Enter John of Gaunt sick, [carried in a chair,] with the Duke of York, [and attendants.]
Will the King come, that I may breathe my last
2.1.2643In wholesome counsel to his unstaid youth?
Vex not yourself, nor strive not with your breath,
2.1.4645For all in vain comes counsel to his ear.
Oh, but they say the tongues of dying men
2.1.6647Enforce attention like deep harmony.
2.1.7648Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain,
2.1.8649For they breathe truth that breathe their words in pain.
2.1.9650He that no more must say is listened more
2.1.10651Than they whom youth and ease have taught to gloze,
2.1.11652More are men's ends marked than their lives before.
2.1.12653The setting sun, and music at the close,
2.1.13654As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last,
2.1.14655Writ in remembrance more than things long past.
2.1.15656Though Richard my life's counsel would not hear,
2.1.16657My death's sad tale may yet undeaf his ear.
No, it is stopped with other, flattering sounds,
2.1.18659As praises, of whose taste the wise are fond;
2.1.19660Lascivious meters, to whose venom sound
2.1.20661The open ear of youth doth always listen;
2.1.22663Whose manners still our tardy-apish nation
2.1.24665Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity --
2.1.25666So it be new, there's no respect how vile --
2.1.26667That is not quickly buzzed into his ears?
2.1.27668Then all too late comes counsel to be heard,
2.1.28669Where will doth mutiny with wit's regard.
2.1.29670Direct not him whose way himself will choose.
2.1.30671'Tis breath thou lack'st, and that breath wilt thou lose.
Methinks I am a prophet new inspired,
2.1.32673And thus, expiring, do foretell of him.
2.1.33674His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last,
2.1.34675For violent fires soon burn out themselves;
2.1.35676Small show'rs last long, but sudden storms are short;
2.1.36677He tires betimes that spurs too fast betimes;
2.1.37678With eager feeding food doth choke the feeder;
2.1.39680Consuming means, soon preys upon itself.
2.1.40681This royal throne of kings, this sceptered isle,
2.1.41682This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
2.1.43684This fortress built by nature for herself
2.1.44685Against infection and the hand of war,
2.1.45686This happy breed of men, this little world,
2.1.46687This precious stone set in the silver sea,
2.1.47688Which serves it in the office of a wall,
2.1.49690Against the envy of less happier lands,
2.1.50691This blessèd plot, this earth, this realm, this England,
2.1.51692This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings,
2.1.52693Feared by their breed and famous by their birth,
2.1.53694Renownèd for their deeds as far from home
2.1.54695For Christian service and true chivalry
2.1.55696As is the sepulcher in stubborn Jewry
2.1.56697Of the world's ransom, blessèd Mary's son,
2.1.57698This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land,
2.1.58699Dear for her reputation through the world,
2.1.59700Is now leased out -- I die pronouncing it --
2.1.61702England, bound in with the triumphant sea,
2.1.62703Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege
2.1.63704Of wat'ry Neptune, is now bound in with shame,
2.1.64705With inky blots and rotten parchment bonds.
2.1.65706That England that was wont to conquer others
2.1.66707Hath made a shameful conquest of itself.
2.1.67708Ah, would the scandal vanish with my life,
2.1.68709How happy then were my ensuing death!
[Flourish.]
The King is come. Deal mildly with his youth,
2.1.70713For young hot colts, being raged, do rage the more.
710 Enter King [Richard] and [the] Queen, [Aumerle, Bushy, Green, Bagot, Ross, and Willoughby, with attendants]. How fares our noble uncle Lancaster?
What comfort, man? How is't with agèd Gaunt?
Oh, how that name befits my composition!
2.1.74717Old Gaunt indeed, and gaunt in being old.
2.1.75718Within me grief hath kept a tedious fast,
2.1.76719And who abstains from meat that is not gaunt?
2.1.77720For sleeping England long time have I watched;
2.1.78721Watching breeds leanness, leanness is all gaunt.
2.1.79722The pleasure that some fathers feed upon
2.1.80723Is my strict fast -- I mean, my children's looks --
2.1.81724And therein fasting, hast thou made me gaunt.
2.1.82725Gaunt am I for the grave, gaunt as a grave,
2.1.83726Whose hollow womb inherits naught but bones.
Can sick men play so nicely with their names?
No, misery makes sport to mock itself.
2.1.86729Since thou dost seek to kill my name in me,
2.1.87730I mock my name, great King, to flatter thee.
Should dying men flatter with those that live?
No, no, men living flatter those that die.
Thou, now a-dying, sayest thou flatterest me.
Oh, no, thou diest, though I the sicker be.
I am in health, I breathe, and see thee ill.
Now He that made me knows I see thee ill,
2.1.94737Ill in myself to see, and in thee, seeing ill.
2.1.95738Thy deathbed is no lesser than thy land,
2.1.96739Wherein thou liest in reputation sick;
2.1.97740And thou, too careless patient as thou art,
2.1.98741Commit'st thy anointed body to the cure
2.1.99742Of those physicians that first wounded thee.
2.1.100743A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown,
2.1.101744Whose compass is no bigger than thy head,
2.1.103746The waste is no whit lesser than thy land.
2.1.104747Oh, had thy grandsire, with a prophet's eye,
2.1.105748Seen how his son's son should destroy his sons,
2.1.106749From forth thy reach he would have laid thy shame,
2.1.107750Deposing thee before thou wert possessed,
2.1.108751Which art possessed now to depose thyself.
2.1.109752Why, cousin, wert thou regent of the world,
2.1.110753It were a shame to let this land by lease;
2.1.111754But, for thy world enjoying but this land,
2.1.112755Is it not more than shame to shame it so?
2.1.113756Landlord of England art thou now, not king.
2.1.114757Thy state of law is bondslave to the law,
And thou -- A lunatic lean-witted fool,
2.1.119762Make pale our cheek, chasing the royal blood
2.1.122765Wert thou not brother to great Edward's son,
2.1.123766This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head
2.1.124767Should run thy head from thy unreverent shoulders.
Oh, spare me not, my brother Edward's son,
2.1.128771Hast thou tapped out and drunkenly caroused.
2.1.129772My brother Gloucester -- plain well-meaning soul,
2.1.130773Whom fair befall in heaven 'mongst happy souls --
2.1.132775That thou respect'st not spilling Edward's blood.
2.1.133776Join with the present sickness that I have,
2.1.135778To crop at once a too long withered flower.
2.1.136779Live in thy shame, but die not shame with thee!
2.1.137780These words hereafter thy tormentors be! --
2.1.139782Love they to live that love and honor have.
Exit [borne off by attendants].
And let them die that age and sullens have,
2.1.141784For both hast thou, and both become the grave.
I do beseech your majesty, impute his words
2.1.144787He loves you, on my life, and holds you dear
2.1.145788As Harry, Duke of Hereford, were he here.
Right, you say true: As Hereford's love, so his;
2.1.147790As theirs, so mine; and all be as it is!
[Enter Northumberland.]
My liege, old Gaunt commends him to your majesty.
What says he?
What says he? Nay, nothing; all is said.
2.1.151796His tongue is now a stringless instrument;
2.1.152797Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent.
Be York the next that must be bankrupt so!
2.1.154799Though death be poor, it ends a mortal woe.
The ripest fruit first falls, and so doth he;
2.1.156801His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be.
2.1.157802So much for that. Now for our Irish wars:
2.1.158803We must supplant those rough rug-headed kerns,
2.1.159804Which live like venom where no venom else
2.1.161806And for these great affairs do ask some charge,
2.1.162807Towards our assistance we do seize to us
2.1.164809Whereof our uncle Gaunt did stand possessed.
How long shall I be patient? Ah, how long
2.1.167812Not Gloucester's death, nor Hereford's banishment,
2.1.168813Nor Gaunt's rebukes, nor England's private wrongs,
2.1.170815About his marriage, nor my own disgrace,
2.1.171816Have ever made me sour my patient cheek,
2.1.172817Or bend one wrinkle on my sovereign's face.
2.1.174819Of whom thy father, Prince of Wales, was first.
2.1.175820In war was never lion raged more fierce,
2.1.176821In peace was never gentle lamb more mild,
2.1.177822Than was that young and princely gentleman.
2.1.178823His face thou hast, for even so looked he,
2.1.179824Accomplished with the number of thy hours;
2.1.180825But when he frowned, it was against the French
2.1.181826And not against his friends. His noble hand
2.1.182827Did win what he did spend, and spent not that
2.1.183828Which his triumphant father's hand had won.
2.1.184829His hands were guilty of no kindred blood,
2.1.186831Oh, Richard! York is too far gone with grief,
Why, uncle, what's the matter?
Why, uncle, what's the matter? O my liege,
2.1.189Pardon me, if you please. If not, I, pleased
2.1.191837Seek you to seize and gripe into your hands
2.1.192838The royalties and rights of banished Hereford?
2.1.193839Is not Gaunt dead? And doth not Hereford live?
2.1.194840Was not Gaunt just? And is not Harry true?
2.1.195841Did not the one deserve to have an heir?
2.1.197843Take Hereford's rights away, and take from time
2.1.202848Now, afore God -- God forbid I say true! --
2.1.203849If you do wrongfully seize Hereford's rights,
2.1.204850Call in the letters patents that he hath
2.1.206852His livery, and deny his offered homage,
2.1.207853You pluck a thousand dangers on your head,
2.1.208854You lose a thousand well-disposèd hearts,
2.1.209855And prick my tender patience to those thoughts
2.1.210856Which honor and allegiance cannot think.
Think what you will, we seize into our hands
2.1.212858His plate, his goods, his money, and his lands.
I'll not be by the while. My liege, farewell.
2.1.214860What will ensue hereof there's none can tell;
862That their events can never fall out good.
Exit.
Go, Bushy, to the Earl of Wiltshire straight.
2.1.219866We will for Ireland, and 'tis time, I trow.
2.1.221868Our uncle York, lord Governor of England;
2.1.222869For he is just and always loved us well. --
2.1.223870Come on, our queen. Tomorrow must we part.
2.1.224871Be merry, for our time of stay is short.
[Flourish.]
Exeunt King [Richard] and [the] Queen[, Aumerle, Bushy, Green, and Bagot].
Northumberland[, Willoughby, and Ross remain behind].
Well, lords, the Duke of Lancaster is dead.
And living too, for now his son is duke.
Barely in title, not in revenues.
Richly in both, if Justice had her right.
My heart is great, but it must break with silence
2.1.230878Ere't be disburdened with a liberal tongue.
Nay, speak thy mind, and let him ne'er speak more
2.1.232880That speaks thy words again to do thee harm!
[To Ross] Tends that thou wouldst speak to the Duke of Hereford?
2.1.235883Quick is mine ear to hear of good towards him.
No good at all that I can do for him,
Now, afore God, 'tis shame such wrongs are borne
2.1.243892By flatterers; and what they will inform
2.1.246895'Gainst us, our lives, our children, and our heirs.
The commons hath he pilled with grievous taxes,
2.1.248897And quite lost their hearts. The nobles hath he fined
2.1.249898For ancient quarrels, and quite lost their hearts.
And daily new exactions are devised,
2.1.251900As blanks, benevolences, and I wot not what.
2.1.252901But what, a God's name, doth become of this?
Wars hath not wasted it, for warred he hath not,
2.1.255904That which his noble ancestors achieved with blows.
2.1.256905More hath he spent in peace than they in wars.
The Earl of Wiltshire hath the realm in farm.
The King grown bankrupt like a broken man.
Reproach and dissolution hangeth over him.
He hath not money for these Irish wars,
2.1.261910His burdenous taxations notwithstanding,
2.1.262911But by the robbing of the banished Duke.
His noble kinsman. Most degenerate King!
2.1.264913But, lords, we hear this fearful tempest sing,
2.1.266915We see the wind sit sore upon our sails,
2.1.267916And yet we strike not, but securely perish.
We see the very wrack that we must suffer,
2.1.270919For suffering so the causes of our wrack.
Not so. Even through the hollow eyes of death
Nay, let us share thy thoughts, as thou dost ours.
Be confident to speak, Northumberland.
2.1.276925We three are but thyself, and speaking so,
2.1.277926Thy words are but as thoughts. Therefore be bold.
Then thus: I have from Le Port Blanc,
2.1.279928A bay in Brittany, received intelligence
2.1.280929That Harry, Duke of Hereford, Rainold, lord Cobham,
2.1.280.1Thomas, son and heir to the Earl of Arundel,
2.1.281930That late broke from the Duke of Exeter,
2.1.282931His brother, Archbishop late of Canterbury,
2.1.284933Sir John Norbery, Sir Robert Waterton, and Francis Coint.
2.1.285934All these well furnished by the Duke of Brittany
2.1.286935With eight tall ships, three thousand men of war,
2.1.287936Are making hither with all due expedience
2.1.288937And shortly mean to touch our northern shore.
2.1.289938Perhaps they had ere this, but that they stay
2.1.290939The first departing of the King for Ireland.
2.1.291940If then we shall shake off our slavish yoke,
2.1.292941Imp out our drooping country's broken wing,
2.1.293942Redeem from broking pawn the blemished crown,
2.1.294943Wipe off the dust that hides our scepter's gilt,
To horse, to horse! Urge doubts to them that fear.
Hold out my horse, and I will first be there.