Go, say
I sent thee forth to purchase honour,
And not the king exil'd thee; or suppose
Devouring pestilence hangs in our air,
And thou art flying to a fresher clime.
Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it

To lie that way thou go'st, not whence thou com'st: Suppose the singing birds, musicians;

The grass whereon thou tread'st, the presence strew'd; 20

The flowers, fair ladies; and thy steps, no more
Than a delightful measure, or a dance:

For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite
The man that mocks at it, and sets it light.
Bol. O! who can hold a fire in his hand,
By thinking on the frosty Caucasus ?
Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite,
By bare imagination of a feast?
Or wallow naked in December snow,
By thinking on fantastic summer's heat?
O, no! the apprehension of the good
Gives but the greater feeling to the worse:
Fell sorrow's tooth doth never rankle more,
Than when it bites, but lanceth not the sore.
Lan. Come, come, my son, I'll bring thee on thy
way:

Had I thy youth and cause, I would not stay.
Bol. Then, England's ground, farewell: sweet
soil, adieu;

My mother, and my nurse, that bears me yet!
Where'er I wander, boast of this I can,
Though banish'd, yet a trueborn Englishman.21

[Exeunt.

20 That is, strew'd with rushes; the strewings with which the king's presence-chamber was then usually carpeted.

H.

21 The departure of the two dukes is thus recorded by Holin

SCENE IV.

The same. A Room in the King's Castle.

Enter King RICHARD, BAGOT, and GREEN;
AUMERLE following.

Rich. We did observe.' - Cousin Aumerle,
How far brought you high Hereford on his way!
Aum. I brought high Hereford, if you call him so.
But to the next high way, and there I left him.
Rich. And, say, what store of parting tears were
shed?

Aum. 'Faith, none for me; except the north-
east wind,

Which then blew bitterly against our faces,
Awak'd the sleeping rheum, and so by chance
Did grace our hollow parting with a tear.

Rich. What said our cousin, when you parted
with him?

Aum. Farewell:

And, for my heart disdained that my tongue Should so profane the word, that taught me craft To counterfeit oppression of such grief,

shed: "The duke of Norfolke departed sorrowfullie out of the realme into Almaine, and at the last came to Venice, where he for thought and melancholie deceassed. The duke of Hereford tooke his jornie over into Calis, and from thence went into France, where he remained. A woonder it was to see what number of people ran after him in everie towne and street where he came, before he tooke the sea, lamenting and bewailing his departure, as who would saie, that when he departed the onelie shield, defense and comfort of the commonwealth was vaded and gone."

H.

The king here addresses Green and Bagot, who, we may suppose, have been talking to him of Bolingbroke's "courtship to the common people," at the time of his departure. Yes, says Richard, we did observe it.

2 That is, none on my part. For is commonly changed to by without any authority till the second folio.

H.

That words seem'd buried in my sorrow's grave. Marry, would the word "farewell" have lengthen'd hours,

And added years to his short banishment,
He should have had a volume of farewells;
But, since it would not, he had none of me.

Rich. He is our cousin, cousin; but 'tis doubt,
When time shall call him home from banishment,
Whether our kinsman come to see his friends.
Ourself, and Bushy, Bagot here, and Green,
Observ'd his courtship to the common people;
How he did seem to dive into their hearts,
With humble and familiar courtesy ;
What reverence he did throw away on slaves;
Wooing poor craftsmen with the craft of smiles,
And patient underbearing of his fortune,

As 'twere to banish their affects with him.
Off goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench;

A brace of draymen bid God speed him well,
And had the tribute of his supple knee,3

With, "Thanks, my countrymen, my loving friends;"
As were our England in reversion his,

And he our subjects' next degree in hope.

Green. Well, he is gone; and with him go

thoughts.

these

Now, for the rebels, which stand out in Ireland,
Expedient manage must be made, my liege,
Ere further leisure yield them further means
For their advantage, and your highness' loss.
Rich. We will ourself in person to this war.
And, for our coffers- with too great a court,

3 Courtesying, the act of reverence now confined to women, was anciently practised by men.

4 That is, speedy arrangement, or expeditious conduct. For this ase of expedient see King John, Act ii. sc. 1, note 4.

H.

And liberal largess

are grown somewhat light,

We are enforc'd to farm our royal realm;

The revenue whereof shall furnish us

For our affairs in hand. If that come short,
Our substitutes at home shall have blank charters;
Whereto, when they shall know what men are rich,
They shall subscribe them for large sums of gold,
And send them after to supply our wants; 5
For we will make for Ireland presently.

Bushy, what news?

Enter BUSHY.

Bush. Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, my lord,

Suddenly taken, and hath sent post-haste,

To entreat your majesty to visit him.

Rich. Where lies he?

Bush. At Ely-house.

Rich. Now, put it, God, in his physician's mind, To help him to his grave immediately!

The lining of his coffers shall make coats
To deck our soldiers for these Irish wars.
Come, gentlemen, let's all go visit him:

'Pray God, we may make haste, and come too late!

[Exeunt.

So in Holinshed: "The common brute ran, that the king had set to farme the realme of England unto Sir William Scroope earle of Wiltshire, and then treasuror of England, to Sir John Bushie, Sir William Bagot, and Sir Henrie Greene, knights." And again: "Manie blanke charters were devised, and brought into the citie, which manie of the substantiall and wealthie citizens were faine to seale, to their great charge, as in the end appeared. And the like charters were sent abroad into all shires within the realme, whereby great grudge and murmuring arose among the peop'e for when they were so sealed, the king's officers wrote in the same what liked them, as well for charging the parties with paiment of mone, as otherwise."

H.

ACT II.

SCENE I. London. A Room in Ely-house.

LANCASTER m a Couch; the Duke of YORK' and Others standing by him.

Lan. Will the king come, that I may breathe

last

In wholesome counsel to his unstaid youth ?

niy

York. Vex not yourself, nor strive not with your breath;

For all in vain comes counsel to his ear.

Lan. O! but they say the tongues of dying men Enforce attention like deep harmony:

Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in

vain;

For they breathe truth, that breathe their words in

pain.

He that no more must say is listen'd more

Than they whom youth and ease have taught to glose; 2

More are men's ends mark'd, than their lives before.
The setting sun, and music at the close,

As the last taste of sweets is sweetest, last,
Writ in remembrance, more than things long past.
Though Richard my life's counsel would not hear,
My death's sad tale may yet undeaf his ear.

1 Edmund duke of York was the fifth son of Edward III., and was born, in 1341, at Langley, near St. Albans; from whence he had his surname. He is described as being" of an indolent disposition, a lover of pleasure, and averse to business; easily pre vailed upon to lie still, and consult his own quiet, and never acung with spirit upon any occasion."

To insinuate, to lie, to flatter.