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 bear,
My death's sad tale may yet undeaf his ear.
York. No; it is stop'd with other flattering sounds, 5
As, praises of his state: then, there are found
Lascivious meeters'; to whose venom'd sound
The open 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 vile)
That is not quickly buzz'd into his ears?
Then all too late comes counsel to be heard,
Where will doth mutiny with wit's regard2:
Direct not him, whose way himself will chuse ';
'Tis breath thou lack'st, and that breath wilt thou
How happy then, were my ensuing death!
Enter King Richard, Queen, Aumerle, Bushy,
Green, Bagot, Ross, and Willoughby.
York. The king is come: deal mildly with his
youth;
For young hot colts, being rag'd, do rage the more.
Queen. How fares our noble uncle, Lancaster?
K. Rich. What comfort, man? How is't with
aged Gaunt?
[tion!
Gaunt. Oh, how that name befits my composi
Old Gaunt, indeed; and gaunt in being old:
Within me grief hath kept a tedious fast;
And who abstains from meat, that is not gaunt?
For sleeping England long time have I watch'd;
15 Watching breeds leanness, leanness is all gaunt:
The pleasure that some fathers feed upon,
Is my strict fast, I mean my children's looks;
And therein fasting, thou hast made me gaunt:
Gaunt am I for the grave, gaunt as a grave,
Whose hollow womb inherits nought but bones.
K. Rich, Can sick men play so nicely with their
names?
Gaunt. No, misery makes sport to mock itself:
Since thou dost seek to kill my name in me,
mock my name, great king, to flatter thee.
K.Rich. Should dying men flatter with those
Gaunt. No, no; men living flatter those that die. K. Rich. Thou, now a dying, say'st-thou flatter'st me.
[be. Gaunt. Oh! no; thou dy'st, though I the sicker K. Rich. I am in health, I breathe, I see thee
ill. [ill; Gaunt. Now, He that made me, knows I see thee 35 Ill in myself to see, and in thee seeing ill. Thy death-bed is no lesser than the land, Wherein thou liest in reputation sick; And thou, too careless patient as thou art, Giv'st thy anointed body to the cure
Gaunt. Methinks, I am a prophet new inspir'd; 20
And thus, expiring, do foretell of him :-
His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last;
For violent fires soon burn out themselves:
Small showers last long, but sudden stormsare short;
He tires betimes, that spurs too fast betimes;
With eager feeding, food doth choak the feeder:
Light vanity, insatiate cormorant,
Consuming means, soon preys upon itself.
This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demy paradise;
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,
Which serves it in the office of a wall,
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands;
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this Eng-
This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings,
Fear'd for 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,
Of the world's ransom, blessed Mary's son;
This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land,
Dear for her reputation through the world,
Is now leas'd out (I 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 wat'ry 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,
Of those physicians that first wounded thee:
A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown,
Whose compass is no bigger than thy head;
And yet, incaged in so small a verge,
The waste is no whit lesser than thy land.
45 Oh, 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,
Who art possess'd now to depose thyself.
50 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:
55 Thy state of law is bond-slave to the law*;
And
1i. e. metres, or verses. 2Meaning, where the will rebels against the understanding. follow his own course. i. e. hasty, violent. i. e. against pestilence. i. e. mean, paltry. Alluding to the great sums raised upon the subject by loans and other exactions, in this reign. Johnson interprets this passage thus: "By setting the royalties to farm thou hast reduced thyself to a state below sovereignty; thou art now no longer king but landlord of England, subject to the same restraint and limitations as other landlords; by making thy condition a state of law, a condition up on which the common rules of law can operate, thou art become a bond-slave to the law; thou hast made thyself amenable to laws from which thou wert originally exempt.”
Thou, a lunatic, lean-witted fool,
Presuming on an ague's privilege,
Dar'st with thy frozen admonition
Make pale our cheek; chasing the royal
With fury, from his native residence.
Now by my seat's right royal majesty,
Wert thou not brother to great Edward's son,
This tongue, that runs so roundly in thy head,
Should run thy head from thy irreverent shoulders.
Gaunt. Oh, spare me not, my brother Edward's
For that I was his father Edward's son;
That blood already, like the pelican,
Hast thou tap'd out, and drunkenly carows'd:
My brother Gloster, plain well-meaning soul,
(Whom fair befal in heaven 'mongst happy souls!)
May be a precedent and witness good,
That thou respect'st not spilling Edward's blood:
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!
These words hereafter thy tormentors be!—
Convey me to my bed, then to my grave:-
Love they to live', that love and honour have.
[Exit, borne out.
K. Rich. And let them die, that age and sullens
have;
am the last of noble Edward's sons,
Of whom thy father, prince of Wales, was first;
In war was never lion rag'd more fierce,
peace was never gentle lamb more mild,
5 Than was that young and princely gentleman:
His face thou hast, for even so look'd he,
Accomplish'd with the number of thy hours;
But, when he frown'd, it was against the French,
And not against his friends: his noble hand
Did win what he did spend, and spent not that
Which his triumphant father's hand had won:
His hands were guilty of no kindred's blood,
But bloody with the enemies of his kin.
Oh, Richard! York is too far gone with grief,
15 Or else he never would compare between.
K. Rich. Why, uncle, what's the matter?
York. O, my liege,
Pardon me, if you please; if not, I, pleas'd
Not to be pardon'd, am content withal.
20 Seek you to seize, and gripe into your hands,
The royalties and rights of banish'd Hereford?
Is not Gaunt dead? and doth not Hereford live?
Was not Gaunt just? and is not Harry true?
Did not the one deserve to have an heir?
25 Is not his heir a well-deserving son?
Take Hereford's rights away, and take from time
His charters, and his customary rights;
Let not to morrow then ensue to-day:
Be not thyself, for how art thou a king,
But by fair sequence and succession?
Now, afore God (God forbid, I say true!)
If you do wrongfully seize Hereford's rights,
Call in his letters patents that he hath
By his attornies-general to sue
For both hast thon, and both become the grave.
York. 'Beseech your majesty, impute his words 30
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; 35
As theirs, so mine; and all be as it is.
North. My liege, old Gaunt commends him to
K. Rich. What says he? [your majesty.
North. Nay, nothing; all is said:
His tongue is now a stringless instrument;
Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent. [so!
York. Be York the next that must be bankrupt
Though death be poor, it ends a mortal woe.
His livery, and deny his offer'd homage,
You pluck a thousand dangers on your head,
You lose a thousand well-disposed hearts,
And prick my tender patience to those thoughts
Which honour and allegiance cannot think. [hands
K. Rich. Think what you will; we seize into our
His plate, his goods, his money, and his lands..
York. I'll not be by, the while: My liege,farewel:
What will ensue hereof, there's none can tell;
But by bad courses may be understood,
45 That their events can never fall out good. [Exit.
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.-
Come on, our queen: to-morrow must we part;
Be merry, for our time of stay is short. [Flourish.
[Exeunt King, Queen, &c.
North. Well, lords, the duke of Lancaster is dead.
Ross. And living too; for now his son is duke.
Willo. Barely in title, not in revenue.
North. Richly in both, if justice had her right.
Ross. My heart is great; but it must break with
Ere't be disburden'd with a liberal tongue. [silence,
K.Rich. The ripest fruit first falls, and so doth be;
His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be:
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,-50
Towards our assistance, we do seize to us
The plate, coin, revenues, and moveables,
Whereof our uncle Gaunt did stand possess'd. [long
York. How long shall I be patient? Oh, how
Shall tender duty make me suffer wrong?
Not Gloster's death, nor Hereford's banishment,
NotGaunt's rebukes,nor England's private wrongs,
Nor the prevention of poor Bolingbroke
About his marriage, nor my own disgrace,
Have ever made me sour my patient cheek,
Or bend one wrinkle on my sovereign's face.-
That is, let them love to live.
Kern signifies an Irish foot-soldier; an Irish boor.
to a tradition, that St. Patrick freed the kingdom of Ireland from every species of venomous reptiles. į, e. refuse.
North. Nay, speak thy mind; and let him ne'er speak more,
That speaks thy words again, to do thee harm! Willo. Tends that thou'dst speak, to the duke of Hereford?
If it be so, out with it boldly, man;
Quick is mine ear, to hear of good towards him.
Ross. No good at all, that I can do for him;
Unless you call it good, to pity him,
Bereft and gelded of his patrimony.
North. Now, afore heaven, 'tis shame such
wrongs are borne,
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In him a royal prince, and many more
Of noble blood in this declining land.
The king is not himself, but basely led
By flatterers; and what they will inform,
Merely in hate, 'gainst any of us all,
That will the king severely prosecute
'Gainst us, our lives, our children, and our heirs.
Ross. The commons hath he pill'd with griev-20
ous taxes,
And quite lost their hearts: the nobles he hath fin'd
For ancient quarrels, and quite lost their hearts.
Willo. And daily new exactions are devis'd;
As-blanks, benevolences, and I wot not what:
But what, o' God's name, doth become of this?
North. War hath not wasted it, for warr'd he
hath not,
All these, well furnish'd by the duke of Bretagne,
With eight tall ships, three thousand men of war,
Are making hither with all due expedience,
And shortly mean to touch our northern shore:
15 Perhaps, they had ere this; but that they stay
The first departing of the king for Ireland.
If then we shall shake off our slavish yoke,
Imp out our drooping country's broken wing,
Redeem from broking pawn the blemish'd crown,
Wipe off the dust that hides our scepter's gilt,
And make high majesty look like itself,
Away with me, in post to Ravenspurg:
But if you faint, as fearing to do so,
Stay, and be secret, and myself will go.
But basely yielded upon compromise
That which his ancestors atchiev'd with blows:
More hath he spent in peace, than they in wars.
Ross. The earl of Wiltshire hath the realm in
farm.
Willo. The king's grown bankrupt, like abroken
North. Reproach, and dissolution, hangeth over 35
Ross. He hath not money for these Irish wars,
His burthenous taxations notwithstanding,
But by the robbing of the banish'd duke. [king
North. His noble kinsman :-Most degenerate 40
But, lords, we hear this fearful tempest sing,
Yet seek no shelter to avoid the storm:
We see the wind sit sore upon our sails,
And yet we strike not', but securely perish.
Ross. To horse, to horse! urge doubts to them
that fear.
Willo. Hold out my horse, and I will first be
there.
[Exeunt.
Queen. To please the king I did; to please my-
I cannot do it; yet I know no cause
Why I should welcome such a guest as grief,
Save bidding farewel to so sweet a guest
As my sweet Richard: Yet again, methinks,
Some unborn sorrow, ripe in fortune's womb,
Is coming toward me; and my inward soul
With nothing trembles: at something it grieves,
Ross. We see the very wreck that we must suffer; 45 More than with parting from my lord the king. And unavoided is the danger now,
For suffering so the causes of our wreck.
North. Not so; even through the hollow eyes Ispy life peering: but I dare not say, [of death, How near the tidings of our comfort is. [dost ours. 50 Willo. Nay, let us share thy thoughts, as thou Ross. Be confident to speak, Northumberland:
Bushy. Each substance of a grief hath twenty
Which shew like grief itself, but are not so :
For sorrow's eye, glazed with blinding tears,
Divides one thing entire to many objects;
Like perspectives, which, rightly gaz'd upon,
Shew nothing but confusion; ey'd awry,
1 To strike the sails, is, to contract them. 2 Mr. Steevens observes, that this circumstance, of having broke from the duke of Exeter, applies solely to Thomas Arundel, son and heir to the earl of Arundel who was beheaded in this reign; and from thence conjectures, that a line is lost, in which his name had originally a place. The archbishop next mentioned, was uncle to this young lord, though Shakspeare mistakenly calls him his brother. Having been deprived by the pope of his see, at the request of the king. This expression is borrowed from falconry. To imp a hawk, was to supply such wing-feathers as dropped, or were forced out by any accident. "Warburton says this is a fine similitude, and the thing meant is this: "Amongst mathematical recreations, there is one in optics, in which a figure is drawn, wherein all the rules of perspective are inverted: so that, if held in the same position with those pictures which are drawn according to the rules of perspective, it can present nothing but confusion: and to be seen in form, and under a regular appearance, it must be looked upon from a comrary station; or, as Shakspeare says, ey'd awry.”
Distinguish form so your sweet majesty,
Looking awry upon your lord's departure,
Finds shapes of grief, more than himself, to wail;
Which, look'd on as it is, is nought but shadows
Of what it is not. Then, thrice gracious queen,
More than your lord's departure weep not; more's
Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrow's eye,
Which, for things true, weeps things imaginary.
Queen. It may be so; but yet my inward soul
Persuades me, it is otherwise: Howe'er it be,
I cannot but be sad; so heavy sad,
Green. Here comes the duke of York.
Queen. With signs of war about his aged neck;
Oh, full of careful business are his looks!-
York. Should I do so, I should bely my thoughts:
Uncle, for heaven's sake, speak comfortable words.
Comfort's in heaven; and we are on the earth,
Where nothing lives, but crosses, care, and grief,
Your husband he is gone to save far off,
10 Whilst others come to make him lose at home:
Here am I left to underprop his land;
As, though, in thinking, on no thought I think,
Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink.
Bushy. 'Tis nothing but conceit, my gracious 15
lady.
Queen. 'Tis nothing less: conceit is still deriv'd
From some fore-father grief; mine is not so;
For nothing hath begot my something grief;
Or something hath, the nothing that I grieve:
'Tis in reversion that I do possess ;
But what it is, that is not yet known; what
I cannot name; 'tis nameless woe, I wot.
Enter Green.
Who, weak with age, cannot support myself:-
Now comes the sick hour that his surfeit made;
Now shall he try his friends that flatter'd him.
Enter a Servant.
Ser. My lord, your son was gone before I came.
York. He was--Why, so!-go all which way
[cold.
it will!-
The nobles they are fled, the commons they are
20 And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's side.-
Sirrah,
Green. Heaven save your majesty !-and well 25 met, gentlemen:
I hope the king is not yet ship'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 ship'd?
Green. That he, our hope, might have retir'd'
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.
Get thee to Plashy 2, to my sister Gloster;
Bid her send me presently a thousand pound :—
Hold, take my ring.
Ser. My lord, I had forgot to tell your lordship:
To-day, I came by, and call'd there;—but I
Shall grieve you to report the rest.
York. What is it, knave?
Ser. An hour before I came, the duchess dy'd.
York. Heaven 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 heaven,
(So my untruth' hath not provok'd him to't)
The king had cut off my head with my brother's.-
35 What, are there posts dispatch'd for Ireland?
How shall we do for money for these wars?—
Come, sister,-cousin, I would say; pray, pardon
Queen. Now God in heaven forbid! [worse,—
Green. O, madam, 'tis too true: and that is]
The lord Northumberland, his young son Henry 40
Percy,
The lords of Ross, Beaumont, and Willoughby,
With all their powerful friends, are fled to him.
Bushy. Why have you not proclaim'd North-
umberland,
And 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 houshold servants fled with him
To Bolingbroke.
Go, fellow, get thee home, provide some carts,
[To the servant.
And bring away the armour that is there.--
Gentlemen, will you go muster men? If I know
How, or which way, to order these affairs,
Thus disorderly thrust into my hands,
45 Never believe me. Both are my kinsmen;
The one's my sovereign, whom both my oath
And duty bids defend; the other again,
Queen. So, Green, thou art the midwife of my
And Bolingbroke my sorrow's dismal heir:
Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy;
And I, a gasping new-deliver'd mother,
Have woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow join'd.
Bushy. Despair not, madam.
Queen. Who shall hinder me?
I will despair, and be at enmity
With cozening hope: he is a flatterer,
A parasite, a keeper-back of death,
Who gently would dissolve the bands of life,
Which false hope lingers in extremity.
Is my kinsman, whom the king hath wrong'd;
Whom conscience and my kindred bids to right.
Well, somewhat we must do.-Come, cousin, I'll
Dispose of you:-Go, muster up your men,
And meet me presently at Berkley, gentlemen.
I should to Plashy too:-
But time will not permit :-All is uneven,
55 And every thing is left at six and seven.
[Exeunt York and Queen.
Bushy. The wind sits fair for news to go to IreBut none returns. For us to levy power, Proportionable to the enemy,
Green. Besides, our nearness to the king in love, Is near the hate of those love not the king.
i. e. drawn it back. 2 The lordship of Plashy was a town of the dutchess of Glorer's in Essex,
2. e. disloyalty, treachery.
Bagot. And that's the wavering commons: for
their love
Lies in their purses; and whoso empties them,
By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate.
Bushy. Wherein the king stands generally con- 5
demn'd.
Bagot. If judgment lie in them, then so do we,
Because we have been ever near the king. [castle;
Green. Well, I'll for refuge straight to Bristol
The earl of Wiltshire is already there.
Bushy. Thither I will with you: for little office
'The hateful commons will perform for us;
Except, like curs, to tear us all in pieces.—
Will you go along with us?
Bagot. No; I'll to Ireland to his majesty.
Farewel: if heart's presages be not vain,
We three here part, that ne'er shall meet again.
Bushy. That's as York thrives to beat back Bo-
lingbroke.
Green Alas! poor duke, the task he undertakes
Is--numb'ring sands, and drinking oceans dry;
Where one on his side fights, thousands will fly.
Bushy. Farewel at once; for once, for all, and ever.
Green. Well, we may meet again.
Bagot. I fear me, never.
SCENE III.
The wilds in Glostershire.
[To offer service to the duke of Hereford;
And sent me o'er by Berkley, to discover
What power the duke of York hath levied there;
Then with direction to repair to Ravenspurg.
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.
[vice,
Percy. My gracious lord, I tender you my ser
Such as it is, being tender, raw, and young;
Which elder days shall ripen and confirm
15 To more approved service and desert.
Boling. I thank thee, gentle Percy: and be sure,
I count myself in nothing else so happy,
As in a soul remembring my good friends;
And, as my fortune ripens with thy love,
It shall be still thy true love's recompence: [it.
My heart this covenant makes, my hand thus seals
North. How far is it to Berkley? And what stir
Keeps good old York there, with his men of war?
Percy. There stands the castle, by yon tuft of
Enter Bolingbroke and Northumberland. Boling. How far is it, my lord, to Berkley now? 30 North. Believe me, noble lord,
I am a stranger here in Glostershire.
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.
But, I bethink me, what a weary way,
From Ravenspurg to Cotswold, will be found
In Ross, and Willoughby, wanting your company;
Which, I protest, hath very much beguil'd
The tediousness and process of my travel:
But theirs is sweeten'd with the hope to have
The present benefit that I possess:
And hope to joy, is little less in joy,
Than hope enjoy'd: by this, the weary lords
Shall make their way seem short; as mine hath done
By sight of what I have, your noble company.
Boling. Of much less value is my company,
Than your good words, But who comes here?
Enter Harry Percy.
North. It is my son, young Harry Percy,
Sent from my brotherWorcester, whencesoever.-
Harry, how fares your uncle?
Percy. I had thought, my lord, to have learn'd
North. Why, is he not with the queen? [court,
Percy. No, my good lord; he hath forsook the
Broken his staff of office, and dispers'd
The houshold 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
But he, my lord, is gone to Ravenspurg, [traitor.
Mann'd with three hundred men, as I have heard:
And in it are the lords of York, Berkley, and
None else of name, and noble estimate.[Seymour,
Enter Ross and Willoughby.
North. Here come the lords of Ross and Wil-
loughby,
Bloody with spurring, fiery-red with haste. [sues
Boling. Welcome, my lords: I wot, your love pur-
A banish'd traitor; all my treasury
35 Is yet but unfelt thanks, which, more enrich'd,
Shall be your love and labour's recompence.
Ross. Your presence make usrich,most noble lord,
Willo. And far surmounts our labour to attain it.
Boling. Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the
Which, 'till my infant fortune comes to years,
Stands for my bounty. But who comes here?
Enter Berkley.
North. It is my lord of Berkley, as I guess.
Berk. My lord of Hereford,my message is to you.
Boling. My lord, my answer is, to Lancaster;
And I am come to seek that name in England:
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
meaning,
To raze one title of your honour out:-
To you, my lord, I come, (what lord you will)
From the most glorious of this land,
55 The duke of York; to know, what pricks you on
To take advantage of the absent time',
And fright our native peace with self-born arms.
Enter York, attended.
Boling. I shall not need transport mywords by you; Here comes his grace in person. My noble uncle! [Kneels.
York. Shew me thy humble heart, and not thy Whose duty is deceivable and false. [knee,
! Meaning, perhaps, the time of the king's absence.
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