SCENE IV. The same. A Room in the King's Castle. Enter King RICHARD, BAGOT, and GREEN; K. Rich. We did observe.- Cousin Aumerle, Aum. 'Faith, none by me: except the north-east wind, Which then blew bitterly against our faces, K. 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, That word seem'd buried in my sorrow's grave. Marry, would the word farewell have lengthen'd hours, And added years to his short banishment, K. Rich. He is our cousin, cousin ; but 'tis doubt, What reverence he did throw away on slaves; Wooing poor craftsmen, with the craft of smiles, And he our subjects' next degree in hope. Green. Well, he is gone; and with him go these thoughts. 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. K. Rich. We will ourself in person to this war. And, for our coffers 3 with too great a court, are grown somewhat light, We are enforc'd to farm our royal realm; The revenue whereof shall furnish us And liberal largess, For our affairs in hand: If that come short, Our substitutes at home shall have blank charters; Enter BUSHY. Bushy, what news? Bushy. Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, my lord; Suddenly taken; and hath sent post-haste, K. Rich. Where lies he? Bushy. At Ely-house. K. Rich. Now put it, heaven, in his physician's mind, 3. Because. To help him to his grave immediately! [Exeunt. ACT THE SECOND. SCENE 1. London. A Room in Ely-house. GAUNT on a Couch; the Duke of YORK, and others standing by him. Gaunt. Will the king come? that I may breathe my last In wholesome counsel to his unstayed youth. York. Vex not yourself, nor strive not with your breath; For all in vain comes counsel to his ear. Gaunt. 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; 4 More are men's ends mark'd, than their lives before: The setting sun, and musick at the close, As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last; Flatter. Though Richard my life's counsel would not hear, My death's sad tale may yet undeaf his ear. York. No; it is stopp'd with other flattering sounds, As, praises of his state: then, there are found Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity, lose. Gaunt. Methinks, I am a prophet new inspir'd; And thus, expiring, do foretell of him: His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last; Small showers last long, but sudden storms are snort; Consuming means, soon preys upon itself. This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle, This fortress, built by nature for herself, This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, Enter King RICHARD, and QUEEN; AUMERLE, BUSHY, GREEN, BAGOT, Ross, and WIL LOUGHBY. 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 composition! 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? s Paltry. my children's looks; 6 Lean, thin. |