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SCENE I. - London. A Room in Ély-house. This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land,
Dear for her reputation through the world, Gaunt on a Couch; the Duke of York, and others Is now leas'd out (I die pronouncing it) standing by him.
Like to a tenement or pelting 5 farm :
Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege In wholesome counsel to his unstayed youth. Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame, York. Vex not yourself, nor strive not with your With inky blots, and rotten parchment bonds ; breath;
That England, that was wont to conquer others, For all in vain comes counsel to his ear.
Hath made a shameful conquest of itself : Gaunt. O, but they say, the tongues of dying men 0, would the scandal vanish with my life, Enforce attention, like deep harmony:
How happy then were my ensuing death! Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain: For they breathe truth, that breathe their words in Enter King RICHARD, and QUEEN; AUMERLE, pain.
Bushy, GREEN, Bagot, Ross, and WILLOUGHBY. He, that no more must say, is listen'd more
York. The king is come: deal mildly with his Than they whom youth and ease have aght to
youth; glose 4;
For young hot colts, being rag'd, do rage the more. More are men's ends mark'd, than their lives before : Queen. How fares our noble uncle, Lancaster ? The setting sun, and musick at the close,
K. Rich. What comfort, man? How is't with aged As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last;
Gaunt? Writ in remembrance, more than things long past : Gaunt. O, how that name befits my composition ! Though Richard my life's counsel would not hear, | Old Gaunt, indeed; and gaunt 6 in being old: My death's sad tale may yet undeaf his ear. Within me grief hath kept a tedious fast;
York. No; it is stopp'd with other flattering sounds, And who abstains from meat, that is not gaunt? As, praises of his state : then, there are found For sleeping England long time have I watch'd; Lascivious metres ; to whose venom sound Watching breeds leanness, leanness is all gaunt : The open ear of youth doth always listen :
The pleasure that some fathers feed upon, Report of fashions in proud Italy;
Is my strict fast, I mean - - my children's looks; Whose manners still our tardy apish nation
And, therein fasting, hast thou made me gaunt : Limps after, in base imitation,
Gaunt am I for the grave, gaunt as a grave, Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity, Whose hollow womb inherits nought but bones. (So it be new, there's no respect how vile,)
K. Rich. Can sick men play so nicely with their That is not quickly buzz'd into his ears?
names? Then all too late comes counsel to be heard
Gaunt. No, misery makes sport to mock itself: Where will doth mutiny with wit's regard.
Since thou dost seek to kill my name in me, Direct not him, whose way himself will choose ; I mock my name, great king, to flatter thee. 'Tis breath thou lack'st, and that breath wilt thou lose. K. Rich. Should dying men flatter with those Gaunt. Methinks, I am a prophet new inspir'd;
that live? And thus, expiring, do foretell of him :
Gaunt. No, no; men living flatter those that die. His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last :
K. Rich. Thou, now a dying, say'st — thou flatFor violent fires soon burn out themselves :
ter'st me. Small showers last long, but sudden storms are short; Gaunt. Oh! no; thou diest, though I the sicker be. He tires betimes, that spurs too fast betimes;
X. Rich. I am in health, I breathe, and see thee ill. With eager feeding, food doth choke the feeder : Gaunt. Now, He that made me, knows I see Light vanity, insatiate cormorant,
thee ill; Consuming means, soon preys upon itself.
Ill in myself to see, and in thee seeing ill, This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle, Thy death-bed is no lesser than the land, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
Wherein thou liest in reputation sick : This other Eden, demi-paradise ;
And thou, too careless patient as thou art, This fortress, built by nature for herself,
Commit'st thy anointed body to the cure Against infection, and the hand of war;
Of those physicians that first wounded thee : This happy breed of men, this little world; A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown, This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Whose compass is no bigger than thy head; Which serves it in the office of a wall,
And yet, incaged in so small a verge, Or as a moat defensive to a house,
The waste is no whit lesser than thy land. Against the envy of less happier lands;
0, had thy grandsire, with a prophet's eye, This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England, Seen how bis son's son should destroy his sons, This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, From forth thy reach he would have laid thy shame; Fear’d by their breed, and famous by their birth, Deposing thee before thou wert possess'd, Renowned for their deeds as far from home, Which art possess'd now to depose thyself. (For Christian service, and true chivalry,)
Why, cousin, wert thou regent of the world, As is the sepulchre in stubborn Jewry,
It were a shame to let this land by lease : Of the world's ransom, blessed Mary's son: But, for thy world, enjoying but this land, 4 Flatter.
6 Lean, thin
Is it not more than shame, to shame it so?
In war, was never lion rag'd more fierce, Landlord of England art thou now, not king : In peace was never gentle lamb more mild, Thy state of law is bondslave to the law;
Than was that young and princely gentleman : And thou
His face thou hast, for even so look'd he,
But, when he frown'd, it was against the French, Dar'st with thy frozen admonition
And not against his friends : his noble hand Make pale our cheek ; chasing the royal blood, Did win what he did spend, and spent not that With fury, from his native residence.
Which his triumphant father's hand had won : Now by my seat's right royal majesty,
His hands were guilty of no kindred's blood, Wert thou not brother to great Edward's son, But bloody with the enemies of his kin. This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head, 0, Richard ! York is too far gone with grief, Should run thy head from thy unreverend shoulders. Or else he never would compare between.
Gaunt. O, spare me not, my brother Edward's son, K. Rich. Why, uncle, what's the matter? For that I was his father Edward's son;
0, my liege, That blood already, like the pelican,
Pardon if you please ; if not, I, pleas'd Hast thou tapp'd out, and drunkenly carous'd: Not to be pardon'd, am content withal. My brother Gloster, plain well-meaning soul, Seek you to seize, and gripe into your hands, (Whom fair befall in heaven 'mongst happy souls !) The royalties and rights of banish'd Hereford ? May be a precedent and witness good,
Is not Gaunt dead ? and doth not Hereford live? That thou respect'st not spilling Edward's blood : Was not Gaunt just? and is not Harry true ? Join with the present sickness that I have;
Did not the one deserve to have an heir ? And thy unkindness be like crooked age,
Is not his heir a well-deserving son ? To crop at once a too-long wither'd flower. Take Hereford's rights away, and take from time Live in thy shame, but die not shame with thee ! His charters, and his customary rights ; These words hereafter thy tormentors be, — Let not to-morrow then ensue to-day ; Convey me to my bed, then to my grave :
Be not thyself, for how art thou a king, Love they to live, that love and honour have. But by fair sequence and succession ?
[Erit, borne out by his Attendants. If you do wrongfully seize Hereford's rights,
By his attornies-general to sue
York. 'Beseech your majesty, impute his words You pluck a thousand dangers on your hea
You lose a thousand well-disposed hearts, He loves you, on my life, and holds you dear And prick my tender patience to those thoughts As Harry duke of Hereford, were he here. Which honour and allegiance cannot think. K. Rich. Right; you say true : as Hereford's love, K. Rich. Think what you will; we seize into
our hands As theirs, so mine; and all be as it is.
His plate, his goods, his money, and his lands.
York. I'll not be by, the while : My liege, fare. Enler NortHUMBERLAND.
well : North. My liege, old Gaunt commends him to What will ensue hereof, there's none can tell ; your majesty.
But by bad courses may be understood, K. Rich. What says he now?
That their events can never fall out good. (Erit. North.
Nay, nothing; all is said : K. Rich. Go, Bushy, to the earl of Wiltshire His tongue is now a stringless instrument ;
straight ; Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent. Bid him repair to us to Ely-house,
York. Be York the next that must be bankrupt so! To see this business : To-morrow next Though death be poor, it ends a mortal woe. We will for Ireland ; and 'tis time, I trow;
K. Rich. The ripest fruit first falls, and so doth he; And we create, in absence of ourself, His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be : Our uncle York lord governor of England, So much for that. — Now for our Irish wars : For he is just and always lov'd us well. We must supplant those rough rug-headed kerns7; Come on, our queen : to-morrow must we part; Which live like venom, where no venom else, Be merry, for our time of stay is short. (Flourish. But only they, hath privilege to live.
(Exeunt King, Queen, Bushy, AUMERLE, And for these great affairs do ask some charge,
GREEN, and Bagot. Towards our assistance, we do seize to us
North. Well, lords, the duke of Lancaster is dead. The plate, coin, revenues, and moveables,
Ross. And living too; for now his son is duke. Whereof our uncle Gaunt did stand possess’d.
Willo. Barely in title, not in revenue. York. How long shall I be patient? Ah, how long North. Richly in both, if justice had her right. Shall tender duty make me suffer wrong?
Ross. My heart is great ; but it must break with Not Gloster's death, nor Hereford's banishment,
silence, Not Gaunt's rebukes, nor England's private wrongs, Ere't be disburden'd with a liberal tongue. Nor the prevention of poor Bolingbroke
North. Nay, speak thy mind; and let him ne'er About his marriage, nor my own disgrace,
speak more, Have ever made me sour my patient cheek, That speaks thy words again, to do thee harm! Or bend one wrinkle on my sovereign's face.
Willo. Tends that thou'dst speak, to the duke of I am the last of noble Edward's sons,
Hereford ? Of whom thy father, prince of Wales, was first; 7 Irish soldiers
8 Claim poscession ; a law term.
If it be so, out with it boldly, man ;
Imp4 out our drooping country's broken wing, Quick is mine ear to hear of good towards him. Redeem from broking pawn the blemish'd crown,
Ross. No good at all, that I can do for him; Wipe off the dust that hides our sceptre's gilt 5, Unless you call it good to pity him,
And make high majesty look like itself, Stript and bereft of all his patrimony.
Away, with me, in post to Ravenspurg : North. Now, afore heaven, 'uis shame, such But if you faint, as fearing to do so, wrongs are borne,
Stay, and be secret, and myself will go. In him a royal prince, and many more
Ross. To horse, to horse! urge doubts to them Of noble blood in this declining land.
that fear. The king is not himself, but basely led
Willo. Hold out my horse, and I will first be there. By flatterers; and what they will inform,
[Exeunt. Merely in hate, 'gainst any of us all,
The same. A Room in the Palace. That will the king severely prosecute 'Gainst us, our lives, our children, and our heirs.
Enter Queen, Busky, and Bagot. Ross. The commons hath he pill’d 9 with grievous Bushy. Madam, your majesty is too much sad: taxes,
You promis'd, when you parted with the king, And lost their hearts; the nobles hath be fin'd To lay aside life-harming heaviness, For ancient quarrels, and quite lost their hearts. And entertain a cheerful disposition.
Willo. And daily new exactions are devis’d; Queen. To please the king, I did ; to please myself, As blanks, benevolences, and I wot not what : I cannot do it; yet I know no cause But what, in heaven's name, doth become of this ? Why I should welcome such a guest as grief, North. Wars have not wasted it, for warr'd he hath Save bidding farewell to so sweet a guest not,
As my sweet Richard : Yet, again, methinks, But basely yielded upon compromise
Some unborn sorrow, ripe in fortune's womb, That which his ancestors achiev'd with blows:
Is coming towards me; and my inward soul More hath he spent in peace, than they in wars With nothing trembles : at something it grieves,
Ross. The earl of Wiltshire hath the realm in farm. More than with parting from my lord the king. Willo. The king's grown bankrupt, like a broken Bushy. Each substance of a grief hath twenty
shadows, North. Reproach, and dissolution, hangeth over which show like grief itself, but are not so: him.
For sorrow's eye, glazed with blinding tears, Ross. He hath not money for these Irish wars, Divides one thing entire to many objects ; His burdenous taxations notwithstanding,
Like perspectives ®, which, rightly gaz'd upon, But by the robbing of the banish'd duke.
Show nothing but confusion; ey'd awry, North. His noble kinsman: most degenerate king! Distinguish form : so your sweet majesty, But, lords, we hear this fearful tempest sing, Looking awry upon your lord's departure, Yet seek no shelter to avoid the storm :
Finds shapes of grief, more than himself to wail ; We see the wind sit sore upon our sails,
Which, look'd on as it is, is nought but shadows And yet we strike not, but securely perish.! Of what it is not. Then, thrice-gracious queen,
Ross. We see the very wreck that we must suffer ; More than your lord's departure weep not; more's And unavoided is the danger now,
not seen : For suffering so the causes of our wreck.
Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrow's eye, North. Not so ; even through the hollow eyes of Which, for things true, weeps things imaginary. death,
Queen. It may be so; but yet my inward soul I spy life peering ; but I dare not say
Persuades me, it is otherwise : Howe'er it be, How near the tidings of our comfort is.
I cannot but be sad; so heavy sad, Willo. Nay, let us share thy thoughts, as thou dost As, – though, in thinking on no thought I think,
Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink. Ross. Be confident to speak, Northumberland:
Bushy. 'Tis nothing but conceit?, my gracious We three are but thyself; and, speaking so,
lady. Thy words are but as thoughts; therefore be bold.
Queen. 'Tis nothing less : conceit is still deriv'd North. Then thus : – I have from Port le Blanc, From some fore-father grief ; mine is not so ; a bay
For nothing hath begot my something grief; In Britanny, receiv'd intelligence,
Or something hath the nothing that I grieve : That Harry Hereford, Reignold lord Cobham, 'Tis in reversion that I do possess ; [The son of Richard earl of Arundel,]
But what it is, that is not yet known; what
I cannot name; 'tis nameless woe, I wot. 8
Green. Heaven save your majesty !- and well Quoint,
met, gentlemen :All these well furnish'd by the duke of Bretagne,
I hope, the king is not yet shipp'd for Ireland. With eight tall ? ships, three thousand men of war,
Queen. Why hop'st thou so ? 'tis better hope, he is, Are making bither with all due expedience 5, For his designs crave haste, his haste good hope; And shortly mean to touch our northern shore:
Then wherefore dost thou hope, he is not shipp'd ? Perhaps, they had ere this; but that they stay
Green. That he, our hope, might have retir'd his The first departing of the king for Ireland.
power, If then, we shall shake off our slavish yoke,
* Supply with new feathers.
* Gilding. 9 Pillaged. 1 Perish by confidence in our security.
7 Fanciful conception. 3 Expedition,
And driven into despair an enemy's hope,
What, are there posts despatch'd for Ireland ? Who strongly hath set footing in this land : How shall we do for money for these wars? The banish'd Bolingbroke repeals himself,
Come, sister, — cousin, I would say, pray, pardon And with uplifted arms is safe arriv'd At Ravenspurg.
Go, fellow, (To the Servant.] get thee home, proQueen. . Now God in heaven forbid !
vide some carts, Green. O, madam, 'tis too true: and that is And bring away the armour that is there. worse,
[Erit Servant. The lord Northumberland, his young son Henry Gentlemen, will you go muster men ? if I know Percy,
How, or which way, to order these affairs,
And duty bids defend; the other again,
Is my kinsman, whom the king hath wrongd; Traitors ?
Whom conscience and my kindred bids to right. Green. We have : whereon the earl of Worcester Well, somewhat we must do. Come, cousin, I'll Hath broke his staff, resign'd his stewardship, Dispose of you: — Go, muster up your men, And all the household servants fled with him And meet me presently at Berkley-castle. To Bolingbroke.
I should to Plashy too, Queen. So, Green, thou art the midwife to my woe, But time will not permit :
All is uneven, And Bolingbroke my sorrow's dismal heir :
And every thing is left at six and seven. Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy;
(Ereunt York and Queen. And I, a gasping new-deliver'd mother,
Bushy. The wind sits fair for news to go to Ireland, Have woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow join'd.
But none returns. For us to levy power, Bushy. Despair not, madam.
Proportionable to the enemy, Queen.
Who shall hinder me? Is all impossible. I will despair, and be at enmity
Green. Besides, our nearness to the king in love, With cozening hope; he is a flatterer,
Is near the hate of those love not the king. A parasite, a keeper-back of death,
Bagot. And that's the wavering commons: for Who gently would dissolve the bands of life,
their love Which false hope lingers in extremity.
Lies in their purses; and whoso empties them,
By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate. Enter York.
Bushy. Wherein the king stands generally conGrecn. Here comes the duke of York.
demn'd. Queen. With signs of war about his aged neck ; Bagot. If judgment lie in them, then so do we, O, full of careful business are his looks!
Because we ever have been near the king. Uncle,
Green. Well, I'll for refuge straight to Bristol For heaven's sake, speak comfortable words.
Except like curs to tear us all to pieces.
Bagot. No; I'll to Ireland to his majesty.
Farewell : if heart's presages be not vain, Now comes the sick hour that his surfeit made; We three here part, that ne'er shall meet again. Now shall he try his friends that flatter'd him. Bushy. That's as York thrives to beat back Boling
broke. Enter a Servant.
Green. Alas, poor duke ! the task he undertakes Serv. My lord, your son was gone before I came. Is — numb'ring sands, and drinking oceans dry; York. He was ? Why, so! - go all which way Where one on his side fights, thousands will iy. it will!
Bushy. Farewell at once; for once, for all, and The nobles they are fled, the commons cold, And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's side.
Green. Well, we may meet again. Sirrah,
I fear me, never. Get thee to Plashy, to my sister Gloster ;
[Ereunt. Bid her send me presently a thousand pound: Hold, take my ring.
SCENE III. The Wilds in Gloucestershire. Serv. My lord, I had forgot to tell your lordship:
Enter BOLINGBROKE and NORTHUMBERLAND, with To-day, as I came by, I called there ;
Boling. How far is it, my lord, to Berkley now? Serv. An hour before I came, the duchess died. North. Believe me, noble lord,
York. God for his mercy! what a tide of woes I am a stranger here in Glostershire. Comes rushing on this woeful land at once ! These high wild hills, and rough uneven ways, I know not what to do: – I would to heaven, Draw out our miles and make them wearisome : (So my untruth9 had not provok'd him to it,) And yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar, The king had cut off my liead with my brother's. Making the hard way sweet and délectable. Disloyalty.
But, I bethink me, what a weary way
From Ravenspurg to Cotswola will be found
Willo. And far surmounts our labour to attain it. In Ross and Willoughby, wanting your company ;
Boling. Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the Which, 1 protest, hath very much beguild
poor; The tediousness and process of my travel :
Which till my infant fortune comes to years, But theirs is sweeten'd with the hope to have Stands for my bounty. But who comes here? The present benefit which I possess :
North. It is my lord of Berkley, as I guess. Shall make their way seem short; as mine hath done
Berk. My lord of Hereford, my message is to you. By sight of what I have, your noble company.
Boling. My lord, my answer is - to Lancaster; Boling. Of much less value is my company,
And I am come to seek that name in England: Than your good words. But who comes here?
And I must find that title in your tongue,
Before I make reply to aught you say.
Berk. Mistake me not, my lord; 'tis not my meanNorth. It is my son, young Harry Percy,
ing, Sent from my brother Worcester, whencesoever.
To raze one title of your honour out:Harry, how fares your uncle ?
To you, my lord, I come, (what lord you will,) Percy. I had thought, my lord, to have learn'd From the most glorious regent of this land, his health of you.
The duke of York; to know, what pricks you on North. Why, is he not with the queen ?
To take advantage of the absent time , Percy. No, my good lord; he hath forsook the And fright our native peace with self-born arms. court,
Enter York, attended.
Boling. I shall not needs transport my words by you.
Here comes his grace in person.
- My noble uncle! He was not so resolv’d, when last we spake together.
[Kneels. Percy. Because your lordship was proclaimed
York. Show me thy humble heart, and not thy traitor.
knee, But he, my lord, is gone to Ravenspurg,
Whose duty is deceivable and false. To offer service to the duke of Hereford ;
Boling. My gracious uncle !
York. Tut, tut !
Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle :
I am no traitor's uncle; and that word – grace, North. Have you forgot the duke of Hereford, In an ungracious mouth, is but profane.
Why have those banish'd and forbidden legs Percy. No, my good lord ; for that is not forgot, Dar'd once to touch a dust of England's ground?
But then more why ;Which ne'er I did remember : to my knowledge,
-Why have they dar'd to march I never in my life did look on him.
So many miles upon her peaceful bosom ; North. Then learn to know him now; this is the Frighting her pale-fac'd villages with war, duke.
And ostentation of despised arms? Percy. My gracious lord, I tender you my service, Com’st thou because the anointed king is hence? Such as it is, being tender, raw, and young;
Why, foolish boy, the king is left behind, Which elder days shall ripen and confirm
And in my loyal bosom lies his power.
Were I but now the lord of such hot youth,
As when brave Gaunt, thy father, and myself, I count myself in nothing else so happy,
Rescued the black prince, that young Mars of men, As in a soul rememb’ring my good friends ;
From forth the ranks of many thousand French; And, as my fortune ripens with thy love,
0, then, how quickly should this arm of mine, It shall be still thy true love's recompense :
Now prisoner to the palsy, chastise thee, My heart this covenant makes, my hand thus seals it. And minister correction to thy fault! North. How far is it to Berkley ? And what stir
Boling. My gracious uncle, let me know my fault; Keeps good old York there, with his men of war?
On what condition stands it, and wherein ? Percy. There stands the castle, by yon tuft of trees,
York. Even in condition of the worst degree, Mann'd with three hundred men, as I have heard :
In gross rebellion, and detested treason : And in it are the lords of York, Berkley, and Sey- Thou art a banish'd man, and here art come,
Before the expiration of thy time, mour; None else of name, and noble estimate.
In braving arms against thy sovereign.
Boling. As I was banish'd, I was banish'd HereEnter Ross and WILLOUGIIBY. North. Here come the lords of Ross and Wil. But as I come, I come for Lancaster.
And, noble uncle, I beseech your grace, loughby,
Look on my wrongs with an indifferent 3 eye : Bloody with spurring, fiery-red with haste. Boling. Welcome, my lords : I wot', your love You are my father, for, methinks, in you
I see old Gaunt alive; 0, then, my father! pursues A banish'd traitor ; all my treasury
Will you permit that I shall stand condemn’d Is yet but unfelt thanks, which more enrich'd,
A wandering vagabond; my rights and royalties Shall be your love and labour's recompense.
Pluck'd from my arms perforce, and given away Ross. Your presence makes us rich, most noble To upstart unthrifts? Wherefore was I born? lord.
If that my cousin king be king of England,