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The dateless limit of thy dear exile;
Gaunt. I thank my liege, that, in regard of me, 'The hopeless word of never to return,
Hc shortens four years of iny son's exile : Breathe I against ihce, upon pain of life. But little vantage shall I reap thereby ;
Nur. A heavy sentence, my most sovereign liege, For, ere the six years, that he hath to spend, And all unlook'd for from your highness' mouth: Can change their moons, and bring their timės A dearer merit, not so deep a maim
about, As to be cast forth in the common air,
My oil-dried lamp, and time-bewasted light, Have I deserved at your bighness' hand.
Shall be extinct with age, and endless night; The language I have learn'd these forty years, My inch of taper will be burnt and done, My native English, now I must forego:
And blindfold death not let me see my son. And now my tongue's use is to me no more, K. Rich. Why, uncle, thou hast many years to live. Than an unstringed viol, or a harp;
Gaunt. But not a minute, king, that thou canst Or, like a cunning instrument cas'd up,
give: Or, bcing open, put into his hands
Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow, That knows no touch to tune the harmony. And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow: Within my mouth you have engaol'd my tongue, Thou canst help time to furrow me with age, Doubly portcullis'd,' with my iceth, and lips; But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage ; And dull, unfeeling, barren ignorance
Thy word is current with him for my death; Is made my gaoler to attend on me.
Bui, dead, thy kingdom cannot buy my breath. I am too old to fawn upon a nurse,
K. Rich. Thy son is banish'd upon good advice, * Too far in years to be a pupil now;
Whereto thy tongue a party verdict gave; What is thy sentence then, but speechless death, Why at our justice seem'st thou then to lower ? Which robs my tongue from breathing native Gaunt. Things swect to taste, prove in digestion
breath K. Rich. It boots thee not to be compassionate ;* You urg'd me as a judge; but I had rather, After our sentence, plaining comes too late. You would have bid me argue like a father :Nor. Then thus I turn me from my country's O, had it been a stranger, not my child, light,
To smooth his fault I should have been more mild: To dwell in solemn shades of endless night. A partial slander sought I to avoid,
(Reliring. And in the sentence my own life destroy'd. K. Rich. Return again, and take an oath with Alas, I look’d, when some of you should say, thee,
I was too strict, lo make mine own away: Lay on our royal sword your banish'd hands; But you gave leave to my unwilling tongue, Swear by the duty that you owe to heaven, Against my will, to do myself this wrong. (Our part therein we banish with yourselves,) K. Rich. Cousin, farewell :-and, uncle, bid To keep the oath that we administer :You never shall (so help you truth and heaven!) Six years we banish him, and he shall go. Embrace each other's love in banishment;
[Flourish. Exeunt K. Rich. and train. Nor never look upon cach other's face ;
Aum. Cousin, farewell: what presence must Nor never write, regreet, nor reconcile
not know, This lowering tempest of your home-bred hate; From where you do remain, let paper show. Nor never by advised' purpose meet,
Mar. My lord, no leave take 1 ; for I will ride, To plot, contrive, or complot any ill,
As far as land will let me, by your side. 'Gainst us, our state, our subjects, or our land. Gaunt. 0, to what purpose dost thou hoard thy Boling. 'I swear.
words, Nor. And I, to keep all this.
That thou return'st no grecting to thy friends ? Boring. Norfolk, so far as to mine enemy;
Boling I have too few to take my leave of you, By this time, had the king permitted us,
When the tongue's office should be prodigal One of our souls had wander'd in the air,
To breathe the abundant dolour of the heart. Banish'd this frail sepulchre of our flesh,
Gaunt. Thy grief is but thy absence for a time. As now our flesh is banish'd from this land: Boling. Joy absent, grief is present for that time. Confess thy treasons, ere thou sy the realm ; Gauni. What is six winters ? they are quickly Since thou hast far to go, bear not along
gone. The clogging burden of a guilly soul.
Boling. To men in joy; but grief makes one Nor. No, Bolingbroke ; if ever I were traitor,
hour ten. My name be blotted from the book of life,
Gaunt. Call it a travel that thou tak'st for And I from heaven banish'd, as from hence !
pleasure. But what thou art, heaven, thou, and I do know; Boling. My heart will sigh, when I miscall it so, And all too soon, I fear, the king shall rue.- Which linds it an enforced pilgrimage. Farewell, my liege:-Now no way can I stray; Gaunt. The sullen passage of thy weary steps Save back to England, all the world's my way. Esteem a foil, wherein thou art to set
(Frit. The precious jewel of thy home-return. K. Rich, Uncle, even in the glasses of thine eyes Boling. Nay, rather, every tcdious stride I make I see thy grieved heart: thy sad aspect
Will but remember me, what a deal of world
Having my freedom, boast of nothing else,
(1) Barred. (2) To move compassion, (5) Had a part or share. (3) Concerted, Consideration,
(6) Reprouch of partiality, (7) Grier,
Teach thy necessity to reason thus ;
Wooing poor craftsmen, with the craft of smiles, There is no virtue like necessity.
And patient underbearing of his fortune, Think not, the king did banish thee;
As 'twere, to banish their affects with him. But thou the king: Wo doth the heavier sit, Off goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench; Where it perceives it is but saintly borne. A brace of draymen bid-God speed him well, Go, say--I sent thee forth to purchase honour, And had the tribute of his supple knee, And not the king exil'd thee: or suppose,
WithThanks, my countrymen, my loving Devouring pestilence hangs in our air,
friends ;And thou art fying to a fresher clime.
As were our England in reversion his, Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it And he our subjects' next degree in hope.
To lie that way thou go'st, not whence thou com'st: Green. Well, he is gone; and with him go these Suppose the singing birds, musicians ;
thoughts. The grass whereon thou' tread'st, the presence Now for the rebels, which stand out in Ireland ;strew'd ;
Expedient manage must be made, my liege ; The dowers, fair ladies; and thy steps, no more Ere further leisure yield them further means, Than a delightful measure, or a dance:
For their advantage, and your highness' loss. For gnarling' sorrow hath less power to bite K. Rich. We will oursell in person to this war. The man that mocks at it, and sets it light. And, for* our coffers—with too great a court,
Boling. 0, who can hold a fire in his hand, And liberal largess,-are grown somewhat light, By thinking on the frosty Caucasus ?
We are enforc'd to farm our royal realm; Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite,
The revenue whereof shall furnish us By bare imagination of a feast?
For our affairs in hand: If that come short, Or wallow naked in December snow,
Our substitutes at home shall have blank charters; By thinking on fantastic summer's heat ? Whereto, when they shall know what men are rich, 0, no! the apprehension of the good,
They shall subscribe them for large sums of gold, Gives but the greater fceling to the worse : And send them after to supply our wants; Fell sorrow's tooth doth never rankle more, For we will make for Ireland presently. Than when it bites, but lanceth not the sore. Gaunt. Come, come, my son, I'll bring thee on
Enter Bushy. thy way:
Bushy, what news? Had I thy youth, and cause, I would not stay. Bushy. Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, my Boling. Then, England's ground, farewell; siveet
lord ; soil, adieu
Suddenly taken; and hath sent post-haste, My mother, and my nurse, that bears me yet! To entreat your majesty to visit him. Where'er l'wander, boast of this I can,
K. Rich. Where lies he? Though banish'd, yet a true-born Englishman. Bushy. At Ely-house.
[Ereunt. K. Rich. Now put it, heaven, in his physician's SCENE IV.—The same. A room in the king's To help him to his grave immediately!
mind, castle. Enter King Richard, Bagot, and Green ; l'he lining of his cuffers shall make coats Aunierle following.
To deck our soldiers for thesc Irish wars.-K. Rich. We did observe.-Cousin Aumerle, Coine, gentlemen, let's all go visit him : How far brought you high Hereford on his way? Pray God, we may make haste, and come too late! Aum. I brought high Hereford, if you call him so,
(Eremt. But to the next highway, and there I left him. K. Rich. And, say, what store of parting tears were shed ?
ACT II. Aum. 'Faith, none by me: except the northeast wind,
SCENE 1.-London. A room in Ely-house. Which then blew bitterly against our faces, Gaunt on a couch; the Duke of York, and olkers, Awak'd the sleeping rheum; and so by chance,
standing by him. Did grace our hollow parting with a tear. K. Rich. What said our cousin, when you parted Gaunt. Will the king come ? that I may breathe with him ?
my last, Aum. Farewell :
In wholesome counsel to his unsta ied youth. And, for my heart disdained that my tongue York. Vex not yourself, nor strive not with your Should so profane the word, that taught me craft
breath; To counterfeit oppression of such grief,
For all in vain comes counsel to his ear. That words seem'd buried in my sorrow's grave. Gaunl. O, but they say, the tongues of dying men Marry, would the word farewell have lengthen’a Enforce attention, like deep harmony: hours,
Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in And added years to his short banishment, He should have had a volume of farewells; For they breathe truth, that breathe their words in But, since it would not, he had none of me.
pain. K. Rich. He is our cousin, cousin; but 'tis doubt, He, that no more must say, is listen'd more When time shall call him home from banishment, Than they whom youth and ease have taught to Whether our kinsman come to see his friends.
glose;' Oursell, and Bushy, Bagot here, and Green, More are men's ends mark'd, than their lives before: Obsery'd his courtship to the common people :- The setting sun, and music at the close, How he did seem to dive into their hearts, As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last; With humble and familiar courtesy ;
Writ in remembrance, more than things long past: What reverence he did throw away on slaves ; Though Richard my life's counsel would not hear, (1) Presence-chamber at court. (2) Growling. (3) Expeditious. (4) Because. (5) Flatter.
My death's sad tale may yet undear his ear. Is my strict fast, I mean-my children's looks ; York. No;, it is stopp'd with other flattering And, therein fasting, hast thou made me gaunt': sounds,
Gaunt am I for the grave, gaunt as a grave, As, praises of his state: then, there are found Whose hollow womb inherits nought but bones. Lascivious metres; to whose venom sound K. Rich. Can sick men play so nicely with their The open ear of youth doth always listen:
names ? Report of fashions in proud Italy;
Gaunt. No, misery makes sport to mock itself: Whose manners still our tardy apish nation Since thou dost seek to kill my name in me, Limps after, in base imitation.
I mock my name great king, to flatter thee. Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity
K. Rich. Should dying men flatter with those (So it be new, there's no respect how vile;)
that live ? That is not quickly buzz'd into his ears?
Gaunt. No, no; men living flatter those that die. Then all too late comes counsel to be heard, K. Rich. Thou, now a dying, say'st-thou flate Where will doth mutiny with wit's regard.
terest me. Direct not him, whose way himself will choose ; Gaunt. Oh! no; thou diest, though I the sicker be. 'Tis breath thou lack'st, and that breath wilt thou K. Rich. Iam in health, I breathe, and see thee ill? lose.
Gaunt. Now, He that made me, knows I see Gaunt. Methinks, I am a prophet new inspir'd; And thus, expiring, do foretel of him:
Il in myself to see, and in thee seeing ill.
Thy death-bed is no lesser than the land,
A thousand Natterers sit within thy crown,
And yet, incaged in so small a verge, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, The waste is no wbit lesser than thy land. This other Eden, demi-paradise;.
O, had thy grandsire, with a prophet's eye, This fortress, built by nature for hersell,
Seen how his son's son should destroy his sons, Against infection, and the hand of war;
From forth thy reach he would have laid thy shame; This happy breed of men, this little world ; Deposing thee before thou wert possessid, This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which art possess'd now to depose thyself. Which serves it in the office of a wall,
Why, cousin, wert thou regent of the world, Or as a moat defensive to a house,
It were a shame to let this land by lease: Against the envy of less happier lands:
But, for thy world, enjoying but this land, This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this Is it not more than shume, to shame it so ? England,
Landlord of England art ihou now, not king: This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, Thy state of law is bondslave to the law; Fear'd by their breed, and famous by their birth, And thou-Renowned for their deeds as far from home
K. Rich. --a lunatic lean-witted fool, (For Christian service, and true chivalry,) Presuming on an ague's privijege, As is the sepulchre in stubborn Jewry,
Dar'st with thy frozen admonition of the world's ransom, blessed Mary's son: Make pale our cheek; chasing the royal blood, This land of such dear'souls, this dear dear land, With fury, from his native residence. Dear for her reputation through the world, Now by my seat's right royal majesty, Is now leased out (1 die pronouncing it,)
Wert thou not brother to great Edward's son, Like to a tenement or pelting' farm :
This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head, England, bound in with the triumphant sea, Should run thy head from thy unreverend shoulders, Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege Gaunt. O, spare me not, my brother Edward's son, Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame, For that I was his father Edward's son ; With inky blois, and rotten parchment bonds; That blood already, like the pelican, That England, that was wont to conquer others, Hast thou tapp'd out, and drunkenly carous'd : Hath made a shameful conquest of itself : My brother Gloster, plain well-meaning soul, 0, would the scandal vanish with my life, (Whom fair befall in heaven 'mongst happy souls !) How happy then were my ensuing death! May be a precedent and witness good,
That thou respect'st not spilling Edward's blood : Enter King Richard, and Queen; Aumerle, Bushy, Join with the present sickness that I have ; Green, Bagot, Ross, and Willoughby.
And thy unkindness be like crooked age, York. The king is come: deal mildly with his To crop at once a too-long wither'd flower. youth;
Live in thy shame, but die not shame with thee! For young hot colts, being rag'd, do rage the more. These words hereafter thy tormentors be!
Queen. How fares our noble uncle, Lancaster ? Convey me to my bed, then to my grave: K. Rich. What comfort, man? How is't with Love they to live, that love and honour have. aged Ga'int ?
(Exit, borne out by his attendants. Garmi. O, how that name befits my composition ! K. Rich. And them die, that age and sullens Old Gaunt, indeed; and gaunta in being old:
have ; Within me grief hath kept a tedious fast; For both hast 'thou, and both become the grave. And who abstains from meat, that is not gaunt ? York. 'Beseech your majesty, impute his words For sleeping England long time have I watch'd ; To wayward sickliness and age in him: Watching breeds leanness, leanness is all gaunt : He loves you, on my life, and holds you dear The pleasure, that some fathers seed upon, As Harry, duke of Hereford, were he here.
K. Rich. Right; you say true; as Hereford's (1) Paltry, (2) Lean, thin, (3) Mad,
love, so his
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 lege, Enter Northumberland.
farewell : North. My liege, old Gaunt commends him to What will ensue hercof, there's none can tell; your majesty.
But by bad courses may be understood, K. Rich. What says he now?
That iheir events can never fall out good. Eril. 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 has 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 wo. We will for Ireland ; and 'tis time, I trew;
K. Rich. The ripest fruit first falls, and so doth he; And we create, in absence of oursell, His lime 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 loved us well.We must supplant those rough rug-headed kerns;' Come on, our queen: to-morrow must we part; Which live like venom, where no venoin 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 The plate, coin, revenues, and moveables,
dead. Whereof our uncle Gaunt did stand possessid. Ross. And living too; for now his son is duke.
York. How long shall I be patient ? Ah, how long Willo. Barely in title, not in revenue. Shall tender duty make me suffer wrong?
North. Richly in both, if justice had her right. Not Gloster's death, nor Hereford's banishment, Ross. My heart is great; but it must break with Not Gaunt's rebukes, nor England's private wrongs, silence, Nor the prevention of poor Bolingbroke Ere't be disburden'd with a liberals tongne. About his marriage, nor my own disgrace,
North. Nay, speak thy mind; and let him ne'er Have ever made me sour my patient cheek,
speak more, Or bend one wrinkle on my sovereign's face. - That speaks thy words again, to do thee harm! I am the last of noble Edward's sons,
Willo. Tends that thou'dst speak, to the duke Of whom thy father, prince of Wales, was first;
of Hereford ? In war, was never lion rag'd more fierce, Ir it be so, out with it boldly, man; In peace, was never gentle lamb more mild, Quick is mine ear to hear of good towards him. Than was that young and princely gentleman: Ross. No good at all, that I can do for him ; His face thou hast, for even so look'd he,
Unless you call it good to pity him,
wrongs are borne,
By flattercrs; and what they will inform,
K. Rich. Why, uncle, what's the matier ? 'Gainst us, our lives, our children, and our heirs. York.
0, my liege, Ross. The commons hath he pill'd' with grievou Pardon me, if you please; if not, I pleas'do
taxes, Not to be pardon’d, am content withal. And lost their hearts: the nobles hath he find, Seek you to seize, and gripe into your hands, For ancient quarrels, and quite lost their hearts. The royalties and rights of banish'd Hereford ? Willo. And daily new exactions are devis'd; Is not Gaunt dead ? and doth not Hereford live ? As blanks, benevolences, and I wot not what: Was pot Gaunt just ? and is not Harry true ? But what, o'God's name, doth become of this? Did not the one deserve to have an heir ?
North. Wars have not wasted it, for warrd he 13 not his heir i well-deserving son ?
hath not, Take Hereford's rights away, and take from time Bat basely yielded upon compromise, His charters, and his customary rights ;
That which his ancestors achiev'd with blows: Let not to-morrow then ensue to-day;
More hath he spent in peace, than they in wars. Be not thyself, for how art thou a king,
Ross. The earl of Wiltshire hath ihe realm in But by fair sequence and succession ?
farm. Now, afore God (God forbid, I say true!)
Willo. The king's grown bankrupt, like a broken If you do wrongfully seize Hereforu's rights, Call in the letters patents that he hath
North. Reproach, and dissolution, hangeth orer By his attornies-general to sue
him. His livery,' and deny his otler'd homage,
Ross. He hath not money for these Irish wars, You pluck a thousand dangers on your head, His burdenous taxations notwithstar.ding, You lose a thousand well-disposed hearts, But by the robbing of the banish'd duke. And prick my tender patience to those thoughts
North. His noble kinsman: most degenerate king! Which honour and allegiance cannot think. But, lords, we hear this fearful tempest sing, K. Rich. Think what you will ; we seize into Yet seek no shelter to avoid the storm : our hands
We see the wind sit sore upon our sails, (1) Irish soldiers,
(3) When of thy age, (2) Alluding to the idea that no venomous rep- (4) Taking possession. (5) Free, tiles live in Ireland.
(6) Deprived, (7) Pilloged,
And yet we strike not, but securely perish.' More than your lord's departure weep not; moro's Ross. We sec the very wreck that we must suffer;
not seen; And unavoided is the danger now,
Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrow's eye, For suffering so the causes of our wreck. Which, for things true, weeps things imaginary. North. Not so; even through the hollow eyes of Queen. It may be so; but yet my inward soul, death,
Persuades me, it is otherwise: Howe'er il be, I spy life peering; but I dare not say,
I cannot but be sad ; so heavy sad, How near the lidings of our comfori is.
As,-though, in thinking, on no thought I think, Willo. Nay, let us share thy thoughts, as thou Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink. dost ours.
Bushy. 'Tis nothing but conceit,' my gracious Ross. Be confident to speak, Northumberland :
lady. We three are but thysell; and, speaking so, Queen. 'i'is nothing less : conceit is still deriv'd Thy words are but is thoughts; therefore, be bold. From some forc-father gries; mine is not so; North. Then thus:-I have, from Portle Blanc, For nothing hath begot my something grief; a bay
Or something hath the nothing that I grieve: In Brittany, received intelligence,
'Tis in reversion that I do possess ; That Harry Hereford, Reignold lord Cobham But what it is, that is not yet known; what [The son of Richard earl of Arundel,]
I cannot name; 'tis nameless wo, I wot."
Green. God save your majesty!-and well met, Sir John Norberry, sir Robert Waterton, and Fran- 1 hope, the king is not yet shipp'd for Ireland,
gentlemen :--cis Quoint, All these well furnish'd by the duke of Bretagne,
Queen. Why hop'st thou so ? 'tis better hope, With eight talla ships, three thousand men of war, for his designs cravc haste, his haste good hope;
he is ; Are making hither with all due expedience,' And shortly mean to touch our northern shore:
Then wherefore dost thou hope, he is not shipp'd? l'erhaps, they had ere this; but that they stay
Green. That he, our hope, might have retired The first departing of the king for Ireland.
his power, Is then we shall shake off our slavish yoke,
And driven into despair an enemy's hope,
Who strongly hath set footing in this land:
The banishd Bolingbroke repeals himsell,
Queen. Now God in heaven forbid ! Away, with me, in post to Ravenspurg: But if you faint, as fearing to do so,
Green. 0, madam, 'tis too true : and that is try, and be secret, and myself will go. Ross. To horse, lo horse! urge doubts to them The lord Northumberland, his young son Henry that fear.
Percy, Willo. Hold out my horse, and I will first be The lords of Ross, Beaumond, and Willoughby, there.
With all their powerful friends, are fled to him.
Bushy. Why have you not proclaim'd NorthumSCENE II.-The same. A room in the palace. berland, Enler Qucen, Bushy and Bagot. And all the rest of the revolting faction,
Traitors ? Bushy. Madam, your majesty is too much sad :
Green. We have: whereon the earl of Worcester You promis'd, when you parted with the king, Hath broke his staff, resign'd bis stewardship, To lay aside life-harming heaviness,
And all the household servants fled with him And entertain a cheerful disposition.
To Bolingbroke. Queen. To please the king, I did ; to please my
Queen. So, Green, thou art the midwife to my wo, self,
And Bolingbroke my sorrow's dismal heir : I cannot do it; yet I know no cause
Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy ; Why I should welcome such a guest as grief, And I, a gasping new-deliver'd mother, Save bidding farewell to so sweet a guest Have wo to wo, sorrow to sorrow join'd. As my sweet Richard : Yct, again, methinks,
Bushy. Despair not, madam. Some unborn sorrow, ripe in fortune's womb, Queen.
Who shall hinder me? Is coming towards me; and iny inward soul
I will despair, and be at enmity
With cozening hope ; he is a flatterer,
Which false hope lingers in extremity.
Green. Here comes the duke of York.
Queen. With signs of war about his aged neck;
O, full of careful business are his looks!
For heaven's sake, speak comfortable words.
York. Should I do so, I should belie my thoughts. or what it is not. Then, thrice-gracious queen,
Comfort's in heaven; and we are on the earth,
Where nothing lives but crosses, care, and gries, (1) Perish by confidence in our security, 2) Stout
(7) Fanciful cuncertion, (3) Expedition.
(6) Pictures, Supply with new feathers, (5) Gilding, (8) Know,
Drawn it back,