GAUNT. Come,come, my fon, I'll bring thee on thy way: Had I thy youth, and caufe, I would not stay. [adieu; BOLING. Then, England's ground, farewell; fweet foil, My mother, and my nurse, that bears me yet! Where-e'er I wander, boaft of this I can,

Though banish'd, yet a trueborn Englishman.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. The fame. A Room in the King's Caftle. Enter KING RICHARD, BAGOT, and GREEN; AUMERLE following.

K. 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 highway, and there I left him. [fhed? K. RICH. And, fay, what ftore of parting tears were AUM. 'Faith, none by me: except the north-eaft wind, Which then blew bitterly against our faces,

Awak'd the fleeping rheum; and fo, by chance,

Did grace our hollow parting with a tear.

[him?

K. RICH. What faid our coufin, when you parted with

AUM. Farewell:

And for my heart disdained that my tongue

Should fo profane the word, that taught me craft

To counterfeit oppreffion of fuch grief,

That words feem'd buried in my forrow's grave.

Marry, would the word farewell have lengthen'd hours, And added years to his fhort banishment,

He should have had a volume of farewells;

But, fince it would not, he had none of me.

K. RICH. He is our coufin, coufin; but 'tis doubt, When time shall call him home from banishment, Whether our kinfman come to fee his friends. Ourself, and Bushy, Bagot here, and Green,

Obferv'd his courtship to the common people:
How he did feem to dive into their hearts,
With humble and familiar courtesy;

What reverence he did throw away on flaves;
Wooing poor craftsmen, with the craft of fmiles,
And patient underbearing of his fortune,
As 'twere, to banish their affects with him.
Off goes his bonnet to an oysterwench;
A brace of draymen bid-God speed him well,
And had the tribute of his fupple knee,
With-Thanks, my countrymen, my loving friends;-
As were our England in reverfion his,

And he our fubjects' next degree in hope,

[thoughts.

GREEN. Well, he is gone; and with him go these Now for the rebels, which stand out in Ireland ;— Expedient manage must be made, my liege; Ere further leifure yield them further means, For their advantage and your highness' loss.

K. RICH. We will ourself in perfon to this war.
And, for our coffers-with too great a court,
And liberal largess,-are grown fomewhat light,
We are enforc'd to farm our royal realm;
The revenue whereof fhall furnish us

For our affairs in hand: If that come short,
Our substitutes at home shall have blank charters;
Whereto, when they fhall know what men are rich,
They fhall fubfcribe them for large fums of gold,
And fend them after to fupply our wants;
For we will make for Ireland presently.

Enter BUSHY.

K. RICH. Bushy, what news?

BUSHY. Old John of Gaunt is grievous fick, my lord Suddenly taken; and hath fent post-haste,

To entreat your majefty to visit him.

K. RICH. Where lies he?

BUSHY. At Ely-house.

K. RICH. Now put it, heaven, in his phyfician's mind, To help him to his grave immediately!

The lining of his coffers fhall make coats

To deck our foldiers for thefe Irifh wars.-
Come, gentlemen, let's all go vifit him:

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

[Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I. London. A Room in Ely-boufe. GAUNT, on a Couch; the Duke of YORK, and Others Standing by him.

GAUNT. Will the king come? that I may breathe my In wholesome counsel to his unstay'd youth. [laft

YORK. Vex not yourself, nor ftrive not with your breath; For all in vain comes counsel to his ear.

GAUNT. O, but, they fay, 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 glofe; More are men's ends mark'd, than their lives before : The fetting fun, and mufick at the close,

As the last taste of fweets, is sweetest last;

Writ in remembrance, more than things long past :
Though Richard my life's counfel would not hear,
My death's fad tale may yet undeaf his ear.

YORK. No; it is ftopp'd with other flattering founds,

As, praises of his state: then, there are found
Lascivious metres; to whose venom found
The open ear of youth doth always liften :
Report of fashions in proud Italy;
Whose manners ftill 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 regard.

Direct not him, whose way himself will choose;

'Tis breath thou lack'ft, and that breath wilt thou lose.

GAUNT. Methinks, I am a prophet new inspir'd;

And thus, expiring, do foretell of him :.

His rafh fierce blaze of riot cannot last;
For violent fires foon burn out themselves:

Small showers last long, but fudden storms are short;
He tires betimes, that fpurs too fast betimes;
With eager feeding, food doth choke the feeder:
Light vanity, infatiate cormorant,

Confuming means, foon preys upon itself.
This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd ifle,
This earth of majesty, this feat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradife;

This fortress, built by nature for herself,
Against infection, and the hand of war;
This happy breed of men, this little world;
This precious ftone fet in the filver fea,
Which ferves it in the office of a wall,
Or as a moat defenfive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands;

This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England,

VOL.III.

N

This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings,
Fear'd by their breed, and famous by their birth,
Renowned for their deeds as far from home,
(For Chriftian fervice, and true chivalry,)
As is the fepulcher in ftubborn Jewry,
Of the world's ranfom, blessed Mary's fon :
This land of fuch dear fouls, 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 fea,
Whofe rocky fhore beats back the envious fiege
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 fhameful conqueft of itself:
O, would the fcandal vanish with my life,
How happy then were my enfuing death!

Enter King RICHARD, and 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 ?

GAUNT. O, how that name befits my compofition!
Old Gaunt, indeed; and gaunt in being old:
Within me grief hath kept a tedious fast;
And who abftains from meat, that is not gaunt?
For fleeping England long time have I watch'd;
Watching breeds leannefs, leannefs is all gaunt:
The pleasure, that fome fathers feed upon,

Is

my ftrict faft, I mean-my children's looks;