To which the ear of youth doth always listen;
Report of fashions in proud Italy,

Whose manners still our tardy apish nation
Limps after in base imitation.

Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity--
So it be new, there's no respect how vìle-
That is not quickly buzz'd into his ears?
Then all too late comes counsel to be heard.
Direct not him whose way himself will choose.

Gaunt. Methinks I am a prophet new inspir'd,
And thus expiring do foretell of him :
His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last;
For violent fires soon burn out themselves.—
This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This fortress built by Nature for herself
Against infection and the hand of war,
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
This blesséd plot, this nurse of royal kings,
Fear'd by their breed, and famous by their birth,
Renowned for their deeds as far from home,
For Christian service and true chivalry,
As is the sepulchre in stubborn Jewry,—
This land of such dear souls, this dear, dear land,
Dear for her reputation through the world,
Is now leas'd out,-1 die pronouncing it,-
Like to a tenement or pelting farm:
England, bound in with the triumphant sea,
Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege
Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame,
With inky blots and rotten parchment bonds:
That England, that was wont to conquer others,
Hath made a shameful conquest of itself.
Ah, would the scandal vanish with my life,
How happy then were my ensuing death!

Enter KING RICHARD and QUEEN, AUMERLE, Bushy,
GREEN, BAGOT, Ross, and WILLOUGHBY.

York. The king is come: deal mildly with his youth.
Queen. How fares our noble uncle, Lancaster?

K. Rich. What comfort, man? How is't with agéd Gaunt ? Gaunt. O, how that name befits my composition!

Old Gaunt, indeed, and gaunt in being old:

Within me grief hath kept a tedious fast;

For sleeping England long time have I watch'd.
The pleasure that some fathers feed upon,

50

Is

my strict fast; I mean, my children's looks; And therein fasting, hast thou made me gaunt:

Gaunt am I for the grave, gaunt às a grave.

K. Rich. Can sick men play so nicely with their names ?
Gaunt. No, misery makes sport to mock itself.

O, had thy grandsire with a prophet's eye
Seen how his son's son should destroy his sons,
From forth thy reach he would have laid thy shame,
Deposing thee before thou wert possess'd,
Which art possess'd now to depose thyself.
Why, cousin, wert thou regent of the world,
It were a shame to let this land by lease;
But for thy world enjoying but this land,
Is it not more than shame to shame it so ?
Landlord of England art thou now, not king:
Thy state of law is bondslave to the law;
And thou-

K. Rich.

A lunatic lean-witted fool, Presuming on an ague's privilege.

Wert thou not brother to great Edward's son,

This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head

Should run thy head from thy unreverent shoulders.

Gaunt. O, spare me not, my brother Edward's son,

For that I was his father Edward's son.

Join with the present sickness that I have;
And thy unkindness be like crooked age,

To crop at once a too long wither'd flower.
Live in thy shame, but die not shame with thee!
Convey me to my bed, then to my grave:
Love they to live that love and honour have.

60

70

80

[Exit, borne off by his Attendants. K. Rich. And let them die that age and sullens have;

For both hast thou, and both become the grave.

York. I do beseech your majesty, impute his words

To wayward sickliness and age in him:

He loves you, on my life, and holds you dear

As Harry Duke of Hereford, were he here.

K. Rich. Right, you say true: as Hereford's love, so his;

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

Enter NORTHUMBERLAND.

North. My liege, old Gaunt commends him to your majesty. K. Rich. What says he?

North.

Nay, nothing; all is said:

His tongue is now a stringless instrument;

Words, life and all, old Lancaster hath spent.

York. Be York the next that must be bankrupt so.

90

K. Rich. The ripest fruit first falls, and so doth he
So much for that. Now for our Irish wars :

We must supplant those rough rug-headed kerns,
Which live like venom where no venom else

But only they have privilege to live.
And for these great affairs do ask some charge,
Towards our assistance we do seize to us

The plate, coin, revenues and moveables,
Whereof our uncle Gaunt did stand possess'd.

York. How long shall I be patient ? Ah, how long

Shall tender duty make me suffer wrong?

Not Gloucester's death, nor Hereford's banishment,
Not Gaunt's rebukes, nor England's private wrongs,
Have ever made me sour my patient cheek,
Or bend one wrinkle on my sovereign's face.

K. Rich. Why, uncle, what's the matter?
York.

O my liege,
Seek you to seize and gripe into your hands
The royalties and rights of banish'd Hereford?
Is not Gàunt dèad, and doth not Hèreford live?
Was not Gaunt just, and is not Harry true?
Now, afore God-God forbid, I say true!-
If you do wrongfully seize Hereford's rights,
You pluck a thousand dangers on your head,
You lose a thousand well-disposéd hearts,
And prick my tender patience to those thoughts,
Which honour and allegiance cannot think.

100

110

K. Rich. Think what you will, we seize into our hands 120

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

York. I'll not be by the while: my liege, farewell :

What will ensue hereof, there's none can tell.

K. Rich. Go, Bushy, to the Earl of Wiltshire straight:

Bid him repair to us to Ely House

To see this business. To-morrow next

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

And we create, in absence of ourself,

Our uncle York lord governor of England;
For he is just, and always lov'd us well.

[Exit.

130

[Flourish. Exeunt.

Come on, our queen: to-morrow must we part;
Be merry, for our time of stay is short.

The palace.

Enter QUEEN and BUSHY.

Bushy. Madam, your majesty is too much sad:

You promis'd, when you parted with the king,

To lay aside life-harming heaviness,

And entertain a cheerful disposition.

F

Queen. To please the king I did; to please myself, I cannot do 't.

Enter GREEN.

Green. God save your majesty!

I hope the king is not yet shipp'd for Ireland.

Queen. Why hop'st thou so? "Tis better hope he is;

For his designs crave haste, his haste good hope:

Then wherefore dost thou hope he is not shipp'd?

Green. That he, our hope, might have retir'd his power,
And driven into despair an enemy's hope,

Who strongly hath set footing in this land.
The banish'd Bolingbroke repeals himself,
And with uplifted arms is safe arriv'd
At Ravenspurg.
Queen.

Now God in heaven forbid !

Green. Ah, madam, 'tis too true: and that is worse,
The Lord Northumberland, his son young Henry Percy,
The Lords of Ross, Beaumond, and Willoughby,
With all their powerful friends, are fled to him.

Bushy. Why have you not proclaim'd Northumberland

And all the rest of the revolted faction, traitors ?

Green. We have: whereupon the Earl of Worcester Hath broke his staff, resign'd his stewardship,

And all the household servants fled with him

To Bolingbroke.

Enter YORK.

Green. Here comes the Duke of York.

140

150

Queen. With signs of war about his aged neck:

O, full of careful business are his looks!

160

Uncle, for God, speak comfortable words.

York. Should I do so, I should belie my thoughts:
Còmfort's in hèaven, and wè are on the earth.
Your husband, he is gone to save far off,
Whilst others come to make him lose at home:
Now comes the sick hour that his surfeit made;
Now shall he try his friends that flatter'd him.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. My lord, your son was gone before I came.

York. He was? Why, so! go all which way it will!

The nobles they are fled, the commons they are cold,

170

And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's side.

Sirrah, get thee to Plashy, to my sister Gloucester;
Bid her send me presently a thousand pound:
Hold, take my ring.

Serv. My lord, I had forgot to tell your lordship, To-day, as I came by, I called there ;

But I shall grieve you to report the rest.

York. What is it, knave?

Serv. An hour before I came, the duchess died.

York. God for his mercy! what a tide of woes Comes rushing on this woeful land at once!

I know not what to do: I would to God,

The king had cut off my head with my brother's.
Come, cousin.

Wilds in Gloucestershire.

180

[Exeunt.

Enter BOLINGBROKE and NORTHUMBERLAND, with forces.
Boling. How far is it, my lord, to Berkeley now?
North. Believe me, noble lord,

I am a stranger here in Gloucestershire :
These high wild hills and rough uneven ways
Draw out our miles, and make them wearisome ;
And yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar,
Making the hard way sweet and delectable.

Boling. Of much less value is my company
Than your good words. But who comes here?
Enter HENRY PERCY.

North. It is my son, young Harry Percy. Harry, how fares your uncle ?

190

Percy. I had thought, my lord, to have learn'd his health of

you.

North. Why, is he not with the queen?

Percy. No, my good lord; he hath forsook the court, Broken his staff of office, and dispers'd

The household of the king.

North.

What was his reason?

He was not so resolv'd when last we spake together.
Percy. Because your lordship was proclaimed traitor.

But he, my lord, is gone to Ravenspurg,

To offer service to the Duke of Hereford.

North. Have you forgot the Duke of Hereford, boy?
Percy. No, my good lord, for that is not forgot
Which ne'er I did remember. To my knowledge,
I never in my life did look on him.

North. Then learn to know him now; this is the duke.
Percy. My gracious lord, I tender you my service,

Such as it is, being tender, raw and young;

Which elder days shall ripen and confirm

To more approved service and desert.

Boling. I thank thee, gentle Percy; and be sure

200

210