The Complete Works of William Shakespeare Part 417

KING RICHARD. 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, I mock my name, great king, to flatter thee.

KING RICHARD. Should dying men flatter with those that live?

GAUNT. No, no; men living flatter those that die.

KING RICHARD. Thou, now a-dying, sayest thou flatterest me.

GAUNT. O, no! thou diest, though I the sicker be.

KING RICHARD. I am in health, I breathe, and see thee ill.

GAUNT. Now He that made me knows I see thee ill; Ill in myself to see, and in thee seeing ill.

Thy death-bed is no lesser than thy land Wherein thou liest in reputation sick; And thou, too careless patient as thou art, Commit'st thy anointed body to the cure Of those physicians that first wounded thee: A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown, Whose compa.s.s is no bigger than thy head; And yet, incaged in so small a verge, The waste is no whit lesser than thy land.

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- KING RICHARD. A lunatic lean-witted fool, Presuming on an ague's privilege, Darest with thy frozen admonition Make pale our cheek, chasing the royal blood 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 unreverent shoulders.

GAUNT. O, Spare me not, my brother Edward's son, For that I was his father Edward's son; That blood already, like the pelican, Hast thou tapp'd out, and drunkenly carous'd.

My brother Gloucester, plain well-meaning soul- Whom fair befall 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 withered 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 by his attendants KING RICHARD. 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.

KING RICHARD. Right, you say true: as Hereford's love, so his; As theirs, so mine; and all be as it is.

Enter NORTHUMBERLAND

NORTHUMBERLAND. My liege, old Gaunt commends him to your Majesty.

KING RICHARD. What says he?

NORTHUMBERLAND. 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!

Though death be poor, it ends a mortal woe.

KING RICHARD. The ripest fruit first falls, and so doth he; 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, Towards our a.s.sistance 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, Nor Gaunt'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.

I am the last of n.o.ble Edward's sons, Of whom thy father, Prince of Wales, was first.

In war was never lion rag'd more fierce, In peace was never gentle lamb more mild, 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 n.o.ble 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 blood, But b.l.o.o.d.y with the enemies of his kin.

O Richard! York is too far gone with grief, Or else he never would compare between- KING RICHARD. Why, uncle, what's the matter?

YORK. O my liege, Pardon me, if you please; if not, I, pleas'd Not to be pardoned, am content withal.

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?

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 G.o.d-G.o.d forbid I say true!- If you do wrongfully seize Hereford's rights, Call in the letters patents that he hath By his attorneys-general to sue His livery, and deny his off'red homage, You pluck a thousand dangers on your head, You lose a thousand well-disposed hearts, And p.r.i.c.k my tender patience to those thoughts Which honour and allegiance cannot think.

KING RICHARD. Think what you will, we seize into our hands 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; But by bad courses may be understood That their events can never fall out good. Exit KING RICHARD. Go, Bushy, to the Earl of Wilts.h.i.+re 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, BUSHY, AUMERLE, GREEN, and BAGOT NORTHUMBERLAND. Well, lords, the Duke of Lancaster is dead.

Ross. And living too; for now his son is Duke.

WILLOUGHBY. Barely in t.i.tle, not in revenues.

NORTHUMBERLAND. Richly in both, if justice had her right.

ROSS. My heart is great; but it must break with silence, Ere't be disburdened with a liberal tongue.

NORTHUMBERLAND. Nay, speak thy mind; and let him ne'er speak more That speaks thy words again to do thee harm!

WILLOUGHBY. Tends that thou wouldst 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.

NORTHUMBERLAND. Now, afore G.o.d, 'tis shame such wrongs are borne In him, a royal prince, and many moe Of n.o.ble 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 an, That will the King severely prosecute 'Gainst us, our lives, our children, and our heirs.

ROSS. The commons hath he pill'd with grievous taxes; And quite lost their hearts; the n.o.bles hath he find For ancient quarrels and quite lost their hearts.

WILLOUGHBY. And daily new exactions are devis'd, As blanks, benevolences, and I wot not what; But what, a G.o.d's name, doth become of this?

NORTHUMBERLAND. Wars hath not wasted it, for warr'd he hath not, But basely yielded upon compromise That which his n.o.ble ancestors achiev'd with blows.

More hath he spent in peace than they in wars.

ROSS. The Earl of Wilts.h.i.+re hath the realm in farm.

WILLOUGHBY. The King's grown bankrupt like a broken man.

NORTHUMBERLAND. Reproach and dissolution hangeth over him.

ROSS. He hath not money for these Irish wars, His burdenous taxations notwithstanding, But by the robbing of the banish'd Duke.

NORTHUMBERLAND. His n.o.ble kinsman-most degenerate king!

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. We see the very wreck that we must suffer; And unavoided is the danger now For suffering so the causes of our wreck.

NORTHUMBERLAND. Not so; even through the hollow eyes of death I spy life peering; but I dare not say How near the tidings of our comfort is.

WILLOUGHBY. Nay, let us share thy thoughts as thou dost ours.

ROSS. Be confident to speak, Northumberland.

We three are but thyself, and, speaking so, Thy words are but as thoughts; therefore be bold.

NORTHUMBERLAND. Then thus: I have from Le Port Blanc, a bay In Brittany, receiv'd intelligence That Harry Duke of Hereford, Rainold Lord Cobham, That late broke from the Duke of Exeter, His brother, Archbishop late of Canterbury, Sir Thomas Erpingham, Sir John Ramston, Sir John Norbery, Sir Robert Waterton, and Francis Quoint- All these, well furnish'd by the Duke of Britaine, With eight tall s.h.i.+ps, three thousand men of war, Are making hither with all due expedience, And shortly mean to touch our northern sh.o.r.e.

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 p.a.w.n the blemish'd crown, Wipe off the dust that hides our sceptre's gilt, And make high majesty look like itself, Away with me in post to Ravenspurgh; But if you faint, as fearing to do so, Stay and be secret, and myself will go.

ROSS. To horse, to horse! Urge doubts to them that fear.

WILLOUGHBY. Hold out my horse, and I will first be there.

Exeunt

SCENE 2.

Windsor Castle

Enter QUEEN, BUSHY, and BAGOT

BUSHY. Madam, your Majesty is too much sad.