce attention like deepe harmony;

648Where words are scarse, they are seldome spent in vaine,

649For they breath truth, that breath their words in paine.

650He that no more must say, is listen'd more,

651Then they whom youth and ease haue taught to glose,

652More are mens ends markt, then their liues before,

653The setting Sun, and Musicke in the close

654As the last taste of sweetes, is sweetest last,

655Writ in remembrance, more then things long past;

656Though Richard my liues counsell would not heare,

657My deaths sad tale, may yet vndeafe his eare.

658Yor. No, it is stopt with other flatt'ring sounds

659As praises of his state: then there are sound

660Lasciuious Meeters, to whose venom sound

661The open eare of youth doth alwayes listen.

662Report of fashions in proud Italy,

663Whose manners still our tardie apish Nation

664Limpes after in base imitation.

665Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity,

666So it be new, there's no respect how vile,

667That is not quickly buz'd into his eares?

668That all too late comes counsell to be heard,

669Where will doth mutiny with wits regard:

670Direct not him, whose way himselfe will choose,

671Tis breath thou lackst, and that breath wilt thou loose.

672Gaunt. Me thinkes I am a Prophet new inspir'd,

673And thus expiring, do foretell of him,

674His rash fierce blaze of Ryot cannot last,

675For violent fires soone burne out themselues,

676Small showres last long, but sodaine stormes are short,

677He tyres betimes, that spurs too fast betimes;

678With eager feeding, food doth choake the feeder:

679Light vanity, insatiate cormorant,

680Consuming meanes soone preyes vpon it selfe.

681This royall Throne of Kings, this sceptred Isle,

682This earth of Maiesty, this seate of Mars,

683This other Eden, demy paradise,

684This Fortresse built by Nature for her selfe,

685Against infection, and the hand of warre:

686This happy breed of men, this little world,

687This precious stone, set in the siluer sea,

688Which serues it in the office of a wall,

689Or as a Moate defensiue to a house,

690Against the enuy of lesse happier Lands,

691This blessed plot, this earth, this Realme, this England,

692This Nurse, this teeming wombe of Royall Kings,

693Fear'd by their breed, and famous for their birth,

694Renowned for their deeds, as farre from home,

695For Christian seruice, and true Chiualrie,

696As is the sepulcher in stubborne Iury

697Of the Worlds ransome, blessed Maries Sonne.

698This Land of such deere soules, this deere-deere Land,

699Deere for her reputation through the world,

700Is now Leas'd out (I dye pronouncing it)

701Like to a Tenement or pelting Farme.

702England bound in with the triumphant sea,

703Whose rocky shore beates backe the enuious siedge

704Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame,

705With Inky blottes, and rotten Parchment bonds.

706That England, that was wont to conquer others,

707Hath made a shamefull conquest of it selfe.

708Ah! would the scandall vanish with my life,

709How happy then were my ensuing death?

712Yor. The King is come, deale mildly with his youth,

713For young hot Colts, being rag'd, do rage the more.

714Qu. How fares our noble Vncle Lancaster?

715Ri. What comfort man? How ist with aged Gaunt?

716Ga. Oh how that name befits my composition:

717Old Gaunt indeed, and gaunt in being old:

718Within me greefe hath kept a tedious fast,

719And who abstaynes from meate, that is not gaunt?

720For sleeping England long time haue I watcht,

721Watching breeds leannesse, leannesse is all gaunt.

722The pleasure that some Fathers feede vpon,

723Is my strict fast, I meane my Childrens lookes,

724And therein fasting, hast thou made me gaunt:

725Gaunt am I for the graue, gaunt as a graue,

726Whose hollow wombe inherits naught but bones.

727Ric. Can sicke men pIay so nicely with their names?

728Gau. No, misery makes sport to mocke it selfe:

729Since thou dost seeke to kill my name in mec,

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,

c3 What

860What will ensue heereof, there's none can tell.

861But by bad courses may be vnderstood,

862That their euents can neuer fall out good. Exit.

863Rich. Go Bushie to the Earle of Wiltshire streight,

864Bid him repaire to vs to Ely house,

865To see this businesse: to morrow next

866We will for Ireland, and 'tis time, I trow:

867And we create in absence of our selfe

868Our Vncle Yorke, Lord Gouernor of England:

869For he is iust, and alwayes lou'd vs well.

870Come on our Queene, to morrow must we part,

871Be merry, for our time of stay is short. Flourish.

873Nor. Well Lords, the Duke of Lancaster is dead.

874 Ross. And liuing too, for now his sonne is Duke .

875Wil. Barely in title, not in reuennew.

876Nor. Richly in both, if iustice had her right.

877 Ross. My heart is great: but it must break with silence,

878Er't be disburthen'd with a liberall tongue.

879Nor. Nay speake thy mind: & let him ne'r speak more

880That speakes thy words againe to do thee harme.

881Wil. Tends that thou'dst speake to th' Du . of Hereford,

882If it be so, out with it boldly man,

883Quicke is mine eare to heare of good towards him.

884 Ross. No good at all that I can do for him,

885Vnlesse you call it good to pitie him,

886Bereft and gelded of his patrimonie.

887Nor. Now afore heauen, 'tis shame such wrongs are

888 borne,

889In him a royall Prince, and many moe

890Of noble blood in this declining Land;

891The King is not himselfe, but basely led

892By Flatterers, and what they will informe

893Meerely in hate 'gainst any of vs all,

894That will the King seuerely prosecute

895'Gainst vs, our liues, our children, and our heires.

896Ros. The Commons hath he pil'd with greeuous taxes

897And quite lost their hearts: the Nobles hath he finde

898For ancient quarrels, and quite lost their hearts.

899Wil. And daily new exactions are deuis'd,

900As blankes, beneuolences, and I wot not what:

901But what o' Gods name doth become of this?

902Nor. Wars hath not wasted it, for war'd he hath not.

903But basely yeelded vpon comprimize,

904That which his Ancestors atchieu'd with blowes:

905More hath he spent in peace, then they in warres.

906Ros. The Earle of Wiltshire hath the realme in Farme.

907Wil. The Kings growne bankrupt like a broken man.

908Nor. Reproach, and dissolution hangeth ouer him.

909Ros. He hath not monie for these Irish warres:

910(His burthenous taxations notwithstanding)

911But by the robbing of the banish'd Duke.

912Nor. His noble Kinsman, most degenerate King:

913But Lords, we heare this fearefull tempest sing,

914Yet seeke no shelter to auoid the storme:

915We see the winde sit sore vpon our salles,

916And yet we strike not, but securely perish.

917Ros. We see the very wracke that we must suffer,

918And vnauoyded is the danger now

919For suffering so the causes of our wracke.

920Nor. Not so: euen through the hollow eyes of death,

921I spie life peering: but I dare not say

922How neere the tidings of our comfort is.

923Wil. Nay let vs share thy thoughts, as thou dost ours

924Ros. Be confident to speake Northumberland,

925We three, are but thy selfe, and speaking so,

926Thy words are but as thoughts, therefore be bold.

927Nor. Then thus: I haue from Port le Blan

928A Bay in Britaine, receiu'd intelligence,

929That Harry Duke of Herford, Rainald Lord Cobham,

930That late broke from the Duke of Exeter,

931His brother Archbishop, late of Canterbury,

932Sir Thomas Erpingham, Sir Iohn Rainston,

933Sir Iohn Norberie, Sir Robert Waterton, & Francis Quoint,

934All these well furnish'd by the Duke of Britaine,

935With eight tall ships, three thousand men of warre

936Are making hither with all due expedience,

937And shortly meane to touch our Northerne shore:

938Perhaps they had ere this, but that they stay

939The first departing of the King for Ireland.

940If then we shall shake off our slauish yoake,

941Impe out our drooping Countries broken wing,

942Redeeme from broaking pawne the blemish'd Crowne,

943Wipe off the dust that hides our Scepters gilt,

944And make high Maiestie looke like it selfe,

945Away with me in poste to Rauenspurgh,

946But if you faint, as fearing to do so,

947Stay, and be secret, and my selfe will go.

948Ros. To horse, to horse, vrge doubts to them y^t feare.

949Wil. Hold out my horse, and I will first be there.